Chapter 3 The Haunted Streets

The morning after her second dream, Elian found the pendant.

It lay nestled in the folds of her discarded sweater-a silver crescent moon cradling a single drop of ruby, exactly as it had been in her dream. Her fingers shook as she picked it up, the metal unnaturally cold against her skin.

This isn't possible.

She'd never owned anything like it. The clasp was archaic, the kind that hadn't been used in centuries. And yet here it was, real and solid in her palm.

"Whoa." Mira's voice made her jump. "Where'd you get that?"

Elian's throat went dry. "I... found it."

Mira reached out, then hesitated. "It looks ancient. Like, museum-piece ancient." She frowned. "You should show it to Mrs. Lowell. There's probably some rule about-"

"No." The word came out sharper than Elian intended. She curled her fingers around the pendant. "I mean, it's probably just a replica. Touristy junk."

Mira's eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, Jason barged in, his hair still wet from the shower.

"Breakfast time, nerds. Lowell says-" He froze, spotting the pendant. "Holy shit. Is that blood?"

Elian's stomach lurched. The ruby did look disturbingly like a drop of blood in the morning light.

"It's a garnet," Mira said, though she didn't sound convinced.

Jason whistled. "Creepy. Where'd you-"

"Found it in the street," Elian lied, slipping the chain over her head before they could ask more questions. The moment the pendant touched her skin, a shiver raced down her spine-not unpleasant, but familiar, like slipping into a bath just the right temperature.

Mira opened her mouth, but Mrs. Lowell's voice echoed from downstairs: "Group leaves in five!"

The streets of Veyruhn felt different today.

Maybe it was the pendant's weight against her collarbone, or the way the morning mist clung to the cobblestones like grasping fingers, but every shadow seemed to twitch at the corner of Elian's vision. Their tour guide-a wiry man with a patchy beard-led them through the winding alleys, pointing out "historical landmarks" that all looked like places someone had been murdered.

"-and this square," the guide droned, gesturing to a sunken courtyard, "was where the infamous Blood Market operated in the 15th century. Locals would trade trinkets and charms said to ward off the Night's Children."

Jason elbowed Elian. "Night's Children. That's way cooler than 'vampires.'"

Mira shushed him, but Elian wasn't listening. Her attention was fixed on the far side of the square, where an old woman sat on a stoop, her gnarled hands working at a bundle of dried herbs. The woman's milky eyes locked onto Elian's with unsettling precision.

She can't see me, Elian told herself. She's blind.

And yet, as the group moved on, the woman's lips peeled back in a smile, revealing teeth filed to points.

"The past never sleeps here, child," she croaked, just loud enough for Elian to hear. "And neither does he."

Elian's steps faltered. The pendant grew suddenly warm against her skin.

"You okay?" Mira asked, falling into step beside her.

Elian opened her mouth to respond when a flicker of movement caught her eye-a shadow detaching itself from the alley wall. Tall. Too tall.

Her breath hitched.

"What?" Mira followed her gaze. "What do you-"

The shadow moved. Not like a person. Like ink spreading in water.

Elian grabbed Mira's arm. "Do you see that?"

Mira squinted. "See what?"

The shadow was gone.

"Nothing," Elian muttered, forcing herself to breathe. "Just... thought I saw a rat."

Jason popped up on her other side. "Speaking of rats, check out this guy." He nodded toward a stooped figure lurking near a butcher's shop. The man wore a long coat despite the warmth, his face hidden beneath a broad hat. "Dude's been following us since the hostel."

Elian's pulse spiked. "What?"

Mira rolled her eyes. "Jason, stop being paranoid."

"I'm serious! Watch." Jason suddenly turned and waved. "Hey, creeper! Nice hat!"

The figure froze. Then, with deliberate slowness, he tipped his head up-just enough to reveal a sliver of pale chin and lips curled in a smile too wide to be human.

Elian's pendant went ice-cold.

The guide called for attention, oblivious. "Our next stop is the Clockmaker's Lane, where-"

Elian didn't hear the rest. Her entire focus was on the figure, who had begun moving again-not toward them, but parallel, keeping pace from across the square.

Mira squeezed her hand. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine," Elian lied.

She wasn't. Because as they turned the corner, the figure's whisper slithered into her ear from twenty feet away:

"She wore that same pendant when she betrayed him."

Lunch was a tense affair.

Elian picked at her stew, her shoulders hunched as she scanned the crowded tavern for any sign of the hat man. Jason, for once, was uncharacteristically quiet, his usual bravado replaced by nervous glances at the door.

Mira slammed her tankard down. "Okay, what is going on with you two?"

Jason leaned in. "That guy wasn't normal, Mi. Did you see his mouth?"

Mira threw up her hands. "I didn't see anything because there was nothing to see." She turned to Elian. "And you've been jumpy all day. Is this about the pendant?"

Elian's fingers crept to the necklace. "It's nothing. Just..."

Just that I'm dreaming about a centuries-dead vampire and now his maybe-reincarnated girlfriend's jewelry is burning a hole in my chest.

Mrs. Lowell chose that moment to clap her hands. "Afternoon tour starts in ten! We'll be visiting the old apothecary and-Jason, sit down-the historic-"

Elian didn't hear the rest. Her attention was fixed on the tavern window, where a familiar silhouette stood across the street-the hat man, his face still hidden, one pale finger pointing up.

Following his gesture, Elian's gaze climbed the nearby buildings until it landed on a narrow balcony.

A figure stood there.

Tall. Pale.

Raelith.

Their eyes met across the distance, and the world lurched. The tavern noises faded to a dull roar as a vision slammed into her:

-a moonlit bedchamber, Raelith's hands tangled in her (Seraphina's?) hair as she whispered, "I would burn the world for you"-

"Elian!"

Mira's shout snapped her back. She was on the floor, her cheek stinging-had she fallen?

The entire tavern was staring.

Mrs. Lowell crouched beside her, face ashen. "Elian, can you hear me?"

Across the street, the balcony was empty.

"I'm fine," Elian rasped, letting them help her up. "Just... dizzy."

Jason and Mira exchanged a look.

The pendant burned like a brand against her skin.

That night, Elian didn't dream.

She woke-

-in a candlelit crypt.

Stone walls pressed close, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and old blood. Raelith stood before her, close enough to touch, his midnight-blue eyes burning with a mix of fury and longing.

"You took too long to find me," he murmured, reaching for the pendant at her throat. His fingers brushed her skin, and fire raced through her veins.

Elian tried to speak, but her voice wasn't her own.

"I'm not her," she whispered-except the words came out in that same unfamiliar language from her dreams. "Tes vé maelith."

Raelith's expression twisted. "Liar." He leaned closer, his breath cold against her lips. "You wear her face. Her blood. Her curse." His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in. "You will finish what she started."

Elian woke up screaming.

Mira was at her side in an instant, shaking her. "Elian! Elian!"

The room was freezing. The pendant was gone from her neck-no, there, clutched in her own white-knuckled fist, the ruby dark as dried blood.

And at the foot of the bed, the shadow watched.

Not hiding this time.

Waiting.