Excerpt by Andrea Dean Van Scoyoc

CHAPTER ONE

Trish sat alone in the garden, the chill night air attempting a solemn comfort, but she felt none. She was empty and alone. In defiance she’d perched herself right next to the very spot where her dearest friend had allowed the rays of the morning sun to end her life. The scorch marks were evident and Trish looked at them with a mixture of hatred and sadness.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream and she really wanted

to rip the parchment clutched shakily in her hands, to shreds.

But what would that accomplish?

She’d called the club to let them know that she’d be late.

She’d been uneasy since leaving the Twilight Innocent, after her conversation with Farayne, but didn’t know why. When she checked her answering machine and heard her friend’s cryptic message, the impending feeling of something solidified into a brick weighing heavily in her stomach. She’d become upset to the point of panic.

Now she knew out of where that unease had been born and it was once again that her faded humanity laughed at her.

Though a vampire, her bloodline descended from a different type of blood and though she lived as a human, among them in day-to-day life, still, she was not truly one of them.

Her empathy had been nothing but a bane since her first memories of life and that same empathic ability had done nothing but haunt her footsteps, mocking her until the end of time.

She frowned as she held the rolled up document tightly in her hands.

“Damn you, Farayne. You didn’t have to do this. You could have talked to me, you could have confided in me more so than you did. I know you thought I was too young to truly understand what you were going through…had been going through for so long, but my people, my blood is old, just like yours was. I may be young in years compared to someone like you, but that doesn’t mean that I am lacking in the comprehension needed to understand! How dare you! How dare you do this to us!”

Trish stood up and all but stomped, like the spoiled child she’d always been, away from the garden that had once been her friend’s favorite haven.

She turned around and looked once more, allowing the scent of the roses to carry her away for just a moment.

She would live here, because it had been Farayne’s home and because the will stated that it had been Farayne’s wish for Trish to enjoy it as much as she had and she’d hate it because of what it represented.

But she also had to admit that the house was cozy and beautiful – the type of bungalow that you’d see in a magazine and say to yourself, ‘Gosh I’d like to live in a place like that.’

It seemed that everything Farayne touched turned to gold, and yet she wasn’t happy.

From their talks, though often brief and surface chats only, nothing in depth that Trish could really latch on to, it seemed as if happiness had been the one thing the ebony haired beauty had craved more than anything. Yet like a cruel joke played at the worst time and in the worst situation, true happiness had been the only thing she hadn’t been able to achieve.

She’d been content and even resigned possibly, but since Garrison’s death she’d never truly been happy.

Maybe I’m being selfish, Trish thought bitterly. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been accused of being just that.

She sighed. She would live in what was now her house… and she’d love it, she’d cherish it and she’d enjoy it in Farayne’s memory.

It was the least she could do.

She needed to get to the club but wanted to stay. She’d be back before dawn, though, and it would be then that she’d allow her true feelings a release.

“Goodbye, Farayne. May happiness and peace finally be yours. I’ll miss you.”

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