SAVANNAH
Pain exploded in my chest, and Tristan's hand at my back slipped away. I turned around, still crouched low, thinking he'd stopped to block the attacker who had just hit me with a spell.
But this attacker had caught him completely by surprise. And it wasn't my own pain I was feeling.
Tristan was standing fully upright and arched backward, his face twisted with shock and agony.
Then I saw Gowin at his back and what looked like fingertips sticking out of the front of Tristan's chest. As if Gowin had plowed his hand right through Tristan.
Please, God, no, I thought.
Just like that, my whole world ended.
I must have screamed or something. Gowin dropped Tristan as carelessly as if he were a piece of trash and moved on, probably to go after Caravass.
But I didn't care where he went, or how the battle was going around us, who was winning or losing. Even the whereabouts of my dad and Ron and Anne didn't matter in that moment as I caught Tristan before he could hit the ground.
He tried to speak, his eyes rolling to look at me as he gasped and choked.
"Please, don't," I cried, on my knees, cradling his upper body against me as I'd once held Nanna here in this same cursed clearing.
Once again, the Circle would claim someone I loved.
No. Tristan couldn't die. I wouldn't know how to exist without him in this world. He had to live.
I pressed a hand to his chest, but I couldn't stop the blood from pulsing out in a feeble rhythm to match his heartbeat. That rhythm was slowing even as I watched.
"Oh God. Tell me how to save you," I whispered in his ear, pressing my cold cheek against his, which was beginning to cool, too.
Nanna said I didn't need words. So I closed my eyes and concentrated on his heart, willing it to heal. I pushed energy into him, a little at first, then with everything I had as I grew desperate. I didn't care if I had to give him the last drop of energy within me, as long as he lived. "Come on, Tristan! You always told me to fight. Now it's your turn. Fight!"
I told his heart to repair itself, focusing on the magic and what I needed so much that I didn't realize Dad had joined us until his hand covered mine.
"He is dying, Savannah!" Dad yelled. "Turn him!"
Time slowed, until each of Tristan's heartbeats seemed to last several seconds.
"I can't," I tried to shout, but it came out as a mumble.
"You can. Do it now! He is wounded too much and losing too much blood. Turn him before his heart stops and it is too late!"
I shook my head. "I don't know how. You-"
"I cannot, his body will reject the pure vampire blood. You must give him yours. It is the only chance he has."
"But he'll die!"
"He is already dying. There are only seconds left before his heart fails. Turn him now or let him go." Dad pressed a hand to my shoulder. "It is what he wanted. He loves you. Do you love him?"
I nodded, my throat too tight for me to speak.
Tristan grabbed my hand, his eyes going wide, pleading with me.
Praying I was making the right decision, I used my teeth to open a gash in my wrist then held it to Tristan's mouth.
Leaning close to his ear, I whispered, "I'm sorry. I know it's selfish. But I can't let you go. Not yet."
Then I did what I'd vowed never to do: I sank my fangs into the side of Tristan's neck where his life pulsed and drank.
TRISTAN
I didn't know where I was, or even who I was at first. A cloud of red filled my vision when I opened my eyes, giving me no additional clues.
But that scent, the smell of warm lavender filling my nose and lungs...that I knew. It meant home, and love, and everything I needed to be happy.
I reached up to touch that red curtain of softness across my face. I knew that, too. It was hair, soft curly hair, long and thick. My fingers remembered burying themselves in this curtain of red many times, always with joy.
The curtain slid away from my face and hands.
"Tristan?" a girl's voice whispered, low and husky, and it too was familiar and meant love.
Then a face came into view, and instantly I knew who she was.
"Savannah." The girl I loved and would die for.
Maybe I had died. I knew there had been pain, so much that I had been drowning in it. The pain had started in my chest, spread to every part of my body, then retreated back to my chest before fading away completely. In its place had come a flood of memories of Savannah as a little girl, playing in a tree house with a boy. Me. I was that boy, her best friend. And then the memories changed, showing us when we were older...the day I rescued her from someone named Greg outside a round brick building...the night we'd danced together under the moonlight, autumn leaves rustling around our feet, plastic armor covering me like a knight while Savannah flowed in a white dress with small white wings at her back.
"Are you an angel?" I murmured, trying to remember how to speak, to move enough to reach for her face.
She looked up at someone else, a man whose voice was less familiar, who said, "It will take a while for him to remember. Possibly days, even weeks."
I ignored the rest of what they said. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that the girl before me was Savannah, and I was Tristan, and I loved her.
And then another scent came to me. Something good, and warm. A smell that made my mouth ache and my stomach cramp with need.
SAVANNAH
"Tristan," Nancy Coleman screamed. She ran over to us and dropped to her knees beside him as the tears poured down her cheeks. "My sweet baby, are you okay? How do you feel? What happened?"
"Mrs. Coleman, he-" I began.
"Do not speak to me, vampire," she hissed in my general direction before ignoring me again. "Tristan, say something so I know you're all right."
She picked up one of his hands between hers. Her dark eyes widened. Slowly her gaze traveled up his arm to his pale face gleaming in the light from scattered fires in the clearing, then to his eyes, which were now a strange greenish-silver.
"Oh. My. God," she breathed out slowly, pulling her hands away. "You're..."
"He's alive," I told her. "It was either this or let him die."
Gasping, she dropped his hand. "What have you done?"
"He was dying. I did the only thing I could to save him."
Her gaze darted from me back to Tristan. Seconds ticked by as emotion after emotion rolled off of her. She couldn't decide whether to be happy he was still alive or horrified that he'd become the enemy she feared more than anything else in life.
"You should be killed for this," she snarled at me. "This is all your fault! If not for you-"
"If not for Savannah, your son would have died," Dad said.
"Stop this now!" Caravass shouted. "Vampires, come to me."
The fighting stopped as the vampires began to walk, some even backward, toward their leader. Even my father was pulled by the call and walked over to join them. The absolute control was both a relief and chilling. Thank God our Clann genes prevented the command from affecting Tristan and me.
But where was Gowin?
I searched the clearing and found Emily kneeling over a pile of ash two feet from Caravass, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. A quick read of her mind told the whole story.
Seeing her boyfriend try to kill her brother, Emily had made her decision and hit Gowin with a ball of fire as he tried to attack Caravass. She had saved the vamp council leader and killed her father's murderer. And her unborn baby's father.
Unfortunately, that left only me to hold Tristan as he sat up and inhaled deeply.
"Look at him, sniffing the air like an animal," Nancy said, scrambling to her feet and backing away from us. "He smells the blood. He already has the bloodlust!" Her gaze shifted back to me, her eyes dark and wild. "You've taken my son from me."
In the silence, the surviving descendants heard her and became aware of Tristan's change. Murmurs rose to shouts as their fury found a new target. Me.
"She turned our leader!"
"Tristan's a vamp now. He's on their side!"
"We should kill them all, punish them for taking our leader!"
The shouting grew, along with my fear. Would we survive Gowin only to be killed by the Clann?
Dad leaned over and whispered something to Caravass. The vamp council leader nodded, and Dad rejoined us at a slow and cautious human walk.
"Savannah, we must take Tristan away from here."
"But...his family." I looked at Emily, who was slowly becoming aware of the Clann's growing anger toward us. She stood up, saw Tristan and went pale. She might not be any help, either.
"Tristan, can you get up?" I whispered.
With Dad's and my help, Tristan got to his feet, still sniffing the air.
What is that smell? I heard his voice say in my mind. It smells...good.
Oh God, his mother was right. He was already feeling the bloodlust.
What is this bloodlust? he thought, and I jumped.
He could hear my thoughts.
Yes, just like you can hear mine. Right? He turned to me with a frown, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. He still held my hand, his grip tight.
Swallowing hard, I nodded. Right. Um, listen, Tristan, this is really important. I want you to try and ignore that scent for now. Okay?
But it smells so good. It makes my stomach hurt.
Emily walked over to us on unsteady legs. "Tristan? You're all right!" She stepped forward to hug him.
Dad moved to block her even as Tristan's head cocked to the side, his now silver eyes studying her without any trace of recognition.
"I would not do that," Dad murmured to Emily. "Gowin nearly killed him. Savannah had to turn him before he died. And he is already struggling with the cravings."
Her mouth opened, closed, and she jerked to a halt. Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned toward the still-shouting crowd of descendants, her eyebrows pinching together.
Mom, stop this, Emily thought. Mrs. Coleman's shoulders hunched as she turned to face her children from many yards away. Don't let this get even more out of hand. I know you can't see it now, but your son's still alive. Let them get out of here safely so he can come back to us someday.
Mrs. Coleman's jaw clenched for a moment, and my heart pounded hard in my chest. Finally, Mrs. Coleman nodded and faced the Clann.
"Descendants! I know you're upset over the loss of our newest leader. He..." Is. Was. Is. Was. Her mind struggled with the choice. She forced herself to say, "...is still my son, however, even if Clann law forbids him to continue as our leader now."
"Then I accept the leadership," Mr. Williams said, stepping forward to the front of the crowd.
Dr. Faulkner stepped forward. "Ah, but Clann law says you will not. Not as long as the parent of the previous Clann leader is still alive and willing to accept the role in their child's stead." He sounded like he had memorized every Clann law under the sun.
Silence as everyone waited for Mrs. Coleman to react. Finally she spoke. "As Tristan's surviving parent, I accept the leadership and will gladly take this position effective immediately."
Mr. Williams's face turned red then purple. But he said nothing, his thoughts revealing that he knew Dr. Faulkner was right and hadn't expected anyone to know such an old law. He would have to find some other way to become Clann leader.
It took a few minutes for the rest of the descendants to realize that the Clann leadership had once again changed. During that time, Tristan's grip on my hand grew steadily tighter to the point of near pain.
He read the thought in my mind and forced his muscles to relax. I'm sorry. It's just that the smell is hurting me. I can't ignore it any longer. I have to-
"Tristan, no!" Panicking, I blurted it out instead of only thinking it.
Tristan lurched forward and dropped my hand. Dad's hands darted out to grab his shoulders and hold him still.
Emily gasped. "Oh God. Tristan, no."
"Savannah, we must leave," Dad said as he pulled Tristan backward.
Tristan's eyes had narrowed, his lips pulled back to expose fangs as he growled.
I stood there frozen as for the first time I watched a vampire lose control over the bloodlust.
Mrs. Coleman turned to face us again, her eyes wide. She took a deep breath, and I heard her think, I must do this, for my son and the Clann. Then she said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Tristan Coleman, you are hereby banished from the Clann. Leave here, and do not ever return."
As if it were some kind of formal act, every descendant there except Emily and Mrs. Coleman turned their backs on us.
"Goodbye, my son." Mrs. Coleman silently mouthed the words, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Come on," Emily muttered, grabbing my elbow and dragging me through the woods behind my father as he shoved Tristan down the path ahead of us.
The farther we got from the Circle and all that descendant blood on the ground, the less Tristan struggled against Dad. Finally Tristan began to have coherent thought again. Why does it hurt so much?
I know, baby, I thought. But it'll stop if you keep walking with my dad.
This man is your dad?
Yes. Trust him. He'll keep both of us safe and get you something to...eat, so your stomach will stop hurting.
Okay. I trust you, so I'll trust him, too. But Tristan's eyes still darted from side to side like a wild thing in spite of our reaching his own backyard.
"We will meet you at the house," Dad said, his tone allowing no argument. Then they were gone, Dad teaching Tristan to run for the first time, using the woods along the way as their cover.
"Oh my God," I whispered once I could no longer hear Tristan's thoughts. "What have I done?"
