Chapter 12: The Echo of 1867
The modern world was too loud, too bright, and far too sanitized. As Noah sat at the small desk in his new bedroom, the blue light of his smartphone felt like a puncture wound against his retinas. He had just finished his Pre-Calculus homework—a trivial task for someone who had watched the birth of modern mathematics—and sent a brief, steady text to Katherine.
Looking forward to Friday. See you at six.
He set the phone face down, but the silence of the house only invited the ghosts in. It was the ghost of Leila Pierce. For decades, he had kept her locked in a lead-lined box in the back of his mind, but Covington was doing something to the lock. The humid Virginia air, the way the crickets sounded in the tall grass—it was all too familiar.
His mind betrayed him, pulling him back to those final forty-eight hours of his humanity. He remembered the weight of his wool coat, the smell of woodsmoke, and the suffocating feeling of losing his best friend.
Before Leila, there had been Ethan Matthews.
Ethan had been the brother Noah never had. They were a matched set: raven-black hair, tall frames, he was six-foot five, and a shared history of climbing the ancient oaks of Lexington. But when the Pierce sisters arrived, a wedge had been driven between them that was forged in secrecy and blood.
Noah remembered the night he finally confronted the truth. He had trekked into the deep woods, the damp earth clinging to his boots, calling out into the obsidian dark.
"Leila?" his voice had cracked, a boy’s voice full of a man’s desperation.
"Noah," a sigh came from the canopy above. She appeared as if she had been woven from the moonlight itself, landing soundlessly on the moss.
Noah’s breath hitched as he pulled her into his arms. She felt cold—not the cold of a winter breeze, but the cold of a cellar. "I thought you weren't coming," he whispered against her hair.
"Have you made your choice?" Leila asked, her voice a silk ribbon around his throat.
Noah pulled back, his face hardening. The jealousy he had been nursing for weeks finally boiled over. "Have you made yours? Ethan Matthews or me... that is your choice, Leila . I know you’ve been courting him as you have been with me."
"You... it is always you, mi amor," she whispered, her dark eyes reflecting the moon.
"Then why didn't you tell me you were courting him at the same time?" Noah snapped, his hands balled into fists. "Ethan is my best friend. We aren't fools. We realized soon enough that we were both chasing the same shadow."
Leila let out a long, weary sigh. "I never meant to lead him on, but he was... persistent. And he was curious. Noah, I must tell you something." She took his hands, her grip unnaturally strong. "Ethan asked me to turn him. And I did. He’s leaving with Elizabeth and me tomorrow. Elizabeth has taken a liking to him—I believe she’s asking to court him formally tonight."
The world tilted. Ethan—his Ethan—was already a monster. The betrayal tasted like ash.
"You should have told me," Noah breathed.
"I’m sorry. But now the choice is yours. Will you stay here and grow old in a town that will eventually forget you, or will you run away with me and become what I am?"
Noah looked at her—at the eternal beauty, the promise of never-ending nights. He didn't see the hunger yet; he only saw the girl he loved. "I choose you," he answered, a warm, tragic smile touching his lips. "I want to be a vampire."
"After this, there is no turning back," she warned. "The process... it is a slow death before the rebirth. I will bite you, and we will sit together while the venom burns through your veins. It feels like your body is being cut by a thousand knives. You must stay at my house tonight; you won't be able to walk, let alone return to your parents."
"What do I tell them?" Noah asked, fear finally pricking at his skin.
"Nothing," Leila softly whispered, stroking his cheek with a cold thumb. "To them, you will be a demon. They hate our kind, Noah. If they see what you’ve become, they will not see their son. They will only see something to be destroyed."