“I don’t know for sure,” I said. “But I hope they now know better.”
I pulled open the doors. The hall was clear.
“So where are we going?” Lucas asked.
The soreness in my heart receded. I smiled at him.
“Home.”
The forest was alive. Insects chirred. Birds twittered. The green floor was a plush blanket of fallen autumn foliage and mulch, and walking on it made me feel as if I was floating. I listened to ants chewing leaves. I listened to the earth fizz like champagne every time a drop of water hit the soil, causing the dirt to shift and sink.
It made me feel alive. I wished Lucas was with me. But he would be soon enough after the sun set.
I climbed an incline, green spilling over the hill like a waterfall. In the distance the woods appeared to be on fire, ablaze with red and orange and yellow. The fall colors formed a patchwork among the green—nature’s tartan.
I was happy about the hill; it would be easier to watch for enemies from that vantage point.
The Empress had twisted the story for the masses. According to the latest reports, the Divine had been confused and traumatized by her time with the terrorists, and she accidentally injured herself at the palace, causing injury to every vampire in the world.
I tried not to think about poor Lettie collapsing in a pool of her own blood somewhere in Italy, maybe in a crowded square, maybe terrifying passing humans.
The Monarchy’s missive said that the incident was brief and the Divine had come to her senses. I had come to my senses, yes. The Divine, they said, was safe and under protection.
I’m under my own protection now. And I have the power to protect those that I love.
“We’ll always be running, I fear,” Lucas had said after we fled the palace.
“This time it’s different,” I had told him. “I am scared of the day they catch up to us again. But that’s okay. When they decide to come after me, I know I can handle them. I’ll be ready.”
When I reached the peak of the mound, I saw a row of burly trees aligned like soldiers in front of a pudgy cabin. The wood was painted the color of whole-wheat toast. A deck wrapped around the house like a grille on a football helmet. A squirrel scampered over the grassy knoll ahead of me.
Someone inside was cooking bacon. And scraping a whisk against a bowl.
I brushed twigs and grass from the skirt of my white dress and swept my curls to one shoulder. I tiptoed up the stairs onto the deck and approached a white door. Floral curtains covered the window so I couldn’t see inside.
Will you see me for who I truly am?
San and Cormac had moved my family several times until they reached the mountains here in North Carolina. They had told them I would be joining them soon.
Finally.
I rapped my knuckles on the wood and the whisking stopped. Footsteps, barefoot and slippered, ran from various points in the cabin.
This is it. This is a moment I’ll remember forever.
I smiled. “Hi, Dad.”
I was finally home.
To the fans who read What Kills Me and encouraged me to write the sequel, this story is for you. I am forever (wink) grateful for your support and for your awesome reviews, emails, and messages.
I must extend a huge thank you to my editor, Marie-Lynn Hammond, who is a literary wizard. I am also crazy grateful to my beta readers and fellow authors, Thomas Winship, Leigh Carron, and Nikki Jefford. An extra special shout-out goes out to my writing buddy, S.M. Boyce, for her enduring advice, cheerleading, and friendship.
Thank you to my literary agent, Haskell Nussbaum at The Rights Factory, who I am so fortunate to have in my corner.
I knew that the book cover was going to be amazing in Liliana Sanches’ hands. She is such a passionate, determined, and hard-working artist.
Thank you to my father who is the unofficial president of the Wynne Channing fan club, my family, my besties, and my husband (who are part of the fan club whether I write or not). Love you all.
Wynne Channing is a national newspaper reporter and best-selling young adult novelist.
Wynne loves telling stories, and as a journalist she has interviewed everyone from Daniel Radcliffe and Hugh Jackman to the president of the Maldives and Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York. The closest she has come to interviewing a vampire is sitting down with True Blood’s Alexander Skarsgard (he didn’t bite).
She briefly considered calling her debut novel Well so then everyone would say: “Well written by Wynne Channing.”
To learn more about the What Kills Me series and Wynne, stalk her online:
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part Two
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47