Reflection

13

"Scarlett Michelle Owens."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Well, it used to be scarlet. But now I'd say...navy."

"Last one: are you in love with Adam?"

"What?" I hissed, my eyes shooting to him incredulously. "Of course not! Why would you think that?"

He studied my expression for a moment, then nodded as if in approval. I thought I saw a faint smirk on his lips. "I was just making sure. I mean, he is in love with you."

I scoffed. "No, he's not! That's ridiculous!" But even as I said it, Ellie's words echoed in my mind. He's in love with you, and he doesn't want to be.

"You haven't seen it?" he asked. "Don't you see the way he looks at you?"

I shook my head. "No. Because he doesn't look at me like that. I barely know him!"

"Well, I barely know you, and yet I'm in love with you."

"What?"

"Why were you named Scarlett?" he asked randomly. This was most likely the strangest conversation I'd ever had in my life. I was starting to see why Adam always got irritated with questions, but I was glad for the subject change.

"My mother picked it because it's the color of my hair," I answered, not really paying attention. I had glanced over the crowd and saw Ellie staring at us, eyes narrowed and hurt. Nearby, Adam glared daggers at James.

Suddenly a deep voice boomed throughout the room, cutting off the music. Everyone's attention turned to the front of the room. A tall, lanky man was standing on a small podium, dressed in red robes. He was stick thin, with ageless sharp features and shadows under his silver eyes.

Just as I looked up at him, his eyes met mine. And then Adam blocked my view. "Who's that?" I asked him quietly, as the whole room had fallen silent. I tried to see around him. "Did he see you?" Adam whispered, so softly that I barely heard it, worry hinting at the edges of his voice.

"Yes," I replied under my breath. Something like worry clouded his expression, and it instantly struck me with fear. "Are you sure? Did he see your eyes?"

For a second I considered saying no. I don't know why, exactly, but the look in his eyes sent chills up my spine and made me want to deny it ever happened. Ignoring the strange urge, I answered honestly. "Yes."

Adam cursed under his breath. "We've got to get you out of here," he said.

"He'll notice," James hissed, glancing up at the man, who had begun to speak something about vampire-kind and celebration and strength and what-not. He spoke softly, and had no microphone, but everyone in the room seemed to hear him perfectly. "Okay," said Adam with a sharp glance in James' direction. "Let's go get Reuben, then."

I stood and followed Adam around the outskirts of the room, not daring to look up. But then again, my hair probably stood out like fire in the darkness of this room. Adam was in front of me, clearly focused on finding Reuben, who had disappeared again. That's when something grabbed my arm tightly and dragged me into a corridor, a heavy door slamming behind me.

He slapped his hand over my mouth before I could scream, but, as a reflex, I bit it him. He cried out and the man holding my other arm shouted, "Get her mouth!" Before he could, I shouted, "Adam!"

I didn't even see him enter the room. One moment I was being dragged down the hall by seemingly two men, their nails digging into my flesh, and the next Adam was twisting one of my captors' arms. With a sickening crack, the man screamed and tumbled to the floor. Then he stood right back up again, and punched Adam in the gut with his uninjured arm.

Meanwhile, the other man continued to drag me off, muttering under his breath while I struggled. I had never been in a fight before. I had no idea how to fight.

But I fought. Using his arms, I swung my legs around and connected with his ankles, sending him over me and sprawling on the ground. I tried to stand, but he grabbed my ankle, sending me face first into the concrete so hard I felt blood on my hands, knees, and face.

Using my momentary disadvantage, he climbed on top of me, wooden stake in hand. Aiming for my heart, he slammed it down. "No!" Adam screamed. His distraction earned him a punch to the jaw.

Less than an inch above my chest, my fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him. He tried to push it in, succeeding only in drawing blood, but it didn't go near my heart. I shoved him back, ripped the stake out of his hand, and jammed it into his chest.

He screamed for a moment and fell still. I stared, wide-eyed, and leaned over to see if he was alive when he burst into dust, the bloody stake clattering to the ground. With a yelp, I toppled backwards. Ash rained on me like rain, and I rolled away quickly, staring at the scene in horror. What had I done?

I jerked my eyes away and up to Adam just as the man was slamming the stake into his chest, but it hit nothing but my palm as I grabbed it and yanked it out of his grasp. Somehow, I had shot in front of him, but I was too pumped with adrenaline to wonder how. I threw the stake as far as I could, then jabbed my finger into his chest, shoving him back a little in surprise. I bunched his shirt in my fist and yanked him toward me, then looked him dead in the eye, which was difficult, as he was wearing a black ski mask that covered his entire face. But through two holes that allowed him to see, silver eyes flashed at me.

"Leave us alone!" I demanded, still glaring and flushed with anger and exertion. He glanced at us fearfully, then turned around, and just ran away. He listened? I thought. Why did he just give up?

I looked back at where the first man had stood, where nothing but a bloody stake and ash remained. I kept thinking the same words over and over again. I killed someone. Adam was no longer behind me, he now looked me in the eye, his hands running up and down my arms.

"Are you okay?" he was asking. I just shook my head. "I–I killed him..." Only then did I notice I was shaking. I looked Adam in the eyes. He was looking at me strangely: his eyes were filled with concern and curiosity and sympathy all bundled into one.

"Are you okay?" he asked again. "No, I'm not okay!" I answered. "I just killed someone!"

He just sighed. "I meant physically."

"Fine," I muttered, rubbing my arms in an attempt to stop the trembling. That's when I realized I was covered in gray—the man's ashes. I quickly tried to brush it off, but it was no use. They were everywhere. In my dress, on my dress, in my hair, on any exposed skin.

I was still frantically wiping at my dress when Adam said, "Come on."

"Where are we going?" I muttered without looking up. "Back to the party," Adam answered.

"What?" I demanded. "No! I can't go out there like this!"

"Well, we'll wipe the blood off."

"What about the ash?"

"We'll leave that on," he said with a smile. "There's someone that I'd like to see that."

"That man?"

"That man is one of the Elders. Those men were his, you could tell by the tattoo on their wrist. And they were trying to kill you."

"I figured that out, but why?"

"Because you're powerful. The Elder sees you as a threat, someone who could overpower him. Why do you think there are no other children of the blood moon?"

"Why?"

"He killed them all."