Page 16 of Vampire Solstice
“Where is the journal?” Fen asks, and though I can tell he used his nice voice, no one else would be able to.
“I’m not sure,” she says. “She was always very private about it.”
“We’ll look for it,” I promise, as we sprint back to her cottage.
The howl rises again, louder this time, and I steel myself for what’s to come. Tonight, we face the beast—and whatever truths lie hidden within the curse that now binds us all.
Chapter 7
The Journal
Fen and I burst through the cottage door, the storm outside whipping snow against the windows as if the wind itself were urging us to hurry. The interior is dim and silent, save for the crackling of dying embers in the hearth. Fen moves with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the cottage. “Where should we begin?” he asks.
“We don’t have time to tear this place apart. Let me see if I can use my magic.” With the help of Kayla, I’ve been practicing my magic over the last year or so and developed quite a few practical uses for it. Including finding things, which is especially helpful when you have a wolf and a dragon who like to play hide and seek with your daughter’s favorite toys from time to time.
I pull a small crystal from my pocket and close my eyes for a moment as I hold it in front of me.
I channel my magic into it, then open my eyes.
“Find me the grandmother’s journal,” I say, as I keep my intent focused.
The crystal begins spinning slowly. I walk through the cottage, noting when the crystal slows, and following the path when it speeds up. As I approach the hearth, the crystal spins furiously.
“It’s somewhere near here,” I say, hovering the crystal over various parts of the stone. The crystal is most reactive when I approach what looks like a slightly loose floor board near the hearth. “Fen, looks at this.”
He approaches, studying the floor as I pry the board off with my fingers.
“Nice trick, he says with a smirk. “Could you use that to find the beast?”
I shake my head. “No. It only works in a small area.” The board gives way, revealing a small, leather-bound journal nestled in the hollow beneath.
I pull it out and show Fen triumphantly, my fingers brushing the cracked leather of the cover.
“Read quickly,” he says. “I’ll get us some food, even if I have to hunt it myself. We need all our strength for what’s coming.” He’s right. We’re both part fae, but we’re also vampire, and it's been a while since we’ve had blood.
I nod, clutching the journal tightly. “Be careful.”
He leans in, brushing a quick kiss against my forehead. “Always.” With that, he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a thud that leaves the cottage feeling eerily quiet.
I stoke the fire, then sink into a chair near the flames, the flickering firelight casting dancing shadows across the pages as I open the journal. The handwriting is delicate and precise, each word penned with care. Myra’s grandmother’s voice seems to whisper to me as I begin to read.
The first entriesdetail the village’s history—its struggles during the original vampire/fae war, the desperation of its people, and their hope for aid from the Midnight Star. My fingers trace the ink as the words grow darker, heavier with regret.
"We denied her. The Midnight Star came to us, seeking each of us, young and old, to pick up a weapon and fight for her. But we could not send our farmers and children into guaranteed death. We could not even send our greatest warrior, for who would defend us then? And so, she labeled us traitors and cursed us."
The next entry chills me to my core.
"The curse came swiftly. She warned us as she departed: 'Your champion will rise to protect you, but your cowardice will twist his heart. He will defend you no more, for you shall bear the burden of your own betrayal.'"
I turn the page, my breath catching as the entries shift to the beast’s transformation. The village’s defender, a warrior of unmatched strength and loyalty, was twisted by the curse into the very creature that now torments them.
"He fought for us, bled for us, and we repaid him with cowardice. Now he is both our punishment and our shame. Each attack is a reminder of what we did—what we failed to do."
Tears prick my eyes as I read of his suffering—his mind slipping away with each full moon, the battle between his humanity and the beast within him growing harder to fight. The final entry is a plea.
"If the Midnight Star ever returns, tell her this: We were wrong. We see that now. She is the only one who can free him."
As I continue to read, my breath catches. The rest of these words are meant for Myra.