✧ ✧ ✧

Three years and six months ago

Everyone had a phantom in their world, a person who disappeared without calling for years and then returned just as suddenly when you least expected. A phantom. Vlad was that person of mine.

My life in the city settled down for a while. Qing, Wayra, and Euklas weren't my friends, but they never pretended to be. I didn't know their secrets, they didn't know mine and didn't care. We would meet at night, steal a car, split the money, and go our separate ways. No truths about who we were in daylight. No feelings involved.

Only...you couldn't live without feelings, could you?

I had enough cash now, I could afford beautiful clothes and delicious cupcakes. I could go to a theater whenever I wanted and pay for college, but what was the point if there was nobody by my side to share the thrill of all these things with? I sent money home a few times, writing Tanya's name on the envelopes (I always chose yellow ones, it was her favorite color), but she never answered. Maybe she didn't even receive my letters.

People still felt scared in my presence if emotions got involved. Nothing but fear. The only thing magic had always been good at--the promise of death. I was still alone, still lonely, still hollow inside.

That was why I needed my phantom. The only person who knew the real me.

Vlad.

✧ ✧ ✧

"I found us a new job," Euklas announced once. "An exquisite Porsche, expensive as hell and totally easy to snatch. Outside the city, an abandoned house. The owners are gone till the spring. It's like a gift from above."

I should have realized back there and then it wasn't some Porsche outside the city, but Qing's excited heartbeat overtook me. I didn't put the pieces together until we stood by that house, at the edge of my hometown.

The front wooden steps were broken, and the roof powdered with the late autumn snow looked as though ready to give in to nature, not that kind of house you expected to see when you knew there's a Porsche in its garage, right? Yet, it didn't bother me until Wayra picked the garage lock.

It wasn't some exquisite car. It was the car. Vlad's car he drove--as I believed, at least--to Blakfait the night he told me about magic. Whoever this house belonged to, Vlad knew them.

For a heartbeat, I thought about stopping the whole stealing thing, but the truth was...I didn't even know what the truth was. Vlad had bailed on me so many times, and I doubted the car was so precious to him since he left it. And maybe--just maybe--if he found out this car was gone, he'd show up, surprised, amused, outraged? Didn't matter. It would be better than hollowness inside me.

So, the car was taken.

My story wasn't about the cars though, it was about secrets--ones I harbored, ones I shared, and ones I didn't suspect existed.

Vlad had never told me who he'd been visiting in Blakfait, but I assumed it was a friend or a family member. Of course, I couldn't resist the desire to know what that friend's life looked like. I didn't try to open the front door. I sneaked in through a window on the second floor instead; a small shed stood next to the house, and its roof was an easy way in.

Thick dust covered everything inside, it seemed no living soul stepped here for years. The furniture was old, nothing spectacular. But there was a library, the books covering shelves from floor to ceiling. My fingers skimmed across their spines, and I drew a random one out.

The History of Angelic spell-casters, my lips read. Did Vlad's friend know about Vlad's powers? What if I could find an incantation to get rid of my sigil scar then? To be normal.

Acceptable.

Touchable.

Lovable.

I would spend days and nights in that house afterward, coming every time I had a spare moment. I'd read lots of books, found lots of things hidden between them, too. Bottled smoke? Gems? Herbs? All that kind of magical stuff I'd be shocked to see at Nilam's club in my new second life.

I would forget to eat, fall asleep on the old leather couch in that library, and read till my eyes grew sore. Thankfully, loneliness gave you plenty of time to read and learn things--I had discovered it yet in school. I would memorize spells, curses, and rituals granting powers beyond any human could dream of, requiring horrible sacrifices.

I would find out that the sigil that granted me my powers required a sacrifice, too. The one nobody had warned me about. My soul. I was damned, stripped of the right to ever enter Heaven.

Learning so much about sorcery, I'd never actually tried to perform any of the spells and rituals, there was no secret about my knowledge and experience--I just read. That was why later, when Kadri, or Nilam, or Mir, would ask me, I would only pretend I knew how magic worked. I knew indeed, but I wasn't truly a witch, was it?

I only had terrifying magical powers. And I believed--hoped--if I learned all the tricks in theory, then nobody would be able to trick me.

I was wrong.

It was two, maybe three, in the morning, when I once woke up to the sound of footsteps in the hall of the first floor. The owner was back.

Without thinking, I grabbed my coat from the chair where I left it to dry after the sleet raging all day, and bolted to the window. A car thief, I couldn't be caught. And I didn't want to use magic to frighten an innocent person.

The footsteps approached, echoing upstairs.

Pulling my damp coat on, I cracked the window open. Snow blew into my face, sending a shiver down my spine. The shed stood close enough to hop off, but its roof was also slanted enough to slip off and fall and get hurt. I cursed, struggling to be fast and careful at the same time. I swung my left leg over the sill, holding my breaths before the jump.

One.

Two--

"Easy there, this is the window I broke my leg falling out of once."

I froze. This voice. I thought I'd never hear it again. But when I turned around, there he was, leaning against the doorframe and as real as my own breath.

Later, I'd think about it as a trick. When you wanted to believe something--someone--you didn't question the contradictions but found the beauty in them. Maybe it was the fault of the eerie powers, or maybe it was simply what first love did to every mortal. You started to believe perfection could exist.

Because Vlad was perfection in my eyes.

It had been over three years since our night by the river, and something changed in him inevitably. I couldn't tell what it was, he was the same Vlad. The details perhaps? He was the boy I knew, yet he was a man I didn't know. His hair was combed now? His expression withdrawn? He grew taller, sharper, and his shoulders had this air of proud confidence around them. Yet, the spark in his eyes that compelled me to trust him that day in the hospital yard...it was missing. His gaze, once burning with what I regarded as longing to change the world, was lit no more.

The flame had died out.

"Vlad?"

A smile flickered in the corners of his lips. "Yara."

How was I supposed to tell him I wasn't the girl he knew either? That his car was gone because of me? But he didn't ask me about the car, didn't comment my hair tousled after hours of reading and sleep, didn't question my attempt to run off.

He just looked at me as if not a day had passed since I kissed him.

Something gave way inside me. Vlad was the only one in the world who knew what I was, the only one who hadn't turned his back on me after I gained these terrifying powers. The only one I could throw my arms around right then and feel the warmth of another body. Not alone, not left behind.

Shrugging off my coat, I crossed the room between us in a blink, and rushed into his arms. His clothes were still cold after the streets, but I buried my face into his chest, breathing the frost in. He smelled of winter, and home. Of something that, once familiar, could never become strange.

Vlad hesitated for a second, as though he didn't expect me to welcome him, but then wrapped his arms around me, too, his breath brushing my ear. We stood like that for a whole minute, no less.

"Where have you been?" I asked, lifting my eyes to meet his.

His dark gaze softened. "Around," he said. "I'm always around. What about you?"

I'm right here. A god or a demon or the angel of Death incarnate, I didn't care then, because he was beside me. And after all, I was a witch myself, people awed me, why should I be satisfied with less than the love of Death?

I couldn't tell who kissed who first. He was close, but I wanted him closer. I wanted time to stop and that moment to stretch on forever.

We tumbled onto the couch, my fingers tangling in his golden locks, his lips drawing a hungry path of kisses down my neck. My breath quickened. Those agonizing seconds as we shed our clothes bled into trembling anticipation as our skin touched, again and again. Vlad's jacket and my sweatshirt, his chest to mine; Vlad's pants and my leggings, his knees to mine.

Despite the window left open, I was not cold anymore. I was hot, I was burning.

Vlad was so warm, and I hoped he would make me feel even warmed. He did. He did everything I wanted without asking, because he felt my heartbeat and knew what it wanted. Because I felt his, too. Because it was magic. Vlad's pulse was my pulse, completing one another. I felt his uncertainty, his heed, his desire like my own--and they were for there was no boundary between our emotions then.

It was unnatural, and it was perfect.

The couch was too small for the two of us, and I found myself beneath him, my nails digging into the old leather, tearing it, while his kisses deepened and deepened. My left collarbone, my right breast, my belly, the rim of my panties. His hands were confident, and he held me as though afraid I would disappear. As if I was the one who always disappeared.

And then there were no clothes at all, only our skin.

My breath hitched. His eyes found mine, searching, seeking approval, and I nodded, pulling him closer. Ever closer. My back arched when our hips met. When my body embraced his, savoring his warmth, his strength, his passion. The bulb of the lamp in the corner exploded, leaving us in sheer darkness, leaving us to each other.

A witch and a mage, we fitted soundly. We belonged. And I didn't mind if it was magic or if to find my true haven, I had to die and descend to Hell, stop breathing and cheat nature. We owned that moment like the moon owned the sky at night. The world ceased to exist, fogged with sweet oblivion, narrowed to two bodies laced together.

Faster and faster, he pushed and I followed. With my haven above me, against me, inside me. With Vlad, with him alone, I felt like I was worthy of something. Of everything. I was beautiful, I was clever, I was deserving. And I had every chance to prove I was all of those things from the start, but he didn't ask for any proof.

With him and him alone, I felt safe. Physically, mentally, spiritually--safe. He cared, he accepted, he cherished me, I knew it because it was right there, in my heart. In his heart. In his breath and his touch. From that moment, everything would be fine, I thought. I was his. He'd never leave me again.

I could not be more mistaken.

✧ ✧ ✧

He stood by the window, his figure merely a shadow sketched by pale starlight. He stood like a rock, unwavering, barely breathing. I wondered what Vlad was thinking, serious so suddenly. Nobody tended the lamp, nobody minded the darkness.

Silence enclosed us.

For the first time in months, my mind was as peaceful as the night outside, and I curled up in the sofa corner, pulling his shirt around me. I wanted to say something, but how could I name the moment when we turned from silly children arguing about old villainous tales to secret lovers, each with their own life? I missed that moment, and now the silence threatened to make us strangers again.

Yet I was scared of keeping my lips sealed because sometimes silence could be even more harmful than words. I needed to speak before our moment shattered to nothingness.

"Do you remember that night in spring by the river?" Vlad asked without turning to me before I could.

Why did you choose me that night? Who are you? Why couldn't I find you and you always find me so easily? Can I come with you this time?

"It was autumn," I said instead.

"I know. But it felt like spring."

I glanced at the keys he'd left on the shelf, at our clothes scattered across the floor. "Wherever you live," I swallowed, my throat dry, "are you happy there?"

"Happiness is a lie, it doesn't exist. Satisfaction at best."

"Well, I'm not satisfied where I live."

He stayed quiet.

"You know, you never tell me anything about yourself, Vlad. Where are you from? Who are your parents? Have you ever seen a sea? Are you afraid of anything?" I paused, every word of mine left me less and less confident. "I am."

Still, he said nothing. He did not even look at me. His disregard stung me like a splinter driven into my palm.

"Answer me!" the magic in my blood awoke, but it couldn't shake him for he had the same magic too. "Everything I am now is of your doing. My own family is scared of me, and everything I once dreamed of is in ruins."

Slowly, he finally turned around. I expected him to smile again, to see that light curl of his lips that--he knew--could shoo away my insecurities, but he didn't smile. The night shadows covered his face, dark and cruel.

"You think your choices, your mistakes are my fault?" he asked, his voice predator calm.

"You left me no choice after that night by the river."

"I gave you the choice, Yaroslava. You can be anyone you want now, and you choose to cling to the past."

Shock washed over me. Had he just called himself my past? Or had I been his past?

I watched his testy stride across the room as he collected his things, tugging his pants on and yanking his shirt off my shoulders. He was leaving, a phantom gliding through the dark, ready to abandon me once more. After everything we'd had? After all I'd felt? He knew what I felt! He knew I trusted him, he knew I had nobody closer than him in my life, and yet--he was leaving.

He knew what you felt but never said he wanted to, my mind whispered. He never asked for your feelings, Yara, and never promised you anything in return. Before naming him your destiny, you should have asked if he wanted you to be his.

Tears threatened my eyes, but I blinked them away. "You can't leave."

"I can't stay."

"Why?"

He stopped in the doorway, his angry hand gripping the wooden frame. His heart skipped a beat, and then broke into a gallop, the emotion I knew as the warning of temper.

"What do you want from me?" he spun around, his face a baleful mask. "I can feel your heartbeat begging for something, so what is it? Do you want me to be your personal hero? I'm not a hero. Do you need money?" he tossed his wallet on the tattered leather next to me. "The house? It's yours, the owner's dead anyway. A place in high society and beautiful life full of wonders? You have magic, make it happen!"

I stared at the wallet beside me, aghast. Money? Was this really what he thought I wanted after our night?

"I have nothing to give you, Slavich," he went on, his every word like a whip at my skin. "You don't even know who I am. Do you think your life is in ruins? You've seen no ruins yet." Having said his piece, he swept out of the room. His heavy steps stomped down the stairs, and then the front door slammed open and shut.

It should have struck me there and then that only a monster could break one's heart in such cold blood. Instead, I leaped after him.

Choking on my tears, I ran outside, naked, only my damp coat I'd picked on my way hanging around my shoulders. The chill of the predawn hour pricked my lungs as I stepped onto the ground. A thin blanket of snow bit at my bare feet.

"Wait!" I cried. Didn't he see I wanted none of those things he had just offered me? I didn't need a hero or a life full of wonders--I needed him, who he was tonight, who knew real me.

But maybe he doesn't want real me. "Vlad, please, don't leave me. I can change, I promise. I'll do whatever you want, I'll be whoever you want, just don't leave me."

He glared from the darkness, his eyes didn't soften at the sight of the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I love you!"

I love you. Those words, that choice I would curse a thousand times afterward. I saw what those words did to him. He went rigid as if I'd slapped him. A storm broke, altering Vlad's face, changing his expression into something inhuman. A shadow of a man, a demon incapable of love.

And for the last time, he left.

✦ ✦ ✦