Prologue
Haven was the first one to hear his mother’s alarmed cry. Immediately, he seized his younger brother Wesley by the collar of his polo shirt, making him squeal in protest.
“Let go of me, Hav. I wanna play.”
Haven ignored his eight-year-old brother’s objection and slammed his hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” he ordered, keeping his voice low. He could sense his mother’s mounting fear, despite the fact that he and Wesley were in the den and their mother’s panicked scream had come from the kitchen where she was mixing potions.
“Someone’s in the house. Keep quiet.” He gave his brother a stern look. Wesley’s eyes widened in fear, but he nodded nevertheless. Haven took his hand off Wesley’s mouth and was rewarded with his brother’s silence.
Anticipating something just like this, his mother had drilled a strict protocol into him and his brother: hide and keep quiet. As much as Haven wanted to obey his mother, her scream had torn through his gut; he’d be a coward if he didn’t help her. He was tall for his age, almost a man. Being abandoned by their father less than a year ago had forced him to grow up fast. He was the man of the house now. It was up to him to help his mother.
“Go get Katie and hide under the stairs.” Their baby sister was sleeping in the downstairs bedroom rather than in the nursery upstairs so she could be heard if she woke. She wasn’t due to be fed for another two hours, and hopefully that meant she’d remain asleep.
Wesley took off, running down the hallway, his sock-clad feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. Haven mustered all his courage and crept toward the kitchen door.
“You know you have to sacrifice one of them, so who’s it gonna be?” a man hissed from inside the kitchen. The malevolence in the stranger’s voice was unmistakable, and a cold shiver slithered up Haven’s spine like a snake.
“Never,” Haven’s mother answered, a flash of white light accompanying her words. He knew if she was using magic so openly on the intruder it meant he was a preternatural creature: not human.
Shit!
A burglar Mom would have no problem dealing with, but this was different. That’s why she needed his help, whether she’d forbidden it or not. She could ground him all she wanted later, but he wasn’t going to stay away and hide like a spineless weasel. Wesley could take care of Katie by himself, but Haven was old enough now—eleven to be exact—to help his mother defeat an attacker.
Haven inched forward and glanced around the door frame into the well-lit kitchen. Aghast, he pulled back.
Double shit!
Without a doubt, her attacker was a vampire—top of the food chain. His fangs were extended and pushed past his open lips, his eyes glaring red like a car’s taillights in the night. While vampires weren’t immune to witchcraft, Haven’s mother was merely a minor witch with no powers beyond her potions and spells. She’d never mastered to control any of the elements: water, air, fire, and earth, like others of her kind had. She was near defenseless.
The tall, slim vampire had his hand clamped around her neck even as her lips moved as if trying to cast a spell. But no words issued from her throat. She struggled in his hold, her eyes darting to her side, searching desperately for a means of escape. There was no way out—no way she could free herself if she couldn’t utter a spell to make the vampire release her. And even then …
Haven knew what he had to do. Summoning all his courage, he rushed through the door and charged for the kitchen counter where an assortment of kitchen utensils stood in an earthen jug. He reached for the wooden spoon and broke it in half.
At the sound, the vampire snapped his head toward Haven and flashed his fangs in irritation. A warning snarl ripped from his throat. “Big mistake, little boy, big mistake.”
Nobody called him little and got away with it.
A choked gurgle came from his mother. She blinked her eyes at Haven, intent upon sending him a message despite her obvious distress. He understood her all too well, but he wasn’t going to flee. She wanted him to save himself. But he was no coward. How could she even think that he would run and leave her in the hands of this monster?
“Let my mother go!” he demanded from the vampire and lifted his hand holding the makeshift stake.
Haven charged toward the vampire, letting out a warrior cry like he’d seen in the Westerns he loved to watch on TV. Before he reached the bloodsucker, the vamp dropped his hold on his mother and tossed her against the stove, the sound of her back connecting with the metal oven door blasting a wave of fury through Haven. Faster than his eyes could follow, the vampire was on him and gripped his wrist, holding it immobile.