Sweet Bytes

Excerpt

Chapter One

Ophelia knelt alone on the icy dock and her warm breath chilled into a cloud. She passed her fingertips over the vine patterns embossed in the leather of the long, rectangular case. Settling on the gold clasps, one on each end, she unfastened them. She lifted the bow out of the case and stood with the weight of it in both hands.

All at once familiar, she'd found the archery case among her dead father's things and his spirit caressed every Celtic swirl etched upon it. Somehow, he'd managed to conceal the set her entire seventeen years of life in their little house.

Your father was murdered, Ophelia, and they're coming for you next. Only, they won't kill you. They'll keep you for continued use. Adrian's words haunted her memories. She'd loved him, and he was gone.

She thrust the bow's end on the dock and pressed her foot against the inside. Reaching down, she grabbed the string, bent the bow, and pulled the loop up into the groove.

And the bow was strung.

Next, Ophelia took out one of the arrows and ran her thumb along the feathered end. She retrieved a letter to her father from her coat pocket and wrapped it around the arrowhead with flammable pitch. She fitted the arrow's end onto the string, took out a lighter and set the letter on fire.

Ophelia pulled the arrowed string back to her ear, focused on the gray sub-arctic sky and released.
The arrow flew high into the air above the frigid water, soaring until it descended and stuck into a small iceberg floating in the deep-blue ocean inlet.

Smoke fizzled in the snow, carrying the letter's words to heaven.

I wasn't informed you're an archer.

Ophelia cinched brow and spun around.

A boy about her age stood near her little white car, hands thrust into navy coat pockets. His almond-shaped eyes were dark brown, black hair combed in a classic cut, strong jaw, full lips. Her twin sister might've thought him adorably handsome, but her dark mood prevented the same assessment. I didn't mean to startle you.

"You didn't startle me," Ophelia spoke aloud. "I was already cranky. I suppose you're Tristan Li, my new Oldblood Protector." She'd been informed of his arrival and now here he was, a stranger sent to keep watch over her.

Yet, he seemed eerily familiar, like she already knew him; that was impossible. She couldn't remember an Asian-American ever visiting their isolated town before.

He winced. 'Oldblood Protector.' You shouldn't speak those words aloud.

She lowered her bow and pressed her foot against the inside. "I don't like you talking inside my head."
You're an empath. Nameless memory drifted from him and through her senses, but the source eluded her. And I'm a telepath.

"So?" Ophelia unstrung her bow and knelt to put it away.

"You need to become accustomed to it." Tristan unsettled her. "The archery set. According to my sources, you've never strung a bow or shot an arrow before."

"According to your sources?" She nestled the bow back in its case and lowered the lid.

He approached slowly, skin pale. His cold breath made no cloud before his lips. As your Protector, it is my duty to understand you.

"Great. Besides being a blood-sucking dead guy"—Ophelia stood, case in hands—"you're also a snoop."

"I mean you no harm." He stopped, hands still in pockets.

She pushed past him and trudged up the dock toward her car. "Joseph assigned you, so you must have excellent self-control. I'm only a lollipop to you."

Boots sounded on the wood planks as Tristan followed her. "To lose three loved ones at—"

"Two." Ophelia climbed the stone steps up to her car. "I didn't lose Adrian. He was taken from me." She opened a door and set her archery case in the back seat. "And I want him back."

"He's dead to you."

"Adrian is alive!" Ophelia faced the vampire, who stumbled back on one foot. The knowledge that a hunt had been ordered to destroy Adrian always remained fixed in the forefront of her mind.

"He's a Newblood." Tristan regained his composure and spoke in low, intense tones, gaze faltering.
"You're a highly addictive drug to him now. I thought you accepted that."

Ophelia locked her gaze on his piercing eyes. "I've accepted that the Newbloods are a completely different species. They don't procreate the way your kind does. So, how are they made? They're drawn to diabetic blood. It's a drug to them. But, what do they eat? What's their bread and butter? It's not blood, like it is for you. What is it? Do you know?"

Tristan's pale face rippled with unease. "Why does the owl follow you?" He nodded to a barn owl perched in a frosty birch tree not six paces away.

According to the books, barn owls were not indigenous to Alaska, but this one remained unimpressed with human intelligence, in any case. White-faced, gold feathers crowned her head, swirling back in flecks of tan and gray.

"Leave her alone!" Ophelia stepped up to his toes, and he trembled.

"I won't harm your owl." Tristan stepped back, trepidation well-hidden.

Not hidden well enough. Ophelia felt his fear, but couldn't imagine why she would be considered a threat to a super-powerful vampire.

My kind has much to fear from you.

What do you mean? She'd heard those words spoken before.

"Fully developed, your ability could be used against my kind like nothing else. The Elders know this, and they will do everything in their power to prevent your independence. At the same time, your empathic ability is highly valued. The High Prefect has already ordered you turned on your eighteenth birthday and has reserved your apprenticeship as an operative."

"An operative? A spy? For a bunch of blood-sucking dead guys? Oh, that's just peachy." She growled.

"To own your destiny, you must become confident in who you are."

"And who am I?" A wall of rage surged up around Ophelia's heart.

"You're an empath"—fear surrounded his words as they formed in his mind—"soul-mated to a gryphon."

"A what?"

"You're familiar with griffins." Tristan tapped the ring she wore on her thumb. "'Gryphon' is the way of saying it on this side of reality."

The mythological creature etched on Adrian's gold signet ring. She lifted her hand. "I know the myth." Griffin was Adrian's legal first name, in fact, but only she knew that.

"The griffin, as half-eagle and half-lion, is master of all animals: those who fly and those who walk along the ground. As a Science Fiction reader, you may think of him as a beastmaster, after the Andre Norton book."

"I was right?"

"Yes, of course," Tristan said without hesitation. "As an empath, you know Adrian better than he knows himself. Joseph believes he is unaware of his true origin and has launched an investigation into…"

"Stay away from Adrian!" The words charged out of her and struck him.

Tristan's butt hit the ground.

Horror rushed through her like a great wind, seeing him downed by the sheer force of her strongest emotions.

Shrieking split the air and a bald eagle dove at him, talons ready to rip at him.

"No, please stop!" Ophelia waved both arms and leapt between the bird and Tristan. "Please, you don't need to do this!"

The eagle swooped away and came to rest on a nearby branch, snow shaking down as he settled his great wings against his body. Like all mature bald eagles, his head feathers were white and his body, dark brown. He was the same eagle who'd often perched near her owl during the previous six months, the same one Adrian had introduced to her near the Old Mine.

Adrian had saved the eagle's life, after finding him pierced by a poacher's bullet. Now, she realized the eagle had sworn loyalty upon healing and he kept watch over her for Adrian's sake.

Princess, the barn owl, ruffled up her feathers at Tristan. Show proper respect!

Slack-jawed, Ophelia glanced back and forth between the birds and the vampire.

Tristan rose slowly to his feet and bowed his head to the owl. "Please, forgive me. I have sworn to protect your gryphon's lady."

Princess did not look entirely convinced.

In a heartbeat, Ophelia knew the owl's origins.

Adrian saved Princess's chicks from a fox and she'd sworn to honor him once they grew up and flew the nest. Consequently, she'd followed him north and assumed guardianship of his lady.

Of me. Ophelia stumbled back, fumbling for her car door. "How can you hear her?"

"Through you, of course. I am the most advanced telepath of Joseph's children."

"And I can…can hear her because of…of Adrian, because of our empathic bond."

"Yes."

Finding the door, Ophelia got into her car and thrust her key into the ignition.

Ophelia.

She jerked the door closed.

Your twin sister is an empath, too.

Ophelia froze and the frigid air knifed through her lungs as she remembered the Elder, known as Edmund, leering at her sister.

You have a twin sister, the Elder had said. How convenient.

Ophelia spun tires in the snow and fled.