A Vampiric Kiss のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

71Isaac. The guy didn’t smell like he belonged. That was the first thing I noticed. Willow Creek had its usual blend of pine, wood smoke, and small-town boredom. But this one reeked of city sweat and something worse. He reeked of fear disguised as calm.I spotted him standing by the produce stand, pretending to be interested in heirloom tomatoes. Problem was, he hadn’t blinked in over thirty seconds, and his eyes kept darting toward Isabella, who was two stalls down talking to the lady who sells goat cheese.I leaned against a post near the coffee van and sipped black coffee I didn’t need. He clocked me but didn’t react. He shifted his weight like he was considering whether it was worth whatever he’d come here to do.Then he started moving slowly. Too slowly.I beat him to it. Two strides and I was in front of him, stepping into his path like I owned the street. He froze.“Hey,” I said, my voice calm. “Lose something?”He tried to look confused. I saw right through it. “Sorry?”“Try

73Noah. We caught another spy. He wasn’t supposed to say anything. That was the point of sending someone that old, someone Edward trusted. But pain does strange things to even the most ancient mouths.“You’re too late,” the vampire hissed before I finished him. “She wasn’t a mistake. She was a message.”I didn’t understand what he meant at first. I thought he meant Isabella. That she was some new power play, some game piece Edward wanted to use against me.But then he coughed, blood on his teeth, half of his ribs shattered from the fight and said her name.“Elena.”I stood there, still as death. Isaac beside me, winded, blood dripping down his temple.“What did you say?” I asked, voice calm. That eerie calm that always came before something worse.The spy spat. “He never forgave her for loving you.”That’s when I snapped his neck. Then I stood there, looking at the broken body, and felt my world begin to shift.Because the memory I had buried, something I had forced down for a centu

75Noah. I didn’t sleep, but not because I couldn’t. I just didn’t want to. Sleep felt like surrender, and I was done with that.So I stayed up, in my room, lights off, window open, a pen in my hand, and a single sheet of paper in front of me.It took longer than I’d like to admit to write the first line.It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say. It was that I knew exactly what I wanted him to hear, and I didn’t want to waste a single word doing it.I wasn’t interested in writing something clever or dramatic or riddles or games. I wasn’t even interested in the political pleasantries. All I wanted to write in here was the truth.And maybe that was the most dangerous kind of message I could send.I started with his name.Edward, I wrote down without any title or honorifics.I know you’re expecting something formal. You always did love theatrics. But I don’t have time for that. Neither do you.I paused.The ink bled a little. The pen was old, a little temperamental, but it matched my mo

77The thing about magic is that it doesn’t lie. At least, not on its own.People do. They bend it, twist it, hide behind it. But the core of magic, It’s honest. When it’s humming wrong, when something foreign slips in, you know. Even if your brain tries to talk you out of it, your bones don’t.And today, my bones were loud.I was refreshing the garden wards behind the shop, just like I always do every week. Nothing fancy. A little rosemary at the corners, sigils drawn into the dirt, a few whispered protections to keep the neighborhood kids from stealing my moonflower blooms again.But as soon as I grounded into the earth, palms pressed to the soil, breath steady, I felt a current that didn’t belong. Not a burst of power, not something violent. Just… wrong, like walking into your house and finding the furniture rearranged by an inch.Magic doesn’t shift like that unless someone moves it.I stood up slowly, wiped the dirt from my hands, and scanned the trees beyond my fence. There was

79Sienna. The woods were damp from last night’s storm. Not enough to be muddy, just soft, as if the ground hadn’t decided if it wanted to stay solid or melt under our feet.Isabella tripped over a root for the second time, and I didn’t bother hiding my sigh.“That root wasn’t even trying,” I muttered.She glared at me, brushing herself off. “Do you train everyone with this level of encouragement?”“No,” I said. “You’re special.”She snorted and kept walking, arms swinging stiffly like she was trying to remember how to be a person. Honestly, she looked like a deer in gym class. Graceful in theory, but mostly just panicked.“Can you at least tell me what we’re doing today?” she asked.“We’re doing what we’ve been doing for a week. Control. Focus. Not lighting your own eyebrows on fire.”“That happened once.”“Twice.”She didn’t argue, which meant I was right.We reached the small clearing I liked. It was ringed by ash trees and just wide enough to feel private without feeling boxed in