Divided By Night

I was fascinated by the twisting psyche of Peter/Flynn. Whether good or evil, healer or killer, the author managed to put me in the character’s head and understand his motivation.
– Linda Ulleseit

Fourth Book of The Vampire Flynn Series
From USA Today Best Selling Author Peter Dawes

After ten years spent in hiding, the sins of the past have come to visit Peter Dawes again. Living out his life with his watcher, Monica, the two have forged a family within the throes of denial. But something sinister lurks in the shadows, released by the spell which granted the rogue seer back his life. And both it and the Supernatural Order have had a decade to prepare for his return.

Ready to stand against those formidable opponents, his greatest enemy might be the one lurking underneath the skin. As Peter gets pulled into a cataclysm stretching across a continent, he discovers the vampire he once was still lingers after all this time. A whisper has become a voice and has adopted his old name.

And this time, Flynn will not be so easily silenced.

‘As much as I wish we could continue wallowing in ignorance, we don’t have that luxury any longer.’

Movement caught the corner of my eye, forcing my attention toward its source. As I squinted, I realized a figure was seated on the arm of the couch, as tall in stature as I was with a similar build. He tilted his chin in recognition of my examination, bright green eyes which mirrored mine studying me back with hair the same color slicked back and a suit hanging from his frame. It only took a moment for me to realize why he looked so familiar.

The man seated on the arm of the couch was me.

A flicker of realization crossed his eyes, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Care to deny what’s right before your eyes?” he asked with a faint edge to his voice. “Or ignore it outright? Please, I invite you to attempt it.”

My stomach lurched again, without surrendering what little might have remained in it. “How are you…?” I trailed off and glanced at Monica, pointing toward the other man. “Do you see this?”

She shook her head and shrugged as he answered, “No, she doesn’t. Only you do because I’m in your head. It’s called a mental projection.”

“None of this makes any sense.”

“You needed to see it for yourself.” Slowly, he came to a stand. With deliberate steps, he paced around me, casting only a quick glance at Monica as he walked past with her eyes still fixed on me. The way she studied me indicated she knew something that might be happening, but not its fullest extent. My mind tingled as she slipped into my thoughts, and once more I was not apt to fight it.

“Look me in the eyes, seer,” he said. “Tell me that you don’t see the truth of our existence staring back at you. You think you were rid of me, but you never have been and never will be. I have always been a part of you.”

“I must be losing my mind,” I murmured.

“If only you were so fortunate.” He paused in front of me, folding his hands in front of him. “Quite frankly, you’ve been ignoring the signs for quite some time, and it suited me over the years considering it’s allowed us to co-exist. We don’t have much time left, though, and you need to wake up. There’s a reason why I’ve been taking control at less-than-opportune moments.”

“Who was the man in the field?” I asked.

“That was a better question than the ones you’ve been asking, but I need to know first that you grasp the gravity of what’s happening.” The grin tugging at the corners of his mouth spread out further. “Who am I, seer?”

“A bloody figment of my imagination.”

“Incorrect.” He stalked closer to me, until we stared at each other with mere inches separating us. His smile vanished. “Who. Am. I?”

“Flynn.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why did you kill that girl?”

He laughed. Clucking his tongue, he shook his head before meeting my gaze again. “You were on the right path and then you veered from it. You asked about the man in the field and now you want to take exception with my methods of disposing of our problems.” His grin evaporated altogether. “This is the same problem you had fifteen years ago. This is why I became necessary in the first place. You’re constantly afraid to get your hands dirty in order to survive.”

“Is that what you want to call this?” I asked, throwing my hands into the air. “Right, I forgot that you were the one who liked slaying innocent people.”

“You sanctimonious bastard,” he quipped. “Wash your hands of your own sins as though you were never guilty of any. Go on ahead and pretend that you are anything like these people you surround yourself with. That you haven’t ever tasted blood or seen the light of life fade from the eyes of one of our victims. You fall asleep each night believing that anything you do nullifies the guilt you harbor when we both know it would take a lifetime for your conscience to be sated.”

Flynn claimed another pace closer to me and scoffed. “The fact of the matter is that your teeth are as guilty of claiming life as mine have been.” As he encroached one step further, he tilted his head to whisper in my ear. “And you have liked it.”

Comments are closed.