Crimson Covenant

By Molly Lavenza

I never dreamed I'd share my first kiss with a vampire.

My sixteenth birthday promises my transition into life as a vampire hunter, side by side with my powerful aunt. But on my first day at a new high school, I fall for a boy like no other; a boy who will, whether he knows it or not, become a blood drinking vampire when he turns sixteen.

Mercy is a town I must protect, but can I do it if it means I must sacrifice the boy who holds my heart?

If you like love at first sight, impossible odds, and strong family bonds, you'll love this compelling, clean young adult vampire small town romance.

Perfect for fans of Rachel Caine and Stephenie Meyer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Lavenza
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215026892

Molly Lavenza

Molly Lavenza is a student at Kent State University. She loves her home state of Ohio, her cats, little sister, and her boyfriend, whose dark, curly hair and obsession with Converse sneakers was the inspiration for Declan, the hero in The Changeling Covenant.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Crimson Covenant

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Epilogue

Crimson Covenant

by Molly Lavenza

cover design by Angela Kulig

©2023 Molly Lavenza, All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction.

All similarities to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

W hat about that one ? He’s cute.

My cousin is suddenly boy crazy, and while she’s not the only South Side girl openly pointing out the fresh meat from the North Side, I have to live with her.

And with her annoying interest in these creatures, who might be new to us but are the same inside.

Same as our neighbors and classmates from the past ten years, a bunch of boys with the usual boy attributes.

Smelly feet, bathroom sense of humor.

Ridiculous appetites and no manners.

I sigh dramatically and Claudia shoves me playfully as my long French braid slips over my shoulder and down my back.

She’s much stronger than she looks.

Excuse you.

A girl complains as I stumble into her, but I stare straight ahead, watching the boy who has caught my cousin’s eye.

His dark hair is wavy and a little messy, but obviously styled to look that way.

He’s glaring at everyone, doing what seems to be his best impression of a moody and brooding Victorian romance novel hero.

Gross.

Claudia hums appreciatively and steps forward before I can stop her.

Hi, I’m Claudia. And you are?

She holds out her hand to shake as if she’s practicing for a job interview, and I roll my eyes, shifting my purse strap on my shoulder although it’s settled just fine as it is.

Kieran, why are you so popular? Hi, Claudia, I’m Max. This is Kieran.

When another boy steps in front of my cousin’s target and grabs her hand, Claudia is nonplussed, giggling as she lifts her shoulders and beams at this outgoing specimen.

Max’s hair, unlike his friend’s, is cut short and is an ordinary sort of brown, kind of like caramel.

His front tooth is a little crooked, and his childlike exuberance is matched only by my cousin’s.

This should be annoying, but there's something about him . . .

The bell is about to ring. Let’s go, Claudia.

When I grab her free hand, I realize she’s still holding onto Max’s, but his fingers aren’t clutching hers any longer.

I glance up and find him staring right at me, his smile faltering.

Kindly let us by, Max. Please and thank you.

A flicker of a smile tugs at the edge of Kieran’s scarlet lips, and I fight the temptation to mirror his expression.

These boys are nothing but trouble.

Sorry, my cousin is no fun. I’ll see you around, Max. Kieran.

Claudia flutters her eyelashes at the still stoic Kieran, although he’s breathing a little harder now that she's addressed him again.

With a pout, she finally turns to face me as I drag her though the thinning crowd.

Bubble gum and body spray scents fill the air, and I gag at the overpowering aromas.

What happened to not drawing attention to ourselves?

I hiss at her as we rush into homeroom.

Several pairs of eyes I don’t recognize find us immediately, and none are friendly.

North Side kids, sparing us a glance.

We should be grateful for the effort.

My sarcastic thoughts must be clear in my expression because the snobby group turns away quickly and begins whispering loudly to each other.

You’re rolling your eyes again, Alina. I thought you wanted to stop doing that.

Claudia pokes me as I subconsciously respond to the North Side kid’s judgments.

Mercy is a small town when it comes to population, but we’re spread out, with plenty of uninhabited woods between us, enough that at one point, someone drew an invisible line splitting the kids into two groups.

One half, those north of this line, went to school together from kindergarten through the end of ninth grade, and the rest of us stayed together in our own small school.

Do you have electricity? Megan says you don’t, but this is the twentieth century after all.

A girl in a very short pleated plaid skirt and a fluffy white sweater leans into my view and I raise my eyebrows.

Her ponytail sways as she tilts her head, but I don’t say a word as she waits for an answer.

Claudia takes my hand.

Come on.

With a sigh, I walk around the girl.

"It’s the twenty-first century," I correct her, and she grunts.

What did you just say?

The classroom door bangs shut and I jump, looking over my shoulder as my cousin grips my fingers tightly in her own.

Max stands just inside the room, beside a man who has the same short haircut and medium brown hair as he does.

I’m Mr. Martel. Welcome to homeroom.

He pats Max on the back as he speaks, nodding to the room in general.

For a moment, I feel bad for Max, who is frozen to the spot.

He looks nauseated, which I can relate to.

Max, my man! Come sit over here.

In an instant, his expression shifts, and he smiles easily, as if wasn’t obviously embarrassed a moment ago, and something warms inside me, as if I’ve just had a sip of hot chocolate.

I look down when his gaze catches mine, hoping I don’t give away this strange but not uncomfortable feeling.

While I’ve grown up with boys around, they’re all like a bundle of puppies, jumping and laughing all over each other most of the time.

Alina. Claudia.

The only exception to the boys as puppies rule appears at my side, and I nod to him as Claudia raises her eyebrows at me.

She’s certain Ben has had a crush on me since second grade, when I fell off the wobbly old slide behind the old house that served as our school and he walked me, hand in hand, back inside to get help while I bled from a cut in my chin.

I still have a thin white scar as a reminder of the occasion.

No reason we couldn’t stay on our side of town. There’s room in the schoolhouse for three more grades.

Ben isn’t exactly right.

There aren't a lot of kids in our small school, but we had been outgrowing it.

And yet it wasn't our choice to come to this side of Mercy to finish our education.

Money is tight in our small town, and teachers didn’t come cheap, so it was the school board that decided to pull us all together for the last three grades of high school to save some money.

So here we are.

Claudia’s excitement over meeting new boys hasn’t waned, and she tilts her head, batting her eyes at a redhead with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose as Ben sneers.

Why does she want anything to do with them? They wouldn’t respect her.

He points to a corner where four desks sit empty, and I walk ahead of him to claim three of them for us.

"Excuse me, but we always sit in the back on the left side."

Fluffy Sweater from the Twentieth Century steps on my foot as she hurries to drop her tiny black purse on one of the desks.

She’s alone, but I’m sure her friends are watching from behind me.

I smile thinly.

Today you can sit on the other left. You know, the one when you’re facing the back of the room.

When I slide into the desk in front of her, she huffs and stomps her foot.

Ben ignores her and takes the spot beside me.

Do you have physics early or late in the day? I feel like I’d do better early, after I’ve had a good dose of black coffee and less interaction with the locals.

He pulls his schedule, a folded green paper, out of his pocket and shakes it so it opens up under my nose.

My attempt to hold back a smile is unsuccessful, and Ben smirks, pleased with himself.

Who are you calling locals? We all live in the same town, jerk.

Could have fooled me.

Claudia pulls the last desk up to sit between Ben and me as a couple of kids mouth off, leaving less than an inch between us.

There’s no way the teacher is going to let us stay in this configuration, but for now, I appreciate having her near.

Especially when she sticks her tongue out at Fluffy Sweater.

Stop being such a brat, Aubree.

Max steps up beside Fluffy Sweater and tugs on her elbow as she whines, but she relents after a few moments and shuffles off beside him.

Something about Max reminds me of . . .

What?

I shake my head and Claudia leans close, frowning.

You okay, Alina? Don’t let her get to you, okay? We’ve got your back.

When I sag in my seat, shaking my head slowly, she pats my arm.

Before I can explain that I’m not worried about Annoying Aubree, Mr. Martel clears his throat and taps on the white board at the front of the room.

Our South Side school has five rooms used as classrooms, two grades to a room, a dining room we shared for lunch we brought from home, and a single bathroom.

The kitchen doubled as the office for the principal, nurse, and five teachers.

Each of the five classrooms had a chalkboard on wheels.

This white board has the teacher’s name written in royal blue letters.

No dusty chalk or scratched up faded green background.

What do you guys do for fun out there? Make moonshine?

A boy somewhere behind me snorts at his own joke, which is no joke at all since my neighbors to each side, which is to say about half a mile away in both directions, have stills.

If anyone in this town drinks apple pie shine, it comes from Maggie Parker, who lords over her brood of six children better than a young widow with a farm ought to be able to manage.

Claudia and I have both spent time babysitting for her and have no idea how she manages.

Something to contribute, Mr. Burke?

Mr. Martel walks down the aisle and stops beside my desk, his stare forward, his face blank.

But he’s angry, and I can feel it as he stands a few inches away from me.

When I turn my head to look up at him, he’s only focused on the boy, who is stumbling over a flustered apology, so why does it feel like he’s focused on me instead?

I blink a few times and frown as my gaze wanders to Max, who is already looking in my direction.

As definitely as his father is not watching me, Max absolutely is.

But instead of the leer like the ones Claudia and I have collected so far this morning, his stare is curious.

Wondering, as if I’ve done something of interest to draw his attention.

A tap on my desk makes me jump, and I look over to find the teacher knocking his fist against the wood.

Let’s all pay attention now so I won’t have to repeat myself, shall we?

He stops banging on my desk but he doesn’t move as he shifts to settle his hands on his hips.

Claudia pokes my arm and I shake my head without looking towards her, hoping she’ll get the message and not do anything to provoke Mr. Martel.

I don’t want any attention, not from her misbehavior or from boys who want to tease us for being from the South Side.

Closing my eyes, I wish for Max to look somewhere else, because if his father notices him watching me, he’ll wonder why.

It’s a question we would share, but I don’t want him to think of it in the first place.

Something shrieks suddenly, a shrill interruption that cuts the tension in the air like a guillotine’s blade, and as students shift in their seats, frowning at each other as a low hum of conversation begins, a heavy stream of water sprays from above.

Cold and soaked, I gasp as the room around me erupts in screams.

Chapter Two

Iswallow a mouthful of water as I look up at the ceiling, stunned.

Come on, let’s get out of here.

Ben grabs my arm, yanking me up from my desk, and my purse tumbles from my shoulder.

I don’t carry a lot in it, just some lip balm, my wallet, and house key, but all three fall onto the wet floor and I pull away from Ben to pick them up.

A pair of beat up tennis shoes appears beside me, and Max is on his knees in the pool of water surrounding us, fishing my peach-flavored lip balm out before it floats away.

My mom used to bake peach pie in the summer. It’s my favorite, but only if it’s warm with French vanilla ice cream on top.

When I turn to look at him, incredulous that any of these kids would help a stranger under these absurd conditions, I find myself staring into eyes so dark they’re almost black.

The brown is deep and intense, and my breath catches in my throat.

A fleck of gold pulses faintly at the edge of his irises, and I fall back on my rear end, splashing anyone close.

But I have no idea who that might be, because I am horrified by what I’ve seen in Max’s eyes.

Come on, Alina. It’s not like you to be so dramatic.

Claudia sputters, her annoyance obvious in her tone as she pulls me up, her hands under my arms firm and insistent.

Wallet, keys. Did you have anything else in there? Hardly any room, huh? It’s so much smaller than what the other girls carry.

Max holds out my purse, which is filling with water as I stare at it, and Ben swipes it from him.

Thanks, but I’ve got her from here.

Max and Ben look at each other for a long moment, and I’m reminded of these old cowboy movies my dad likes to watch in the middle of the night.

The men stand off, hands twitching at their sides as they wait for their cue to draw.

If these boys had guns, I can’t imagine them being patient enough to wait for that signal.

Water drips into both of their eyes, and I stare from one to the other as I shiver.

Max. Now.

Mr. Martel snaps his fingers, breaking whatever testosterone-induced spell the boys are under.

Ben coughs and shakes his head, but Max offers me his hand as he stands and I take it without a second thought, leaning in close to him as I get my footing.

The gold is definitely there, ready to burst into view.

Sooner than later, I suspect.

I step back, pulling my hand from his so quickly that Mr. Martel turns his head to look at me with a frown.

Out of the room. All of you, now.

His tone brooks no argument, although I don’t know how much more any of us can soak in.

Drenched, we slosh through the puddle at our feet and wade into the hallway, Claudia groaning beside me as she clutches my hand.

Ben lurks behind us as Max follows his father ahead.

Water has leaked onto the gray tile, but as far as I can tell, no other sprinklers have been set off, and the only kids lurking about, squeezing water from clothing and ponytails, are from our class.

What in the world . . .

A woman with dull blonde hair tinged with gray stands at the end of the hall with her arms outstretched, staring at Mr. Martel as if he held the key to ending this disaster.

Or at least an answer as to why it began.

I apologize, Mrs. Mirren. A student must have pulled the fire alarm in my room, and I didn’t see who it was.

I tilt my head, wondering how he could have missed that when he was looking around the room, his back to me, when the sprinklers went off.

Can we go home now?

Claudia pouts, staring at the principal as she pushes her soaked hair from her face.

Mrs. Mirren raises her eyebrows as she stares at us.

We stand at the end of the hall near the front doors now, in groups huddled together as we shiver.

There’s no way we can stay here in this condition.

I’ll see about borrowing some towels from the swim team. Mr. Martel, please see that they’re all taken care of.

She gives Claudia a final dismissive look, wrinkling her nose as if my best friend is covered in cow manure instead of clear water.

Ugh. Who does she think she is?

Ben grumbles behind me, and when he shakes his head, several girls around us shriek.

But