She gives the usual introduction to the newcomers who might not have read the Book of Theodora and explains that she was the wife of the Emperor Justinian of Constantinople during the sixth century. Justinian was a mage who cured himself of the bubonic plague by transferring his sickness onto condemned men, but something went wrong in his enchantment, and he died alongside the men he had cursed.
When he later rose from his grave, his generals and royal court hailed him as a god and fed from his blood to gain immortality. Nobody knew that this gift came with a terrible price.
Presbytera Driver pauses, letting the assembly hall fall silent. I sit straighter in my seat, waiting for her to continue.
“Empress Theodora reported that those who partook of her husband’s blood fought valiantly in his wars, died valiantly, and returned as blood drinkers. She rounded up exiled mages, the fallen women, and set up a nunnery that empowered women to protect the natives from the scourge of vampires.”
Chatter breaks out through the front rows filled with new recruits. A tiny smile curves my lips. The first time I heard this story, I was surprised that the original slayers had been women forced into prostitution.
“Under the guise of nuns, Theodora’s brave army of women patrolled the streets of Constantinople and their discoveries are what created the lore on vampire slaying today.” Driver spreads her arms wide, emphasizing the long sleeves of her gown.
The room breaks out into applause that fills my heart with determination. Each convent may select only one candidate per year for the blessing of Saint Theodora. I’ve got to work hard this year, so it can be me.
Driver continues her update, citing the numbers of vampires slain in the local area as well as sightings of powerful vampires. I lean forward, wondering if I should tell her about Alaric Severin.
If vampires have found a way to walk in the sun and terrorize people during the day, she’s got to know. It also means that they might have become impervious to the other things that can harm them, such as decapitation, stakes, and blessed water. A tremor runs down my spine as I consider an army of unkillable blood-sucking fiends.
“I would like to draw your attention to another matter,” says Driver. “Sister Taylor went missing during the summer, along with all her belongings. Unfortunately, without hair samples or a living conciliar, our mages cannot track her. She is elderly and in need of medical treatment.”
The assembly hall falls silent. Sister Taylor is another retired slayer. She’s over eighty years old and mostly walks around the dining hall, making sure everyone is well-fed. Why on earth would an old woman leave her home? She’s a tenth-generation slayer who has spent her entire life in the Order and probably doesn’t have many connections outside. I make a mental note to watch out for her on patrols.
“We have some good news.” Driver walks across the stage and pauses at the far left. “Our team of mages found a survivor from the Malone massacre. Maeve Morann, will you please stand?”
A palpitation reverberates through my chest and rattles my rib bones. Malone Convent is where Mom was an acolyte. It’s on the outskirts of Dublin was supposed to be impenetrable and mage-protected, yet vampires infiltrated it and set a fire that spread through the tower where everyone slept. I cast my gaze over the front rows, looking for the girl who escaped.
Maeve stands, her neck bent so that a curtain of chestnut hair falls over her face. She doesn’t turn around to address the rest of the room or raise her hand.
“What on earth did she see?” I whisper to Poppy.
“It had to be bad to kill two-hundred-and twenty-five mages and slayers,” Poppy whispers back.
Jude twists around in his seat. “Hey, Pops, isn’t Madoc going there to investigate?”
We both ignore him. Madoc is Poppy’s fiancé, a nineteen-year-old mage from Ireland who graduated last year and now serves the Council in its forensic technology division. I want to ask Poppy if this is true, but don’t want to give Jude the satisfaction that I’m listening to his pathetic attempts to make conversation.
He reaches for my arm, but I shrink away. How can I forgive someone who can’t even admit he has done anything wrong?
“Alright.” Jude’s eyes turn cold. “If words won’t satisfy you, then I’ll take action.”
Dread rolls through my belly, and I try not to think what Jude will do next to gain my attention.
Chapter 3
Maeve Morann sits, and Presbytera Driver returns to the middle of the stage. I straighten, hoping the next subject will be about our assignments for the year.
She rocks forward on the balls of her feet. “And now, candidates for the blessing will stand. Evangeline Shevette and Gabrielle Augustine.”
A hush falls across the room. There are usually four candidates, why did Driver only mention two? Poppy taps my arm, jolting me into action. I rise to my feet and keep my gaze off Jude, who is still trying to catch my eye.
On the far right and close to the front stands Evangeline Shevette, a dark-haired girl whose parents are slayer-and-mage partners who have chosen to teach.
I’m not surprised that Driver has shortlisted Evangeline, as she’s one of the best acolytes in our year.
Evangeline and I have never gotten along, even though we both have relatives within the Order. While she tries hard to appear like she belongs to the outside world, I’m not ashamed to embrace my heritage. She’s five-ten, eclipsing me by two inches and, like me, has an athletic frame honed by a lifetime of training.
While my red hair is natural, the burgundy highlights running through her mahogany hair are not. Silver studs decorate both nostrils, her lips, cheek dimples, and a double row of rings hangs in her septum. Today, she wears a tank top that exposes tribal tattoos that run from the nape of her neck to the tips of her fingers, and I wonder if they’re magical.
Driver turns from Evangeline to me and smiles. “Ladies, you will select a team of three slayer-and-mage pairs to accompany you on specialized missions. The leader who performs the best will receive the Blessing at the end of the term.”
I inhale a deep breath, absorbing the implications of Driver’s words. She didn’t say we had to slay the most vampires, which means she probably wants us to slay the most powerful blood-suckers or do something extraordinary. I hope to Saint Theodora that I can stay focused enough to perform.
Sister Shevette rises from her seat. She’s Evangeline’s mother and our Esoteric History instructor, a slayer with a short, wiry frame and cropped, dark hair.
Moments later, her husband, a mage who teaches Spell crafting, also stands. He is about five-four, bald, and wears spectacles, even though every mage over the age of sixteen knows the century-old enchantment to fix poor eyesight. He clears his throat, but it’s his wife who steps forward.
“Presbytera.” Sister Shevette wrings her hands. “On behalf of our daughter, we humbly decline. The Blessing belongs to Gabrielle Augustine.”
“What?” Evangeline cries.
Sister Shevette’s announcement hits me like a fist to the gut, and my mouth drops open. Who on earth would pass up the chance to become a better slayer? Faced with a powerful vampire or even a flock, the Blessing could make the difference between returning triumphant and being kept alive under vampire torture.
Angry mutters echo across the assembly hall, scorn dripping from multiple voices that spit the Augustine name. I glance from left to right, taking in my surroundings, taking in the furious glowers directed at me. A rush of heavy boots sounds from the far right, where Evangeline hurries through her row of seats, trying to reach the aisle.
I shake my head, my mouth still gaping with shock. This makes no sense. Evangeline is just as dedicated as me, and I’ve never been able to best her in a match.
Poppy swings her legs to the side and makes space for me to pass. I mutter my thanks and turn toward the aisle, but a large hand grips my wrist. My gaze darts to the source of my disturbance, Jude Dempsey, who fixes pleading eyes on mine and parts his lips to speak.
With a roar of disgust, I snatch my arm away and hurry across the narrow row of seats and down the stairs. By now, all the slayers in my year are on their feet, and I can’t blame them.
For my first three years at Agia Convent, other girls have accused me of succeeding because of the Augustine name. Mom received the Blessing, as did Grandma, her mother, and her mother before.
Anxiety ripples through my chest. The other slayers say it’s not fair that the blessing goes to the same family, allowing only a few to strengthen with each generation. While that’s true, it didn’t help Mom. Mom went missing before I was even born, and it was thanks to Aunt Clarissa and Uncle Fred’s locator spell that they found me. I push off those thoughts and mount the stage, where Evangeline screams at her parents.
My pulse flutters in my throat as I reach the bottom of the stairs, and I breathe hard, readying myself for a confrontation.
Presbytera Driver stands aside, watching the family drama, her eyes wide, and a hand over her mouth. Nobody has ever refused the Blessing or refused it on behalf of their child, let alone rejected the opportunity for their child to compete for it.
“You can’t do this to me,” Evangeline sobs. “I’ve worked hard my entire time here. It isn’t fair.”
Her mother stares at Evangeline with eyes of stone, and her father places a hand on the girl’s shoulder, only to be shrugged off.
I turn to Presbytera Driver. “Are her parents allowed to refuse the Blessing on her behalf?”
“Until an acolyte reaches the age of eighteen, we cannot act without parental consent,” replies Driver.
Chaos reigns around us, and it’s hard to hear with all the noise echoing across the assembly hall and with Evangeline’s voice thick with tears. I jump onto the stage and cast Driver a meaningful stare. Why is she letting everyone, including the Shevette family, ruin her welcome assembly?
A shrill sound pierces the air, and everyone stops talking and turns to the back of the room. The Magus stands with her hands on her hips, her eyes glowing like hot coals. “We will have silence. Everybody, sort out your differences in private.”
Driver gives me a warm smile and flicks her head toward the rows of seats. As a former student of Grandma, she has visited our house in London a number of times. I could have trained close to home in Malone Convent like Mom did, but it’s rare for slayers to train in their country of origin or in the adjacent countries. The Order encourages them to work in a land across a large body of water to prevent rogue vampires from attacking their families.
“We’ll talk later.” Driver places a hand on my shoulder.
I cast the seats a nervous glance. Gestures like that only prove that the leadership favors me because of my family. Evangeline’s parents usher her off the stage, and I follow the other girl, who jumps down.
As we descend the stairs, she shoots me a glower that pierces me through the gut. It’s part sorrow, part envy, and all hatred. I long to remind her about the two types of slayers: those who were called by magic and those who inherited their power. She has benefitted from having a slayer mother and a mage father, but the words turn to ash on my tongue.
“Thank you, Magus.” Presbytera Driver’s voice carries across the assembly hall.
Taking the seat next to Poppy, I glance to the far right of the room, where all the girls sitting around Evangeline turn around in their seats to offer comfort. Poppy squeezes my hand, and I offer her a weak smile. Whatever happens this term, I will work hard to become worthy of the Blessing.
Uncovering why such a powerful vampire can withstand the sun would redeem me in the eyes of the other acolytes. As would destroying the source of Alaric’s power.
Driver calls the assembly to an end, and we all hurry out of the room into the hallway.
I loop my arm through Poppy’s. “Let’s see if Mercury Mail sent our luggage to the right room.”
She barks a laugh. “Or delivered a warlock’s entire collection of toenails.”
I wrinkle my nose. That incident had been decidedly unpleasant. We take the nearest stairwell, which leads to the North Tower, where we’ve stayed the entire time we’ve studied at Agia Convent. The room I share with Poppy is one of the few at the top of a winding staircase, and it has vaulted ceilings that amplify the sounds of rainfall.
Clutching Alaric’s case to my chest, I take the stairs two at a time until we reach our door with the gold placards that display our last names. I wedge the door open with my foot, and bask in the sunlight streaming in through the bay window that curves around an entire wall of the room. It overlooks the lake and the mountains beyond.
As it houses two, our room is about twenty-five by thirty-five feet with white walls decorated with pictures of Poppy’s family. They’ve lived in the same plot of farmland for generations, and their converted barn looks like something from another century.
Aunt Clarissa’s hand-crafted white quilt covers my bed along with the thick blanket she knitted when I was six. When I rest my back against the padded headboard, I have a perfect view through the wall of windows. I find the box containing the clothes I sent via Mercury Mail on my bed and glance at my desk and find my leather trunk of weapons.
Poppy stops at her bed, where four large boxes obscure the black covering that replicates the night’s sky.
I walk between the bed and the window and throw open the doors to the balcony. Fresh air with a hint of juniper fills my nostrils, washing away all worries about Jude and Alaric and Evangeline. I throw my head back and let the warm breeze slide through my hair.
“Oh, dear,” says Poppy.
“What’s wrong?” I spin around to find my friend holding a leather tome that has separated from its binding. “Can you fix that?”
She shakes her head. “Not without damaging the magic instilled in its pages. You’d better check your weapons chest.”
“Ugh.”
I walk to my desk between our headboards and flip open the lid. The daggers strapped to its underside look fine, but I drop my gaze to my hand cannon and find a crack running down the cylindrical object. Next to it is a hand-sized crossbow that shoots bolts of enchanted juniper small enough to burrow through a vampire’s circulation system to pierce its heart. I pick it up and aim it at the balcony, but when I pull the trigger, nothing happens.
My brows pull together in a frown. What kind of sloppy mages do the people at Mercury employ? Fortunately for me, Farrier’s Weaponry is only a boat ride away.
“I’ve got to get this fixed before my first missions begin,” I mutter.
Nodding, Poppy offers me a sympathetic smile.
A sharp rap on the door has us both scowling.
Anger bolts through my insides, and I bare my teeth in a snarl. “If that’s him—”
“I’ll go.” Raising a palm, Poppy rushes to the door.
She flings it open, and a tall figure in black leather leans against the doorframe. He’s lean with flowing, long hair that extends past his chest. It’s a brown as deep as dark chocolate that complements his light olive skin. He stares at us through warm, hooded eyes that sparkle like onyx, and his full lips curl into a wide smile.
My face breaks out into a grin. “Madoc.”
Poppy’s fiancé salutes me and sweeps Poppy into a tight hug that makes her squeal. “Welcome back.”
A pang of sadness fills my chest. They haven’t seen each other since the end of last year because Poppy returned to London to help rid me of the remnants of Jude’s love enchantment. I pull my gaze away from the embracing couple and pull out each weapon from its holding-place and turn it around in my hands.
Poppy is… Friend would be too weak a word and sister wouldn’t reflect the depth of the connection we forged last year. We were friends throughout our time at the convent, but it wasn’t until I joined the mages for mind-mapping classes that I understood how well we matched.
I grew up around Grandma and Aunt Clarissa, while Poppy’s home is crammed with brothers, sisters, and cousins. She makes
friends easily and relates well with people our age, while I like to watch in the shadows and feel most comfortable in the presence of my elders.
It was Poppy who connected my mind with foci rings and traced the threads of magic that shaped my heart and mind over the years to reflect the natural progression of falling for Jude. Poppy, who bypassed the enchantment to speak to the person I used to be before Agia Convent, and Poppy, who unpicked each stitch with time-consuming precision. Because of me, she missed seeing her friends, family, and fiancé this summer, and I’ll never forget her sacrifice.
I run my fingers over the crack in my hand cannon and let my thoughts drift to Jude. It’s hard to articulate how I feel about him. There’s the disgust and anger from being deceived for three years, then the need for vengeance because he stole my every first. I hadn’t even kissed a guy until his enchantment took hold of my soul. I shake my head and grit my teeth through a wave of frustration tinged with despair.
If we reported him, the Mage Council would not only bind his magic, but seal the power of every member of his family. Poppy cursed him with impotence, but I just want him to leave so I can forget he ever existed.
“Hey.” Madoc’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
I glance up to find him with his arm draped around a beaming Poppy.
“We’re going for burgers at Mage and Shake. Are you coming?”
Shaking my head, I raise the broken crossbow. “Thanks, but I really need to see Mr. Farrier.”
The few streets around the Agia Hotel house stores cater to Jaeger’s supernatural community. At some point in history, they were tall townhouses, but their downstairs are now converted into shopfronts, and one of them is the Farrier’s Weaponry, run by a nice old mage who uses magical components in his weapons.
Its interior usually smells of leather and wood polish, but today the scent of bleach hangs in the air. Lantern-shaped wall lights illuminate the store, giving it an old-world feel. The space is about the size of the room I share with Poppy, with a counter running down the entire right side. At the back is a door that leads to the rest of the house.
Vampire Bonds (Darkbloods Book 1) Page 3