The Sanguine Door
Genevieve Grey
Copyright © 2020 by Genevieve Grey
Artwork: Adobe Stock © warmtail
Design: Services for Authors
Editing: darkstroke
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Crooked Cat/darkstroke except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously.
First Dark Edition, darkstroke. 2020
Discover us online:
www.darkstroke.com
Find us on instagram:
www.instagram.com/darkstrokebooks
Include #darkstroke in a photo of yourself
holding this book on Instagram and
something nice will happen.
To Alex,
There is a vampire in this one.
Acknowledgements
This book would not have come to fruition without the support of so many people. The journey has been wrought with self-doubt and challenges, but I am glad to have come out the other side with a story I am proud of. Firstly, I would like to say a massive thank you to the team at darkstroke where my book found its home. I have had so much support and guidance from the team right from the very beginning. Thank you specifically to Laurence, who has answered my hundreds of questions graciously and turned The Sanguine Door into the best possible version.
Thank you to my parents, for always offering words of encouragement and supporting me 110% in everything I have ever attempted. Without you, I would have never had the confidence needed to move my writing from the pages of notebooks to the wider world. To my sister who I love, even though she doesn’t read fiction.
To my friends, Bianca and Danielle who have provided endless encouragement and advice. I cherish your friendship more than I can say. Finally, I would like to thank Alex for listening to my stories for hours on end and always asking to hear more. My life is better for having you in it. I love you.
About the Author
Genevieve Grey is a NA fantasy author. In 2016, she graduated with a Bachelor of Laws from Bond University. From there, she found her passion working in criminal law. When she isn’t inside a Court room or writing, Genevieve loves to read and play piano.
At age fifteen, Genevieve hand wrote her first novel in a diary and hasn’t looked back since. She lives in sunny Sydney, Australia with her handsome German fiancé.
The Sanguine Door
Chapter One
I had always thought a good Monday started with being thrown into a giant heap of garbage.
Rancid trash stood like an insurmountable mountain between us. The smell of rotten meat clung to me like a second skin. I prematurely mourned the loss of my pants, they would be the newest victim of the burn bag. Surprisingly, my target moved like a prancing ballet dancer despite being a goblin. He had managed to artfully avoid the trash, while I was now drenched in fresh garbage juice. The ugly bastard spat blood at me over his shoulder, and I watched as 35,000 credits waddled away and melted into the shadows.
It was slow work pulling myself free from trash mountain. Once I was certain my stomach contents would stay where they belonged, I forced myself to look at the wound. The skin on my shin was ripped to shreds and blood slickened my entire calf. The memory of the goblin’s knife like teeth crunching through my tibia shuddered through me.
My eyes closed and I turned my focus inwards, to the black tarry Magic that always laid in wait under my skin. Under my attention, it became fiery and animated. Endorphins dumped straight into my bloodstream in a dizzying rush. It didn’t matter that I was behind on rent or that I was about to perform an act of Magic that could have me killed. There was only the intoxicating rush of power and the sharp pewter ring that extended from the tip of my finger. I hadn’t used my magic in nearly six months but it still felt more natural than breathing.
There was no pain when I slid the point along my forearm. My skin parted willingly and deep red blood welled to the surface. I moved my arm to let the blood fall into a puddle.
The healing rune was engrained deep in my memory. I traced the complex shape on my thigh using my cooling blood. Power raced through my veins as the rune came alive in a brilliant flash of orange light. It took almost no effort to direct the Magic toward myself. My skin itched horrendously as it knitted together, but when the Magic was done, not even a faint scar remained. My Magic demanded more. The miniscule use of power hadn’t been enough. It was hungry. Wisps of black, inky smoke leaked from my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed back. It retreated step by step and by the time I had control, I was drenched in a cold sweat.
The type of Magic I used, Blood Magic, had been outlawed for hundreds of years. If I was caught using it, there would be no trial. I would find myself cut off from my power, imprisoned or if I was really lucky—dead. The hunt against Blood Mages had left a dark stain on history. I stood gingerly, testing out my leg. I tapped the comms charm tucked behind my ear.
Loral picked up immediately. “Arina, are you okay?”
“I’m fine but the bastard ran off. Can you come get me?”
“I’ll be there in five.”
I disabled the charm and shuffled toward our designated meeting spot. My skin itched with the need to move. I wanted to go back after the bounty before he got too far away. The target had been on the loose for four years. No bounty hunter had been able to find him, let along take him in. He had too many friends in high places, and too much money to cover bribes.
Still, the Elect had set a price on his head that was enough to cover my rent for the next three years so it was worth it. Usually, I only busied myself with small jobs. Just enough to cover the cost of living, nothing to draw any attention or acclaim. But when John Smith the goblin had crossed my path, it had been too hard to resist.
I bet on the fact my new identity was secure enough that the small amount of infamy would be of no consequence. Blood Mages were relegated to the history books, and I was happy to leave them there. Loral’s beloved, old car bumbled around the corner. I stuck out my thumb as he pulled up to the curb.
“Oh God, Arina. Whose blood is that?” He brought his hand up beside his eye and handed me a towel and a bottle of whisky.
I grinned and greedily swigged at the cheap liquor. Technically it was illegal, but there were no watchers around this part during the day.
“Not mine.” I handed the whisky back to Loral and he tucked it inside the compartment under the steering wheel.
I still felt slightly giddy from the use of Magic. It was so close to the surface, even the burn of whisky in my stomach didn’t distract me. There was good reason Blood Mages had been culled. The power lust had overwhelmed stronger Mages than me. The power finally retreated once again and left my mind free to ponder more important matters; like how I was going to find the goblin.
I had always been a cocky bitch and more than once it had gotten me in trouble. This was one of those times. I had hesitated on the killing blow because I was so sure I could overpower him and bring him in alive. Now instead of a reduced bounty, I had nothing.
Loral drove further into the outskirts of town, until our dilapidated unit came into view. The grey building stood three stories above the ground and at least half of the windows were broken; including mine. Luckily, magical wards kept anyone out. The front yard was lined with vicious, magically-altered venus flytraps. They snapped at anyone that walked too close. I had once seen my favourite squirrel get eaten by one of the bigger plants.
The trek to the second story was only slightly painful, our building wasn’t blessed with a lift. When I finally reached our
unit, Loral was at the door waiting impatiently to slam it behind me.
Home sweet home.
Our house was a cluttered wonderland of magical objects and equipment. Various sized beakers and burners were splayed across the kitchen counter. They were filled with different coloured liquids that I didn’t dare touch. Loral picked up where he had left off. He poured one beaker into an actual cauldron. It must have been a new addition. I would have laughed at him, if Loral wasn’t the most talented Potions Mage that I had ever come across. He could and would turn me into a rat for the slight.
Despite his talent, he refused to join a coven. The downside was that he wasn’t licensed and relied on back alley shops and private deals to get by. I didn’t know the true reason Loral had never joined a coven and likewise he never discussed why I usually only chose poorly paying jobs.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Loral asked.
“I might go out again, see if I can find him at his usual spot.”
“Do you need any help?” He raised his brow.
“I’ll be fine.” We both knew he couldn’t cross the border.
I stood from the couch and shuffled toward my bedroom and my glorious shower.
“Be careful!” he shouted after me.
I left Loral to his own devices and wherever he disappeared to when curfew hit. We had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy that I was grateful for. My room was undisturbed with my clothes still strewn over the floor. I stripped off blood soaked outfit and placed it in the large black bag hanging over the door. It was depressingly full already. For years I had hung it up before every job and burnt the contents when it was finished. There was something about seeing the bag get heavier that gave me strength to continue. It was a visual reminder of what I had already been through.
My shower was too short and made me sour. With money on my mind, I pulled on my clothes and yanked a brush through my hair. On the way out, I grabbed a banana from the bowl and raced out onto the street. I needed to be out of the capital before curfew hit.
My bike was parked around the corner of the building. My anti-theft wards opened when they recognised my touch. I jumped on, and sped toward the border. The dat band on my wrist labeled me as an Elect approved bounty hunter. It meant I was able to cross borders during an active hunt as long as I stuck to curfew. The border to Nexus was only forty-five minutes away. It seemed strange that there was a city so close that was not under the full control of the Elect. The Elect seemed all consuming and infallible when you lived in Ka. Evidence of their rule was everywhere, even in the outskirts of the city where Loral and I lived there were watchers that slipped between the shadows.
As I crossed the invisible border into Nexus my dat band vibrated. Nexus was a relatively small city. It was split straight down the middle. One side was perpetually bathed in light. It housed the wealthy and some of the more important members of the Elect. The glass buildings shone like diamonds under the artificial light. The other side lived in night. The two most powerful vampire covens resided side-by-side in a precarious peace. The architecture was just as stunning, the result of hundreds of years of accumulated wealth. Straight down the centre housed a mix of species. It was close enough to the vampires that the Elect left the area mostly alone. There was a high chance that you could become a vamp’s next meal, but that was a risk worth taking for relative freedom.
There were only two areas that had not been consumed by the Elect’s omniscient rule, neither of them were safe or cozy.
The bar I was looking for was nestled right in the grey area of Nexus. I drove within the invisible border between light and dark, I knew it well. Most of the street lights had been shot out, and the shadows were filled with the things that went bump in the night. Still, the streets were more comforting here than Ka. After a time, the bar came up on my left. I parked and slipped into the dimly lit dump.
The place smelt of old sweat and spilled beer. Only those who were ready for a fight came to such a fine family establishment. I fit right in. A heavy-set waitress sauntered over to my table at the back of the room.
“What can I get you?” she drawled and sat on her hip.
I couldn’t sense any Magic from her, it was odd to see a human here. I wondered who she belonged to. The vamps? Or maybe some other creature? I ordered and she ambled back to the kitchen. I had bet that the goblin’s routine would go unchanged. He was too confident, he had lived free for too many years. Without the healing rune, the injury he had given me would have put me out of commission for a month. He wouldn’t bother going somewhere else, not for little old me.
The door opened and I waited with bated breath. I was strongly disappointed. Instead of the 5’3 morbidly obese green skinned light of my life, in waltzed a God amongst men.
The man in question put the words tall, dark and dangerous to shame. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. By his lazy swagger, it was evident that he was used to the sudden pause in a person’s expression when they looked his way. The man wore a perfectly tailored suit that clung to his body. He scanned the room until he caught me staring. Blood rushed to my cheeks and the charm around my neck seared the skin under my sweater. I resisted the urge to yank it out. He finished his inspection and strode to the bar. The charm turned cold.
I kept my eyes on the door. Mostly.
The waitress came back with my meal and wine. She slid it in front of me, her eyes glued to her newest customer. The dry meat nearly slid off the plate. I didn’t blame her. Finally, the door flung open and I was rewarded for my patience. My bounty shuffled through the door and headed straight for the closest table. He didn’t bother looking up, but he seemed to be nursing a bad arm. It was satisfying. I had started to think he wouldn’t come after all. The waitress placed his customary gravy slathered roast on his table. It was disgusting watching him eat. The goblin ate as though the food was trying to run from his plate. It made my own meal less palatable. Once he was done, he threw down some silver coins and stood to leave.
It was hard to get your hands on the currency that was used in the off-grid cities. There were no dat bands used here and mine felt tight on my wrist. I should have taken it off, it marked me as other. No wonder Mr. Handsome had stared at me. It was shiny and bulky even under my long sleeves.
The band wasn’t Elect issued, but it was the best copy money could buy. I looked like a tourist and tourists got robbed. It didn’t sit well. I placed some coin down on the table and turned to follow my target. Before I could reach the door, I was intercepted by a drunken shapeshifter. He grabbed my hand and threw me a lopsided grin. I yanked my arm free and flashed him my own version of a smile; it was closer to a sneer.
“Beat it pal.” My voice was kept low, the last thing I needed was a scene.
“What are you drinking? I’ll buy you a round.” His breath reeked of whisky. He must have had a ridiculous amount of alcohol to get that wasted.
I turned on my heel and moved straight toward the door.
“Hey, bitch. I said I would buy you a drink!”
When he grabbed my wrist again, I resisted the urge to smash my fist into his nose. I dug the point of my ring into his flesh. He howled and I wriggled from his grip.
I raced out into the night but the target had already disappeared.
In the distance there was the telltale golden glow of Fire Magic. My feet pounded the road and I heard the target’s distinctive laugh and the glow from another burst of fire. I skidded behind a nearby trashcan. Rubbish was seemingly becoming my natural habitat.
“Hello hunter,” the goblin spat, his mouth too full of teeth to fully form the words.
My heart raced. Had he spotted me? I peered out from behind the trash. Standing and throwing Fire Magic at the goblin was the man from the bar. He looked almost bored as the target dodged and weaved away from his attack. The night air was filled with the scent of burnt vanilla. It was a powerful Magic. He wouldn’t tire anytime soon. Whoever this man was, he was a force to be reckoned with
. My own power flared in response. Anger burned away any hesitation I felt. The bounty was mine. The money was mine. I snuck closer toward them. Shockingly, the goblin looked even worse in the moonlight. Mr. Handsome hadn’t noticed me yet. The target’s eyes flicked to me and his face turned savage. I shot him a smug grin.
Surprise.
“You!” he snarled.
Mr. Handsome realised quickly that the goblin was not talking to him and whipped around to face me. Standing this close, I could see the shock in his slate grey eyes. He hesitated for a second too long. I sprinted toward the goblin and leapt onto his back. My daggers slid into my hands and I stabbed down into his large, muscled shoulder. He screamed a sound that shook the stagnant air and tried to hurl me from his back. His skin was too greasy and I slipped right off.
My head smacked into the brick wall. It took me a moment to shake the cobwebs from my mind. In a single movement, I flicked my ring along my forearm.
The backs of my hands were covered in delicate tattoos. They looked decorative, but they had a second purpose. The tattoos formed runes for fire and flames.
Rune Magic was a dying art, mostly because it took such a large amount of Magic to use for little pay off. I swiped a small amount of blood against the tattoos and felt the glorious rush of power surface.
I joined the fray, spraying the goblin with my own flames that sprung forth from the tips of my fingers.
“Step off, he’s mine,” I hissed toward my makeshift partner.
Before I could get too cocky, the goblin landed another heavy backhand that sent me flying into a building. I cursed. My shoulder exploded in agony and the distinct coppery smell of my blood scented the air. My power seeped through the wound on my temple, looking for death.
The Sanguine Door Page 1