The Sanguine Door

by Genevieve Grey

  He must pay.

  In the moonlight I caught a glimpse of my reflection. My eyes were as black as the darkest pits of hell and my teeth were bared in a snarl. I could see the power rippling beneath my milky skin even in the puddle.

  What was I doing? I didn’t want to be a killer anymore.

  The thought snapped me back to myself. I attempted to get my Magic under control. As I reigned it in, my power begun to lash out at me in revenge. I was totally helpless against its wrath. I whimpered, my body screaming in protest. The Hunter sat up slowly, his eyes shining.

  Everything within me screamed for death, his or mine. I crumbled to my knees. The fire licked at the inside of my skin.

  Tears streamed down my face but they did nothing to cool the burning. It wouldn’t have surprised me if when I opened my eyes, I was left without flesh. The pull of power was overwhelming, I desperately screamed out for the release. If I gave in now, all would be lost. I would not retain my sanity against the overwhelming torrent.

  “Collar me,” I spat between clenched teeth. This was a battle I could not win. “Please.”

  There was an eerie click, then everything was cold and I was finally at peace.

  When I awoke, it was as if I had never lived.

  I felt impossibly light. The burden of power had been lifted and replaced with peaceful emptiness. Before everything had been felt over the thick padding of Magic, now it was gone.

  When I finally opened my eyes even the peeling ceiling seemed to captivate me. I was grateful the curtains were drawn and that I wasn’t exposed to the sunlight, it would have been blinding. The break from the Magic was so freeing. Slowly the wonderment wore off and I realised what had happened. I wiggled to sit up and saw my once-beautifully-manicured nails had been cut to the quick. I growled.

  Where was I?

  The Hunter stared at me from across the room. He was sitting, straight-backed, on a wooden chair. He wore new clothes and looked freshly showered. His hair was a burnt amber colour in the light, his skin flushed like he had just been on a run. He stared at me with eyes that were a melted platinum. Now that I didn't scream for his death, it was hard to ignore his looming presence.

  We stayed in silence.

  Memories from the night before swirled in my brain. I had been everything I had sworn that I wasn’t. My time of being a cold-blooded killer was behind me. I had given that up when I left Dunlap.

  “We’ll be travelling to Elect headquarters at dusk.”

  “Why not get a pick-up service?”

  He let out a barking laugh that made goosebumps rise on my arms. “Good one.”

  “What time is it?”

  “7pm.”

  I had slept the whole day.

  “Who made your dat band? It’s a very good fake.”

  It was my time to laugh. As much as I hated Wesley, I wasn't going to rat him out.

  “What will you do with me?”

  “You’ll be placed in a facility for Blood Mages.”

  “A prison.”

  He shrugged. Grisly tales of what happened at the prisons leaked into dimly lit bars. I had tried for many years to find more information but no one would talk. If a child was discovered to be a Blood Mage, they became wards of the state or they were executed in the streets — dependent on the message they wanted to send. Children would be dropped off at Ka and then never be seen or heard from again. No one would ask after them. Blood Mages were evil. It didn't matter what happened to them in the prisons, only that they couldn’t be a danger to society. Blood Mage ability wasn’t normally hereditary. It popped up randomly and you wouldn't know about it until a child got mad or killed someone in a tantrum. My mother always said that imprisonment was a fate worse than death. Escape was my only option. I would send the Hunter a bouquet of apology flowers when I was at a safe distance. Not even Lucia would offer me safety now, the rebellion was my only option.

  I took the chance to sleep, the bed was better than any I had slept on in years.

  “Get up.”

  There was a weight on my chest and I peeked through my lashes to discover a black cat staring down at me. Its green eyes startled my sleep-addled brain. I sat up, the Magic handcuff burning into my skin. The cat jumped off in a huff. The empty sensation which had initially given me peace now began to gnaw at me like an itchy sweater. I rubbed the heel of my hand against my chest.

  The cat purred happily in the Hunter’s arms as he stroked behind its ears. The clock on the bedside table read 4:30am. Of course, he already looked showered and dressed. I wondered if he had slept at all.

  “I need to shower.” My voice was still thick with sleep. I was never a morning person. Captivity hadn’t changed that. He flicked his wrist and the bonds trapping my hand dissipated. Only the best for the Hunter. I cradled my arm, shaking out the pins and needles.

  Jumping from the bed, I walked to the tiny bathroom — no windows. The Hunter hesitated in the doorway, half inside the bathroom. His hulking form took up too much room. I was already feeling claustrophobic.

  “Are you going to watch me undress?” I sneered.

  A twitch under his eye was the only response I got. A familiar bag flicked from his hand and landed at my feet.

  “I've taken your potions and weapons.”

  With that, he slammed the door. How had he discovered where I was staying? I quickly rifled through my bag to discover only fabric. He had been thorough. I was weaponless, but at least I had clean underwear. I unwrapped the crude bandage from around my hand. The stupid thing hadn’t healed. My hand stung wickedly under the water. Ironic that the only injury I had was self-inflicted. Blood coloured the pool at my feet. It swirled down the drain but held no draw for me.

  There was nothing but the sound of running water.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think of anything.

  When I was sufficiently calm, I wrapped a hand towel around the injury and wiggled into fresh jeans and a singlet. In the foggy mirror, my hair was now distinctly red. The cheap potion was barely hanging on. I examined the thin ring of metal at my throat. It could almost be a necklace. In my nightmares it had been an unsightly, bulky thing. It was unbelievable how such a tiny piece of jewellery could render me useless. I was on the back foot, but I had gotten by without using Magic before. I emerged from the tiny bathroom and ran into the Hunter’s hard chest. He snatched my bag back. His breath caught and he gently lifted my injured hand. He inspected my crude bandage with distain.

  Without warning, he yanked me back to the bedroom. My nerves were frayed and my head swimming from blood loss.

  “This is worse than I thought.” His voice was gruff when he unwrapped the towel.

  I drew back, half expecting a blow. When it didn’t come, I relaxed. He held my hand to the light. The cut ran straight across my palm and was red and angry-looking.

  “I know a healing rune if you’ll just uncollar me for a—”

  “—No.”

  It had been worth a shot.

  “Fine. Let me bleed to death.” I ripped my hand from his grip and wrapped it back in the towel, ignoring the sting.

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” He eyed me for a moment before flicking his wrist. Magical bonds immediately encircled both my hands. The Hunter went to his things on the chair and took a moment to search.

  He was right thinking I would attack him the moment he turned his back. No one had ever accused me of having honour. He retrieved first-aid supplies and sat on the bed next to me.

  Healing potions wouldn’t work on me without my Magic. It would be like drinking stale bath water. I was still cuffed as he unwrapped the towel and placed it on his lap. He didn’t flinch at the blood. It was surprising. Most of the population believed a Sorcerer’s blood was disgusting. Maybe he didn’t believe all the Elect’s propaganda. I didn’t know if that made him better or worse.

  The Hunter studied the wound carefully, turning my hand to see how far it extended. Once satisfied, he slathered the cut in an ointment
and retrieved fresh bandages. His fingers were gentle and the balm blissfully cooling as he wrapped the wound. His cat had joined us on the bed and watched as his master bandaged me.

  “What’s your cat’s name?”

  “Pickles.” He was matter of fact, focused on securing the bandage.

  “He’s cute.” His green eyes were smarter than the average tabby and I swore the cat sneered in my direction. When he finished, my hand felt much better.

  “We have to leave now.” He gently grabbed me by the bicep and led me outside the motel. My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t want to go to the Elect. His car was right by the door and I was roughly guided into the passenger seat, he immediately locked the door. The Hunter slid into the driver’s seat of the shiny black Jeep, the cat followed. I awkwardly did my seatbelt up, it was a challenge with my hands cuffed together.

  “Can you un-cuff me? I’m not going to attack you when we’re driving.” He peered over at me. I felt uncomfortable under the weight of his stare.

  With a flick of his wrist I was released. I stretched out, and Pickles decided my lap was the best place to sit. He padded around in a circle before nestling in for the drive.

  The silence was deafening.

  I reached my hand out to turn on the radio and was promptly swatted away. The Hunter looked perfectly at peace with the silence. Maybe he preferred it over the drivel that was on the radio. Whilst stopped at a traffic light he reached over and took the cat from me.

  “He was comfortable where he was,” I said.

  He scoffed. Rude bastard.

  “I have a proposition.” I turned in my seat and leant toward his stern features. My confidence was a bluff. He could char me like a BBQ before I could squeal and we both knew it.

  “You’re not in a position to negotiate.”

  “I can help you infiltrate the rebellion.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “And in return, I expect the Elect to show me leniency.”

  There was the little fact that I didn’t actually know where the rebellion was, but I could find that out easily enough. His poker face was perfect. His lip didn’t even twitch.

  “The rebellion is a pipe dream. They are no threat to the Elect.”

  I remembered his face of disgust when I had first performed the locating rune. The Ice Mage had come to him with word of the rebellion. They were moving against the Elect. I knew they were terrified of an uprising, no matter how small. They thrived on absolute control and wouldn’t tolerate anything less.

  “The murmurs of rebellion grow stronger. It would be better to silence them before they turn to shouts. I can help you do that.”

  He turned to me now, his eyes squinting.

  “What would you want in exchange?”

  “My freedom.”

  “That’s a steep price.” His gaze returned to the road, poker-face firmly back in place. “I will speak with the rest of the Elect.”

  “You must do it now. They are having a meeting tonight.”

  He pulled over the car, his grey eyes set in a challenge. “What’s to stop me torturing the information from you and going myself?”

  I swallowed down the lump which had risen in my throat. “Firstly you couldn’t get it out of me. Plus, I’m your perfect cover. No one suspects a Mage that was collared by the Elect and seeking revenge.”

  He thought it over for a second before leaving the car. My blood pressure continued to rise when he locked the door. It was just me and Pickles. Time seemed to move more slowly. Through the window I watched the Hunter pace. His brow was creased and he seemed annoyed as he spoke into his comms charm. It was a pity I couldn’t lip-read. After what felt like hours, he unlocked the car and hopped back into the driver’s seat.

  “The rest of the Elect will agree to the following terms. You will assist me in infiltrating the rebellion. You will gain your freedom, if and only if the rebellion is completely dismantled. You will also remain collared.” He let me stew in silence for a moment. He didn’t seem happy.

  The deal was better than I had expected. I stuck out my hand and he gave it one firm pump.

  “We need to make an oath.”

  I kept my fake bravado but underneath felt uneasy. A deal made on oath could not be broken, lest both parties suffer the consequence of a painful death. It wasn’t something people did often. It was usually as a show of commitment to a partner, a grand gesture of love.

  “Fine with me. You’ll have to do the spell alone.” I gestured to the collar.

  “I have enough power.” He seemed offended that I had insinuated otherwise.

  “Okay, so I will try my best to dismantle the rebellion and, in return, I will earn my freedom.”

  “Hilarious.” He stared at me dead pan, “The phrasing will be, at my direction, we will completely dismantle the rebellion and any additional missions the Elect see fit. Once completed in full, the Elect will pardon you from one count of murder.”

  “You might as well lock me up right now. I will only agree to dismantling the rebellion completely. If we fail, I may be taken into custody by the Elect. If we succeed, I will be granted immunity from all persecution and my status as a Blood Mage removed.”

  He looked at me for a moment and seemed to consider his options.

  “At my discretion, I can take you into custody.”

  He didn’t say anything about me having to go willingly. “We have a deal.”

  He did not allow me another handshake. The Hunter retrieved a shiny dagger from his waist band and leant over me to open the glove box. He retrieved a notepad and pen and begun scribbling variations in the original tongue. He was too slow. I had lots of practice in the old language, it was how the more complex runes were activated.

  “I’m faster.” I gestured for him to hand me the pen and paper.

  “Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

  “You can check it.”

  He didn’t hand me the notepad, instead he continued scribbling. Fine, I didn’t need paper.

  “Ibi erit pactum an perdere in rebellionem concitarunt. Et est plena libertas concessa est. Vos can be taken vincula sunt in quolibet tempore.”

  The words spilled from my mouth. I didn’t get to show off my language skills very frequently. He glared at me and continued writing. After what felt like forever, he had come to the same conclusion that I had. The Hunter turned to me and took my injured hand with his. He unwrapped the bandage and set it aside before taking the knife and shallowly slicing my other palm. He did the same for his own hands before hiding the dagger and clasping our hands together. I flinched at the sting in my wounded hand but kept my gaze steady on his.

  We began the incantation, the words filling the inside of the car. I could see the strain on his features as he took on the weight of the oath by himself. Energy sizzled between us and the air took on a different pressure.

  “It’s done.”

  I had made a deal with the devil. Now I just needed to stay alive long enough to see it through.

  Chapter Six

  “Go back to Galway. The meeting is there.” He swung the car around and we drove in silence back to the motel.

  A sense of dread had filled the space my Magic use to inhabit. It was an unwelcome feeling. We returned to the Elect approved hotel in the centre of the city. I spent the day locked inside alone with only my traitorous thoughts. He returned my fake dat band to me before leaving our room.

  The Hunter’s wards were pulsing with power. There was no way I could get out. Still I had to try. The carpet had nearly worn down where I had paced the tiny room. I had spent many hours trying unsuccessfully to break the complex Magic. Without my power I was next to useless. He had returned to the room late at night with dinner. My stomach was in knots, nausea rolled violently through me. The food sat heavy in my stomach. I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead and goosebumps rose under my skin.

  For a brief moment I thought I might have been dying.

  I stumbled over to the sink and splashed my face with
cold water. When I looked in to the mirror, my eyes were wide and terror-filled.

  Get a hold of yourself.

  The cold metal around my neck was suddenly suffocating. My blood pounded in my ears and my heart thudded in my chest. The tingling in my skin made me scratch at my arms. I couldn't have this thing on me any longer. My now blunt nails clawed at my neck, pulling uselessly and leaving deep scratches that pearled with blood.

  Hadn’t I dreamt of this? My Magic being quietened forever, being controlled by something other than power? In my childhood I had often lay in bed dreaming about life where I had been born a boring Fire Mage.

  I retched but nothing came up.

  What had I done?

  I had been foolish to think the Elect would be satisfied with the disbandment of the rebellion. They would slaughter everyone that had even contemplated standing against them. I squashed the thoughts immediately. Imprisonment was a fate worse than death.

  Get a grip! You made an oath.

  I stared in the mirror. When I was certain I wouldn’t melt into a puddle of tears, I marched out of the grey bathroom and sat at the table. I cleared my throat and attempted to slow my breathing. He mercifully didn’t mention the self-inflicted wounds that were on my neck. His face was a mask of indifference. I schooled my features to match.

  “Where are you from?” His casual voice broke the terse silence. I stared at him.

  “What?”

  “Well, Lilith, you're my friend. Isn’t that why I’m helping you? We should know information about each other.” His silvery eyes judged me for being slow.

  “Oh. Of course. I was born in the grey side of Nexus.” He nodded, unsurprised.

  “I was born in Ka. I've lived there my whole life. How old are you?”

  “22.” It was like an awkward job interview.

  “I’m 25. What are your parents’ names?”

  I cringed and turned to look out the small window. It wasn’t like they were infamous criminals, but it felt private. I didn’t want to make friends.