Blood Haven: Year Two: A Mayhem of Magic World Story

by Nicole Zoltack

  “He’s depressed,” Bermon says, “so you know what that means.”

  Mercy and I exchange a glance.

  “Maybe Julian needs another ball,” he finishes.

  Mercy’s eyes narrow, and her fingers turn into claws that dig into the table as she stands. “That isn’t funny, Bermon!”

  “Yes, it is,” Bermon protests.

  “That party is what started everything terrible last year! We don’t need a repeat of last year. It’s bad enough that tensions ran so high over the break.” She dips a fry into ketchup but shakes the fry instead of eating it. “So much meat was wasted. Do you realize how much livestock was killed?”

  "So, you didn't have anything to do with that?" I ask.

  Mercy glowers at me. “No, of course not! Who do you think I am?”

  “You were a bit on the warpath last year,” Bermon says.

  “I can’t believe this.” Mercy shakes her head, her blond hair flying everywhere. “You honestly think that I would do that? Yes, last year I might’ve let my temper control me a bit—”

  “Just a bit,” I remark.

  She shoots me another glower. “Look, Julian, you started a lot of fires last year.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Going to the party was just the start, but you’re still stuck on… her… aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m stuck on her. Mercy, I love her.”

  “You can’t see clearly. Julian, you’re a—”

  “She makes me happy,” I say.

  “So why are you scowling at your phone? Trouble in your twisted little warped paradise? Have you brought her home? What do your parents think? Your siblings? Or don’t you trust her to be around them? And what about—”

  “What about you not giving me grief?” I ask as I stand.

  “Mercy, calm down,” Bermon says. “I was just joking about the party. Of course we aren’t going this year.”

  “Why couldn’t you go back to loving Bellanore?” Mercy asks.

  "That's impossible. First of all, I never loved Bellanore. What I feel for Romelia is… I can't describe it, but I hope you feel it one day, Mercy. You too, Bermon. Then you'll understand. Love is more powerful than anything. It's stronger than magic, and it's so much better than being a wolf. It's a way for us to connect with—"

  "We have connections already," Mercy says, "to our packs. You and Bermon are cousins. You two share a pack even if you're in different branches. We need to stick to our own kind. Not many werewolves make lasting relationships with those who aren't werewolves, and there's a reason for that. I mean, we don't even tend to go for shifters, and they're as close to a werewolf as you can get."

  “Never say never,” I say through gritted teeth. “I really hoped you had changed, Mercy, that you accepted the truth. Romelia is all I need, and if you can’t accept that, then I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.”

  “Because friends that let you do as you want and don’t bother to say what needs to be said are true friends.” Mercy glares at Bermon. “Your true friends are the ones who will tell you the way it is, not sugar coat things and pretend that you can do what you want. How can things last? How can you make it work? Are you really going to abandon your family? Your pack? Because that’s not the Julian I know. That’s not my friend. You adore your family. You’re the best big brother to your—”

  “No,” I say flatly. “I’m not. I’m a terrible brother. Deidre and Isaac… I should have gone with them up the mountain. Maybe if I had been there, they might still be alive.”

  “You might’ve died with them,” Bermon interjects softly.

  “Julian, you can’t blame yourself for their deaths.”

  “If those deaths aren’t on me, what about the livestock kills?”

  “Not on you either.”

  “No? The werewolves are on edge because of me.”

  “Partially,” Bermon allows, “but you’re giving yourself too much credit.”

  I just shake my head. “You two are trying to be there for me in your own ways, and I understand that. I appreciate that, but right now, you aren’t the ones I need.”

  "Just Romelia, right?" Mercy asks with a scowl as she stands, hands on her tray. "You found your love, so you don't need friends anymore. One day, you're going to wish you didn't push us away, Julian."

  “You’re the one who is making it feel like I have to pick sides,” I protest.

  “You already picked one,” Mercy says stiffly, and she stamps away.

  I gape at Bermon, who stares glumly at his sandwich.

  “I can’t make Mercy happy no matter what I do or say.”

  “You did accuse her of killing livestock for the fun of it,” Bermon points out.

  “I didn’t think she did,” I protest.

  “But you had to ask.”

  “She… She went to their campus and helped to behead one of their statues. She’s…”

  “She’s protective? A little prone toward violence, yes, but aren’t we all?” Bermon juts his chin toward me.

  I look down. My claws have marked the table, and I force my fingers to reform.

  “Mercy is just afraid of losing you as a friend,” Bermon says.

  “She’s afraid of war.”

  “There doesn’t have to be fighting,” Bermon says. “You and Romelia… maybe you two can just…”

  “What about our schooling?”

  “Do you really need to be here?” Bermon asks dryly.

  “My parents already lost two children. I… I can’t abandon them.”

  “It’s not easy.”

  “What isn’t?” I mumble.

  “Life.”

  “Love isn’t either.”

  Bermon grins. “You know what is easy?”

  He shoves a tray toward me, and I start to eat. Half of the lettuce and tomatoes fall out, and I talk to him in between texting Romelia. Food won’t change things, but having a full stomach can’t hurt matters any.

  Chapter 6

  Romelia

  It's been a long day. Even though I have only four classes this year instead of five like last year, each class is much longer, and I feel drained. It's time for dinner, and I already have plans to eat by myself. That way, I can try to find a secluded enough spot that I can risk calling Julian. He didn't directly say that he wasn't having the best of days, but I think he's sad. I am. Hearing his voice will be just what I need to lift my spirits.

  I leave Animal Control, trying to maneuver around the crowd of students leaving, but it's too late. Constantine stands beside me. His smile looks more like a smirk, which irritates me.

  “You will join me for dinner, won’t you?” Constantine asks. “I have so much I want to talk to you about.”

  “Really? I’m afraid—”

  “Afraid? You? With your father? You should fear nothing. You can rest easy, my Romelia. There’s nothing you should ever be afraid of when I’m around.”

  “Hmm. Is that so?” I shake my head, wishing the fool would let me finish my sentences. “I have no fear in that sense. What I meant is that I’m afraid I have plans.”

  “Plans.”

  “For dinner.”

  “Cancel them.”

  “No.”

  “Why can’t you? Romelia, I thought it quite comical the lengths you went to last year to avoid me, but I must tell you that playing hard to get isn’t really that mature.”

  “Oh, dear. Oh, dear me. I’m immature. What a pity.” I tilt my head to the side and shrug. “I guess you need a more mature, sophisticated woman then.”

  The crowd has thinned enough that I can leave the classroom, but the hallway is just as congested. This particular castle contains more classrooms than most of them, and the number of vampire students trying to leave all at the same time is ridiculous. Why aren’t they using their vampiric speed to just whisk themselves away?

  Up and down the hall I glance, but there’s nowhere for me to escape.

  Which means Constantine merely
steps beside me.

  “What I need is you,” Constantine says.

  “You don’t even know me,” I mumble.

  He laughs. “Your mother and father—”

  “They don’t know me either.”

  “I know you only ever drink from a goblet. Why is that? Your fangs are the whitest I’ve ever seen. Do you think that is because you don’t take from the vein?”

  Just to have something to do with my hands, I brush my hair back. "Actually, I do, on occasion, drink from the vein," I inform Constantine.

  “Ah. You haven’t on campus. Not once.”

  I refuse to react at all, but my mind is racing. Has he been spying on me? Keeping tabs?

  “I have arranged for us to have a room to ourselves at the library all year long. I can tutor you there.”

  “I don’t need a tutor.”

  He laughs. “Just in case.”

  “You think I’m stupid.”

  “No. I just think that a little extra studying can’t hurt any.”

  “I plan on doing just fine this year.”

  “You did so fine last year that you needed to take two courses over again.”

  “And I passed them both with high marks. Maybe there were too many distractions last year. Tell me, Constantine, do you want to be a distraction, or do you want me to succeed?”

  "I want to help you succeed." He grins in a way that some girls might find attractive, but my stomach churns. His hair is slicked back, and it looks oiled. That's Constantine—an oiled, slicked vampire who thinks he can sweet-talk his way into getting whatever he wants. If he ever gains the power to be able to compel other vampires, I pity the world.

  “I’ve already demonstrated that I can succeed without your help and when I have no distractions.”

  “Do you want one goblet or two?” he asks. “Any food as well? You look a little thin, Romelia. You should eat a bit more. Fuller hips might help.”

  “Might help what?”

  “We might be able to have children one day. You and I both have demons for fathers—”

  “And that is where the similarities end,” I say hotly. “Please don’t make any more remarks about my body and my hips. We aren’t going to have children one day.”

  “We might.”

  “We would have to be together for that to happen, and we aren’t.”

  “So you think.”

  “Ah, I do believe that I have a say in the matter.”

  “Do you?” he asks.

  I gape at him. The flow of students has picked up, but I don’t move to follow the crowd, just standing there, staring at the vampire.

  "I've made you speechless," he says, sounding quite pleased. "You really should talk to your father."

  “If you think my father can get me to do anything, you’re wrong. If it were up to my father, I wouldn’t be attending here.”

  “Is that so?” Constantine murmurs. He leans forward, and my skin crawls as he lays a hand on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing the part of my collarbone above my shirt. “Maybe he’s just playing you. He wants you to attend, just like he wants you with me.”

  “Why?” I ask, suppressing the urge to slap his hand away. That doesn’t mean I continue to let him touch me, though, because I stand back far enough away to be free of his oily hand.

  "Maybe we can arrange to have dinner with our parents. Or dinner with you, me, and our fathers."

  “Why? Why do you act as if we’re a couple, Constantine?” I press.

  “Because we are one.”

  “Um, no. I didn’t consent—”

  “You have a demon for a father,” he says.

  “You act as if that means I have no right to my body. I have a conscience, Constantine. I make my own choices. You have heard of free will, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve heard of it, yes, and I think you will find that some people have freer wills than others.”

  “If you think that my father controls me, you are so very delusional. You might need to seek help.” I step around him. The crowd has mostly left, but there’s not enough of an opening yet for me to be able to use my vampiric speed to get away from him. That doesn’t stop me from racing ahead.

  “If you think you can stop this, stop us, you’re the delusional one,” he says.

  I’m trembling with rage. The thought that my father may have promised me to another, might have even sold me, infuriates me almost as much as that smirk on Constantine’s face.

  “You will be attending the Red Moon Ball with me,” he states as he strolls up to me.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s a no.”

  He just chuckles.

  “I won’t be attending the ball this year.”

  “Back to fear, is it? You don’t need to worry. No werewolves will be attending this year.”

  “Is that so? I didn’t think that you or any vampire could compel werewolves,” I say icily.

  “You’re cute, do you know that? I would like to buy a gown for you to wear to the ball.”

  “I won’t be attending. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “Oh, I’m certain I will be able to change your mind. The ball isn’t until the end of October. We have time. Time for me to learn if you prefer silk or satin, which colors you prefer… I did see you at the ball last year, even if we didn’t get a chance to speak, and you looked quite lovely.”

  “Get used to seeing me from afar because that’s the only way you’re going to see me.”

  “Is that so?” he asks, amused. “Did you forget that we have every course together this year?”

  “No, but you seem to have forgotten that considering your offer to tutor me. You aren’t any better at any of these subjects than I am.”

  “Is that so? A challenge? Yes! Let’s have a challenge. Whoever does better in their studies will win.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re backing away from a challenge? Are you frightened after all?”

  “Hardly, but if you think that you can force me unto this game with you, you’re wrong and have already lost.”

  “Ah.” He shakes a finger at me. “See? You do have a competitive spirit after all.”

  “Hardly. Constantine, I want nothing to do with you.”

  “You will, Romelia. You will.”

  By now, the crowd has disappeared entirely, and he walks away, finally willing to leave me to have dinner alone. A part of me wants to call out to him, to try to force him to talk to me about our fathers, but another larger part of me doesn’t want to know what they have planned.

  This day has gone from bad to worse, and the only one who can make it better is so far away from me.

  No. No, I refuse to crumble apart because my love isn’t here with me. It’s time for me to do something, to be more than just a vampire in love with a werewolf.

  If I want the future to be the one I long for it to be, then I need to become something more.

  A planner. A leader even.

  My head is beginning to ache, my fangs too. I need blood.

  Quickly, I go to the dining area, and I drain three goblets right there, chugging one right after the other. Then, I’m off, gone.

  How exactly I can change things, I don't know yet, but I do my best thinking when I'm not actively thinking. Subconsciously thinking is what I need, and the best way to do that is to do something else.

  I head to my room, and I tilt my tablet against the wall and place a piece of paper on top. Then, I use my fingers, and I paint on the paper, using my own blood as the paint. A bit morbid, I know, but I don’t want to leave the campus. There aren’t art classes here, no music either. Nothing like that.

  As I paint, my mind drifts. The werewolves used to be darker creatures. One could make the argument that they've turned over a new leaf that is far larger than any new leaf the vampires have ever turned. Some of the major cities in the United States have werewolves living in them, right under the humans' noses, and they have no idea. Not all werewolves hide entirely from the humans as i
f their inner wolves don't exist.

  For vampires, that’s much harder. For one thing, we don’t look quite as human as werewolves can. Vampires are so very pale with our porcelain skin. Yes, I can blush, and I look a bit more human than most, but even my red eyes are a dead giveaway that I am not entirely human. Colored contacts are an option, yes, but I will always need blood.

  How is it that werewolves were able to give up their hunger for human flesh, their thirst for blood? I don’t think that vampires will ever be able to ignore that part of ourselves. The werewolves’ power comes from the moon, but vampires can’t survive solely on moonlight. We need blood.

  None of this is helping, and I can’t think of any way for us to grow closer together.

  With a grimace, I draw back and examine my picture. It’s morbid enough to use blood to paint, but when the picture is of a fallen form bleeding out, a howling wolf behind her… It’s even more morose.

  Julian howling over my dead body. This will not become our reality because something has to give. Something must change.

  I just hope we have enough time to enact that change.

  Chapter 7

  Julian

  Mercy is nowhere to be found for dinnertime, but I guess that’s all right. A pang hits me in my chest every time I think about our argument. It’s not right, and it’s not fair. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, and yes, sometimes people do grow apart, but that’s people. That’s not wolves. That’s not how we operate. It’s just not how we function.

  Maybe… Maybe Mercy should meet Romelia. Bermon too. If they could meet her, get to know her, they would finally understand how much I love and care for her. Then, they'll finally realize that this isn't a phase. I'm not going to just wake up one morning and cast Romelia aside.

  Would Romelia be willing to do that? Where could we have the meeting? Maybe in a human restaurant. Yes, a neutral site would be best. Plus, the humans being around would help to make sure everyone stays on their best behavior.

  The more I think about this, the more excited I become. As quickly as I can, I scarf down dinner, say goodbye to Bermon, and make my way to the far side of the campus. Few wolves will be near me, and I can risk calling Romelia. There's a chance she won't answer because it might not be safe for her to on her end, but I'm willing to try.