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

by Nicole Zoltack

  "I can't… I can't control my legs," the vampire admits, but she doesn't sound worried about it, a fact that both comforts and alarms me.

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “I was dancing at the ball. Something hard slammed into my back. I went down hard and started to heal, of course. I think my back broke. But when I stood up again, a werewolf was there. They were everywhere. It was crazy, chaos… One werewolf swatted me so hard that I flung into the statue. My back hit it, and it might’ve broken again. I landed hard, went to fight them, and the next thing I knew, a werewolf was on my back, clawing me, and I just… I couldn’t heal. Not that time.”

  “Your back might be broken?” I ask, horrified. “Why are you lying on it?”

  “Don’t worry,” she tells me with a smile. “I don’t feel any pain. I don’t feel anything. I was hoping to feel your hand.”

  My gaze dropped to my hands enclosing one of hers.

  "The werewolves… their claws. They had been painted all kinds of colors."

  “Poison?” I ask.

  “Maybe. It doesn’t matter now. We don’t need to worry. Everything will work out.”

  A professor comes over to tend to her, and I walk away in a daze. As numb as I am, I hear everything. The wounded vampires share so many terrible stories about the devastation the werewolves wrought, the horrors they either witnessed or experienced, and I honestly don’t know where we can go from here.

  Chapter 12

  Julian

  The wounded werewolves… there’s no end in sight. They’ve been bitten, clawed… and I don’t think the blood on them is necessarily only their own. They fought the vampires hard, and I’m certain that not all of the vampires survived the onslaught just as some of the werewolves have died or are dying.

  There’s a sea of fur and blood, and I walk aimlessly through it, trying to think, to know what to do.

  Eventually, I realize someone is shouting. One word. Over and over.

  My name.

  I can’t find the source, but it’s enough to snap me out of my trance, and I direct the werewolves back to the academy. Some of them are too wounded to walk, and I help them along. It’s not easy, and my body hates the strain of my efforts, but I ignore the pain.

  The physical pain.

  The emotional? The worry, the fear? All of that cannot be ignored.

  My friends, my packmates, my fellow students… They chose this, but did they realize that they would be so heavily attacked back in retaliation? Did the vampires suspect there would be an attack?

  Where do we go from here?

  I don’t know, but there’s one question I need to have answered.

  Romelia. Is she all right?

  I’m trying to help along a werewolf when he collapses, and I nearly trip and fall on top of him. His glassy eyes stare up at me, unseeing. He’s dead.

  At the sight of another deceased werewolf, I can't. I can't handle this anymore, and I grab my phone. I call Romelia ten times in a row, and I send her text after text, but there's no response. She never picks up, and there's no answering text.

  My stomach churns, and I pump my legs. My wolf begs to be released, but I refuse to let him, too afraid that in this heightened state of aggression, he might hurt someone I care about.

  Namely Romelia.

  But that’s impossible, right? I have control over my wolf. I would never knowingly harm her, not one hair on her head.

  But my wolf… What if I lose control?

  No. That won’t happen. I won’t allow it.

  I go past the forest, heading toward Blood Haven Academy. No more wolves pass me on their way from the vampire’s campus. As I reach the border, though, I’m not alone. There are guards again, and not just vampire ones.

  Demons.

  "Do you want to die?" a demon asks, his pointed teeth clicking together to make an obnoxious sound.

  “No.”

  “Then I suggest you leave,” he says, “unless you want to be cut apart and ripped into pieces, werewolf.”

  I grit my teeth, but there’s nothing I can say to him that will get him to allow me to pass. Without another choice, I whirl back around.

  How did this happen? How did the night go so terribly wrong? Earlier, not that long ago, Romelia and I had been together. The world had been right.

  Now, the world has gone stark raving mad.

  Quickly, I make my way to the forest. By now, most of the werewolves have left, making their way to campus. The five mounds I pass are all bodies of fallen werewolves.

  A howl is buried deep inside of me, begging to be released, but I suppress it and make my way back to Moonstone Academy. The infirmary must be filled, and I worry and fear who I might find there.

  Before I reach my destination, though, I shoot Romelia a few more texts. I can’t help myself.

  “Julian.”

  I glance up to see not only Bermon but also Mercy. Both look a bit worse from wear, covered in dirt and dried blood.

  “You two fought?” I ask.

  Mercy scowls. “I tried to convince them not to go. That went over well. They knocked me out.”

  My gaze shifts to Bermon.

  He holds out his hands. “I’ve been trying to find Mercy for the past… I don’t know. I knew something was up. The moon… when she’s red, something happens.”

  “Passion,” I murmur.

  Mercy lifts her eyebrows and flinches, holding a hand to the side of her ribs.

  “Last year, Romelia and I found love under the blood moon.”

  “This year, the passion’s a bit more… morbid,” Mercy says with a scowl.

  “What exactly happened?” Bermon asks.

  “I should be asking you two,” I mutter distractedly, texting Romelia again.

  Why won't she answer me? Did she become involved in the fighting? Is she hurt? If something happened to her... Something must have because it's the only reason that I can think of as to why she won't answer me.

  “Did you know this was being planned?” I demand, my question intended for Mercy.

  I glance up in time to see her scowl deepen.

  “Of course you would think I would know about this.” She throws up one hand and winces, rubbing her side.

  “You need to get looked over,” Bermon murmurs to her, stepping closer to her, leaning down to almost whisper in her ear.

  “I’m fine.” She shifts away from him and refocuses on me. “Or I would be fine if one of my best friends wasn’t accusing me of having a hand in all of this.”

  “Well, excuse me, but it’s not as if it’s out of the realm of possibilities. You did go to Blood Haven last year to vandalize a statue.”

  “Yeah, to behead a statue. That’s so terrible. There was a battle. Calling it a fight isn’t accurate. This was huge, and no, I didn’t know about it. Not until after they already had it all planned. Andre acted like he was in charge. He came up to me. Andre was the one actually behind the statue, by the way. Anyhow, he asked if I wanted in, said they were going to go over and see what the ball was all about. He made it sound like they were going to just go and crash it, but I saw his nails.”

  “His nails?” I ask, glancing down at my phone. Still no reply.

  "Painted a bright green. Some of the others had painted nails too. Black, red, all kinds of colors."

  “What does that mean?” I ask, confused, my head swimming.

  Right now, I’m barely holding it together. Between watching werewolves die, knowing that Romelia is out of reach, worrying that she might be the next to perish… I can’t handle reality right now.

  How is this my life?

  “Andre Pennington?” I mumble, cutting Mercy off before she can explain about the nails.

  "Yes, Andre Pennington. Do you know of another Andre?"

  I grimace and shake my head. "Isn't he one of the few werewolves to not have a werewolf for his mom and dad?"

  Bermon nods bitterly. “Yeah. His old man is a demon.”

  I mutt
er a curse. “The nails?”

  “Poisons of different kinds. Devil’s Tongue. Bonedust. Onyx Taint. All kinds. I wouldn’t know if they affect vampires or not, and from the sight of the werewolves returning from battle, it didn’t kill the vampires on contact, but… Are you even listening to me?”

  I blink and backtrack a few letters on my text. My fingers are shaking, and I’m misspelling words.

  “Hey!” Mercy reaches over and grabs my phone. “Rude much? You asked me a question, and you aren’t even listening to the answer!”

  “I can’t get a hold of Romelia,” I say through gritted teeth. “Give me my phone!”

  "I understand that you're worried, but I'm so done with playing second fiddle. I don't need you to… If we're going to be friends, then you have to treat me like one. All I need is a little bit of respect. Moon's alive, Julian! You thought I planned this? Are you kidding me? Do you know me at all?"

  “I thought I did, but some of the things you said last year, some of your actions… You can’t blame me—”

  “I can’t, can I? There you go again, trying to tell me what to do. I can’t stand it! You think you know what’s best for everyone.”

  “That’s not true. Can you please give me back my phone?”

  “Can you give me back my friend?” Mercy asks. She tosses me the phone.

  I almost drop it instead of catching it. Still no response. In frustration, I let out a growl. Everything is frustrating me—the situation, the battle, Mercy, Romelia.

  “We are friends,” I inform Mercy.

  “Keep telling yourself that, but it won’t make it true,” she shoots back. “You sit and eat meals with us, but you don’t listen to us. You’re on your phone all the time. I get that it’s hard for you to have a long-distance relationship with her. I get that you went from seeing her every day to hardly at all, and now, who knows?”

  “I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead,” I spit out. “I can’t get a hold of her. Can you just have some compassion—”

  “Me? I have a lack of compassion? Are you serious? I’ve tried to see things your way, but you don’t even realize what you’re doing.”

  “What am I doing?”

  “You two, the two of you, Romelia and Julian, you are the ones causing this whole mess. The ones who died, that’s on you because some werewolves died, didn’t they? There’s no way the vampires didn’t kill some.”

  "How is it our fault?" I ask, goosebumps appearing on my skin.

  “You brought her smell here,” Mercy shouts. “Werewolves have noses, Julian. We can smell, and you’re lucky you haven’t been attacked. Someone is going to eventually target you, and it won’t just be the vampires once they realize what’s going on. That the vampires ganged up on you before, that they almost killed you… That won’t save you.”

  I grit my teeth. “How do you know about that?”

  "Did you honestly think that you could keep that a secret? Julian…" Mercy heaves a breath and closes her eyes for a moment. "You're losing everything. Can't you see that? You're losing who you are, your identity. You're so fixated on that girl that you can't be yourself anymore."

  “Love changes a person.”

  “Love shouldn’t make you into a puppy. You’re a wolf, Julian, act like it.”

  A roar bursts out of me, and it’s a struggle to not unleash my wolf. I don’t want to hurt Mercy.

  She’s struggling too, her eyes turning to amber.

  “I am me. I’ve never meant to hurt you ever. I’m sorry if you feel threatened—”

  “I don’t feel threatened. I’m losing one of my closest friends. There’s a difference.”

  “I just… This isn’t easy on me.”

  “It’s not easy on me either! The world is drowning in werewolf blood, and all you care about is her!”

  “That’s not true!” I explode. “I dragged and carried and brought so many werewolves back from the forest. I held Bingham Lodge in my arms as he died. Don’t you dare try to tell me that I care about her and nothing else!”

  We’re standing chest to chest, heaving mad. My eyes are most likely amber.

  Someone coughs.

  Bermon. He’s been so quiet that I forgot he was here.

  “What do you want?” Mercy snaps. “Going to start preaching peace again like you always do?”

  “I just think you both have valid points. It’s hard to balance and juggle everything when you have a relationship.”

  “Of course you’re going to take his side.” Mercy shoves my shoulders. I hardly move though.

  "And you have to realize that you haven't been the best of friends lately, Julian."

  “I’m trying.”

  “Failing,” Mercy says.

  I grit my teeth. “I just want—”

  “You want everything to be perfect. You want to live in a little bubble away from everyone else. News flash, Julian. You can’t. There’s hope for you yet because you helped some of your kind, but that’s not good enough. You’ve lost sight of who I am,” Mercy says as she backs away. “Try not to lose sight of who you are too.”

  With that, she marches away, and I’m left feeling as if she might be right.

  Chapter 13

  Romelia

  Leaving the infirmary isn’t easy, and I feel so very drained. I tried to help as much as I can, which meant listening and talking to the hurt vampires more than anything because I couldn’t do much more than that. I’m not a healer. I’m still woozy myself after my ordeal, but I did overhear some of the healers talking. They think most of the wounded vampires will recover.

  Most.

  Not all.

  As for when my arm fully heals… It will fully heal. It has to. There might be a sizable scar, though, a huge, ugly scar to mark a huge, ugly time in my life.

  So much of my life has been good, so very good, but so many things have gone terribly wrong too.

  Finally, someone tells me I should leave and go to bed in a tone that suggests I’ve been told this already. My mind is kind of hazy, foggy, but it’s not until I go outside and see the pinks and oranges of a new day that I think about the color of the moon last night.

  Blood moon.

  The red moon ball.

  Julian.

  I stare down at my ring as I reach for… There’s no pocket in the ruined gown, and I hadn’t brought along a purse specifically because I didn’t want to bring my phone.

  Julian, is he all right? He has to be!

  My vampiric speed is nowhere near as fast as it normally is, but I make my way to my room and dive for my phone. I’ve missed so many calls and have so many unread texts, but I ignore them.

  Julian, I’m fine. Are you?

  Immediately, he sends back, Yes. You’re fine? You’re all right? You didn’t get mixed up in that chaos, did you?

  I hesitate.

  Before I can figure out a response, he sends another text. Can I see you?

  I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  I’m sorry. I meant a picture.

  A picture?

  Yes. You know. Use your camera and send it to me.

  He’s teasing me, but I shift my gaze to my mirror. I look absolutely horrific, with dried blood coating the side of my neck. My hair looks as if bats have been hanging upside down in my strands, and the gown is just a mess. Plus, my wound. It’s not much better at all. I would’ve thought that drinking blood should’ve sped up the healing process, but that’s not the case at all.

  I don’t think a picture is necessary. I’m fine.

  Romelia, what aren’t you telling me?

  I rub my forehead. I’m just making matters worse by not showing him me. As much as I don’t want him to worry, he’s going to, and those missed calls, the text messages… he’s been worried about me for hours.

  I’ll come straight there to your campus and find you. I’ll risk being caught by the guards.

  Don’t be ridiculous.

  It's not ridiculous. You don't want to send a pi
cture. Normally, I wouldn't care, but there was an attack. I need to know you're all right.

  Are you alone?

  If you’re asking if we can talk, now isn’t the time, unfortunately.

  I blow out a breath and take a picture. Then a few more. At first, I try to hide my injury, but that would be lying. He’ll find out eventually, so I just take a picture, one of as much of me as possible, and send it to him.

  A full minute passes before he sends me a text. It’s a picture of his worried face, but his eyes… They’re amber. I’ve only seen his wolf with amber eyes before, and despite the amber hue, I can clearly see his red-hot anger in his orbs.

  My phone rings. I’m in my castle, and I’m alone. The others… I don’t know where they are, and Tyra isn’t here either. Even if the castle was filled with people, I would answer.

  “Romelia.”

  “Julian, stay at your academy,” I plead.

  There's a long period of silence. "I will, but will you consider going to the… to our spot?"

  “I wish, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s… We’re under lockdown. No one is supposed to leave.”

  “Your arm.”

  “I learned about the fight, and I… I tried to get the werewolves to stop fighting.”

  “You tried to be a peacemaker in the middle of an active battle between vampires and werewolves?”

  I smile sheepishly. “Yes?”

  “Of course you did.” His laugh is bitter.

  “Ah, from what the vampires at the infirmary said, it seems like the skin will have to heal normally.”

  “The claws were painted with poison,” Julian says.

  “Oh, my arm wasn’t clawed.” I snap another picture, this time a close-up of the wound that shows it clearly for what it is.

  “You were bitten?”

  “He got a good chunk of me, yes.”

  “The bite shouldn’t have… You should be healing normally…”

  “Unless they poisoned their teeth too.”

  “But they would’ve had to poison themselves in order to do so,” he protests.

  “You don’t think there are some werewolves who hate vampires enough to do that?”