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

by Nicole Zoltack

  He mumbles a curse.

  “The vampires were trying to use gemstones and blood. Maybe… I don’t know. Candles were burning. It’s a bit hazy, but nothing was working. I think that we can’t use magic at all to cure these wounds, but I don’t think it’s fatal. I’ll survive, and it might scar. The skin… my arm… it’s going to be a long time before it’s healed. It’ll… It’s going to scar. I know it will. It’s going to be ugly and hideous and—”

  “It’s impossible for you to look hideous to me.”

  “It’s more than that, Julian. Every time I’ll see the scar, I’ll remember tonight. Err, last night.”

  "Remember last night for our time together," he suggests. "Look at the ring, and remember our love."

  I close my eyes and hold back tears. “You’re so sweet. You always know what to say.”

  “I don’t. I really don’t.” His laugh is just as bitter as earlier. “I got into a fight with Mercy earlier. She’s afraid she’s losing me, that I’m losing myself.”

  “Because we text too much?”

  “Because I’m failing. We’ll be talking, and my mind will be elsewhere. She has every right to be upset with me. I don’t blame her for being angry. I just… Tonight, last night… I didn’t need that. I needed the kick, but…”

  “The last thing I want is for you to fight with your friends.”

  “I’ll work things out with her, but as for you…”

  “There’s nothing for you to work out on my end.”

  “Isn’t there? You’re scared, aren’t you?”

  “Not right now.”

  “My brave hero,” he teases. “You terrified me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have my phone on me. I wanted us to be able to enjoy our time together without any interruptions, so I left my phone in my room. Tyra told me about the battle, and I rushed out without grabbing it.”

  “Your first thought was to try to make peace, and look what you got in return.”

  “What about you?” I ask. “How are you? Did you get wounded at all? You only showed me your face.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Nope. You made me show a picture.”

  His chuckle finally sounds more genuine. “You’re right. I would never ask you to do something for me that I’m unwilling to do myself.”

  My phone buzzes, and I click over. He looks worn, tired, and maybe a bit weak too, but I don’t see any wounds. The dried blood does alarm me.

  “Is that blood yours?”

  “No. Friends.” He sounds so very heartbroken that my heart bleeds.

  “You lost friends?”

  “Yes.” He hesitates. “Did you?”

  “I don’t know how many died. I… I think they might have to release a list of names. I’m not sure when classes will resume. Those of us with demons for parents… It’s not going to be good, Julian. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to slip away.”

  “Don’t. Don’t even try. You’re safest there.”

  “Really? Because there had been a lockdown on campus last year, and there was still a statue ruined.”

  Julian lets out a low growl. “I want you to be safe.”

  “I want that for you too.” I smile sadly and shake my head. “We can’t run away together.”

  “I know.”

  “We have to try and fight this.”

  “Fight the war that’s just starting, a war that we might have started.”

  I hold unnaturally still at that. “You think we started it.”

  “We’re the kindling.”

  “The match has already been lit. There’s no going back now.”

  “There’s no turning back the hourglass. I love you, and nothing will change that. Our love, though…”

  “I know.”

  I’ve always known that there would be consequences for loving a werewolf. I just didn’t think those consequences would affect friends and fellow students like that. The hope that deaths wouldn’t occur because of our love has died along with them.

  “When you’re sad and lonely, just rub the garnet,” Julian suggests. “Maybe that will help you.”

  “It might.” My hand goes to my neck.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The talisman my professor gave me, it didn’t help protect me against the werewolves.”

  “Its purpose is to help against your father and his dark influence.”

  “Dark influence. Dark intent. They aren’t that different, and it did nothing against the werewolves. How can I be so certain it’ll save me from my father? What if he demands that I return home?”

  “You don’t need to worry about him or about me. You need to just focus on getting better. See to your friends. Make sure they’re all right. Mourn…”

  His voice cracks.

  “Julian?”

  “One… A friend of mine… Sometimes friends come and go in our lives, you know? I’m sure with vampires being so long-lived that it happens more for your kind than most, but, ah, a childhood friend and I stopped being friends. He… He was…”

  “Julian.”

  “He died. In my arms. And I don’t know if he had a girlfriend. I don’t know what his plans for the future are. If he even had plans. Those plans are shot now, and it’s…”

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t attack him.”

  “No, but maybe if we were still friends… if we kept talking, if he knew about… Maybe then he wouldn’t have fought. He would still be alive.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” I say soothingly. “You didn’t force him to the battle. No one forced him to leave Moonstone Academy. He’s the one who came to the ball with the intent of harming vampires. We don’t know why he came. Mourn him. Remember him. That’s all you can do.”

  “I just… Why? I don’t understand why.”

  “I don’t think everything in life can be explained. I mean, who would have ever thought a vampire and a…”

  His chuckle is a little weak. “I love you.”

  “And I you.” I pause. “Julian, don’t let what happened between you and that werewolf happen to you and Mercy.”

  “I won’t.”

  “If that means that we can’t text during dinner, so be it.”

  “We can text after.”

  “Yes.” I yawn.

  “Get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

  “Are you going to sleep?”

  He hesitates.

  “You should try.”

  “I know I should.” He sighs.

  “You’re too upset about your friend. Do you want to tell me about him?”

  “Yes. All right. That might help. His name was…”

  Chapter 14

  Julian

  It's a few hours until noon by the time Romelia and I get off the phone. I'm exhausted. Every part of me is weary to the bone, and my body aches in ways I haven't ever experienced before. It's unnerving.

  I do feel a bit better having talked to Romelia about Bingham, but there’s someone else I need to speak too.

  Mercy.

  She lives in a different castle. I think it's a bit ridiculous how they assign us to different houses. Not all contain members from only one particular pack. Always girls in a castle or all boys. Never a mix.

  Typically, Mercy would head to our castle, but I walk on over to hers. There are signs of the aftermath of the battle everywhere. Grass blades are bent from heavy pawprints, the grass discolored by blood, the stench of bodies and wounds…

  It’s enough to make me want to be sick to my stomach, but I press forward and soon knock on the door to the castle.

  Mercy’s there. She eyes me apprehensively.

  “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible friend to you and to Bingham and to others. I’ll do better. I swear. Please don’t give up on me.”

  She just shakes her head and laughs a bit. “One argument isn’t going to make you lose me as a friend. I just… It’s not that I begrudge you your happiness
. It’s not that.”

  “Who she is makes things…”

  “Difficult, yes, and…” Mercy closes her eyes. “It might help that Andre Pennington died.”

  “Or that might hurt matters,” I murmur. “I was going to talk to him after talking to you.”

  “Walk?” she asks, closing the door behind her.

  “Sure, why not? My legs hate me. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off. My chest…”

  “You’ll live.”

  Her words have an ominous weight to them, given the devastation around us.

  I wait until we're away from the castle that houses the students before mentioning, "Andre has a brother, doesn't he?"

  "Yes. Chandler. He's a first-year."

  I nod. “Do you think he’ll pick up where his brother started?”

  “It’s possible. I don’t know if their father has anything to do with it.”

  “If the father was pushing Andre you mean.”

  “Yes, and if he was, will he push Chandler next?”

  “So this might not be the end of it.”

  “I wish it would be, but…” Mercy shrugs. “Pandora and her box. It’s opened, and it can’t be shut again. The vampires going after one werewolf is one thing. Our going against all of them…”

  “Do you think that word somehow got out about the vampires attacking me? I did my best to not let most anyone know about it, but…”

  “I don’t know. That was such a long while ago, though.”

  “Do you think that would stop the werewolves from using that as an excuse if they found out about it?” I ask dryly.

  She shakes her head several times, staring straight ahead.

  “I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused,” I say.

  “Love’s worth it, huh?” She snorts. “Worth the blood, worth the death?”

  “Well, it’s not as if there hasn’t been great tragedy before because of love. I mean, it’s entirely unheard of. What was the name of that one queen? She had a face that launched a thousand ships. A thousand ships! Helen, right? Helen of Troy?”

  Mercy glowers at me. “You’ve made your point, only… You do know that Helen isn’t real, right? She’s a myth.”

  “Are you so sure about that? So many stories that people think are myths actually aren’t.”

  She laughs. “Fine. Yes, love is complicated and bloody. Of course loving a vampire is bloody.”

  “Are you cracking jokes?”

  “It’s called dark humor. It’s a coping mechanism.” She lifts her eyebrows. “You wanted to talk to Andre?”

  “I wanted to try to make sure that there isn’t another attack.”

  “Good luck with that,” she murmurs. “It won’t be easy.”

  Abruptly, she gives me a hug.

  “What’s that for?” I ask, surprised.

  “I might argue with you and give you a hard time, but it’s because I’m worried. I don’t want anything to happen to you. If it’s just Bermon and me, I’ll go insane. He’s a bit dull if you ask me. Too by the book. He wants peace as much as you do, and it’s not like I’m an agent of chaos or anything, but…” She grimaces and bites her lower lip.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “I haven’t told anyone this, but…”

  “Go on,” I prompt.

  “Lately, I’ve been thinking that I made a mistake.”

  “With the statue?”

  “No. Well, maybe. Don’t act like all I do is make mistakes!”

  I hold up my hands. “Don’t look at me.”

  Her grin is smile, but her eyes are troubled. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “To Moonstone Academy?”

  She nods. “One of my cousins goes to Magical Hunters Academy. He might be a second cousin or something. Anyhow, he loves it there, and, by the way, he has a crush on a girl who isn’t a werewolf. A lamia. Synine is her name, I think. His name is Logan Lupescu.”

  “You want to go there?” I ask, shocked.

  “I think maybe that would’ve been better for me. I don’t know. I can be a little, ah, judgmental, and if I can use that to better the world and try to make there be peace—”

  “So you want to be a peacemaker, huh? And you were just talking Bermon down for that role, weren’t you?”

  "A peacemaker through hunting people down and throwing them into Magical Prison. Yes, that sounds right up Bermon's alley." She rolls her eyes. "I just… I don't know. I don't know how the future is going to shake out."

  “None of us do.”

  “Julian?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m scared,” she admits.

  “You want to know a secret? I am too.”

  A week passes. Another. The werewolves are healing at least physically, but that’s not to say that things are going well emotionally. There’s been a few skirmishes between werewolves in different packs, and the professors are not tolerating violence of any kind.

  A group of werewolves goes off campus one day to see a human movie. Some kind of horror flick. They come back with blood smeared around their lips.

  Another night, there’s a disturbance near one of our gardens. The vampires somehow show up, four of them. All four walks away, and none of the werewolves who fight them die either, but that doesn’t mean that blood isn’t spilled because plenty is. Far too much.

  Another two weeks pass, and things are mostly back to normal. There hasn’t been another fight between the werewolves and vampires during the fortnight, and finally, it seems like the other werewolves are finding something else to talk about instead of the vampires and hating them.

  The Grand Hunt.

  “I can’t believe you aren’t excited about the Grand Hunt,” Mercy says that night as we’re eating dinner. We’ve developed the habit of piling our phones in the middle of the table so that not one of us will be distracted.

  “I didn’t pay attention to it last year,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t plan to this year either.”

  “Why not?” Bermon asks. “I didn’t do it last year either, but it does seem really intriguing, and almost everyone else is doing it.”

  “If everyone else—”

  “Yes, yes.” Mercy huffs and waves her hand in the air. “You don’t have to be as pathetic as our parents. We aren’t going to try to steal treasure from a dragon.”

  I laugh. “Do you know what the humans say?”

  “Something about a cliff, right?” Mercy asks.

  “If all your friends jump off a cliff, would you?” Bermon shakes his head and grimaces. “Ours is better.”

  “If everyone sneaked up on a sleeping dragon, would you try to steal from him?” we all say at the same time.

  “I wouldn’t.” Bermon rubs his nose. “I don’t want to be a cooked dog.”

  Mercy laughs. “No, but you smell like a wet dog even on sunny days.”

  “Ouch.” I grin. “We all know Mercy would be the only one out of us to risk doing that.”

  “Oh, really? Is that so?” Mercy shakes her head. “What about your mining job?”

  “I do think he’s shrinking a bit,” Bermon jokes. “Looking a bit dwarfish.”

  “Especially because he needs to shave,” Mercy agrees.

  “Guys, you do realize that dwarves aren’t as short as humans believe, right?” My laugh is a little forced. “Not all of them sport beards.”

  I rub my cheeks, feeling growth that I normally don't have. They do have a point. The stubble is rather impressive for me. I just haven't felt the urge to shave. I've been showering, of course, but now more than ever, I'm experiencing that depression Bermon's mentioned from time to time.

  Each day, I go through the motions. I attend my classes, and my mind always wanders. I can’t forget about the ceremony we had for the fallen werewolves. It was held two days after the battle, and even the alphas had attended, the families of those who had perished… The alphas hadn’t addressed the students. We were all allowed to attend, but it had been a silent affa
ir. The bonfire had burned long into the night, and the howls… I can still hear them in my sleep sometimes. We all turned into wolves the moment the fire started, and we howled and howled and howled, the sound somber, haunting, and tragic.

  “Seriously, you would go if it meant getting a precious stone or jewelry for your girl,” Mercy says, jutting her chin toward me. “You would.”

  “And then you would come to make sure I didn’t wake the sleeping dragon,” I counter and then glance at Bermon. “And you would come, wake the dragon, and we would all die.”

  I intended that to be a joke, but none of us laugh. Poor word choice.

  “Why a sleeping dragon?” Bermon murmurs. “I never understood why some parents would mention that detail.”

  “I think it’s supposed to show morals or lack thereof,” Mercy says. She eyes Bermon, who is squirting ketchup all over his fries. “You do realize that demonstrates a complete lack of morals right there, don’t you?”

  “Not all of us like to dunk our friends in ketchup. This is easier.” He plops a ketchup-covered fry into his mouth.

  “And messier. Plus the bottom ones—”

  “I can always pour more ketchup on them so they can be equally drenched.”

  She holds up a hand to block him from her sight. “I can’t with you.”

  “Does this mean you don’t want to take part in the Grand Hunt with me?”

  “No!”

  “Seriously? I thought—”

  “You thought wrong.” She shifts toward me. “Are you sure—”

  “I really don’t think I can,” I mumble.

  Mercy opens her mouth, shuts it, and squeezes my knee. “All right,” she murmurs. “I know things have been rough on you. Do you want me to sit it out too? Is there anything I can do?”

  “I just need this school year to be over. That’s what I need.”

  Chapter 15

  Romelia

  It’s been a long two months since the war started. As much as I hope that it’s a bit of a stretch to call it a war, that’s not the case. Not at all. There have been a few more battles, smaller ones, throughout this time, but the biggest note to take away from today is that my arm has finally healed.