by J. L. Weil
Gods, not the mission lecture again.
I’d heard it all the first night he’d brought me here, and about a gazillion times since—partially my fault. If I didn’t repeatedly find myself in his office, he wouldn’t feel the need to remind me how vital STA was.
“I don’t intentionally get caught. It just happens.”
“Then, I suggest you cover your tracks better. If you want to be an invaluable asset to this school, you need to learn how to be more than just deadly and intimidating. You need to be invisible.”
Sometimes, it felt as if he expected too much from me, more than I could give. My accomplishments never seemed to be enough. He told me I needed to be faster, so I became a bullet in the night. I had to be stealthier, and I transformed into a soundless hunter. He wanted me to control my thirst, not to let it control me, so I adapted until I could go days without feeding... and so on.
For the last two years, I’d been the faithful student, becoming everything he asked me to be—rule breaking aside.
“I can walk in the shadows when it counts,” I retorted.
A ghost of a smirk curled on his lips. “The Aereum are waiting for us. They allowed me a few minutes to speak to you before meeting with them. We best not keep them any longer.”
I’d only been in front of the Aereum once. It wasn’t normal for students to be summoned by the high and mighty that governed the supes. We were usually below their radar. The fact that I’d been to the council’s altar at all made me a bit of a celebrity, not that I minded the extra attention.
My fangs dragged over my bottom lip as I bit it. “You won’t tell me what this about?” I asked, trying again to find out what I had done to gain the attention of the council.
“Sometimes it's best to not know,” he recited, words I’d heard before.
Still, I wasn’t in the mood for his fortune cookie bullshit. “Old doesn’t always mean wise,” I retorted, being the smartass he loved.
“Young doesn’t always mean foolish,” he mused, rising to his feet and stared down at me.
“I find it hard to believe that the Aereum cares about the shenanigans of a bunch of college students,” I mumbled.
“They wouldn’t, if you didn’t mess with things you shouldn’t.” In a single heartbeat, he was at the door, holding it open for me. My eyes tracked his movements, but he was fast, even for vampire standards.
I stood up and as I walked through the door, a memory from over two years ago became as clear in my mind as it had been that day. Every step down the hall brought me back to that night.
My blood painted the alley, the coopery scent filling my nostrils, and replacing the pungent aroma of his sweat as it clung to my skin. I couldn’t move, I had no way to escape. My body was battered and bruised. Blood trickled from nose, and from the wound at the back of my head, oozing into the ratted strands of my hair.
I was going to die.
He was going to kill me.
And no one was coming to save me.
I was barely conscious of the world around me, of the man gurgling his own blood on the ground a few feet away from me. Coldness seeped deep into my bones. So close. I was so very close to death. I could almost hear the whisperings of voices calling me from the other side, beckoning me to let go.
My eyes felt heavy and I longed for the blissful oblivion of sleep, but I knew that if I closed my eyes, I would never wake up. It would be my end.
Would there be anyone to mourn me? Would anyone care that I was gone? Would anyone come to my funeral?
The questions only saddened me, and I sunk further away from my body, away from the horror that had assaulted me tonight.
One last, wet gasp escaped from my attacker, and then only deafening silence. The book I’d been reading was sprawled under his ghostly, pale face, now mixed with blood and dirty water. I felt more sympathy for the book than I did for the dead man.
Footsteps clattered over the blacktop, seconds before a figure loomed over me and crouched down at my side in the musky alley. His eyes were bright blue stars in a sea of darkness, and although I was close to the edge, I found myself ensnared by those unearthly orbs, by the hypnotic tone of his voice as he spoke...
“Do you wish to live, little dove?”
“Yes,” I managed to croak; the sound foreign to my ears.
“Good,” he smiled, laying a hand over my head. His teeth were coated in red like he’d just finished a cherry lollipop. But it wasn’t candy that stained them. I knew it even as I peered up into his face, the air in my lungs becoming harder to take in and exhale. “If you had a choice to be stronger, faster, and live without fear or desperation ever again, would you take the gift?”
Something about his eyes compelled me to answer, even as I was on the verge of death. “Is this a trick question?”
“No tricks, no glamour.”
Who said anything about glamour? Was this guy a magician?
“Yes,” I whispered, a chill racking through my numb body. The pain was gone, leaving behind a listless coldness. I had no idea what he was offering. Not then. Not until hours later, and there was no going back from a choice like that.
“No matter the cost?”
I thought about it again, longer this time, but my answer was the same. “Yes,” I whispered one last time; my eyes half-lidded.
The strangers gaze darkened at my answer, not in anger as I had seen earlier when he appeared, stopping my attacker, but in anticipation. “You will be my daughter from this night forth.”
Iron fangs gleamed a second before he bit me, darkness singing around him like an ancient melody. The whispering winds blowing through the alley went still, as if the world itself knew what he was, what he was capable of, and what changes his bite would bring.
“Renna,” Father called my name, but it was the sharpness in his tone that pierced through the memory.
With a startled blink, the flashback of my other life vanished. “Huh?” I responded as my eyes cleared.
I never found out why Ambrose had been on the streets of Philly that night, or why he had decided to intervene, to save my life, but I owed everything I was to him. He brought me to the academy, gave me a new life, loved me when no one else could.
He was the only family I had.
We crossed the eastern exit of the castle, approaching the permanent gateway used to transport the students and staff to the mortal world below. I’d been so lost down memory lane that I didn’t remember walking through the ancient stone corridors. A groan escaped my lips at the sight of the whitish-gold frame, donned with witch’s marks—runes.
The portal was nestled into an alcove of the surrounding waterfalls, and water gushed over the cliffs set higher than the castle itself. The mystical gateway was a fancy mirror crafted by the fae, and much taller than a doorway. Its surface shimmered like the ocean on a summer’s night, flecks of starlight glimmering at our approach.
I just couldn’t seem to stay away from these damn witches’ mirrors.
“Is there a problem?” Ambrose asked. A single charcoal brow rose in question, his lips twitching as if he knew precisely about my hesitation in stepping through the magical doorway that would take us to the Aereum.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I watched as his hand traced the witches’ runes in a specific order, and the glass surface became translucent, revealing another world beyond.
Without giving it another thought, I squared my shoulders and strolled through the damn portal.
A warmth flooded over my skin instantly, as if I were swimming in liquid gold. It was followed by a burst of white light and a moment of weightlessness. Depending on where the portal was transporting you, the effects were different. Because the council had god complexes, the journey was like flying into Mount Olympus itself.
When the flash of light faded, I was standing on a suspended stone staircase, which led to a circular platform. Seven intimidating thrones of various materials and colors, each one unique to the owner, were set on it. Their i
mposing presence reminded me of Stonehenge in England, or the Drombeg stone circle in Ireland.
Behind me, an archway crafted of massive stones that seemed to challenge the age of the world, loomed over us. The rocks were a grayish-blue in color, perfectly cut as though they’d used an electrical saw, except it appeared made at the beginning of time itself. Two large, flames of blue magical fire burned on either side, hovering in the middle of the air, and kept alight by an invisible force.
It was the portal that would take us back to the academy, and on its very peak, a triangle could be seen, etched with the round crest of the council’s symbols in its center.
The altar was hidden deep in a valley of misty mountains. Trees canopied the ground and moss blanketed the rocky walls below, rising up like vines until they curled around the platform, where a vast river ran underneath.
This was the Celestial Divide, a world between worlds, a place considered sacred and honored. Where no blood was ever shed.
“They’re waiting, little dove.” Ambrose’s elbow nudged me, and I shot him a sidelong glare.
Regardless of my quaking knees, I tipped my chin up, and climbed a set of stairs to the center of the floating platform. The Aereum was composed of seven powerful and old as dirt supernaturals.
A representative for each order.
A voice for all species.
Vampire. Fae. Shifters—represented by a Dragon. Oracle—she gave me the creeps. Witch. Mermaid, and Centaur.
In front of each throne was a medallion of bronze forged into the stone, a sigil.
Ambrose glided to his rightful place, and sat with the predatory grace of a panther. If I still had a heart, it would be hammering in my chest right now for all to hear. Thank the Gods I was a heartless vampire. A part of me had hoped Father would stand at my side when the council addressed me, but as the representative for the vampires, he was expected to take his seat. This was official business.
Cressida cleared her throat, calling my attention to her. The old hag looked exactly as I remembered from the first time I’d seen her two years ago, during my admission to STA. There was something almost bird-like in her appearance, the pointed beak nose, the beedy, sharp eyes of a hawk, and the feathered gray hair. She was the Almighty Oracle.
“You’ve kept us waiting.” Displeasure shone on her wrinkled features.
My gaze met hers. “I just assumed that since you have the gift of sight, you would have seen what time I’d arrive.”
A few of the councilmembers shuffled on their thrones, one coughed to cover a chuckle, while the others stared at me with slitted eyes. Ambrose was among them, his piercing glare telling me to watch myself.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Cressida pressed, her small lips puckering.
“I’m guessing it isn’t for a medal.”
“Careful, child.” The Dragon’s voice boomed around us in warning, and I internally cringed. I always forgot not to antagonize those who could actually have me as a snack.
In my defense, I had only seen him once before, so…
Albán was the Priest of the Order of the Dragon, and the representative of all shifters. He was in his man-like form—thank the Gods—all seven feet of ripped muscle wrapped in an impeccable white suit, with silver embroidery on the cuffs and neck. Rumor was, he transformed into a massive platinum dragon, but I doubted anyone other than the beings here could confirm it. And glancing at his black hair and eerie silver eyes, I didn’t doubt it for a moment.
Ambrose heaved a hefty, frustrated sigh, which told me I was indeed going to get another lecture. Something to look forward to later.
“We have a mission for you, Renna. One of utmost importance,” Serenity ominously announced, and my attention flew to her. She was the High Witch of the Daughters of Circe—the most powerful coven to exist.
It was named after Circe, Greek Goddess of Magic, daughter of Gods Hecate and Helios, which made her incredibly powerful. Our history professor told us once that Serenity was a direct descendant of Circe, and she was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs—just like the goddess—which along with her abilities made her scary as all hell.
“There is a witch in the mortal world. She needs to be brought to the academy,” she continued, amber eyes focused on me as she ran an elegant hand over her sleek brown hair—it fell like a river of silk over her right shoulder, in a ponytail, and down her feathery black gown.
“Okay. So, I’m not in trouble?” I asked, while my head was still trying to wrap around the idea of the Aereum tasking me with a mission. As far as I knew, only those who graduated the academy had ever been given an assignment by the council. It made me leery and suspicious of why they chose me for this particular task.
Ambrose smirked at me knowingly. “Think of this as part of your punishment.”
My shoulders sagged. All things considered, I should be grateful they were only asking me to retrieve some witch. How difficult could it be? “We have plenty of witches. What’s so special about this one?” I prodded.
“You dare question us?” Iara, Queen of the Sea, asked in a hypnotic voice. On land, her sparkling tail of pink and gold was replaced with long tanned legs—easily seen in between the panels of her lace dress as she crossed her legs. She was young and beautiful, with wavy, caramel golden hair and aqua eyes, but like the sea, Iara could also be turbulent and unpredictable.
“We have our reasons,” Cianán, Fae King of the Summer Court, assured, bored by my questions, his fingers idly tapped the arm of his throne.
A moss green robe with Yggdrasil—The Tree of Life—embroidered in gold along the chest clung to his body. Its rich silk caught the sun rays from the sky above us, glimmering and contrasting with his pale skin and reddish-brown hair. His wise, cerulean blue eyes watched me.
“That is all you need to know. We would not ask this of you if it weren’t of paramount importance,” he concluded, more as a command than anything else. He was surely used to having the last word.
Cressida’s eyes suddenly took on a milky color that gave me the willies. “What has begun, can’t be undone,” she declared softly, staring blankly past me, as if she were in a trance.
“Cressida,” Cianán hissed. “Enough.”
“What things? What has begun?” The words escaped from my mouth before I could stop them. It probably wasn’t wise to demand anything from the Aereum.
“You let us worry about that. Your job is to bring home the witch.” Horus’ voice was steel, unyielding and solid, but there was also something sympathetic in his stare.
He was the Centaur, and Lord of the Forests of Thessaly, a land beyond the laws of man where his race lived, yet he represented all hybrids in the realms. His presence was strong yet peaceful, though I didn’t let that fool me, he was also mighty and minacious. His half man side was muscular, with blond hair and fair skin, while the horse side had a caramel blond hide, and his tail seemed almost made of strands of gold.
For the most part, he stayed silent during the exchange, but as he spoke, my gaze connected with his green eyes, and suddenly, I was taken back to a single moment. The striking emerald green eyes of the human I had seen at the club, the hunk, flashed in my mind. It was only a glimpse. A blink of a memory, but the intensity in his eyes cut through me, and for some reason it unsettled me.
Clearing my throat, I pushed his face away from my mind’s eye, and focused on the council. “Fine. How am I to find her? I’m assuming you have more information for me, other than she is a witch?”
Antagonizing the Aereum wasn’t the smartest decision, but I was past thinking clearly after that memory. Also, I could feel they were hiding something, and it was big, which in my case was like an invitation to uncover their secrets. The council didn’t have a clue what sort of trouble they had just unleashed... or perhaps they did. Perhaps they wanted me to unearth the truths they were hiding. Was that part of their plan?
Who was to say? Those people were about as confusing and cryptic as deal
ing with the gods. Why did we even bother?
“The witch we seek resides in Vegas. Her name is Catina Whitlow, and she is vital to the academy... to the future. Do not allow any harm to come to her.” Albán was the one to answer me, the warning once again clear in his thunderous voice.
I suppose I should be honored they were sending me on a mission, yet, I couldn’t help but feel as if it was more of a task to keep me occupied. To keep me away from the academy, where I wouldn’t be tempted to cause more problems.
My gut twisted. “Why me? Surely there are more capable supes for the job, especially if she is as crucial to the academy as you claim.”
“Indeed,” Cressida mused. “But the gods have chosen you, Renna Blackwood.”
The gods must be smoking crack, wherever the hell they were, but for once, I kept my inner monologue to myself. Ambrose would be so proud.
All deities had disappeared a few millennia ago, after the Bello Regna—the Battle of the Realms, when all of them—Greek, Norse, Egyptian, and many more—united to fight the vilest creatures that existed. Demons, with powers so frightening that they threatened to shatter the world. So, after an almighty bloodbath, the gods imprisoned them in the Underworld—better known to us as Infernum.
Never to be free again.
It was said that the gods were dead, having to use all their might to vanish the Damned and save the realms, but if Cressida could communicate with them through her visions, perhaps they were still alive—unless she spoke to their spirits, which was entirely possible.
After endless centuries of chaos with all deities gone, the seven most powerful of the supernatural races united, including my father, to watch over the Earth and form the Consilium Aereum, basically taking the place of the old gods.
“When do I leave?” I asked, glancing at everyone and no one at once.
“Today,” Iara stated, her voice smooth and powerful, like crashing waves.
And just like that, my plans for the weekend went down the creek. I sure hoped the council knew what they were doing.