by Kyra Quinn
“Will there be anything else, Vira?” the vampire in the middle, a darker girl at least twice Aster’s height, asked with a low bow.
“Thank you, my dears, that is all for now. But keep everyone inside until we’re finished here,” Vira said, her eyes drifting towards the castle.
“We will hurt no one,” Seth grumbled under his breath. “We’ve come to help.”
Vira dismissed him with a wave. “The road to ruins is often paved with good intentions, love. We can’t always predict when your unique brand of trouble will flare up.”
Aster lifted a brow, but Seth didn’t elaborate. She had assumed the nest mother’s hesitation related to her own presence, a stranger in the land of the night children. Yet something about the pointed look Vira fixed on Seth suggested there was more to the story than she’d suspected. For a split second, Aster wondered if Seth’s isolation in his cave had been forced upon him. Did Seth receive as much disdain amongst his people as she had with the coven?
The other vampires scurried away, and Vira turned her gaze to Aster. She gestured to the cloth bundle of supplies on the ground. “Everything you need is there. The blood is mortal, so it should strengthen your results.”
Aster mumbled her thanks, afraid to ask where the vampires had sourced the passive blood. She dropped to her knees on the hard ground and set to work before Vira could ask any more questions. Her hands shook as she opened the bundles and fingered through the supplies. The measurements weren’t perfect, but she’d make them work. What other option did she have?
The small iron cauldron went in the middle, five candles positioned in a circle around the pot. Vira’s eyes burned into her back as she added the ingredients step by step, the nightshade first and the small bottle of blood last. She held her hands over the surface of the pot and whispered the spell in the tongue of her people, careful not to allow the words to be overheard. If Madre hadn’t exiled her from the coven after what happened to Chay, she would have the moment she caught wind of Aster sharing her spells with vampires.
The surface bubbled, and Aster exhaled a sigh of relief. Within moments, her reflection disappeared. A beaten and bruised Remiel replaced the image of her face, his arms suspended above his head by thick iron chains. His eyes were all but swollen shut. Streaks of dried blood covered his face. The demons had removed his shirt, his chest covered in lacerations of varying depth and age.
Aster’s heart twisted as she reached her fingertips towards the murky liquid. The longer he remained captive in Shadow City, the more his abuse escalated. When a deep chuckle cut through the silence, Aster’s breath caught in her lungs.
“You have the stubborn pride of an Archangel,” a deep voice as warm and rich as ambrosia said. Aster couldn’t see the speaker, but she recognized Zanox’s voice from his time in her home. “Under different circumstances, I would find it impressive.”
“Fuck you,” Remiel spit, blood dripping from his mouth.
Zanox gave a small tsk. His hand flew out to grab Remiel’s face, his claws digging into either side of his jaw as he leaned in inches from him. “I tire of your games, angel. Help us or I’ll rip your soul from your chest.”
Remiel shook his head, his movements slowed by pain. “I would sooner die than help you destroy Astryae.”
Zanox chuckled, the sound cold and menacing. “Is that what you’ve been told? It’s strange, you don’t strike me as a fool. Yet who else would continue to place their trust in the people who ripped the wings from his back? And you call us monsters.”
The surface rippled, but Aster could still see a flash of pain cross Remiel’s face. “The sins of the past are no excuse to destroy the future.”
“I agree,” Zanox said. “Which is why I need the seals broken. Astryae will not survive if the angels can obliterate it unopposed. The armies on your side of the veil are made of passives and Feyfolk. The most formidable amongst them is powerless next to an angel.”
Before Remiel could respond, the inky liquid bubbled once more as the image faded from view. Aster swore under her breath, her heart racing. What the Fey had she overheard? And what did any of it mean?
“Angels?” Vira repeated as if to echo her thoughts. “Demons? What is this about?”
“The end of days,” Aster said, her voice as cold as ice. “Astryae will soon find itself caught in the middle of a war between the Shadowrealm and the Elysian Gardens.”
Vira and Seth exchanged a glance Aster couldn’t read. “What did I witness? And how do we stop this from happening?”
Aster laughed, the sound bitter. She threw her head back and gazed at the stars overhead. How would she would feel when they fell from the sky? “I don’t believe we can. The banshees have seen this war written in the sky with blood. No matter what we do, it seems tragedy will strike Astryae. We can only hope to minimize the damage and survive.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Unforeseen Complications
Cimera is worshiped as the goddess of life, but it would be a mistake to ignore the seeds of Zanox’s creations.
-The Sacred Texts, 9:31
Seth said little on the hike back to his cave from the Dustlock Den. He carried a satchel of ingredients and supplies Vira had sent them away with, his shoulders tense.
Aster didn’t mind. Her thoughts remained with Remiel in the Shadowrealm, a dull ache in her chest as she pictured his face in her mind. She held responsibility for every bruise and cut on his faultless face. Had she not suggested they trust Andras and visit the Shadowrealm, Remiel wouldn’t have needed to rescue them. Astryae needed Remiel far more than some hapless blood mage.
When the trickle of the waterfall grew to a roar, Seth stopped Aster with a hand on her shoulder. He fixed her with a grim expression and pointed towards the cave.
“It’s best if you don’t tell the others about what we learned with Vira,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
“What? Why?”
Seth rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes flickered between Aster and the waterfall. “Adrian and Kazimir...they have a bit of a complicated history with Daeva and Zanox. And their own strong opinions on angels. Until we uncover more about the true nature of what we are against, I must advise against riling them up.”
“I-I don’t understand—”
“There is no simple explanation. Their story is not my place to tell. I can only ask you to trust me enough to respect my wishes. Kazimir and Adrian need to stay as far away from all this as possible. If you vow not to tell them, at least not until we know more, I will journey with you to find your friend and offer my services in whatever way I can.”
Aster’s eyes swept over his tall, scrawny frame. She’d met children with more upper body strength than her new vampire friend. “You don’t strike me as much of a fighter.”
Seth shrugged. “Do I need to be? You didn’t come to Killara in search of brute force.”
“I came for magic.” Aster tensed. “According to you and Vira, there is no magic left on this island. I may need to settle for strength and hope it’s good enough.”
“It isn’t. Besides, your team is plenty strong by the sounds of things. But perhaps my talents will prove more useful in the long run. Unlike Adrian and Kazimir, no one fears me. In fact, most say they find me charming.”
Aster snorted. Her gut told her to decline his offer. His boyish charms and smooth speech would offer no help on a battlefield. But something about the way he pressed his hands together in front of his chest and watched her with eager eyes knocked her confidence off balance.
“Why is it so important the demons don’t know? What aren’t you telling me?”
Seth shifted his weight. He pursed his lips, his expression twisted with discomfort. “There is more to this story than I have time to tell. All you need to know is that I would prefer no one mention any of this to Kaz. Do we have an accord or not?”
Aster groaned. “How will you make this worth my while, bloodsucker?”
“Again, not a bloodsucker. I’d hav
e far more value to you in a battle if I were. My class of vampire, the animi, are not gifted with the same lightning speed or robust strength as our cousins. That’s the trade-off for not sustaining ourselves on blood.”
Aster tilted her head. “And what do you feed on?”
Seth shrugged, and he refused to meet her eye as she answered. “Emotions. The stronger the emotion, the more delicious and sustaining it is for an animi. Some say we feed on conflict or misery, but it isn’t that simple. Passionate lust or terror are equally sweet. They’re also harder to come by.”
Aster laughed, the first genuine laugh she’d been able to muster since she met Seth. “You’re out of luck with me. I’m all but dead inside.”
“You’re not. Just a little jaded. We all get that way.”
Aster said nothing, afraid of how Seth might respond if she said she’d been the same way all her life. She thought of Lili and her wide, worried eyes and open smiles. For a moment, she regretted leaving Lili in Carramar. Seth would have enjoyed her company, or at least the sustenance her dramatic emotions would provide him with.
“Fine,” she said after a long pause. “If you come with me to Carramar and help in whatever ways you can, I will tell the demons whatever story you wish about our time with Vira.”
Seth exhaled a shaky sigh. “Thank you.”
“But there is one other thing I need to do, with or without the demons around.”
Seth arched a brow. “Which is?”
“Lili.” She swallowed, gesturing towards the supplies Vira had given him. “I need to check in on Lili.”
“Who?”
“The world’s first and only camphelem. Daughter of Daeva herself and an Archangel of the Elysian Gardens. She has powers unlike anything this world has witnessed.”
Seth sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes widened, his skin bone white. “Never knew Daeva had a daughter. Is she—”
“She is nothing like her mother. Or her father, though I’ve never had the displeasure of meeting him. She’s also on our side, and the best chance we have at surviving any of this.”
Seth rubbed his chin. He swung the satchel from his shoulder and shoved it into her arms. “Do it here. Away from the others.”
“Here?” Aster scoffed. “Boy, you’re serious about no one else knowing.”
“Do it fast. The others are waiting for us.”
“I can try,” she said, her uncertainty reflecting in her tone. “I warded my home against scrying spells and tracers. When you’re raised in a coven of devious bitches, you learn young the importance of protecting your privacy. A few drops of my blood will override the spell, but…”
Seth rolled his eyes. “Do it, then. Bleed your little heart out. Maybe when I don’t drink you dry, you’ll trust me enough to stop worrying about it.”
Aster winced. “Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.”
Seth’s expression turned to stone. “Trust me, I understand better than anyone how difficult it can be to change your patterns. But if we are to work together in such dangerous circumstances, it’s best if we can trust each other.”
Aster knelt next to the satchel and busied herself with the spell to hide her embarrassment. “Vira seemed nice. Why does an immortal vampire collect spell ingredients, though? Our magic is of no use to her.”
“Isn’t it?” Seth mused. “Vampires have a saying. In Common Tongue it means, he who holds the knowledge controls the people. It’s not unusual for vampires to immerse themselves in an array of studies. Immortality leaves one with a lot of time to kill.”
In theory, anyone with a soul touched by shadows and an understanding of the spellwork could use blood magic. Aster’s mouth twisted as it occurred to her why Vira wanted to observe the scrying spell; the devious bitch didn’t care about the end of days. She’d wanted to replicate the spell herself later.
“You’ve said ‘we’ a few times now,” Seth mused as he watched her work. “Are there others? Besides you and the camphelem?”
“Yes.” Aster lit the candles around the tiny cauldron. The tiny flames cast dancing shadows on the ground. “Most of the others are away. The man I showed you is Remiel, a fallen angel Daeva captured during our journey into the Shadowrealm. There is also a shapeshifter and another blood mage.”
My girlfriend.
But the words never came. She pictured Morrigan’s starry eyes, and a pang shot through her chest. Morrigan deserved better, someone who could love her as much as she did them. Gods knew if she stayed too close to Aster for too long, she’d end up dead.
“Quite the crew you’ve assembled for yourself,” Seth said with an appreciative nod. “But will it be enough to save Astryae from the end of days?”
Aster’s jaw tightened as she measured two pinches of shadowthistle and tossed it into the pot. “Time will tell. I’d suggest praying to whatever god you believe in to be on the safe side.”
Seth snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re religious.”
Aster arched a brow. “You’re not?”
“I’d be surprised if anyone in Killara is. If the stories are true and the gods exist, what have they ever done for us? Should we praise them for the wars and famine they did nothing to stop? Thank them when disease strikes the passive population?”
She shook her head and poured what remained of the glass bottle of blood into the pot. “I don’t know how much of that blame can be laid at their feet. From what I understand, the gods left us to our own devices a long time ago. Some of the devastation you speak of is of our own design.”
“I fail to see how that’s better,” he said. “Whether they are absent or imaginary, the fact remains we cannot rely on them for protection or aid. Astryae is on its own.”
Aster said nothing, her mouth dry. Seth wasn’t wrong; no matter how many people prayed for how long, the gods would never hear them or respond. She muttered the spell under her breath as her thoughts raced. No divine intervention would arrive to spare them from the tragedy to come. The gods existed, but it hardly mattered. They had abandoned them ages ago.
“Damn, nice wings,” Seth said with a low whistle.
The spell complete, Lili’s image had bubbled to the liquid’s surface. Her feathery midnight wings were curled around her slender body. She shuddered and tried to push herself to stand, but her knees buckled as she crashed to the ground with a groan.
Seth arched a brow. “Your mighty camphelem warrior is a little pale.”
“Yes,” Aster murmured, leaning closer to the cauldron. Her heart raced as she watched Lili drag herself to her feet and stumble to the front door, her breaths labored. White chalk dusted the edges of her mouth, her eyes black. When the image faded, Aster felt as if she’d peeked in on her friend’s ghost.
“Something is wrong. She’s ill, or—”
“Or underfed,” Seth finished, as if mentioning the weather outside. “Forgive my saying so, but her symptoms mirror every other Shadowfey I’ve encountered on the brink of starvation.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Aster said. “Lili doesn’t feed on anything.”
“Doesn’t she? What if I told you I’ve been feeding off you since the moment we met?”
Aster froze. “I noticed nothing—”
“You wouldn’t, depending on where a particular Fey feeds from. What if your camphelem friend has been feeding from you?”
Aster’s heart plunged. “And I left her alone. Damn it, Morrigan vowed to stay with her!”
“Hey, calm down.” Seth reached for her arm, but Aster jerked it away.
“When has any women in history been soothed by a man ordering her to calm down?”
Seth smirked. “Now, I hope. Listen, your friend is hungry, not dead. There’s still time—”
Aster sprang to her feet, already a step ahead of Seth. “Let’s go. We can save her if we hurry. Say your goodbyes to the others. We have a boat to catch.”
* * *
“Oh, sweet shadows,” Aster groaned, wrapping her arms around her midsection.
“Of all the marvelous things men have invented in the last century, why did no one create a better way to travel?”
She had hoped Seth’s presence might quell the nerves and nausea she’d encountered on the trip to Killara, but the ocean remained merciless. Dark clouds hung overhead to mirror Aster’s mood. A light drizzle fell from the sky. The waves jerked their small wooden vessel back and forth, tossing the acid in her gut with it.
Seth shook his head and chuckled. “Do all mages share your lack of patience? Magic has spoiled you towards instant gratification.”
Aster folded her arms over her chest. She knew of at least three spells with the ability to place them a few miles outside of Carramar in the blink of an eye, no tumultuous voyages across the ocean required. To mention so, however, would only prove the vampire’s point. Another trip to see Vira and the Dustlock Den had struck Aster as the opposite of a good time, so she had swallowed her pride and agreed to board the ship with Seth.
They weren’t far from Carramar, but they weren’t close enough. She tapped her fingers against her arm. She said a silent prayer to whatever gods hadn’t abandoned them for protection, an extra line slipped in at the end for Seth to return to his cave unharmed. Most Fey believed only the strong survived. Was Seth strong enough to survive away from his home?
“Did you have a career?” Aster asked, eager to distract herself from the slap of the waves against the ship. “Back in Killara?”
Seth blinked. “Uh, I mean, not officially, no. When I left Vira and the Den, my focus became survival. For most of my life, I did not need to hunt or work hard to find a meal. The Den is always full of Shadowfey and their drama. On my own, however, things weren’t as simple. Other vampires aren’t fans of my kind.”
Aster propped her elbow against her leg and cradled her head in her hands. “Yeah, I’ve never worked for an honest day’s wage, either. Are we bad people?”