by E. M. Knight
So, happy to finally be free of this nightmare, I step into the portal, and let it bring me back.
A sensation of utter cold washes over me. A harsh dizziness hits. The connection between my mind and body strains and snaps. I exist as two entities, separated from each other, yet somehow linked. A wind howls past me, and I get the impression of hurtling forward at an incredible speed. My body is stretched out, forward and back, left and right, in all directions, really, until I lose even that smallest, most intangible sense of self.
And then everything snaps back into place, and I’m myself once more.
I blink, dazed, disoriented. When I look in front of me confusion hits.
I am not in the Queen’s hospital ward. I am not in the stronghold. I am not in The Haven, nor am I in any place that I recognize.
No, instead I’m in some grimy underground cave, a fissure above me open to the night. I look up. The stars are on full display but I cannot see the moon.
A cackling laugh makes me jump and spin around.
I come face-to-face with a hideous, ancient woman. Her skin is wrinkled, crackled, and old. Hard, deep lines emphasize the creases around her eyes, on her forehead, down her cheeks. If it weren’t for the sharp spark of ability in her gaze, I would dismiss her as senile.
She must be eighty, ninety years old! And here she is, facing a vampire, facing one of her natural predators, without a hint of fear.
My mere presence should be enough to humble her!
Yet there she is… laughing as if I am the greatest joke in the world.
I take a step toward her—and find myself suddenly unable to move. The air around me has solidified into a stifling little box, no bigger than a phone booth.
My fangs come out, and my body tenses.
“No, no,” the woman cackles. “We will have none of that, little vampire.”
I stare at her in awe and terror as the force holding me in place condenses around me. It concentrates at my neck, and then it starts to push up, against my fangs, and forces them back into the retracted position.
“Ah,” she sighs when it’s done. “That’s so much better. Don’t you think?”
I struggle with all my might against the constructed tightness but absolutely cannot break free.
I’ve never known anything to be the anathema of vampirism except for one thing.
Magic.
“You’re a witch,” I growl, and surprise even myself when my lips move with the words.
I thought the force would have stopped it.
She nods, and the smirk widens, showing a hideous row of ugly, broken, yellowing teeth. “What gave it away?”
“You interfered with the portal,” I accuse. I level my voice, trying to sound unaffected. “You brought me here with your power. Why?”
“Oh, you’re a deductive one, aren’t you?” she mocks. “How refreshing it is to meet a sharp young vampire.”
“Young?” I can do nothing to keep the disbelief from my voice. “Why would you call me young?”
She smiles once more, almost fondly. And takes a few steps to me. Her gait is uneven, almost pained. But her face remains a stoic mask, hiding her discomfort.
She reaches me and touches my cheek. I want to snarl and twist away. The gesture is so painfully demeaning. It’s like something I would do to April, or Cassandra, or any of those naïve women below me.
The balance of power here has precariously shifted. I cannot tell where I stand with this witch.
It’s a dangerous position with one who has subdued me so easily.
“You’re young,” she explains, “because you were made after I was born.”
I stare at her. I don’t know how to respond. Maybe she is senile?
Humans do not live past a century. Yet here is a witch, decidedly human, claiming to be older than me.
The proclamation is almost ridiculous enough to make me laugh. But I force myself to adopt a tone of utter gravity as I reply, “That cannot be true.”
“No? You think only vampires have accomplished the feat of eternal life?” She grins wickedly. “There have been no witches to compare to me. None have ever dared to dabble with the powers I control. Tell me, little vampire, when the last time you felt so helpless before a human was?”
I cannot answer, because the force doesn’t let me move my lips.
“You think I would be jealous,” she continues. “Of your powers. Of your gifts. Of the ease with which you and your kind traverse around the world. Of your precious beauty, of your strength.
“But the truth? Of course, the truth is that all your gifts are bought with borrowed blood. I have nothing but disdain for you awful creatures. Vampires are the lowliest of the species. They are parasites, blood-suckers, and always, always, supremely arrogant.
“I’m here just to put you in your place.”
My eyes narrow. “What place is that?” I force out, struggling against the force
“Deep, deep below the earth,” she sneers. “Where you will be exterminated and your foul seed never allowed to spread. But that will take time. For now, I consider you and me to be allies.”
“Allies?” I scoff. “You’re delusional.”
“Not so. I know who you are, little vampire, but do you know who I am?”
I look at her, keeping my face entirely placid.
“Thought not. I am Cierra. The greatest Black Sorceress the world has ever known!”
On the declaration a burst of light explodes from around her and blinds me. My skin screams in agony but I can do nothing to protect myself.
A second later, the light is gone. I gasp, fighting through the lingering sensation of pain. A particular spot on my body aches above all: a tiny point just below my sternum. I cannot look down to see the cause, but the pain is there, it’s acute, it’s blistering…
Cierra’s eyes are fixed on the very spot. Her lips move as she mouths words I do not hear. In the most subtle of ways I feel my power draining out of me. It’s almost like the reverse of taking blood. There’s a slow dulling of the senses, a sort of haze that overcomes me. Cierra’s mouth keeps moving, and I grow weaker and weaker. My muscles, which only seconds ago were straining against the force around me, give up the fight. My perception of the surroundings lessens. I no longer see quite so clearly, or quite so far.
Anxiety comes over me. I am as helpless as a newborn lamb. The pain in that one spot grows. It multiplies, until it feels like there is a beam of pure UV light directed at me.
And then Cierra stops. She straightens. The bonds around my body do not let up, but the pain slowly starts to ebb away.
She takes a step back. The moment she does the force dissipates entirely. I’m free!
I move to lunge at her, desperate to see her dead, but all it takes is a flick of her wrist, and I am frozen in place.
“So presumptuous,” she mutters. The force field surrounding me is gone, but I can exert no more control over my body than I could when it was there.
“Do a little spin for me,” she suggests.
And—shock beyond horror—I find myself responding to the command as if I am no more than a marionette.
“Very good,” she praises. Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or does she appear somehow stronger, somehow more vigorous? “And now, dance a jig!”
My feet start moving of their own accord, my knees jerking up and down without me exerting any conscious control. Humiliation of the most poisonous sort radiates through my body. But I keep dancing for her as she claps her hands in glee and hums an upbeat, wordless tune.
“Enough,” she says, and I go absolutely still. She does seem stronger now, somehow fuller. Her curving back is now straightened, the lines around her eyes are less defined, and that vigor I first saw in her eyes is now pooling over to her body.
My mind works frantically to make sense of this. I want to attack, I want to kill her, but I cannot! I cannot even open my mouth to speak.
She lowers herself onto a rock and gestures for me to c
ome closer. Like an obedient lapdog I do. Revulsion at myself sets in, revulsion and disgust that I would be taken in by this… this human… so easily
“Close enough,” she tells me. “Stop there.”
I go still.
“By now you must be wondering what I’ve done.” She smiles. “I won’t readily reveal my tricks. All you must know is that now, I have full control of you.” Again that victorious grin. “You are mine, little vampire, to do with as I please. You cannot believe how lucky you are to have encountered what you did in the Paths. I saw it all, through the eyes of the demon… much like I now see through yours.”
Alarm takes me, but I am helpless to act.
“You will continue on as you will. Soon, this whole episode will be wiped from your mind. You will return to The Haven and there, you will be my…” she pauses as she searches for the right words, “…Manchurian candidate.”
I feel sick. I feel nauseous. I feel as if I’m trapped in a glass orb surrounded by grains of sand. I am inside my body, but I cannot affect it in any way. The limbs are mine, the torso is mine, the vampiric essence is mine… but I’ve relinquished all control.
Even the will to fight is seeping out of me.
“So,” she proclaims. “I will allow you to go to your home. I’ll even do you the favor of letting you keep memories of things you saw in the Paths. They will help you establish credibility amongst the Elite, after your huge gaffe with my… sibling.”
Sibling? I think, my mind jolting to alarm. Can she mean—
But the bite of these thoughts are lost as the witch continues over me.
“I want you to be a penitent little vampire when you get there,” she says. “You will beg forgiveness from the Queen. She will look inside you and see that your intentions are pure. Because, of course, I will mask your true intent. None of our little interaction will remain in your mind. That’s the best bit: you will have no clue you are working for me.”
I want to say something against that… but I cannot.
In fact, even the thought of going against her is starting to lose its appeal. The fight I was waging—what fight? Why resist? Cierra is good, she’s on my side, she’s loyal...
“Ah, and there it is,” she says. She stands up and pats my cheek again. “Good, pliable vampire. Well done. I didn’t think you’d resist it long.”
I catch her eye slip down to the spot on my chest. I move my hands to touch it.
They respond. There’s a tear in my clothes, but the skin underneath is smooth. Flawless.
Of course, as it should be.
I look at the witch and suddenly see her great beauty. I thought she was ugly, once? No, no. She is wonderful, she is the epitome of perfection, none can compare!
Of my own accord, I go down to my knees before her. I bow my head.
“Whatever you want,” I say. “I will do. This I vow.”
Neither the words nor the thought fills me with any discontent. In fact, now, the only thing I want to do is please.
“Yes. Good.” She smiles.
She holds out her hand. I take gentle hold of it and press my lips to her skin. A shiver of ecstasy passes through my body when they touch.
She giggles. Once, I may have thought it a peculiar sound, but now it is as sweet as the purest chiming bells.
“You are too gracious,” she coos, and I find myself beaming up at her.
All I want to do is please.
“Come now. Stand up.” She beckons me to my feet. I follow along. “We will want to get this patched up.” She touches the spot on my shirt where I felt the pain…
Pain? What pain?
I don’t remember any pain. All I know now is a great pleasure emanating from having served her. Cierra. My wondrous goddess.
A blue glow surrounds the witch for an instant, and then it’s gone. I look down and see the hole in the cloth completely mended.
She points to a nearby wall and moves her hand in an exaggerated circle. As if she’s painting the spot with a stele, the outline of a portal shines on the rock. The glowing streaks expand until they’re consummate, and a flowing, reflective surface is formed in between.
“That portal will take you back to The Haven,” she says. “You will remember nothing of what happened here. When I call on you, however, you will respond. I may come to you in different form. Do not be frightened.” She chortles. “Because if you think vampires are immune to fear, you will soon discover otherwise. My task for you, once you’re there, is simple. Gather the rebels. Have them join your little coven once more. I need them in position. Ensure they are allied to you, but keep them quiet. Do not seek dissent. It is not needed…yet.”
I bow my head again. “As you ask, I so obey.”
The words come out of me naturally, effortlessly, as they are so simple it is a wonder that I could have ever had any other thought.
Cierra hesitates… then nods. “Remember one thing, vampire. One thing, above all else. You must—must—keep yourself safe. Do not take risks. I trust your natural intuition will take hold. But you will preserve your body first and foremost.” Once more comes that sly smile. “Because now, you are linked to me, and my strength is bound in you.”
She touches two fingers to my forehead. I feel a tiny bit of heat radiate from the spot, and then it’s gone.
“Then,” she says. “Your loyalty is assured. Go now. Step into the portal and return to The Haven. More instructions will come to you soon.”
I nod, slowly. The smallest itch in the back of my mind begs for my attention, telling me something is drastically wrong. I swat it away as easily as if it were a gnat, then turn and walk toward the portal.
“Oh, vampire? One more thing. Give your Queen my highest regards. Tell her that I yet live… and I have not forgotten.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
James
In the woods near Cierra’s lair.
Liana and I look out at the space before us, the empty forest clearing leading to the great stump that once housed Cierra’s burrow. Smithson is bound behind us, flanked on one side by Victoria, on the other by April.
Sylvia was the first to venture out, because she was familiar with the place. She’d ducked in a good ten minutes ago.
Now we’re just waiting for her to come out again.
“This is madness,” Smithson hisses. “You place her in enormous risk by letting her go in alone! There could be other traps lingering from long ago. No one knows what’s been activated and what has not.”
“Quiet,” I snap. I keep watch for the first sign of movement. “If you recall, she was the one who volunteered to go.”
“You’re not frightened, are you Smithson?” April asks in a saccharine, mocking voice.
I grin. My young fledgling derives great pleasure from needling her former tormentor. I see it as little more than a game, so I let her do it.
I shift my focus away from their bickering and look out at the stump again.
It seems such a simple thing. I can’t imagine a human woman purposefully burrowing herself underground like that. I have enormous interest in actually seeing the inside of this “lair.” From all the talk I’ve heard of the witch, she strikes me as exactly the sort of person I would be glad to have on my side.
Because, ultimately, I have not lost track of my purpose. I must make the Nocturna Animalia into the greatest coven in existence. Mother has her magic, and she has Eleira. Father has The Ancient. Without an ace up my sleeve, the Nocturna Animalia will be doomed to a middling existence. And I cannot accept anything but the absolute best.
I want the Nocturna Animalia to be the envy of the world. In time, all vampires will seek out membership because my coven will be the strongest. My coven will be elusive, exclusive, and will hold the utmost prestige. That is what drives me now, that potential for excellence. I must demand it of all my subjects. Above all, I must demand it of myself.
So what better way to cement our place in the world than with the most fearsome witch of all ti
me on our side? Let mother have the prophesied girl! Let father continue to share The Ancient’s blood with his coven’s members. Mine will be a secret circle, a precious few, and we will be lobbied by all the gifts that the fusion of vampire and dark magic can bring.
I grunt. Admittedly, I don’t know what such a fusion might bring.
My hope is simply that it will be something spectacular.
After the disaster with the Fang Chasers, I’d better make it up with something good.
Movement in the bush catches my attention. My eyes focus on the spot as my body goes rigid. I tense, waiting…
A shaking Sylvia emerges.
As soon as I see her I rush forward. The other vampires are fast on my heels. We meet her out in the open, right in front of the massive stump and the overgrown hole through which she climbed out.
She looks at all of us. Her eyes linger on Smithson, her former leader, for a split second longer. Then she speaks.
“The good news is that she hasn’t been back,” Sylvia says.
I bristle in annoyance. “Of course she hasn’t been back! She’s still only human, it’s not like she can fly!”
“The Paths,” Victoria gently reminds me.
Sylvia nods in agreement. “Yes. That’s right. There is an entrance to that realm inside her cavern. But it would require activation from over here to be accessible. From the other side, it’s locked—presumably so that others would not be able to stumble upon her sanctuary.”
“You made it seem like there is bad news?” Liana asks.
Sylvia gives a little nod. She runs a hand over her shaven head. Poor woman—she’ll never be able to grow a glorious mane of hair now that she’s a vampire. Our bodies lock forever into the form they were in our transformation.
She would look stunning with hair, I think.
“The bad news is that somebody has been here before us. And they’ve marked the space.”
That catches my attention. “Marked? What do you mean, marked?” I demand.
“Just what I said. There are traces of magical wards on the floor inside.”
“How would you know that?” I ask. “You’re not a witch.”