The Vampire Touch 3: A New Dawn

by Sarah J. Stone

  But seeing Sienna fighting against such a different set of circumstances, made her realize that she was strong and she was capable.

  Prada wanted to fight, to serve the magic. Death happened to be a part of that, but she didn't have to purposely contribute to that. And witches like her deserved to serve just as much as peacekeepers, and diplomats.

  If Sienna had truly gotten a hold of Jeffro, Prada knew what they would do. It was a well-known battle tactic, to take one side and switch at the last moment. Jeffro's forces would align with the Academy and threaten to blow this new witch coven to Kingdom Come if they didn't hand over Sienna. Nathaniel, Desmond and herself would be forced to fight against those they had grown up with, or they would die.

  It would be a stand-off, until everyone was facing almost certain death.

  She had to convince them to recognize this coven, to accept them, she knew that.

  How she would do that baffled her. Speaking wasn't her strong suit, and diplomacy was her weakest skill?

  She had felt like the entire world was on her shoulders before, but this was the true definition of the phrase. How was she going to do this?

  She felt like she had aged twenty years.

  She couldn't talk to them?

  Or could she?

  She pressed the button to let herself onto the bridge, where she felt the Dramoonian leader that had spoken to them before.

  She was frozen, staring at him. He looked to her, and then reached for the universal translator.

  Prada couldn't do it. She couldn't speak. She turned around and ran back to her safety, back to her Maestro.

  She wanted to be brave, but she couldn't do it, not yet.

  They had hours until they landed at the Academy She told herself it would be all right.

  She knew that it wouldn't be.

  Back in the lounge that they had been sentenced to, Sienna had been moved to one of the cots, curled up on her side. Her eyes were open, and teary, and Prada could feel her pain from the door, as she was let back in to the room. She didn't register anything as she moved forward toward her Maestro.

  “You're back,” Nathaniel said, from his seat at the edge of the cot. “It's all right, Prada, she's fine. This is normal for what they did to her.”

  Prada said nothing, drawing her knees up as she thought. She met Nathaniel's eyes to let him know that she was all right, but that was all.

  “They did more than push magic,” Desmond said, looking at her arms. “Have you seen this?”

  “Creator,” Nathaniel swore. “They fully activated her. Look at those marks. Ten minutes and they destroyed years of work.”

  Sienna rolled over them, meeting Nathaniel's eyes and the whole room could hear her thoughts.

  I can save Devon now.

  “Little one,” Nathaniel said. “Don't think about anything else right now.”

  “But Eliza will take me back,” Sienna said.

  “Did you get through to Eliza?” Nathaniel answered in surprise “You were only gone ten minutes.”

  “I got through to Eliza,” Sienna said softly. “And it won't just be the Jeffro forces.”

  “Sorry?” Nathaniel asked confused. “She'll bring the rest of the systems?”

  “She'll bring everyone.”

  “Everyone?” Nathaniel asked in confusion. “Who’s everyone?”

  “Ah!” She winced in pain, and gripped his hand, closing her eyes. They had been through this before, but it seemed to be getting worse. Nathaniel had feared this would happen when all of her abilities came back at once.

  Can she die? Prada suddenly pushed into his brain.

  Yes, Nathaniel said in no uncertain terms. She can.

  Prada leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.

  She had never wanted to save this girl before. She hated her, hated her for taking up Nathaniel's time and life.

  Nathaniel came to sit with her a few moments later, cautious as he always was.

  “What are you thinking, Prada?” he asked. “I know that look on your face.”

  Who is everyone? she asked, referring to Sienna's earlier statement. Nathaniel shrugged.

  I have no idea. Eliza controls a number of systems but nothing beyond there. Who else she would bring is beyond me. Although if Sienna dies tonight, Eliza will stop at nothing to…

  Death, the word rung in Prada's brain. She will bring death.

  Nathaniel paused for a moment and then his jaw fell open as he realized what Prada was suggesting.

  “Desmond,” he stood up, startling his Maestro. “I know why she's getting worse. She's resurrected someone, she's opened a portal.”

  “What?” Desmond asked, in alarm. He had been sitting off to the side, idly watching Sienna's vitals. “What are you talking about?”

  “That's the everyone she meant. If they flowed that much power into her, she'd have resurrection at the tip of her fingers. She didn't tell us because she knew that it would do to her, but I'm willing to bet she pushed a life out and brought it back. A portal will be open…”

  “An army of the dead,” Desmond said. “Which Eliza would bring.”

  “Our enemies don't stand a chance,” Nathaniel said, his chest heaving as he realized what had been done. “This is going to turn into a mass slaughter.”

  “And it may start here.” Desmond glanced down to Sienna, who was clearly in distress. “What would make her think that this was a good idea?”

  “I don't think she was thinking…” Nathaniel answered. “At least…not about herself. I think she was trying to help Devon…”

  “It’s a shot in the dark, to assume one resurrection will open that far of portal,” Desmond replied.

  “But any of us would take that shot in the dark,” Nathaniel said. “If it were…one that we cared about this much.”

  Maestro, Prada stood up. We have to warn them.

  It's unlikely that they will listen to us, Prada, Nathaniel thought softly. They just want us to fight for them, to get them Reconstruction

  Why can't we? she asked, with such strength that he thought she might have actually spoke. She stared him down, and he was reminded how different she was from Sienna, how strong she could be. Why can't we plead their case?

  Prada, they are killers.

  “THEY AREN'T!” The words came rolling out of her mouth, thundering through the room. Desmond raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, knowing that acknowledging might be enough to send her back into her shell.

  Nathaniel straightened his shoulders, watching her.

  “Why aren't they, Prada?” he asked carefully. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, and he waited patiently

  In his patience, Desmond felt so proud of him. He had taught his Tiro patience, and calm, even in the stormy world they lived in.

  “You're safe,” Nathaniel said. “You're safe here.”

  “They are witches too, Nathaniel,” Prada said. “You have influence with the Jurors. We have a chance to plead their case rather than it ending in a slaughter. If we enter this war, everyone loses.”

  “Will you fight with me?” he asked her. “At my side, with the Jurors? Will you help plead this case, then, to end this battle?”

  She paused, and then nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “I'm proud of you, Tiro.”

  “Mm,” the amount of words she had said seemed to have been enough, and she clammed up, her palms shaking.

  It was the first time in years she had spoken in front of someone beside Nathaniel, and it made her feel sick.

  But it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She had nightmares about speaking in public, about instant death the moment she made a sound.

  But to her surprise, she didn't die. She was also surprised that she wanted to defend them as much as she did.

  Prada had heard of Stockholm Syndrome, but this was entirely different.

  It was as if her entire world was different. And she had never wanted anything to be different until she saw t
he power these witches had. Suddenly, her perception on everything and everyone was different than what she was brought up with.

  She had been jealous of Sienna, and she didn't have to be. She was strong, and she could be stronger than her. She had always felt out of place and she thought her place was with Nathaniel. But now she realized he was only the key to where she might actually belong.

  He had always discouraged her power, they all had. She was encouraged to control her power, to look at other avenues besides fighting.

  She was built to fight, some people were.

  They didn't talk much on Dramoon. They didn't communicate with words, or emotions. They used their magic, exactly where she was comfortable.

  She hadn't realized she ever wanted to be away from this place, until she saw another door.

  “We might have another worry on our hands.” Desmond bent down to check Sienna's vitals. “She needs a proper med bay, and no doubt they will keep us here.”

  Unless we offer a trade, Prada thought. Offer them me, that I will join them if they save her.

  “Prada,” Nathaniel looked up in shock. “That's dangerous.”

  “Not if I mean it,” she responded, meeting his eyes.

  There was a long silence in the room. Nathaniel reached out to grab her hand.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, knowing what it meant to be asking. She was suggesting leaving him, of fighting for a side that they thought was evil up until a day ago. “Because if we put you in that situation, we may not be able to remove you from it.”

  “I know,” she grasped her hands shut so they wouldn't shake. “I know.”

  Nathaniel glanced at Desmond, who gave him the slightest nod.

  Nathaniel expected to feel shock, anger, and pain at her announcement.

  But he felt relieved, like this was the correct path.

  Different path, the words rang in his mind. He had never walked the same path as anyone else, not from the moment Desmond started training him.

  There was nothing wrong with walking a different path. But now, they had to walk it.

  “All right,” he said carefully. “Go ask for a medic. You can do it, Prada, you can talk to them.”

  She nodded, although five minutes ago, she wasn't sure she could.

  But every step toward the door filled her with a bit more courage, and a bit more strength.

  Chapter 13

  It only took her a few moments to find a Dramoonian guard. Prada knew that they wouldn't understand her, but she decided to push her magic and see if she could reach into their minds instead. It was high magic, and normally Tiros could only talk to their Maestros.

  But Prada knew she wasn't a normal Tiro.

  We need medical help, or Sienna will die, she thought. Please, she will be useless to you otherwise.

  Sienna is no longer of interest to us, the guard answered, shaking his head.

  If she dies…I will not assist you. Prada thought, trying not go into a full blown panic attack. This caught the guards attention. And I would like to assist you, always.

  It took her a very long time to get the conversation out. The guard took her to the leader, the captain, and back again. Prada felt like she might pass out on the floor at some point, but she stayed focused. And every time one of them flared up with magic, she flared up as well, matching them.

  It was the only time she had ever felt like she belonged. Her use of magic was considered out of control in the original Academy But here, they acted like it was completely normal.

  The more she talked to them, the more she realized that she had found her place. It seemed so mind blowing, and yet so natural.

  They agreed to take Sienna to the med bay. But Prada wasn't allowed to see her, to be with them. She had to stay out. They didn't trust her. They didn't know yet what she was capable of. Nathaniel straddled the line, talking to her outside in the hallway.

  She is better?

  “She at least has help,” Nathaniel said, leaning against the wall. “But she shouldn't have taken the risk. There were so many other ways she could have helped.”

  Will the Jurors listen?

  “What choice do they have?” he asked. “Be brave, little one.”

  He had never called her that before, and Prada's head turned up.

  “There is another answer,” he said. “To you leaving to work with them.”

  “Mm?” Prada made a noise in her throat, watching him.

  “You can take the tests. Then, you choice of work will be within your hands. You can help them, you can be assigned to them. It can be your whole life's work, if you choose.”

  Prada choked on that.

  You want me to take the tests? But I'm..

  He had been older than most when he took the tests, and Sienna never did. She had nothing to compare herself to in her immediate circle. Her friends in her classes, had not begun to bridge taking the tests.

  “You are young, yes,” he said. “But you wouldn't be the youngest. It isn't about age, Prada, it's about readiness, strength, maturity. And what you have suggested here today, tells me you are ready.”

  You just don't want another one to not take the tests, her old anger flared up.

  “Your success is not dependent on what happened to Sienna,” he said. “You are your own person. You can do this. I believe in you.”

  She held his gaze, watching. Her Maestro had put up with so much, had been through so much in his life. He was frustrated often, but he was also patient and kind. And there was no one else who would have taken her on, she knew that. Nathaniel had not had an easy time as a Maestro.

  What else do you believe, Maestro? she asked, her bond to his mind strengthening every moment.

  She knew what he was thinking.

  He sighed.

  “If we get through this and you choose to stay, I will wait you out. But I've been thinking about how we talked of different paths…and maybe a different path is right for me.”

  With Eliza? she asked.

  With Eliza, he confirmed, If she'll have me. But not before you are ready, Prada. You are my duty, my legacy. The only one.

  Her eyes lit up at that.

  “I can do this,” she said, even though she wasn't sure that she could. Her voice made him smile.

  “Prada…” he chose his words carefully. “Despite their power, they are still different, in their views.”

  I know, she returned to their bond. I know. But I'm more powerful than all of them.

  “That you are,” he said softly, thinking in more ways than one. “That you are.”

  I will talk to them more, she said and he nodded.

  “Go,” he said. “Tell them that she is no better, no worse. That she will have a long recovery.”

  They wanted he,r too, Prada revealed. Her power could aid them.

  She can aid no one like this, Nathaniel thought. “Only you can.”

  Prada nodded and disappeared down the hallway. Nathaniel watched her go for a moment before ducking back into the med bay.

  “Did I just hear right?” Desmond asked, as Nathaniel returned. His former Tiro looked down.

  “What did you hear?”

  “You are giving up the Order?”

  “I—” Nathaniel sighed. “I've been struggling with this for a while. Not just with Prada, but with what I wanted, where I was best suited, where I could serve Nature best. I was only ever a warrior, Desmond. I wasn't a diplomat like you, I wasn't a translator, or a pilot. And I'm not the best Maestro.”

  “You were given very difficult Tiros,” Desmond said. “ And you did a phenomenal job of both of them, given the situation.”

  “But it may be that I have a different path,” Nathaniel said. “That I want a different path. And that this is Prada's path, this is what she was created to do, I think. She was not created by Nature to be this powerful without a reason and this could be it, to unite these two factions.”

  “Is that what Nature is telling you?”

  “I think,”
Nathaniel said, meeting his former Maestro's eyes. “I think this is her purpose and if she can unite them with the power like they have, and the mind we have brought her up to have… it could be possible. Prada could do that…I just wonder…”

  “Hmm?” Desmond asked.

  “I wonder whether Sienna had the same purpose, and it went wrong. So Nature gave us Prada, a second chance. And it was under our care, as if it was all a plan.”

  “As if Nature had figured things out,” Desmond smiled. Nathaniel snorted.

  “I suppose so,” he said. “I suppose so. Anyways.” He leaned onto his elbows, against the edge of the bed. “This takes me back.”

  “Do you remember when she was a child?” Desmond asked. “How often we'd stand here, in this same position?”

  “I felt like I was a broken record,” Nathaniel said. “I only have three things I could say, over and over again. Eat your food, put on a sweater, go to sleep.”

  Desmond laughed.

  “I remember that,” he said. “I think you spent five years with those words on loop.”

  “Thanks,” Nathaniel answered, as one of Sienna's monitors beeped. He hit the button to reset it, as if on autopilot. “Creator, I hate this. I can't watch her go through this. She was so close to having a normal life, and if Devon is gone from her, then…”

  “Will Prada help?”

  “It's possible,” Nathaniel said. “But we have to survive this first.”

  By the time they landed, Nathaniel could feel the magic practically seeping through the walls. He knew that Eliza's forces were there, he knew that the Academy was on high alert, and he could feel magical signatures that felt odd.

  The dead. The dead that Sienna had returned to life through the portal were lingering. Some from Jeffro, some from the Academy, every possible portal that she could access.

  If she wasn't hanging between life and death, Nathaniel would have been proud of her. She would have been the witch that brought balance, but Nature had another plan for her.

  There was a commotion outside, and Nathaniel barely moved, listening to the voices.

  “I don't need to know the language to know what they are screaming about,” he said. “They have just realized they are outnumbered.”