Vampire Magic 1: TASTE - Kingdom of Blood and Ash

by D. S. Murphy

An elegant script announced it as The Diary of John Patten. Inside, the text was cramped together, with dozens of lines on every page of the small notebook. There were poems, daily entries, and a few formulas and equations similar to the ones I’d seen Damien working on. Was this it—the missing antidote? But if the antidote really existed, why was Damien still working on the science?

  I put the notepad aside and turned to the book. The cover read Dracula, by Bram Stoker. But when I opened it, I discovered a hole had been gouged through the paper, leaving a secret chamber between the pages. Inside was a long brass key, tied with a piece of red ribbon. But what did it go to?

  I flipped through the journal for any mention of the key, but found nothing. Then I tried reading the book. Since half the text was missing, I couldn’t understand the narrative. But there were still passages that jumped out at me. Undead creatures who drained the blood of young women and children. Shifters who could turn into wolves at the full moon. Castles full of bats, and treacherous journeys on horse drawn carriages. One passage was circled in red ink, about a character named Lucy. She died, but came back to life and started hunting children. Her friends staked her through the heart, cut offer her head, and then filled her mouth with garlic. This last part was underlined as well. One word was repeated most often. Vampire. I’d seen it somewhere before.

  I tucked the books back in the secret compartment and closed the hidden door carefully, then looked through the shelves again until I found it—a small book with gold text on the spine that read vampire myths and legends. Another passage was circled in red ink.

  One method of finding a vampire’s grave involved leading a virgin boy through a graveyard or church grounds on a virgin stallion—the horse would supposedly balk at the grave in question.

  I didn’t know what to make of it. This book by Bram Stoker was fiction, it read like a novel. I’d read enough books to know the difference between history and fantasy. And it was old—from before the Before. I knew the elite were created when Dr. Hartmann discovered the elixir, but the similarities between these old legends and my present reality brought chills down my spine.

  I suddenly felt alone, in this huge library by myself. Part of me wanted to run and light a candle in my window. But I hadn’t actually found anything about an antidote. Was it worth the risk to try and contact the rebels? Did I even want to? If the rebels found a way to reverse the process, would they really just leave the elite alone after curing them of immortality? Or would it be like in the story—they’d stake their hearts and cut off their heads, just to be sure they were dead. I didn’t want that to happen to Damien.

  I went downstairs and grabbed my coat. It was already getting dark, but I hadn’t been outside by myself since Penelope’s execution, and I needed air. My feet carried me to the outdoor cafe Penelope had shown me when we’d arrived. The manager was gone and a young boy took my order without recognizing me. He wrote the drink down nervously, barely making eye contact. Lights went up around the plaza as the sun faded, but the novelty and joy I’d felt with Penelope last time was gone. Roses bloomed in the garden, filling the air with a sweet floral scent. But I saw few smiles, and heard no laughter. I wished I’d asked the other girls to join me, but it was too late now. Besides, I’d see them in class tomorrow.

  I tried to enjoy the bittersweet concoction the boy served me, with sprinkles, whipped cream, chocolate and coffee—but it was so rich and sweet it made my stomach hurt. I was about to leave when a girl swished past my table and dropped something near my feet. I bent down to pick it up, and was about to chase after her when I saw my name on the folded paper. I lowered my hands under the table quickly, then unfolded the note.

  We need to talk. Meet me after renewal —M

  Marcus, I assumed. I wondered if he had news for me? At least I knew he was all right. Maybe he could tell me more about Trevor. I tucked the note into my pocket quickly, looking around to see if anybody was watching. I realized for the first time what a dangerous game I was playing. Trev was a rebel. I was lying to my husband, and the king had shown no one was above reckoning. I thought his punishment of the rebels had been harsh, but now I knew what he was truly capable of. He destroyed an entire compound because one man stole from him. What would he do if he caught Trev? Turn my family into statues? I hadn’t been homesick before, not really, but now I was desperate to get back to Algrave and see my family, before it was too late.

  Damien took me to Quondam to explain, and to help me understand him. And I did. First he killed his high school crush on accident. Then he was betrayed by his only friend. No wonder he’d been cold and distant at first. He didn’t want to force me, because he’d been forced. And then when he challenged his father, he lost everything he cared about. He was afraid of losing me the same way; afraid of what his father could make him do to me. What I didn’t understand was why he shared all this with me before he tasted my blood, and now suddenly he was treating me like a total stranger. Was he embarrassed he’d been so vulnerable with me? Was he afraid of going too far and divulging forbidden secrets? Or had he learned about Trevor through my blood memories? He could be hunting him right now.

  It was nearly dark now, so I finished my coffee. I flashed my bracelet as payment, and the boy’s eyes widened. He’d probably never seen a chosen before. The silver band flashed in the light and I saw several eyes land on the monitor, which read 1%. Damien’s bite must have pushed more elixir in my system. I blushed when I saw several people eyeing me. Since last week’s renewal got cancelled, people were hungry for their next dose. I knew the pain of coming off elixir. The ‘sweats and chills’ my mom used to say, when we were kids and we complained about needing to go to the service. It was harmless, and after a few weeks the cravings would mostly vanish, but in the meantime the body would feel weak, frail, and a little desperate. If they knew I was hiding a vial of stolen elixir in my room, these people would follow me home.

  I hurried back to the apartment, and breathed a sigh of relief once I’d locked the doors behind me. The mansion was dark, and I realized I didn’t know where the light switches were for most of the rooms. The staff usually turned the lights on at dusk, but they must have the night off. I lit a candle with a match and watched the fire melt the wax around the wick. It rolled down in heavy drops. In my room I peeled off my clothes for the first time all day. They were stiff from our trip, and dirty. I promised myself I’d apologize to Claire later for practically ruining them. I hoped she wouldn’t try to stitch them back together. Then I took a bath, relaxing into the soapy water. My neck felt tender where Damien had bit me, but I couldn’t find the teeth marks. I must have had enough elixir in my system to heal the wounds.

  I decided to corner him if he came back tonight, and find out why he was avoiding me. I might even ask him about the books behind the secret compartment in the library. Maybe I could use that information as leverage, and convince him to let me visit my family so I could give my mother the vial of elixir.

  I wrapped a towel around my waist and drained the tub. I was halfway to my closet when I noticed the bulky white parcel on the bed. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed it before. I undid the red ribbon and opened the box to reveal a white dress, sparkling in the light of the lamp. It was the wedding dress I tried on the day of the rebel attack. A note said it had been tailored to fit. I held it up against me in the mirror, admiring my reflection. King Richard seemed determined for a royal wedding, but after the way Damien reacted to me today, I wasn’t sure what kind of future we had together. My pulse raced, remembering the way he’d kissed me, and the feeling of his body against mine.

  I realized suddenly I wanted to marry Damien. I couldn’t rationalize it, when we’d known each other for such a short time, but the idea of being apart from him felt physically painful. I stepped into the dress and zipped it up behind me, then turned in front of the mirror. It was even more beautiful than I remembered it. Silver embroidery climbed up the dress like ice crystals, matching the bodice, and transparent sleeve
s stitched with swirls of white fabric had been added. They extended to the back of my hands, and almost made it look like I had wings. I lifted my arms, and the whole dress sparkled, letting off a ghostly halo in the dark room.

  At that moment I knew two things: I was secretly in love with my husband, and I wanted to wear this dress again. I heard a noise in the hall, then footsteps and heavy breathing outside my door. Damien must be back already.

  “Just a second!” I yelled. “It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, remember?” I smiled, but my lips turned down when I got no response. He can’t even make an effort at banter? My pulse raced as the silence deepened. What was he so afraid to tell me? Had something terrible happened, something with Tobias or Trevor? The silence was more threatening than the superstition, so I lifted the hem of my dress and shuffled over to the door. I cracked it opened just enough to peek through, then froze in confusion.

  The whole hall was filled with shaggy gray fur, and breathing. It shifted lower, and a yellow eye as large as my fist fixed me with a deadly stare. I saw the flash of razor-like claws, just before the door exploded, tossing me inward.

  I landed hard on the floor, clinging to pieces of the door. The slagpaw snarled and lunged at me. It was so large it barely squeezed through the doorframe. I threw the door at its head, but its claws tore through the metal handle, sending up a shower of sparks. This couldn’t be happening. How was a slagpaw here. Inside? I jumped towards the window and flung it open.

  “Help!” I screamed. Several people looked up at me, illuminated in the window. They’d never reach me in time. I grabbed the lantern and threw it in front of the beast. It sparked on the rug, igniting a wall of fire. I smelt burning hair and the slagpaw whimpered in pain. But then he lept over the fire towards me. I dove across the bed, feeling dagger-like claws drag through the flesh on my calf. I cried out, but I didn’t feel the pain until I stood up and my leg buckled. I was bleeding. Badly. I watched the blood spill into a puddle on the floor. I felt the stickiness of me through my bare feet, staring into the eyes of the slagpaw as it stalked closer. Blood was soaking up the hem of my dress, staining it bright red. I was going to die here, a virgin bride in a bloody wedding dress. I’d never see my family again. I’d never be able to deliver the stolen vial of elixir and save my mother. My death would be hers as well.

  The vial!

  I grabbed a chair held it up in defense. The slagpaw ripped it apart with its massive teeth, turning it into sawdust and upholstery. I dove toward the chest of drawers and yanked it open. I’d taped the vial on the underside of the cabinet. The slagpaw grabbed the bloody white veil and jerked my head backwards, just as my fingertips closed around the glass tube. He flung me across the room into the mirror, then pounced on top of me, pinning one arm down with his huge paw.

  The wrong arm, I smirked.

  I raised the other arm up quickly, tore out the cork with my teeth, and swallowed as much elixir as I could. The first thing I noticed was the blindness. It was like being in an ash-storm. My vision was completely white for a few seconds, and I heard a ringing in my ears. The second thing I noticed was the absence of pain. I looked down at my calf, where chunks of skin hung loosely from the bone. The pain had been unbearable a second ago. Now I could barely feel it. I heard the tinkling of glass and realized I’d shattered the mirror. Pieces of reflective glass fell around me in slow motion, glinting like tiny crystals. I could almost see the scene in each one; the slagpaw pinning me to the ground, the fire climbing up the four-post bed and licking the ceiling; and me—the bloody bride, about to breath her last.

  But I wasn’t ready to die. I arched my back, sucking in a breath as the elixir kicked in hard, and then roared as power flooded through my body. I kicked up with my legs, shoving the slagpaw off me. It barked in surprise, but I dodged its razor-sharp teeth and punched it in the nose. I ducked under its claws, then blocked a blow with my forearm. It hit me like a bag of bricks, but I stood my ground. I was sparring with a slagpaw. The next swipe caught me across the chest and I felt its claws rake against my ribs. I barely felt the pain, but at this rate I’d bleed out faster than I could heal. I needed a weapon.

  I darted away from the beast, then ran across the wall and flipped over the creature’s head. I landed near the door and rolled into the hallway. The creature was tight on my heels as I dashed down the hall. In the dining room it smashed through the antique table and chairs, snarling at me. I jumped onto the chandelier and let it swing me across the room to the far exit. I used the momentum to skid down the hall, latch onto the doorway and propel myself into a roll. Then I popped up to reach my target—an ornamental sword in an armoury display. It was nearly as tall as I was, but I lifted it lightly in one smooth motion. I swiveled in mid-air to face my hunter and planted my feet behind me with the sword fully extended. The blade slid through the slagpaw as its teeth snapped just inches from my neck, showering me with dark, warm blood. I staggered under its weight, and felt the creature’s rancid breath on my cheek as the light faded from eyes. Then I shoved the creature away.

  My heart was racing, but I felt incredible. Euphoric. I’d never moved that fast before. I didn’t even know I could move that fast. The walls seemed to be almost pulsating with my breath, as if my lungs had the power to inflate the room. I heard the door bang open below and the sound of footsteps rushing into the building. Part of me was hoping it was Damien, so I could run into his arms. Another part of me wished for another slagpaw, so I could do it all again. I flicked the sword once, sending a spray of black blood across the wall, then took a defensive position with my oversized sword, as a contingent of soldiers burst into the room.

  “Arrest her!” A voice yelled.

  Nigel’s hair was slicked back and dark, like usual. His eyebrows raised in mirth.

  “You’re kidding?” I asked. “For what, surviving a slagpaw attack? It was trying to kill me. What should I have done?”

  “Your bracelet,” one of the soldiers nodded. I glanced down at it and saw it read 18%. I squinted my eyes, then tapped the bracelet twice. That had to be a mistake. Master Svboda told us at 10% we’d get sick. 20% and we’d lose our minds.

  “The bracelet automatically sends a warning when it registers an abnormal spike in elixir. We’ve been monitoring the chosen closely, since the terrorist attack,” Nigel said, gloating. “We suspected some of them might have been in on the attack on the convoy, so we were waiting for one of them to be stupid enough to use the stolen elixir. I’m so glad it was you. Now drop the sword.”

  I frowned, but let the sword clatter to the floor. It suddenly felt heavy. I felt a warm heat in my leg and abdomen, where the beast had torn into me. I looked down to see the skin begin to fold itself back together. Two of the guards reached out and held my arms. Several others pointed their swords at me.

  “What’s the matter boys,” I grinned. “Afraid of an unarmed girl?”

  They looked at me, glanced at the dead slagpaw, then took a step back.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Damien roared, parting the crowd. The nearest guards shied away from him, lowering their swords. Then he saw me. I saw myself reflected in his eyes. The wild and wandering hair, the blood trickling down my arms, merging with the dark patterns on my wrists. The wedding dress looked like it had been dyed red, then splashed with a bucket of tar.

  “What did you do to her?” Damien shouted. He grabbed Nigel by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

  “It wasn’t him,” I said.

  “Slagpaw,” one of the guards said.

  Damien’s jaw dropped, as he looked past me to the furry carcass blocking the hall.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “How did it get inside? Why would it be here?”

  “She killed it,” Nigel said with a smug grin. “By herself.”

  Damien looked at me in disbelief, then grabbed my bracelet and read the number. It was down to 14% and falling quickly. Damien’s cheeks went red and for a second I
thought I saw his shoulders tremble.

  “She’s high on elixir,” Nigel said, gloating. “She’s obviously a rebel, so we’re arresting her. She’ll be questioned. Thoroughly.”

  “Over my dead body,” Damien growled.

  “If you insist,” Nigel took out a curved dagger and held it against Damien’s throat.

  The head of security stepped between them with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Justice must be done,” he said quietly.

  “Then go do it elsewhere,” Damien shouted. “There’s been no crime here. I gave Emily a vial of blood in case of an emergency, so she’d be protected. And it’s a good thing I did.”

  “You gave it to her?” Captain Smith sounded skeptical.

  “He’s lying!” Nigel yelled.

  “You dare challenge me? With the trials coming up, I wanted to make sure my chosen performs well. I’m not the only elite giving out extra rations—surely you’ve seen that.” The captain turned and looked at a young man behind him holding a tablet. It took me a minute to place him; it was the guy we’d met in the pub.

  “We have seen elevated levels of blood-elixir in more than a dozen chosen recently,” Zane said confirmed quietly. “But never above 5%.”

  “What can I say,” Damien said, “I want her to win. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

  “And the slagpaw?” Nigel asked. “A training exercise no doubt.”

  Damien’s smile fell, but he held Nigel’s gaze.

  “If I knew how to control a slagpaw,” Damien hissed, “I’d put one in your bedroom. Sleep tight.”

  “Oh I will,” Nigel said. “She’ll probably be brain dead by morning anyway. Nobody can survive that much elixir.”

  The royal guard filed out into the street and Damien shut the door behind them.

  The silence was deafening when we were alone.

  I wiped my bloody fingers on my dress before I knew what I was doing.