Sanguine Spell

by Ahava Trivedi

  “Vincent Whitlock also killed his own wife,” said Moldark, throwing one of the stakes to me to catch, “you’ve been had! My dad has used you to pull Kat here. Did you hear that? You were nothing but bait.”

  “Not true!” screamed Kellum Bathory, maneuvering so that we were now stood in a triangle, with Moldark and I at either ends of the room and him in the middle. He was as good as mine.

  “What did you say, uncle Kellum – about miscalculation being a family tradition?” I mused turning the stake in my hand, savouring the moment of anticipation.

  “This is impossible!” snarled Kellum Bathory, holding up his stake and hurling it at Moldark, something neither of us had expected. “This is for Vincent Whitlock’s trickery!” he cried and Moldark’s stake fell to the ground with a muted rattle.

  I stood stunned in the shadows as terror crept into my heart and what had happened began to sink in. Moldark moaned and fell to the ground with a thud as I had to overcome my instinct to run right to him. Kellum Bathory stood between us, now unarmed. My choice was clear and yet so endlessly difficult. Should I attempt to save Moldark or do what I came here to do all along? My eyes met with those of my enemy briefly, as his taunted me with their knowing that I would ultimately choose to save a life rather than take one. There was no denying it. What held me back was the knowing that if I rushed over and gave Moldark my blood – something my body and very blood was shouting out to me to do – we’d be fully bonded for the rest of our lives. And if I didn’t intervene, I’d never forgive myself. Kellum Bathory had done it again. He’d changed the entire course of my destiny in one thoughtless and hate-driven moment. He’d sentenced me to suffer either way and now he watched me with smugness, waiting for me to make my move.

  I cautiously walked around the other side of the stone tablet in the centre of the room, maintaining my distance from the killer vamp. I knew that I needed to get to the stakes lying near Moldark before he did – because I could see that was his next course of action. I knew his game. He wasn’t going to skulk away into the night when there were two stakes lying unguarded next to a dying, defenseless vampire. We both made a break for Moldark whose groans were already fading. The wall crackled and flames of dark magic shot out, almost consuming the room. Kellum Bathory stopped in his tracks but I forced myself to keep moving, seeing it as my only chance to get to the weapons and to Moldark. I lifted his head into my lap and looked into his eyes, which had completely lost their normal intensity. The room continued to glow eerily and Kellum Bathory was completely bound to the spot.

  I examined the stake that stuck ominously out of Moldark’s chest. He saw my expression and nodded, “He got me,” he confirmed, “it’s not exactly in the middle, which is why I’m still here but I don’t have long.” A tormented scream that I couldn’t recognize as my own escaped my lips as I sat limply on the ground and glanced up to see a figure walk through the wall. I recognized her instantly. It was Elizabeth Bathory.

  Chapter 22

  “Esmeralda,” said the infamous Blood Countess, with a heavy Hungarian accent lacing her calm but powerful voice. Her large, ebony eyes looked into mine making me momentarily forget where I was. They were the same eyes that had hovered, like dark orbs over me, that night when I’d been lying spellbound on the stone slab. But the creature behind them in my dream – which had never really been a dream – had been a withered form, indistinguishable from a dehydrated and rotted corpse.

  The women who now stood a mere few feet away, her hair chestnut flowing freely down her back, was like a wild rose in full bloom, appeared no more than ten years older than I was. Her complexion was smooth like the finest porcelain with a dainty silhouette. Her dress wasn’t the one that I’d seen in her life-sized portrait but a suit of slick armour that reflected moonlight back into the room. It gave her an added glow of invincibility. Around her slender shoulders was draped a regal, ruby cloak made from richly woven tapestry that fell all the way down to her feet.

  “Countess – could it really be you, or do my eyes want it so badly that they deceive me?” uttered Kellum Bathory, overcome by absolute awe. Elizabeth Bathory appeared not to hear him and continued to gaze, unblinking in our direction.

  “He’ll die if you don’t help him,” said Countess Bathory, so gently that it caught me off guard. She watched Moldark with a delicate expression like she was watching a bird with a broken wing. I knew she was right and I glanced up at Kellum Bathory and then at her. There was no explaining the intricacies of the blood-bond that had stopped me so far, which I had no idea whether not she knew we shared or if it mattered. It certainly wouldn’t to her. And what if our bond became super-charged if I brought him back after he died? “Don’t worry, he won’t disturb you,” urged Bathory, still not even looking in her admiring relative’s direction.

  I used the stake Moldark had given me and begrudgingly made a large cut in my palm, remembering how cutting my wrist when I’d helped Natalie had almost proved fatal. Moldark was unconscious and as both Kellum Bathory and the Blood Countess watched on, I held my hand over him, so that the thin and steady stream of my blood fell into his slightly parted lips. I didn’t need to see either of them to know that their eyes burned ravenously as I fed Moldark. I pulled my hand away and made a temporary binding by tearing off the end of my untucked shirt. I watched as his body, that had become gaunt as death had set in, began to fill out again. Within less than a minute, the stake lodged in Moldark’s chest, popped out and clattered against the hard stones upon which it fell.

  He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me, about to express what I assumed was some gratitude, although knowing Moldark, it may very well have been nothing but an arrogant comment. I couldn’t tell as I could no longer read his mind – I guessed him succumbing to his final death had severed that connection. He looked past me, trying to piece together what had happened while he’d been gone and sat up with a start when he gazed upon Elizabeth Bathory.

  “Welcome back, old friend,” said the Countess sweetly. I thought she was talking to Moldark but then saw that she was still looking at me.

  “I – I’m not Esmeralda,” I blurted, as it dawned that both, tonight and the other night she’d referred to me as Esmeralda. The night blood had been taken from me. I now knew the culprit. “I know I look like her,” I added, not wanting to anger the vampire who had been termed a psychopath throughout history by humans and the entire supernatural world.

  “This one has been a lot of bother to you,” said Elizabeth Bathory, completely ignoring my comments. She continued not to so much as glance in Kellum Bathory’s direction but held out her hand as a gesture towards him.

  “He murdered both of my parents,” I said, catching a glimpse of uncle Kellum who no longer looked certain of himself or his place in the Sanguine world.

  “Murdered?” tutted the Countess shaking her head in disgust, “he should be paying them homage – for look at you.”

  “I didn’t…her parents weren’t like her Your Highness. Trust me, her mother was my sister and she made it her duty to muddy the perfection that is the Sanguine hierarchy. And her father…well he was a…” bumbled Kellum Bathory, while his queen silenced him by holding up her hand.

  “Her father was a direct descendent of the exquisiteness that was my darling Esmeralda Quartz,” said Elizabeth Bathory, her piercing gaze was now fixed on Kellum who was kneeling down in front of her.

  I slumped against Moldark who was behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders to steady me and while my body tingled at his touch, I felt the weight of what I’d heard. The entire world of Crystal Witches and Warlocks had forsaken Esmeralda Quartz because the prevalent rumours at the time had been that she was Bathory’s personal healer and assistant. The only supernatural beings who had seen a positive side to her history were the Silver Shadows, whom she had undoubtedly helped. But why was the Blood Countess talking about her as if the pair had been great friends? Hadn’t Esmeralda Quartz been her downfall?

  “He
r father was a vampire hunter,” said Kellum Bathory, temporarily regaining his indignation.

  “Hmm?” cooed the Countess, “That is most unfortunate but he obviously didn’t hunt her mother, did he?”

  “No but with my highest respects, they produced her – a half-Sanguine. And I thought the last thing you would have wanted was for adulteration of our family line,” Kellum Bathory tried again.

  “How would you, a pathetic excuse for a descendent know what I might want?” asked Elizabeth Bathory, her voice so calm that it had no resonant echo because instead of bouncing off the stone walls, it penetrated into each of us.

  “I – I’m sorry, Your Highness,” snivelled my uncle. She was right, he was pathetic – and instead of asking my forgiveness he was grovelling to her only to save his own skin. I felt my own anger coming alive and Countess Bathory appeared to pick up on it.

  “You can go,” said Elizabeth Bathory, suddenly seeking out Moldark. He immediately looked to me and I nodded discreetly.

  “Yes, Countess,” Moldark agreed, obliging by walking through the wall which was alight with crimson fire as he stood before it. It was only after he’d left that it occurred to me that I was alone with and outnumbered by, two cold-blooded killers, albeit from my own ancestry.

  “On second thoughts, maybe your lover would have enjoyed what came next?” mused Elizabeth Bathory, referring to Moldark. I bit my tongue, so as not to reveal the current, bizarre complications that had struck my love life. “He’s the snake that killed both your parents. Are you going to give him what he deserves or would you like me to do it for you?” asked the Countess, causing Kellum Bathory to spring up from his crouching position and back himself into the wall behind him – the one that held the paltry opening that was the tower’s only window to the outside world.

  “But Countess Erzsebet, I implore you! Finding a way to bring you back has been my life’s work! My truest reason for living!” pleaded Kellum Bathory. Had he been anyone else, I would have felt sorry for him.

  “Then I congratulate you on a long life well-lived. I also commiserate with you on failing as it is Esmeralda who brought me back,” said the Countess, frowning in revulsion as Kellum Bathory eked out his words.

  “But she’s a two-bit witch, messing up my – I mean, your – bloodline! Her kind is the reason you were stuck in purgatory for hundreds of years!” Kellum Bathory threw me a vicious glance.

  “Your problem is that you’re far too hateful. There is an ocean of difference between hate and passion and somewhere along the way, the route you chose led you to live only through hatred. And you hated for nothing.” Countess Bathory powerfully seized the stake from my hand and both, Kellum Bathory and I stood within our own wordless shock, as she plunged the weapon deep into his chest. A guttural scream escaped from inside him and his eyes went wide with horror before they went frosty and unfocussed and he fell to the ground, gone forever.

  I gawked at the Countess who had staked him straight in the heart with such precision and force, that her face was streaked with blood spatter. Her eyes shone wildly, like a lioness who had found the pleasure of her prey for the first time. She turned them to me and I was surprised how in her presence, I actually felt the foreboding of Kellum Bathory’s absence. I wanted to stream the hell away from her as far as I possibly could. But I stood my ground, having learned first-hand that fear was an aphrodisiac to her. “My first kill in centuries!” the Countess announced breathlessly. Licking her spikey fangs, she massaged her face, carefully rubbing Kellum Bathory’s blood into her skin, overcome by ecstasy. “I don’t normally kill Sanguines or even vampires, let alone relatives but for his misdeeds, I was willing to make an exception.”

  “Thanks?” I uttered as the dread that I’d somehow been keeping at bay, flooded through my every pore, like a dam that had finally burst at the seams.

  Chapter 23

  “We have so much catching up to do!” said Elizabeth Bathory, taking my hand. She turned it over and ran her fingers across my palm, the same one that I’d cut to give Moldark my blood and save him from the fate Kellum Bathory had endured. It had healed nicely, leaving only a faint line where I’d made the incision. I nodded but said nothing. Surely, she knew that I wasn’t Esmeralda Quartz, no matter how many centuries she’d been gone? “You must have so many questions,” she said leading me to the darkly charmed wall, “but first, we must get out of here. Like you, I was also a prisoner here once upon a time.” I dumbly nodded again and we stepped together, through the thick red blaze of dark magic. I held my breath, not knowing what waited at the other side.

  As we emerged, I couldn’t help but gasp as we stepped into a humungous space that was lavishly decked out from an era gone by. “This is the Great Hall. What do you think?” Elizabeth Bathory asked with an air of unmuted pride. “My instructions were always clear, to keep things maintained but well-preserved until I returned,” she smiled as a couple of young, human women the same age as me, scuttled across to the large dining area that could be seen at a distance from where we stood. They looked petrified to be there. Not that I could blame them. I’d heard the legend of how the Blood Countess had a particular fondness for the blood of young women.

  The women rushed over as they saw us and asked Bathory something in Hungarian, staring at the floor the whole time. I felt a pain in my chest as I noted how the woman’s hand trembled as she spoke. These were the kinds of women that Esmeralda Quartz had set about rescuing all those lifetimes ago. Why were these women here when Bathory had only just come back? Had Moldark’s father – who’d obviously played a lead in her return – had these people kidnapped and brought here? My disgust overcame the pit of fear I’d been steadily sinking into and a thought crossed my mind. I had no idea how long she’d allow me to live, given the pace at which she’d already killed. I had to let Safi and the Silver Shadows know of this colossal development, although I felt hyper-aware that one over-zealous move on their part would be the end of me. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one that knew of her existence. Moldark did too so if there was a leak, I couldn’t be the only one held responsible. But Moldark and I now shared the damned and sacred blood-bond so getting him in trouble would hardly serve me.

  “Safi!” I wordlessly called for her attention as Bathory became immersed in answering the young woman, who curtsied and eventually ran off. I got only silence back from Safi. “Look I don’t care if you’re ignoring me, there’s something you need to know.” I breathed out gratefully as the Countess didn’t appear to have picked up on what I was doing.

  “What? Are you okay? I’m here,” Safi said. She had been ignoring me which really pissed me off because I could tell she was judging me.

  “Elizabeth Bathory is alive and she’s back,” I said putting my feelings about the silent treatment aside and getting to the point.

  “What the hell? How do you know for sure?” came back Safi’s immediate and charged response.

  “Because I’m standing right next to her,” I elaborated. “They gave her my blood - to strengthen her or something and now she’s back.”

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Safi, “But that means she was never dead, right?”

  “I don’t know. I’m in one of the wings of the castle with her. I’ll keep you in the loop,” I said, purposely directing my thought of if I live that long, away from Safi.

  “I’m letting Principal Silverstone know right now!”

  “Oh, and Safi? It’s equally important – tell her Kellum Bathory is dead,” I said closing off our communication. I could have added for her to tell Ulric I loved him, which I did. But the blood-bond between Moldark and I was beginning to take affect. It was hard to describe but it was dulling my memories of Ulric. I fought hard to shake the haziness and to do so, dived right inside Ulric’s mind. He was awake and following along with Safi as they marched to the principal’s office. She told him the news as they walked and his first thought was how to get to me and get me away from it all. Somewhere I’d be safe. That was Ul
ric. The blood-bond’s hold on me loosened considerably as I soaked in what Ulric and I felt for each other. It hadn’t come about by deception and slight of hand but had grown stronger and stronger with time and experience. It was real. I would need a way to break the ties that had bound me to Moldark.

  “You are wondering how I came back,” said Elizabeth Bathory, gesturing me to sit down on the seats near the gigantic window across from where she’d been instructing the young woman. I sat down and found us looking out over the same Carpathian mountain-range that held Unterlicht Forest and Silverstone Academy. The night sky was even darker than before and it occurred to me that if I could engage her and keep her talking until day broke, I might be able to break free. The village of Cachtice which lay directly below the castle would hopefully be easy to navigate and even if I couldn’t stream in the day, I always had my invisibility shield if I came across any Black Banes. But first, the Countess was right – I had questions. If she answered them, it could be invaluable information to the Silver Shadows. And, I still needed to find a cure for Valenthia.

  “I am,” I replied, “I was taught you died in the year sixteen hundred and fourteen,” I strained, thinking back to my history lessons with Professor Devin. The Crystal Witches I’d known had mainly steered clear of any vampire history that didn’t directly discuss the persecution of witches. Of course, Esmeralda Quartz had been entirely ignored by both, witch and vampire discourses.

  “That was the year I left the mortal realm,” replied Elizabeth Bathory. Her complexion was now glowing. All traces of Kellum Bathory’s blood had been absorbed into her skin and she looked radiant.

  “Where did you go?” I asked.

  “It is the realm of a thousand mirrors, with reams of unending smoke. It lies between the supernatural and mortal realms and completely outside of time and space.”