The professor places alternating black and white candles along the circle at evenly spaced intervals. With a snap of his fingers, they all burst into flames. Not the wicks. The candles themselves are consumed by the flames.
My heart skips a beat as I step inside the circle. The perfume the burning candles give off is more of a stench, the scent of death and decay but also blood.
Professor Marius works quickly, combining the ingredients together, smashing some, grinding others, tearing others apart. Drops of liquids and more are all mixed together and then strained. The liquid is caught into a tiny vial. It fizzles and crackles, popping audibly, and then condenses to only one drop of a perfectly clear liquid.
“Give me your finger,” the professor says in a tone that sounds too dark to be his.
I comply without hesitating, and I don’t flinch when one of his fangs pricks me. He adds a drop of my blood to the vial. The liquid alters in color but not to pink or red. No, it’s a murky brown, cloudy and thick despite consisting of only two drops.
“Do I drink now?” I ask.
The professor shakes his head. “You have until the candles are completely burned down to ashes to add a single drop of the werewolf’s blood to this. Then, you drink, and her wounds, her suffering, her near death… you will assume it all.”
“And I will fight it off and save us both.” I nod and accept the vial.
“An hour, ninety minutes at the most, that is the time you have,” the professor says. “Go now. Take the potion with you.”
“I will. There’s not a moment to spare. Please, can you—”
“I promise I will send word to Julian so he will not worry.”
“Tell him to come home. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
“Are you sure? I can tell him to go—”
“She’s at Moonstone Academy, and he’s… he’s been expelled. I’ll see him at the manor.”
The professor beams, even though his eyes remain a bit dark with worry. “It will be done, Romelia. Now go. Save her, and you just may save the vampires and werewolves as well.”
I spare a second to kiss Professor Marius’ cheek. Then, I’m off, racing toward Moonstone Academy. Once the campus is in sight, I slow and hide behind a tree.
Most likely, Mercy is at the infirmary. Bermon must prevent any healers from being in the room. No, that's too high of a risk. It will be much easier and better for Mercy to be removed from that location.
But what if moving her will kill her?
I gnash my fangs together. The vial feels so very heavy in my hand despite containing such a small amount of liquid. Carefully, I tuck the vial into a pocket, retrieve my phone, and do a bit of sleuthing to locate his number.
“Hello?”
“Bermon?”
“Yes.” He pauses. “Romelia?”
“Hi, yes, nice to meet you. Listen, we don’t have a lot of time. I need you to trust me. Julian does.”
“What do you need?”
“Mercy. I can cure her, but I need her to be moved somewhere, anywhere, so long as no one else is around. Unless you think that moving her will kill her. Then, then I’ll just figure something else out.”
“I think… She’s unconscious. A coma, I think. The healers won’t want her moved.”
“Do you think it’s worth the risk?”
“The healers won’t let you near her. How long do you need to do whatever it is you have to do?”
“I need a drop of her blood. Wait. That’s all I need! You don’t need to move her! Just get me a drop of her blood, and I can cure her!”
“That’s not going to be easy,” he says grimly.
“Why not?”
“Because they have all kinds of wires on her. They’re resorting to human testing. They’re that worried and concerned.”
“It’s not anything human medicine can fix. It’s not something even vampire blood can fix. It’s demonic is what it is, and I—We don’t have time for this. She doesn’t have time for this.”
“She’s in a tube or machine, something for testing right now. She’ll be out in five minutes. I’ll swoop in and steal her.”
“Are you sure that’s smart?” I ask dubiously.
“You’re risking your life by coming here. Yes, it’s the break, but if the guards catch you, if the healers do, if the headmaster does… Julian was expelled. What do you think they’ll do to you? Plus, I’m worried. A single drop? That’s not easy to acquire, and what if I get too much? What if I’m too anxious and nervous and I can’t do it?”
“Can’t get a drop?”
“Can’t get my claws to come out.”
“You’re in the infirmary, right? They have to have knives—”
“I can’t hurt her,” he whispers.
Does he love her? Doesn’t matter. He clearly does as a friend at the very least, maybe even more so, which means he wouldn’t risk moving her unless he absolutely had to and thought she would survive the transport.
“Where are you going to take her?” I ask.
“To the… Where are you?”
“South of the campus.”
"Okay. Yes, that works. There's a castle with a silver crescent moon on the tallest tower. I'll bring her there. She should be—They're wheeling her toward her room now. Give me five minutes. Don't come too early. Five minutes exactly."
He hangs up.
The minutes drag on by. The vial weighs me down so much that I don't know if I can use my vampiric speed. I don't have a choice, though, and once the last second of the five minutes is up, I'm off to the races. My legs churn, and I pump my arms, a blur that no one, not even other vampires, should be able to see.
Just like with Blood Haven, Moonstone Academy’s campus is filled with castles, allow they’re spread even farther apart than at my school. So many of the castles have moons on their towers, but there’s only one with a silver crescent.
I burst into the castle and come to a dead stop, surprised and alarmed that there isn't another heartbeat in the place. Bermon hasn't arrived yet.
Feeling more than a little unnerved, I take another step inside. The artwork on the walls feature wolves, moons, and landscapes. There’s a suit of armor near the door, polished to a fine sheen, and I step closer to see if I can determine what decade from the Middle Ages the suit originates from when I see a man rushing toward me. Brown hair, brown eyes, tall and well-built.
And he’s carrying someone in his arms.
Bermon and Mercy.
I start to move toward him, but even though he’s a fair distance away, he shakes his head. I can just now hear his heartbeat, the far too slow beat of hers, and others as well.
Are the healers chasing him? Are there guards about?
I gnash my teeth, but I stay put.
Finally, he enters and kicks the door shut behind him so hard that the wall shakes. I just lift my eyebrows.
“Sorry. It’s been a day,” he grumbles. He gives me the once over and then dashes away toward stairs that lead downward. “You don’t have to worry. The healers don’t know yet what I’ve done. I might’ve caused a diversion.”
“Do I want to know?” I’m practically on his heels.
“I’ll tell you later.”
He leads me to the basement. It’s not a dungeon, not a cellar-type place, merely a massive room with a table and some boxes.
“Storage mostly,” he says.
He grunts as he places Mercy on the table. She’s pale, so very pale, as if the blood has been leeched from her. I brush her blond hair back from her face, and her lips part as if she wants to groan, but no sound comes out.
“You need to help her,” he says grimly. “I can barely hear her heart beating. It’s slowing way down, and her brain—”
“I’m here to help her, and I will.”
Quickly, I reach for her finger. It’s so very pale and devoid of color. Even so, I prick the tip with my fang.
Hardly any blood oozes from the wound. Not quite enough for a full dropl
et.
I grimace and tilt her head to the side. I don’t want to bite her neck. No. Not yet. The wrist tends to have more blood than a finger.
With a slow touch and a mind to be careful, I puncture her wrist with a single fang. It takes some pressing on either side of the wound, but there, yes, a full droplet.
Carefully, ever so carefully, I add the drop to the vial. It fizzles and foams. A spark even goes off like a mini firecracker. Then, the liquid changes to a clear black that then fades to a bright red, much brighter than blood would ever be.
“Is it ready?” Bermon asks eagerly. He’s come around to stand by Mercy’s head, his hand on her shoulder. Mercy, for her part, hasn’t moved much at all.
“Yes,” I murmur.
This blood magic-created potion has to work. It just has to. The afflicted wounds, the curse, whatever it is that is trying to turn the living Mercy into a zombie will transfer to me. The professor will alert Julian. Everything will work. My vampire healing properties will save me, and we’ll both survive.
Bermon nods to me, and I nod in return.
My head tilts back, and I swallow the drops.
Now, we wait. We wait, and we watch, and we see.
Chapter 8
Julian
It's stupid and reckless, but I can't help smirking at Constantine. "So you think you can come between Romelia and me? I'm afraid that's just not going to happen."
“You’ll be surprised what a living vampire can do,” he says coldly.
My stomach twists, and it feels as if a pit is forming there, a pit that contains all of my worries and fears. It’s growing, morphing, changing and twisting into something dark and terrible.
Mercy. She had been attacked by a living vampire. Constantine is a living vampire too. Is there some other secret power that living vampires have related to their demonic fathers?
It is possible that whatever is happening to Mercy will happen to me? Why didn’t this happen before? It seems that the living vampires might be evolving somehow, and the thought frightens me to no end. Will Romelia be affected?
“I see it in your eyes,” Constantine says triumphantly. “You’re frightened, and it’s smart for you to be. After all, demons want to take over the world, and they will.”
“Demon, huh? Want to make Hell on Earth? Is that the master plan?” I ask. The more we talk, the more I heal, but he’s recovering too. In fact, he’s just about entirely healed, and I’m not yet. Vampires do heal faster, and it’s a prickly needle in my paw.
If I can get him to talk and share, I’ll be able to heal, and maybe I’ll be able to shift through his nonsensical babbling to learn something valuable. That is, if I can trust anything he says and if he’ll actually tell me the truth. I wouldn’t put it past Constantine to lie to me.
“Demons. They’re the strongest of all paranormal creatures, did you know that? Stronger than werewolves, than witches, than—”
“All witches?” I interrupt. “I heard about a witch who attends Magical Hunters Academy. She has nine of the ten disciplines of magic. That sounds powerful to me.”
Constantine sighs and opens his mouth.
But I’m not done yet. I figure the more I upset and irritate him, the greater the chance he’ll slip up and tell me something he shouldn’t have.
“And what about angels?” I continue. “Angels are the counterparts to demons, and—”
“Angels are so very pretentious,” Constantine says with a yawn. “Have you ever met one?”
“I think I might have.”
“Well?”
I grin. “I prefer the angel to you, so what does that tell you?”
“Angels tend to be police officers. They like to tell others what to do, to dictate other’s lives. They think that people aren’t capable of making their own choices, but then they preach about free will. How does that work? It doesn’t. If they’re forcing you to go this way or that, how is that free will? It’s not.”
“Ah, yes, a philosophical discussion with a vampire. That’s bound to be interesting considering you’re part demon and have nefarious desires, to say the least.”
Constantine barks out a laugh that actually sounds far more joyful than I would’ve thought possible. “Go ahead and try to mock me. I don’t care. You will soon realize that none of your kind will survive.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure. You diabolical vampires will slaughter all of the werewolves, and the demons will have the vampires as little pets, and—”
“No, you fool! You don’t know the first! Demons have been breeding more and more living vampires. It’s only recently that demons have even taken up vampires in the first place, within the past few centuries. Did you know that Romelia’s mother was among the very first vampires to have mated with a demon? It’s true, although given that the demon in question, Magmar, isn’t an incubus, it took quite a long while for the mother to become pregnant. A long, long while.”
“Wait. Her father wasn’t an incubus? But I thought…”
“Magmar is very powerful, and whatever he wants, he gets.” Constantine leans toward me, so close I can see the throbbing of his veins as they circulate blood throughout his cheek. “And the same goes for me.”
“Why?” I ask, moving back, putting some distance between us. Not because I’m scared but because I want to check my limbs without being obvious. Yes, I’m just about fully healed.
For now.
Once we start to fight again, with fists and claws and fangs and kicks, neither of us will have perfect bodies again.
“Why what?”
“Why have the demons been breeding more living vampires? Why not just breed more demons?” I gape at him. “You aren’t trying to claim that living vampires are stronger and more powerful than demons, are you?”
“The oldest demons are the most powerful of all bar none, of course. Lucifer—”
“What about God?” I demand.
Constantine snorts. “No one has ever seen him. Who says he even exists?”
“But you’re certain Lucifer does.” I cross my arms.
“Yes, and he’s been here, on Earth.”
“You’ve seen him yourself?” I ask blankly.
“No, but others have seen him and—”
“Others,” I interrupt. “Who are these others? Are they demons? Do you have any credible sources?”
“Not all demons are evil,” he says through gritted teeth.
"Sure, sure. Go on, then. The oldest demons are most powerful. Then what? The living vampires? And then the baby demons?"
Constantine bares his fangs. If I’m not careful, he’s going to lunge at me, and he’s maybe giving me nuggets of truth, so it would behoove me to shut my mouth.
“Essentially,” Constantine finally grumbles. “Essentially. The living vampires will be the ones who will inherit the Earth! And to help speed the end of the world—”
I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Constantine growls.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just… You actually believe…” And I laugh some more, laughing so hard my stomach aches, laughing so hard I’m crying.
“Spill it, Julian, or I’m going to spill your innards all over Rune’s floor,” the vampire snaps.
"I'd like to see you try." I straighten from having hunched over during my laughing fit, and I wipe my eyes dry. "The demons are not going to turn over the Earth to the living vampires. They'll use you to claim the Earth, sure, but they won't reward you for it. Then again, they might give you some kind of reward for your efforts, but I have a feeling it would be more along the lines of allowing you to live in their new world rather than anything else. You won't be pets, after all. You would be slaves. Puppets."
“Think again, Julian,” Constantine says calmly.
He’s completely unfazed by what I said, so very certain that his beliefs are accurate and true. How foolish and gullible can he be? And to think that others have the opinion that I’m naïve. Hardly.
“Do n
ot interrupt me again,” he continues. “To help sped the end of the world as we know it, the vampires and werewolves must fight each other and die.” He flashes his fangs and runs his tongue along them. “I think you can be the first to die.”
“Wait!” I call out, but he’s already bull-rushing me.
I jump to the side, but he already predicted that, and his head slams into my stomach. Any higher and he would’ve broken ribs.
His legs keep churning, and my back slams into the wall, but while he’s there, I shift to the side, leaving his head vulnerable, and I wrap around my arm to choke him in a classic guillotine hold. Constantine grabs my arms, but I merely sit down, squeezing that much harder, trying to cut off his airway. The angle isn’t quite right, though, and he manages to twist his head so that his chin is above my elbow, which gives him a little more breathing room. With the wall behind me, I don’t have much room to maneuver, and I fling myself forward, rolling, forcing him to roll with me. Now, I have more room, but before I can make use of it, Constantine slashes with his claws, his thumb digging in deep, right where my kidney is.
With a cry, I release him and shift backward, crabwalking away from him. Constantine lunges for me, and I lift my legs and butt off the ground, kicking him squeeze in the ribs. There’s the snap of broken ribs, and I jump to my feet.
Constantine just stretches to one side and then the other, acting as if he’s perfectly fine, as if nothing happened to him at all. It’s almost as infuriating as the slow smirk spreading across his evil face.
“Is that the best you got?” he mocks.
I hold up a hand, pretending I’m more winded than I am. “Maybe we can talk some more. I do appreciate a good philosophical—”
“Maybe you can die a little more.”
He throws a wide hook punch. I duck and slide behind him to take his back, but he anticipated the move, and his elbow crunches my nose. Blood rushes down my face, and he whirls around, licks my broken nose, and dashes back out of the way of my jab and uppercut.
“Tsk, tsk, werewolf. You’re far too slow. Is it all growing a bit dim? A bit dark? Maybe you can’t see me. Hmm?” He exchanges a glance with the witch.
Blood Haven: Year Three: A Mayhem of Magic World Story Page 5