by Iris Walker
“Thank you, Master Darian. During that night, after I’d escaped from prison with two strongbloods, we set out to look for the weapon - or, for the girl,” Ivan explained, nodding his head in Robin’s direction.
Robin’s ears ticked up and she leaned forward.
Reykon and Lucidia. It had to be them. She kept her eyes trained on the vampire, hanging on his every word.
“While we were escaping through the hallways of the palace, we became aware that an event was affecting all of the vampires in Magnus’s ranks. They were screaming and falling to the ground. And…” he continued, eyes on the table in front of him, “their fangs were falling out.”
Murmurs and scowls spread around the table, and nausea coiled deep in Robin’s belly at the gruesome description.
“We arrived at Magnus’s quarters at approximately 12:10. When we arrived, Lucidia Draxos attacked the caster, throwing her from a balcony and ending the ritual’s progress, though,” Ivan’s eyes slipped to Robin again, “it appeared that the goal had already been achieved. Both Robin and Magnus were laying on the ground, unconscious, close to the circle of binding. There was blood, and some sludge gathered around them. At first, I thought that both of them were dead, but upon further inspection, they were alive, albeit weak. And I discovered that Magnus smelled of human blood.”
Magnus, in his disheveled state, became agitated, and brought his hazel eyes up to Robin’s. Even without the burning red irises, all the rage contained within that single glare was enough to send a shiver racing up her spine. “You wicked bitch,” he hissed, spewing venom into the air.
Robin tensed in her spot, her own anger flaring.
But before she could say anything, Ezra leaned forward, and every trace of the posh British chap left his composure. Instead, he was all vampire, and had an understated anger that made Robin want to crawl under the table. “I’ll remind you to watch your language in front of the Lady, filth.”
A tense silence slipped in, and Robin’s sight set back on the pitiful human in front of her. Something flickered in her chest, just a fraction of the raw rage she’d felt during that night, but potent all the same, and she found words lashing at the back of her teeth as she let Magnus see her triumphant, venomous smile. “You got what you deserved. I don’t know what happened, or how it worked, but you got exactly what was coming to you, you fucking monster.”
Magnus let out a cry of anger and torment, rattling the chains and echoing across the wall, but Robin didn’t even blink, wedged safely between Kim Possible on her right and King Ezra the Fierce on her left. For the first time in her life, she felt truly powerful.
Truly feared.
And boy, did it feel good; after everything she’d been through, she savored that feeling like a precious morsel.
Somewhere in the middle of their battle of glares, the silver haired vampire hosting their little get together grew tired of the bickering.
“Hold your tongue, Magnus, or I will have it removed,” Darian said in an icy voice.
Magnus shot the vampire a side glance but closed his mouth, leaving Robin to wonder what Darian had done to Magnus during the month that she was asleep. From what she’d gathered, Darian was quite the wonder boy with prisoners, and Magnus already looked broken – and then some more, after that.
It didn’t make her feel better about her living situation.
Ivan nodded to the head vampire and continued. “After the ritual, we gathered up both… subjects, and escaped through a service elevator. We used the tunnels to get out of the palace, free from the massacre. Casters killed anybody with a pulse, including the recently humanized vampires.”
“Reykon and Lucidia?” Robin interjected. “Where are they?”
Ivan’s eyes flicked nervously to Darian and the precarious silence sent a stab of fear through her heart.
“What happened to them?” Robin repeated.
“My orders were to discard of them prior to our rendezvous,” Ivan said after a tense moment.
Robin felt like her whole world had shifted underneath her. “You killed them?” she asked, her voice a shaky, deep growl.
“I threw them off a dam,” Ivan said. “It may have killed them. I was operating under a strict schedule, because the casters-”
“You killed them,” Robin accused, another flicker of that anger sparking inside of her.
“No, Robin,” Darian said, voice devoid of emotion, as though his ‘beloved’ Lucidia was nothing more than a dixie cup. “We’ve had reports that the two strongbloods are causing quite a raucous across the country. Last seen in Nevada, I believe.”
Her shoulders loosened, but the anger was still brimming underneath her skin. “You wanted them dead, though,” she accused, bringing her icy gaze to Darian. “He wouldn’t have done it without your order.”
He shrugged and folded his pale hands in front of him.
The asshole had the nerve to shrug.
She was in the lions’ den, in a room full of beasts that had no honor, no compassion, and no souls. Every word that Reykon had told her about his world made sense now; blinding, smarting, stinging sense. Robin’s expression hardened, but she didn’t say anything else. You’ll get what’s coming to you, too, she vowed.
Darian nodded slightly and glanced at the papers in front of him. “Since then, our sources have told us that every creature residing in House Demonte was killed, though a few managed to escape. We were able to procure a few of the casters, but even after interrogation, they gave little insight. We know that Calliope enacted a ritual to turn Robin into a weapon against vampires, and we know that a total of three hundred and seventy nine vampires were killed that night, but we don’t know what role Jadzia’s Comet might have played in those numbers, nor what likelihood there is of an attack of that magnitude occurring again.”
The professor raised a single finger. “May I ask a question.”
By his arrogant tone, it was clear to Robin that he was planning to, regardless.
“Yes,” Darian permitted.
He looked right at Robin, with a curious, inquisitive eye. “Do you remember any specifics of the ritual?”
Robin frowned. “Like what?”
“What type of runes did Calliope use? Were they Draconic or Gesirian?”
Robin shook her head. “I don’t know what that means.”
The professor gave an irritated shrug. “Well, was there a glowing circle on the floor?”
“Yes,” Robin said. “Teal.”
He nodded his head. “And I’m assuming she involved an exchange of blood?”
“Yes,” she said, her thoughts turning back to that horrible mixture of sludge. “But not just blood. There was something else.”
“What?”
“How the hell should I know?” Robin said, her anger rumbling. “I was nearly falling over I was so dizzy.”
The professor nodded in concession. “I would imagine so. That’s, well… helpful. Thank you.”
She could tell by the way he’d said it that it wasn’t helpful enough.
“How are we going to figure out what she did if nobody can remember what happened?” Robin said in a sharp voice.
“I believe that’s where I come in,” the professor said, clearing his throat. “My name is Charlemagne. I’m an elementalist, and I worked in the Grand Caster Guild alongside Calliope for many years before our interests diverged.”
Robin tensed. He didn’t look like a caster, but just the knowledge that he had the same power surging at his fingertips was enough to make her teeth itch.
Charlemagne walked over to the paint that had dried onto the floor in a large square, about ten by ten. He muttered something under his breath and lifted his hands up.
Robin drew in a sharp gasp as purple light raced up to the ceiling of the building, a shimmering curtain of magic just like the restraints that hovered above her arms.
“What… what is that?” Robin asked.
“It’s like a bomb shelter for magic,” Charlemag
ne explained, “except in our case, the magic occurs on the inside and those outside are protected.”
“Trial by fire,” Harley muttered. “What did I say?”
“Right,” Darian said. “Are we ready then?”
“Ready for what?”
“To learn more about the new you,” Darian said with a smug smile, his red eyes glimmering like he’d just been given a toy car on Christmas and he was itching to take it out for a spin. “Go ahead.”
“In there?” Robin asked, glancing at the purple wall of magic that shimmered in the light. She didn’t like the way it made her hair stand on end, or the subtle electricity that crackled around it.
“Yes.”
Robin barely heard Harley’s chair scrape back, but felt an arm hook under hers, dragging her up.
“Hey!” Robin said, pulling at the strongblood’s grip.
It was about as effective as a dolphin stopping the Titanic.
They neared the box, and Harley charged headfirst, past the barrier, dragging them both inside and releasing Robin.
Robin staggered, regaining her balance and gasping for breath.
The inside of the box was the same as the outside, except that the air was fizzing with magic, and tinged slightly pink. The outside sound was muffled too, softer and obscured like they were underwater. Robin watched the swirling purple walls with amazement and fear, bringing her hand up.
Thunk.
As her palm touched the surface, she expected to find liquid, or the same air that they’d barreled through, but it was a solid plane; indestructible.
Charlemagne stepped inside with them, glancing at the walls with a proud satisfaction. “We won’t be able to leave until I take down the barrier.”
“What are we doing in here?” Robin asked, fear edging her voice. She pushed it down, still conscious of Magnus, who remained at the table, hunched over and broken. She would not allow herself to be afraid in front of him. Not now, not ever again.
“We’re going to take those off,” Charlemagne said, gesturing to the purple bands swirling around her, “and then we’re going to see what happens.”
“Doesn’t that seem dangerous?” Robin asked.
“How do you think magic works?” Harley retorted, leaning up against the wall. “It’s just a big episode of MythBusters with sparks and chanting.”
Charlemagne’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, I’d like to think there’s a little more to it than that, but… yes, that’s about right. The price of discovery, I’m afraid.”
He approached her, and she tensed, taking one step back and eyeing him cautiously.
“I just need your hands,” he said, giving her a warm look.
He could smile all he wanted, but she wouldn’t be able to trust a caster for a very, very long time. Forever, possibly. Still, she was painfully aware of Darian the snake lurking outside, and painfully aware that Harley was his lap dog.
Begrudgingly, she held her hands out, eyes fixed on the caster’s face as he brought his own hands under hers and muttered a few words.
Like sparks falling after fireworks, the green symbols dissolved into the air, and the curtain in her mind was lifted once more.
Robin winced, anticipating pain, fear, or possibly that rageful inferno, but after a few moments, she relaxed her shoulders.
Nothing.
The swirling purple symbols that were supposed to block any magic from slipping out of her were gone now, which meant that theoretically, she could go ballistic at any moment.
But she felt normal.
After a few moments, Robin scowled at Charlemagne.
“Nothing’s happening,” she said.
Charlemagne jotted a few things down, furiously scrawling on his leather-bound notepad.
Robin’s gaze swiveled to Harley, who stood just as calmly as she’d been standing the whole time, observing with half-investment.
“Do you feel anything?” Robin asked.
She shrugged.
Take it as a no, Robin grumbled to herself. Icy fear still prickled under her skin, fear of that night, fear of that fire and of Calliope’s chilling words.
Robin had been changed.
But she didn’t know how, and she didn’t know what, and she didn’t know to what extent.
I carried you inside of me, Calliope’s voice echoed.
Robin Wright, that girl that smiled and laughed and had played soccer from age seven to fourteen just because it was fun, that girl was the lie. The true her was a half breed of vampire-human magic and caster. Robin Dragomir-Draxos, apparently that was the namesake for the blood running through her veins. New blood, that had never been conjured into existence before her.
Unnatural blood.
Robin flexed her hands, wiggling her fingers, expecting her birthmarks to light up, to glow, to do something.
But nothing happened.
Charlemagne frowned and inspected her like a mechanic looking at a faulty engine. “Hmmmm.”
“What does that mean?” Robin asked, still frozen in anticipation.
Charlemagne looked up from his curious trance. “What?”
“You hummed… what does that mean?”
“Oh. I’m not sure yet.”
“Is it good or bad?” she asked in a sharp voice, the pressure building inside of her chest.
“I couldn’t say,” Charlemagne mumbled, inspecting his notes once more.
Robin clenched her fists, channeling the frustration. It didn’t help that there were a hundred hungry eyes staring inside their little magic shelter. She felt like a fish in an aquarium at the dentist’s.
“None of the vampires are chomping at the bit,” Harley observed, jerking her chin to the outside world.
“Yes, but if any magical influence is occurring, they wouldn’t be able to feel it.”
“So get a vampire in here,” Harley said simply.
“Wait,” Robin balked. “What if-”
“Don’t worry, Barbie, we’ve got chains,” Harley said with a cutthroat smile, one she’d seen on Lucidia’s face.
Still, that pit within her deepened, as she backed up subconsciously. She felt the smooth walls of the magical barrier crackling against her shoulders, making the hair on her arms stand straight up.
Charlemagne shrugged and waved his hand to the rest of the group.
There was a flurry of movement from outside, obscured by the swirling purple, as Robin fought to keep track of all the moving bodies.
After a few moments, the front doors opened, and Robin’s eyes snapped to the figure being led towards her.
A bedraggled, snarling vampire that looked like he’d been in prison for hundreds of years. He was nothing like the charming, composed Darian, nor the fear-instilling Magnus (during his prime). This vampire looked like a common cutthroat from a period piece on pirates.
And his eyes burned red even through the magical wall.
Robin’s heart hammered in her chest, her breath kicking up as she tried to press even further back.
But she was trapped, just like she’d been trapped on the boat, when Magnus-
A wave of dizziness rolled over her, just like the one she’d felt as she’d watch Magnus cut Willow and Dag down like they were nothing. Just as a spark raced across her mind, flickering with pain, she winced, trying to keep her eyes on the vampire. Her palms pressed against her forehead, and she staggered back, caught by the wall. She felt the same claustrophobic fear that had ripped through her on the boat and that thudding, pounding heartbeat that-
“Hey!” Harley snapped. “You good?”
Robin winced, her palm still digging into her head to control the sparks that bounced around inside of her. As she opened her eyes, she was faced by the vampire, sitting in a hefty metal chair, completely locked in. He was snarling, neck bulging against the chains, a vicious glint in his eyes.
Robin forced herself up and nodded, the pain still sharp in her mind, but manageable. “I just… I’m dizzy.”
Harley�
�s curious gaze remained on Robin for another second before the strongblood reluctantly turned to Charlemagne. “Okay, he’s in here. And it’s clearly doing something.”
“Hmmm,” Charlemagne said, looking to Robin with that same inquisitive inspection that made her skin crawl. “How do you feel, Robin?”
“Other than the headache? Claustrophobic,” she snapped. “Like a gladiator thrown in with the lions.”
Darian’s silver laughter from outside the box didn’t escape her. In fact, it only made her anger surge, and deep, deep down, she felt a spark land on that fire, the same unbridled rage she’d been consumed with a month ago. Unease shot through her, making her nerves stand on end. Another groan of pain escaped her lips, and she squeezed her eyes shut, using the wall to keep herself upright.
“This…” she pushed out, “this isn’t a good idea. Something’s wrong. It’s too much.”
Harley’s brow crunched together, and she opened her mouth to say something, just as a violent creak echoed through the purple enclosure.
Pieces of steel chain shot through the air like fireworks, careening across the box and pinging against the magical barrier.
Through her blurred vision, Robin saw the vampire tear up from his restraints, staggering towards her like a drunken zombie, vicious for blood.
Harley was quick, but not that quick.
With a single hand, he threw Harley into the back wall, her body thudding against it with enough force to break bones. A sharp crack echoed through Robin’s ears as the starving vampire barreled into her, crunching her against the wall. She only had a moment to gasp before his razor-sharp teeth were digging into her neck.
Pain roared out from the wound, gasoline on the spark that sent that deep, raw fire billowing up from the depths of her mind, racing across her birthmarks and centering on that bite, that place where the monster was dragging the life force from her veins.
Someone screamed; a ragged, animalistic cry for mercy.
She had no concept of time or space, but through half-open eyes, she saw Harley, wrestling with the vampire, who now convulsed on the floor. Charlemagne stood in the corner, eyes wide with wonder and fear and his own mortality.