Bloodspell: An MM, BDSM High Fantasy Novella

by Samantha Calcott

  Amy’s feelings, as she preferred to call her predictions, were correct every time. And she never predicted anything mundane. Her mind only saw what was important, and if she was saying Simon needed to go to Tobias alone, so be it. He’d go and see what the bloody Hell was going on … as soon as his head stopped pounding.

  * * *

  Two days later, Simon was released from the hospital by the healers, and his first stop after getting clean clothes and something decent to eat was Bloodworth Manor. Like Moonspell Manor, Tobias’ ancestral home was a stone monolith, not as large but just as creepy and imposing. Simon figured he’d feel right at home.

  He knocked on the wolf’s head knocker and waited a few minutes before the door swung open slowly. The house looked dark inside, but in the gloom, he saw Tobias standing there in the shadows, his dark hair and clothing blending in perfectly. Only his porcelain white skin stuck out in contrast.

  “You’re alive.”

  “Is that a statement or a question?” Simon asked, trying hard to be his usual snippy self. As kids he and Tobias had despised each other, but as kids Tobias was always weaker than he. It was easy to get the upper hand on the man. Tobias had been travelling, learning and creating new magic since he was eighteen and had changed quite a bit in those three years.

  He was now at least six-foot-two, a full six inches taller than Simon, and while he was still skinny, he wasn’t scrawny. You could see muscle tone beneath the heavy overcoat he wore, even in the way he stood. Head high, back straight, exuding attitude and elegance from his pores.

  Simon was now … let’s call it uncomfortable around the boy he used to push into the dirt behind their school. Because now that weak little boy could probably hex him until he lost his mind in retaliation.

  Which bore the question, why had he saved him? Sure, he could have turned on Thornhill, but to save the life of someone who made your life a living Hell for years made no sense to Simon.

  “Sarcasm. Amelia visited me once you had woken,” Tobias said in that deep voice he had developed sometime after graduation. “She said I should expect a visit from you soon. … Come in.”

  He opened the door wider and Simon walked into a dark foyer. It didn’t look like Tobias cared much for home comforts. It was cold and dark inside, wall sconces unlit and dust settling in the corners.

  Tobias turned and led him through the manor without saying a word. Portraits of former Bloodworth mages lined the main hall, many of them sharing the same features as him: the obsidian eyes, high cheekbones, and inky hair.

  “Not one for home comforts, are you?” Simon asked, rubbing his arms against the cold.

  They turned a corner and came to a set of large double doors. Tobias opened them to reveal a large library, lit only by a roaring fireplace before which two large armchairs sat.

  “As you can plainly see, I only outfit the rooms I use with comforts,” Tobias said scornfully. “I need little more than books and food.”

  “And sleep?” Fuck, why did I say that? Simon thought.

  Tobias quirked an eyebrow at him. “I do very little of that these days.” He paused and then said, “Um, sit, please. You must forgive me, as I rarely entertain guests.”

  Simon sat in one of the chairs and said, “You act like I give a damn about propriety.”

  Tobias smirked. “Why am I not surprised?” He sat in the other chair, unbuttoning his coat and revealing a thin black shirt beneath it. He was calm, cool, and in control. He was in his element here surrounded by his books and the fire. The flames flickered in his eyes, turning them into pools of black fire.

  Simon suddenly felt his throat constrict, as the burning in his chest that he’d had ever since he’d woken intensified pleasantly, like how he felt when he drank hot tea on a winter’s night. What is happening to me?

  “Well, Moonspell? What have you come for?” he asked, sounding a bit impatient.

  “What did Amy tell you?” Simon questioned.

  “Very little. She had a vision and instructed you to come to me. That is all,” he replied. “I do hope she told you a bit more about this prediction of hers.”

  Simon chuckled a little. “Not really. She said that this was our mission now. That it was between the two of us and my friends can’t help. Help with what, is the question.”

  Tobias sighed. Is it possible for someone to sigh sarcastically? “I would assume that this mission would be to capture and execute Thornhill before he murders more people in his quest for power.”

  “But up until three days ago, you were working with him. What changed? How do I know I can trust you?” Simon asked. “How can I trust that you won’t lead me to him and kill me together?”

  Tobias inclined his head, a lock of silky black hair falling across his brow. “Perhaps you’re not as stupid as you let everyone believe. I am willing to tell you why I turned against Thornhill. Only because I do require your trust, however.” He sat up straighter and stared into the crackling fire. “As you obviously know, when a mage procreates, they die as soon as the heir is born.”

  Simon nodded. He hadn’t known his father, and his mother had been no peach.

  “Unfortunately, my mother died in childbirth,” Tobias continued. “Which is how I came to be raised by caretakers and nannies. I was alone, no one to teach me about my legacy, about my future.

  “Along with being alone, once I was of schoolboy age, I had the displeasure of being tormented daily by you and Jacob Donner. I was isolated, as they all sided with the Moonspell house instead of Bloodworth. It hardened my resolve to finally be able to take your house down, and preserve my family’s honour.”

  Simon scoffed. “Honour. The mage houses spent eternity being petty imbeciles because of some random prophecy. What we have aren’t legacies. They’re albatrosses around our necks, preventing our freedom and chaining us to the names we were unfortunate enough to be born under,” Simon said, feeling his old teenage rebellion rise in his stomach.

  “Our blood — our names — are all we have that sets us apart from the dead, Moonspell,” Tobias said softly. “Houses have fallen for the prophecy and we are all that remain. We should be proud of our names.”

  Simon sighed, not wanting to argue. “What does this have to do with Thornhill?”

  “When he arrived — bearing no name, no legacy — I was ecstatic. Here was someone who could help me defeat you. Someone with no history, whom I could easily kill once you were out of the way.”

  Simon sighed. “You’re not convincing me here, Bloodworth.”

  Tobias gave a wan smile. “I’m getting there. Patience is a virtue, you know.”

  “Then you should know that I’m not particularly virtuous,” Simon replied.

  Was it his imagination, or did Tobias blush? He wasn’t sure.

  “Thornhill promised an equal opportunity to claim the prophecy’s fulfilment. But … I found something about him. And it’s going to sound silly to you.”

  “Anything to get you away from his side and make him vulnerable can’t be silly,” Simon said.

  Tobias nodded. “Right. Well, he claimed to be a rarity, a born mage without any magical ancestors.”

  “Wouldn’t that make him weak?” Simon asked.

  Again, his companion nodded. “He is weak. He’s not a mage. He stole his powers from the Chapel of Triumphant Destiny.”

  “WHAT?” Simon cried, nearly leaping out of his seat. No magical being had a set religion, but they all believed that their powers were given to them by a high deity, God or Someone. The Chapel was their only piece of sacred ground in the world. To know that someone desecrated the Chapel and stole the magic Core from there was incomprehensible.

  Tobias nodded. “I could never align myself with someone who would dare to do such a thing. It’s blasphemy, a kick in the face of all the mages who came before us.”

  Simon nodded. He still had no idea if Bloodworth was telling the truth, but between his story and Amy’s prediction, he had to trust him for the time bei
ng.

  “So, we get Thornhill out of the way and then finish this,” Simon said. “You and I. One person left standing.”

  Tobias nodded slowly. “If I may proffer a suggestion? We have not read the full prophecy. Should we perhaps find it and decipher it first?”

  “What for?” Simon asked.

  “Because like humans and the Bible, things like that can often be misinterpreted. We should read it word for word ourselves,” Tobias said. “Prophets like to hide messages in their prophecies. If this was never analysed, we might be missing some key information.”

  Simon nodded. “But the last known copy was at Moonspell Manor, and in case you hadn't noticed, it’s sort of been decimated in parts.”

  “Then we search and hope,” Tobias said, standing up. “If I learnt anything in my life, it’s that you need hope to carry on.”

  Simon looked at him as he said that, his eyes downcast and hair obscuring his expression. He caught a glimpse of the sad, shy little kid he had once been and was filled with regret for how he’d treated him back then. He wanted to say something, to apologise, but how could he bring all that up and not somehow reopen old wounds? And why was he feeling all emotional over Tobias anyway?

  “You all right?” Tobias asked suddenly. “Looked like you were constipated for a moment there.”

  Ah yes, there’s the little arsehole I remember, Simon thought as he stood up. “No, just wondering how I’m going to deal with being around you so much.”

  “Don’t worry, if you start acting up I’ll just hex you till you calm down,” Tobias snipped. “Not like you’re my dream companion, either. Now, shall we go before it gets dark? I am certain your electricity won’t be working.”

  Simon led Tobias across town to Moonspell Manor, which stood in pieces. Some were burnt, some were knocked in, and other parts stood proud and tall, as if nothing had happened.

  Going inside, it smelt of wet dog and smoke. Simon covered his nose and mouth until he got used to the stench.

  “Ugh,” Tobias grunted, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to his face. “You can’t possibly still stay here.”

  “No. Jake and Amy offered for me to stay with them,” Simon said.

  Tobias scoffed. “They live in a one-bedroom flat. Do you plan to sleep with them?”

  “Have you any other alternatives for me at the moment?” Simon asked.

  “You can … stay with me. Until you are able to fix this place up,” Tobias offered, his voice stilted and emotionless.

  Simon wondered for a moment if he was hearing things.

  “Thornhill is after us. Do you want to lead him to your friends?” Tobias asked.

  “Well, wouldn’t being under the same roof be just as dangerous if not worse?” Simon countered.

  Tobias scoffed. “You think my manor isn’t protected? He’d have a difficult time getting in there, I assure you. By then, we’d have fled or killed him.”

  They arrived at the library. The doors had fallen from the hinges, but it was still intact.

  “You find the prophecy. I will look for anything not already in my library in case it might be useful,” Tobias said, going in the opposite direction Simon did.

  There was one part of the bookshelves that was walled-in with glass that had been spelled to not break even if an atomic bomb had hit it. That was where the most important books were kept: ledgers, histories, and diaries from the Moonspell house, and the Book of the Future, which contained prophecies that had or would come to pass. It was the only one in existence. It was spelled so only mages could read its contents.

  Simon plucked the book up and waited for Tobias to finish his perusal of the shelves. It took less time than he thought it would, for the mage was a speed reader, eyes roaming over the titles faster than Simon could follow.

  When he was done, he had an armload of books and looked like a schoolboy still.

  Simon felt his face flush with shame as he recalled that same man, ten years younger but carrying just as many books in school. Simon and Jake had knocked them from his hands, sending the boy hard on his back and making him cry.

  Why was I such an idiot? Simon wondered, glad that Tobias wasn’t a mind reader.

  “Here, let me help,” Simon said, hoping to alleviate some of the guilt now ravaging his stomach.

  Tobias looked surprised but handed over half the stack without comment. He had always been quiet, and it looked like that hadn’t changed.

  They were back at Bloodworth Manor before sunset, and it occurred to Simon that he’d not eaten since breakfast.

  “Right … I often forget to eat,” Tobias said. That explained why he was so skinny. “Start looking for the prophecy. I will make something for us.”

  Before Simon could ask him how he knew how to cook, the man was gone, leaving behind the faint scent of musk from his cologne.

  Now I’m noticing how he smells. This is not good, Simon thought as he opened the book gingerly. Next, I’ll be watching how he moves, and the way he casts spells… The way his eyes sparkle when he says something witty… Oh, fuck.

  He turned away from his own mind and looked at the page before him, barely noticing a thing on it. He could be reading the prediction of the Apocalypse and it would not have computed right then.

  A moment later, Tobias returned to the library, a tray floating ahead of him. He used his magic to set the tray on the coffee table and it began to set itself, spreading plates and pouring tea.

  It smelled wonderful: herbal tea, meat pies, and a bowl of steamed carrots.

  “You didn’t poison me, did you?” Simon asked before he went to take a bite.

  Tobias glanced up and gave that faint smile again. “While I do keep poisons on hand, I wouldn’t waste one on you.”

  Simon chuckled a little. “You have my kinda humour.”

  “Did you find anything in the book yet?” Tobias asked, changing the subject.

  He shook his head. “Not yet. It’s a big book, don’t forget.”

  “I won’t: you made me carry it halfway here,” Tobias reminded him, giving that same little smile. It was so endearing, and Simon felt the burning in his chest flare up in that strange but pleasant way. He placed his hand over his heart without thinking.

  “What’s wrong?” Tobias asked.

  “Oh, nothing, really,” he replied. “I’ve had this weird thing in my chest since I woke up.”

  His companion’s eyes narrowed. “What ‘weird thing’? Describe it. I took healer training during my sabbatical from the village.”

  Simon moved his shirt aside, though there was nothing to see. At least, there hadn’t been. Now his chest glowed with a faint red mist, as if he were lit from within. “What the Hell?” he cried.

  “Soul magic,” Tobias breathed, getting up from his chair to get a closer look. “Does it feel like there’s a candle lit inside of you?”

  Simon nodded, aghast. “What do you mean it’s soul magic? I thought that was only activated in certain rituals.”

  Tobias nodded, sitting back down. “There are a few. Marriage and lovemaking being the most common.”

  Simon hoped he was keeping a straight face, because the word ‘lovemaking’ had caused a stirring below his belt.

  “Another is a life or death situation activating certain types of magic. Including —”

  “A life debt,” Simon finished, feeling all colour drain from his face. “You saved my life and activated the magic. Are you glowing, too?”

  “No,” he said shortly. “Only the one who is in the other’s debt glows.”

  Simon let out a peal of laughter. “You’re saying I now have to save your life. When everything we’ve ever been taught says we should be killing each other!”

  Tobias glared at him. “I am so glad you can find amusement in this. But never worry, you will most likely have to repay your debt to me while we fight Thornhill. Then we can commence with the murder plot.”

  The prophecy they were searching for had been pron
ounced before Christ was born, and told to the first mages. There had once been five hundred of them around the world. Now, there were only two mage houses left standing.

  What they had been told was that, in the end, to preserve magic, only one mage house could survive. Eventually they’d all die out, leaving one house as the victor and protector of all magical knowledge and creation.

  Simon had lived as though this was a fact, but Tobias seemed to think there was a hidden meaning in the prophecy, which was why they were searching for it, to read it verbatim.

  It was irony at its finest to be in a life debt to the man you were supposed to murder.

  Once they’d finished their dinner, Tobias took the book and began to search its contents while Simon inspected his glowing heart.

  “Tobias?”

  The other man looked up sharply, and Simon realised this was the first time he’d ever used his Christian name.

  “I just wanted to say … thank you. For saving my life.” Simon’s face was flaming with embarrassment, but Tobias didn't even glance his way.

  “You are welcome,” was all he said before he bent his head and began to read the book again.

  Simon settled back in the comfortable chair before the fireplace and slowly slipped into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  Tobias glanced over at his new houseguest, who looked so peaceful in sleep. He wondered how on Earth he had wound up in this predicament.

  As children, Simon had despised him simply because of his last name. Tobias had been a weak, quiet boy, and that had made him an even more convenient target.

  All he had wanted was friends and acceptance. He had never wanted to be born a mage, to have to live to fulfil some violent, cruel prophecy or die. It was fortunate that he enjoyed creating magic, especially when it had to do with nature. He had invented so many medicinal potions and salves that the Healer Association wanted to award him with a medal. And he was only twenty-one. Were he permitted to live as long as a mage could — which was forever, unless they procreated — he could only imagine how many other things he could create.

  Despite his dour attitude and gothic exterior, he loved helping people more than anything. He had saved lives with his magic, and didn’t deserve to die because of a stupid bloody prophecy.