The Sanguine Door

by Genevieve Grey

  Panic tightened my chest.

  Magic had dulled the pain, but I couldn’t get a hold of it. Smoke leaked from my pores. My hands trembled. The more power that leaked into the air the further my control slipped. The taste of Mr. Handsome’s Magic wet my tongue, it was sweet and flowery. I wanted more. My body moved toward him on its own accord.

  He lunged at the goblin, sweat lightly coating his body. My tongue traced my lips. Get a grip! I reached back and touched the deep wound on my shoulder. Pain radiated in bolts down my arm. It sobered me some and I forced my gaze from the man.

  I had used too much power. Between the healing and the fire, I had opened the flood gates too wide. My breath came hard and I braced myself on the wall.

  “Looks like you’re doing a real stand up job,” Mr. Handsome remarked.

  Deep gashes now appeared on the goblin’s chest and the beast had slowed considerably. I managed to pull myself together enough to stand free from the wall.

  “Don’t kill him!” I gasped.

  “I’m not going to kill him, sunshine.”

  The goblin was screeching now, a high keening sound. Every vampire and their familiar would be coming to see what the noise was. I didn’t feel like being someone’s midnight snack. I was still flat against the wall when the goblin started to stalk toward me, aiming to kill off the weakest link first. Mr. Handsome started throwing fireballs with fury but they bounced harmlessly off the thick hide on his back. I gripped my daggers and prepared to toss them into his heart. Before I could let them fly, Mr. Handsome lunged toward the goblin. The goblin brought his giant arm up and smashed him across the chin. My co-conspirator went limp. I felt mildly concerned, until the goblin swung at me again. Adrenaline narrowed my field of vision to the threat in front of me.

  I charged the goblin, sliding to my knees as he grabbed at me. My daggers sprung free and I slashed the tendon on the back of his ankles. He collapsed and tried to swing around to grab me. The copious amounts of blood coating my skin made me too slippery and I easily wiggled from his grip. Mr. Handsome was still unconscious. My stomach rolled, I was losing too much blood. It didn’t seem like my brightest idea to gamble with my control, but I was out of time.

  I gritted my teeth and let my power free. My long plait lifted from my shoulders and I knew my eyes would have bled black. As soon as my Magic was let loose my wounds glued shut. My little goblin friend went as close to white as someone with green skin could.

  There was one perk to being a Blood Mage--I was the boogey man.

  The goblin froze, a dawning realisation slipping across his features. I felt another rush of power that had nothing to do with Magic. My lips stretched into a grin. The goblin screamed when I pushed from the wall and stalked toward him. He was still frozen when I retrieved my handcuffs from my back pocket and snapped them around his wrists. The Magic retreated from the ends of my hair.

  “Sorceress,” the Goblin spat with venom in his voice.

  The words stoked the rage that burned deep inside my chest. I hated the word.

  I leaned close, rising up on my toes. “If you don’t shut up, I might decide that the price for bringing you in alive isn’t worth it.”

  It would be too easy for me to siphon his life essence. It would take only the smallest of shoves and he would be lying dead at my feet. Goblins didn’t have Magic like a Mage, but his essence would be just as satisfying. If the extra power wouldn’t throw me straight off the edge into insanity, I would have given in to the hunger. I gagged the goblin and gave him an elbow to the temple for good measure. Mr. Handsome groaned and struggled to untangle himself from the glass bottles and half-eaten food. The trash at least masked the worst of his power.

  He got to his feet .

  “Thank you for so graciously tying up my bounty, Miss..?”

  He towered over me. Under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t mind but I was acutely aware of the dat band around my wrist that did not appear on his own.

  “Miss—you’re welcome. If I hadn’t been here he would have made you his dessert.“

  “If you hadn’t distracted me, I would have made quick work of him,” he quipped.

  I needed to taste his Magic for just a moment. I wanted to roll around in it and let it wash through me until he was left with nothing. I took a few hasty steps back, nearly tripping over my feet.

  “It was at least a joint effort.” He had sheathed his sword and looked at me with his head cocked.

  “Sure,” I huffed. I was in no mood to argue with him.

  What I needed was whisky and unconsciousness.

  “I’ll organise pickup.”

  Before I could object, he had activated his comms charm. My head pounded and it took everything I had not to collapse to my knees.

  “Jonah, I got someone for you to pick up. The payment is to be claimed by?” he asked.

  “Arina Daffodil Bluebell”

  He raised an eyebrow. I crossed my arms.

  “Arina Daffodil Bluebell,” he repeated, as if he didn't believe me. “The target’s bound and gagged behind an alley near the Siren’s Call, shouldn’t be too hard to find. I will report back to the Elect at 0500 tomorrow.” He hung up and turned to me.

  Monday just kept getting better and better.

  “Well, shall we go, Sorceress?”

  My stomach dropped. I needed to get away from him before I wound up dancing in his blood. It didn’t matter how handsome he was, the Elect was not something I wanted to mess with.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know your name,” I stumbled through my words.

  “Luka Highland.”

  The Angel of Death.

  My blood turned cold. Luka Highland was infamous. As the youngest member of the Elect, he carried out their dirty work. The Elect had propagated the idea that his job centered around the protection of its citizens for many years. It hadn’t worked. People only dared whisper his name in public and parents told their children that he would come collect them if they misbehaved. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to look like, but it wasn’t the sharp featured man in front of me.

  I had to leave.

  Incarceration is a fate worse than death. My mother’s voice was frantic in my mind.

  “I have to go,” I spat out and spun on my heel to leave.

  Before I could take two steps, pain shot like a thunderbolt behind my eyes. My hands flew up to my face and my legs crumbled beneath me.

  “Are you okay?” Concern laced the Hunter’s voice.

  What the fuck?

  “I’m fine.” I pushed myself to my feet and pushed down the road. The Hunter followed a few steps behind. Loral would know what was wrong with me. Maybe I had been poisoned.

  “You don’t look fine. Stop, let me take you to a healer.”

  I ignored him and somehow made it on to my bike. I didn’t look behind me to see where he was. I needed to get far away from Luka Highland. He would bring me only trouble.

  Chapter Two

  My Magic had begun to settle into a restless vibration deep in my bones the further I got from Nexus. It lapped at my awareness, more powerful than it had ever been in recent memory.

  It had to be something in Nexus that set me off. Usually I could bury my Magic deep within my chest and forget its existence. Something had ripped it to the surface. It didn’t feel like it would willingly return to the dark tar sliding within my veins. I had never come as close to slipping before.

  My sanity returned slowly. I didn’t risk slowing down or stopping despite the curfew.

  I shuffled into my apartment, grateful that Loral was off on one of his secret rendezvous. I crawled back into my shower and let the water wash over me. When its burn finally matched the burn from my Magic, I dragged myself out and hobbled to the living room. The cabinet looked empty, but it was a clever illusion. I banged on the door twice. Immediately the spell disappeared and revealed half-empty bottles of wine and liquor. Alcohol had been prohibited by the Elect ten years ago. It
was illegal to have it and illegal to drink it. Luckily, Loral and I didn’t care too much for the Elect’s laws. I pushed aside the cheaper bottles before I found the one I was after. It had been a gift for my birthday, I didn’t know how Loral had gotten his hands on it. I had been saving it for a special occasion.

  This seemed as good as time as any.

  I ripped out the cork and our worn couch embraced me like an old lover. The amber liquor glowed under the florescent lights. I let the liquid rest in my mouth a moment before swallowing. The sounds from the street below eased my ragged soul. I drunk until half the bottle was empty, and I was pleasantly numb.

  I was a snake dressed as a sheep. My physical appearance never raised anyone’s suspicions. My body looked almost frail, my face was gentle and youthful. How could people know the deadly power that was barely contained within me? It didn’t seem fair. Since arriving in Ka two years ago, I had lived under a strict set of rules.

  I couldn’t risk sliding further into blood madness.

  I hovered my claw ring above my palm, ignoring the screaming protests in the back of my mind. The pull to bathe in power was too strong for me to resist. The alcohol had severed my rational mind from my actions. It was as if someone else was performing the deed. My hands moved to run the razor-sharp edge along my skin. I watched in rapture, as the skin parted and blood welled and spilt from the thin line.

  This is the last time. I had promised myself the same thing hundreds of times over. It never seemed to stick.

  When the blood splashed on my table, everything was sweeter. The pain from earlier in the night seemed inconsequential, even my run-in with the Elect did not seem important. Three drops of blood rose from the puddle and moved in a slow circle. I alternated between making tiny barbs and harmless bubbles. I grew bored and let the liquid fall back to the coffee table. I felt invincible; all powerful. It was a feeling easy to get used to.

  The wound had closed already. I drew blood again, this time from my palm. I let it pool on the glass top in a small puddle. The rune came instinctively. The blood moved easily on the tabletop and I weaved the complex shapes that made up a scrying rune. When it was complete, I took a deep breath and focused on pushing my black smokey power into the shape. The euphoria returned. In the back of my mind I dreaded the guilt that would consume me later. Blood Magic was inherently evil. Every time I accessed it I could feel the stain on my soul spreading. How long would it be until it consumed all of me? Usually the ruby around my neck kept the power dampened to a level that was ignorable, but not tonight.

  Tonight I wanted to give in.

  In the reflection of the glass I could see my curly hair floating around my head like a halo of hellfire. The whites of my irises were gone, swallowed by black. Evil. Bile rose in my throat, but my disgust wasn’t enough to stop me. The rune glowed bright against the transparent glass and my consciousness was sucked into the ether.

  ***

  Luka Highland’s broad shoulders were hunched over a dingy bar. He wasn’t a slave to his Elect’s precious rules either—hypocrite. In the reflection of the mirror, I could see him twirl a knife between his deft, ring laden fingers. He watched it with an almost bored expression. His face was cruel and less inviting when not in motion. He had ditched the jacket to reveal black suspenders, and a white cotton shirt with the sleeves pushed up haphazardly to his elbows. The Hunter seemed agitated, and I pushed through the haze to get a closer look. He swallowed the half-full glass of dark liquid like it was water. It seemed he was a man after my own heart.

  A thin woman entered the bar and sauntered over to the Hunter. Her pure white hair was cut in a severe bob that ended just above her chin. It contrasted her dark brown skin. Before she could reach him he sheathed the knife and spun on his chair. He stretched his arms along the bar. The smile he unleashed upon the poor girl was heart-stopping.

  “Gretchen.” He shed the tension he held before, melting into another persona altogether. It was unsettling to see him slip his skin so easily. The beautiful woman hadn’t noticed and leaned in to the monster.

  Her full lips brushed his ear. “Hunter, the Elect needs you to return immediately. There is an execution tomorrow.”

  He brushed her off with a wave of his hand. “Leave me be. Gretchen. I won’t be their security. I thought you came bearing better news.” His voice was gruff and he returned to glowering over his empty drink.

  She took the opportunity to saddle up next to him, and fluttered her ridiculously long eyelashes. “You seem tense.” She placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “Let me take your mind off the Elect tonight. You can return to them tomorrow morning.”

  She graced him with a small, familiar smile. My power began to wane, the Magic quietened and the haze that allowed me to see things happening in other places started to dissipate. Through the mist I could make out the Hunter springing from his chair and crouching into a fighting stance. His slate grey eyes were all I could see as the room disappeared around him. He stared straight into me. A thin line of smoke trailed from me to him, on instinct I reached along it. Electricity shocked me and I dropped the line. I threw myself from the spell. My breathing was laboured and my lungs hurt, but I was back on my couch. I smeared the blood with shaking hands.

  Surely I had been mistaken. He couldn’t have sensed me. It was impossible. I was just drunk.

  I took a final swig from the bottle. Stuff it. I drew a healing rune before I set a match to the remaining blood. Even though I couldn’t stand without swaying, I somehow made it to bed where I slept like the dead.

  ***

  The smell of sweat and hard work welcomed me as I slid open the door to the sparring gym. The sound of sweaty supernaturals hitting pads was a salve for my hangover. I dropped my bag into my locker and jogged over to the warmup mats. A few friendly faces murmured hellos. I hadn’t been back to the gym in a number of weeks, but it was always the same crowd. I started gently, until the worst of my headache had disappeared. A good workout was just what I needed. My wounds were healed but my mind was still scattered. When my muscles felt loose, I moved to the heavy bag. The wards surrounding the gym buzzed along my skin, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. At least they managed to keep my Magic contained. The gym was a purely no Magic zone. Mages were especially prone to neuroticism, fights could spiral in death matches quickly. If it wasn’t so expensive, I would have purchased the warding for my house. The bag took my punches until my shoulders burned and knuckles begun to protest.

  “Rina!” Jax jogged up to me.

  His wife, Erin, wasn’t far behind him.

  “Hey.” I shook out my hands and joined them on the sparring mats.

  Erin was statuesque. She stood nearly eye to eye with Jax, which was no easy feat. Her green eyes and tanned skin were striking, especially with her no-nonsense haircut. Jax was built like a truck. He would break your bones if he ever got a hold of you. He had caught me flush with one of his punches one day and broken a number of my ribs. I had made sure never to get hit by him again. Together they made one of the most revered teams of bounty hunters on the Portal. Occasionally I found myself riddled with jealously at their relationship but that was only on bad days. I leant against the wall, happy to watch them warm up and trade blows.

  An unfamiliar man jogged over and joined me.

  “Ever been five rounds with a wolf?” he asked me, his voice veering too close to sleazy.

  “Plenty of times, and I have yet to be impressed.”

  He pouted at my retort.

  “Why don’t you go a few rounds with Rina?” Erin dragged Jax off to stand beside me. I stretched out my arms in front of me and cracked my fingers.

  “As a warm up, sure.” He eyed me.

  He was lucky I was unarmed. For that remark I might have held a knife to his throat to see if he pissed his pants.

  “Exactly. Rina needs a warm-up before she has a chance with me.” Erin was sickly sweet.

  The werewolf shrugged and followed me onto the mats.
I leant forward, gently stretching out my hamstrings. I needed to work out some of my pent-up energy, and this cocky werewolf was just the right target. It was hard to break a werewolf, they healed too quickly.

  “Let’s go, Fido,” I taunted.

  He stalked forward, trying to use his superior size to intimidate me. It didn’t work. We circled each other. He was heavy on his feet, a classic brawler. Strong but slow, all I needed to do was stay away from his heavy punches and I would be fine.

  Sick of waiting, he thundered toward me; striking out once he was within range. His fist sailed past my head as I weaved out of the way. I had to keep moving. I was outmatched in strength, but my advantage never came from size. Every time he stomped forward with his left foot and threw his right hand I ducked it and landed a swift kick on his leading leg before slipping away. He chased me around the mats like a dog with a chew toy. When he thought I had slowed, he threw a heavy punch. It whistled past my ear. He grunted in frustration. Erin giggled in the background.

  “How’s the leg?” I teased before sneaking another brutal kick to his inner thigh. He growled, looking more and more wolf like. If it weren’t for the wards, he would have shifted. He switched stances and kicked out too fast for me to dodge completely. It brushed my side, but the sting faded fast. I had gotten too confident. He let a feral smile cross his face.

  Drop to the floor. Roll clear, stand. Don’t let him connect. Draw it out.

  I moved without conscious thought. The patterns were the result of spending my formative years in fighting pits. My childhood had been heavy-handed and brutal, but it had given me a killer instinct that couldn’t be replicated.

  That was behind me. I was legitimate now.

  My opponent’s movements were growing sloppy and fatigue was kicking in. It was much harder to throw around a heavy-muscled body. I saw my chance and pounced. The next right hook he threw, I darted to the right and returned the blow with a vicious elbow. I was in too close for him to connect another punch, so instead he attempted to grab my middle and take me down. I quickly stabbed out at his knees. He took a few steps backward and I found myself on the front foot. I alternated my attacks between body kicks and head punches and soon my own breathing grew strained. I connected, and he swayed on his feet. I went in for the kill, adrenaline rushing through my veins. Euphoria filled me and nothing else mattered except for the downed opponent in front of me.