The Sanguine Door

by Genevieve Grey

  “Rina! It’s over. He’s done.” Jax pushed himself between me and the wolf.

  I snapped back to reality. The wolf was barely conscious on the ground. I was training, not trying to kill the guy.

  “Sorry man, good fight.” I stepped beyond Jax and lent a hand to the wolf before pulling him up. He shook his head out, his eye already black.

  “You’re terrifying.” He hobbled over to the wall and squirted some water into his mouth.

  He would be fine in fifteen minutes. It was a benefit to being a shifter. Erin pushed herself off the wall and moved toward me.

  “All warmed up Pipsqueak?” She teased.

  I gestured over to the far side of the arena at the rack of practice swords and daggers. “I’m ready to shake it up, choose your poison.”

  She skipped over and picked up a long practice sword. I retrieved my old faithful dagger. It was badly weighted and slick with overuse, but I was more comfortable fighting up close. Usually I found myself fighting people who were bigger and stronger. I didn’t have the luxury of picking away at them from afar. My tactics involved getting up close and fighting dirty. I had never found any use in honour. Erin circled me, waving her weapon lazily. She would drag this out; try and exhaust me. I shot in fast and hard, mock-slashing at her stomach. She jumped back and slashed down in my direction. I rolled out of range and shot out at the back of her ankles.

  I laughed. “Point one for me.”

  That move had cost me my lungs burned already. I made a mental note—less laughing more fighting. Erin was still light footed and looked fresh as a daisy. We struck and parried for the next twenty minutes, seemingly on equal ground. I scored several points in the first fifteen, but as I grew tired, the score became even.

  “I told you to lay off the unapproved food Rina,” Erin taunted.

  I took a moment to catch my breath before running in to strike again. My bare feet slid back on the timber. I brought my daggers up above my head to block one of her downward strikes. The blow reverberated through my bones. My muscles burned with fatigue and I really began to contemplate my current lifestyle. Drinking heavily and skipping meals was not healthy, the stakes were too high for me to be so reckless. My speed was faltering, and she swung faster and faster, pushing her advantage. I had more Magic than her. Even after fighting the wolf I shouldn’t have tired so quickly. My back hit the wall. She spun in, dodging my weak thrust and, within a flash, she held the sword to my neck—death blow. Her grin reached her sea green eyes. Erin stepped back. As soon as I had the space I collapsed forward with my hands on my knees. My wretched lungs couldn’t draw in oxygen fast enough.

  “Match point to me.” She looked smug.

  “Do you run marathons in your spare time?” I panted. “Hells.”

  I slunk down the wall and grabbed the nearest water bottle.

  “You should come join me some time,” Erin said.

  She looked ready to go again. I knew I relied too much on my Magic but I hadn’t expected just how much. Jax faced his wife with a matching wooden sword in his large hands. They engaged lazily, practicing complicated strikes and parries. I almost felt like crawling out of the sparring space, but it would look pathetic. Instead, I hobbled back to the heavy bag and left them to their swordplay. The next hour was spent throwing useless strikes toward the bag until my muscles refused to obey me. I made my way to the floor, too tired to even collapse dramatically. The ceiling was covered in mould from all the sweat. It made the gym smell musty and familiar.

  “Do you have anything exciting on at the moment?” Jax asked, standing over my prone form.

  “I captured a bounty yesterday, then I ran into the Elect's Hunter.”

  Jax let out a low whistle. “The Hunter? How was he?”

  I remembered the Hunter’s shock, how his cold eyes had bored into my soul as the vision of him dispersed. I shivered, even though the room was sweltering.

  “He was… terrifying.” I rolled onto my knees, my whole body ached. “And surprisingly good looking.”

  Erin laughed. “So, just your type then?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t touch Elect scum if my life depended on it.”

  Erin scrunched her brow. “Shhh Rina. Even this place isn’t safe.”

  I knew it, but it still made me mad. The Hunter touted the Elect’s righteous propaganda; killing those who were the deemed impure or different. Then he went and flouted their sacred rules himself. He was a hypocrite. It was worse than a being a true believer in their rhetoric.

  After my workout I strolled toward the centre of Ka. My muscles ached already. I needed to walk now, less tomorrow Loral would have to roll me out of bed. There were still a few hours until curfew. The streets were clean, much cleaner than the grey part of Nexus. Still, the shine couldn’t hide the rot underneath. I knew what lay beneath the shiny silver exterior. There was a silent crowd of people gathering ahead. It was unusual to see so many in the streets, especially so close to curfew. It was dangerous. I wandered closer to the mass of bodies. My stomach tweaked as I saw what they gathered around. I had forgotten about the execution.

  The square was silver and shiny like everything else, but buckets full of blood had been spilled across it over the years. It loomed over the citizens as a reminder of the Elect’s brutality. A skinny boy stood in centre stage. His clothes were torn and he was outrageously thin. A pair of enforcers held him by the scruff of his neck. The boy couldn’t have been older than twelve. The crowd began to murmur vile words. The enforcers were dressed in their customary red suits with masks half covering their faces. Three steel thrones stood at the back of the stage filled with members of the Elect wearing long black robes. The red and black was stark against the brushed steel of the dais. My fist unfurled. The Hunter was not among them.

  I pushed through the crowd until I was pressed against the barricade. The boy’s eyes were empty and ringed with big, purple circles. Thin, engraved metal encircled his neck. He had been stripped of his Magic. A Mage’s Magic was part of their soul, when you took it away they went mad. The boy stared out at the crowd with his hopeless eyes. It didn’t look like he’d had the collar on long enough to have the mercy of insanity. It was unsettling to see such despair on a face so young. Even children were not blind to the horrors of the Elect. One of the members stood, his heavy robes falling to the floor. He glided to the stage and silence settled over the crowd. I tried to smooth my features. The boys fear seemed to leak out of him, contaminating every breath I took.

  “Welcome.” The deep voice carried over the large space. “You have gathered here today to witness justice.”

  Silence.

  “This Blood Mage murdered his own mother. If he is allowed to live, he will slaughter countless people to steal their lives for himself.”

  Children did not have the requisite constraint to control the violent charm of Blood Magic. When it manifested for the first time, they were lucky if they only killed one or two before being stopped. Without training, a child would succumb to bloodlust through no fault of their own. Public executions were rare enough that they provided entertainment to the masses. I usually made a point to avoid them, but I wouldn’t leave this boy alone with these vile people. He deserved to have his last moments witnessed by a kindred spirit.

  He was dragged closer to the crowd and brought to his knees.

  “Stop!” a hoarse voice screamed.

  I spun. The crowd had parted for a middle-aged man with tears streaming down his face. They scattered away from him, as if his grief was contagious. Immediately a legion of enforcers rained down on him.

  “Dad?” a high voice screamed from the stage. Some life had returned to the boys eyes and he struggled fruitlessly against the enforcers. “Dad!” he called out again.

  He was not given the chance to respond. The father was cut down by an Enforcer’s sword. Red blood spilled from his abdomen and stained the perfectly clean floor. The boy’s guttural roar was cut off as he met the same fate. Quiet g
asps came from the crowd, there had more excitement than expected. They began to disperse, dodging the large pools of liquid. I pushed against the crowd to the front of the stage. The boy lay in a crumpled heap. The deep gash spanned the whole width of his chest and exposed his pearly ribs. Blood bubbled from the wound even as his chest still rose and fell. His wide eyes frantically shot from one side to the next as if he was still looking for his father. The pool of bright red liquid had dripped down the front of the silver stage and onto the floor. The puddle kept growing until it eventually lapped at my toes.

  I stood and watched as he took his last rattling breath, and I stayed until his blood was cold. The walk to my apartment took longer than it should have; I only managed to slip inside just as curfew hit. I didn’t bother to undress for bed, instead collapsing onto the mattress and falling into a fitful sleep covered in blood that was not my own.

  ***

  I knew that ground was beneath my feet, only because I was not falling. I knew that I needed to run, because fear pulsed through my veins pushing me away from some unknown threat. My legs burned from exertion and I was exhausted. It seemed like I had been running for hours and I didn’t want to run anymore. I had never been prey.

  I skidded to a stop and turned on the heel of my boots.

  A cold brick-wall pressed against the exposed skin of my shoulders. It hadn’t been there before. I was boxed in. The inky night immediately changed to dawn. The orange and pink sky only illuminated my predicament. There was nowhere left to run.

  My pursuer stalked toward me, like a lion about to take down a kill. Despite the light, I couldn’t see the face under the hood. The only thing visible was a pair of eyes. They were dark, grey and full of smoke. They were the last ashes on a fire, being tossed into the breeze. I knew them. He lifted his hands to remove the hood. As the morning sun hit his features, his hair shone as red as mine. His chiseled face held a violent promise. The hilt of broadsword in his right hand was adorned with the insignia of the Elect.

  He strode toward me, swinging the weapon in lazy half-circles.

  I suddenly remembered that even if I held no blade, I was not defenceless. My pewter ring seemed to glint in the morning light. I held it up in front of my face in triumph. I could have kissed it but I sliced the back of my hand instead. The distinctive smell of ash flavoured the air as blood dripped through my fingers and onto the dirt. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smelt my power so strongly.

  The thought slipped through my mind before I could examine it any further. The power burnt through my body. I relished in the invincibility. It chased away the lingering fear that had been hidden away in the corners of my mind. I was home and whole.

  It had been sometime since I had willingly called my Magic forth to attack. A slow smile stretched across my lips. The power continued to grow and I made no efforts to reign it in. It filled me completely until my skin felt like it would burst. When the pressure grew too much, I let it spill from me with a scream. The black tendrils shot with a wild hunger. It continued until my surroundings were coated in black inky smoke.

  I would not wind up like that boy, bleeding out on a stage as entertainment.

  High, shrill laughter bubbled from my lips. I brought my hands to my mouth to try and stifle the sound, but it would not cease. Luka Highland would be no more. The Elect would perish and I would finally be free.

  My pitiless black gaze turned to the Hunter as he appeared from the smoke. We assessed each other for one cold moment. He quirked his head, examining me closer. For one horrible moment I felt like a butterfly under a pin. Then my Magic turned solid and drilled into his chest. The memory of his blood turned me feral. It had been so potent, it called to me. I needed it as my own. My power buried into his body, but still he remained standing.

  Fury spurred me on. My necklace scorched the thin skin of my chest and I ripped it away. The chain broke easily. As it hit the bricks, the red stone shattered into countless pieces. My Magic surged and the ground fell from beneath my feet. My eyes lolled back into my head and my vision went black. There was only Magic. It sparked and burned and I was consumed.

  There was no I, only it. I had never felt so alive.

  Then there was nothing.

  No sliding tar, no burn and no roar. Had I died? Had I finally gone mad? The feeling of loss was so profound that tears cooled my cheeks. My knees hit the pavement and I fell onto my hands. The garnet shards dug into my skin. Tiny cuts opened on my palms and the pain seemed to tether me to the living. I expected the rush of Magic, but it did not come. The pain was just pain.

  There was a heavy, unfamiliar weight around my neck and as I sat back onto my heels I was hit with a dawning realisation.

  My eyes snapped open.

  Collared.

  Chapter Three

  The last few days with Erin and Jax had been hell. It didn’t matter how much I punished my body, I couldn’t seem to get rid of the nightmares. They haunted me as soon as I closed my eyes. It was getting too close to nighttime and I had nothing left to do. My hair was stuck to my face with dried sweat, and I reluctantly drunk some tasteless protein shake Erin had given me. I poked at an approved salad with my fork. I could hear her nagging in my ear; stop stuffing your face with illegal food. Eat some fruit... Maybe if you ate a salad occasionally you might beat me.

  My body was badly bruised from the beating I had received from Jax. I usually won about half the time, but today had been my worst performance to date. Still, it was better to lose to friends than feel the press of cold metal against my throat for real. It had become clear that I relied too heavily on my Magic. I hadn’t been practicing nearly enough. It didn’t help that the Hunter kept me awake most of the night, and not for the reason I would have liked. Loral kicked open the door. I didn’t even flinch, I was so use to his dramatic entrances. He stood in the threshold, his arms laden with brown paper bags dripping grease.

  “You're going to have to fix the hole or we are never getting our bond back.” I looked back to my salad.

  He glanced at the hole in the wall with disinterest. “You look miserable. Have you gotten any sleep at all?” he asked.

  I shrugged. I couldn’t tell him about my nightmares.

  “Did you want to go out?” he asked, setting the food down on the kitchen counter.

  “I could have a job tomorrow.”

  His pearls of laughter echoed through our tiny apartment. “You’ve been moping around the apartment for a week. Going out will be good for you.”

  A night out with Loral sounded like the perfect distraction. It was better than flicking through the channels of approved propaganda.

  “Okay, only if we can go to a blood sucker party.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll made a few calls.”

  Loral left the room and I opened our cabinet to fish out the booze. When he returned, I had spread out the food and alcohol. He plopped himself down and popped a cork of a clear liquor. It made my eyes water just smelling it. But, I gulped it down and ignored the burn in my esophagus.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I murmured through mouthfuls of cheesy food.

  He took another shot in response. We ate until our stomachs were full and our gaits were slightly wobbly.

  I quickly showered and dressed and allowed Loral to fuss over my hair and makeup.

  We gossiped about menial things, and I felt myself relax for the first time in weeks. I had gone from bounty to bounty without any rest. It was nice to be doing something fun, the fact that it was illegal made it even better. A silent rebellion. I could almost be reminded of my life before Ka, when I had lived with no restraints.

  When we were finally ready to go, Loral fished two invisibility spells out of my purse and handed one to me. I downed the salty tasting liquid and felt it shimmer into place. The spells were expensive, but you couldn’t get into the party without one. You wouldn’t even be able to see the entrance. It was a handy thing Loral was the most powerful potion Mage I knew. We shr
ugged on our heavy coats and slipped from the door.

  Loral had promised he knew where the party was being hosted and that we would be able to walk the distance. The location of it changed every weekend to avoid detection. Alcohol was banned, along with large congregations of people. Parties had always existed and they always would. It didn’t matter if the Elect deemed them unholy. Occasionally the location would be spilled and the party would be raided. I hadn’t been arrested yet, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  The vamp parties were run by Rammic, a flamboyant vampire with a love of nightlife. He didn’t belong to a coven, but nonetheless was one of the most influential vampires living in Ka. There were always a number of men and women hanging off him, hypnotised into a feeder stupor. Their eyes were glazed over and they stared at him with adoration. It gave me the creeps. I couldn’t understand the appeal of becoming a feeder. They would give up their lives to be ‘looked after’ by a vampire. All you had to do was let them take your blood and they would make sure you never went hungry or cold again. Loral had told me that if you were one of Rammic’s feeders you were treated very well. He had amassed a vast amount of wealth over his extremely long life and enjoyed spending it on his pets. It was supposed to be a pleasant exchange but I couldn’t ever imagine being imprisoned like that, even if it meant I would likely be safe from the Elect.

  “So you never gave me any gossip from your run in with the Hunter. What was he like?” Loral demanded.

  “Scary”

  “Good thing you kept him away from us.” He shoved me playfully, “Oh, don’t look so grim.”

  We arrived in a dimly lit street lined with pretty Elect-approved houses. It seemed hard to believe there was a nightclub hidden in amongst the plain looking buildings. Loral pulled me down the street by the hand until eventually stopping in front of a plain white door. Written at the top of the door in holographic silver were the words ‘Witch Hunt.’ The magic-laced wards were so thick, I could feel the pulse of sweet orange-flavoured power saturating the air. Any Mage could erect a ward, even a particularly old vampire had enough Magic. If a Mage’s will was strong, the better the ward. A lot of people paid to have strong protections on their homes. It seemed like Rammic was no exception.