Call of Blood: A Novel of The Unnatural Brethren

by Silvana G Sánchez

  “She’s not dead. She sleeps, that’s all.” Ivan’s words echoed in the depths of Antoine’s mind. He repeated them silently, over and over again, reminding himself that there was hope for Cassandra.

  She lay on the bed like a fairytale princess—eyes closed, pink pouting lips, and hands clasped over her chest. But he was no knight in shining armor, and his kiss had not awakened her from her deep sleep.

  The bedroom’s door slowly opened. Behind it stood a woman. Her long and wavy red hair concealed her face. She leaned to reach a large black tote bag from the floor, then raising her chin, she took one hard look at him with piercing dark green eyes.

  The resemblance was uncanny—high cheekbones, delicate nose and lips. “You’re Cassie’s mother. Denise,” Antoine said.

  Denise frowned. “I know who I am. But who are you?”

  She placed the bag on the sofa, but her eyes remained fixed on him. The woman’s stare untangled the cobwebs of his soul. It rattled his nerves. Antoine stepped away from Cassie’s bedside, and only then did Denise shift her gaze towards her daughter.

  Phillip pulled Ivan’s arm and leaned close to him. “We have to talk,” he whispered.

  “This is hardly the time, Phillip,” Ivan dismissed. He then turned towards Cassandra’s mother. “She’s been like this since we found her.”

  “Dark magic…” Denise mused, sweeping blue dust off Cassandra’s t-shirt. She removed her necklace and fastened it around Cassie’s neck. The pendant was a black stone that gleamed the second it landed on Cassandra’s chest.

  Contrary to what Antoine had expected from Cassie’s mother, she did not crumble to pieces as she laid eyes on her unconscious daughter. The woman kept a cool and detached demeanor and examined her as a doctor would.

  “Her face was covered with this blue dust…” Antoine mused, his voice breaking.

  Denise turned to face him, and for this first time since her arrival, she gave him a warm stare. “Whoever did this did not mean to kill her,” she said, and turning to Ivan, she added: “But definitely wanted her out of the way.”

  “Can you help her?” Antoine finally asked.

  The question irritated her, but not so much that she would scold him. Denise knitted her brow and turned to him once more. “I know this curse,” she said. “I might be able to break it tonight.”

  “But I thought you no longer practiced magic…” He shouldn’t have said that—it only vexed her more. Antoine had blurted it out, and there was nothing he could do now.

  Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head, studying him for a minute or so before giving him an answer. “You seem to know much about me and my life, whereas I know nothing about you, blood drinker…”

  “Denise,” Ivan intervened. “Antoine was the one who found her.”

  “Oh,” she said, genuinely surprised. “Well, Antoine. I guess I should thank you. And just so you know, I walked out of the family—I never abandoned the Craft.” She paused and threw an inquisitive stare at Ivan as if something had finally clicked in her mind. “What were you and Cassie up to, Ivan?”

  Ivan bit his lower lip. “It’s the necklace,” he said. “I need it. Cassandra was helping me find it.”

  “The necklace?” Denise’s eyes flew open.

  “I know it’s been too long since you’ve taken part of the Deveraux’s affairs, but—if you have any idea of where Annette may have hidden it…” Ivan leaned against the wall, his hands clasped behind his back, and his stare lost in Cassandra.

  “I’ve only ever seen it in Katherine’s photos,” she said, shaking her head. “My mother never mentioned it… I didn’t even know she had it!”

  Denise opened her bag, revealing part of a what looked like a chemistry set—multicolored vials and small boxes with herbs. She was quick to mix a few herbs and potions into a glass.

  “Do you have the grimoire?” she asked Ivan.

  “Of course,” he said, opening the desk’s drawer. He extracted a large leather-bounded book and gave it to her.

  With great care, Denise held the book, examining page after page, confident that she would find whatever she needed in those wrinkled sheets of parchment.

  “Here we go,” she mused, pointing her finger at a passage.

  Denise extracted from her bag a white candle and set it over the night table. She lit the candle and then, in the lowest of voices, she read from the book. Those words she whispered into Cassie’s ear, and she did it three times before parting from her.

  She opened her tote bag and took out a small bronze dagger—how on earth had she even gotten that through customs? Denise removed the ornate bronze sheath embedded in mythological symbols and pricked her finger with the blade. Three drops of blood fell into the glass. She then took Cassie’s hand and followed the same steps with her.

  Denise stirred the glass as if it were a cocktail. Their blood twirled in the water and entwined, dissolving within seconds. With a small dropper, she administered a single drop into Cassandra’s mouth.

  “And now… we wait.” Ivan said. “We’ll leave you two alone for a moment.”

  The library doors flung open as Ivan walked through. “What do you make of that, Phillip?” he said, pacing in the room, restless. “My search for the necklace has officially turned into a useless enterprise, as futile as the search for the Holy Grail!”

  “There’s something you should know…” Phillip followed him inside and stopped by the fireplace.

  “Meanwhile, Alisa’s trapped in whatever dungeon Jiao Long chose to imprison her, far beyond my reach… I tell you, I cannot endure this any longer. I’ve never felt so helpless in my immortal life! Everything’s turned upside down because of her—I wish I’d never given her that damned necklace!”

  “Ivan, please! Listen to me!” Phillip planted before him.

  “All right! What is it, Phillip?” he all but yelled. Impatience was a rare frame of mind for his fledgling, whatever rattled his nerves, it had to be important.

  “I met Jiao Long earlier today—”

  “Why would you do that? Do you wish to be killed?!” waving his hands, palms up. “That kid may be your racing buddy, but believe me, he’ll not think it twice before hurting you to get to me!”

  Phillip pursed his lips and slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. “He summoned me,” he casually said. “And by the way, Jiao Long is a powerful vampire—older than you. I don’t see why you’d call him a kid.”

  “Oh, isn’t he?” plummeting on the sofa by the hearth. “Then why does he act like one?” Ivan paused. “You are too noble, Phillip—that’s why that devil reaches out to you. He’d never get an ounce of attention from me. If it were up to me, I’d smack the hell out of him until he revealed Alisa’s location, but I cannot threaten her safety so selfishly… So, what does he want now? Any chance he’ll set Alisa free?”

  Phillip sat on the chair before him. “He has no intention of releasing her…” shaking his head. “And, he told me you stand against his plans—”

  “Ugh…” Ivan rolled his eyes back. “Is he still rambling about his maniacal pursuits of world domination? His plans have not been thought through. No one will follow him into the madness of his delirium—you mark my words.”

  “I told him as much, but he wouldn’t listen.” He paused. “The Coven is out of control, Ivan. We cannot allow Jiao Long to expose us to the dangers of his schemes… Something must be done.” He leaned forward, joining his hands and steepling his fingers—a bad sign. He wants something.

  Ivan sighed. “And what would you have me do, Phillip?” he asked. “As long as he has Alisa, my hands are tied—besides, I already offered him a piece of my mind.”

  “I heard everything about that, and he seemed very upset by it.”

  “I simply made it clear to him that his plan was plain stupid. Jiao has no vision. For all his years in the Blood, the kid lacks wisdom and leadership.

  “Of course it would be wonderful for vampires to come into the light of this new m
illennium, but not by disclosing our existence to mortals and therefore becoming the perfect target for their destructive pursuits—that’s where his plan fails. It has no creativity, no imagination.

  “Jiao Long’s vision is too narrow. If our Kin is to win any victory over men, it must be based on science—not war. Science is the key to unravel the astonishing mess of our DNA. It’s the only way if we’re ever to live under the sun once more.”

  Phillip raised his brow. “I have never seen you so impassioned by any other subject.” He stopped to consider his following words. “I have to admit, this side of your personality is truly becoming. I could listen to you talk like this on and on without ever losing interest…”

  Ivan shrugged off the compliment. “For too long, I’ve fancied living in the Light, but not to oppress human kind… I dream of a day when we might live openly amongst them—foolish as it may seem. I dream of a day when being a vampire will mean no more to them than being labeled as a goth, a lesbian, or an atheist. Vampirism simply is… We are what we are—who we are—and mortals should get used to it.”

  Phillip smirked. “You mean deal with it, of course. Because unlike any young goth or lesbian, we are killers. We’re the hunters in this game, and they are the prey.” He paused. “I’m sorry to bring some sense into your beautiful fantasy, but you are a dreamer! You fancy yourself human, mortal like them, don’t you?”

  The warmth in his words conveyed him great fondness. Was that a gleam of admiration in Phillip’s eyes?

  “I never said it would be easy…” Ivan sighed. “Still, you must agree, my dreams are far more appealing than Jiao’s silly plan to take over the world.”

  “It’s Utopian, Ivan.” Phillip smiled. “But yes, I would follow you no matter what.”

  “And so would the other covens,” Ivan mused. “But I digress... You mustn’t worry about Jiao’s plans. They will not follow through.”

  Phillip got on his feet and stopped by the hearth, lost in his thoughts. “Perhaps they will,” he said, turning towards Ivan. “I’ve been meaning to tell you… It was Jiao Long who cursed Cassandra. He has the Source.”

  Ivan’s hands numbed. A freezing wave chilled his preternatural body. “What are you saying? What makes you so sure? Whatever that fiend told you, he cannot be trusted!”

  “I wish that were the case, but I saw the flask. He carries it with him around his neck.” Phillip pursed his lips, and for a second he seemed unsure whether to carry on with the rest of the story. “He summoned me tonight to make me an offer—the chance to join his coven. Of course, I refused.”

  “That vampire fool!” Ivan sprung on his feet, clenching his fists.

  The library doors blasted open. Behind them stood Antoine. Pale face, trembling hands—he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  “Ivan, Phillip—!” catching his breath. “You must come upstairs, quickly. Cassandra woke up from the curse!”

  Marianne

  “This is really heavy,” Michael said, leaving the platinum record over the coffee table.

  Marianne slipped off her heels and gathered her hair in a quick bun. “You should stop winning then.” She teased him with an enticing smile.

  “Are you kidding? I want you with me on every award show from now on, babe.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulling her close, he kissed her lips. “You’re my lucky star.”

  Michael tightened his embrace, his wandering hands beckoning her for more than a passionate kiss. Marianne surrendered to his whims—no, wait. You swore you would end it tonight, and that’s what you’re going to do. It would be a clean, honest break—well, maybe not that honest.

  He slipped his tongue into her mouth, making her tremble inside, longing to have him once more. As he led her to the sofa, Marianne slipped her hands beneath his shirt, knowing full well how little control she had over the drive of her desire.

  His racing breath warmed her neck as his lips worked their way down. “I want you, Marianne,” he whispered with a deep voice, smoothing his hand up her thigh, gliding up her skirt.

  This ends tonight, Michael Reese. She thought of the words, she wanted to say them. “I’ll ride you hard, Michael.” What? What was she saying? Oh, to hell with it! One last night together would make the perfect farewell.

  “Not this time,” he said in a sultry voice. “It’s my turn now.” Michael’s hands landed on her waist and back, sliding her on the sofa. Impatient, he pushed her skirt up, and entering her quickly, he moaned.

  An electrifying wave spread through her limbs, escalating in pulse after pulse of ecstasy. Marianne whimpered, and in this rapture, the hunger stirred inside her. Compelled by her lethal instinct, she grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him close. Her mouth widened enough to measure the size of her bite, and drawing even closer, her sharp fangs grazed Michael’s skin.

  Go on. Go for it!

  Michael thrusted inside her once more, thrilling every nerve in her body. Marianne cried in delirium, and imprisoned by his strong arms, she went for that dark drink that would satisfy her completely. Her vampire fangs tore Michael’s skin, then sank into his neck without mercy.

  “Whoa!” he said, parting from her. His hand reached for the wound on his neck. “What was that?”

  “I—I’m sorry…” Marianne curled in the sofa.

  Michael smirked. “Don’t be,” leaning towards her. “Just a little heads up would be nice, that’s all.” He smoothed his hands on her jawline and kissed her neck, lowering his body on top of her as if nothing had happened.

  “Wait—aren’t you the least freaked out?” she asked with her hand on his chest, slightly pushing him away.

  “Babe, I’m the lead singer of a famous rock band…” He sniggered. “I’ve seen things… Well, you don’t wanna know what I’ve seen. But believe me—this is nothing.” Michael paused, examining Marianne’s expression of disbelief. “All right, listen. If you’re into this sort of thing, I dig it.”

  “This is not some weird sex game, Michael…” Lowering her dress, she got on her feet. Was she really going to do this?

  He lay sideways on the sofa, leaning on his elbow with his hand on the side of his face. “Oh? Then what is it?”

  Marianne knelt before him. “Well, I’m a vampire.”

  “Then I’ll be the vampire hunter that falls for his prey.” He chuckled. “Come on, babe. Whatever gets you back here, I’m all in.”

  He was in denial—that had to be it. Otherwise, she couldn’t explain it.

  Michael rose from the sofa. “Don’t get me wrong, babe… I respect the whole I’m a vampire thing…” removing his shirt, the sight of his bare chiseled chest enticing her even more. “Take a shower with me?”

  “I’m afraid this party’s over,” a voice said.

  Marianne scanned the living room and found no one.

  “Michael…?” she turned to him, that’s when she saw the tall blond vampire standing behind him.

  “Liam,” she whispered, getting into a fighting stance without even thinking about it. Marianne had known him for years… He was one of the Coven’s vampires who stalked her. “Liam... Don’t.” True fear chilled the blood in her veins.

  The corner of Liam’s lips curled in a malicious smile, and in a flash, his fangs sank in Michael’s neck.

  “Nooooo!” Marianne roared. But it was too late—blood dripping down his chest, Michael was already unconscious. “Let him go!” she said, lunging towards him when that demon fled from her with Michael still in his grip.

  “I don’t think so,” he taunted with blood tinged lips and teeth.

  “Damn you and your coven!” Marianne’s heart broke into a thousand pieces. I can bring him back, I just need his body! She stopped to analyze Liam’s next move and fooled him with an attack to surprise him.

  Ready to charge against the fiend once more, two other vampires appeared in the room. They came from the sides—the one to her right was young and foolish enough to attack first. Marianne seized him by the shirt�
��s collar, pulled him close, and ripped his throat open with a quick gash of her fangs. The bastard bled out in seconds.

  Marianne tossed the vamp’s body aside, preparing to take on the other vampire as she moved closer to Michael. A few inches more, and she could almost reach him!

  Two more blood drinkers appeared, and with devilish speed, they seized her arms and pushed her down on her knees.

  Liam clucked his tongue. “This is why you should never break the rules,” he said slowly. “Say goodbye to your lover boy, Marianne!” He plunged his fangs deep into his neck—this time, straight into the carotid artery—draining him dry within seconds, killing him instantly. Liam dropped his body as if it were now worthless.

  A loud growling echoed in the room. It came from Marianne, desperate to save Michael but aware that it was too damn late.

  No! This can’t be the end of him!

  Summoning a strength that defied her vampiric limits, she set free from the vampires’ hold. As he reached Michael on the floor, Marianne slashed her wrist with her fingernails and went to press the wound against his mouth. But a strong pull parted her from him before the Blood even touched Michael’s lips.

  “You’re finished now, Marianne,” Liam said, kneeling before her.

  She should have fought, she had the strength, but Michael’s loss hurt her too deeply. Despair broke through her soul, eating away all desire to live.

  Welcome Death, the sweetest release.

  With eyes full of tears, Marianne lowered her head, waiting for the final blow.

  “Run, Marianne…”

  What the hell? It was Michael’s voice. She turned to him quickly. No signs of life pulsed in his body.

  “Run!” the voice said again.

  Widening her eyes, she turned to find herself trapped inside Jane Ensor’s Intrigue—grotesque grimacing members of the coven surrounded her, mocking her pain.

  She scrambled arms and legs on the floor, setting loose from the vampires once more. But this time, she followed Michael’s bidding and as soon as she got on her feet, she rushed to the terrace and leaped off the balustrade—a jump that would have meant certain death to anyone, save a member of the Undead.