by F. E. Heaton
"You are right. It's not a drug. It's a spell and it's a powerful one.” Caden's voice chased away her thoughts.
"Do you know it?” she said.
"For such a powerful spell, there has to be an even more powerful counter spell. I'm afraid that there is no easy cure. I've never seen anything like this first hand."
"But you've heard of it?” She could see in his eyes that he had. He knew something about what was happening to Valentine, and judging by his body language, he didn't want to tell her. It could only mean one thing.
Caden walked across the room to the window and sighed.
"What is it?” Her voice trembled with the nerves growing inside of her and the dread that was eating away at her heart.
He didn't look at her. “Your mother once told me of necromancy. There is only one spell that could do this, only one that can be used by necromancers to control the undead."
The words hit her harder than she'd expected and in a split-second, she was standing beside him, her hand tightly gripping his arm. She spun him around to face her, her eyes searching his.
"Elena is a necromancer.” She held his gaze.
His eyes widened, telling her that he knew that name.
"The spell appears to be nothing more than a sickness, mimicking the symptoms of Nox Noctis, the only real sickness a vampire can contract."
The mention of the sickness sent a shudder down her spine. She'd heard of what it could do to vampires, twisting their bodies and their mind until they became hideously disfigured grotesques, too insane to feed and look after themselves. Many of the bloodlines resorted to mass execution, destroying all vampires that had passed through the infected area as far back as six months before the first case appeared. It was the only way to stop the disease from spreading, or so they say.
"But it isn't Nox Noctis,” she said, urging him on.
"No. Eventually he will be bound to Elena and he will obey her every command. She is making him her slave ... and I'm afraid there might not be a way to stop it."
She stared at Valentine, her whole body trembling as the inevitability of it all hit her. All sound drowned out, leaving a hollow ringing inside of her empty body. She went to walk towards the bed so she could hold him, but her knees gave way and she collapsed. Pressing her hands into the floor, she hung her head forwards. Her vision blurred with heavy tears and her head pounded with silence.
It was over.
Elena had defeated her.
She wasn't going to use Valentine against her friends. She was going to use him against her.
Her fingertips dug into the rug, bunching it up into her fists. She clenched her teeth, her jaw trembling as the sobs struggled to get free. Slamming her fists against the floor, she hit it harder and harder until her hands started to hurt. Sobs racked her body and she shook with them, wishing her tears would drown the emptiness inside of her.
The door opened and before she could lift her head to see who it was, strong arms were holding her, supporting her. She buried her face into Venturi's neck, one hand gripping his shirt while the other balled into a fist. She hit him hard in the chest, over and over again, desperate to get the feeling of frustration and hopelessness out of herself.
He held her gently, letting her beat him and not even tensing to steel himself against the pain.
"What did you do to her?” His voice was cold and venomous.
She struggled to breathe, wanted to stop the sobs so she could tell him not to hurt Caden. It wasn't his fault. It was hers. It was all her fault.
Taking deep breaths, she flattened her palm against Venturi's chest and pushed herself up. She looked at him, the tears still streaking her cheeks while she fought for control of her voice.
"What happened?” he said softly while wiping away her tears.
"It's over,” she said.
He looked disappointed to hear it. “I thought you were stronger."
His words cut her to the bone and she moved away from him, leaving him with empty arms.
"You are stronger than this, Prophecy. Do not let her win. Valentine is not lost."
"He's right,” Caden said behind her. “There has to be a way to reverse this spell. Every spell has one that can counter it. You can find it."
She stared into Venturi's blue eyes. He was right. She was stronger than this. Elena hadn't defeated her. She was still alive and there was still a chance she could save Valentine from the necromancer's spell.
"Thank you,” she said it quietly enough that only Venturi could hear her.
He smiled, cleared the damp hair from her face, and then stood. He offered his hand to her and she took it, letting him help her to her feet. She stood still for a few seconds, gathering herself and taking deep breaths to clear her mind of all negative thoughts.
She realised Venturi was still holding her hand and smiled when his fingers gently slid from hers.
"Xavier is growing restless. Whatever business the vampire hunter still has here, he'd best do it quickly.” Venturi nodded and then left the room.
When the door closed again, she sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on Valentine's knee.
"I don't know any spells.” She quietly admitted it and felt even weaker. How did she expect to defeat Elena when she hadn't found a way to get into the book? She looked across the room at it where it was resting on her desk. Caden looked there also. “I can't open it."
There was a hint of sorrow in his face when he went to the desk and picked the book up. He ran his hands over the cover and then set it down again.
"Of course you can open it,” he said and beckoned her.
She went across the room to him, shaking her head as she did so. “I've tried everything."
He smiled. “Everything but the key, I suppose?"
She was about to say she didn't have a clue what the key was when he reached out to her. She frowned when he took the silver star from around her neck and watched in amazement as he unclipped each diamond shape, breaking the star apart. He placed each one in the corresponding indentation on the cover and then stepped back.
"The word is yours to say ... in any language you choose. Ophelia always preferred ‘aperto'. It's Italian for ‘open'."
"She was Italian?” she said. The look he gave her said that her mother had been Italian. She glanced at the door and locked her senses on Venturi, who was standing in the hallway. She had more in common with him than she'd thought.
Drawing the book across the table, she ran her fingers over the cover, feeling the magic in it and tracing the pieces of the silver star that had actually been the key.
"Aperto,” she said. There weren't fancy fireworks or shining light as she'd expected. Something just clicked. She carefully opened the cover a crack and peeked inside, and then opened it fully when nothing happened.
She looked at the first page. Written neatly in the top right corner was her mother's name. She ran her fingers over it and then leafed through a few of the pages, her eyes taking it all in. The spells were written haphazardly by hand. Judging by the script, her mother had been the one to write them. The hand matched the one the name in the front of the book had been written with.
Some of the spells ran over several pages, while others took up nothing more than a couple of inches. There were even some that were a single line. They were written in what looked like Latin, and other languages that she didn't recognise.
The sound of voices in the hall reminded her that Xavier was growing restless. She closed the cover of the book and went to the door. Opening it, she let Xavier see into the room and turned to Serenity.
"Could you arrange the room next to mine for Caden. If it ... if you don't want to ... get one of the maids to do it.” Prophecy gave Serenity an apologetic look. She hated having to ask her friend to go into the room that had once been Arkalus’ but she had to keep Caden close by. The only other available rooms were down near Venturi's and she couldn't risk placing Caden that far from her. If someone got it into their head to a
ttack him, she wouldn't make it there in time to save him.
Serenity nodded and walked off, leaving her with the two lower ranking guards, Xavier and Venturi.
She stepped to one side and let Xavier pass. The anxious look in his eyes changed to one of gratitude and he went into the room. Caden immediately came out. It would have been a wise move if he hadn't ended up standing right next to Venturi.
Venturi sneered, baring his fangs.
A maid appeared and opened the door to Arkalus’ room. Prophecy caught hold of Caden's arm and led him away from Venturi. She looked over her shoulder at the Tenebrae, raising a brow at him. He licked his teeth and growled under his breath.
Taking Caden into the room, she quickly let go of his arm. “You'll be comfortable here. I don't recommend leaving the room. If you need anything, ring the bell on the wall. I have matters of business to attend to, but will come by to check on you when I can."
She didn't wait to hear his answer. Walking out of the door, she could only think of getting back to her room and studying the book.
She would find a way to save Valentine.
The answer was in her mother's spells.
She'd felt it.
Chapter 14
Venturi grabbed Prophecy's arm the moment she'd closed the door. He threw a cursory glance at her room, checking that Xavier and Cornelius were still inside, and then dragged her down the hall to his room.
Pushing her into it, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, showing her that he wasn't about to let her leave.
She sat quietly on his bed and glared at him.
He folded his arms across his chest and stared right back.
"Venturi—"
"I want to know why it is you have brought a mortal, no ... worse than a mortal ... a vampire hunter ... into this house, placing all of us in danger.” He cut her off. He was in command now. He'd been patient with her, giving her the time she wanted with the vampire hunter. The hunter had pronounced his verdict, and now it was time she told him what was going on.
She leaned back on the bed a little, splaying her hands out behind her and using them to prop herself up. He tried to shift the images that the sight of her sitting on his bed made pop into his head. This wasn't the time for such feelings, and he knew damn well she wasn't going to reciprocate them. Any move he made was a fool's errand.
Besides, since he'd decided to ignore her, she'd started becoming friendlier towards him, even taking comfort from him and letting him be close to her. He knew where she thought her heart lay, but there was something in her eyes when she looked at him that told him it wasn't wholly with Valentine. From the night they'd sparred, she'd been different around him, more conscious of his feelings for her, and seemingly more aware of her own feelings too.
She gave him a look that begged him to come to her. He silently refused and remained leaning against the door. Whatever it was she had to say, it was bad enough that she wanted to break it to him when he was close to her. Either that, or she was worried there would be people on the other side of the door listening. There wasn't. He could sense everything around him. The hallway on the other side was empty. The rooms either side were unoccupied. There was only her signature on his senses.
She felt scared.
"He almost killed me.” She stared at a spot on the carpet, as though she didn't dare see the black expression those words made settle on his face.
His hands balled into fists and he tensed, stopping himself from questioning her and giving her time to gather herself. The idea that the vampire hunter had nearly taken her away from him made him want to go back down the hall and tear the hunter's head off, but he kept still, studying her face. There was something more to the hunter's presence in the mansion, something Prophecy wasn't telling him. He had to know something, or have given her reason to trust him, or she would have killed him herself. He'd seen her fight. She could easily kill this man.
"Venturi ... what I'm about to say goes no further than this room, understood?"
She spoke the words so quickly that he was still trying to catch up when she stood and walked across the room to him. She pressed her hands against his chest to steady herself and leaned in close to him. Her breath was cool against his neck, making the skin it washed over dance with tingling waves. He closed his eyes when her cheek hovered close to his and resisted the temptation to lean into her, causing them to touch.
"He's my father,” she said the words so quietly, as quietly as she'd thanked him earlier in her room, and then stepped away from him.
Her eyes were wide and full of worry. He could sense how on edge she was. She looked petrified. What was making her so scared? Was it Valentine, the knowledge that the vampire hunter was her father, or did she expect him to react badly to what she'd told him? Did she fear what he was going to say?
What could he say?
If the vampire hunter was her father, it was reason enough for her to trust him, especially if she thought that he could help her save Valentine.
"Prophecy—” He stopped himself and ran a hand around the back of his neck. She was looking at him with eyes full of hope now. He had to say something to reassure her that she had made the right decision in bringing the hunter here, even when he thought she hadn't. She needed someone on her side, and it was down to him to be that man. “He is really your father?"
She nodded and then paced across the room, her fingers flexing while she did so. “I know it all sounds so strange. My whole life is strange. He didn't even know that my mother was pregnant when she was turned, or that she died to give me her power when I was born."
He had to admit that her life was strange when she boiled it down into a handful of sentences like that. When he added the prophecy she was at the centre of, it became even more bizarre.
Walking across to the bed, he sat down on the end of it. His eyes followed her progress as she paced back and forth, her gaze sometimes fixed on the floor and sometimes on him.
"So your mother was a witch and your father is a vampire hunter.” He scratched his neck. It was no wonder she was so confused. “You did the right thing in bringing him here if you thought there was a chance that he could help, but keeping him here now will only lead to trouble."
She stopped and looked at him, her face a mask of blankness. Clearly, she hadn't considered that keeping the vampire hunter in the mansion would be a problem. With so many different bloodlines under one roof, things were tense enough already. They didn't need a vampire hunter added to the mix. He would be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
"I can't make him leave. He showed me how to open the book. He knows things about my mother.” She started towards him and then stopped again. Her hand came up to her mouth, her knuckles pressing against her lip and her brows meeting in a heavy, thoughtful frown. He could see that she had realised he was right. Keeping the vampire hunter here was a recipe for disaster. “I only need him here a little longer. He might be able to help yet. He knows things about magic and my mother's book."
Venturi held her gaze. He wasn't going to push her into a decision. If she chose to keep the hunter around for another day or two, he would see to it that she was safe and the houses remained in order. He wouldn't let them hurt her. He wouldn't protect her father though. No mortal, not even the parent of the woman he loved, deserved his protection.
"You are bleeding,” she said and pointed to his neck.
He frowned and then brought his fingers away from his throat. She was right. There was blood coating the pads of his fingers. It had seeped under his nails, rimming them with red.
"I sparred with Piotr, my head guard. He can be ... overenthusiastic ... when it comes to fighting. He swiped at me and caught me with his claws.” He rubbed his bloodied fingers with the pad of his thumb. “I repaid him of course."
He looked up and found she was standing right next to him. He hadn't heard her move. He'd been so lost in remembering the fight. She ran her fingers over the long gashes on his
throat and he stared up at her face, watching her dark eyes. He swallowed down the fire the delicate sweep of her fingers ignited in him.
"I can heal those,” she said distantly, her attention wholly with his neck.
He caught her hand and stopped her. “They will heal."
She looked a little offended so he smiled. He could still remember how painful it had been when she'd healed the knife wound he'd picked up in Oxford. It was something he could live without when it wasn't a serious injury. A scratch across the throat was hardly going to slow him down, not like a deep cut in his side had.
His eyes crept across to her wrist where he was still holding it. It was level with his mouth and temptingly close. He grazed his thumb across the veins he could see and she pulled her hand free of his grasp.
She rubbed it while staring at him.
"They're bleeding all down your shirt.” Her tone was matter of fact. There was an air of childish annoyance about it, as though any moment now she was going to pout because he hadn't let her use her magic.
He tilted his head to one side and raised his chin, exposing his neck to her. Her gaze moved to it and he smiled inside when her eyes flickered green, betraying the fact that she'd smelt his blood and wanted it.
"So heal them,” he whispered, enticing her into it.
She went to raise her hand but he caught hold of it again, stopping her. Her expression changed to one of uncertainty but she continued to move towards him, edging ever closer to his neck. Her knees knocked against his and he parted his legs, allowing her room to get nearer to him. She stepped in between them, her body tantalisingly close to his, so close that he could feel her in every inch of him. Anticipation engulfed him as his body silently screamed out for her touch. He told himself that any moment now she was either going to punch him for trying to muddle her feelings, or she was going to walk out of the room.
She did neither.
His jaw tensed when her tongue ran over the scratches on his throat. Desire washed over him and his grip on her wrist tightened. Her other hand came to rest against his shoulder, her fingertips digging in. She slowly licked each scratch, sealing them. He hissed through his teeth and then breathed hard against her neck, staring at it as she lapped up the blood that had crept down to his collarbone. Her soft touch teased and tortured his senses, giving him so much but so little at the same time, and her quiet moans were the only sound in an otherwise silent world. Desperation grew inside him, hunger for her to keep following the trail of blood down to his chest and need for her never to stop. He swallowed again when she stepped backwards. Her hand left his shoulder. She looked at him for a few seconds, her eyes gradually turning from green back to dark brown while at the same time expressing her growing awareness of what she'd done, and then she swallowed hard.
