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In the Contagion of Blood

Page 5

by Melle Amade


  “Helene!” I cried.

  And suddenly an energy of violence came through the door and we were attacked by spores of death and decay itself. They crawled on us as I knelt over Helene and saw she was alive. I looked up desperately, trying to figure out how to get her back out of the pit. But then Turin was beside me and he encircled his arms around us, and in one leap he had us out of the darkness.

  Turin rapidly filled the pit with dirt as Helene’s eyes flashed open. She began chanting the same nursery rhyme Turin had recited earlier. The medieval song talking about the rise of Morgan Le Fae. Her eyes were crazed as she reached forward, gripping onto my arm.

  “She’s coming,” she gasped. “She is coming.”

  I could feel the panic in her blood as she gripped onto me. I pulled out my athame and this time I sliced the skin above my breast, which was closer to the heart and would deliver cleaner blood. I held her up as if she were a baby, pressing her face against the blood dripping down my chest. My hand over the back of her head held her to me.

  “Cleansed is your heart. Cleansed are your lungs. Cleansed is your air. Cleansed is your blood.” The essence of my blood moved forward, seeping into her. But I could feel the drag of the tomb’s rot pulling towards it.

  A terrible scream went off in my head and I bowed low over Helene’s. She was like a daughter to me, but this was not her cry. The shriek came from the earth, from deep in the dregs of the tomb were Turin was hastily covering it.

  “Helene, I need you,” I hissed. “I need your magic.”

  She gripped my fingers tightly in her own, her head leaning back as her hands clutched at mine.

  “Take it,” her voice was hoarse as she calls to me.

  It was a dangerous thing to do, but we had to, for the earth was buckling in anger against the pressure Turin was putting on it. Morgan Le Fae was screaming against his efforts to contain her.

  I pulled Helene to her feet. We were both doubled over in pain and had lost a lot of blood, but we had to do this. I slashed the artery in the crook of my arm and in the crook of hers. Dripping blood, we walked in a circle around the heaving pit.

  “Stay out of the circle,” I cried as we completed it.

  Then we walked across the top of it, crisscrossing the blood and binding the dark Fae as we spoke the spell. “To be protected from you, This magic we do, With these words we bind thee, For you to let the world be, Protected from your harm, We seal this charm”

  Our words grew louder until we were shouting over the howling wind and our blood was flying and splattering everywhere across the dirt.

  Helene’s words rose with mine until we were both screaming forcibly at the wind, and we fell forward, arms outstretched and bleeding across the dirt. The ground made one final heave, trying to break the bonds of our blood magic and then it fell, still and silent beneath us.

  #ten

  I wasn’t sure how we got back to the bed-and-breakfast, but when I woke up there was still blood splattered all over me. Helene lay curled up in a ball in the bed next to me. Turin sat in the chair, watching us. Our wounds had healed but I was pretty sure we looked terrible.

  “Have you been there all night?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. And the look of care and concern in his eyes was more than I can take. I rose from the bed, covered in blood and stood as he came to me.

  “If you will have me, I will be here every morning,” he murmured. His gaze poured into my eyes so deeply that I could barely recognize myself in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.

  I had just met this man, this vampire, this was insane, and yet I felt like I wanted nothing more than to bind myself to him.

  “Yes,” I breathed the word out slowly and carefully as he leaned forward to kiss me carefully on my blood-stained lips.

  “I knew you two were doing stuff,” Helene said.

  A nervous giggle escaped from my mouth as I turned to look at her.

  But she didn’t look surprised. “It’s true love,” she said, her eyes bright and excited at the thought that perhaps her aunt had finally met her match.

  “It is for me,” Turin said with no hint of shame or self-consciousness. “We will see what it is for you, Ophelia. While you are not human, you are still much younger than a vampire.”

  I was sure I was blushing twenty shades of red as I pulled my hair back from my face.

  “Was it really Morgan Le Fae?” I asked, deftly changing the subject.

  “Yes,” Turin said. “But she is gone now and you have found the gate. They will not be able to enter here.”

  I glanced at Helene and at the blood on our bodies. We would have to keep the spell renewed if we were truly going to keep Morgan Le Fae from breaking the boundaries of the dark tomb and the bonds we had placed on it. And I also knew we were going to have to report this to the Seelie Court in Rome.

  Without question.

  Nothing was allowed to happen in the Fantom world without them knowing about it.

  “It looks like we might be relocating,” I shrugged to Helene.

  She let out a squeal of delight, but my gaze was on Turin as I fell into the warmth of his embrace.

  #eleven

  I didn’t pay any attention at all in history class. I was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Were the light fae really planning to start a hoarfrost? If they did, it would give them more power than all the fae combined. It would free the red fae from their subordination to

  #twelve

  I tried to find Maura during lunch, but I only caught a glimpse of her walking off with Rhea at a distance. They weren’t headed back to the dorms.

  #thirteen

  Onyx got better in our afternoon training sessions. She put a lot of effort into it and in a matter of two weeks she was almost matching me blow for blow. I’d told her about the Frostberg Council, and we were both researching that and the Friese family, but we don’t find much on the latter

  #fourteen

  My walk back to the apartment was slow and steady as I pondered their final words. What the hell did they want with my heart? And why the hell was it Eyla had to be the one to kill me?

  #fifteen

  The room was dark and damn cold when I opened my eyes. My body throbbed in a million places. And not in a good way. It was like every muscle

  #sixteen

  I had been expecting a stale piece of bread and a cup of dirty water for dinner, but I guess that’s not how they did it here at Crown Academy

  #seventeen

  The world was silent as we waited for the blade to drop.

  #eighteen

  As I stepped off the platform, Onyx hurled herself at me in a mass of flapping wings and whipping black hair. “I don’t know what just happened,” she gasped, “but I think I’m going to have a heart attack

  #nineteen

  Sweat littered [FB1]the floor as my classmates made their way out of our stone dojo. It had been a harder than normal workout for all of us. Something was stressing Laerd Kaan out and he had worked us over because of it

  #twenty

  As we stepped into the cool interior of the main building, my chest tightened. My parents had come to events here when the royal family had been in town. Mae and I had joined them sometimes and now—

  THE END

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  #ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Since I was eight, I have been writing stories that capture the adventures in my head and the characters strong enough and flawed enough to have them. When I look at an empty field, I see a formidable citadel. When I meet a vulnerable old man, I greet an emeritus warrior. When I walk through city streets, I feel dimensions hiding around every turn. It has been my lifelong passion to explore these worlds that reveal the pain of loneliness, the joy or self-actualization, and the hope of magic.

  I grew up in a place called Potter Valley where the Milky Way is held aloft by a circle of mountains and the central business district consists of a bait store and a saloon. At 19 I moved alone to London and spent the next ten years exploring the world, even becoming an Australian citizen, before I returned to California and found a new home in Los Angeles. My world revolves around my children, my family, storytelling, and my love of travel.

  www.melleamade.com

  https://www.facebook.com/MelleAmadeAuthor/

  twitter: @melleamade

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  [FB1]That’s what trash does. Not sweat. Covered ?

 

 

 


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