by E. M. Knight
“Riyu!” Dagan yells at me. “Riyu, stop fighting!”
I’m completely lost in the madness of the moment. The demon crashes into the bars, trying to break free. I satiate in the destruction it’s trying to unleash. I feel it feed into me, and I fight and fight to get away from Dagan with just as much vigor as the demon is fighting to break out.
Somehow, I manage to slip out of his grip. I stagger up, nearly tripping over my feet, and bolt for the cage.
I need to free the beast.
I’m inches away when Dagan tackles me again. The creature roars in an absolute rage. Its wings beat against the bars, shaking the entire contraption. It opens its jaw, aims its head at us, and spits out a stream of poisonous, corrosive, foul-smelling venom.
Dagan curses, spinning and throwing me aside so I don’t get hit. He tries to roll out of the way himself, but he’s too slow.
The venom sprays against his back. A scream of the utmost agony is ripped from his throat. The scent of burnt flesh explodes immediately in the air.
I’m gasping on the ground, still reeling from what happened to me. Dagan continues to scream and scream, writhing on the floor, clawing at his back, clawing to get his shirt off.
With a start, I jolt back to myself, realize what’s happened, understand what’s been done. Enormous guilt washes over me.
Without thinking, I grab Dagan by the shoulders and haul him up. It takes almost more strength than I have, with him consumed by pain, but I manage to drive both of us back, out the room and into the secret hallway.
Again, that ripple passes over me as we cross the threshold. I look into the room and see it perfectly empty.
Dagan drops to the floor. He spasms in pain. The wound isn’t healing. The venom went right through his clothes. His screams continue, and as he rolls back and forth, I catch glimpses of the horrible, black corruption spread on his skin.
I kneel at his side. I pin him by the shoulders.
“Hold still,” I tell him. “I have to see how bad it is!”
I use a knife to quickly strip away the layers of clothes covering his upper body.
“Don’t move,” I tell him. “I have to see how much damage was done.”
I flip him over. His back looks horrid. The skin is warped and melted. Worse of all, it’s not healing.
There’s no way for me to ignore the overwhelming guilt I have that I caused this.
I remember that little vial of blood Dagan always carried on him. I dig through the pockets of his discarded coat, find it, pop it open, and shove it to his mouth.
“Drink!” I command.
His eyes widen in alarm. I dump the precious blood of The Ancient past his lips.
He coughs, turns sideways, and immediately spits it out.
“Idiot!” he curses. “That’s fish blood!”
I look at him without comprehension. And then I notice the other, less overpowering stink coming from the open vial.
I bring it to my face, sniff once, and immediately hurl it away. My gut churns.
“You carry fish blood? You said—”
Another scream is ripped out of him, and the rest of my sentence is lost.
I shake my head, then, not knowing what else to do, I bite two holes into my wrist and put it to his mouth.
“Now drink,” I say.
He clings onto my arm and sucks on my blood. He’s greedy—hungry. He takes so much I feel myself getting lightheaded.
I fight through the dizziness that comes from losing such a large amount of blood so fast. My body will recover. It will recuperate. I can stand this, as long as it means helping Dagan.
But for whatever reason, the scars on his back do not heal.
He drops back. I see outright fear on his face.
“It’s not working,” he says hoarsely.
I curse and open myself up to the Elements.
“Don’t move,” I tell him. “I’m going to probe you with magic.”
“Probe?” he protests, but by then it’s too late.
I feed a current of Air and Water into his body, using it to see what I can find.
Right away I sense resistance. Not from Dagan—I’m too far removed from the physical world for that. But from within the ethereal substance that sustains us, that sustains vampires.
It’s fighting, it’s countering me, but why it’s doing so, I cannot say. Obviously, it has something to do with the corruption caused by the demon’s venom.
Yet I cannot identify it, cannot single it out.
“Magic was never meant for healing,” I mutter, frustrated, under my breath. “Now I know why.”
Still, I increase my focus and shoot another probing beam at him.
My weaves combine and then separate, flowing in a totally different path through his body. They go through his veins, through his arteries, through every single capillary contained in his flesh. They twine together with the vampiric essence sustaining him, but they cannot strengthen its fight against the corruption draining his strength.
I curse and redouble my efforts. I open my eyes and I stare at the open wound covering his back.
It cannot be healed. Not by my powers, nor by his.
But I think I can cauterize part of it, seal the corruption away so that it doesn’t reach the other, more vital parts of his body.
“Hold on,” I tell him. “You’re not going to like how this feels.”
And with no further warning, I force the biggest weave of Fire into the rest of my spell and use it to ward off the poisoned part of Dagan’s flesh.
He opens his jaw and screams. He screams louder than any scream I have ever heard before. Louder than I would have thought possible.
The final bit of the spell snaps into place. I let go of the weaves and fall back, exhausted.
Both of us lie there, gasping for breath. My mind is fried. Casting that spell took all the mental strength I had left.
Dagan recovers first. He pushes himself up to hands and knees with a heavy groan. He takes a series of deep breaths, then sits on his haunches.
“What,” he says slowly, “the hell was that?”
Immediately, my guilt flourishes, but it’s tempered by the absolute relief I feel for his safety.
“Dagan, I’m sorry,” I say in a very mute tone. “I must be… must be susceptible to creatures like the demon. It spoke to me. I think it tried to take over my mind.”
I shudder. “Nothing like that has ever happened before.”
Dagan says nothing. He eyes me with suspicion.
“It has to do with magic,” I say. “The same way my mind is open to the Elemental Forces, it must be open to corruption by creatures from the other realm.”
“Are you blaming all you did on the demon?” he asks, the question loaded.
I quickly swallow. “I… I still… I had a semblance of control. But when it spoke to me, it almost seduced me. Into doing what it wanted.” I shudder. “It wanted me to free it.”
Dagan grunts. “Get up,” he says, pushing onto his feet. “I take responsibility for what happened. I shouldn’t have shown this much to you.”
I wince, then quickly wipe my features clean, hoping he did not notice.
“I should have anticipated something like this,” he continues. “That is my failure as a leader.”
“How could you have known?” I ask. I hate when Dagan blames himself. “You would have had no way to tell.”
“Because I’ve purposefully neglected the study of magic,” he growls. “I should never have been willfully blind to the force used by my enemies. Even worse, I put you at risk. Now, at a time when your talents are so valuable.”
To my utter surprise, he offers his hand. I take it. He hauls me up.
“The King asked me to be ready to execute his command.”
“With Beatrice?” I ask.
“Yes. You know what he wants. After the way I found you, trapped down there by her, we don’t have any choice. She’s dangerous. And so, she must be put down.”
He glances over his shoulder at his ruined back. He flexes his muscles, testing the body. “Now, explain what you did to me.”
“You weren’t healing from the venom,” I say. “I feared it would spread through your body. I used a spell to try to cut if off. But the spell was an abomination. Magic does not heal. I put something together… I don’t know how long it will hold… but I did what I had to do to try to stop what was happening.”
“What was it exactly?” he presses.
“Fire and Air,” I whisper. “Threaded into your blood. I made a sort of shield around your wound. So the poison could not spread.”
“How long will it hold it off?”
I shake my head. “I told you, I have no idea. As I said, magic does—”
“Does not heal,” he finishes for me. “Yes, I know.”
I nod. “Spells don’t work on organic matter the same way they do on inanimate things. In fact, as far as I know, there aren’t any spells that can be used within a body. Not the way I did it just now.”
“So then, what? This was your experiment on me?”
My hackles go up at the dismissive way he phrases it.
“It was my way of saving your life,” I tell him. “If you’re ungrateful, I can easily reverse it. Let’s see how long you last then.”
He raises his powerful hands. “Easy, Riyu,” he says. “I don’t mean to antagonize you.”
I cross my arms and look away, keeping silent. I’m pouting, yes, but I cannot help it. Using the tremendous amount of magic required to rescue Dagan, plus rightfully being at fault for causing him harm in the first place has broken my usual staunch self-control.
“We have to figure out how long the protection will last,” he says.
I look at him, then exhale and drop my hands.
“I don’t know if we can,” I admit. “There’s absolutely zero precedence for this. I tied the weaves off as best I could. It should sustain itself for a while. But eventually, the energy provided by the Elemental Forces will leak out. The only real hope we have is that your body is strong enough to fight off the taint by itself, by then.”
Dagan frowns. “You saw that it was not,” he says softly.
“It was my blood that failed you,” I insist. “If you drank from a stronger vampire, you would be healed. I know it.”
I glance at the broken, discarded vial, but say nothing of it.
Dagan grimaces. “We only have one way of testing that hypothesis. And we have to do it before we go after Beatrice.”
I swallow. “Yes.”
“I have to go to the King and request The Ancient’s blood.”
Chapter Eleven
Eleira
In the Demon Realm
I stand in the midst of the three women as they chant an ancient incantation in a forgotten tongue.
This is not the language I heard spoken when Morgan or others chanted spells.
I’ve been stripped of my makeshift clothes. The gown they gave me was discarded. I’m naked as the day I was born and absolutely vulnerable.
The slow, methodical chant continues. The fire that was burning in the cave has long since gone out.
I feel a pulsing energy in the air. It’s different from the energy that comes from the currents. This one is growing, it’s increasing, and it’s getting stronger and stronger as the chanting continues.
I close my eyes and take a series of deep, cleansing breaths. I empty my mind, just as I was told to do when they began.
But it feels as if they began hours ago.
Still, the chanting grows, and the hidden energies become more palpable. It’s almost like they are calling upon the multitude of forces sustaining this place. Not just magic, but gravity, nuclear, electromagnetic, and all the rest of the forces that give shape to the universe.
Though who knows what universe I’m even in?
Suddenly, a bright light explodes from around the witches. I gasp as something hard and menacing sears into me. My body is trapped, held in place by the invisible force those witches command.
And then a great burning sensation comes over me, as if hot iron rods have descended onto my skin from every conceivable angle.
I want to scream, the pain is so great. But I cannot so much as open my mouth. The vampire senses I am in possession of make the agony all the more acute.
My mind shutters back to when I was on Earth, trapped and tortured by Morgan, and I feel a very immediate pang of fear.
Just as quick as it came, the light turns off. The force around me dissipates.
I fall to my knees, my body sapped of the strength needed to support me. I gasp for air, but there’s none to be had.
Once more, I’m in that vacuum.
Great panic takes me. Before I can do anything, one of the witches grabs my hair and jerks my head up.
“Open your eyes,” she tells me. “Open your eyes and see the world!”
My eyes are open, I want to scream. My lungs keep working, begging for oxygen. I gasp and flounder like a grounded fish.
“Look!” the witch commands. “Look with the vision we’ve granted you!”
And then I look at her… past her… past her, to the very distant wall…
And see the minuscule, glowing tendrils of light all around the cavern.
“She sees,” the witch tells the others.
My head is released, and I realize I no longer feel like I’m drowning.
I look down at my body. Red, glowing runes cover every inch of my skin.
“You’ve been marked,” they tell me. “Your being is now forever linked to this place.”
I blink, somewhat dazed, and slowly push myself up.
Those thin tendrils pull toward me, and I realize they are feeding into the glowing runes.
“A part of you will forever remain here,” they continue. “And that will give you unprecedented power back on Earth. You will be able to draw upon the Elemental Forces that are swirling through both this world and yours.”
The tendrils being to fade, and the glowing web slowly starts to disappear.
They see the fascination clear on my face and say, “Your body’s adapting. Look at your skin. The vampire part of you is healing the brands.”
I look at my arms. The intricate symbols are fading. I bring a hand up and watch them disappear from my palm.
I touch the spot where the runes had been. My skin feels completely smooth, silky and soft.
The rest fade from view. Once they’re gone, I no longer see the glowing strands in the air.
“When your powers on Earth are blocked,” they tell me, “you will still be able to draw on the Forces here.”
“You’ve given me an incredible gift,” I whisper.
“We will open a portal back for you,” they say. “We dare not travel that way, for if we return to our bodies on your planet, the built-up years will disintegrate them to nothing. They will no longer be preserved. They will turn to ash, and our time will end.”
“But not if I make you vampires first,” I say.
They nod.
“I will find you there. I will grant you the Dark Gift. Then you can come home.”
“And we will forever be loyal to you.” To my surprise, the witches all bow. “We owe you everything if you succeed.”
“I will,” I promise them. I make a fist. “You gave me what I need to destroy Morgan.”
Alarm ripples through the air. “No,” they protest. “Do not destroy. We can learn so much from her. You must subdue her, but you must not kill.”
I hesitate. After all the Queen has done, and all that she revealed herself to be…?
“If you refuse, we will not show you the way back,” they say. “You must do this for us, Eleira.”
I grit my teeth… and nod. “Fine,” I say. “I will try.”
“Try is not good enough. You have all the tools to defeat her. You return to Earth much stronger than you imagine. Do not let anger make a fool of you.”
They stop s
peaking in unison, and the one who grabbed my head before steps closer. “You must not destroy the knowledge she has,” she whispers. “To do so would be an incommensurable crime. We came here seeking wisdom. Together, the three of us, and you, and the vampire Queen, can do incredible things on Earth.”
I force out a breath. “Yes, yes, fine,” I say. “Morgan will be subdued. Nothing more.”
“Excellent,” they tell me. “As it’s said, so shall it be done.”
Another flare of light, one more seal over me.
“That makes your word unbreakable,” they say. “A vow given and sealed can never be disavowed or disobeyed.”
“I’d better be as strong as you say I will be,” I grumble.
Ignoring the remark, they take me by the shoulders and spin me around to face the exit.
“Walk back the way you came,” they tell me. “We will open a portal for you when you are a safe distance away from us. It will take you all the way home.”
I square my shoulders. I take one more look at my body. The markings are not visible, but I think I can feel them under my skin.
“I’m ready,” I say.
Chapter Twelve
James
The pack’s secret lair
The gathered vampires all jump to their feet when Victoria and I emerge.
Liana looks most anxious. She was sitting near April, but I’d have a hard time believing the girls said more than two words to each other.
“Bring me to Smithson,” I tell the vampires of the pack.
One of them steps forward and says he’d be honored. I look at Victoria, who gives a minuscule nod.
“Then lead the way,” I say. “The rest of you, stay here.”
I leave them and follow the lone vampire to a room not all that far away.
He opens the door. Smithson is standing there, examining himself in a tiny wall mirror.
“Isn’t it curious, James,” he begins, “how the legends have it so wrong? Vampires have no reflections. Ha! All creatures of this Earth can see their double in polished glass.”
I motion for the other vampire to leave. He backs out and closes the door, locking me in with Smithson.
