Savage Magic

by Ciara Graves

  With Owen gripping my arm to stop me from falling over, we left the room behind. The going was slow. My wounds were worse than I’d thought. I should’ve healed by now, but with as much dark magic Seneca attacked me with, I figured it would take longer. Owen guided me through a stretch of corridor I remembered all too well. The air was certainly lighter, and we passed several mages busy at work casting cleansing rituals in other rooms and in the center of the hallways. The dark tapestries and paintings that used to hang in these corridors were all gone. Hopefully burned.

  “What of the mages,” I asked Owen as we walked, “are they going to rebuild the seven houses?”

  “There’s been some talk of it.”

  “And the demons?”

  He stilled but only for a second. “We’re working with the fae to negotiate land in Otherworld, but many might end up staying here.”

  “I see nothing wrong with that plan. And Rudarius’s forces?”

  He growled louder, catching the attention of the mages we passed. “Those who surrendered are awaiting their fate in the dungeons below. The rest scattered and we had to let them go. We were in no condition to go after them.”

  “Pity.”

  “I agree, but our forces took a heavy hit. Many died, many good men and women. It’ll take years to recover from this battle, from the war.”

  That was a vast understatement, but I fell silent. The aftermath of Rudarius’s conflict was not going to be easy to fix. There were the dead to deal with, the prisoners to transport, lands to reclaim in Otherworld. I asked him if the veil was functioning properly after Rudarius messing around with creating cracks between realms. He gave me a quick nod in reply. At least now we could go back and forth between Otherworld and this world without worrying there was permanent damage to the magic that allowed us to do so.

  We turned down a corridor that led to several large chambers and Owen came to a stop.

  “She’s in the room at the very end,” he whispered. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I took a couple of steps forward, but Owen didn’t follow. “You’re not coming?”

  “Once was enough. I can’t see her again, not like that.”

  I didn’t judge him, not after he paled and looked blankly at the far wall as if he was trying to stop seeing whatever image of Seneca was in his head. I continued on my own, the going slow, and used the wall to hold myself up. When I neared the door, the air became thick with magic. Macron’s voice came from the room as did two others I didn’t recognize. A man and a woman. I opened the door enough to peer inside, and the sight had me falling to my knees in the doorway.

  Seneca’s body arched off the bed, her arms and legs tied down. Her head thrashed back and forth as the three mages surrounded her, chanting. The bed had been placed in the center of a rune that glowed on the stone floor. An ethereal version of Seneca’s body hovered over her physical one, but it looked as though some beast had dragged its claws through her from chest to hip. Bits were missing, and when she thrashed again, I clutched at the door hard enough to crack it then blurred toward her.

  Only the rune stopped me, and I was blasted back to the door.

  “Draven, what are you doing?” Macron was immediately at my side, hoisting me up.

  “Let me go to her,” I demanded, fighting against him, but I was too damned weak to be of use even against an old man. “Let me be with her, please.”

  “You can’t, not right now. We’re mending her soul or trying to.”

  “And if you can’t?” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “If you can’t save her soul, what then, huh? What’ll happen?” He sighed and looked away from me until I shouted in his face, “Tell me, Macron. What will happen?”

  “She might never wake,” he replied sadly. “We are going to do everything we can.”

  “This is my fault.” My legs gave out again.

  He managed to get me out of the room and closed the door, cutting off my sight of Seneca. I looked away from him and leaned against the wall, muttering those words repeatedly. I bashed my head into the stone wall.

  Suddenly Owen was there, crouching in front of me. “Knock it off, you idiot,” he snapped. “She needs you to be strong for her. Can you do that or not?”

  “It’s my fault,” I whispered again. “I cut off the power. I destroyed her rings. I did this.”

  “I told you, that isn’t from you,” Owen said softer. “She’d been tearing herself apart ever since Rudarius came back into her life. This is not your fault. Stop blaming yourself and be the vampire she needs you to be.”

  “How can I when she’s suffering like this, and all I can do is watch?”

  “You can do much more than that.” Macron took firm hold of my shoulders and looked intently into my eyes. “She can sense you as you sense her. Your connection is strong. Use it. The more positive feelings you can have, the more you focus on the love you share, the good memories in your mind, they’ll reach her. It might be the only thing that does bring her back to us.”

  “Positive vibes, is that what you’re telling me?” I snarled. “She’s lying in there with her soul torn to shreds, and that’s all you can tell me to do? What the hell is wrong with you?” I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “How can I do that? How?” I went on, shaking my head.

  “You have to find a way, for her.”

  I hung my head and shut my eyes. Now I knew why Owen hadn’t wanted to see her again. It was all I saw now, but I chased that image away, only for it to be replaced with the sight of Seneca after we fought, and when I cut off her hand. That one was chased off by the one of her holding Rudarius’s head as she talked about taking over the world. Picking up where he left off. None of those memories were what I wanted. I knocked my head against the wall again, digging deeper and further back, past our fighting during the days leading up to the battle.

  I stretched as far back as I could, until there was just Seneca and me, sitting on the bench beneath the oak tree. She had the plaid blanket wrapped around her to keep her warm. She rested against my chest as we watched the stars. I clung to that moment when my arms had held her safe, and I kissed her hair. We’d talked quietly about life after the war. About taking a vacation to the beach as she wanted. We just talked and held each other close.

  “That’s it,” Macron’s voice reached me through the fog of memories. “Hold onto that moment right there and don’t let go.”

  I opened my eyes. “For how long?”

  “For as long as you can, every day and every hour you’re awake. But you cannot stay here. It will only get worse before it gets better. When she is well, I will find you.” He squeezed my shoulder then returned to the chamber, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “Let’s get you back to your room,” Owen suggested as he took firm hold of my hand.

  “No, I can’t go back there and just lay around. Not while she’s suffering. I have to do something. Help with something. Where are Shane and Marlie? Or Nathaniel?”

  “On the main level seeing to the wounded. Doing what they can to make this place livable.”

  “Take me to them.”

  He hesitated but gave in. The march downstairs was much harder. Stairs were not my friend, but I managed not to fall down them, mostly thanks to Owen. There were more vampires and fae walking around on the main floor, demons, too. I spotted a few of my guard who’d survived.

  Wendall waved to me, but he was busy cleaning up rubble that had fallen into one of the corridors, so I let him be. I didn’t need Owen to guide me to the front entrance. I already knew where it was from memory.

  “What’s with all the yelling?” I asked as we neared.

  It sounded like Minnie, Marlie, and Shane were yelling at someone. When we entered the main foyer, the three of them were staring down a group of men in suits—Feds from the look of them. Minnie was holding her own. I was surprised to see her back here after she left with the rest of the evacuees from Madwich. The man in front, I r
ecognized him as the agent Seneca spoke of several times, the same one who came by the cottage when she tried to warn him Rudarius was going to attack.

  “Agent Williams,” I said loudly and walked toward him. “What brings you here?”

  “It would appear everyone here is in violation of a hundred laws, probably more,” he snapped. “And where did this fortress come from? What is going on here? There are piles of dead bodies out in the fields, Madwich has been emptied, and you all stand here, acting like it’s no big deal.”

  “You know, if you’d been here a week ago, you would’ve been able to help us defeat Rudarius.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Defeat? The bastard’s dead?”

  “Yes, he’s dead, and his army is defeated. There are prisoners in the dungeons. Ones who surrendered. From his army. An army that would have destroyed this town if we hadn’t acted,” I pointed out.

  “This isn’t Otherworld,” he uttered through gritted teeth. “I can’t condone fighting battles here. There are human lives to think of. Innocents.”

  “And because of us, they’re all safe. Take the win, take the prisoners, and get the hell off our land.”

  “Your land?”

  “Yes, our land. You and I both know who this land belongs to and you are trespassing.”

  He grunted, annoyed. “Be that as it may, you cannot form an army, no matter whose land it is.”

  “The army is disbanded,” I said simply. “Those here are working to rebuild this fortress, which will become the new home for the Bleeding Crown Coven. As such, everyone here is my guest. No army. Just guests. They can stay as long as they wish.”

  “Where’s Seneca? I’ve been demanding to speak with her,” Agent Williams demanded.

  “She is unavailable now. Come back in a week or so, and I’m sure she’d love to have a chat with you.” My chest ached, willing my words to be true and she would be better in a week or so. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

  One of the men behind Agent Williams whispered in his ear. He nodded slowly and stepped forward. “Fine, but I expect you to hand over all the prisoners to be held accountable for their war crimes against Otherworld, Valesk, and the human realm.”

  “They’re all yours. Shane? Can you see to it?”

  “Yes.” He began leading the way to the dungeons, telling Agent Williams he was going to need more men than what he had if he wanted to take all the prisoners.

  “How many are down there?” I asked Owen.

  “The cells are full.”

  I hadn’t expected it to be that many. Minnie and Marlie came toward me.

  “You’ve seen her,” Minnie said. “I sense a heaviness weighing you down.”

  “She’ll make it,” I insisted. “She has to. I won’t let her die.”

  She patted my cheek. I hoped she would say she saw a bright future for Seneca, saw her waking up and rejoining us, but then she walked away, saying she had wounded to tend to. Marlie shook my hand firmly.

  “You need a distraction.”

  “That I do. Anything.”

  He told Owen he’d watch over me and the demon left us. “We’re working on repairs. Good hard manual labor.”

  “That’ll do just fine.”

  I didn’t expect him to take me to the throne room though.

  I stopped short at the door.

  The curtains had been closed over the windows blocking out the sun, but I wasn’t sure I could enter that room.

  Marlie called my name.

  I held up my hand, asking for a minute. I shut my eyes and held in my mind the image of Seneca and me on that bench. I waited until I could physically feel her near me, smell her hair, hear her breathing, and the steady pounding of her heart. Once I had it firmly in mind, I opened my eyes and entered the room. Ash and his brothers and several more fae were there, clearing out the crumbled stones and tearing down the old tapestries.

  “You alright?” Marlie asked me again.

  “I’m fine. Just… this is where it happened. But I’m fine.”

  We set to work, and anytime the guilt or fear crept in again, I focused on that moment in time when it was just Seneca and me when nothing else mattered.

  Five more days passed, and I threw myself into the work of restoring Rudarius’s fortress, making it my own. Nathaniel sent a messenger to the rest of the Bleeding Crown Coven with an update. Rudarius was dead, and they needed to know. The mages continued cleansing the place, though it was slow-going, especially when they reached the dungeons and the room where the cracked totem resided. Several couldn’t stand to be there longer than a few minutes.

  Those who had been connected to the totem couldn’t enter them at all.

  Agent Williams removed the prisoners over a three-day period, since there were so many. But they were off our hands and that’s all that mattered to me. Once the dead were seen to, spirits finally began to lift and most nights found the halls of Rudarius’s once frightening stronghold filled with laughter and music, drinking, and boisterous chatter. His evil was finally going to be put behind us.

  I sat on a bench at one of the many long tables in the hall, looking into my empty goblet. There was only one person I wanted to see, but she hadn’t awakened yet. Macron came to me the day before to say they’d done all they could and now it was up to her.

  Too anxious to sit still, and not in the mood for all the cheerfulness surrounding me, I exited the hall and hurried through the fortress. When I reached the door leading to Seneca’s room, I sat down on the cold stone outside the door, and waited. Macron was in there. I wasn’t allowed inside, not yet, but I was going to sit outside her door until she woke up.

  I shut my eyes and ran through every memory of Seneca, starting with the night she staked me. I smiled softly at that one, then let my mind continue to wander.

  Our time in Otherworld rushed to the forefront. The first time we kissed, when I held her in my arms and realized she was so much more to me than just some half-vampire, half-fae hybrid. Watching her fierceness as she fought. Hearing her laughter when we had moments to not think about death hovering over our shoulders.

  Each night when we slept beside one another, keeping her nightmares at bay. I never told her she did the same for me. How her mere presence was enough to ease my tortured mind and soul. My hands curled into fists on the stones. How could I go on without her? Rudarius was dead, and all I wanted to do was see her back in my arms.

  If she couldn’t be here with me, if she was lost, then I’d be lost right along with her.

  A door opened, and I jerked upright. I must’ve fallen asleep at some point. My skin prickled, telling me the sun was up by now.

  “Draven,” Macron whispered from the open doorway, a smile on his face. “Come on inside.”

  “Is she awake?” I asked, hurrying to get to my feet.

  “She was, but only for a couple of minutes. When she wakes again, I’m sure it’s your face she’d like to see instead of mine.” He motioned to a chair by her bedside.

  Seneca rested on the bed wearing one of her oversized sweaters and black yoga pants. Her left hand was by her side. Her right arm, bandaged and missing a hand, laid across her body. She wasn’t bound anymore, and the rune on the floor had been washed away. She simply looked like she was sleeping. Her wounds were visible but better than when I saw her last.

  “And her soul?”

  “It still needs to heal, but I believe she’s going to be fine.” His smile faltered though, and I waited for the bad news. “I didn’t get a chance to tell her, but there is no magic left within her. She is still fae of course, but the power of her people is gone. Cut out.”

  “I did that, didn’t I?”

  He nodded, and I appreciated his honesty. “You had no choice. She will understand. You saved her life, Draven, that is more important.”

  She would never be able to use her fae magic again. Not that there were any rings left to channel it, but there was always a chance. I sat down in the chair and held her go
od hand. Macron said he’d be close by if I needed anything, then was gone. I tried to think of something to say, but there were no words. I looked at her face instead, tracing my fingers down her cheeks then rested my forehead on her arm. Waiting.

  It was all I could do.

  Wait.

  Time passed, but I didn’t pay attention to it. Didn’t move from the chair.

  Eventually, Seneca stirred, and her hand squeezed mine.

  I sat up, watching as she sucked in a deep breath, then her eyes fluttered open. They glanced around, confused until they landed on my face.

  “Hey, old man,” Seneca whispered, her voice rough.

  Tears of relief burned in my eyes as I smoothed her hair from her forehead and kissed her softly. “Hey, yourself.” I wanted to say so much more, but the words became lodged behind a lump in my throat. She reached over to my cheek, trailing her fingers down it, and gently I held that hand. I kissed each fingertip then let my head fall to the bed. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?” The covers rustled, and when I straightened, she was sitting up. “Draven, you’re not the one who failed.”

  “I thought I lost you. I found you, and there was only darkness.”

  She sniffed hard, wiping at her eyes with her one good hand. “And you saved me.”

  “At what cost? You nearly died anyway. You still might not make it.” I choked on the words.

  She took hold of my shirt and tugged, not hard, but enough the message came across. She scooted over in bed, and I climbed up to sit beside her. I kissed the top of her head and held her to my side.

  For a few seconds, she was completely still. Then her shoulders shook, and I held her as she cried, as she broke down in my arms.

  Her recovery was going to be long and hard.

  Macron promised not to lie to me about her condition, and I wasn’t about to lie to her either. Time was what she needed. Time without fighting or violence. Time to let herself heal from the inside out. And I’d be there by her side every single day, from now until eternity.

  After a while, her tears stopped flowing, and she held up her right arm, looking at the missing appendage. “It’s strange. I can still feel it.”