by L. C. Davis
“You really believe it, don't you?” he asked softly. “The legend.”
“I don't know what I believe,” I admitted. “I'm just hoping that if she was willing to answer my call back then, maybe she'll protect the pack now.”
“You think she'll listen to you?” he asked doubtfully.
“No, not now that I'm a vampire. Maybe she'll listen to Hunter, though. All I can hope is that he's more of a believer than he's letting on.”
Once all five candles were lit, Hunter stood up and surveyed his work. The main entrance looked like a scene out of a cheesy horror movie, but it was impressive nonetheless. “What are the candles for?” I asked.
“It's a pentagram,” he explained. “Simplest way to cast a circle. The north represents the dominance of Spirit which unites us all. The top two points represent air and water respectively and the bottom two represent earth and fire. The orientation is important because the hunters belong to the Kingdom of the Sun, which dominates the material world.”
“So the Spirit is the Moon?” I asked, curious.
“No, Spirit is the unification of Mother Moon and Father Sun,” he said, picking up an ornate black bowl with gold plating around the rim. A sheathed blade rested inside the bowl and I could guess what it was for. The handle was simple and black, but it had the initials HLM carved into the hilt. “At least, that's how the legend goes.”
“These are beautiful,” I said, admiring the bowl and blade. “Are these your ritual tools?”
“The blade is. It's called an athame. The bowl was just sitting on the mantle with some fake fruit in it, but magicians use what we can,” he said. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes,” I said, watching warily as he opened the door.
“Trust me, a couple of inches of pine and a security system aren't keeping any hunters out,” he said, taking a seat on the outer part of the chalk sigil. He motioned for me to do the same so I knelt between two of the candles.
“Alright, from this point on I need complete silence from everyone who's watching regardless of what happens,” he said, looking pointedly between the other three. “Our safety and my life depends on it.”
His request was met with reverent silence, even though I knew that he and I were the only ones in the room who believed in any of it. Even then, we weren't the devout followers we should have been to pull off such a serious ritual. I briefly wondered why Foster wasn't there, and it dawned on me that he might well view what we were about to do as blasphemy.
“The ritual has begun,” Hunter announced after a long period of silence. His fingers splayed to cradle the black leather book and he took on a new demeanor as his eyes tore apart the words on the page. “Spirits of old bear witness as we, the children of night, call upon Thee, Almighty Mother, Great Lady of the Heavens. The abomination pursues your children relentlessly and we seek only shelter from his scourge. Hear our cry this full moon night and accept the humble sacrifice of your child.”
I couldn't help but glance at Victor. To my surprise, he was hiding his incredulity well. I resumed focus on the ritual as Hunter unsheathed the gleaming silver blade. It had what I recognized as runes etched into the side, but I couldn't make out any words. He held his hand out and I offered my palm.
“No,” he said. “The Left. There's an old superstition that there's an artery on that side that leads straight to the heart.”
I gave him my left palm instead and didn't even wince when he sliced it open. All Victor's knifeplay still hadn't desensitized me. Then again, maybe that was the point of it.
My blood poured into the bottom of the makeshift chalice. Unlike usual, the wound didn't heal immediately. I remembered the legend about vampires never healing fully from wounds made by werewolves on the full moon. Hunter offered me a black scarf and I gratefully wrapped it around my palm.
He wiped the blade clean on another cloth before slicing his own left palm. As his blood filled the bowl and mixed with mine, a gust of wind blew through the doorway, upsetting the curtains and eliciting a muttered, “Shit” from Clarence. Hunter shot him a look, but I was too focused on the fact that the wind had cleared a space for the full moon in a sky that had been overcast moments ago to care about the interruption.
“She hears us,” Hunter whispered, as if in awe of the fact that his own ritual was working. My heart palpitated, almost as frightened by the prospect of the ritual working as not.
“It's time for the sacrifice,” he said with increasing confidence. “Remus, please lie down within the circle.”
I did as he asked and let him position me until the top of my head rested just underneath the Spirit candle, my arms were outstretched in a perfect line above the air and water candles, and my legs straddled the bottom earth and fire candles. I felt a bit like the Vitruvian man, but I had been in far more compromising positions. The white robe Hunter had given me to wear billowed in the wind and I worried that it would catch on one of the flames. I still didn't know exactly what fire did to vampires, but that wasn't how I wanted to find out.
Hunter knelt over me, holding a plain wooden stake. Time to hope my assessment of his trustworthiness was correct. I felt the tension emanating from Victor behind me, but he kept his word and made no move to stop us.
“Are you sure?” he asked me one last time.
I couldn't speak, so I nodded. Even if the ritual did somehow go wrong, I was more than ready to die if it meant the slightest chance at keeping everyone else in the Lodge alive.
He raised the stake over his head and aimed for my heart. His hands were steady. I knew he wouldn't miss. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in preparation for the horrific pain that came with desiccation. Not that you could ever truly prepare for something like that.
I had come close to making my peace when the sound of footsteps intruded on the eerie silence that had fallen over the room. Had Victor changed his mind? Or Clarence? Even Ulric was a wildcard.
“If I'd known we were having a sleepover, I would've brought my spirit board.” Sebastian's sarcasm cut through the silence, grotesquely out-of-place in the reverent ritual scene.
My eyes flew open, but I didn't dare to sit up for fear of breaking Hunter's concentration even more. As usual, I was at once furious and relieved to see Sebastian, but mystified above all else. A man was draped over his shoulder, very clearly unconscious.
“What the hell are you doing here, Sebastian?” Victor snarled, stalking towards him. “We're in the middle of a ritual, you could have killed them.”
Sebastian glanced at me and then at Hunter, who was still clutching the stake as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. “From the looks of it, I just stopped the killing. You seriously let him go through with this bullshit idea?”
He was looking at Ulric and Victor with equal disgust.
“Sebastian?” Hunter scowled. “Figures. Aren't you supposed to be about three extra-large fur coats by now?”
He smirked. “You must be the pipsqueak wannabe hunter who's always screwing up my missions.”
“If by screwing up you mean outperforming you, then yes,” he said dryly. “That would be me. Mind explaining how you knew about the ritual?”
“He told me,” said Sebastian, glancing my way.
I sat up slowly since Hunter didn't seem possessed or any worse for the wear. Yet. “I haven't seen you in weeks, Sebastian.”
“No?” He gave me a knowing smirk. “Maybe it came to me in a dream, then.”
Blood rushed to my face when I realized that it hadn't been just a dream after all. “You can't be here. Hunter needs focus.”
“He'll be fine. We're in the liminality phase of the ritual, right?” he asked, looking at Hunter. “Things have started changing too much to stop, but nothing is completely irreversible, not yet. Right?”
Hunter stared at him in shock. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Aren't you supposed to be the dumb jock?”
He laughed. “Glad to hear my reputation precedes me. Anyway, sorry for getting h
ere so late but I did bring presents.” He turned his attention back to me and slid the man he was holding off his shoulders.
“Who is that?” I asked warily. He definitely wasn't a werewolf or a hunter. His blood held no special scent, but he didn't inspire the same ravenous hunger in me that a human did. That left only one species he could be as far as I knew.
“Don't get me wrong, kiddo. You make a pretty little sacrificial lamb all dolled up like that,” he said, casting an appreciative glance over me. “But I've brought a far more deserving sacrifice,” he said, rolling the unconscious man over so I could see his face.
My heart bottomed out when I realized who it was. That face was unmistakable. I had spent long enough looking into his eyes while he used and tormented me. It was the vampire I had pardoned in Austin and the one Sebastian had released.
Apparently Victor recognized him, too, because he was by my side in an instant. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I thought you'd be happy, brother,” Sebastian growled. “We both know I never would have let this son of a bitch go if I'd known who he was at the time. Then again, you didn't exactly jump at the chance to tell me.”
“I was respecting his wishes,” Victor said, ignoring the implication.
“Yeah,” said Sebastian, glancing around the ritual stage. “You take that a little too far, if you ask me.”
“Fortunately you're not his mate any longer, so no, I won't ask you,” Victor said, taking an aggressive step forward.
“We'll see.” They were toe-to-toe and clearly ready to go fist-to-fist.
“Stop it,” I said, getting between them once again. “We don't have time for this.”
“He's right,” said Ulric, frowning. “Who is the vampire, Sebastian?”
I turned to Sebastian and shook my head, giving him a pleading look. He scowled and set his jaw, but ultimately kept my confidentiality. “Just some rapist scum I found on the way home. Not exactly a rare commodity,” he said pointedly.
“If that's the case, then we should use him instead,” Ulric said. He clearly didn't buy Sebastian's flimsy lie, but he chose not to press the issue for some reason. “Unless you have any objections, Remus?”
I hesitated. How could I possibly object when Sebastian had offered up the perfect scapegoat? His words from the dream echoed in my mind. “You just don't think any crime is worth punishing as long as you're the victim.”
“No,” I said reluctantly.
“Good. It's settled then,” said Sebastian, pulling me up and replacing me with the vampire who was all but a corpse.
“Hey, do you mind?” Hunter snapped.
“What? A vampire who deserves to be sacrificed is the better option, right?”
He hesitated. “I guess so. Whatever, just set him down and let me get on with this. We're losing time we don't have.”
Sebastian held his hands up, stepping back to wait beside Victor. “Work your magic, witch boy.”
I rolled my eyes at the bad pun and watched Hunter as he tried to regain his focus. “Just stand there and shut up,” I whispered to Sebastian.
“What, am I going to anger the spirits?” he asked, feigning concern as he looked around.
I elbowed him in the ribs. “This takes a lot of focus. Even the slightest distraction could seriously hurt him, or worse.”
“Oops.” He motioned like he was zipping his mouth and throwing away the key. I gave him a warning glare, but he made no further noise, so I stepped closer to Victor and settled for keeping an eye on him. Clarence was doing the same, only his eye was less watchful and more murderous.
Victor's arm slipped around my waist, and I couldn't help but feel it was more than just a loving gesture. Hunter seemed to have collected himself again and Clarence looked ready to spring if Sebastian made another wrong move.
Our ritual master raised the stake above the vampire's heart, wasting no more time. At least he was unconscious. “Please accept this child of night as I return him to your embrace, Great Lady,” he said with conviction. As he drove the stake downward I buried my face in Victor's chest and shut my eyes tightly. His arms wrapped around me and his fingers stroked my hair consolingly right as the familiar wet crunch of wood piercing through muscle, bone and flesh filled the room.
Hunter's cry of pain drew my attention and I looked up in time to see the wind surge violently into the Lodge, blowing out all five flames at once and sending a gust of leaves and other debris from outside into the room. Before any of us could get our bearings, the front door slammed shut with a violent clamor and more force than even Sebastian could muster.
Clarence was on his feet before anyone else made a move and he dropped to his knees beside a writhing Hunter who was clutching his chest. “Hunter!” he cried, taking the younger wolf into his arms. Hunter's hair was matted with sweat and his teeth were gritted in an ill-fated attempt to muffle his own screams. “Hey, what's wrong? Tell me what to do.” Clarence shook him gently and our eyes met for a moment. The look on his face was one of pure terror. I gave him a helpless shake of my head and turned to the others. “Get Clara! Now!”
Victor was the first to take off. Even Sebastian watched helplessly and with a hint of guilt. “Is he having a heart attack?”
“I don't know,” I said, looking back at my friend. All I could do was squeeze his hand as he tried to fight off whatever was assailing him and hope desperately that the cause was something Clara could remedy. “I'm so sorry, Hunter,” I whispered. “I should have been the one.”
“The ritual backfired, didn't it?” Clarence asked in a frantic tone. “I told you all it wasn't going to work!” He sounded more anguished than accusatory as he cradled Hunter in his arms.
“I know, Clarence,” I said softly. “You were right.”
A red spot soaked through Hunter's shirt where he'd been grasping, just over his heart. It began to grow and Clarence noticed, too. “He's bleeding,” I stammered. Had the stake somehow...?
Before I could formulate a coherent theory, Clarence had Hunter's shirt ripped open. Visible through the thick tank top he wore underneath his clothes was a massive blood stain directly over his heart. “When the fuck did this happen?” he snarled.
“Sebastian, go get water,” I said, unwinding the scarf Hunter had given me. He screamed gruffly in his semi-conscious state as I tried to apply pressure to the wound.
“What is it?” Ulric asked, hovering. “What's happened to the boy?”
“He's been stabbed in the heart,” I said in disbelief. “Clarence, get him into the infirmary.”
Clarence rose immediately, carrying Hunter in his arms like he weighed nothing. He placed the boy on an empty cot and by the time Clara came into the room, he'd calmed down considerably. His screams of agony had dulled into painful moaning, but there was no way to tell whether this new state was a true improvement or simply a side effect of blood loss.
“What the hell is going on down here?” Clara yelled, running into the room. She pushed Clarence aside without acknowledgment and immediately felt Hunter's pulse.
“Some bullshit ritual,” said Clarence. “It backfired and he got hurt.”
“What happened?” she demanded, clearly not satisfied with that explanation. She took out a pair of scissors and snipped the strap over his heart, allowing her better access to the wound.
“I have the water,” Sebastian said, appearing at the door holding an armful of water bottles. I helped him set them down, then looked around the room until I spotted a stack of towels folded neatly on the shelf and grabbed one. Ulric and Victor gathered in the room, watching helplessly as Clara tried to clean the wound enough to get a better idea of what she was looking at.
“Will you all get out?” she snapped, taking on the authoritative demeanor I had only ever seen her display when a patient's wellbeing was involved. We all obeyed, even Clarence. He cast one last forlorn glance back at Hunter as he left the room and I followed him.
“Not you, Remus. I could use another set
of hands, but close the door,” she said without looking up. I wasted no time following her command.
“What can I do?”
“Grab me another towel for starters.”
I grabbed another two and handed her one. The other was now solid red, so I tossed it into the nearest waste bin. There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask, but I knew distracting her wouldn't help my friend.
“Holy shit.”
It was the first time I had ever heard Clara use a swear word stronger than fiddlesticks, which didn't set my mind at ease. “What is it?” I asked, trying my best to see without getting in her way.
“It looks like a seal,” she said in disbelief, wiping a fresh pool of blood away to reveal the shape of three interlocking crescents.
“It is,” I whispered.
“I don't understand. This has been carved into his skin with silver, it won't ever heal fully,” she said. “Surely someone must have seen this happen, it would've taken time.”
“We were all watching the entire time,” I said. “There's no way he did this to himself.”
“Then what am I supposed to believe?”
I hesitated. “There are only two possibilities the way I see it. Either the ritual worked in some way, or this is a mark.”
“A mark?” she frowned. “Like when Sebastian stamped you?”
Neither one of us was ever going to live that down. “Yes, and Victor,” I admitted.
Her eyes widened. “Victor marked you?”
“Yes. On two separate occasions, his mark appeared carved in blood on my hand,” I explained. “It wasn't nearly as violent as this, but it's possible that the same thing is happening to Hunter.”
“Hunter doesn't have a mate,” she said, cutting down the center of his tank top with a pair of scissors. “Whose seal would it be?”
“Clarence's,” I whispered, turning away while she removed his blood-soaked clothes. “He thinks Hunter is his mate. Hunter seems to disagree. I wouldn't have said anything, but it might help.”
