Sanguine Spell

by Ahava Trivedi

  Ulric’s grief had understandably been hanging heavy and it pained me that he couldn’t even openly mourn for his sister because no one knew she’d just died. With my mom, at least everyone had known of my loss, for better or worse. From one dip into his mind, I knew he’d spent most of the day in his dorm room and I hadn’t gone to him because I also knew he needed his space. Predictably enough, most of the school now thought he was reeling over Valenthia being attacked and the looks and whispers had grown as I’d walked past. My classmates thought I was being played. They assumed there must have been something going on between the two of them that was way more current than they admitted or I realized. It was an annoying but small price to pay for Ulric to be mostly left alone. I knew the façade wouldn’t hold long and our professors would demand he turn up to class tomorrow but I wasn’t thinking ahead.

  I looked around cautiously, making sure that none of my classmates were lingering in the spacious hallway as I made my way towards the wooden doors that led outside into Unterlicht Forest. Our academy was on a temporary lockdown after what had happened to Valenthia and my leaving would definitely raise questions.

  The maddening thing was, even though we weren’t out of blood, I felt pulled to see Moldark. It made me feel like an absolute traitor to Ulric and yet I couldn’t identify what was making me feel this way. It wasn’t being driven by attraction but more like a need to be one step closer to hunting down Kellum Bathory and finding out how to reverse Valenthia’s condition. But there was definitely a pull there that sent the Crystal Witch within me into a guilt spiral. Maybe because I knew he liked me and my Sanguine side responded like some sort of moth being drawn to a flame.

  I silently crept through into the forest which lay still under the thick canopy of trees giving way only to moonlight that penetrated the puffy white clouds covering the evening sky. The skin on my arms prickled as my blooming came to life. Instead of calling out to Moldark as I’d planned, I instinctively dug into my pocket and felt my quartz crystal in my hand, thinking that centuries earlier, Esmeralda Quartz had walked these woods. I let my feet guide me and while my senses were acutely aware of the environment, I ventured deeper into the forest for once trying to feel out Esmeralda’s presence. Surely this had been her forest as much as it belonged to the darker supernatural beings. I held out my quartz and closed my eyes, bringing forth my inner Crystal Witch.

  At first nothing happened but as I concentrated harder, I became aware of a dim silver glow emanating from the foliage that surrounded me. Its’ light had been all but snuffed out but it was there. I took it in and closed my eyes once more, focussing on the light that had revealed itself to me. My light-bearing ancestor had been here and she’d definitely left her magic and soul imprinted on the place amidst the darkness.

  “Hello,” said Moldark, stepping out of the shadows. I startled, having not sensed him which meant that I hadn’t been paying enough attention to the overall landscape. The soft silver beams faded away into nothingness and equally without forewarning my heart beat faster as he approached.

  “Oh, hi,” I said trying to gather myself and not appear as flustered as I was. “How long were you standing there?”

  “Not long. I’ve never before watched a witch summon magic quite like that,” he said quietly, moving even closer.

  “It’s no biggie,” I replied, taking a step back. It was both because the witch in me now sensed the hunger in him and because the Sanguine felt the same about him and wanted to respond. “I didn’t call you. I was going to but…”

  “I know. And yet here I am,” he said with a confidence I found seductive.

  “Then how?” I fought against my own urge to be near him, to kiss him. I struggled to bring Ulric up onto the screen of my mind. And I was shocked to realize it was a real effort. It was like nothing else existed but that moment and the two of us. I shook my head to clear away some of the fog that enveloped all my other thoughts. It didn’t do much to help. No matter which way I played it, how I felt was all down to Moldark’s presence.

  “I have something to tell you,” Moldark said, “but first, here. I thought you’d like this.” He handed me a large bottle of blood and although I wasn’t physically feeling hungry for it and I’d decided I wouldn’t, I downed it. It wasn’t warm but certainly hadn’t come straight out of the fridge. It was bold and yet had a hint of sweetness. It was exactly what I needed and I hoped it would help me to focus.

  “What?” I asked, handing him the bottle which he placed back into his bag.

  “A prominent member of the Sanguine Guild of Europe is willing to see you – tonight,” Moldark informed me. I thought I detected a hint of nervousness in him. Something that seemed disparate with the rest of his personality.

  “That’s great,” I replied feeling my own, not uncommon anxiety winding its way up through my abdomen. It was what I had fled to this part of the world for. And yet, I wasn’t ready for what it actually entailed.

  “There’s one thing I realized,” said Moldark, with an edgy smile.

  “What is it?”

  “Your clothes – if you turn up like this, you might expose the identity of your secret refuge. I have no idea where that uniform is from but…the vampires in the Sanguine Guild don’t get there by being oblivious.”

  “Good thinking!” I said, not believing how dumb I was and had he not said anything, it wouldn’t even have occurred to me.

  “Should I wait here while you go and change?” Moldark smirked, whatever tension he’d felt about the meeting, had dissipated.

  “Yeah, give me a second,” I replied, walking around a tree to get some distance from him. I tried to gage how far the entrance of the academy was and how I’d pull this off without being noticed by my classmates if I went back into retrieve my old Bloodline Academy uniform. And then I laughed out loud, realizing I didn’t have to – I was a witch after all. I closed my eyes and with the fresh bottle of blood coursing through me, I summoned my magic visualizing the navy-blue tie, the stiff white collared shirt and lastly, the too-short chequered blue skirt. I held out my hands and it was only when I felt the fabric of the uniform between my fingers that I remembered how much I hated it. I quickly changed, stuffing my Silver Shadow Academy joggers, hoodie and t-shirt into the hollow made by the ancient roots of the giant tree I was leaning against. “Ready,” I said joining Moldark who was still standing in the exact spot I’d left him.

  “Excellent. There’s a couple things you need to know before we get going,” he said looking the closest to shy that I’d ever seen him, “walk over here with me?” He gently placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me in the darkness and I felt a jolt, as if a current ran up my spine and then circled back down again, making me jump. We stopped when we reached the peak of the mountain, gazing out onto the valley and up and across at the ruins of the old castle that Cachtice Academy lay underneath.

  “We’re not going to your academy, I hope,” I bit my lip.

  “Not exactly but can you see that neighbouring village in the distance?” Moldark pointed to a tiny settlement beyond the walls of the crumbling castle, out to the left. I nodded and he continued, standing too close for comfort. “My academy is under the old ruins we can see from here. It’s a bit like the tunnels that run under St. Erzsebet’s, only more extensive.”

  “Oh,” I remarked. I’d found the tunnels at Bloodline Academy, with all their unending twists and turns, too complicated.

  “The academy and the main building compound of the Sanguine Guild are connected underground. All the villages below are because they’re all funded and maintained by the Sanguine Guild of Europe.”

  “Do any mortals live there?” I asked taking in the view with new eyes.

  “A few,” replied Moldark, “this is kind of a hub. There are others across the world but you can probably guess why this is the most prominent.”

  “Bathory,” I breathed.

  “Correct,” Moldark whispered in my ear. He slid his muscular
arm around my waist and part of me wanted to pull away. But I didn’t. His touch was as inviting as Ulric’s and yet nothing like it. Where Ulric’s body was always comforting and felt natural against mine, Moldark’s was electrifying and unknown.

  “Let’s go,” I said extracting myself from him with a large amount of difficulty.

  “Come,” he said, taking my hand. We streamed down with an agility that I was sure would have made werewolves envious. My mind told me I should have felt guilty about how much I enjoyed streaming like this with Moldark. And yet, I didn’t. it made me feel alive in a way that little else did. When I streamed with him, there was no grief or worry or anticipation of what was to come. There was not even any darkness or light. There were just the two of us on the further side of life enjoying the exhilaration of being.

  We reached the bottom and continued to stream, passing the once grand stones, now chalky and broken, that marked the location of Cachtice Academy. There were a few vampires standing dotted around in groups that brought the high school vibe to a place that was otherwise macabre. They looked up as they noticed us whirring by but quickly went back to what they were doing, assuming we were both fellow classmates. We went past narrow and olden streets lined with tiny lots of shops and houses. Only a sparse number of cars were crammed onto the already slim curb that still made the sidewalk quite inaccessible and so we tore right down the road, where there was no traffic. We kept going and I found we were steaming uphill once more and the streetlights seemed to be getting grander and more intricate, where they’d been simple and far between before in the main village.

  I felt the sight change in the tension in Moldark’s hand which was still gripping mine and knew he was slowing down. The quaintly commercial neighbourhood had slipped away and there was a path lined purposefully with great birch trees that alternated between the detailed gothic streetlights. “We’re here,” said Moldark as we stopped and I looked up ahead. “Behold the Sanguine Guild of Europe.” A powerful black metallic gate stood between us and a huge building that looked like the headquarters of a large conglomerate. Beyond the gates were several smartly uniformed men and women, who I guessed were the additional security detail.

  “Wow,” I said, pulling my hand out of Moldark’s.

  “I know,” agreed Moldark, “and if you like this, wait until we’re inside. Cachtice Academy is an extension of this.”

  “How do we…”

  “Get in?” Moldark completed my sentence, “like this.” He glanced over at one of the security guards and called him. The guy who I sensed was a Novus Vampire did a doubletake and quickly came over.

  “Master Whitlock, good evening sir! Nice to see you back so soon,” he said with a nod of his cap. So, Moldark was more important than I’d realized. It certainly explained his arrogance back at Bloodline Academy and in general. The heavy metal gate rolled backwards, seemingly off its own accord and we were ushered in as the guard stood aside to let us pass. Moldark walked past him barely noticing him and in that moment, I knew what I always had – that I belonged anywhere but in their world.

  Once inside Moldark led me through a reception area that was completely corporate looking. I felt like I had entered a building where I was about to do my first job interview for an internship position where even fetching the coffee would be intimidating. There were big blanched wood doors that bore sleek metal placards with various names etched into them. Our footsteps made no sound as they fell onto the charcoal carpeting and my eyes skimmed the abstract artwork on the walls. There were a few sculptures dotted on angular side-tables. Each must have been worth a small fortune. I hadn’t known what to expect but all in all, the impression I got was one of wealth and power in the most mortal sense. Unlike in any of the supernatural academies I’d been to and even the S.L.A. headquarters where I’d had my so-called trial by the Grand High Witch, there was nothing about this place that gave it away for what it was – the helm of all things vampiric. Not to my untrained eyes anyway.

  “Who do you know here?” I asked Moldark, clutching my hand over my left arm, trying to hide my blooming where the shirt sleeve ended abruptly.

  “You’ll see,” said Moldark keeping his voice down, walking slightly ahead and he was right. He came to a door and knocked on it somewhat apprehensively. The placard read: Visc. Vincent Whitlock.

  “Wait a minute!” I announced, having been fully unprepared for what I’d seen. “This is some family member of yours?”

  “My dad,” said Moldark, more ashen-faced than he’d been a minute ago.

  “And you never thought to mention this before?”

  “We’re really not…close. I’m doing this only because I know you need my help,” he replied and edged the door open. “I’d hoped there would have been other options but he’s a last resort.”

  I really didn’t know what to make of this development and had no choice but to follow him inside, into Vincent Whitlock’s office which was a very spacious suite rather than a single room. The Sanguine was poised towards the other end, standing facing us against his heavy wooden desk. He watched us as we walked up to him, taking us – or me – in with a steady gaze. Moldark bore a close resemblance to him, both with his brooding look and dark smoky eyes. Vincent’s hair was sandy, much lighter than his son’s but he wore it the same way. They could have been brothers.

  “Thanks for seeing us, dad,” said Moldark, clearing his throat. It wasn’t my imagination. He was nervous in front of his father.

  “Aah, the infamous Katrina Quartz,” said Vincent Whitlock not taking his eyes off me, “the pleasure has to be all mine.”

  “Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Whitlock,” I managed, trying hard to camouflage the ominous feeling that had crept through me.

  “Anyone else and I’d insist they address me as Viscount Whitlock at the least. But you may call me Vincent,” he answered with a smile that wasn’t social etiquette but a warning. Like I was the lucky one but if I didn’t tread carefully that luck could easily run out.

  “Thanks, Vincent,” I said meeting his eyes and refusing to look away. I was here on business and how ever intimidated I felt, I needed my game face. And, there was obviously something big in it for him. There was never something for nothing with vampires. Not ever.

  “Moldark tells me you have some unfortunate trouble with a well-known Sanguine relative of yours,” he said cutting to the chase as he adjusted the oversized button of his well-tailored suit-jacket.

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said looking over at Moldark who was peering at his shoes. Talk about daddy issues. I had literally never seen him this way. He was a shell of his usual self.

  “Kellum Bathory is a high-ranking member. Both, with the Dark Legion and vampire nobility,” said Vincent Whitlock like he was reeling off an ambiguous fact.

  “So, what does that mean?” I asked, “Because if it means you won’t be able to help me…” I had no end for that sentence. Without the help of someone in the inner circle I wouldn’t be able to do much in the way of reaching my vicious snake of an uncle. And then there was Valenthia, lying there in her unconscious state indefinitely.

  “My, my what a feisty young thing!” said Vincent Whitlock, “For that reason alone, I can tell you’re more useful an ally than your uncle any day of the week.”

  “How so?” I asked, glaring at him.

  “While your uncle has definitely served his purpose, it’s made him obsolete in many ways – isn’t that a fascinating thing?” asked Moldark’s father, moving to the other side of his ample desk and taking a seat in the plush, tanned leather chair, “A beautiful irony perhaps?” he remarked steepling his fingers once more. “Every being seeks more than anything, to fulfill its’ unique purpose. And yet, where does that leave one? It’s much better to have an open agenda – where one item is fulfilled, only to be replaced with another.”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, my feeling of unease growing in leaps and bounds. If Kellum Bathory was so easily dispensable, I didn’t wan
t to think about myself and my friends in the Sanguine Guild’s bigger picture. Of Ulric.

  “After you joined St. Erzsebet’s Academy, it became obvious that you were the missing link we’d been searching for, for more than two centuries,” Vincent Whitlock informed me. Moldark briefly met my gaze and something flashed across his face. I read it to be a look of pleading which made my own heart beat like a fragile bird thrashing its’ wings against the bars of a heavy cage.

  “What’s he saying?” I turned to Moldark.

  “I just wanted to help you catch your uncle, Kat,” he replied flatly.

  “What’s going on?” I pushed but Moldark looked once more towards his father, unable to keep eye contact with me.

  “It wasn’t until my son ran into you as his rambunctious little classmate that we got a ray of hope that you were the one we’d been waiting for. Of course, by then we realized that you were stubborn and had a combination of strengths and powers. Most inconvenient, when the beast you’re trying to tame is wilder than yourself. No, you had to come here off your own volition and if you have one weakness, it’s your loyalty to the wrong side.”

  “Then why did you let Kellum Bathory murder my mother for that?” I asked, my voice cracking with the molten rage that surged into my throat as I realized what I always should have known. What deep down, I probably had known. “Why not just pack me off to attend Cachtice Academy once you knew that I could help you?”

  “Oh, no one told your uncle to kill your mom,” said Vincent Whitlock like he was clearing up an administrative error, “he did that because he really didn’t care for his sister. But look at the result! Here you are, in my office, having sought out the highest of level of Sanguine authority.

  “But dad, you promised you’d help her,” Moldark cut in, staring hard at his father for the first time since we’d walked into his office. I got the sense that it was to avoid looking anywhere in my direction rather than that his haughtiness had returned.

  “That’s always been the trouble with you, son – you only hear what you want to hear. I said I’d help you,” replied Vincent Whitlock, with his eyes fixed on his son. “And I have. Katrina my dear, try not to be embarrassed by what I’m about to reveal to you,” said Vincent turning his attention to me. His ebony eyes glinted as a streak of red flashed across them. “Do you find yourself inexplicably drawn towards my son?”