The Coven History

by Lily Luchesi

  Her words were forceful but kind, kinder than he imagined she could ever sound. No one had ever told him that. No one had ever let him know that he didn’t deserve the viciousness heaped upon him since he was ten. Unexpected tears came to his eyes at that moment.

  “You didn’t deserve what your father used to do, either,” she said, surprising him. “Madam Iaso catalogued your injuries when you were in hospital. You have been a victim all your life, and you did nothing to deserve any of it. But for the love of God, don’t go Dark. Do not let revenge rule your soul.

  “The next time this happens while I am still in residence, come to my office, no matter the time of day or night. I sincerely hope it does not. More than anything, you need to control your emotions. You are a Munro wizard, and if you do not keep yourself under control, you could hurt people you care about. Not only your enemies. Besides, I learnt long ago that all people like Lynx want is a reaction, attention. Don’t give him your tears, nor your anger. He does not deserve it.”

  Salem nodded, and now he was trying harder not to cry.

  Angelica smiled at him. “Go on, now. Get home, rest, and remember what we talked about. You’re better than this, better than their biased opinions of you. Rise above it and show them all that Dark doesn’t mean evil.”

  Chapter 19

  Angelica Cross left the Coven the week before school ended for the oldest of the students. Draven found that he was going to miss her, creepy aura and all. She had been the first person he met who was like him, and once a week he had taken to going to her office to have a cup of blood and talk about things he never could with anyone else in his life.

  “Do you have to go?” he asked as he saw her packed things in her office the night before she left. The cup of blood was warm beneath his cold fingers, warmer than the fire burning in the grate.

  She gave him a kind smile, sipping her own cup. Her lips were stained red. “I do. My job, my home, is in Chicago. Frankly, I am surprised the city is still standing since I’ve been gone.”

  Draven chuckled. “No one has ever understood me before you. Not even my dad.”

  She nodded. “I understand, Draven. Truly, I do. But you have wonderful friends, and a boy who is crazy about you. You’re not alone unless you let yourself be alone.”

  Draven scrunched up his face. “Is that your subtle way of telling me to get my head out of my arse and tell everyone what I am?”

  “Maybe,” she teased. “Look, being a vamplet sucks. But we can make this existence easier by confiding in those we love. Looking outside ourselves for acceptance despite our condition.”

  He nodded, draining his cup of blood. “Thank you, Miss Cross, for being there for me. I’d be even more of a mess if not for you.” He put his cup and saucer back on the tea tray and stood up. “I will be forever grateful.”

  She stood up as well and gave him a short but comforting hug. “Nothing to thank me for. We are all in this together.”

  Draven left her presence then, knowing he would miss her terribly. He smirked to himself. It was ironic that he had found comfort and understanding in a woman who was feared the world over. He looked up at the waning moon and thought about what she had been repeatedly telling him: that his friends would love him just as he was.

  A few nights ago, Caelum had transformed on the full moon, into the forced shift that caused him great pain for days before and after. That morning, he had woken up and declared that he was finally feeling like himself, and had proposed a moonlit picnic by the lake behind the castle with Draven.

  Tonight, he thought, unsure of where his sudden bravery was coming from. I have to tell Caelum tonight. It’s do or die. Bloody Hell, I think I might prefer to die.

  It was late, so Draven didn’t even head back to the Frasers. Instead he went to the lake, surprised that Caelum was already there. The shifter wasn’t exactly known for being on time, let alone early.

  There was a red and gold checked blanket spread on the ground, held down by magic, a small candelabra, also lit with magical flames that wouldn’t go out until Caelum decided to extinguish them, and a large wicker basket. Caelum was illuminated in moonlight, and his unearthly eyes glowed in it.

  Draven found his breath momentarily taken away as he stopped stock still to take everything in, especially his gorgeous boyfriend.

  Caelum spotted him and his face split into a wide smile. He waved, and Draven walked over to meet him with a soft, sweet kiss.

  “You’re early. A few minutes more, and I would have everything laid out like in the human movies,” Caelum said, arms around Draven’s waist. “Come on, sit down.” He tugged Draven’s hand and they sat together on the blanket.

  Caelum began rolling out the food he’d prepared: cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, smoked salmon sandwiches, a plate of freshly cut and fried chips, a bowl of fruit and chocolate dipping sauce, and a bottle of sparkling cider.

  It was a sweet, comfortable scene. One that made Draven forget that he was a monster. But he needed to remember, so was Caelum. The only real differences between them were that Draven was immortal, and he had lied about his species. Caelum was mortal, and he had always been open about who he was. And it was that latter difference that might destroy what they had beyond repair.

  “Draven?” Caelum said quietly. “Are you all right?”

  Draven jumped, unaware that he had been spaced out. “Yes, sorry, love. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “So talk to me. That’s part of dating someone, you know. Emotional transparency or whatever the Hell they call it.” Caelum drank a little cider. “Whatever’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

  Draven swallowed around the lump in his throat. “What if you hate me when I get done telling you?”

  “Unless you’ve decided to join The Company or have suddenly become a Spice Girls fan, I don’t think that’s possible,” Caelum said.

  Draven was surprised into laughter. Caelum’s strange humour was just one of the many things he loved about him. “It’s not as bad as joining The Company,” he said. “But definitely worse than knowing the words to ‘Wannabe’.” He placed his hand, still warm from the blood he had drank with Angelica, on top of Caelum’s. “I’ve got a confession, and it’s not going to be easy for me to say. Or you to hear.”

  Caelum sat up straight, all mirth gone from his expression. “Well, go on, then. Rip the bandage right off.”

  Draven closed his eyes, his hands were beginning to shake. “I’ve been lying to you since the moment we met.”

  “About what? What does a ten-year-old lie about for nearly eight years?” Caelum asked.

  “Mike thinks I’m half human. I’m not.” Slowly, as he released a shaky breath, Draven opened his eyes and looked at Caelum. His eyes were no longer hazel. Instead the whites had turned blood red and the iris was entirely black. His vampire eyes.

  Caelum’s eyes widened and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. It looked as though he might have been in shock.

  Draven closed his eyes and, when he opened them again, they had returned to normal. “I’m a vamplet,” he said, in case the eye trick hadn’t made that clear enough. “My dad’s a vampire. Mum’s the witch. And I have spent the better part of my life either wishing I wasn’t born, or that I could vanish and escape this Hellish existence of being in both worlds but belonging to neither.”

  He was ranting now, unable to stop the word vomit he had held back all this time.

  “I hate what I am. I hate that I drink human blood to survive. And I hate that my species means that I could never truly be with you. Vampires and shifters don’t mix. You could never mate me, and I could never drink from you as I am supposed to.

  “I love you, Cae. I love you so much, and I am sorry. I was so afraid to say anything sooner, because I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me. I didn’t want to lose you.” He was starting to cry, blood-tinged tears rolling down his cheeks.

  Caelum didn’t say a word as he grabbed a napkin and gently dabbed at D
raven’s cheeks. He stared at the blood that now stained the white linen, still obviously stunned and trying to take it all in.

  “A vamplet,” he said, his voice monotone.

  Draven nodded, certain that Caelum was gearing up to launch into a tirade about Draven’s continued lies and his species. He began to stand, his legs trembling from his nerves. “I truly am sorry, Caelum. And I do love you, no matter what you must think of me now.”

  Still, Caelum said nothing more than those two words. He simply stared at Draven, unblinking.

  While it still hurt, Draven was at least glad that it wasn’t as bad as he had expected. He thought Caelum would revile him, call him every filthy slur against vampires and half breeds, and even possibly hex him in his haste. The silence, the shocked nature of it all, was nothing in comparison.

  Draven slowly finished getting up from the ground. He didn’t want to be there when the shock wore off. Let his last memory of Caelum not be of him shouting and cursing him.

  “I’m sorry,” Draven whispered once he was standing. He turned away, his heart heavy and his nerves trembling.

  A hand grabbed his as Caelum leapt to his feet. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know,” Draven replied honestly. “Anywhere that will take me, since I doubt you — or anyone else — will want me back at the Frasers’ tonight.” He willed his voice not to shake but failed. This had been his biggest fear, to lose everyone he cared about in exchange for honesty.

  Caelum cocked his head. “Why?”

  Draven gestured to himself. “Vampire, remember? The reason you were just looking at me like I’d sprouted three heads?”

  “I don’t understand,” Caelum said. “Why would we want you to leave? Why are you just walking away from me after dropping that whopper down?”

  Draven was as confused as Caelum. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

  “Why the Hell would you think I wanted you to leave?” Caelum questioned, holding his hand tighter.

  “Because I am a vamplet and have been lying to you since the moment we met?”

  They both stood there, staring at each other. Draven was so embarrassed with himself, so ashamed, he wanted to look away. Caelum’s gaze, however, held him transfixed, as if Caelum were the one with the power of glamour.

  “You’re right,” Caelum said. “I am upset with you. Upset that you lied for all that time, or that you could ever think in a million years that I could stop loving you — that Mike and Daphne could stop loving you — because of a little vampire blood.

  “Draven … I love you, you idiot. You’re the same person now that you were five minutes ago. Or a year ago. Nothing’s changed. Nothing is going to change.”

  Draven stood there, immobile, now the one who was in shock. “But … vampire. We’re evil bloodsuckers who kill everyone who gets close to us.”

  At that, Caelum snorted a laugh. “Please. You colour-code your sock drawer. Forgive me if that doesn’t make me tremble in fear at your feet.”

  Draven was surprised into laughter, even as more tears came to his eyes. “You mean that, Cae? You … you still love me? You still want to be with me, even with all the complications?”

  Caelum tugged on Draven’s hand, pulling him closer so they were chest to chest. Golden eyes bore into his, and there was no disgust or hatred in them. Only open, unbridled love.

  “You, Draven Silver, are the light of my life. Nothing can change the way I feel about you. Sure, I’m hurt that you didn’t trust me sooner, but I understand, too.” His hand came to cup Draven’s cheek. “I love you, no matter what species you are.” He leaned down and kissed Draven hard, sending chills down his spine.

  When he pulled away, Caelum gave a lopsided smile and said, “Are you done being an overdramatic wanker?”

  Draven chuckled. “Yes, I suppose so. Thank you for not hating me. Thank you for … for everything. I love you.”

  Caelum held him tightly, and Draven melted into the warm touch. All his worry, all his agonising, and it turned out that Angelica had been right. Relief washed over him as he held onto the boy he loved, knowing that, for now at least, they were safe together.

  Draven wasn’t the only visitor Angelica got her last night in the Coven. Salem, too, wanted to stop in to say goodbye to the vamplet.

  “So … how is your little Dark magic shed working out for you?” she asked him as he took a sip of tea.

  Salem nearly choked, but kept up his poker face. “What do you mean?”

  “After all this time? Are you truly going to believe that I am so stupid I didn’t know you were performing Dark spells in the Pege Polo storage shed?” Angelica leaned back in her armchair, firelight dancing in her eyes. “I am not going to arrest you. You’re not actually hurting anyone, as the psychics have proven that spiders have no souls. And since rats aren’t a protected species…”

  Salem sighed. “I do not know how it’s going. And that is my problem. Acting out in there has helped me not feel so on edge, but … it isn’t enough. The Darkness is still there, inside of me. Clawing.”

  Angelica nodded. “And it always will be. You are a powerful wizard, Salem. Perhaps one of the most powerful to be born since Robert Mor Munro himself. Which means your Darkness, the source of your power, will be harder to control. But you are doing an excellent job so far.

  “I think your mother would be quite proud of you. I know that I am.”

  Salem slowly put his teacup back in its saucer, willing his hands not to shake. His mother’s funeral was the day Daphne had begun pulling away from him. It was the day he had begun to realise that, now that Evelyn Sinclair was dead, he was alone in the world. He hadn’t given himself much time to grieve her at all, and those words, spoken so calmly, struck a chord in him.

  “Salem … when the school year is over, may I make a suggestion?”

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak right then.

  “Go home. Go home, grieve your mother. Grieve your relationship with Daphne. Take some time for you. Then you can get back to being the best potioneer the magical community has ever seen.” She gave a smile with a hint of fang showing.

  “You truly mean that?” Salem asked. He loved potions. He loved brewing, in fact, it was the only thing he loved aside from Daphne.

  “I am not accustomed to lying to children,” she replied. “If you want, there is a position for you in the PID. You can remain in the Coven if you’d like, but you will be called upon to create new potions, or assist our potioneers with prototypes for approval for use.

  “It is a delicate job, and, after residing here for two months, I firmly believe that you can handle it, no matter how young you are.”

  Salem smiled a little. “Thank you, Miss Cross. I believe I will take you up on the job, so long as I can remain here in the Coven.”

  She topped off his teacup and then added a little honey to her own before she replied, “Talent should be nurtured. You need something to constantly stimulate your mind, only then will you truly be happy with your work. I think it is the best position for you.”

  She held her teacup out and clinked it against his. “To new beginnings.”

  Daphne stood outside the castle, gazing up at it almost longingly. A moment ago, she had walked out of those doors as a student for the very last time. The graduation ceremony for the older students had ended, and most of them were off celebrating.

  She certainly had a lot to celebrate. She and Salem had been co-valedictorians, and while Salem had declined to make a speech, she had, and had been giving a raucous round of applause.

  As they exited the stage, she caught Salem’s eye and he quickly turned away. Her magic tore at her inside, trying to reach out to him, but she held it at bay. Despite the fact that ignoring him broke her heart.

  Now they were about to leave school, and she was leaving the Coven altogether. That brief exchange of glances might be the last time she ever saw her first love.

  Leaving him had torn at her heart, but deep d
own she knew that, if what Robert had told her about him creating Dark magic was true, she could never be with him. Everything her mother had taught her was true: Frasers and Munros could never truly be together. Darkness and Light did not mix.

  Her heart was broken, and now her life was about to go on as she and her friends entered the real world outside of the Coven. Daphne knew that she had to let Salem go. She had to move forward.

  She, Michael, Draven, and Caelum had all decided to get a flat together in London. She and Caelum didn’t need to find employment right away, as they both had family legacy money in their vaults. However, she would go to the PID and apprentice under their Medics, as was her mother’s wish for her.

  Caelum was more content to work on his motorcycle and cook everyone dinner than he was with work.

  Draven was helping manage the PID’s blood bank.

  Michael was working at a magical goods shop in London’s Magic District.

  All of them, however, knew that their normalcy was going to be short lived. Daphne woke every single day feeling stifled from the creeping Darkness. It had been getting steadily worse, and was even more oppressive when they left Scotland and got to England.

  It didn’t feel like it was going to come to a head anytime soon, either, and she knew she was going to be cursed with feeling it for a while yet. One night, Draven and Caelum had gone out on a date, so she and Michael had dinner together in the flat. It was that night she told him about how she had been feeling.

  “Damn, Daph, that sucks,” he replied. “Is there anything you can do?”

  She shook her head. “No. I just have to get through it.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. I’d be stark, raving mad by now. Alone after what happened the morning Miss Stanton was killed in the Coven,” he commented. He looked up at her with warm brown eyes and added, “You’re really something.”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asked. It sounded like one, but this was Michael she was talking to. The man could veil insults to the Coven Elders.