“Sanchez said something about the ‘Council’.” Lexy sends back and I realize I have let the last thought slip past my mental barrier. “Do you think he meant the Vampire Council?”
“I have no idea. I hope not.” I can’t imagine being brought before that most ancient and powerful ruling body. Why would they want to see me?
We mind talk back and forth together over the twenty more minutes the van is in motion but neither Lexy nor I can solve the mystery. We do, however, make a plan of escape. Having our hands bound and our mouths gagged rules out casting a spell. But we can still kick our captors in the balls when they open the van. We wait, lying on our backs, tense and terrified but determined to do whatever we can to get out of this situation.
The van has been moving smoothly up until now but suddenly there’s a lurch and it starts rocking and jouncing over uneven ground.
“We’re going off road,” Lexy sends, her eyes wide with fear. “They’re taking us into the wilderness somewhere.”
I want to protest that there isn’t a whole lot of wilderness around Tampa but apparently our captors have found some. We jounce around, being thrown against each other, unable to brace ourselves because of our bound hands. I’ve always been prone to motion sickness and the violent motion makes me nauseous. Then Lexy bumps her head and gives a little cry behind her tape gag.
I’m still trying to crawl over to her and see if she’s okay when the van stops with a jolt and the back doors swing wide.
“C’mon out now, girlies,” Sanchez says, reaching in to haul me roughly to my feet. “No funny business or—”
I kick out and catch him squarely in the balls.
He goes white, then green, then his face turns a dark shade of purple. But through it all, he somehow manages to hold on to my arm. I couldn’t get away anyway, I realize with despair. I can’t leave Lexy here alone and she seems stunned and woozy from the blow to her head. All I have done is succeeded in making my captor even more angry.
“You’ll pay…” Sanchez finally manages to wheeze out, pinching my arm viciously until I yelp in pain. “Maybe not now but you’ll be sorry. I’ll make you sorry.” He raises his hand, no doubt to hit me again.
“We don’t have time for this.” The warlock, Grant, is suddenly there looking worried. “The ceremony has to start as soon as the moon is directly overhead. Come on.”
“Fine,” Sanchez growls. He and the other satyr pull Lexy and I out of the van and follow Grant, who is leading the way.
What ceremony? I think wildly, trying to look around as we stumble over the uneven ground. Unfortunately, it’s pretty dark aside from the quarter moon rising overhead. All I can make out is that we seem to be in the middle of a field with trees on either side. There are no landmarks, no way to guide myself even if I could break away from the satyr’s punishing grip.
They drag us up a gently rising hill and through some trees. Suddenly we’re standing in front of what looks like a miniature castle. That’s crazy though—there aren’t any castles in Florida! Except here one is, right in front of me.
There are torches burning in holders at the rounded front entryway lined with jagged metal spikes. What’s that called? A portcullis? my mind babbles as we are dragged through the gates.
Inside, the space opens into a narrow courtyard. At the end of it is a single black door with no knob. For some reason, the very sight of that door makes me cold with dread. No, not behind the black door! Anywhere but there! It’s almost as though I’ve been here before. But I know I never have. I’m just afraid of the door because I don’t want to see who or what is on the other side of it. Right?
Sanchez raps almost gently on the door and calls in a surprisingly respectful voice, asking for entry. Slowly, the door swings open and Lexy and I are shoved into a large, stone room, our reluctant footsteps echoing as we stumble in.
It’s almost as dark inside as it is outside. To one side of the vast room a fire is crackling in the fireplace. But the room is so huge it barely illuminates anything. On the stone floor, a circle about eight feet in diameter is drawn. No, not drawn, I realize—carved. There is a half inch deep circular trench gouged into the flagstones. Who the hell could have made it so perfectly round and why do I find the long curving, empty groove so disturbing?
“Watch out!” Lexy gasps in my head. “Don’t step into the circle—it’s a trap. Can’t you feel it?”
I do feel it now—the familiar prickling sensation of magic—very strong magic, crawling over my skin. But before I can step back, Sanchez has ripped the tape off my mouth and shoved me over the circle’s lip. I stumble and come to a halt in the empty center, feeling like I have somehow come to rest in a dangerous place—the eye of a hurricane that may whirl me off my feet and into an abyss at any moment.
“Emma Krist,” a low, hissing voice whispers from the perimeter of the circle. It sounds to me like what a snake would sound like if it could talk.
“Who…who are you?” My voice is shaking. I take a deep breath and try to sound a little less like a frightened rabbit. “What do you want with me?”
“We are the Council,” the voice replies.
We? Who the hell are 'we'? Looking out around the edge of the circle, I get my answer. There are eyes out there. Vampire eyes. They gleam in the flickering firelight like the predators they are. Like wolves around a campfire at night, waiting for the flames to die down enough to attack. I count twelve pairs staring at me from all around the strange, circular groove that has been carved into the solid stone floor. Every once in a while one of them will lean forward, giving me a glimpse of porcelain white skin, but for the most part they are just eyes, watching me…waiting. But waiting for what?
I decide to try again. “What do you want from me?” I ask, looking around the circle, trying to meet all their eyes in turn. It’s not easy—they don’t move or twitch occasionally like humans. They stare, unblinking like snakes. Why have I never noticed these traits in Aiden during the time we’ve been together? Is it because he’s been making an effort to seem more human, less predatory, less frightening? Or is it because he spends the majority of his time with mortals like me, away from his own kind?
“Tell her,” whispers the one with the snake voice.
Grant steps forward. “Emma,” he begins, steepling his long fingers and looking at me intently. “Do you know about the spell of binding that holds our supernatural community together?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding.
Grant looks surprised but pleased. He nods. “Not many do. But I take it Aiden James—the Sovereign vampire—has told you? How it was first cast by a witch called Katherine and has been in effect, binding us all together, ever since?”
Slowly, I nod. “Yes. But I don’t understand—”
“The spell is old—it’s losing power,” one of the vampires from around the circle says. “You might say it’s fraying around the edges. If it’s allowed to unravel completely…”
“The whole community will come apart like a badly knitted sweater,” another says. “There will be fighting, corruption, unrest between the different supernatural races—we can’t afford that.”
“It will draw human attention,” the one with the snake voice says. “This must not be!”
“All right, I get it.” I raise my hands in a gesture of acceptance. “But…what does that have to do with me? I mean, other than the fact that I’m this year’s Sacrifice?”
“You are a direct descendant of Katherine, born on the same day of the same month that she died, over a hundred years apart,” Grant says. “That makes you her heir—and the only witch who can renew her spell.”
“What?” I stare at him, uncomprehending. He’s joking—he has to be joking, right? Aiden never told me this. Never told me that I was related—intimately related—to his long lost love. That’s the only reason he wants you, whispers a nasty little voice in my head. Because you remind him of Katherine. Because you’re the closest thing he can get to her now that she’s d
ead.
I push the voice away with effort. Grant is saying something else and it must be important, the way the vampires of the Council are leaning forward, pinning me with their cold, inhuman stares.
“You must take up the strands of the spell and weave them back together,” he is saying, looking at me earnestly. “Use your magic to renew the spell—it’s the only way.”
“But…I don’t have any magic,” I protest. None to speak of, anyway. Lighting a candle and being able to mind-speak, which any self-respecting beginner witch can do—doesn’t qualify me to renew the ancient, powerful spell cast by my terrifyingly talented ancestress. “I’m a dud,” I tell Grant. “I always have been.”
He looks upset. “If you can’t use magic, you’ll have to use blood. It’s the only other way.”
I look at him, aghast. This is how Katherine died. She used up her magic and then had to resort to spilling her blood. Suddenly I have a clear flash—an image of this very same room and these very same vampires, sitting in judgment around the circle. I see a small, feminine hand holding a sacrificial knife. The knife’s silver blade flashes and a spurt of crimson splashes out onto the unforgiving stones.
Somehow the blood finds its way to the long, circular groove of the circle I am standing in right now. Slowly, slowly it begins to fill the deadly trench gouged in the solid stone. Katherine’s blood flows faster and faster but the circle is greedy—it drinks her blood and demands more. Her intent is to fill it up, to fill the entire eight foot circle with the scarlet ribbon of her own life. But somehow no matter how much she bleeds, it is never enough. Never enough…
“No!” I gasp as the vision recedes. “No, I can’t! I can’t die like she did. I won’t.”
“You will do whatever is necessary to renew the spell…or die trying,” the snake-voiced vampire hisses at me.
“No, she will not,” a familiar voice says and the black door with no handle bangs open.
Chapter Twenty-two
Aiden strides into the room, a look of cold rage fixed on his face.
“Aiden,” I whisper. “Master…”
“It’s all right, Emma,” he says softly, but his eyes are scanning the circle, taking in the vast strength arrayed against us. “I’m here now. I’ll protect you.” He addresses the vampires, staring them down, each in turn, as he speaks. “How dare you? How dare you take what is rightfully mine for a second time without asking? I told you I would not tolerate such an insult again.”
“Calm yourself, Aiden,” the snake vampire advises. “It’s hardly our fault you chose to attach yourself twice to the only witch capable of mastering such an advanced binding spell.” He frowns at me. “Although this one claims she cannot. She says she’s a ‘dud’ who has no magic.”
“She has magic,” Aiden asserts, raising his chin. “Magic in abundance. It’s simply dormant inside her—buried in a place she can’t reach.”
“She’d better reach it and quickly,” Grant says, with an uneasy look at the assembled vampires. “She must renew the spell tonight—it’s frayed almost beyond repair. If she can’t do magic, she will have to give her blood.”
“No,” Aiden thunders and his eyes flash silver. For a moment I think he’s scarier than any of the ancient vampires sitting around the circle. Then his face clears and his voice calms. “No,” he says more softly but no less vehemently. “There is another way.”
“What way?” I ask, afraid that I already know the answer.
“Emma will not be using her blood to mend the binding spell,” Aiden says. He strides into the circle, entering the magic, to stand beside me. “I will use mine instead.”
“That is unacceptable,” the snake vampire hisses. “You are a vampire—your blood has no magic.”
“I have had Emma’s blood,” Aiden contradicts him. “I had it at the peak of her cycle—I drank from the fount between her thighs when her magic was strongest. Her blood flows in my veins.”
“Is this true?” the snake vampire demands, staring at me with cold, glittering eyes.
Blushing and stammering, I admit that it is. Then it’s Lexy’s turn to chime in.
“You really did that?” she demands, shooting me an incredulous glance. “You let him go down on you during your time of the month?”
I squirm uncomfortably. “I was in a lot of pain and he made me feel better. You know how bad my cramps get. Besides, what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that you’re never supposed to let a vampire near you during that time. It gives them too much power—binds them to you way too tightly.” She sounds really upset. “I can’t believe no one ever told you that before.”
“Well, I guess I would have known if I had any magic to speak of or the inclination to sleep with half the vampire community,” I shoot back, losing my patience. “But honestly, Lexy, I had no idea.”
She seems about to send me something else but then the snake vampire speaks again. “You would bleed for this witch…this insignificant mortal with lifespan a fraction of your own?” he demands, speaking to Aiden.
Aiden nods. “I would,” he says quietly. “Emma is not insignificant to me—I would endure anything to keep her safe. Give me the knife.”
My heart is in my throat as one of the vampires stands and moves from the shadows into the light for a moment. He shows a flicker of white skin as he hands Aiden a long, curving, silver blade. Then he slips back into the darkness and becomes just a pair of eyes again.
Aiden holds the knife in one hand and begins to roll up his sleeve with the other. He is wearing a tastefully tailored charcoal suit but he has removed the jacket, revealing the crisp, white, cotton shirt beneath. Under that, his skin is almost as pale as the shirt. But a fine tracing of blue veins runs just under the surface, pulsing with blood he’s determined to shed.
“Aiden,” I say. “Please, I don’t want you to do this for me.”
“Be quiet, Emma.” He frowns at me darkly. “There is no choice. One of us must shed blood and I’ll be damned if it’s you.”
“But—”
“Be still and let me concentrate,” he commands, cutting me off.
I feel sick as I watch him make the first slice. Without flinching, he draws the silver blade across the white skin of his forearm. I know how much it hurts him—a thousand times worse than it would a mortal whose body would give blood much more easily. But he says nothing, just holds his arm over the circular trench, letting the droplets fall, like black rubies, into its hungry mouth.
I can feel the blood working, can feel the frayed strands of the spell coming together but slowly…so slowly. Before they are nearly woven together, let alone sealed, the cut on Aiden’s arm closes. His mouth thins to a white line but still he says nothing. He only raises the knife and cuts himself again.
And again and again and again.
It’s agony to watch him torturing himself like this and to know that he’s doing it for me. He’s bleeding himself dry so I won’t have to. Saving me the way he wasn’t able to save Katherine so many years ago.
But after the fifth or sixth cut, I realize with horror that it’s not going to work. The magic is coalescing too slowly, the circular trench etched into the floor is too thirsty. Aiden doesn’t have enough blood in his body to make this happen—especially considering how much blood a vampire body needs to function. He’s going to die if he keeps this up—surely he knows that.
One look at his face tells me he does. But it doesn’t seem to matter to him—he’ll do whatever it takes to save me. Even if it means giving his own life.
“Master,” I whisper, putting my hand on his arm to stop him before he cuts the seventh time. “Please, no. You’re…you’re killing yourself. There has to be another way.”
“There is no other way,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Once I thought there might be but this moment has come too soon. We were not prepared, for which I blame myself.”
“What do you mean?” I demand. I’m beginning to panic at his rigid refus
al to stop. I can’t lose him like this. Can’t let him sacrifice himself for me. “What are you talking about?”
“Think about it, darling,” he says in a soft voice. “There are only three ways to fulfill a spell. Magic, blood, or…”
“Sex,” I whisper, finishing the thought for him. So this is what he was preparing me for all this time. This was why he demanded my submission, why he wanted me to give myself so completely, even while others were watching. He knew this moment was coming, knew we would have to perform in front of the Vampire Council and he wanted me to be ready. Ready to submit in order to heal the spell.
“Sex magic,” Lexy whispers in my head. “If you and Aiden could raise enough energy you could slap a patch on the spell—kind of like melting the fibers of the spell together instead of weaving them. It’s not as elegant but it should work.”
“It has to work,” I send back to her desperately. “I can’t lose him like this, Lexy! I can’t let him die for me.”
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Be careful, Emma! It’s never a good idea to get too deeply involved with a vamp.”
“I don’t know how I feel,” I tell her. “He never told me I was related to Katherine. He never said he was preparing me for this moment—never warned me what was going to happen. He’s kept me in the dark about everything ever since I came to him. But… I have to save him if I can. I have to.”
“You can but you’ll have to be completely committed to the act.” Lexy shivers. “You can’t hold any part of yourself back during sex magic or it doesn’t work. That’s why I can’t do it. I can’t…can’t give myself to any guy that completely. Are you sure you can, Emma?”
“I have to,” I send back grimly. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Enough, Emma,” Aiden says, calling my attention back to him. “I think you should go stand outside the circle now, darling. Let me finish this.”
“No.” I lift my chin and look him in the eye. “No, Master. We’ll finish it together.”
Aiden frowns. “You’re not ready for this—not ready to submit so completely, Emma. I can’t be gentle if we’re going to make this work. I’ll have to use you hard—take you roughly.”