9. Chapter 9
9
Chapter 9
Bronwen
After I made it back home last night, I fell asleep only to be awoken from a nightmare not long after. I paced the halls of our home until the sun began peeking through the trees. Every muscle in my body felt heavier with each step, but I forced myself forward, refusing to let anyone see the cracks forming beneath my mask. This had been my routine for days now—endless pacing and fractured sleep, the nightmares coming quicker and cutting deeper into the hours meant for rest. I was lucky to get a few hours of sleep each night, but even those left me more exhausted than before.
The circles under my eyes had darkened, swollen and heavy, evidence of sleepless nights that weighed on my body like a burden. Wrinkles I hadn’t noticed before framed them, aging me beyond my years. If the nightmares didn’t drive me mad, having to look at myself might. I painted my face with makeup, applying more layers than I ever had before.
But today, today may have been the worst day of my entire life. It wasn’t the day I nearly died when August marked me. Nor was it the day Adar gashed my arm open while we were sparring. As I sat at my dressing table and ran my brush through my hair, a clump of my black hair came with it. My long, luscious beautiful black hair.
I swore under my breath, tying my remaining hair back into a braid before heading to my wardrobe. As I reached up to open the door, the bruises on my wrists caught my eye: purple imprints in the shape of fingerprints. I clenched my fists.
“Fuck!” I hissed, rummaging through my dresses to find something that would cover the marks.
“Winnie!” Mama called. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sorry! I, um—I hit my toe on the bed corner.”
“Well, ladies do not use such words.”
“ Ladies do not use such words ,” I muttered under my breath. “Sorry, Mama!”
I pulled out a deep blue dress. Its sleeves extended over my hands, with small loops to hook over my middle fingers. It wasn’t a favorite, but it was my only option to keep my parents from noticing the bruises.
I tightened the corset a little more than usual, hoping my enhanced figure would distract any lingering eyes from my face, and cut a small piece of fabric from the bottom layer of my dress to tie around my neck.
Gods, what kind of fashion statement did it look like I was making?
Papa sat at the table shuffling through a stack of papers, and Mama leaned down to kiss his cheek. Breakfast was long gone; I’d spent the morning in front of the mirror, and now my stomach growled at the lack of food. I sifted through the fresh fruit, the selection bare as the season was coming to an end, and settled on a pear.
As I took a bite, Papa cleared his throat, catching my attention. “I have to go to Bodaira. Would you like to come with me?”
I whipped my head around, thinking my brother must have been home for him to ask that question.
Papa rolled his eyes when I looked back at him. “I’m leaving in half an hour if you want to come.”
I bit into the pear again, trying my best to do anything to hold my tongue.
“You can always stay and join me for tea at the Reeves,” Mama offered as she wiped down the chopping block. “Lydia and I have so much to discuss.”
Go with Papa to listen to the coven’s latest problems or sit through tea while Lydia Reeves and Mama talk about how good it would be for me to settle down and marry Lowen?
I’ll take the witches.
***
The road to Bodaira stretched ahead, its monotony broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Shadow’s unease mirrored my own, his ears flicking toward the shadows as if sensing a presence neither of us could see. His tension brought August to mind—a thought I’d rather avoid today.
The memory of August’s hand clamped over my mouth crept in, his fear of me evident. In the moment, I thought it was to silence my screams, but it was the middle of the night. If someone heard, they wouldn’t have left their home to help. He covered my mouth to prevent me from speaking a spell. He hadn’t realized I couldn’t practice magic without a source, but why would he? Unless he’d heard about us from other witches—unlikely, given vampires and witches didn’t mingle—he couldn’t know. That ignorance was an advantage. I just needed another way to get to him.
I could pull magic from a witch today, but that would bring down Papa’s wrath. Another vampire might suffice, but it could take days to find one, giving August time to strike first. Market tomorrow might present an opportunity. If he showed up, I could siphon just enough to prepare for a confrontation. But that plan relied on chance—a flimsy hope at best.
“Did you go out last night?” Papa’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I nodded.
“Well?”
Shadow’s head flicked to the side, and I gave him a quick pat to calm him.
“Well, what?” I asked.
“Did you find one?”
The last thing I wanted was to tell Papa about August.
“No,” I lied.
He cursed under his breath.
“Why are you so worried?”
“Because it is our duty to protect humans.”
I looked ahead and tried to bring my focus to something else.
The trees. Pine. Pine. Pine. A small oak. Pine.
Our duty. Gods!
“You risk yourself to protect the same people who would hang us. Why?” I snapped. “We can protect ourselves, and if they kill a few hate-filled souls, it’s less for us to deal with.”
Papa glanced around, as if someone might overhear us, though we hadn’t seen anyone this entire time.
“Do you remember the story of how vampires were created?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of a lesson I had heard countless times but never quite understood fully. There was something different in his tone now, something heavier, as though the story wasn’t just a tale but a confession.
I nodded. “A witch wanted to become immortal, so she cast a spell that granted her immortality but at the price of bloodlust.”
He shook his head. “There are parts of that story no longer taught.”
“What parts?”
“She was our ancestor,” Papa continued, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of the truth made the words heavier. “Her father, the leader of the coven, was incredibly powerful. The kind of power our bloodline had then was something we could never fathom now. He had two children. Twins. A boy and a girl. Just like you and Adar. But the father didn’t plan on them leading the coven together. He was giving the coven to his son. The daughter grew to hate her family for that, so she wanted a way to become more powerful than them to prove she was the better choice. She knew what she wanted to do, but her gifts weren’t strong enough to complete the spell alone. So she went to Alentara.”
I frowned, listening closely. “But you can’t travel through the Sea of Mavrola,” I countered, my voice hesitant.
“The Sea of Mavrola used to be a river.”
I whipped my head to him. The motion caused Shadow to slightly jump. “What?”
“There was a bridge between the two kingdoms of Alentara and Joveryn, allowing anyone to travel between the kingdoms just as we do with the other human kingdoms. But with the power our coven possessed, faeries and creatures tended to stay in Alentara. Our ancestor went to Alentara and found a cunning human-like faerie to help her. He promised to help her in exchange for his own immortality. He knew how to do it, but he didn’t have the magic to do it. And no one in Alentara would help him.
“The faerie came back to Joveryn with her, and they stood on the bridge while she completed the spell. She needed the magic in the nature in Alentara and wanted to bring it into Joveryn. Nature fought back. During the spell an explosion threw her and the faerie off of the bridge, our ancestor into Alentara and the faerie into Joveryn. The water between the two grew, pushing the kingdoms farther apart. Our ancestor became trapped in Alentara because the vicious sea would never let her come back. The spell created the first vampire through the faerie. With its immortality came the need for blood, and he created an army of vampires.
“So that is why I try to get rid of the vampires. Not for the humans, but to right the wrong our ancestor committed,” Papa said, his gaze fixed on the horizon coming into view. “I believe this is why the gods have made you and your brother the way you are.”
His words struck a nerve, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure whether to feel honored or trapped. “As punishment?” I asked, the skepticism in my voice hard to mask.
“Not as punishment,” he said, his tone softening. “As redemption. You and Adar are gifted more than the two of you realize. Your way with magic is exactly what is needed to finish this. To fix what was broken.”
I stared at him, the enormity of his belief pressing down on me. This wasn’t just a mission—it was a destiny, one I hadn’t asked for. One I wasn’t sure I wanted. “So we are supposed to kill every vampire?”
“No, we kill until we kill the first vampire. The one that started this is the one the gods want punished.”
“That seems like an impossible task. How do we even know he is still in Joveryn? And how would we know if we killed him?”
“We’ll know,” he said firmly, his conviction unwavering. “When the gods grant us the power we were meant to have, we’ll know we’ve succeeded. And when we have our power, we will stop the persecution.”
Papa’s words settled like stones in my chest, each one heavier than the last. It wasn’t just a story of a witch’s wrongdoing; it was the legacy of our family, a burden passed down through generations. Was that why Papa was so insistent? Why he risked everything for a mission that seemed impossible? To right a wrong we hadn’t committed but were still bound to?
The weight of his words lingered, pressing heavily against my thoughts, but the briny air filling my lungs offered a sharp reminder of where we were. Whatever this legacy meant, whatever destiny Papa believed in, it would have to wait until later.
My stomach churned as the familiar discomfort of Bodaira settled in. The people here had always been nasty to me during the few visits I’d made with Papa. But the older I’d gotten, the less it bothered me. One day, I would be above them. One day, they would have to submit to me, whether they liked it or not.
We walked onto the wooden deck that was built over the rocks where land met the wild waters of the Sea of Mavrola until we reached a small apothecary. A bell overhead rang as Papa opened the door, gesturing me inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, the eyes that met mine were nothing but unwelcoming. I had never seen the woman before, but witches always seemed to know me when they saw my green eyes.
She quickly changed her expression when Papa walked in. “ Father , I am so glad you came. Though I didn’t realize you would bring someone with you.”
That reminder of Papa’s title as coven leader gave me the best idea I’d had in a long time.
“Well, this is my daughter. She is getting older, and she needs to learn these things.”
I walked to the counter that stood between me and the woman before I extended my hand to her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips as her magic brushed faintly against my skin, like a whisper begging to be heard.
“I am Bronwen, one of the siphoners,” I said, my tone snappy. I kept my hand out where she looked at it like it held the plague. “But you can call me your future Mother .”
The word brought her widened eyes back to mine, fear pouring from her face, but she placed her hand in mine. I smiled as I gripped tightly and shook, every nerve in my body alive with the hum of her magic under my palm. The temptation clawed at me, a siren’s call urging me to take it, to feel its power coursing through me. But I held back, forcing myself to focus on the fear in her eyes instead of the energy at my fingertips.
Papa came to my side and placed his hand on the small of my back, his touch grounding me. It was a silent instruction, a reminder that this wasn’t the time to lose control. I released her hand, letting the magic slip away, leaving only the echo of what I could have taken. I gave the woman a smile—though my eyes may have told her a different story—before I turned to look at the various bottles of liquid that were shelved across the wall.
“I came as soon as I got your letter. You said it was urgent. What is it?” Papa said low. Though we were the only ones in the room, he was always worried someone else could be listening.
“The vampires. They seem to be,” the woman paused as if she was choosing her next word carefully, “evolving.”
“Evolving how?”
The woman tapped her finger on the counter. “A few nights ago, a few witches that were assigned to hunt were . . . well, I guess you could say ambushed .”
“What do you mean?”
“They found a vampire and right before they attacked, other vampires attacked them. Two died, but one managed to get away and tell us what happened.”
My stomach twisted into knots. The weight of my silence pressed down on me, heavier than I could bear. I should have told Papa that I wasn’t attacked by one vampire that night, but two. The memory of the second figure—how it had loomed in the shadows, waiting—played over and over in my mind. If I had spoken up, warned him, maybe those witches wouldn’t have been ambushed. I could have prevented this.
“The vampires are traveling in groups now?” Papa asked.
“Yes, which makes hunting even more dangerous.”
Papa sighed. “We will have to change our hunting tactics. We will do larger groups with a few that stay hidden in case there are other vampires lurking around.”
The apothecary’s walls closed in as Papa continued his discussion, but my attention shifted to the window. Outside, two men close to my age stood watching, their whispered words drawing smirks that made my stomach twist. The redhead’s mocking laugh echoed faintly through the glass. My grip tightened on the bottle I held, the motion tipping it into another with a sharp clink. Papa glanced at me before nodding towards the door. His silent request was unnecessary as I had already made my mind up on what was to come.
I slung the door open, the bell hanging above reacting to my harsh motion, but it didn’t slow my pace.
“What is it?” I yelled as I made my way to them, my voice sharp enough to draw the attention of passersby.
“Well, I was just telling my friend here what a shame it was.” The redhead’s tone dripped with mockery, his smirk daring me to react.
“What?” I demanded, stepping closer, my fists clenched at my sides.
“It’s a shame how beautiful you are,” he sneered, his gaze sweeping over me like I was something he owned, “and you come from such a powerful bloodline. And yet, you shouldn’t be allowed to procreate. No one would want that contamination.”
My blood ran cold. Coven members.
I forced myself to laugh, the sound cold as I locked eyes with him. “Is that really a way to talk to the one you’ll be submitting to soon enough?”
The two exchanged glances, the quieter one clearly uneasy. He shifted his weight, looking like he regretted every moment of standing here. The redhead, however, tilted his chin up, his sneer deepening. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“Really?” I stepped closer, my voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “Do you realize I could make you believe you’re a mermaid, have you jump over the railing, and you’d drown yourself trying to breathe underwater before anyone could save you?”
His smirk faltered for just a moment before returning, brighter and more forced. “You can’t. You don’t have magic. You’re an . . .” He paused, savoring the insult he was about to deliver. “You’re an abomination.”
Before he could blink, I had his forearm in a vice-like grip. His wince was immediate as I siphoned, just enough to remind him who held the power here.
The quieter one opened his mouth to intervene, but with a quick wave of my hand, his eyes glazed over, and he fell silent.
The redhead opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His eyes widened in panic, and I leaned in close, my voice dripping with venom. “All it takes is one thought, and you’ll be diving into the deep oblivion. Or better yet—perhaps I’ll have you strip down first and parade along the boardwalk, let you lose every shred of dignity before you lose your life.”
Tears welled in his eyes as his bravado crumbled. His confidence, so carefully built, was gone in an instant. I glanced toward the apothecary window, ensuring Papa was still deep in conversation.
His magic pulsing beneath my palm hummed faintly, but nothing compared to the magic I was used to feeling. If I pulled too long, I could rip his connection to magic away completely. And if I did that, Papa might just throw me over the railing.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” I hissed. “I’m going to let you go, and you’re not going to tell anyone about this. I’m sure you wouldn’t want people knowing how easily you were bested by a woman. And if you do talk? I’ll kill you in your sleep. Got it?”
He nodded frantically, and I released him. With another wave of my hand, his friend blinked out of his daze, looking around in confusion.
I turned to walk back toward the apothecary but stopped, throwing a final glare over my shoulder. “Oh, and one more thing. I’d like to see you or anyone else try to take the coven from my brother and me. There would be hell to pay for anyone who dared to go against us.”
I didn’t pull much from him, just enough to make sure he wouldn’t forget.
The magic I’d taken buzzed under my skin, a steady hum of energy that sharpened my thoughts. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to face August again. Enough to end this game once and for all. I just had to refrain from using it before I saw him again.
Bronwen with self-control? Patience? That would be new.