Chapter Fourteen
Walking through the underground chamber beneath the St. Patrick’s Cathedral where the New York Bloodwright Society was held, I couldn’t help but tremble with trepidation, my heart pounding so loudly I could have sworn that both Alaric and Uncle Dan could hear it echo off the stone walls.
They walked on either side of me; their presence was the only thing that kept me from turning around and running away.
I glanced up at Alaric, his tan face set in a serious expression.
I’d been so caught up in my own thoughts about this blood bonding ritual that I never stopped to consider what this meant for him.
I wasn’t the only one being trapped. He was too.
“Wait,” I spoke, my voice a little too loud as I pulled on Alaric’s arm.
His jaw tensed as he glanced down at me, irritation and impatience swimming in his dark green eyes. “We don’t have time for this, Mari. I know this is not ideal, but it’s the only way to keep you safe and to continue your training.”
“He’s right, Mari,” Dan conceded.
“No. I’m not worried about me. I’ve accepted this, but what about you, Alaric?”
His face fell into confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked, my voice soft and sympathetic. Yes, if I didn’t go through with this, I would most likely die. But Celeste was right yesterday when she said Alaric had a choice. “You don’t have to tie yourself to me. It’s not fair to you either.”
Alaric stood stunned for a few moments, an unfamiliar emotion glistening in his eyes. He cleared his throat, turning slightly to Uncle Dan. “Can you give us a few moments? We’ll be right there.”
Uncle Dan looked like he was about to argue, but then nodded his head, walking away towards the main chamber where the rest of the Council and the other Bloodwrights waited to conduct the ceremony.
Alaric gazed down at me, his hand coming to cup my face. I was surprised to see him so vulnerable, so soft.
“You don’t have to do this.” I tried again, tears stinging the back of my eyes, my voice cracking.
“I know I’m the last person on earth you want to be tied to, and you feel bad because if you don’t, I’ll probably die, but I’m sure I can figure something out.
I’m sure there is more we can research and—”
Before I could continue my nonsensical, emotional rambling, Alaric pushed me up against the stone wall and kissed me deeply. This time I didn’t hesitate to respond. I threw my arms around his waist, pulling him close as his lips met mine.
This kiss wasn’t soft or sweet, but desperate as his tongue pushed my mouth open and tangled with mine.
I whimpered, my hands holding tight to him as if he would disappear at any moment.
His lips molded to mine in a way that felt permanent, as if the bonding ritual had already begun in this lonely, dark hallway.
I felt bound to him, and no blood had even been exchanged.
I wasn’t sure how long we stood there, kissing, but eventually we broke apart, each of us breathing heavily as we gazed at each other.
“I need you to understand something, Mari,” Alaric whispered against my mouth, placing light kisses on my cheeks, forehead, and nose.
“You may be the most infuriating and maddening person I have ever met. And we may have only crossed paths a few weeks ago, but I know you feel this between us.” He brushed a stray curl behind my ear tenderly.
“You are smart and brave and beautiful, and it’s not just the bond talking or me being your mentor.
So please know that I am walking into that chamber with zero reservations.
The only regret I’d have is if I let you go right now and you ceased to exist in this world. That, I won’t stand for.”
I nodded dumbly, my pulse and power thrumming beneath my skin, my face hot everywhere he touched and kissed me. He smiled sadly, pulling away and taking my hand as he led me down the hallway, towards the inevitable.
I was still breathing heavily as we entered the main chamber.
At the center of the room was the Council, Elias in front, with the other Bloodwrights behind him, among the shadows.
I caught Celeste’s eyes and immediately regretted it as she stared at me with such scorn and disgust, it made me falter a step.
Alaric’s hand in mine held tighter still, pulling me along with him as we came to stand before the council.
I glanced down and noticed a different sort of sigil drawn with ash and salt onto the ground in front of me.
The other Bloodwrights and Council members spread out around us, encircling us as Alaric and I stepped forward into the sigil with Elias, who stood robed with arms crossed in front of him.
“Deep breaths,” Alaric whispered to me, his breath tickling my ear.
I nodded, inhaling deeply as we came to stand right in front of Elias. I kept my eyes on his aged and kind face and my hand tightly bound in Alaric’s, finding comfort there.
“This initiation is unlike any other,” Elias began, his voice deep and somber.
“This is not a mere confirmation of an awakened Bloodwright, but the rare and sacred binding between mentor and apprentice known as Twinflames. In our history, it is rare for a mentor and apprentice to be drawn together without blood relation. In fact, there have only been three records of this type of bond.” He paused, smiling at us tightly. “Now four.”
I took another deep breath, willing the beat of my heart to slow, my grip on Alaric’s hand becoming more vice-like.
“Time is of the essence with this particular Twinflame bond,” Elias continued. “The death mark upon Mari may only surrender once she has fully awakened and anchored her own soul and blood to that of her Twinflame mentor, Alaric.”
Elias lifted his hands, closing his eyes as he mumbled something in a language I couldn’t understand.
As he did so, dark splotches of ink appeared in the air before him, covering his hands.
As he continued his incantation, the ink solidified and formed a dagger, pitch black and glimmering in the candlelight.
He held out his hand to Alaric and I. Alaric went first, placing his open palm in Elias’. Elias took the ink dagger and swiped a clean, deep line in Alaric’s palm, the blood already oozing. Alaric winced minutely, but kept his features stoic, his hand steady as Elias reached for me.
I held out my palm, my own power thrumming just beneath my skin in anticipation.
As if it knew this ritual was what it needed to fully awaken.
Elias quickly sliced my own palm; the sting and pain from the blood shocked me for a moment.
Before I could even process the pain completely, Elias took Alaric’s bleeding palm and pressed it into mine, the deep cut’s throbbing only rising to a deeper crescendo.
Elias began to whisper words, another incantation, and my head felt light and dizzy.
A bright light and shocking heat grew from where our hands were pressed together, spreading up both of our arms, blinding me.
One moment I was in the New York Bloodwright chamber, binding myself to Alaric, and then the next I was in a small bedroom, toys splayed on the floor, light streaming in from the windows.
I was much smaller, my feet not even touching the floor when I swung them over the side of the bed.
I noticed the Cars themed bedsheets and realized suddenly that I must be in one of Alaric’s childhood memories.
I had no control over my body, simply an observer within Alaric’s mind as he got up, his feet padding across the floor to open his door. He walked down the hallway, his young voice calling out to his mother.
“Mum? Are you up?” His small voice echoed down the hall. No one answered.
A sense of dread and apprehension pooled in my belly.
I knew what memory this was. I felt tears sting my own eyes as I felt Alaric’s confusion.
He leisurely walked down the hallway, towards his parents’ bedroom, wondering what could have kept his mother from waking him up to the smell of pancakes and Bruno Mars playing in the kitchen; how she normally woke him up on Saturday mornings.
He knocked on the door, raising his voice. “Mum? Are you okay?”
Still no response. He carefully turned the knob and opened the door, the light from the hallway pooling into the dark bedroom.
His mother’s form was bundled under the covers on the bed, eerily still.
He sauntered over, his head cocking in uncertainty.
He could smell the lingering scent of her shampoo—lilacs and honeysuckle.
He gently patted her shoulder, noting how her long dark hair splayed across the pillow in waves. “Mum?”
He shoved her a little harder this time, but still no response. Panic and anxiety began to take over as he reached for her hand, noting how cold it was. Like ice.
Before I could even process that memory, I was thrust into another.
It must have been a few years later; Alaric a little taller and surer of himself.
This time he was standing in a sparring gym, the mat beneath him sweaty as he was once again slammed down onto his back, the breath knocked out of him.
His father glared down, disappointment evident in his green eyes.
“Again,” Richard ordered, taking a fighting stance once again.
“What does this have to do with my magic?” His voice was a little deeper now as he tried to catch his breath. He stood slowly, the pain and aches in his limbs making it difficult. I had a feeling he had been at this for hours already.
“There will be times when hand-to-hand combat is necessary,” Richard explained, his fists up and ready to fight once more. “Your magic could be depleted. You must prepare for every situation.”
“Why punch a guy when I can just set him on fire?” Alaric countered, the rogue thought of setting his own father on fire flitting across his mind momentarily.