Chapter 31 Nyx #2
“On my first day, you told me I’d be safe here,” I accuse Church with the reminder of our first conversation.
“I’d just been abducted from my home and had my world turned upside down not 24 hours prior, and you held access to education, food, and housing over my head so I’d stop asking questions and comply.
You told me I’d be safe.” I emphasize, clenching my fists to keep my eyes from watering from the sudden sense of betrayal. Not just from him, but Celestine.
She promised.
I hold his gaze with a cold stare and whisper, “Do you have any idea what that cost me?” To let myself hope that I had any chance at a better life, where I was finally safe?
Of course they fucking don’t. And they don’t care. Why would anyone care about me? My fist presses against my chest unconsciously, trying to smother the rising ache—
“Nyx,” Brandt says sternly, and my vision blurs as my eyes snap to his. “I need you to breathe.” My jaw clenches, because why can’t they see?
“Nyx,” Esmé calls out softly from the corner as the cat headbutts my hand. “I know,” she nods with a sad smile. “I know.”
I flinch at her kind tone, and start to shake my head—
“Ow!” I yelp as the cat bites down on my thumb, and I yank my hand away as the little shithead just stares at me and purrs.
“Nyx—” Brandt starts as I rub the bleeding puncture marks. “We think your epiphaneia was triggered yesterday as a defense mechanism.” When I freeze, he takes the opportunity to continue. “Do you recall what I told you before Samhain?”
Even as my mind reels, his question tethers me to the memory.
“Epiphaneia is not just the awakening of power to channel and wield primordial magic. It is the moment the light of the universe shines upon you, and the truth of everything you are, everything you will be, is weighed and measured."
My stomach drops with dread when it triggers another memory. Because yes, I do remember—in my dream, watching through a red haze as everything I was, was replaced by everything I was meant to be.
Whatever he sees on my face seems to confirm his suspicions.
“What happened?” I ask in a shaky whisper. “What am I?”
“You are what’s known as a Bloodwitch. Your power is somewhat similar to elemental affinities in that you can wield the physical properties of blood, however—” he pauses, which isn’t great.
“Eventually, you will also be able to wield the magical properties of blood.” All three of them look at me expectantly, and in the stunned silence, only the cat’s insistent purring on my lap keeps me from disassociating completely.
My mouth falls open, but it takes a couple tries to speak. “I don’t—what does that mean?” I frown in confusion.
“What do demons, witches, shifters, etcetera, all have in common?”
“They… have magic?”
“How?”
“They have magical ancestors?”
“Every individual of each magical species—save vampires, but I’ll get to that in a moment—shares a common ancestral what?”
Oh.
Fuck.
My eyes widen, and the answer escapes in a breathless gasp. “Bloodline.”
He nods, steepling his hands. “In our world, bloodlines are sacred. Demonic dynasties are built and broken according to their pedigrees. The few witch covens that have been able to trace their ancestry to the Mother of Witches—like your friends, the Hektreia girls, for example—have managed to consolidate power over millennia. Shifters who can trace their bloodlines back to the original Fae, of which few now remain, are considered to be royalty among their own. Do you understand, Nyx?”
I look at Church, who’s watching silently.
To Esmé, who’s looking at me with sympathy.
Why is she looking at me like that?
“Yesterday, whether consciously or not—I suspect the latter, given what Esmé’s shared about how she found you—you summoned power from the blood spilled by long-dead wielders to strengthen the wards around the school, and wielded primordial magic to destroy them.
And then—” oh God, no. “When I tried to contain your power, you started to siphon power from the living.”
I think I’m going to be sick.
My ears start to ring as fragments of my dream replay through my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut. The cat starts to knead my stomach with its claws again.
“I found you before anyone died, Nyx.” She tries to comfort me. “As soon as I called out, you responded and pulled your power back. I can’t understate how extraordinary it is for a newly-awakened wielder to exert that level of control over their power. Especially considering yours is essentially—”
“Limitless.” Headmaster Church cuts in, just as a tear escapes and rolls down my cheek.
“Your power is limitless, Ms. Byrke,” he emphasizes.
“As a witch, you wield primordial magic without constraint. As a bloodwitch, you are capable of wielding whatever power anyone else is capable of. Living or not, as we saw yesterday.”
When I open my eyes, the cat is staring at me, still, purring and pricking me through the blanket with its claws.
The world spins as the implications of what I am, what I can do, what I almost did, burrow into my brain—down, down, down into the darkness until my mind balances on the precipice of this new chasm within me, gazing into the bottomless abyss that threatens to swallow me, but its eyes hold mine. It doesn’t blink.
And neither do I.
“Unfortunately,” Headmaster Church begins, “that’s not all.”
I can’t help it. I laugh hysterically. I laugh and laugh and laugh until tears stream down my face and my stomach hurts and I hold my head in my hands.
“Of-fucking-course it’s not,” I barely get out through heaving breaths that may also be sobs.
“The Dark Council has opened an investigation into yesterday’s incident, and when you are fully recovered, you will be required to provide testimony regarding everything that occurred.”
“Just what I always wanted for my birthday,” I joke deliriously as I wipe the tears from my eyes. “Any other fucking plot twists I should know about?” I exhale harshly, looking between the three of them as the cat climbs my chest and sticks its cold, wet nose in the crook of my neck.
“Only two,” Brandt smiles—well, tries to smile, at least. “Up until yesterday, Bloodwitches have appeared in historical record less than a handful of times. The last one was documented more than two millennia ago, and even then, only fragments of those records remain. I have tasked Master Roux with scouring the Library archives for any and all references to Bloodwitches.”
“Wait, wait don’t tell me—the last Bloodwitch. They lived happily ever after, didn’t they?”
“They were found dismembered and exsanguinated after accidentally creating the first vampire as a result of a failed experiment.”
“Got it, so I’ve got big shoes to fill.” The two men blink at my sick attempt to deflect my terror with humor, but at least Esmé snorts.
“Nyx, there’s one more thing.”
“Oh yeah, there was a part two to all this,” I giggle.
“After you were brought to the Medical Center, Dr. Mercer found something when she evaluated you.”
“I swear to God, if you’re about to tell me I have a fucking tail or something, I will actually die.”
Ooohhh yeah. I’ve lost it.
“No such luck this time, I’m afraid.” She smiles. “While your epiphaneia revealed you to be a Bloodwitch, it also revealed that Fate has bestowed you with a soulmate mark. Five of them, actually.” She taps the center of her chest.
“Get out.” I immediately respond.
“No.”
“A soulmate.”
“Soulmates. Plural.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know, right?”
“Esmé, are you fucking with me right now? You legally have to tell me the truth. It’s the law.”
“It’s not.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Look under your gown.”
I wrap my arms around the cat and squeeze it to my chest until it squeaks, as if the universe will pull it down just to spite me. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Seriously?”
“Promise. Brandt will send you some introductory reading about soul-bonds along with what he and Master Roux can find about Bloodwitches, but when you’re ready for answers, come to me any time.
We don’t usually cover those until Junior year, but clearly you’re more than just an academic overachiever. ”
My jaw drops. “Did you just make a joke at my expense?”
“Yes. Did it work?”
I groan and close my eyes as I lean back onto the bed, releasing the cat from my death grip. Which reminds me—
“Where’d the cat come from, by the way?”
“Cat Distribution System,” she says with a straight face, not missing a beat.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
“On a more serious note, Nyx—” she starts.
Aw, I was having fun disassociating from my trauma with humor.
“About the soulmate marks—aside from Dr. Mercer and one of her nurses, we’re the only ones who know about them, I suggest you keep it that way for now.
While soulmates aren’t necessarily rare in our world, to have so many of them is quite… ”
“Fucked up?”
“Unexpected. Combined with your significant power, they make you even more of an anomaly.”
“Until we meet with the Council and learn more about your powers,” Brandt adds, “it does you no favors to share that information.”
“Roger that.” I salute sarcastically.
They all stand, but before leaving me alone to trauma dump onto my new emotional support cat, the Headmaster adds, “I have asked Dr. Mercer to inform me when you are discharged so I can notify the Council when we are ready to meet. I’ll contact you once that’s scheduled to make arrangements.”
“Fabulous.” I roll my eyes and he turns, but then I remember—
“What happened to Luther?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Like… is he okay? Is he going to face any disciplinary action for what he did to me?”
When he hesitates, I immediately understand that no, there won’t be any consequences. Shocker.
“He’s still recovering, from what Dr. Mercer has communicated. Given the unique circumstances, the Council has directed me not to take action until after the Council hearing.”
“Even though he could have killed me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“I wish I had a better answer for you, Ms. Byrke.” He sighs, before walking out with Brandt following behind.
The cat, who’s now at the foot of my bed, tracks them as they finally leave.
I half expect it to hiss at Esmé when she passes by, but she offers her hand out for it to sniff and it blinks slowly, resettling its tail to cover its paws.
“Take care of our Daughter of Night, hm?”
“What does that mean?” I ask, remembering how Augustine said something similar the night she brought me to Dreadhurst.
“You bear the Goddess of Night’s name.” She shrugs. “It’s bad luck to spurn any of her children.”
“It’s just a random name the caseworker picked when they found me,” I mutter, looking at the cat to avoid her pity.
“Even so. I’m not one to tempt Fate,” she winks, and then she’s gone too.
The cat lifts a paw and starts to clean itself.
“I’m so totally fucked, aren’t I?” I ask.
It sneezes in response.