42. Blood Legacy
DAMIEN
Iwake before twilight, opening my eyes with one thing on my mind: killing Tony and bringing Eloise his head on a platter — metaphorically. In reality, I’ll spare her any details of the man’s death. Although she understands now what must be done, her heart is too soft to enjoy it, and I don’t want her to feel any guilt about what I plan to do. As far as she and the rest of the world are concerned, Tony will simply disappear. But I will know. My heart is not soft, and I plan to make him suffer. I’d kill a legion of men to protect my mate.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and remember the source of that particular impulse. I mated Eloise. Despite all my promises to myself not to, despite knowing it’s a terrible idea, despite not asking her explicitly if she wanted to be mated, I’d claimed her as my own, irrevocably.
Gods, I’m well and truly fucked.
I’m free of the Gowdie curse, which means I can go home if I find the magic to open a portal to Tenebris. But I must be careful in that quest. No one can know I’m free or I might again attract the attention of the queen who wants me as her consort. Only, even if I find a way home, I won’t leave this planet without Eloise. Not now that she’s my mate. But if she won’t leave, what kind of life can I make for her here where the sun drains me?
I jolt when a knock comes on my door. Not the Queen’s Guard again? “One moment,” I call. I dress quickly, ensuring the location on my chest where my tattoo once was is completely covered before answering it. But when I open the door, it’s Lazarus on my doorstep.
“Old friend, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I’m surprised to see the scribe outside the library. He rarely leaves the stacks.
The ancient vampire grins up at me with wide, excited eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by at the twilight hour, but I have sensational news.”
He’s cradling an ancient tome in his arms. “Oh?” I try to keep my voice calm, but only three things would motivate Lazarus to seek me out. His visit is either about my curse, my way home, or Eloise’s sigil. My skin prickles with excitement. “What do you have there?”
“The sigil you brought me —the tattoo— I found it, Damien. I know what power the bearer wields!”
Looking both ways to confirm the hall outside my dwelling is empty, I open my door wider and usher the scribe inside, locking it behind him. Lazarus hobbles to my table and drops the book with a dust-producing thump. “Judging by the coat of grime on that thing, I’d say you scoured every corner of the stacks.”
“Oh, I did.” His crusty chuckle reveals all of his yellowing teeth. “It became a bit of an obsession, I admit.”
“But it’s definitely a sigil? A witch, then?”
He holds up one gnarled finger. “One would assume a witch, given the design. But I researched every witch family in history, Damien, and none use the collection of symbols that appear in this sigil.”
“What then?”
Lazarus opens the book in the middle and turns delicate vellum pages until Eloise’s tattoo stares back at me from a two-page spread written in a language I don’t recognize. The scribe taps the page with his nail. “Here it is. This sigil was used exclusively by a small magical coven in England called the Order of the Dragon. There have reportedly been less than two hundred members over the centuries.”
My lip curls. “I thought you said this wasn’t a witch family’s sigil?”
“It’s not.” His eyes widen. “Practitioners of this order gain their magic not from their ancestry or the elements. They use dragon’s blood.” His voice holds a sense of wonder.
“Dragon’s blood? As in, there’s a real dragon living in England.”
He huffs. “Not anymore, unfortunately. If any still existed, I assure you our queen would be interested. Dragons were extremely powerful beasts.”
“But, you say there once was a dragon.”
He nods. “A shifter, mind you. He appeared human. I did some research. He disappeared a few years ago, and the order was abandoned. But he’d led the Order of the Dragon for some three hundred years before then. Our texts suggest that the members of the order were initiated by drinking the dragon’s blood, which imbued them with a variety of powers, powers they could then refine using traditional magics. Some mimicked witchcraft, others were psychic in nature, but all were completely unique because…” He lowered his voice. “Their power is both magical and therianthropic by nature.”
“Witch and shifter combined?” The insides of my veins frost over as I begin to ponder the implications.
“Yes,” the scribe says excitedly. “Not to mention, according to this text, the runes in this sigil denote a keyspell with the power to break curses. This sigil could free you.”
I already know this to be true. Eloise did break my curse. But I act surprised. I want to know more, anything to help her understand her power.
Lazarus grins. “Queen Valeska will be amused to learn of this. Do you think you can capture the creature you saw bearing this sigil? I believe all of us could learn from studying it.”
My talons dig into the tabletop, and my jaw clenches with the sudden desire to tear Lazarus to shreds. I force my expression to remain static. “I thought you said each recipient of dragon’s blood has a unique power. Why do you think this one can break my curse?”
“Ah, because the coven that developed the magic inside this version of the sigil perfected a keyspell with very specific powers. These archaic symbols refer to dissolving, breaking, and unlocking. I believe the wearer of this sigil can undo any curse. And, Damien, it is possible the bearer can unlock portals as well. Walk between worlds as easily as walking from one room to the next! The person with this tattoo could send you home to your world.”
I stiffen. Eloise did break my curse, and this is her tattoo. How appropriate I’ve been calling her my little dragon, when it is dragon’s blood coursing through her veins. But Eloise doesn”t know any of this or how to control it. Her parents died before they could teach her.
“Do you think you can find the wearer again?” Lazarus asks excitedly. “The magic is very rare.”
No one can ever know about Eloise. If Night Haven discovers what she is, they’ll want to capture her. To own her. Even I won’t be able to protect her. “No,” I say flatly. “Lazarus, I thought I made it clear. I saw the symbol on a man’s chest in the train station in Richmond while on assignment for the Gowdies. I have no idea who he is or where he was going. I was simply intrigued because I’d never seen the sigil before.”
The scribe taps his chin. “I could have sworn you said it was on a woman.”
“You misunderstood. I was with a woman when I saw it. A Gowdie witch.”
Lazarus hisses. “How you tolerate the company of those animators is beyond me. You bear your curse with such grace.”
“Over the centuries, I’ve learned to survive. But even now, the candle calls to me.” I draw my phone from my pocket and snap a picture of the pages. I want to show them to Eloise.
Lazarus laughs. “You won’t be able to read that, my friend. That language hasn’t been spoken in a century.”
I shrug. “I hope you don’t mind. I want to take a closer look. Indulge my curiosity.”
The scribe waves a hand. “Feel free, although you know what they say about curiosity and cats.” The vampire snorts, closes the book, and scoops it back into his arms.
“Thank you, Lazarus.”
The vampire presses a hand to his chest and bows. “It is my sincere honor to be useful. I will be sad to give up this project. Truly intriguing.”
I flash a charming smile. “I’ll try my best to find something else to keep you busy.”
“There’s always the chance you’ll see the man again and capture him for study,” Lazarus adds hopefully.
“Always the chance,” I repeat.
The moment Lazarus is out of my apartment, I lock the door and dematerialize, traveling by shadow, anxious to complete my mission to kill Tony and again be in the presence of my little dragon.