21. Velvet Moonrise
21
VELVET MOONRISE
DOM
T he residual effects of killing those cunts still hang over me like a veil. Though taking lives is a risk of me going dark and never coming back from it, the fact that those twats nearly raped that girl created an anger in me that mitigated the pull of darkness. If it wasn’t for that, killing three people damn near yanked me there. I took on that fuck-wads personality for an hour after I ended him and still feel his death being stitched into my soul.
Taking human life is often threefold.
When you diminish the life force of human beings, it produces toxins in their bloodstream that act as a drug to us. As their humanity drains from them, it melts into their blood and enters us, which coats our bones like honey. As their death evaporates into us, not only do we feel high, but everything about them enters us as well, making us become them for minutes, sometimes hours after they die.
Pieces of them never leave.
We are a walking jigsaw puzzle of all the people we’ve killed; little bits of our victims take up residence in our shallows, shifting and molding the personalities we own.
So not only do we get high, but we gain a new piece of our personality, and we get fed all in one fell swoop .
This is why most vampires love killing.
This is why I hate it.
I don’t like the high. I don’t like becoming someone else, and I don’t like the demise of a human settling into my existence. Each and every time it occurs, the agony I feel is inescapable. I drown in it.
I tried not to let Sayah see it, and I thought I was alone when I left the bed last night and crept out onto the balcony.
But she saw it.
That and when she bled I damn near came; the scent of her blood is so intoxicating, unlike anything I’ve ever smelled before.
There’s something different about her, something special, and I feel it thawing me, melting me down inside and coating my bones.
I’m going to have to tell her about me soon. I have to tell her my secret without revealing to her the fact that my family and, quite possibly, the warlocks all want her dead.
My trip into Never proved unsuccessful.
Everyone in the Neverdusk Dominion appears to be protecting the warlocks and the fae who create them.
I came up with nothing on them.
I am meeting with the Velvet Moonrise Coven today in their sanctuary below the city.
While going down to the tunnels, my phone vibrates with a call from my mom.
“Yeah?” I answer, quickly ducking under an awning to avoid the sunlight.
“Time’s running out, Dom. It’s getting worse here,” Mom says somberly. “Dad and I found the Nyktorim Syndicate. They’ve advised to end it.”
“End what?” I ask though I know her answer before she says it.
“The witch. They believe the prophecy is true and that she needs to die to regain control. They will send someone for her if you don’t get her powers to ignite by the next full moon.”
“Fuck,” I seethe, the walls feeling like they’re closing in on me.
Desperation is a hallowing feeling. Sometimes it feels like anger, but I know right now as the desperation hallows out every once of who I am, that this is what hopelessness feels like and it fucking pisses me off. I hate feeling this way.”
“I’m getting there,” I voice, trying to convince myself as much as her that I am, “I know she’s on the verge of awakening her fire. I’m meeting with a coven today to see if they can help. Did you come up with anything?”
“Dom, I know you are falling for this woman and don’t want her to die, but maybe you need to think about the greater good here?—”
“The greater good would be for her to find her fire and stay alive so that we will have her around to keep them from respawning, Mom!”
“Dom, don’t yell at me, I’m only trying?—”
“No! I know what you’re trying to do. Just chill the fuck out and let me handle this. I’ll get her to find it, please. I need more time.”
“There’s nothing I can do, Dom. They know where she lives now. If she doesn’t find her magick by that moon, they will come to kill her.”
Pulling the phone from my ear, I click the red disconnect button and hang up on her.
I can’t even with her right now.
I’m sure I can figure this out before anyone comes to kill her. I’ve already invited her over to the lake house to meet my parents, so if I can keep her alive until then, they’ll see for themselves what a powerful being she is. Then, I can force them to help me.
Steeling myself, I calm my racing nerves as I enter the tunnel below a bridge by the shade cover and find my way to their hiding place.
Their sanctuary is exactly where Jesse said it would be, and as I duck under a fort made of boxes, the mixture of opium and weed swirls around me. The far end of the little house opens up to another tunnel, and beyond this, magick occurs. The barrier that keeps mortals out senses the magick in my blood, and instead of hitting a wall, I walk through it.
As I step through the threshold, leaving Vegas’s grit and neon glare behind, I am enveloped in an otherworldly atmosphere. The architecture of the building echoes the grandeur of a Gothic cathedral, with towering arches and ribbed vaults reaching toward the heavens. The stone pillars are adorned with twisting vines and carved with arcane symbols, and gargoyles take the form of fantastical creatures—half-human, half-beast, frozen in eternal vigilance over the sacred space. The air is heavy with the scent of ancient incense, and a dim, ethereal light filters through the stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the stone floor.
Instead of the traditional scenes of saints and biblical narratives, the windows are adorned with intricate depictions of witches in various states of power and enchantment. Their figures are rendered in vivid hues of emerald green, deep purple, and midnight black; their faces etched with determination or masked in mystery. Each pane tells a story of magic and mysticism, capturing moments of spellcasting, flight on broomsticks, and communion with the natural world.
The flickering candlelight dances across the walls, casting eerie shadows that seem to come alive in the corners of my vision. The atmosphere is charged with a palpable energy, a potent mix of reverence and foreboding. It’s as if the stones of the building hum with ancient power, whispering secrets of forgotten spells and lost rituals.
Laughter comes from a back room, and I find my way there. When I open the door, I am greeted by the pungent aroma of cookies, witches happily laughing at a table playing cards, and an atmosphere thick with happiness and contentment.
“Hi,” says a witch with amber eyes and blonde hair. “Can we help you?”
“Yes, I’m Dominic Sangravelli. I was hoping I could ask you some questions about the grims infecting our cities.”
“Come join us, Dominic,” Blondie says.
She’s a gorgeous older witch sporting a colorful bandana around her head and a plethora of silver bangles, every finger decorated with colorful rings. She has kind eyes and a bright aura.
“We’ll answer what we can.”
Sliding into one of their chairs, four alluring beauties surround me, all with different hair colors and glimmering bright auras. Spinning my tale for them, I explain what I’ve learned so far and how I came to be here.
“It seems like you’re looking in the wrong places, Dom,” the witch named Emma states as I finish my story.
“You mean the Neverdusk?” I inquire, it dawning on me that I’ve been searching the wrong realm.
She nods and takes a joint that’s being passed around. “They are not going to give you answers because their king, Trystan, is causing this for his own means. You need to look in the Luminara—the light fairy realm.”
“How do I get there?”
“Unfortunately, you can’t,” Krystal says, her brown eyes sparkling into mine. “Because of the feud between Trystan and Tallyn, all access points to Luminara have been closed. You can only go there via invitation.”
“I met with Tallyn herself. She said nothing of this. She seemed like she was new to the information that I was giving her,” I say, inhaling the scent of marijuana lingering with the other scents of patchouli and elderberry incense.
“Never trust the fae,” Nicole states, her onyx brows that rival her hair and pierced with several rings tighten in severity.
“You probably gave her the information she needed to go after Sayah,” Emma adds dismally.
My eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
“If she and her brother are feuding again, and he is making the warlocks, then she will want them gone as much as your family and the Nyktorim Syndicate do. She will want Sayah’s death as well.”
Fuck.
This is getting out of hand.
The hard wood of the chair suddenly feels uncomfortable and I adjust in my seat. “Is there anything you can give me to help her find her fire?” Gazing into each of the witches’ eyes, their glare softens when they sense I am falling for this girl. The desire to save her drenches my aura and I can’t hide the desperation in my voice. “I believe that is all she has to do. She has magick that can help defeat these things, and I have to help her ignite it.”
“Reveal your true nature to her,” Nicole expands, blowing out the smoke dappled by candles into the air. “You can let her come into this knowledge on her own, or you can tell her, but in doing so, it will open her mind up to the supernatural. Do not tell her about the prophecy or that you think she will end the grims. That will alter her path and may taint her ability to ignite that fire within her. Tell her what you can and watch her power blossom.”
“You feel that telling her about the supernatural realm and revealing my nature will help unlock something in her brain that will unleash her fire?”
“If she is to be the one to put an end to the grims,” blondie says, her hair turning silver in the light from the sconces, “by using her fire, fire that she cannot access yet, then you must draw it out of her. Opening her mind to the notion that things beyond her wildest dreams exist will open more doors to her powers. This is one way to do that.”
“And what is the other way?” I ask though I am not sure I want to know the answer.
A shiver reaches my skin at the way Blondie’s gaze intensifies. “Putting everyone she loves, including herself, in danger.”