Chapter 43
Severin
SINCE MY LAST FEEDING WITH Maeve the night she snuck into my staff apartment, nothing has been the same.
I sleep when she sleeps and wake when she wakes, as if she’s now the clock with which I keep time.
I feel her inside of me like she’s always just a breath away.
And though there is comfort in it, I know something’s wrong.
So, after my last class of the day, I head directly to the library. It’s busy, with students gathered around tables and cozied up in armchairs next to the roaring fire in the hearth, likely all preparing for their upcoming finals.
But as soon as I cast my gaze around at the rows upon rows of books, I realize I’m not sure what I’m looking for or where I should start.
“Professor D’Arques,” says a friendly voice from behind me, and I turn to find the librarian, Maggie Mai, staring up at me, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, her lips turned up inquisitively in the corners. “Welcome to my lair.”
I blink at her. “Your lair?”
Her smile grows. “I hoard books the way dragons hoard treasure. And you look like you’re in need of something.” She plants her hands on her hips and cants her head. “So, how can I help you?”
She’s right; I am in need of something. But I have to be careful. I don’t want to give her any more information than she needs.
“I’m . . . not certain,” I say. “I’m looking for information on blood magic.”
“Blood magic?” Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Well, as you know, we don’t teach blood magic here. Too dangerous.”
I try not to frown. “Yes, of course.”
“But”—she holds up a finger—“that doesn’t mean we don’t have books on it. They’re in the staff-only section. This way, follow me.”
I didn’t realize the library had a staff-only section. There’s still so much about this castle and academy I’ve yet to learn.
Miss Mai leads me to a staircase locked behind a wrought iron gate. She removes a hefty brass key from the pocket of her long skirt, then unlocks the gate with a heavy clunk.
“Come now, up you go.”
She waves me along, and I start to ascend the spiral staircase.
It goes around and around, then lets me out in a section of the library with fewer shelves, though they’re no less crammed with books than those on the main floor.
The windows glow with late-afternoon sunlight, the sky beyond clear of any clouds, though frost still clings to the glass panes.
“Blood magic,” Miss Mai says, as if to herself. She begins walking the shelves, allowing her fingers to drift over the spines of the books.
On closer inspection, I note that many of the books don’t have titles on their spines. So, when Miss Mai stops and begins pulling books from the shelf, I ask, “How do you know what they contain?”
She gives me a smile over her shoulder as she pulls another book from the shelf. “It’s my own flavor of magic, if you will. I can feel the essence of the wisdom in each book. And these books”—she turns and hefts the heavy stack into my arms—“contain everything you need to know on blood magic.”
It’s a significant stack of books. It’ll take me ages to get through them. But I don’t have that kind of time. I need to know what this connection between me and Maeve is as soon as possible.
So, being careful to keep my tone neutral, I ask her, “Can you tell if any of these contain information on vampires as well? Feeding, specifically?”
She seems to study me, as if trying to ascertain what, exactly, I’m hoping to find. But I give her no additional information, just hold out the stack.
“Let’s see.” She traces her fingers across the spines of the books, her eyelids fluttering closed.
She’s almost at the bottom of the stack when she pauses, tapping the book with a finger.
“This one. This will have what you need.” She nudges it out and puts it on top of the stack.
“The books can’t leave this section of the library, but you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like.
” She gestures to a desk beneath one of the windows.
I nod once. “Thank you, Miss Mai.”
“Please, call me Maggie.” She gives me a warm smile. “Go on, make yourself comfortable. I’ll light a fire in the hearth.”
As she goes to the dark hearth to start a fire, I move to the desk, setting the pile of books down and removing the one from the top.
“Let me know if you need anything, Professor,” Maggie says from the top of the stairs after she’s lit the fire.
I nod to her. “I will. Thank you.”
She gives me one last long look, and I wonder if she can read the wisdom in people as well. Then she starts down the staircase, disappearing around the first spiral.
Finally alone, I remove my long jacket and drape it over the back of the chair, then take a seat and pull the book across the desk toward me. I flip the cover open and read the title: Magia Sanguinis Antiqua.
Ancient blood magic.
A tingle goes down my spine. I push it aside and start to read.
I’ve only been reading for half an hour when I turn the page and immediately pause. The new chapter is titled On the Conduit and the Siphon.
I trace my fingertips along the old text, eyes narrowing.
Among the more obscure phenomena recorded in the study of vampiric feeding is the possibility of a reciprocal exchange between vampire and source when the blood drawn originates from a conduit of significant magical current.
I pause.
A conduit of significant magical current.
It sounds like Maeve. And the connection makes my stomach tighten even before I continue reading.
In the vast majority of feedings, the act remains a simple extraction, with the donor’s arcane signature fading from the vampire’s system soon after the exchange.
Yet older records suggest that when the donor possesses a particularly potent elemental magic, the siphoning act may draw more than blood alone.
Traces of the donor’s magic have been observed to linger within the vampire for a short duration following the feeding.
Such lingering currents are ordinarily temporary.
However, several accounts describe an unusual condition arising when the same vampire feeds repeatedly from the same magically attuned donor.
In these cases, scholars have theorized the formation of what certain texts refer to as a conduit-siphon circuit, wherein the donor functions as the conduit of magical current and the vampire as its siphon, the two joined through the medium of blood.
While the first exchange may produce only residual echoes, subsequent reinforcements appear capable of stabilizing the circuit between the two systems. A handful of early observers noted that once such stabilization occurs, the borrowed current does not always dissipate as expected.
Instead, the two forces may begin to orient toward one another, the conduit’s magic seeking the siphon through which it has already passed, and the siphon drawing continued sustenance from the conduit’s current even in the absence of feeding.
This time when I stop reading, I find that my heart is beating harder and faster in my chest, my blood whooshing through my veins with increased force. The space just behind my sternum tightens.
The two forces may begin to orient toward one another.
Is that what this is? This feeling of Maeve lingering in my blood and in my bones?
I reread the last paragraph two more times, growing more concerned with each swipe of my gaze across the old text.
What does it mean for the conduit’s magic to seek the siphon? That Maeve’s magic will reach for me? Become . . . entangled with me?
And the siphon’s continued sustenance . . . It rings true in a way that makes me curl my fingers into fists.
Since first feeding from Maeve, I’ve been satiated and contented in a way that is not typical after a feed. Especially after our second feeding. Since then, the incessant thirst for blood has been all but silent inside me, like Maeve’s blood is continuing to sustain me even as days pass.
But what happens if I stop drinking from her? Will my thirst come back like before, or will it be worse after severing the conduit-siphon circuit?
I take a few breaths, trying to calm the anxiety clawing its way up my chest. Then I refocus on the page.
The long-term consequences of this condition remain poorly documented, though surviving commentaries caution that repeated reinforcement of such a circuit risks producing a lasting alignment between the two individuals involved.
Fragmentary accounts further suggest that, in cases where circuit permanence is achieved, the conduit may exhibit a marked deviation from natural lifespan, their vitality sustained beyond ordinary limits through the vampire’s influence. Such observations, however, remain insufficiently studied.
For this reason, it is advised that any vampire who suspects the formation of such a circuit should avoid further feedings from the same magical conduit lest the circuit become permanent.
The last word catches my attention, and in my periphery, everything else starts to fade away.
Permanent.
That was never my intention. And though I’ve never wanted to be attached to anything permanently, it’s Maeve I’m most worried for. She’s still so young, on the precipice of diving into a big new life.
I read the passage again.
Marked deviation from natural lifespan. Vitality sustained beyond ordinary limits.
This might not just affect her life; it might change it completely. Might create consequences she’ll feel for many decades to come.
And I can’t do this to her, can’t make her magic rely on me or reach for me, can’t allow her life to begin bending around mine. It’s not right. It would be unforgivably selfish of me to continue.
The realization makes my chest squeeze tight, and there’s that unmistakable thrum of the thread, like strumming the strings of a lute. I feel Maeve, and I’m quite certain she feels me. But I’m too distressed to pay any closer attention to it than that.
Now I know what the feeling in my chest is. It’s our circuit, created through her magic and my repeated feedings.
And I can’t let it grow any stronger than it already has, or it may become—
“Severin?”
Her voice cuts through my thoughts like a hot blade.
I look up, eyes widening as I find Maeve standing at the top of the spiral staircase, still wearing her thick cloak, her long purple hair windblown. She smells of cold air, and I can tell from the flush in her cheeks that she must’ve recently been outside.
Standing from the desk, I start to say, “Maeve, what are you—”
“Miss Vandermere!” comes Maggie’s sharp voice.
But Maeve doesn’t turn, just continues to stare at me, like she sees something written across my face. And just before Maggie reaches the top of the spiral staircase, I wipe the expression from my face, forcing it into a look of neutrality.
“Miss Vandermere!” Maggie makes it to the top and steps out behind Maeve. “This section is off-limits to students.”
Maeve reluctantly pulls her gaze from mine, shifting to look back at the librarian. “Sorry, Miss Mai. The gate was left open, so I thought that—”
“You thought wrong. Now please, return to the main floor immediately.” She holds out a hand, gesturing for Maeve to go back down the stairs.
But before Maeve does, she casts me one last glance. Then she’s turning, her cloak whirling around her, and going right back down the stairs.
Maggie watches her go, hands on her hips, then turns to me. “Did you find what you needed, Professor?”
I draw myself up and nod once. “I did. Thank you.”
“Lovely. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to close this area off. Can’t have students wandering up here when my back is turned, hmm?”
“Of course.” I close Magia Sanguinis Antiqua, my fingers lingering on the cover. “Would you like me to—”
“No need. I’ll put everything back where it belongs.”
I can tell she wants me to get out of here, so I remove my coat from the back of the chair and ease my arms into it. “Thank you again. Your help is much appreciated.”
“Always happy to be of service,” Maggie says, dark eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiles up at me. “Good day, Professor.”
“Good day.” I feel her gaze on my back as I start down the spiral staircase, the words from the book running on repeat through my mind.
Long-term consequences. Permanent.
When I reach the bottom of the staircase and step through the open wrought iron door and into the main library, my gaze is immediately drawn to the hearth, where I find Maeve standing before the fire, warming her hands.
Another student—a warlock—is attempting to speak to her, but it looks like she’s barely paying attention.
She glances up and meets my eyes, straightening her posture.
I have to tell her. This is something I can’t keep from her.
She deserves to know. My teeth clench, my fingers wrapping more tightly around the handle of my briefcase. Even if it changes everything.
I give a subtle tip of my head, beckoning her to follow me.
Then I leave the library, heading straight to my office. And from the pull in my chest, I know Maeve is following me.