Chapter 5
Kara
The garden shimmers around us, familiar roses and herbs replacing the cold stone walls of Lucien’s mansion. My legs wobble, and I steady myself against a weathered trellis, the thorny vines scraping my palm.
“Kara, I just—” His fingertips are so close to my face that I can feel their heat, and it sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with magic.
I can still feel the phantom press of his arms around me from minutes ago when he pulled me from that unholy trap.
The memory of his strength, the way he moved with inhuman speed to reach me before the walls closed in…
I shake my head, trying to clear it. This is ridiculous. He’s a vampire. The enemy. Even if he did save my life, even if there was that strange spark when our powers connected as we fought our way out…
His thumb hovers over my skin, and I catch my breath. There’s something about his presence that makes my magic hum beneath my skin, like it recognizes something in him. Something that calls to me on a level I don’t understand.
I look up, meeting those striking indigo eyes. For a moment, the garden fades away, and I’m hyper-aware of how close we’re standing, how his hand could touch me if he moved a fraction.
“Kara! Oh, thank the goddess!”
My mother’s voice shatters the moment. I jerk away from Marcus, my cheeks burning as I turn to see her hurrying across the lawn. Her relief quickly morphs into anger as she takes in my disheveled appearance.
“What were you thinking?” Her voice rises with each word. “Running off alone like that? You could have been killed!”
Dad follows behind her, his face a mask of quiet disappointment that hits me harder than Mom’s anger ever could. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me with those deep green eyes that seem to strip me down to the girl I once was.
“I had to try something,” I snap, but the words don’t ring true; I was an idiot, and I know it. “We can’t just sit around while Gran—”
“While Gran what?” Mom cuts me off. “Gets killed because you rushed in without thinking?”
Rowan and Mia hover on the patio, their worried faces making my stomach twist. Even Rowan, who’s usually quick to jump into action, looks concerned. Darick stands behind them, his expression unreadable as he observes the scene.
“Inside. Now.” Dad’s voice is quiet but leaves no room for argument.
I shoot Marcus a glare, daring him to say something, but he just inclines his head slightly. The gesture somehow manages to be both respectful and irritating at the same time.
The walk to the house feels longer than it should, each step weighted with the knowledge that I’ve disappointed them all.
Mom’s anger I can handle – it’s Dad’s silence that cuts deepest. He’s always believed in me, trusted my judgment.
Now I’m not so sure. To be honest, I don’t trust it myself anymore.
We file into the house, the familiar scent of herbs and magic doing nothing to ease the tension in the air.
“Explain.” Dad’s voice is firm but gentle as we gather in the living room. I sink into the armchair, feeling small under everyone’s stares.
“I… I shadow-jumped to Lucien’s estate.” The words tumble out.
“We were talking about it being a likely place for him to hold her, so I had to see for myself. And when I got there, I thought I sensed traces of Gran’s magic, so I followed them inside.
” My fingers twist in my lap. “There was this room that seemed to have her essence all over it…”
I pause, my throat tightening as I remember the walls closing in, the crushing pressure, the absolute certainty that I was going to die alone in that trap. Before I can continue, Marcus steps forward from where he’s been leaning against the doorframe.
“The trace was artificially planted,” he says smoothly.
“A sophisticated lure designed to draw in anyone searching for Evelyn. Kara recognized the deception quickly, but not before the trap was sprung.” His eyes meet mine for a brief moment.
“We were able to combine our abilities to break free and gather valuable intelligence about Lucien’s methods. ”
I stare at him, thrown by how he’s transformed my reckless mission into something almost…competent. He doesn’t mention my screaming for help or how close those walls came to killing me. Instead, he makes it sound like we were working together the whole time.
I feel a strange warmth in my chest as I watch him defend my actions to my family. He has no reason to protect my dignity like this. If anything, he should be throwing me under the bus for ignoring his warnings.
“The important thing,” Marcus continues, “is that we now know that Lucien has planted traps like this in all of his properties. We overheard a couple of guards discussing the details. He’s preparing for us to go looking for Evelyn.”
I can’t help but notice how he keeps saying “we” like we’re some kind of team. The memory of our energies combining to break free flashes through my mind. I push the thought away.
“Just as we suspected,” Darick says from his position near the window. His ice-blue eyes narrow. “Lucien’s been fortifying his holdings for weeks now. Our sources reported increased activity, but we couldn’t confirm the exact nature of the modifications.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?” I snap, my frustration bubbling over. The remnants of fear from being trapped still course through my veins, making me edgy.
Marcus gives me a pointed look. “If you had waited instead of charging in alone, we would have briefed you on our intelligence.”
The others look at him curiously, and I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable questions. Thankfully, they don’t come.
I hate that he’s right. I hate even more how his calm rationality makes my impulsiveness stand out in stark contrast. Mom’s disapproving sigh only reinforces the point.
“The traps are sophisticated,” Marcus continues, addressing the room. “They’re designed to recognize magical signatures and adapt accordingly. What Kara encountered was just one variation.”
“And, knowing Lucien, they’re specifically calibrated for witch magic,” Darick adds. “Though I suspect they might have nasty surprises for vampires as well. Lucien’s never been one to discriminate when it comes to eliminating potential threats.”
I feel my family’s eyes on me, and I resist the urge to sink deeper into my chair. The weight of my reckless decision presses down on me, but I force myself to sit straight. I may have acted impulsively, but at least we gained some concrete information about what we’re up against.
“Oh, Kara,” Mom sighs, reaching out to my shoulder. “Thank the goddess you had Marcus to help you.”
Ugh. I wish she wasn’t right. It makes me feel like some kind of helpless female.
“I’m fine, Mom. It was nothing. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” Marcus raises his eyebrow. “I’m crushed.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Funny,” I mutter. I’m aware that the others are eyeing us with interest.
A shadow detaches itself from the corner, making me jump. Marcus moves instantly, placing himself between me and the potential threat, but relaxes as Soren steps into the light.
“At ease,” Soren says, his dark eyes sweeping the room. “Though I appreciate the reflexes.”
“What are you doing here?” I demand, then take a deep breath. I really need to calm the hell down. Something about being squished like a bug disagrees with me.
“Kara!” Mia scowls at me. “Rude much?”
I give a sheepish shrug. “Sorry. My nerves are on edge.”
My sister moves to the tall male, smoothing a hand over his tousled hair. “I’m glad you’re back. I was worried about you.”
“I’m here with news.” He brushes his lips over her forehead before turning to the rest of us. “The vampire community is…unsettled. Valmont’s death has sparked outrage, but not all of it is directed where Lucien might hope.”
Marcus straightens. “What do you mean?”
“Many see his attack on the witch coven as reckless – an act of war we can’t afford right now.
There’s growing dissent about his recent proposals.
” Soren’s gaze fixes on me. “The more conservative elements are particularly concerned about forcibly taking witch blood. They remember the last war all too well.”
“As they should,” I mutter, but without my usual heat. The memory of Marcus pulling me from that trap is still too fresh. He saved my life, after all.
“Arabella won’t be able to maintain neutrality much longer,” Soren continues. “Not with Valmont dead and evidence mounting of Lucien’s…excesses. The timing of his attack on the coven couldn’t have been worse for him politically.”
“You think she’ll finally act?” Marcus asks.
Soren nods. “Many of the old guard remember what happened the last time we provoked the witches. They won’t stand for another war, not when we’re already dealing with the Bloodbane crisis. This could be the push needed to galvanize the Grand Elder into taking action against Lucien.”
“Or not,” Darick mutters.
Dad moves to the center of our living room, his posture telling me that he’s about to deliver news. “We have important feedback, too.” He glances at Mom, who gives him an encouraging smile. “The Conclave has voted unanimously to take action. Even Morgan Shadowmaster abstained rather than oppose.”
“Morgan actually kept his mouth shut for once?” I exchange a look with Rowan. The Shadow Veil’s leader usually jumps at any chance to defend the vampires. “That’s…unexpected.”
“Two of our sisters are dead.” Dad’s voice turns hard. “Clara Bell and Jasmine Vespyr from the Whispering Winds. Their blood is on Lucien’s hands.”
My stomach twists. I’d known Clara – we’d trained together last summer. She had a wicked sense of humor and made the best healing salves I’d ever used.
“The Conclave demands justice,” Mom adds, her fingers interlaced tightly with Dad’s. “And they want Gran back. The elders are pushing for an emergency joint council meeting with the vampires.”
Marcus shifts from his position near the window. “Arabella will agree. The timing works in our favor – Lucien’s actions have alienated many of the older vampires.”
“But not all of them,” Darick points out. “Victor’s clan still backs him, especially after his death, and Isabella’s people are on the fence.”
“A slew of dead witches might change their minds,” I snap, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“Two witches,” Marcus corrects quietly.
“Really.” I meet his eyes. “Have you forgotten about the others? The ones who never made it out of Lucien’s hellholes?” I glance at Mia, who is living proof that those places exist.
“The joint council meeting will be dangerous,” Dad continues after a moment. “There are factions on both sides who’d rather see this erupt into open war. We’ll need to tread carefully.”
I notice how Marcus and Darick exchange glances at that. There’s clearly more going on in vampire politics than they’re sharing with us. And maybe that should surprise me, but it doesn’t. It’s just as I thought. These creatures can’t be trusted.
Rowan’s hand on my arm is gentle but insistent as she pulls me away from the others. We drift toward the kitchen while everyone else clusters around Dad and Soren, deep in discussion about the upcoming council meeting.
“So,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Want to talk about what happened with Marcus?”
“Nothing happened.” The denial comes too quickly, and I know it from the way her eyebrow arches.
“Really? Because that whole scene looked pretty intense.” She fidgets with her glasses. “Look, I get it. The whole vampire-witch thing? I’ve been there. Still am there, with Darick.”
I cross my arms. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” Her green eyes meet mine. “I used to think so, too. Used to tell myself all the reasons why it could never work, why I shouldn’t feel anything for him. But sometimes…sometimes the heart doesn’t care about should or shouldn’t.”
“It’s not like that,” I insist, but the memory of Marcus’s touch, the way our magic sparked together, makes me falter. “He just…there’s something about him that gets under my skin.”
“Yeah, that sounds familiar.” Rowan’s smile is knowing. “Maybe you’re fighting it so hard because you know there’s something there worth fighting.”
“If Poppy was here, she’d back me up,” I say, trying to lighten the moment. “She’d be the first to tell me how crazy this is.”
The mention of her familiar brings a shadow across Rowan’s face. We both fall silent, the weight of everything we’ve lost pressing down on us. Gran. Poppy. It feels like our world is being picked apart, piece by piece.
“I miss her,” Rowan whispers. “Even her sarcastic little comments. Especially those.”
I squeeze her hand. “We’ll get them both back. I promise.”
As I say it, I hope it’s true. Because after what I went through tonight, I know more than ever that we’re up against something powerful.
Something dangerous. And as strong as we are, I don’t know if we’re cut out for this.
Of all the things the Blackwoods have faced, I don’t think we’ve ever faced this. I don’t think we’ve faced pure evil.
And there’s no doubt in my mind that that’s what Lucien Marlowe is.