Chapter 26 - Anson
26
ANSON
Waking as a vampire is nothing like waking as a human. There’s no slow and groggy climb to consciousness where you struggle to return to the waking world. You’re just gone one minute and there the next, awake and fully aware as your heart thrums to life and your lungs fill with air that you don’t even need to stay alive. I’ve gotten used to the sensation, but I don’t think I’ll ever find it anything but unsettling, and tonight is no different as I awaken. I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, then glance around the dim room and find myself alone and hope it’s not prophetic for what my future holds.
I rise and rush toward the adjoining bathroom, where I take a quick shower. Then I hurry back into the bedroom and find that Ameera has laid out a black tactical outfit for me on the club chair in the corner, complete with body armor and a pair of heavy boots on the floor nearby. Lying on top of the folded clothing is a familiar knife in its old, worn leather sheath. My commando knife has been handed down in my family from one generation of mage to the next since my great-grandfather carried it in World War II when he served in the British Army. My father gave it to me the day he finished my training as a mage, just like his father did for him. I haven’t set eyes on the weapon, let alone wanted to carry it, since I was turned. It reminds me too much of the magic I lost. Next to the knife is a small oval of polished obsidian. I haven’t sought out my palm stone since becoming a vampire either, because it also symbolizes what I lost, along with my mortality. I didn’t even realize Ameera still had them tucked away somewhere.
I stare at them for a long moment. Maybe it’s time to carry them again now that I have some hope of getting my magic back. And if I don’t? Well, at least their presence will make me feel more like the mage I used to be before I die tonight.
I nod to myself, then dress before strapping the knife to my lower leg and pulling my pant leg down over it. Then I pick up the palm stone and stare down at it in my hand. I run my thumb along its smooth, familiar surface and a slight smile graces my lips at how right it feels before tucking it into my pants pocket. I turn to leave the room just as the lock on the door clicks and it swings open to reveal Ameera on the other side. She’s dressed in black tactical gear and body armor too, but the hilt of a sword is peeking out over her left shoulder from where it’s strapped to her back. I glance at the pistol holstered at her hip.
“I thought you said we couldn’t use guns during the challenge,” I say as I approach her in the doorway.
She touches the gun’s handle. “We can’t,” she replies with a slight frown. “I just like knowing it’s there.”
I nod and reach into my pocket to wrap my fingers around my palm stone. “I can understand that.”
“Here,” she says as she holds out a large glass tumbler filled almost to the rim with blood. “I brought you fresh blood. You’re going to need all of it.”
I’ve never drank so much in one sitting before since I never felt the need, but I trust she knows what’s she’s talking about and take it from her. I lift it to my lips and guzzle it all down, still a little disturbed by how delicious blood smells and tastes to me and the almost euphoric hit of energy that follows every time I drink it. I lick the last drop from the rim, then set the glass on the tall dresser near the door before giving Ameera a nod of thanks.
“Your father has everything set up and ready for the spell,” she says as she steps closer, her eyes growing sad. “And I need to leave.”
I spread my arms, and she steps into them. I pull her against me and hold her there in a desperate grip, breathing in her sweet floral scent so I can commit it to memory. “I don’t want you to go,” I murmur. “I’m afraid I’ll never see you again,” I add in a bare whisper.
“I am too,” she replies, then pulls back just enough to look at me, her arms still latched around my waist. Her soft, affectionate expression hardens. “I have to believe we’ll succeed tonight,” she says. “Any other option is...” she trails off, her determination faltering.
“Unthinkable,” I say, my voice wavering a bit as I finish her sentence for her.
She nods as a single tear slips down her cheek. I reach up to brush it away, then lean down to kiss her. I pour every ounce of my love for her into it, my passion, my need. The kiss goes on and on, neither of us willing to pull away since it could very well be our last. Eventually, the sound of someone clearing their throat brings us back to reality. We pull apart, and Ameera looks as dazed and heartsick as I feel.
“Sire?” a familiar voice calls out from behind Ameera. “We need to go.” I glance over her shoulder to see Samuel and Harrison standing nearby, both dressed in the same black tactical clothes Ameera and I are wearing.
She nods and I touch my forehead to hers.
“I love you,” I murmur, hoping like hell it’s not the last time I tell her that.
Her hands steal up to cup my face. “And I love you,” she whispers, then leans away to meet my gaze with a fierceness in her eyes that comforts me. “We will be together again. I promise.”
I nod, even though her promise might end up being an empty one. “Go,” I say. “I’ll see you again soon.”
She presses one more hard kiss to my lips, then pulls away and whirls to follow Samuel and Harrison across the room to the stairs. She flings one more glance my way at the foot of the steps, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, then disappears from sight, leaving me feeling lost and alone. Part of me wishes I could retreat into our room and hide until this all blows over. If only that was a possibility.
Instead, I bolster my courage, then head for the steps and follow them upstairs. I go to the kitchen and exit the house through the back door. We’re lucky the weather has cooperated, the night clear and cool with a slight breeze rustling the trees that line the security wall. I make my way to the more heavily wooded back corner of the yard, where the biggest ley line that crosses the property is the strongest. There I find my father, Wai Lin, Dre, and Aydin, all standing in a clearing near a large circle made of white sand poured onto the manicured lawn. At equidistant points around the six-foot circle, sit a stone, a feather, a lit candle, and a seashell. Each represents the four elements: earth, wind, fire, and water. The group turns to face me as I approach, each with an expectant expression that sets me on edge.
I motion toward the spell circle. “Let’s fucking do this,” I say, my voice gruff with tension. We don’t have any time to spare, and the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get to Ameera. Then we can end this bullshit once and for all.
Dre rushes up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Good luck, brother,” he says with a stiff nod, then steps aside as Aydin approaches next.
“Screw that,” he says with a slight smile. “Make your own luck. Take back what’s yours and claim your right to rule this city with Ameera. I know you both can.”
“Thank you,” I mutter, unsure how I feel about the ancient vampire’s encouraging words or his apparent faith in me. I agree with his take on luck, though. I’ve never taken much stock in the concept, believing our choices decide our fates, but I sure as shit could use some luck right now. Especially given how much I stand to lose if we fail.
Aydin steps away, so my father and Wai Lin can approach. Dad looks rested and alert, his color normal and his eyes bright and filled with a familiar and unwavering confidence that puts me at ease. Wai Lin, on the other hand, has the opposite effect as I watch her try to use her magic to light the herbs in the small abalone shell bowl she’s holding with shaking hands. It takes two attempts before she succeeds with a grimace of embarrassment as the spark of magic from her fingers drops into the bowl and starts to smolder.
Dad hands her a large brown feather, and she uses it to waft the thick smoke rising from the herbs in my direction. This is known as smudging, and it’s used to clear negative energies. For normal humans, it’s more of a symbolic ritual. But for a mage, it accomplishes a more tangible result. It’s used to ready anyone involved with a more complex spell when negative magical energies could adversely affect the outcome. We definitely can’t risk that happening tonight. And with how rampant my emotions are right now, it’s a distinct possibility.
Wai Lin walks around me, fanning the smoke over me from head to toe with gentle strokes of the feather, the earthy scent of the white sage stronger than it ever was when I was human. She murmurs in Mandarin, her chosen language for focusing her magic, as she circles me until the sage burns away. Then she refills the abalone bowl and does the same for my father, who stands stock still as she works, his sharp eyes fixed on me with obvious concern.
When the herbs burn away, Wai Lin fills it again and smudges herself until they’re gone, then looks expectantly at me. I nod as walk into the spell circle and lean down to pull my knife from its sheath. Then I kneel in the center and place the blade on the ground in front of me before clasping my hands in my lap. Wai Lin burns even more sage as she walks around the circumference of the spell circle, wafting the smoke onto the ground and banishing any negative magic from the circle itself. Now we’re ready to begin the spell, and the rush of fear that follows that realization has my emotions roiling out of control again. I blink a few times, my hands fidgeting in my lap as the urge to roll into the fetal position and let myself get lost in the maelstrom in my head falls over me. It would be so easy to just give up and let it take me.
“I’ve got you, son,” Dad says as he approaches and stands just outside the spell circle in front of me. “I won’t let you down. Not again. I promise.”
I meet his gaze and see the familiar love in his eyes that he’s always had for me. Along with it is a steely resolve that settles some of the chaos in my head. If anyone can succeed with this spell and get me through it unscathed, it’s my father, the man I look up to most in this world, and helped make me the strong, honorable person I am today. He’s always looked out for me, and tonight is no different. The realization helps me get a better grip on my control and I feel less panicked and afraid already.
A smile ghosts across my lips. “I know you won’t.”
Dad nods, then gets to work. He reaches down and lifts his pant leg so he can pull his dagger from its sheath, a plain, yet well-made one he chose after handing mine down to me. He straightens and Wai Lin walks up to him and gives him a fist size piece of raw white quartz that he’ll use to tap into the ley line beneath us. Dad hands the dagger to Wai Lin, then cradles the quartz in both hands and lifts it upward as he closes his eyes and begins chanting in Latin.
I’m familiar with the first part of the spell. It’s similar to the one I used to tap into this ley line so I could anchor it to the now defunct ward I put on Ameera’s house and property before I was turned. This part of the spell is pretty straightforward. It just requires a large expenditure of energy, which makes the next part risky since his aura will already be weakened when he attempts to tether it to the ley line.
A few moments pass and the quartz begins glowing a pale ghostly white. Dad opens his eyes, and they’re glittering bright with magic. He glances at Wai Lin, then holds his left hand out to her. She clasps it, then takes the dagger and cuts a line into the meaty part of his palm until blood wells up from the shallow wound. Dad raises his injured hand over the quartz and lets his blood drip onto the milky-white crystal in vivid spatters of red.
I never thought I’d see the day my father would use blood magic, something most mages with a conscience and a good sense of self-preservation avoid using because of the risks involved. The copious amounts of blood required for the more powerful spells could kill you unless you’re willing to sacrifice others to get the job done. It’s why most blood magic is practiced by black mages who have no qualms about committing murder to get the blood they need. This blood magic spell can’t be performed with someone else’s blood, even if we were willing to do such a repugnant thing. The only way my father can tether his aura to the ley line is by using his own blood.
He begins chanting again, and as I watch, the glow of the quartz fades away as the magic glittering in his eyes brightens. This is when he joins his aura with the ley line and the spell gets dangerous. One slip of his power, one mistaken word, could cause the magic to flood his aura in a raging tide capable of burning his power out and killing him in mere seconds.
By the time he finishes chanting, the quartz is no longer glowing, and his eyes are a solid incandescent white lighting up the surrounding darkness. So far, so good. He hands the quartz to Wai Lin, then turns to walk along the outside of the circle, chanting once more.
This part is the hardest as Dad carefully feeds the ley line’s power into the spell circle. He travels the circumference of the circle, once, twice, and the third time the sand that forms it starts to glitter amid the blades of grass. On his fourth trip around the spell circle, the sand starts to glow, and it grows brighter and brighter with each step until it’s lighting up the clearing and his eyes are back to their normal magical glitter. Holy shit. He did it without a hitch, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. A wave of relief falls over me now that he’s no longer in danger from the ley line’s magic. But it’s short-lived as Dad stops in front of me and nods to let me know it’s time for my part of the spell. Now it’s up to me to see the spell to fruition. If I fail, I die, either now or at Ameera’s side, along with her on the blade of the Executor’s sword. No pressure. No pressure at all.
I nod in response and pick up my knife, my hand shaking. Fuck, I need to get a grip on myself or I’m doomed to fail. I close my eyes and focus my will, acknowledging each emotion that’s swirling around in my head until they’re somewhat under control. I open my eyes again, feeling much calmer and ready to get this shit done. I take the knife and press the blade into the palm of my free hand and cut a shallow line into my skin, my blood welling from the wound in its wake. I raise my bleeding hand and chant the next part of the spell.
“Dico quod magicae sicut mea,” I say in Latin. I claim this magic as mine. I say it again and again, then I say it a fourth and final time as I press my bloody hand down onto the ground.
And nothing happens…
What the hell?
Several seconds pass and still nothing happens. Did I fuck up? Did Dad? I glance up at him to see his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow. Fuck. He doesn’t know why it isn’t working either. Another few seconds pass without a hint of anything happening and I’m just about ready to stand and call this whole thing a wash, when a sudden blast of magical energy slams into me like a goddamn semi. Pain like I’ve never felt before sears through every inch of my body, and it feels like I’m being boiled alive from the inside out.
It goes on and on as the ley line’s power roars through my aura, my back arching and a scream tearing out of my mouth as raw agony engulfs me. It’s killing me. I know it, and there’s nothing I can do but suffer until the end. My consciousness wavers in and out, and I only have time for one last thought before oblivion steals me away from this world.
I’m sorry I failed you, Ameera.