Chapter Fourteen
SLOANE
The Next Morning
After calling into work and requesting some time off for ‘personal reasons,’ I make my way through the club compound. The training yard behind the clubhouse looks like it was designed by someone who understood that supernatural beings need space to break things without destroying the world.
Concrete stretches out in a wide expanse, cracked and stained from what I’m guessing are decades of magical mishaps and combat training gone wrong.
Scorch marks char the walls in patterns that suggest dragon fire.
Deep gouges score the ground where claws or something worse tore through stone.
And in the corner, there’s what looks suspiciously like a blast crater someone tried to fill in but gave up halfway through.
“Homey,” I mutter, surveying the damage.
“It has character,” Hades says from behind me, his necromancer’s calm making even that statement sound ominous. He’s dressed in all black, and his pale skin practically glows in the early-morning light. “We’ve been meaning to renovate, but every time we fix something, someone blows it up again.”
“Usually Scorch,” Oracle adds, materializing beside us in a flutter of phoenix flames. His eyes are literally on fire this morning, which I’m learning is how he looks when he’s focused. “The dragon has impulse control issues.”
“I heard that!” Scorch’s voice echoes from somewhere inside the clubhouse, followed by a creative string of profanity.
I can’t help but smile. It’s been twelve hours since my awakening, since the Heart Bind locked me to Crave in ways I’m still trying to understand, and already I’m learning the Eternal Sins MC runs on a mixture of deadly power and absolute chaos.
It’s kind of perfect.
A ripple of Crave moves through the bond, steady and grounding.
He’s watching from the second-floor window of his rebuilt room, well, partially rebuilt due to Crave’s speed, because we destroyed it pretty thoroughly last night, and the warmth of his attention settles over me.
Pride pulses through the connection, mixed with concern and his ever-present hunger that makes my blood sing.
Focus, I tell myself. You can think about jumping him again later.
Assuming I survive training.
“So.” I turn to face my teachers. Hades with his death magic, and Oracle with his phoenix fire. Two ancient beings who’ve agreed to teach a brand-new Blood Witch how not to accidentally kill everyone around her. “Tell me something, Crave can walk in the sunlight… what’s that about?”
Oracle and Hades both chuckle. “Don’t believe all those myths you hear, Sloane,” Oracle states.
“Garlic, crosses, none of that works on vampires, and they definitely don’t sparkle. You should have heard Crave when that idea came out. He was outraged for months.” Hades grins widely at the memory.
I smile, glancing back to the window to see him still surveying us down below. “And the sunlight thing is all bullshit, too, then?”
Oracle tilts his head. “Yes and no… for the Originals, it doesn’t affect them at all.
It’s just like it is for you and me. But for any newly turned vampire, it doesn’t burn as such, but it is uncomfortable in those first few weeks.
Not intolerable, just an annoying ache that they eventually get used to and wear off with age.
We think that’s where the myth came from, but as for flaming up in the sun, it’s a complete myth.
Vampires can roam at any time of day. That’s why the Coven of Crows has such strict laws in place.
Because breaking the Law of Silence and letting humans know about supernaturals in this day and age is so very dangerous.
Humans can’t comprehend what they don’t understand, and this…
the laws of magic, they don’t understand it, so they will try to banish it, or worse. ”
Nodding, I understand completely what Oracle is saying. There’s a reason the witch trials were so horrific. Humans can’t coexist with supernaturals. So we have to stay hidden.
Rolling my shoulders, I need to get us back on track. “Well, I need to learn all I can about my new world, so where do we start?”
“The basics.” Hades gestures, and the temperature drops. Frost spreads across the concrete in spiraling patterns, and from the shadows, skeletal hands emerge. They’re holding something small and squirming. “Hemomancy. Blood Magic in its purest form.”
The skeleton approaches, and I see what it’s carrying.
A rat.
A very much alive, very confused rat.
“Please tell me you didn’t just summon that from the underworld,” I say.
“Of course not.” Hades looks offended. “I’m a necromancer, not a demon. I asked Ronan to catch one from the alley. He has remarkably good luck with rodents.”
“That’s… weirdly specific.”
“Fae blood.” Oracle shrugs as though it explains everything.
Maybe it does.
The skeleton sets the rat down on a small platform in front of me. The creature sniffs the air, whiskers twitching, completely unaware it’s about to become my magical guinea pig.
“Poor thing,” I murmur.
“It won’t be harmed,” Hades assures me. “Hemomancy isn’t about destruction, it’s about control. Blood carries life force. As a Blood Witch, you can manipulate that force. Stop it. Start it. Redirect it.” His white eyes fix on me. “But first, you need to learn to feel it.”
I stare at the rat. “How?”
“Close your eyes.”
I do.
“Now reach out with your awareness. Not your physical senses, your magical ones. The part of you that awakened when Crave’s blood mixed with yours.” His voice drops to a hypnotic cadence. “Blood calls to blood. Life recognizes life. Find the rat’s heartbeat.”
At first, nothing.
Then…
… there.
A tiny pulse.
Rapid and frantic.
A miniature drumbeat that thrums through the air, a frequency only I can hear. It’s fast, so fast, layered with the rat’s fear and confusion.
“I feel it,” I breathe.
“Good. Now… stop it.”
My eyes snap open. “What?”
“Stop the rat’s heart.” Hades’ expression doesn’t change. “A whisper of intent. A command in the language blood understands. Make it stop beating.”
“That’ll kill it!”
“Only if you leave it unbeating.” Oracle steps closer, his flames casting dancing shadows. “This is the first lesson of power, Sloane. Understanding that you can harm, so you learn the responsibility of choosing not to. Stop the heart… then restart it.”
I look down at the rat. It’s grooming its whiskers now, utterly oblivious.
Crave stills, all of him narrowing to a single point of attention fixed on me. The restraint is deliberate, controlled, but the readiness beneath it is unmistakable, poised for the moment I drag this into absolute hell. His assurance reaches me anyway, threading strength straight through my spine.
You can do this.
“Okay.” I close my eyes again, finding the tiny heartbeat. “Okay,” I repeat in a whisper.
I reach for it with something that isn’t my hand, my will, my magic, whatever the hell I am now. The Bloodfire inside me reacts instantly, rising in a hot, instinctive surge toward the rat’s life force as if recognizing a command I haven’t fully learned to give.
Stop.
The command ripples through my mind, wrapped in crimson-gold light.
The heartbeat stutters.
Slows.
Then stops.
The moment the rat’s heart goes still, the shift slams through the bond and through my magic like a shockwave.
The life force freezes under my will, suspended in a strange, weightless stasis.
It’s not death… not quite. It’s as if the world inhaled and refused to let the breath go.
The energy hangs there, quiet, compliant, and somewhat unnerving.
A rush sweeps through me, layered with awe, terror, and exhilaration, twisting tight in my chest.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “It worked!”
“Now start it again,” Hades says, maddeningly calm. “Before brain damage sets in. You have about thirty seconds.”
“What?” Panic spikes hard and fast, sharp enough to knock my breath sideways. My pulse jumps, my magic flares in response, and a tremor races through my hands even though I’m not physically touching a damn thing.
“Focus!” Oracle’s flames flare brighter, casting violent gold shadows across the walls. “You controlled it. Now, release it. Let the blood flow again… command it to live.”
My breath catches. The command should be simple, but the stillness inside that suspended life force is a void, silent and unreachable. I dive into it anyway, scrambling through the frozen space where the heartbeat used to be, forcing my magic to stretch farther than it ever has.
The stasis resists me.
It’s thick, sticky, unmoving, like trying to pull something living out of ice.
Panic claws up my spine.
Come on. Come on. Come on!
I shove my will deeper, wrapping my magic around the motionless heart, the way a hand would grasp a slippery object in the dark.
The connection flickers in and out of reach, slipping every time I think I’ve caught hold.
My chest tightens, sweat beads along my spine, and the Bloodfire inside me surges restlessly, wanting to take over, to burn through the problem instead of coaxing it.
Beat.
Please beat.
My magic strains, trembling under the pressure, threads of crimson-gold light stretching until they feel ready to snap.
Come on, you tiny furry asshole, BEAT!
The heart kicks.
A small jolt at first, a spark flaring where nothing should move at all.
The beat stutters uncertainly, then hits again, harder, surer, forcing blood through veins that were moments from forgetting their purpose.
The rhythm doesn’t settle. It claws its way back into existence, uneven and insistent, an echo dragged out of the dark by sheer will.
Life returns not as a blessing… but as something reclaimed.
The rat lets out an offended squeak and launches itself off the platform, alive and furious.
A laugh bursts from me, half shocked, half relieved. I stare down at my hands as crimson-gold light pulses fiercely beneath my skin, warm, alive, and powerful.