Chapter 27 | Sephania
Sephania
I tell my mother a truncated version of my life up until now, leaving out most of the murders, all of the sex, and any scandals that might make me seem less pristine in her eyes.
So essentially I tell Jinneth about thirty-percent of my life story.
Enough to make me look like an upright citizen and stalwart of justice.
As if I can fool her, I think wryly. She sees the kind of men I keep as company.
Our dialogue stretches through the day, past morning meal, into afternoon, until the sun is beginning to wane.
It’s freeing being able to speak with my mother after so many years.
It makes me feel warm inside. I’ve never had this before.
Someone who cares like she does, who hangs off every word I speak.
Well, I have three of them right now. But this is different.
This is my own mother. Someone I thought long dead, who abandoned me as an infant because I was wrong, or bad, or not good enough; who left me with the House of the Broken, a place which snatched my innocence up and broke me.
Onto the Diplomats, who truly ruined me.
The Grimsons, with Lukain, who did his level best to patch me up and fix me.
He couldn’t fix what was broken. Lukain Pierken lacked the tools. It’s only been Skartovius, Garroway, and Vallan who have been able to give me what I need: a family. In their own dastardly ways, they care more than anyone ever has.
I’ll never take them for granted. Not after this back-and-forth with my mother, where we’ve spilled our traumas onto one another, cried, hugged, and laughed.
The mending starts now. I suppose it’s never too late to start.
“We should go see Old Endolf together,” I say once I’m finished.
We’ve moved to an upstairs room after taking a short walk outside along the river where I used to talk to a fake girl in my head—one I eventually named Jinneth after the painting on the wall downstairs.
Turns out the real Jinneth is even more useful than the friend I fabricated in my mind.
At mention of Old Endolf, my mother pumps her hands. “Now, now, dear, not so fast. I’m just an old woman now. I have no skills or ability to make such a trek. Surely—it’s nearly night outside!”
I chuckle at the flush of her face, the fluster in her words. “You’re not that old, Mother. We don’t need to go now. When you’re ready. Maybe he can help us.”
She clenches her jaw and looks away, out the window, where the sun is beginning to flame an orange hue and swing down below the edge of the mountain. “Perhaps. We’re two fairly intelligent women. Let’s see what we can uncover without the help of men, for a moment.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Tell me again what you’ve been able to do with this Loreblood,” she says.
We’re sitting on the edge of the bed like gossiping children. My legs are lifted, knees to my chest. I feel like a small girl again and it’s . . . lovely.
“Garroway—”
“The sarcastic one with the mischievous smile.”
“Right.”
“Trust him as far as I can throw him,” she mumbles.
“Anyway,” I laugh, “Garroway drank from me and can see through the eyes of animals. Keffa called it beast-charming. Mice, rats, moths—”
“Rodents and vermin.” Her nose wrinkles. “Not an excess of pretty animals. I suppose he’s pretty enough.”
“Mother!” I chortle. “Focus!”
“And the others?”
“Skartovius Ashfen, the—”
“Haughty young devil.”
“—can manipulate shadows. Isn’t that wild?”
“Sounds dangerous.”
I roll my eyes. “He is dangerous. They all are.”
“And the big oak tree?”
“The big oak tree is named Vallan Stellos. He can sense when I’m in danger.
He calls it bloodsight. It’s some kind of inner vision that relates only to me—the owner of the Loreblood he drank.
All of their powers are strongest when closest to me.
For a while, they couldn’t even utilize their powers unless I was nearby. ”
Jinneth nods continuously, mulling my words over. “I’m not even going to ask how these heathen vampires managed to drink your blood, daughter.”
“Good, because I’m not going to answer.”
We shoot each other smiles that are mirror images of one another. Truehearts fuck me, I never thought I would be so similar to this woman. Granted, I didn’t even know she existed my entire life. I’d never thought about her or our similarities before rescuing her.
“What can you do, Sephania? What powers has my muddled concoction given my daughter?”
“Well, the strongest ability of all, in their eyes.” I lean forward, my eyes conspiratorial, my voice dropping. “When someone drinks from me, Mother, they become entranced by me. Obsessed, even. Almost like . . .”
“. . . a redcloud addiction.”
My eyes widen. “No,” I hiss. “You think my powers could be related to the drug I’ve seen countless people wobbling through town on, vacant and soulless?”
Her shoulders lift. “Possibly?”
We’re just guessing now.
“Furthermore,” I say, lifting a finger, “the actual important bit. We’ve discovered—through trial and error, the specifics of which I’d rather not get into—that my blood helps sever the connection between a bloodthrall and his or her master vampire.”
My mother lets out a breathless gasp. Her mouth falls open and I pause my thoughts mid-sentence.
“Spirits and deities,” she mutters under her breath. “That’s . . .”
“Powerful?”
“Remarkable. And, yes, powerful.” Jinneth shakes her head, wobbling her neck again. “Do you think it works on all vampires, half-vampires, and thralls?”
It’s worked on Garro, breaking his connection with Skar.
It worked on Dimmon Plank after being turned by Skar.
It worked on Sister Cyprilis, which Jinneth has seen with her own eyes.
“Yes, I believe so. Haven’t tested it on any ancient vampires but .
. . I’m fairly certain. Unless the blood you infused me with acts as a sort of blockade for stronger, older vampires, since you said there was ancient blood in the concoction. ”
My mother thinks over it for a long moment, pulling at her chin and staring out the window. “These people. They drink from you . . . they obsess over you . . . they lose their connection with their master or mistress.”
“That’s the gist of it.”
Her head snaps over, eyes flashing. “We need to use it!”
“I know!” I throw my arms out wide. “That’s what I’m trying to do.
” I wince, rubbing the back of my neck and calming my excitement.
“Only problem is, uh, well, I might be going mad from having the thoughts in my head of the people I turn, for lack of a better word. It’s happened with Sister Cyprilis.
My men are hesitant to allow anyone else to drink from me. ”
“Fuck! For good reason!”
I laugh at her sudden outburst.
“No daughter of mine is going to be driven mad by heretical, vampiric thoughts.” She makes a sign of the True over her chest and glances up at the ceiling.
Silence falls over us. I can see the cogs turning in her head—my mother’s former analytical, alchemical mind going to work. It will be good having her on our side.
“There has to be a way . . .” she mutters, trailing off.
“A way, mother?”
“A way to change the bloodbond without it destroying your own mind.” She taps the windowsill, drumming her fingers, making me anxious. “Perhaps a way to disconnect the ability from your body, to limit its damage on you.”
I tilt my head, sorely confused. “I’m not following.”
“Well, we aren’t sure if the effect of the blood comes from you or the blood itself, correct?” At my continued look of befuddlement, she rolls her wrist. “As in, if there was a different way for a thrall to drink Loreblood without it coming directly from your veins . . .”
“. . . Then maybe the damaging effect on me wouldn’t be so detrimental and mind-breaking.”
Jinneth snaps her fingers and smiles proudly at me.
The look warms me. Never knew I needed validation from my mother until now. I mentally check off another thing I didn’t know about myself until today.
“It’s worth a shot,” I say. I’m growing increasingly excited at the prospect of teaming up with Jinneth to figure this thing out. “But how? How can we use my blood without draining it from my body?”
Jinneth pouts, eyes squinting as she stares out the window again. I’m getting the sense she thinks best when looking far off into the distance. “Damn it all,” she mutters at last.
“What is it?”
“You were right. We need to speak to End—” She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at my smirk. “We need to speak to Old Endolf.”
I clap my hands, giddy, and launch up from the bed. “We don’t have to do it alone, Mother.” I wink at her. “I’ll go get us an escort.”
I leave the Chained Sisters’ abode near sundown, lost in my thoughts, head racing.
I know I should feel something about my mother’s horrible background, my upbringing, the things she went through to make sure I survived.
Yet the end of our conversation takes up all the room in my mind.
All I can think about is how we might be able to utilize my abilities—sequester them—without it hurting me.
As I leave the abode and start heading north to reach the fringes of Olhav, everything seems doable again. I’m not in this alone. There are smarter minds than mine that might be able to help us. We can actually do this. We can start a revolution to fix the vampire hierarchy, once and for all.
At this moment, the prospect of the future seems so much brighter than the shadows of the past.
Despite the bloody evening of Trithea Plaza last night, so recent and dour in our collective minds, I can only hope my mates are as hopeful for this newfound discovery, this excitement, as I am.
I’m hoping my enthusiasm will be contagious.
I walk with a dumb smile plastered on my face. I have to be careful because night is quickly approaching, and I’m not about to let myself get caught unawares. I keep my hood up, my hands on the hilts of the swords at my hips.
Then I take a deep breath of fresh air—
And slow my pace.
Because the air isn’t so fresh.
The acrid scent of smoke, stinging my nostrils, makes my legs stop moving. I sniff again.
Furrowing my brow, I look around. I’m on a rocky outcropping north of the Military Ward, outside the purview and sight of anyone.
Trading carts occasionally roll up the mountain pass to the north, along this route, but it’s always relatively dead.
Right now, there’s not a soul around. The houses and buildings of Olhav on the horizon look intact. The skyline is fine—nothing is on fire.
Then my eyes lower from the horizon and my heart jumps to my throat.
Everything is not fine. Tendrils of black smoke rise up from the north, beyond the crest of the Olhavian Peaks. Below the mountains. The first shout hits my ears, careening faintly on the windy night. It’s distant, quickly joined by more cries of distress.
“The North Mines,” I breathe.
Against all logic and reason, I head for the road that will bring me down the mountain to the silver mines.
Because, unlike in the past, I have someone I care about there now. And if I’ve learned anything about myself, it’s that I’ll always protect the ones I care about.