Chapter 55 Augustin
“STAND BACK,” THE HIEROPHANT CALLS out, his gold diadem glinting in the moonlight. “She’s dangerous.”
That’s not what his eyes say. They glint with academic curiosity.
The priests must have argued about killing her outright, but decided to study her instead.
They will cut her to pieces to see what makes her work, before they drain her blood for spells and string her bones around their necks for good luck.
A miracle. An abomination. A Dhampir. A creature that should not be, within their walls, claiming to be the blood of Dusk Court. They see her as their property.
But she is mine.
Hannah whimpers. Her blood dribbles through the channels of the altar.
Raw panic claws at my throat, like I’ve swallowed a family of spiders.
I think of the way Komal described her fear of the dark, how breathing becomes impossible, how the world narrows down to a single point of terror. That’s what I feel now.
I know what happens once Hannah’s blood fills every channel.
How can they do this to her? Can’t they see she’s a child?
Moments of her life flash before me – taking her into the village in a sling and having the old ladies at the market fawn over how cute she was with her dark curls; her first teetering steps through the forest; the silly, delightful games she invented in her labyrinth; a powerful talisman of Dusk Court that has helped me to keep her safe; and her and Komal filling our cottage with laughter and mirth.
“I know exactly what she is.” I step forward, facing the Hierophant. “She’s my daughter.”
“Technically, she’s my daughter.” Dante steps before me.
“Silence, both of you!” the Hierophant cries.
“We have to do this,” a familiar voice says. A priest tips their hood back, revealing Irene. “We need to study her. We need to know that her kind aren’t a danger to us. You’re disturbing—”
His words cut off with a cry as Komal hurls herself at the altar. She’s got the leg of a gryphon statue in her hands, which she brings down on the stone slab with all her might.
SMASH.
Hannah leaps back as the leg disintegrates, sending up a cloud of dust that settles over all of us, dusting the Hierophant’s golden headdress with a layer of grey snow.
I rub dust from my eyes and see to my delight that the broken pieces of stone have blocked the channels in the altar. Hannah’s blood no longer flows.
“Oops,” Komal says. “Butter-fingers.”
“That is a sacred altar.” The Hierophant rounds on her.
She shrugs. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve got a tonne of them lying around. You won’t miss this one.”
I step in front of her as the Hierophant raises his staff. I can’t believe Komal did that. I never would have considered it, but it worked. She broke the ritual. She damaged the altar and set Hannah free of its spell.
She’s unhinged.
And I love her.
It dawns on me as I watch her lift Hannah down and wrap her in her arms that I’ve been a fool.
I never should have betrayed her. I should have trusted that no matter what the world threw at us, it would be no match for Komal Ahuja.
All this time, we could have been together, a family, figuring this out.
Instead, I ran, and I hid, and I pushed away the only person who wants to protect Hannah as much as me.
It’s too late for Komal and me now. I’ve broken what we had. I’ll have the rest of my long existence to regret that.
But it’s not too late for Hannah.
My darling girl buries her face in Komal’s neck.
Komal shoots daggers at the Hierophant and the priests.
“Shame on you,” she says. “Shame on all of you. I don’t give a flying fuck about your laws and myths.
I don’t care how many Dhampir slaughtered how many Upyr a gazillion years ago.
Hannah is a child. She’s innocent, and she’s alive now.
And like it or not, she’s one of you. She was born right here, in your court, and she should be under your protection.
You don’t get to experiment on her. Your duty is to protect her.
“If you’re so concerned about gathering information, why haven’t you simply asked the man who has raised her for ten years?
Augustin has notebooks filled with observations about her.
He can tell you that she is sweet, and kind, and creative, and she doesn’t want to hurt humans or vampires.
I’m not like you. I don’t have your healing abilities or long life, and you might ask yourself how I can stand to be so close to her, knowing she could be a danger to me.
And I say that if you knew this child, you’d never want to leave her side.
I say she is no danger. And I can prove it. ”
Before I can move to stop her, Komal drags her arm down a jagged piece of stone. She winces as a long cut opens, blood welling to the surface.
What have you done?
The priests step back as the bright, bold plum and iron scent of Komal’s blood perfumes the air.
Komal looks to Hannah, her lips twisting as she fights to maintain control. I find myself leaning forward, remembering when Komal cut herself on the bush and Hannah pounced on her. If she does that now, we’re all dead.
Hannah’s lip wobbles. She stares at the blood welling from Komal’s arm, and grips her tighter. I hold my breath.
The priests lean forward, too.
My daughter turns her head away. She sobs into Komal’s shoulder, her whole body shaking. But she doesn’t break.
“See?” Komal wipes her arm on her flight jacket. “Hannah has hunger, just like all of you. But she can control it. And she’s only a kid, who’s had to do this alone, with just her dad looking out for her. Well, until now. Now she has me, as well.”
“But you’re a human.” Irene frowns. “What good are you to this Dhampir?”
“I want to be a vampire,” Komal says. “I’d happily take the Kiss right here, right now.
But that’s not my point. The point is that Hannah is loved, and wanted, and not dangerous.
And you know now that the Ordo Exsecrati have been demonising Dhampir for centuries.
You pride yourself on being the voice of intelligence, Irene.
And the rest of you claim that your magic is for the good of all vampires.
So I ask you, what is good for Hannah? Because it sure isn’t this. ”
This woman.
This bold, remarkable, insane woman.
I’ve made a terrible mistake.
“You claim she’s not a danger?” A priestess near the back fixes her azure gaze on Komal. “I see it in my third eye – she bit you once before.”
“What child hasn’t lost control?” Komal says.
“You force Hannah to hide away, isolated from humans, and then punish her for not knowing how to manage her hunger. You say everything good about her is void because she might accidentally bite someone. Isn’t that called ‘being a vampire’?
How is it different? Dhampir should be managed with kindness, with education, with whimsy, not with cruelty and death. ”
“What did John and Dulcina Durant say about you raising this Dhampir?” the priestess asks. I recognise her as Etta – a friend of my father from his time as a priest. “I remember John has divisive views on human relations—”
“John and Dulcina are dead. They’ve been dead ten years.”
The room fizzes with energy. Vampires rarely die, especially ancient, powerful Dusk Court vampires. Tense silence drips from the walls as the gathered priests consider the consequences of their magic lost forever.
The Hierophant leans forward. “You will explain,” he growls.
So I do.
I start at the beginning, and I leave nothing out, including my own crimes and my own weakness. I walk over and hold Hannah to me as if my body could block their magic.
Halfway through the story, Komal places a hand on my shoulder. It’s not a promise or a dedication, but a kindness I don’t deserve. Her touch steadies me. It reminds me that even though we are over, Hannah still has people who care about her.
And when Hannah snuggles into me, I draw up the final resources of my own bravery to finish the story.
Dante steps forward once I fall silent. “I was in the room after John and Dulcina were murdered. I saw Kael Morrigan leave with his bloody sword. I saw Hannah in her bassinet with not a speck of blood on her, hidden by one of John’s illusions. She didn’t kill them. Check us if you doubt our word.”
The Hierophant waves his staff in front of us. The crystal at the tip glows faintly green. Truth magic. No wonder he leads the priesthood.
He steps back, the crystal of his staff growing dim. “They speak the truth.”
“What does the Dhampir have to say about all this?” Etta asks.
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” Hannah says. “Komal made me realise that I’m not a freak. I’m not evil. I’m just who I am. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want me because Augie and Komal and Dante and the Nevermore Coven will protect me.”
Etta steps back, inclining her head in a slight nod, although her mouth is set in a firm line. The rest of the priests exchange looks – they’re communicating telepathically, a skill I never cultivated. Irene steeples her fingers, but as she isn’t Dusk Court, she has no say here.
My tendrils uncoil from my wrists as my anxiety winds high.
The Hierophant waves his hand. Stone cracks as the statues behind us move and shift, forming a dark doorway in the wall. We’re being dismissed.
“You have given us much to consider,” the Hierophant says. “We will deliberate. You will hear our answer by break of dawn.”
The priests require Hannah to remain under lock and key while they deliberate.
We walk with her as Etta leads her away, but I’m relieved to see her prison is simply a large reception room, filled with comfortable chairs, thick carpets, bookshelves groaning beneath the weight of dense volumes, and bottles of vintage blood arranged on a drinks tray.