Chapter Twenty - Sen
The front of the house is made of beige brick, with two windows above and a rectangular window below.
The curtains are tightly drawn, with not a flicker of movement or light.
The green door is inviting, with two panels of misty glass, a bell-shaped knocker, and a letterbox, giving it the appearance of a smiling face.
Too bad the wafting stink of all blood mages—apart from our scentless Elio—does kill the friendly atmosphere.
“Do you think any mages will mind us dropping by?” I ask Luc as we stand at the entrance.
“I’m sure they can accommodate us.” His smooth reply barely hides the sharpness underneath. Emma and Summer have hurt many, but for Lucero, this blood mage mess started with Golden. My brother is many things, but when it comes to his mate, forgiving is not one of them.
Reaching for the silver handle, I twist it down to find it’s locked.
Luc cocks an eyebrow, to which I reply with a nonchalant shrug. “You’d be surprised how many places I get into because someone hasn’t locked the door.”
With one hard push down, I snap the lock.
“And how many people think something so simple could stop me.”
Luc makes a small, amused noise before sobering as the door swings inward, silently revealing a shadowed corridor.
The carpet is a boring grey, the walls bare and an unsurprising eggshell-white; if it weren’t for a single strip of yellow light pouring from under the closed door ahead, it would appear no one lived here.
I step ahead of Luc, slowly making my way towards that strip of yellow.
“At least the walls aren’t leaking this time,” Luc says under his breath.
The last time we broke into a blood mage’s house, the foundations became infected with Emma’s demon sickness and decomposed along with her. But Summer promised she’d heal Emma in exchange for the First Blood Mage Tome, a betrayal that nearly had Kai transform into a soulless ghoul.
What happened to Kai was terrible, and the image of Vidar holding his limp body is a memory I won’t easily shake. But it’s Teagan’s rasping screams as Summer rips out his blood that’s branded into my soul, and it’s the reason she will die in agony.
We quickly confirm that the sparse living room is clear before we move towards the strip of yellow, my senses wide—I hear creaks from the house settling. Inhale the swelling scent of decay. Feel the dense air from windows that are rarely, if ever, opened.
Luc and I stop, and while behind the door comes the shifting of feet, the tink-tink of a spoon against a cup and low, muffled music to indicate we aren’t alone—I get the distinct feeling that more are hidden.
Using my speed, I dart into the room—a kitchen—and wrap my fist around the neck of the person with their back to us, headphones on.
Alarmed, the man lets out a choked gasp and drops his cup, it shattering in a shower of cheap white ceramics and the solitary splat of a soggy tea bag.
“Let me go!” the unfamiliar man cries.
Strapped to his thigh is a blood mage spellbook, the leather brown and wrinkled. I rip it away, the belts tearing, and toss it to Luc. Then I slam the mage’s face into the fridge, rattling whatever’s inside.
Then do it a second time.
Then a third time, for good measure.
When I pull back the mage’s face, blood leaks from his crushed nose and runs over his cut-up lips. His eyes are bright with pain, dazed with confusion.
“Mickey,” Lucero scoffs, moving around to stare down his nose at the man. “Long time no see.”
“You know this piece of filth?” I ask conversationally, squeezing Mickey’s neck when he begins to whimper.
“He once came after Golden. I should’ve killed him then.” Luc’s palm whips out to slap over Mickey’s mouth and nose to cut off his breathing.
Mickey struggles, weakly slapping out at us.
“Here’s the deal, Mickey,” I say with a smile, “you’re going to tell us where Emma and Summer are. Then, and only then, you get to have a breath. Got it?”
Mickey digs his short, dirty nails into Luc’s hand. Not that his scratching Luc causes any real damage. The thin cuts knit back together instantly.
“Nod your head, Mickey, c’mon now,” I say as if he’s a misbehaving child in need of reprimanding.
Mickey flops his head up and down, and after a beat, Luc pulls away. The mage sucks in sharp breaths.
“Up-upstairs!” Mickey wheezes, a mess of spit, snot and blood. “Emma is upstairs! I’m supposed to be looking after her.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I say, patting his wet cheek. “C’mon, then.”
I haul Mickey out of the kitchen by the back of his collar, with him shambling as we go. Luc takes up the rear.
“Emma is going to know we’re coming now,” Luc comments as we climb the wooden stairs.
“Good.”
We make our way across the landing, Mickey leading us to a white door.
The stink of rot cloying. I’m impatient to get to Emma, but Luc forces us to check our surroundings.
So as much as it makes my teeth grind when he grabs my shoulder to check the three other rooms, then presses his ear to the door we’re aiming for, I allow it.
“I should apologise for how often I laughed at you for being so pathetic about your soulmates,” I tell him, not even bothering to be quiet.
“So I’m no longer pathetic?”
“You are,” I reply with a smirk. “I’m just also pathetic.”
Luc snorts, then kicks the door down to find a woman sitting upright in bed.
She’s rail thin, though far from the skeletal figure she was when we last met.
Dark hair, with a shock of white, hangs limp from her pale skull.
A tome opened in front of her, and her wrist cut, with a bleeding ball hovering above her open palm.
“Emma.” I shove a whimpering Mickey ahead. “You don’t look like the corpse we met only a week ago. I guess Summer really did get you healed up.”
Emma doesn’t flinch. Her eyes are sunken but hard, and her thin lips are pulled into a mocking parody of a grin. “So you’ve found the broken mage, well done.” She cocks her head, limp strands of hair falling into the loose white shirt she’s wearing. “What do you want?”
“I want you to die.”
The floating ball of blood in Emma’s hand wobbles. “You aren’t going to kill me.”
Mickey collapses to his knees, and Luc fists his hair to keep him in place.
“But killing you sounds so much fun,” I taunt, flashing my fangs. “Why would I spare you?”
Emma’s hand twitches, the only tell that she isn’t as confident as she appears. “Because not only do I know where Summer is. I know what she’s planning.”
“You’re giving up your partner easily.” My heart clenches that I’m one step closer to saving Teagan and claiming him, but I hide my savage need behind a smug laugh. “Are you serious?”
Luc snorts. “Tired of Summer holding your chain, Emma?”
Her red orb spikes.
“First your brother,” Luc drawls with mocking indifference, “then Jace and now Summer. You seem to enjoy working with idiots.”
Emma’s grin twitches, the spikes slowly retracting like the claws of a predator when they realise they’re facing something deadlier. “You give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“And what exactly is that?” I kick Mickey’s thigh. “Him?”
She scoffs, and Mickey blubbers harder.
“And before you ask,” Luc cuts in, “we aren’t giving you the First Blood Mage Tome, either.”
“Evidently.” Emma’s grin turns into a grimace. “All I want is to get out of this alive.”
I pretend to think about it, then say, “If you really want to work with us, you’ll first give something in return.”
Without even looking at Lucero, I taste his bloodlust at wanting to rip Emma to shreds.
Yet he remains still, rigid and ready with his fangs out, and while we’ll always have our shared wounds, knowing I still have his trust strengthens my resolve and kills the quiver of doubt that whispers we’ll never bridge this gap.
Emma smirks like she’s won. “Summer linked herself to—”
“We already know,” I counter.
She scowls.
“I guess you aren’t needed then,” I say, taking a step forward.
“She knows how to break the spell!” Emma shouts, real fear showing before shaking it off. “Summer. She knows how to cut the tether between herself and the boy.”
“Tell me.” My words come out too harsh, too eager. Her eyes flash, but I’ve lost interest in our little back and forth.
“I can’t give up all my leverage.”
“We could help by ripping off your arm?” Luc replies smoothly.
She chews on her chapped lip. “Fine. But I will say this first; you’ll need a blood mage to break the spell, and I don’t think you’ll find anyone who’ll want to work with you like I am.”
“That certainly leaves us in a bind,” I remark. “I guess you leave us with no choice.”
Emma smiles triumphantly. “Summer is…powerful,” Emma spits out the word. Clearly, Emma hadn’t expected that. “Powerful enough that she could break the tether whenever she wants and survive it.”
Luc grabs my shoulder, and only then do I realise I took a step forward. My heart lodged in my throat.
Emma stays silent for a beat, then continues, “The boy would die, she’d be weakened, but Summer would live.”
My every blood vessel constricts as I try to keep taking steady breaths. One error, one misstep on our end, and I could lose Teagan forever.
“So why hasn’t she done it yet?” Luc asks, because I can’t. The thought of losing Teagan’s quiet curiosity and passion, his wide stare and raspy voice. Lose his scent of sweet tea and warm sand? I can’t. I’ll never allow that.
Emma sees the emotions I had no chance of hiding, and a disbelieving laugh leaves her. “You have to be kidding me. Another vampire’s mate? How is that even possible?”
“Tell us!” I order, dropping all pretence.
Whatever intrigue she has vanishes. Emma is, at her core, a survivor. “Summer knows she’ll be weakened after performing the spell, so she wants to cast a second at the same time.”
I catch on quickly. “Breaking into the demon realm.”
“She really needs to get over that.” Emma rolls her eyes like she’s saying, ‘Can you believe it?’. “But whatever. To cast the spell, however, she needs a shit ton of power.”
“Vampire blood?” Luc asks with a snort.
Emma’s already shaking her head. “For any other spell, it would give her more power. Not this one. Only ancient vampire blood will do. The tome, too.”
“Summer might be powerful,” Luc remarks, “but not powerful enough to capture any of us.”
“You’re too young. It’d have to be Vidar or you, Sen,” Emma corrects.
Then her little smirk reappears. “Oh, I forgot to mention, she’d also need your heart.
Not just piercing it. She’s gotta rip that sucka straight from your chest. Which—” she taps her chin.
“I believe even an ancient vampire can’t survive. ”
“You’re lying!” Luc shouts, causing Mickey to start up his whimpering again.
“I’m not.”
Some other words are shouted back and forth, my brother’s voice enraged. But all I can think about is Bran’s taunting voice ringing in my mind as he says his prophecy. ‘A sacrifice for the first.’ Is this what he meant? I sacrifice my heart so Teagan can live?
“Them’s the breaks.” Emma winks. “Summer refused to believe me, too, and look what happened to her?” she scoffs derisively. “Big spells, boys, require a body count, and no foot stomping will change that fact.”
“There must be another way!” Lucero snarls.
I think about walking away.
Teagan’s my soulmate, but that doesn’t make him my responsibility.
I imagine turning my back like I did ten years ago.
It would be so simple.
So easy.
I don’t. I never could’ve.
Because he is my everything.
I reach for the soulmate connection, and wish with my whole selfish heart it was something strong and unbreakable like Luc and Golden. Wish Teagan and I had more time to make it so.
There is so much to this vast world I want to show him, and how badly I wanted to see everything we’d experience through his eyes. We would never be bored, or maybe being bored wouldn’t be so exhausting with him by my side.
It isn’t fair.
But I’ve been alive for over nine hundred years, and Teagan’s had my heart for every second. So, if giving it to him one final time means he gets to live, then it’s a sacrifice I’ll take every time.
“Just to make sure I have this right,” I say, my voice steady and my resolve strong.
I am a selfish man; I have no problem admitting that.
But for my soulmate, I will do whatever’s necessary.
And while I’ll fight to the bitter end, if I must die, then I’ll do so with my fangs bloody and a smirk.
“We need an ancient vampire’s heart, the First Blood Mage Tome and a mage to perform the spell that’d cut Teagan and Summer’s tether? ”
Emma nods, smug.
“She’s lying to us, Sen,” Luc growls.
“Maybe,” I let loose a sigh, and with it, release the tension in my body.
I do love having a plan, and soon I’ll have Emma’s blood on my hands.
“Ah, there’s something I forgot to mention,” I say with a self-deprecating shrug and a ‘silly old me’ smile.
Emma frowns.
“Your son, Elio.” My smile sharpens at her dawning horror. “He really fucking hates you.”
Her lips peel back as I bolt forward, pulling back my elbow to punch my fist through her chest. But I don’t get too far. The blood ball in her hand expands within the second it takes me to get to her, transforming into a transparent red glass-like shield, blocking me.
“I might not be at full strength,” Emma sneers. “But don’t you dare ever count me out.”
Emma’s other hand shoots out, but not to Luc or me—but to Mickey.
On his knees, his head snaps back, his body seizing. The single line of blood dripping from his nose rises to hang suspended, as if it were a piece of crimson string and an invisible person pinched the end to hold it up.
Luc and I curse at the same time as the string begins to spin as if that invisible person were winding it around their finger, the bundle growing bigger and bigger. Mickey’s body violently shakes, foam fills his mouth, and his eyes roll back into his head.
“I won’t be fucked with,” Emma bites out as Mickey collapses—dead. “Not anymore.”
We get ready to fight the pissed-off mage, but when the blood splashes to the ground in a puddle to soak into the cracks of the floorboards, I cock my head to the side and say, “I was expecting more of a magic trick.”
Emma grins just as a rotted hand bursts through the floorboards to wrap festering fingers around my ankle.
“Abracadabra,” Emma singsongs as more hands break through the floor.
“You just had to open your big mouth, didn’t you, Sen?” Luc complains.
The stink of rot wasn’t coming from Emma, but from the corpses crawling out from beneath the floorboards.