Burnt Magic, page 5
Eager to steer the topic away from Percy, I cleared my throat, drawing their attention back to me.
“I’ve been wondering something. If you’re still alive... then what about Alexander Guildwood? Is he alive too? Or is he entirely made up?”
I didn’t even know if the guilds were real or part of the painting too. After all, why would Nolan found a vampire hunting guild when he himself was a vampire? Surely there was a reasonable explanation for that...
“Now that, my dear, is a rather long story,” he said, waving to summon a servant for more blood.
“I’m guessing we have time,” I deadpanned, and I could have sworn I saw the corner of Percy’s mouth lift, even as his face paled at the sight of more blood being offered to everybody but him.
Nolan sighed, the servant still pouring blood into his glass from a wine bottle, until Nolan raised his hand to signal enough.
“Alexander... was a good friend of mine,” Nolan said finally, leaning back in his chair with a wistful look. “We first met in the 1800s. Back then, there were only two lines of vampires—and he was the first of his kind, with thousands that descended from him. It was a truly magnificent era of time.”
He paused for a moment, deep in his own thoughts, then raised his newly filled glass from the table.
“When Alexander met Margot in 1933, they were inseparable,” he said, his voice turning serious now, and I perked up at the mention of her. “She was a young, ambitious witch, and he craved power. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with... and they brought out the worst in each other.”
1933? I thought of Margot’s youthful appearance. She looked like she was at least in her early sixties. But... witches did tend to have longer lifespans.
“Margot struggled as she grew older. She wanted nothing more than to live an immortal life with Alexander, but it was something he couldn’t give her. Witches cannot become vampires. And so, Margot desperately began searching for a way to extend her lifespan. To become eternally young and retain her beauty. And that’s where the trouble started.”
He glanced at me again.
“It was 1935 when they first started dabbling in blood magic—to see what would happen if they mixed witch blood with vampire hearts. The result... well, you’re already familiar with it.”
It wasn’t immediately obvious, but the way he looked at Percy made my stomach drop.
“Vampriches?” I whispered, and both he and Nolan nodded.
“Stronger than any vampire before us. More dangerous since they wielded magic. And more prone to insanity due to the magic that had created them. But of course, witches don’t survive the transformation—it’s the vampire that lives on, absorbing the magic from the witch who was sacrificed. As a result, the original line was wild with unbridled magic and went on to wipe out an entire town in just forty-eight hours. It was then that I knew it couldn’t continue, or the vampriches would wipe out humankind—and our own supply of food.
“So, I went to the witches, since their kind was being targeted to create vampriches—and I asked them to help me end the line. We worked together, and we managed to kill every last one of them. But Alexander didn’t appreciate when I killed his new creations.”
I frowned, leaning forward in my chair.
“But if you killed all the vampriches, how do they still exist?”
I recalled my mother’s letter again. Vampriches had been around twenty years ago. So how had Monsec ended up full of them, allowing Percy—Nolan’s own nephew—to be turned by one?
Nolan shook his head, his expression clouding.
“Back then, with the power the vampriches had... I knew that Alexander was never going to stop. So I ended up having to kill him too. But Margot evaded me, and in revenge, started using my line of vampires to create vampriches.”
There was a pause, as the admission sank in. From the way his expression fell, I wondered if the words had pained him to say out loud. But he quickly continued.
“I wasn’t about to let my own line become these... abominations... so I founded Salvhark and tasked them with killing off Margot’s creations.”
A spark of realization hit me, but he kept talking.
“Unfortunately, we couldn’t keep up this time, and Margot had perfected the magic, making them harder to kill. Witch magic now does nearly nothing to a vamprich since it’s infused so deeply in their DNA. On the flip side, they’re not so blood-crazed anymore and have a shred of self-control—”
Unable to stop myself, I quickly cut in, “So Salvhark was originally only supposed to hunt vampriches?”
At Nolan’s look of confusion, Percy piped up to offer, “That piece of history got altered in the painting—part of the memory skewering magic.”
He then turned to me as he said, “It’s why there were two competing guilds on the original Monsec campus—one was trying to create vampriches by collecting hearts from Salvhark’s lineage of vampires, and the other was trying to end them.”
It was my turn to shake my head.
“But we never created vampriches,” I protested, think back to how vampriches supposedly were created—by merging witch blood and vampire hearts. I shuddered at the thought. “We burned every vampire heart we came across.”
“Maybe you didn’t create them. It doesn’t mean Margot wasn’t doing it,” Percy replied, folding his arms. “And since vampriches can now be created through bite-and-transition, maybe she didn’t need the hearts anymore.”
“But why did she bother to keep creating them if Alexander was dead?”
I mean, if all this had started in 1935? Then it had been nearly a hundred years since her lover’s death. And that was a long time to hold a grudge—surely, she had moved on, met new people, hell, even gotten on some dating apps at this point. There was no way she was still creating an army of fucking vampriches out of some unquenchable thirst for revenge... right?
But... it did explain her hiding me in a painting. If she was truly creating vampriches, she would never risk Nolan getting his hands on something that could cure them...
I froze, another realization hitting me, and another wave of dread came over me. As I slowly gazed back at Percy, meeting his gaze briefly, I realized why he hadn’t been offered any blood yet.
Why he had told me to run.
My hand tightened around the handle of the knife.
“Margot has never forgiven me for killing her lover,” Nolan continued, oblivious to my realization. “The vampriches are her way of avenging him—of targeting me. She wants to see my line ended, since I ended his.”
“And for obvious reasons, you don’t want that,” I said slowly, meeting Nolan’s gaze now. His blood-red eyes studied my shift in posture, and his shoulders grew tense. “But you weren’t tracking me to use me as a cure, were you?”
His gaze narrowed, a slight smile growing on his lips as he leaned back slowly in his chair.
“No,” he agreed.
My mother’s letter stated that the cure could reverse the transformation being done onto vampriches... meaning, Nolan wouldn’t need Salvhark hunters to kill them.
An abomination, he’d called them.
“You’d rather see vampriches dead,” I stated firmly, locking eyes with Nolan. “You don’t want to cure them. Or any vampires, for that matter.”
Did he see Percy like that? Is that why he hadn’t offered him any blood at his own family dinner?
As for me... what would actually happen when a vamprich was cured? Would they turn back into a regular vampire? Would they turn human?
Or would a far more sinister fate occur?
Nolan let out a long, melancholy sigh, noting the resilience in my eyes.
“Fleur, do you know how succubae are made?”
Percy had gone very still as I shook my head, clenching the knife so hard, my knuckles started turning white. A wry smile played on Nolan’s lips.
“Succubae are not born creatures. They are made creatures, through a particular dark magic. To create one, you must be willingly given a newborn baby by a mother who chooses to drink succubae blood leading up to the birth. It is an incredibly difficult magic—after all, very few are willing to give up their child, let alone commit to turning their child into a monster.”
His gaze studied my reaction for a moment, as my mind reeled.
“But Margot didn’t just create a monster. She created a threat to our kind. You see, vampire and succubae power are similar enough to cancel each other out, which turns your succubae blood into a cure when consumed by a vampire. That’s why there are no more succubae—we certainly made sure of that, didn’t we, Isobel?”
He paused, exchanging a knowing look with Percy’s stepmother, and my stomach turned. Nolan continued.
“And yet, Margot created you—a forbidden creature within our world—as the ultimate weapon to use against me. Because now that she has the vampriches... well... there’s no more reason for my vampire line to exist.”
I felt dizzy all of a sudden, even though I’d already started to piece together what my mother had done, when she’d offered me up on a silver platter to Nolan in her letter. Still, hearing it confirmed out loud, so brazenly...
My father had never spoken about my mother. Like he was ashamed of her or something. Every time I’d tried to ask about her... he’d always said as little as possible. I’d thought it had just been too painful for him to talk about her death. But now... I wondered...
Fresh tears brimmed in my eyes that I quickly blinked away.
“So... what you’re saying is...” I swallowed, and Percy nodded, his words surprising gentle.
“Not only did your mother give you to Margot, she sacrificed you in hopes of creating a cure for her sister.”
The way he was looking at me... I couldn’t not believe him.
The weight of what she’d done hit me all at once.
My own mother had never intended to love me. To raise me. I had just been a means to an end for her. I had not been a wanted pregnancy or a child that she had looked forward to welcoming into her life.
Had my father known what she had intended to do?
My jaw tightened.
No, he couldn’t possibly have... my father had loved me. It was the one thing I knew with absolute certainty as I thought back to every moment from my childhood.
I wondered how it had felt, to learn you were expecting a child with the person you loved most in the world... and to then learn what my mother had done. What she had planned to do. To discover that she had never intended to keep me.
No wonder my father had never spoken of her or said anything to me. What would he have even told me? I had been so young, so unable to comprehend such a hateful thing.
I began to shake, tears threatening to spill, as I fought to keep my composure. The way Percy was looking at me, as I processed everything... I couldn’t bear it. The pity, the sympathy—I wished he wouldn’t look at me like he gave a shit. He had gone into that painting looking for me, to kill me or bring me back to Nolan, because of what I am.
Like my mother, I had been a means to an end for him.
“Which brings us back to here and now—where the question remains... does the cure actually work on a vamprich?” Nolan asked, pushing up from his chair with his hands, and immediate dread washed over me. “After all, it’s been a very long time since I’ve had the misfortune of encountering a succubus. And no doubt Margot has some kind of trick up her sleeve with you.”
The guards behind me had come up without me even realizing, clamping their hands down on my shoulders. My breath hitched as I jolted, bringing the steak knife upward in a fast motion, but they disarmed me instantly. The knife fumbled and clattered to the ground before they grabbed my arms with fists of iron and pinned me to the chair. Percy’s jaw was like granite as he watched the scene, but he didn’t lift a finger. My heart hammered in my chest.
“Let go of me!” I seethed, but Nolan’s gaze had turned to Percy.
“You will drink from her,” he stated, and Percy’s face turned white. My heart began to race as a mix of emotions flooded me.
“Me?” he replied, his brow knotting in confusion. He leaned back slowly in his chair.
“Well of course,” Nolan chuckled, shaking his head. “Otherwise, what use do I have for you?”
Percy narrowed his gaze at his uncle.
“I brought her to you!” he stated, planting his hands on the table and standing. “I am plenty of use to you as a vampire!”
Nolan’s gaze turned stormy.
“You are nothing more than everything I stand to hate. You come back here, as the enemy, and expect to be spared? Foolish boy.”
Percy’s jaw locked, as he glanced back at me. Something like fear flickered in his eyes now—probably because he’d realized betraying me hadn’t played out in his favor. He was a fucking coward.
“Is this really necessary?” Isobel sighed from beside them both, shaking her head as she swirled the blood in her wine glass. “Jean will be so devastated to lose his son.”
“You know the rules. Vampriches cannot be allowed to exist,” Nolan said firmly, striding confidently around the table toward me. I struggled frantically against the guards holding me down. “What better opportunity will we have to see what trick Margot has infused within her blood?”
I was so angry, so disappointed in Percy right now. But somehow, even as he stood with a stricken expression, I still couldn’t bear the thought of him dying.
“The cure doesn’t work!” I snapped, thinking of Louis. Even Jules was stuck in my dreamland, slowly dying with every second that passed, and I had no clue how to free him from it yet. “Please, there has to be another way—you won’t cure him, you’ll kill him! Would you really kill your own nephew for an experiment?”
“If we don’t test it, we will never know what she intends,” Nolan replied smoothly. “And I’d much prefer to keep such matters within the family.”
“Please!” I begged Nolan, jerking to try and break free of the hands clamping down on me. “Please don’t do this!”
Percy’s muscles strained as he watched Nolan grip the side of my face, tilting my head to expose my neck. I winced at the rough angle he held it at.
“Look at her,” he taunted, his voice low. “So ready for you to sink your teeth into.”
Percy growled, and something about it felt like a reprieve to the sick feeling spreading through my gut.
“I won’t do it,” he snapped, crossing his arms in defiance. “Find some other guard to do your dirty work.”
Nolan barked a humorless laugh.
“Is it because you feel something for her?”
My heart stopped, but Percy’s expression betrayed nothing. Nolan pressed further.
“I overheard your little conversation. How you told her to run.”
“It was part of the act,” Percy said, dropping his arms now. “It meant nothing. She means nothing to me.”
“Oh?” Nolan mused. “Then you won’t mind if I keep her for myself once you’re dead?”
I felt Nolan’s free hand trace the curve of my neck, lingering for a moment, before sliding lower, toward my breasts. I sucked in a breath. “It’s been a while since I’ve had such a pretty thing to play with.”
Something in Percy’s expression darkened, and he snapped. In a blur, he’d shot across the table, knocking everything off in his path as he threw himself at Nolan. They crashed to the floor, a clash of teeth and claws as snarls filled the air.
Guards swarmed us instantly, dragging me out of my chair, until they had Percy in their grip too, forcing him to kneel. The table setting had caught fire from the candles Percy knocked over, and servants raced over to douse the flames.
Nolan got to his feet, dusting himself off swiftly with a gleaming smile.
“I knew it,” he said, his gaze flicking to me. “You really did a number on him. I’m impressed.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Nolan drawled, coming to stand in front of Percy, who glared at him with seething rage. “I don’t need to force you to drink from her. You’ll do it willingly... when you eventually snap from hunger.”
He stepped away and gestured toward the doors, not giving us so much as a final glance as he added, “Take them down to the cells.”
A rhythmic, dripping sound indicated a leak in the pipes somewhere nearby as we were thrown down on rough stone ground, the cell door clanging shut behind us. Percy let out an immediate hiss of pain from beside me when his hands hit the stone, yanking them back like it burned.
The musky scent of cloying dirt and decay and death filled my lungs with every breath I took, and my proximity to Percy had all my hairs standing on end. Disgusted, I pushed myself upright and scuffled backward until my back hit the wall, scowling at him.
He tilted his head to look at me, nodding toward the stone floor as he huffed out, “Lace root.”
Collapsing onto his side and rolling onto his back, his breaths became measured. Steady. Like he was fighting against the effect of the vampiric weakening herb to no avail.
If I were a regular human, drinking from me would give him a temporary boost of strength to fight it. Instinctively, his body probably knew it too, was probably rearing to tear into my flesh at this very moment.
But we both knew it was a trap—we were an equal danger to each other. At least, until I knew how to fully cure him. Until then, a single drop of my blood was deadly to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked between measured breaths, his voice laced with pain. My eyes widened as anger singed through my veins at the sheer audacity of him asking such a question.
“Am I okay?” I repeated darkly, my voice like venom. My nails curled into my palms. “What do you think, Percy? After whatever the fuck that was back there?”
“Fleur,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed like it was too much effort to keep them open. “I was pretending.”
Funnily enough, I’d figured that much out toward the end of dinner. But it didn’t excuse how he’d tricked me, made me believe otherwise even for a second.
