Chapter 19

Iarrived back at Requiem sometime before dawn. To my delight, the grating, unmelodious music had ceased, and the unpalatable feeding party was over.

"Welcome back, my lord," one of Luther's guards stated as he offered me a trip down to the main living quarters aboard their elevator. "Master Luther requests your presence in the library. The Divine Mother is here."

My gut roiled. I cared little to see that odious creature. I was still furious about the witch they'd sent to dig inside my brain. I planned to see the bloody Divine Mother and demand answers, but on my own time. When I saints-damned pleased.

But if she was already here, perhaps it was best to get the unpleasantry out of the way sooner rather than later.

"I'll take the stairs," I said. The thought of being enclosed inside a metal box gnawed at my bones. "And inform my son that if the witch wishes an audience with me, I'll be in the drawing room. You do have a drawing room here, I presume?"

He nodded. "I'll have a lily meet you on the third level. She'll escort you."

"Very well, thank you."

I heaved an irritated breath with every step down the metal staircase. The thought of being in the same room with the creatures who'd taken so much from me gutted me balls to chest. I'd never met this Divine Mother, but the leaders of the Vates Ordo were all the same—vile, conniving harpies.

No doubt this one had a serpent mouth like her foremothers. And while I'd told Luther I didn't plan to meet with them, the truth was, even though I would rather burn my eyes out with a branding iron than breathe the same air as them, ever since running into the red-headed witch at the club, my mind hadn't stopped churning, wondering who the saints-damned she was and how she'd been able to tap into my mind. Or why.

With a simple touch she'd burst open the locked chest of memories I'd drowned in the cold abyss of my heart, dredging up all the muck of my torment. If they sought my cooperation, this wasn't the way to secure it. These witches were playing a dangerous game if they thought they could use their magic on me and get away with it unscathed.

To my surprise, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a white, flowy gown, Maya stood, head bowed and hands clasped behind her back. "I did not expect to find you still here, little bird. I can't guarantee you another opportunity to escape."

"My lord," she uttered quietly. "I'm grateful for your kindness, but my little sister is being kept in the cells. I can't leave without her."

"You're a brave soul to trust me with your burden. I'd offered you your freedom, not hers."

Her gaze snapped up, a flash of dread blanketing her beautiful face.

I inched closer, tipping her chin up with my fingers. "My kind is wretched, little bird. Don't let my manners fool you. Underneath this skin prowls a panther. Always hungry, always ready to pounce. Never let your guard down around vampires; it's a mistake that could cost you're your life."

She blinked slowly, understanding sinking into her fluttering heart. She bowed her head and led me into the drawing room. A small smile crept to the corners of my mouth.

Fashioned similarly to Luther's study, the room dripped of overindulgence. Persian rugs, Italian crafted furniture I recognized from our home back in Scotland, to a time right before my capture. More dusty books and relics lined the expansive floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Monstrous paintings adorned the gilded-trimmed walls, depicting battles and voyages at sea. An immense, gold chandelier hung from the coffered ceiling.

A pang of melancholy rang through my heart. Luther had crafted this underground dwelling to resemble our ancestral home, but no matter how grand, this place could never compare.

"Wine, please,' I said to Maya. "French, if you have it."

"Right away, my lord." She bowed and scurried off. Now that my hunger for blood was sated, a good spirit might help get me through this miserable meeting.

One could only dream…

Taking a seat in front of the fireplace, I leaned back on the red velvet settee framed by ornate carved wood, crossed a leg, and waited for Luther to barge through the door. As Maya returned with my glass, he stormed in behind her, as I had predicted, hair wild in all directions.Despite his rage, he paused for a brief second to stare Maya down, his lascivious gaze making my gut tighten, my lips curling in a silent snarl. I'd not expected to feel protective over the lily, but the simple human had found a way to worm herself into my black heart.

"You enjoy this, don't you?" he gritted as he neared, heels digging into the textured green rug.

After taking a deep inhale of the wine's aroma, I savored the notes of oak and spice before swirling it and taking a sip. I swallowed delicately, the rich flavor smooth on my tongue. At least my son's taste in wine hadn't waned. "I enjoy a great deal of things," I said, blinking up at him. "Be more specific."

Pacing like a caged tiger, he flattened his lips and combed frazzled fingers through his hair. "Dismissing my authority in front of my guards." He paused, hands on his waist as he waited for a reaction from me. "Have you any idea what that makes me look like?"

"Borrowed authority. Let's call it what it is. And I care little what anyone thinks of you." Taking a hearty gulp of my wine, I stood, pretending to admire the painting above the mantle—a large ship sailing on a raging sea in the middle of a storm. "Perhaps you've forgotten your place. Too many years away from your true home."

Fisting his hands, he stepped closer. "I've not forgotten who I am or where I come from. But this is now my coven. You can't step foot in here and demand everyone forgets the last half century. Trample on what I've worked so hard to build."

I trained my gaze on his heated expression. The deep-set lines on his forehead aged him beyond what I remembered. "The pressures of running this coven have weighed on you, Luther. I believe you lost control of this empire long before you decided to unearth me. We were royalty in our time, but now our coven lives like rats in this city. You've squandered my fortune and have nothing to show for it, except what…this?" I gestured to the walls of the drawing room.

"What I see," I spat, closing the distance between us, "is a coven in need of rebuilding. By its true leader. You chose your alliances poorly. Perhaps you should have left me at my brother's mercy if you weren't ready for my return."

With a hardened gaze, he sucked in a deep breath."I don't have time to spar words with you, Father. I did what I thought was best, and I stand by that decision. We don't have to be at war with the witches. I'm asking you, please, listen to what they have to say, to what they are offering us. And don't cause a scene."

I blinked, my lips pausing on the rim of my wineglass.

Don't cause a scene?

Bile rose in my throat. He was forcing me into a conversation with the creatures who took everything from me. The ones whose people killed Arabelle and later schemed to keep me imprisoned. And he wanted me to remain calm? To play nice like some courtier appeasing his queen?

He was fortunate I didn't tear his heart out with my bare hands. The only reason I was going through with the fucking charade was because my blood sizzled knowing they'd sent that amber-colored-eyed witch to invade my thoughts. I may have been recently revived, but I was still a Second-Gen vampire, and I would make damn sure they remembered.

Gulping the last of the wine, I flung the empty glass into the fireplace, shattering it into a million pieces, sending sparks flying. "Sunrise approaches, and after the evening I've had, I'm spent. This meeting will have to wait until nightfall."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, lord vampire," a deep feminine voice drifted from across the room. Dressed in a floor-length, indigo gown and draped in a forest-green, hooded cloak, the woman ambled toward me, loose ringlets of snow-white hair poking out beneath her hood. Two similarly attired women trailed behind, though neither bore red curls. Neither were the witch from the club.

The woman who'd spoken stopped a few steps away from me, pale blue eyes framed by aging lines shimmered under the twinkling light of the chandelier. "Time is of the essence," she uttered, clasping the five-knot Borromean cross pendant dangling from her neck, passed down through generations to the leaders of the Vates Ordo.

A growl rumbled in my chest. This new Divine Mother spoke as if she owned time itself.

Tossing her an iced smile, I tilted my head, acknowledging her arrival with a toothy grin. "Grand witch. If I didn't know your kind was mortal, I'd swear you were your noxious foremother in the flesh."

Her lips remained bowed in a permanent scowl. "You shall address me as Divine Mother, lord vampire. Centuries have passed since your interactions with our kind, but our customs have not changed."

Contemptuous hag.

My jaw muscles flexed as thoughts of ripping into her neck and yanking out her jugular threatened to snuff out my diplomatic side. But unleashing my beast this early would send Luther into a tizzy and I cared little for one of his tantrums.

For now, I'd play courtier.

"Where are my manners, Divine Mother," I said, offering her a falsely warmer smile, my spine taut like the string on a fine-tuned violin as I gestured to the settee. "Please, have a seat."

Tipping her nose up, she anchored her unmovable gaze into mine. "I'll stand," she uttered, her voice heavy with disdain. "I'm not here for tea."

Saints be damned. Why did these witches always have to test my patience?

Sit. Down.

The command echoed in her mind, compelling her body to obey. Ungraciously, she plopped on the velvet seat, eyes wide with consternation. I'd not been certain my gift would work, but the smile stretching to the corners of my mouth failed to hide my pleasure.

"How dare you, beast," she growled. "Using compulsion on me?—"

In one breath, I hovered above her, the blade of my dagger pressing against the delicate skin of her neck.

So much for diplomacy and keeping my animal in its cage. But I was a monster, and monsters never played nice.

The witches accompanying her drew their daggers. Made little difference. The Divine Mother's neck would be sliced open before any of them could reach me.

Ignoring their weak threat, I dug my gaze into the Divine Mother's blazing eyes. "How dare I?" I gritted, flashing her my elongated venom-dripping fangs, showcasing how much of a beast I could really be. "You send a witch to use magic on me, yet question my motives? I should slice your throat open right now for that offense, you loathsome crone."

"Please, don't hurt her," one of the other witches croaked.

Luther stepped closer, approaching with caution. "Father, there's no need for incivility. Think about what you'll be starting if you kill her."

Fear flashed across the witch's face when I pressed the blade a little harder against her neck, nicking her skin. My lips twitched, adrenaline rushing through my veins, the sound of her heart's frantic beats thumping in my ears.

Good. Now she knew her place.

But I was far from done with her.

"Her people killed Arabelle," I ground out, snarling in her face. "They plotted against me. Took away five hundred fucking years of my life. I not only lost the woman I loved, but my home, my people. All because of them. And now they want to form an alliance? As if I can so easily forget their transgressions against our kind?" I inched closer to her face. "And you, Divine Mother, now have the gall to send a mind-seeker to dig up my memories, as if you have any right to invade my mind. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

Her lips trembled.

"Tell me!"

"Because the witch you encountered is not one of us. We didn't send her," the Divine Mother's other companion added, her voice quaking.

Without taking my focus off the woman under my blade, I said, "Then how do you know who I'm talking about?"

The Divine Mother shifted her gaze to Luther. "Show him," she uttered, her voice strained.

Motioning to one of the guards who'd escorted the witches into the drawing room, Luther asked for a small handheld monitor, which he brought to me.

Still holding the dagger to the Divine Mother's neck, I watched images play out, seeing myself hours earlier in the middle of the club along with images of the young witch sneaking around the place, trying to escape the debacle that must have occurred when Luther's men discovered Bal and his men.

Then I caught a fast glimpse of who I knew had to be my brother. Bloody asshole.

I met Luther's gaze, the unspoken questions flashing in my eyes. He nodded, acknowledging that right now was not the time to discuss what my brother and his men were doing in the club earlier.

Not in front of these witches at least.

I blinked at the screen again. While the images were in black and white, there was no mistaking the girl on the monitor was the red-haired witch who'd stumbled into me.

My nostrils flared. Catching up to this modern world put me on edge. They'd seen into the past like a crystal ball, seen the witch stumble into me. "Who is she?" I demanded.

The second witch who'd accompanied the Divine Mother stepped closer. "We believe she's the Spirit Marked," she uttered, her voice unperturbed. So different from her companion.

Interesting.

Finally shifting my gaze to her, my mind paused for a brief second as I took in the deadly edge of her sharp, violet-colored eyes. The challenge in that gaze was impressive, given I held her Divine Mother under my blade. "I'm sorry," I said. "I don't believe we've been acquainted."

"Priestess Liliuth." She inclined her chin, her dagger tightly gripped in her hand.

"Priestess?" I hadn't intended to sound astounded, but seldom few held that title.

Fury sparked in her eyes at my disbelief. Stepping closer, she uttered, "Let her go. Now."

Prideful witch.

An irascible breath blew from my lips. With a smirk, I said, "Come nearer and she dies, priestess."

The ground shook as she flicked her wrist and a green flame appeared over her palm, dust particles and small debris raining from the ceiling. "She dies and this place crumbles."

My smirk widened into a grin. Now I understood how she'd attained that title. But having command of one element hardly made her a matched opponent. "Have you ever faced off with a Second-Gen vampire, priestess?"

Her jaw twitched, but she remained silent, that green flame flickering higher.

"Stand down," Luther warned her with a growl. He too knew the stakes. Few witches threatened a Second Gen and lived.

Gaze narrowed thinner, she made the ground rumble again.

Prideful and stupid.

Aim your dagger at your gut.

Her eyes widened as the command echoed in her mind. She took the dagger she'd been holding and gripped it with both hands. The green flame died, along with her bravery. Her body shook as she tried to fight the command.

Push deeper.

She swallowed hard and her lips trembled as the tip of her dagger began to slowly pierce through her tunic.

"Father, stop this," Luther said, his voice harsh.

The other witch standing next to her simply gasped, her feet glued to the ground.

The priestess could ask me to stop, could beg me to drop the compulsion, but her pride was too strong.

As was mine. I had zero qualms about killing a witch, but what I cared to know was how badly she wanted to live. I was about to command her to press even harder, enough to puncture flesh, but the Divine Mother interceded for her.

"My daughter," she whispered, as if desperately trying not to move her throat and have the blade cut her further. "She's my daughter. I beg you, lord vampire. Please, stop this."

When I looked back down at her face, I saw true fear in her eyes. The woman who'd entered my coven commanding time as if she was its sole owner had disappeared and all that remained was a mother begging for her child's life.

No one was invulnerable. This version of her I could tolerate.

Releasing her daughter from my compulsion, I allowed the Divine Mother one more labored breath under my blade before pulling away.

The priestess' dagger dropped to the ground as she fell to her knees. I realized then how much energy she'd expelled trying to fight the compulsion. She'd clearly trained in more than potions and spells.

"Now that we're all done measuring dicks," Luther said, "can we get back to business?"

Still on the settee, the Divine Mother dabbed the blood from her neck with a handkerchief Luther handed her. "There is much to discuss, and we've already wasted precious time," she said, her tone clipped.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. The use of compulsion made me hungry, and the scent of her witch blood only agitated my beast. Had I not fed earlier, it would've sent me into a frenzy. I tried to remain unperturbed. Taking a few deep breaths, I walked to one of the armchairs near the fireplace and sat. As little as I wanted to entertain this conversation, there was something the priestess said that had piqued my interest.

"You mentioned a Spirit Marked…" I sighed, scratching the stubble on my jaw as I stared at the Divine Mother sitting across from me. "Your people killed the last Spirit Marked when she refused to sacrifice herself for an ancient dead prophecy. Burned her at the stake before my eyes. Don't tell me you seek to redo the mistakes of your foremothers. Or are you unfamiliar with your own history?"

Breathing heavily, Priestess Liliuth rose to her feet. "The girl is actually a descendant of your precious Arabelle, the one you aided in conspiring against her sisters?—"

I cut her off with a click of my tongue. Perhaps I'd let her off too easily. "Your sisters wanted to strip Arabelle of her power to open a portal to your dead world," I said to the na?ve witch."A ritual that would have taken her soul. If anyone conspired, it was your order against her."

Narrowing her gaze, she bit out her next words. "Magic has a price… one she would have been willing to pay had you not interfered."

I raised a brow, already discerning this witch would never acknowledge the faults of her people. "You have an interesting version of events, priestess, but I care little to discuss the details of my past with you. What I'm more interested in is why you're all here."

With a gaze hard as a rock, she said, "You should show a little more gratitude. If it weren't for us, you'd still be in that coffin."

Sitting straighter, I allowed her spiny rebuke to slide off my skin. She was too easy to toy with and my interest in her dimmed. "My gratitude is not what you seek, priestess. If you came here to play, then you best know the game." Shifting my attention back to the Divine Mother, I asked again, "Now, why did you unearth me?"

Clearing her throat, the Divine Mother stood from the settee and stepped closer, her gown swooshing at her feet. "The answer is not that simple. For that, lord vampire, we will need to revisit your past."

I could already feel the blood in my veins quicken. Resting my chin on my fingers, I said, "Tread carefully, Divine Mother. My patience is worn thin."

She nodded, training her gaze on a random painting as she began her dive into my past. "When Arabelle learned of the Ancient's prophecy, she stole the Anékeum."

I swallowed deeply at the mention of that book, remembering the day Arabelle arrived at my doorstep in the dead of night, soaked from the torrential rain, her horse almost dead from exertion. Shaking from fear, she told me she could never return to her order. That her sisters would want her dead once they learned what she'd done.

When she showed me what she carried in her satchel, I knew the centuries-old feud between witches and vampires was about to turn into an outright war.

I said, "The Ancient grimoire passed down through generations since the first witches walked through the portal into this world. Arabelle hid it from your foremothers for a reason. She didn't believe they were deserving of the power stored inside and feared what they would do with such magic, especially if she ever opened the portal."

"We scoured the four corners of the earth looking for it for centuries," The Divine Mother went on, clasping her pendant as she recounted the story. "Not a single trace was ever found."

"If you think I know its location, you are gravely mistaken. She did not disclose that to me. And had she, I would never reveal it to you."

Dismissing me with a side glance, she paced. "Eight days ago, a spike in elemental energy was felt around the globe. It sparked geological phenomena, including an earthquake that shook the foundation of the London Museum of Archeology and Anthropology. In their clean-up efforts, they discovered the book hidden in a crate long-forgotten by their curators."

Icy fingers trailed down my back. Was it possible the book had been found?

Lowering her hood, she continued, "When they opened the book, they set off a wave of elemental energy. Like calls to like, lord vampire, and the book called to us."

My heart sank. Inching to the edge of my seat, I asked, "You have it?"

She nodded.

Saints be damned. Arabelle's efforts to keep the witches from ever discovering the book had failed. Worst of all, they not only had the book, but if they were right about the girl in the club, they also had another Spirit Marked—a descendant of Arabelle, one of the strongest witches to ever walk the earth. Perhaps that's why the girl was able to summon those memories from me.A shared connection of some sort.

I shut my eyes as the images she'd summoned flashed through my mind again. It had been the last time we'd been together, the last time I'd made love to Arabelle. I pulsed with anger, shoving the memories to the dark corners of my heart. These witches had tried to manipulate me with memories I'd wanted to forget. And for what? I still didn't know how I fit into all of this.

Narrowing a heated gaze over the Divine Mother's expectant stare, I said, "You have the book and a Spirit Marked, so why do you need me?"

She paused for a second, letting me stew in my anger.

I growled. She'd forgotten I'd had a blade to her neck only moments before.

"Our sisters believed Arabelle gave you the location of the book before she died. But your blood rage and hatred toward our kind knew no bounds, lord vampire. If we'd aided in your escape back then, we would have put everything we were striving to achieve at risk."

"You mean the destruction of my world in order to reclaim your ancient powers."

"Those powers are our birthright, lord vampire. Our ancestors were driven out of their home, forced to migrate to a world with buried magic. Magic we struggle to access. To a Source that limits our abilities to wield its power as we see fit, granting gifts to a limited few."

"Your ancestors abused their power, killing your world. Arabelle tried to stop you from repeating their mistakes."

"Don't be a fool. Arabelle wanted the power of the book for herself."

"Spare me the speech. Your foremothers tried to feed me that horseshit once before."

"Believe what you will, I'm not here to convince you of Arabelle's motives. I'm here because a prophecy was written thousands of years ago, long before your cursed kind even walked this earth. That prophecy promised our world would be restored by a Spirit Marked—one born with all four marks, and the only one able to open the portal. When Arabelle died, the prophecy was reset, a new Spirit Marked was chosen, but not knowing when this new witch would be born, our foremothers decided to try to find the book on their own."

She paused to look at Luther. "As insurance, they offered your son a chance for redemption. If by the time the new Spirit Marked was discovered the book hadn't been found, we would assist him in recovering your body."

Unamused by her admission that her kind contributed to my prolonged imprisonment, I tossed her a frosted stare. The unsteady look in her eyes confirmed what I suspected: there was more to this story, lots more. And I'd grown increasingly irritated with her abuse of my time.

"You keep weaving your tale and we keep coming back to the same conclusion. You found your Spirit Marked, you recovered the book, yet chose to still unearth me. Stop wasting my time," I gritted. "I'm tired of your damn web. Why the fuck did you aid my son in my escape?"

Priestess Liliuth interjected, cutting off her mother with a harsh tone. "Because Arabelle tore out the damn pages containing the magic spell needed to open the portal, along with a spell on how to bind magical words to her bones. The book is useless."

A ripple of joy flushed through my veins, briefly snuffing out my anger and forcing a chuckle from my throat.

Arabelle, my clever girl.

The warmth spreading across my chest made me gasp. I'd not been prepared for how wildly my heart could still beat for her. "In the event of her untimely death, Arabelle made sure you'd never recover the spell even if you ever found the book… How brilliant."

Swiping a lock of hair from her brow, the Divine Mother sighed, unease clouding her eyes. "If Arabelle simply wanted to keep the book from us, she could have destroyed it or burned the pages she tore. But she chose to bind the spell to her bones."

She paused, eyes storming with an unspoken truth, as if she harbored some dark secret about Arabelle I didn't know. Her silence made my mind race. The joy I'd felt quickly morphed into something black and cold, like an iron ball sitting in the pit of my stomach.

I knew Arabelle kept secrets—it was part of her allure—but I couldn't avoid the tightening in my chest, the hollowness in my center. She'd taken far more to her grave than I ever imagined, and the fear she'd betrayed me more than once splintered through my bones. "What are you implying?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the Divine Mother teased. "Arabelle refused to give up her power. She bound her spirit to this world instead of allowing it to return to the All Spirit upon her death. She's trapped in limbo. Why else transcribe the spell onto her bones? Arabelle planned to return to the world of the living."

The gears in my brain stopped spinning. She couldn't be serious. What she said made zero sense. Return from the dead? How was that even possible? And even if I chose to believe it was, why wouldn't Arabelle have told me? Why allow me to go on thinking she was gone without a chance of ever coming back? No, they had to be wrong. This had to be part of their vicious scheme.

Arabelle couldn't have…

I sank into my chair. I wouldn't know how to deal with another blow—with more proof that her love of power was greater than her love for me.

"Arabelle would have told me." I jumped to my feet and shook my head, my mind still whirling, unable to accept she would have kept that secret from me. "She would have told me…" I reiterated, my voice trailing, the idea of her returning to the living failing to solidify.

Running fingers through my hair, I fought to wrap my mind around the Divine Mother's preposterous theory.

But what if Arabelle had lied?

My fists clamped as rage surged through my body. Partly because I knew these witches would do anything to entwine me in their machinations, say anything to get that spell. And partly because the instant those words left her mouth—that Arabelle planned to return—my world had collapsed.

Could Arabelle truly return to me after all these centuries? Was it possible I could feel the softness of her skin again? Kiss the sweetness of her lips? Hear the music in her voice? See the passion in her eyes? Taste the richness of her… blood?

That last thought made the ground shake beneath my feet, and this time it wasn't the priestess doing it. I shook the dizzying thoughts from my mind. I had to remind myself of the trickery of these witches. They were the reason Arabelle was killed in the first place. They were the ones who ensured my son never came for me.

This was what they wanted, to see me unravel.

"You tempt me with your words, Divine Mother," I said, stalking closer to her. "To forget who you are. Why you're here. Fulfilling your prophecy is the only thing that matters to your people, and you don't care who you trample on to accomplish that."

"The prophecy will come to pass, lord vampire, whether you choose to accept it or not. It has been decreed, that I can assure you. The only thing you can control is the role you play in it. One way or another, we will get that spell."

"Is that a threat?"

She took a step closer. "It's a promise. But there's no need to be enemies. I was not lying about Arabelle; she inscribed that spell onto her bones for one reason alone, to be able to extract it upon her return."

"Provided I believe you, how do you know she hasn't already returned?"

"Because Arabelle can't cast a rebirth spell from limbo," Liliuth answered. "To return to the living she would've needed the assistance of a powerful hive. She knew this. She was likely counting on us reviving her to get the spell."

"Even so, her bones are a pile of ashes, witch. There's no body for her to return to, no spell to be extracted."

"To return, she needs a body… nobody mentioned anything about using hers," Liliuth said, her lips stretching into a cocky smile.

Craning my neck toward the Divine Mother, my brows pinched as I contemplated the implications of what her daughter said. "What is she talking about? You plan to bring Arabelle back in someone else's body? You said the spell was on her bones. I fail to see how bringing her back in someone else's body helps you achieve your goal?"

The Divine Mother snorted. "It doesn't. Arabelle was a smart witch, but she was also na?ve. She hid the spell on her bones hoping that whoever wanted the spell would have to revive her to get her to fork it over. She thought it was her fail-safe. However, she didn't know she'd be burned at the stake, and she certainly didn't account for me. I don't need to revive Arabelle to get the spell; I have the power to extract the spell straight from her ashes. I'd be reviving her as my offering to you, lord vampire, in exchange for the location of her ashes."

A pummeling rush of realization knocked me back into my seat.

There it was. The reason they'd unearthed me.

"You conniving witch. You offer my son unmatched power, dominion over the humans. But you offer me the one thing I never even imagined."

"It's a fair deal."

I smirked. "No, you don't bargain well. I know what will happen when you open that portal; the sickness that consumed your world will spread through ours.My so-called kingdom would be laid at my feet in shambles. It's why Arabelle refused to sacrifice herself for a dead world. There was never a Chosen One who would reunite the races because no amount of magic can heal Allorn. You are all foolish to think you can when your queens couldn't. Magic is what destroyed it, and Arabelle knew that. What makes you think I would divulge the location of her ashes and allow you to desecrate her grave only to have this world turn to shit, anyway?"

Tunneling her gaze into mine, she played her last card. "Because I know how much you still love her, despite her betrayal to you. I can see it in your eyes. The fire still rages. Don't you see, she trapped herself in limbo, waiting for you. For this moment. For you to make the right decision and finally bring her back."

"You wretched woman."

She smiled, walking toward the fireplace where she stoked the flames with an iron pick. "The error my foremothers made was thinking that all they had to do was reopen the portal. But the prophecy is written in the Ancient's language, and what they failed to understand was that re-opening the portal was only part of the equation. Arabelle knew that; she'd studied the old magic and the Ancient's tongue. Arabelle was smart in refusing to sacrifice herself, because as you said, she wasn't the Chosen One. Opening the portal would've simply destroyed Earth."

"What's changed?"

"The girl you ran into today… She's not just the new Spirit Marked, she's the one the book foretells, the one meant to bring Allorn back to its full glory."

"What makes you so sure?" I asked incredulously, certain she'd probably spew more lies.

"We've been searching for her since she was born. Her mother was a member of our order. A close friend of mine, in fact. She had the gift of foresight and knew her daughter would be the next Spirit Marked. But… she and her husband ran away from the Hive before the child was born."

"Maybe it had to do with the fact she knew you would sacrifice her daughter to open the portal," Luther offered with a chuckle, his unsolicited reply echoing my thoughts exactly.

"Cassie had a duty to her sisters," the Divine Mother spat. "Bearing the Spirit Marked is an honor, a blessing. But every witch knows their children belong to the Hive. We are born to serve the All Spirit."

Memories of Arabelle's mother and sister played in my mind. Tears had flowed from their eyes as they watched her burn, but they never tried to stop it. "Would you so easily sacrifice your own daughter?" I asked, glancing to Liliuth.

The priestess answered for her mother, "She wouldn't have to. I'd freely sacrifice myself if I could. But I'm not the Spirit Marked."

"Easy to say when your head is not the one on the chopping block."

She cocked her head, those violet-colored eyes darkening.

I offered her a cold smile then shifted my gaze back to the Divine Mother. "Even if you managed to open the portal, then what? How is this any different from when your sisters tried to have Arabelle do it? Allorn is still a dead world. You'd be sacrificing a new Spirit Marked for nothing, and polluting this world in the process."

A grin spread across the Divine Mother's face. "Ah, but here's what you don't know, lord vampire. The Ancient gifted four artifacts to the four governing races of Allorn, granting them unmeasurable power over their people, wealth unlike anything they'd ever seen. But hearts are fickle and the kings and queens of Allorn became corrupted. Eventually, the Ancient took back what she'd given and dispersed the artifacts throughout the land, never to be found. It was the beginning of our end, when the planet began to rot."

Rubbing a palm down my face, I uttered, "I grow weary, Divine Mother. Spare me the history lesson and get to the saints-fucking point. Convince me why I should tell you where Arabelle's ashes lie?"

Stepping closer, she tilted her head up to meet my gaze. "Because Cassie knew her daughter wasn't only the new Spirit Marked, but a dream-walker, one able to travel through time and space via the dream realm. She revealed as much to me before deciding to run off."

She let that sink before she continued, "The new Spirit Marked can travel back in time and across dimensions to find the artifacts and bring them back to us. Once the portal is open, I will be able to heal Allorn by using their combined power."

"But wouldn't taking the artifacts from their timelines affect the normal passage of time somehow?" Luther asked. "And if she can travel through time, why not just bring all of you with her?"

"You've been paying attention, Master Luther," the Divine Mother uttered. "The dream-walker can't physically travel through time, though. It's her consciousness that travels. But what she can do is transference—the ability to pull objects from a different time and space through the dream realm into ours."

My mind swam with so many questions, but one kept circling back. "That still doesn't solve the problem Luther had mentioned," I added. "We've all heard of your dream-walkers. Due to the complexities surrounding time travel, the All Spirit forbids them from meddling with the threads of time."

"Yes, lord vampire, we are quite aware of those complexities. But we don't plan to take the artifacts before they were lost, only after. We wouldn't be meddling in anything."

"But you'd have to find them first, and that was the original problem—why Allorn died. No one was ever able to find the damn artifacts."

"The clues to their location are buried in the Anékeum. I've studied the old magic and understand the Ancient's tongue. I am more than certain I can find them."

Despite their efforts to explain, this all sounded too far-fetched, too grand of a scheme for them to pull off. Something didn't add up. But if there was a small chance that what this witch was saying was true, that this could work, it meant their prophecy would come to pass. Allorn could be saved.

But then what of our world?

The amount of power required to open that portal would sap every ounce of energy from Earth. And we didn't have a Chosen One prophesied to heal our planet.

"And Earth?" I asked. "There's no scenario in your plan where my world survives."

"But why have dominion over this stale planet when you could rule in New Allorn alongside Arabelle? Think about it. No more prisoners of the shadows, no longer slaves to your appetite for blood."

Her scheme deepened, stirring my curiosity. "You can't be serious."

She smiled wider.

"You can assure me that my people will be able to walk in daylight? That we won't be consumed by bloodlust? How?"

"Are we to strike a bargain, lord vampire?"

I eyed her suspiciously. Striking a bargain with a witch was as deadly as crossing a vampire. There were too many moving pieces, too many variables. Something didn't feel right.

"This whole plan of yours is contingent on two things, Divine Mother. One, that my love for one of your kind is stronger than my hate for all of you. Second, that the new Spirit Marked is willing to sacrifice herself. I will let you simmer on the first. Regarding the second, I want to hear it directly from the Spirit Marked's lips. Bring her forth."

The Divine Mother's face paled as she shared glances with her daughter then Luther.

My blood rippled with triumph. I knew her plot hadn't been hole-proof. "What is it?" I asked, knowing she'd try to weave another lie.

More glances were shared, the level of intrigue rising.

Priestess Liliuth broke the silence. "We don't know where she is."

My eyes widened. I'd not expected that. Scratching at my temple, I said, "Let me understand this correctly. You came here to offer me a bargain, yet you don't even have the Spirit Marked? You don't know if she'll be willing to sacrifice herself for your cause? You've been searching for her since she was born. Does she even know who you are? Or what she is?"

"All we know is that her power only recently awakened," Liliuth said. "We felt her signature a couple of times, but it wasn't strong enough to track her. Until tonight, when she was here. Luther's men searched the video footage. But we arrived too late, and she was already gone."

"The most recent footage we have," Luther said, "is of her leaving the building and collapsing outside in the alley, but then the video went grainy, as if there was some sort of interference. Seconds later, the image cleared, but she was gone."

No one seemed to be asking the most important question. "Why was she here in the first place?"

"I know," a scrawny voice from across the room said. We all turned our heads to the unknown human clad in black standing in the far-right corner, as if he'd been there all along.

How had I missed the stink of his sweat?

"And who the devil might you be?" I demanded.

"That's Ricky," Luther replied for the boy. "He's the Harvester's lily recruiter."

My nose scrunched in disgust. "The one responsible for grooming your human hosts? What's he doing here?" I gritted. "Since when are humans allowed to meddle in our affairs?"

"I came looking for one of the lilies and overheard your conversation, my lord. My apologies for eavesdropping."

Come here..

The human's response to my compulsion was instant. Wide-eyed, he ambled forward. "What is it you know?" I asked.

"The… the girl you speak of," he stuttered. "I think I know who she is. She came here tonight looking for her friend."

I swallowed deeply. "You think or you know?"

"I… I know." His voice shook. "Her friend has told me about her. About her dreams. What she sees." Turning toward the witches, he added, "She has to be the Spirit Marked you seek."

The Divine Mother stepped forward, her eyes widening with hope. "Speak, child. How do we find her?"

Pulling his cellphone from his pocket, he showed us images of a girl inside what appeared to be a cell. "That's her best friend."

Luther stepped forward and took the device from the human. "Is this one of our holding cells?"

"It is. I completed her recruitment tonight. I know where she lives… where they both live."

Taking the device from Luther, I stared at the screen. The girl sat in a corner hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. Cold, dark wrath wove through me. He'd completed another recruitment of a young girl tonight—another host, another lily. Remembering what Maya had said about her sister being in a cell, I asked, "What's wrong with her?"

"She's jonesing," he said, laughing, like it was some kind of joke.

"Jonesing?"

"Means she's going through withdrawals," Luther said.

I blinked, still not understanding.

"She's a fucking vampire blood addict," the human added. "Give her some KRMZ in exchange for information and the bitch will squeal. She'll tell you everything you need to know about her stupid friend."

Fisting her hand, the priestess approached Luther. "Take us to her cell."

"What do you plan to do?" I asked, stepping between her and my son.

"You heard the human. That's the Spirit Marked's best friend. You asked how we'd get her to cooperate, and here's your answer."

I crossed my arms and stared down at her refined nose. "And if she doesn't cooperate?"

"She will… I will make sure of it."

"That's the same thing the ones who came before you said about Arabelle. They couldn't bend her to their will, so they killed her."

"They weren't strong enough." She flicked her hand and the green flame flickered brighter, a snake head poking out of the sleeve of her tunic. "But I am."

I blinked at the elemental spirit coiled around her arm, its half-closed lids an indication of its strained power. "My dear priestess, mastering one element doesn't make you a match for a Spirit Marked."

Violet eyes brimming with fire, she said, "Arabelle was not invincible. Otherwise?—"

"Arabelle," I said, cutting her off, my voice low but lethal,"was captured because my brother betrayed her. Make no mistake, young witch, had your kind tried to capture her without his help, they would've failed."

Lips tightly closed, she remained silent, knowing I spoke the truth.

"When we find the girl," the Divine Mother said, placing a hand on Liliuth's shoulder, "we will educate her. Teach her our ways. Show her the path set forth by her destiny. Once she understands the importance of her gift, she will offer herself willingly."

Impetuous witches. I reached for the bottle of wine Maya had left on the side table and poured myself another glass. "You are all deluded. Don't think for a second that you've convinced me to disclose the location of Arabelle's grave. I know your people's ways, witch. And I've learned my lesson. Your trickery knows no bounds. I will not sacrifice this world for the love of one woman."

The Divine Mother's blue eyes darkened. "We'll see about that, lord vampire," she uttered as Luther and his men led her and the other two witches out of the room, to wherever it was that girl was trapped in a cell.

I blew out a rankled breath when they left the room. The blood in my veins ran cold, even though my heart raced faster than Phlegon raging toward a battle. Sinking into the settee, I discarded the wine and buried my face in my hands. What the bloody saints had just happened? I breathed hard, hoping to ease the tremors crawling down my spine.

Everything they'd said bounced off the walls of my skull like an angry echo. I still couldn't wrap my mind around the possibility of Arabelle returning to the world of the living. Or maybe, I refused to accept it.

Refused because otherwise, it would mean what I'd told the Divine Mother had been a bloody, flagrant lie. Because if there was any true chance Arabelle could be brought back from the dead, the question wasn't if I'd give up the location of her ashes, but how fast I would burn this planet to the ground to get her back.