Chapter 22

OCTAVIA

R ed and I are in my office. It's long past midnight, and we've cleaned ourselves up. She is in a soft hoodie and leggings now. But she's right, I owe her an entire wardrobe. Not that I give a damn. I can't stop fucking her even if I wanted to.

While we were busy, a book arrived from Gabriel; a gift he sent to each of the hunters. He found it in the library and thought it was the most comprehensive book on dhampirs that he'd found to date. Red has been absorbed in it since we sat down.

There's a knock on the door and Amelia's blonde hair peeks around its edge.

"Hey," she says.

"Evening," Red says and swings her legs off the arm of the chair to get up to hug her sister.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. My eyes flick to Amelia. When they meet, there's a ripple in the air. It's the heavy weight of the secret we share about the night I turned her. Red only knows part of the truth. A version we agreed was palatable. And then I forbade Amelia from telling Red the whole truth.

"You should sit down," Amelia says to Red.

She does, and Amelia pulls a large grimoire out of her bag and places it on a coffee table in front of Red's armchair.

Amelia pulls a chair up, and I move my office chair around to sit with them.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Amelia's eyes dance between Red and I.

"It's worse than we thought…" Amelia says, her fingers trailing to the book. "Or at least, I think it is."

"You're going to need to get to the point," I say, tension ebbing into my tone.

Amelia chews her lip, running her fingers over the grimoire's cover. "This is a book of predictions, all of them from blood monks. There's a lot of theoretical discussion in here about the dhampir. We're all already agreed that Red needs to embrace her vampire side in order to transition, right?" She looks up, her knee bouncing up and down, her fingers twisting and rubbing against each other.

"Amelia, what the hell is wrong?" Red says.

"There's a lot of conjecture, but they're all agreed on two things…"

"Which are?" I ask.

"The first is that, as Cordelia suggested, this is a new type of dhampir, a true hybrid form, unlike the witch-dhampirs of old. We know the original dhampirs only used blood in their magic, not that they consumed it or needed to feed on it like vampires. But when the witch-god created Cordelia, it required such an enormous amount of power that it severed all their magic. She literally slaughtered an entire species of dhampir, causing the extinction of magic."

Red and I both nod. Some of this we know.

"Right, but we're bringing it back," I say.

She shakes her head. "Not exactly. That's why they think you're a hybrid. The dhampirs of old are gone-gone. You are something new. My best guess is that blood was the dhampir's source of magic. Their blood made vampires. And now the cycle is being closed, the magic seeded in vampirism is going to make dhampir's reawaken."

"That doesn't sound too bad," I say.

Amelia swallows. "Right. But the second thing they're all agreed on is that in order to transition, the dhampir won't just have to drink human blood…"

Red frowns, clearly still putting the pieces together. Amelia meets my gaze because I understand the insinuation in her words. This time, it's me that swallows hard, and the pair of us wait while Red stares into the distance, her eyebrows flickering. Micro expressions play out across her features.

The frown disappears, her eyes widen and her nostrils flare as she pulls in a deep breath. Her hands claw at the armchair, her knuckles white.

Her words are scarcely audible as she whispers, "I have to drain someone, don't I?"

Amelia sags. "Yeah."

"But other vampires don't have to when they transition. They only have to drink a bit of human blood. Why the hell do I have to?"

"Because of the level of magic required to complete the transformation. I'm so sorry," Amelia says and falls to her knees to take Red's hand.

But she yanks it out of Amelia's grasp.

"I'm not doing it," Red snaps and stands.

"If you don't—" Amelia starts, but I touch her hand and silence her.

"I. Am. Not. Doing. It," Red barks. Then she marches out of the office, leaving Amelia and me in silence.

Amelia puts her head in her hands. "If she doesn't drain someone…"

"I know," I say, and I get off my chair and pull her into my arms. "She will. She has no choice." I hug Amelia tight, hoping that it's enough comfort. But deep in my gut, my tummy swirls as much as I imagine Amelia's is.

We are both far too familiar with how stubborn Red can be. This is a precarious position. Neither of us wants to be the one to push her into digging her heels in. That's why I stopped Amelia talking.

"We need to give her space and time to process. She's still human, and a hunter at that. The last thing I imagine she wants to do is to drain one of her own in order to gain a load of power that—if she's honest—she probably doesn't agree with having. Look at how much she disagrees with vampires and what they've done to your family."

Amelia pulls her head off my chest and wipes her face. "I can't lose her. She's all I have left."

"Then for now, we pray to the Mother of Blood that I can sustain her for long enough to let her process what she needs to do and come to terms with it."

Amelia gathers herself and then heads to find Red, but she returns a short while later saying that Red had passed out on her bed, her cheeks tear-streaked and surrounded by pillows. We agreed we should let her rest for the remainder of the night. Which is why, several hours later, I'm still sat at my desk signing off on castle salaries and order sheets for kitchen supplies. This is the dull work that no one recognises when you run a castle the size of mine. That's without including the pile of club paperwork on the other side of the desk.

I, thankfully, use my vampire speed to make my way through the documents, staffing reviews, alcohol and blood order forms in a little over half an hour.

It's only as I finish the last couple of signature sign-offs that Wendell comes into the office.

"Yes?" I say.

"There's… well, I think it's best you come and see. There's someone at the front of the castle."

I sigh, push myself back from the desk, and follow him.

We meander through the castle. The stone corridors are cool, and growing colder as the last of the sun's warmth ebbs away. The flame lanterns hanging uniformly along the stone corridors flicker to life, showering us in a minuscule amount of heat. We pass the grand hall and make our way to the central staircase.

It's only as I reach the bottom of the stairs that I spot Red. She's standing next to Lennox, my resident vampire blood healer. I like to think of him as insurance should any of my staff get injured and need rapid healing. The pair of them wait by the front door.

Red's eyes are puffy, a result of the crying, I suspect. She's wearing a scowl that would put even Sadie's demeanour to shame. She hides her head under an oversized jumper hood and bed shorts. Goosebumps fleck her legs.

Wendell's expression is severe. He touches my elbow. It's jarring. While he is caring towards me, and I sense that he's fond of me, he often averts his eyes like the other humans. But he has certainly never offered a touch before. At least not like this.

"Be careful," he says and rubs his finger along the inside of my elbow before disconnecting and standing back.

A shiver runs down my back. I'm not sure if it's Wendell's touch or the fact that Lennox pulls open the door and Red sucks in a sharp gasp.

Standing in the doorway is not one, but two blood monks.

Monks, that to my knowledge, once ordained, don't leave the church grounds. They dedicate their life in service to the church, worshipping and preparing for the return of the witch-god.

Red glances at me, her eyes as wide as I imagine mine are. What the hell are they doing here?

"What—" I start, but the monk's sudden movement stops me.

His eyes jerk up. They're a muted blue. Faded and washed out like an ancient watercolour. But there's a fervour buried deep within. I don't think he's happy to be here. Perhaps he feels it's a mockery of his service. The other monk is female, and she too seems furious. Deep wrinkles crinkle her lips where they're pursed together.

They're both wearing the long claret-coloured cloaks typical of the church. Their arms remain hidden beneath their sleeves, which they hold joined in front of their bodies.

I want to ask why they're here, how we've angered them, but I don't get the chance because in eerie synchronisation they each draw out a hand from their cloaks and present their palms out towards us.

Lennox jerks forward as if he's going to step in to protect us. But I touch his arm to stop him.

The female monk's eyes drift to meet Red's.

"I guess that's for me, then?" Red says and takes a step forward.

"Wait," I say, knowing full well if this is a trap, I stand a better chance of surviving. "Let me."

The male monk edges forward, lifting his palm up to me. It's only now that I examine what it is floating in his palm.

"A bead of blood?" I mumble, more to myself than everyone else.

"It's the spirit challenge," Red says.

"Of course. Mother said we would receive invitations, but how is a drop of blood an invitation?"

The monk lifts his hand up as if he wants me to consume it.

"I see," I say and glance at Red, who's quietly shaking her head, knowing that I don't want her to drink another vampire's blood, and she doesn't want to drink a human's.

"Is it blood?" I ask the monk.

His head sways side to side in an agonisingly slow movement. He lifts his hand right up to my mouth.

"Here goes nothing," I say and suck in the not-blood hovering above his palm.

The moment it hits my tongue, my mouth bursts with flavour. It's like every drop of claret from everyone I've drunk from over the last millennia all at once. My head kicks back, white fills my vision. My mind heats, chains lock onto my consciousness, dragging me wherever this entity wants me to go.

Through the white cloud, a mirage emerges. The Church of Blood. I'm standing in a room beneath the main structure of the building. Nine beds made of stone surround a glass structure filled with blood. The room is circular in structure and dim enough the hunters will struggle to see far.

I squint at the glass vial-like structure at the centre of the stone beds.

Mother of Blood, it's the sacred vial of witch-god blood. My ears roar, my chest tightens as I deduce what we are going to have to do. Surely Cordelia can't expect us to undergo this ritual? The attrition rate and number of catatonic monks or outright deaths as a result of this process is insane. She could kill half of us off in this one trial.

Perhaps that was her plan all along.

I'm dragged forward. I try to fight the tugging. But I'm unable to resist. The chains in my mind tighten.

Slowly, the bodies of my siblings appear: Sadie first, then Dahlia, Gabriel and last Xavier, who is half dressed—caught shagging then, I expect.

One by one, the hunters appear at the foot of the remaining beds. Lincoln next to Dahlia. Talulla next to Xavier, Keir next to Gabriel.

It takes another moment. My guess is Red was waiting for me to reemerge from whatever is happening to my body back in the castle before she took her drop.

So when she slowly materialises, I'm not sure if I'm pissed with her or impressed that she took the blood from the monk, knowing something was happening to me.

She catches my eye as the same invisible force drags her to the stone bed next to me.

It's then that a monk appears in the centre of the stone beds next to the vial of blood. A moment later, Mother materialises next to him.

She leans into his ear, and he nods, leaving the circle and standing at the edge. I suspect to protect the vial from Mother. It's not like she's ever shown any common decency to the monks or the church over the years. It's very much a mutual you-stay-out-of-our-business-and-we'll-stay-out-of-yours deal between Mother and the church. Which is why I'm surprised we're here and this is what she chose.

Finally, the Chief appears just outside the circle, her eyes focussed on Cordelia. They flick to the glass vial stretching up into the dimness and the higher she scans, the more her top lip curls. Finally, she gives Mother a nod of assent and Mother begins.

"Children, hunters, welcome. This is where your trial of spirit will be held. You have twelve hours to reconvene here, at which point you will endure the same trial that the hopefuls experience before ordination."

My stomach sinks. This is exactly what I feared. Xavier and Gabriel's mouths drop. I imagine they both gasped, but it appears we're unable to speak because despite their throats and lips bobbing and moving, no sound drifts across the atrium.

Unhindered, Mother continues. "Each of you will be given a single drop of sacred blood. What happens after that is unknown by anyone who hasn't partaken of the blood rite and unspoken of by anyone who has. Your experiences will differ."

Red catches my eye, and my lips press together. This isn't good. The only one of us who looks unfazed is Sadie. In fact, she looks distinctly smug. She folds her arms and despite the lack of light, her eyes still glimmer.

But of course, she would be smug because this trial was practically made for her. She's the most spiritual of us all, the strongest believer and the one most familiar with monks who have gone through this ancient rite.

Mother meets each of our gazes. "You will each be on your own during this trial. It is a test of mental fortitude and strength, not only a key skill for a leader, but one that will prepare you for what will come across the boundary. This will be a test of your greatest fears and darkest nightmares. You will experience everything in the confines of your own mind while your body remains here." She gestures to the stone beds. "The trial will last several hours for some and potentially several days for the weaker among us. If you do not complete it, your mind will be lost to the spiritual plane, and your body will either desiccate or starve to death."

Dahlia pales. She shares a look with Gabriel, and for once I don't need to be her twin to understand the fear trickling through her system.

"For each of you that successfully completes the test, the Mother of Blood will gift you a vision. It is this vision we believe will contain information that will help us across the boundary. For now, welcome to the spirit trial."

With that, she evaporates, and I'm yanked backwards through the white mist, landing back in my body at the entrance to Castle Beaumont. My stomach turns over on itself, and I swallow down the bitter taste of bile. My tongue burns like the aftertaste of puke.

Red appears back in her body a moment later. Stumbling forward, she trips straight out the door and hurls her guts up.

Wendell and Lennox rush to her side, helping her upright.

"Wendell, please fetch me some foods. Likewise, for Red. I'll need the richest blood, and she will need carbs. Lots of them."

He inclines his head and Lennox, once Red is sturdy on her feet, follows him.

Red pushes her hood down; her skin is pale and clammy.

"Well, that sounds fun," she says, her tone flat and dry.

I can't even muster sarcasm. "Hmm. This is a bad idea. The ordination process for the monks is severe. Who really wants to face their darkest fears?"

She wipes her face and stands a little straighter. "Then I'd say we have twelve hours to figure out how to kick our inner demons' arses."