13. Chapter 12

I released Blanche from the mental hold I had on her. She looked exhausted, spent. Her eyes were wide and turning red. She needed nourishment, but right then, my mind spun with what she had told me.

"So you are the daughter of the last fae and druid," I concluded, staring at her. I had always known something was special about her. I just hadn't known what. Now that I did, I wondered how I could have possibly missed the fae grace she exuded. The will of the druids. Now, I understood why she was so valuable to my father. A broodmare. The only kind of female who could give my father more precious sons like Adramelech and me. Fae were the only females who could carry his sons, but they were too good , their genes too strong to give birth to the type of personality my father preferred. That was where the druids came in. Fae blood mixed with that of a druid made up the perfect chalice to receive Satan's seed.

After Saint Walpurga's cleansing of druids, faes, and witches in AD 735—a feat that earned her sainthood—their numbers had been critically decimated. So much so that this year's Magnus Eventus Walpurgisnacht would not have a fae and druid to consummate the union my father so eagerly anticipated. She is the last . Jonathan's words came back to me. Blanche was the last of her kind. Her mother and her father had been the last of the faes and druids.

Now, I understood my father's outrage and why my interference had brought such wrath upon me. How many times before that had Adramalech and I vied for his attention and done deeds that went against my father's will?

"I don't understand any of this," Blanche said quietly, bringing me out of my reveries.

"The first of May has always been celebrated as the beginning of fertility each year. It was also the only time of the year my father was allowed to visit Earth. The only night to cause as much mayhem as he saw fit and the only time to father a child. April thirtieth at midnight used to be when the portals opened, and all creatures of hell roamed Earth. It was also the time when couples liked to get married and have sex because it's said to be the most fertile night of the year.

"For thousands of years, the fae and the druids would find the two strongest members of their species to create a child that would be given to Satan to produce another son for him. It was their highest honor to serve their lord and master.

"It is also the night Saint Walpurga set out to fight all evil. Whatever she used, whatever she did, she drove my father back to hell, and he was only allowed to visit every four hundred and thirty years for the Magnus Eventus Walpurgisnacht."

I stared at Blanche. "It so happens that 1595 was such a year."

"The year I was supposed to mate with the devil," she said, her eyes glowing redder.

"Yes. You and him were supposed to mate and you were supposed to give him one more demon prince." The thought alone was enough to raise my fury. I swore that he would never lay a hand on her. Never.

"What year is it now?" Blanche asked quietly.

"It's 2025," I replied.

"So I'm…"

"Over four hundred and thirty years old," I confirmed.

"I don't remember any of this… What happened to me during all this time?"

I had an idea, but I wasn't about to share it with her yet, afraid to send her already turmoiled mind spiraling. Someone could only digest so much at one time, and I suspected she was at her limit.

Little cracks showed in her skin because she was stressed out. Her body was using up the little blood I had fed her faster than it usually would.

"Why am I so… thirsty?" she asked in a scratchy voice.

"You need to drink something, Blanche." I tried to gently ease her into the inevitable.

"But… just the thought of water or wine turns my stomach." She looked at me, pleading from bloodred eyes that didn't resemble my Blanche at all.

"Trust me?" I asked, pulling the sleeve of my shirt up to expose my wrist.

Her head tilted questioningly. "Always," she said but looked dubiously as I pulled out a knife.

"What are you doing?"

"Trust your instinct, okay, Blanche?" I said, raking the sharp edge of the knife over my skin. Blood quelled instantly.

"Devon, no!" she cried, but her eyes were glued to my wrist.