Page 33 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)
Hope flickered briefly. "Then there is a way to end it?"
"The curse draws power from the original conflict—Viktor's choice to sacrifice love for duty, to betray his mate for his kingdom.
It perpetuates because that pattern continues.
Your ancestors have systematically prevented Drake-Florence connections for generations, destroying records, separating the families, eliminating any threat of reconnection. "
"Until now," I said quietly, the mate bond humming in agreement.
"Until now," she confirmed. "You and the Florence witch have reestablished what was broken. The curse activates because it must—it's the magical echo of Hazel's pain. But curses this old can be broken if their fundamental conditions are addressed."
"How?" I demanded, leaning forward. "What conditions?"
Elspeth's expression remained impassive. "That, Kane Drake, is something you must discover for yourself. The payment you've offered buys you truth about the past, not solutions for the future."
Frustration surged through me, bringing with it a flash of the transformation symptoms—my fangs descending involuntarily, vision sharpening and tingeing red at the edges. "People are suffering. My people. While I chase cryptic hints about curses and bloodlines."
If my partial transformation concerned her, Elspeth didn't show it. "Your people suffer because of choices made generations ago, choices you continue to echo. Viktor chose his kingdom over his mate. What will you choose, Kane Drake?"
The question hung between us, heavy with implication. The mate bond throbbed in my chest, as if sensing its fate being discussed.
"I need to protect my people," I said finally. "But I won't betray Willow the way Viktor betrayed Hazel."
"Noble sentiments," Elspeth replied, though whether she approved or mocked was unclear.
"But intentions mean little against the power of a curse this old, strengthened by generations of similar choices.
The transformation will continue to spread.
It will claim you completely, sooner than you expect. "
"How long?" My voice was steady despite the internal turmoil her words created.
"At the rate your symptoms are progressing?
Days, perhaps a week before the change becomes irreversible.
Less time for those more susceptible among your people.
" She gestured to the flames in the fire pit, which suddenly shifted to form images—vampires in containment cells, thrashing against restraints, eyes crimson with bloodlust. I recognized faces—executives, security personnel, ordinary employees from Drake facilities around the country.
"This is happening now," she confirmed, reading my expression. "While you sit in my cottage seeking answers, they lose themselves to blood hunger. Soon the containment will fail. Blood supplies will be exhausted. And then..."
The flames shifted again, showing streets filled with hunting vampires, humans fleeing in terror, the carefully maintained peace between species shattered in nights of violence.
"Stop," I commanded, unable to watch any longer.
The flames returned to normal, though the images remained burned in my memory.
"There is one more thing you should know," Elspeth said, her voice softening slightly.
"The bond between you and the Florence witch—it's stronger than the one between Viktor and Hazel.
Perhaps because of the dormant Drake blood already in her line, or perhaps because the magic has been building for generations, waiting for this reconnection. "
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"Meaning that breaking it—even without Michael's betrayal method—would almost certainly kill you both. The magical backlash would be catastrophic."
I absorbed this final piece of information with grim resignation.
The choice before me clarified with terrible simplicity: sacrifice Willow and myself through a clean breaking of the bond, potentially saving my people but guaranteeing our deaths—or watch the transformation spread until blood drinkers roamed freely again, undoing centuries of evolution and peace.
Michael had found a third option—sacrificing his mate to save himself. That path was unthinkable to me, regardless of the consequences.
"Kane," Elspeth said, "the curse has a purpose beyond punishment. All magic does, especially magic born of such profound pain. Find that purpose, and you may find your answer."
I stood, recognizing the dismissal in her tone. Our transaction was complete; I had the truth I'd come for, unwelcome as it was.
"Thank you for your honesty," I said formally.
Elspeth inclined her head. "Few seek truth when comfortable lies would serve them better. In that, at least, you differ from Viktor."
Outside, the morning had progressed to mid-day, sunlight filtering through ancient trees to dapple the ground with shifting patterns. I stood beside my car, absorbing what I'd learned and the impossible choice before me.
The mate bond pulsed steadily in my chest, connecting me to Willow across the miles.
I focused on the sensation, recognizing now what I hadn't before—the dormant Drake blood in her line responding to mine, our connection deeper than just magic, rooted in shared ancestry neither of us had known about. Fortunately, a very distant relation. Michael is something like my seventh cousin twice removed? Eighth? Far enough away that it doesn’t matter, but knowing still makes it weird.
With the lifespan of vampires, the last time our families were connected was centuries ago.
My phone vibrated with urgent updates from Atlas—more containment breaches, blood supplies critically low at three more facilities, the board calling another emergency session to revisit Article 17.
The empire I'd built over centuries was crumbling, my people reverting to a nature I'd helped them evolve beyond, all because I'd followed an instinct too powerful to resist. Because I'd allowed myself to feel something for a witch with eyes that reminded me of forests I'd known centuries ago, before cities of steel and glass replaced ancient woods.
I started the car, decision crystallizing as the engine roared to life. I would not repeat Michael's betrayal. I would not sacrifice Willow to save myself. But neither could I allow my people to revert to blood drinkers, endangering the peace we'd maintained with humans for generations.
There had to be another way—a solution Hazel herself might have woven into the curse, if Elspeth was right about all magic having purpose beyond punishment.
I needed to understand the curse completely. I needed access to Hazel's true grimoire, not the redacted version in my family's archives.
I needed Willow.
As if responding to my thoughts, the mate bond pulsed strongly, a wave of determination flowing through it that matched my own. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, Willow was pursuing answers with the same intensity.
For the first time since waking from blood dreams, I smiled. We might be caught in a centuries-old curse, facing impossible choices and devastating consequences, but at least we were well-matched in our stubborn refusal to accept fate without a fight.
The drive back to the city gave me time to formulate a plan. I would contact Willow, share what I'd learned from Elspeth, and combine our resources to find the purpose behind Hazel's curse. If anyone could understand the Florence witch's true intentions, it would be her descendant.
The bond hummed with approval, even as my phone continued to vibrate with crisis updates from Atlas. Time was running out—for me, for Willow, for all of us caught in this ancient web of love, betrayal, and consequence.