Page 41 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

Martin nodded, gratitude plain on his face. "Even temporary relief will mean everything to them. To us." He hesitated, then asked, "Does Kane know about this? About what you're doing?"

"He will soon," I said, keeping my tone neutral despite the complicated emotions that surfaced at the mention of his name. "Luna's telling him."

"Good." Martin looked around at the botanical sanctuary with newfound appreciation. "He's been... struggling. Worse than most of us. Elspeth says it's because he's the king, and because of your mate bond."

My heart clenched despite my lingering anger. "Has he... how bad is it?"

Martin's expression said enough. "Bad. He's confined himself to his quarters at the tower. Won't see anyone except Elspeth and a few trusted advisors. The last time I saw him, three days ago, he could barely speak through the hunger."

I turned away, busying myself with arranging supplies to hide the surge of concern that threatened to overwhelm my resolve to keep distance between us. "The remedy should help him too."

"Will you take it to him?" Martin asked quietly. "He might not come himself—too proud, too determined to handle everything alone."

"That sounds like him," I acknowledged with a hint of bitterness. "But no. If Kane wants my help, he can come and ask for it himself. I sent a dose to him with Luna and I'm through chasing after someone who makes unilateral decisions about our connection."

Martin nodded, not pushing further. "I understand. Thank you for what you've done for me, for all of us. The Drake coven won't forget this kindness."

After he left, promising to return the following day with others who needed treatment, I threw myself into preparing for more patients. I harvested additional valerian, started more moonflower nectar fermenting, and organized my work space for efficient tincture production.

Throughout the day, Luna brought three more early-stage vampires seeking treatment.

Each responded positively to the remedy, the hunger visibly receding as the tincture took effect.

By evening, word had spread, and a steady stream of affected vampires arrived at my door, their conditions ranging from mild to moderately severe.

I worked tirelessly, preparing batch after batch of the tincture, each one requiring drops of my blood.

After the tenth patient, I began to feel light-headed from the repeated contributions, small though each one was.

The plants sensed my fatigue, several flowering specimens releasing revitalizing scents that helped restore my energy.

As night fell, I was just preparing to close up when a final knock came at the door. Through the glass, I saw a woman I didn't recognize—elegant, ancient-looking despite her physically youthful appearance, with silver-white hair and eyes so pale they appeared almost colorless.

The plants around me went utterly still, their collective consciousness radiating caution. Whoever this woman was, she carried power that even the plants respected—or feared.

I hesitated, then opened the door. "We're closing for the night. Are you in need of treatment?"

The woman smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "I am not. I've come on behalf of Kane Drake."

"Elspeth?"

She inclined her head slightly. "And you are Willow Florence, the mate who has managed to rediscover what generations of witches forgot. May I come in?"

I stepped aside, allowing her entry while noting how the plants drew back slightly from her path. "If Kane sent you to collect the remedy, I'm happy to provide another dose. But I have questions that need answers."

"I expected nothing less." Elspeth moved through my shop with the confidence of someone who had seen countless botanical collections over centuries of life.

"Kane did not send me. In fact, he expressly forbade anyone from approaching you.

But his condition has deteriorated to the point where intervention is necessary, with or without his permission. "

A chill ran through me. "How bad is it?"

"He has perhaps a day before the transformation becomes irreversible," she said bluntly. "The curse affects the mated most severely, and his resistance to accepting help has accelerated the process."

My anger at Kane temporarily receded under a wave of genuine fear for his life. "The remedy will help, but it won't cure him. It only provides temporary relief."

"Relief is what he needs most now—time to think clearly again, without the hunger clouding his judgment." Elspeth approached my work table, examining the ingredients I'd assembled. "You've done remarkable work, especially considering you lack formal training in floramancy."

"The plants have been teaching me," I said, moving to prepare a fresh batch of the tincture. "And the grimoire."

"Ah yes, Hazel's book." Elspeth's expression softened slightly. "I knew her, you know. Before she met Viktor, before everything changed."

I nearly dropped the vial I was holding. "You knew Hazel? Personally?"

"I am older than I look," she said with a small smile.

"And yes, I knew her—a brilliant witch, powerful in ways few understood.

Her curse was a masterpiece of magical crafting, designed with multiple layers and conditions.

What she did required not just skill but profound understanding of bloodline magic. "

"Then you must know how to break it permanently," I said, watching her carefully. "The true nature of the sacrifice required."

Elspeth's gaze sharpened. "What have you learned about that?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal to this woman I'd just met, who clearly had her own agenda. But if she truly knew Hazel, she might be able to fill crucial gaps in my understanding.

"The grimoire says Michael misunderstood the nature of the sacrifice," I said finally. "He thought it required his death, but what Hazel actually encoded was 'the willing surrender of power for love's sake.' I'm not entirely sure what that means."

Elspeth was silent for a long moment, studying me with those unsettling pale eyes. "You've discovered more than Kane has, even with all his resources. Yes, Michael misunderstood. Or perhaps he understood all too well and chose the easier path—continuing as king rather than surrendering his power."

"What kind of power? Political? Magical?" I pressed, sensing she knew more than she was sharing.

"Both." She turned away, examining a potted orchid with apparent interest. "The Drakes are not just corporate leaders or vampire royalty. They carry ancient magic in their bloodline—power that Michael refused to give up, even for the woman he claimed to love."

"What about their child?" I asked, recalling what the plants had shown me. "Viktor and Hazel’s. The grimoire mentions a daughter."

Something flickered across Elspeth's face—an old pain, perhaps, or a carefully guarded secret.

"There was a daughter, yes, but not Viktor's.

After he abandoned her, Hazel found brief solace with a wandering bard—a human with his own minor magical gifts.

Their daughter was born just before the curse was cast."

This was new information, something the grimoire hadn't revealed. "So when she created the curse..."

"She was protecting not just herself, but a child Viktor never knew existed," Elspeth confirmed. "A child who would become the next Florence witch, carrying forward both the legacy and the burden of what Hazel had done."

I finished preparing the tincture, adding the final ingredient—more drops of my blood, bringing my total contribution for the day to a potentially dangerous level. The mixture swirled, transforming to that rich amber color that indicated proper formulation.

"This should help Kane," I said, carefully bottling the remedy. "But it needs to be administered quickly. The longer he resists treatment, the less effective it will be."

Elspeth accepted the bottle, tucking it carefully into an inner pocket of her elegant jacket. "I will ensure he takes it, willing or not. He's in no condition to refuse help now."

"Tell him..." I paused, uncertain what message I wanted to convey.

Despite everything, despite my anger and hurt, the thought of Kane suffering alone tore at my heart.

"Tell him the full remedy will be ready after the full moon.

And that we need to talk—about Viktor's mistake and what it means for breaking the curse. "

"I'll deliver your message." Elspeth moved toward the door, then paused.

"You should know that Kane believes he's protecting you by keeping his distance.

The hunger he feels for your blood specifically is.

.. unprecedented. The mate bond makes you both his greatest comfort and his greatest temptation. "

"That doesn't justify making decisions about our bond without consulting me," I countered, the earlier anger flickering back to life.

"No, it doesn't," she agreed unexpectedly. "Michael made the same mistake with Patty—believing he knew what was best, acting unilaterally, thinking his position gave him the right to decide for both of them. It seems some patterns are difficult to break, even after centuries."

With that cryptic observation, she departed, leaving me alone with my plants and swirling thoughts. I locked the door behind her, suddenly exhausted from the day's work. Between treating a dozen patients and donating blood for each remedy batch, my body had reached its limits.

The plants sensed my condition, several medicinal specimens releasing healing compounds into the air. A peace lily near the register extended its leaves toward me, offering energy that I gratefully accepted, feeling strength flowing back into my depleted system.

"Thank you," I murmured, stroking its leaves gently. "All of you. We did good work today."

As I prepared to close the shop for the night, a century-old fern in the corner—one that had remained quiet throughout the day's activities—suddenly shifted, drawing my attention.

When I approached, it conveyed not an image but a distinct impression: Hazel had never wanted eternal suffering for the Drakes.

The curse was designed to be temporary, activated periodically to test each generation until a Drake finally made the choice Viktor would not.

"What choice?" I asked aloud, touching the fern's ancient fronds. "What exactly was Viktor supposed to do?"

The fern's response wasn't in words but in feelings—the sensation of setting something down, of opening clenched hands, of willingly surrendering something precious for something even more valuable. Not death, but transformation of a different kind.

Understanding began to dawn—incomplete, but significant. The sacrifice required wasn't Kane's life, but his power. The curse could only be broken when a Drake willingly surrendered his position, his authority, his magical birthright... for love.

It made perfect sense. Viktor had chosen another woman over Hazel. Michael had chosen his kingdom over Patty and their child. To break the curse, Kane would need to make the opposite choice—choosing me over his vampire kingdom, surrendering his power rather than sacrificing our bond.

But could I ask that of him? Should I? The Drake empire employed thousands, supported vampire communities worldwide. Kane's leadership protected his people, maintained the delicate balance between supernatural communities. What right did I have to demand he give that up?

Yet if he didn't, the curse would continue its devastating work, eventually transforming all fruit bat vampires back into blood drinkers—a catastrophe for both vampire and human worlds.

As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, fatigue weighing on my limbs, I was no closer to a clear path forward. But at least I understood the nature of the choice we faced. Not death versus life, but power versus love—the same impossible choice Viktor and Hazel had confronted centuries ago.

Tomorrow would bring more affected vampires seeking treatment, more work preparing remedies, more opportunities to learn from the plants and the grimoire. And perhaps, if Elspeth succeeded in administering the tincture, a more rational Kane willing to listen to what I'd discovered.

The sanctuary I'd created wasn't just for suffering vampires, I realized as I drifted toward sleep surrounded by my protective green allies.

It was a space where healing could begin on multiple levels—physical, emotional, ancestral.

A place where centuries-old wounds might finally have a chance to mend.

My last thought before sleep claimed me was of Kane—not as the controlled CEO or the transformed vampire, but as the man who had held me with such tenderness the night we bonded.

The man I'd glimpsed beneath the power and position.

The man who might, if given the chance, make a different choice than his ancestor had.

For his sake, for the sake of all his people suffering the curse's effects, I hoped he would.