Page 37 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Night falls, and security announces our guests.

The Ministry of Magic is here.

Lander Kane enters with a redheaded woman who is effortlessly pretty. Both are dressed in everyday clothes. She glances around, cautious rather than afraid—fair enough, she has just walked into a flat full of vampires.

I hush Baylor when he growls at Lander.

“This is my sister, Dayna,” Lander says.

I wave. “Hi, Dayna.”

“Hello, Winifred,” Dayna says, stepping forward, her handshake firm. “I’m here to perform the Council-ordered tests. We will need some privacy.”

“I’ve got security matters,” Harrison mutters, slipping out. One by one, the others scatter. Ralph takes an unhappy Baylor .

James remains, tablet on his knee.

“James,” Valdarr warns.

“What? Do I have to leave?”

“I’d prefer it if everyone but Winifred left,” Dayna says, giving him a teacherly stare.

James huffs but skulks into the hallway.

“You will need to lie down on the floor,” Dayna tells me. “A bed won’t do, it is not stable enough, and we will need to use a circle. All right?”

Valdarr nods. “You could use the embedded circle in the living room.”

“You have a circle? Perfect.”

We roll back the heavy rug, revealing an eight-foot circle etched into the floorboards. Dayna kneels and spends forty-five minutes chalking runes, while Lander, wielding a council-sanctioned camera, records every step.

Finished, she sits back, sighing, “Hell on the knees.”

“Would you like a drink?” I offer.

“Oh, I’d love a cup of tea with just a splash of milk.”

“Would you like one as well, Lander?” I grit out.

“No, thank you; I prefer my tea without spit.”

I scowl and head to the kitchen. “Spit? More like poison,” I mutter. Lander puts the camera down and follows. My spine stiffens as I switch on the kettle—I don’t like him at my back. Valdarr is only a whisper away, across the room, and I know I’m perfectly safe.

“How are things? Any contact with the house?” he asks.

“No. I don’t know where she is.” I turn, lean against the worktop and fold my arms.

“Look, Winifred, we got off on the wrong foot. It was never my intention to upset you.”

“No, you just wanted to hurt my friend.”

“I don’t want to harm the house, but you must understand how dangerous she is.”

“So you keep saying.”

“That house killed people.”

Yes, to protect me. “You have no evidence of that.” He needs to understand, he thinks the house is merely magic, but she is so much more. “Look, Lander, after I turned into a vampire, something in my magic let House and me communicate; I could speak to her.”

“What?” His macho mage mask slips, and he looks dumbfounded.

“I can talk to her, proper conversations. She’s a person, even if she is trapped in bricks and mortar. She has thoughts and feelings—she isn’t just a thing.”

He rubs his forehead. “She shouldn’t have a personality. You shouldn’t be able to speak with her. And when you say ‘talk’—do you mean aloud?”

“Exactly like I’m talking to you, but she answers in my mind.”

“That’s not possible.” He turns away, shaking his head, and begins pacing the kitchen. “You talk to her and she responds? I thought you were personifying the magic, giving it human traits. People do that all the time.”

“I don’t. I’m telling you the truth. After I turned and could hear her, she became my friend.

My family.” My voice wavers as I pour hot water over the teabag; the teaspoon clacks against the cup.

I’m not opposed to begging. “Lander, if you ever have the chance, please help her. Don’t hinder her and for all that is good in the world, do not hurt her.

She is more than a wizard’s house. If you insist on hunting her, at least give her a chance—be kind. ”

“I can’t promise that.”

“No, you can’t.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I shouldn’t let him upset me; people like him never change. I silently finish making the drink. “And that is why you are a horrible person.” Shouldering past him with Dayna’s milk-splashed tea, I leave the kitchen.

Valdarr looks up as I stomp into the living room. I shake my head. “I hate him,” I mutter, low enough for only my vampire to hear.

I hand Dayna her tea with a tight smile.

Dayna chats with Valdarr while she sips her drink, and Lander stares at me like a puzzle he’d solve with a scalpel. I shift so Valdarr stands between us.

“Right,” Dayna says, placing her empty cup on the side. “This won’t be pleasant. Would you like an explanation, or shall I just proceed?”

I’ve had days of knowing exactly what’s coming. This is going to be unpleasant, so I’d rather wing it. “I’m fine not knowing.”

“Lie down inside the circle, then. I’m just going to wash my hands,” Dayna says, nipping into the kitchen.

Lander gives Valdarr a wary look. “I know you want to be here for your mate, but for Dayna’s safety it’s best you leave. I realise it goes against all your instincts, yet I must protect my sister. I don’t need an angry vampire trying to rip her throat out.”

I frown. “He would never?—”

“I would,” Valdarr interjects. “If someone hurt you, I would. ”

Images from the court hearing—and every vision in which things went catastrophically wrong flash through my mind: Valdarr stepping in front of me, shielding me?—

I nod.

“I’ll wait outside,” he concedes, and slips into the hallway.

Once I settle on the floor, Dayna’s magic threads through the wood, lighting the circle rune by rune. I feel the ward activate as each segment flares to life, like a switch being thrown. Then she unwraps a surgical packet containing an alarmingly long, rune-etched needle.

“Where’s that going?” I ask, voice tight.

“Your tear duct. If we went through the cornea, you’d lose vision.”

Tear duct! “Oh, great, how reassuring: a huge needle in my eye. Why is everything connected with vampires so bloody awful?”

Let’s hope all this will be worth it. If it’s not—if there’s nothing there but House’s magic—I don’t know what we will do. Run, I guess.

“I wish there were a simple spell. You were turned without consent, so it’s complicated.”

“She was murdered,” Lander mutters. “The wizard’s house magic did the turning.”

Dayna levels him with the same teacherly stare she gave James.

“Winifred was turned without her consent.” Then her expression softens as she turns to me.

“To prove your memories of your murder, we need undeniable, soul-bound, court-acceptable evidence. The signature sits in the lacrimal nerve cluster—both magical and biological.”

“Will it hurt? ”

“Yes, it will hurt.” At least she doesn’t lie.

“Your body will fight it. But the needle draws more than fluid. It pulls memory and lineage. Ethereal Memory is the residue of formative, high-magic moments—trauma, turning, oath-taking—imprinted into a vampire’s aura and recoverable under warded conditions.

If he turned you, his essence is there. If he murdered you, the memory will be there. If not…” She shrugs. “We will know.”

Lander places two fingers on my temple. “Do not move, Winifred.”

It takes everything I have not to aggressively flash my fangs.

Dayna states who is present, along with my full name, clan, and the time and date for the camera.

Then she continues, “This Ethereal Memory Assay is conducted under the authority of the Ministry of Magic, pursuant to Accord Codes 101.

4 and 311.2. For the record: the subject is unrestrained; no coercive magic is in effect, and all counter-compulsion wards have been checked and hold.

“Winifred Crowsdale, do you affirm that you understand the nature and risks of an Ethereal Memory Assay as defined in Protocol EM-7, and do you consent to proceed?”

“I do.”

“Beginning assay… now.”

They don’t have to restrain me physically. Dread does that job.

The needle glints. I try not to focus on it as it approaches, and I hold my breath. Pressure at the inner corner of my eye, then pain, sharp and lancing. My eye floods with tears, the ceiling blurring grey and white .

“Steady,” Dayna murmurs. “Do not resist; resistance corrupts the magic.”

The pain shifts, deepening, a spectral tug as though something ancient is being siphoned through a straw. Heat pulses, then a flash—fangs, red eyes, the Grand Master’s face, then darkness. The needle withdraws; vision doubles, steadies.

“There it is,” Dayna says softly, holding a vial up to the camera. The fluid inside is white, threaded with dark burgundy. “The Grand Master’s signature.”

“Match confirmed,” Lander says, voice flat.

The relief I feel makes me want to sink into the floor.

But we are not done yet.

“Winifred Crowsdale, do you acknowledge you understand the nature and evidentiary use of a Hematic Lineage Assay as defined in Protocol HL-3, and do you consent to proceed?”

“I do.”

“Commencing draw… now.” She informs the camera.

Dayna unwraps another sterile packet: a rune-etched blood-collection needle, sturdy enough to pierce vampire skin. She professionally draws three glass tubes of blood from the vein in my elbow.

I don’t know what they will find in my blood—human, vampire, or some mixture of the two. House’s magic? I’m reaching. They are searching for lineage, yet I was turned by magic. This is not going to work.

She sets out a silver-rimmed obsidian bowl and murmurs a spell. Blue light shimmers across the surface, and when she tips in three drops of blood, it smokes, blooming into runic geometry .

Dayna studies the forming glyphs. “Marker pattern… ancient. Primary vector: Elder Signature Three. Cross-checking?—”

Above the bowl, a ghost-sigil sharpens into focus and locks in place with an audible click of magic—then it shatters. Bowl and sigil explode together; I throw up an arm to shield my face from flying obsidian shards.

“Match inconclusive,” Lander says, wearing a thin, satisfied smile.

I don’t know what the council will do with an inconclusive blood test. Anything that makes Lander smile is bad.

“The Ethereal Memory Assay and Hematic Lineage Assay is complete,” Dayna announces, her voice clear.

“Chain-of-Custody Seal CS-8842 remains intact. All recordings will be duplicated to Ministry Vault Theta under Accord Code 902.1. Preliminary finding: the Grand Master’s signature within the Ethereal Memory.

Hematic Lineage inconclusive. ‘Sealed Pending Council Review.’ This record is closed. ”

Dayna seals the samples in a lock-box, signs and wards it, then signals for Lander to switch off the camera.

“Has that ever happened before?” I ask her, brushing black shards from my sleeves and torso.

“No. Either your lineage sigil isn’t in the Vampirical Council’s records, or your blood was so magically potent it overwhelmed the test.”

“This is what happens when a wizard’s house meddles with illegal magic,” Lander mutters as he packs up.

“Lander, drop it,” Dayna scolds.

“I’m not denying that the Grand Master murdered her; clearly, he did, according to the eye juice results.

But he didn’t turn her. Her precious house did, and the Vampirical Council, along with the Ministry of Magic, won’t let that stand.

They’ll kill you to keep the secret. Face it: you’re screwed.

” He grabs an armful of gear, steps out of the circle, and leaves the room.

Dayna gathers her things. “You will have to excuse my brother, he takes his work very seriously. He’s seen the worst of people and magic, and now he spots corruption even where none exists.

” She smiles sadly. “That’s everything. I’m sorry it was uncomfortable.

You might be dizzy for up to an hour. The Ethereal Memory is magically draining. ”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You are welcome.” She squeezes my forearm.

“I can’t imagine how hard this has been.

I thought about what I’d want if I were turned into a vampire, and the answer is simple: information.

All derivatives can be incredibly tight-lipped about everything, and it must be terrifying.

I’ve brought a few magic books that might be of interest.” She produces a small stack.

“Thank you, that is very kind of you. I have been wanting to find out more.”

“This one deals with soul-infused objects,” Dayna says, tapping the hefty red-leather volume.

“They are more than a century old, so handle them with care.” She steps out of the circle and places the six antiquarian tomes on magic carefully on the coffee table.

“You will need to stay inside until the magic drains; it won’t take long—just another couple of minutes. Good luck, Winifred.”

“Thank you.”

She leaves me to my thoughts, following her brother .

Valdarr returns, watching me intently.

“I’m all right,” I whisper. “The blood test came back negative.”

“I heard what Lander said. I thought it would. Whatever magic House used to alter your DNA, it wasn’t my father’s. I’m sorry, Fred.”

“I’m sorry I let you down,” I murmur.

“Never. Not in a million years.”

As soon as the circle’s magic fades, Valdarr steps in and scoops me up so I’m not standing on the shards in my socks.

He carries me to the sofa and settles me gently.

I have never experienced that. A man lifting me as easily as he does, rearranging me so deftly. My mouth parts as I stare at him in shock. He gently rubs his thumb across my bottom lip.

“The Council are going to eat us alive.”

“Not necessarily. You are only one person. Everything will be fine—I have a few tricks up my sleeve. We will sort it out, together.”