Page 26 of Blood Legacy (Eternal Descent (MistHallow Academy) #1)

26

GAIDA

A thin stream of sunlight cuts through the windows of Advanced Blood Magick class, annoyingly persistent as it lands directly on my notebook. I shift in my seat, trying to avoid it. Day classes are still a special kind of torture, despite my attempts to adapt to Luke’s punishment schedule.

Professor Harlow paces at the front of the classroom, her long black robes trailing behind her as she describes the intricacies of blood amplification rituals. “The key is intent,” she explains, her voice rising with enthusiasm. “Blood carries memory and power. Your focus shapes how that power manifests.”

I stifle a yawn. Not because the material isn’t interesting, but because I’m still operating on vampire time internally, regardless of this forced schedule change.

“Pair up,” Professor Harlow instructs, clapping her hands. “Today’s practical requires two practitioners. One to provide the blood sample, one to shape the amplification.”

Eliza slides into the seat beside me, her bright smile contrasting with her jet-black hair. We’ve known each other since my first year at MistHallow, and unlike many of the other turned vampires, she’s never seemed intimidated by my bloodline, but she also had never tried to befriend me.

“Partners?” she asks, already pulling out her ritual bowl.

“Sure,” I reply, grateful I don’t have to work with open hostility. “Do you want to provide or shape?”

“I’ll shape,” she says confidently. “I’ve been practising the finger movements all week.”

I notice Felix watching us from across the room. He gives me a slight nod before turning to his partner, some nervous-looking witch who’s clearly terrified to be paired with him. Felix has that effect on people. He makes them uneasy without even trying. It’s part of his charm, though I’d never tell him that.

Professor Harlow distributes small silver daggers for the blood drawing. “Remember, just three drops,” she cautions. “This ritual amplifies potency, not quantity.”

I take the dagger from her, its weight familiar in my hand. Blood magick comes naturally to vampires. It’s in our nature to understand the power of blood. I prick my finger, allowing exactly three drops to fall into Eliza’s ritual bowl.

The crimson droplets swirl oddly against the polished silver, almost as if they’re reluctant to spread. Eliza frowns, noticing it too.

“That’s strange,” she murmurs. “It’s almost repelling the silver.”

“Maybe it’s the pureblood thing,” I suggest with a shrug. “We’ll keep going.”

Eliza nods, her intricate finger movements flicking above the bowl while chanting the incantation. The ritual is simple enough. Amplify the blood’s natural properties to create a temporary enhancement of the donor’s abilities. If successful, I should feel a pleasant warmth spreading through my veins, a slight boost to my already formidable vampire strength.

Instead, I watch as Eliza’s hands tremble.

“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

She doesn’t respond. Her eyes grow unfocused, her chanting faltering. The blood in the bowl starts to bubble, though the ritual shouldn’t create any such reaction.

“Professor,” I call, raising my hand. “Something’s wrong.”

Professor Harlow glances over, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to alarm in an instant. “Miss Novak, stop the ritual,” she orders, moving swiftly toward our table.

Eliza doesn’t seem to hear her. Her entire body shakes, the ritual bowl clattering against the table as her grip loosens. Suddenly, she clutches her head, a cry of pain escaping her lips.

“It’s gone,” she gasps, her voice barely audible. “I can’t feel him anymore.”

“Eliza?” I reach for her arm, but she jerks away violently, sending the ritual bowl flying. My blood splatters across the floor in an arc of crimson.

Felix is on his feet instantly, moving toward us. The rest of the class backs away, sensing danger before it fully materialises.

Eliza’s pupils dilate until there’s nothing but black, her fangs extending to their full length. The transformation is horrifying to witness. One moment, she’s my classmate; the next, she’s something feral and unrecognisable.

“It’s gone!” she screams, her voice distorted and raw. “The connection is gone!”

Professor Harlow raises her hands, casting a containment spell with impressive speed. A shimmering barrier forms around Eliza, who stares at it for a single, frozen moment before hurling herself against it with her vampire strength.

The barrier shatters.

Students scream, scrambling toward the door or ducking behind desks. Professor Harlow stumbles backwards, clearly shocked that her spell failed so catastrophically. I remain frozen in my seat, watching Eliza’s wild gaze sweep the room before landing directly on me. The poor girl has turned completely feral.

She lunges across the table in a blur. I barely manage to throw myself sideways, avoiding her claws by millimetres. Felix shouts something, his hands weaving a complex pattern in the air. A barrier forms between Eliza and me, but she smashes through it as if it were made of tissue paper.

Felix curses, casting another spell that looks suspiciously like a hex, which slows her just enough for me to move behind a heavy oak desk.

“Hey!” I snap at the feral Eliza. “Not for you, princess.”

She ignores me completely and vaults over the desk, her movement so fast I can’t dodge in time. Her claws rake across my forearm, tearing through the skin of my bare arm. Pain lances up my arm as blood wells from the deep gashes. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

I cry out, more from surprise than pain, clutching my wounded arm. Eliza freezes, her nostrils flaring wide as she catches the scent of my freshly spilt blood. The naked hunger in her expression shifts to something like desperate hunger.

To my shock, she launches herself at me, attaching her fangs to my neck and sinking them deep as I struggle under her bizarre strength. “Felix!” I grunt. The intimacy of this act leaves me paralysed. I don’t let anyone feed from me. Except Dante and also Luke.

Professor Harlow approaches cautiously, her wand still raised. “Miss Aragon!”

Luke bursts through the door; the look of panic on his face when he sees Eliza gulping from me makes me smile.

“Containment protocols,” he barks, waving his hands to create glowing sigils in the air. “Careful, she’s gone feral.”

“No,” I say, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice as Eliza detaches herself from my neck with less finesse than I find acceptable. “She’s calm now.”

Luke pauses, taking in the scene with narrowed eyes. “That’s not possible,” he mutters, but the evidence is right in front of him.

He pulls Eliza away from me, and she thrashes violently, her feral nature returning instantly. She snarls and snaps, trying desperately to get back to me, or more accurately, to my blood, but she is no a match for an ancient vampire mage.

“Let her have more,” I suggest. “It appears to calm her.”

“Absolutely not.” Luke’s blue eyes fix on my bloody neck, healed but still covered in blood, and something dark flashes across his face. Hunger, anger, or perhaps both. He crosses the room in a few long strides, his gaze quickly assessing the situation.

“Take Miss Novak to Containment Cell Three. Don’t break the spell,” he instructs Harlow. “Dismissed for the rest of the lecture. Resume normal schedule in half an hour.”

As the students file out, some still visibly shaken, Luke approaches me. Felix lingers by the door, clearly reluctant to leave.

“You too, Mr Davenport,” Luke says without looking at him.

“I’d rather stay with Gaida,” Felix replies, his tone carefully neutral but his stance defiant.

Luke finally turns to him, his expression inscrutable. “That wasn’t a request.”

Felix hesitates, his grey eyes meeting mine. I give him a small nod. He leaves, though his reluctance is obvious in the set of his shoulders.

Luke examines my neck, his touch clinical yet gentle. “It’s still oozing,” he murmurs, prodding it.

“Ow,” I mutter. “What? How?”

He shrugs. “Medical.”

As we walk through the halls, I notice how the few students we pass scurry out of our way, eyes wide. Word travels fast at MistHallow, and no doubt the story of Eliza’s transformation is already spreading like wildfire.

“What happened in there?” I ask once we’re alone in a treatment room. “Why did my blood calm her?”

Luke doesn’t answer immediately, busy gathering supplies to clean my wound. “Pureblood, maybe? If she has never tasted it. Or perhaps her sire is a pureblood, so it felt familiar to her? Various possibilities.”

I don’t believe him. He knows something.

“The sire bond severances have been escalating,” he says, using an antiseptic wipe to clean the puncture marks. “The third case in two days.”

“You know more than you’re saying. What does that have to do with my blood?” I grip his wrist and stare into his eyes, trying to decipher what it is.

He meets my gaze directly, something guarded in his expression. “I have a theory, but I need to confirm it before I say more.”

“A theory?” I pull my arm back, frustration rising.

“I need to speak with your father.”

“My father? What does he have to do with this?”

Luke doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves to the door. “Rest here. I’ll return shortly.”

“Like hell,” I protest, standing up. “If this involves me and my father, I’m coming with you.”

He fixes me with a stern look. “Miss Aragon?—”

“Don’t Miss Aragon me,” I snap. “This isn’t a student-headmaster situation. This is about my blood doing something impossible.”

For a moment, I think he’ll refuse. Then he inclines his head for me to follow.

He hurries to his office, and I trail along behind him, wondering what the hell this is about. Why would he need to contact my father about this? What does he suspect about my blood?

Luke settles behind his desk and activates the scrying mirror on the wall. After a few moments, Dad’s imperious face appears in the glass. He looks exactly as he always does, coldly perfect, with an air of barely contained impatience.

“Blackthorn,” he acknowledges, his eyes flickering briefly to me. “Gaida.”

“Aurelius,” Luke begins, “there’s been an incident involving your daughter.”

My father’s expression doesn’t change, but I know him well enough to recognise the slight tension in his posture. “Go on.”

Luke explains what happened with Eliza; his voice is clinical and detached, as if delivering an academic report rather than describing something extraordinary. My father listens without interruption, his eyes occasionally darting to me.

“I see,” he says when Luke finishes. “You’ll need to run some tests. Confirm the extent of her abilities.”

“Abilities?” I croak.

“I’ll be there shortly,” my father says. “Keep this contained until then.”

The mirror goes dark without further ceremony, leaving me staring at Luke in disbelief.

“What the fuck was that?” I demand, anger replacing confusion. “What’s manifesting? What do you both know about my blood that I don’t?”

Luke meets my gaze steadily but doesn’t answer.

“What’s in my blood that can calm feral vampires, Luke?”

He studies me for a long moment, something unreadable in his ancient eyes, before he sighs. “A wild guess? Power. The kind that could change everything about vampire society as we know it.”