Page 38

38

FELIX

Luke isn’t in his office. Nor his room. Nor any of the usual places he might be found during what passes for night at MistHallow.

“The Custodia Chamber,” Dante murmurs.

I nod, having come to the same conclusion. I’m trying to hold it together, but without my sire, I’m losing it. The only thing keeping me whole is this quest to bring Gaida back. I know deep down that this could work. But could isn’t really good enough. If this fails, then I would’ve destroyed all of us all over again.

Our footsteps echo off stone walls as we head back to Luke’s office.

It’s as empty as when we swung by before, but this time, we close the door and ward it against intruders, wary that we are also intruding. The Gargoyles, all intact and back to work, let us in though so, fuck it.

I get to work on the magickal doorway, wondering why it isn’t already in view if Luke is down there.

I soon discover that it is open, but he has cast a spell on it to make it look like an ordinary space in his office.

“He’s down there,” I mutter.

“I bet he’s been down there every moment he can be.”

“I’m dreading it,” I blurt out, hesitating while Dante does the same.

“Me too.”

We exchange a look. His hard expression softens.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”

“Don’t be,” I say, shaking my head. “We are dealing with a monumental loss?—”

“Doesn’t matter. Gaida wouldn’t have wanted me to abandon you.”

The sound of her name sends a laser-like pain shooting through me. “You didn’t abandon me.”

“I did,” Dante says, his voice thick with regret. “And I’m sorry.”

I swallow hard, not trusting myself to speak. The bond between sire and turned vampire is profound, and without Gaida, I’ve been adrift in ways I can barely articulate. The blood hunger is manageable, barely, but the emptiness where her presence should be feels like a wound that won’t heal.

I’m not sure how much time I have left on this earth without her. I will be turning feral any day now, and I expect Luke knows this and will put me out of my misery at the first sign of it.

“Let’s just find Luke,” I manage finally. Before I lose my nerve.

We jump into the magickal doorway and plummet underground, landing in a messy heap at the bottom to a sight that makes me want to hurl up the last two cups of blood.

Luke is kneeling in the very spot she died, stripped to the waist and whipping himself in an act of self-flagellation that makes me wince every time the lash hits his back, splits his flesh open, heals, only for it to happen again.

“Leave,” he grits out, not pausing in his self-harm.

“Luke,” Dante says quietly. He looks as horrified as I do.

“Get out,” he says, his voice deathly quiet.

I move forward, clutching my research materials. “We found something. About… Gaida.”

He stills, halfway through the act of the next lash. The whip hits his back weakly. “What?”

“She’s not completely gone,” I explain, approaching cautiously. “Her consciousness exists in a state between worlds, maintaining the separation.”

“Don’t do this, Felix,” he warns in that same quiet tone that is somehow more frightening than if he’d yelled at me.

But I ignore him. I have to because if I don’t attempt to do this, I’m done for. For good this time. I don’t want to go out as a feral, ripping students and staff to shreds before Luke can stake me. I really fucking don’t.

I open the ancient text I’ve been carrying, turning to the relevant passages. “These writings describe what happened to the original thirteen founders after they divided the Blood Queen’s consciousness. Their physical forms were transformed, but their consciousness continued to exist.”

“In what form?” Luke demands, rising to his feet and spinning towards me, whip brandished. I take the threat very seriously.

“As binding agents,” I explain carefully. “Their consciousness served as anchors for the division between worlds.”

“And what does this have to do with her?”

He can’t even say her name.

“She’s doing the same thing,” Dante interjects, pulling the silver compass from his pocket. “But she’s trying to communicate with us.”

Luke stares at the compass as its needle spins slowly before pointing directly at him. His composure slips momentarily, raw emotion flickering across his features.

“It moved by itself,” Dante continues. “Felix has experienced similar things.”

“Books opening to specific pages,” I confirm. “Items in my library moving. And dreams. We’ve both been dreaming about her.”

Luke’s jaw tightens. “That proves nothing. Reality is still stabilising after what happened. Minor disturbances are to be expected.”

“It’s her,” Dante insists. “I know it is.”

His fierce declaration makes me feel guilty. If this doesn’t work, if I’m wrong, it’s going to kill him.

“You know it because you want it to be true,” Luke says harshly. “Because you can’t accept she’s gone.”

“Can you?” I challenge him. “Is that why you’re here in the middle of the night, punishing yourself? Because you’ve accepted it?”

Luke’s eyes flash dangerously. “Be careful, Felix.”

“No, you be careful,” I retort, losing my patience. My time is running out, and I need them to get on board or get out of my way while I find a way to do this without them. “Your grief is blinding you to the possibility that we might be able to bring her back.”

“Bring her back,” he repeats tonelessly. “And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

I flip to another page in the book. “Blood bonds. The three of us share true connections to her. Together, we form a triangulation point that might be strong enough to call her consciousness back. One of us cannot do this, probably not even two, but three?—”

“Might,” Luke emphasises, interrupting me. “Based on your interpretation of an ancient text.”

“Have you got a better idea?” Dante asks quietly. “Or would you rather kneel here alone every night with your whip for the rest of eternity?”

Luke glares at him, but doesn’t deny the accusation. “What would this ritual entail?”

“Each of us would contribute blood and something personal, meaningful, that represents our connection to her,” I explain. “We’d perform the ritual here, where the boundary between worlds is thinnest because of what happened.”

“And the risks?”

I hesitate, then decide honesty is essential. “Unknown. This has never been attempted before. At worst, nothing happens. At best, we bring her back in some form.”

“Some form,” Luke repeats. “Not necessarily as she was.”

“Not necessarily,” I acknowledge. “She contained the Blood Queen’s consciousness completely. That power, that awareness, must have transformed her on some fundamental level.”

The compass in Dante’s hand spins rapidly, then stops, pointing directly at the centre of the chamber where Gaida vanished.

“She wants this,” Dante says softly. “She’s trying to come back.”

Luke stares at the compass for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he extends his hand. “May I?”

Dante hesitates before passing him the compass. Luke holds it carefully, watching as the needle spins once more before settling on a direction pointing to all three of us, one by one.

“When can you be ready?” he asks finally.

Hope surges through me. “You’ll help?”

“I’ll consider it,” he qualifies. “After reviewing your research thoroughly. If, and only if, I determine this has a genuine chance of success rather than being wishful thinking.”

It’s not full commitment, but it’s more than I expected. “I can have everything prepared tonight. The ritual components are relatively simple, though we each need to contribute something meaningful.”

“What exactly?” Dante asks.

“Blood, obviously,” I explain. “And an object that represents your connection to her. Something significant, personal. The stronger the emotional resonance, the better. Like that compass, for example.”

Luke’s hand closes around the compass, his knuckles whitening. “And where would she return to? What physical form?”

“That’s less clear,” I admit warily. “The texts suggest consciousness can be called back to a receptive vessel. In our case, we’d be attempting to reconstitute her original form through our combined blood and magickal energy. Her essence exists; we’re just providing a pathway back to physical form.”

Luke finally hands the compass back to Dante. “I’ll review your research tonight. If it checks out, we will proceed in the morning.” He pauses, something vulnerable briefly visible behind his carefully maintained facade. “How sure are you?”

“I wouldn’t have come to you both if I weren’t.”

“If this is a desperate attempt to save yourself and it harms her in any way, I have that stake all ready and waiting for you. Are we clear?”

“I would expect nothing less,” I say stiffly. “And while I don’t want to go feral, I wouldn’t use this to get to her if I didn’t think it would work properly.”

He snatches the book out of my hand with my notes stuffed inside and vanishes, leaving us to make our own way out.

I grab Dante’s wrist and teleport us back out of the chamber and directly into his bedroom. I let him go and step back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nods, his face full of hope. It hurts to look at.

I leave his bedroom and make my way to mine. I need the shirt that I was wearing when I sacrificed myself, and Gaida brought me back. It holds a lot of power. I’ve kept it in the same state, placed carefully in a trunk in my wardrobe in case I ever needed it as a conduit to her. The shirt still carries her blood, my blood, and the residual energy of the turning that brought me back. It might be exactly what we need.

I pull it from the trunk, handling it with reverence. The fabric is stiff with dried blood, both hers and mine. The power lingering in it tingles against my fingertips.

There’s one more thing I need to do before morning. I need to visit the library again, to check one final reference that might strengthen our chances. Luke’s scrutiny will be unforgiving; I need to be absolutely certain about every aspect of this ritual.

As I leave my room, the lights in the hallway flicker. Just once, but enough to make me pause.

“I’m trying,” I whisper. “I promise I’m trying to bring you back.”

The air spikes with magickal energy. I can almost sense her presence, stretched thin across the boundaries between worlds, reaching for us.

“Just hold on a little longer.”

* * *

As dawn approaches, Dante enters the restricted section. He looks as exhausted as I feel, but there’s new energy in his movements, a purpose that’s been missing this past week.

“Ready?”

I nod, gathering my materials and shoving them in a bookbag. “Yes.”

Taking the shortcut, I teleport us to Luke’s office. The ancient vampire has been true to his word, thoroughly reviewing my research. Books and scrolls cover his usually immaculate desk, notes in his precise handwriting filling several pages beside them.

“Your theory is sound,” he says without preliminaries as we arrive. “I’ve cross-referenced the texts with my own knowledge of the founding rituals. The blood bond triangulation could potentially create a pathway for consciousness transference.”

Relief washes through me. “Then you’ll help?”

“Yes.” His tone remains carefully neutral, but something in his eyes betrays his own desperate hope. “But we proceed methodically, with proper preparation. This isn’t a situation for improvisation.”

“Of course,” I agree immediately. “I’ve already begun gathering the necessary components.”

Luke produces something from his desk drawer. “The chalice, and something I was going to give her when she graduated.” The pain in his voice is hard to ignore, but I have to. I have to treat this like any other spell.

I stare at the necklace. It’s an intricate ruby pendant on a fine gold chain.

The weight of what we’re attempting, what we stand to gain or lose, settles heavily in the room.

“Very well,” Luke says finally. “Felix, how soon can the Custodia Chamber be prepared?”

“A matter of minutes. I’ve run through it several times already. The ritual itself will take around fifteen minutes.”

“What else?”

“There’s one more thing,” I add carefully. “The ritual requires absolute honesty from each of us. Our true feelings about her, spoken aloud during the working. Any hesitation, any reservation held back, could weaken the bond triangulation.”

“Whatever is necessary,” Luke says simply.

“Agreed,” Dante echoes.

I reveal the door to the chamber that Luke is keeping open but hidden, and shove Dante through first. I follow with Luke’s more graceful descent behind me, holding the chalice and the necklace.

I gulp, suddenly nervous now that the time is here. If this fails, if I have raised hopes only to have them dashed completely, the blame will rest squarely on my shoulders.

Yet the alternative, doing nothing, accepting her loss as permanent, is unthinkable.

So, I push all the negativity and hunger and exhaustion aside.

Pulling out a ceremonial bowl and athame, I decant some of my blood into the chalice, and then Dante and Luke do the same.

Meticulously, I draw the triangulation circle on the chamber floor using chalk infused with herbs and our combined blood. Luke arranges crystals at strategic points to channel and amplify the magickal energies we’ll be working with. Dante sets up an altar in the exact spot where Gaida vanished, placing candles and ritual tools according to my specifications.

No one speaks during these preparations. The task requires concentration, but more than that, we each seem lost in our own thoughts, our own hopes and fears about what might happen when all of this is prepared, and we have to start the ritual.

“What if what we call back is more Blood Queen than Gaida?” Luke suddenly blurts out.

“Then we deal with that situation when it arises,” I say firmly. “But first, we need to bring her back.”

Dante joins us, the silver compass open in his palm. Its needle spins slowly, but with undeniable purpose.

The three of us take our positions at equal points around the triangulation circle. Each of us adds fresh blood to the chalice and place the personal items at the edge of the circle before us. The chamber falls silent except for the soft hiss of candle flames.

Luke looks at me, his expression more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen it. “Whatever happens tonight, I will look after you both if her absence is inevitable.”

I nod, my throat suddenly tight with emotion I didn’t expect.

“It’s time,” I announce, taking a deep breath. “Remember, absolute honesty. Open your hearts completely to the bond you share with her.”

With quiet desperation, we settle down, taking a deep breath.