Page 11

11

FELIX

The dimensional ripple flutters against my consciousness like moth wings against a window. I pause mid-step, extending my magickal awareness outward while other students pass by, oblivious to the disturbance. A thin crack in reality shimmers faintly near the East tower, of course, visible only to those attuned to the subtler workings of magick.

That makes seven anomalies I’ve found since sunrise. Each one is slightly larger than the last, each one lasting longer before sealing itself.

I glance around to ensure no one’s watching, then press my palm against the nearest stone wall. Dark tendrils of magick flow from my fingertips into the ancient foundations of MistHallow. The building speaks to me in its own language, cracked whispers of stone, tired sighs of old blood and the anxious hum of protective wards stretched to breaking point.

“What’s happening to you?” I murmur, tracing the architectural scar tissue where reality has torn and mended itself.

The castle responds with a tremor so subtle that only my magickally enhanced senses detect it. More concerning than the tremor itself is what lies beyond these cracks. A bottomless void that shouldn’t exist, pressing against our world like an ocean against a failing dam.

I withdraw my hand, rubbing my fingertips together. Something fundamental is changing in the fabric of reality around MistHallow, and I suspect it’s connected to the sword. To Gaida. To the spreading bond severance affecting vampires across Europe, and soon, the world.

As I head away from the tower, another ripple, stronger than any previous, washes through the corridor. The air shimmers, and for a split second, I glimpse something impossible. The same corridor, but different. Darker. Older. It’s more primal, somehow.

Then it’s gone, reality snapping back into place with such force that nearby students stumble, looking around in confusion.

“Did you feel that?” someone asks.

“Earthquake?” another suggests.

“In England? Not likely.”

I carry on as if nothing has happened. But it’s not an earthquake. It’s a collision between dimensions. The walls between worlds are thinning, and no one seems to notice or care except me.

I need to speak to Luke. We need to lay all the cards on the table before MistHallow drops into another dimension, and we are all sitting here with our dicks in our hands.

Approaching Luke’s office, I raise my hand to knock when the door flies open violently. Luke stands there, his appearance shocking enough to make me step backwards.

His skin is ashen, and dark veins are visible beneath the surface. His eyes shift between normal and solid black, as if two different entities are fighting for control of his body. Most alarming is the aura surrounding him. Its fractured, chaotic energy reminds me of the dimensional cracks I’ve been investigating.

“Mr Davenport,” he growls, voice deeper and more guttural than usual. “What do you want?”

“I need to speak with you,” I reply, keeping my voice steady despite my alarm. “About the dimensional instabilities affecting the academy.”

His expression shifts, momentary understanding replacing the aggression. He steps aside, allowing me entry before slamming the door shut with unnecessary force. His office, normally immaculate, reflects his deteriorating state. Books are scattered across the floor, furniture is slightly askew, and a cracked mirror hangs crookedly on the wall.

“Dimensional instabilities,” he repeats, regaining some sense of normality as he moves behind his desk. “Explain.”

“Reality is tearing around MistHallow,” I state simply. “Small ruptures are appearing and sealing themselves, but they’re growing larger and more frequent. I believe they’re connected to the bond severances.”

Luke stares at me, his gaze unnervingly intense. “You can see them.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

I hesitate, but decide honesty is my best approach. “My affinity for dark magick allows me to perceive weaknesses in the fabric of reality. It’s always been part of my gift.”

He sits heavily in his chair, looking momentarily more like himself. “What else do you perceive, Mr Davenport?”

“That you’re suffering from bond severance,” I reply bluntly.

A harsh laugh escapes him. “Perceptive indeed.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “What do you know about parallel dimensions, Felix?”

The use of my first name catches me off guard. “I know they exist, obviously. That they’re separated by barriers normally impermeable to beings from our world, and that attempting to cross those barriers is traditionally considered suicidal, except now I know differently.”

He grips the edge of his desk, knuckles white. “Felix. I need help with this.” The pain in his voice is hard to ignore.

“What is this?” I ask quietly.

“You perceive what others cannot,” he says, struggling to hang on to whatever control he has left. “You can find a way to fix this, however temporarily. MistHallow cannot afford to have me slip, not right now.”

“Are you thinking about a potion of some kind?” I ask curiously and sit down. This conversation has taken a different turn.

“A very potent potion injected straight into my veins,” he says, gaze steadily on mine. “Our little secret.”

I tilt my head in warning. “Are you saying you aren’t going to tell Gaida about this?”

“No, and neither are you.”

I hold my hand up. “Wait. I can’t do that. We are on shaky ground. I am trying to find a way to make that firmer, not have it crumble away altogether.”

“And what kind of ground do you think we are on, Mr Davenport?” he growls. The threat hangs there like a noxious gas.

“I see. We are resorting to violence?”

“No, we are resorting to expelling you from this academy and making sure you don’t get to finish your higher education. You will be blacklisted from every institution from here to Tasmania.”

I let that sink in. “Wow,” I mutter. “You mean business.”

“I mean that you will not tell Gaida that this is a temporary fix.”

“So you just expect her to accept that you turned not-feral all of a sudden?”

“I’m not feral to begin with.”

“Yet.”

We glare at each other.

“Yet,” I say again, my tone firm despite Luke’s piercing glare. “And you know it as well as I do.”

Luke slumps back in his chair, the sudden shift from aggression to exhaustion startling. For a brief moment, I glimpse the true extent of his struggle, the ancient vampire fighting a war against his own nature with diminishing resources.

“Fine,” he concedes, rubbing his temples. “I am deteriorating. Rapidly. But I cannot—will not—return to Lucius, and I refuse to burden Gaida with this responsibility.”

“Those are options?” I enquire.

“No,” he growls. “I just said that, didn’t I?”

I lean forward, intrigued despite myself. “So, you want me to create what, exactly? A substitute that mimics the stabilising effects of a sire bond?”

“Precisely.” His eyes flash with desperate hope. “Something to buy me time until I figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do about this.”

The dark sorcerer in me is already calculating ingredients, ritual components, the price such magick would demand. This is beyond conventional alchemy. I’d be tampering with the fundamental nature of vampire existence.

“It would require access to texts I don’t have,” I say carefully.

“I know.” He reaches into a drawer and then practically throws a wooden box at me. “That is Lucius’s blood. The one from this dimension.”

“Huh?”

He sighs sharply. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You want to bind yourself temporarily to the Lucius in this dimension?” I ask, pointing down.

“Well, no, he is dead. But also, yes, in a way. His blood is the basis of his sire bond.”

“And how was the Lucius of this world?”

“Not as nasty as the one of my world.”

“Do you really think it will work?”

His gaze hardens, and he leans forward, elbows on the desk. “I think you will make it work or be removed from this academy with a foot up your backside you will feel for the rest of eternity.”

“Are you being kind with that threat?” I ask a bit cheekily.

“I don’t want to hurt Gaida any more than I have to,” he says so quietly that it is practically a whisper.

“Don’t hurt her at all. How about that option?”

“I have to prepare her to be without me if this goes sideways.”

“She will never be without you, Luke. If you turn full feral, she will sire you to her with that blasted sword.”

“And that’s what I’m afraid of,” he whispers. “She doesn’t need that burden in her life.”

“You don’t get to decide that for her.”

He slams his fist down on the desk, and everything jumps a mile, including me. “Will you help me or not?”

I take a deep breath, evaluating my options. There’s an opportunity here to help and to learn forbidden magicks that would normally be beyond my reach.

“Yes,” I decide. “I’ll help you. But I have conditions.”

“Name them,” Luke says, his voice tight with restraint.

“First, I need access to the Restricted Archives. The grimoires in the Seventh Seal section specifically.”

His eyes narrow. “Those texts are forbidden for good reason.”

“And yet here you are, asking me to break fundamental laws of vampire physiology,” I counter. “I need those texts if you want something that works.”

He nods reluctantly. “Fine. What else?”

“I’ll need ingredients. Rare ones. Ones I’m sure this forest will hold. I’ll need to be undisturbed when I find what I need and collect it.”

“You’ll have what you need.”

“And finally,” I continue, “I want your word that when this temporary solution fails, you’ll tell Gaida the truth.”

Luke’s expression darkens. “If this works, Felix, I will tell her why; she isn’t stupid, and I won’t disrespect her by pretending. You will keep this quiet until you have made a potion, injected it into me and seen the results. I can’t give her hope.”

Oh. I see what he is doing.

“Okay, that’s fair. Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?”

“I thought it was obvious,” he snaps.

I don’t stoop so low as to remind him he told me not to tell Gaida anything. But whatever. As long as he comes clean when my potion works, and I know it will, then whatever.

Clutching the box, I stand up. “How do I get into the restricted section?”

“I’ll make sure you are able.”

“Now?”

He sighs. “Yes, Mr Davenport, now.”

As I turn to leave, another dimensional ripple passes through the room. For a split second, the office transforms. It’s darker, more ominous, with strange symbols etched into the walls and ceiling. Luke’s form blurs, being replaced by something else.

Then reality snaps back, but Luke has noticed my reaction.

“You saw something?” he asks.

I hesitate, then nod. “The barriers between dimensions are wearing thin. This place... it exists in multiple forms across different realities, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Sometimes, it is the same, sometimes, it is not. It is always in the same place, this nexus of power.”

I file that away for future research. Right now, I have the opportunity of my lifetime to prove myself to everyone who has doubted me over the years and to prove to them that they were wrong to dismiss me.