Page 9

9

LUKE

The water cascades over us, washing away blood but not memories. Gaida’s body pressed against mine feels both right and wrong. It’s a comfort I don’t deserve and a temptation I shouldn’t indulge. Her suggestion hangs between us, impossible to ignore yet unthinkable to accept.

Reinstate my bond with Lucius.

The mere thought sends revulsion through me. Centuries of subjugation, of overt control and manipulation disguised as protection. Freedom tastes too sweet, even tainted as it is by this feral madness creeping through my veins.

“Luke?” Gaida’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You’ve gone somewhere else.”

I focus on her face, those deep blue eyes searching mine for answers I’m not sure I possess. “The staff will be gathering. The crisis is spreading.”

“Then we should go,” she says, making no move to step away.

“We should,” I agree, equally motionless.

A sudden vibration in the walls interrupts the moment. It’s the emergency signal for all staff. A meeting has been called. Reality intrudes on whatever fragile connection we’ve established.

“I need to go,” I say, finally stepping back from her. “Now.”

Without waiting for her response, I summon my remaining control and move at vampire speed, leaving her alone in the shower. The air rushes past me as I exit the bathroom, dry off, gather fresh clothes, and dress myself in seconds.

“Luke!” she calls after me, but I’m already at the door.

“I’ll see you later,” I practically mumble, unable to even look at her, although I know she is standing, dripping in the bathroom doorway.

The door closes behind me with a firm click, and I stride down the corridor, adjusting my appearance with quick movements. By the time I reach the Staff Chamber, no physical evidence remains of what transpired in my room. The psychological aftermath, however, is another matter entirely.

The Chamber doors stand open, voices already raised in a heated discussion. I pause at the threshold, gathering my composure. These are my colleagues and my subordinates. They need to see strength, not the fracturing control that threatens to shatter at any moment.

I enter the room, and conversations immediately cease.

“Professor,” Professor Kendrick acknowledges, her voice carefully neutral. “We were beginning to wonder if you would join us.”

“My apologies for the delay,” I reply smoothly, taking my place at the head of the ancient oak table. “I was assessing the situation with our feral students.”

“And?” Professor Burdock prompts. “Have you made any progress?”

“They remain stable but unchanged,” I inform them, scanning the faces around the table. “However, that is no longer our only concern.”

Professor Wilkes leans forward, her normally placid features tight with worry. “Reports are flooding in from across Europe. Bond severances in every major vampire community. Paris, London, Berlin, Rome. All are reporting feral outbreaks.”

“How widespread?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

“Total,” Professor Havelock replies grimly. “Every sire bond in those cities. Thousands of vampires affected simultaneously.”

Murmurs ripple around the table, fear disguised as academic concern.

“And the pattern of spread?” I press.

Professor Flora activates the crystal orb at the centre of the table. A map of Europe materialises above it, glowing points representing vampire communities. Red pulses mark the affected areas in a wave spreading outward from MistHallow like ripples in a pond.

“It began here,” Flora confirms, her finger tracing the pattern. “The wave continues to expand at a consistent rate. At this pace, it will be a global pandemic within twenty-four hours.”

I grip the edge of the table, steadying myself against a sudden surge of vertigo. The hollow ache in my chest thuds in time with the red markers on the map. My vision blurs momentarily, darkness creeping at the edges.

“Professor?” Kendrick’s voice seems distant.

I blink, forcing myself back to clarity. “Continue.”

“The Vampire Council has called an emergency session,” Burdock reports. “They’re demanding explanations. Several prominent Elders have specifically requested your presence.”

“Of course they have,” I mutter. Aurelius Aragon knows what’s happening but appears to be pretending he doesn’t. Why?

“We need to find a temporary solution for the ferals. They are suffering immensely.”

I nod slowly. They are suffering. Vampires across the Continent are suffering, and yet here I am, bond severed and sitting here like nothing is affecting me, functioning far better than our students who experienced the same.

But it’s because I’ve been drinking Gaida’s blood. Because we’ve engaged in an ancient, forbidden cycle of death and rebirth that has partially stabilised me. Because I’m older and stronger than any of them can comprehend, and I am not of this world. My bond severance was deliberate, not part of this so-called pandemic. Does that make a difference?

“The immediate concern is containment. We must prevent panic while searching for a solution.”

“And what solution do you propose?” Havelock asks.

“Research,” I reply firmly. “A synthetic blend of human blood and the blood of those sires who have lost their charges. Perhaps if the ex-charge drinks their blood, it will give them some temporary relief.”

The thought of Lucius’s blood makes my stomach growl, and I feel nauseous at the prospect. But it also gives me hope that this might work until we can fix the bigger issue.

“That’s a very insightful solution,” Burdock says, nodding approvingly. “We will get right on that. Most of the sires are here anyway.”

A sudden spasm grips me, sending pain lancing through my chest. I grip the table harder, my knuckles white with strain.

“Professor?” Flora rises in concern.

“Get on it immediately,” I grit out, forcing myself upright through sheer determination.

Another spasm hits, stronger this time. The crystal orb on the table reacts to my fluctuating control, exploding in a burst of shattered glass. Everyone dives under the table to avoid being hit by a stray shard.

Everyone except me.

I’m gripped in an iron vice, paralysed.

A sliver of glass flies straight for me and embeds itself in my eyeball with a hiss of white-hot pain.

“Luke!” Kendrick exclaims, sticking her head above the table. “Hellfire! Are you okay?”

I’m unable to answer her for a moment because of the desire to shove the glass all the way into my brain to stop this lack of control that keeps coursing through me, disrupting my order, my need for absolute control, is overwhelming.

I reach up, fingers steady, and pull the glass out with a sickening squelch. Blood streams down my face, and my eye is already healing, but the momentary blindness disorients me. I place the glass down on the table and breathe in deeply. “Whoever made that crystal needs to be fired,” I grit out, pushing myself to my feet. “Start the research. I will check in later.”

I turn abruptly, striding toward the exit before anyone can protest further.

Gaida’s suggestion echoes in my mind.

Reinstate my bond with Lucius.

The thought makes my skin crawl. But underneath the disgust, I know what the logical choice would be. If I truly cared for MistHallow, for my students, for Gaida, I would swallow my pride and return to Lucius’s fold.

The alternative of making Gaida my new sire is not an option. Her reaction to that possibility tells me everything I need to know. I don’t want to be anyone’s sire, especially not yours! Her horror at the idea was unmistakable, cutting deeper than she could possibly understand. But that’s just it, she doesn’t understand. She can’t . I don’t blame her for that. It is who she is.

Bursting into my office, alone, I finally allow my composure to crumble. Pain lances through me again, sharper than before. The void in my soul thumps wildly, a reminder of what I’ve lost and what I refuse to reclaim.

Lucius. My sire. My jailer for centuries. My abuser.

I would rather face extinction than return to his control.

Perhaps there is no solution. Maybe this is simply the price of freedom, this gradual and eternal descent into feral madness.

Another spasm grips me, bringing me to my knees. My vision darkens around the edges, the world narrowing to a pinpoint of sensation. With a torturous roar, I push it back and get to my feet, grabbing the athame under my desk and jabbing it into my thigh. The pain centres me and brings me back to myself. This is the way forward. Pain. Endless self-inflicted pain to drive the madness away.

I cannot fall apart now. The crisis spreads even as I stand here, debating this non-issue with myself. Thousands of vampires across Europe are already affected. Millions more will follow if we don’t find a solution that won’t harm Gaida.

I drag the blade out of my flesh and grip the handle tightly, summoning centuries of control.

I sense her presence loitering on the other side of the door.

Sighing, I call out, “Come in, Miss Aragon.”

She opens the door and steps inside, her eyes going straight to the bloody athame and the healed wound, noticeable only by the hole in my pants that I haven’t fixed yet. I force myself not to back away.

The closer we are, the more intense our bond becomes, and I feel the emptiness in my chest fill with her presence.

“What about what I suggested?” she asks hesitantly. “About Lucius?”

“No,” I say immediately, the word harsh and final. “Never.”

“But if it would save you?—”

“The price is too high,” I interrupt. “Freedom, even like this, is preferable to centuries more under his control.”

“Even if it means losing yourself completely?” she presses. “Becoming feral like the others?”

I look at her directly, letting her see the truth in my eyes. “Yes. Even then.”

“And what about me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I lose you?”

The vulnerability in her question nearly undoes me. Instead, I step back, creating distance between us. “You’ll adapt. Everyone does.”

Hurt flashes across her face, quickly masked by determination. “That’s not good enough, Luke.”

“It’s all I have to offer,” I reply coldly, hating myself for the lie. “Now, I have a Council to address.”

I turn away, refusing to see the pain my words have caused. It’s better this way; better if she believes I’m indifferent than knowing the depths of what I feel for her. Better she hates me than follow me down whatever dark path awaits.

As I walk away, the abyss in my chest contracts painfully, as if reaching back toward her. The connection we’ve forged through blood calls to me, stronger than any sire bond I’ve ever known.

But I keep walking, refusing to look back. Some bonds, once broken, should remain that way. Whatever price I must pay for freedom, from Lucius, from my past, from the weight of centuries, I will pay it alone.

Even if that price is Gaida.