Page 14 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness

“You must pay for this spell, performed improperly. And you cannot make the same payment twice.” Princeton said. “Do you understand that?”

“Yes.”

I needed my brother. He had more love to experience too. I loathed that he would do so as a vampire, a life I’d never wanted for him. But it was better than no life at all.

“You must be quick. His soul will already be difficult to retrieve,” Princeton warned.

I nodded.

“What are my shadows for, Evie?” Hekate asked.

I walked to her. In her outstretched hand, a heavy brass key rested.

The old me would’ve said violence. Destruction. Oblivion. Chaos.

“Revolution,” I answered.

My fingers closed around the key. The protector of the downtrodden, the mother of witches, the keeper of the keys, and the guardian of the crossroads—Hekate in all her forms formally invited me to become her daughter.

For the first time in my life, I belonged somewhere.

“I need born blood,”I said, slowly raising my head.

Kylo’s eyes were wide for just one second before he smirked. “Your wish is my command.”

He rose and carefully exited the spell circle, avoiding stepping on any of the glowing markings.

I squinted when Kylo waited in the corner of the room, staring at absolutely nothing. One of his sigil tattoos faintly glowed on his arm.

My body moved on autopilot when a being manifested before Kylo, suspended midair in some strange white mist. I scrambled to my feet, my heart pumping hard.

“Shhh, baby,” Kylo said. “Let’s keep that heart settled for me, please.”

I rubbed my chest. “Who is that?”

The man held in magickal imprisonment glared at Kylo with raging hatred, though he couldn’t move his face. All of him was frozen, including his sickly, dark born magick. Lillian’s magick.

“He’s your born blood,” Kylo said, his eyes dancing with humor as he glanced back over his shoulder at me. “Warwick Ganzor. He was once the lord of Morha, before his mysterious disappearance.”

Warwick’s eyes were ice, a sharp contrast to Kylo’s sadistic grin. Morha was Kylo’s hometown in the northern region of Ravenia and close to King Earle’s capitol city, Prospyrus. It was where his best friend Aisling was brutalized and murdered by the born as Kylo was forced to watch.

“Powerful wielder of fire magick, often used against his dissenters, or anyone who dared question the borns’ violence,” Kylo explained. “We figured out that powerful born blood worked best for these activities. And I had a personal vendetta to see to its satisfying conclusion.”

Kylo’s words no longer made me squeamish. I had no urge to run. No desire to hide from this violence that began and ended with the born. Kylo’s satisfaction mirrored my own.

“Can you please bring me a vial of his blood?”

“Gladly.” Kylo reached for a ceremonial knife resting on a nearby altar, along with a bowl marked with sigils. He’d clearly done this before. “Perfect manners as always, angel.”

My stomach fluttered against my will, and Kylo laughed at my small noise of irritation.

I suddenly realized why the spell circle was so large—I imagined that Princeton performed this ritual in waves, turning multiple human recruits at once. It was likely an incredibly draining ritual, and it couldn’t be performed too often. It wouldn’t be safe for Princeton to be chronically exhausted and vulnerable, especially when the entire clan ran on his magick. When the clanneededhim.

Like they now needed me.

I left the circle to hunt for more ingredients and tools. I didn’t need as much this time, as Hekate knew what my sacrifice was going to be. She would be lending me far greater power in exchange. It was a one-time-only sacrifice, as I only possessed one soul. The next ritual would need to be far more involved.

Unless my heart gave out. Then there would be no more rituals.