Page 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ISOLDE

“Blood speaks. It whispers secrets, tells stories, and carries memories. You just have to know how to listen.” William whispers from behind me. “Don’t control it. Become it.”

We’re in the training hall again, getting in a quick session before classes start in an hour. The Collectors are coming. There is no time for gentle guidance or gradual progress. Only the brutal push toward power that might keep me alive. Keep all of us alive.

The blood hovers in front of me, a perfect sphere of crimson suspended in midair. It’s William’s blood, and it’s making my mouth water, distracting me. His Sanguinarch blood is potent and alive with possibilities.

Sweat beads on my forehead as I maintain the sphere’s shape.

“You’re still thinking like a vampire manipulating blood. You need to think like a Sanguimonarch. The blood isn’t separate from you. It is you.”

“That makes no fucking sense,” I snap, the sphere wobbling dangerously as my concentration slips.

CJ watches from the corner. His eyes track William’s movements with barely concealed hostility.

Ever since revealing his dragon nature to me, he’s been even more protective, more wary of William’s methods.

I wonder when he will come clean to the other guys.

Hopefully soon, seeing as this ritual bullshit requires dragon blood.

It would be helpful if Cass and William aren’t running around trying to find a mythical creature when we have a real live one right in our circle.

Cassiel sits cross-legged on the floor, consulting one of the ancient texts he discovered. The revelations about the Blood Crown ritual have cast everything in a new light. We’re fighting to prevent a transformation that would destroy me as surely as death.

“Try again,” William says, his patience wearing thin. “Close your eyes. Forget the physical connection. Feel the metaphysical one.”

I obey, letting my eyelids drop. The silver glow of my power instantly replaces the darkness behind them.

“The blood carries your signature now,” William continues, his voice dropping lower, more hypnotic. “It’s an extension of you, a part that can separate but remains connected. Like a limb you can detach and control remotely.”

“That’s disgusting,” I mutter, but I try to envision it as he describes. The blood sphere floating before me, connected to my consciousness by invisible threads of power.

“Now,” William murmurs, his voice suddenly much closer again, his breath warm against my ear, “push a part of your awareness into it. Not your power. Your consciousness.”

I reach out with my mind, imagining silver tendrils extending from my thoughts into the hovering sphere. The blood responds, but it’s still separate, still other.

“More,” William commands. “Enter it. Become it.”

Frustration bubbles up. “I don’t know what that means!”

“Yes, you do,” he insists. “You’ve done it before, instinctively. When you drained Benz. When we fucked. Part of you entered the blood, followed it, experienced through it. Now do it consciously.”

The memory of draining Benz flashes through my mind. The rush of power, the sensation of flowing into him as his life force flowed into me. It wasn’t just feeding. It was communion, dark and powerful.

I push harder, visualising my consciousness extending further, not just touching the blood but merging with it. For endless seconds, nothing happens.

Suddenly, the world splits in two.

I’m still standing in the training hall, eyes closed, but I’m also somewhere else. Everywhere the blood sphere could see if it had eyes. Above, looking down at my own body. To the side, observing CJ’s tense posture. Behind, noting Cassiel’s wings spread wide in frustration.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, my voice sounding distant.

“There,” William says, satisfied. “Now you’re beginning to understand.”

The dual awareness is dizzying, overwhelming. I can feel the air currents against the surface of the blood sphere, sense the minute vibrations of sound waves passing through it. And still, I remain anchored in my body, feeling the floor beneath my feet, the sweat cooling on my skin.

“Maintain it,” William instructs, moving around me. “Now, extend your perception. The blood can sense things your body cannot.”

I push my awareness deeper into the blood, exploring its capabilities. The world through this lens is strange, a perception without traditional senses. I don’t see so much as feel, don’t hear so much as vibrate in response.

“CJ,” I say without turning my physical body, “you’re gripping your arms so tightly your knuckles are white.”

Hearing his hiss of surprise, I extend my perception further, pushing the boundaries of this new awareness.

The blood can sense more than just physical properties.

It can taste emotions and feel the pulse of power in the room.

CJ’s dragon blood calls to me, a strange fusion of fire and life.

Cassiel’s fallen grace resonates differently, ethereal yet tainted.

William’s essence is most familiar, a dark reflection of my own.

And then I hear a whisper, so faint I almost miss it.

Stronger. Faster. More.

I jolt, almost losing my connection to the blood sphere. “Did you say something?” I ask, though I’m not sure who I’m addressing.

“No one spoke,” Cassiel murmurs. “What did you hear?”

“A voice,” I explain, struggling to maintain my dual awareness. “It said, ‘Stronger. Faster. More.’ Like it was pushing me.”

“The blood is speaking to you,” William says, excitement in his tone. “This is excellent progress. Your consciousness has merged deeply enough that you’re accessing the blood’s inherent knowledge.”

“Blood doesn’t talk,” CJ argues, but he sounds uncertain.

“Doesn’t it?” William counters. “Blood carries memories, power, the very essence of life. For a Sanguinarch of Isolde’s calibre, it can indeed speak.”

I focus on the whispers, trying to hear more. They come in fragments, multiple voices overlapping.

Silver threads binding... seven-fold power... the crown transforms...

“I’m hearing more,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Something about silver threads and a crown.”

William and Cassiel exchange a look that sets off alarm bells in my head.

“The Blood Crown,” Cassiel says grimly. “The ritual I discovered in the texts.”

“Now,” William interrupts, clearly wanting to press forward with the training. “Split the sphere. Maintain awareness in both halves.”

Without opening my eyes, I divide the hovering blood into two perfect spheres. My consciousness stretches, thins, then settles into both. The dual perception becomes triple. My body and two blood spheres, each offering a different vantage point.

“Move them apart,” he commands. “Opposite sides of the room.”

I send the spheres floating in opposite directions, maintaining my connection to both. The strain is immediate and intense, like trying to look left and right simultaneously. My head pounds with the effort of processing multiple streams of perception.

“Good,” William murmurs. “Now, what do you see?”

Through the first sphere, positioned near the far wall: “Cassiel’s wings are fully extended now. The tips are trembling slightly.”

Through the second sphere, hovering near the entrance: “Someone’s approaching. A student.” I push my awareness deeper into the blood, sensing the distinct signature of the newcomer. “A vampire. Male.”

The door opens, confirming my perception. “Isaac,” I say, recognising my twin’s energy signature through the blood.

I open my eyes, the multiple awarenesses snapping back into a single consciousness with jarring suddenness. The blood spheres fall, splattering across the training hall floor in crimson starbursts.

Isaac stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he takes in the scene of me standing in the middle of the room, sweat-soaked and trembling, surrounded by three men and splattered blood.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demands, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.

“Training,” I reply, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he says, eyes narrowing as they settle on William. “And who is this?”

William straightens, studying my brother with detached interest. “William Harrington. I’m assisting with Isolde’s magical development.”

“Never heard of you,” Isaac says flatly.

“Few have, lately,” William replies with a cold smile. “I’ve been indisposed.”

CJ steps forward, placing himself subtly between Isaac and me. “Training’s over for today. We need to get to class.”

Isaac’s gaze shifts to CJ. “You’re telling my sister what to do now?”

“Always,” CJ replies, the single word carrying unmistakable meaning.

The tension in the room ratchets higher, testosterone and territorial instincts thickening the air. Cassiel rises smoothly, his wings folding away as he approaches.

“Perhaps we should give the siblings some privacy,” he suggests, his silver eyes meeting mine questioningly.

I nod, grateful for his perception. “Yes. I need to talk to Isaac alone.”

William looks ready to object, but something in my expression stops him. “Don’t forget what we discussed,” he says instead. “Practice extending your consciousness every chance you get. The more familiar you become with the technique, the more useful it will be.”

“I will,” I promise.

The three of them leave reluctantly, CJ muttering something to Isaac that I don’t catch, but it seems to relax Isaac a fraction. The sudden absence of their powerful presences makes the training hall seem larger and emptier.

Isaac waits until they’re gone before speaking. “What is going on with you, Issy? You’ve been hard to pin down. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, fine,” I say, moving to grab a towel from the bench. “William is helping me develop my abilities. I have a natural affinity for Blood Magic.”

“And the blood all over the floor?” He gestures to the crimson spatters drying on the hardwood.

“Part of the training,” I say, towelling off my face and neck. “It’s not mine. It’s William’s.”

“Everything about you is complicated lately,” Isaac says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I barely see you. When I do, you’re surrounded by these guys, and now you’re practising dangerous Blood Magic with some stranger?”

“William isn’t a stranger,” I say, though the statement feels odd. In some ways, William is the furthest thing from a stranger. In others, he remains an enigma, his century of existence creating a gulf of experience between us.

“Really? Because I’ve been here longer than you, and I’ve never seen him before.”

I consider how much to tell Isaac. The truth that William was a ghost until recently, restored to life through my power and Blackridge’s runes, is too revealing. Yet I’m tired of secrets, of half-truths.

“He’s been around,” I say carefully. “And he’s nice.”

Nice . I snort inwardly. He is anything but nice. He is dark, deadly and sexy as fuck.

Isaac’s eyes narrow. “Nice?” he sneers. “Like CJ is nice ?”

I sigh, perching on the edge of the bench. “CJ is nice.”

“CJ only wants to get in your knickers.”

“Maybe he has already, so why is he still around?”

His expression darkens. “You’ve slept with him?”

“And Cass and William.”

“Issy!” he barks, scandalised, which is rich coming from him. “I know you were locked away, but that doesn’t mean that you have to fuck every guy who comes into your sphere now!”

They come. The crown awaits. Blood of seven.

I shake my head, trying to clear the voices, but they persist, a constant murmur at the edges of my consciousness.

He studies me, really looks at me, perhaps for the first time since I arrived at SilverGate. “You’ve changed.”

“Or maybe this is the real me, and the girl who was locked away her whole life was a shadow.”

His expression changes to one of thoughtfulness, like he hasn’t considered that his sister was a raging nympho behind the innocent facade.

The whispers grow louder, more insistent.

One to give. One to keep. The plan changes.

“Issy?” Isaac’s voice cuts through the whispers. “Are you okay? You zoned out for a second.”

I focus on him again, seeing my features reflected in his face. My twin, my other half, kept in the dark almost as much as I was. “I’m fine, just tired.”

“You trust them? Completely?”

I consider the question seriously. “As much as I can trust anyone right now.”

“Even William?” he presses. “There’s something wrong about him, Issy. The way he looks at you is not normal. Not healthy.”

“William is precisely what I need him to be,” I say carefully. “A teacher. A guide to abilities I’m only beginning to understand.”

“CJ…”

“I know he is your friend and that he has probably been spending more time with me lately. I’ll talk to him if you miss him.”

“Pah,” he scoffs, but I can see I’ve hit the nail on the head. “I’m not judging you, Issy. I’m worried. These connections you’re forming make you vulnerable. These guys you’re hooking up with are dangerous, Issy. All of them.”

“They make me stronger,” I counter. “The blood bond works both ways.”

“Blood bond?” His alarm is evident. “Issy, what have you done?”

“What fate wanted me to,” I say simply.

“Fate. Just be careful, Issy. With everyone. Even the ones you think you can trust.”

“I am,” I assure him. “More careful than you know.”

The whispers surge again, a warning this time.

Beware the butcher. Beware the fallen. Beware the dragon’s son. Each seeks the crown in their own way.

I push the voices down, refusing to let them plant seeds of doubt. William, Cassiel, and CJ have all proven their loyalty in different ways. I need them, all of them, if I’m to survive what’s coming.

“I should go,” I say, rising. “But thank you, for checking up on me.”

He catches my arm as I turn to leave. “Issy, whatever happens, I’ve got your back. Always.”

His words touch something deep inside me, a connection that transcends blood and magic. “I know,” I say softly. And I’d do anything to keep you safe. Which is why you need to stay away from whatever happens next .

As I walk away, the whispers follow, a chorus of warnings and prophecies I can’t fully decipher. But one phrase rises above the others, clear and insistent:

Blood calls to blood. The crown awaits its queen.

The Collectors are coming, and despite everything I’ve learnt, everything I’ve become, I’m still not sure I’m ready to face them because one thing doesn’t make sense in all of this. If Damadere is their leader, and she is still alive, what in the fuck do they want me for?