Page 11 of Once Upon a Dark October

Chapter Eleven

A nother staircase curled into the shadowy bowels of the estate, carrying us below. The gaslights did not enter here, so every now and then our path was lit by overflowing candles that dribbled stalactites of wax over the alcoves in the stone walls and gathered on the edge of the steps like molten spider silk. Of course, there happened to be plenty of that, too, the webs laced about our heads, whispering into the dark.

The change in the air was rather dramatic. A damp, raw cold that reeked of salt and brine, seawater glistening as it rolled down the stones. The entire estate had been hewn from the pitch-black rock that formed Dreadmist’s sheer cliffs and hemmed in the gloomy black sand of its beaches. A grim-looking sentry rising from the earth itself, dutiful and ancient. Down here, that reminder was inescapable. How long had it stood over the divide between land and sea, sheltering a coven of vampires from thick fog and battering winter tempests?

Morrigan felt the shiver that passed through me while she led me down. The candlelight bowed to her, spilling more wax while the air constricted, scented with warm iron, hot pressure spreading in my veins. Silent as the grave, her sorcery had vanquished the cold from my body. The warmth was immediate, as though she’d submerged me in a drawn bath. My veins hummed with the heat she’d left inside, my lips still tingling with her brutal kiss.

“Only a little further,” she promised.

One more curve brought us to a cramped landing and a set of heavy, tall black iron doors that loomed over it. Flanked by white-flamed torches, the barred entranceway held the imposing stare of an abandoned fortification not unlike the ruins our enemy coven now occupied. Subtle silhouettes of bats framed the doors, carved into the stone with great detail. Morrigan released my hand—but her warmth remained inside me—to unlock the doors, a long, copper skeleton key hidden in her trouser pocket. A squealing, resonating whine greeted us when she pushed them open, followed by a gust of air, dank and frigid enough to pierce the spell she’d cast.

I hesitated in the threshold. The room beyond was vast, full of crypt-like cloistered ceilings where more carved bats took flight among their grand arches. Pillars were scattered evenly throughout, dusty stone left to draw more spiders to weave their gossamer silk. A pale blue glow doused the sepulchral chamber. It was just enough light to see the main features, not warm the drafty subterranean cavern like a hearth’s fire. In fact, it was rather chilly.

Flames the color of a washed out summer sky roared beneath what could have once been a crypt, another massive alcove in the wall that stretched from floor to ceiling. Following Morrigan’s footprints that had smeared the dust on the stones, I crept closer.

The cold blue light danced off crystal cut glass and reflected diamond shapes onto the walls, hundreds of vials housed within. They hung from copper pegs driven into the stone, each vial a work of exquisite, painstaking art. Some had the appearance of chatelaine perfume vials—perhaps they were, curated for another purpose—slim and shaped to a dagger-like point at either end, all glass and metal flourishes and delicate silver chains. Others had been crafted more like decanters or bottles, small enough to rest in the palm of a hand.

But every one of them contained blood.

Every last one.

I knew because the flames leapt toward them, made their contents glow bright scarlet from within. I knew because I could taste the scent of each vial. I knew because each of them had a pulsating echo, a power that I felt I could reach if I’d understood it.

“Vampire blood.” My shuddered intake of breath bounced off the pillars and arches loudly, forming a mist. The presence of empty copper pegs—hundreds more—suggested that the crypt awaited sacrifices.

Morrigan must’ve been as formidable as those whispers had claimed. None of this blood belonged to her.

“The flames keep the blood fresh,” Morrigan explained. “Josephine is clever as always. There’s no one better on this side of the sea, and our coven is fortunate to have her. You can hold your hands to the fire—it’s freezing, but it won’t burn you.”

I did, flexing my fingers over the blue flames, letting them dance against my skin. It felt a little like plunging into the frigid surf of the winter sea. Morrigan approached the crypt, and I recognized the decanter-like glass vial in her hand, filled with Effie’s blood. Even the glass could not hold back its putrid stench.

I recoiled. “You…harvested all of this?”

“The blood of my fallen enemies resides here,” she said. “But, more importantly, many of these contain our fallen coven-mates. Like our matriarch before me, their last wish was to live on in our work, help see the coven restored. Jo uses the stores for alchemy—we’ve found it’s less draining for her whenever possible. But, I’ve learned enough that I don’t need it to channel power anymore. I can reach inside veins easily.”

Rubbing at my wrist, I remembered the heat she’d planted there. “So it would seem.” Morrigan looked away, her fingers grasping at one of the blood vials. Just a touch of her hovering fingers caused the blood inside to bubble up like water boiling in a kettle. “Are mortals this easily swayed?”

“The easiest,” she confirmed. “With you, though, it’s like a caress…a longing touch. I can still feel it—my blood inside you. Other vampires might be stubborn, like tugging at a rope that cuts your flesh, but those cuts don’t linger.”

“I can’t imagine how manipulating another sorcerer like Sonia might feel.”

“I’ve tried before.” Morrigan’s voice sounded far off and suddenly too quiet. “It’s a deep, piercing hurt. Thousands of knives lashing through you, body and soul. The thought of it only comforts me when I think of the pain that’s scarred her in return.”

My fingers curled around Morrigan’s arm. “It left behind a wound. What happened last night at the docks… You wound yourself every time you use it.”

“Yes,” she answered. “I feel the aftermath of my battle with her every time I channel the power in me. Everything has its price.”

“You’ve used it on such trivial things,” I said. “Keeping me warm, cleaning up stained carpets and bathwater. And to think it causes you such a deep pain every time.” I looked at her and felt my vision swim. “Why did you not tell me before?”

“It’s a small burden,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to it. You’d be surprised what the body can get used to—even an immortal’s.”

“Is there anything I can do to ease it? There must be something now that you’ve shared your blood with me. Watching you lose so much doesn’t seem like a small burden to me.”

Morrigan left a kiss on my temple. “I’m just relieved to know none of those scars have passed to you. ”

It felt as though she wanted to say more, but another heavy door hidden at the back of the cavernous room squealed on its hinges with a stony echo. “I thought I heard voices,” Josephine called. “And I know I heard my name. Have I been summoned?”

“I was just showing Elspeth around the crypt.” Morrigan righted a book about to fall from the stack Josephine was trying to balance against her hip. “I thought it would be best if she begun her studies as soon as possible.”

The velvet pouch Josephine had atop her books slanted and tumbled onto the floor, flinging dozens of pumpkin seeds around our feet. Josephine groaned in long-suffering defeat and shuffled her books again, using her chin to keep them from doing the same.

“Stars above, third time today I’ve done that.” She made to reach for them, but Morrigan and I were already there, faster than a thought. Morrigan waved off Josephine’s attempt while we scooped pumpkin seeds back into their pouch. Gwen had spent days harvesting them, and despite being cleaned, they still had the raw, slimy glaze of pumpkin innards on their shells. A few of them didn’t want to be caught, sliding between my fingers. “Slippery little things they are.”

The smell could not be untangled from that night. And worse, it was stronger now, and I could do nothing to fend it off. “What do you need pumpkin seeds for? Roasting?”

“Not quite,” Josephine said, all mystery and mischief. “Been working on something new in the tower. Something we might use when Sonia decides to come out of the shadows after Morrigan’s sorcerer antics.” Morrigan cinched the pouch onto Josephine’s watch chain hanging from her skirt after tying it securely. I wiped my glistening fingers into the folds of my day dress, but the awful smell refused to be subdued.“You know, you have to be a special sort of old to work vampiric sorcery.”

“Grateful for the compliment, Jo,” Morrigan countered, a playful smirk at the corner of her mouth that matched Josephine’s. “I’ve the theory that Elspeth’s powers might accelerate through my blood. Though if memory serves, I think you’re closer than you’re willing to confess. You’ve enough years behind you to wield it.”

“I’m just fine with what I’ve got,” Josephine said. “Been hard at work since Sonia’s last seen us. It isn’t all gold and silver—no, it’s a lot more thrilling. She thought her daylight curse was misery? Wait until she sees what I can render her blood into now . I’ll be the envy of every alchemist this side of the sea.”

Morrigan wore a proud grin, folding her arms in front of her. “Jo’s allowed me a glimpse of her secret work. She’s spent decades on her research, pulling from the grimoires of elder alchemists and sorcerers. I daresay she might be the first to conquer a delicate balance between the two disciplines.”

“Do they often overlap?” I asked. “I mean, do all covens like yours require a sorcerer and an alchemist?”

“There aren’t enough of us for that, and even fewer who want to pursue the difficult work of blood alchemy,” Josephine replied. “Our studies can mingle on occasion, though alchemy favors a delicate touch and sorcery flourishes with violence. Morrigan and I often collaborate, but the skills for each discipline couldn’t be more different.” She adjusted her book stack again, then finally gave up and left it on the floor at her feet. “I can concoct a tincture that clots blood in seconds. Morrigan’ll just stop the blood in your veins with a twist of her fingers.”

“Not without its own limitations, of course,” Morrigan cautioned. “As any reasonable discipline should, otherwise things descend into chaos.”

“And we get vampires like Sonia,” Josephine agreed.

How could I claim such a volatile skill that took decades of concentrated study? Was it even possible with Sonia and her coven breathing down our necks?

“And if I want to kill a blood sorcerer like her, I need to have fed on her blood to do it. I’ll be lucky if simply attacking her doesn’t stop my heart.”

“That’s where the rules of alchemy and sorcery dance around each other,” Josephine added. “Transmutation of blood can take many routes.”

“And her death would break your curses?” I asked.

“‘All curses made in blood must be broken with blood’,” Morrigan recited. “It was in the grimoire Sonia had kept before I realized what she was doing…the depths she had sunk to in order to secure her rise to power.”

“I crafted their curse from alchemy,” Josephine explained. “She dealt ours in blood, like she’d been preparing it for a long time.”

“That’s why she wants an alchemist,” I said.

Josephine exchanged a glance with Morrigan. “Oh, I reckon she does.” Her tone was light with sarcasm and amusement. “I would, too, if I were in her position. Too many hours in the day gone to waste.”

“She was courting Elspeth for the task,” Morrigan answered. “Her cousin was once your colleague.”

Josephine bristled at the revelation, though she recovered quickly, bending to pick up her books. “It’s a perilous craft as any, requires patience. Everyone says they want to be an alchemist until they get in the thick of it. She’ll have had a hard time convincing someone in her coven to pursue the education.”

There was understanding in her expression when she turned to me, sorrowful and bittersweet. “And convincing you would’ve been near impossible, I take it.”

I could only nod my head, twisting my restless fingers into my skirts.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my work.”

She headed for the doors, her boots falling softly on the stone.

“Jo,” Morrigan called, making the elder alchemist pivot on her heel, pumpkin seeds swishing at her hip. “I hope you and Clarabella will join us in the front parlor this evening. It would do us all some good to share a meal together as a coven, welcome Elspeth formally into our home.”

As the doors shut with a grating squeak behind Josephine, leaving us in the crypt’s deathly stillness, Morrigan’s grim incantation bewitched my thoughts. All curses made in blood must be broken with blood.