Page 52 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

“Yes indeed, ma fillette. He has been a very naughty boy.”

It was difficult to reconcile a three-hundred-year-old vampire with the image of a ‘naughty boy,’ but Belle had also called him her pet, her love. Cally wondered what other names she had for him.

“So it’s not just about me being a witch, is it?” Cally said. “He fed on Minh, and now—”

“And now,” Belle interjected, “the symbiosis between witch and vampire, combined with the unpredictable power of mixing bloodlines, has awakened your dormant witch blood.”

Cally blinked. “One more time?”

Belle gestured airily. “The blood of witches is heavily diluted from interbreeding with chattel. Yet it still remains in some, and few places more so than here, in your tea-party Boston, where witches have gathered for centuries. Your mother was no witch, I assume?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Yet her blood carried the dormant lines, as did her mother’s, and so on. When Antoine fed on Minh, crossing the bloodlines, he grew stronger. In turn, he awakened your own power. And so the circle is formed: he powers you; you power him.”

“Uh-huh,” Cally said thoughtfully. But what Belle said was wrong: even before Antoine had fed from her, there’d been hints of magic.

Eve had been convinced of that, even if Cally hadn’t believed her—or couldn’t, at the time.

Now, with Belle’s truths, there was no escaping that magic was real.

Hell, the existence of vampires alone proved it.

She’d been a witch before Antoine had fed, which meant Belle’s theory had more holes than the ‘chattel’ they probably kept in the basement of this house.

But the foresight spell—her vision—was undeniable magic, and far stronger than anything Eve claimed had come before. Yet it had been after Antoine had fed, so maybe there was something to her stories.

But if what she says is true, how can I have magic at all?

“Is a vampire bite the only way to awaken dormant witch blood?”

Belle gave an expressive shrug. “We are discussing matters from centuries ago. These days, the magic is so weakened that it requires, how do you say, jump starting? Logically, nothing else would work save for the power of the vampire bite.”

“There must be loads of women with witch blood.” Cally frowned. “Wait, no men?”

“Witchcraft is the magic of women; there has never been a male witch,” Belle said.

“And you are correct that many carry the dormant blood, yet in most, it is too faint to awaken. Not only that, but as chattel age, their connection to magic fades, and their cynicism grows. For this reason, in centuries past, witches were trained from an early age. A woman such as yourself is less inclined to believe in magic and ghost stories, n’est-ce pas ?

So the vampire must be of sufficient power to awaken what has been left unused all your life.

When you consider that the chattel must also survive the feed—which is rare enough when my kind hunts—it becomes a highly unlikely combination. ”

Tension coiled in her chest. The more she thought about it, the more unsettled she felt.

Antoine’s bite hadn’t triggered her magic—she was sure of that—but Belle’s words made her wonder if there was something deeper at play: a connection, a spark she hadn’t recognized before.

It felt almost like a truth buried just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.

If this was such a gift, such a rare and powerful thing, why wouldn’t Belle want it for herself?

Cally frowned, the question slipping out before she could stop it. “You’re strong enough to do it. Why don’t you?”

“You flatter me, ma fillette . Perhaps I could awake a witch’s blood. The notion is tempting. But here we reach another snag. Those powerful enough, me included, have no desire to bind themselves to a witch—even one as tempting and as tasty as you.”

A cold weight settled in her chest. “Bind yourself?”

She inclined her head. “I have said it is symbiotic, but it is more than that. The historical term is ‘ fatum coniunctum ’—a shared fate. Or symbiosis with co-dependence, if you prefer. In short, within a few feeds, the vampire becomes addicted. He can feed on no other—a sacrifice few are prepared to make. Were the witch to die, for example, the vampire would have no source of food.”

“And the witch’s co-dependence?” Cally asked, her heart racing.

“Once bound to a vampire, her power will steadily grow. Then it must be used, or consumed, or she will die.”

“I’ll die?” Just one more way this whole damn mess could kill her.

“Only if your power is not used or consumed. But yes. If it grows too great, it will burst out from within.” She lifted a finger. “Or so the legends tell us. In truth, there is no way to be sure—unless you imminently explode on this horrible sofa and redecorate it in a much more charming color.”

“But I can’t use it! There’s no way. How do I…” She took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Can you train me? To use my magic?”

“We are getting ahead of ourselves, ma fillette . Do not forget, the power can be consumed.”

“Consumed?” Her eyes widened. “By Antoine feeding on me!”

“ Exactement. ” Belle inclined her head. “Symbiotic, you see?”

Cally sank back into the sofa, her mind racing.

“So Antoine fed on Minh… growing stronger… he’s awaked my dormant blood”— except he hasn’t—“ and now every vampire in Boston will want a taste, while Antoine needs me to survive.” Fuck.

That’s a lot to process. “Wait, what does it mean that he’s broken your laws? ”

“Vampires have few laws, but those we do are unbreakable, ma fillette . Do you know what that means?”

“Uh, I’m guessing it means you can’t break them?”

Belle laughed. “ Non . It means that to break them, you have to have so much power that no one tells you off. Americans have some experience of this, no?”

Cally frowned. “So you’re saying that if Antoine gets strong enough—by feeding on me—there’s no consequence for feeding on Minh?”

“ Exactement. ”

“But earlier I asked you if he knew, and you dodged me. Does he?”

“That is still the question, ma fillette. Though I think it likely he does not.” Belle tilted her head. “Will you tell him?”

Cally hesitated. If Belle was right, Antoine needed her now.

Not just wanted—needed. If she ran—stayed ahead of his mark long enough for him to run out of blood—what then?

What happened to a vampire who couldn’t feed?

And what about her? Would her magic keep growing, even though it had already been there before he ever touched her, until— boom —Belle got a new sofa design?

“What happens to him if he doesn’t feed?”

“A vampire who does not—or cannot—feed goes feral. He hunts whatever is closest, in the hope it will sate his craving. This is dangerous, as such a vampire hunts without caution. In Antoine’s case, when it is not enough, he will hunt again. And again. Can you imagine what would happen?”

All too vividly. “And when nothing satisfies?”

“He goes mad,” Belle said. “It is not a pleasant fate.”

Cally shivered. “How long does that take?”

“It varies. In theory, a vampire could maybe last two weeks before his mind crumbles.”

The real question—the dangerous one—was what happened when a vampire fed on a witch who already had power. But she couldn’t ask that. So instead, she asked the one she could: “Why are you telling me all this?”

Belle’s voice softened into something almost wistful.

“Do you know what it is to love, ma fillette ?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but continued with a distant voice.

“I am not sure I do. Perhaps I am too old, maybe too broken, certainly too selfish to love. But, if I have ever loved anyone, it would be your Antoine. He is my only spawn, my companion for years, and even after all this time, un homme si vertueux .” She gave herself a little shake, and when she spoke again, it was more like her usual playful self.

“And as for the game I mentioned? It is a contest, and I would not see my own spawn lose.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“You see, I like to cheat. And you, ma fillette , are most intriguingly the new ace in the hole.”

Cally stared at Belle, a sudden unease tightening in her chest. An ace in the hole. She wasn’t a pawn in this game—she was the prize, the leverage. It made her question everything she thought she knew about her relationship with Antoine.

“What is ‘un om see vair-too-uh’?”

Belle winced at her accent. “‘ Un homme si vertueux’ means ‘such a virtuous man.’”

Marcel had used the same word. Maybe it was true.

“Yes,” Cally said. “I will tell him.”