Page 8 of Blood Match

Great. Not only does my magic suck, but now I’m losing my mind.

2

Chapter 2

Darick

Istride into the Assembly meeting room, the familiar scent of power and ages of intrigue washing over me. The room buzzes with tension, an undercurrent that sets my teeth on edge. Vampire clan elders, their faces masks of carefully controlled concern, fill the space. Some nod in deference as I pass, others watch me with wary eyes.

My chair at the Assembly table awaits, a seat of responsibility I’ve carried for longer than most nations have existed. As I lower myself into it, the weight of my secret presses down on me. The irony isn’t lost on me – here I am, Darick Drake, high elder of Clan Sanguis, harboring the very affliction we’ve gathered to discuss.

Bullshit! I may not have it.

But even as I try to deny it, I know that it’s true. That event at the Nocturne Lounge has been repeated half a dozen times since it first happened six months ago. Every human I’ve fed from has left me writhing in pain. There’s a gnawing hunger in my gut that’s becoming impossible to ignore.

I can’t drink blood. I’m going to starve.

Unless….

Unless nothing. I have to focus. I school my features into impassivity, a skill honed over a millennium. My kind can be ruthless; weakness is exploited.

Show them you’re strong.

“Silence!” a voice cuts through the rumble of voices that’s been rising in volume since I got here. “Our lady approaches.”

The Grand Elder of the eight clans, Arabella Ravenscroft, sweeps into the room. The announcement was hardly necessary. Her presence alone is enough to quiet the noise. With a gesture both elegant and commanding, she calls the meeting to order.

“Esteemed members of the Blood Assembly,” her voice carries easily through the hushed room, “we gather tonight to address a matter of grave concern.”

I lean forward imperceptibly, my fingers tightening on the arms of my chair.

Here it comes.

“The Bloodbane,” Arabella continues, her eyes sweeping across the gathered elders, “has been increasing among our kind. It warrants some fresh perspectives. As you know, this is the primary topic on the agenda today, and as is custom, I will open up the floor for us to debate this matter.”

A ripple of unease passes through the group. I force myself to remain still, to betray nothing of the cold dread pooling in my stomach. But I sense a slight movement behind me where Marcus has stepped up behind my seat.

Give nothing away, Marcus. I silently will my closest confidante to keep my secret. Not that it’s necessary. Marcus and I have years of secrets between us. Just never one this big.

“This is not news, Lady Ravenscroft. The Bane always been among us,” says Elias Stone, high elder of the Ferox clan. “At least, for as long as I can remember.”

“Yes, but it’s getting worse,” Isabella Montague adds. “Two of my most established vampires have shown signs of it.” She flutters both hands. “How can this be? I would understand if it had struck the newly turned. But these are long-standing members of my clan. Strong and seasoned.”

“We’ve always known that there are no limitations to who it might strike, Lady Montague.” Elias turns to face her. “In all the time that my clan has been researching this, we’ve found that the affliction doesn’t discriminate. In fact, there are more elders than young ones.”

“It just makes no sense,” Isabella mutters, her expression dark.

The others are growing more heated as the topic is bandied about. I watch silently, my jaw clenched tight enough to crack granite. The Assembly’s veneer of civility crumbles as tempers flare.

“We all know what must be done!” Victor Valmont’s fist slams onto the table. “It’s time we get what we need from the witches!”

A chorus of agreement rises, but it’s met with equal opposition. I remain motionless. Every muscle in my body screams to move, to speak, to do something. But I can’t risk it. This is all too raw. I might let something slip. And I’m not ready for this to be public knowledge yet. Or even ever.

Arabella’s voice cuts through the din like a blade. “Quiet!” The room stills. “It is true that, over the centuries, we have found no other solution; the witches are the answer. The alternative is death by starvation over years. A gradual weakening, loss of powers. Excruciating hunger. However,” she looks around at us, “it only works when both vampire and witch are compatible. A blood match. That complicates things. There has to be another way.”

The words hit me hard – the cold reality of the future I’m facing. I feel Marcus tense behind me; he’s aware of it too.

“Compatibility isn’t always necessary.” It’s Valmont again. “Any witch’s blood can stave off the thirst for a time.”

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