Page 8 of Blood Freed

“Mia’s right,” Rowan agrees. “There were other witches involved. He had help.”

“And they were working with Lucien Marlowe,” Darick adds.

“The Conclave says the High Council assured them there was no proof of that,” Dad says.

“They’re wrong.” My voice is tight. “He’s up to his neck in it.”

“You saw him?” Gran looks at me.

“More than that.” I feel myself shaking. I look down at the inside of my elbow, which is marred with dozens of puncture scars. “He took my blood himself.”

Mom gasps, clutching a hand to her throat. “Oh, Mia. My darling.”

Dad looks ready to kill. “Those fuckers!” he spits. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him curse more than a handful of times in my life. “When I get my hands on them…”

“Dad, they’re not all like that,” I interrupt. His expression is conflicted when he looks at me. I know he’s struggling with this.

But so is the man who saved me.

The man who touched me. The man who somehow feels like part of me.

“We need to help him. I—”

“Mia, I will not listen to any more of this nonsense,” Dad snaps.

“Lane, we’ve already discussed this,” Gran interrupts. I feel a sense of relief knowing that while she may not be on my side, at least I can turn to her.

The door bursts open, and Kara strides in, her long strawberry-blonde hair crackling with magical energy. Her eyes flash like emeralds as she takes in the scene.

“Mia! You’re awake.” She rushes to where I’m propped up on fluffy pillows, settling on the bed beside me. “How are you feeling.” She touches my shoulder like I’m made of glass.

“She’s definitely not herself,” Mom says anxiously.

“Still spouting that rubbish about saving the vampire,” Dad bites out.

“Oh, Mia, no!” Kara’s eyes grow wide. “I can’t believe we’re even discussing this.” She looks stricken. “That vampire held you captive for months. Months, Mia! Do you have any idea what that did to this family?”

I open my mouth to explain, but she barrels on. “The only good vampire is a dead vampire. Well, except—” She glances at Darick apologetically. “Present company excluded, of course. But you’re not really a vampire anymore, are you?”

“No,” Darick answers quietly. “But I was one for over a thousand years. It’s not as black-and-white as you think, Kara.”

Kara’s brow furrows. I recognize that look – it’s the same expression she gets when puzzling out a particularly complex spell.

“Although Lucien Marlowe certainly deserves everything he gets,” Rowan mutters.

“The Blood Assembly claims that there’s no proof he had a hand in anything,” Gran interjects.

“But how could they not know? Don’t they have some sort of hierarchy, rules about territory and feeding? About who’s allowed to do what?”

My sister has always been the analytical one, questioning everything. Even now, I can see her mind working through the political implications, trying to reconcile what she thinks she knows about vampires with this new information.

“They do,” says Darick. “But Lucien believes he’s above our laws. He does what he wants, and I don’t think this will be the end of it. But not all of them are like him, Kara.”

She shakes her head, her expression hardening. “They’re monsters. They took Mia from us.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and I feel the weight of those months of worry and fearcrashing down on me. My fierce, confident sister looks suddenly vulnerable.

“We’re your family,” she whispers, turning back to me. “We’re the ones who love you. How can you defend any of them after what they did?”

The raw pain in her voice tears at my heart. She’s right – they are my family. They searched for me, never gave up hope. But there’s another truth she can’t see: that you can’t judge an entire race based on the actions of a few.

---