Page 51 of For Love and Blood and Fury

“But we’ve already tried giving her my blood?—”

“I’m trying something else.” She took another deep breath, her chest tightening with a mix of anticipation and fear. “I need you to go deep, Bambi,” she explained. “I need you to focus, to concentrate, to dig until you hit bone. Until your head pounds and your vision blurs and you taste magic on your tongue.”

Marisol swallowed, her eyes wide. “You want me to get a migraine?” she asked, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “Is that really how you want to get inside me?”

Zuri ignored her attempt at humor. “We have to figure this out. Like days ago.”

Marisol’s smile faded, her expression turning serious. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Zuri said, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. “Because we’re running out of time.”

Chanting in a language older than time, a language whispered to her family by the wind and the rain and the fire, Zuri sat on the floor. She’d usually do something like this with her sisters playing the rhythm on drums, but she’d make it work.

Marisol’s hands were trembling, but Zuri didn’t reach for them. She gestured for Marisol to sit on the floor between her legs instead.

Understanding what she envisioned, Marisol sat with her back to Zuri, but she wasn’t close enough. With both hands on her waist, Zuri gripped her hard and pulled her back until she was flush against her.

Ignoring the way her hair smelled, the way her proximity made her heart race, Zuri held her in a tight embrace.

“Your grandmother must have used her power, Bambi, and I’m going to fucking find out how, okay?” Zuri closed her eyes, ready to deep sea dive with nothing but a snorkel and desperation.

“Is that safe?” Marisol turned in her arms, her lips so full and pink, inches from hers. “Zuri, I don’t want you to get hurt?—”

“The more you concentrate, the faster I can go,” she replied as sharply as she could despite the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe.

“What can go wrong?—”

“Concentrate,” she demanded.

Worry bleeding from the unguarded eyes intent on killing her, Marisol turned and rested her hands over Zuri’s pressed to her abdomen. This time, when Zuri entered her memories, she walked in.

The familiar kitchen, warm and inviting, soothed Zuri’s frayed nerves. She watched Marisol and her grandmother sorting beans, a wave of bittersweet nostalgia washing over her. But this wasn’t her past, this was Marisol’s. And Zuri was just a visitor, a ghost drifting through someone else’s memories.

She pushed deeper into the labyrinth of Marisol’s mind. She saw flashes of birthday parties, family dinners, whispered secrets, shared laughter. She felt the warmth of Marisol’s grandmother’s love.

It was such a strong emotion. Zuri latched onto it when she neared her grandmother in the kitchen. In the memory, ten-year-old Marisol tilted her head to the side and looked up at Zuri like she could see her.

Brow furrowed, Zuri stopped behind Marisol’s grandmother. Hands on her shoulders, Zuri tried to fashion her gift into something new. Tried to push far beyond its limits.

“Do you want help?” Marisol’s voice vibrated through Zuri as she strained.

Before she could finish thinkingyes, light exploded in her retinas. A jolt of energy, pure and potent, surged through Zuri, blasting her back through generations—not just into Marisol’s grandmother’s mind.

The kitchen dissolved, replaced by a swirling mess of images and sensations. Zuri tumbled through centuries, her magic spiraling out of control. She saw glimpses of ancient rituals, whispered prophecies, forgotten battles. She felt the rise and fall of empires, the clash of ideologies, the ebb and flow of magic.

And then, she landed. In a time before time, in a place beyond comprehension. She stood before Lilith, the mother of vampires, her beauty terrifying. Beside her stood a figure made of pure light, androgynous and blindingly bright. Zuri couldn’t look directly at them, the power radiating from them too intense,too overwhelming. The raw connection between the two beings was enough to tell Zuri they were in love.

The scene shifted. Time sped up, images flashing past like a runaway microfilm reel. Zuri witnessed the creation of the Aglion, a race of healers born from the union of Lilith and the being of light. She saw their rise, their peaceful existence, their unwavering commitment to healing and compassion.

Their fall came next. The vampire wars, a brutal conflict that consumed the world, a clash of ideologies that pitted vampire against vampire, witch against witch. For reasons Zuri couldn’t understand, the Aglion became targets. They were hunted, persecuted, nearly wiped from existence. Only a handful survived, their lineage scattered, their knowledge fragmented, their power fading.

Zuri’s head throbbed under the weight of too much information. She clung to her magic, gripping it like a lifeline as if gravity were peeling her fingers from the edge of a cliff.

And then she saw Lilith again, her auburn eyes like liquid fire filling with a desperate plea. “Help my child,” she whispered, her voice haunting. “Show her the way.”

Zuri gasped, the image of the amulet, the one Marisol wore, flashing in her mind. The simple silver circle, adorned with a delicate inscription, was a name written in a language lost to time. Aglion. A medieval reminder that had failed at its one job.

Zuri’s eyes flew open, her body drenched in sweat, her head pounding. Sprawled out on the floor, she was disoriented and trembling.

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