Page 59 of Queen of Vampire Hearts

They knew about my plan to break the cardinal rule of being a witch: don’t ever resurrect the dead.

OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS,I spent every available moment with Lucien. We continued practicing our sparring, increasing my stamina of non-lethal magic to the point that I no longer felt the immediate need to pass out. Each witch was like a battery. Some were low-powered and could last for years without fail, while others burned their power quickly and constantly needed charging.

I fell into the latter category. I was increasing my experience with daily battle magic so thatmaybeI could fight without killing.

After sparring, Lucien cuddled and read to me, allowing me the afternoon to shore up my strength. He made comments as he read from history books and accountings of immortal battles and wars. My sides often ached from laughter by the end. Stories of how Charlemagne had some of the worst breath he’d ever smelled or that Ben Franklin often greeted his guests nude for no apparent reason.

If I were honest, I was already in too deep with Lucien. I couldn’t help the thoughts that danced in my head, but they didn’t come with the bone-jarring panic like they had before. Rather, a kind of contentment, a feeling of warmth and familiarity. Roots were growing like ivy along the black walls of Întuneric, twisting around me, locking me in place.Shit, how did that happen?Lucien snuck past my defenses, andI would need to break every rule that kept me alive for years.

I was wandering the halls of Întuneric and realized I wassomehowlost again in the ancient castle. Despite being here for several days, and memorizing the architecture, I was still constantly getting lost. I could have sworn the sparring room was this way, but I definitely didn’t remember this room. I stepped over the threshold, expecting another vision of the past, but nothing happened.

My breath was fogging the air, and the wall next to me seemed to flicker. I reached out to touch it and felt the surge of magic, an illusion blocking off a portion of the room. I doubted anyone else would notice, especially those who couldn’t see the runes carved into the floor. Even though I was not familiar with them, I could tell they were ancient. I reached down to touch the carvings, only to flinch back at the power I felt coursing through them.

I muttered a spell to reveal hidden objects, and a whiplash of corresponding magic flooded back, throwing me against the wall. I landed with an uncomfortable humph and a burning pain in my side. What in the hells kind of magic was that? My curiosity piqued, I brushed some lingering dust from my jeans and pulled out my phone. I planned to text Lucien and tell him to come and explain this strange anomaly in his castle, but my screen blinked once before going dark. I’d just charged it,but the battery was dead. So much for that plan.

I crossed my legs on the dusty floor, flurries erupting as I sat to stare at the illusion. I pondered it, wondering what could have sent me flying across the room.Damn, I still need Lucien’s help. If I left, I doubted I’d be able to find this room again, andLucien was in his office all day. I decided the safest thing would be to pull him through a rift. Without standing, I began the circular motion with my hand, but heavy mist-laden lands appeared instead of the throne room office I meant to conjure.What in the hells?I stood up to close it, concerned about what might stumble through. But no matter how I tried to banish the rift, nothing happened.

I tilted my head, weighing the options. I could enter the rift and risk it snapping closed behind me or sit there like an idiot until something invaded the castle.Mychoice made, I cautiously took a step through the opening. The tear in reality leading back to Întuneric remained open. With a sigh of relief, I decided I would figure out why the rift opened here.

The farther I trekked from it, the heavier and colder the fog became, my breath puffing out in front of me. I felt heady magic but could see no source. I saw a glimmer of metal and pulled battle magic into my hands, preparing for a surprise attack.

“Hello?” I called out.

The moment the word left my mouth, I was filled with self-disgust. It was as if I’d learned nothing from every scary movie ever.The girl who calls out hello always dies. I glanced back and noticed the rift still shined on my periphery, the sight of it calming me. I could make it back to Întuneric if I needed to, back to Lucien.

I stepped farther into the mist and saw the shine again, but realized it was just a reflection off of the marble surface of a temple. The black stone had golden veins glowing through it. The colonnade jutted over me, and the enormous steps leading to the interior were far higher than normal.

I cautiously journeyed up the stairs to the temple’s entrance, traveling above the layer of mist. I glanced around me, seeing numerous other revival temples in the distance. They were of all different pantheons, including Norse, Greek, Roman, Celtic, Egyptian, Chinese, Japanese, and more, but I was drawn to this one.

The Corinthian columns towered above me, and I continued through the opening. When I saw the statue that greeted me, I relaxed even more. Hekate the Goddess of Witchcraft,my goddess.The three-faced goddess had a crescent crown adorning her head, and the statue was truly a work of art. There were flickering flames in the two torches in her hands. They were lit but dim. A large black dog stood sentry at her side, but her second familiar was oddly missing from the ensemble. The goddess’s eyes appeared to be closed, and I couldn’t recall ever seeing a statue of her with her eyes like that.

A flash of light from behind the statue lured me further into the temple, so I ventured within. There were veins of magic flowing through the marble walls, flashing brighter as I came closer. My mouth gaped open when I understood I was looking at ancestral lineages. Carved meticulously into the walls were the ancestral names of every witch in existence. The lines of the first witches, those five hundred women and men touched by the goddess millennia prior, were written here.

I came closer and realized with a flare of sadness why some glowed gold and pulsed with magic while others were dull and dark. The lines that had died out had died here too. Only fifty of the names remained bright with magic. I trailed my fingers over them, realizing how much magic we had lost over the years because of persecution. I affectionately traced the surnameMARGAUX, noticing it was still pulsing with magic. It was my line on my mother’s side.

There were others I recognized. Witches learned our lines the way mortal children learned the states. By the time we received our grimoire, each of us could easily recite them all. I faced the wall and grimaced. We could only do so because what started as a legion was down to a handful, five hundred lines down to fifty. Yet still, the Council persecuted and executed our own.

I studied the glowing names, looking for my father’s line, frowning when I noticed it was absent. I saw the first name closest to the back wall was lit up. That must be Atreus.

I traced my fingers over the wall, moving closer to the isolated name that pulled me like a beacon, passing by those first picked by the goddess. My stomach dropped when I saw there were more dark names than bright ones. I finally reached the first and saw it was lit up, but it wasn’t mine.

REGINA.

I’d never even heard of that line. My gut twisted as I looked closer. Directly below it, darkened and dead:ATREUS.That was impossible. I was the last of the Atreus line, and I was mostdefinitelynot dead. There must be some kind of mistake. In shock, I reached out to touch it.

I didn’t hear the growl until it was too late. A dark shape plowed into my side, throwing me against the wall. I barely managed to roll out of the way of the next assault, and I caught sight of long, sharp teeth snapping at me.

The black shadow formed into a snarling dog, fangs dripping. I attempted to call on my magic, but the shadow dog lunged at me again. I dodged and shot a frantic beam at the animal. The shadows merely absorbed the magic, the creature reforming without incident.

I rolled out of its way and ran out of the temple, throwing beams of magic behind me to dissuade the pursuit of the shadow dog. My stomach dropped at the sight of my portal shrinking. My heart raced as I sprinted forward, the sound of growling and snapping following me. I dove into the closing rift, stumbling on the other side as it snapped shut, keeping the shadow dog from following me into Întuneric. I panted and collapsed on the ground, the dust of the chamber coating me. My mind whirled as I stood up to pace, struggling to process.

Lucien’s voice echoed off the stone halls, becoming more frantic each time he called for me. The man would never believe I would not disappear the second he turned his back. As I strode into the hallway, the door to the mysterious room slammed shut behind me. It disappeared into the wall, and any sign it was ever there evaporated before my eyes.

“Over here!” I called. He whipped around the corner, not stopping until he was yanking me into his arms and kissing me deeply. I could taste his fear, anxiety, and desperation. Of all the things a ten-thousand-year-old immortal king might have, abandonment issues were the last I would have expected. It only endeared him to me more, making him more attainable, more human.

Lucien tore his mouth away and said, “I was worried you disappeared again.”

I stroked his cheeks gently, pulling back to better look into his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going anywhere anytime soon?”

---