Page 23 of Bitten

“There’s a small chance, I suppose, but Ralnur’s not the first witch to be attacked by vampires. Since the beginning of the birth enchantments, no other has had this happen that we’re aware of,” the healer answered. “But if what you suggest is true, we might want to put out an alert for all witches to get a booster spell—just in case. I can call the Director of Paranormal Health and see what can be done.”

“Good idea,” Theis said. “I’ll notify the king and his consorts once they return to the city. We can coordinate the message and have the king approve everything before it goes out. We don’t want to cause chaos or undue fear in the citizenry.”

There had been enough with the vampire issues they’d been battling.

“Of course.”

“Now, let me see if I can make a vampire feed,” Theis said before heading for Ralnur’s room.

Theis eyed the MPD cops guarding the doors, nodded, and then entered the well-appointed hospital suite. Ralnur lay in the large bed fit for a shifter, curled in a near fetal position. The elven royal was smaller in stature, very much like his nephew. The bed swallowed him whole. Ralnur shook all over—and Theis knew the transition hadn’t been easy for the man to endure. Nor was the bloodlust, he assumed.

When the warlock noticed him and lifted his red-eyed stare, Theis felt sympathy for the newly turned vampire. But just a smidge.

The combination of witch and vampire was too powerful—it was why it was outlawed in the first place. Ralnur was a threat to the city—a city his family had built and ruled for centuries.

“More questions?” Ralnur asked, not bothering to lift his head from the pillow.

“Just checking in,” Theis said. “Unless you’ve remembered anything else?”

“No,” Ralnur moaned. “I’ve told you all over and over again, I don’t remember anything. I wish I did.” Ralnur turned slightly, his once handsome face now gaunt looking. “If I knew who did this, I’d kill the bastard myself.”

Theis crossed the room and went to the narrow windows overlooking the city. The day was gray and rainy. Dots speckled the glass, refracting the images behind it—and giving the morning an even more ominous feel. Down below, beings marched on, unaware of the danger in that room. Had they any idea, they’d all be in hiding—or leaving Midnight in droves.

Perhaps they should.

“You haven’t been feeding,” Theis said.

“Synthetic blood? No thank you,” Ralnur said. “And I won’t drink the real thing, either.”

“So, you’ll allow yourself to simply waste away?” Theis asked as he turned and rested a hip on the wall below the windows. He saw a red stain across the floor and wondered what had happened.

Ralnur lifted his stare some. “Better than what I might become otherwise. I won’t live cursed like this.”

“There are non-violent vampires who’ve made Midnight their home for hundreds of years. They survive without killing—and so can you. With your magic, I’m sure you’re fighting the bloodlust as we speak. Fed, you could likely fight it even more easily.”

“Why bother saying that?” Ralnur asked. “We both know it won’t get to that point.”

Theis shook his head. Ralnur deserved better. The man had advised Theis a time or two in his career in the castle. Ralnur had always offered sage, thoughtful advice. And from the times he’d seen uncle and nephew together, Ralnur had proven himself to be cautious and careful.

But a threat was a threat. And Theis would protect the city from any danger—friend or foe.

“I’m an abomination,” Ralnur spat. “It’s illegal for a witch to be turned for good reason. You know that as well as I do. If I survive much longer, my nephew will only imprison me—or put me to death. I prefer the latter, but I sense he won’t do that.”

“The king loves you like a father.”

Ralnur’s eyelids closed and he grimaced. When he reopened them, blood tears rimmed his eyes. “And that is the reason I can’t exist. If he allows me to live, he sets a dangerous precedent; imprisoned or not. I shouldn’t live… and if he allows me to, others will follow in my wake.” Ralnur took a deep breath, looking even more weary. “Adriel would always fear me… fear the power I now possess. I won’t have him staring at me in terror. He’s more my son than my nephew.” Ralnur closed his eyes. “I don’t want him to have to handle me.”

After the king’s parents had passed—when the monarch was barely a grown man—Ralnur had stepped in and helped lead Midnight. He’d guided the king’s hand and had continued to do so for decades after. Theis knew Ralnur was likely approaching his eighties, if not more, but until his vampiric change, he’d looked no more than thirty-five. Gaunt and sickly, he now appeared older. Much, much older. Skeletal… minutes from the grave.

“You are very much a father to him. Have you considered what it would do to the king for you to die? Or your own son. Varianwill not do well on his own.”

“I have,” Ralnur murmured. “It tears me up inside, thinking I won’t be here to help guide them both. But the misery that could befall them if I lived outweighs the benefits of my survival. I’m sure the king knows that.”

Theis rested on the edge of the bed, realizing Ralnur truly believed his death was the only option they had. For that reason alone, he might finally believe the warlock knew nothing and couldn’t aid in the mystery of his creation.

“I understand you wish to end this suffering—and if that’s truly your choice, I won’t stand in your way—but…” Theis sighed. “I serve my king. And if I were to let you die while he was away—”

“Away?”

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