Page 22 of A Touch of Madness

Ravenna gives me a long, measured look, then pulls down an ancient-looking book from the shelf. "I’ll set up the meeting with the elders of the Witch’s Guild. We’ll go, and along with me, they’ll guide you through the process and help you prepare for the incantation. You’ll need training, Sylvie. The ritual requires more than just intent. You’ll need control and understanding of the magic involved. You’ve come into some of your abilities on your own, using your emotions, but this is much bigger than any of that."

I nod, already feeling the weight of what lies ahead. "But they can help me?”

"They’lltestyou first," Ravenna says softly, her voice almost a whisper. "But they’ll help. I can guide you, but it’s the Guild’s knowledge and expertise that will get you where you need to go."

I glance at Lucian, seeing the tiredness in his eyes. "What do you think?"

He looks at me, his gaze intense but comforting. "I whole-heartedly trust Ravenna. If anyone can help you get Lara back, it’s her. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up." His lips turn down and I reach my hand out. He places his palm over mine and squeezes gently.

Ravenna places the book down, her fingers brushing against the pages lightly. "We’ll start soon. I promise. I’ll let you know when I have confirmation of a meeting time, and I’ll be sure to go with you,” she says with a kind smile. “Now, next order of business. Let me get Lucian’s blood remedy prepared. We can’t afford to waste any time if it is as dire as you suggest."

She begins to mix her potions and herbs, speaking in a different language as she mixes. I’m impressed with the fluidity of her movements.

A few minutes later, once Ravenna seems to be nearly finished, Lucian’s quiet voice breaks the moment. "Thank you, Ravenna. For everything."

Ravenna looks up and smiles, but it’s not a smile I’ve seen on her before—there’s something more gentle in it now, something that speaks to the quiet bond between them, built over years of mutual respect. "You’ve always been a friend, Lucian. That’s something rare in this world."

Her words hang in the air, a bond of friendship and trust between them that I envy. I can tell it’s platonic, and it makes me feel good that he has a friend like her. I watch as Lucian nods, his gratitude unspoken but clear. Ravenna’s calm presence is exactly what we need right now, and I feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps this ritual will be the answer we’ve been searching for.

“Call Dorian and tell him to meet me at the back door in an hour or so. He can transport the blood from here, and I’ll be sure to do a spell to make sure if anyone is tracking him, they are thrown off. We don’t want your new supply to go to waste,” she says. “Now, you two kids get on home. I do believe someone has a shift in the morning.” She winks at me, and a light-hearted feeling encompasses the space between us.

I feel like I could get used to having witch abilities—especially when Ravenna is in the picture.

The feeding club is magnetic tonight. It inhales the pulse of the music, the low hum of whispered promises, and the sharp, iron edge of spilled desire. Midnight Delight has always been a place where indulgence masquerades as freedom, where humans come willingly to lose themselves, and vampires come to remind themselves they cannot.

It’s even more alive tonight, as our vampires grow increasingly more thirsty—more feral. The bloodpack shortage has impacted us more than we’d care to admit, but with Ravenna’s supply she conjured, it’s helping to stave off our beasts.

From my perch in the shadows, I watch the room unfurl its secrets. The velvet-clad humans are purely bait and temptation, their laughter sharp against the sultry melodies of the live violinist. Candlelight flickers along the silver veins of the marble bar, where a few vampires lean lazily, indulging in drinks that shimmer crimson under the low purple lights. Above it all, the air is heavy with incense and lust, thick enough to suffocate.

I am not here to partake. We have enough bloodpacks to cure our shortage for the time being, but I won’t utilize any of them until the faction is able to replenish what they’ve lost. I can restrain myself from going feral, but I worry about our faction being strong enough to do the same.

I’ve always told myself this place was for listening, for keeping one step ahead of those who would see me undone. I enjoy hearing the word on the street for myself, and that is what I come here to do—most nights. That, and to reminisce with my old friend, Dorian. We both claim a certain sense of ownership to this place, but Dorian runs it.

I close my eyes, but the scent of her lingers, sharper than the cloves and myrrh that permeate this place.Sylvie. A drop of her blood is all it took to bind me to this restlessness, to awaken something I’d spent centuries burying. Her willing blood is in me now, haunting me like a melody I can’t stop hearing. And worse than the intoxicating taste was the knowledge it came from her—the young woman who feels like both an ending and a beginning.

The sharp shift in the room’s atmosphere draws me from my thoughts. A hush falls over the patrons, so subtle only the most perceptive would notice it. But I notice everything. The air grows taut, charged with an energy older than this place, older than most of the beings in it.

I don’t need to look up to know who has arrived.

He’s summoned me here, after all.

Viago Sanguine moves like a shadow-given form—fluid, deliberate, and utterly undeniable. He’s a storm dressed in tailored black, with every thread of his suit sharper than a blade. The humans shiver as he passes, though they don’t know why, their instincts bristling under the weight of his presence. Even the vampires straighten, murmured conversations fading into reverent silence.

He crosses the floor unhurried, his eyes already finding mine through the dim light.

“Lucian,” he says, his voice silk and steel. He sits without waiting for my invitation, his movements languid as he folds himself into the chair across from me. “You’re a difficult man to pin down these days.”

I lean back in my chair, fixing him with a calm gaze. “If I’d known you were looking for me prior, I’d have made myself even harder to find.”

He smiles, though it’s a blade more than a gesture. “Ever the charmer.”

“Why have you requested this meeting, Viago?” I ask, my voice steady, though I can feel the weight of his presence pressing against my thoughts like an unwelcome guest.

“To talk,” he replies, as though that isn’t the most dangerous thing he could suggest. He leans back, draping an arm over the chair in a display of casual power. His gaze drifts over the room, but I know better than to think he’s anything less than entirely focused.

“Yes, well. We did plenty of that at the council meeting the other night. Too bad you didn’t show for your faction,” I say dryly.

“Yes, it appears I missed the memo. I was on unavoidable business anyhow. You understand.”

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