Page 32 of How to Dump a Vampire

The moment the rich iron scent hits my nostrils, my fangs punch down reflexively. Gods, it has been too long. My hands tremble faintly as I accept the vessel, hating that Mother witnessed this loss of control.

Yet, as I raise the goblet to my lips, I hesitate. Somehow, it feels like a betrayal of sorts, indulging in this side again after discovering a different way to sustain myself at Thorn’s side, but denying my nature will help no one.

I drink deeply, fresh vitality suffusing my limbs with every swallow. As I lower the emptied cup, strength and clarity finally return fully to my muddled mind. My mind feels much clearer, and already, I can feel energy and health returning.

“I cannot simply pretend Thorn was merely a stranger briefly passing through my life,” I say to mymother fervently. “There are powers at work here I don’t understand. I feel as if a part of me is missing.”

Mother listens silently to my impassioned entreaty, eyes glistening with empathy. At long last, she speaks. “The fates weave many threads to bind lives together, rarely so swiftly or strangely as was done here, but destiny can’t be ignored. Give yourself time to heal. I will send out people to inquire about your witch.”

I start at her words. Does she mean…

Mother smiles gently, a bit sadly. “If it’s meant to be, we will find her.”

She pulls me into a fierce embrace then, and I know I have her blessing to follow the mysterious call that beckons me back to Thorn’s side, no matter where it leads. My course is clear at last. I will seek out my witch and finally learn if we are meant to walk this path together. Hope and fear, longing and logic, heart and mind—all seem tangled as yarn unraveled by restless kittens. I do not dare reveal the depth of this bond for fear my family will keep us apart, yet staying away feels wrong.

The vision made it clear our two fates are intertwined, however reluctantly on her part.

I splay one hand on the cold glass pane before me, imagining I’m reaching straight through and across the leagues separating us in defiance of any barriers.Heart, show me the way. For once, let cold reason follow where you lead.

I come back to myself with a start and find the room dim and empty save for flickering firelight. Mother slipped away unnoticed, leaving me to wrestle alone with my demons and desires. I glance down to see only crumbs left of the spelled bread gifted to me. Already, its effects are fading.

Turning from the starlit window, I sit slowly on the silken bed. Somewhere beyond the confines of this castle, Thorn, too, gazes upward at the night’s luminous canvas. Or at least that’s what my heart wants. The answers I crave wait out there as well.

12

Draven

The halls of Everdusk Castle glitter around me, decked out for the Winter Festival in crimson ribbons and emerald garlands, but even these lavish decorations can’t lift my mood.

It’s like I’m seeing it all through fog. Everything is familiar yet distant. It’s hard to believe I only left this gilded cage a few days ago. Feels like a lifetime since the old me strode out so casually into winter’s jaws.

As I wander aimlessly, servants smile warm welcomes, glad for my return. I try matching their holiday cheer, but my thoughts keep wandering back to a far humbler cottage nestled in snowy woods.

Before long, my restless feet steer me down empty corridors to a heavy oak door nearly hidden in a quiet corner. Inside lie centuries of records and oddities,steeped in magic and somehow dust free even with the limited usage. Usually, I avoid this archive, but something pulls me to sift through relics of the past. Seeking what exactly?

Clues, my heart whispers as I descend creaky steps, trailing one hand along icy stones. Insights into the mystery that is Thorn. Here in these timeworn pages lie tales of the past. If her fate is really linked to mine as I suspect, tied together by the red string of fate, there must be some hint here. At the very least, there should be a birth record since all citizens’ births are recorded and saved in the archives for our kingdom. Turned vampires’ records are kept in the lower levels and purebloods in the upper along with their accomplishments. Our historians are a busy group of dedicated vampires.

Even the archive has been decked out for the upcoming festival. Evergreen branches adorn the shelves and sconces, scenting the air with pine that mingles with the must of ancient parchment and candles.

“All right, let’s see what I can find,” I mutter, rubbing my hands briskly.

Overwhelmed by decades of texts, I grab a massive tome off the nearest shelf. Flipping throughreveals ancient spells, meticulously penned by some long-dead scholar. Could it contain the recipe or secrets behind Thorn’s Asrbloom tea?

Feeling motivated by this new quest, I start gathering any book or scroll related to herbalism and stack them on the table. I search through the pile, totally absorbed in hunting for some hint about Thorn’s magic tea that controls a vampire’s hunger. After all that dusty research, I come up empty. Just more frustrated than ever. There has to be some hint somewhere about this woman who rattled my world.

Annoyed, I shove the stack aside. A heavy tome tumbles down, falling open to reveal not spells but ornate dates and decrees. It seems to be a royal record. I’m about to close it when a symbol catches my eye—the black rose crest used only for formal matters. Odd to see it here on an entry from two centuries ago. Why does it give me such a sense of foreboding?

With an icy prickle down my spine, I read the chilling details. Soldiers had been dispatched to slaughter a powerful witch child and eradicate her “accursed” village. Led by the vicious Royal Enforcer, they left only smoldering ruins, killing all… except the half vampire half witchling who somehow escaped.

I sink onto a chair, gutted by the horrific tale. This ravaged village, could it have been Thorn’s home when she was an innocent child? No, she’s only a witch, not a half vampire.

But she did have the tea for vampires. It would be odd to have such an item if you didn’t intend to use it. Did she give me an excuse?

If so, no wonder she hides from the rulers of this land. To her kind, my royal crest must represent terror and death itself. Revulsion twists my insides at the cruelty enacted by my forefathers. No, my father. No wonder she sent me away so quickly after discovering who I was.

Bolstered by fragile hope, I delve deeper into the archives, seeking anything about this painful history. Near the back, I find a wall of scrolls, their faded contents sealed by cords. Scanning the dates, I look for records from that bloody era. If I can find documents of the Royal Enforcer’s deeds… aha!

I carefully work out one yellowed scroll. Unfurling it on the table, I pin down the curled ends and squint to decipher details of Captain Reign’s supposed victories. The horrific acts described just sicken me. Howcould such cruelty be considered valor? Why were they hunted?

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