Page 48 of Blood from the Marrow
The chamber was pitch black until Sabina clicked on a small flashlight revealing a small windowless room no bigger than a closet. It was oddly shaped, making it obvious that it had been created in a way to conceal its existence. Marisol considered the stairs growing narrower and wondered whether the tower’s builders had originally built this alcove to hide different secrets.
In the center of the rounded room, surrounded by books and journals and boxes, sat a glass case. Sabina turned on a lantern that was strong enough to illuminate the small space. That revealed the contents of the case: fragments of pottery, their surfaces painted with intricate designs that seemed to move in the flickering light.
“The Aglion were ancient when Rome was young,” Sabina said, like she relished being able to share her treasure with someone else. “These fragments speak of a time when they were the most powerful beings in existence—more powerful than any vampire lineage, more gifted than the strongest witches.”
Hel asked for silent permission to look in a box. To Marisol’s surprise, Sabina nodded. The sound of paper being delicately shuffled followed.
Marisol stepped closer to the case, her wings itching to come out, like her full power wanted to see this history. The pottery showed figures with wings. White wings healing the wounded,black ones standing between armies with their hands raised in peace, gray resigned to call on lightning.
“But power without allegiance made others afraid,” Sabina continued. “During the great wars between our kinds, both sides desperately courted the Aglion as allies. But they refused to choose sides—not out of cowardice, but from principle. They believed in healing all beings, regardless of species. Protecting them. Only fighting back when directly assaulted.”
“How can neutrality be seen as a threat?” Marisol whispered to herself.
Sabina’s finger traced the air above one fragment showing Aglion tending to both vampires and witches. “When people are consumed by fear and hunger for power, they cannot tolerate those who refuse to hate. The Aglion’s very existence challenged the idea that different species must be enemies.”
Marisol’s chest tightened as she studied another fragment depicting winged figures being surrounded by both vampires and witches. “They turned on them.”
“The only grand-scale alliance in recorded history between our kinds,” Sabina said with disgust. “They spread propaganda that the Aglion were aberrations who weakened the natural order by refusing to recognize species’ superiority. If healing could bridge all divides, what justification was there for war? For the power structures that thrive on division? On prosperity being a zero-sum game?”
The final fragments showed the systematic hunting of the Aglion. Families torn apart. Wings torn from backs. An unyielding hunt that made Marisol sick. Centuries later, people were still killed—her own biological father if Clara was to be believed—and families still torn apart as hers had been. And for what?
“They were nearly extinct because they proved that strength didn’t require cruelty,” Sabina said softly. “The possibility that power could serve peace instead of dominance.”
Marisol’s hands trembled. She understood what Sabina was saying, but she couldn’t internalize it. Couldn’t imagine how merely existing in peace could be such a threat. “If this happened so long ago, how can there possibly still be anyone left to carry this on? The witches and vampires don’t even give a shit about each other anymore.”
“Child, there are always those who fear what they cannot control.” Sabina’s sad eyes met hers. “Vampires, even more than witches, carry the worst of our human lives with us into the centuries. We don’t need a good reason to hate. We often just need someone to paint a target. It doesn’t require much rational thought to pin the blame for our own personal failings on someone else.” She shook her head. “If it weren’t for these people”—Sabina adopted a mocking tone—“my life would be better. I’d have more and more can feel like everything. Greed of any kind can be the perfect fodder for atrocity, child.”
Marisol accepted that other people felt like this, even if she’d never understand it. She understood enough. The hunt would never truly end—not until the world changed, or until there were no more Aglion left to threaten it.
“So who is it? Who is still carrying this on?” Marisol asked.
“I wish I could give you names,” Sabina admitted. “Things had been so quiet for so long, I was starting to believe it was over.” She dropped her gaze. “That there was no one left to hunt,” she explained, rather than the hunters had given up. “What I can tell you is that the witches and their shorter memories appear to have truly forgotten this bloody past.”
Sabina moved to one of the boxes. “What troubles me most is that the persecution was never random. It was organized.Methodical. Led by vampires who believed in purity of bloodlines. Supremacy of our kind above all others.”
She pulled out a faded leather journal. “They went underground after the great wars, but movements like that don’t die, child. They evolve. They find new leaders, but maintain the same ancient hatred of anything that threatens vampire supremacy.” Sabina paused, studying Marisol’s face. “If your people are still being hunted in an organized fashion, then somewhere, someone still believes vampires should rule alone. And they see you as the greatest threat to that vision.”
Marisol stood there with the weight of the future on her insufficient shoulders. What was she going to tell them when she returned? How was she going to convince them to help vampires when it was vampires who hunted them? Marisol was trying to spin it. Could it be Sayah out for their blood? She’d said that she didn’t believe in sharing power when she attacked Elena in her home. It made sense that someone like that could be threatened by Aglion too. They could have a common enemy.
“We should go,” Sabina said, breaking Marisol out of her spiraling thoughts. “I never spend more than a few minutes up here every decade. It’s a matter of time before someone figures out that The Order, or at least a single member, would be entrusted with information like this.” She signaled toward the thick, heavy door. “Wilhelmina, return once you’ve seen our guests out. It appears The Mother has decided it is time for a mentee.”
Hel’s eyes widened but she nodded almost reflexively like a soldier accepting an order. She started down the stairs like they were more terrifying when you couldn’t forget the dizzying height.
Outside the room, Marisol’s mind was reeling from the enormity of their plight. She didn’t let herself consider whetherthey were better off running and hiding. How the hell were they going to defeat an untold number of vampires?
Not alone, she responded to herself.Definitely not alone.
The hidden door closed under Sabina’s bloody touch. The stone where the entrance had been was indistinguishable from the rest of the wall again. If Marisol’s brain didn’t already feel like an overstuffed balloon on the verge of bursting, she’d ask about who’d charmed the stones and when. She didn’t have any space for curiosity. She barely remembered gratitude.
“Thank you,” Marisol whispered, mind reeling. “The others need to hear this. They need to understand?—“
Glass exploded inward.
One of the tower’s narrow windows burst in a shower of shards before dark figures poured through the opening that was way too high off the ground for them to have reached it.
Marisol’s heart stopped. Vampires. Three of them.
“Sabina!” Hel shouted from below, jarring Marisol back to her body. She’d made it to the ground floor and was starting back up the stairs.
