Page 53 of Blood Coven

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SILVANIA

THE YEAR OF THE MOON

RED

Red watched her father assess the situation before him, scanning the room. A twitch in his nose suggested he noticed the stench of death. His hands clenched at his sides, quickly piecing together what had happened. Though his mother’s corpse was nowhere in sight, the blood smeared over the floor in symbols could be from no one else. It was clear from his narrowing eyes he presumed the worst, though his glare could not penetrate the confidence of the six people before him.

“Father.” Red stood calmly in front of the group. She took a threatening step toward him.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would.” Victor’s eyes narrowed. In the dim house, they looked almost black, matching the circles beneath his eyes. He glanced over the faces of the young women before him. “Thanks to your new friends, no doubt.”

The women exchanged glances. No one was afraid of Victor. None of them showed an ounce of fear.

“Mr. Floarea won’t be pleased when he hears where his daughters have been.” He glowered at Tatiana and Lilianna. “And we all know what he does to his disobedient daughters.”

“Our father is dead,” Tatiana retorted.

Lilianna smirked. “We took matters into our own hands.”

“Just as I will.” Red cocked her head to the side, her eyes focused on her father.

“Do you really believe that a handful of girls who think they are witches can stop me?” Victor laughed.

“That’s why we brought him, though I am happy to do this without his help. After all, you made me this way, Father.” Red glanced at the Wolf standing to her right. He didn’t move, as still as a marble statue. But the look in his eyes penetrated the distance between him and Victor, years of hatred for the Luca family buried deep in his bone marrow. It was clear he no longer felt guilt for what he may have to do.

“One man?” Victor asked though Red heard his voice wavering with fear.

“I think you know exactly who he is,” Red pressed, enjoying his reaction.

Victor scoffed, desperately trying to grasp the upper hand and keep it.

“He has already murdered your mother,” Red told him, hands clasping together in front of her hips. “I asked him to kill her, and then I asked him to help me kill you.”

“Then what, Rose?” Victor snapped. “You return to a town that will bring you down the first chance they can? They will burn you on a pyre. It’s what you deserve for your insolence, all of you. They will be reminded of the power of the curse. And you,” he pointed at the Wolf, “will be used again and again until you are blinded by blood lust.”

“We are removing the curse from him.” Sorin stepped forward. “Lilianna, the scroll.” She turned to the Wolf. “Get him on his knees.”

The Wolf stepped forward, his feet padding silently across the floor as he approached Victor. Her father tried to step back, but the Wolf was faster, snatching a blade from the table before pulling the man into his arms and pressing the sharp blade to his throat.

Victor struggled, jerking himself out of the Wolf’s grip. Pleased with himself for breaking free, Victor rose to his feet in defiance. He grinned, confident he was the bigger threat. Red smiled, knowing he wasn’t.

Victor lunged.

Without hesitation, the Wolf snatched Victor’s raised fist, gripping it so tightly that he cried out. The Wolf twisted his arm around his back, then kicked the back of his knees so he was forced to the floor.

Victor turned red with anger as he was shoved inside the center of the circle. He looked around, realizing he was surrounded by dirt and bones—both human and animal—and his mother’s blood. It seeped from a severed, wrinkled finger with a large ring still upon it. Terror chiseled his features into a mask of horror. His head reared, desperate to get away from the carnage surrounding him. The Wolf gripped his collar to hold him in place, his feet firmly placed against Victor’s back.

Alina took the scroll from Lilianna, who vibrated with excitement and handed it to Sorin.

She carefully spread it out, placing rocks on its curling edges. Red watched her scan the words, her tongue darting out between her lips as she focused. She nodded her head to her own thoughts every few moments, then at last, she looked up. Her eyes landed on Alina, who stood beside her, awaiting instruction.

“‘Hatred consumes,” Sorin read aloud. “Feed this craving once and for all, end the reasoning for my enmity. End the blood that drips from the family, end their reign. I sacrifice my living, breathing daughter; yours to take as you will. Take that which I love to end that which I hate.’” Sorin scoffed. “I wonder, can you truly love a child if you will sacrifice her? I do not believe you ever loved Red.”

Victor snapped his head up to glare at Sorin, then winced as the blade bit into his stubble-covered neck. Blood beaded from the shallow wound.

“Perhaps that is why it did not work,” Tatiana suggested.

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