Page 279 of Halfblood Deceived

They were outside an abandoned construction in an area that would soon be demolished to build a University and a new hospital.

The noon sun was high in the sky. Despite the chilly air and the blanket of white puffy clouds, the UV light was too strong for a normal vampire. This is why Sebastian wasn’t with them, despite how antsy he got whenever Aylana went on missions like this without him.

Sunlight had few side effects for Zeydan, despite his paternal bloodline. It made his skin and eyes itch after a long exposure without contacts and sunscreen—which he was wearing—but didn’t cause any burns. He could feel the heat of it even through his black clothes, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He couldn’t get a tan as his mother could, however.

Aylana cast another spell to unlock the door and unsheathed one of her daggers. She wore her usual outfit of black, thick leggings, a T-shirt, sturdy boots, and a jacket with her hair in a ponytail braided down her back.

Zeydan opened the door.

The pungent smell of mold, decay, and rotten flesh hit them both like a slap.

Aylana gagged silently.

With a gun in his hand, Zeydan went inside first. Aylana immediately followed. Back to back, they explored their surroundings: blackened walls, filthy floors, and several rooms where they found nothing but old furniture and foul smells. The windows were painted black, but Zeydan could see perfectly in the dark, and so could Aylana.

They found a flight of stairs that led to a basement.

The pungent scent was stronger there, so they nodded at each other and went down.

Zeydan’s skin prickled as he felt the buzz of Aylana’s magic. She cast a shield spell over both of them, which was kind and a tad confusing. Zeydan was fairly sure Aylana still wanted to slap him some more, but she’d been perfectly civil to him since he picked her up earlier. Maybe her slapping intentions had been mollified since the conversation in that gods-forsaken group chat a few hours before.

A potent sensation of wrongness curled in Zeydan’s stomach.

Given Aylana’s look of disgust, she felt it too.

They reached a set of double metallic doors.

The time for subtlety had ended.

As one, they blasted the door open—Aylana with her magic and Zeydan with his telekinesis.

What they found inside made them both gape.

Symbols beyond Zeydan’s comprehension of demonic languages had been painted with blood on the grimy walls. In the very center of the room, there was an altar holding a basin of blood, and standing by it, there was a witch.

The witch wore black robes with a hood that shadowed her pale face. Her lips were black, and as she grinned, her fangs became visible.

Witches weren’t supposed to have fangs. But Lilith only knew what sort of mutations the witch had developed after her foul experiments with vampire blood.

Her wholly black eyes fell on both Zeydan and Aylana. “Duke Zeydan, Duchess Aylana. What a delightful surprise.” She didn’t seem surprised. She seemed hungry and wholly unafraid. Perhaps because there was a wall of foul magic warding the room and protecting her.

“Step away from the basin and put your hands up,” Aylana commanded, voice steady despite the invisible cloud of evil leaking from the witch.

Zeydan felt the werewolf-fey’s power caress his skin and realized that she was covertly trying to break the witch’s wards.

“You heard her,” Zeydan said. “Come willingly, and we won’t kill you.”

The witch laughed, trailing a black nail over the lip of the basin. “Vampire blood has so much power. Even the blood of a feeble little thing such as that.” Her eyes darted toward the back of the room.

Zeydan’s eyes fell on a young vampire male hanging upside down from the ceiling with chains. His neck was open and his heart was gone. Dead. Aylana gasped.

The witch grinned at them. “Fey blood is just as powerful as vampire blood. Werewolf blood, not so much. But the power I can feel coursing through your veins, Duchess Aylana.” She closed her eyes and let out a low, hissing sound of pleasure. She opened her eyes suddenly, tilting her head and licking her lips as she examined Zeydan. “And the power in yours, Duke Zeydan. Eating your heart would make my dreams of immortality a reality.”

“Keep dreaming,” Zeydan said. He fired three rounds of blessed bullets in fast succession, aiming at the witch’s head. Mari had blessed the bullets in the name of Freyja, Celene, and Morrigan. They burned through the dark magic that cocooned the witch—

But she dodged with the speed of a vampire.

Aylana chanted a long spell under her breath. The wards around the room faltered. Surprise coursed through Zeydan at the magnitude of Aylana’s power, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He fired again and Aylana launched one of her daggers at the witch. Two of the bullets found their mark, and the dagger embedded in the witch’s shoulder.

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