Page 19 of Blood

A force that seems imprinted on every corner of my soul flares to life. The sheer rightness of that one word flows through my veins like lava.

No.

I can’t love Violet.

No. No. No.

“But be careful.” The White Stag’s voice turns grave. “Not everyone will be willing to join your side. There are some who believe that what Zeus is doing will benefit them.” Briefly, his gaze flicks to the council members behind him. I have no idea which ones he’s referring to, but I make a mental note to be wary of them all.

Which reminds me...

I know I should accept the win and let things be, but something niggles at the edges of my consciousness. A question that I know Violet is desperate for an answer to.

“Excuse me, sir?” I venture tentatively. The White Stag pauses his retreat and swivels his massive, horned head around to face me. “I have to inquire about a...um...a cupid. Cal. He was put into detention—”

“For fortifying mate bonds years ago. Yes, I remember.” His voice is as grim as I’ve ever heard it. Those enigmatic black eyes of his reflect a lifetime of memories and horrors.

“You and the other council members are the only ones who know why,” I continue, purposely leaving my words vague.

But I needn’t bother.

The White Stags dips his head in acknowledgment. “Hundreds of years ago, mating bonds were prominent in our society. Fate worked in our favor, often putting us in the direct pathway of the one meant for us. But it was quickly revealed that, when a mated soul passed from this world and into the afterlife, they would...linger.” He pauses, allowing his words to sink in, though I feel as if I am missing a vital piece of this puzzle.

“And I take it Zeus didn’t like that?” I already know the answer to my question. If souls chose to roam this earth instead of traveling to the next life—Mount Olympus or Hell—then Zeus wouldn’t have any souls to consume. And without the Fomorians to guide the souls to the next life, they’d be stuck on Earth, pestering necromancers and haunting a world they should’ve long since abandoned.

“I didn’t put the pieces together until now.” The White Stag’s voice is thunderous—the first thread of anger I’ve heard in his normally apathetic tone—weaving together a story of injustice and regret. “When it was revealed that cupids were the species creating mate bonds, monsters began killing them off. I believe those runes adorning your friends’ necks were in play back then too, only all that hatred was aimed at the cupids and incubi, instead of vampires, the way they are now. With no cupids to help manifest the mating bonds, they became more and more scarce, until they eventually became obsolete. I imagine that your friend Cal—one of the first cupids born in years—terrified Zeus. However, Zeus isn’t stupid. If he outright killed him, it would’ve been suspicious. So, he orchestrated a bogus crime and bribed some of the council members to imprison Cal. He probably planned to drain Cal of his power at a later time, when the cupid had long since been forgotten about by those who loved him.”

My brain struggles to process this onslaught of information.

So, Cal’s family was killed...just because of his species? Because Zeus feared the restoration of the mating bonds? Because mated souls were more likely to linger on Earth?

Anger burns through me, white-hot and temperamental, and I know that this is only another tally on the list for why Zeus deserves to die.

“Why didn’t you stop this?” I hiss out through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you do something?”

“I’m afraid I was just as blinded by my power as some of the other monsters here,” the White Stag says. “I didn’t see what Zeus was doing until it was too late—until two children brought it to my attention.”

I bristle at being referred to as a child, but I don’t get the chance to respond as the White Stag returns to the table.

All at once, the room explodes into motion, like someone pressing play on a movie that has been paused for hours.

Violet stares at the White Stag curiously.

“Is that it?” she asks, confused. “Is that all?” Her blue eyes flick to me over her shoulder, and I work to keep my features impassive, to not let her see the way my heart pounds and heat suffuses my entire body.

“I have seen what I needed to see,” the White Stag announces. “We will help you.”

Spidey whips her head in the stag’s direction. “We will?” Her voice is incredulous. I notice she exchanges a somewhat anxious glance with first Pan and then Dorian. I make a mental note of it.

Was Spidey on the council when Cal was imprisoned? Is she one of the monsters Zeus bribed to lock him away?

“We will.” The White Stag nods sagely. “We will come when you call, young Dracula.”

“Oh...um...” Violet once again turns toward me helplessly.

“How will we get a hold of you?” I interject, thinking of my mythology classes. Is there a magic word we’ll need to say? A spell we’ll need to perform?

But the White Stag simply says, “I’ll give you my phone number.”

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