Night came too quickly. The moon cried out to me, the blood in my veins answered her call. I didn’t know how to prepare for death. Eddie joined us, keeping our silent vigil until it was time.
“I’d like to say a prayer,” he told us not long before it was time for vampires to wake. He lit some candles and placed a cracked black bowl on the table.
“Blood. Love. Sacrifice. Accept our offerings, and protect our souls. Connected and ready to serve. Fill us with power, and watch over us.” He cut his hand, letting the blood drip into the bowl. I touched the cross, but it wasn’t necessary. Eddie’s blood was wrong. The colour, texture, and smell repulsed me. Once again, I was filled with curiosity about who he was—and exactly who, or what, he was praying to.
“Do you offer?” he asked Carl who nodded, strangely interested in the proceedings. Before I could stop him, he sliced Carl’s palm and squeezed his hand until his blood fell into the bowl. Eddie held his hand out to me. Hesitant, I placed mine in his cool palm. He swiftly cut me and drained some of my blood into the bowl.
“Give me the dagger,” he said. I glanced at him as I handed it over. His jaws were slack. He reminded me of a puppet on a string as his arms moved jerkily around. He spoke in a language I wasn’t familiar with. Guttural sounds that stirred something within me. Fear slowly dissipated, only to be replaced with something else. Courage, perhaps? Or merely foolhardiness.
Eddie kissed the knife, his lips blistering at once. He stirred the blood in the bowl with the dagger. A blue light flared up from the liquid, making me jump backward in fright. Eddie spoke one more word, and the light vanished. He lifted the knife, shook it once, and then offered the bowl to me.
“Drink,” he urged.
I hesitated. Freaky hoodoo stuff wasn’t my thing. Neither was drinking my own blood. Eddie’s hadn’t looked too delicious, and I didn’t need to know what Carl’s tasted like.
“Just drink it,” he said, pushing the bowl into my hands.
I shook my head, but his eyes darkened, and the room vibrated. The cold presence brushed against my hands, so I raised the bowl to my lips and slowly took a sip. I had to close my eyes to stop my head from spinning. It didn’t taste like blood. It tasted like... sunlight. Warmth. And power. Most of all, power. I tipped the bowl to drain the lot. Pure heat rolled down my throat, completely destroying the panic inside me.
Eddie placed his palm against my forehead and pushed until I resisted.
“Flood our sister with spirit. Let the Keeper of Light stay safe to lead us on through the storms ahead. Make the Warrior of Flame return.”
My eyes shot open. Eddie’s were black, but flickering flames reflected in his eyes. I glanced at Carl who was staring at me like I had turned into a shooting star or something. Then it was over. Eddie broke away, and the tension snapped. The room lit up, and my skin tingled.
“It’s time,” he said, handing Carl a small pouch. “Keep that in your pocket. You won’t be seen until the power runs out.”
“What about this?” I gestured to the chain around my neck. “When will this run out?”
Eddie patted my shoulder and gave me the dagger, still dripping with our blood. “It already ran out. I can’t sense any of the magic anymore.”
I hadn’t felt a real longing from the thirst since Eddie had given me the cross. It couldn’t have run out already. He smiled reassuringly and gave a little nod, as if he knew exactly what record my mind was playing.
“Come.” He bade us to follow him.
This time I stuck the dagger in my belt and promised myself I was getting a kick ass sheath for next time—if there was a next time.
