Sitting up, I bring the blade and shallow bowl within easy reach. A light shiver runs through Violet, her dread and her hope blending into an elusive shroud that shadows her every breath. Glancing away, I catch a spark of malice lingering in Asher’s gaze before he is able to hide it; but as the darkness clears, an irrepressible interest rises. It’s a look I’ve seen on so many a-face whenever the blood of a vampire is spoken of.
Letting those particular thoughts drift away, I bring my travelling bag closer, withdrawing a spoon. Still feeling the tension in the room, I hold back a quiet laugh, knowing that the hostility and fear are only just beginning. “Take a deep breath, Violet. All will be well.”
Gently reaching, I take her by the wrist, turning her hand palm up. Clutching the shallow bowl, I carefully gather the paste on the spoon, bringing it to her lips. In her eyes, I see her conflict, her emotions at war with one another. Her wish to heal, defying her mistrust of both her clan and I, but as her gaze rises to find mine, a flash of vengefulness fills her eyes. A feeling I know well.
Swallowing the paste, she watches as I set the bowl aside, grasping the blade. Her arm tenses, but before her awareness has time to settle, my blade is slicing the tip of her finger. The scent of blood fills the air as the urge to feed coils within me, predatory and dark.
Swiftly brushing her fingertip with mine, I use her blood to draw the witch’s knot, a familiar rune, under her collarbone. Gasping, her eyes flutter closed, her figure tensing as she falls back on the bed. Standing, I reach over, sweeping her fallen hair away from her eyes, her skin hot to the touch as the magic of the rune and healing herbs nourish her blood, while the curse weakens, before breaking.
Sweat coats her skin as the others begin to whisper in fright, uttering condemning words in which I find myself at the centre of. I feel as Asher approaches. He’s silent as though waiting for me to speak, and I wish his wait would be of a longer duration, but I know that Violet will open her eyes in a moment.
As if awoken by my thoughts, her gaze meets mine. Already her skin has lost most of its grey pallor, and the dark circles beneath her eyes have vanished, even her movements seem to flow with a renewed fluidity as she sits up. “How do you feel?”
A smile blooms on her face as she looks to me. “I feel..., lighter and no longer endlessly exhausted.”
“Has the dizziness and the pain faded?” I ask, as I let my hands trace over her, feeling the energy of her meridian lines strengthen.
“I feel neither of those things now, but how do you know...? I never spoke of such things.”
Letting my hands fall, I look back to her. “Those feelings are part of the curse from which you were suffering.”
Opening my bag, I take out some fresh ginger and lemon balm, dropping the cuttings into the bowl of hot water, as I slide in my blade and spoon. I almost feel Asher’s stare harden as he regards me with increasing frustration and mounting hostility, until finally he breaks. “From this, I understand that you know the curse, and how it came about?” His words are grating as he tries in vain to conceal his true feelings.
“The curse is one I have seen only once, as the cause is something that only the desperate or those of unwavering greed bring upon themselves. Though it would seem that this time it is a little different.” The sharpness of my tone, matches my words, which upsets many, but their bravery fails them, as they do little more than to whisper angrily. Yet with my monstrous gifts, their words are easy to discern.
“You would dare to accuse my clan? Be careful, you are alone here...” Asher chides, his voice sternly edged. “I would hate to think that we are unable to trust you, Wren.”
“Those words are especially ironic when falling from your lips.” My eyes flash with malice, showing the darkness lurking just beneath the surface.
Asher subtly swallows, and I know his suddenly parched throat is tasteless with the burden of discovery, guilt being something that he will never allow to truly touch him. “However unkind it is to say, you have forced my hand, but it is clear that you have no understanding of true irony.”
He walks a little closer, as I remain poised and uncaring. Though Lorne suddenly appears beside me, a knowing gleam livening his gaze, as I look back to Asher. “How coolly you lie, and I would never accuse your clan so out-rightly, unless of course I knew for certain of your betrayals and atrocities, which I do.”
I watch as his eyes flick to Lorne, but seeing him resting so indifferently beside me, and with his face still half veiled he seems to assume that Lorne is no threat. In truth, he is probably right, Lorne would simply watch on merely unmoved. Leaning over, Asher narrows his eyes. “If you dare to speak such lies even once more, you will see first hand the atrocities that I’m capable of... It’s clear that you can heal the sickness of those in my clan, and I will give you one last chance to do so. Do not waste it.”
Stepping back, he beckons to his son. The young man obediently comes forth in slow steps, clearly exhausted and weak. “I appreciate your heartfelt words, Asher, but I have no intension of healing another soul in your clan, especially your son. Though he is innocent, as are most of your fellow clansmen, I would have no sorrows in sacrificing them. After all, you seem to be the master in betraying naive souls, far better than I.”
Quicker than a flash, Violet rises, clutching a dagger as she presses the blade to Asher’s son’s throat, a roar leaving his father. Leaping forth, I grab both of Asher’s hands in one of mine, while pressing the other to his throat.
My nails sharpen into talons, drawing a thin layer of blood from his neck, as he stares at Violet with a fury of the ages. “You spiteful, ungrateful child, I will make you pray for death... you’ve betrayed the very heart of our clan for a monstrous creature.” He struggles against my hold, but in vain. Every time he moves, my talons slice open his throat, as he begins to wheeze. “You moved with such speed and strength..., it’s not possible.”
Violet lets out a haunting laugh. “You betrayed me, you left me to die in the hands of Kovan’s vampire servants, all so that you could covet my blood once I had been turned. I heard you asking them to bring my body back to our clan once the two had turned me. You offered me to them, all because you covet vampire blood, as killing a vampire for their own would bring a curse upon you. Yet, you dare to say that I betrayed our clansmen.” She stops, looking over to those still sick as their faces begin to pale, even more so with their understanding.
Hearing Violet, many look to Asher, just as I squeeze his throat, releasing him when he falls into unconsciousness, uncaringly watching as he lands heavily. His son weakly pushes forward, but Violet holds him back. Reaching to the side, she throws looping’s of rope toward me, as I catch the ends, tying Asher, before leisurely sitting back down while Lorne joins me.
The whispers in the room rise once more, but fear heavily blankets their every thought, as they peer fleetingly at myself and Lorne. “The sickness spreading amidst your clansmen is indeed a curse, the punishment by the god sire, for defying the natural order. Though Violet is still mortal, your clan head’s intension and will were clear.”
Asher stirs, tensing with anger before pinning Violet with a cunning look. “It’s her blood isn’t it. The small amount of blood in her healing remedy gave you the strength and speed.” A glimmer of madness catches the light in his eyes, his appearance taking on a feverish hue.
“Blood is powerful, but it only has one master, or this time, mistress. I allowed Violet to take advantage of my gift of blood, nothing more.” Flicking the toe of my slender boot over his side, I gain his attention. “The curse upon your clansmen will only spread, and unless you return that which you stole, I will leave you and your clan to its fate.” The thought of leaving them in such a plight is an unpleasant one, but I know a far greater darkness will be born if the grimoire remains in the hands of their clan.
Laughter, deep and throaty sounds, his amusement belying a menacing threat. “I have no such stolen trinket or anything else, my clan would never stoop to such dishonest means.”
I slowly lean forward. “If only that were true. Do you think that you, as clan head, will escape such a fate? No matter how far you run or where, you will die just as unpleasantly as the rest of your clansmen.” I sit back once more. “I have little time and even less patience, make your choice. You will either bring forth the grimoire of Blacksong clan and I will heal your sick, stopping the curse; or I will take it from you and leave you to the anticipation of death.”
Just as I finish speaking, the doors burst open as a flood of clan warriors surge through. The sick disappearing into the farthest corners of the room. Rising, I recklessly kick Asher, still bound, sending him sliding sideways into the wall. Violet, thrusts Asher’s son aside, knocking him unconscious with a harsh blow. Twirling away, I duck under one blade while kicking another from the hands of those to the side. Rising, my talons slash at another warrior’s chest, while slitting the throats of two more. I hear Lorne’s melodic laughter, and glimpse a smile, sparking a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Another three warriors approach as I hear a loud crash, and catch Violet throwing warriors against the wall, as though hoping to leave a permanent imprint behind. Turning, I raise a hand, backhanding one warrior with such ferocity that I hear his neck break. The two other warriors hesitate, but in the end still rush forward. Gracefully stepping aside, I slash one across his stomach and the other plunging my talons deeply into his chest. The fresh blood filling the air, the scent potent and delicious.
A moment of stillness begins to spread, a seemingly threatening wave, throughout the room. Lorne, still seated looking unruffled but no longer so indifferent, raises a hand, flicking away another warrior and their feeble attempt.
Lightly brushing aside the bodies of the fallen warriors, I halt before Asher, looking down. Blooding dripping from my fingertips, though I have withdrawn my talons. “Did you really think that I was unaware of the aristocracy of my family being deeply intertwined with this clan and their healers. My family may have lost their fortune, but I was always well-educated, and especially when it came to sword play.”
His eyes narrow in fury, and I wonder why he thought that I would be so ignorant of my own family history. Though it may well be the sweet lies told to him, by my mother and father. Leaning down, I step closer. “It is the heritage of your clan name, Earthwitch, given to you by my ancestors. The healers were so renowned for their talents, many thought of them as witches. Yet it has always been their knowledge of the earth and all that grows, where and when, along with knowing the seasons so well.
Though this is not the first time the Earthwitch clan has suffered such punishment. The gifted healers, once revered, began to turn their backs upon the noble art of healing, in favour of wealth and power. As such, the healers were killed and the book of Helios, known for its special remedies, was destroyed. But years later you appeared, Asher, another mired in avarice and tainted with the need for power.
You struck a bargain with Kovan, he would gift to you the clan of Blacksong’s grimoire, if you would gift to him the love-lye remedy. The only remedy that a clansman managed to save back then, and one you still use today, even on your own clansmen. Is it really a wonder that no-one here has ever opposed you? No, I don’t think so, and we both know why that is. Just as Kovan and my mother and father, used the remedy on me when Kovan was courting me, you use it now on those closest to you.”
A feeling of revulsion curls within me, a shudder rolling across my shoulders. “Seen as you are unwilling to bring the grimoire to me, I shall leave you to die; but not before forcing the hiding place from you. It is your good fortune that I, being a healer, know how to keep you alive while causing you great pain. I’m sure that you have heard whispers of how Kovan passed the time tormenting me. Well, I have had a long time to watch and remember. I’m sure that my re-enactment will be an almost flawless delight for you.”
Taking a blade, I roll him over, his bound figure beginning to shiver. Blood still trickles from the wounds on his neck as he struggles to stay awake. Losing patience, I thrust the blade elegantly into his groin, breaking bone in my seamless strike. His scream is poignant as pain colours his tone, but not a flutter stirs as I watch his paleness flare. “Stop... Enough... The... The grimoire is in a mechanised box... Sealed by...”
He pauses in anguish, as I whisper, “The blood of a vampire from Kovan’s bloodline.” Guessing softly, as he nods. Kovan knew that Asher would never be able to use the grimoire, as only his or his other six brothers would be able to unseal it. His tricks are as formidable as ever.
Looking back, I see Lorne slowly stand and stretch, the arch of his lithe figure alluring even to those so fearful.
Violet steps closer, while I withdraw the blade, before rinsing my hands in a spare bowl of water, gathering my travelling bag. Grasping the first shallow bowl, still filled with the healing remedy, I pass it carefully to Violet. “You saw how I treated you, the others will be no different. There should be no remedy left, as I was careful. I would also leave Asher bound if I were you. As for your clansmen still under the influence of love-lye, use yarrow tea to strengthen their resistance and purify their blood.”
She nods gently, her gaze softening for the first time since I have come to know her. “Thank you, Wren. The mechanised box you seek is in a secret room in the clan hall.”
I leave her with a gentle bow, Lorne following closely behind.
Thank you for reading ❤️
(Word count 2,577)