Blood Roses

Book 2: Blackthorn

by Lindsay J. Pryor

Genres: Paranormal Romance; General Fiction; Fantasy Romance

Synopsis

A rare and powerful witch whose blood is lethal to vampires, Leila has always viewed her serryn abilities as a curse. After seeing her mother slaughtered as a child, Leila longs for a safe, quiet life.



That wish is shattered by Caleb Dehain-a vampire with a dark past and a darker heart. The most feared serryn hunter of his generation, Caleb now needs the help of one of the witches he despises to save his dying brother.



Caleb and Leila are each other's worst nightmare-but the slow-burning spark of attraction between them is undeniable. Will Leila's blood be his damnation? Or could her kiss be his salvation?



Contains mature themes.

Release date: April 23, 2013

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

It was the last place on earth Leila should have been. The thought of what she was about to do sickened her to her soul. She was supposed to kill vampires, not save them. Those were the rules. That was the lore.

But then again, the lore never accounted for wayward younger sisters.

Leila stepped out of the car and into the darkness of the dank alleyway. The breeze swept her hair from her shoulders, wafted the hem of her dress against her thighs. If she’d had time to go home and change, she would have put something more suitable on – something that may have at least made her feel a fraction less vulnerable.

Clutching the straps of her rucksack, she scanned the several storeys looming above, rain trickling down the dreary walls. Yells echoed down from the road, suppressed by the low monotonous beat of trance music vibrating through the open fire-exit doors ahead. The air in Blackthorn felt alien in its density, its toxicity. Her head buzzed as if she’d just taken off on the runway but hadn’t yet reached that comfortable height. She couldn’t just see the darkness – she could feel it.

It was the final confirmation that she was making the worst mistake of her life.

A mistake she’d had no choice in making.

Alisha had been missing for days but, based on her track record, it still wasn’t long enough for the authorities to act.

Sleep-deprived, sick with worry and brimming with fury at the possibility of her youngest sister’s ongoing nonchalance towards her feelings, Leila had stayed behind for another late night at work rather than face the flat alone. But as soon as darkness had arrived in Summerton, so had the call.

‘Lei, it’s me.’

Despite the flood of relief, irritation had won out. ‘Alisha? Where the hell are you? I’ve been going out of my mind! Four days! Four days and not a single call! You know how it’s been. Have you any idea—’

‘Leila, just shut up for a minute. Please. I need you to listen to me.’

In that instant she’d known something was horribly wrong. Whether it had been the uncharacteristic strain in Alisha’s tone or that gravel effect she only got after crying, one thing was for certain – this was not like the other times.

‘I need your help,’ Alisha had said, seemingly biting back the tears – tears of desperation that had been verging on panic. And Alisha never panicked. Ever.

‘Okay,’ she’d said, softening her tone. ‘Take it easy, Alisha. What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’

‘No. No, I’m okay.’

Leila had held her breath at her sister’s hesitation.

‘But I need you to do something for me,’ Alisha had added. ‘You know the purification book – the one Grandfather gave you?’

Tendrils of unease had squeezed. ‘What about it?’

‘I need it.’

‘What do you mean you need it? For what?’

‘I’m in serious trouble, Lei.’

Something heavy had formed in the pit of her stomach. Every tiny hair on the back of her neck had stood on end. Already two steps ahead of what her sister was about to say, she’d backed out of earshot into the depths of the library’s storeroom. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in Blackthorn.’

Hearing it slip from Alisha’s lips had been the equivalent to a punch in the chest. The same feeling of sickness had encompassed her as when she’d been told the search for Sophie had been abandoned – that their sister had been gone too long.

She’d instinctively switched to a tense whisper. ‘What the hell are you doing there?’

‘I’ll explain later, but I need you to come here and bring the book with you.’

In the dense silence of the storeroom, Leila had slumped into a nearby chair before her legs had given way.

‘Leila? Lei, are you there?’

‘What on earth have you got yourself into this time, Alisha?’

‘Tell me you’re coming. Please.’

‘I want to know what’s going on.’

There had been an excruciating moment of silence. ‘Someone needs a purification.’

Leila had already known the answer, but still she’d asked the question. ‘Someone?’

‘A consang. He’s drunk dead blood.’

Consangs, short for the consanguineous, was a new political term adopted by vampires who’d resolved that the representation of a kinship, an affinity by blood, would create a more positive image than the negative images of well-established clichés. But a simple superficial change in terminology didn’t alter what they were: they’d always be vampires – every last parasitic, deceitful, devious and manipulative one of them.

And her little sister was amongst them.

‘How do they know about the book, Alisha?’

‘I can’t explain over the phone. You have to come here. Now.’

‘But you know I can’t bring the book there. If that book—’

‘Please! If you don’t, they’ll kill me!’

Her stomach had flipped. ‘I’m going to call the Intervention Unit—’

‘No! No, if you do that you’ll never see me again. Leila, listen, you have to get to the top border of Lowtown and wait at the café on the corner. Someone will meet you there in a couple of hours.’

‘A couple of hours? Alisha, I’ve got to get across three districts, through two border offices—’

‘There isn’t much time. When you get there someone called Hade will meet you. He’ll escort you through Lowtown, get you across the border and bring you into Blackthorn.’

‘Who the hell is Hade?’

‘Please, Lei. Please tell me you’ll do it?’

Leila had tried to convince herself that it wasn’t happening. That it couldn’t be happening. But it was. Her worst nightmare had finally beckoned, just as she’d dreaded all her life. The vampire-infested Blackthorn district wasn’t safe for any human. For Leila, it was deadly.

‘Promise me they haven’t hurt you.’

‘They haven’t. Not yet. They said I’ll be fine if you bring the book. Leila, please, you’ve got to help me.’

Leila had closed her eyes. Swallowed hard. ‘Just do as they say until I get there. I’m on my way.’

They’d been waiting when she’d arrived at the café a little over two hours later. She’d assumed the one who’d greeted her to be Hade – a tall, blond twenty-something with piercing grey eyes and a crew cut that was as harsh as his chiselled and stubbly face. Two silent bulks had accompanied him. All three, to her relief, were human. None of them would answer any of her questions, refraining even from eye contact with her. Their orders had clearly been to collect her with maximum speed and minimal explanation. Minimal explanation being a flash of wallet-sized, photographic evidence to confirm they had Alisha.

It had been a reality made even more painful by the fact it was Alisha’s favourite snapshot. It was six years old now and Alisha had been just nineteen back then. She was hugging her two big sisters like there was no tomorrow, each of them grinning inanely at the camera. Sophie was doing her best cross-eyed look, irreverent Alisha had her tongue poking out and Leila, the eldest and standing out from her fairer sisters with her russet hair, was laughing at them both.

They’d driven to the border of Blackthorn. A far cry from the sophisticated and flawless high-security control of Summerton into Midtown and the lesser but still effective security from Midtown into Lowtown, Lowtown to Blackthorn had been a law unto itself.

The border office into the notorious vampire district had resembled a cattle market – people busily sweeping through the barriers, no one recording the movements, security officers marking the perimeter more as a deterrent against trouble rather than active involvement.

The mass of milling bodies had been overwhelming, the air dense with the alien scents of everything from smoke to sweat. Leila had tried to hold her breath, desperate not to let any of the intoxicating substances into her lungs as Hade and the bulks had escorted her through the crowds, their presence ironically reassuring amidst the swarms of both humans and vampires.

A black Mercedes had been waiting for them out on the street on the other side of the turnstiles.

Removing her rucksack and clutching it to her chest, Leila gazed out of the back-seat window as she was driven even further from all she’d ever known.

Blackthorn was everything she’d imagined it to be and worse. Her beloved vibrant-green spaces and sporadically spaced houses had been replaced with a sprawling mass of compacted, characterless buildings on dark, dismal streets. Noise boomed out from neon-lit basements and shopfronts. Pollution merged with the stagnant smell of street-sold food. The overfilled streets were chaotic with people milling and partying. People laughed, tussled and argued as noise poured from every open window, alley and recess.

She’d tried not to stare at the people lingering in doorways and on corners, something she never witnessed in Summerton. People back there had pleasant homes to go to, purposes. Now the sanctuary of home felt a million miles away and the phone call from Alisha like a dissipating nightmare.

The minute the Mercedes had slowed outside a nightclub, the crowds having parted to reveal an alleyway, fear had consumed her.

As she’d stepped out, Hade at least having the manners to open the door for her, her legs had nearly given way. Pulling her rucksack back on, she’d taken a deep steadying breath, a cold spray of rain hitting her upturned face as she’d told herself for the fiftieth time that she could do this.

Now her attention switched from the dreary storeys above back to Hade.

He cocked his head towards the open fire-exit doors and she followed him inside.

They stepped into a dimly lit corridor, the bulks behind keeping so close that she was virtually frogmarched along the concrete tunnel.

She followed Hade down one corridor then another, through double doors after double doors, Hade only stopping to key in security codes. Keeping a firm grip on her rucksack straps, the weight of the book and her Kit Box to assist the spell starting to tug, her five-foot-six-inch strides were no match for the swift and purposeful march of the six-footers escorting her.

The music gradually evaporated into the distance, the density of the corridors making her ears thrum. As Hade led her into a stone stairwell, they finally hit a wall of silence. He nodded to the bulks, both of whom promptly turned back the way they came, leaving Leila and him alone.

She glanced anxiously into the darkness above before following Hade up the steps, the low square heels of her boots scuffing against stone as they climbed three floors.

Passing through a final door and stepping out into another dim corridor, Hade stopped outside the lone elevator and keyed in a code.

Entering first, Leila backed up and clutched the handrail behind her. Despite taking slow, steady breaths as they ascended, her breathing involuntarily became shallow again as the doors slid open.

‘Is this it?’ she asked, still clutching the handrail as Hade stepped out into a broad hallway.

‘Sure is.’

‘And my sister’s here?’

He gave her a single nod.

‘I’ll want to see her before I do anything,’ she said.

‘That’s up to Caleb.’

‘Is that who I’m meeting – Caleb? Is he the one who has my sister?’

‘He’s also the one who doesn’t like to be kept waiting. And tonight less than ever, so I suggest you move.’

Reluctantly, she uncoiled her damp palms and stepped out.

The hallway was surprisingly luxurious. The richness of the dark cream walls was deepened by the soft glow of the elegant, cast-iron wall lights. The dark floorboards were highly polished, the blue-and-gold runners plump and soft under foot.

Hade stopped at the ornate mahogany double doors at the end and keyed in another code. As the doors clicked open, her tension surged as she followed him inside.

The extensive open-plan room was immaculate. Four broad oak steps led down to three black leather sofas positioned in a horseshoe central to the expanse. A low glass coffee table segregated the sofas, a large flat-screen television marking the opening. Midway on each wall to her left and right were hallways that mirrored each other – seemingly wings to opposite sides of the building. Dominating the top right-hand corner of the room was a highly polished mahogany bar. Straight ahead, glass doors opened out onto a generous stone terrace, the late-night breeze inciting the voile to momentarily mask the otherwise unspoiled view across the district.

Hade led the way down the steps. ‘Wait here,’ he said before taking the hallway to the left, marching down to the door at the end.

Leila wrapped her cardigan and jacket tight around herself. Folding her arms, she took a couple of steps forward. She glanced down the silent corridor where Hade had disappeared, peered out onto the terrace before turning to the hallway to her right as she searched for any sign of her sister.

She felt him before she saw him, the physical presence behind striking her sixth sense. The sudden chill was encapsulating, the tension excruciating. She had to turn around – like a tiny mammal knowing the bird of prey was looming above, Leila had to look.

From the way her hackles had risen, she would have pitched him at over seven foot tall with the physique of a heavyweight wrestler, but the male that stood behind her was maybe just short of six foot. Absent of bulk, his lithe body was nonetheless clearly honed and powerful beneath his fitted, short-sleeved grey shirt.

Her attention was immediately drawn to his perfectly toned forearms and biceps by the black tattoo scrolling out from beneath his left sleeve, another coiling up around the right side of his neck. His handsome face was framed by dark hair cut close around his neck and ears. Loose bangs scraped his low straight eyebrows and emphasised his intoxicating dark-framed eyes. If he was human she would have guessed him to be in his mid-thirties.

Leila caught her breath, a warm flush engulfing her as his vibrant green eyes fixed pointedly on hers – eyes encased by thick, dark lashes that only exacerbated their intensity – eyes that were sharp, intelligent, astute and merciless.

The eyes of a vampire.

She could feel it as clearly as if she were holding a white-hot coal.

As those vampire eyes assessed her slowly and purposefully, she instinctively took a step back and clutched the straps of her rucksack tighter.

Pinned her to the spot by his sullen gaze, a flush of trepidation and excitement flooded her. Amidst the dim surroundings, the breeze from the open doors stirring his hair, he looked utterly preternatural to the point of being hypnotic. He was every inch the vampire and every inch the last thing that she should be considering remotely appealing.

Leila forcibly snapped herself from her daze, berating herself as she reminded herself where she was and why she was there. More to the point, of what he was and that it was he who was clearly holding Alisha for ransom. This, undoubtedly, was Caleb. ‘Where’s my sister?’

‘Show me the book,’ Caleb said, a sexy rasp exacerbating his surly tone.

‘Tell me she’s all right.’

‘Alisha’s fine.’

‘Prove it.’

‘The book first.’

Leila tightened her grip on her bag. ‘If you want it, you let me see her.’

The tension in the room nearly squeezed the life-breath out of her as Caleb narrowed his eyes. She took another wary step back, dropping her hands from her rucksack ready to defend herself.

He held his penetrating gaze on her for an uncomfortable second longer than was necessary before he looked across at Hade and cocked his head towards the hallway behind.

Hade nodded then disappeared from sight, reappearing seconds later with a small figure.

She looked tired, worn and tearful, with no characteristic mischievous bounce in her brown eyes. Alisha stayed perfectly still a few feet away, her gaze on Leila hesitant.

Leila heaved with relief but as she stepped forward to greet her, Caleb caught her by the upper arm with a powerful, commanding grip. Electricity pulsated through her, the impact of his touch startling her to stillness.

‘Do what you came here to do,’ he said. ‘Reunion later.’

Leila’s gaze snapped to his as she instinctively tried to pull her arm free. ‘And then what?’

Alisha broke the silence. ‘Just do as he says, Leila. Please.’

Leila glanced across to her.

‘Please,’ Alisha pleaded more quietly, her wide eyes reddened from crying.

Leila wavered for only a moment longer before pulling away from Caleb. She slipped her rucksack from her shoulders and unzipped the main compartment. She slid out the book and grudgingly held it out for him.

Caleb flicked through the pages then looked back at her. ‘You can read this, right?’

She didn’t dare tell him she was a little out of practice nor that she had never, technically, carried out any of the spells at all. But she nodded. ‘Yes.’

Handing the book to Hade, he stepped up to her.

Leila instinctively backed up against the sofa, her heel catching the base as she grasped the soft leather. Warily holding his gaze, she knew she’d strike back if she had to, but she wasn’t stupid enough to instigate it. And she wasn’t stupid enough to jeopardise Alisha. A little bit of humility had to be the order of the day; the rest she’d work out from there.

‘And you can perform the spell?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

He grabbed her wrist, held her hand up to expose her protest rings – one gracing her thumb, the other her little finger – engraved silver bands that danced in the artificial light. They were the ultimate sign of defiance against the social acceptance of his kind, worn by those who stood against the so-called consangs’ steps towards political acceptance. Vampires could never and would never play a role in any decisions that affected humans, and she unequivocally and unashamedly believed every human being had a responsibility to see to that.

He barely looked at them as his eyes narrowed on hers. ‘Your sister assures me you’re smart, but you coming here wearing these makes me think otherwise.’

Leila tried to pull her wrist away but he held it fast, his closeness intensifying the subtle scent of alcohol and smoke that mingled intoxicatingly with the musky woody undertones of his aftershave. ‘I’m not going to hide how I feel just because I’m here.’

There was a hint of an amusement in his eyes, but it never reached his lips. ‘I hear you’re not our biggest fan.’

Her unease escalated as he searched her eyes. A light perspiration swept over her. He couldn’t know what she was – not just by looking.

She held her breath, her heart throbbing painfully. The flutter of excitement she felt in her chest disturbed her. But she forced herself with every iota of willpower not to look away from those intimidating green eyes. Worse still, behind the aesthetics there was something more than the emptiness she expected – something beyond soulless, heartless windows. Within those eyes that should have looked dead, there was something deep, poignant and entrancing.

She swallowed harder than she would have liked, hating the way her body responded immediately to his. She knew it was wrong – deeply and horribly wrong on too many levels. But she still found her gaze wandering down to the top two unfastened buttons of his shirt, a gap that revealed a tantalising glimpse of smooth, honed chest. She lingered on his full but masculine lips, his strong jaw, before sliding back up over his perfectly formed nose to his eyes. Beautiful eyes that lingered coaxingly on hers for another uncomfortable couple of seconds before he finally pulled away.

‘Let’s do this,’ he said, retrieving the book from Hade before leading the way back down the hallway.

Leila tentatively entered the bedroom alone with Caleb.

The vampire she’d been summoned to save lay on his back on the king-sized bed directly ahead. Clearly unconscious, a worrying sheen of perspiration engulfed him despite his subtle shiver. His body was frighteningly pale, exacerbated by the dark sheets that covered him to mid-chest, his arms exposed by his sides.

She glanced nervously at Caleb. The anxiety was as evident in his eyes as she was sure it was in her own. ‘He looks really sick,’ she said quietly.

‘He is.’

‘How long has he been like this?’

‘Sixteen hours.’

She gripped the book tighter against her chest. ‘What if this doesn’t work?’

His gaze snapped to hers, eyes menacing at the prospect she might fail. ‘You said you can do this.’

‘He might be too far gone.’

‘If my brother dies tonight, your sister dies – slowly and painfully.’

Leila narrowed her eyes at the injustice of his threat. ‘Have you any idea how hard it is to bring a vampire back from this?’

‘Your sister gave me her word that this would not be a problem for you.’

‘Under duress.’

‘Are you telling me she lied?’

Leila stared back down at the dying vampire. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Jacob. Jake.’

She took a wary step closer.

Jake was almost as handsome as his brother, but his closer-cropped dark hair gave him a harsher edge. His lips were narrower, his lashes and eyebrows finer. His toned body was bulkier – too bulky for her taste, unlike the athletic litheness of Caleb.

Leila stopped at the side of the bed and placed her book and rucksack on the covers. She took out her Kit Box and glanced back over her shoulder at Caleb. ‘I won’t be able to concentrate with you watching me.’

‘I’m not leaving you alone with him.’ Caleb strolled around the opposite side of the bed and pulled up a chair. Turning it the wrong way, he straddled it, his arms resting on the back as he watched her every move.

Leila knelt by the bed. It had been eighteen months since their grandfather’s death. And, until that night, eighteen months since she’d run her fingers over the hard but worn blue canvas cover. Eighteen months since she’d traced her fingers over the gilded title: Purification.

If it hadn’t been for her grandfather, she would never have known about her talent. A talent he’d helped her hone as she’d read and interpreted the words contained within his archaic texts. Texts he emphasised the importance of again and again alongside her need to protect herself and her sisters from them.

He called them vampires too, and he knew the truth about them. Truths he had learned from his descendants and from the prophecy books he’d held in his charge. Books he then left to her. Books for her to safeguard and keep from all but her own eyes. Books useless to anyone without an interpreter to impart the words.

And somehow they’d tracked her down.

She turned the heavy cream pages and read the small cursive handwriting. None of the books were reproduced. They couldn’t be because their power was in their uniqueness. A power that could only be evoked by a speaker endowed with the talent.

Fingers numb, hands trembling, the pages seemed to blur as she tried to remember where she had found the section earlier. It had seemed so much easier to locate without a virtually dead vampire in front of her and his uncompromising brother, less than six feet away, clearly not in the mood for failure.

Fumbling through the pages, she finally stumbled on it. She traced the text with her fingers, struggling to focus as she interpreted each word and symbol. Thumbnail to her teeth, she scanned the diagrams.

If her grandfather could see her now, preparing to save a vampire’s life – the ultimate sacrilege for her kind – she had no doubt he’d be horrified.

Rubbing her hair back from her forehead, she detected light perspiration equally dampening her palm. She reached for her wooden Kit Box and turned the brass key. As it opened, the various sections spread out. Tiny drawers and compartments revealed a variety of objects as a rich aroma of herbs and spices filled the air. She took out a small white ceramic bowl and clutched it in her hand whilst she continued to trace her fingers along the text. Reaching back into her box, she took out three tiny jars and emptied a small amount of powder from each into the bowl.

‘Do you have a match?’ she asked.

Caleb took his lighter out of his pocket and strolled around the bed to give it to her.

She accepted it and tried flicking it into action but the damned thing eluded her, worsened by her trembling hands.

He took it back and flicked it into operation with ease.

She held the bowl up to him. ‘Light what’s in the dish, will you?’

He did as he was asked. The contents quickly burned, a sweet and woody odour filling the air. Seeming to sense that his close proximity had broken her concentration again, he handed her the bowl and stepped away, resuming his seat opposite.

‘I take it he drained the victim from the neck?’ she asked, keeping her attention on the book.

‘Yes.’

‘Right side or left?’

‘Left.’

She ran her finger along a few more lines then reached into the box for three sprigs of herbs and a small pewter charm. After laying them on the bed beside the book, she closed the box and put it on the floor out of the way. She stood and bent to unzip her boots. She pulled them off along with her jacket and cardigan. Picking up the dish in one hand and the sprigs and charm in the other, she climbed onto the bed.

Hesitation and apprehension swamped her as she uneasily and cautiously sat astride Jake’s hips. Her gut churned at the proximity, let alone the intimacy of the act. Sitting back on her haunches, thighs pressed against his, she kept her back straight as she gazed warily down at the dying vampire. Laying the sprigs and charm on the bed beside him, she placed her fingers in the dish.

Caleb caught her wrist in an instant, startling her. ‘Take them off,’ he commanded.

She glanced down at the silver rings. ‘Silver may harm you, in your vampiric state, but Jake is beyond that now.’

Caleb tightened his grasp. ‘I said, take them off.’

Leila frowned in defiance as their gazes locked. But, as he let her wrist go, she reluctantly relented and slid the rings off, putting them on the bedside table next to him.

Forcing herself to refocus, she placed the tips of her fingers back in the dish. She rubbed the contents across the left side of Jake’s neck, down his chest, and ended the unbroken line in a hook beneath his heart.

She reached across to pull the book closer, frowning deeply as she struggled to recall some of the inflections as she read. Placing a sprig above his head, one upon his heart and another beneath his feet, she put the charm on his forehead. Exhaling unsteadily, she held the flat of her palms an inch above his chest.

Jake flinched, seemingly scowling as if he sensed something.

‘You might want to grab something he can throw up in,’ she said. ‘His body should expel the bad blood if this works as it says it will.’

Caleb reached for the black bin beside the bedside table and placed it next to the bed.

Leila tensed her spread fingers as she lowered her palms an inch closer to his heart. Feeling the heat emanating from within her, heat that would flow down into his body, she braced herself. Not betraying a word, she silently recited the incantation. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands flat against his skin, skin that felt like cold clay, as she recited the confirmation three more times.

She stopped. Withdrew her hands. And opened her eyes.

There was silence.

Nothing happened.

She glanced anxiously at Caleb, her pulse picking up a notch. But his attention was firmly on his brother. She took a breath to steady herself before spreading her fingers over Jake’s heart again. This time she applied more pressure as she recited the words with more conviction – a hushed whisper that would be nonsense to anyone but her. With every iota of energy in her, she willed it to work, her eyes tightly shut as she kept her focus on letting the energy flow through her.

She repeated the incantation again, and again, ending with a resounding draw of breath before she opened her eyes.

Jake lay perfectly still.

Too still.

He stopped trembling.

Stopped shivering.

She frowned. He was too far gone. Or she had read the inflections wrong. Or the herbs had been too old. Or her positioning was out. Her gaze snatched to Caleb as she tried to contain her panic.

But Caleb’s gaze didn’t flinch from his brother as the seconds ticked away, the atmosphere thick enough to be static.

‘I did what—’ she began, but suddenly Jake flinched.

His chest expanded as if in a desperate grasp for air. He started trembling beneath her again then convulsed.

Leila flinched and recoiled off him. Backing off the bed, she retreated against the wall as Caleb grabbed hold of his flaying brother.

Straddling him, pinning his hands to the bed either side of his head, his legs to the mattress, Caleb held Jake down with impressive strength as he glared across at her. ‘What the fuck is happening?’

She shook her head, her pulse racing. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. I followed the instructions—’

‘You’ve never done it?’ Caleb momentarily turned his attention back on his brother, who was convulsing more violently now, before glaring back at her. ‘Exactly what spells have you performed?’

She shrugged, struggling for an explanation.

Despite the force of Jake’s spasms, Caleb continued to hold him down with ease, held him until he gradually calmed, the convulsions easing.

Jake wrenched free of his brother, stretched over the side of the bed and vomited thick, black blood into