Blood Freed (Vampire-Cursed #4)

14. Chapter 14

14

Chapter 14

Mia

T he morning sun filters through the crystal-laden branches, each gem humming with an unsettling resonance. I press my fingers against my temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache.

“Mia.” Gran’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I don’t turn around. If she looks into my face, she’ll know what I’ve done.

“Just getting some fresh air,” I mumble, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.

“Your aura is black as pitch, darling.” Gran moves closer, her cream-colored shawl trailing behind her. “The crystals are practically screaming with dark energy.”

“Oh?” I say. “I hadn’t noticed anything.”

Gran puts her hand on my shoulder. Her sharp intake of breath tells me immediately that she’s seen through me.

“Oh, Mia… What have you done?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gran,” I lie. Of course I know. And I’m sure it’s oozing from me.

“Mia Blackwood.” Her voice is sharp, her fine, ageless features haughty. “Do you think I don’t know dark magic when I see it?”

I grip the garden bench in front of me, the rough wood digging into my palms. “I had to reach him, Gran. He’s blocking me out completely.”

“But…blood magic?” Her voice drops to a whisper. The crystal nearest to us lets out a high-pitched whine, as if emphasizing her point.

“Does it matter?” I mutter.

Gran circles around to face me. Her eyes are dark as jade as she takes in my appearance. “You’re as pale as death itself. Your hands are trembling.” She reaches out, touching my cheek. “And you’re ice cold. Of course it matters!”

A surge of defensive anger rises in my chest. “What choice did I have? He’s refusing to let me in, refusing to fight for himself. They’re going to execute him for crimes he didn’t commit!”

“Blood magic is dark magic. And dark magic is forbidden for a reason, Mia.” Gran’s voice carries centuries of wisdom and warning. “It corrupts everything it touches. Look what it did to Heath.”

The crystals pulse with darker energy at the mention of his name, and I flinch.

Gran’s cool hand presses against my forehead, and I can’t help but lean into her touch. The pounding in my head intensifies.

“You’re burning up,” she mutters, concern etching deeper lines around her eyes. Her fingers brush my hair back from my neck, and she freezes. “Mia…”

“What?” The word comes out hoarse. My hand flies to my neck where Gran is staring, and I feel two distinct puncture marks. “That’s…that’s impossible.”

“Let me see.” Gran tilts my head, examining the bite marks more closely. My mind spins, trying to make sense of it. The dream had felt real – so viscerally real – but it was just a dream.

Wasn’t it?

“I don’t understand,” I say, my voice shaking. “It was just blood magic to reach him in my dreams. He…he did bite me, but it wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real.”

Gran’s expression shifts from concern to something deeper – recognition, maybe? “Blood bonds transcend physical boundaries, especially when dark magic is involved. The same thing happened to your sister.”

“Rowan?” I blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“She and Darick would meet in dreams, and the marks would manifest in the physical world.” Gran’s fingers trace the punctures on my neck. “The bond doesn’t recognize the difference between dream and reality, especially when magic is involved. It’s one of the reasons blood magic is so dangerous – it blurs the lines between what should and shouldn’t be possible.”

Gran’s fingers trace the marks on my neck, her touch gentle but her expression troubled. “There’s something you need to understand about our family, Mia. About the Blackwoods.”

“What about us?” The crystals pulse with a darker energy, matching my unease.

“Our bloodline has always had a unique connection to vampires. It’s more than just magic – it’s in our very blood.” Gran moves to sit on the bench. “The Blackwoods have been blood matches for vampires for centuries.”

My head spins with this revelation. “Blood matches? You mean like Rowan and Darick?”

“Exactly like them.” Gran’s green eyes fix on mine. “When Rowan discovered her connection to Darick, it wasn’t just chance.”

“They were…meant to be together?”

Gran considers this for a moment. “I suppose you could say that. But in our case, it runs deeper. There’s an ancient prophecy about witch blood changing vampire-kind. Few know this, but this refers to Blackwood blood specifically. I believe it’s why Lucien has been so fixated on our family. He must have found out.”

I frown at her. “The prophecy says that Blackwood blood can transform vampires?” The pounding in my head intensifies.

“Not transform. Our blood can cure the Bloodbane affliction that plagues them. It’s why Lucien orchestrated your abduction, why he’s been hunting our family since he learned about us.” Gran’s voice drops lower. “He doesn’t just want a cure – he wants to control it. Control us.”

I press my fingers against my temples. “So when Soren and I…when we connected…”

“It wasn’t just a magical bond or physical attraction. Your blood called to him, just as his called to you. It’s part of who we are – who we’ve always been.” Gran takes my cold hands in hers. “The Blackwoods have carried this burden, this gift, since the inception of the Bloodbane.”

“We were there?” I stare at her. “One of us witnessed it?”

“One of us caused it, Mia.”

My mouth drops open. “What?”

Gran settles against the back of the bench and takes in a deep breath. “I’ve been hoping that I would be able to take this secret with me to my grave, but it seems that isn’t going to happen.”

“Gran, I think the time for secrets is over, don’t you?” I lower myself onto the seat beside her.

“Yes.” She heaves a sigh. “You’re right.”

Around us, the morning breeze stirs the leaves, setting the crystals tinkling against each other.

“So, are you going to tell me?” I press when she doesn’t say anything for a while.

“I am.” She nods. I expect another long pause, but she says, “Witches and vampires weren’t always mortal enemies, you know. There was a time when we existed peacefully together. Better than peacefully. We have a lot in common, if you think about it. Extended life, mysticism, a connection to the arcane…” She looks out into the garden. It’s beautiful at this time of year. Then again, it’s always beautiful. Mom and Dad spend hours working out here.

“So what changed?” I ask, angling myself to see her better.

“Love.” Her smile is sad. “Love changed it all. Or heartbreak, at any rate.”

“Gran, you’re being cryptic.” I rub my temples again. This headache just won’t quit.

“Love changed everything,” Gran says again, her eyes distant. “One of our ancestors – a witch of incredible power – fell deeply in love with a vampire. Their romance was legendary, but he betrayed her trust in the worst way.”

“I’m guessing he cheated on her, the bastard,” I say darkly.

“The details are obscure, but I’d imagine you’re right. Hell hath no fury and all that. In any event, heartbroken and furious, she cast a devastating curse.”

I lean forward, my headache momentarily forgotten. “What kind of curse?”

“She bound his entire line to her own. His descendants would slowly become unable to drink blood unless it came from a witch – specifically, from her bloodline. Our bloodline.” Gran’s fingers trace patterns in the air, and the crystals around us dim slightly. “She created the Bloodbane.”

“Holy shit.” I stare at her. “Talk about getting back at your ex.”

“Indeed.” Gran’s expression lightens for a moment. “Essentially, she bound him – and his kind – to her forever.”

“But how could that affect vampires today? Wouldn’t the curse have died out?”

“That’s where it gets complicated.” Gran shifts on the bench. “We can trace our lineage through DNA, following the family tree back to her. But vampires? They’re made, not born. Each time a vampire creates another, the curse can manifest. Over centuries, that original vampire’s line has branched countless times. It’s impossible now to trace who might be affected.”

“And it strikes the powerful ones?” I ask, thinking of Soren.

Could he have it? There’d been no sign of it. But then again, I wouldn’t know what to look for.

“The affliction takes time to manifest. That’s why it often appears in older, more established vampires rather than newly turned ones. The vampires have never understood this pattern – they only know that sometimes, an affected vampire finds a witch whose blood can save them.” Gran’s voice drops lower. “These are what they call blood matches. But it’s not random chance – it’s our ancestor’s curse at work.”

“How many people know this?”

“Very few. Only the wisest and oldest among us. We’ve kept it hidden because vampires like Lucien would…” She breaks off, her face darkening. “Well, I believe that’s exactly what’s happened with your abduction.”

I slump back for a moment, exhaling a deep breath. “This is a lot to take in.”

“There’s more, darling.” Her expression darkens again.

Oh, God, how much more could there be?

My headache is back in full force.

“There’s something else you need to understand about blood bonds,” Gran says, her voice tight with concern. “Especially once sealed by the drinking of blood.”

My stomach clenches. “What about them?”

“They’re permanent, Mia. Unbreakable.” She squeezes my hand. “What you did last night… it bound you and Soren together forever. Before, there might have been a chance we could save you. But now, if he dies—”

“I die too,” I whisper. It’s something that has come up before, but now, Gran seems a lot more troubled about it.

Gran nods grimly. “Which means we need to stop this execution. Not just for Soren’s sake, but for yours too.”

I press my fingers against the bite marks on my neck, feeling their raised edges. “Does the Council know about this? About blood bonds?”

“Some do. But they don’t know about your bond to Soren yet.” Gran’s eyes narrow in thought. “We need proof of his innocence, and quickly.”

“Jemma and Sabine,” I say, sitting up straighter despite my pounding head. “There were two other witches he helped escape. They could testify about what really happened.”

“Yes.” Gran’s expression brightens slightly.

“If we can find them.” I gnaw on my lip. “He didn’t tell me where he’d sent them. If they don’t know that the facility has been exposed, they may still be in hiding, afraid of being recaptured.”

“They’re our best chance of proving that Soren isn’t guilty of everything he says he’s done.” Gran nods.

I push myself to my feet, swaying slightly. “We need to track them down.”

“Careful,” Gran steadies me. “You’re still weak. And after using blood magic…” She makes a tutting sound. “But you’re right about Jemma and Sabine. Their testimony could change things.”

The garden crystals chime a warning seconds before Rowan bursts through the French doors, her face ashen. She stumbles to a halt in front of us, breathing hard.

“Rowan?” Gran looks concerned. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“Maxwell Kern is dead,” she gasps out.

My heart lurches. “What? How?”

“They’re saying suicide.” Rowan drops onto the bench beside me, breathless. “But Darick just spoke to Marcus – he says there’s no way Maxwell would have done this to himself.”

Gran’s fingers tighten around mine. “What happened exactly?”

“They found him at dawn,” Rowan says, her face ashen. “He’d disabled all the UV protection in his private chambers and waited for the sunrise. But Darick says something’s not right. From what Marcus could determine, the security footage is missing chunks of time, and Maxwell’s final letter…” She swallows hard. “The handwriting changes subtly halfway through, like someone else finished writing it.”

“Lucien,” I whisper, bile rising in my throat. “It had to be Lucien.”

“That’s what Darick thinks, too.” Rowan nods. “But there’s more. In his note, he says that it wasn’t just Soren working at the facility. That he was behind it all.”

My head spins. “Lucien’s framing Maxwell, too?”

“Looks like it,” Kara says.

“My God.” I exhale the words. “Lucien’s covering all his tracks. With Maxwell dead, there’s no one left to contradict Soren’s confession.”

Gran’s face has gone pale. “Or to reveal Lucien’s true involvement.”

“And now Soren has no maker,” I add, my voice hollow. “No one who could command him to tell the truth.”

“He’s completely alone,” says Rowan.

I shake my head because he’s not.

He has me.