Blood Freed (Vampire-Cursed #4)

20. Chapter 20

20

Chapter 20

Mia

I can’t stop hugging them. These two women who shared the nightmare I lived through in that hellhole. But now, it’s time to get back to the plan.

“Are you ready?” I ask Sabine. She’s the more resilient of the two. Jemma, with her fair hair and wide hazel eyes, looks like a wild creature about to take flight. Not that I blame her.

“All set,” says Sabine, tossing a wave of dark, silver-streaked over her shoulder. Without a backward glance, she strides into the leafy glade. I’m so glad the elders decided to meet in the woods today. The Conclave chambers are oppressive. I haven’t felt comfortable in confined spaces since I left the facility.

Linking arms with both women, I step toward the shaded clearing beneath the canopy of leaves and branches. Gran strides up ahead, head high, ready to do battle. Mom and Dad take up the rear while Kara and Rowan flank us.

Our formation is not accidental. We’ve encircled the two witches in a protective group. Every one of us has magic at the ready. We wouldn’t put it past Lucien to wage an attack against us here. Kara told me that a group of vampires had descended on my Starlight Vigil not so long ago. I don’t know what unsettles me more. The fact that they could be so brazen or that my family had been ready to accept that I was dead.

They waited a year. I can’t hold it against them.

The only person in our group who seems relaxed is Darick. Bringing the vampire – ex-vampire – to a Conclave gathering is highly unusual, but we’re pulling out all the stops.

In the branches above, I catch a flash of movement.

“What’s Poppy doing here?” I ask Rowan.

She shrugs. “She insisted on coming. Says she wants to make sure we don’t mess up again.”

“Damn squirrel,” I mutter, then pull in a breath as we arrive in the center of the clearing. Yet again, I am circled by a gathering of the most ancient and wise witches in our community.

Let’s hope they’re wise enough to listen this time.

“You are looking well, Mia Blackwood,” says the High Priestess.

I nod my head in acknowledgment. “I am feeling much better, High Priestess. And I am grateful that you and the elders have been willing to speak with me again today. I know that it’s short notice, but I hope you will understand that this is a matter of urgency.”

“Of course,” she says. “There has been a lot for us to resolve since the facility was exposed. So many of your sisters are free now, thanks to you.”

“Not thanks to me, High Priestess. If I hadn’t had the help of Soren Daire, I never would have escaped that place. It would still be running. We would still be captive there.”

Her expression darkens a little. It hasn’t been easy to convince them to give me time to raise this yet again. Thank God for Gran’s influence.

“If I am correct, this is the same vampire who ran that particular facility, Mia. I understand your confusion around this, but—”

“There’s no confusion, Lady Moonshadow,” I interrupt her, drawing a murmur of disapproval from the elders. “He was coerced. And I have brought more witnesses who were there to see it.”

“Very well.” She inclines her head. “State your case.”

I hold my breath as Sabine steps forward, her voice clear and strong.

“Greetings, High Priestess, esteemed elders,” she begins, looking around the gathering. “Our sister is correct. The conditions were horrific. We were kept in cells, drained of blood regularly. Many didn’t survive.” She meets Seraphina’s gaze. “But when Soren took charge, things changed. The deaths stopped. We got medical care.”

Jemma trembles beside me. “He…he limited the drainings,” she whispers. “We were given time to recover.”

“How very kind,” a dry voice interrupts her. Morgan is eyeing her with misgiving.

“Lord Shadowmaster, you are out of line,” Seraphina says coldly. “Continue,” she addresses Jemma.

“He was kind,” she says meekly. “And when Lucien ordered our execution after the escape attempt…” She trails off, wringing her hands.

“This was the situation raised previously by Mia – when you were captured after you attempted to escape?” the High Priestess asks.

“Yes.” Sabine takes over. “Heath Moonshadow captured us and dragged us all back to a dungeon beneath the facility. Lucien arrived soon after. He was furious. He wanted us dead as an example. He instructed Soren to do it and—”

“You are absolutely certain this was Lucien Marlowe, Sabine?” Seraphina asks.

“Definitely,” the witch responds.

“But you were confused. Traumatized,” Morgan interrupts again. “Perhaps with all the stress you—”

“It was him,” Sabine says firmly. “He was addressed as Lord Marlowe by the others. Heath said his name several times.” At these words, Seraphina’s jaw clenches. I’m sure she’s finding her nephew’s involvement difficult to deal with. “Besides, I saw what I saw,” Sabine adds. “I am not weak-minded, Lord Shadowmaster.” She fixes him with a level stare. “None of us are.”

“So,” Seraphina interjects, “Lord Marlowe ordered Soren to execute you.”

“Yes.” It’s Jemma again. “But Soren helped us escape instead. He got us to Dr. Chen, who kept us hidden until now.”

The questions start flying. Seraphina asks about dates, locations, other vampires involved. Morgan Shadowmaster’s questions are particularly pointed, trying to trip them up. But their story holds.

“So Lucien Marlowe ordered your deaths directly?” Seraphina asks yet again.

“Yes,” both women answer in unison.

The debate that follows makes my stomach churn. Yes, they’ll investigate Lucien. Yes, this proves his involvement. But Soren? He was still there. Still part of it. One moment of conscience doesn’t erase months of complicity.

No, no, no!

I want to scream. They don’t understand about Maxwell’s control over him, about the Maker’s Bond. But even as my frustration builds, something else creeps in – a cold emptiness where Soren’s presence should be. This isn’t like before when he was blocking me. This feels…wrong. Different.

The hollow sensation spreads through my chest as the Conclave members continue their discussion. Something’s happening to him. I can feel it.

I force myself to focus on the meeting once more, feeling a small surge of pride as Gran steps forward, her voice carrying that quiet authority that always draws attention. “If I may, High Priestess? We have another witness. One who has proven his dedication to our kind through the ultimate sacrifice.”

Darick moves forward, and I notice several of the elders shift uncomfortably. It must be strange for them – sensing his changed nature, knowing what he once was.

“This is Darick Drake,” Gran continues. “Former leader of Clan Sanguis, now bound to our family through his love for my granddaughter Rowan.”

Mom and Dad move to flank Gran, a united front. It helps – I can see some of the tension easing from the gathered witches.

“Speak,” Seraphina says, her eyes sharp with interest.

“I cannot speak to what happened in the facility,” Darick says, his voice carrying that odd mix of authority and humility I’m still getting used to. “But before I chose to give up my immortality, I was investigating Lucien Marlowe’s activities within vampire society.”

The clearing falls silent. Even the birds seem to pause.

“He’s been systematically masterminding a series of illegal operations – blood trafficking, witch hunting, political manipulation. All of it carefully hidden behind intermediaries.” Darick’s expression hardens. “Based on what I discovered, I believe that his ultimate goal is to overthrow the Blood Assembly entirely and seize control of vampire leadership.”

Gasps ripple through the gathering. I watch Morgan Shadowmaster’s face carefully – his expression barely changes, but something flickers in his eyes.

“This would destabilize the entire supernatural world,” one of the elders says, her voice trembling.

“Exactly,” Darick responds. “And with the Assembly gone, there would be nothing to stop him from targeting the witch community next.”

“That’s outrageous,” someone mutters. My eyes are still on Morgan, and it’s not him. Are there others among us who support Marlowe?

Cut it out, Mia.

I’m getting suspicious of everyone. But I can’t help myself. I understand why there would be caution in accepting my claims; I’m making some bold statements. But why so much resistance?

The silence stretches after Darick finishes speaking. I hold my breath, willing them to understand the gravity of what we’re facing.

“You have given us much to consider,” Seraphina finally says, her tone measured. “The Conclave will need time to deliberate on these matters and—”

“Time?” The word bursts from me before I can stop it. “We don’t have time! Soren is facing execution. Don’t you understand what’s happening here?”

Mom grabs my arm, trying to quiet me, but I shake her off. The hollow feeling in my chest where Soren should be is growing stronger, feeding my desperation.

“Mia,” Gran warns softly.

“No! I won’t be quiet about this. While you sit here ‘deliberating,’ Lucien is systematically destroying everyone who could expose him. Maxwell is already dead and—”

“Maxwell Kern is dead?” Seraphina frowns.

“Yes! Lucien killed him.”

“I have heard reports of his death,” Morgan breaks in. “Apparently, it was a suicide. A reaction to Daire’s betrayal.”

“Suicide? Are you even listening to yourself? It was Lucien, dammit! How many more need to die before you see what’s right in front of you?” I can’t restrain myself anymore.

Gasps and mutters of outrage ripple through the gathering. Morgan’s face darkens with fury. Even Seraphina’s serene expression hardens.

“You forget yourself, young witch,” she says coldly. “This Council has stood for centuries. We do not make hasty decisions based on emotional outbursts.”

“Then you’re fools,” I snap, magic crackling around me. “Your precious traditions and procedures are exactly what Lucien is counting on. He knows you’ll waste time debating while he acts. And when you finally decide to do something, it’ll be too late.”

“That is enough!” Seraphina’s voice cracks like thunder. “You may have suffered greatly, Mia Blackwood, but that does not give you the right to disrespect this Council.”

The air grows thick with disapproval. I can feel the weight of dozens of disappointed stares. Even my allies – Sabine and Jemma – have shrunk back, looking terrified. All except Dad.

He steps forward, his silver-gray hair gleaming in the dappled light. My heart clenches – I’ve never seen him look so…afraid.

“High Priestess, my deepest apologies for my daughter’s outburst.” His voice carries that quiet dignity I’ve always admired. “But there’s something vital you need to understand. This isn’t just about politics or justice anymore.” He draws a shaky breath. “Mia and Soren share a blood match bond. If he dies …” His voice breaks. “I’ll lose my daughter too. I can’t… I won’t watch my child die.”

The clearing falls silent. Even the wind seems to hold its breath. I see the shock ripple through the gathered witches – Morgan’s eyes widening, several elders exchanging worried glances. Seraphina’s composed expression finally cracks.

“A blood match?” She looks at me with new understanding. “Why wasn’t this brought to our attention immediately?”

“Because we were too focused on the bigger picture,” Gran interjects softly. “The abductions, Lucien’s schemes. But this bond…it changes everything.”

“Indeed it does.” Seraphina straightens, her authority settling around her like a cloak. “We will take this matter up with the Blood Assembly immediately. A blood match cannot be ignored.”

Relief floods through me, but it’s tempered by the fact that I still can’t feel Soren. Time is flying by. Even if they move quickly, will it be enough? The Blood Assembly is as mired in procedure as the Conclave. And Lucien has his hooks deep in both.

I want to believe we have a chance now, but Soren’s absence tells me that something’s gone wrong, and we’re running out of time.

I don’t think we’re going to make it.