“I see,” said Damien, pleased until his vision narrowed on Henri who took a long step away from Amma. She thought to correct him, that no one had even so much as sniffed her neck, but when he strode up to her with another appraising look, her insides went a little too melty to form words.
But then Rapture was just behind him, and Amma soured, biting her cheek to keep the look off her face and her finger off the crossbow’s trigger.
“Congratulations, Ammalie, the council has agreed to assist. It is not for just any human that we would wake the dame of our kind early.” She ran a hand through Damien’s hair, and he remained stoic beneath the caress. “Nor just anyone that could convince a blood mage to appeal on their behalf.”
Amma didn’t know of what exactly the vampire spoke, but she knew it had to be good. Damien explained, as the two left the others to retire for the evening, that after a day of preparation, there would be a ceremony to wake someone called Lycoris which was, as he said in that ominous way of his,a considerable occurrence.
“How will this person help us?” Amma asked when they reached her chamber’s door.
“That is not…entirely clear,” said Damien in a way that made her both believe him and not, but then he changed the subject abruptly, “Your day—was it acceptable?”
Amma nodded, then eagerly told him of the artwork and the gardens.
“Then you feel safe here, yes?” His eyes flicked to the chamber door.
She nodded again, grinning at how silly she had perhaps been to think otherwise.
“Right. Good. Then I’ll just…” He took a step backward, awkwardly rubbing his neck and reaching out blindly for the next door along the way. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Oh, uh?”Shit. Amma looked about, but the hall was quiet, there was nothing even remotely frightening about the polished stone floors or the pretty, glowing water in the walls, and he’d found the other door, opening it and watching her hesitantly. “Yes, of course! I’m fine. I don’t need anyone to…to sleep with me. I, um…I’ve got this now!” She pulled at the strap over her shoulder, yanking the crossbow forward and grabbing for it. There was a click and a snap, and an arrow shot off right into the floor.
She jumped away from where it landed, and the arrow rolled to a stop a few feet away. Damien had gone very still, watching her with wide eyes.
Amma grumbled a minced oath and retrieved the arrow. “Right. Henri did say to never leave it loaded. Forgot.” She pushed her way into her chamber with half a wave at Damien before shutting herself inside where she could properly curl into a ball and try to stop existing until she felt slightly less like a complete fool.
The following day, while the vampires prepared things, Damien and Amma worked on her aim in the morning, and he blessedly did not mention the mishap the night before, but he was vigilant when she had the crossbow in hand, frequently correcting her stance. That was more than fine with Amma, preferring how he gently pressed fingers into her back to make her straighten or ran his hands under her arms to raise them up, and she found herself purposefully getting the stance wrong so he would touch her all over again. Perhaps it wasn’t subtle, but Damien never complained that she couldn’t comprehend the simplicity of standing correctly, nor did he point out how she was curiously capable when he stepped away to observe her from afar.
They then spent the afternoon in one of the many studies where Damien was engrossed in his notes and a few books he’d picked out from the shelves. Left to wander the room without him paying attention, Amma found things the Grand Athenaeum would have hidden away for their debauchery. She curled up in a chair with the most promising one and finished off a story that really had no use for plot but did an extraordinary job of immersing her into the lasciviousness of a relationship neither character had any business being in.
When the candles had burned down, it was time, though for what, Amma was still slightly foggy. Taken deeper into the caverns than they’d yet to be, Amma walked in shuffling silence alongside Damien, flanked by many vampires. The procession was hooded, long shadows of thin forms moving all around them, and at the back, a row of servants carrying crates. Their slow march made Amma feel as though she were suspended in water, the ground gently sloping as the ceiling rose up into a forever darkness above them. The glowing waters were in shorter supply, the troughs at the edge of the walkway narrow, and they traveled into the depths of the karsts by following the lanterns carried at the front of their procession.
Amma’s breath swirled before her with every exhale against the frigid air, nose and fingertips going numb. In the quiet of their march, the wind in the height of the cavern whistled, mimicking whispers that tickled at the back of her mind. There was magic the deeper they went, a sort of latent arcana that seeped up from the black pit they stalked into, and it buzzed around in the cold, reaching out like it had its own hands, assessing the forms as they drew nearer to its source.
The procession stopped, and the lantern bearers stepped away to leave them in the dark. Amma crossed her arms, rubbing her fingers but failing to work warmth back into them. Then a flame sparked to life and chased around a chamber, jumping from newly-illuminated golden brazier to brazier. The polished floors and the glowing water had run out, the rounded space they’d come to as deep into the karsts as it seemed one could go. Cut out of the rock, firelight dancing over the craggy walls and floor, the cavern was ancient and plain save for the braziers fixed to the walls, and though the space was mostly empty, it was filled with something unseen that pulsed from the massive crystal jutting out of the cave’s center. With a smoky, rose-colored hue, the ice-like crystal stood at a slight angle, disrupting the earthen floor beneath, a bed of smaller, jagged crystals breaking through and crawling away like rocky tendrils.
When the lanterns were carried up to it, the shadow hidden inside was revealed. Vaguely human but taller than those who illuminated it, the shadow remained unmoving as the lanterns were placed at the crystal’s base. The five who had led the procession, elder vampires though there was nothing about them that made them appear any older than the rest, approached the crystal, Rapture amongst them.
Silence filtered through the chamber as the five turned to address the rest of the assembled, allowing the arcana to grow louder. It was buzzing in Amma’s mind like the faint sound of voices somewhere far off, Rapture’s voice specifically, and then another she did not recognize but was deep and booming and that Amma could only attribute to one of the elders who was male.
She turned to look at Damien, and he returned her gaze, eyebrow cocking as if to tell her he heard it too. The vampires communicated telepathically, so she could only assume that was what it was, and continued to try and listen. Though none of the words were clear, there were many voices then, coming together to respond in a sort of chant that seemed to finish whatever they had started.
The elders moved in unison, lifting an arm each, fists clenched, pressing it into their chests with a reverent bow. A solemn move, Amma kept her own hands clasped, watching through the steam of her breath as she exhaled. And then the elders lifted their wrists to their mouths, and crimson poured down their arms, seeping from the wounds they made with their fangs.
Amma would have wavered had she not been so used to blood, but as it stood, she simply watched each elder take a turn approaching the crystal where a basin was carved into the center of it. Scarlet spattered onto the pink stone, drop by drop, their wounds healing when each was finished.
When the elders completed the blood letting, they stepped back, and the other vampires went then, one at a time, to do the same. A careful walk to the massive crystal, a bite, a drip, and a retreat to rejoin the mass. Amma watched in fascination as each one completed the ritual so fluidly, no hesitation to wound themselves, to sacrifice something so hard-won and rare. Then a thought occurred to her.
Voice as low as possible, she leaned very close to Damien. “Are we supposed to…contribute?”
He brought his lips to her ear. “Only vampiric blood will wake Lycoris, though I do intend to make a ceremonial offer for us as a show of good faith.”
“For both of us?” she asked, watching Asphodel approach the crystal and complete the ritual.
“Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper in the quiet of the chamber. “You are welcome to as well, if you desire, but it is not necessary or expected.”
Asphodel rejoined the rest, but her golden eyes flicked right to Amma, finding her in the midst of the crowd. She flashed her a covert grin with blood-stained fangs.
Amma leaned into Damien again. “I want to.”
