“I’ve gathered us all because Drew has information of his own to share. As Ventos and I discovered, there was a vampir hiding in the form of a raven. And that vampir seemed to be controlling the minds of the master hunters and thus Hunter’s Hamlet across generations, Drew most recently.”
“That’s possible?” Winny whispers. She looks to Ruvan, whose face betrays nothing, and then to Callos.
“There’s writing from Jontun’s personal records of the blood lore being used in such a way, long ago. Though it’s brief and was never published at large due to how dangerous it was deemed,” Callos admits hesitantly. “Some archivists have theorized that was how King Solos could control the initial humans kept for their blood. That he had tapped into their minds and made them his willing servants. They knew nothing beyond pleasing the vampir.”
The information is heavy and I slowly ease back into my seat. Ruvan had said that he wouldn’t blame the initial humans for resenting the vampir’s treatment so much that they would lay a curse. But I hadn’t considered it possible that the Vampir King had stripped complete autonomy from them to the point that not even their minds were their own. If that’s true, how did one escape? How did the one who led the group from the castle break the blood lore?
The more I learn, the more questions I have.
“If they were rare, and private records of Solos and Jontun, how does a rogue vampir know how to perform this feat?” Ruvan asks the question on all of our minds. His tone is rough, angry.
“Could this other vampir have been a lord?” Ventos wonders. “He knewpowerfulblood lore to disarm me. It wasn’t unlike your blood control, my lord. He might have once had access to these old tomes.”
Ruvan’s focus remains on Drew. “Tell us everything you know about the vampir that controlled you.”
Drew swallows thickly. I can tell how hard this is for him to talk about. I know as a hunter he’s sworn to keep his ways a secret from all who would seek them. But that was before we both knew the hunters have long been a front for a vampir, seeking…
Vengeance. Blood. Loretta.
“When Davos was killed, the bird took flight,” Drew begins finally. His eyes drift to Ruvan. “We fought.” Ruvan shifts slightly in his seat next to me but says nothing. “Everything went hazy, blurry. I was fading in and out of consciousness… I could feel my life slipping away. But then the bird came to me and itspoke. I thought I was hallucinating from blood loss. But it asked if I wished to live, and of course I told it yes. It said the price would be my blood.”
“A bloodsworn?” I direct the question at Ruvan and Callos.
Callos considers this and asks Drew, “Do you have a mark somewhere on your body? One like this?” Callos grabs Winny’s hand and holds up her arm, pulling down her sleeve to expose Ruvan’s mark on her body.
“No, I don’t think so.” Drew shakes his head. “Not that I’ve found.”
Ruvan hums. “A bloodsworn would leave a mark that could be seen and questioned. It would make sense for this vampir to not arouse suspicion.” He looks to me. “Plus, I told you that becoming bloodsworn doesn’t grant any kind of control over the other. This is blood lore, no doubt, but not a sworn oath.”
“It didn’t matter what it was to me in that moment,” Drew continues. “I told the creature to take my blood. I had promised it to my family, to the hunters, had spilled it in the marshes—it had long since stopped being my own, anyway. I had to keep living to serve.”
The urge to touch my brother is overwhelming. I think of all his smiles. The joy he’d project from being a hunter and serving Hunter’s Hamlet. All a lie. All a farce. He’d been living for everyone but himself.
And I never saw it.
Me—the one who’s supposed to know him better than anyone, who should know what he’s thinking with a mere glance. I didn’t see past his front. Maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I couldn’t. No wonder he never gave up on those childhood dreams of escaping the hamlet. He was still dreaming them.
The idea shakes me to my core, rattling a cornerstone of my world much more important than the hunters themselves ever were.
“Then, the raven drank from my wounds. I felt its beak pierce my flesh. Its talons sank into me, and I drifted away, lost and trapped within my own body.” Drew rests his head in his hands, staring at the grains of the table. No, looking past them, back to that horrific place he describes. “I would see the world and could feel myself moving within it. When I looked in a mirror, I would see my own eyes. But I would not see the bird on my shoulder. Hovering behind me was a man.”
“Mirrors show the truth in all things; even the most powerful blood magic can’t obscure it.” It now occurs to me why the vampir covered all their mirrors. I can’t imagine the pain it would be to know you were cursed but only ever see yourself as you once were. “Describe this man,” Ruvan commands.
“He had bulging veins and paper-thin skin. The whites of his eyes had turned black. His hair was a mottled brown and his protruding fangs were gnarled. He looked like Death itself.”
“It sounds like the curse,” I say.
“It does.” Callos taps his fingers. “A vampir would be afflicted by it, just as we are, even in the Natural World…but perhaps he’s been able to subsist off human blood and whatever other strength he can derive from this blood lore he’s woven. That’s how he’s made it for so long outside of stasis.”
“What did he have you do?” Ruvan remains focused on Drew.
“Normal things for the master hunter. Or, I thought them normal. Tasks Davos always performed. But I suppose it would all seem normal…that bird was in his brain, too. That vampire—vampir—isthe master hunter.”
“When you say this man was in your brain…” Winny leaves her question hanging.
“He commanded me. He had control of my body. It was as if my mind had been removed entirely. And if I tried to break too close to the surface he would push me back. He would tell me that my sacrifice was for the greater good. That I had failed in killing the lord of the vampires but I could still serve the hunters with my submission and begin our preparations for the next Blood Moon.”
“Why would a vampir be trying to kill the lord of the vampir?” I sweep my gaze across the table. None of them seem to want to answer. Their silence and stewing anxiousness only further spurs me. My mind begins to follow the logical progression of what’s laid before me. “He had mentioned a throne… What if he’s trying to take power for himself?”
