I take Ruvan’s hand gently. “Callos is going to help you, he’ll know how to make it work,” I whisper. “You said it yourself, Callos is one of the greatest minds alive when it comes to the blood lore.”
I’m not speaking for Ruvan’s sake right now. I know he’s too far gone to hear me. I’m trying to reassure myself. As if I could, through words alone, push away the reality crashing down around me.
Ruvan looks worse than on the night of the Blood Moon. His skin is hard, fingers bony. They’ve always been long, but they seem longer right now. I lay my hand over his, trying to remember how large it was last night. Is it larger? Is he already growing claws like the Lost? How much longer until one of the people most loyal to him shove a blade through his chest?
Winny and Lavenzia flank me. They look on solemnly. I swallow. My side is already mending. The vampir magic we share is able to heal me but not him.
“Take my magic,” I murmur. “Take it back, take it from me, give it to him.”
“Unfortunately that’s not going to help the progression of the curse.” Callos’s voice cuts through the room, echoing off the high ceiling. His footsteps are quick to follow. Quinn is behind with a box that clanks softly—the elixir he was working on, I suspect. Callos halts at the altar. He doesn’t ask for vials of blood. He doesn’t move. He just stares.
His stillness prompts motion in me. My hands fly to his collar. Winny’s hands are on my shoulders. I don’t budge as she tries to pull me away.
“Give him the elixir.” I demand with a shake.
“I don’t think that will be enough.” Callos answers me but his eyes are still on Ruvan. “Not this time.”
“My blood, then.” I release Callos and step away. I go to get my magic dagger, realizing it was left on the floor in the room. That’s fine, it was a weapon for killing—for taking. I doubt it would help Ruvan now. Maybe it was because of my nicking myself to summon Loretta that Ruvan is in this position. The things I craft bring death. I don’t make anything that saves a life. I draw a dagger from Winny’s belt and slice my forearm. “Take it.”
“It’s not going to be enough.” Callos shakes his head.
“I am his bloodsworn, of course it’s enough.”
Callos just looks at me with sad, shining eyes. He slowly shakes his head.
“The Hunter’s Elixir and my blood together, then.”
“He fought aLost,” Callos says softly. “It’s a wonder any of you got out of there alive.” He looks back to Ruvan. “He exerted himself too much. The curse has progressed too far; it’ll claim him at any moment.”
“I will not let any of you touch him.” My voice rises with emotion. None of them move as I hover by the alter, unarmed but ready to fight for the man behind me.
“And what do you think you can do to stop this?” Ventos barks. “What do you think that you can do as a human that generations of vampir couldn’t?”
Generations. I think of the academy and the hundreds of vampir still slumbering. Giving off an unnatural red-tinted light, the same shade as my dagger, as the Blood Moon, as everything I’ve come to associate with power when it comes to the vampir. It’s the one idea I had, though I was hoping something else would work since I already know what I’m about to suggest is a long shot.
“Can we put him to sleep?” I whisper.
“To sleep?” Quinn repeats.
“You don’t mean…” Lavenzia abandons the thought in shock.
I focus only on Callos. “The stasis slows the curse. Do you think it would work now?”
“Of course it won’t work.” Ventos is always the first to shoot me down. Always the pessimist. “When we entered into the long night, it was part of a great ritual that we were not the leaders of. And we used our own magic—our own life blood—to encase ourselves. You can’t perform that kind of ritual on another person.”
“It was a great ritual because so many were being encased at once. This is just one man, we have enough strength between us,” I insist. “And his life blood… I’ll substitute my own. I’m his bloodsworn after all, our lives are intertwined. I’ll be his proxy.”
“Would that work?” Winny asks Callos. He strokes his chin.
“We are not the great scholars that lived in the academy and studied from Jontun’s original pupils,” Ventos grumbles.
“Speak for yourself.” Callos looks over his shoulder at Ventos, giving his companion a pointed glare. “This is exactly why the academy chose me to wake this late. They knew the protections on our people might be beginning to waver. They chose me to inspect the state of the long night and fortify as needed. I was given insight into the ritual, top to bottom.”
“So you think we can do it?” I ask, trying not to let hope get too far ahead of me.
Callos meets my eyes. There’s a fire in him I’ve never seen before. I’ve worked with Callos for weeks in the smithy and saw nothing like this. These are the eyes of a man rising to the challenge. Rising to the moment.
“I think we should try. And if we’re going to have any chance of success, we need to move quickly.” He takes the lead, beginning to bark orders. “Lavenzia, fill the silver chalice with water. Winny, Quinn, the two of you begin preparing a collection in the golden chalice. As soon as that’s in hand, Winny, I need you to go to my room and collect the crimson shroud I’ve been working on. Ventos, get as much of the elixir from him as you can, we don’t want it diluting things.”
