“I asked you how your skill has been increased without the aid of Omar.”
“Oh, sorry, Your Majesty.” I hesitated for a second, worried that bringing up Schwint might not have a positive effect, but then decided that it might actually help. “Schwint has been practicing with me, teaching me what he knows about magic and the power of elements. Fairy magic is different from a witch’s power, but he has taught me quite a bit, nonetheless.”
He nodded. “Very well. It seems I have been proven correct that it would be beneficial to allow the fairy to stay with you.” He turned from me, stepping toward the pool in the center of the room. “It is time that you begin to take charge of some of your responsibilities. Many I will not give you until your powers increase. Others can handle the burden for you. However, there are certain things I cannot trust to any other than my personal warlock.”
Pausing, he turned when I didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he inspected me. “What seems to be the issue now, Warlock Finn? Have I not provided you with enough sustenance?”
Any other day, I would have been able to think through my words quicker—judge what the reaction might be. However, there had been too much this day, and I couldn’t function as I should. As it was, I spoke as my thoughts dictated.
“That’s just it, Your Majesty. I was under the assumption that a witch would lose their power, the gifts over the elements, if transitioned.”
He threw his head back and laughed, the girlish trill ricocheting off the marble walls. “Transitioned? You believe yourself to have been elevated to vampire?”
I stared at him gaping stupidly. I looked from him to the blood covering the floor and back once more.
He laughed again, though any humor that had been there a moment ago had vanished. “I expect you to use your brain just as much as I do your power. A brainless puppet will do me no good.”
Mentally, I shoved through the information, trying to make some sense of it. It was too much. All of it, too much. Too fast. “I’m not transitioned?”
He turned from me and began pacing the distance between there and the pool, reminding me of Omar. “As I have told you, you will take my blood. I would not have patience for such a steep learning curve if I were investing a mortal life span. What good would sixty more years do me?”
As before, the flood of information, questions, and emotions threatened to be my undoing. Sixty more years. Such a fate was unfathomable. Sixty.
I also attempted to search through my vampiric knowledge. Did there have to be a blood exchange between a vampire and their victim to trigger a transition? Had to be. The realization that I wasn’t becoming a vampire and that there were no such plans allowed my heartbeat to quiet its reverberations.
Gwala made one more path from the pool and stood in front of me once more. “There will be many times that you will drink from my veins. And while it will not directly increase your power, it will strengthen both your body and mind, which will positively impact your effectiveness.”
It seemed he expected me to say something, but I wasn’t sure what. I wasn’t about to ask another question. “Yes, sire.”
His brows knitted, then relaxed. Gwala extended his hand toward the surface of the water, still not taking his eyes off me. “I had planned that Omar would teach you the intricacies of what is required before his passing, but that is not to be. You must learn on your own, and you must learn with expedience.”
Before his passing?
“You are to speak of this to no one. I will allow you to share your knowledge with the fairy, especially since he may be of assistance with the speed you are able to acquire the necessary knowledge. Neither you nor he is to speak of it with your sister and the other fairy who have taken up residence outside my forest. Nor are you to discuss it with the other witches in my employment.” Gwala stepped to the edge of the pool and let the silver material slide over his shoulders and drop to the floor, half of it falling into the water.
“I will return momentarily.” He moved to step into the water, then looked back, pausing. “If my nudity is unpleasurable to you, I suggest having my robe dry at my return.” As if stepping across the floor, he slipped beneath the water.
I looked behind me at the still-open door and the distant marble staircase beyond, like I could run away, rescue Cynthia, and get the others before Gwala returned from his swim. The ignorant spark of hope that flared only served to leave yet another ache in my chest. I turned, walked toward the pool, and retrieved the silver garment. I peered into the water, expecting to spot Gwala’s slender form easily. He was nowhere to be seen. I could see the entire pool, which seemed a replica of the room I occupied, only a smaller bowl shape. Though I couldn’t tell how deep it was, the bottom was easily visible.
My fingers brushed against the sodden robe as I continued to look into the depths. Wait and have his clothes dry. Easy enough.
By the time I stood and folded the material in my arms, it was dry. Even if I was certain I didn’t have enough information to ascertain any answers on my own, I couldn’t keep my mind from rifling through what Gwala had said.
Like Sonia, he alluded to other witches at the Vampire Cathedral. Hell, alluded, nothing, he’d stated as much like it was a well-known fact. How many others were here, what did they do for him, and where were they?
Selfishly, concern for my fellow witches was quickly replaced by thoughts of those around me. If Gwala really was planning on keeping me for a more extended period of time, what did that mean for Cynthia? Would he feed her his blood as he did me, or was I doomed to watch powerlessly as she aged and died within her golden cage?
What did it mean for Schwint and me? Would he die as well? Or would he be set free to live out his life without me once I accomplished the level of power Gwala desired? Maybe neither option. It made more sense that, once he’d been used to Gwala’s satisfaction, he wouldn’t be allowed to live.
I tried to remember how long Omar had been trapped in the Vampire Cathedral. Had he or Gwala told me? I felt like they had, but I couldn’t retrieve the information.
He’d been married. To Hazel. I’d forgotten about her in the insanity of the day. Hazel, married to the voice. The voice being her husband who could communicate with me all the way from Costa Rica to San Diego. Obviously, he’d been able to do the same with her. No wonder she’d seemed to know so much about me. Omar must have been filling her in on what Gwala wanted with me. The notion chilled me for some reason—at the thought that I’d allowed some suggestion she’d offered to alter my decisions. Had I been manipulated somehow? Like I’d even know if I had.
Maybe I could just figure out what I didn’t know. I wouldn’t even have to find the answers, just uncover enough to make sense of what was going on. It was like I’d been given five pieces of a thousand-piece puzzle and not allowed to see the cover of the box to know what picture I was trying to form.
I flinched as Gwala rose back to the surface of the pool. His fingers curled over the rounded edge, and he pulled himself up easily, a long chain clenched in his right fist. Without any acknowledgement, he walked toward the far side of the pool. As he moved, rivulets of water ran over his dark skin, looking like small jewels in the firelight.
Still averting my eyes from his nudity, I watched as he continued several feet past the edge of the pool, then placed his left hand on the side of the curved marble wall for support. Reaching up with his other hand, he slipped one link of the chain onto a hook mounted beside one of the sconces. I hadn’t noticed it being any different from all the other fixtures evenly spaced over the room.
