He sighs, looks up at me, and nods.
“I know you’re right. I’m worried this will not be the last time, Caria. If we let them get away with it, it will only fuel their confidence.”
Reiner looks at me, pained. I know he is right; if we do not act at all, it’ll serve as an invitation—a welcome to take from thecity and its citizens. I ponder how we can send them a message that they are not wanted here, nor are we afraid of them and their Dhampir. It should be done in a way that no one gets harmed by those damn humans again, a way to keep them out.
“We should put up wards around the city walls, to protect it from the humans, at least. I don’t know if we can conjure wards strong enough to keep a dhampir out; I assume that would depend on its age and how many witches it has murdered… But if we do that, it’ll give us some time to figure this out,” I suggest to Reiner.
“For a youngling, you’re a smart one,” he teases. “That’s a brilliant suggestion, Caria. Let’s infuse those stones with some solid magic. Powerful enough to impress the Dhampir, perhaps even make him stay away from Valorya.”
Reiner gets up, and I follow him on unsteady feet, still a bit dizzy, like a newborn deer stumbling after its mother. He takes my arm to steady me as he looks at me worryingly, his mismatched eyes studying me, almost as if reassuring himself that I can do this. I take his handsome face in my hands and assure him I’m fine and can handle this, that I have the energy to help him. Reiner concedes but insists I’ll rest after this is done, and I agree.
We walk through the city, which is eerily quiet. The silent streets are evidence that we are not the only ones who are shaken. The few creatures I spot on the street give us a curt nod as a way of thanks; others whisper as we pass by. I do not miss the word dhampir in the murmurs. The dismay is evident throughout the city.
Reiner halts me, the decaying bodies of the humans we murdered still in the square. I see him look around warily, unsure why the humans left their companions to rot or, worse, be feasted on, desecrated. Yet, all of them remain untouched.
“Careful, Reiner, perhaps they poisoned themselves, even if we see no dead birds, a final straw in their mission to kill us,” I warn.
He nods, then lets a tendril of fog investigate the corpse. Holding their clothes and smelling them is one thing, but prodding into their flesh and bodily fluids could hold more danger. As I watch him probe the carcass, he inspects it. I instantly know what he intends to do with the bodies, as the same thought had crossed my mind. Necromancy and blood magic are more accepted in our covens. I watch witches scurry away, some muttering, perhaps even chastising us, not willing to witness what we are doing here, a form of our coven’s collective magic not everyone is comfortable with.
Vampires are watching us, their curiosity too strong to move on. I can tell they are uncertain whether we are meddling with their food. Fresh corpses can still be drained of blood after all. Funnily enough, though, none of the darklings touched any of the bodies; no one was brave enough. Most of us are still shaken by the bold attack, and since we don’t know whether this was a suicide mission or not, cautiousness is warranted.
Reiner starts to murmur a chant, his eyes slowly flashing white and glazing over. He takes hold of my hand, then tells me to join him, repeating after him. I do so obediently; as I reiterate his words, I sense my magic taking hold of me, consuming me. I perceive that my lungs are filling up, a weighty sensation as if water is being poured inside. I breathe through it, just as we practiced in the past, as I continue to chant. Instead of succumbing to the panic attack that I feel surging through me, I am accepting the sensation of drowning, letting my magic devour my entire being. A prickling tingling spreads throughout my body, as it did before. Vaguely, I hear Reiner telling me not to hold back, to let it all out, to submit. I inhale deeply, close my eyes, and relax all my muscles. The magic is stirring throughmy body, and I feel it roaring and unfurling from my fingertips to my toes. My whole body feels like I'm on fire—a fire that has been ignited—and I won’t be able to withdraw; I don’t want to. It frightens and thrills me simultaneously. As I open my eyes, the world is layered with a thin, gray haze. I proceed to murmur the incantation, the words Reiner is reciting, my shadows following his fog’s example.
One by one, the corpses rise, our shadow and fog holding them up. Reiner takes out his athame, which is set with onyx and garnet, and cuts his hand without flinching. It’s a practice he has done numerous times, as it’s part of our spell work to use blood. He stands up and does the same to the corpses, cutting their tender, bloating flesh. None of them pay him any attention, their glazed eyes staring into the distance. He looks at me, and I offer him my hand without saying a word. I wince as the blade slices through my skin, splitting it, and blood drops form on the gash.
I hear Reiner speak thesanguinespell, and droplets of our blood start multiplying until a giant vortex of dark red blood is in front of us, whirling angrily. I take a cautious step behind Reiner; that blood is not to be touched by a living person, as it will drain your body. Its will to grow does not distinguish between those who created it. As he continues his spell work, each body receives a stream of the violent mixture, bringing the dead back to life. The fog and shadow return to us with each rise.
Reiner summons the small army of corpses to follow him, and they march after us with unexpected speed as we move ourselves to the city's outer walls. As the old, rough stone, overgrown with moss comes into view, he halts the zombie-like creatures, and we quickly raise protective wards. These will keep the humans the darklings keep as pets within the city's walls and those outside at bay, unable to enter. We pray silently that the Dhampir is alone and not foolish enough to charge the city whenunaccompanied and without its human puppets. Despite its strength, even the Dhampir does not stand a chance against this many opponents simultaneously. With these sacrifices ready, courtesy of the foolish humans who attacked us, Reiner might stand a chance. The benefits are another reason why witches and vampires coexist here, mostly in peace.
Reiner stations the summoned corpses outside the wall as gatekeepers, a cruel gift from us to the humans. I smirk at the act; if they want the bodies, the humans need to kill their friends in combat, in a death match. Cut off their heads, to be precise, if they want the corpses to stay down, a small revenge for the horror they inflicted upon us, our kin. Their horror will not stop there. Once the head is separated from the body, the actual fun begins. The conjured blood will want to find a new host, like a parasite; it’s a spectacle we, unfortunately, need to miss. I remember witnessing it when I was still a child, and my coven brought me along for a blood sports tournament, where humans and resurrected corpses were pitted against one another. If the conjured blood turns cold, it’ll dissolve, but it will be a laborious battle for the humans, as the blood cannot be stabbed or shot; all you can do is try to outrun it. It is a method for violently obtaining blood for spells and magic. It’s sadistic and precisely what they deserve.
As Reiner and I return to the square after installing the small army of corpses and putting up the wards, I spot Fynn and Jodelle holding hands and laughing; I imagine he peppers her face with soft kisses daily and I roll my eyes.
“Jealous?” Reiner asks as he follows my gaze.
“Why would I be jealous?” I spit back.
I shrug; he can fuck his little human girlfriend all he wants. We walk toward them, my eyes locked on Fynn, ignoring her, knowing she finds that infuriating.
“Do you think what the girl said this morning holds any truth?” Reiner says, ignoring my response.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I’ve been mulling over Harlot's words, unsure whether she's pulling another trick or if what she said is indeed true.
“I don’t know Reiner,” I sigh, “I find her hard to read. Harlot is cunning. She lowered her barriers on purpose, learning how to do so, to convince me she was no threat. Yet I was fully aware that Umbra of hers lurked nearby, ready to rip off the head of anyone who even touched a hair on her precious head. She could be vulnerable with me, but she never truly is—not now that she is bonded withhim. Fuck, even the Dhampir is none of their concern. Which moron ever thought it'd be a good idea to make a creature that powerful? I mean, we are lucky he barely shows any interest in all the shit that’s going down in the cities up North. If he wanted to, he could easily kill evenyou, Reiner! A flick of his fingertips and he’d eliminate all of us. No one is a match for that freak!” I say, raising my voice, feeling perturbed.
“Well, time to find out. Bat those eyelashes at the pretty boy,” he whispers in my ear, disregarding my outburst.
He gives me an almost imperceptible slap on my ass, the firmness of it makes me yelp. Leave it to him to encourage me. Reiner gives me a toothy, teasing grin.
“If it isn’t the happy couple,” I say, only acknowledging Fynn as I give him a wink.
He smiles, and I swear his eyes light up at the sight of me. Jodelle, on the other hand, looks as if she’s ready to strangle me; her eyes narrow as she tries to stare me down. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, she’s interrupted.
“I don’t think we have met yet. Hello, beautiful.”
I hear Reiner's deep voice beside me, and I see him taking Jodelle's hand from the corner of my eye. Her flirty giggle in response makes me nauseous.
“Your… boyfriend?” Fynn inquires cautiously as he eyes Reiner.
