Page 137 of Plug and Claim

It had only taken a few minutes, but Barbara was back to full health and now looked to be in her mid-thirties.

“I took too much,” she said with a click of her tongue.

“Not at all.” He ran his tongue over his wrist, his saliva helping the wound clot faster to stem the bleeding.

Kira, meanwhile, was gaping at him. He knew she could see the way his eyes glowed red, as they always did when he bit someone. Except this time, it hadn’t been him doing the feeding, and he felt weak.

Kira was watching him in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Witches can live a very long time,” Nathaniel explained. “Indefinitely, some would say. And in order to conjure magic, witches sacrifice their own life essence. If they cast too many spells, it leads to depletion, ageing them, and can even result in death. Vampire blood has regenerative properties that can—”

“You make it sound so clinical, Nat,” Barbara complained.

“Nat?” Kira repeated.

If he didn’t know any better, she was jealous. But she had no reason to be. He’d never felt any romantic inclination towards the witch, and besides, she was several generations older than him. After living a few centuries, most witches and wizards became silly and struggled to string two sensible words together, as if the magic had addled their brain.

Barbara swung her legs out of bed and turned to Kira, her voice bubbly. “Listen, deary. It is the reciprocal nature of things. Using magic is terribly draining, as I’m sure you can imagine. Once upon a time, witches, vampires and wolves all lived closely together. We witches relied on vampires for their blood to restore us. Contrary to what you may think, the vampires of olden days were not our enemies. First and foremost, they were healers.”

Kira, who had been listening patiently, scoffed. “Vampires were healers?”

“Oh, yes. Before King Henrikk led this generation astray, and I suppose the generation before that wasn’t much to boast about, either…the world was very different. We had balance. Although, Nathaniel’s father isn’t solely to blame for the state of things. The Wolf King started it all by invading the vampire’s ancestral lands, and the two factions have been at each other’s throats ever since. Actually, I remember a time—”

“Are you really the last witch?” Kira asked.

Barbara nodded sadly. “As far as I know, I’m the last witch in the world. Nathaniel has protected me all these years.”

“Has he now?” Kira asked, looking at him quizzically.

“Oh, yes, indeed. It was his idea for me to live in the Capital. Rather genius, in my opinion, although I wasn’t keen on the idea at first. But really, who would suspect an illegal witch to be hiding amongst the thick of things? Good thing vampires can’t smell shit—it’s the wolves I worry about. There is a reward for turning in illegals, as you know, and while most wolves wouldn’t ever think to do such a thing…”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Kira said.

Barbara smiled. “I know.”

“May I ask, how old are you, exactly?”

“I have no age as you would measure it, dear.”

“I don’t understand,” Kira said, confused.

“Witches are ageless,” Nathaniel explained. “Forever young, rendering them almost immortal—except when they’re stupid enough to use magic recklessly,” he added, raising his voice pointedly for Barbara’s sake.

“I wasn’t being reckless,” Barbara said, hopping out of bed.

“We’ve talked about this, Barb. I can’t help you if you’re dead.”

Kira sank down to perch on the edge of an overturned cauldron. “Barb?”

“Oh shush,” Barbara said to him. “Just wait until you see what I’ve made for you.”

She began pottering around a teetering tower made of hodgepodge items. It was a fascinating collection featuring several rusty cauldrons, beaded jewellery, animal skulls, mouldy tapestries, and, amongst other things, a lute with broken strings, all held together by a mesh of green brambles.

Barbara plucked a blackberry from a branch and popped it into her mouth as she disappeared behind the tower in search of something. “Ah, here it is.”

She reappeared on the other side of the tower hauling a heavy coat of white fur.

Kira flinched as Barbara threw it down at their feet, a cloud of dust swirling into the air, causing them to cough.