Bloodwitch (24 page)

The question then was: If I told him what was going on, what would he do? He said he had studied for a time as a witch, so he would at least know what Shantel magic was capable of. Would he want to try to help the trainers—or would he support the Obsidian guild’s plan and turn on Midnight? Would he report immediately to Jeshickah?

Since he was already loyal to Midnight, Jeshickah would probably trust him.

That was assuming he wasn’t too bitter about being
told to leave by the Shantel. He didn’t seem to like Midnight, but that didn’t mean he wanted to overthrow it.

“What if someone could fight Midnight?” I asked.

My host shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Midnight has spent the last century playing the shapeshifter nations against each other. Sometimes I think that having a common enemy in the vampires is all that keeps most of us from outright war with each other.”

That was bleak. What was the point of fighting Midnight if it might only lead to more devastation?

“It’s up to you, Vance,” he said.

I looked up, confused, because I hadn’t said anything.

“The vision I had in the Shantel temple involved me working on one of the vampires,” he said. “There was some kind of sickness. Given your anxiety at the moment and the severity of Jeshickah’s reaction, I have to assume the sickness in that vision is the one afflicting Midnight now, and that at least some of the vampires have contracted it. You’re trying to decide whether or not to ask me for my help. Am I right?”

I nodded slowly. “You’re a healer?”

He shook his head. “I am, or was, a deathwitch. My power is with the dead.”

“The trainers aren’t dead.”

He gave me a look that was half pity and half patience. “Vance … all the vampires are dead. That is their nature. Magic and power animate them, but their bodies are dead.
I cannot manipulate their minds in any way, but I could manipulate their flesh and perhaps undo damage done by a foreign magic.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not sure, no, but there is a chance.”

“Are you going to?” I asked. “Now that you know, are you going to go to Mistress Jeshickah and—”

“I already told you,” he said, interrupting, “that it is up to you. In the vision I seemed to be helping the vampires, but I could have been concealing my true purpose. The possibility that I would help them with our sacred magic disturbed me so deeply that I had to leave my home, but at that time I did not know all I do now. I only know my power led me to you, just as it surely drew you to me tonight. I will abide by your decision.”

“If the trainers die and Mistress Jeshickah does not, she has said she will just start over,” I said, “with the Obsidian guild.”

My voice sounded far away. I could barely hear it past the pounding of my own heart.

“Children of Obsidian are not easily broken,” my host said. “If the Mistress of Midnight insists on starting with them, it may buy us time and win her nothing.”

“Time for what?”

He stopped to think but finally admitted, “Time for another miracle, perhaps. The trainers are not the only vampires in Midnight. Jeshickah created them like she created
the empire itself. She might be weakened without them, but she will recover.”

“Then we need to make sure she’s infected, too.” Had I spoken those words aloud? Or were they just in my head?

One of the slaves had been infected trying to clean up spilled blood. It did not take much to transmit the disease. If the Shantel witch was in close contact with Jeshickah, and the infected trainers, and me, there would surely be some chance to pass the disease on to …

 … to the woman who had raised me and given me everything.

 … to the woman who had savagely beaten Malachi and made it clear she had no regard for my life when her trainers were threatened.

“Jeshickah will kill us if she thinks we have betrayed her,” I added.

“She will do worse,” he replied. “Death is not so bad.” He paused before adding, “They say a quetzal can’t be broken—that your power will drive you mad and kill you before it will allow you to live in a cage. Is it true?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we’ll see.”

With that ominous statement he started assembling the necessary traveling supplies on the bed. “We should leave immediately—if you’re sure?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but I don’t think I can stand to
do nothing, either. Besides, your visions brought you here. Who am I to defy fate?”

He laughed as he pulled the drawstring on the bag he had hastily packed. “There is no defying fate. There is no submitting to fate. I do not know if we have free will, only that we cannot know what fate has planned, so we need to
act
as if we make all of our own decisions. This is your choice, Vance. What do you want me to do—try to save them, or try to end them?”

“This is my choice,” I echoed. How could this be my choice?

Yet it was, and I had decided.

“If we can end Midnight,” I answered, “we should.”

End
. A gentle word for murder.

Traitor
, my mind whispered to me.

Yes, I was. I had betrayed the Azteka and all the shapeshifters by loving the trainers to begin with, and by having a heart loyal to Midnight. Now I was betraying my heart at the whims of my … what? My mind, or my soul? Either way I was twice a traitor.

“Why won’t you tell me your name?” I asked as we mounted our horses and started up the path.

“My people believe that names have a great deal of power. In this case my concern is that names get put into songs and stories,” he answered. “Whether we succeed or fail, I do not think I want to be remembered for this.”

Despite the late hour, the road was busy with guards and merchants moving to and from the market, which put an end to conspiratorial conversations. I should not have been surprised when we passed a bend in the road and saw Kadee standing there.

“Torquil convinced Misha to look for the Azteka,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”

“A Shantel witch,” I answered. I started to add more, but another merchant passed us, close enough to overhear our words. “He … thinks he can help us with our problem.” Kadee would think the witch meant to heal the trainers, not kill them, but I couldn’t think of any safe way to tell her the true plan.

“That’s convenient,” Kadee remarked, casting a baleful eye at the witch. Without asking, she reached toward me and swung up on the saddle behind me.

“It is not convenient when the magic itself tells you where to be,” the witch replied.

“Prophecy,” Kadee said, shaking her head. “So, you can heal them?”

The Shantel shrugged. “I have never seen a vampire fall ill or even have a lingering injury, so I have never tested whether my magic could possibly heal one.”

“At least we can save Malachi,” Kadee said, “if we save the trainers.”

I wanted to comfort her and tell her what we also intended to do, but it was hard for me to speak, even if I dared
risk being overheard. The closer we came to Midnight, the tighter my throat grew and the louder my heart pounded.

The main building of Midnight was surrounded by a high, ominous iron fence. The gates were guarded, but the men recognized the Shantel traveling with me and let us in as easily as the vampires themselves had let my poison into their blood. I wanted to warn Kadee to flee before the Shantel witch gave her permission to enter with us, but couldn’t do so without betraying our true purpose.

All my fault.

“Breathe, Vance,” Kadee whispered to me, squeezing my hand after I dismounted. “We just need to get through this so we can get her to release Malachi.”

My gaze lingered for a minute on the door to the stable loft where I had so recently lived. It hadn’t been as beautiful as Brina’s greenhouse, but it had been a home. It looked small from here. Maybe I had only just recognized that it could not shelter me when all this was done.

We approached the main gates. Again the guards let us pass, as did the ones on the west wing. Finally we stood at Jeshickah’s door.

For long moments we stood there, none of us brave enough to knock. What would we find beyond?

We were still staring when the door opened. Jeshickah stood there, dressed in slacks and a man’s button-down shirt that was tied at the waist. Her face was pale, but her black eyes were hard as jet as she regarded the three of us.

“What is this?” she asked.

“We brought a witch,” I said. I flinched as the focus of her attention turned to me. For the first time, it occurred to me that she might be furious that we had defied her, even if she believed that we came with help. “I know you did not want one, but when he mentioned his power, I had to ask. I could not stand to do nothing.”

Slowly, she looked at the guard.

The Shantel took a half step back. “Pardon our presumption, Mistress,” he said, “but I may be able to help. I was trained as a witch before I came to work in Midnight.”

She stared again at all of us, each movement lethargic. I wondered whether she had avoided feeding to protect herself from this plague, or whether she was simply exhausted. At that moment she seemed almost pitiable. Almost like a person, instead of the almighty evil power she was supposed to be.

“Very well,” she said at last. “You may enter.”

THE GUARD GLANCED
at Jeshickah for permission before approaching the unconscious trainers in the back cell. There was no expression on her face anymore. She did not look angry, or hopeful, or sad. She just looked … blank. Was it exhaustion that had stripped her of all emotions, or was this what she was like when she did not bother to hide her true face?

She gestured for us to go before her, but it took all my willpower to walk through that heavy black door.

The Shantel witch knelt next to a fair-skinned, blond vampire whose name I did not know. Maybe I should have been grateful that the deathwitch had started with someone I had no attachment to, but it felt like he was stalling so I would have more time to panic.

“What will you do?” I asked.

Was he just going to pretend to help while letting them die, or was he actually going to try to find a way to
kill
them? Would it be quick or slow? How long would it take for Jeshickah to realize what we were doing?

“I need to examine them first,” he said, “but I think the Azteka magic may have disconnected them from their original source of power. Mistress Jeshickah, if I am right, I may need your blood in order to restore them.”

She nodded slowly and then turned away, announcing, “I will be in the study if you require me.”

Could she not stand to see them this way, either?

We all watched her leave. In her absence a hush fell.

Jeshickah was so close, only in the next room. She might be able to hear anything we said, which meant I still couldn’t tell Kadee our plan or ask the questions I wanted to ask.

I said only, “Can I help in any way?”

“In a minute,” the witch answered. “Let me do this.”

He turned from us and back to the vampires, putting a hand on the blond vampire’s chest and closing his eyes. His expression was deeply thoughtful. His head tilted as if he were listening.

Something inside me broke. I went to sit next to Taro and Jaguar. I put a hand on Taro’s and discovered that his skin was clammy. He had raised me in a beautiful cage, and I still wasn’t sure if I should thank him or curse him for that. There had always been a world outside that cage—a
vast world, which I had only just started to understand and wanted to explore—but it was also harsh and cold and cruel.

As cruel as what we were doing now.

The deathwitch opened his eyes and drew an odd dagger from his belt. Instead of metal, the entire knife—including the blade—was made of wood.

“It’s a tool for my kind of magic,” he explained when I looked at it quizzically. He gestured for me to come closer. Taking my hand in his, he stretched out my arm as he continued to lie about what he was doing. “I’m bleeding them so I can link my magic to theirs.”

He touched the knife to my skin and then paused, looking me in the eyes as if asking permission. I nodded; I could guess what his plan was. I bit my lip to make sure I would not cry out as he pulled the blade across my forearm and then turned it to coat both sides of the wood.

Kadee’s eyes went wide as she watched us, her expression unbelieving.

Still holding the knife in one hand, the witch put a palm over the wound on my arm. My eyes watered as searing pain shot up and down from that spot, but I managed not to make a sound. When he moved his hand at last, all evidence of the wound was gone.

When he held up the knife again, the blood had disappeared, as well.

“The blade doesn’t hold blood,” the witch said, “but
it holds power. I can use it to make a link. Vance, please take this to Mistress Jeshickah. I can link with her power if she lets the blade taste her blood. The wound should be as deep as is possible without damaging her. If what I’ve heard is true and her kind can survive even a knife through the heart, then heart’s blood would be best. She will know how much she can heal.”

He held the knife out to me.