I see the faint glow of magic form around her.
Lorne stays perfectly still for long, dragging minutes. I suspect she is probing Morgan, but I do not see the weaves.
Suddenly, her eyes pop open. She speaks in a grave tone.
“You are wrong, sister,” she tells Allura. “The torrials are not enough. The poison is taking over. We will have to leech it out of her, or else she dies.”
““You’re going to save her?” I ask incredulously.
“Quite so,” Allura says, as she and Sute come around Lorne. “First, we extract the demon blood from her circulation. It will not be a quick or easy procedure. Once that’s done, the torrials will be of no use. We will have to wake her.”
“You’ll what?” I stride up to her. “Allura, I know what I promised, but—”
“But what?” The older witch stares down at me. “But what, Eleira? Morgan is of equal use dead or unconscious. You always knew that we intended to revive her.”
“I never…” I start weakly but trail off.
In truth, I did suspect something like this.
I hang my head and step back. “Yes,” I did. “Do as you wish. But—be careful.”
“Of course,” Allura answers, then turns back to the body on the altar.
All three of the witches raise their hands. A glow comes over each of them. I feel enormous amounts of power being used, all in sync with each other, dozens of intricate weaves from Sute mixing perfectly with dozens from Lorne and even more from Allura.
I would marvel at the beauty, the intricacy of the spell, if I did not have this sinking feeling about what it was being used for.
I look on, trying to follow the weaves. I catch bits and pieces here and there, but they are a fraction of the entire picture.
The witches continue channeling. Seconds turn to minutes with no outward change. We reach half an hour. The Sisters are consumed by their task. One hour. Small, almost invisible drops of blood start to form on Morgan’s skin, like tiny beads of sweat. I can smell the blood immediately, sense its poison, its corruption, and know right away it is the demon blood that they are extracting.
More time passes. The witches remain perfectly still, but I can feel their exhaustion. Even now, as vampires, using so much magic for so long would be crippling.
Over the next hour, the beads of blood pool together into a sheen of dark red all over Morgan’s body.
Suddenly, in a single move, Allura sweeps her hand through the air.
The demon blood flies off Morgan and splatters into the wall. The light around the witches dies. All three of them sag down.
And then, I watch, terror growing, as Morgan’s fingers twitch, as her brainwaves switch to an awakened state, and as, slowly, very slowly, she opens her eyes, turns her head to look at me, and hisses, hate filling her voice…
“You!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rebecca
The Haven.
I cry out and jump back as a sudden wave of magic lashes out from my cousin and whips into Eleira. The attack is so quick, so unexpected, that I think it’s going to connect…
Yet, once again, the young girl proves me wrong. She erects a shield around her in the blink of an eye and Morgan’s weave bounces off. Rage and anger forms on the new Queen’s face, rivaling even the anger I saw in her when she destroyed my army. Morgan tries to attack again, but Eleira’s weaves slice through those and sear straight into the ruined body of the former Queen. Not only do they lock her in place, but they extend to form an orb around her body, sealing her away from the Elemental Forces in a cocoon.
Morgan struggles, she fights, but it’s no use. Eleira, voice augmented by the Forces, screams, “You DARE attack me? You DARE, after I granted you life, after I took pity on your soul? Your tricks are of no further use, Morgan, for now I wear the crown, I am linked to the throne torrial, and I am the strongest one here! I would crush you like the duplicitous worm you are, if it wasn’t for the promise I made my companions.” She gestures at all of us. “Rebecca included, who you did not manage to kill!”
Morgan goes still. She stops struggling.
“You fool,” she whispers. “You know naught what you have done.”
“Oh?” Eleira challenges, striding up to the altar and looming over Morgan. “Then tell me, what have I done?”
“By awakening me, you have triggered the esoteric part of the prophecy… and ensured your doom.”
With that, she starts to laugh, and that laugh makes me remember why I used to fear her so.
Epilogue
Logan
The Crypts.
“Are preparations ready for the next transfer?” I ask.
“Yes,” a rasping, aged, female voice answers me. “Your Dagan made minced meat of the last demon. He will not have such an easy time with the next one.”
“So then, Cierra,” I say, “let’s have it done.”
“As you wish,” she replies.
The winds in the chamber pick up, the Elemental Forces start to howl, and a hole is torn open between this world and the Demon Realm. Cierra stands to the side, coaxing the weaves of Blood Magic into their final formation… and then it’s set.
She steps in front of the portal. I join her at her side.
“This next one will not be so easy to pull out,” she warns me.
“Ease is not what I’m looking for,” I growl. “Power is. And these demons will make a formidable army for us, so that we crush The Haven, and that treacherous girl, along with my sons.”
“In that case, my King,” she says in a sickly sweet croon, “let’s get hunting.”
And together, we jump through the portal to trap the next demon we will tame and bring back to this world.