Hellfire

Chapter Forty-Five

I stood by the sprawling oak, the biggest in the woods on Vortigern land with knotted roots thrusting from the earth and moss clinging to its gnarled bark. I had my back to it, my silver eyes flickering in the darkness. Despite trying to syphon my vampiric senses, to spy any movement or listen to every muffled step, it was like trying to clutch at fish in water. I'd sense something and then it would be gone. I'd see a flash and then there'd be nothing. The youngsters were too good at evading me, just as Lucius had taught them.

I set my teeth, trying to remember my harsh teachings. I'd shoved my nose to the grindstone, sharing my family's mind and pummelling new instincts into me, ones that would teach me how to control my body and the magic I had access to. Quickly I found the vampiric nature and blood magic were nothing like my hellfire. My hellfire was something I'd been born with and knew how to use it, I just struggled with it running out of control. This, however, was like trying to learn how to walk and be in conscious control over every muscle. It was fucking hard.

But learning was the only thing I could do right now and I had latched onto the lessons from the moment I woke at dusk, desperate to claw back all the control that had been stolen from me. It kept me sane these seven days while I couldn't leave the house to help Tabitha with hunting the bastard who'd tortured that witch and sicked her on the Swansong, and it was a needed distraction from Lucius. One thought of him, one inhale of his scent or brush of his mind and I was torn between bitter fury that he turned me vampire and somehow frozen over my precious soul, and pleasure at remembering his husky declaration of love. I didn't want to think of him right now and the ridiculous situation I was in with him.

I tensed when I finally saw one of the youngsters. Theresa was darting towards me, making herself fucking obvious so I'd stop her. Of course, she was - she had a soft soul despite me needing her to push me, but I didn't toss aside her offering. I hurled my magic towards her, lacing control over her feet to anchor her to the damp earth. Despite her putting up a pathetic fight and purposefully making herself an easy catch, it was like being hit around the head with a spike bat. An awful pressure exploded behind my eyes as I tried to control her body against her will. It didn't cause as much pain as trying to control a mass of flailing flesh and undead parasites, but I didn't have Lucius helping me either, subtly showing me how to use my magic and lift the pain. I was alone and I fucking hated how obvious it was, making me more to determined to become strong and not to need him. He'd broken me, made me something I didn't want to be, and told me he loved me when couldn't. I would not let him win.

Movement snatched at my attention, and I found myself being rushed by the twins, diving forward with silent cat-steps in the dark. I snatched at their feet, willing them to pause too, and, unlike Theresa, the twins were willing to fight me. They loved fighting me. I was a challenge and, for once, I needed them to show me how it was done rather than the other way round. They were revelling in it. I felt them squirm, trying to push back with their own magics, managing to drag themselves a step or two forward. It hurt. The pain was spreading like thousands of needles along my nerves, thudding against the back of my eyes and turning my pulse into a hot knife ramming into the back of my head. How did any of them put up with this? But, I pushed the question and desire to analyse aside. I had to focus. Oliver said I had to hold them for five minutes and not let them touch me. I'd do it. I'd put up with burns and cuts and peeling skin, I can put up with this.

I flung myself forward and rolled along the damp earth at the rush of movement and the smell of life behind me, just about managing to avoid Yvette as she flourished above me. The alarm broke my concentration, releasing my control over the other three and letting them rush forward to try touch my shoulder, cheek, hand - anything that counted as a win. Oliver had promised them a treat of their choosing if they could tap me. They weren't going to let that slip through their fingers.