Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 8: In Your Room

I was a star on the verge of going supernova. The surging force within me pulsed and throbbed, threatening to explode outwards, leaving only torn skin and shredded organs in its wake. I wasn't simply a conduit for magic anymore; it consumed me from the inside out. That should have terrified me. Garstatt's words of warning should have been loud in my head: don't lose yourself to it. But I was too far gone. The power fed me and fed from me, burning hot and fast. I'd never been more alive - or fearless.

Not so long ago, I'd have been terrified to be alone with three Nosferatu, but now they barely fazed me. One held my feet, while the other positioned himself at my hands. The third walked a few steps ahead of us, unlocking each of the doors our procession came upon, so we could continue through the compound's maze of grey hallways unhindered. None of these vampires were any match for my sorcerer magic, let alone this burgeoning new power left behind by whatever had happened back in the throne room. I was sure they knew it too. 

Despite that, I couldn't help but wonder if the drying blood on my neck tempted them. Was their stoic silence masking a desperate attempt to keep their bloodlust in check and their fangs out of my flesh? Keel's father had trusted no one but Boras and Arthos to come into contact with me. Had the induction ritual changed my status here that much? Or was it simply that I had magic now? My bald-headed companions offered no clues; their expressionless faces stared ahead, like soldiers on a march, dutifully carrying out their orders.

I almost scrambled out of their grip when I heard a pair of elevator doors slide open in front of us, thinking they were taking me back to that tiny, filthy holding cell among the rest of the human cattle in the bowels of the compound. I'd spent six torturous months in that place, and I wasn't screaming for a redo. Of course, I realized just as quickly, it didn't matter where we were going: there was no door or any set of bars here that could hold me. Not unless they'd found some substance that was immune to blood sorcery and bond magic.

A smile crept across my face. Oh, how the tables had turned.

We couldn't have descended more than a floor or two before coming to a stop. The doors parted with a gentle hiss, and the Nosferatu carried me forward once more. Our little procession moved down yet another hall and into another elevator and then out of it. The darkness of the unlit room we'd emerged into licked hungrily at the light spilling from the elevator car; what it didn't consume it held at bay - completely. After twenty or so paces, I was deposited onto something soft and springy. A bed? Definitely not the stained, threadbare mattress of my last stay.

Having dispensed of their cargo, the vampires retreated preternaturally fast. A moment later, I heard the unmistakable clang and whirr of the elevator carrying them off to another part of the building. Then it got tomb-quiet, aside from my breathing and the persistent hum of the central heating/cooling system cycling air through the compound.

For the first time in sixteen hours, I was alone. But where am I? The sludgy blackness offered no clues.

There had to be a lamp or light switch around somewhere - and in absence of either of those things I could just use magic - but with my limbs heavy from the long journey cooped up in the van and my body still buzzing with the after-effects of the ritual, illumination just didn't seem that pressing. Surely the Nosferatu wouldn't have forced me to participate in the induction ceremony if they intended to dispose of me mere hours later. They were far too rigid and bureaucratic for that.

I closed my eyes and let my body go limp against the mattress. It was plush, pliant and much more comfortable than the budget model I had at the apartment back in New York. Real luxury.

Was this what being the Nosferatu's official sorcerer meant? Fancy accoutrements in exchange for a lifetime of magical servitude? Would that be enough?