Jewel of Darkness

Chapter 3-3

“Are you ready to learn what real magic is and just how powerful it can be?” Volcan took her hand in his. She ignored the feeling of having a snake wrapped around her threatening to squeeze the life out of her.

“So, the magic that Peri wields isn’t real?” she asked.

“Oh, it is real enough, but it is weak. Come.” He pulled her behind him, leaving the room where she’d been confined. She noticed that the walls around her were stone as was the floor beneath her feet. She was in a castle, an old castle. Her mind searched quickly for what that information could tell her. There were no true castles in the United States, only manors built in a gothic style to make them look like castles. Volcan didn’t strike her as the type to accept a substitute, so she could most likely rule out the whole of North America.

Volcan spoke again, snapping her attention back to him. “First you need to learn about the essence of the magic—where it comes from and how it is maintained.”

Her eyes widened at the statement. He glanced back at her. “Surprised? Magic isn’t something that just is. It has to be nurtured by those who have it living inside of them. And supernatural beings feed off of each other. When supernaturals gather together, each of them individually becomes stronger. The human realm used to have much more power in it, before…” He paused and his feet had stopped moving. His eyes took on that faraway look that said a person was remembering.

“Before?” she prompted. Would some find it strange that she was engaging her captor? Yes, probably. But Jewel reasoned that learning as much as possible was her only key to escaping. Also, she was just too dang curious for her own good.

The high fae shook his head and resurfaced to the present. “Before the fae killed all of the witches, before the werewolves warred with one another, before the gypsy healers suddenly disappeared, and before my people slithered back to their realm taking all of their power with them. The magic in the human world is dying.”

“What does that mean?” Something about the ominous way he said the words told her that this death was going to have serious repercussions.

“It means that any magical being—one that has any innate magical ability inside it—will not be able to survive in this realm. They will be forced to retreat to a supernatural realm.”

Jewel felt like a heavy rock had been dropped into her stomach. Dalton was one such as that. He was a supernatural being with magic dwelling in him. The thought of him no longer existing in her world was earth-shattering.

Volcan once again began walking. His steps were completely silent, which made Jewel’s steps sound like a herd of elephants parading along behind him. They made several turns and she was being diligent to memorize the path they were taking, mentally giving herself markers to recall should she find a way to escape. The irony of looking for a way to escape after having purposefully gotten herself caught didn’t escape her. Finally, they stopped in front of large wooden double doors. The wood looked to be in surprisingly good condition considering she guess that the castle had to be at least a couple of centuries old.

Her captor let go of her hand and pushed the double doors open. He motioned for her to follow him as he stepped into a large, round room. The space was lit by evenly separated torches on the wall. The flames cast a sinister glow in the room making her feel as though she was walking into hell itself. She crossed over the threshold and halfway expected the doors to slam behind her ending with the clicking of a lock. But nothing so dramatic happened.

“What do you think?” Volcan asked as he waved his hand in an arc, inviting her to look at her surroundings.

Jewel turned in a slow circle. She took note of an old bookshelf resting against a stone wall. The books it contained appeared about as ancient as the castle itself. Her gaze slipped to a large round table sitting beside the shelf. There were other books strewn haphazardly across the table. Some books were lying open as though the person who had been reading them had been frantically flipping their pages and then tossing them aside. Volcan cleared his throat and she jerked her eyes away from the table. Jewel continued to turn. Aside from the table and bookshelf, there were a couple of well-worn wooden chairs standing sentinel in front of a stone fireplace on the left side of the room. As she watched, the fireplace suddenly erupted with bright flames. She glanced over at Volcan, who was lowering his outstretched arm.

“That is nothing compared to what I will teach you,” he told her. Then he clapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly. “Let us begin. Come.” Volcan waved her over.

Jewel walked closer until she was a few feet away from the fae. She hated that there was a small amount of adrenaline running through her veins knowing she was about to learn about magic. She only wished it wasn’t under the current circumstances.

“Every being has a core,” he began. “A normal human’s core contains a soul and nothing else. Supernatural beings are different. Their core contains their soul but also their magic. This magic is like a flame that burns continuously—a pilot light that is constantly waiting to be blown into a blazing inferno. When we draw on our magic, it’s comparable to gasoline being poured on a fire.”

“Can the flame be extinguished?” Jewel asked.

“Yes, because the flame does not burn on its own. I mentioned that magic strengthens when other supernaturals are around. These other beings act much like oxygen being slowly, endlessly fed to the fire. If given in a slow, steady stream of air, the fire doesn’t grow, but the flame is simply maintained.”

“Do all the supernaturals have the same magic inside of them?”

“Hmm.” Volcan appeared deep in thought and slowly shook his head. “All of our magic is fundamentally the same” ―he waved both hands in a circle around him as if indicating a host of invisible supernatural beings― “fae, werewolves, pixies, vampires, you name it…but there is one supernatural being whose magic is different. These beings are different because they were not born of magic. No, these beings have magic given them directly from the Great Luna. Their power resides in their cores, yes, but it also flows inside their veins, it saturates their cells.”

“Gypsy Healers,” Jewel practically spoke in a whisper.

“Correct,” Volcan confirmed. “Gypsy Healers have power in their blood that no other supernatural being has.”

“What power?” she breathed the question. Damn her curiosity, she thought to herself. She kept telling herself she wouldn’t ask more questions, that she would only listen and respond when spoken to. For some reason, her mouth had a mind of its own.

“The power to create.” His voice took on a reverent quality as he spoke. “She can use her blood to literally create other supernatural beings.”

Jewel’s eyes narrowed. “But that’s not what the power is supposed to be used for. The Great Luna didn’t intend for the healers to be creators. She designed us to be shamans for her wolves. She designed me to use the magic she infused in me only for good. You want to take something good and pure and twist it into evil and use that evil against innocents.” Jewel forced her mouth to close though she had more she could have said on the subject. As it was, she was worried she might have already pushed too hard. To her surprise, Volcan just shrugged. He didn’t seem offended in the least by her accusations.

“I hope you don’t think to appeal to my emotions.” He sounded amused. Jewel had to bite her tongue because it ticked her off that he could be so flippant about hurting others. She supposed as he’d been talking to her―teaching her―she’d pushed aside the fact that he was a murderer, traitor, and utterly malevolent. But now those attributes of the high fae came rushing back to the forefront of her mind.

“Let’s get back to the lesson,” Volcan said as though talking to a class of students and not his prisoner. “As I was saying, Gypsy Healers can create. Your blood mixed with my own creates something very different than what your blood could create on its own.”

The fae looked at her, obviously expecting some reaction. Jewel sat silent for several moments, contemplating. “Since a healer wasn’t born with magic in her core, could the flame be extinguished without killing the host?”

Volcan’s sharp eyes snapped to hers. “I do not know and you are not going to find out.”

Touchy, touchy, she thought. Before Jewel had time to react, Volcan had pulled a knife and slashed a small cut across her forearm. She swallowed down the gasp from the pain and then fought the urge to vomit as the cut brought back the memories of the time she’d been magically bound to an altar while Peri’s evil sister had cut her again and again, all the while drinking her blood. Volcan had just added to her already numerous scars, each a silent reminder of the horror she’d endured.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a stone basin sitting on the table where a book had been pushed aside. A small pool of red sat in the bowl and, seeing as there was no cut on Volcan, the blood had to be her own. He handed her a piece of gauze which she pressed over the cut.

Volcan stood muttering under his breath as he held his hands over the basin. Quick as a snake, he slashed his own hand and allowed his blood to mix with hers. Though the blood was mixing in the stone basin, completely away from her, she still felt violated. There was something strangely intimate about the process. Trying to distract herself she asked, “So is the lesson over?”

Volcan said a few more words and then turned to look at her. “No. This is your first practical lesson. You should pay attention. This will be very important to you. You see, the bonds between the Canis lupus are, in essence, powerful blood bonds. Hence the need for the whole you bite me, I bite you, blood rites ceremony the wolves so cherish. Because the bond is powered by blood, the bond can be broken by dark blood magic. The wielder of the magic must be stronger than the bonded pair and use his own blood in the process.

But here is the important part for you. There is a difference between breaking the bond of two normal Canis lupus and breaking the bond between a Canis lupus and a gypsy healer. Had you spent more time with your new friends, you would know that a broken bond between two normal wolves can be repaired, with the aid of a gypsy healer no less. Such a blessing you are to your new-found friends!”

At this, a wicked smile spread across the high fae’s face. His eyes flashed and Jewel shivered as she sensed a predator staring at her.

“But the cross of a gypsy healer, well, it is a tough one to bear. Because unlike your furry friends, the bond between a healer and a wolf can be broken…permanently,” he finished in a near whisper.

If Jewel had ever wondered what it would be like to drown while having her heart ripped out at the same time, she had a feeling she now knew. Just as her lungs seized up, cutting off her oxygen, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She felt as though someone was reaching into her chest cavity, wrapping their hand around her pounding heart, and squeezing while pulling at the same time. Just when she was sure she would pass out from the pain, there was a final sharp tug and then nothing. She felt absolutely nothing.

Up until that point, she hadn’t been able to feel or communicate with Dalton. But somehow, she’d known that he still there. While Volcan had held her under his spell, maintaining the illusion that Dalton was cut off from her, she’d felt him out there, like a candle in the darkness, just out of her reach. But this was no illusion. The candle was gone, snuffed out in an instant. Now, all she could feel was darkness.