Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(14)

If I had been anywhere else, I would have shut my eyes. I’d come to accept my lack of magic while in college, but it was the source of all my problems tonight, which was a bitter pill to swallow. “No,” I said. “I’m not powerful at all.”

“Ah. In that case, run along.” Plaid Suitcoat leaned back in his chair. “You really are useless. Off with you.”

The pounding had stopped, and instead Mason called through the door. “I beg your pardon, but I believe a dangerous renegade has impeded upon you. Please allow my men and me to peacefully retrieve her.”

I peered down the side of the room—perhaps I could run out a side door? But would the vampires let me, or would they kill me in their indifference?

I took a step sideways. Flapper-Dress peeled her lips back, revealing slightly elongated, sharpened fang teeth. “You were told to leave, rat-blood.”

What do I do? Death by fang, or traitor?

“The Drake Family will accept your pledge of servitude.” The deep, rich voice made me freeze in my tracks, and fear quivered in my stomach.

The Drake Family?





Chapter Five





Hazel





I, along with all the other vampires in the room, stared at the very back of the room. Lounging on a leather office chair placed behind an imposing desk on top of a raised platform was Killian Drake.

His dark hair looked black in the dim assembly hall lighting, though it was stylishly mussed on the top and cut short on the sides. His strong jawline, full lips, and high cheekbones made him a top predator—not because vampires valued appearances, although they did—but because he could swindle humans to do whatever he wanted with a wicked grin. His skin was pale like all vampires, but he didn’t have the gaunt pallor some of his fellows did. Instead he reminded me of pure, unblemished snow.

But what terrified me most was how modern he looked. His hair, obviously, but unlike the other vampires, he was dressed in a designer suit that was not only outrageously expensive, but also showed just how informed he was on current trends.

An informed vampire was the most dangerous sort—even more so than a hungry and mad one.

Killian pushed up a dark eyebrow as he stared imperiously down at me. “A pet wizard sounds amusing—even one so weak as you, Adept Medeis.”

A cold sweat dripped down the side of my forehead. I had made a grave miscalculation.

I hadn’t dreamed Killian Drake—the vampire Eminent of the Midwest—would be present. He usually only emerged to frighten the Midwest Regional Committee of Magic, or to beat his opponents into submission.

Why was he here? What had the janitor said the meeting was for again?

No one—not even the other vampires—moved a muscle, which was a really, really bad sign because it meant they were also scared.

But what else could I do?

Survive. Live to fight another day, because being a servant to the Drake Family means I could still survive—hopefully long enough to kick Mason out—even if it means serving a figurative demon.

I inhaled, but started to lower myself to one knee.

“Come closer, Adept Medeis,” Killian ordered in his smokey voice that had the faintest trace of a British accent. “You should see the eyes of your new master as you swear fealty.”

Barefoot, I shuffled down the velvet carpet runner, stopping at the base of the platform.

This close to Killian I could see his eyes were such a dark red they were almost black—the same black as oblivion. He yawned, revealing his vampire fangs, and I managed not to openly shudder.

I knelt on the cold marble and stared up at Killian’s black tie—unable to look him in the face.

A woman stood at the base of the stairs that led onto the platform. She had tawny brown skin, dark brown hair that was pulled back into a no-nonsense braid, and wore a pantsuit that was most likely the same expensive designer as Killian. She was tall and leggy, so it only took her about three steps to reach me.

“Do you know the pledge?” she asked in a lowered voice.

It took me three tries before I was able to swallow my spit. “No.”

She pulled a leather book on a stand placed off to the side. Each page she turned wheezed out a puff of dust, but it only took her a few moments before she found what she was looking for. “Here.” She tapped a paragraph of text and handed the book off to me.

The weight of the book made my arms buckle, and it was hand written in ink so faded it was almost illegible, but I stubbornly clung to it as I stared down at the words that would make me a Drake Family servant.

Faintly, I heard another knock on the door as Mason called out again, “I beg your pardon…please allow us to retrieve the renegade.”

This was it. I was signing my life away to a monster to escape a smaller, less powerful one.

But my parents had left me House Medeis, and my family had sacrificed themselves to see that I lived.

I would survive Killian Drake, no matter what.

I licked my lips. “I, Hazel Medeis, swear my loyalty, service, and fealty to Eminent Killian Drake, and the entirety of the Drake Family. I will not betray them under penalty of death, no matter what pain and threats I face.”

“Drake Family accepts your pledge, and in return we will see to your physical wellbeing and safety.” He said it so casually, but I swear I could feel the words echo in my bones. “And—” he said, adlibbing from the script outlined in the dusty book, “if you forsake your vows, I will personally see to it that you are dealt the most painful of deaths, and will destroy your beloved House brick by brick.”