A Call of Vampires (A Shade of Vampire #51)(31)

“What do we do, then?” Draven asked. “We can’t let it crash into us.”

“No, we slow it down.” She nodded, then shifted her focus back to the light sphere, which was only a few miles away and moving fast.

She put her hands out, and so did her sisters. They sent out an invisible pulse that captured the glowing orb, helping it slow down and gently stop above the platform. Its milky white light shone over us, a faint buzzing coming out of it.

We all stepped back, giving the sphere enough room to settle on the white marble floor. It was the size of a large hot air balloon, but, as soon as it touched down, it started to shrink before our very eyes, its hum louder and heavier.

“Whoever is inside, they used swamp witch magic that we’ve just unearthed from that book,” Viola muttered. “And I told no one about it, other than the GASP council and Phoenix.”

I felt my heart thudding in my chest. We were all ready to strike if needed, but we were also equally intrigued. The last original practitioners of swamp witch magic had been driven to extinction during Azazel’s reign of terror, and their books had been hidden for decades before Draven and Serena got them back together. Who could it be, and who could have access to magic of such proportions?





Harper





(Daughter of Hazel & Tejus)





As soon as the light sphere began to shrink, I stepped forward. I quietly made my way between Eritopians and Shadians, my gaze fixed on the foreign object that had just landed on Luceria’s platform. The brightness dimmed, as did the constant hum, until the sphere dissolved altogether and revealed… a woman, standing and looking at us.

I heard mumbling around me. Our GASP elders got closer, led by Derek, Xavier, and Cameron. Draven, Field, and Serena were next to them, along with Jax and Hansa. I noticed movement at the corner of my eye and saw Jax’s ten Mara wards slipping between us and circling the woman. I hadn’t even seen them during the wedding party, as they preferred keeping mostly to themselves and in the more secluded areas of the banquet hall.

Before any of us could react, I heard the screeching of metal—swords drawn from their sheaths as the wards closed in on the strange, swamp witch magic-wielding visitor.

“Hold!” Jax barked his order, prompting his wards to obey and still, their blades out and glistening under the moonlight.

Only then did I notice that our party-crasher was a young Mara female, with black hair trimmed into a pixie cut, big jade eyes, and a small, heart-shaped mouth. She wore a simple but elegant black dress that reminded me of late nineteenth-century styles, cut straight just below her shoulders and revealing her pale skin and accentuated collar bones. There was a red symbol on her neck, just below her ear. It looked like it had been branded onto her with a hot iron.

“Milord, she doesn’t belong here,” one of the wards said through gritted teeth, his dislike of her obvious and, at the same time, intriguing.

“Please,” the female Mara said, her voice trembling, genuine fear imprinted on her delicate face. “I mean no harm, and I come in peace!”

Jax’s sword nearly howled as it left his scabbard, its tip pointed directly at her throat. He seemed upset, barely holding it in. The rest of us were baffled—including Hansa, whose gaze moved back and forth between Jax and the female Mara.

“What’s going on?” Hansa mumbled. “Who is she?”

“I come in peace, I swear,” the strange visitor said, tears glazing her wide eyes as she slowly raised her hands in a defensive gesture. “I had no choice. I had to come here…”

“You are not welcome here,” Jax shot back, his voice so low and sharp that it sent chills down my spine.

“Who is she?” Draven repeated Hansa’s question, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. He stepped forward and positioned himself between Jax’s sword and the female Mara.

“She’s an Exiled Mara,” Heron answered from the crowd behind us.

He moved and joined his brother’s side, his inquisitive gaze fixed on the Exiled Mara.

“What’s an Exiled Mara?” Serena asked, prompting Jax to scoff. He was seething, biting the inside of his cheek, with no intention of putting down his sword. I could feel the anger radiating off of him, a black and unforgiving mist.

“Something my people are not proud of. Something we never speak of,” Jax finally replied.

The Exiled Mara looked down, a hint of shame flickering in her eyes. Safira sighed and stepped between the wards, slowly leaning forward to get a better look at the red symbol on the Exiled Mara’s neck. Safira hummed and nodded, then glanced at Jax.

“She’s not one of the originals,” Safira said. “She’s an offspring.”

“Are you serious?” Jax’s eyebrows jumped.

“Yes. That is not the original mark of a swamp witch. It was branded into her skin with hot fire. But she is one of them.”

“Who are you?” Jax shifted his focus back to the Exiled Mara, who trembled before him. I had a feeling he was being a little too hard on her, but, then again, I knew absolutely nothing about her or the Exiled Maras, so I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I analyzed reactions around the platform and noticed that all the Eritopian vampires present seemed well aware of what she was.

“I am Rewa, milord,” the Exiled Mara said. “Rewa, of House Xunn.”