The Vampire I Swore To Hate

The sky was painted crimson as vampires and witches stood in a semicircle with Elisé tied to a willow tree at the centre of the forest clearing. Their voices tore through the trees with faces twisted with rage. The vampires had captured her on the day of the blood moon, the perfect day to destroy the Prophecy once and for all. So they thought, until the witches arrived with large scepters raised for battle. They had come to claim her as theirs. Elisé had been unconscious through most of it but didn't know for how long. When she finally became aware of where she was, the whole forest seemed to scream and quake, sending both witches and vampires scrambling for cover. At the far end of the clearing, a black steel sword gleamed under the moon's ray. Lucien walked toward her, his eyes never dropping to the necklace that pulsed and glowed with every step he took. She struggled against the rope binding her wrists but it didn't budge. His eyes, a burning gold, fixed on her like a warning. The moment the other vampires saw him, they fell back into formation. He reached her without a word, cut her loose from the tree and pulled her against him by the waist. Elisé's eyes turned red. Smoke swallowed the clearing. Before either group could move, they were gone. ~~~~ FEW MONTHS AGO Lucien — The blackwood table was surrounded by Nightshades draped in dark crimson robes, their heads bowed, their voices low and endless. A black coffin rested at the centre. Its carvings were ancient, older than most of the clan members standing around it. Inside it laid Celeste, her face still, her hands folded over her chest like she was simply sleeping. Lucien stood at the head of the coffin and did not move. He had been standing there since they brought her in. He had not spoken. He had not looked away from her face, the same face he had known his entire life, the one that had argued with him and laughed at him and called him brother in that particular tone that meant she was about to prove him wrong about something. That face was still now in a way it had never been, and the stillness of it was the worst thing he had ever seen. Celeste De'vil. Daughter of the sovereign Lord of the Nightshades. His twin was found poisoned near the Colmar river, three days after she had been sent to hunt Gracie Laurent. There was no question in the room about what had happened. The poison found in her system was Laurent craft, a compound so specific it could only have been prepared by someone who knew exactly what a Nightshade's blood required to stop. Gracie Laurent had known and prepared for it. Celeste had been walking into a trap before she even crossed the river. The clan members circled the coffin, performing the last rites in low unison. The sound of their voices filled the hall and pressed against the stone walls. His hands were at his sides. His jaw was held in a tight grip. Anyone who had known Lucien long enough would have recognized the particular quality of his stillness, it wasn't grief. Gracie Laurent had killed his sister and she would answer for it. He reached out and placed one hand briefly on the edge of the coffin and then stepped back into the shadows of the hall as the rites continued around her. By morning Gracie was gone. Word reached the Nightshades before dawn, she had vanished from Colmar overnight, no trace, no trail. Someone must have warned her or she had known retaliation was coming and had run before it arrived. It didn't matter. She could hide for a century. He would still find her. But Gracie was not the only thread left to pull. There was still the prophecy. The child the Laurent bloodline was destined to produce, the one both clans had been fighting for years, the one whose power could shift the balance of everything. If Gracie had run, she had left something behind. Lucien returned to the hall one last time before they sealed the coffin. He looked at Celeste's face for a long moment. “I will finish this,” he thought. “Everything she built. Everything her bloodline promised. I will end it.” He turned and walked out of the hall without looking back. ~~~~ Elisé — A fresh start was the last thing Elisé imagined for herself. The drive to Noctis University sat heavy and quiet. She stared out the taxi window, watching Paris blur past, and picked up her phone just to have something to hold. A message lit up the screen. Jake. ‘Can we talk, please.” She muted it without a second thought. There was nothing left to say to him, not after finding him and Chloe together the same week her mother disappeared. The thoughts still caught in her chest like something with edges. Two weeks ago she had simply been gone, no note, no call, nothing but an empty flat and a neighbour who said she had seen her leave in a hurry in the night. Aunt Camille had arrived two days later with a look on her face, one that showed no surprise at all. The night before she vanished, her mother had sat on the edge of Elisé's bed and pressed a floral carved necklace into her hands. Her voice had been low and urgent, words spilling out about inheritance, about age-old descendants, about things Elisé didn't clearly understand. “Keep this on you,” she had said. “No matter what.” Elisé touched the necklace now where it rested against her collarbone. She hadn't taken it off since. Aunt Camille had made the decision quickly, Colmar was no longer the right place for Elisé. “You'll be safe there” Aunt Camille assured her the night they drove into Paris. ~~ The taxi pulled up in front of tall black steel gates. *Noctis University* was inscribed across them in heavy lettering, bronze gargoyles crouched on either side. Elisé leaned forward slightly. “Oh la la.” "You'll love it here," Aunt Camille said, smiling broadly. Elisé said nothing. Noctis looked like a perfect place to grieve without being questioned. She got out slowly, her backpack on one shoulder, and waved as the cab pulled away. The gates opened on their own. A woman was already walking toward her with sharp red lipstick, quick eyes, and a smile that felt forced. "You must be Elisé. I'm Miss Cherry, your guardian. Welcome to Noctis." She said, her gaze dropped briefly to the necklace and her smile faltered for a moment, before she turned away. "I'll take you to your dorm." Elisé followed, fingers brushing the necklace. Her room was large, four beds occupying each corner. The walls were engraved with patterns she didn't recognize, symbols that seemed almost like a language she hadn't been taught. Three other girls were already there. None of them looked up when she walked in until her suitcase hit the floor with a thud and then their eyes found her, and the necklace, and they turned away quickly, whispering to each other. "Hi," Elisé said. "I'm Elisé." They blinked at her and looked away. Something felt off — everyone who saw her looked away too quickly. She set down her things, skimmed the schedule booklet Miss Cherry had left, and dropped it on the bed. “My life will never be the same.” she whispered, staring at the room's ceiling. ~~ She stepped out of her last lecture glad it was over, three hours of human biology she had barely absorbed. As she cut toward the library, a crowd had gathered at the far corner of the courtyard. She pushed through and stopped. His knuckles were smeared with blood, his face dark and closed off. On the ground in front of him, a boy crouched over the gravel, his face a mess of blood and swelling. "Who is he?" Elisé asked. "Lucien," the girl beside her whispered, like the name itself was dangerous. "One of the popular students. Looks like some poor nerd said what he shouldn't have." Something shifted in Elisé's chest the moment Lucien's eyes found hers across the crowd. She didn't look away. She walked straight toward him. "Hey." She stepped between them, facing Lucien directly. "That's enough. You'll kill him." Lucien's expression darkened. He said nothing — just watched as Elisé crouched and got her hands under the injured boy's arms, working to pull him upright. He was twice her weight but she didn't stop. A murmur moved through the crowd. No one had ever stepped into one of Lucien's fights. Let alone a girl. Then something hit Lucien, a current, sharp and unfamiliar the moment he looked at her face properly. His eyes dropped to the necklace at her throat. The crimson stone with carved flowers. The same craft from the same bloodline. Laurent. He staggered back half a step. Elisé caught it, the way his composure broke, the flash of something behind his eyes that looked almost like recognition. The necklace had begun to glow faintly against her collarbone, warm and pulsing. She felt the pulse against her skin and Lucien's intense stare but ignored both. She turned back to the injured boy and walked him slowly through the crowd, ignoring the whispers that followed her out.