Page 2 of Vampire's Hearth

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Jade’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she hefted her bag. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” I slung my bag over my shoulder before we made our way to the end of the hallway. My mind hummed as we walked up the stairs.

Oak Leaf Hallow’s banquet space glowed in the flickering candlelight. The plantation had belonged to the High Priestess or her heir for as long as the coven had been in the United States. The aroma of the old, drying barnwood mingled with dinner spices and the yeasty smell of homemade bread as I reached the top of the steps with Jade on my arm. My mouth watered at the sight of the freshly baked loaves nestled among the bowls of salad on the long table.

As we crossed the dance floor, memories of her and me as children dressing up as princesses elicited a nostalgic smile. We would glide across this same floor, pretending a handsome prince had just rescued us. A warmth flooded my heart as I caught my friend’s gaze. I let my bag slip from my shoulder, feeling a small wave of relief as it landed with a soft thud against the wall. My eyes scanned the thirteen place settings of crystal and silver-rimmed china, and I found my place card at the foot of the table—just as expected. Thankfully, Jade’s place was to my right, a comforting presence that would make the formal dinner feel less daunting and allow our discussion to continue uninterrupted.

The din of conversation pressed on my ears as the other core members of the Coven of the Blood joined Jade and me near the table. We believed ourselves descendants of the same ancestral line of witches. Still, time had swallowed the truth long ago—a truth I longed to uncover, especially when I felt so severed from the others because I was the only one with no immediate family.

As the High Priestess Regent appeared, the conversation lulled, and all eyes turned to her. Though in her late forties, the goddess had blessed her with the illusion of youth. Her black hair was piled high on her head, strands rebelliously escaping the pins meant to contain them. Her porcelain skin appeared unmarred by age, as if time had forgotten she existed. She approached her role with a dignity I feared I would never find.

When she reached me, her arms encircled me in a warm embrace. “Your mother would be so proud of you for taking on this quest.” I forced a smile to my lips as my chest tightened. “And when you come back, we’ll start your training. It’s almost time.” Her fingers brushed the lynx pendant resting against my chest, a smaller version of hers. Its weight always reminded me that my twenty-fifth year—and my destiny as High Priestess—was fast approaching.

A small pit of emptiness formed in my stomach.“Aurora, you will succeed,”said my mother’s voice. Love filled the pit. My mother had been a formidable High Priestess, as had her mother, my grandmother, and the entire matrilineal line of women who started when our coven formed. Would I ever be ready to follow in their footsteps?

“Aunt Amara, starting at my birth, everything went wrong. How is the coven supposed to survive beyond me?”

She took my hands in hers, bending her knees and smiling at me. “The goddess has a plan, and we’ll patiently wait to see it. Right now, we have to focus on finding what is in that cave. A world without that vampire will restore the balance for the hunters.”

I glanced at the ruby ring, its blood-red stone pulsing with life, urging me on. “Do you think we’re close to finally being able to end this?”

She nodded. “I know we are. Then we can return to being ordinary witches without a divine purpose. Maybe that’s why the cycle of death ended with you.”

A pang of bitterness cut through me—I wished the cycle had not ended with me, that I had inherited more than just the emptiness where my mother should have been. But perhaps it meant I wouldn’t die young, which would be a small mercy. That was the curse of our High Priestess—doomed to die during the birth of her second daughter. Her sister would take up the mantle as High Priestess Regent until the first daughter reached twenty-five and assumed the role of High Priestess. But my mother died giving birth to me—not just her first daughter, but her first child. Since then, my aunt had served as High Priestess Regent, waiting for me to reach the age I could claim the coven as my own. She had raised her own daughter, Lyra, as my sister, ready to lead the coven should I succumb to the same fate as the High Priestesses before me.

Aunt Amara placed her hand on my cheek before taking my hand. “Come. You’ll feel better after you eat.” We walked toward the table, her voice ringing loud and clear through the barn. “Ladies, shall we feast?” she asked with an enormous smile, holding her free hand in the air before gesturing for me to part from her.

The coven members stood behind their chairs, waiting for Amara and me to take our seats—her first at the head of the table, then me at the foot, followed by the rest of the coven. My inner child giggled, wondering how long I could remain standing before Aunt Amara commanded me to sit. With choreographed precision and a rustle of skirts, we sat. Amara smiled at me before turning to Lyra, who sat to her right. Lyra glanced at me with ice in her gaze. I looked at those who sat closest to me, ignoring her.

The eldest crone of our coven, Valentina, sat to my left. Her daughter, Willow, sat between her and her granddaughter, Ruby, who, at sixteen, was our newest coven member. I smiled at them, envious of the unbroken lineage.

“It was a beautiful ceremony tonight,” Valentina said with a smile before she turned toward me. “Do you have more to do before you leave?”

I shrugged. “Auntie had me pack almost everything earlier. The athame will still need to go in my bag, but I think that’s it.”

“Your mother would be so proud of you for this. She always used to tell us it would be her daughter who broke the curse.”

I looked down at the table, my chest tightening. “I don’t see what this has to do with the prophecy.”

Ruby’s young eyes became wide. “What prophecy?”

Her grandmother cleared her throat, taking a sip of water before turning to her. “The curse of the High Priestess will be broken by the daughter who must be sustained by blood.”

Ruby smiled at me. “Are you going to become a blood-sucking vampire, Rory? Hoping for eternal youth?”

I laughed, tilting my head and curling my lips mischievously. “Hardly. We can keep ourselves young on our own if we want. You just have to look at Amara to see that.” My tone became thoughtful. “Besides, vampires have done enough to determine the destiny of this family.”

Willow rolled her eyes.“If I never have to worry about another vampire after this, it’ll be too soon.”

Ruby’s eyes lit up. “Dad would be home more often, wouldn’t he?”

“I should hope so,” answered Willow, her gaze distant and smile tinged with longing. “I’m awful tired of going to bed alone.” Her husband, Jack, was a vampire hunter who seemed to be on the road more often than at home.

“These are things I don’t need to know,” said Ruby with a laugh.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t ask,” quipped her mother.

I laughed at the two women’s verbal sparring, in awe of their relationship. “I wonder if my mom and I would have been as close as you two?” I mused to no one in particular.

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