Olga Isyanova – Alchemy of Blood (страница 3)

The sun had set long enough, turning the red stucco walls of the palazzo a deep scarlett, to allow her to finally remove her sunglasses. Frey just grinned good-naturedly and shook his head. Then a lynx appeared out of nowhere and rubbed against her leg. Selene leaned over and scratched her behind the ear.

“Hello, Sylva,” she greeted the cat.

She squeezed her light green eyes, which were exactly the same color as her owner’s, in satisfaction. With a loud purr, she hopped onto the bench and snuggled into Frey’s lap. He absently stroked his familiar between the tufted ears. With each movement of his hand, when the light of the setting sun fell on it, the copper plate on the wide leather bracelet with the Wheel of Hecate engraved on it flashed – a circular maze with a six-pointed emerald star in the center, the symbol of the goddess-the ancestor of all witches.

Frey said that on his sixteenth Imbolc4, when all witches and mages are traditionally initiated into the coven, the goddess herself personally appeared to him in a dream and gave him this bracelet along with a familiar lynx. Familiars were considered messengers of the goddess, called to protect witches.

“My mother has informed me that our alchemist Andros is missing,” Frey said.

“Unfortunately, this is not news, he disappeared about a month ago,” Selene replied.

“However, the news doesn’t end there. The Hyperborean Library was robbed,” Frey added grimly, his words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain.

Selene’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But this is interesting. What exactly is missing?” she asked, her mind already trying to connect the two incidents together.

“It is not known for sure, but they say that there are some blueprints.”

Selene wondered if these events could be somehow connected. She was even more concerned about what it might lead to. The disappearance of a talented alchemist and the robbery of an ancient repository of mystical knowledge are extremely disturbing events.

As if to confirm Selene’s thoughts, Frey continued, “I’m afraid it’s very serious. The High Priestess is very determined and plans to raise this issue at the Great Sabbath.”

“So she’ll blame everyone,” she said, knowing that the High Priestess Devona had never been a gentle person, especially considering Andros was a member of the Grand Coven. “This can cause a lot of conflicts.”

In the past, wars and skirmishes between supernatural races brought only pain and chaos. Selene understood that the fragile peace and balance achieved at such a high price could be destroyed with a single ill-considered word. And there were always those who profited from the spilled blood, skillfully playing on other people’s passions and ambitions.

“You think this is all about Victor?” Frey asked cautiously, as if reading Selene’s mind.

He looked at her anxiously, waiting for her answer. The mere mention of that name caused Selene to feel a bitter sense of despair. For a moment, there was a glint of fear in her eyes.

“I pray to the gods that it wasn’t,” Selene whispered, but her gut told her that this time her prayers would go unanswered.

Frey put his arm around Selene’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him. She snuggled her head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of freshly plowed earth and the coolness of the forest that came from him.

“No matter what happens, we’ll always find a way out,” Frey’s voice was soothing, like a lullaby, in time with Sylva’s soft purr. “Who knows, maybe one day we’ll settle down in a nice and cozy place where you’ll have the library you’ve been dreaming of for so long, and I’ll open my own herb shop to sell my potions. I can’t stay with Senora Sartori for the rest of the century,” Frey joked, and Sylva mewed merrily back.

Selene’s heart sank painfully at his words. All these simple things, accessible to many, seemed to her a beautiful and unattainable dream. She lifted her head from Frey’s shoulder and caught his eye.

“You’ve always been the most optimistic of the two of us,” Selene said, tucking his lock of dark wheat-colored hair behind his ear.

“Someone has to be,” Frey said, smiling. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be your best friend.”

And for the second time that day, the smartphone signal disturbed Selene’s peace. But this time, after reading the message, the smile disappeared from her face.

“Is something wrong?” Frey asked warily.

“The Prince orders me to come,” the girl replied grimly. “Urgently.”

Chapter 3. Somewhere in a British forest, 2nd Century B.C.

On a pitch-black autumn night, when the only sounds were the screams of night creatures and the crackle of fallen leaves underfoot, Selene glided silently along a forest path. The full moon cast a dim light, illuminating her path. The thick fog obscured her presence like a faithful companion, but she pulled the hood of her dark cloak even deeper.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Selene had not given up hope of encountering a lost traveler, or at least finding a human settlement where she could satisfy her hunger. The thought of fresh blood made her mouth water and her throat tighten. She fought down her thirst, concentrating on the sounds coming from the depths of the forest. There seemed to be no end to this gloomy realm. Almost in desperation, Selene caught the sound of voices.

She froze in place and listened. Even though the fog absorbed most of the sounds, Selene realized that the source of them was in the distance, much further away than the average human could hear. And with the same inhuman speed, she rushed to the call of these voices. Her dark form rushed through the fog, causing the nocturnal inhabitants of the forest to fall silent and hide.

She stopped not far from where the sounds were coming from and took a deep breath, sniffing the air. It was imbued with magical energy and vibrated slightly. Selene immediately felt the tart taste of magic. Another breath confirmed her guess: the magical effect was coming from people nearby. Selene counted five or six of them by their fervent heart beats, which blended with their voices. They chanted a chant in unison, creating an enchanting rhythm. But one voice was very different from the others. Someone was screaming in pain.

Selene wanted to leave immediately, but a second scream froze her in place. There was so much pain in that cry that it made her heart ache, and old memories were reawakened. After a moment’s hesitation, curiosity overcame caution. The girl hid among the trees and thorny bushes.

Ahead, in a small circular clearing, a mighty oak tree was silhouetted, its crown stretching out over the ground. The clearing was bathed in the soft light of a full moon and torches held by five figures clad in dark green cloaks. Their hoods were pulled down to hide their faces, revealing only their pupil-less eyes, which flickered eerily like fireflies in the night. At the foot of a majestic oak tree, a young man writhed and screamed, chained to its mighty trunk. With each sound of his voice, he seemed to grow into the tree, becoming one with it, the bark trying to swallow him up, crawling on his skin. A spotted lynx thumped at his feet, whining and meowing piteously.

The scene that unfolded in front of Selene filled her with horror. Not knowing who these people were or what the unfortunate youth had done, she felt an overwhelming urge to help him. She herself had once found herself in a position where one naively cherished the hope of salvation.

Closing her eyes, Selene focused on the magic in the air. Its pulsation and fluctuation indicated who was the source of it. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the chant stopped, and with it the young man’s screams. There were confused exclamations coming to Selene’s ears, and under the hoods, puzzled glances shone at each other. They tried to renew the spell, but their attempts were unsuccessful. The angry voices grew louder. Taking advantage of their confusion, Selene rushed forward.

Running fast like lightning, Selene stunned the four men in the back of the head, instantly knocking them unconscious. Torches fell from their limp hands, plunging the clearing into darkness, which was only occasionally illuminated by flashes of flame.

The only remaining conscious person – a very young, inexperienced mage – froze in place, watching his fallen comrades with horror. After unsuccessfully trying to attack Selene with magic, he stepped back, tripped over the tree roots, and fell. The girl hovered over him, baring her sharp fangs threateningly and hissing.

He struggled to his feet and ran into the woods in a panic, stumbling and tangling in his long cloak. Finally, it was the prisoner’s turn, who had remained silent all this time. Selene picked up the nearly extinguished torch and approached him. Pushing back her hood, she met the prisoner’s gaze. His green eyes were startled and wary.

A menacing growl pierced the air. The spotted lynx arched its back and growled menacingly, ready to pounce on the stranger. But the iron collar held the cat. The young man stared intently at Selene, not knowing what to expect.