Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 233

Chapter 233: What Cannot Return

Ruelle’s eyes darted from the old vampiress to the door she had locked before starting the spell. Behind her, the faint vibration continued, rising from the mirror like a held breath, its surface still trembling in slow, concentric ripples, waiting to complete the last step in the summoning.

"I always suspected Mira to be a witch," Lady Sylvan said, and her voice carried the particular fondness of a woman recalling a favourite pet, "but she never revealed it. Do you know I asked her several times about the Belladonna mirror? Several times, over years, in the course of ordinary conversation. And every time, she said she had no understanding of it. I treated her so well. So well. Just like my own daughter. I even nudged my son to court her, hoping she would one day marry him, but he proved to be useless."

This was why the pureblooded vampiress had kept her mother close even though she appeared to be a human. She was going to rise, one hand pressed to the floor when the vampiress’s voice sharpened.

"Don’t move."

Ruelle went still.

"A vampire has better speed than a human. It would do you good to stay put." Lady Sylvan walked past her, the hem of her dress whispering over the dusty ground. She stopped before the mirror, her reflection dark in the rippling glass. "I have been looking forward to this day. The day I had all the pieces."

Lady Sylvan ran her hand on the edge of the mirror in fascination and greed. She continued,

"The mirror would not allow itself to be moved. Not by hand, at least. So I created a war. I expected the destruction to scatter the people, who would carry the mirror and bring it to me," she smiled.

"You caused it?" Ruelle’s hands curled into fists against her knees, her nails digging into her palms.

The vampiress looked pleased and even proud. She replied, "Humans are pathetic and can carry out orders only to a degree. But the war didn’t flare as I wanted. Still, I kept watch. For years, I kept watch. And last week, I knew when Lia complained about the mirrors being damaged." Her smile widened, which still looked gentle, "I knew the mirror had met its last piece. So I killed her for what I raised her for."

Somewhere, Ruelle couldn’t help but feel pity for the dead woman, who had been used by this person.

"Lady Lia was raised to be my replacement." Ruelle borrowed the time, stalling and keeping the vampiress busy, while the mirror took time.

"That was just a farce. A show for the society. I raised her with a lot of love," Lady Sylvan replied with a thoughtful expression. Her voice then dropped, "Time to finish the spell now!"

In the next instant, Lady Sylvan lunged with inhuman speed, one hand outstretched.

Ruelle threw herself aside, but the vampiress’s claws caught her cheek in passing, drawing a single drop of blood that fell within the circle.

Suddenly, every marking flared on the ground.

As the mirror’s vibration intensified, Lady Sylvan stepped towards the mirror. The woman had almost touched the surface of the mirror when a vine curled around her hands and feet, dragging her away from the object of desire. The vines continued to curl until the vampiress could barely move.

"It is rude to claim a family heirloom that doesn’t belong to you," Ruelle remarked, watching the old woman snarl.

"Viktor!" Lady Sylvan shouted.

The butler, who had arrived outside, banged the door. "Milady?! Master—"

But the butler couldn’t finish his sentence as a dagger flew right at him, the blade jamming into his throat. Black tendrils curled from the knife’s hilt.

Inside the room, light began to fracture across the mirror’s surface and Ruelle turned back to look at it.

Knowing it was time, Ruelle pressed her fingers into the water-like surface. They sank through, and the mirror began to draw her in, inch by inch.

She felt as if she were dipping her fingers into ice and noticed the flame that had been wavering going still. Dust hung motionless in the air. Beyond the door, the black tendrils curling from the dagger’s hilt ceased their movement along with the butler.

Even Lady Sylvan’s snarl fell silent.

The next instant, the mirror shattered, but not a single fragment fell. Thousands of glittering pieces remained suspended in the air where it had stood, caught between one second and the next.

Ruelle disappeared from the room.

For a whole ten seconds, she couldn’t see anything. There was only the sensation of falling before she was abruptly dropped to the ground. She winced at this, pushing herself up onto her hands.

Did the spell not work as she had expected it to?

Looking around, she noticed she was in a forest. The trees were bare, their branches reaching upwards. The ground beneath her was bare too and though it looked like the hour of night, she noticed the red glow that came from the moon that looked bigger than usual.

"Now... how exactly am I supposed to make my request?" Ruelle murmured, standing up and starting to walk.

There was no path to follow, only the endless repetition of bare black trees stretching into the dark. When she finally did catch sight of people, her eyebrows rose. But the closer she got, their pale shape flickered like heat simmering.

Ghosts. And there were dozens of them walking between the bare trees in slow, aimless drifting.

When one hazy figure turned towards her, so did the others and they began to move to where she stood.

"If you know where Mother, Brother Dane or Brother Lachlan is, it would be helpful," Ruelle stated, but the ghosts didn’t hear her.

The crowd of ghosts got closer while Ruelle turned and began running. The ghosts wept and reached their cold hands towards her.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared between them.

It solidified out of the dark with an abruptness that made Ruelle step back. One moment there was only weeping and grasping hands, and the next, a figure stood among the crowd of ghosts, fully formed, a woman in a black dress with a black veil obscuring the upper half of her face.

"Get lost."

The woman waved her hand in a single, dismissive motion, and the ghosts scattered. This created a gust of wind, which caught the hem of the woman’s dress and the edge of her veil, both fluttering in one direction before settling back into stillness.

Ruelle stared at the woman’s back. "Mother...?" The word left her before she could stop it.

The woman turned, coming to stand face-to-face with Ruelle, and Ruelle could finally see the blonde hair beneath the veil, pulled back into a bun, a few loose strands catching against pale skin. Her eyes were grey as if lacking warmth.

"I am not her," came the dull words from the woman. If this wasn’t her mother—

"Belladonna?" she asked, the name coming out barely above a whisper and she heard the woman hum in response.

The witch began to walk without another word. Her steps carried her deeper into the dead forest, while her black dress whispered against the barren ground. Noticing Ruelle not following, she looked over her shoulder and asked, "What are you doing standing there?"

Ruelle hurried to follow, walking in silence. When she glanced behind, she caught sight of the ghosts watching them from behind the trees.

"Is that normal behaviour?" Ruelle asked, keeping her voice low, as if the ghosts might hear her.

"No." Belladonna did not turn. She deadpanned, "They are people I killed who got on my nerves."

When Belladonna turned to meet Ruelle’s eyes, Ruelle asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"The most powerful type of magic comes from sacrificing your dear ones. Better your blood," Belladonna uttered the words before a smile cracked in the corner. "Relax. After you made the summoning, it should have taken you to where you wanted, but I decided to intervene so that you are aware of the consequences."

The consequences again...

"You do know that I am your granddaughter, right?" Ruelle asked with a look of suspicion.

"The man I loved, and with whom I had a child, set me on fire." Belladonna glanced at her. "I have had rather mixed feelings about my bloodline ever since. Love can be rather despicable and cheap. Look at your mother."

"You have been watching us," Ruelle murmured. "I’m sorry he did that to you."

A sigh escaped from Belladonna’s lips. "I am over it. I cursed him before I died, tying him to me in agony." She turned and jerked her head towards the crowd of the ghost. "Look at that thing on the ground. That’s him. Pathetic."

Ruelle caught sight of a ghost with a melted face, who found it hard to crawl. Then that would be—

"So what were the consequences you were talking about?" she asked.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify