Chapter 68: Frozen in Desire

The man Francis had called Nate stepped forward slightly, his posture calm but clearly irritated. “Francis,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with impatience, “I have a ball to host downstairs, and are you going to get to the point of this meeting… or are you and your friends going to keep pointing fingers all night?” The room fell silent again, and Francis raised his hands slightly. “My apologies,” and then he turned—his eyes landing directly on me. “Can we all behave like civilized people?” he said calmly, and I didn’t respond, because my attention was elsewhere, but he continued anyway. He turned back to the group in white and began explaining. “It’s about a girl,” he said. “Ayara,” and he spoke clearly, carefully. “She was born a werewolf… but later became a vampire as well,” and that alone drew subtle reactions from the group. “But something went wrong,” Francis continued. “After a while, her body began rejecting the transformation, completely,” and he paused briefly. “She’s basically human now,” and a faint shift moved through the room. “And she’s getting weaker by the day,” he added. “We’ve tried everything—spells, potions… we even tried turning her again,” and his voice hardened slightly. “But she can’t keep the blood down,” and silence followed. “We’ve run out of options,” Francis finished. “That’s why we came to you,” and they began talking after that—low voices, controlled, measured, but I wasn’t listening, and I couldn’t, because my eyes were locked on him, the tall man, the Dhampir, my half-brother, and he was staring at me too, unmoving, unblinking, like he was trying to figure me out the same way I was trying to figure him out. How did he get here…? Why is he here…? Did he come for me? A darker thought crept in. Did he come to kill me? Then it hit me: what Waje said, a member of my blood… coming to end us all, and my chest tightened slightly. Is this it…? Is this how it ends for all of us? Suddenly— a sharp pinch hit my arm, and I flinched slightly and turned, and Daniel stood beside me, his expression tight. “Stop staring,” he whispered under his breath. “They’re all looking at you like a creep,” and I blinked, snapping slightly out of my thoughts, but when I looked back— he was still watching me. Then I heard a girl’s voice, calm but commanding, cutting through the murmurs of the room. “Is this girl in particular still awake?” I realized immediately—she must be the Jane Francis had mentioned, and Francis answered quietly, “She’s conscious sometimes… but very weak,” and the girl smiled faintly, not worried at all. “No problem,” she said, her voice smooth, confident. “Me and Stephen will pay you a visit once we are done here,” and she slid her arm around my half-brother’s arm, as if claiming him as her own. Stephen, that was the name she used, and I didn’t even bother to ask Tunde his name when we had broken into his house, because it seemed irrelevant now, and I still couldn’t believe it, because these people—lesser vampires, masters of their world—had just accepted him into their midst, and when I had whispered “the prophesied Dhampir” to them earlier, they hadn’t looked surprised at all, and they knew, and they knew who he was, and yet they welcomed him anyway. I didn’t know if that made them foolish… or astonishingly kind, and the meeting ended soon after, and the tension of the room dissolved as quietly as it had come, and we all moved back into the ballroom, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. As guests, we all slipped back into black—velvet coats, flowing gowns, masks concealing our faces in perfect gothic symmetry, and the eight hosts, now gathered together, wore their white ball costumes like a perfect contrast against the dark crowd, and a slow, haunting melody began again—violin strings weaving through the room, echoing like whispers in the grand halls, and couples paired up, gliding across the polished floors, and shadows twisted with the light, reflecting off chandeliers and gilded mirrors. I kept my eyes on Stephen, and he was glued to Jane, and every glance she threw his way seemed to melt his attention entirely, and sometimes he whispered something in her ear, and she would laugh—soft, musical, intoxicating, and then she would whisper back, and he would laugh, and it was effortless, natural—the kind of connection that made everything else in the room fade. Daniel and Timi approached me quietly, their expressions tight with concern. “What were you talking about back in the room?” Daniel asked, his voice low, almost urgent, and Timi crossed his arms and added, “I told him you said you killed the Dhampir… so why is he here?” I sighed heavily, the weight of the night pressing down on me. “We can’t talk about this here,” I said, glancing around. “We don’t know who’s listening,” and Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you have a half-brother and you never told me,” and I didn’t respond, and I just walked away, feeling the tension in my chest tighten with every step. Soon, a waiter approached me, moving with uncanny precision, and handed me two small earbuds, and I took them silently, eyes scanning the room, and around me, the other waiters did the same for Francis, Timi, Daniel, and all the other hosts, then I noticed Stephen—my half-brother—standing still, staring straight ahead with a small, serene smile on his lips, but Jane, his companion, wasn’t beside him, and my heart skipped a beat, so I followed his gaze, and there she was, standing alone in the center of the living room, bathed in the muted light of the chandeliers, and every guest had instinctively given her space, a radius of emptiness around her that made her presence feel almost divine. She raised her head slowly, black hair cascading like a river of shadows, and opened her mouth, and the first word she spoke was like a bell toll in the dead of night, vibrating through the air, yet penetrating deep into every mind present, and it wasn’t just her voice—it was power, raw and undeniable, curling around every heartbeat in the room, and the sound washed over the guests, creeping into their senses, seizing their consciousness. I watched in horror as everyone in the ball froze mid-motion, and a man holding a glass of champagne had it suspended in the air, and a couple dancing was locked in mid-step, and every single person’s gaze became glassy, unfocused, as if their souls had been plucked from their bodies, and Jane’s voice continued, melodic and commanding, bending reality around her words. “Dive into your deepest fantasies, and move not a single muscle, and feel everything your heart has ever longed for, and let it consume you entirely,” and her eyes glowed faintly under the lights, black and violet swirls dancing in them, and her hypnotic power radiated outward like ripples in a dark lake, and the crowd didn’t resist, because they were utterly captivated, trapped in a dreamscape of their own subconscious desires. I felt a chill run down my spine, and the hairs on my arms stood on end, because it was magnificent, terrifying, perfect, and every person in that room, alive yet lifeless, was completely under her control—or so it seemed, but the earbuds in my ears made her power falter against me, a thin barrier that allowed me to remain conscious, and I watched, trembling, as Jane’s mastery unfolded, and the sheer magnitude of her abilities struck me dumb. Everyone in the ball appeared like living statues, their eyes glazed, their bodies suspended in a moment that was no longer theirs, and there she was—Jane—effortlessly orchestrating this symphony of domination, hypnotic authority radiating from her every movement, and I swallowed hard, and fear, awe, and disbelief collided in my chest, because I had known her to be powerful, but this… this was beyond anything I could have imagined. Nate walked up behind Jane, placing both his hands on her back, and whispered, “Excellent, as always,” and Jane gave a small, satisfied smile, then turned her attention back to Stephen, her eyes glinting with power and amusement, and Nate removed his earbuds and said, “Let the feast begin,” and instantly, the remaining seven hosts sprang into motion, and with a grace and speed that made them almost invisible to the naked eye, they moved from guest to guest, biting into their necks, drawing blood with precision, and each vampire followed the same method: feed for a few moments, then press their lips to the wound to heal it, leaving no lasting mark, and the entire room became a blur of black-clad figures, fluid and predatory, moving effortlessly between the frozen, hypnotized guests. I noticed Francis was doing the same, gliding through the crowd, feeding and healing, then signaling for us to join, and without hesitation, I stepped forward, and my hand extended, finding a lady’s wrist, and I held her hand gently, leaned close, and sank my fangs into her neck, and the taste of life coursed through me slowly, and when I was done, I kissed the bite mark, watching it heal instantly under my lips, and the sensation was intoxicating, strange, and addictive all at once. One by one, we all repeated the process until everyone present had been touched, and the room hummed with quiet energy, a silent acknowledgment of Jane’s mastery over the crowd and the coordinated precision of the hosts, and when we finished, Nate’s voice cut through the tension. “It’s better to leave now, and you might not enjoy what comes next, and don’t worry—Jane will come to you afterward,” and Francis gestured toward the door, and we filed out, and the soft click of our shoes was the only sound breaking the eerie quiet. Once we were in the limo, I turned to Francis. “What are they going to do next?” “They’re about to start the orgy,” he said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact, and I raised an eyebrow. “Will the guests also be hypnotized during the orgy?” Francis shook his head. “No, and they know why they’re here, and this part is voluntary, and the rest… they’re on their own,” and we all settled into the back of the limo, and the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, and I was surprised the driver hadn’t fallen asleep despite the hour. Daniel leaned forward and asked, “When should we expect Jane and Stephen?” Francis glanced at the dashboard clock. “Probably between 4 and 5 a.m,” then he turned to me, and his eyes were sharp. “I thought you had killed your brother, and you could have ended the prophecy tonight, but here you are… putting us all at risk,” and I could feel Daniel and Timi staring at me, judgment and disbelief in their eyes, and my hands curled into fists, and my jaw tightened. “He’s my brother,” I said, voice low but firm, and I let it carry the weight of centuries. “He hasn’t done anything wrong, and why would I kill an innocent person? He’s killed less than any of you, including you, Daniel, so if you truly believe he deserves to die, then do it yourself,” and the limo was silent for a moment, and tension was thick in the air, and I could see Daniel’s anger flicker, and Timi’s disapproval, and yet… none of them moved, and none of them reached for the violence I had challenged them to, so I leaned back in my seat, and my heart pounded, and my eyes were fixed on the darkness outside the window, because the night was far from over. We arrived home, and Timi carefully placed Ayara on the couch, and we all changed out of our ball outfits and sat in tense silence, waiting, and hours passed, each minute stretching longer than the last, and finally, a knock echoed through the mansion just past 5 a.m., and the door swung open, and there they were—Jane and Stephen—casually dressed now in shirts and jeans, but every ounce of their presence still commanding, and Jane’s gaze immediately fell on Ayara. “Where is the damsel?” she asked, and Ayara coughed softly, weak but conscious, and Jane’s expression softened as she approached, seating herself beside the girl and stroking her hair gently, and Stephen stepped forward, taking Jane’s hand, then paused, and he bit his palm, and we all froze, unsure of what he was doing, and slowly, he brought his bloodied hand to Ayara’s lips, and at first, she fed weakly, barely touching his flesh, but gradually her strength returned, and her movements became more confident, more aggressive, and her grip tightened on Stephen’s arm until he had to withdraw it. We watched in awe as Ayara stood, completely transformed, and her energy was renewed, and her eyes glinted with a predatory intensity as she moved toward the open street, and before any of us could react, she sped out of the mansion and we went after her, and then she jumped onto a male morning jogger with astonishing speed, and his screams pierced the early light, but within moments, it was over, and she stepped back, wiping her lips, and looked at us, and Stephen had stepped back, and his gaze was steady, but I could see the tension in his jaw, because he knew Ayara’s newfound strength came directly from his blood. “I feel amazing,” Ayara said, and her voice was strong, alive, and filled with the thrill of her newfound power.