Alchemy of Blood

Cover designer Nikolay Gorelsky

Editor Olga Isyanova

Proofreader Olga Isyanova

Translator Olga Isyanova

© Olga Shakirovna Isyanova, 2024

© Nikolay Gorelsky, cover design, 2024

© Olga Isyanova, translation, 2024

ISBN 978-5-0064-5575-7

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Prologue

Along with the blood, drop by drop, life flowed away. The fingers clutching the wound on the neck no longer felt warm. The bronze skin was fading, losing its color. There was no fear, no pain. Only a cool darkness, wave after wave, enveloped the heart until it stopped. Her last vivid memory was of her daughter’s eyes, cold and clear as moonlight. The dark waters of the river gently pushed Merit to the surface. All her wishes were gone, leaving only a fragile hope – the hope that her plea was answered and he would come.

Out of the thick darkness, a deep, guttural voice said, “Hello, Merit.”

The girl let out a small sigh of relief. She sensed his presence long before two glowing red eyes poked out of the darkness.

“Hello, my lord. You did come,” Merit whispered.

“You called, and I came. What do you want?”

“You know all about it, my lord,” Merit said, looking into his glowing eyes. “My daughter. She was safe now, but sooner or later he would find her,” her voice was pleading. “One day, when she comes before you, all I ask is that you protect her.”

“And in return?” It was a question of icy indifference.

Without hesitation, Merit fearlessly raised her large dark eyes and answered, “I will serve you. Forever.”

The otherworldly, inhuman gaze lit up with a satisfied spark.

“So be it.”

Chapter 1

When you live for more than two millennia, time doesn’t matter. It flows slowly, like a river, washing the epochs, and you just watch it flow, as if from the top of a mountain. So Selene sat on the edge of her desk in the ancient library, watching her new student with unruffled composure.

The new girl, young and eager, was trying to move a massive bronze goblet with the enthusiasm of youth. Her face was impatient, and there was a stubborn wrinkle between her brows.

Selene, watching her struggle, smiled. She understood this feeling perfectly – the eagerness, the desire to learn everything at once, without wasting time on long and boring exercises.

“You know, Chacey,” she said slowly, taking a drag on her cigarette. “If you stare at something like that, it’s bound to look back at you sooner or later.”

Without taking her eyes off the goblet, Chacey snorted.

“We’ve been circling this piece of metal for two hours now, and it’s no use!”

Selene couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The eternal problem of neophytes is lack of patience and discipline. She’s been through it, too.

“Good results are the fruit of long and hard work,” Selene said calmly, stubbing out her cigarette and putting the silver holder in the inner pocket of her black jacket dress. “But I know it all sounds crazy to you right now. You’re just a child.”

“A child?” Chacey outraged. “Actually, you’re not much older than me!”

Selene just grinned, “Appearances are deceptive, it’s time to understand this already. Be patient.”

“God, how boring!” Chacey whined. “You’d think I wasn’t trying!” She pouted childishly.

Selene crossed her legs.

“You’re thinking about the wrong things,” she said, looking at her with understanding.

Chacey asked dejectedly, “And about which ones?”

“Being a member of the Supreme Clan won’t solve your problems. Until you learn to defend yourself outside these walls, you are nothing. Find the best motivation,” Selene said sternly.

Chacey thought about it and said, “I have motivation. Maria says that I am very lucky to get into the Supreme Clan. It’s an honor,” she smiled foolishly, ignoring Selene’s words.

Selene grimaced at the mention of Maria. In her long life, she had rarely seen such cruel and vile creatures. However, Selene admitted that there was some truth in her words. Membership in the Supreme Clan offered many advantages, but not everyone was accepted. There is no telling what Chacy’s fate might have been if the guards hadn’t discovered her two months ago, feral and thirsty, and brought her to court.

“Don’t forget that I’m your mentor, not Maria,” Selene reminded her sternly. “Besides, you haven’t been accepted into the clan yet.”

The clan took the lost ones like Chacy under their wing, helping them get back on their feet. The most gifted were accepted into their ranks. Selene was assigned to mentor Chacy and several other neophytes. She was engaged in training them and developing their abilities.

“How were you trained?” the girl suddenly asked.

Selene’s gaze darkened and went off into the distance, as it always did when remembering the past.

But she quickly regained her composure and said grimly, “My mentor wasn’t so forgiving.”

Chacey turned away and pretended to stare at the ancient leather-bound books that filled the huge dark wood shelves to the ceiling. Selene sighed and pushed her long black hair off her shoulder as she slid off the table and walked over to the girl. She was staring intently at a rack of various relics and artefacts. Selene noticed that Chacey’s gaze lingered on the obsidian statue of an ancient Egyptian deity. Its smooth black surface seemed to absorb the sunlight, and its ruby eyes, on the contrary, burned brightly with a blood-red fire. The student’s blue eyes shifted from the statue to the silver medallion that rested on Selene’s neck.

“Just like yours,” Chacey said, studying the beast’s elongated face with its long ears that looked like they’d been chopped off at the end. “Is it something Egyptian?”

Selene touched the locket, instinctively trying to protect it. The metal pulsed slightly under her fingers, like a small heart. With a barely perceptible effort, Chacey turned her attention from the god’s ruby eyes to the silvery ones of her mentor.

“Yes,” Selene said. “This is Set, the god of death, storms, and the barren desert. Our God.”

“What do you mean?” the girl asked, surprised. “Do vampires have a god?”

Selene smiled a little. She liked it when the students showed interest in history, and now she was glad of the opportunity for a little distraction.

“Long ago, when the gods lived among humans, the god Seth fought for power with his nephew Horus,” she began. “They fought for days and nights, but they were evenly matched, and neither of them could gain the upper hand. Then the sun – god Ra, the lord of the gods, tired of this enmity, judged between them and gave the crown to Horus.”

Chacey was intrigued. She knew something about the history of vampires, but she’d never heard that they had a god before.

“What’s next?” the girl asked.

“An enraged Seth, unwilling to accept this turn of events, decided to rebel against Ra and his allies,” Selene continued. “Seth has mobilized his loyal mortals, lavishing each of them with his divine blood. This elixir gave the followers of Seth superhuman abilities, turning them into ruthless and unstoppable warriors who possessed lightning-fast agility, remarkable strength and fierce rage inherent in Seth himself. But despite their newfound power, the rebel forces suffered a crushing defeat. Ra and Horus joined forces to defeat Seth and his henchmen. As a severe punishment, Seth was imprisoned in the dark depths of the Duat, the underworld, without the possibility of having offspring. And his loyal warriors, deprived of their master, are doomed to wander the earthworld in the dark of night, reaping the fruits of their treachery. However, some of Seth’s followers found a way to circumvent the gods’ ban.”

Chacey, startled by her mentor’s story, was silent for a long time, digesting what she had just heard. Finally, she asked hesitantly, “And what became of Seth’s warriors after he was imprisoned?”

Selene, lost in thought, replied, “Free from the bonds of their master, they have spread out across the world, mixing their blood with that of mortals and creating new kindred. And so, from generation to generation, we continue to exist, forever hiding our eyes from the light of the sun.”

Chacey raised a skeptical eyebrow and said, “But it sounds like a legend, a fiction. Fairy tales for scaring children.”

“Even the most terrifying fairy tales have some truth in them. And this story is no exception.”

The distant sound of footsteps echoed through the dim hall from behind the closed door, making Selene and her student alert. The sweet, salty smell of human blood hung in the air, enticing and exciting the vampire’s senses. The cheerful voices of the staff coming from the corridor only served to reinforce the contrast between the carefree lives of humans and the dark existence of vampires.

Selene glanced at Chacey and was alarmed to see an inky network of veins spreading around her eyes, the whites turning cloudy, and her upper canines elongating. Hunger gnawed at the young vampire, ready to break loose.

“It’s starting again,” Selene thought, rolling her eyes. She snapped her fingers in front of Chacey’s face, forcing her to focus, and cupped her chin, gently turning her face to face her.

“Keep your breath steady and focus on me,” Selene whispered, looking into her student’s hungry blue eyes.

As the footsteps receded, Chacey gradually calmed down. Her breathing slowed, and the inky veil in her eyes began to clear.

“Well done,” Selene said, patting her on the shoulder.

Chacey grimaced as if at an unpleasant memory.

“But I don’t understand why all these rules apply,” she sounded annoyed. “I want to see the world outside the palace! How long can I stay locked up?”

Selene has already heard similar complaints from new converts. Young vampires with a burning thirst for life often did not understand why they should obey the strict rules of existence in a human society.

“These rules aren’t just a whim,” Selene explained patiently. “They are the key to the security and preservation of our world. The sooner you realize this, the better it will be for you. As for your desire to leave the palace… Go ahead. But remember: the slightest mistake and your head will roll off your shoulders in the blink of an eye.”

“What should I be afraid of?” Chacey snorted, tossing her shock of dark brown hair. “Mortals are just useless idiots,” there was a hint of contempt in her voice.

Anger flared in Selene like a hot flame. How quickly this young convert had forgotten her human origins. But what was even more surprising was that Chacey had absolutely no memory of her past. Sometimes this happens to some converts: fate seems to take pity on them, erasing the tragic events from their memory. Sometimes oblivion is really better.

“And what use are you?” Selene raised a dark brow, her silver eyes glinting dangerously from under thick lashes. “So far, you’re not of any value to the clan. Besides, you were a mortal yourself not so long ago, weren’t you?”

“That was in a previous life,” Chacey said.

“Is that so?” Selene said, turning her back on the neophyte and walking slowly toward the tall marble fireplace. “Remember when I said you needed motivation?”

“Yes,” Chacey said.

Selene went to the mantelpiece and picked up a fae dagger with a blade made of gold threads, similar to the pattern on a dragonfly’s wings. It gave off a soft, melodious chime.

“You asked me how I was trained,” Selene continued, turning the dagger thoughtfully in her fingers, examining it. “The most important lesson I’ve learned…”

With a sharp turn, Selene threw the dagger at her student with lightning speed. Instantly, Chacey raised her hands. The blade froze in midair just inches from her face. She stared at her mentor in a daze: with her close-cropped, disheveled hair and petite build, she looked like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.

“It’s fear,” Selene hissed, her face as pale as porcelain and icy calm.

Chacey dropped her hands abruptly, and the blade clattered to the marble floor. A look of horror crossed her face, and she hurried out of the library, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.

Chapter 2

After the student left, Selene froze in place, immersed in a mixed stream of emotions. Regret gnawed at her soul: if the girl had failed, her life would have ended because of her own lack of restraint. But some inner voice assured Selene otherwise. As it turned out, fear is the best incentive.

Selene picked up a delicate golden blade from the floor. Its sharpened blade grinned like a beast that has lost its prey.

“Not today, mate,” she said to the blade, and it gave a high, almost melodious chime in response.

Such enchanted artifacts, especially those created by fae masters, were intelligent and incomparably rare. The secret of making them has long been lost.

Selene returned the blade to its place and unconsciously turned her gaze to the large mirror over the fireplace. In his reflection, her father’s piercing silver eyes stared back at her, cold and grim. The resemblance disgusted her, reminding her of a man she didn’t want to know. Someone once told her that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother, and Selene would like to see her image in her own reflection. Unfortunately, it was impossible to remember someone she had never met.

Selene’s dark stream of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by the sharp beep of her smartphone, breaking the silence of the library. After reading the incoming message, a warm smile lit up her face.

***

Selene enjoyed the fresh air as she walked through the cobblestone streets of Venice. She savored the scents of salt water wafting from the canals, fresh coffee from cozy cafes, and the damp stones of ancient buildings. People hurried past on their way, couples strolled hand in hand, and tourists relentlessly took photos and videos, passing on gondolas or looking at the windows of souvenir shops.

Selene loved such moments when there was an opportunity to simply disappear into the city bustle and feel like a part of the life that did not belong to her. Adjusting her sunglasses, she pushed past a group of students who were busily photographing an architectural detail.

Selene’s gaze slid up, and she saw what had caught their attention: the Egyptian ankh cross adorning the marble facade of one of the buildings. The top of the cross was crowned with a loop, and in the center was an all-seeing eye. This symbol, found on the facades and pediments of palaces, cathedrals and other architectural structures not only in Venice, but also around the world, kept a secret known only to a select few. Those who had knowledge of its true meaning wore it as a sign of belonging to the Supreme Clan. Selene, wearing a miniature ankh brooch, was one of them.

After looking into a charming coffee corner and a flower stand, Selene headed for a small palazzo. The wrought-iron gate creaked, letting her into a courtyard that smelled of exotic plants. A young man in a dark green shirt and jeans and a girl in a light summer dress were walking towards her. They were cooing, and the girl was smiling sweetly, clutching a bottle of floral perfume to her chest. The young man stopped, plucked a snow-white lily from the flowerbed and gallantly handed it to his companion. She blushed and accepted the flower gratefully. With an embarrassed glance over her shoulder, she disappeared through the gate.

The young man watched her go with his light green eyes, then turned to Selene. She had been watching the idyll with irony all this time.

“Aren’t you too old for this flower?” she joked.

“How dare you?” the guy pretended to be indignant. “I’m pretty well preserved for my age.”

Selene smiled and handed him a cup of aromatic herbal latte. He took a grateful sip. Walking to a round table in the center of the courtyard, Selene added another to the rich bouquet of dark red roses that adorned the base of a small stone statue of the Three-faced Hecate.

“For Senora Sartori,” she said. “She’s at home?”

“She’s on the roof sunbathing.”

The young man leaned over to the lily bed and gently touched the broken stem. Instantly, it bloomed as if nothing had happened. Senora Sartori’s voice came from above.

“Selene, is that you, dear?”

A woman of respectable age was leaning on the parapet, looking at them. Tall and graceful, with her snow-white hair parted in the middle and pulled back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, she looked like she stepped out of the pages of a historical novel. Her large earrings, sparkling with diamonds in the setting sun, accentuated her piercing blue eyes.

“Buona sera1, senora,” Selene greeted her in Italian.

“Ciao2, my dear!” the woman smiled warmly. “It’s been a long time since you stopped by!”

“Business, business…” Selene replied. “How is the novel progressing?”

Allegra Sartori, world-famous for her historical prose, was one of the most elegant and charming women Selene had ever met. Her true age was a mystery, but it was rumored that she had been the mistress of one of the Doges of Venice, and had even served on the powerful Council of Ten3 before the Supreme Clan had settled in the city.

“Oh, wonderful, my dear. Your historical advice is priceless!” the writer replied enthusiastically.

“Happy to help! I look forward to receiving a signed copy!” Selene said.

“By all means, my dear! But now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to miss my evening tan – it’s the best for my skin!”

With that, the senora disappeared from view, holding the white jacket draped over her shoulders with her fingers studded with glittering rings.

“If every time she says that phrase, the sea increases by an inch, Venice would have sunk long ago,” Frey chuckled.

“You’re lucky you witches don’t have such sensitive ears, otherwise you’d have to find a new place to live.”

Laughing, Frey put an arm around Selene’s shoulders and they settled down on the bench. They just sat in silence for a long time. Frey was enjoying his latte, and Selene was smoking a cigarette. Scents of flowers wafted in the air, and water gurgled merrily in the stone fountain. Everything breathed comfort and tranquility. Selene thought that she could live a thousand lifetimes in such an atmosphere.

“How was your class with the new girl?” Frey broke the silence.

“Not bad, except for her stampede at the end,” Selene shrugged.

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.