Vampires Realm Prophecy 01 - Child of Light

all of them, unsure of what to make of what they’d said. They seemed to move as one, closing in on her, but backing away again when Valentine growled at them. They bent towards each other, their faces reflecting various feelings, and she got the feeling that they were talking about her. She knew that witches didn’t need to say things out loud in order to talk with others. They could say things straight into other people’s heads. They all looked at her.
    “She has red hair,” the tall witch said.
    “Red like blood.” The short one reached out a hand and stroked the air as though she was stroking her hair.
    “Red like her mother’s.” The third witch smiled.
    Her mother? Did they know who her mother was? When the tall one opened her mouth again, she realised that they always spoke like this, in order and as one. They seemed to finish each other’s sentences as though they were one person split into three, one mind in three different vessels.
    “Her mother would be proud.”
    “So proud.”
    “I believe so.”
    “What about my mother?” She took a step towards them and Valentine caught her arm, holding her back. “Tell me about my mother.”
    “We need your blood.”
    “Your blood will make a key.”
    “Your blood is a key.”
    Her blood? She wished that they’d explain more, wished they had answered her question about her mother. Did they really know about her? Did she really look like her mother? Was this all some cruel trick?
    “Come with us.” The thin witch began to move.
    Prophecy broke free of Valentine’s grip and found herself following her.
    “Don’t move.”
    “You must remain here.”
    She turned to see the young witch with her hand against Valentine’s chest stopping him from moving. Prophecy tried to give him a look that said everything would be okay, but she wasn’t sure that it would. Turning away, she took a deep breath and followed the tall witch into the other room. It felt even colder than the first one. She could hear the other two witches still talking to Valentine and it only made her more uncertain.
    “Don’t enter that room,” the short witch said.
    “No matter what you hear,” the younger one said.
    “She wouldn’t like what you’d see.”
    “But you’ll see soon enough.”
    Prophecy watched them walking over to her, leaving Valentine looking lost. She wanted to go back to him, back to where she felt safe, but the witches had said they needed her blood in order to create the key and she needed that key.
    The doors closed and she swallowed hard.
    She stood in silence while they looked her over and she tried her best not to let her nerves show.
    “Don’t be frightened.” The thin witch smiled at her.
    “Never be frightened.”
    “Fear is empty, pointless.”
    They pointed at her clothes and she looked down at them, unsure of what they wanted. The youngest one came towards her and began unbuttoning her shirt for her.
    “You want me to strip so you can take my blood? Can’t you just use a needle?” She looked incredulous as they all shook their heads in the negative.
    “There are things you’ll need.”
    “Things to unlock the power.”
    “The power that is in your blood.”
    “Power?” She frowned at them. She had power in her blood? The power to act as a key? Or something else?
    They all indicated the raised slab of ice in the centre of the room. It was covered in a thick white blanket made of fur. At least she wouldn’t freeze while they prodded and poked at her naked body. Her eyes strayed to the door and she tried to sense Valentine on the other side.
    Her eyes widened. That’s why they’d told him not to come in, because she’d be naked. She was glad they’d stopped him now. She was having a hard enough time knowing how to act around him already without the awkwardness this would have added.
    She stripped off and placed her clothes in a pile beside her. The floor was freezing underfoot and the chill that hung in the air stole the last of the warmth from her body. She carefully hopped up onto the slab and lay down, taking a deep breath when the three women moved to stand at different points, the tall one at her head and the other two on opposite sides of her. They all smiled down at her. She moved her gaze to the icy ceiling and kept it there as they began to chant. Her skin prickled, the hairs standing on end as a feeling like static electricity filled the air. They were drawing symbols and her body began to burn. Her shoulders