CHAPTER I – The Love Potion
Tristan
TWIGS AND LEAVES CRUNCH under my boots as I head to the old witch’s hut in the woods.
Her note said she awaited me tonight in great secrecy. That there was something I had to assess before Lord Dracula learned of it. I agreed. After all, I am his second in command, or, better said, his left hand. I usually deal with everything before it gets to him.
The wooden door opens to an interior that reminds me of the Grimm fairy tale with the gingerbread house. That fairy tale, like vampires and shifters, has its roots in reality. The witch in that story was a cannibal witch, a nasty species that preceded necromancers. But Magda is a white sorceress. Steam and a strong flowery smell lead me to the kitchen, where I find her.
The old woman’s silver hair is damp as she stirs hot liquid in a cauldron.
“It’s a love potion,” she says, glancing at me. Her full cheeks are red from the effort, her sleeves rolled up.
I walk closer, looking into the cauldron as I try to figure out by the smell what plants she’s using. The scent is pleasant, like roses and lilac, the heat steaming my face.
“So it’s true. Women still use these.”
“Only women with a witchy streak,” Madam Magda replies, the skin on her old forearm creasing from the effort of stirring.
I grab the ladle from her hand. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you.”
She drops into a chair, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her wrist.
“Too bad witch powers don’t come with extreme muscle strength, like yours.” She smiles. “Or the heartbreaking beauty of a prince. Or eternal youth.”
I look down at her cookie-baking granny face. “Young or not, you can enslave any man’s heart with a love potion. That should count for something.”
She laughs, the lighthearted humor reaching her eyes.
“The potion isn’t for myself, as you must have imagined from the start.”
I shrug, and keep stirring. “I’m not judging, Madam Magda. It’s not my place. How long does this have to brew?”
She glances at the clock on the wall. “About another twenty minutes.”
She relaxes back in her chair, studying me. “Tristan DeKnight, Dracula’s left hand. The cold assassin prince. The man who left his own order of the assassins to join the King of Vampires. I wonder what feelings drove you to make that decision.” She glances at my arms and hips, knowing I have blades strapped to them under the black suit. “Because some people say you don’t have any feelings. They say you can cut through living flesh and remain cold as an iceberg, even though for blade assassins killing is a very personal experience. How do you explain that?”
“I don’t explain it at all.”
She ponders for a few moments, then she gets up heavily and heads to the cupboard. “May I ask then, when was the last time you felt any emotion intensely, Master DeKnight?”
“Is my ability to feel in any way relevant for the reason you asked me here?”
Madam Magda glances at me, taking cookies and teacups out of the cupboard. “It is, because you’re stirring my love potion. Your energy flows into it while you’re at it, so I’m trying to understand you. Are you truly cold, or are you only very controlled?”
I look down at the brew, noticing it’s becoming pasty. “After centuries of living as a vampire, many of us conclude that feelings are overrated. Less important than most people make them. Anyway, my strongest trigger has always been abuse of the innocent, that pokes at my sense of duty. I can get emotional about that, for example.”
“So you see yourself as a protector of the innocent. But Lord Dracula wasn’t exactly innocent when he turned you into a vampire. He was vile. Yet you gave him your loyalty.”
“Many misunderstand him. Lord Dracula may be known as one of the greatest villains in both history and myth, but he was never beastly with the weak. Even the humans he attacked and sucked dry, they were oppressors, tyrants, abusers.”
“Oh yes? And what was vile about Ruxandra when he first decided to take her blood?”
“In case Lady Rux never told you, when he first tried to take her blood he transformed into mist and gave her great pleasure. He was going to be gentle with her.”
“Ah, yes, he would have gently taken her life.”
“Madam Magda, you better have this discussion with Lady Rux, or Lord Dracula himself. All I can assure you of is that he never hurt an innocent person, not once in the two centuries I’ve been by his side, as his second in command.”
“No, don’t get me wrong, Master DeKnight,” Magda says as she walks over, arranging small ornate plates on the table. “I’m way over this story, Lord Dracula and I have made peace, and I now see him in the best light. I wasn’t trying to understand Lord Dracula through this conversation, but you.” She wipes her old hands on her apron, and gives me a wise smile. “You’re the most mysterious of Dracula’s vampires, and now that I got you here, I thought I’d take the chance to know you better.” She motions with her hand to the potion. “Especially if you’re going to accept and do me the little favor I have to ask of you.”
“And what is that little favor?”
She picks wet rose petals from a chalice on the counter, and crushes them over the potion with expert fingers until they turn dark. I scoop some of the pasty liquid with the ladle, then tilt it, letting the potion drip back into the cauldron as I examine it.
“I’m going to give you a name, Master DeKnight, the name of the person who commissioned this potion. But before I do, you have to swear you’ll keep it secret no matter what.”
“I am the person Lord Dracula trusts most, after his wife and his brother,” I remind her. “I don’t usually keep things from him, unless they’re truly unimportant, and it doesn’t make sense to bother him with them—or to bother myself. If I think the person’s name isn’t vital for Lord Dracula’s business, I’ll forget it as soon as you tell me.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do.” She invites me to cookies and tea as she takes a seat across the table.
I ignore the invitation, and keep stirring the brew. It goes from pasty to pastier. “Shouldn’t we add some more water or something to liquefy it?”
“No. Just keep stirring until it decreases. But you can have a cookie, you know, or drink some tea while you’re slaving away at it,” she says warmly.
“Like you said, I’m strong. I don’t feel any strain.” My eyes lock with hers for just a moment, enough to convey that I won’t be swayed. “Besides, I’m not here to get comfortable. I’d like to know why you summoned me, otherwise I’ll be on my way, if you don’t mind. I’m the head of Lord Dracula’s security, I can’t be gone for too long.”
“Well, Prince Radek is visiting. He could take over security while you’re on this mission.”
“This is the last time I’m asking you—what is the mission? Tell me, or, with all due respect, I’ll be out that door.”
She breathes in and out, as if settling for a deal that’s less than what she wanted. “You remember Isolde Jochs, yes? Juliet’s sister?”