Young Blood

By Medallio Green

ONCE WE SMELL YOU. WE NEVER GIVE UP THE HUNT.

 

"I wonder what my son looks like now." This thought reels through my mind every day that he isn't with me. For seventeen years my family and I searched for my son, using the resources accumulated by centuries of living among humans until finally he was found. Not only has he turned into the human-vampire hybrid of his DNA, but he is also a powerful witch. I am my son's mother, Ana, a human-vampire hybrid who will do anything to keep my son safe. Knowing the future based on my sister's time-splitting gifts, I thought I knew what was coming for all of us. Hunted and tortured by those who abhor us is exactly what I expect. But feeling that affliction from my own son is a twisted knife in my back.

 

Young Blood is book #1 of The Hybrid Series. This is a fantasy human-vampire hybrid novel with magical realism and a little bit of romance. There are some triggers: blood, gore, unaliving, kidnapping, suicidal ideation/attempt, and grief.

 

Stay tuned for book #2 in The Hybrid Series, coming soon.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Medallio Green
• Release date: May 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224336685

Medallio Green

Medallio is the author of Young Blood, the first of a bloodsucking series. She enjoys writing all kinds of fiction that bends the mind and makes you feel a myriad of emotions. Medallio spends time attending local writing conferences, contributing to writers' groups, and a published short story writer. When Medallio's not writing and editing in the DMV area as a Technical Writer/Editor, she's the 1/4 owner of a standard party poodle, but also a singer if you count exclusive gigs in the car and shower. Medallio can be found spending time with her young niece at the dog park or taking walks with friends. She's also been spotted at art galleries daydreaming that she painted the whole realism section. When Medallio isn't traipsing around the DC area eating vegetarian burgers, she is an adventure seeker that leads her outside of the country as a solo traveler.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Standing in what was once my dining room, my mind drifted to its daily thought. I wonder what my son looks like now. My breath hitched as the possibilities swarmed before my eyes. Did Liam have his father’s shaggy dirty blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, and kind blue eyes? Loud footsteps and grunts of frustration pulled my attention back to the present. My family milled around the room continuing their monotonous search.

The thick, long oak table that seated up to twenty people had a cheap white cloth over it, but the wood was still marred from endless scratches. My combat boots tapped on the scuffed floors where my love and imprint, Dorian, once held me close while gliding us in a dance to our favorite song. The chandelier overhead blazed on its highest setting as me and my sisters hunched over a large map. This farmhouse sitting on acres of land in upstate New York used to be my sanctuary, but now it was our war room. My eldest sister, Malía, sat back on her stool, her dark cyan-blue eyes were glassy from a million thoughts and ideas passing through her mind at once. She was the first of our human-vampire hybrid species and the leader of our army against The Order, a vampire organization that wanted to exterminate hybrids.

Where is the witch? Malía, voice devoid of emotion, gave our sister, Chrysanthia, a steely stare. The two were comically different in appearance though we all shared the same Maltese father. Malía’s chestnut-colored skin had an underlying glow like the sun followed her everywhere she went. Her well-defined sharp cheekbones held a permanent contoured shadow. Her plump lips were always in a slightly sexy smirk. Malía’s nose was perfectly narrow and proportioned. Her breathy voice tied it all together.

Malía turned her powerfully toned frame sideways to stare pointedly at Chrysanthia who was studying the maps with her forehead creased in concentration. Her dainty hands pressed onto the pages. Chrysanthia’s petite feminine curves bumped the table’s edge. I nudged Chrysanthia with an elbow to her arm until she jerked her head up, blond straight hair whipped against her neck. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink while turning her sparkling blue gaze onto Malía. What? She blinked a few times as if realizing where her whereabouts.

Theo, Malía’s second in command and twin brother, rushed into the room as was his nature. He never stayed still for long. He tucked a thick strand of shoulder-length wavy brown hair behind his ear while sitting down to pull on his ankle boots.

It was a wonder to me that Malía and Theo turned out the way they did with a mother like Lucía. Theo seemed easy enough to get along with, but he always appeared lost in his thoughts. Malía was cold, calculating, and manipulative. Most likely traits she had to absorb to survive their mother. Our father turned Lucía into a vampire and that heightened her disturbing behavior. She tortured her children when they were human by scorching their skin with fire or holding them down underwater in the pond that occasionally flooded their hut.

Voices whispered convoluted stories in Lucía’s head about hybrids being an abomination and the species needed to be exterminated by any means necessary. Believing the voices spoke the truth, she joined The Order. Her manipulations and strategic thinking led the members to agree with her and eventually made her their leader. What I tended to forget was that Malía and Theo were fighting a battle long before The Order ever came into the picture.

Theo stood up, stomping his boots while fussing over them. Do you have everything? Malía eyed him curiously.

He put his index finger on his chin and stared with unfocused blue-green eyes that glinted in the light. Almost as breathtaking as his flawless face in the same sun-kissed shade as Malía. He wasn’t taller than the other men in the room, but leaner with corded muscles when he strained. He crossed his legs, resting his ankle on his foot. He nodded vigorously and Malía mimicked the gesture.

I’ll be fine sister, don’t worry about me. Theo reached out and ruffled her hair when she walked closer.

Malía slapped his hand away. Go now. You need to be with her before The Order comes.

He nodded then his eyes bounced around the room. Bye, everyone.

With my eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what they were talking about, I watched him leave through the front door. Where is he going?

He must fulfill a task, Malía huffed in annoyance. Isn’t the witch supposed to have been here by now? Her impatience matched mine.

Before I could ask anything more, Chrysanthia chimed in with a clipped tone, The witch has a name. Mena will be here. Our father gave his word. The musical intonation of her English accent was like a symphony that hadn’t been created yet. My eyes rolled upward at her absolute trust in our father. Resentment ran deep into the marrow of my bones since he gave me up for adoption to human parents that I slayed when I turned into a hybrid on my eighteenth birthday. I had very little faith that he would come through with a witch powerful enough to transport multiple people at one time to a location cloaked and warded with tenebris magic.

Hating my father was the least of my worries. My knee bounced as if expelling the anxiety building up inside while studying the detailed map of New York. After scouring the earth and dismantling many of The Order’s locations, it was almost comical that one of The Order’s inner sanctums was somewhere in the State of New York where I resided. Somehow, The Order has aided Evita, my Romani witch mother, in cloaking my son after kidnapping him over ten years ago. Evita and The Order struck a fruitful relationship after an obscene act of violence where Malía slaughtered Evita’s family centuries ago. The Order discovered a powerful ally in their crusade of eradicating hybrids from the world. After absorbing her covens’ magic, Evita shed her humanity. Against all forces of nature, Evita used ancestral magic to stop aging and stay alive for centuries in a human body. On her quest for revenge, Evita used a spell to see her future where her daughter birthed a more powerful witch than her. This only tipped the odds in her favor as she set out to make sure that I was born so that all the pieces would fall into place. My role in all this caused my chest to tighten. Absently, I pressed my hand to my breast to smooth the ache. I wasn’t a daughter to her, but a pawn to be played with.

I bit my bottom lip while Malía and Chrysanthia bickered like siblings who had known each other for hundreds of years.

How do you see the future, but you can’t see when a witch will drop in? Malía pressed her fingertips to her eyes in an exasperated gesture.

Chrysanthia straightened with her hands on her hips and a glare distorted her beautiful face. We all wouldn’t know anything if it weren’t for my visions. I can just as easily not tell you. She dragged her finger along the seam of her lips and twisted an invisible key, then mimed throwing it away.

Malía rolled her eyes while pushing the stool back drawing a loud screech on the hardwood floor. Crossing her arms, Malía gave her a stern look. Maybe, Mena can stand in for you then.

Chrysanthia’s eyes widened, then narrowed as pink splotches tinged her delicate pale features. I’ll ask her when she gets here. I could use a holiday. Her snobby tone drew a chuckle out of Malía.

I shook my head at their bickering. It was a long day. Hell, it was a long couple of decades. All too familiar with their arguing, I tuned them out with thoughts of Liam. Did he have my chestnut complexion? Would he harbor Dorian’s compassion? As if my weary thoughts beckoned his presence, Dorian wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. His musky cedar scent blanketed me like a snug swaddle. When I turned my head, our gazes caught. The storm clouds darkening his ethereal blue eyes brought tears to mine. His guilt and worry were just as loud as the thunderclaps barreling over our land on the day we lost our son. Those memories gripped my soul and reeled me in, dragging Dorian with me.

Magic hung heavy, powdering the air with its thickness. The front door hung to the side on one copper hinge. Pieces of its white-painted wood were strewn throughout the foyer sticking into the stairs, walls, and ceiling like splintered spikes. Shards of glass from our French-style front windows covered the lawn that Dorian worked tirelessly at keeping immaculate. Sharp blades destroyed the rose bushes that he planted for me when we found out that I was pregnant with Liam. Pieces of glass cut through the delicate pink petals, while some tore into the thickly rooted tree trunks a few feet away. The old farmhouse didn’t stand a chance against my mother’s powerful magic.

My chest heaved with shock and fear at the sudden outburst of destruction to my beloved home. My body wedged in between the counter’s edge and the vintage fridge. Chips of turquoise paint flaked onto my sneakers. Quickly, I turned to the large window above the sink and tried to lift my fist to the warm glass, but my arms wouldn’t move. A few expletives slipped out, cursing Evita for casting this spell. Dorian and a three-year-old Liam continued laughing while Dorian chased him in a small circle, oblivious to the destruction of our home. My body stiffened while the sound of metal bending made my heart jump. In a fit of frustration, my screams bounced off the window, Dorian! She’s here! Evita’s here! The last of my words were cut off by a sob. Terror shook my body as the sun hid behind incoming dark gray clouds. Dorian passed Liam a mesh net to catch butterflies, the house’s destruction still unnoticed. The soft smile on Dorian’s face made a lump form in my throat.

I looked down at my trembling hand, still clutching the serrated knife used to cut apple slices for Liam. A few ideas passed through my mind on how to use it to subdue Evita, but then something invisible unnaturally twisted my wrist. Tendons popped out of place forcing out a pained cry. My chest heaved unsteadily as my fingers unclenched the handle and the knife clattered to the floor near my feet. From that vantage point, my eyes trailed over a large crack in the tiled floor. The peanut butter jar was gouged within that gaping crevice. A tear rolled down my cheek as phantom memories of Liam’s little voice floated over the din, Mommy, no crunchy, while fixing him his snack not even an hour ago. Those chestnut-colored eyes promised a temper tantrum if I didn’t heed his warning. My whimper was drenched in sorrow ending on a hitched breath.

Evita’s spell kept me in place unable to run to the back door. Tapping into my hybrid strength was feeble against Evita’s Romani witchcraft—it was transcendental. Sweat beaded my brow while my muscles strained to the point of burning. Finally, I felt the heavy constraints of the spell bend. Particles of magic floated in the air. My eyes opened wide at a loud crash. Brown and gold splayed out in a bed of glass on the floor. The frame that held my adoptive mother’s favorite painting by Robert Duncanson was cracked with wooden splinters shooting every which way. Unshed tears seared my eyes, while fury laid heavy in my gut at the pieces of my heritage strewn on the floor. My face contorted in anger mirrored back from a shard. A face that still jolted me in every reflective surface. My almond-shaped eyes, an unnatural blue, were hollow while blue veins shifted on my caramel skin that only grew darker with the mixture of anxiety and anger coursing through me. My naturally contoured cheekbones, delicate nose, and bow-shaped lips held their beauty amid my ire.

With a cry from shooting pain, I managed to take a step. My hands curled into tight balls at my sides, fingers digging into soft skin. Sweat beaded on my forehead and pooled at the nape of my neck with the struggle to keep moving. Dark flooring in the hallway split and groaned as Evita’s magic forced it to bend and break. She was trying to keep me away, but nothing would stop me from protecting my family. My other leg wouldn’t move and knocked me off balance. My hand shot out and clutched the old counter to right me. I knocked over the delicate porcelain tea cup that held steaming chamomile tea. Tinted liquid sloshed onto the floor and ran inside the cracks. Ceramic chips with hand-painted sunflowers splayed at my feet.

I screamed in frustration, You won’t get him! Though I knew she would get through the magical wardings and take my son. Chrysanthia’s visions always came true.

Evita’s voice flooded my ears, canceling out the surrounding din. Don’t you remember the day that Chrysanthia came to this shack you call home? She had valuable information about your dear son. Evita’s words sent a chill of anger down my spine.

Evita’s warm breath at my ear drew out a startled jolt. Oh, poor Chrysanthia. A gift of seeing the future but she couldn’t see me tapping into her visions.

A shadowed mass, bathed in wisps of grays and blacks materialized in front of me. Growls rumbled in my chest as Evita appeared within those wisps. Evita’s beady black eyes stared holes into mine. I studied her with a sneer on my lips, noting that our similarities only went as deep as our brown skin. She had black tightly curled hair pinned in a top knot with curly tendrils surrounding an oblong-shaped face. She lifted her hand and cupped my cheek. Her skin was too smooth for such a tarnished person. My teeth snapped, trying to tear into her skin but couldn’t get a good grip. Evita smirked at my wasted effort before brushing her lips lightly against my earlobe.

I want you to relive the feeling of anguish and sorrow deep inside your gut when Chrysanthia told you I was coming for your son. Her voice held amusement and so much joy that bile rose up my throat. I want you to remember this in vivid detail. The moment when you realized you weren’t going to win.

She positioned herself in front of me with her hand now on my chin, fingers digging into my skin. How do you live with so much hatred in your heart? I tried and failed to wrench away from her touch.

My heart is as black as coal and doesn’t feel a damn thing.

Magic curled around and rooted me to the spot as the torn pieces of my kitchen mended back together. Quickly, cracks were filled, frames were repaired, and floors were polished back to their original state.

Frightened by the reach of her magic and still in her grasp, I growled, What is this?

My eyes frantically trailed over to the window where Dorian and Liam played in reverse until everything rewound. Seasons changed and so did the position of the sun. I felt every emotion bounce through me at the sight of so many days and nights spent with Dorian in laughter and an insurmountable love that was cosmically ours.

Finally, the spell slowed down to a normal pace. Chrysanthia stepped inside the foyer of my home. Evita hummed in excitement as she watched with me. Chrysanthia’s sad blue eyes held the weight of a million stories of the past, present, and future. Nerves radiated from her that caused her hands to shake, a side effect from seeing multiple paths to the future while time-splitting. Right before my eyes was our past selves.

Chrysanthia paying any of us a visit usually meant something dreadful would happen. I was terrified that she was going to tell us that something was wrong with my pregnancy. I swallowed hard as I watched, already aware of what Chrysanthia was going to tell us. Suddenly, I stood in the middle of my sunroom with Evita. UV protection tinted the windows so Dorian could enjoy the sunlight spilling from the floor-to-ceiling windows without feeling like his blood was boiling. He would have normally made tea, but even he was just as anxious for this conversation. He kissed my cheek in reassurance.

The weight of these memories laid heavily on my chest or was it the spell blanketing me with its powder? Trying to wrench my face back only brought Evita closer and her grip tightened. Watch my darling daughter. You don’t want to miss this. She kept my face turned awkwardly, giving me no choice but to watch.

Chrysanthia looked ragged as her golden curls hung limply to her shoulders in slight knots. Her face held a tinge of gray. Her expression was borderline agony like she didn’t want to tell me just as much as I didn’t want to know. I held out my hands after sitting down on the loveseat. She did the same and our hands shook in each other’s grasp in equal measure. Quicker than taking my next breath, Dorian plucked me up, and sat me down on his lap, wrapping his arms around me as I rested my back against his hard chest.

Chrysanthia let out a shaky breath. I have had a bare amount of visions as of late about your son. They were just bits and pieces until they finally became cohesive. Dorian kissed my cheek again and rested his chin on my shoulder as his hand absently rubbed circles on my very pregnant stomach.

Nausea sent a splattering of cramps to my abdomen. Evita, let me go. I licked my lips trying to stave off the acrid taste in my mouth. I don’t need to watch this to remember! Evita didn’t let up. Her grip tightened enough to crack my jaw. Watery gasps breathed out while pain rushed in, overtaking my desperation to look away.

Chrysanthia continued, In the vision, Evita finds you and kidnaps your son. Evita turned her gaze onto me as if amused by the fear her name alone evoked. She was The Order’s weapon on the battlefield, using impes magic. The smell of burning flesh still stained my nose.

Dorian shook his head while replying, How? We have the wardings. We were told that she couldn’t get passed the wardings.

Chrysanthia nodded as if expecting us not to believe her. May I show you? I blinked at her while tension rolled through the room like a harsh wind on the heels of a hurricane. Chrysanthia’s abilities to see the future were never in question. She could see and walk through multiple paths in time. I trusted her with my mind.

Will you show us both? My voice sounded small, unsure if that was what I wanted.

At her nod, Chrysanthia touched her fingertips to me and Dorian’s foreheads. Evita chuckled while we watched. What did it look like Ana?

I croaked out a response against her grip, Like something you’ll never accomplish. My face pounded against the strain. I hoped she would never siphon a spell that could capture the high-definition picture of Chrysanthia’s visions. But Evita’s words had a double meaning because Chrysanthia showed me and Dorian that we weren’t going to win in technicolor. Rage bubbled to the surface and came out with a roar.

Evita shushed me and then grinned. This is my favorite part.

Chrysanthia’s voice stole my attention, I witnessed your mum destroy this home with her magic. Evita will use The Order and their resources only to benefit herself. Evita tsked with a cluck of her tongue, but her eyes still shined with delight. Those resources will only go so far. She will take your son to one day absorb his magic. Dorian placed me on the seat before jumping to his feet; outrage tinged his alabaster skin with beads of red. He closed in on Chrysanthia. If he took another step then the toe of his shoe would bump into hers.

No! Tell us how to change it, tell us how to change his fate! Thick wisps of Ireland weaved through his words.

Chrysanthia pushed on, There isn’t any way. She knows he’s the key to destroying her. But her death by his hand will be his downfall. Evita practically shrieked with glee in my ear at the sound of my son’s fate. It was painful to watch Dorian’s body brace as if he was about to lunge at Chrysanthia, but he backed up and paced a few feet away from us.

I watched my past self rub her belly as hot angry tears cascaded down her cheeks. No, I won’t accept that this is the world that we live in where my unborn child is already damned. I won’t accept this, Chrys.

Chrysanthia grimaced, obviously hating to give us this information. Evita will teach him about magic only to study him to see when she can take his powers from him once he’s fully developed. Ana, he must go with her to learn about his powers and grow into the man that we’ll need in the future. She’s the only one who can teach him.

Lightning flashed and lit up my disheveled kitchen for a millisecond. The spell’s heavy constraints lifted leaving behind its tart-smelling residue. I blinked away the blurriness feathering the edges of my sight while adjusting my jaw that was rapidly healing. Evita must have slipped away while the spell put me back in the middle of the destruction she created. Fear slithered like tendrils of smoke tingling my skin at the sight of Liam’s turtle magnet from the fridge placed at my feet as if it were taunting me. I bent down and plucked it up, stuffing it in the back pocket of my jeans, then turned the knob for the backdoor as my home’s foundation shuttered and groaned. The magical wards put up by a witch in and outside of our house lit up in a sickly orange hue until they burned out. Evita broke through just like she promised.

Wrenching the door open with hybrid strength, the already busted hinges popped off with a sharp creak. I ran at hybrid speed into the September warmth. Dorian! screaming for him while maneuvering around shards of glass covering the grass. But Dorian kept playing with Liam by holding Liam upside down by the legs making him shriek with joy. They were still under Evita’s spell, unknowing that the house was practically caved in just a few feet away. Thunder clapped overhead so fierce that it felt like it shook the air around us. I threw my arms around Dorian’s waist from behind, jolting him enough for his steps to slightly falter.

She’s here! Dorian clung to me while I gulped down air trying to catch my breath. One look at me and Dorian’s smiling face contorted into worry.

She’s here! Evita’s here! Shouting seemed futile against constant thunderclaps. Dorian quickly turned Liam right side up. I tried to calm my voice for Liam’s sake, but my words still came out frantically,