Chapter 7 Sealed In, Secrets Out

The shop was already locked, cutting off my only exit to the street. He had also blocked the back door leading to the courtyard.

"Dad-Dad, please, calm down!" My voice trembled as I scrambled around the store, searching for anything that could ward off whatever had taken over him.

A tray of warding coins caught my eye. I grabbed a handful and hurled them across the room. The silver clattered to the ground in a scatter of ringing metal-and for the briefest moment, my father's eyes flickered with pain.

"Clara... run!" His voice, raw and tortured, broke through the monster's grin.

I wanted to escape-but how could I abandon my father? If there was any chance of saving him, I had to try. The problem was, I didn't know how. No one had ever taught me how to purge a bloodcurse, let alone cleanse a corrupted soul twisted by it.

I tore through the display counter, upending antiques and relics-most of them cheap replicas.

How could I tell what was real anymore? I hurled everything I could find.

Suddenly, a rasping laugh echoed through the room.

"Clara... my darling... come closer. Let me give you the affection you deserve..."

That voice wasn't my father's. It was the one I'd heard in my dreams. A large, ice-cold hand reached over the counter to seize me.

I raised my hand on instinct-and in that instant, the Crimson Sigil Ring on my finger flared with a blood-red glow.

Blinding. Consuming.

When my vision cleared, my father lay collapsed on the floor.

"Dad!" I rushed to his side, cradling his unconscious body.

The back of his shirt had been torn to shreds by the blast of force.

And there it was.

From the shredded fabric, a pair of monstrous, bloodshot eyes glared back at me. The Crimson Mask-etched into his skin like a demonic brand-grinned with jagged fangs.

"The bloodchild has already taken root..." the voice rasped from the mask. "He works fast... Clara... you are mine... How could you bear his child-?"

The mask sneered as though trying to tear itself free from my father's flesh, only to be dragged back by an unseen force.

My hands were trembling. Laughter from passing pedestrians drifted in from outside.

Just beyond that door, it was still spring. Still bright. Still safe.

But in here, I stood alone with the stench of shadows and dread.

"Clara... Clara Duskgrave..." the voice groaned, calling my name again and again like a curse.

"Shut up!" I screamed.

The Crimson Sigil Ring shimmered again, a soft crimson radiance pulsing from my finger. The mask hissed, its grin faltering, until the face faded into the shadows once more.

My father lay motionless, the curse retreating for now.

Wasn't that damned vampire always claiming I was his blood-bound bride?

I had accepted it, begrudgingly. But now... why did that Crimson Mask-that bloodstained visage burned into my father's back-call me his wife?

I glanced down at the ring on my finger.

The Crimson Sigil Ring.

Its once-murky red surface now shimmered, clear and alive, as if something inside had awakened.

Suspended within the blood-hued core was a serpentine figure-long and graceful, its form half-veiled in crimson mist. Six wings unfurled like silk drenched in moonlight, their edges flickering with black flame and silver gleam.

Tiny ruby-dark scales lined its body, glowing faintly with shifting runes. And at its brow, a sigil pulsed-an ancient mark shaped like a dragon's crest, echoing a bond far older than blood.

My brother leaned closer, lifting a jeweler's loupe to examine the ring. He squinted through the lens, brows furrowing.

"There's something inside," he muttered. "Not a gemstone... it's... a creature. A seal."

I swallowed hard. "What kind of creature?"

He looked at me, brow furrowed. "A Blood Seraph."

I blinked. "A what?"

"A feminine form of ancient vampiric guardian," he said slowly, clearly unsettled. "They're rare-half spirit, half blood-born sigil. The legends say they only awaken in response to forbidden bonds... or unholy conceptions. They say it awakens only to protect the blood-bound bride. Your vampire husband must've given this to you for a reason."

He looked at me, voice lowering. "Was it what drove the Crimson Mask away earlier?"

I nodded slowly, still staring at the now-glowing ring.

"What exactly did you and Dad run into that day?" I asked.

He hesitated. The usual joking light in his voice dimmed. "Dad told me not to tell you. He didn't want you getting involved."

Then, he forced a crooked smile. "But Clara... you really agreed to carry his bloodspawn? Sounds like things are going great between you two."

Great?

What a joke.

Back when I didn't know what he wanted, he ravaged me into unconsciousness every night. And now that I do know? It's all cold silence. Transactional. Like I was just a vessel.

He barely touches me anymore.

Not that I wanted him to. Every step I took still burned from what he'd already done. My body hadn't recovered, and I doubted it would anytime soon.

And now, with my father like this...

The weight in my chest cracked open. I burst into tears.

The Duskgrave family.

What a cursed legacy.

"Clara... did that vampire husband of yours hurt you?" my brother asked, his voice low and serious.

I hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. After a long pause, I told him what happened that night.

His expression darkened, brows knitting tightly. "We couldn't get anywhere near your room. When he comes, the whole space is sealed with some kind of warded blood circle. You're completely isolated in there."

"And honestly, I'm no master of the arcane-barely know how to draw a containment sigil, let alone face off against something like him. Besides, with the blood pact between you two... that makes it consensual in the eyes of any supernatural tribunal. Even the Fae wouldn't intervene unless you're dead or possessed."

He scratched his head, clearly frustrated. Then, his eyes lit up. "Wait-hell! Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

He dashed upstairs and came back down moments later, pressing two small boxes into my hand.

I looked down. The labels made me want to dig a hole and crawl inside: Intimate Lubricant. For Gentle Comfort.

My face turned crimson. "What the hell, Ethan?"

"Don't be embarrassed. You've been walking like a war survivor the past few days. If your body feels raw and burning, it's because you're not producing enough... you know. Moisture." He gave me a very pointed look. "Let's be honest, no one gets turned on by a vampire wearing a murder mask."

"Ethan-"

"Listen, suffering through it isn't noble. If it starts hurting when you pee, that's a urinary tract infection and you'll need to take something for it immediately. I've got meds upstairs."

He held up one of the boxes. "Just apply it down there before things start-or slap some on him if you're feeling bold."

"Oh my god, stop talking!" I covered my face with both hands.

Ethan just laughed. He had the clinical bluntness of a med student dissecting a corpse. "Alright, alright. I'm going to check on Dad. He probably knows by now that something's off with his body. We'll figure it out."