The Vampire & Her Witch

For the dessert course, Ashlynn had asked Georg to prepare small bites that could be easily eaten while people focused on their conversation. She hadn’t expected Nyri to request a demonstration from Ollie that would have as severe of an impact on their dinner guests as his Dark Wind Through The Trees had, but now that things had turned out the way they had, she was grateful that Georg’s thoughtfulness gave people the chance to recover a bit with things that were both sweet and bright in their flavors.

The candied-walnut tarts looked like miniature pies, small enough to rest on top of a gold sovereign and still show a sliver of gold around the edges of the coin. Each one combined a rich, buttery, flaky pastry with chopped walnuts, candied in honey with nutmeg and ground cloves to offer a bite that was decadent and earthy at a size that could be eaten whole in a single bite.

The walnut tarts were accompanied by delicate shortbread cookies, dusted in sugar so fine that it resembled a layer of freshly fallen snow. Each cookie held an impression of rosemary that had been pressed into the dough before baking, only for the herb itself to be removed before the cookie was decorated.

Half a dozen smaller treats, from glittering candied citrus peels that resembled colorful jewels to thumb-print cookies that cradled fruit and berry preserves as if they were priceless treasures, combined to add a bit of color and whimsy to the collection of desserts, and from the look of things, neither Ollie nor Hugo were willing to see the evening end without trying one of each treat, despite everything that had already transpired.

While Ashlynn was passing out treats, Thane and Isabell had quietly slipped back in, and at Thane’s whispered request, Ollie took Isabell’s seat between Virve and Erkembalt, allowing his mentor to offer up a measure of protection against the darkness that neither the Oak Witch nor the Artificer was suited for.

”Diarmuid asked a good question,” Ignatious said as everyone found their way back to their seats, breathing easier now that they’d had time to recollect themselves and to enjoy something sweet and sugary to lighten the mood. The gloom that had settled over the gathering after Ollie’s demonstration hadn’t completely dissipated, that would take much more than a short break from intense conversation and a few sweets, but the mood wasn’t nearly as oppressive as it had been when Isabell left.

”What is a miracle?” Diarmuid repeated, nodding at the High Inquisitor as they returned to the question he’d asked. ”I feel like the Church has blinded us to the miracles that can be worked by Witches and Vampires by claiming sole dominion over divine power.”

”Divine power,” Virve snorted, shaking her head at the Inquisitor as she savored the buttery, herbaceous flavor of a rosemary shortbread cookie. ”You make yourselves sound so important when you call it that. Like everything you do with your power is sacred and holy, even when you’re acting like murderers and butchers,” she said as her gaze grew darker.

”Virve,” Ollie started to say in an awkward attempt to keep the peace, but even he couldn’t completely defend the man. Diarmuid’s ’holy flames’ had claimed the life of his good friend’s brother.

Milo and his mother, Old Nan, had become a significant part of Ollie’s found family in the Vale of Mists and he had yet to figure out how to reconcile the man who had killed Old Nan’s son with the man who had prevented Ollie’s parents from becoming scapegoats for what happened at the Summer Villa. All he knew was that they couldn’t afford to keep tearing at each other over all of the old hurts, or Ashlynn’s dream of peace between humans and the Eldritch would die before it had a chance to be born.

”If I shouldn’t call it ’divine power,’” Diarmuid asked. ”Is there a better term for it?”

”None that don’t come with their own problematic connotations,” Ignatious said as he considered several terms used by witches, vampires, and sorcerers, discarding each of them in turn, mostly because they would distract from the point he wanted to make rather than making it clearer.

”Miracles, blessings, curses, rituals, sacrifices, offerings, artifacts, relics, potions, pacts, vows, and bargains,” Ignatious said, rattling off a lengthy list of terms. ”These things aren’t defined by the source of your power but by how it is used, its intentions, and the method of wielding the power.”

As he spoke, Heila nodded silently, confirming for the rest of the guests that this wasn’t just the way the vampire saw things, but that it resonated with the witches as well. There was a small pile of Georg’s thumbprint cookies sitting in front of her, and her hands moved unconsciously from one to the next as if she were trying to decide which one to eat, but her soft, grass-green eyes never left Ignatious as he commanded the attention of the room.

This, she felt, was what he was meant for. Not the bitter fighting or cruel questioning of an Inquisitor, but the gentle teaching of a man who had worked diligently in the search for truth and had come to share the priceless gems of wisdom he’d unearthed in his search.

”It isn’t a miracle because it uses the power of Oracles,” Ignatious continued, too caught up in his lesson to notice the adoration in the gaze of the petite horned woman sitting next to him. ”Just like it isn’t a curse because it uses the power of Vampires. It’s a miracle because, against all odds, something wonderful happened. It’s a curse because, no matter how much you struggled, something terrible still happened.”

It was a simple framing, in a way, as simple as the one the Church used. Something was a miracle because it did something positive, and a curse was a curse because of the harm it inflicted. By that logic, the Church wielded miracles and curses in equal measure, and the Inquisition used more than a few curses.

In fact, Ignatious had used something that could be considered a curse on many occasions. When the answer to a question was too important to allow any doubt, an Inquisitor could compel a person to speak truth, even if doing so would expose their guilt, and very few men could resist an Inquisitor’s compulsion.

Seen from the perspective of the Church, it was a miracle to banish falsehood, but from the perspective of the person they compelled... It was hard to call it a blessing.