Chapter 24: Magic Lessons Begin
Vincent Griffith showed up a week later.
I was practicing combat with Davina in the warehouse—teaching her how to use leverage against stronger opponents—when I felt him approaching. Witch signature, powerful but controlled, moving with the confidence of someone who knew he was walking into potential danger.
"Company," I told Davina. "Stay close."
Vincent entered through the main door, hands visible, expression neutral. Mid-thirties, African American, dressed like he'd just come from a community meeting. Regent of the New Orleans witch community. And according to Davina, speaking for ancestors who wanted me dead.
"Roy Stark," he said. Not a question.
"Vincent Griffith." I stepped between him and Davina. "What can I do for you?"
"We need to talk. About what you are. What you've become."
"I'm a tribrid. You know this already."
"I do. The ancestors know it too. They're... concerned."
"Concerned." I kept my voice flat. "That's diplomatic."
"They think you're an abomination. A vampire who can use magic violates the natural order. They want you gone."
Davina tensed beside me. Vincent noticed, held up a hand.
"I'm not threatening. Just warning. The ancestors have power in this city. If they decide to act against you, it won't be subtle."
"Then let them act." I met his eyes. "I didn't choose to be what I am. But I won't apologize for existing. Tell your spirits that if they want me dead, they're welcome to try."
Vincent studied me. "You're not worried?"
"Should I be? I survived a millennium at the bottom of the ocean. What can dead witches do that's worse?"
"You'd be surprised." But there was no heat in his voice. Just resignation. "Look. I'm not here to start a war. I'm here because Davina asked me to talk to you before things escalate."
I glanced at her. She shrugged. "I figured talking was better than fighting."
"Smart girl." Vincent relaxed slightly. "The ancestors are scared. That's what this is. Fear. You're something new, something they don't understand. And scared people do stupid things."
"So what do you want from me?"
"Restraint. Don't flaunt your power. Don't antagonize the witch community. Give them time to accept that you exist."
"And if they don't accept it?"
"Then we deal with that when it happens." He moved toward the door. "But Roy? If you hurt witches because the ancestors make threats, you prove them right. You become the abomination they fear."
He left before I could respond.
Davina exhaled slowly. "That went better than expected."
"He's not wrong. About the restraint thing."
"You're actually going to listen to him?"
"I'm going to try not to start a war. There's a difference." I gestured to the training mat. "Come on. Let's finish the lesson."
Over the next three weeks, Davina and I fell into a routine.
Mornings: magic training. She'd teach me spells—locator magic, protection circles, basic healing. I'd absorb it all with the desperate hunger of someone who'd spent a millennium missing out on life.
Afternoons: combat training. I'd teach her how to fight without magic. Pressure points, leverage, how to break holds. She improved fast, natural athleticism combining with newfound confidence.
Evenings: we'd spar using both. Magic and combat together. Her throwing spells while I dodged and countered with blood manipulation or hybrid speed.
"You're getting dangerous," I told her after she managed to knock me on my ass with a combination of telekinesis and a well-placed kick.
"That's the idea." She offered her hand, helped me up. "You said magic makes me powerful. Skill makes me dangerous. I'm working on dangerous."
"Working on dating material too," Marcus muttered from where he was watching. "Kid's seventeen now, Roy. Legal."
"Marcus."
"Just saying. You two spend a lot of time together. People notice."
Davina went red. "It's not like that. We're just friends. Teacher and student."
"Sure," Marcus said, unconvinced. "And I'm the King of France."
I threw a blood blade at his head. He dodged, laughing.
But the comment stuck in my head. Davina was seventeen—technically legal, though that felt like a technicality designed to make me uncomfortable. And yeah, I cared about her. More than I probably should. But crossing that line felt wrong. Predatory, even.
She's been through enough without adding 'ancient vampire taking advantage' to her trauma list.
I kept the relationship professional. Teacher and student. Friend and friend. Nothing more.
Even if Marcus's knowing looks suggested he didn't believe me.
Three weeks into training, I tried something new.
I'd been practicing blood manipulation and elemental magic separately. But as a tribrid, shouldn't I be able to combine them?
I cut my palm. Let blood pool in my hand. Then focused on fire magic.
Heat. Burn. Combine.
The blood ignited. Not metaphorically—actually caught fire, burning with purple-black flames that didn't consume it.
"Holy shit," Davina breathed. "Roy, that's—that's fusion magic. Combining disciplines. Most witches can't do that."
I shaped the burning blood into a blade. It held form perfectly, flames dancing along the edge.
"This is what tribrid means," I said, watching the weapon in my hand. "Not just having three natures. But combining them into something new. Something unique."
"Can you do it with other elements?"
I tried water. The blood liquified further, flowing like mercury. Earth. It solidified into stone-hard crystal. Air. It became vapor, barely visible but sharp enough to cut.
By the time we finished experimenting, I'd created a dozen variations. Burning blood whips. Crystal blood shields. Vapor blood that could infiltrate through cracks.
"The ancestors are going to hate this," Davina said, half-awed, half-worried.
"Let them hate. I'm done caring what dead witches think."
"Roy—"
"No. They want me to hide, to pretend I'm not what I am. But I'm not hiding anymore." I dissolved the blood constructs. "I'm a tribrid. The first adult tribrid in existence. The ancestors can accept that or they can try to stop me. Their choice."
Davina bit her lip. "You sound like Klaus."
"I sound like someone who spent a millennium being controlled. Never again."
She didn't argue. Just handed me a towel to clean the blood off my hands.
That night, practicing alone after everyone left, I combined blood manipulation with every element I knew. Created weapons that burned with magical fire. Shields that could repel both physical and mystical attacks. Constructs that adapted to whatever I needed.
The possibilities were endless.
And terrifying.
Because I could feel the power growing. Every day, every spell, every combination pushing me further into territory no vampire had ever explored.
This is what Esther wanted. Ultimate power. Vampire, werewolf, witch combined.
But she'd wanted to control it. Use it. I just wanted to be free.
The ancestors feared me? Good.
Fear kept enemies cautious while I mastered abilities that would make me truly unstoppable.
And when I was ready—when I'd learned everything I could, become everything I was meant to be—I'd find Esther and Mikael.
And they'd learn exactly what they'd created.
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