Knots of the Hybrid Queen: Claimed by Four Alphas

Chapter 55: Corruption

Draven spent six hours reading Cassia’s research notes while the corruption spread further up his arms and into his chest, and I just sat there watching the black veins multiply under his skin while my brain ran through scenarios where this ended with him dying and none of them were good.

The research was in Old English or Latin or possibly both because Cassia apparently believed in making things difficult, and Draven had to translate out loud while reading because his eyes kept flickering red every time he touched a new page.

"She summoned the demon in 1689." His voice was hollow. Distant. "Used it to destroy a rival coven. Thought she could control it. Bind it to her will."

Because humans—or witches, whatever—always thought they could control things that were fundamentally uncontrollable. That never ended badly. Very sustainable life choice.

"What went wrong?" Morgana was taking notes because apparently documenting our spiral toward disaster was important.

"Everything." Draven turned another page and his veins pulsed darker. "The demon was stronger than she expected. Smarter. It played along long enough to establish the binding and then—" He stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "It started consuming. Couldn’t stop it. The binding let her contain where it manifested but not what it did once it was there."

So Cassia had created a demon-summoning binding that was basically a disaster machine she couldn’t turn off. Great. Excellent family legacy.

Draven’s consciousness was getting harder to reach through the bond—like there was static between us that wasn’t there before, like the demon corruption was building interference.

"Draven." I moved closer even though Thorne’s hand on my arm suggested that was a terrible idea. "Can you hear me?"

"I can hear—" His eyes went fully red. "I can hear everything. You. The demon. Cassia’s thoughts recorded in these notes. It’s—" His hands clenched on the book hard enough the pages crumpled. "Too much. Too many voices."

Too many voices. Because linking to a three-hundred-year-old binding meant accessing not just the demon but also the summoner’s consciousness embedded in the magic.

"Take a break." The suggestion came out desperate because watching him spiral was worse than any physical pain I’d experienced. "Stop reading. Rest. We can—"

"Can’t stop." He turned another page with hands that were shaking now, fine tremors that meant his body was fighting the corruption even while his mind pushed through. "She hid something. In the later notes. Something about a failsafe. If I can just—"

The book slipped from his hands and hit the floor, and Draven went to his knees like someone had cut his strings.

I was there before my brain registered moving, catching him before he face-planted, and when I touched his skin it was cold in ways that had nothing to do with his vampire nature.

"What’s happening?" The question came out strangled.

"The corruption is accelerating." Morgana knelt beside us, checking vitals I couldn’t interpret. "The more he interacts with the binding, the faster the demon essence transfers. At this rate he has three days. Maybe less."

Three days. Not a week. Three days before Draven became more demon than vampire and we’d have to— fгeewebnovёl.com

No. We weren’t going there. Weren’t even considering that option.

"The failsafe." I grabbed the book from where it had fallen. "He said Cassia mentioned a failsafe. Where?"

Blank pages. Of course. The Blackthorn blood protection meant only Draven could read it.

"I need—" Draven’s voice came out rough, layered with something that wasn’t entirely him anymore. "I need to finish. Before the corruption—before I can’t think clearly anymore."

Before he lost himself completely to the demon influence.

"No." The word tore out of me. "You’re not sacrificing your sanity to read a dead witch’s research notes. We’ll find another way."

"There isn’t another way." His eyes flickered—red to normal to red again in rapid succession. "I can feel the demon now. Through the link. It knows I’m here. Knows I’m trying to break the binding. It’s—" He couldn’t finish because apparently demon awareness was beyond words.

It knows. The demon knew we were trying to destroy the anchor.

Which meant it would be coming. Not in five months. Not in three. Soon. To stop us before we could break the binding permanently.

"How long until it attacks?" Thorne’s question was directed at Draven but I wasn’t sure Draven could answer coherently anymore.

"Days." The word came out layered. "It’s injured still. From the last battle. But it can feel the binding weakening. Can feel me here. It’s—" His eyes went solid red and stayed that way. "Coming."

Coming. The demon was coming early and Draven was being corrupted and we still didn’t know how to break the binding without killing him.

Great. Just great. Why did every solution create three new problems?

"There has to be a third option." I was pacing now, unable to stand still while Draven was actively being consumed by demon magic. "Cassia wouldn’t create a binding with only two outcomes. She was too smart for that. There has to be—"

"She left research notes." The witch from the enclave—I really needed to ask her name but my brain had decided social niceties could wait—gestured to books stacked against the wall. "In the workshop. Said anyone with Blackthorn blood could read them. Everyone else just sees blank pages."

Research notes. Because of course Cassia had documented her demon summoning like a good little magical researcher.

"Show me." Draven moved toward the books before I could stop him, and when he touched the first one his eyes went fully red and the veins in his neck pulsed black.

The corruption was accelerating. I could see it happening in real time—more black spreading under his skin, more red staying in his eyes, more of whatever the demon was bleeding through the connection.

"Get him back to the pack house." The words came out flat. Clinical. "Now. We need to get him away from the anchor before the corruption completes."

"Breaking the connection—" Morgana started.

"Means he loses access to the binding structure and we’re back to square one." I cut her off. "I know. But he’s no good to us dead or demon-possessed. We pull him back. Stabilize him. Figure out the binding from what he’s already learned." freewēbnoveℓ.com

Stabilize him. Like stabilizing someone who was actively being consumed by demon magic was simple and not terrifying.

Thorne lifted Draven like he weighed nothing—which was good because Draven had apparently lost the ability to coordinate basic motor functions—and started toward the door.

"The book." Draven’s voice came out desperate. Broken. "Bring the research. I need—I can still read it. Even away from the stone. The blood connection—" He couldn’t finish.

So the Blackthorn blood link let him read the research even when we were miles from the workshop, which was useful except it also meant he was maintaining the connection to the binding which meant the corruption would keep spreading.

No winning. Just different varieties of losing.

I grabbed the book and followed Thorne out of the workshop, and when we crossed back through the wards my skin prickled with magic that tasted like warning.

The witch was waiting in the courtyard. "Did you find what you needed?"

"Found a way to save him or kill him." The words came out harsh. "Still figuring out which."

Her expression shifted into something that might have been sympathy. "The anchor has corrupted stronger witches than your vampire. If he survives the week, it’ll be a miracle."

Miracle. Because we were great at those. Totally our specialty.

Eight hours back to the pack house with Draven unconscious in the back seat and his veins spreading black across his neck, and all I could do was reach through the bond trying to find him under the corruption.

He was still there. Barely. Fighting.

But the demon essence was growing stronger and we were running out of time.