Romans & histoires Supernatural: Bloodlines

The scent of my blood will draw them like flies to honey. I shift my leg and shooting pain hurtles through me. I gasp, panting until the pain subsides a bit. I can't stand much less walk. Beside me, the leyline pulses with that gray color I saw before, but I know what it is now. It's that damn vamp ghost. He tricked me. There's no way one of my past lives had ever been involved with him.

“I told you, didn’t I? I will put an end to that problem of yours. I’m not toying you, Katherine. Let’s say, I want to play a game with you.” “What’s the difference, huh? You want to play with me, it’s all the same!” “Toying you is different from playing with you. Toying you means I’m just the one who’s receiving all the benefits, meanwhile, if I say playing with you, you can cooperate and have your fair share of benefits in our game.” “Well then, Mr. Supernatural, I don’t want to play a game with you.” “It’s Helion. My name is Helion.” “I don’t care about your name at all.”

“Well, try to explain it to me somehow.” A few people shift and Alaric’s lips twitch. I shoot him a look and he pretends to stop smiling. The healer clears her throat. “Blood carries more than life. It carries lineage.” I listen to her as she continues. “In werewolves, particularly within powerful bloodlines, that lineage can be recognized.” She looks toward Alaric. Then Elias. “As such, an unborn pup will carry traces of its father’s bloodline.” “And the ritual can identify it.” I finish for her.

I would never be able to drink the blood of any other again. I knew what she was now. An ancient, forgotten prophecy I’d read when the world was young had flickered to life in my memory. A single human bloodline, blessed—or cursed—by the Gods, with a single mutation in their DNA that allowed them to withstand us. An adaptation. The other supernaturals had feared it so much they’d tried to exterminate the line. I thought they’d succeeded. I was wrong. Trisha might be the last of them. A treasure, and I had let her slip through my fingers.

She simply closed her eyes, breathing slow and deep, her fingers resting lightly on the armrests of her chair. When she finally spoke, her words were so calm, so matter-of-fact, they made my skin prickle. “Selene…” She opened her eyes and fixed them on me. “You carry a type of blood that is… rare. That is why he seeks you. Why he claims you in your dreams.” My heart skipped. “What do you mean?” I whispered. Her lips curled faintly, as though she found my fear amusing. “There are ancient bloodlines, child. Blood that remembers. Blood that calls to the divine… and the damned. Yours is one such bloodline. It is what draws him to you—what binds you even across realms.”

The night itself seemed to recoil and then bow, as if some deeper hierarchy had just been rearranged and every lesser darkness knew it. Her blood was wrong. Not human. Not entirely. It burned across his tongue like molten honey—sweet, metallic, laced with something ancient, something he hadn’t tasted in centuries. Power. Pure, uncut power. Raw. Wild. Untamed. Not witch blood. Not demon blood. Not any mortal line. Something rarer. Something he’d thought died out long before her village existed. Old stories rose unbidden—of star-touched lineages culled at the dawn of the Pact, of bloodlines hidden in remote corners of the mortal world so the gods could sleep without challenge. He had dismissed

I asked him next. “During the ambush of the village, Guy was attacked, and during his struggle, a Dire wolf bit him. When the blood of the Dire wolf entered his system, it shifted his DNA—giving Guy powers of his own even though he was human. Their bloodline is obsolete. It can save a person from dying, but it can also resurrect someone from the dead or the spirit world. Cristina does not know what Guy's body looks like right now. She doesn't realize that he is human and his body over the years has decayed, which is the reason the blood will not work to bring him back physically. Yes, she will be able to see him in her dreams again because his spirit will awaken once again, but only she will

Holly's face flushed with pride. Vida appeared, carrying the data drive Morgana had given me. Her expression was grim. "I've done a preliminary scan of these files," Vida said. "What I found is horrifying." "Explain," I said. "There's a formula here. Heriberto calls it the Bloodline Serum. It's a magical compound that can temporarily grant hybrid abilities to any supernatural being who takes it." Vida's hands were shaking. "He's been perfecting it for decades. And according to his notes, he's already produced enough batches to supply his entire coven."

She looks at her tea for a moment. "Lunares didn't just carry wolf pregnancies," she says. "They stabilized supernatural bloodlines across species. Not only wolves. Any supernatural lineage that had grown unstable, diluted, or weakened over generations could be renewed through a Lunare bloodline." She looks up. "Your people were not a resource to be used. They were a living anchor. A way for the supernatural world to stay connected to something older and more fundamental than any single species." "The Moon," I say.

"Mary Hart, my bloodline has been watching you since your wolf awakened. We debated whether to reveal ourselves or stay hidden. But seeing what you have accomplished, seeing how you fight for people even at the cost of yourself, we decided it was time to stop hiding. The Crescent Moon Bloodline stands with you against Dr. Torres and anyone else who threatens the future you are building." She left before I could respond, and I sat alone in my office processing the fact that two supposedly extinct bloodlines had emerged in the past two months. How many others were out there? How many royal bloodlines had survived The Covenant's purges by hiding so deep that even ancient enemies thought them de