#chapter 1-3

Chapter 1 felt like a deepening the reserve of questions I maintain in the back of my mind about magical topics. It's a quick review of all the groups and communities that had witnessed or aligned with the roots of angelic magic. This pulls many cultural representations from the biblical communities. I had bought the book looking for more info on Canaanite lore, but the rest of it was also deepening my understanding of the environment around this specific work. Here's one of my favorite passages from this chapter:

"The great epitome of angelic transformation in the Western occult tradition and the goal of the magia lies in the exaltation of the psyche to its essential angelic nature, the realisation of the inner angel within the human of matter, the assumption of that nature which involves transmutation into a divinised being or 'perfected one', and the transformation of one's environment into a paradisal or heavenly world state," (Jackson & Howard, 2000, p 21).

This quote tells us that the goal of angelic magic is to change our energy, our space, our lives, our selves, to be more divine. To become more god-like, and to identify our role in that as magician who seeks inner transformation or transmutation. This is an alchemical approach to raising the inner world of the human to a godly-like arena. This is not a surprising reach, and we see this in alchemy, we see this in the HGA approach of Crowley, as well as many other occult texts across the field of magic and witchcraft. To achieve this, the individual must develop in the following ways:

Awaken from the sleep of materialism

Seek glimpses of self-knowedge through initiation

Ascend gnosis into the pure mind state of unbroken primal bliss

There is way more to be said about these, including their relation to alchemy and the states of matter, but I'll leave these for other readers in case someone else finds them fascinating like i do.

Pure Mind, in transpersonal psychology (TP), is considered the realm of pure thought, the function of the self when embodied in a healthy way, and the ability of that self to see unity between all subjects. When we talk about the Realm of Mind in TP, we are discussing its impact on the physical, the mental, and the emotional. Pillars also suggests that this realm of mind must also interject some level of self-awareness, and the next step is ascension or transcendence. I don't think that transpersonal disagrees, and I find it amusing. Thus far, the book itself does not highlight practical ways in which to do this, only that this transcendence of self is the point, purpose, and goal of angelic magic. This is a pretty routine occult style to be wrapped into the core of traditional witchcraft. No one practices in a vacuum, indeed.

Art above is Transcendent by Susan Card

Chapter 2 - The Children of Heaven

Chapter 1 really talked about the theories of angels coming to Earth and the process of magical alignment with their skills. Chapter 2 really discusses who they are, why they arrived here, and what their purpose was in doing so:

"The angelic revolt was a sacrifice of Promethean proportions in which the angels incarnated themselves within the material dimension of time and space in order to transmit the luminous seed of gnosis into human beings. They endowed themselves with the capacity to realise their innate divinity and achieve release from the bounds of material existence. The fallen angels, according to hidden doctrine, were not malign or 'sinful'. On the contrary, they were transcendent avatars of humanity's spiritual salvation and eventual redemption through gnosis. ...The redemption of the dark matter (hyle) by the transmission of the Lux Angeline, or Angelic Light was the Watcher's purpose in descending to the earth plane. Their mission was designed to lead to the eventual liberation of all entities and, ultimately, the raising of the whole world to its original paradisial state," (Jackson & Howard, 2000, p 29-30).

This passage kicked me in the brain because of how often I've heard the idea of "Lust" or "Sin" being the reason why the angels fell to begin with. Seeking the Fallen Angels takes on new meaning when their true purpose exists in assisting the world to self-transcend as opposed to the edgelord of demon pit dwelling they've been socially assigned to becoming. The demonization that has occurred does not fit this definition culturally in the arena of witchcraft and magic. Their purpose is to help humanity find themselves and transcend physical reality into the liberation of a state of paradise. Pillars doubles down on this in the following statement about humans:

"The existential problem of 'fallen' humanity is defined in terms of the ignorance of our true, unborn and immortal nature, of misidentification and entanglement with the impermanent world of material appearances, of the consequent limitation, amnesia and suffering experienced therein. The key to release and mystical 'regeneration' lies within, through the realization of our unfallen essence, in the realm of gnosis or transcendental knowledge," (Jackson & Howard, 2000, p 35).

Here we see that the understanding of the Fallen Angels has been likewise spread to those humans who practice the arts as a transcendental activity, creating the potential for growth in a human being and helping the angelic ones to enact their purpose over the earth. This continues to feel very Christianity-related, but I expect it will shift some the further we get into the rest of the book.

The last note I found of high personal value are the segments about Phoenix and the 'stone that fell from the sun' as they are parts of my own practice and lived experiences in magic given mythological form. If you know me, then you know how important the Phoenix is to me, and the 'stone' is referenced abundantly among Alchemical works. These are pieces of mystery in my practice that will be dug into further at a later date.

Art by L.K. Summer @Medium.com

Chapter 3 - Tower of Titians

This chapter begins with the idea that the Nephilim had began to overrun the world with their great power and that one of the Archangels had come with a warning to the people about the Deluge. This also talks about Nimrod, the tower of Babel, and the changes that could occur to the learning of the Angels as it had begun to discriminate across the cultural groups the Fallen Ones had connected with. Their job was to illuminate the darkness for the humans, and the deluge was reducing the ability of humans to reach beyond their mortal plane. The Tower of Babel was a structure of both myth and reality, assuming the levels of development to reach transcendence. Nimrod was building a path through the material represented in previous chapters, and that path was brought to rubble by the deluge.

The chapter alludes to the knowledge of the angels being pulled into places away from the flooding waters and further inland, to higher plateau areas, though it does not discuss those places in depth. One of the terms used for this movement was the 'Atlantean migration' and is somehow connected to Noachite Masonry or Prussian Knights Masonry.

There are other groups of Titians mentioned in various nations, communities, and spiritualists. Madam Blatvasky in particular has a page and a half or so towards her community of spiritualism wherein her discovery of this material is tied in. There are several parts here to dig into if one is curious. The former pieces seemed more interesting to me.

Nimrod and the Tower of Babel by Unknown

Thanks for joining me for this month's Book Crawl post. I'm looking forward to reading everyone else's experiences of these chapters and how the material sat for you. Feel free to write as much or as little as you wish.

Up Next: December - Ch 4-8 - Pg 55-124

I knew better than to turn around, so, instead, I tried to look from the corner of my eyes. But there was nothing there. In fact, what I saw there was utterly different from the street I found myself in. “This is a bluff,” I breathed, a smile playing on my lips as I believed to have caught on to what was happening here. This wasn’t a set-up, it wasn’t even a trick — it was a test.

My hands relaxed and I started to feel the stinging pain of the marks my nails had left on my skin. I concentrated and closed my eyes, reaching for something that was hidden deep inside of me. When I opened them, I was no longer on that deserted street. I found myself at the entrance of a side alley of a busier street. No one noticed me as I stood, taking it all in with the fascination of a young child. Without much effort, I had broken whatever illusion that had been built around me.

As people were casually strolling past the side alley, chatting, laughing, and enjoying themselves, my spine straightened with a sense of accomplishment. “Intriguing,” the voice from earlier crooned. This time, it was real. This time, someone was standing behind me. Slowly, I turned around, curious to find out who had been playing tricks on me before. It definitely wasn’t William, although he might have the power it took to build a falsified reality for the mind. Maybe it was someone from the nest, someone I had yet to meet?

Although the darkness of the side alley covered him like a soft veil, I could tell that he was staggeringly beautiful. With feline grace, he took a step towards me, allowing the light from the street to illuminate his handsome features, his full lips curled up in a small smile. His face was framed by soft wheat blonde waves that reached past his collarbone, and his long coat looked like it had been made of night itself.

I swallowed hard when I met his eyes, those ice blue eyes that shone with faint amusement, danger, and something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Arrogance and poise radiated from him, as he scrutinized me as if I was something he could toy with as he pleased. He wasn’t from the nest. No one associated with William or my mentor, Clémence, would dare to play with me. They knew better. And he was different. Very, very different.

“Who are you?” I demanded, lifting my chin with whatever pride I had left in me after he had practically stripped me naked with nothing but his gaze. “The far more interesting question is who you are,” his words were smooth, like a snake gliding through water. He took a step towards me. Then another, and another until his legs had eaten up the distance between us.

“You caught on to my game. You’re the first to ever do that,” he noted, wickedness glistening in his eyes, “Tell me what you are.” “That’s none of your business,” I scoffed, folding my arms in front of my body protectively. “You just made yourself my business,” he hissed and pierced me with his stare, “Now tell me what you are.” “What I am is tired of walking down your sorry-ass dreamscape. What I am is annoyed of having to explain myself to a total stranger. What I am is pissed off, so find someone else to play your mind games on, I’m outta here.” I was walking a dangerous line, but I knew that I couldn’t tell him who, or what I was.

As I turned my back on him without waiting for a response, I held my breath. My nails found their wounds from earlier and drew blood. I dove into the bustle of the people, storming back to the hotel. On my way, I didn’t dare to look behind myself a single time.

The moment I had stepped through the hotel doors, a sense of relief had washed over me. But now, in the elevator, my stomach turned leaden. For some reason, I wasn’t sure it was possible to outrun the man I had just encountered. I silently hoped that William was waiting in the suite, that he had not gone out to find something to eat. But when I unlocked the door with the keycard, I realized that the rooms were all deserted.

With an uneasy feeling, I found my necklace and pulled it over my head, tugging it under my cashmere sweater securely. My flirtation with danger was officially over. In an attempt to calm myself down, I made myself a cup of tea and savored the heat of the porcelain against my skin as I carried it into the lounge. But the room was no longer empty. To my horror, I found the stranger sitting on the couch with a nonchalance that suggested this was his space, not mine. I gaped at him in utter disbelief. How had he gotten in without me noticing?

“We never finished our talk. Sit,” he gestured elegantly to the armchair across from him, the same small smile on his lips from before. It felt like I was rooted to the floor, unable to take a step back or forth. “It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order,” he added, his smile faltering slightly as he grew impatient with me, “Sit.”

I could feel in my bones that he was dangerous, but I stood my ground. For a moment I even considered throwing my cup at him but decided against it. “I’ve been watching you,” he declared and got up in one fluid motion, “have seen how you yearned for darkness, for death.” His steps were slow and deliberate as he walked towards me, his hands folded behind his back. “Get away from me,” I snarled when he began to circle me, sizing me up, like a hunter would its prey.

“What are you?” He repeated his question as he stopped before me and rested a hand under his chin, regarding me intently. “I thought I made myself clear before,” I noted coldly. A dark chuckle escaped him, “You, my dear, are very, very bold. A characteristic that usually doesn’t sit well with me.” His hand reached for me, but he reconsidered only inches before touching my cheek. “You hold a certain fascination,” he breathed, “At least tell me your name.”

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine,” I offered, and fought the urge to throw my hot tea into his beautiful face. “I’m Michael Langdon.” He tilted his head in predatory anticipation. “Valentine Sheridan,” I gave him a small nod and immediately regretted the polite gesture.

“Why won’t you tell me what you are, Valentine?” Just when I wanted to open my mouth to snap something back at him, his eyes shifted from me towards the door. “Someone has come to rescue you,” he announced with irritation.

“It’s always dangerous to assume you have the upper hand when in reality you’re inferior,” I noted with a pulled up eyebrow. Michael’s nostrils flared delicately, indicating that his annoyance was turning to anger. “How dare you call me inferior?” his tone was dripping with venom. The beast that was slumbering within me, opened an eye in curiosity at his tone and stretched lazily as if warming itself up to bare its fangs. “It’s just a wild guess,” I smirked.

“Valentine, open up,” William’s voice was muffled through the door, and he knocked vehemently. I frowned. Why couldn’t he open the door? “She’s indisposed at the moment,” Michael called back before leaning down and whispering into my ear, “I’m not done with you yet.” He was using magic. No...not magic. Something else, something I had never felt before.

“But I’m done with you.” I waved my hand in dismissal and felt my power awaken. With utter astonishment, Michael reached for his throat, panic flashing in his eyes. “You’re human, you need air to breathe. And what I am…is powerful enough to take that basic need away from you.” I relished my triumph as he sunk to his knees before me, “Do you still believe you’re the hunter, Mr. Langdon?”

Before he could get unconscious, his eyes turned completely black, and one of his hands clasped around my wrist, pulling me down to him with a force that was beyond human. Something else had entered his body, using him as a vessel.

“You will learn that I am not your inferior.” Michael’s voice sounded distorted. It was no longer his own. Power surged through me, like millions of chains that were wrapping themselves around every bone, every fiber of my body. All I could do was slump to the floor, bound by whatever had possessed Michael.

My own power, the usually very protective and playful beast, had ducked and hidden away somewhere deep inside me. There was no way of reaching it. With a malicious laugh, Michael cupped my face, “I will have so much fun teaching you.”

Although I tried to struggle against his control, I couldn’t stop it from snaking through me until it eventually reached my mind. All I had left was to give in and let him take over. The world around me stilled, turned black, and I was gone.

Chapter 2

A loud crack of thunder jolted me awake. Immediately I sat up and looked around, realizing that I wasn’t in the bed of my hotel suite — frankly, I doubted to still be in the same state.

Curious, I inspected my surroundings. A lamp on the bedside table dipped the room in soft light, revealing that I was in a house that must be located in the middle of a forest. The trees outside were swaying gently in the thunderstorm that had woken me up. Night still reigned, although I guessed that the sun would rise soon. There wasn’t a single streetlight, or any lights of a neighboring house to be seen. Wherever this place was, it had been built in utter isolation to maintain the highest level of privacy possible.

The room was mostly bare. At the floor to ceiling corner windows sat a heavy green armchair that would look inviting under other circumstances. Next to the spacious bed I was sitting in, it was the only furniture. To my right was a sliding door made of frosted glass that looked to be leading into a bathroom. To my left was a set of doors, probably a closet, and another glass door which would lead out of the room.

I held my breath, trying to make out any movement or sounds. But the house appeared to be dead silent, the only sound being the rain pattering against the windows. Careful to make as little noise as possible, I climbed out of bed.

Someone had changed my clothing. My jeans and sweater had been exchanged for an elegant, long-sleeved black gown that was cut from fluid silk. With its floor-skimming length and revealing neckline, it was too beautiful to just be worn to bed. And it revealed that it hadn’t been William who had put the dress on me. He would have known that I preferred a pair of comfortable pajamas and, most importantly, he wouldn’t have removed my necklace.

It came as a pleasant surprise that the dark grey concrete floor was heated so I wouldn’t have to put on the black satin slippers that waited at the bed. I needed to tiptoe around the house, to find out where I was and how to get out of here. The shoes weren’t exactly ideal for this plan, no matter how well they matched the dress.

Before leaving the room, I reached for my powers, but as it turned out, in vain. They were hidden somewhere in the deepest, darkest space of my usually overflowing well. And there was no way of accessing them at this point.

Carefully, I slid the door away, revealing a narrow hallway. The room I had woken up in was the last door to the right, the opposite wall being nothing but a long window facade.

While the storm swallowed what little noise my feet made against the floor, I snuck down the hall and ignored the other two closed doors I passed. The hallway appeared to end in a wide staircase, and a small ledge, framed by a minimalistic black wire railing allowed me to look down into the living space. Only one of the walls didn’t have any windows. Instead, it was covered in glossy white shelves that were completely filled with books. It was useless to attempt to guess how many books were stacked on the shelves, and for a moment I wondered whether my abductor had ever read them all.

In the middle of the room were an open fireplace, two couches and an armchair crafted of black velvet arranged around it. Michael rested on one of the chairs, holding a glass with amber liquid in one hand. His ice blue eyes were lit up by the crackling fire he was staring into in abstraction. “Finally awake?” he asked, not bothering to look up at me, “Please. Join me.”

Apparently, he had given up on giving me commands and was trying requests now. Interesting.

I padded down the glass staircase, the steps icy against my naked feet, deciding that I might as well speak to him. If he was so aware of me moving around the house, there was no chance to escape. At least not while he was awake. Michael followed my every move as I draped myself on the couch across from him, carefully arranging the skirt of my dress. His gaze wandered over me and a small smile, much different from the one he had worn before, spread on his lips. He looked appreciative.

“I took the liberty of dressing you,” he noted as if he expected me to thank him for it. “I hope you enjoyed it. Especially the underwear,” I snorted, “Please apologize that my outfit wasn’t appropriate for your…home.”

“Oh, this isn’t my home. It’s merely a residence,” he drawled and leaned forward. With a smooth movement, he offered me his drink. “Are you trying to poison me now?” I demanded, regarding him with suspicion. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” He sat back and emptied the glass in one swig, looking at the fire as if it could give him answers to questions he hadn’t asked.

Although I didn’t want to admit it, I knew he was right. In the meantime, he had had more than one opportunity to slit my throat.

“Why I am I here then?” “Haven’t you paid attention to anything I’ve said?” he snapped viciously.

I tilted my head in surprise, shifting towards the edge of my seat so I could get a closer look at him. He was dressed in a black shirt, vest and dress pants and was still wearing boots. Not a single strand of his glorious hair was out of place, but his face bore signs of exhaustion. I sucked on my lip when I realized that him keeping me in check was wearing him out. Michael had kept himself awake because he couldn’t be sure to keep me asleep, and within this house.

“What do you want from me?” I tried to sound more gentle this time. There was no way in hell that he would let me go. And even if he would, I had no idea of how to get back to William. For better or for worse, I was stuck here. For now.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted and met my gaze. His brows nudged together when he noticed that my contentiousness was gone.

“How did you manage to subdue my powers?” My question was answered with a triumphant smile, “There are spells for everything. Even to control an extraordinary specimen such as yourself.” The kindness that I had felt just seconds before immediately dwindled, and now I wanted to slap the smug grin off of his face. He was lying. What he had used wasn’t magic, it was sheer power that had surged through me. It hadn’t felt like a spell at all.

Something inside me stirred in affirmation, and I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible. Michael didn’t control my powers, couldn’t control them. They were hiding, deliberately, to make him believe that they were restrained.

“You must be a very powerful witch then,” I teased and he shot me a look for using that word, “What else can you do?” He rose from the chair and sauntered towards me, “You see, I have a talent. Call it a kind of…night-vision of the soul. I can see into the dark places that people desperately try to keep hidden.”

A talent wasn’t a power, it wasn’t a spell.

“But with you…I can only assume. I was unable to look into you, which is why I realize now that it was foolish to assume that you were looking for darkness.” He squatted down in front of me and put a hand on my thigh, the warmth of his skin radiating through the thin fabric of the dress, making a shiver dance down my spine. If he wasn’t such a controlling creep, I would have liked to take things elsewhere.

“I’ve learned now that you were trying to escape it, trying to escape your darkness and demons. But why bother? Why not bask in it, embrace your hunger for evilness. Stop turning the mirrors around, and look at yourself. At what you can become.”

I swallowed hard, feeling how he drew me in, with his alluring voice, with those enticing eyes that reflected the burning fire.

“I know how much you enjoyed cutting off my air. Tell me, what else do you enjoy?” Michael’s other hand cupped my now burning cheek and it felt like the air was crackling between us. “What else would you like to do to me?”

His words had created a needy knot in my belly that was ever so slowly wandering down between my legs. I didn’t want to give into him, I needed to win the upper hand.

“What I would like to do is cut off your filthy paws so they will no longer touch me,” I hissed and slapped his hand away from my face. “You’re a delight,” he crooned ecstatically and his fingers gave my thigh a gentle squeeze before he removed them and straightened. I cursed the part of myself that lamented his withdrawal.

“Now, what am I to do with this?” He produced my necklace from his pocket and dangled it around playfully, “There’s a spell on it. But one I have never encountered before. It’s almost as enigmatic as yourself.” “Maybe you should just give it back to me,” I suggested, my words coated with the ice that had shot into my veins to cool me off from his touch. Michael was getting under my skin, and I needed it to stop.

“I think I’d rather drop it in the fire and destroy it,” he said and grinned teasingly at me, his eyes dancing with dark humor. “Oh, please do. That necklace is the reason why someone came to help me,” I explained with a shrug, “Should you destroy it, this place will be swarmed with people coming to my rescue. And I doubt you’d survive them.”

Michael paused and inspected the dark, rounded pendant of the necklace that at first glance would resemble a pearl that was no bigger than a dime. The stone wasn’t completely black and opaque, as there were tiny silver speckles within it that reflected the light. There was no reason to tell him that my threat was merely a bluff. Nothing would happen if he destroyed the stone. Nothing, except for the destruction of my preferred exit strategy.

“It’s a bloodstone,” I declared, feeling that it was my time to be smug — and honest.

Something in his demeanor shifted as if he suddenly had been given a piece of information that changed things. “These are extremely rare,” he noted with suspicion and rolled the stone between his fingers, “Where did you get it?”

“From the person whose blood it was made from,” I explained, well-knowing that William was currently moving heaven and earth to find me. “I thought they were all gone?” Michael asked in disbelief.

I shook my head, “There are many of them. And they will come to retrieve me. By taking me here, you just got yourself into a world of trouble, Mr. Langdon.” His lips parted slightly as his arrogance and poise faltered. It wasn’t fear that flickered in his eyes. But worry.

With a smile I rose from my seat and came to stand before him, “You know what I would really like to do to you?”

My fingers reached for his throat, as I dragged a nail along his carotid artery, reveling in the fact that my touch left goosebumps on his skin. Just a man after all.

“When I’m turned, I want to sink my fangs into your neck and drink from you. Let your life force course through me as you slowly dwindle away under my touch. How does that sound?” I breathed my question against his skin.

“Ravishing,” he answered huskily, “Please, do tell me in what other ways you want to torment me.” His hands found my waist and pulled me against him so I could feel his excitement straining against his pants.

He was getting off on this!

When he started to lean in, his lust-clouded eyes lingering on my lips in anticipation, I panicked. My palm struck his cheek before I knew what I was doing. Immediately he let go of me, bewilderment written across his face when he came back to his senses. As if he hadn’t expected to react to me that way. As if he had given in to being seduced.

As he held his cheek, I shook my head at him. “You need a cold shower and a nap, Romeo.”

“You’re vicious.” Coming from him, it sounded like a compliment. “Well, you told me to get in touch with my darkness. I guess I just did.”

“You’re more than just a seductress. Why won’t you just tell me what you are?” The fact that he couldn’t read me like he could other people was pure frustration to him, that much was obvious.

“How about you keep me alive and find out?” I suggested and bit the inside of my cheek, knowing that I had bought myself enough time to steal my necklace back. Michael closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly to calm himself down. “I’ll grow on you, I promise,” I chuckled.

“The room you woke up in, is yours. All windows and doors are locked, so don’t bother trying to get out. And even if you should find a way to steal yourself away, I will know and I will find you. There’s nothing around us, for miles. Only the woods.” His tone held enough warning that I lifted my palms in a surrendering gesture, “I understand.”

“I will retire for tonight, as should you,” he noted coldly and put his hands behind his back, “And, Valentine. Just so you know, my patience is limited. He turned on his heel without awarding me with another glance and disappeared upstairs, leaving me behind with a strange sensation surging through me.

There was no doubt that he was powerful, albeit that there was no way of telling where his power came from. Not yet, anyway. I could feel in my bones, with every fiber of my body, that I was stronger than him, had been gifted differently and more generously. I was certain of it. And I was certain of something else: together we could have the world at our feet, with nothing but a snap of our fingers. But what I didn’t know was whether that thought scared or…excited me.

Chapter 3

The next morning, the storm had died down and, instead, the skies appeared to have been swept clean from any clouds, giving the sun a clear cerulean playground. A soft fall breeze ruffled the colorful leaves on the trees and in the daylight, I could make out a river gurgling peacefully through the woods. Wherever I was, the climate appeared to be similar to Washington.

This place was truly picturesque, and I would have liked nothing more than to put on a cozy sweater and a pair of boots to go explore my surroundings, to breathe in the crisp air. With a sigh, I remembered that I couldn’t leave the house. Or, at least, wasn’t allowed to. So I peeled myself away from the tall windows unwillingly and headed into the bathroom.

Last night I had inspected it before going back to bed and had rejoiced at finding a gigantic, freestanding bathtub that was placed at a window, allowing a beautiful view of the forest. I figured that I might as well spend some of my time here pampering myself. Especially because I wasn’t exactly keen on spending my entire day with my abductor.

Absentmindedly I sat on the edge of the tub and waited for it to fill with warm water, while my thoughts drifted to the mysterious man that appeared to still be asleep. Before I had entered my room last night, I had noticed that the lights were on next door. Had noticed that there was only a single separating us.

It wasn’t surprising that I had slept uneasily. My mind just couldn’t stir itself away from him and I kept trying to make sense of where he got his powers from.

Over the years, I had been fortunate enough to encounter many talented witches. I knew what witchcraft felt like, knew what it looked like, and how it made the air ripple when used. And Michael’s power felt nothing like that. My power was nothing like that.

The sense of otherworldliness that surrounded him was somber and destructive, whereas a witch felt light and healing. There was, of course, the slight possibility that, similar to me, he had been bestowed with power from someone, or something, else.

I stored that idea away for later because, eventually, hunger drove me out of the bath. I hadn’t eaten in forever and I started to accept the fact that I would have to eat whatever food was in this house. Michael had stolen my phone, and if this place was as isolated as he claimed, there was no way that I could order a pizza anyway.

To my dismay, the closet only offered a selection of floor-length dresses and gowns that definitely wouldn’t be part of my usual day-to-day wardrobe. Where Michael had gotten these dresses from and why they all looked to be the right size, was beyond me. And what alarmed me was the large amount flimsy lace lingerie that was stocked in the drawers.

After opting for a black silk-satin dress with a waist-defining tie, I pushed the thought away that he brought other women here. Why else would he keep these clothes around? A small knot of jealousy curled deep in my gut, but I destroyed it by telling myself that he forced all those women to dress beautifully for him, to then kill them, and bury them deep in the woods. I wouldn’t be one of them.

The long skirt of my dress whispered against the floor as I tiptoed into the hallway, careful to make as little noise as possible.

Although it was still early, I could hear the consistent clicking of a keyboard coming from his room, suggesting that he was awake and had a computer in there with him. I should try to break into his room the next chance I got. An e-mail would work just as well as my necklace.

As I made my way downstairs, I hoped that Michael hadn’t removed the bloodstone from around my neck until we had gotten here. There was a slim chance that William could have felt me while I was unconscious, and would be able to trace me. But even without it, they would find me sooner or later. I was too important, too precious to give up on.

With Michael still upstairs, I decided to explore the rest of the contemporary house.

A wide hallway connected to the open living space and lead into a spacious kitchen that was kept in charcoal colors. The counters and appliances looked new and untouched, just like the three black stools that sat in front of a kitchen island.

On my way, I had passed the front door but didn’t even bother to inspect whether it was truly locked or not. Opposite of it, was another door that caught my attention.

It wasn’t made of frosted glass like the others, it was made of sturdy wood and lacquered white to match the color of the walls. When I tried to turn the knob, it was locked.

Theoretically, it could lead to an office or a small guest bathroom. But why lock it? Michael was clearly working on his computer upstairs and he didn’t strike me as a person that would leave important documents lying around — he would keep them with him, at all times.

When I padded towards the fridge, I tried to make a mental floor plan of the house. Whatever was waiting behind that door, it was swallowing quite a bit of space. Maybe it was leading into a basement. The basement where he kept all his girls.

I shook my head at my own thoughts and told myself to lay off the crime mysteries.

As I inspected the food, I shrugged off my curiosity and decided that I might as well just ask him what he was hiding behind the door. Worst case scenario he would get annoyed and not tell me. There wasn’t anything for me to lose.

The kitchen was incredibly well-stocked and offered enough ingredients to cook various dishes. By the looks of it, Michael had prepared to feed an entire family. For several days. I could only assume that this detail implied that he was planning on keeping me here for a while.

Warily I sniffed at what I had collected and decided that it wasn’t poisoned. After all, he was human, too. He had to eat, just like me.

By the time I had finished cooking, I heard steps coming down the staircase. I didn’t bother to look at him when I placed the still hot skillet under running water so it could cool off in the sink.

“I’d say ‘good morning, sleepyhead’, but you’ve been up for quite a while,” I noted and turned around to brace my arms against the walnut countertop of the kitchen aisle. To my surprise, Michael looked at the food in utter disbelief, his ice blue eyes ignoring me completely.

“I made enough for two,” I explained, “I figured since I won’t be eating you anytime soon, I would make breakfast.”

He met my gaze, a frown on his handsome face. I had almost forgotten how stunning he was. Almost.

Dressed in a black shirt, dress pants and a jacket made of deep red velvet, he looked every bit a dark prince. His beautiful hair put mine to shame, as I had only collected it in a bun to get it out of the way.

“French toast?” he asked bewildered. I nodded and drizzled some powdered sugar over our breakfast, “It’s the only thing I could think of at the top of my head. And I was too lazy to check whether your bookshelves held a cookbook.”

With curiosity, I noticed how his usually poised expression faltered and softened as if he was reminiscing.

“It’s not poisoned. In fact, it’s delicious. I’m a decent cook,” I explained and pushed a plate towards him, surprised by the very human side of him I was suddenly presented with.

Immediately, his facade snapped back up and he gave me that arrogant smile that I just wanted to roll my eyes at. Or drool over. Because, unfortunately, I couldn’t deny that I felt incredibly attracted to him, even if he had abducted me.

Maybe I was beginning to get Stockholm syndrome?

With quick fingers he pushed the plate I had offered him back and pulled the one I had chosen for myself towards him. “Oh, please,” I sighed and shook my head slowly.

“You didn’t accept the drink last night,” he said with a shrug. “And maybe my darkness has whispered into my ear to poison my own plate, because it knew that you would take it,” I scoffed. “Careful, Valentine,” he warned, wickedness shining in his eyes. “Just eat your breakfast.”

Michael reached for my plate and carried it to the dinner table that was placed at the large windows, where the sun falling through the leaves sent shadows dancing across the dark wood.

Gracefully he slid into the seat across from me and waited for me to join him.

“Considering that this is merely a residence, it is well-prepared for visitors,” I tried to sound conversational. “What do you want to know?” he asked and inspected the bite of French toast that sat on his fork.

“I want to know why you have a closet filled with ridiculously expensive women’s fashion that just sits there, untouched and unused. Am I one of many?” Instead of meeting his gaze, I pushed around some of the strawberries I had cut up.

“I told you, I had been watching you. Maybe I was just well-prepared and had been planning on bringing you here for a while,” he answered smugly and took the first bite of his food. Michael’s eyes closed for a moment as he savored the taste.

“So I’m not wearing the panties of a stranger?” I just had to know. A chuckle escaped him as if he were honestly amused, “No. Those panties were bought specifically for you. Everything was.”

I let go of a breath that I hadn’t realized to be holding. It was very, very good to know that I was not wearing someone else’s underwear. It was also interesting to learn that he had prepared to bring me here, had gone shopping so I would have something to wear, had stocked the closet just as well as the kitchen.

This wouldn’t just be a short weekend getaway.

“What’s behind that door over there?” I pointed towards the locked mystery gate with my fork. “That’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.” His tone was cold and final and told me to shut my mouth.

I put my cutlery down and looked at him intently, “When will you finally tell me what you want with me? You told me that you’ll have fun teaching me, but so far you’ve only tried to teach me how to dress well, by withholding sweatpants and t-shirts. But I already know how to dress like an heiress. I am one, for goodness’ sake.”

When he froze, I realized my mistake. Unintentionally, I had given him the one small detail that could change things. That could expose me.

“And just when I wanted to ask you to stop ruining this delicious breakfast with your questions, you suddenly make it all the sweeter,” he rested his hand under his chin, “Will you finally tell me what you are?”

“And give you the one thing you want from me? Never,” I snorted.

“Who says that that’s the only thing I want from you?” he purred, his gaze wandering to my cleavage provocatively.

“You disgust me,” I lied, my heartbeat hammering in my chest. Michael laughed before he continued to eat his breakfast.

“Whoever you belong to has cleaned up nicely behind themselves, by the way. I can’t find any records of you anywhere. You’re like a ghost…” I chose to ignore his comment and focused on my breakfast instead, well-knowing that there was no information about me anywhere.  

We finished eating in silence, and I shot him a look when I cleared the dishes from the table, “Don’t get used to this. I’ll think twice before cooking anything for you from now on.”

Michael ignored my snarky comment and rose from the table. While I placed the dishes in the sink, I saw something that gave me an idea, something that could maybe enlighten me. Just because I was still human, didn’t mean that I had never had a taste of what was to come.

When I turned around, he was casually smoothing over his jacket and started picking invisible lint from it, completely unaware of my movements.

“Or is this why you brought me here? To play house? An enigmatic woman that might just be good enough for you to keep around?” Michael met my gaze and clearly waited for me to go on.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked and slowly started to step around the kitchen island. He pulled up an eyebrow in surprise, following my every move until I came to stand before him.

Unfazed, he observed how I let my fingers run over the lapel of his jacket, until they ghosted further up, towards his neck. His eyes found mine as my finger traced the spot where I had touched him the night before, and when his lips parted slightly, I knew that I got him exactly where I wanted.

“I thought I disgusted you,” he noted in an attempt to sound aloof. “Well, maybe I just changed my mind. Maybe I want to give in to the darkness. Want to give in…to you.” I wetted my lips, looking up at him through my lashes.

Then, with the velocity of a snake, I reached for the knife I had hidden in my dress and ran the blade over his skin. Not to kill him, but to draw blood. When it started to seep out of the shallow wound, I let my weapon clatter to the floor. Determined, I gripped his jacket and pulled myself close to him.  

A gasp escaped his mouth when my tongue ran over his warm skin, greedily licking his blood. His sweet life force washed over my taste buds and I savored the power that was rushing through it. A power that, indeed, had been bestowed upon him. From something dark and evil that craved nothing but havoc and domination.

Intoxicated from his taste, I broke away from him and hungrily gulped down air to regain focus. When I met his eyes, they were filled with wonder, surprise, and the same lust I had seen in them last night.

Before I could stop him, he pulled me close again and held me firmly with one arm as his thumb traced my bottom lip lazily, wiping off his own blood. His touch was territorial and the way he looked at my lips made heat pound between my legs instantaneously.

Michael leaned in and brushed his lips against mine.   His kiss was gentle and tentative at first, but when my fingers instinctively tangled themselves in his silky hair, he deepened it. Drunk on his blood, I decided to ignore the warning bells that went off in my head as he kissed me fiercely. I wanted to relish this moment. Wanted to relish him. Wanted to do everything with him.

Eventually, Michael withdrew and for once the smug smile was gone from his face. “Please,” he started breathlessly, “Please, tell me what you are.”