She Dies at the End (November Snow #1) (33 page)

November followed her kidnapper’s pointing finger.  Her heart sank as she took in the fortress at the end of the road.  A flat-topped mountain rose above the rest of the canyon-cracked desert.  The cliff was almost vertical, its rocky face illumined by moving searchlights meant to reveal anyone foolish enough to try the climb.  No windows glowed to break up the monotony of the wall; even the scrub brush had been burned away to minimize handholds and hiding places.  

She could see a large, fortified gate at the base of the installation, which appeared to have been carved from the rock.  It appeared that there was not a single place to force an entry other than the main entrance or perhaps the roof.  She identify what looked like a water tank and radar or satellite dishes on top of the structure along with towers dotting the circumference of the roof, prepared to locate and rain fire down on any force approaching from above or below.  She supposed the Gatling guns must have been modified to take silver and wooden bullets, then wondered how she could manage such calm speculation while this view snuffed out all the hope remaining in her heart.  She could make out small objects flying around the installation like so many bees around a hive.  She gasped when she realized that they were people: fairies and vampires on aerial patrol with what appeared to be rocket launchers at the ready.

It was obvious that the road they travelled was the only land route into the base, surrounded as it was by a barren, formidable landscape creased with cliffs and canyons.  She wondered briefly whether it was beautiful by day and decided that it probably was.  A few hundred yards down the road, about hallway between them and the fortress, stood a heavily-armed and guarded checkpoint securing a drawbridge over what looked to be a wide chasm.    Willow held her up by her arm, letting her take in the view before she began speaking.  “I want you to see this so that you know that there is no escape in your future.  Even if anyone survives to come for you, which I highly doubt, they will never be able to get into the fort, and there would be no way to get you out.  It will be impossible for you to escape on your own.  I’m not doing this because I want to see you suffer, November.  I like you, honestly.  I simply want you to accept your fate, because it will be much easier for you if you do.  If you do as you’re told and accept that Luka is your master now, he will treat you well.  He will cherish you as a treasure.  If you fight him, he will not coddle you like Ilyn and William did.  He will do whatever is necessary to break your will.”

November kept her eyes on the landscape as helpless tears began to flow.  Willow’s voice softened slightly.  “Soon you will be one of us, and in time, you will understand that our cause is just.  You will be proud to be part of our victory, the new world we’re going to build.  You will be a hero to generations of our people, a beloved queen.  Time will pass, and all of this will be a fading memory.  You will learn to be happy again.”

Finally, November spoke.  “I would rather you just killed me.”

“I know,” the spy replied.  “But you are far too valuable for that.”  The fairy shook her head.  “They don’t deserve your loyalty, seer.  They have failed you, again and again, just as they failed me.  If they hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here, would you?”  Willow carried November back to the car.  

“One more time,” she said, pulling November’s arms behind her back again and placing tape once more over her mouth.  “Forgive me,” she said, pulling out a black hood and placing it over November’s head.  After an initial shudder of fear in the darkness of the hood, November was almost grateful to have the privacy to weep without being seen.

They stopped at the checkpoint by the bridge.  November could hear voices as Willow convinced the guards of her identity and the value of her two pieces of cargo.  She could hear the gears grinding as the bridge was lowered.  They drove on for a few minutes.  Finally, Willow stopped and turned off the vehicle.  Strong hands lifted November out of the car.  Someone placed her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and carried her a long way, first through the frigid night air and then into some kind of structure.  Too terrified and exhausted to concentrate, she was unable to use her gift to peek through the bag on her head.  Between the gag and the hood, she began struggling to breathe, which only added to her panic.

Finally, after being carried down long corridors and up and down spiral staircases, she heard a door swing open, and she was deposited on a cold stone floor.  Hands gently removed the black hood and swiftly ripped off the gag, drawing a loud gasp of pain.  November looked up and gazed with fear into the mismatched eyes of Luka Lazzari, erstwhile Lord of Arizona.

“Ah,” he breathed, gently grasping her chin to look in her eyes.  “It is you, after all this time.  I knew it.  I am so glad Ilyn didn’t turn you.  It would have been such a shame to have to attempt a redraining and transfusion.  It can go so badly wrong.”  

She looked at him mutely, fear and pain and confusion swirling around her face.  He laughed and pulled out a familiar knife of gleaming silver, inlaid with blood-darkened wood.  An instinctive panic filled her at the sight of it, a blind, animal urge to flee, though flight was impossible.  “Shhh,” he said, cutting the plastic ties constraining her limbs.

It was an oddly familiar gesture.  For a moment, when she looked at her hands, they looked like someone else’s.  The fingernails were missing.  The moment passed, and her hands were once again her own.  “No fairy wounds for you today.  You’re safe at home, now.  Well done recovering my knife, by the way, Willow,” he said, “and for delivering her in good condition.  She was in a lot worse shape the last time I found her, I must say.  Though I do think the binding might have been overkill.  Her wrists are badly bruised.  And the gag – look at her poor skin.  She’s just a human girl, after all, in body anyway.”  

He took his attention off November for a moment to rise and kiss Willow on the forehead.  “I am so proud of you, my darling.”

The fairy smiled and embraced him before answering, “Perhaps I was overcautious, but given how difficult it has been to obtain her, I thought I’d best err on that side.  And I would not underestimate her, my lord.  I’ve seen her do some rather improbable things.”

“Like killing a fairy with a rosary?”  He laughed again.  “That was splendid, I agree.  Extremely inconvenient,” he added toward November in a mock scolding tone, wagging a finger in reproach, “But still, splendid.”  

He clucked his tongue at the welts on her wrists and began massaging her dead limbs.  She flinched and tried to pull away from his touch, which was, again, impossible.  She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a whimper of pain as the blood began to return to her arms and legs.  “It’s alright, kitten, we’ll get you warm and fed and you’ll feel much better.”  

There was a thick, woolen blanket warming by the fire.  He snatched it up, wrapped his prisoner in it, lifted her as though she was a small child, and placed her in a large, high-backed chair set at a long plank table.  He took the matching chair at the head of the table, just to her right.  “Broth first,” he commanded.

November hesitated for a moment.  Soon, her brain caught up, and she realized that if Luka Lazzari wanted to drug or poison her, tricking her into drinking soup would hardly be necessary.  It took both her shaking hands to bring the steaming mug to her lips. After a few swallows, she began to feel a bit more in command of her faculties.  She was still terrified and confused and ached all over, but at least she was on the way to no longer being frozen, starved, and dehydrated.  She opened her mouth and managed to rasp out, “Thank you.”

“Oh, see how polite she is, Willow?  And most humans these days are so rude.  Delightful.”  When November finished the broth, Luka rang a bell.  A human girl in entered.  She wore a simple, warm-looking, long-sleeved dress with thick stockings but no shoes.  She was obviously enthralled, and November could see numerous marks from vampire bites old and new.  She set the plate before November, and looked to Luka for instruction.  He dismissed her with a wave, at which she curtsied and hurried out of the room as fast as possible.  

November looked down at the plate to find half a roast chicken, heavily buttered mashed potatoes, and bright sautéed green beans.  The smell alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes after her ordeal in the trunk.  There was a napkin, but no silverware.

She forced herself to look up at her captor.  “May I please have a knife and fork?” she asked softly, forcing herself to look into his mismatched eyes.

“Oh, I’m afraid not, kitten,” he replied with a condescending smile.  “We find it best not to allow our humans cutlery.  It cuts down on unfortunate incidents.”

November looked down again at the plate, fully aware that this policy was likely less a safety measure and more likely a way to humiliate her by making her feel like a savage in front him.  Still, she was hungry, and she would need all her strength in the days to come.  She placed the napkin in her lap and deftly tore the chicken into dainty pieces.  The chicken and beans were easy enough to eat with her hands.  She decided to use the bread to scoop the potatoes.  She tried to eat slowly and neatly, striving to give no sign of her desperate hunger nor the hot feeling of fear that grew in her chest the more Luka studied her.  She said nothing until she had eaten everything on her plate and drained the milk in the tumbler that had accompanied it.  After all, if she displeased him, there was no way of knowing when the next meal would come.  

And she fully intended to displease him.

Luka’s gaze upon her was relentless, and she wondered what he was looking for.   She forced herself to look around the room, to try to see what the room could tell her about the man.  The chamber appeared to be a large study.  The table at which she had dined was half-covered with books and maps and papers in various languages.  A large desk occupied one corner of the room, complete with laptop and tablet, and one wall was lined with bookcases.  The remainder of the roughly carved stone walls were covered in many places by tapestries and paintings.  There was a sitting area by the fire furnished with two heavy armchairs of brown leather with seats so deep she knew her feet wouldn’t touch the ground.  The ceiling had a dome of glass in the center with a retractable cover, and the moon shone brightly down into the chamber.  She finally noticed that classical music was playing from a turntable in the corner.   The room seemed strangely cozy for the lair of a villain like Luka.

The man himself was fairly unremarkable.  He was of average height, medium build, with brown hair shot liberally with gray above a high forehead creased from years of concentration as a human scribe.  He was dressed like a religious brother, in a long black cassock with a high collar.  His long fingers were stained at the tips with what November sincerely hoped was ink.  His most striking features were his eyes, of course, shrewd and intent, one green and one brown.  A hawkish nose and a cruel mouth completed his intimidating face.  He wasn't exactly handsome, but he had a cold sort of charisma, and his features certainly commanded one's attention.

“The food was to your liking, my dear?” he inquired, finally breaking the silence.

She nodded.  “It was excellent, thank you.”  It was a struggle to force out the words through trembling lips.

“Yes, we captured a very good chef some years ago whom we put to work overseeing the kitchen.  You’ll find we take great care with our animals. They are well fed, well clothed, and well housed.  The vast majority of them are content and live long and pleasant lives, far better than their previous ones,” he opined, as though a farmer discussing his sheep.  His casual superiority made November’s full stomach churn.  “I feel I must apologize for the ineptitude of some of those in my employ.  Lilith was under the strictest orders to bring you to me in pristine condition.  Alas, when you caught my father’s eye, she could not control her jealousy.  She failed me twice that night.  She is lucky her death was not at my hand, or she would have known much more suffering.”

Not having any idea what to say, November searched for words.  She swallowed and said, “I assumed as much.”

“In spite of the trouble you have caused to me and my plans, kitten, I have no desire to see you suffer.  It is not your fault my brother got to you first.  That failure belongs to me,” he said magnanimously.

He seemed to expect a reply, so she said, hesitatingly, “I’m relieved to hear it.”

He smiled wolfishly at her before responding, “Yes, I should think so.  Now, November, in between filling your head with lies about my character, did any of my relatives bother to tell you what you are?”

“What I . . . they just said that humans like me are rare, that I have a special gift.”  November was puzzled at the turn this conversation was taking.  She had been expecting to be interrogated about Ilyn and William and her visions.

He gave a bark of laughter.  “True enough, if incomplete.  Do you mean to say that you still believe that all you are is a teenage carnie from a trailer park?  A human child of a whore, barely grown, who has somehow become enmeshed in a supernatural power struggle, guiding the plans of kings and lords when she ought to be studying for the college boards?”

Pride reared up in her, and she lifted a defiant chin.  “I’m not ashamed of who I am or where I come from,” she retorted without thinking how her defiance might be perceived.

“Good for you, kitten,” he said indulgently, to her relief.  “I came from the gutter, too, and I applaud your sense of self-worth.  But have you really never wondered why you were so unlike other humans, other children?  Why you feel so removed from them?  Why you are so comfortable with supernatural creatures and so ill-at-ease among the mortal?  Why your relationship to the passage of time is so unusual?  Why you have so little fear of death?  Why you can send your soul out of your body on reconnaissance and bring it back again?”  He seemed incredulous.

“My gift – the nature of my upbringing— they isolated me from other people,” she protested haltingly.

“Human beings do not see the future, November.  They do not read minds.  They cannot affect the weather.  They can’t fly or bend spoons.  They cannot resist thrall.  They have no supernatural gifts whatsoever.  Fairies are born with gifts.  Vampires acquire them when they are reborn, the lucky ones.  Werewolves, rarely, acquire them when they are bitten or come of age.  Humans lack them altogether.”

“Savita could read minds when she was human.  And her sister could tell fortunes,” November protested.

“Exactly, my dear.  Savita has never been human,” he replied with a smile.  “Nor was her sister.”  He shook his head.  “I wonder why Savita didn’t tell you.  William, I understand him not knowing it.  He is tragically ignorant.  Ilyn, I thought, was better read, or would have tasted it in your blood, since he had so much of Savita’s and might recognize its similarity.”  He shook his head again.  

She must have betrayed something in her face, for his next comment was, “Don’t tell me my father hasn’t tasted you?”  She just looked at him.  “Truly?” he asked, incredulous, looking back at Willow for confirmation.

“I think he feared upsetting her.  William has fed on her, a few sips, months ago, but not Ilyn,” she replied with a hint of amusement.

“What a sorry excuse for a vampire he is,” Luka said in disbelief.  “I don’t know why he bothers anymore.” He pursed his lips in amusement and gazed silently at his captive, drawing out the suspense.

Unable to contain her frustration any longer, she finally demanded, “Fine, then, what the hell am I?”  

“A demon,” he said, as though this were the most obvious answer in the world.

She looked at him, disbelieving.  “You’re saying I’m possessed?  I have heard that one before, you know, along with people yelling ‘freak’ and ‘witch’ when I tried to go to school.”

“Your body is possessed, silly girl.  
You
are the demon possessing it.  If you don’t like that word, you could go with wraith, spirit, whatever you wish.  The bottom line is that you are a non-physical supernatural being with the honor or misfortune of being tethered to one body after another for all eternity.  When one body no longer operates, you move on to another, taking possession of it at the moment of its conception.  For all we know, you’ve been fairies and vampires and werewolves as well as human beings.  You’re not eighteen years old.  You could be eighteen hundred, or eighteen thousand.  You could be as old as creation.”  He seemed terribly earnest, almost professorial.

“This is crazy,” she whispered, disbelieving.

“Is it?  It is any crazier than the fact that you can see the past and predict the future?  Crazier than dying and climbing back out of the ground?  Crazier than people who can fly or bleed light or turn into wolves?”

“I am a person.  I’m not some kind of . . .  supernatural parasite.”  
He’s just trying to manipulate you
, she told herself.  
Savita would have told you if it were true
.

“Why in the world would you rather be a human than a goddess?”  He seemed genuinely puzzled.

“If this is true, then why don’t I remember all these other lives?” she asked slowly, trying to remain calm and formulate coherent questions.

“Oh, but I think you do, in a way,” he countered.  “Who knows how many of your visions of the past might be of your own lives?  As for not consciously remembered every detail, perhaps it is a coping mechanism, or aids in the survival of the host body.  That much of a past could be a burden to one’s mental health, I expect.  Savita remembers more the older her current body gets, or so she’s told me.”  He studied her for a moment. “You still don’t believe me.  Have you ever looked at your eyes by fairylight, November?”

At her shake of the head, he raced invisibly fast around the room with a whoosh of displaced air, shoving aside her dinner tray and placing a mirror before her on the table.  He picked up a delicately folded piece of paper patterned in violet and yellow.  He pulled at it gently and it unfolded into a little cylinder the size of November’s hand.  With no bulb and no flame, the magic lantern glowed magically from within from the moment it was unfolded.  He stood behind her chair and draped a blanket over them, blocking out all other sources of light.  The vampire leaned over her shoulder, uncomfortably close.  “Look in the mirror and tell me those eyes are human.”