What Kills Me (29 page)

“LUCAS!”

Something in me snapped. Broke.
Exploded.

I threw the stake back at the general.
He must have heard it because he jerked his head. Too late. It
skewered his right eye. He cried out and the crowd
gasped.

I yanked on my chains, pulling the
four soldiers to me. They were in mid air when I grabbed a sword
from one of their belts and flung it at the general. They collided
behind me, cracking their skulls and crumpling into a groaning
heap.

Tearing his sword free of Lucas just
in time, the general batted away the oncoming weapon. The stray
sword flew over the crowd and pierced a column next to the Empress.
The general tore the stake from his face, pink goo squirting
out.

Lucas staggered two steps toward me
and then collapsed. I ran, dropped beside him, and pressed one hand
to his wound. Choking, he tried to speak.

“Shh,” I said. “It’s okay. It’s
okay.”

I cradled his face. Blood sputtered
out of his mouth and I wiped his lips with my thumb. I saw my
panicked reflection in his filmy eyes. “I’m here,” I
whispered.

I heard the squeak of boots. Enraged,
I reached over Lucas’s body and grabbed one of his swords. I stood
up to face the general, curling my lips to bare my fangs. My body
burned and shook. I stepped over Lucas, pointing the sword at my
enemy.

“What are you going to do, demon?” The
general sneered. His face was red and his right eye was a black
pit. The top two buttons of his jacket had come undone.

“You’re going to be sorry,” I said
through my teeth. “I’m going to make you sorry.”

“Come on then!” he
screamed.

I rushed him, slashing at him with the
sword. The chains affixed to my hands whipped around as I moved.
The impact of our blades vibrated down the shaft of my sword to the
hilt, jolting my hands like an electric shock. The general grunted,
his hideous face contorting and his scar twisting, as we clashed
again and again and I tried to hack at his neck. When he countered,
my strike pushed him back. He fought to maintain his balance and a
flash of fear appeared in his eye as it darted from me to the
Empress.

I’m stronger than you.
Faster than you.
The thought filled me
with energy. He was twice my size but I was more powerful. It made
him clumsy. Made him vulnerable.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I
yelled.

He charged me. Our swords clanked
above our heads. As I pressed into him, his arms wavered, his sword
bending back toward his forehead. Suddenly he spun out from under
me and I fell forward. From the corner of my eye I saw him turn to
try to wound me from behind. Twisting in mid air, I blocked his
blade with mine. My back hit the floor and I was pinned beneath our
swords. Screaming, I lashed out at his leg with my heel. I felt his
knee cap detach and heard his tissues tear. His leg buckled and he
hopped back from me.

I rolled over and jumped up. Grabbing
his knee, the general shifted his kneecap back and limped a few
steps. A blank eyeball had formed in his right socket.

I can hurt you. I can make
you pay. For Kinman. For Jerome. For Noel. I can do this for
Lucas.

“Do you know who made this weapon,
General?” I shouted. “My good friend Lucas. I’m going to use it to
make you pay for our friends’ lives.”

We rushed each other and smashed
swords. As he reeled back I thought he was falling, but instead he
kicked me in the abdomen. My feet left the ground and I was
catapulted across the room. I heard the surprised cries of soldiers
scrambling to avoid me before I crashed into a marble wall. A
deafening crack echoed in my head. The pain was
explosive.

Groaning, I rolled in broken pieces of
marble, wrapping myself in a cocoon of chains. The crowd was
whispering. The general dragged the tip of his blade against the
floor as he stalked me. “I learned that move from you,” he
said.

I sat up and pushed myself back with
my heels until I was against the wall. I ached everywhere. I looked
for my sword but it was gone. By now the general had cornered me,
his legs on either side of my feet. Through his legs I saw Lucas
prop himself up on his elbows. He clutched his chest, his face
panicky.

The general grabbed my neck, lifted me
off my feet, and smashed me against the wall. The crowd was yelling
now, cheering him on, and he was putting on a show. Over and over
he slammed me into the wall. Bursts of agony shocked my system.
Through flashes of light I saw the general’s face close to mine. I
looked into his one good eye. And stabbed my thumb into
it.

He screamed and I dug deeper into the
slimy hollow. He threw me onto the ground. Gasping, I rolled over
onto my back, bits of marble crunching under me. The general
slapped his hand to his eye; his blood dripped onto my cheek.
Straddling me, he raised his sword. With a roar he swung his weapon
at my head.

Lucas screamed my name.

I watched the blade fall. It would
strike me in between the eyes.

No.

Screaming, I struck out at the
descending sword. The cuff on my left wrist connected with the side
of the blade, deflecting the weapon. I looked into the general’s
face. He was stunned. He lifted his sword to strike again. Hissing,
I kicked my legs up, striking him in the back. He flew over me and
I scrabbled to my feet.

Everyone was screaming, but it was
just background noise. I heard the squish from the sole of the
general’s boot as he shifted his weight. I heard a slow rumble in
his throat and the grinding rub of his hands gripping his
weapon.

He fixed me with his right eye. It had
almost returned to normal except the iris was light gray rather
than dark.

He pushed his chest out and raised his
sword up into the air.

“Long live the Monarchy!” he
roared.

I rushed him. As we crashed, he thrust
his sword at my face. I tilted my head, the steel skimming my jaw.
I leaned against him and punched my fist into his chest. I felt my
hand break through his ribs. I felt his blood gush out. I felt his
jagged bones against my wrist as I drove my fist further. Through
his muscle, his still heart. His spine shattered against my
knuckles.

The general howled.

I stepped back and he fell in
sections, like a tower of heavy blocks. He dropped to one knee, his
head flopping forward, his upper body slumping. My arm was covered
to my elbow in his dark, syrupy blood. The thick maroon liquid
pooled under him.

I grabbed his sword from the ground.
Unable to lift his head, his arms slack by his sides, the general
knelt before me. I brought his sword up like an ax. With all of my
strength I slammed it down on his neck.

DIE.

The blow sent marble fragments and
white dust bursting everywhere. The blade stuck in the ground and
the general’s headless torso fell against it. I staggered back, a
broken cry escaping from my throat. Confused, I expected the
general to attack me again. I stood over the body, teetering,
gasping, crying.

“Zee!” Lucas yelled.

His voice brought me back. I ran to
him. He caught me in his arms and held me against his body. Rubbing
the hair from my face, he pressed his mouth to my forehead. Then to
my lips. I tasted his blood in my mouth. I clung to him, raked my
nails against him arms, his back, to pull him closer. I never
wanted him to let go.

No one moved. For a few seconds the
vast hall was silent. Then every soldier in the room drew his
sword, awakening the crowd. The vampires shrieked at us. Some were
crying. I gripped Lucas for balance as my mind caught up to
reality.

“Do you ever get tired of being a
hero?” Lucas said in my ear.

I pulled back to see his face; it was
calm. He winked. I felt his pride. And his love. I knew the
soldiers would attack at any moment. I knew we couldn’t fight them
all. But I had no fear. I had taken my last stand and I had
won.

“You need to stop getting yourself
into trouble,” I said as the soldiers inched forward.

He knelt down and picked up one of his
swords. The edges were nicked from his battles. As I searched the
room for his other weapon, I met the Empress’s gaze. She was
gripping the railing so hard her nails had gouged strips into the
wood; her lips were so tight that wrinkles formed around her mouth.
She looked old.

“Kill them,” she said.

I scanned the soldiers surrounding us
and I sensed their hesitation. After seeing their general die, none
were eager to follow him. Instead, they growled like a pack of
wolves, tense and twitching. It would take just one vampire to
muster the courage to charge first. Then they would engulf
us.

“Do you think we’ll survive?” I asked
Lucas.

“Probably not.”

I sighed. “Story of my
life.”

“Don’t worry. I’m here with
you.”

In my head I calculated how
many I could fight. Lucas clenched his jaw and I knew that he was
calculating as well.
This is it.
I locked eyes with one of the soldiers; he was
barking at me, so I could see down his throat. He looked vicious.
Spit flew from his mouth.
You. I’m taking
you first.

Amidst the ruckus, someone called for
the Empress. The voice was far away but persistent and distressed.
It sounded so familiar. It was accompanied by the patter of
slippered feet, coming down the hall toward the entrance of the
ballroom.

“Your Highness!” The vampire hollered.
“Your Highness, please!!!”

The Empress lifted her hand. The
soldiers parted and a robed vampire ran into the center of the
crowd. It was Uther.

“Uther!” I cried.

He ran at the soldiers, waving his
arms and pushing their blades down. “Stop! You must put your
weapons down. Please, you must. Please. Drop your
weapons.”

One of the soldiers jerked his weapon
away and shoved Uther; he fell back, sliding against the marble,
still shouting, still frantic. I pulled him up by a sleeve, and he
grabbed my wrist with such force that I gasped. He inspected my
face and my body as if he had never seen me before. He was
searching for something. I looked down at my black clothes, at my
bloodstained hands.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

I shook my head.
Uther’s gone insane.

“Your Highness,” he said. “I request
permission to speak.”

“Remove the cleric,” the Empress
said.

“Wait, Your Highness, I must speak to
you about Axelia. You cannot harm her.”

Three soldiers stepped up to take him.
“Get away from him!” I snapped and they balked.

“I’ve been to Romania to consult the
Sacriva and Cleric Yuri, who is its keeper,” Uther continued. He
spoke hurriedly, swiveling his head as if imploring everyone,
anyone, to listen.“Your Highness, please let me address the court.
I have information that pertains to the survival of the vampire
race.”

“We know what has been written,
Cleric.”

“But I believe that there are other
interpretations to consider with regards to the Eschatos passages.
The ones that reference Axelia.”

“Blasphemer,” one of the other clerics
hissed, prompting more murmurs.

“Please grant me permission to
explain,” Uther said.

The Empress narrowed her eyes. “Do you
know the implications of what you are saying, Cleric?”

“Our entire existence depends on this,
Your Highness,” he said. “Please. One minute.”

“You have thirty seconds.”

Uther swallowed hard and began: “The
Eschatos passages refer to the coming of a female vampire in a time
of upheaval and war. This vampire will be born without a creator.
We all believe that Axelia is this vampire. I do not dispute that
point. However, the text warns that she will shed our blood. That
her existence means the death of every vampire. But I believe the
language may have multiple meanings.”

“Cleric, you are questioning our most
sacred beliefs, the very foundation that the Monarchy is built
upon…”

“With all due respect, your Highness,”
Uther replied, “I am not questioning the Sacriva. I am questioning
our reading of the ancient language.”

“I am running out of patience,
Cleric.”

“Axelia entered the shrine to our
Ancients and fell into the Crucivium, which is filled with their
blood. She was created from the blood of our gods. We must consider
what this might mean. There is a line in the passage that refers to
her being “the one” vampire remaining. But the characters that we
read as “the one” could also be interpreted as ‘the
first.’”

“Cleric…”

“So there is a possibility, and it is
my strong belief, that Axelia, being born from the blood of the
Ancients, now possesses their powers, including, their power over
all of us.”