What Kills Me (5 page)

“But…”

“He’s gone, my child. He’s
gone.”

I settled back against the pillow. I
felt so tired.

The man searched my face, his
expression concerned, his posture tense, as if he was waiting for
something. The room smelled of sandalwood. It was empty except for
the bed, a desk, a packed bookcase, and an open
wardrobe.

A knocking noise drew my attention
back to the moth. It fell and swept upward, smacking into the
glass. I winced. The man followed my gaze. He got up to open the
window. The moth fluttered back, as if hesitating, then disappeared
into the night.

“That’s a strong bug,” I
said.

The man didn’t respond.

“You were the one who rescued me,” I
said.

“Yes. I’m Uther. What is your
name?”

“Axelia.”

“Axelia,” he said, pronouncing it
carefully.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“You’re still in the church,” he said.
“These are my quarters. I am the guardian of this
sanctum.”

“What happened again?”

“You fell, my child.”

I did. I fell. I remembered my hands
against slippery rocks. I remembered the taste of blood. But I
couldn’t remember if those memories had been dreams.

“That guy tried to kill me,” I
said.

“Yes.”

“He got away?”

“Yes.”

“I have to go,” I said, pulling back
my white blanket. “I have to go back to Sofia’s. I need to call my
parents. We need to tell the police what happened.”

I gaped at my clothing. I looked like
I was dressed for school, in a white button-up shirt and a short
black pleated skirt. My feet were bare and dirty; mahogany-colored
bits of something were encrusted under my toenails and around my
cuticles.

“Lettie, my niece, cleaned you up and
put you in her clothing,” Uther said.

I tried to get out of bed but my limbs
felt like they were filled with cement.

“Axelia, you must rest. You’ve been
through a lot and you’re very weak right now,” Uther said. He held
my arm and maneuvered me back to the center of the mattress. “Try
to relax.”

“But I need to call my
parents.”

There was a small rap on the
door.

“Lettie, now is not a good time,”
Uther said.

The door opened and a girl who was
about thirteen years old poked her head inside. She had two
ponytails—two light brown cotton-candy puffs that matched her
caramel skin—wide-set eyes, round cheeks, and a pointed chin. “I
just wanted to see her,” she said in a chipmunk voice.

“Letticia. Go now.”

Our eyes met and I attempted a feeble
smile. She came running into the room with tiny steps, like a
ballet dancer flitting across the stage, and stood at the foot of
the bed, wearing the same outfit as I was. She was the prettiest
girl that I had ever seen. She smelled like baby powder.

“Hello,” she said in a melodious tone.
“I’m Lettie.”

“I’m Zee.”

“Do you like my clothes? They fit you
well.”

I fingered the iridescent buttons on
the shirt. “Yes. Thank you.”

“How do you feel?”

“I feel…exhausted,” I said.

“Do you feel different?”

“Different? How?”

“Well, what do you feel?”

“I don’t know.”

I became distracted by the white
flecks in her blue eyes, which were like frothy ocean waves, and
had to shake my head to clear the image. I couldn’t gaze at
anything for too long without focusing intensely on the object. It
made me dizzy.

“My vision is a little messed up,” I
said.

“That’s normal,” Lettie said. “Aren’t
you hungry? Aren’t you thirsty?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Lettie, that’s enough,” Uther
admonished her. He swept her from the room and closed the door in
her disappointed face.

“I’m sorry, Axelia,” Uther said,
returning to my side. “Lettie was very worried about you when we
found you. She just wants to make sure that you are doing all
right.”

“I’m fine. But I should go,” I said,
my voice breaking. “I want to go home.”

“I know, my child,” he said, resting
his hand on my forehead. It was neither warm nor cold, and offered
little comfort. He softened his tone. “I’m sorry, but you cannot go
home.”

I sighed. “Okay, but when can I
go?”

“You can never go home.”

“What?” Dread pooled and clotted in my
chest. “Why can’t I go home?” I whispered.

“Axelia,” Uther said. “When you fell
into the well, you died.”

What frightened me most was how he
spoke. He had said it with such sadness, with such certainty. It
was something that he truly believed.

“What do you mean?” I said. I propped
myself up on my elbows. “I’m fine.”

“When you fell into the well, you
died,” he repeated.

“Uther, I’m not dead. I’m right here,
talking to you.”

“You died. Your heart stopped
beating.”

“What are you talking about?” I said,
sitting up so that we were closer, so that he could see me more
clearly. “Look at me.”

He placed his own hand on his chest
and shook his head. “Your heart beats no longer,” he
said.

I pressed my palm into my ribcage. I
felt nothing. I placed two fingers against my neck. I could not
find a pulse.

“That’s not possible,” I mumbled. I
froze, my hands under my chin, waiting for the small beat against
my skin that would drive away the onrushing panic.

“I’m not dead,” I told
Uther.

He took my hand, enveloping it in
his.“Lettie and I are also dead,” he said.

Oh God.
I shook my head. “What are you saying? That we’re
ghosts?”

“We’re not ghosts. We are
vampires.”

“No.”

I snatched my hands back as if his
touch burned, and I rolled away from him. I summoned my strength to
run for the door. My legs were like tree trunks and with each step,
my roots were burrowing into the floor, holding me down. Uther did
not try to stop me. He didn’t have to because Lettie was standing
in the door. I screamed and reeled away.

“Stay away from me,” I said. I backed
away but I was cornered. I bumped against the bookcase, sending a
few books tumbling from the top shelves. The sound of them striking
the ground was like thunder.

“Please,” I said. “You have to let me
go.”

They spoke at the same
time.

“We’re not holding you captive,”
Lettie said.

“I know this is difficult to
comprehend,” Uther said.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Lettie
said. “We just want to help you.” She walked into the room on her
tiptoes.

“Don’t come any closer.”

“Shh. Calm down,” Lettie
said.

“Who are you?” I said.

Uther stood up. “I am the vampire
Cleric Uther,” he said. “Lettie is my page.”

These people are
sick.
Then I remembered Paolo’s
plan.
“I’m going to drink your blood until
your heart stops beating.”

“Okay,” I said.

Then I ran for the door. But my body
was so heavy.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Lettie said. She
wrapped her arms around my waist, raising me off my feet. I
screamed but I was too tired to struggle. She dropped me in front
of the bed and my legs crumpled beneath me. I used my arms to scoot
away from her. She shook her head.

“Please, don’t kill me,” I
said.

“We’re not going to harm you, Axelia,”
Uther said. “I just want to understand you, and have you understand
us. I protect this church. My descendants have guarded this sanctum
for thousands of years. I have lived here for five hundred years.
Lettie has lived here with me for a hundred and fifty
years.”

“Vampires aren’t real,” I said in a
hushed voice.

“To humans, we are merely fairy tales
and folklore. But we do exist. We have lived in secret among human
beings for eons.”

“The two of you think you are
vampires.”

Lettie rolled her eyes. She twirled
her finger. “We are vampires. The three of us.”

She’s delusional.
The room suddenly tilted. My eyes became
unfocused and I fought a wave of nausea. I felt Lettie at my side,
but I lacked the energy to fight her. She hooked her willowy arms
into mine and pulled me to my feet.

“New vampires are weak and vulnerable.
You need to feed to grow strong,” Uther said.

“Stop. I’m not a vampire,” I said.
“I’m just a girl.”

“If you were just a girl, how could
you have had the strength to crawl out of that well?” Lettie asked.
She led me back to the bed and we passed the wardrobe, where a
mirror hung on the inside of the open door.

In the reflection, I could see Lettie
carrying a young woman. A young woman that I recognized. I gasped.
Startled, Lettie halted. She saw the mirror and brought me over to
it.

The woman in the reflection looked
like me but didn’t look like me.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

It was as if I was looking at an
artist’s rendering of myself. A portrait with exaggerated colors
and soft lines. My hair was so dark. The black reflected the light,
creating the impression of a shining tiara across my bangs. I
parted my lips, which had turned crimson, and my teeth were so
white they were almost fluorescent. The scariest part was my eyes.
They weren’t chocolate brown anymore. They were amber. And bright
like fire.

“What the hell…”

“What do you see?” asked
Uther.

I see and do not
see.
Lettie released me so that I could
move closer to the mirror. I reached for my face. My glowing,
golden skin was smooth like glass under my trembling finger tips.
The scar under my mouth—the one I had gotten when I was seven and
hit a chain-link fence, impaling my chin on on a rusty gate
hinge—had disappeared. I could not find a blemish, a freckle, a
pore.

“I look…” I couldn’t find words. I
smoothed my thick curls against my head.

“I think you look good,” Lettie
said.

“You’re a vampire now,” Uther said.
“You have been reborn. You’re beautiful and you’re powerful. You
will never know illness. You will never age or die. You will exist
now, as perfect as you are, for all eternity.”

In the mirror, I watched as his words
washed over me. They penetrated my silent heart and left me cold. I
stared at this face, into wide glittering eyes, and realized that I
was not breathing. More importantly, that I felt no need to draw a
breath.

“Who are you?” I whispered to
myself.

“You are a miracle,” Uther said. “To
be blessed as a vampire is a rare gift, only bestowed upon a select
few each century, and they must be deemed worthy by our elders.
Your arrival is extraordinary. Such a phenomenon has never occurred
in our history. Never has a vampire been born without having fed
from another.”

“How did this happen?”

“The well is filled with blood, my
child,” Uther said. “Vampire blood.”

Soon, it would be morning. Sofia would
come to our bedroom door, knock twice, and then poke her head
inside. She’d see my empty, made bed and demand to know where I
was. Miyuki would tell her that I had escaped out the window to see
a boy and had not returned. A panicked Sofia would send Giuseppe
out to look for me while she called the authorities. Then she would
call my parents. My father’s booming, angry voice would force
Sofia’s ear from the receiver. My mother would stand by, wringing
her hands and asking for answers—“What’s going on? What’s happened
to Zee?”—while my father interrogated Sofia. They would call my
cell phone, text me, and e-mail me. They would call Ryka. My father
would curse under his breath while my mother paced the room—“This
isn’t like Zee. Zee would never do this. Maybe something happened.”
The look on their faces. To see all this in my mind made me wither
in sorrow.

I looked down at the note I’d just
written at the desk.

Dear Mom, Dad, and Tiff,

I’m so sorry if I made you worry. I’m
safe. Please know that I love you. I miss you. Don’t worry. I am
happy.

Love,

Zee

A tear dropped onto the paper. It was
red. I gasped and wiped my face. I stared at the blood smeared on
my hand. It disgusted me, the way the blood fell into the lines in
my palm. It made my hand look old.

I waved at Uther to show him. He
nodded, his lips tight.

I cry blood. That is so
wrong.
I wiped my hand on my
skirt.