What Kills Me (7 page)

I trembled with terror. My mind raced.
I thought of my family. Uther and Lettie. The general and the
soldiers. My new face in the mirror. I hugged my legs to my chest
and rested my head on my knees. When I licked my lips, the acrid
blood on my tongue startled me, repulsed me. I tried to register
pain, tried to determine where I was hurt. I touched my scalp where
I had smacked the truck. No pain, no bump.

The coffee mug. The blood on my
legs.

I licked my lips again and the taste
was still bitter and briny, but somehow comforting. There was
something soothing, something satisfying, about sucking my lips. I
opened my mouth, paused, and touched the tip of my tongue to my
knee. Tasted. Swallowed.

I’ve been kidnapped by
vampires. They’re probably going to kill me. And now I want to
drink blood. Awesome.

I tried to resist, tried to think of
something else but my head lowered and my lips gravitated back to
my legs. I lapped the blood from my skin, tentatively at first.
Then more eagerly. I felt pleasure and then guilt. But before I
could stop myself, I was dragging my tongue across my leg like a
cat. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I felt.

When I had licked away the
last of the blood, I chewed the back of my index finger and felt
self-conscious, which was absurd because no one was
watching.
I’m disgusting.
I shuddered at the thought of ever having to bite
someone and rubbed the pad of my thumb against my dull
incisor.

The general had fangs like
a wolf. Will I grow fangs? That would be hard to explain. I could
tell Mom and Dad that I got contact lenses and a chemical peel for
a perfect complexion, but why do I have pointy teeth? That is, if I
ever see them again.

I couldn’t remember the last thing
that I had said to my father. Did I say, “I love you?” What did he
say to me? I tried to recall his voice. I pictured him calling my
name, the way he would when the phone was for me, or when dinner
was ready. I heard him chortle, the way he would when he was
laughing at his own jokes. He sounded like a barking seal. I smiled
at the memory.

My nose prickled and I
started to fray at the seams.
Don’t
cry.
I could not come undone. I could not
lose control because I would never get it back.
Uther said it would be okay.
My
thoughts were unrelenting and so loud in the dark. And I had been
in the dark for so long—maybe hours. The truck hurtled up tortuous
roads. I teetered about like a bowling pin. I thought I could smell
salt water. I thought I heard crashing waves. The sound was so loud
I thought my head would burst from the pressure.

The general had mentioned the
Monarchy. He’d spoken of the Empress, so the vampires had a queen
and she wanted to see me. She wanted to see the abomination. I
hoped that she would be kind.

The soldiers yanked open the doors of
the truck. Behind them, I saw a castle—a massive, gothic stone
structure, illuminated by floodlights at its base. The main tower
had three long vertical windows and the light inside shone
red.

A soldier engulfed my head in a
velvety black bag, while others chained my hands behind my back. My
toes banged against the stone steps as they dragged me up a flight
of stairs. Doors slammed behind me. Whispers swept by me, like cars
speeding past. I heard the clank of metal and wood creaking.
Incense was burning. They opened a door, releasing a cacophony of
voices. People were speaking everywhere. I could hear heavy,
measured footsteps and the squeaking of leather as the soldiers
moved. A soldier shoved me to the ground. Someone grabbed my neck
and pushed my forehead to smooth floor.

“Kneel,” he ordered. “Don’t
move.”

The crowd quieted, becoming only the
rustle of clothing, the shifting of feet.

“General.” A throaty, female voice
penetrated the hush. “We await your report.”

Footsteps approached and the bag was
torn from my head. I blinked and squinted to adjust my eyes to the
light and flipped my head to remove the hair in my face.

Oh my God.

Hundreds of dark figures surrounded me
in a white marble-floored ballroom. The light from a
turquoise-colored glass ceiling cast a greenish pallor over their
dour faces. Some—men and women in tailored black suits—appeared
dressed for a funeral. Others—women in slim burgundy or black
floor-length gowns—appeared dressed for the opera. They watched me
with their flaming eyes and whispered to each other. A fence of
soldiers separated me from the onlookers.

“Your Highness,” the general said. He
put his fist to his chest and bowed his head. “We visited the
sanctum and discovered Cleric Uther with this—creature.” He aimed a
finger at me. “The human gained access to the sanctum shortly after
dusk. Cleric Uther confirmed this. He had failed to properly secure
the entrance. The human was able to reach the shrine and tainted
the Crucivium.”

The crowd murmured.

“This is the trespasser?” the Empress
said. She seemed to exhale all of her words. She had an accent but
it didn’t sound Italian.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The Empress stood on a balcony above
the crowd. She gripped the white balustrade, her fingers adorned
with bulky gemstones, her fingernails red. Her pale face was framed
by a sleek sheet of ink-black hair that cut across her jawline. She
wore a sculptural piece of jewelry, a spiraling steel ribbon that
coiled around her slender neck and rested on her collar bone and
chest. She studied me with her eyes. They were as vivid and blue as
her strapless ultramarine gown, which featured a tight mosaic of
mirror shards in a panel down the center, like the scaly underside
of a dragon. I wanted to kneel before her glory. But I was already
doing so.

The Empress pursed her scarlet
lips.

“What of her abilities?”

“She is a vampire. But she is
extremely weak.”

“Is she hostile?”

“No. She did not resist
arrest.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Yes, Your Highness. But I did not
catch it.”

“Child,” she said. It was as if I was
hearing her breathy, lilting voice only in my mind. “What is your
name?”

“Axelia,” I said, my voice
trembling.

“Speak up for the court.”

“My name is Axelia.”

“Do you know what you are?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why you are
here?”

“No.”

“Where did you come from?”

“I’m from Canada. I came here to study
for the summer.”

The Empress crossed her arms, her
movements smooth and serpentine. Her dress reflected a patchwork of
light under her chin. “Tell me then, what was your business at the
church?”

“I…I was taken there by a boy, uh, a
vampire named Paolo,” I said.

“How did you end up at our sacred
well?”

“He told me that he was going to kill
me. So I ran. I just wanted to get away. He cornered me in the
basement and then I fell.”

I swallowed.

“Had you ever been to that church
before?”

“No.”

The Empress looked past me, and the
crowd followed her gaze. I swiveled my head around and instantly my
body locked up.

Paolo walked into the ballroom with
two soldiers at his side. He gave me a brief look of surprise and
then disgust before focusing his gaze straight ahead, his chin high
and his shoulders pressed down. Clad in a black jacket, dress
shirt, and dress pants, he looked older. I loathed his haughty
expression. Inside I raged.

“Transporter,” the Empress
said.

Transporter?

“Yes, Your Highness,” Paolo
answered.

“Do you recognize this
vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“She is the human who brought me to
the church.”

I whipped my head around to look at
him. “What?”

“She wanted to see the church. Once
inside, she ran away and I followed her.”

“He’s lying,” I said.

A soldier struck me with the back of
his hand and stars exploded before my eyes.

“Ow!” I hit the floor with my
shoulder.

“Soldier,” the Empress
said.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said.
He pulled me back upright, and the stinging in my cheek and the
ache in my shoulder receded.

“Were you going to drink from her?”
the Empress asked Paolo.

“Yes.”

“We should all be so lucky that our
prey invite us to a secluded spot for a feeding.”

The crowd tittered.

“Were you going to kill her?” said the
Empress.

“Yes.”

“You’re a monster!” I
blurted.

As the vampires around us started
whispering, the Empress raised her left hand to silence the voices.
The soldier moved toward me as a warning and I flinched.

“Transporter, will you remind the
court what your duty to the Monarchy is?”

“I deliver provisions.”

“And have you ever been to the church
before?”

Paolo paused. He was paralyzed. Like a
rat afraid to move in the presence of a predator. “Yes, Your
Highness.”

“That’s right. You’ve delivered blood
to the cleric,” she said. “Our Roman emissary’s daughter, Merrill,
says that she has seen you around the premises.”

The Empress’s tone dropped an octave.
“Did you know about the shrine?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“But you knew that it was sacred
ground.”

“I…”

“You knew that the cleric ran errands
on Sunday so he would not be there to disturb your
feast.”

“No…” His mouth opened, his lower jaw
jutting out.

“Your behavior, Paolo, is most
displeasing,” she said. “Your wanton trespassing on holy ground to
satisfy your bloodlust is a disgrace.”

Paolo looked as if he had been punched
in the gut. “Please,” he said, his voice wavering.

“Your behavior is unworthy of the
Monarchy,” she said.

I saw the faces in the crowd. Grim.
Unforgiving. I looked back at Paolo. His eyebrows had shot up in
alarm. He slapped a hand over his chest and dropped to his
knees.

“I beg Your Highness for her
forgiveness.”

“The Monarchy accepts your apology,”
she said. “However, your transgression requires
punishment.”

“Please…”

“For your actions that led to the
desecration of our sacred shrine, I condemn you to
death.”

“No!” Paolo cried out as two soldiers
grabbed him.

He managed to push one away, sending
the soldier flying, but then four more swarmed him.

“Axelia,” the Empress said, surprising
me by using my name. “Your existence is in violation of all that we
hold sacred. You are a mistake, one that requires immediate
correction.”

No. Please.

Unconsciously, I rose from my knees to
face her verdict.

“I condemn you to death.”

“Please!” I yelled. “Let me go. I
haven’t done anything wrong!”

Sinking onto my haunches, I pulled
against the shackles that bound my wrists behind me. My throat
burned from screaming and from thirst, and I felt hysterical from
fear and exhaustion. I longed for the metal door to swing open and
for Uther to be standing there.

“Is anyone there?” I cried out. “I
need to speak to someone!”

Paolo and I were trapped together
inside a tight, cylindrical enclosure. The soldiers had chained
Paolo two feet away against the opposite wall.

“Will you just shut up?” He wore a
look of disdain on his once-charming face, his nose scrunched as if
he smelled something foul. One sleeve had been torn from his
jacket, and his shirt had come undone. Several threads stuck out
like spider legs where the buttons of his shirt had gone missing in
the struggle to lock him up.

“Hello?!” I hollered.

“No one can hear you, you fool,” he
growled.

“Don’t talk to me,” I snapped. “I
wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You did this to me. You
stole my life.”

He lunged at me, gnashing his teeth,
baring his fangs. I jerked back. His chains held him inches away
from me.

“You wretched little girl,” he said.
“It’s your fault that we’re here. You’re the one who fell into the
well. Now we’re going to die together because of you.”

“The last thing that I want is to die
here with you,” I said. “I hope you burn in hell.”

His lips slowly descended back over
his teeth and he looked away. He took a few steps back and leaned
against the wall.