What Kills Me

“What do you mean?”

  “Were you ever a couple?”

  “Once,” he said. “For a few decades.”

  Oh, just a few decades.

  “Why did you break up?”

  “We changed,” he said with a shrug. “Everything changes.”

  “That coming from the guy who stays the same age forever.”

  “At the time, Noel and I were busy making weapons for the Aramatta and studying with samurai in Japan. Samira became involved with the rebellion and she eventually saw my duty to the Monarchy as counter to her beliefs.”

  “Right. You said she was an anarchist.”

  “She’s part of a group of insurgents fighting to overthrow the Monarchy.”

  “Did she ever consider you an enemy?”

  “No. But she considers us pawns. Victims of the Monarchy’s oppression. Her mate, however, thinks that anyone who isn’t with them is against them.”

  “Oh, she’s with someone else now?” I sounded too happy.

  “Yes. He’s an ass. And I don’t trust him.”

  “You don’t trust many people, do you?”

  “I’ve learned not to.”

  “But you trust Samira?”

  “Yes. We’ll be friends, always.”

  I had to tell Ryka about Lucas and Samira. She didn’t think exes could be friends.

  Then it hit me. I wouldn’t be talking to Ryka again. It hurt. I wished that I could talk to her one more time. What would I say? So much had happened in a few days, so much had changed. Maybe I would just tell her that no one else could make me laugh until I cried. That our friendship rescued me in high school. That she always encouraged me to be the person that I wanted to be.

  And now I didn’t know what I was supposed to be. Or what I would become. “Their abilities, their impulses, could manifest themselves in you,” Lettie had said. If that was true, how would I know when I was out of control? I felt perpetually sick to my stomach from anxiety. And from time to time the sensory overload made me feel crazy. But at no point did I feel violent or…vicious.

  “Lucas?”

  “What?”

  “What were you and Noel like before you became vampires?”

  He stopped mid-punch and looked at me. He thought a moment, staring into the beam from the flashlight.

  “My father was a legendary bladesmith,” he said. “He was known all over the world for his exquisite work.”

  “And you?”

  “I was…trouble,” he said. “When my mother died of the plague, my father was left alone to raise me, my brother and my three sisters. He didn’t know what else to do but train us every day in combat and in the art of making weapons. I loathed training but I loved to fight. We argued all the time.”

  He paused and sat on his haunches.

  “One night my father and I fought, I don’t remember about what, and I left the house in a rage. I went to a tavern, got drunk, and threatened someone with this dagger that my father had given me for my nineteenth birthday. I still remember it. In the gold handle were jewels encrusted in the shape of a snake.

  “The weapon caught the eye of a woman in the bar. She asked where I had gotten it. I told her where to find my father and then passed out. The next day I barely remembered speaking with her, but after sunset she was at our door.

  “She wanted my father to make weapons for her lover but offered to pay only a fraction of what they were worth. When he refused, she attacked us. We tried to fight back but that was futile.”

  He winced as if remembering the pain.

  “She left us alive. She said that she was impressed by our skills and that she would return in a fortnight with a better offer, once she had consulted with her masters. Two weeks later she reappeared with her offer. She said her name was Nuwa and that she was a vampire. She wanted to turn my father, my brother, and me into vampires, and in return she would spare the lives of my sisters.”

  “You accepted the offer,” I said.

  He nodded. “We didn’t really have a choice. So she blessed us as gifts to her lover—the general.”

  The general.

  “The same one who…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  “Yes,” he said.

  I pictured the general. His body filling the doorframe at Noel’s home. His resounding, threatening voice calling out, “Swordsmith.”

  “The Monarchy accepted our blessing and Nuwa spent years rearing us, preparing us to join the Aramatta. We made weapons for them and trained with them. But my father missed my sisters. He would sneak away sometimes to watch them grow up. One night he was caught. The Monarchy saw it as disloyalty. They said it was an insult to his gift. They wanted to sever his link to humanity, so the general had our home set on fire, killing my sisters.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “My father was ordered to continue making weapons but he was banished from the castle. I asked to go with him. My brother, Taren, stayed with the Aramatta.”

  “Where’s your brother now?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “What happened to Nuwa?”

  “When she heard that my sisters were to be slain, she tried to intervene because she had promised us that they would go unharmed. The general must have fallen out of love with her because he accused her of treason. So the Monarchy exiled her. They returned her to Asia, where she lived when she was human.”

  “And you’ve had no contact with her since?”

  “No. Noel blamed her for bringing this upon our family. He also blamed himself for failing to protect my sisters. But he should have blamed me. I had shown the vampire to our door.”

  I understood his guilt. I brought vampires to your door and Noel and Jerome paid with their lives.

  “You’re not responsible for what happened to your family,” I said, but I knew the words would offer little comfort.

  “My father said that he wanted nothing to do with Nuwa. That was the least I could do.”

  “But you still thought of her.”

  “Vampires form strong bonds with their sires,” he said. “They act as your parent. She was the closest thing that I ever had to a mother.” He reached for one of his swords and rested it in his lap.

  “You’re sure she can help us?”

  “She is older and stronger than the general and she has lived for centuries outside of the Monarchy. She will know what to do.”

  We sat in silence for a period. Suddenly he unsheathed his blade, swiped the air, and snapped the weapon back into its scabbard. The fly fell to the floor in two hairy parts, its legs still twitching.

  “That’s disgusting,” I said. “But you need to teach me how to do that, you know, in case I ever have an insect problem.”

  He smiled and shook his head. I stood, rubbing my hands together. “Seriously. Show me something.”

  “You want to learn swordplay?”

  “Why not? Lately everyone I meet attacks me with sharp, pointy objects. I think I should learn to defend myself.”

  He tossed one of his swords at me and I caught it over my head with my right hand. I pulled the sword from its smooth wooden scabbard and saw the reflection of my blazing eyes in the steel. Near the hilt the blade was engraved with a double-headed dragon. I held it out in front of me, the blade pointed at the ceiling.

  “Stop. You look like you’re carrying a torch,” he said, coming toward me.

  “I’m just looking at it,” I said.

  “Put both of your hands on the handle,” he said.

  He circled me and tapped my left hand with his index finger. “Slide this hand closer to the edge of the handle.”

  When I extended the sword, he moved behind me. His hands reached around me and rested on the outside of my forearms. I stiffened slightly, conscious of his closeness, of his fingers on my skin.

  “Relax your elbows,” he said. “Center your blade. You’re going to point the tip at your opponent.”

  “Well, come s
tand in front of me then.”

  “Hey, killer, don’t get cocky.”

  I could tell from his voice that he was smiling and I grinned. And that simple reaction, that unbridled smile on my face, released a rush of emotion. It was the closest thing to happiness that I had felt in a while. I wanted to lose myself in this moment. I wanted to pretend that we were normal people, hanging out, having fun. I wanted to mark this moment as a memory worth keeping.

  Chapter 23

  “Ready?” Lucas asked.

  I leaned against him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I couldn’t hide the nervous excitement in my voice: “Ready.”

  Kinman rolled his motorcycle beside ours. He looked like an adult on a child’s bike. He was bald and at least six foot five, thick as a tree trunk with big biceps and bear paws for hands. His black T-shirt was stretched like nylon over his muscles. He would be intimidating except that he was always grinning.

  “Hey, I got these for you,” he said. He had two helmets hanging from either side of his handlebars. He held out the pink, floral-printed one for me. “To hide your face.”

  “Lucas wants that one. He told me so,” I said.

  “You’re an idiot,” Lucas said, taking the pink helmet. I reached for the black one and pushed it onto my head.

  “Stay close,” Kinman said. He revved his engine. “And friends?”

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “Welcome to Taipei.”

  He raced out of the dark garage, leaving a billow of dust, and Lucas sped after him. We zipped down a narrow alleyway and onto a major street, joining a sea of motorbikes. I felt like we were part of a parade. There were people. Everywhere. People crossing the street. People zooming around on scooters and bicycles. People lining up to get into restaurants. Above them innumerable neon banners hung from the buildings.

  After a few minutes the glowing lights from the cars, the street lamps, the storefronts, and the billboards became a blur. The humid air felt heavy on my skin and I was glad I didn’t have to breathe it. I clung to Lucas and tried to block out the roaring street noise. I started to feel dizzy so I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  We made a few more turns; the final one took us away from the bustle. As our motorcycles slowed in front of a narrow apartment building, I opened my eyes. Tired, I slumped against Lucas’s back, knocking our helmets together. Motorbikes lined the alley. A hum filled my helmet and when I looked up, I saw air conditioners jutting out of windows. Clothing hung out on all the balconies. I could smell detergent, fish, gasoline. I rubbed my parched tongue on the roof of my mouth. My mouth felt sore; my gums ached. My stomach groaned.

  “We need to take her inside,” Lucas told Kinman. “She needs to feed.”

  Lucas unfastened the strap under my chin and removed my helmet. He held my elbow as I dragged one leg over the motorcycle and then he lifted me into his arms. Kinman opened a metal door and escorted us down a flight of concrete stairs. He stopped at a white door festooned with pink, blue, and green butterfly decals and wrestled a key into the lock.

  We stepped into the fusty apartment and Kinman turned on the lights. The three of us crowded into a kitchen.

  “Sorry the place is so small,” Kinman said. “It was short notice.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lucas said.

  Kinman squeezed between us and the stove and opened a waist-high, gray fridge.

  “I filled it with good stuff,” he said. Over his shoulder, I could see a dozen bottles of blood lining the shelves. He grabbed two with one hand and twisted the caps off. Lucas set me on my feet but maneuvered me like a puppet to a leather couch in the living area beyond the fridge. Kinman handed us the bottles with a wink.

  “The longer that you are a vampire, the less blood you will need,” Lucas said, setting his bottle at my feet.

  The two of them walked away from me, speaking in low tones. It took me a moment, in between chugs of blood, to realize that they were speaking in another language. Kinman opened a sliding door off the kitchen and they disappeared inside the room. Tipping the bottle upside down, I poked my tongue inside the neck to get the last drop.

  I picked up the second bottle and ran my thumb over a raised symbol on the glass, a snake slithering in a circle—the Monarchy’s emblem.

  Fighting them means biting the hand that feeds us.

  I downed the blood. The soreness in my mouth faded. My body was buzzing and something tickled my ankle. I leaned over, put my hand against my pants to scratch my shin and my palm covered something under the fabric—hard and the size of a thumb. What the…? I shook my pant leg and a shiny brown cockroach tumbled out. It landed on its back, its spiky legs pumping the air. I screamed.

  Lucas ran into the kitchen, his swords drawn, and Kinman was close behind him. I stood on the couch, its plush cushions swallowing my feet, and pointed at the floor with my empty bottle. The insect scuttled across the tiles and under the fridge.

  I looked up at Lucas and Kinman. No one spoke. I relaxed my expression.

  “Sorry,” I said. “It tried to get into my pants.”

  Kinman grinned. Lucas shook his head.

  “Your friend, she is funny,” Kinman told him.

  “Yes, very funny and very annoying,” Lucas said. I made a face at him but he ignored me, putting his swords away. “So tomorrow then?” he said.

  “Yes,” Kinman said. “I’ll have a car here at sundown. Be ready.”

  “Did you get a confirmation on her location?”

  “We know where she is. We just have yet to see her.”

  “What do you mean? How do you know where she is if you’ve never seen her?”

  “I have a friend who knows one of her servants. Don’t worry. We have someone trying to make contact with her tonight.”

  Lucas nodded. “Thanks again for all of your help.”

  Kinman reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Call me if you need anything. My number’s in here,” he said, placing the phone in Lucas’s hand. “Do you need any weapons?”

  “I have all that I need,” Lucas said. Then he glanced at me. “Actually, could you get us a short sword?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  Lucas walked him out, leaving me in the apartment with the cockroach. I listened to it squeezing its crunchy shell in between the furniture. It scurried along the baseboards. The bug had friends because I heard the patter of minuscule legs elsewhere. I followed the noise to the bathroom. The light paused before flickering on. The entire washroom was like a shower stall. A shower head hung over the toilet. Another cockroach darted around my feet. I gasped, hopping away as it zigzagged across the beige tiles and disappeared into a drain on the floor.

  Sighing, I leaned on the rose-colored sink. My face in the mirror surprised me. My glowing eyes. When will I get used to looking like this? My hair was tangled and matted to my forehead and neck. I rubbed at a rusty stain on my chin. I nudged the door closed with my hip and removed Samira’s clothing, which still smelled of the incense from her home. I grabbed the shower head, pointed it at my face, and turned on the tap.

  The lukewarm water coursed over my body and down the drain. I imagined the cockroach being swept down the dark pipe, being washed away, feeling lost. I could relate to that. But I decided that the bug would be all right. Look at me. I’m here.

  I took a towel hanging on the back of the door, wrapped it around my body, and faced my reflection. I posed. I smiled. But I didn’t look like myself. And I didn’t know if I felt like myself. I died. But who came back? Was I a vampire wearing an Axelia mask? Or was I still Axelia, except with a new diet? And if I was myself, then I couldn’t imagine the legend coming true. I couldn’t kill anyone. I was afraid of bugs, for God’s sake.

  I bared my teeth. I need a toothbrush. I must have blood breath. My gums looked inflamed. I pushed my lip up and bent over the sink to get closer to the mirror. The flesh above
my incisors appeared puffy and pale. I touched the tender skin, and upon contact the skin seemed to break, revealing an ivory lump.

  “Oh my God,” I said. I yanked the door open and ran into Lucas in the kitchen.

  “Something is happening in my mouth,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Look,” I said. I flipped my lip up so that it touched my nose. He peered into my mouth.

  “What are those white things?” I asked.

  “They’re fangs,” he said.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. They’re growing in.”

  “Let me see yours.” I leaned toward him to look in his mouth. He pulled back.

  “They only descend when you’re about to attack.”

  “How do I control them?”

  “How do you control your fingers?”

  “I just don’t want them hanging out all the time.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “I touched them in the bathroom and they seemed to protrude more.”

  “Well, stop touching them then.”

  For a moment we looked at each other. I tried to read his eyes as they scanned my face. He parted his lips as if to speak but didn’t. I had backed him against the stove so that our stomachs were almost touching. His hands searched for a casual resting position until he rested them on his hips. A cold trickle ran down my back, and I realized at that moment that I was still in a towel. We both turned our faces away.

  “Excuse me,” I said, retreating to the washroom. “I forgot that I was naked.”

  As I dressed I yelled at him through the door, “Hey, I didn’t know you spoke Chinese.”

  “I speak more than thirty languages.”

  “Fluently?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “You have time to learn,” he said.

  “Not if the Monarchy gets me first,” I muttered aloud to myself.

  When I came out, Lucas was in the bedroom. He had flipped the bed up to reveal a storage area underneath.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, braiding my wet hair.

  “Preparing our beds,” he said. “We have a big day tomorrow. We should rest.”

  “Where are you going to sleep?”

  “I’ll sleep under here and then you can put the bed down.”

  “You want me to lie on top of you? I mean, me on the bed with you underneath…”

  “I know what you mean,” he said, quickly.

  “Actually, I was wondering whether I could go out while you slept,” I said.