What Kills Me

  About fifteen minutes later I pulled myself up on a ledge and rubbed the dust from my hands. The red object that I had seen was a blanket. Like the one Ai-Leen had given me in the library. It was hanging on a wooden rack, along with a pair of light blue pants.

  It belongs to one of the servants, maybe.

  “Hello?” I called.

  I walked a few steps toward the blanket and I found a crevice in the mountainside. I poked my head inside. The cave was empty except for a cot, three wooden chests, a basket of clothing, an unlit oil lamp, and a pile of soft-covered books with yellowed and curling pages.

  I had likely stumbled upon a servant’s lookout post. I wanted to fold the blanket and put it inside but I decided not to touch anything in case I offended the person.

  As I walked back to out to the ledge, my toe kicked something. Something green. A hoop. I knelt down and picked up a jade bracelet. I rubbed the dirt from its shiny surface. It looked like the one that Yung wore. She must have dropped it.

  My eyes wandered, unfocused, to a small mound of dirt. But when I stared at it, it took a shape. The shape of a hand.

  No. It can’t be.

  I leaned in, staring. There was no mistaking it—it was a blackened hand, truncated at the wrist with its fingertips crumbling away. It reminded me of Paolo’s burned remains. I gripped the bracelet and scanned the piles of charcoal sand at my feet.

  Is this Yung? Or another servant? How could this happen? Did she not find shade in time?

  I reversed until my heels pushed rocks off the edge and I heard them crack on the cliffs below. The setting sun now hung just over the western peaks. The sky looked like it was on fire. I should get back. I should tell Nuwa.

  I took a last look at what I thought were Yung’s remains. The winds would take every last trace of her. And then there would be nothing. Nothing but our memory and this bracelet.

  I stood still, as if to take in this moment to show her respect, and I froze. There was something odd in the air. Something unnatural. The lightest scent of something medicinal, maybe. Or incense.

  I scoured my surroundings. Gazing at the ground, I caught a small, faint pattern of squiggles in the sand. Wavy lines like the ones in Nuwa’s garden. Wavy lines, perhaps, made by a boot print.

  And then I was running. I had never run so fast. I skidded down crags on my heels and ripped trees out of the ground that were in my way. I only hoped that I made it back before the sun sunk behind the mountains. I hoped that Lucas and Nuwa would still be alive. That we could be together and escape. I carried that image of our reunion with me as I ran. I thought each of my steps, so heavy with my fear, so powerful in my desperation, would break the ground under me.

  I jumped onto a tree, bending it with my weight, and threw myself over the wall. I leaped up the stairs, ripped the doors off of their hinges, and ran into the temple. I slid into the middle of the stone garden, destroying the design in the sand. Lucas and Nuwa were already sitting at the table on the terrace, in the shade of the temple roof. Lucas rushed to me. We grabbed each other.

  “They’re here,” I said. “We have to go.”

  Lucas’s head snapped back to look at Nuwa. She was rising from her seat, teacup in hand.

  “Nuwa,” he said. “We need to leave.”

  “Just calm down,” she said. “Axelia, how do you know the Aramatta is here?”

  “I know. I could smell them. The leather, the incense from the palace. I can still smell it.”

  She lifted her head and listened.

  “And I saw a boot print.”

  “My servants would have heard them coming. They would have come to warn us,” she said.

  “I think Yung is dead. I found this,” I said and I tossed the jade bracelet to her. She caught it between two fingers.

  “I saw her burned remains in the mountains. I think it was at her home. There was clothing hung out to dry. The Aramatta may have gotten to her first.”

  “No,” Nuwa said. She set the teacup and the bracelet down. She picked up her sword, which was propped against the table.

  “Axelia,” she said. “How is it that you were out that far in the mountains? It was day.”

  “I…”

  “Axelia is different,” Lucas said. “She’s impervious to the sun.”

  Nuwa frowned. “It’s not possible,” she whispered.

  “We know it doesn’t make any sense but she can go out in the day,” he said. “We wanted to tell you but we didn’t want to alarm you.”

  “Is this why the Monarchy wants her? Because she is…different?”

  “Yes. Please, Obaia. If the Aramatta are here, we must leave.”

  Nuwa nodded. “It’s all right, my children. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.”

  A westward wind blew through the garden. Their odor. It was so strong. I grabbed Lucas’s hand.

  “What?” he said. But then we could hear them. Their footsteps suddenly were everywhere.

  It’s too late.

  They were here. They streamed in through the entrance and over the roof, like black cockroaches, until they lined the veranda, three soldiers deep. Lucas pulled both swords from his back and swept me behind him. He started to back us up against the terrace but soldiers had lined the edge of the cliff. We were surrounded.

  I heard the general’s lumbering footsteps inside the temple before he emerged on the veranda, larger than life. He looked pleased. He stepped down onto the sand and Lucas grit his teeth.

  “Ah. There you are. We have been looking for you,” he said.

  Lucas crossed his blades and widened his stance, poised to fight. Nuwa moved beside us. She had not drawn her weapon.

  “General,” she said. Her soft voice trembled. She put her hand to her chest and bowed her head. I noted for the first time that she was wearing a silver, high-collared dress. Her dark hair, parted in the middle, hid her face.

  “Obaia,” Lucas whispered.

  “My lady,” the general purred.

  She raised her head and she had the most peculiar expression. Her face was tense, her lips quivered, as if she wanted to smile or cry.

  “I’m so glad that you’ve come,” she said.

  Chapter 33

  Lucas’s shoulders fell and his arms dropped to his sides, as if Nuwa’s presence sapped him of life. He seemed to sway, hit by a gust of wind. He was like a ghost. I had seen that look before—the last time we stood before the general and he had watched his family die.

  “It has been some time, my lady,” the general said to Nuwa.

  “It has,” she said. She lowered her chin and appeared almost shy.

  “You have kept well in exile.”

  She flinched at the mention of her exile. “As well as one could.”

  “I bear this message from the Empress: she is pleased that you continue to fulfill your sacred duty to the Monarchy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Obaia, why?” Lucas said.

  She turned to him with a mournful expression. “I’m so sorry, my child.”

  “Your obaia serves the Monarchy, Swordsmith,” the general said.

  “But we trusted you,” I said. The shock receded and the anger rushed in.

  “I know that you don’t understand. But—I am sorry,” she said. Then she looked to me and added quietly, “We will do almost anything for the one we love.”

  The one she loves. After all these years. The general.

  “Your obaia rightfully informed the Monarchy of your plans,” the general said. “We arrived immediately and disposed of your accomplice.”

  I gasped. “Kinman!”

  “No,” Lucas said.

  “You killed him?” I blurted.

  “Resistance against the Monarchy will not be tolerated,” the general retorted. “My lady, we also disposed of your servant. She showed resistance to guiding us here.”

  Yung.

  Lucas raised his swords again, one aimed at the general, the other at Nuwa. The soldiers aro
und us unsheathed their weapons. I caught sight of my white sword on the table.

  “You wouldn’t fight your obaia,” she said.

  He paused. “No. I would not,” he said. But he didn’t lower his sword.

  “Don’t fight, my child. You will die.”

  “They’re going to kill me regardless,” said Lucas. “At least this way some of them will pay.” He pointed his blades at the soldiers.

  “General,” Nuwa said. “There does not need to be any more blood shed. If my child agrees to put down his weapons and the fugitive surrenders herself to you, will you spare his life?”

  The general shook his head. “That is not possible, my lady.”

  “But my lord…”

  “The swordsmith is an enemy of the Monarchy. There is no room for leniency.”

  “But he is mine. I should have a say in his fate.”

  “You are an exile. You have no rights. The Empress has agreed to spare you on account of your service. That is all the consideration that you will be offered.”

  “Spare me?” her voice raised an octave. “General, I had assumed that after my actions I would be allowed to return to the Monarchy.”

  The general frowned. “My lady, that will never happen.”

  “But I delivered you the vampire. I proved my loyalty to the Empress. I thought…”

  “We serve the Monarchy, the Monarchy does not serve us,” said the general. “You know our rules. You were a member of the court before you disgraced yourself.”

  Nuwa’s mouth fell open. “Disgraced myself?”

  “You gave us no choice by opposing the Monarchy. The only reason you were not put to the sunlight is because you belong to the Empress.”

  “So, you would leave me here again?” she asked, her voice wounded.

  “You are unwanted. You will remain here.”

  She appeared to implode; her chest caved in, her face crumpled. She shriveled like a dry leaf ignited by a match, doubling over, clutching her abdomen. Her entire body was shaking and I thought she was sobbing. Then she threw her head back and unleashed a shrill cackle.

  Stunned, Lucas and I stepped away from her. A few soldiers shifted and exchanged glances. She convulsed with uncontrollable laughter. It terrified me, seeing her so wild, as if she had been set on fire.

  “Step aside. We are returning the demon vampire to the Empress,” the general said. “Surrender.”

  Nuwa sighed to calm herself. Her smile faded. But her eyes still burned. “If I cannot leave here,” she said, “no one is leaving.”

  Nuwa tore her sword from its scabbard and the soldiers rushed in like a tide released from a dam. Their dark bodies closed in and the first one to reach us was decapitated by Lucas’s blade. With a scream I kicked the closest enemy in his chest plate. He shot back into the air, flying over the general’s head. The soldier smashed through a wooden beam, then through the temple wall. The roof supported by the beam collapsed onto the veranda.

  The general and I locked eyes. The surprise on his face switched to fury.

  “Take her down!” he roared.

  A soldier grabbed my forearm. Without looking at him I gripped his arm and spun him off his feet. Then I used him as a bat to strike other vampires before launching him into the sky. I tried to look for Lucas but everything was a blur of bodies. I heard him grunting over the clank of swords, and I felt a mist of blood settle on my skin.

  I ran for my sword, knocking a vampire down and then stepping on his stomach to leap onto the veranda. I threw myself flat on the table to avoid the sweep of a blade. Rolling, I hit the ground, hugging my sword to my chest. I crawled under the table and kicked one of the stone chairs at a vampire. It crashed into his legs, snapping both of his shin bones, and he tumbled over the edge of the cliff. Someone grabbed my ankle and dragged me out from under the table. Flipping onto my back, I unsheathed my sword and slashed at the soldier. He collapsed on top of me, blood from his neck pouring onto my face. I shoved him off and scrambled to my feet.

  Nuwa was surrounded by corpses. Her long sword felled three vampires in one swoop. Her eyes on the general, she flicked the blood off the tip of her sword and brushed her hair back from her shoulder. He half-smiled and brandished his mammoth sword in one hand.

  “Just like old times, my lady,” he said.

  “And like old times, you will lose.”

  He sniffed. “You haven’t changed, Nuwa. Still lost in delusions of grandeur.”

  “Don’t address me so informally, General,” she said. “You don’t know me anymore.”

  “But I do. You’re the kind of vampire who would give the life of her child to ingratiate herself with the Monarchy. You’re the kind of vampire who is only loyal to herself.”

  “I was loyal to you. I trusted you. I thought you would be loyal to me.”

  “You still put yourself above the empire. You were always weak in here,” he said, pounding once on his chest. “Do you know how well I know you, my lady? I knew you would ask to return. I knew you would react poorly to being refused. And I asked the Empress for permission to remove you if you resisted.”

  “My obaia wouldn’t do that,” she whispered.

  “Just as you sacrificed your child for yourself, the Empress agreed to sacrifice you in the name of the empire. Finally, the Monarchy will be rid of your stain. You and your wretched creation.”

  Nuwa shrieked and charged at the general. Her blade in the moonlight moved like streaks of lightning and the general struggled to ward off the blows. Unable to help the general, the remaining soldiers redirected their attention to us. Lucas had leaped up onto the roof to disperse the crowd. Cornered on the terrace, I ran around the table before tipping it over. A soldier bear-hugged me from behind.

  Across the garden, the general pushed Nuwa back with a grunt and staggered. He was losing. He drew a dagger from his belt and looked to the roof. Nuwa and I followed his gaze.

  “Lucas!” I screamed. I drove my elbow into the soldier’s gut.

  The general flung his dagger at Lucas. I didn’t even see its path. Lucas must have known it was coming because in that split second he twisted his torso. The dagger embedded itself in his left shoulder. He cried out, and at the same time so did Nuwa.

  I looked back and Nuwa was holding her chest. A line from her left shoulder to her right hip gushed blood. Her sword whirled through the air and stuck itself in the sand.

  The general had used the distraction to cut her.

  “Obaia!” Lucas yelled. He leaped from the roof, pulled the knife from his shoulder and buried it in a soldier’s forehead as he hit the ground.

  Nuwa raised her hands as if to embrace the general, her hands wet with blood. I couldn’t see her face. I only heard her soft voice.

  “Julius,” she said.

  The general cut off her head. She fell at his feet, her body on its side, her hands together as if in prayer.

  Soldiers filled the space between us and the general. Lucas was still screaming. I saw him push his toe into the sand, preparing to explode, preparing to rush into the wall of soldiers. He was going to try to fight them all. He would die as Nuwa had.

  “STOP!” I screamed.

  I had startled everyone. Lucas faltered but didn’t take his eyes off the vampires.

  “Stop,” I said. “I surrender. Stop fighting.”

  “Zee, no!” Lucas shouted at me.

  “General!” I yelled.

  The general pushed his soldiers aside so he could look at me.

  “General, if I agree to go with you, will you let my friend go?”

  “No!” Lucas barked.

  “You are not in a position to make requests,” the general said.

  Trembling, I backed up onto the terrace until I was near the edge of the cliff. “Then, do you and your soldiers want to chase me over the edge?”

  “Zee,” Lucas pleaded.

  “The Empress requests your presence before court.” The general narrowed his eyes. “It would be wise to compl
y.”

  “Well, you could bring me back to her in pieces. Or whatever parts you can find in the mountain, that is. Would that please the Empress?”

  Scowling, the general considered my words. I didn’t think that I would break apart on the mountain’s jagged edges. But I was hoping that the general would not call my bluff. I was hoping that he didn’t want to hunt me anymore.

  “Very well,” he said. “Come with us and there will be no more conflict tonight.”

  “If you think—” Lucas said.

  “Lucas, please,” I begged.

  He shot me a look of desperation. “Zee, don’t do this.”

  “Please,” I said. “This is my choice.”

  “You promised,” he said.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  I scanned the soldiers. “I’m stepping away from the edge. You promise to put away your weapons?”

  “You have my word,” the general said.

  “What is that worth?” Lucas growled.

  “You have my word, in the name of the Monarchy, that the swordsmith will have one day’s grace.”

  The soldiers slid their swords into their scabbards, and the general put his bloody blade into its sheath at his waist. I crossed the garden. Lucas and I stared at each other.

  I know that I promised that I wouldn’t do this. I know this hurts you. But I can’t let you fight anymore. I couldn’t bear it if you were killed. I couldn’t.

  As I passed him, he stuck one of his swords in the sand and grabbed my wrist.

  “It’s okay…” I started.

  He yanked me to him. His arms crushed me against his body. Wrapping my arms around his back I clung to him. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my face against his chest. He cradled my head.

  What if this is the last time we are together? What if I never see you again?

  “I’m going to come for you, Zee,” he whispered.

  I nodded, rubbing my cheek on his collarbone. I gripped his shoulders and held him tighter.

  “Be brave,” he said.

  He dropped his arms and I pushed myself away from him. Fighting back tears, I focused on the general’s smug expression. The soldiers parted and as I walked up to the general, he turned and escorted me onto the veranda. I looked over my shoulder at Lucas. He was still in the garden, watching me leave, his face a mask of stifled fury and pain. He nodded once. I tried to memorize his image. But the soldiers followed us out and then I could no longer see him.