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.
Chapter 37
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.
r /> “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.”
He stopped as if the information chilled him.
The Empress stared at Uther. “What you are saying is…”
“What I’m saying is that she is the incarnation of the first vampires. So she should be considered the first. If she is the first, when she dies, every single one of us dies with her.”
What?
“Impossible,” the Empress whispered.
“What if it is possible?” Uther asked.
A tremor rippled through the crowd. Everyone was muttering. Suddenly the Empress crushed the wood railing under the weight of her hands, sending fragments everywhere. The vampires gasped.
“Impossible!” she shouted. She pointed at Uther. “Aramatta, seize the cleric!”
I put myself between the soldiers and Uther. I didn’t understand but I trusted that he was trying to rescue me. They aimed their swords at my throat.
“No! Stop! You’ll kill us all!” Uther screamed at them, clawing at my arms to pull me back. The soldiers exchanged glances.
“Insolence!” the Empress roared.
“Wait!” Uther yelled. “What if we could somehow prove it?”
How?
The Empress pressed her shoulders back, reassuming her regal posture. “What are you proposing, Cleric?”
Uther put one hand out to steady the soldiers and then he reached inside his robe. He pulled out a gold dagger and turned toward me.
“Cleric,” Lucas warned.
“Uther, what are you doing?” I asked, alarmed. I searched his brown eyes for malice and then for desperation, which can turn anyone into a monster. I found nothing but resolve.
He walked to me, and for a second I imagined having to hit him. Extending his hand, he offered me the handle of the dagger. When I didn’t move, he gestured for me to take it. I wrapped my fingers around its ornate handle and slid it out of his hands.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.
“Cut yourself.”
“What?”
“Zee, you don’t have to do anything he says,” Lucas said. “Come here.”
Lucas held his hand out to me. Uther stood in between us, and I stared into his face. It was the first face that my new eyes had seen. He was the first vampire that I’d trusted. And he had done nothing to break that trust.
“Uther, why do I have to cut myself?”
“You may be the only one strong enough to break your own skin,” he said. “Please.”
I swallowed. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Zee,” Lucas said.
“It’s okay. Just a nick,” I said, looking at Uther, who nodded. He clasped his hands against his stomach.
I flipped my left hand over and put the edge of the blade to my palm, half an inch below my index finger, where my life line started. My palm was pink and my flesh whitened under the pressure of the knife. In that moment I realized that I had not bled a single drop of blood since becoming a vampire. Not in the car accident. Not in a fight. And for some reason, the notion that I might not bleed, that inside, I might be ash, made me more nervous than the fear of the pain. If I did not bleed, then that would make me more different than Lucas, than everyone. I glanced at Lucas. He was frowning and shaking his head. He doesn’t care if I bleed or not. He simply cares.
I squeeze my fingers around the blade and clenched my teeth. This is going to hurt.
Yelping, I yanked the dagger out and I dropped it. I gripped my wrist and sucked air through my teeth. I heard others gasp and voices filled the room. I opened my left hand and the burning slit across my palm gaped like a mouth. It slowly filled with blood. And I was relieved.
Lucas was suddenly at my side.
“I’m bleeding,” I said to him. When I looked at him, he wasn’t looking at me. He looked horrified.
“What’s wrong…?”
He raised his left hand in front of his face. He was bleeding from a horizontal cut, identical to mine.
“How did you…” I started. But my voice disappeared when I saw Uther hold up his bleeding hand.
“Impossible,” the Empress whispered. I snapped my head toward her. She trembled on the balcony, holding her left fist against her chest. A single bead of blood dropped off her knuckle. Soldiers were tearing off their gloves and staring into their hands; in fact, all the vampires in the room were looking at their hands and talking and gesturing toward me. They were all bleeding from the same wounds.
“You see?” Uther said. “She sheds our blood. She bleeds. We bleed. She dies. We all die.”
The Empress shook her head.
I die. Everyone dies.
“Uther, what does this mean?” I asked.
He gave me a gentle smile. “Within you flows the blood of creation. It means, Lady Axelia, that we are all connected to you. We all belong to you.”
Before I could speak, he lowered himself onto one knee.
“Uther,” I exclaimed.
Suddenly the soldiers dropped to their knees. It was like a ripple throughout the room. My mouth fell open as every vampire kneeled until only Lucas and I were left standing.
Stunned, I stared over their lowered heads at the Empress. She stepped to the edge of the balcony, the click of her heels on the floor the only sound in the hall. Her eyes bore into mine. I was frozen, petrified that she would launch herself at me and devour me.
The Empress raised her hand and placed it over her heart. Then, slowly, mechanically, she bowed her head.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Lucas?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think this means?”
He rested his sword on his shoulder. “I think it means that we can stop fighting. For now.”
My left hand tingled. I turned it over and wiped the blood away with my thumb. The skin underneath was perfect. Lucas took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. I looked into his brilliant eyes, and when I saw confidence and courage, I thought that maybe they were reflecting what he saw in me.
Hand in hand we turned to face the vampires bowing before me. I gazed at the tops of their heads, their closed eyes, their hands pressed to their chests, and I no longer dreaded the end. Instead, I was desperate to know what was to come and determined to survive it.
Acknowledgements
There are many people whose friendship and support have been essential to the creation of this book.
A humble writer should always thank her editor first.
Thank you to Marie-Lynn Hammond, who so thoughtfully and thoroughly sifted out the impurities from my manuscript. I am grateful for her sensitivity, her attention to detail, and her flair for fiction.
A long list of cherished friends and family read the book in various stages: Lesley Bradshaw (my beta reader extraordinaire), Tiffany Leong, Jeyanthy Jeyaratnam, Roopa Ramiah, Duong Ramon, Uresha Salgado, Kerry LaiFatt, Darlene Wang De Martinez, Helen Martha, and Vicki So. Girl power forever.
Everyone should have co-workers and editors as cool and generous as the gang at the National Post. Their encouragement gave me the push to put my book out there for strangers to read.
Designer Liliana Sanches Davis created the best cover I could imagine, and photographer Chris Bedlington took the best author photo my face could muster. Michael Mandarano rescued me from the agony of formatting my book.
Last but never least, my partner in everything, Sean Damien, whose love and support keeps me sane. He also built me a kick-ass website.
Thank you.
About the Author
Wynne Channing is a national newspaper reporter and young adult novelist.
She started writing horror/fantasy tales as a girl. She still has the first novel that she wrote when she was 10. It’s (unintentionally) hilarious.
Wynne loves telling stories and as a journalist, she has interviewed everyone from Daniel Radcliffe and Hugh Jackman to the President of the Maldives and Duchess Sarah Ferguson. The closest she has come to interviewing a vampire is sitting down with True Blood’s Alexander Skarsgard (he didn’t bite).
She briefly considered calling her debut novel “Well” so then everyone would say: “Well written by Wynne Channing.”
Connect with her online:
www.wynnechanning.com
twitter.com/wynnechanning
facebook.com/wynnechanning
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