What Kills Me

  “Fine,” he said. “You wouldn’t have guessed right anyway. You girls never do.”

  You girls?

  “You’re all the same. You’re always so surprised,” he said. “But I’m going to tell you since you seem to enjoy full disclosure so much.” He leaned in so that our eyes were level. “First, I’m going to take you in my arms. I’m going to stroke your hair. And then I’m going to drink your blood until your heart stops beating.”

  Oh my God. I gasped but there was no air.

  “There’s no use…”

  His voice trailed off and he turned to look over his shoulder as if he’d heard something. I looked behind him, desperate for someone to be there, someone to save me. For a moment, we were frozen. I heard nothing but my shallow breath and my thundering heartbeat.

  Suddenly, he released me and swiveled around to face the altar. I lurched backward.

  Run.

  He was blocking the door so I turned and I tore under an archway and down a dark hall. I skidded around a corner and slammed into a wall. The corridor was bleached by moonlight from a window up near the ceiling. I twisted a door handle and hit it with my shoulder. It didn’t budge. I tried another door across the hall and burst into the room.

  It appeared to be an office, lit by a small lamp on a desk. I dashed around the room like a trapped animal and tripped over a chair. I cried out, a jolt of pain shooting through my shin. Beside a bookcase there was a small opening, a dark mouth in the brick wall. I crouched in front of the short doorway. I can’t go in here. I looked over my shoulder at the door. At any moment, Paolo would be in this room. He would be behind me, dragging me away. I took a breath, stooped, and threw myself through the passageway.

  The tunnel was black. I waved my hands, trying to swim through the thick murk. Rough stone walls squeezed me on each side. The ground under my feet became uneven, lumpy, and started to slope downward. I paused, my breath in shreds, my heart thumping.

  “Zee!”

  His voice, singsong and taunting, from somewhere inside the church shocked me, driving me farther down the tunnel. I scraped my palms along the walls. He’s coming. He’s behind me.

  I saw light and ran toward it. A white lantern hung from the tunnel wall, illuminating a set of stairs. There was nowhere else to go. I scurried down the stairs, my eyes focused on my feet. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. The spiraling stairs were unending. My descent became a blur.

  If this goes any farther, I’m going to end up in hell.

  All of a sudden, my heel slipped off a stair. I pitched forward, screaming, somersaulting, smashing my elbow and my hip against hard rock. I rolled across the ground, landing on my back, tears streaming from my eyes from the blinding pain. Writhing, trying to catch my breath, I waited for the burning to subside in my arm and hip.

  I lifted my head off the ground, opened my eyes, and gasped.

  I lay in a forest of towering stone pillars, topped by majestic brick arches. The immense room was bathed in an orange light. I winced, willing myself to stand. Flanked by columns, I limped away from the stairs.

  “Hello?” I called out. The sound of my own voice, broken and afraid, pushed me over the edge and my body shook with sobs. “Can anyone help me?”

  My tears were hot on my face. The pillars around me were carved with undecipherable symbols. I hobbled further and found the source of the light. Hundreds of red candles jutted from the ground, the shining, melting wax creating blood-red pools. They seemed to be arranged around a circular formation of boulders. When I got closer, I saw that the rocks lined a hole in the ground.

  What is that?

  I looked into that black hole and I shivered.

  “Is anyone here?” I said.

  I heard the crunch of sand behind me and I spun around. It was Paolo. He opened his arms as if to invite me in for an embrace.

  “Why did you run from me?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  “Stay away from me,” I said.

  “Don’t be like that.” He took a step toward me. I stepped back. I felt the heat from the wax through the soles of my slippers.

  “I said, ‘Don’t come near me.’”

  “Is that any way to treat me after I rescued you when you were lost? After I took you around Rome, bought you gifts, and invited you to this amazing place?”

  My tears pooled under my chin. I lifted my heel and found it stuck to the wax.

  “Come here, Zee,” he said. “Let me put you out of your misery.”

  Horrified, I staggered back. Time slowed. Paolo ambled toward me, a smile spreading on his face. I backed away farther from him, knocking over candles. My heel hit a small rock. I looked over my shoulder and realized with shock I was now very close to that foreboding hole. At that same moment I saw the rock skitter into it. There was no sound of the rock landing.

  I’m going to die.

  “Stop!” A voice shouted. Startled, we both turned toward the sound. An older man in a hooded blue robe was running toward us.

  Suddenly I was off balance, tipping over. I was falling. Falling into the hole. I saw Paolo dive for me with outstretched hands. Screaming, I clawed once at nothing.

  Then there was only black.

  Chapter 5

  I was lost.

  I tried to scream but I could not breathe. I felt as if I was drowning.

  I was suspended, submerged in liquid as thick as tar. I thrashed in this abyss, reaching, groping, desperate to strike the thing that would free me.

  Suddenly I broke the surface. Gasping. Arms slapping the viscid liquid. Coughing. I gagged, trying to scream. My mouth was full of the metallic taste of blood. It was thick like soil on my tongue, up my nose, in my throat.

  My hand hit the slimy surface of a rocky wall. My fingers slid into crevices and I pulled my body up and against the frigid rocks. I clawed the stone. Gripped the jagged edges. I pressed myself against the wall, choking, spitting.

  I looked up through the hair matted against my skull and I saw what looked like a tiny, glowing marble. Light. I started to climb.

  My fingers dug into the stone. I raked my nails against them. Scraped my knees. Stabbed my ribs on jutting rock. I lay my cheek against the wall while my toes found footholds.

  Light.

  I thought of nothing but getting to the lit orb, which grew bigger with each upward heave.

  Here it is. I’m at the top.

  I grabbed the edge of the well and one of the boulders came loose. I dropped backward, screaming. The chunk tumbled into the hole, striking my knee on its descent. I dangled from the edge by one hand. I swung my free hand back to the wall and, arms quivering, I pulled myself up. I threw my leg over the well and collapsed onto the dirt, amid the candles. Heaving. Exhausted. I saw my hands. They were painted red with blood. I was bleeding. I was dying.

  Strong hands took my limp shoulders and flipped me onto my back. Help me. A man’s face hovered over mine. The candlelight reflected in his warm brown eyes, and his mouth moved. He rubbed the hair away from my face.

  Darkness started to creep in from the edges of my vision. I blinked, trying to stop the black from closing in. I looked at the man through the tunnel. Was I falling in the hole again?

  I heard him say in low, soothing tones, “Sleep, my child. You’re safe now.” His voice sounded far away.

  I closed my eyes.

  ***

  My mother crouched in the garden, breaking wilted buds from her purple and yellow irises. Her straw hat hid her face but I knew that she was smiling because she was humming. My sister was lounging on the deck with a paperback and cracking sunflower seeds between her molars.

  “Oh no!” My father exclaimed. He bent over the sidewalk near the pond that he had dug three summers ago, and picked up what I thought was a big leaf. We ran over and saw that he was holding one of his fish. It had leaped out of the water but its golden gills were still pumping.

  My father put the fish back into the pond. It wiggled a few times but starte
d to keel, turning its champagne-colored belly toward us.

  “He’s finished,” Tiffany said, returning to her book. My mother picked up the garden hose and sprayed a mist over her flowers.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. He had dozens of koi and goldfish but he had nurtured each one for years. This one had been the size of my pinky when we bought him and had grown to the length of my hand.

  “Maybe we can give him mouth-to-mouth?” I said to lighten the mood.

  My father retrieved a white plastic stool from under the deck and sat by the pond. I stood over him, watching him hold the fish just under the water. Every minute or so, he would bring the koi’s open mouth toward the surface.

  At dinnertime, I called him to come inside.

  “Zee, come look,” he said. He was standing with his hands on his hips and grinning. I peered into the water and his golden koi was swimming in figure eights under the lily pads.

  “Hey, he’s alive,” I said.

  My father slung his arm over my shoulder. “That fish was a fighter. He wanted to live. He just needed a little help.”

  In the distance, I heard the thump of a helicopter. I looked into the clear blue skies and couldn’t locate the noise. It grew louder.

  “Let’s go inside,” my father said.

  “Okay, Dad.”

  ***

  That sound stirred me from my slumber. I pushed my head further into the pillow to try to muffle the sound. Wup-wup-wup-wup-wup. My dreams faded—Wait, Dad. I’m coming inside the house. Wait for me—and my eyes became unstuck. I was looking at my hand on a white pillow. My fingernails were caked with what looked like brown mud. My vision cleared. I fixated on the textured swirls and loops on my fingertips. I had never seen them like that before. Raised like sand dunes and curled like spiral shells.

  Fingerprints.

  A moth flung itself against a windowpane. It looked like a tiny bird, rising with each powerful beat of its silky wings. It waved its antennae, two long, curved feathers protruding out of its furry gray head, and tucked in its twiggy legs. I saw the moon reflected in its bulging black eyes. The deep, pounding rhythm. The noise from my dreams. Wup-wup-wup-wup. I realized that it was the flap of its wings.

  “What…?”

  “You’re awake.”

  A man clad in a long, royal-blue robe, belted with a gold rope, was standing at the side of my bed. He looked almost timid, his hands clasped on his stomach. I recognized his face, his salt and pepper hair, his sagging jowls.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Weird,” I croaked. My throat hurt. “What happened?”

  “You fell, my child.”

  “I fell,” I said.

  I was jolted by the memory of Paolo. The dark pit. I shot up. The man sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Shhh. You’re all right.”

  “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.”

  Chapter 6

  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.