

What Kills Me

By Wynne Channing

Copyright © 2012 by Melissa Leong

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of quotations in review, without permission in writing from the author/publisher.

Smashwords Edition

Published in the United States of America by Jet & Jack Press

ISBN-978-0-9881054-0-9

www.wynnechanning.com

Cover design by Liliana Sanches Davis

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Acknowledgements

About the Author

For my parents who let me watch scary movies then comforted me when I had nightmares.

# Chapter 1

A human girl will be re-born a vampire. She will shed the blood of all who walk in darkness and bring about the death of the entire vampire race.

—Ancient vampire prophecy

The sun's down. I am so dead.

I walked out of the bakery with a box of cannoli balanced in my hands and when I saw the dark sky, my smile faded. I shouldered my way through the crowds and rushed into a piazza. The clock on the church tower read 9:25 p.m. I rounded the fountain in the center of the square, my flip flops slapping at my heels. I shifted my box of pastries so that it was under my arm like a football and quickened my pace.

Sofia is going to kill me. When I left the house at 7:30 p.m., I had told her that I'd be only twenty minutes. But I'd lost track of time wandering the narrow cobblestone streets, snapping pictures. So far, I wasn't being a good guest in her home. Two days ago, I had accidentally used dishwasher soap in her laundry machine, producing a titanic bubble bath. This was not the way to redeem myself.

A few people sat on the stone stairs around the fountain. A bearded man plucked at a guitar and nodded his head. A woman reclined against her boyfriend, her hands on his knees as if they were the arms of a chair.

One young man stood alone on the top of the stairs. His hands were in the pockets of a charcoal coat with an asymmetrical zipper that cut across his chest. His face was backlit against the street lamps, but I knew that he was staring at me. He had such rigid posture that nothing but his head moved as he watched me cross the square.

I dropped my gaze. The straps of my backpack dug into my shoulders and shifted my T-shirt. I tugged at the hem so that the Canadian flag was centered in the middle of my chest. He probably wants to rob me. My father had warned me about pickpockets in Rome. A few days before my trip, he had come into my room with a bulgy blue fanny pack: "To keep your valuables safe."

From the corner of my eye I could still see the man's face pointed in my direction, and I heard my best friend's voice in my head. Zee, he's checking you out. See if he's hot. Ryka had encouraged me to have a summer fling. The only fling I'd ever had with a guy was when Felix Lewis flung me in the air during cheerleading tryouts. "Find someone and have fun," but avoid the bad guys, she had said. She wanted me to keep my other valuables safe.

Pretending to look back at the clock, I glanced at the fountain. The guy was gone. I searched the piazza but didn't see him. Too bad. He might have been cute. Would his trying to pick my back pocket count as second base?

I turned down a lane sandwiched between two square buildings and wove through a group of men in soccer jerseys. An old man in an undershirt and house slippers stood in the street with a dusty poodle, and I returned his sullen glare with a smile and a nod.

After walking several minutes, something seemed wrong. Okay, I remember passing this restaurant with the row of people eating on white linen tablecloths under white umbrellas. I remember this tight street with the parked cars on my left. But I don't remember the street opening into a parking lot and this giant purple bush.

A mass of fuchsia flowers cascaded down the side of a building, like a purple monster arm, reaching for the ground with its branchy fingers. I would have remembered this. I doubled back through the dim streets but then couldn't find my way to the piazza. Don't panic.

I took a mental inventory of the contents of my bag: a journal, my wallet, my passport, my digital camera, a bottle of water. Of course, I didn't take the note card with Sofia's address and phone number on it. It's on my dresser. Of course, I didn't take a map. I could see Sofia's round face, scrunched with disapproval, the creases on her frowning forehead. I performed a frustrated pirouette.

"Come on," I said, exasperated with myself.

"Excuse me?" A voice said behind me.

I spun around, and there he was in the middle of the road. The guy from the fountain. I recognized his jacket and his tall, stiff stance.

"Sorry. I was talking to myself," I said.

He took a step toward me and his face shocked me. He had high cheek bones and clean-shaven, pale skin. His deep-set blue eyes were in shadow under thick, dark eyebrows, but they were luminous.

I realized then that I was staring with my mouth ajar.

"You're American?" he asked in his Italian accent.

"No, I'm from Winnipeg. It's in Canada," I said, pointing to my T-shirt. I glanced away, feeling weird that I had just directed his attention to my chest.

He nodded. "You are on vacation?"

"I'm living here for two months studying Italian."

"Well then, welcome to Italia," he said, and his pale pink lips smiled. "Do you like it here?"

"I've only been here for about a week and I love it."

"What do you love most?" The word, "lah-ve," filled his mouth thickly.

"I love the architecture, the food," I said. "If I could eat gelato every day for the rest of my life, I would."

"Then you must be sweet."

His smile widened and I felt embarrassed. To quash my anxiety, I thrust my hand at him. "I'm Zee," I said.

He seemed startled, tucking in his dimpled chin to gaze at my hand. "Zee?"

"My name is Axelia but everybody calls me Zee."

"Paolo," he said.

He slipped his smooth, cool hand into mine. I gripped his palm and shook it vigorously.

"Eggs-ee-lee-ah?" he said, pronouncing every syllable of my name. "I like it."

"Thanks. I like it too. It's spelled A-X-E-L-I-A; but the X is soft. Though I hated it when I was young. In kindergarten, someone spread a totally untrue rumor that 'Zee likes pee,' and then, you know, at recess, it was always 'Zee likes pee, Zee likes pee.'"

I laughed and when he didn't join me, I cleared my throat to silence myself. "And I have no clue why I told you that story, since we just met."

Oh, Zee. Always babbling when you're nervous.

He cocked his head and studied my face. "Zee, would you like to go with me for a gelato?" he asked.

Whoa. Is this beautiful man asking me out? Ryka would be celebrating with corniness: "He doesn't want to steal your wallet. He wants to steal your heart."

"Uh, thank you, Paolo," I said, relishing the opportunity to use his name. "But I actually need to get home."

"Where do you live?"

"Good question. I mean, I'm not sure. I'm a bit lost," I said with a shrug and something in between a grin and a grimace. "It's on a narrow street around here. There's a café on the street. There's a pizzeria. I know—every narrow street has a café and a pizzeria. And I don't have a map or an address. I might just have to live on the streets, survive on cannoli, and sing for coins."

"You sing?"

"Yes but I'm sure people will pay me to stop."

"Don't worry," he said. "I will help you."

"Oh, I remember!" I exclaimed. "There's a white church on my street."

"Via della Scala has a white church," he said. "And a café and a pizzeria."

"Via della Scala, that's it!" I said.

He put his hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "May I have the honor of walking you there, Zee?"

"That would be lovely."

As we walked back to Sofia's apartment, I chattered to fill the silence. I told him about the laundry fiasco and about my Japanese housemate, Miyuki. At one point, I realized that I was nervously swinging the box of cannoli while I walked. Paolo kept his eyes on me while I looked everywhere else. His suede coat sleeve would brush my bare arm, giving me goose bumps.

"How old are you?" I said.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Me too," he replied.

"I start university in the fall. I'm going to take general arts courses for now because I'm not sure what field I'd like to get into. My father's an aerospace engineer and my big sister is studying mechanical engineering. But I almost failed physics and math in high school. So for the safety of mankind, I don't think I should get a job building anything. I love taking pictures so maybe I could be a photographer. What do you do?"

"I'm a student."

"What are you studying?"

"I'm a student of life," he said. He pursed his lips when he smiled.

Was that code for unemployed?

"I see," I said, instead. "And what have you learned so far?"

"I've learned that treasures present themselves when you least expect them," he said. "And you? What has your life taught you?"

"That I shouldn't walk around without a map," I said. "And that dish soap doesn't go in washers. Actually, I'm here because I want more life experience. I feel like I've been pretty sheltered in Winnipeg."

"I've never been there. Is it nice?"

"Yes, but it gets cold."

"Cold doesn't bother me."

"This cold would. Our winters are brutal. It's so cold sometimes that my eyes water and then my wet eyelashes freeze together."

He chuckled. His teeth were small and perfect. For a moment, I imagined walking with him through these streets, laughing and holding hands. I imagined him teaching me Italian. I imagined him kissing me. Then I could add "kissed a hot guy" to my experiences, right after "traveled outside of Winnipeg."

Suddenly I recognized the square planters in front of Sofia's apartment farther down the street.

"Thank God, we've found it!" I blurted. Then I turned to Paolo. "I didn't mean thank God because I don't like your company. You're wonderful company in fact."

"I also enjoyed your company."

"Thank you so much. I owe you my life for helping me get back to Sofia's."

One side of his lips curled up. "Then repay me," he said.

"Okay," I said. I channeled Ryka's boldness. "I could buy you a gelato?"

"Yes. Let's meet tomorrow at nine fifteen."

"Where?" I asked. I could feel my cheeks flushing.

"Right here," he said, pointing to the pizzeria to his left.

"Done," I said. "It was nice meeting you."

"Goodnight, Zee."

"Goodnight, Paolo."

# Chapter 2

Sofia was waiting for me in the foyer. Her arms were crossed over her blue robe, her weight on her left foot so that she could tap her right. Her white hair was pulled back in a thick navy headband, and I could see the angry lines in her forehead.

"Sofia, I am so sorry," I said, with one foot in the door. "I got totally lost and I didn't remember the street name. This guy had to help me find my way."

She clucked her tongue. "Axelia, we were so worried," she said. "It is not safe for a young girl to be walking around at night. I sent Giuseppe out to look for you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make trouble. It won't happen again."

"Miyuki always carries our address and phone number in her purse."

"These are for you and Giuseppe," I said, hanging my head and presenting her with the box of cannoli.

"We will talk about this tomorrow," she said.

I retreated to my room, where Miyuki was sprawled on her bed watching a Japanese show on her iPad.

"Where were you?" Miyuki said in her child-like, halting voice. "Sofia was so worried."

"I know. I'm sorry," I said. "I got lost."

"Lost? What happened?"

"I lost track of time and then when I tried to rush home, I guess I took a wrong turn somewhere. And of course, because I'm a moron, I didn't bring this," I said, snatching up the paper with Sofia's address and slapping it back onto the dresser.

I walked into our shared bathroom and bent over the sink.

"So, I was wandering around," I said in between splashing my face, "and I ended up meeting this gorgeous guy. He walked me home. I told him about that white church down the street and he knew where it was..."

I looked up in the mirror and Miyuki was beside me. "Guy?"

I laughed. "He's Italian. We're going out again tomorrow night."

I examined her happy face in the mirror. Our dark hair was the same length, down to our chests, except hers was straight and mine was curly. All of her tiny, doll-like features were concentrated in the middle of her milky face. I imaged that she looked like this when she was twelve. When I was twelve, it seemed like my eyes and lips were too big for my small, thin face. A few of the boys started to call me "Fish Face"; they'd follow me around with wide eyes, sucking on their cheeks. I also had braces because my teeth were crooked and crowded together. By the age of sixteen I was friends with Ryka, who had biting criticism for anyone who tried to tease me. Eventually, my braces came off, my cheeks filled out, and everyone just called me "Zee."

"Zee?" said Miyuki. "What time are you going to see that boy?"

"Nine fifteen."

"Uh oh."

I paused in the middle of rubbing my face with a towel. "What do you mean, 'uh oh'?"

"Sofia says that we have a curfew now."

"What? What time is the curfew?"

"Nine."

"Nine? Every day? But it's the weekend!"

I strode back into our room, gesturing wildly.

"That is ridiculous," I said, hopping into purple monkey-print pajama pants. "We're seventeen. We're almost adults."

Miyuki shrugged.

"No way. She never said anything about this when we first moved in. She can't just spring this on us. Did she say this was every day?"

What if I couldn't see Paolo? How would I get him the message? I couldn't just leave him to wait.

"If I stand him up, he'll forever think that Canadian girls are evil," I told Miyuki. "I have to date him to protect Canada's reputation."

I smirked and Miyuki giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll talk to Sofia about it in the morning."

I went to bed practicing my speech and picturing Paolo's face. I had never seen anyone with such bright eyes. I had never met a boy who was so confident and cool. But clearly, Italian guys were different. More mature. More gentlemanly.

I liked that he knew nothing about me. He didn't know that I wasn't the summer fling type. He didn't know that my only friends were Ryka and her boyfriend, Raj. I was a blank canvas and I could create a new image in his eyes. I could be fun, exciting, and adventurous. I could have stories to tell. I could become the person that I was meant to be.

At breakfast the following day, Sofia was unbending.

"It is not safe for young girls to be out after dark," she said.

"I appreciate your concern but I am seventeen and..." I started.

"You're here in Rome to study, yes? You should stay at home and work and wake up early for classes like Miyuki."

I looked at Miyuki, who was silently eating her frittata across the table.

"I always get my homework done before dinner. I have the same deal with my father and he lets me stay out until midnight on weekends," I said.

"Axelia," Sofia said. "I can't have you girls coming in at all hours of the night. Giuseppe and I need to sleep and if you are not home, we will just worry."

I drew a breath to speak but exhaled as if I was letting the argument leave my body. What could I say to that? I had to be considerate of my hosts.

"I understand, Sofia," I said. But for the rest of the meal, I tortured myself, fantasizing about the summer romance I could have had. Sofia rested her hands on my slumped shoulders.

"Here," she said, putting the box of pastries beside me. "Eat some cannoli."

***

"Hi Dad."

"Good morning, Zee," he said.

"Dad, it's dinnertime here."

"Right. Daddy forgot," he said. My father often referred to himself in the third person with me. "How are you?"

"Good. How's the family?"

"We found a bird's nest outside of Tiffy's window. Yesterday, these birds kept flying back and forth around the yard so I figured they built a nest in the tree. Daddy looked, and sure enough, there was a nest with three baby birds."

"Cute."

"Whenever we go out, the mother bird dives at you. They fly very low and in front of you to scare you away. Daddy was sitting by our pond, feeding the fish and one came and touched the back of Daddy's head."

"That's crazy. Mom must be freaking out."

"Mommy's outside right now gardening with a tennis racket."

I pictured my mother outside in her floppy straw hat, twirling around, wielding the tennis racket like a giant fly swatter and I burst into laughter.

"I told her not to hit them," my father said. "They're just protecting their babies."

"Dad, Sofia instituted a curfew of nine o'clock."

"Well, you know, maybe she's more conservative. She's just concerned about you. Especially with single, young girls, you don't want them to stay out late."

I decided then not to tell him about getting lost.

"I understand, but nine is really early," I said.

"You should respect Sofia's wishes. She is taking care of you."

"I guess," I said. "Hey Dad, can I call you tomorrow? Ryka's online."

"Okay, talk to you tomorrow."

"Bye Dad. Love you."

"Love you too."

I wrote Ryka an instant message: "U there?"

"Just woke up."

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I met a boy."

"TELL ME."

"Calling you on Skype. Turn your camera on."

When Ryka appeared on my screen, I said, "Nice hair." Her short hair stood up in two puffs like cat ears.

"Shut up. We all don't have Italian stallions to impress, okay?"

"Ry, I met the cutest guy and I'm never going to see him again."

"What? So dramatic! What happened?"

"I went for a walk last night and because I'm an idiot, I didn't have a map and I got lost. So, I'm wandering around Rome, trying to find Sofia's house and I turn around and there's this beautiful guy standing there."

"How beautiful?"

"Like dark-haired, blue-eyed, ten times prettier-than-me beautiful."

"Shut up," she said, rolling her eyes.

"At first, I thought he wanted to rob me. But then he helped me back to Sofia's house and asked me to meet him tonight."

"Look at you, Miss Zee!"

"Wait, you forgot the rest of it. I can't meet him."

"Why not?"

"Sofia imposed a curfew on us. It becomes a prison at nine."

"No. Can you sneak out?" she asked with a wink.

"Very funny Ry. I can't risk getting caught and getting kicked out."

"Zee, why would the universe introduce you to the most beautiful guy in Italy only to have you never see him again?"

"Because the universe likes to torture me?"

"Come on. You're in Rome. Live a little!"

"I know but..."

"But what? You're just going to leave him hanging?"

"Oh, Ry. He probably won't show up anyway."

"He will. And then his feelings will be hurt."

She knew how to guilt me into action. After I hung up, I came up with a compromise. Before I lost my nerve, I wrote a note:

Dear Paolo,

It was so nice to meet you yesterday. Thank you for helping me home. I really wanted to hang out tonight but my homestay family surprised me with a curfew of 9 p.m. I'm so sorry. Please let me make it up to you with twice as much gelato. Are you free Monday afternoon? Please meet me at the pizzeria at 3:30 p.m. Also, here's my e-mail address and number.

Later that afternoon, I gave the waiter at the pizzeria a description of Paolo ("Dark hair, blue eyes, bellissimo,") and the letter, and ran home.

What if he gets annoyed and decides that he doesn't want anything to do with me? Well, he would be missing out.

Shortly after 9 p.m., I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan and listening to its hypnotic whir. I imagined Paolo's crooked smile. I imagined the husky way he would say my name. Zee.

I sat up. I heard my name.

"Did you hear something?" I asked Miyuki. She shook her head. But then we both heard a voice from outside. I walked over to the window, pushed open the green shutters, and looked down.

Paolo smiled at me from the middle of the street.

# Chapter 3

My memory had not done him justice. He wore the same coat but he had spiked his short, dark hair. His half-smile was so sexy.

"What are you doing here?" I said, grinning.

"I came to see you," he said. He held my note between his index and middle fingers. "I got your letter."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just found out about the curfew. It's so ridiculous."

Miyuki came toward me with her head cocked to the side. "It's him," I whispered. I felt giddy. Her mouth made a small O and she poked her head out the window. Paolo waved.

"He is cute," she whispered to me.

"So, are you free tomorrow?" I asked.

"No."

"Oh," I said, the smile fading from my face.

"But I am free now."

"I can't leave the house."

"Of course you can."

"No, you don't understand. My hosts aren't letting me out."

"How will they know that you are gone?"

"Well, they'll see me walk out the front door."

"But you can come through the window."

I laughed. "That's true but my arms are a little tired from flying out the window earlier today."

He didn't laugh. "Who said anything about flying?"

He pointed in front of him so I leaned further out the window and looked down. Someone had parked a white van below my second-story window.

"I will help you down. We will go for gelato, take a beautiful stroll, and I will have you safe at home in an hour."

An hour. Sofia and Giuseppe would be fast asleep by then and I could sneak back through the front door.

This is crazy.

I couldn't climb out my window like a ninja. I'd fall, or I'd get caught.

"I can't," I said.

"Please?"

I glanced at Miyuki. Her eyebrows were furrowed. I could stay here with Miyuki and study. Or I could climb out the window and live a little. I could chase the adventure that I had traveled across an ocean for. I looked back at Paolo, who was grinning. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a what appeared to be a clump of tissue. He opened his palm. It was a white rose. He opened his arms to me. I took a deep breath. I couldn't believe I was about to surrender.

"How can I say no?" I said. "Hang on a sec."

I got ready in an elated flurry. I tore off my pajamas, changed into a white eyelet sundress, and wiggled my feet into red ballet flats. I slung a small, burgundy-suede satchel across my chest and jammed my keys and Sofia's address into the front pocket. Miyuki watched me with wide eyes but she didn't say anything.

I returned to the window and scanned the dark street for Paolo. I heard my name and saw him standing behind the van. He put one foot on the bumper, one hand on the roof, and in one motion hopped onto the vehicle. He dropped the rose and stretched his arms toward me.

"How am I going to do this?" I muttered. "Miyuki, if I fall on my head, please tell my family that I loved them. And please go ahead and take that fanny pack in my closet that you keep eyeing."

"Be careful," she said.

I put my feet through the window so I was sitting on the sill. Miyuki grabbed my arm as I turned and struggled onto my stomach. The sill dug into my gut. This is a disaster. I had my butt in his face and my skirt was riding up. Why did I wear a dress to climb out a window? Groaning, I shifted myself so that I was propped up by my elbows. What now?

I felt Paolo grip my hips and lift me from the window. I grabbed his hands. He lowered me gently, my back to his chest, my ear against his mouth. "There you go," he whispered. "Safe and sound." He let me go and when I turned around, he had already jumped off the van. I smoothed my skirt under me, sat on the roof, and slid off into his arms. We stood in the street facing each other, his hands on my waist. I felt my face flush but I could not break from his gaze. My mind went blank.

"So how about what you owe me?" he said.

"What?"

"Gelato. Let's go get one."

He grabbed the rose from the roof of the van and presented it to me. I put the bloom to my nose and covered my mouth to hide a wide smile. I had done it. Ryka would be so proud.

"Encouraging me to break curfew and jump out of windows? You're trouble."

"I promise, no more jumping out of windows," he said.

"Good. I'm never doing that again."

We stopped at a café for a strawberry gelato and continued walking. I juggled the rose, my spoon, and my cup of gelato while maneuvering around pedestrians and on-coming Vespas. I felt unbalanced on the bumpy stone streets. Paolo never appeared distracted. He examined my face, ignoring his melting dessert.

"What?" I said.

"What?"

"Why do you keep looking at me like that? What are you thinking?"

"I think you are beautiful," he said.

"Oh," I said. I didn't know what else to say. I brushed my hair behind my ear. But I had done so with the hand holding my spoon, dripping pink globs into my hair.

"Oh, crap."

"Don't move," he said. I froze as he stepped close to me and ran his fingers into my hair. "Your hair smells like strawberries now."

"That was my plan."

"Mmm."

Feeling shy, I inched away. "So, how long have you lived in Rome?"

"For an eternity, it seems."

"You were born here?"

He nodded.

"Your English is amazing. Have you ever been anywhere else?"

"I've been everywhere else."

We crossed the street and Paolo pulled on my elbow to keep me from walking into a passing bicycle.

"Seriously?"

"I like to travel."

"Yeah, but how did you get to travel so much?"

He paused. "My father, he is a diplomat."

"So what are your favorite cities?"

"Tokyo is amazing. Very clean. I have friends in Udaipur in India. The most beautiful lakes that you've ever seen."

"I have this dream of traveling the world and taking pictures for National Geographic magazine."

"Why don't you?"

I grinned. "Maybe one day. My parents want me to study something practical first—you know, get a degree."

As we walked by a store with stained glass windows, the shopkeeper came out and said something in Italian. Paolo stopped on the street corner to talk to him. I leaned over the stall in front of the shop and examined the necklaces and bracelets littering the table. I picked up a silver pendant in the shape of a coin; the image of a butterfly was etched on its surface.

"Do you like it?" Paolo asked.

"It's pretty."

Paolo slipped his fingers through the chain, pulling it from me. He undid the clasp.

"Wait," I said.

"Please," he said, putting the chain around my neck.

The pendant was cool against my chest. I pressed it against my skin to warm it up. Paolo reached into his pocket and pulled out some money.

"No, please, I can't accept this."

He handed the bills to the shopkeeper. "Zee, you are a guest in my city. Let me treat you. As a thank you for the gelato."

"The gelato was a thank you for helping me yesterday."

"Please. This is my pleasure."

"Thank you," I said. We crossed the street. "A rose, a necklace? Way to set the bar, Paolo."

"I just want you to like me."

"Is this what it takes to get a girl to like you?"

"You tell me."

It was working. The prospect of a summer of romance with him thrilled me.

"It's not necessary. But it is appreciated," I said.

Down an empty street, he set his uneaten gelato in a plant pot and sauntered up to a walled property. A blanket of ivy covered the stone wall and the gated entrance. He gripped the iron bars and motioned with a nod for me to join him. Inside the yard, two street lamps illuminated a brick building with a pitched roof. A large circular window on the front of its unremarkable façade made the structure look like a Cyclops. The ominous silhouette of a slim bell tower topped with a cross emerged from the back of the building.

"This church is special," Paolo murmured. "People say that this church is built over a well that is sacred to the gods."

He took the empty cup of gelato from my hand and set it on the ground.

"Let's take a closer look," he said.

"How?"

He jumped, grabbed a horizontal bar at the top of the gate and pulled himself up. He perched there for a second and then vaulted over to the other side. My mouth fell open.

"You didn't just do that," I said as he smiled at me from the other side. "Are you some kind of gymnast?"

Paolo fiddled with the latch before pulling the door open, snapping vines of ivy. He parted the green curtains and extended his hand.

"I don't think we're supposed to be here," I said.

"I come here once a week and there's never anyone around," he said. "We'll just take a quick look. It's an incredible place. You've never seen anything like it."

I just stared at his hand. I can't. I can't trespass.

"Please? I planned this as a surprise for you," he said.

I looked at his face, saw it change from excited to disappointed, and I felt bad. He had thoughtfully planned this and I didn't want to be a spoilsport. I had come this far already. Just a quick look. My hand slipped into his and he interlaced our fingers while I ducked under the ivy and stepped over a vine. The courtyard was barren, the grass long and uneven. We walked around to the side of the church. I listened and heard nothing but the crunch of grit under our feet and the chorus of crickets. I was conscious of the softness of his cool palm and our fingers rubbing together as we moved.

Paolo stopped and opened a door to the building. The door creaked as he pushed it.

What if we got caught?

"Uh, Paolo," I whispered. I tried to pull back but he held my hand firmly. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Don't worry. I come here all the time to think."

I swallowed and resolved to trust him. Relationships were built on trust. And being an adventurer required courage. He led me inside, through the darkness, toward a yellow glow. I held my breath and followed him into the sanctuary, where I sighed in awe. "Wow."

I stared across twenty pews to the glowing altar. A portrait of the crucifixion hung above rows of gold candelabras. Paintings of angels and saints adorned every wall and every column. I took in the white marble floors and the colorful, coffered ceiling. I ran my hand along a wooden collection box and tried to read the sign: "Per I bambini del terzo mondo."

"It's for children in the third world," Paolo said.

I set the rose down on the box and grabbed my purse, but then I realized I'd spent all of my money on gelato. Paolo dropped a coin into the slot. I smiled at him.

"You're a sweet girl," he whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingertips tracing a soft line across my forehead and down my cheek. I became shy and showed him the top of my head. He lifted my chin so that our eyes met, our faces inches apart.

I had stopped breathing. I felt as if, at any moment, I would melt into the floor. As he leaned in, I fixated on his parted lips and I felt his hand slip around my waist. I thought he was going to kiss my forehead. Instead, he rested the side of his mouth against my temple and whispered in my ear.

"Zee?"

"Yes," I said, breathlessly.

"Now that I have you here all alone, what do you think I'm going to do to you?"

His voice was low, his breath cool.

I swallowed. "What?"

"I'm going to kill you."

# Chapter 4

I thought I had misheard him.

But his grip told me that everything had changed and that everything was wrong. I pushed back against his hand and his fingers dug into my back. He grabbed my neck and I gasped.

No. This can't be happening.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. His thumb pressed the skin under my jaw and a shock of pain ripped through me, causing my knees to buckle.

"Ow!" I cried. "You're hurting me!" I drew a breath to scream and he crushed me against his chest. He was so strong.

"Don't scream," he said into my ear.

Inhaling, he dragged his nose against my cheek. Then I felt his tongue, cold and slimy, lap my chin. A whimper escaped from my lips.

"You know, Zee, I've never taken anyone here before. But you are special. The second that I saw you, I had to have you. I've never seen anything more lovely. I just couldn't help myself."

"Please, don't kill me."

"That really isn't an option."

He pulled me back so that he could look at me. His lips twisted into a sneer. I searched his eyes and saw no warmth, only a terrifying look of madness, of hunger. He didn't look like himself anymore. I clawed at his arm and my feet slid as I tried to push myself away.

"Mmm. This is my favorite part. The struggle."

"Please, Paolo. Just let me go. I promise I won't tell the police or anyone about this if you let me leave."

He reached over and took the rose off the collection box. He tapped the bloom to his mouth and raised his eyebrows.

"Why don't we play a game?" he said. "If you can guess my plan for you, then you can go."

"You—you're going to kill me!" My teeth clattered so that I could barely spit out the words.

"But how?"

He brushed the rose over my nose and lips. I tried to jerk my face away but his grip was unyielding.

"Stop!"

"Come on, Zee. What happened to all your playful energy?"

He hit the rose against the side of my face and a petal fluttered to the ground like a wounded butterfly. I felt sick inside.

"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 started 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.

"Please, don't kill me," I said.

"We're not going to harm you, Axelia," Uther said. "I just want to understand you, and have you understand us. I protect this church. My descendants have guarded this sanctum for thousands of years. I have lived here for five hundred years. Lettie has lived here with me for a hundred and fifty years."

"Vampires aren't real," I said in a hushed voice.

"To humans, we are merely fairy tales and folklore. But we do exist. We have lived in secret among human beings for eons."

"The two of you think you are vampires."

Lettie rolled her eyes. She twirled her finger. "We are vampires. The three of us."

She's delusional. The room suddenly tilted. My eyes became unfocused and I fought a wave of nausea. I felt Lettie at my side, but I lacked the energy to fight her. She hooked her willowy arms into mine and pulled me to my feet.

"New vampires are weak and vulnerable. You need to feed to grow strong," Uther said.

"Stop. I'm not a vampire," I said. "I'm just a girl."

"If you were just a girl, how could you have had the strength to crawl out of that well?" Lettie asked. She led me back to the bed and we passed the wardrobe, where a mirror hung on the inside of the open door.

In the reflection, I could see Lettie carrying a young woman. A young woman that I recognized. I gasped. Startled, Lettie halted. She saw the mirror and brought me over to it.

The woman in the reflection looked like me but didn't look like me.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

It was as if I was looking at an artist's rendering of myself. A portrait with exaggerated colors and soft lines. My hair was so dark. The black reflected the light, creating the impression of a shining tiara across my bangs. I parted my lips, which had turned crimson, and my teeth were so white they were almost fluorescent. The scariest part was my eyes. They weren't chocolate brown anymore. They were amber. And bright like fire.

"What the hell..."

"What do you see?" asked Uther.

I see and do not see. Lettie released me so that I could move closer to the mirror. I reached for my face. My glowing, golden skin was smooth like glass under my trembling finger tips. The scar under my mouth—the one I had gotten when I was seven and hit a chain-link fence, impaling my chin on on a rusty gate hinge—had disappeared. I could not find a blemish, a freckle, a pore.

"I look..." I couldn't find words. I smoothed my thick curls against my head.

"I think you look good," Lettie said.

"You're a vampire now," Uther said. "You have been reborn. You're beautiful and you're powerful. You will never know illness. You will never age or die. You will exist now, as perfect as you are, for all eternity."

In the mirror, I watched as his words washed over me. They penetrated my silent heart and left me cold. I stared at this face, into wide glittering eyes, and realized that I was not breathing. More importantly, that I felt no need to draw a breath.

"Who are you?" I whispered to myself.

"You are a miracle," Uther said. "To be blessed as a vampire is a rare gift, only bestowed upon a select few each century, and they must be deemed worthy by our elders. Your arrival is extraordinary. Such a phenomenon has never occurred in our history. Never has a vampire been born without having fed from another."

"How did this happen?"

"The well is filled with blood, my child," Uther said. "Vampire blood."

# Chapter 7

Soon, it would be morning. Sofia would come to our bedroom door, knock twice, and then poke her head inside. She'd see my empty, made bed and demand to know where I was. Miyuki would tell her that I had escaped out the window to see a boy and had not returned. A panicked Sofia would send Giuseppe out to look for me while she called the authorities. Then she would call my parents. My father's booming, angry voice would force Sofia's ear from the receiver. My mother would stand by, wringing her hands and asking for answers—"What's going on? What's happened to Zee?"—while my father interrogated Sofia. They would call my cell phone, text me, and e-mail me. They would call Ryka. My father would curse under his breath while my mother paced the room—"This isn't like Zee. Zee would never do this. Maybe something happened." The look on their faces. To see all this in my mind made me wither in sorrow.

I looked down at the note I'd just written at the desk.

Dear Mom, Dad, and Tiff,

I'm so sorry if I made you worry. I'm safe. Please know that I love you. I miss you. Don't worry. I am happy.

Love,

Zee

A tear dropped onto the paper. It was red. I gasped and wiped my face. I stared at the blood smeared on my hand. It disgusted me, the way the blood fell into the lines in my palm. It made my hand look old.

I waved at Uther to show him. He nodded, his lips tight.

I cry blood. That is so wrong. I wiped my hand on my skirt.

"Axelia," Uther said. His voice startled me, snapping me back to this new version of life. "It might be better for your family not to receive that letter."

"No," I said. "I don't want them to think that I just disappeared or that I'm lying in some gutter...dead."

"But Axelia," he said in his low, calm tone. "If they believe that you are alive, they will wait for you to come home."

"What's wrong with that?" I said, though I knew the answer.

"They will wait forever. They will never grieve and they will never move on."

"I don't know which is worse. Having them wait or having them move on."

Uther stood behind me, his hands on my shaking shoulders.

"My heart," I said, crying. "It hurts."

"It will be all right," he said. "I promise. This period of mourning will pass. Of course, you will miss your loved ones but you will never forget them. You will see. Everything is going to be fine."

He crouched beside me and fixed his gaze on me, as if he was willing me to understand, as if he could instill strength through his eyes. "Normally, people choose to be blessed in this way. They undergo a sacred ritual to become a vampire. I know that you didn't have a choice. But no one asks to be born. This is the nature of fate. It is beyond your control. You must endure whatever comes. You must be strong."

I scrunched up the paper and pushed it away. My hand fell limp on the desk and the pen rolled away. He took my hand and held it for a long time. I let him. I still felt broken but I didn't feel as alone. I swallowed the lump in my throat and swiped at a tear on my cheek with the back of my wrist, marking it with red.

"In the movies, when vampires crawl out of graves, they are just so excited about being dead and sucking blood," I said. "I'm not excited."

"The movies aren't real," he said.

"Does that mean you don't drink blood?"

"No. We subsist on blood."

My nose detected the faint scent of baby powder before I heard the hardwood creek under Lettie's footsteps. She walked in and I frowned at the pungent, rusty smell coming from the mug in her hand.

"I brought you something," she said.

She set the steaming mug down in front of me. It had, "I Love Rome" written on it in red, white, and green.

"Where did you get the cup?" Uther asked.

"On the street," she said with a shrug. "I thought it would please her."

"Is this blood?" I asked, alarmed.

"Is it hot?" Uther said.

"I thought it could be like having a warm cup of tea," Lettie said. "Humans like tea."

"This is not exactly...my cup of tea," I said.

"You need it for strength," Uther said.

I hooked my fingers around the handle of the mug and peered at my disgusted reflection in the liquid.

"I can't do this."

"Sure, you can." Lettie said encouragingly.

"I guess it could have been worse. You could have brought me an actual person," I muttered.

Lettie made a face. "I'm not savage."

"Our blood is supplied," Uther said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that we have no need to hunt humans. We are provided for."

"So someone else drains the people and you get it out of a tap?"

Lettie and Uther exchanged a look. "Not exactly," Uther said. "But fresh blood is delivered to the church."

"Did you think I was out there grabbing tourists off the street?" Lettie said.

I didn't answer her because that was exactly what I thought.

"Some vampires hunt for pleasure," said Uther, "but generally it is considered unsophisticated."

"Some vampires," I said. "Some vampires like Paolo."

My life was over the moment I saw him in the crowded piazza. Or rather, the moment he saw me. He had hunted me. And the way he came to the apartment. He must have felt like he was picking up food from a drive-thru window.

I should never have climbed out that window. Then I wouldn't be a walking corpse. Or I should've just stayed home the night before. Then I never would have met Paolo.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"Yes," Uther said.

"Does he know that this has happened to me?"

"He doesn't know. He ran as soon as you fell," Uther said.

"If I drink this, will I be strong enough to kill him?"

Lettie grinned, showing both her top and bottom teeth, but Uther shook his head. "Elders are always stronger."

"Can vampires even be killed?"

"Oh, yes," Lettie said. "Vampires are physically able to kill other vampires."

"Don't you worry about Paolo," Uther said, patting me on the back. "He will be judged."

"I'm probably as old as he is. I could beat him up for you," Lettie offered.

Uther grunted and wagged his index finger at her. Suddenly he stopped, his finger pointing to the sky.

"Uther?" Lettie said.

"Shh," he said. "Stay here." He darted from the room.

"Don't worry, Zee," Lettie said. But she turned away from me and fingered the collar of her shirt, so I worried.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

Uther burst back through the door, his eyes wide.

"Lettie, did you tell anyone about Axelia?" he asked.

"What? No," Lettie said.

"Letticia, did you tell anyone about Axelia?" he asked again.

"I...I just mentioned it briefly to Merrill. I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

He looked around the room. "It's too late to hide her."

"Hide me from who?" I said.

A door closed inside the church. "They're inside," Lettie whispered. "What do we do, Uther?"

He thought for a moment, glanced at the window, and shook his head. "We can do nothing. They'll hear us leave."

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hall—it sounded like marching troops—and we all backed away from the door.

"Neither of you speak," Uther said.

A chill ripped through my body as we stared down the door. I was struck with the ridiculous thought that it might be Sofia and the police coming to take me home. Then we heard a pounding knock and the door quivered in its frame.

# Chapter 8

They filed into the room, a dozen stern-looking men in black. My nostrils filled with the scent of leather from their kneepads, gloves, and heavy boots. A circular gold symbol of a snake swallowing its own tail sparkled on the upper corner of their Kevlar vests. Sheathed swords hung across their backs, the handles braided in black cloth like those of samurai swords. Daggers and other objects were strapped to their belts and to holsters on their arms and thighs.

"What is the meaning of this?" Uther demanded.

The soldiers parted and a huge man turned sideways and ducked to enter the room.

"Cleric," he said in a deep, rumbling voice.

"General," Uther said, surprised.

"It's been a long time," the general said.

"Yes," Uther answered. "Not since Letticia was blessed."

The general glanced at Lettie, who had inched in front of me; he nodded at her with his cleft chin. His protruding brow was missing a chunk of hair where a scar cut across his right eye. The mark was like a worm crawling under the surface of his skin down to his cheek. His close-cropped hair was ash blond on top and silver around his pointed ears, and his hairline formed a V in the middle of his forehead. When he moved, his leather jacket groaned and pulled taut around his shoulders and arms.

"To what do we owe this honor?" Uther asked.

"I wish we were visiting on better terms, but the Monarchy received some disturbing news tonight," the general said. He sauntered around his men, who lined the room like statues. He was a head taller than most of them.

"It seems, Cleric, that the shrine has been breached," he said.

He waited for a reaction. Uther remained silent.

"We received word of a human entering the shrine and gaining access to the Crucivium, which you were entrusted to protect. Is this true?"

"Yes, General."

"We understand that the human desecrated the Crucivium with her body. We understand that she emerged a vampire. Is this true?"

"Yes, General."

The soldiers remained still but they watched me with their eyes.

"Most unholy," the general whispered. "When did this occur?"

"Shortly after dusk," Uther said. "It was my mistake."

Uther looked at me apologetically. "I was careless and left the door to the sanctum open. I had gone to pick up some supplies and when I returned, I heard the girl and a vampire in the church. The girl tried to escape and she ran to the shrine and fell into the well."

"Was it your intention, Cleric, to hide this from the Monarchy?"

"No, General," he answered. "I had yet to contact the Monarchy because I wanted to first ensure her proper care. I also wanted to study her and gather information for a full report to the Empress."

The general approached Lettie and me. He looked at me for the first time and gave me the once-over. His dark gray eyes bore into mine and I looked down. As he towered over me, I felt like a child who'd misbehaved. My head sank and my shoulders rose up to my ears.

"This is the trespasser?" he asked.

"Yes," Uther said. "Her name is Axelia."

The general paused, absorbing my name. He scowled.

"We have been ordered to bring this abomination before the Monarchy, by order of the Empress," he said.

Abomination? Stunned, I raised my head and met his glower.

"General, could we not wait until tomorrow evening when she has had time to rest and I have had time to observe her?"

"Cleric, are you questioning the Empress's orders?"

"No, General, of course not."

"Tread carefully, Cleric. You too will be judged for your failure to do your sacred duty."

"Uther, they can't take Zee," Lettie said.

The general whirled around and growled at her; she was like a mouse who had bitten the tail of a tiger.

"Insolence!" he hissed.

"Lettie, please," Uther said.

"But Uther..."

A soldier marched up to her and grabbed her arm.

"Hey!" she cried.

"Seize the vampire!" ordered the general. His mouth twisted into a snarl, revealing two gleaming fangs.

Two soldiers gripped Uther by his arms while the others converged upon us.

"No!" Lettie shouted. A soldier grabbed her with both hands, crushing her arms to her sides and lifting her off of the ground. "Stop!" she cried out.

Screaming, I tried to run but they were on me in an instant, grabbing my arms, wrenching me away from Lettie. I kicked at the desk and the mug fell, exploding on the floor, splashing blood on my legs. They pulled me from the room like a rag doll.

"Uther!" I cried.

"General, this is unnecessary..." Uther said.

I heard his voice grow fainter and fainter as they dragged me through the dark halls, my heels sliding all over the hardwood and then across the cold, marble church floors. Overhead, paintings of saints witnessed my abduction.

Outside, an engine started as the soldiers pushed open the heavy front doors. The night air rushed me and chilled my bare, wet legs. A cube truck was parked in the courtyard, and they tossed me into the cargo area. I landed on my shoulder blade and did a backward somersault, hitting my head on the back of the truck.

"Ow!"

The general walked out of the church and crossed his arms. We stared at each other for a moment and then he turned his head and spat on the ground.

"Lock the door," he said, and they shut me in the dark.

***

The street's symphony blared outside the truck. Over the drone of the engine, I could hear the Vespas zipping around the vehicle like flies. And voices. Music from a radio. A dog barking. A passing bus. Footsteps, the snap of sandals against soles. The truck grumbled to a crawl and spluttered and coughed before starting again. I could smell exhaust, French fries as we rounded a corner, coffee at another turn. And then for a long while, there was nothing but the wind assaulting the sides of the truck and the smell of gas.

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.

# Chapter 9

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."

# Chapter 10

"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.

"We're both going to burn," he said. "At least this way I get to watch you die."

"Why are you so cruel?" I whispered.

He curled his lip. "You think I'm the villain."

"I wasn't the one luring girls to the church to murder them."

"You do not comprehend, do you? You are insignificant. You humans crawl around the earth like insects, destroying the land. Do you think it matters if one of you gets crushed? You are food. I like to say you are nothing but 'meat on feet.'" He laughed scornfully.

"You're wrong."

"Do you know what is wrong? When humans whine and cry before I feed. But hours earlier, they were eating steak. Where does that meat come from? I do not see people giving any sympathy to their meals."

He pointed at me. "You would understand now that you are a vampire. It is a pity that you will never get to drain a human being. It is exquisite. It is best when you hunt your own game and the blood is fresh. It is best when they struggle. It makes the blood flow faster..."

"Stop it!"

"I was looking forward to tasting you. I would have drawn every last drop."

"Shut up!"

A minute of silence passed between us.

"I didn't want this," I muttered.

Paolo sniffed. "You should be grateful that you were even blessed for a moment. You have been rescued from your rotting corpse. You have experienced immortality. You have experienced perfection. Look at yourself. This is your purest form. Your worst qualities have been sifted out, the flaws and weaknesses blown away. The way you have been experiencing the world with your pathetic human senses? Now you know. You were living in a fog. You were appreciating only a fraction of what this world has to offer. That life was worth nothing."

"At least I had a life. I had a family. I was going to go to university and get married."

"That is pitiful, Zee."

"Don't you dare say my name."

I can't die here with him.

I pulled at my chains. They were attached to a metal ring bolted into a plate in the wall. I scanned the ground for rocks, tools, anything that might jimmy the fastening.

"What are you doing?" he asked, annoyed.

"We have to get out of here," I said.

"There is no way out. When the sun comes in, we are gone."

"What do you mean?"

He looked up. Our prison was topped with an iron grate. The sky through the grate was blue. It was dawn.

"What happens when the sun comes in?" I asked.

"We burn to dust."

***

I should have never trusted Paolo. My entire life I had been a good, cautious person. Just this once I had wanted a little adventure—and now this. Why? Why me?

"You want to know?" Paolo said. I had unwittingly asked the question out loud.

"Why you? Because you looked," he paused, "as if you were bursting with energy. You were rushing through the streets with your pastries, looking wildly around, your cheeks flushed. And everyone else in comparison appeared in black-and-white slow motion."

I couldn't tell if he was trying to be tender in our last moments. Perhaps he was sorry.

"And as we walked, you babbled endlessly about your thoughts, your wants, your future. I didn't care about what you were saying, but the way you spoke, so excited, it had been a long time since I had seen that kind of passion."

He looked me in the eye.

"You were so full of life," he said. "I simply wanted to take it. And you gave it so willingly."

I shook my head. "You disgust me."

The sky lightened and the air warmed. I heard gulls and waves. I could smell the sea. Paolo sat against the wall, his arms resting on his knees and his head down. I paced the floor and pressed my body against the stone walls. I thought of my parents. I thought of Ryka. I thought of Uther. Maybe there was still hope that he could get me out.

"It is hopeless," Paolo said. "Sit down."

"Why don't you help me? You're supposed to be stronger."

"What is the point? There is no escape," he said, sniveling.

"Are you...are you crying?" I asked, surprised.

He raised his head and crimson tears leaked out of his eyes. "I cannot die. I am too young. There is so much that I have not done," he cried, his face contorted.

"You're too young? I'm seventeen. You're like, a million years old."

"What do you know?"

"Stop it. Stop crying. We need to figure this out. Listen. Paulo, listen to me. If we can somehow get these chains off, maybe we can climb the walls. The stones stick out a bit so I think I can get my fingers in..."

Paolo started to wail. "The sun is coming!"

I looked up. The light blue sky was cloudless and the sun's rays came in at an angle on the wall above Paolo's head. I could see particles of dust doing their dance in the sunlight.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

I grabbed the length of chain behind my back and ran toward Paolo to try to rip it from the wall. It didn't budge. I threw myself forward again and again until I slipped and fell face down. Worn out, I rolled onto my side and pushed my feet against the wall, pulling the chain taut.

"Please, I do not want to die!" Paolo moaned.

"Shut up! I don't want to die either," I shouted. I meant I didn't want to die again.

The sun's slow creep downward was agonizing. Paolo wept, his words becoming unintelligible. The light caused him to squint. Whimpering, he curled into the fetal position as the rays hovered over him.

I continued my desperate work on my chains. Please break. Please break. The metal plate on the wall was secured with four bolts. I yanked on my bindings and I thought I saw the bolts jiggle.

Yes!

All of a sudden, Paolo shrieked. I turned and screamed.

He was burning in the sun. Smoke lifted upward from his writhing body. His face, his hands and chest, were dark red and wet like a skinned animal. Yellow blisters bubbled up all over him and then burst as the skin tore into open wounds. The pus, viscous like tomato pulp, hardened into a brown layer. The sun singed off his thick hair and scabs spread across his scalp.

Still in the shade, I pulled at my chains with all of my strength. Come on! The bolts loosened. I saw them spring up with every jerk.

Paolo was now unrecognizable, covered in a smoldering, crackling charcoal crust. He had stopped moving. He was no longer screaming. Through the haze I could see that the door was already bathed in sunlight. I'm going to burn.

I let out a piercing cry and wrenched the chain from the wall. The metal plate shot off and hit Paolo in the head, causing parts of his blackened face to crumble off. His body was starting to disintegrate, like a collapsing sand sculpture. I fell backward and wrestled my shackles under my butt and my legs so that my hands were at least in front of me, though still bound together by about a foot of heavy chain. I scrambled to my feet and reached for a handhold.

It's too late.

I looked up and into the sunlight.

# Chapter 11

My arms flew up to cover my face. I squeezed my eyes tight and waited for excruciating death to wrest me from this place.

Behind me Paolo's remains hissed and crackled. His ashes settled on my skin. I inhaled his smoke, held the burned taste in the back of my throat. But I felt no pain.

How quickly it happens. It didn't even hurt.

I opened my eyes and saw my sunlit bicep. I turned my hands over as if I was holding the sun's rays in my palms. I rubbed my forearms.

"What...?"

I'm alive.

I looked at Paolo over my shoulder. He was like an ancient statue, battered by time and the elements. You could still make out the shape of his legs, his crooked arm shielding his head. But he had stumps for hands and his face had caved in.

I don't understand. Vampires burn in the sun. I'm not burning.

None of it made sense. Then it struck me. Hope.

Maybe I'm not a vampire.

This realization filled me with elation. If true, this would rewrite my history. It would mean that I could return to my life, to my family. That one day, this could all be a horrible, distant memory.

I heard an abrupt crack and I turned to see Paolo's head fall and break apart.

I had to get out of here. The vampires would come for me and when they saw that I had not died, they would find some other way of killing me.

I stepped over Paolo and searched the iron door for a handle. No knob. No way of opening it from the inside. I tried to push it but it wouldn't budge, and I stumbled back, hitting Paolo's calf. His leg below the knee crumbled like dry earth.

Only one way out.

I stretched my arms and my fingertips caught the lip of a stone. I pulled my body up. It was easier than I had expected. It was almost as if I had no weight. My toes found footholds on the smallest edges. I ran my hands above my head until at least one of my fingers slipped into a crevice or until I could grab rock between my fingers and thumbs, squeezing the stone like a vice.

This again. Climbing. It's like I've died and become Spider-Man.

I tried to be careful, patient. I waited until I could make each move safely. One step at a time. My chains rattled against the wall and I had to be mindful not to step on them. You can do this. Keep going. Don't look down. Almost there.

I never looked back at Paolo. The sun warmed my face as I climbed.

At the top, the roar of the waves was deafening. I had a firm hold on a brick with my right hand; I grabbed the metal grate with my free hand—please, this is my only chance—and gave it a push. The bolts gave. Grunting, I thrust my palm up and the grate broke off. I slid it over enough for me to climb out.

I looked around. There was nothing but water, wind, and sky. I straddled the two-foot-thick tower wall and blinked at the twinkling, deep blue expanse. The prison tower sat on the edge of a cliff, away from the castle. Rolling waves exploded against its base. A single gull floated on the wind over the water.

I crouched on the stone lip of the tower, my feet together, my chained hands on either side of them just barely able to grip the tower's edge. I was going to have to jump out far enough to clear the rocks. Do this and you'll be free. You'll find a way home.

Or I'll smack my head on a rock and then drown.

There wasn't room to run and leap. You can do this.

I steadied myself and slowly rose, my feet apart, my legs bent, my arms outstretched.

"One," I said. The wind muffled the count. I hesitated a minute before resuming.

"Two."

Three!

I squatted back on my left foot and launched forward. For a second, only a second, I was running in the air, my feet pedaling against the sky. Then I was plummeting. I screamed, took a breath and screamed again. I saw the ocean rush at me and I feared the horrible moment when we would collide. Instead, I broke through the blue floor. My body seemed to explode on impact, the cold arresting all my senses. I sank, my toes pointed downward until I tucked my legs in and kicked out. I kicked again and surfaced at the climax of a wave, which was about to hurl me against the cliffs. I gasped and dived under. I kicked in the other direction. The current pushed against me but I sank deeper until the ocean floor and its sand and pebbles and jagged bits pressed against my stomach and scratched my knees.

I don't know how long I stayed there or how long I swam. I don't know when I realized that I didn't need to take a breath.

***

I awoke face down in mud. Water surged over my legs and receded, pulling sand and debris from under my body and back into the ocean. I remembered swimming. I could have been swimming all day. I flopped over onto my back and tried to rub away the dirt caked on my eyelids and the hair matted to my face, but my hands were covered in soil and my chains were tangled in dead plants. My tongue tasted salt and earth. Granules of sand crunched between my teeth. I ached with hunger.

The setting sun had left angry red streaks across the lavender sky. The splotches of purple on the horizon looked like fresh bruises.

I rolled over and crawled away from the shore until the dirt and sand became grass. I stood up slowly and staggered toward a forest, crunching twigs under my bare feet. Leaning on a tree I put my hand to my chest, and my thumb slid under a soft chain.

After all that had happened, I was still wearing the necklace that Paolo had given me. I gripped the pendant and tore it from my neck. The chain snapped. With a cry I launched it into the trees.

I am finally free.

Freedom. Relief. Triumph. I allowed myself to feel those things. I let out a laugh and then a sob. I wove wearily through the trees and descended into a ravine. I saw only snippets of the sky through the green canopy. I gathered the length of chain dragging between my legs and wrapped it around my hands. I trudged farther, and soon the sound of water faded and was replaced by the rustle of leaves and the song of insects. It comforted me. I let my mind go blank for the first time in days and I just walked. A sleepwalker.

The light receded and night took over. I could still see the forest before me, although everything appeared in shades of gray.

I survived the sun. That makes me not a vampire. But I have night vision and I swam along the ocean floor for hours. That makes me a vampire. Is there an in-between?

I pushed through branches and the constant crackling assailed my ears. My body felt like it was filled with pulp. Every step was work. I leaned on a muscular tree and scanned the woods, looking for a place to rest. Across a small clearing I saw something gleam. What is that? Squinting, I shuffled toward it. Closer, it looked like a silver line drawn on a tree trunk. It's a chain. I reached up and took the tiny chain in my hand. I gave it a tug but it was stuck to the tree. I dug my fingers into the bark and pried the silver object out of the tree.

It was my necklace.

Confused, I looked around. I don't understand. How did this get here? My tired mind remembered throwing this away. I did. I threw this away. Didn't I? A small gasp escaped my lips. Had I thrown it this far? Had I thrown it hard enough to embed it into a tree?

"What the..."

In response, I heard a toad croaking. It was squatting at the base of a moss-covered tree trunk, blowing its throat into a huge bubble. I stood, staring at it, waiting for it to leave but it didn't move. And I was thankful because it eased my loneliness.

"You wouldn't believe the day I've just had," I said.

No answer. I crouched, facing the toad's glassy black eyes and throbbing gullet.

"If this was a fairy tale, we'd kiss and you'd turn into a prince," I said.

Croak.

"It could happen. Crazier things have happened."

The toad hopped away and I heard its bloated body land in some bushes. "Thanks for the chat."

I felt alone again. Except that all of a sudden, I wasn't.

A man stood about thirty feet from me. A wide-brimmed hat hid his face but he was staring in my direction. I dropped my necklace and froze. Something in his hand caught the moonlight. It was an ax.

# Chapter 12

I should have run but before I could react, he was ten feet away. He was wearing a pea-green T-shirt and cargo pants. He looked up from under his brown hat and squinted at me. A handsome man, he appeared to be in his late forties. In a low, hoarse voice he said something in Italian. I should have studied harder at the language school. He took a step forward and I stepped back. He pressed his thin lips together and nodded once, then slid the handle of his small ax into his belt loop. He repeated himself.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"Young lady, are you lost?" he asked in English.

I said nothing.

"My name is Noel," he said. "Are you lost?"

"Yes," I said.

"Are you alone? I heard you talking to someone."

"I...I was talking to a toad."

"I see," he said. "Did he talk back?"

I shook my head.

"That is a good sign. Where are you headed?"

I didn't know so I couldn't say.

"Where did you come from?"

"I'm from Canada."

"Well," he said. He put his hands on his hips. "You are a long way from home."

All of a sudden, my knees trembled and my peripheral vision became fuzzy. Everything started to turn sideways. Either the world was tipping over, or I was falling. Noel rushed to my side.

"Whoa, easy there," he said. He held my elbows and shook me until my lolling head rolled backward. "Hey, hey, are you okay?"

I tried to say that I was fine, but it came out in a mumble. I felt woozy.

He looked at my shackles. "Who did this to you?" his voice was so far away. "Don't worry. We can get these off of you."

He lowered me onto my knees and kicked a rock in front of me. He positioned my hands on either side of the rock and pulled his ax free.

"Now, don't move."

He didn't give me a second to answer or even blink. With one swoop, he cut through the links between my manacles. The chain that had held me to the wall jangled as it piled onto the ground.

"My house is nearby. Why don't you stop there, rest your feet, have something to drink and then you can be on your way? I have some tools there to get these things off of your wrists."

I tried to meet his green eyes but my eyes would not focus. He had soot smeared across the bumpy bridge of his nose. He interpreted my murmuring as an affirmative answer and led me further into the forest. I was so tired. The journey was a blur, punctuated by crickets, the whisper of leaves, trickling water, and Noel's encouragement: "Easy. Almost there." I stumbled over some rocks and had to grab his forearm to steady myself.

"Careful now," he said. "We'll need to find you some shoes."

He lifted me over a creek, like a father would a child, his hands under my armpits and in a sweeping arc.

"You must have been through something awful," he said, almost to himself. "You must be a very brave girl."

Or a stupid girl, following a stranger to his deserted house in the woods. He could be a serial killer. Then again, I'm the undead.

In the distance, I thought I heard the tinkle of bells. "It's just beyond these trees," he said.

His squat, gray stone house sat in the middle of a clearing, its roof shingles weathered and covered in moss. On either side of the entrance was a shuttered window, and a crystal wind chime dangled beside the wooden door. The air smelled like firewood.

I waited at the front door while he went inside and fumbled for lights.

"I keep telling Jerome to go into town to fix our generator," Noel said, his voice becoming soft and then loud as he moved around the house. I heard the sizzle of a match. He lit several lanterns.

From the entrance I scanned the living room on my left and a dining area on my right. Inside, the walls were bare stone. If only the ceilings weren't so low I could show Noel my wall-climbing prowess in his home.

Against one wall sat a mahogany-framed Victorian sofa. In front of the sofa, there was a rectangular coffee table and a black rocking chair. An intricate spider web spread across the rungs on the back of the chair; tiny victims were wound up in gauze in every quadrant but there was no sign of their predator. Four chairs were pushed under a round dining table covered with hardcover books, mallets, and other tools. Beyond the living area the kitchen was bare, except for a few glasses and mugs arrayed on the wooden, L-shaped counter.

"Come in," he said. He threw his hat on the counter and rubbed his short brown hair.

I took one step inside on the tips of my toes. "I'm sorry about..." I looked down at my dirty legs and feet on the hardwood floors.

"Don't worry. Look, I'm wearing my boots. None of us ever cleans anyway. Come in and close the door. Let me get you a glass of something."

He bent over the sink and began rinsing out a white teacup with a faded floral pattern and a curly handle.

"I should get Jerome to sweep or dust or something."

"Jerome is your son?" I asked. I didn't want to sit. Everything was covered in a layer of dust so I just leaned on a dining chair to steady myself.

"I consider him like a son. My son's name is Lucas. They're probably both out back, trying to avoid their chores. Let me call them."

He left the teacup in the sink and pulled open a back door. "Boys, come in here."

I heard grunting and the clink of metal against metal. I leaned backward so I could peer out the door. In the field behind the house, two figures circled each other, their long swords glinting in the moonlight. They approached one another until the tips of their blades crossed.

"Attack," the taller one said.

"What is your name?" Noel said. I looked at him as he opened a small fridge with rounded corners.

"Zee. My name is Zee," I said. When my eyes flitted back, the smaller figure was rolling in the grass and the taller one stood over him, holding his sword over his shoulder.

"Boys!" Noel called.

The taller one extended his hand and pulled his opponent to his feet. They slipped their swords into sheaths and came jogging toward the house, two shirtless young men in dark, baggy shorts.

"I keep telling you to keep your blade higher or you'll slash your own neck when you block," the taller one said. He had a smooth baritone voice.

The smaller one bounded into the house and stopped dead inside the doorway. He looked to be about fourteen years old, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. A slow smile spread across his face. "Hey, Lucas. Check this out."

The taller one stepped in. About six feet tall, slim and muscled, he had olive skin and close-cropped brown hair. He seemed to be about my age or older. He looked me up and down; he wasn't smiling. I tugged my skirt toward my knees.

"Boys, this is Zee."

"Hello," the smaller guy said, bowing his head. "I am called Jerome."

"I found her lost in the woods. She's just stopping by for a rest," Noel said.

"What did we say about taking in strays?" Lucas said in a monotone.

"Ignore him, Zee. He can be a little moody."

"What's with the schoolgirl outfit?" Lucas said.

I hugged my arms across my chest. "These clothes aren't mine," I said.

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "And the cuffs?"

"I thought they went with the outfit."

Jerome smiled, but Lucas remained stone-faced.

"Jerome, get a chair for Zee."

Jerome ran up to me and grabbed the chair that I was leaning on. He pulled it out and spun it around. "Please," he said. He pushed a stack of books away, creating streaks of dust on the table. Lucas crossed his arms over his abs and leaned back against the fridge.

"Thanks," I said and sat down.

Noel set the teacup in front of me. "Here you go."

I looked down and gasped. It was filled almost to the brim with blood. I looked up at them.

"What's wrong?" Noel asked.

"How did you know that I was..."

"Was what?" Lucas said.

I scanned each of their faces. Noel looked confused, Jerome curious, and Lucas irritated.

"That I was a..."

"Vampire?" Lucas said.

I nodded.

"Do we look like idiots?" Lucas retorted.

"Of course not," I said.

"Are you an idiot?" Lucas again.

"Possibly," I said.

"Lucas," Noel said.

"We're vampires," Lucas said. "We can hear that your heart doesn't beat."

# Chapter 13

I had put myself in a dangerous position. "Are you an idiot?" Lucas had said. Yes. I am. I needed to leave. I pushed my chair back and tried to stand. Instead I slipped to the floor, causing Jerome to cry out in alarm. Lucas sighed and left through the back door. Jerome put me back in the chair.

"Are you new?" Noel asked.

I nodded.

"When?"

"I'm not sure anymore. Yesterday or the day before."

"Where is your sire?"

"My what? I don't understand."

"Your sire. The one who made you," he said.

"I don't know. I don't have one," I said.

"What about your guardian?"

My parents? I shook my head.

"My God, your sire abandoned you without a guardian." Noel frowned. "It's his holy duty to care for you or at least to entrust a guardian to do so. What kind of vampire would do that?"

I said nothing. I felt dishonest. But how could I explain?

"Have you fed?"

I made a face and shook my head again.

"This is why you're so weak," he said. "Here, you need to drink this immediately." He picked up the teacup by its rim and held it out in front of me. Reluctantly I slipped my index finger into its delicate handle.

"I don't know if I can do this," I said.

"Yes, you can," Noel said. "Just drink it fast."

"Oh God," I said.

"Do it."

I put the teacup to my lips and tipped it back. The cold, iron-y liquid spilled into my mouth. I gulped it down and then gagged. But the blood coated my insides like dripping oil, radiating heat on the way down. And it was invigorating. The second mouthful was easier. It tasted nasty, but it felt so good and my body tingled. I felt hot inside but cool on the surface. There was only one thing I could compare the feeling to: growing up, when I had a cold, my mother would slather my chest with minty vapor rub; it was like having that balm everywhere.

"You want more?" Noel asked. He was holding a clear glass jug half-filled with blood.

I shook one last ruby droplet onto my tongue and then stared into the empty cup in amazement.

"Yes, please."

After my second cup, Noel took me across the field to a brick garage topped with a gray chimney. He lit a lantern inside the door, illuminating the space.

"Welcome to my workshop," he said.

Metal tools and instruments hung on the walls. Soot and ash blanketed every surface. Anvils, hammers, and water troughs were positioned around an open furnace. Noel walked around a pile of metal bits in the middle of the workshop and grabbed a handheld saw from a shelf.

"What do you do here?" I asked.

"I'm a swordsmith. I make weapons."

He placed two stools in front of me and patted one of them. I sat down and rested my arms on the other.

"Noel," I said, "I really like my hands, okay?"

His smile lengthened the crow's feet at the edges of his eyes. "Don't worry. I've never used this thing before but how hard can it be? Just don't move."

The saw squealed and I turned away from the orange sparks. The manacle opened with a clatter.

"Zee, I hope you didn't need your right hand," Noel said.

"It's okay. As long as I have the left."

He broke open the left cuff a few seconds later. I rubbed my wrists. "Thank you."

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes, much. Earlier, I felt like the walking dead," I said. "I mean, well, you know."

He laughed. "You just needed some sustenance. See? The blood wasn't so bad."

"Well, I'd still rather have a root beer but at least I'm not starving."

"You'll be starving again soon."

"Will it always be like this?"

"The hunger is always there. But it abates with time. You're young. Your body just needs the blood to grow strong."

He returned the saw to its place on the packed shelf and a cloud of dust wafted up.

"Is it just the three of you here?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry if I've intruded. Lucas seemed upset."

"Don't worry about him. He's wary of strangers."

"I guess it doesn't get stranger than a barefoot schoolgirl in chains."

He laughed.

"Jerome only joined us a few decades ago. We needed help with some extra work. His presence has really brightened Lucas's spirits," he said, pulling the stool under him so he could sit with me. "He was probably pretty sick of his old man's company."

"Have you been vampires for long?"

"More than six hundred years," he said.

"Wow," I said. "I can't even imagine what that would be like."

"One day, you'll know," he said.

Will I?

"Have you always lived here?" I said.

"We've lived all over the world. America. Asia."

I wondered if I would ever get to travel to those places. If I would ever go home.

"Noel?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," I said. "You've been very kind."

"You seem like a good girl, Zee," he said. "I had daughters who were about your age."

Had.

He rubbed his chin with the back of his fingers and leaned forward to pick up one of the broken cuffs. He shook his head. "Who put you in these?"

I opened my mouth and then closed it. What could I say? I was afraid that he wouldn't understand. That he would turn me over to the Monarchy if he knew. Instead, I dropped my head and swallowed a rush of emotion.

"I...I can't," I faltered. "I'm afraid that..."

"Don't worry," he said. He put a hand on my trembling shoulder. "You're safe here."

Someone approached in the grass. The footsteps stopped in front of the door.

"Come in, Jerome," Noel said.

The door squeaked open and Jerome came in. He had put on a white T-shirt. He carried some clothes over his left arm and held a pair of white runners in his right hand.

"I hope they fit," he said, presenting me with the items.

"Thanks."

"Jerome, accompany Zee back to the house so she can take a shower and get cleaned up."

"Yes sir."

As we walked through the field, I said to Jerome, "Noel is so nice."

"He's a good man," Jerome said, nodding. "He used to have a big family, two sons and three daughters."

"Used to?"

He shrugged. "When he was human."

We kept walking. "Now it's just Noel and Lucas," he said.

"And you," I said.

"And now you," he said.

"Oh, I'm just passing through."

"Sure you are," he said with a grin.

***

I knew that he knew that I was watching him, but he ignored me. And I just stood there, dressed in a black T-shirt, navy track shorts and over-sized runners, amazed by what he was doing. Lucas was fighting imaginary opponents in the woods. He leaped up and kicked his legs apart, doing the splits in mid air. His feet snapped two trees flanking him. They tumbled, crackling and whispering, against other trees.

"That's incredible," I said.

He continued to beat the air.

"Where did you learn martial arts?"

When he didn't respond, I said: "I just wanted to thank you and say that I'm sorry if I offended you earlier. I really appreciate everyone's help."

I turned on my heels and started to leave.

"You don't have to thank me," he said. "I didn't help you. My father did."

"I'm grateful."

"What else do you want?"

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You say that you don't know who your sire is, that you have no guardian," he said, walking toward me. "That's bull. Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm overstaying my welcome, clearly."

"You may have fooled my father but I know that you're hiding something."

He stood a foot from my face and glared down his nose. His eyes were yellow-green, like those of a cat. He had an angular jawline and full, almost pouty lips. He might have been good looking if he hadn't been so menacing.

"I don't want to cause your family any trouble," I said. "They've been very kind. And, anyway, I'm leaving. I have to get back to my own family."

"Good," he said. He swept by me, nudging my shoulder so that I stumbled back. "The sooner, the better."

I waited in the darkness until I heard him open the door before I turned around and followed. He slammed the door shut behind him, causing the windowpane to shudder in its frame. Through the walls I heard Noel say, "Why do you have to be like that?" Boots clomped across the kitchen. There was no reply.

Jerome opened the door as I mounted the stone step.

"I'm sorry that my son is being an ass," Noel said. Lucas, who was standing in the middle of the living room with his hands balled into fists at his sides, cast an angry stare at his father.

"I appreciate your help, removing the chains, giving me clothes and, uh, feeding me," I said. "But I should really get going. Thank you, again."

"What?" said Noel. "You can't leave so soon."

"You've been so nice to me but I have to go."

"Please stay, I insist."

"Really," I said, "it's okay."

Lucas glared. "Father, she wants to go."

"Absolutely not," Noel said, his tone changing.

"Why?" Lucas and I said at the same time.

"The sun's coming up in a few hours. You can't be wandering around, trying to find shelter at dawn."

Lucas's shoulders sagged. He shook his head and his eyes searched the room as if he was trying to find a solution in the dust. Our eyes met. In my mind I imagined him to be hissing.

I'm not worried about the sun. I'm worried about your son drop-kicking me in the face.

"Zee, you'll have to stay another day," Noel said. "Please. We'll help you get on your way tomorrow night if that's what you want."

"Will you stay?" Jerome asked.

It did seem safer to stay a day with Noel rather than wander around in the woods. "Okay. I can leave tomorrow."

Noel smiled. "Now let's all have a drink and turn in for the day."

# Chapter 14

This gives new meaning to "playing dead," I thought as I lay on my side, watching the vampires sleep. They didn't move. They didn't breathe. After fifteen minutes of silence, I called Noel's name and no one answered. It was as if they were in a coma. Or dead.

We were underneath the house. Noel had pulled up a trapdoor in the kitchen, revealing a set of creaky wooden stairs and an expansive basement. It was a maze of wood beams, crates, drawers, and chests. Along the walls were floor-to-ceiling cabinets. Jerome spread a cream towel over a wooden chest and rolled another towel into a pillow for me. "So, we sleep on top of coffins?" I joked. Noel chuckled but Lucas snapped: "If you want a luxury hotel, then go find one."

We each had a tall glass of blood before retiring. I felt as if I'd just downed a shot of espresso. I turned onto my back, blinking against the blackness, inhaling the musty air and pressing my spine into the towel and the wood planks.

I wonder what's in these crates? I hope it's not bodies. They can't be bad guys; I couldn't bear it. I really like these people. Well, not Lucas. He's a jerk.

I should have told them. I should have told them about the well, the Monarchy, the attempted execution, the sunlight. But I was afraid they would react poorly and return me to the castle. I knew Lucas would, in a heartbeat. I just hated feeling like I was lying to them. Especially since Noel had been so kind to me.

I remembered Noel scolding Lucas while he served us our drinks. I remembered him teasing Jerome about how he slurped. It felt like I was at home, like I was part of a family. I missed my own family so much.

Outside, above ground, wind rippled through the trees. I rolled off the chest. I can't lie here all day. I need to walk around. I maneuvered around the boxes, which I saw in silhouette, and climbed the stairs. I paused to see if the groaning stairs had disturbed anyone. No one stirred. I pushed up on the trapdoor and went out.

With all of the shutters closed and curtains over the windows, the house was dim. But in the day, the sofa's cream upholstery appeared tie-dyed in yellow and brown. Dirt obscured the titles of the books on the table. Flecks of dried blood dotted the counter, the floor, the face of the fridge. Boot prints created a mosaic across the floor. They need to invest in a cleaning lady.

A flock of birds flew overhead. The flapping of their wings sounded like applause. I opened the back door a crack and waved my hand through the beam of light. Still okay. I stepped outside and turned my face up to greet the sunlight. Through my closed eyes it looked like the world was ablaze. I bathed in the sun's warmth. I felt alive.

I walked into the field, the long grass tickling my knees, a breeze catching in my hair. Jerome's big runners made me feel like I was wearing clown shoes. I followed a butterfly in between some trees. It soared on the wind like a kite with its yellow and black papery forewings and brilliant, royal blue hind wings. I tracked its journey through the woods until it spiraled, flew toward me, as if acknowledging my presence, and then rose into the treetops.

I paused and I felt despair descend on me. What was I going to do now? How would I survive? To distract myself, I picked wildflowers: tiny yellow flowers, purple flowers with spiky petals, blood-red poppies. I gathered tall stems that looked as if they were topped with a bunch of grapes, and others covered with white blooms that reminded me of lilies. I reclined in a ditch softened by dead foliage and listened to the forest. I imagined my mother in her garden, with her plastic watering can and her yellow polka-dot gardening gloves. Wanting to remember every detail of her face, I turned this picture of her over and over in my mind. I never wanted to forget. She has a brown spot under her left eye. When she smiles, she has a single dimple in her right cheek.

Later, I returned to the quiet house with my bouquet. In the doorway I surveyed the place and decided that flowers would not help. I needed to clean. I opened all of the cabinets in the kitchen. They were empty except for dead bugs, cobwebs, tools, and knives.

Under the sink, I found a hardened cloth, a half-empty bottle of dish soap, a plastic container, and random mechanical bits. I pulled the container out, unscrewed the cap, and smelled the liquid. I coughed. It was some sort of fuel. I wet the cloth with soapy water and went to work.

I'm like Snow White, doing housework in the forest for dwarfs. Lucas is definitely Grumpy.

I cleared the dining table, wiped the books, and stacked them in a corner. They were in different languages. I placed Sun Tzu's The Art of War on top of the pile. I wiped away cobwebs and the coat of dust on the furniture. I cleaned the floors. I arranged the flowers in two empty glass jugs and placed them on the dining table and the coffee table. Then I flopped down on the sofa and rested my feet on the table.

I must have dozed off. I awoke with a start when Lucas kicked my feet off of the table. The room was already dark.

"I must have fallen..."

Lucas bent forward and yanked me to my feet by the front of my shirt. "Hey!" I said.

"What were you doing?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" I said, trying to pry his fingers from my collar.

"You left the undercroft in the day," he said.

"Ow! Let go of me. I left the what?"

"The cellar, you left in the morning. Why would you go out in the day? I thought I heard you go outside, which is inconceivable. Then I heard you making all sorts of racket up here. What the hell were you doing?"

I wrested my shirt from his grip. "I'm sorry. I thought you were sleeping. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was cleaning."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to surprise your dad."

"Are you crazy, or just stupid?" He stared at me. "How did you avoid the sun?"

"I..."

The stairs creaked as Noel emerged from the basement.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed. His face brightened. He rested his hands on his hips and took a tour. "Look at this place. It looks like people live here."

Jerome closed the trapdoor behind him and smiled at me.

"And you even picked flowers," Noel said.

Lucas scowled at me with narrowed eyes. "You went outside to get those flowers?"

"Yes."

"In the day?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible?" he asked.

All three turned to me. No one said anything.

"I don't burn in the sunlight," I said.

Still no one reacted. It was as if I'd spoken in a foreign language.

"I don't know how," I continued. "I just don't burn."

Jerome appeared frightened. He looked at Noel, but Noel couldn't reassure him because he also wore a bewildered expression.

"You're lying," Lucas said. He scanned my body and then the living room. "How did you survive? Did you have some sort of armor, or..."

His mouth kept moving but he was at a loss for words.

"I don't have a magic cape or anything," I said.

You have to tell them everything. You have to explain or they'll keep looking at you like you're a creature from outer space.

"What are you?" Lucas said, his tone suddenly shifting.

"I'm not sure. I don't think I was supposed to be a vampire."

"Then what were you supposed to be?" he said.

"Dead."

I started the story with Paolo. The air in the room grew dense and humid. I told them about the church, the well. About Uther, the soldiers and the Empress. Then I told them about escaping and meeting Noel in the woods.

When I was finished, I sat on the sofa, trying to interpret the expressions on their faces. The only one who looked calm was Noel. He spoke first.

"That is quite the story," he said.

Please believe me. And if you do, please don't deliver me back into the hands of evil.

"Thank you," he went on, "for trusting us with this information. I know that you've been through a lot and it must have been difficult to explain."

"I didn't mean to deceive anyone," I said, looking at Lucas.

"We understand," Noel said.

He came around the coffee table and sat next to me on the couch. He stared into the bouquet of flowers for a minute. "This cleric that rescued you, did he say how this could have happened?"

"He just said that this had never happened before and that the well was filled with vampire blood."

"I've never heard of anyone becoming a vampire without the Monarchy's blessing, without the ritual process." Noel looked thoughtful. "Only elders are able to create new vampires."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's to ensure the purity of the race. As well, a dying human needs to drink a lot of vampire blood to change. Only elders are strong enough to withstand that much blood loss."

"I thought vampires can't die."

"When we're drained of too much blood, we risk falling into a state of perpetual weakness. But sunlight will kill us—well, it kills most of us—and it's hard to survive a beheading."

"If Zee is special, maybe she can survive even that?" Jerome said.

"Why don't we test that theory," grumbled Lucas.

Noel shot him a look. "Did anyone see you escape?"

"No. I don't think so," I said.

Noel stood and paced the room. Outside rain began to fall. "It won't take very long for the Aramatta to find her. They'll search the entire coastline. They'll track her here."

"What's the Aramatta?" I asked.

"The Monarchy's guards," Jerome said.

"We're going to have to move quickly," Noel said.

Jerome looked frightened. "What are we going to do?"

"We have to leave."

"We can't just leave our home," Lucas said, his voice rising.

"It'll only be for a short time," said Noel. "Until we can figure something out."

"Why do we have to go?" Jerome asked.

Noel glanced at me. "Because Zee isn't safe here."

"This is crazy!" Lucas shouted. "Father, we don't even know her."

"Noel, it's okay," I said, standing. "I'll leave. I don't want to cause problems."

"Zee, sit down," Noel said. "Lucas, we took her into our home. We agreed to take care of her."

"I never agreed."

"Well, I did. I promised Zee that she would be safe with us."

"So what? You're going to risk our lives for a stranger?"

"What do you propose, son?" Noel looked intently at Lucas. "That we send her out to be slaughtered? That we stand by and do nothing when the Aramatta come to kill her?"

Lucas looked wounded. Without warning he whirled around and punched the wall. A stone chunk broke off. I felt sick with fear and guilt. Noel had offered me shelter, and in return I had brought chaos and disaster into his peaceful home.

"Don't worry, Zee," Noel said. "It'll be okay."

I didn't believe him.

"I'm so sorry about all of this," I breathed.

"It's not your fault," he said.

"Maybe they won't come here," I said.

"They will."

"How can you be sure?"

"We know them well. We served as their weapons makers."

Noel sent Jerome outside to lock up the workshop and check the property while he and Lucas went downstairs to gather supplies. Upstairs I did a nervous dance. I couldn't stop shaking, fidgeting, pacing. I kept looking out the windows. They returned with backpacks and weapons. Across his back Lucas carried two shorter blades, similar to the swords that the soldiers carried. His father gripped a huge weapon, a sword on steroids.

"It's a broadsword," he said, catching my bug-eyed look.

"For chopping heads?" I said, with a weak smile.

"That's right."

"What can I do to help?" My teeth were chattering.

Noel handed me a lit lantern. "You can light the way."

"Where will we go?" I asked.

"Don't worry about that," he said. He gave me a backpack and I put it on.

"Father," Lucas said. He had gone rigid. We listened to the rain pelt the roof. Then I heard something else. I heard the snapping of branches.

Lucas heard it too. He dashed for the front door and threw it open. As I ran toward the door, I saw Jerome in the distance. His back was to us as he faced the forest. His white T-shirt was translucent in the rain.

"Jerome!" Noel shouted.

Suddenly, the forest began to move. It was as if the shadows of the trees were coming alive. Soldiers emerged from the murk. The rain fell in narrow slits and splattered against their leather gear. They pulled their swords out of their scabbards.

"Jerome!" Lucas screamed. Panic broke his voice.

God no.

Jerome took a step back. A soldier approached him with a weapon. Jerome turned as if to run away. The soldier lunged forward. With one sweep he sliced Jerome's head from his body.

# Chapter 15

I was on my knees, screaming. Screaming so hard I thought my throat would explode. Lucas's face was contorted, grotesque with bared fangs, fighting to break free of his father. Noel wrestled him back from the door, back into the kitchen. Noel was shouting, holding Lucas by the neck and shaking him. It was like we were being wiped away by a tidal wave, thrashing, screaming, drowning. Everything was noise, thunder, until Noel grabbed us both and pulled us close.

"Listen to me!" he yelled. "Lucas, take Zee and run. Do you understand? Run. Go now!"

"No!" Lucas yelled back.

"Go now!"

I stared at Noel. "What about you?" I cried.

"I'm not leaving you!" Lucas shouted at his father.

Noel held his son's cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. Lucas gripped his father's wrists and squeezed his eyes shut.

"GO!" Noel screamed. He threw Lucas back and spun around, drawing his sword as he faced the door.

The general was already standing inside. Six of his soldiers slipped in after him and unsheathed their own swords.

"Swordsmith," the general said.

Noel and Lucas appeared stunned to see him.

"General," Noel said. Lucas bristled.

"Put down your weapon," ordered the general.

"Your warriors murdered my page, my lord," Noel said. "I have reason to be armed."

"Do not make me warn you again."

"You attacked without provocation. I demand to know why your soldiers killed my page."

"You are in violation of the Monarchy's laws," the general said.

"What law?"

"You are harboring an illegal vampire."

"We were unaware of any such crime," Noel said.

"Don't play with me, Swordsmith," the general growled. He pointed at me. "That creature right there is a fugitive of the Monarchy. You were preparing to move her."

"Zee has done nothing wrong," Noel said.

"That is not for you to decide. Stand down."

"I can't allow you to touch her," Noel said. "You won't take anyone else from me."

"Then you leave us no choice." The general signaled to his men. "Kill them."

The soldiers attacked. Lucas pushed me aside and reached back for his swords. He spun away as the first soldier thrust a sword at him, the blade grazing his ribs. With one motion, Lucas unsheathed his swords and slashed the soldier across the face. Two more came at him from different sides, moving so swiftly I gasped. As Lucas fought them, the soldier with blood seeping from his face vaulted over a chair toward me. I stumbled back against the fridge, the lantern against my chest as my only weapon. The cut on his face sealed up before my eyes.

I screamed as he approached me. Suddenly, two blades appeared on either side of his neck. It was Lucas. He scissored off the soldier's head, which popped off and thumped to the floor. Still screaming, I kicked it away.

Noel had destroyed the other vampires; their headless corpses were sprawled in the living room among broken furniture. With a roar Noel charged the general. The general waited, motionless. At the last second, he pivoted his body to avoid Noel's falling sword and then punched him in the face. When Noel stumbled back, the general drew his own weapon.

"Father!" Lucas yelled. He moved to help Noel but more soldiers rushed toward him.

Noel licked the blood from his cut lip.

"You're no match for me, Swordsmith," the general said.

"We'll see."

Their blades clashed, and the force of the general's strike threw Noel off balance. He ducked the general's sword and rolled across the floor, trying to slice the general's shins. But the general jumped, his weapon raised like an ax. He slammed the blade down, missing Noel's face by an inch. The strike broke through the wooden floor, leaving a huge pit. The house quivered. Noel leaped to his feet. He kicked the dining table at the general, who split it in half with his sword.

They hunted each other around the living room, a faint smile on the general's lips. Then Noel rushed at him, slicing the air with his blade, but the general deflected his blows. As Noel raised his sword above his head, the general lunged forward and grabbed Noel's elbow with one hand. With the other, he rammed his sword through Noel's chest.

NO.

Noel's sword fell. The tip of the general's sword stuck out of his back.

"Father!" Lucas screamed. Three soldiers converged on him. He bent backward, fanning his swords out and beheading two warriors behind him.

The general tore his blade from Noel's torso. As Noel started to fall, the general swung his weapon at his neck. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Lucas's cry of anguish filled the house.

# Chapter 16

Lucas stabbed both of his swords into a soldier's eyes and then lobbed off the top of his skull. He then glared across the room at his father's killer. His face was wild.

More soldiers were converging on the house. The general smirked and slid his sword back in its sheath. His warriors formed a line in front of him. My eyes darted from Lucas to the soldiers.

"Drop your weapon or suffer the same fate as your father," the general warned.

"Go to hell," Lucas said.

He's going to be killed. We're going to be killed.

Desperate, I searched the room. The back door was open, but we would never make it. Then my eyes found the plastic bottle. I had left it by the sink.

Fire.

"Cut him down," the general ordered.

I inhaled, summoning courage and shoved myself away from the cabinets. Before Lucas could advance, I snatched up the container and threw it in front of the general and his men. It slid on its side, spilling its liquid across the floor. The general and I locked eyes. His mouth started to open. Then I tossed the lantern at them.

Grabbing Lucas's arm, I bolted for the back door. From the corner of my eye, I watched the lantern's twirling descent. I had one foot outside when it exploded.

I felt the heat against my back, but in an instant the rain was on me. The cries of the vampires inside the house grew faint as Lucas and I ran. We ran into the darkened forest in a frenzy, destroying shrubs and branches in our path. I followed Lucas as we wove through the trees, skidded down hills, and sailed over creeks. The ground gave way under our feet, our heels tearing up the sod and grass. I was sure the soldiers were right behind us. Lucas did not look back. I kept blinking water out of my eyes; some of it streamed into my mouth and it tasted like blood. I realized then that I was crying.

Lucas made a sharp left and I struggled to follow. We streaked across a clearing and through a thick mass of short trees toward a low, rumbling sound. We burst through some bushes onto a gravel road. Ahead of us a truck was speeding away. In seconds we caught up to it and grabbed the back. Lucas pulled back the tarp covering the cab. I jumped inside first, my wet body rolling in between wooden crates of leafy green vegetables. Lucas hopped on, landing in a squat position.

Our eyes met. Lucas looked crushed and turned away. There were no words. None existed to describe such horror.

***

The storm passed. Or else we outran the clouds. More than an hour had elapsed since the truck had veered onto a paved, busy road. We rumbled along, curving around mountains, the smell of rain, earth, and greens in my nostrils. Lucas sat with his elbows on his knees, the backpack by his side. He stared straight ahead, his face stoic. I hugged my knees to my chest; my clothing was still damp but I didn't mind the cold. I took a breath to indicate that I was going to break our silence.

"Lucas," I said softly. "I'm so sorry about your father and Jerome."

He didn't even blink.

"I know that if I had never come, none of this would have happened. I'm not asking you to ever forgive me. I just want you to know how sorry I am."

I didn't expect him to answer. I stared at Jerome's runners. He had tied the laces so tight that the shoe looked as if it had a waist.

"You interfered back there," Lucas said. "You should have let me kill them all."

"I didn't want you to die."

"I should have died with my father."

"He would have wanted you to live."

"How do you know what he would have wanted?" he spat.

"I'm sorry." I'm saying all the wrong things.

Another hour passed before Lucas spoke again. "Dawn will come soon," he said, startling me.

"I can help you find some shelter, and then I'll leave you alone."

"No," he said, without looking at me. "You're taking me to find this cleric."

"Uther? Why?"

"He might be able to tell us what's going on."

I nodded. Uther will know what to do.

"They sent the general and an entire brigade for one vampire. Why would they do that? It doesn't make sense." He looked at me for the first time since we got in the truck. "What don't I know, schoolgirl?"

I shook my head. "I've told you everything. I swear."

He turned away. "I need to know what my family died for."

I hung my head. They died because of me.

He lifted the tarp and peered out. "We're passing a nearby town," he said. "We can find an inn or a hotel there. At dusk, we'll travel to Rome."

He gave me a nod and parted the tarp. He jumped out as the vehicle rounded a corner.

"Wait," I said. I scuttled to the edge and flipped up the tarp. Lucas was standing in a ditch. Oh geez. I threw myself out. I expected to crash onto the pavement, the concrete scraping off patches of skin. Except that time seemed to slow while I was in mid air. Landing with one foot on the street and letting the momentum carry me forward, I put my right hand down and did a frontward flip. I stood and turned to look at the truck speeding away. Then I looked back at Lucas.

"Did you see that?" I asked. I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.

"See what?"

"See me not fall out of the truck? I did like, a flip or something," I said.

He rolled his eyes and walked by me.

"That was amazing," I said, to no one in particular.

We jogged down the street and I glimpsed the town from above. It was on the sea, but I had heard and smelled that from the truck. All the buildings were about the same height and white with brown, clay-tiled roofs. Few lights were lit.

Lucas checked over his shoulder.

"Do you think they're close?" I asked.

"Perhaps. But they will also be looking for a place to hide in the day."

We roamed the empty streets. A tabby cat lounging at the base of a palm tree watched us and hissed when Lucas neared. Lucas stopped to read a sign outside of a row of buildings. I followed him through an archway into a small, bare courtyard. We climbed a narrow staircase to a door flanked by planters filled with pink flowers.

A curly-haired man at the counter removed his glasses as we walked inside. He was wearing a light blue shirt with stains under the arms; his spicy body odor and his woody aftershave stung my nose. I examined the valleys in his forehead, the pits that were the pores dotting his cheeks, and the bluish, puffy skin under his eyes. Tiny pools of oil had formed on his bulbous nose. I was amazed at the detail I was seeing. The man raised his bushy, triangular-shaped eyebrows, and when he smiled, more lines ran across his face. His skin seemed to shift over his skull like bunching panty hose.

The room filled with the man's heavy breathing and a deep drum beat.

Heartbeat. The more I focused on it, the louder it got.

I was staring. Lucas nudged me.

"Hello," I said. The man flinched.

"Shh," Lucas said.

I realized that I was shouting over the sounds. I could even hear the squelching of liquid in this man's veins.

"Sorry," I whispered. "We'd like a room for the rest of tonight and tomorrow please."

The man nodded.

I found his gestures to be extremely jerky and abrupt, like a skittish bird. He turned and pulled a key from a hook on the wall. A network of veins ran along the inside of his arm and pooled in the fleshy part under his thumb. I became fixated on that part of his hand; it was white, blue, and fat like the belly of a fish. For some reason, looking at it made me want a steak. I shook my head to clear the craving.

"You American?" he scratched his head and it sounded like Velcro tearing apart.

"We're from Canada," I said, again, a little too loudly.

The man wagged his finger at us. "Married?"

"Oh no," I said.

"One bed," the man said, dangling the key.

"Actually, can we have two beds?" I asked, leaning over the counter.

"One is fine," said Lucas.

I gaped at him before turning back to the man and forcing a smile. Lucas dug into his backpack and handed the man some cash. I made a basket out of my hands and the man dropped the keys and some change into them.

"Goodnight," I called.

"Buonanotte," he said.

We climbed four flights of stairs and found our room. Room nineteen.

I flicked on a light switch, which illuminated two lamps on either side of the bed. A few crushed mosquito carcasses were stuck on the cream-colored walls. A man in a neighboring room was snoring.

"That guy downstairs was loud," I said. "How do you concentrate with all of the noise?"

Lucas dropped his bag on the bed. He spoke without looking at me. "Your senses grow more acute as you get older but you'll learn to block things out."

I removed Jerome's soggy runners and held them in my hands. The image of his death flashed in my mind and I fought a wave a nausea. Instead, I pictured us in the field.

"Now it's just Noel and Lucas."

"And you."

"And now you."

His mischievous smile.

Now it's just Lucas and me.

Lucas's eyes were also fixed on the runners. He clenched his jaw. He removed a small black satchel from his bag and shook out a thin, flat stone. He snapped off the harness that fastened his swords to his back. He pulled a sword out of its sheath and began rubbing the stone on the blade.

I crossed the tiled brown floor and opened the balcony doors. There was nowhere to step out, just a railing. Clouds obscured the moon. I imagined the general standing in a nearby alley under this murky sky, his soldiers fanning out across the town. I imagined him sneaking up behind me, biting my shoulder, crunching my collarbone. I shuddered and closed the doors.

"I have to rest now," Lucas said, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

"You can have the bed. I don't mind sleeping on the floor."

"Too much sun in the room," he said. "I'm going to lie in the bathtub."

He gathered his bag and headed to the washroom.

"Lucas," I said.

He turned and I launched a pillow at him from the bed. "Here."

He looked at the saggy feather pillow as if it was a contraption requiring instructions.

"Hey. What if I have to use the washroom?" I asked. As soon as I said it, I realized that I hadn't felt the need in awhile.

"You're dead. You have no bodily functions. The only thing you do that's human is bleed."

# Chapter 17

I could not sleep. The sunlight streamed through the light curtains.

When I closed my eyes, I saw Noel. His crumpled, devastated body. His open, unseeing eyes on his detached head. You rescued me and in return, you died. I writhed with guilt and buried my face in my pillow.

From the room I was experiencing the life of the town. There were so many voices. Children laughing. Seagulls in the harbor. A man was dragging chairs across the road, yelling in Italian. A couple argued in shrill tones in a nearby apartment. And then there were the smells—baked goods, fish on a grill. Fresh linen. Cigarette smoke.

As the sun started to set, I perched on the edge of the bed and waited until Lucas opened the door.

"You didn't rest. I heard you tossing all day," he said. "It was annoying."

Despite his angry tone, I was comforted by his voice. It was a respite from hearing my conscience.

"I couldn't sleep. It was so noisy."

He walked around to the other side of the bed and put his backpack and swords down. He looked at my pillow; it was spotted with blood from my tears. I quickly flipped it over.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what happened," I said.

Ignoring me, he strapped his harness across his chest.

"I just feel sick about Noel and..."

His head snapped up. "Don't," he said.

"I'm sorry I..."

"I know you're sorry. I don't want to talk about it. Ever."

I nodded and faced away from him. He doesn't want to hear it, Zee. I felt selfish for trying to use him to alleviate my guilt. I searched for something else to say, but all of a sudden I felt drained. I leaned my elbows on my knees. My body felt weak, deboned. Does this mean I have to feed again?

"Do vampires drink vampire blood?" I asked.

"No," he said, as if I had asked a stupid question.

"Oh, okay. I thought it might be like wine. You know, the older the better. Or like cheese," I said.

He didn't respond so I started to mutter to myself. "I'm going to miss cheese. Except blue cheese. That tastes like feet."

"You're a vampire now," he said. "All human food is going to taste like feet."

"Everything?"

"Hey, schoolgirl."

"Yes?"

"Stop talking."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I talk when I'm nervous or upset. My sister has diabetes so I used to tell her jokes to distract her from needles when we were kids. But even she thinks it's annoying now."

He snapped his fingers toward the door, which I took to mean that he wanted me to put on my shoes. I unlaced Jerome's runners and wiggled my feet inside. As I was tying the bows, I heard the man downstairs greet someone. There was a pause. Then a crack. A rolling chair skidded across the floor.

"Lucas," I whispered.

"I know," he said.

He took my elbow and pulled me away from the door. I concentrated on the patter of feet, too light and too quick to be human, ascending the stairs in bounds. Two. There are two of them. Lucas handed me the backpack, which I slung both of my arms through. Affixing his swords to his body, he moved in front of me.

We should run.

The door suddenly burst in, splinters from the doorframe sailing onto the bed. Two statuesque figures stepped inside. One appeared as if he was on vacation, dressed in an orange Hawaiian-print shirt and khaki pants. The other vampire was wearing a black T-shirt over dark jeans and his brown hair was tied in a ponytail. In the dim room their eyes glowed.

The tourist began talking in Italian. Lucas answered in a monotone.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He says the Monarchy has put a reward on our heads. Me dead. You alive. He wants us to go with them."

"What did you say?"

"Things that should not be repeated to a lady."

"Let's not cause a scene, huh?" said the vampire with the ponytail. He had an American accent. "There are humans everywhere. Just come with us. Nice and easy."

Lucas reached over his head and removed his blades.

"All right. You want to make this difficult," the American said. He lifted up the back of his T-shirt and pulled out a short, curved sword. With a flick his weapon opened into four blades. The tourist wielded a weapon in each hand. They resembled handsaws, but each had two blades attached to the handle so it looked like he had forks on the ends of his fists.

"Please," I blurted.

The vampires charged at a blinding speed, fangs bared, weapons raised. The American with the four-bladed weapon reached Lucas first, raking the air where Lucas's head was a fraction of a second ago. Lucas ducked and kicked him across the room. The American slammed into the wall, plaster crumbling around him.

Lucas warded off several blows from the tourist. As the tourist tried to stab his head, Lucas took a few steps back, cornering me against the wall. The blades flew over Lucas's shoulder and sliced off a lock of my hair. I whirled away and jumped onto the bed, the springs squealing. The tourist tried to get Lucas with an uppercut, but when Lucas brought a sword down to stop the blow, his blade got caught between the tourist's prongs. With a twist of his wrist, the tourist sent Lucas's sword flying. It stuck, quivering, in the balcony door.

The American scrambled to his feet. I snatched a lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at the American's head. He shielded his face, the porcelain exploding on the back of his fist. I threw the other lamp at him. He caught it and broke it in his hand. Growling, the American rushed at me.

I screamed. All of a sudden, I heard the whistle of a blade. The American also heard it but too late. He turned and Lucas's sword stuck itself in the center of his skull.

Unarmed, Lucas ducked and wove, the tourist's knives skimming his body. As the tourist thrust his weapon at Lucas, I gasped. Lucas grabbed the tourist's arm, bent it in, and pushed on the vampire's elbow, causing him to stab himself in the chest. The tourist screamed. Lucas spun and kicked him in the face.

The American was staggering around the room, the sword bisecting his head, the handle level with his eyes. Lucas yanked his other sword from the balcony door and faced the American.

"I'm going to need my weapon back," Lucas said.

Snarling, the American ripped the sword from his head, blood pouring down between his eyes, chunks of his scalp torn away. The sword clattered to the floor by the bed.

"I'm going to skin you alive," the American said.

"Come and try," Lucas said.

The American gnashed his teeth and attacked, brandishing his weapon in front of him. One of his strikes gashed Lucas's right shoulder. Lucas grimaced and switched his sword to his left hand. I rolled off the bed and grabbed Lucas's other sword. Surprised by its weight, I pointed it at the two vampires locked in combat. As I danced around them, Lucas ducked under the American's blades and shoved him at me.

The force of the American's body drove me back against the wall. He cried out. Cool liquid spilled over my hands. I looked down and the American was impaled on my sword.

"Oh my God," I blurted. I had the ludicrous urge to apologize. I let go of the sword and the American fell over like an oak tree. On his descent Lucas took off his head.

Then he pulled his sword from the torso, gave it a flick to remove the blood, and jammed both of his blades back in their sheaths. Behind him the tourist had risen.

"He's..." I started.

Lucas picked up the American's weapon and flung it across the room. It flew like a frisbee and lobbed off the tourist's head. A spray of blood coated the wall.

"...coming," I said.

"Are you all right?" Lucas asked.

I was panting to try to calm myself and my eyes were so wide they hurt.

"I said, are you okay?"

I nodded. My hands were crooked like claws and the American's blood dripped off my fingertips.

"I've never stabbed someone before," I said, sounding like a robot.

"You did all right."

His shirt was ripped at the shoulder. "You're cut," I said.

"Healed already," he muttered, crossing the room.

I followed him, tiptoeing around the body parts and wiping my hands on my shirt.

"Who were they?" I asked.

"Mercenaries. More are coming."

He threw open the balcony doors.

"We're going to jump to that roof there," he said, pointing.

I looked at the rooftop terrace across the street.

"Seriously? Is that really necessary?"

"Yes."

He jumped onto the two-inch-wide balcony railing and stood balanced. He held his hand out for me. There is a theme here: I'm always climbing up something or jumping out of windows. I took his hand and he hoisted me up. Holding him, I found that I could maintain my balance. Or not.

"Whoa!" I said, teetering forward.

"Stand up straight," he snapped.

I righted myself. "Sorry. I don't normally do this."

"Listen to me. Bend your knees and jump on three."

"Wait. Is it three and then jump?"

"One, two, jump."

"What if I don't make it?"

"You'll break your face on the ground. So be sure to make it."

Great. I inched my feet further apart and bent my knees.

"One, two," he counted.

"Three!" I yelled.

We both leaped from the balcony.

# Chapter 18

Lucas and I crossed the town by hopping across rooftops. After the first two jumps I stopped closing my eyes. Each time I launched myself across an empty space and landed on my feet, the thrill pushed out the fear. Soon we plotted different paths. Lucas preferred to catch things with his hands—railings, storm drains—and swing his body like a monkey. I was much less graceful, crashing into planters, somersaulting and rolling down steep roofs. But I didn't care. It was like I could fly.

Lucas was a few buildings ahead. He stopped and waited until I saw him and then he pointed down.

"What?" I mouthed.

Then he stepped off the edge. When I reached the spot where he had disappeared, I looked four stories down and Lucas was pulling a man out of a small blue car. The man was wearing all white so Lucas looked like he was tossing aside a ball of paper.

"Hey!" I said. I hopped off the edge without thinking. I no longer feared the fall. With my arms extended like wings, I waited to reach the road. I hit the cobblestone hard, my hands slapping the ground. Wincing, I dusted them off and approached the car.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Get in," he said.

"You can't just take this man's car," I said. Lucas was already in the driver's side, adjusting his seat. The man clambered up from the sidewalk and began to shout in Italian.

"Get in the car," Lucas growled.

I opened the door and climbed inside.

"You're going to hell," I said.

"I knew that a long time ago," he said, putting the car into gear.

I dropped the backpack at my feet and slumped in the leather seat, my arms crossed.

"We're dumping the car in Rome. The guy will get it back," he said, playing with the dials as the car rolled down the street.

"What are you looking for?" I asked. He ignored me so I asked again.

"I'm trying to turn the headlights on."

"It's on the other side. That's the indicator."

"That's strange," he muttered to himself.

"When was the last time you drove?"

"Awhile ago."

"What's awhile?"

"I don't know. A decade or two."

Lucas pulled the car onto a main road. The car smelled like wet dog and lemon air freshener. I rolled my window down and leaned my head out to feel the wind on my face. It reminded me of soaring through the air. A van beside us blared its horn, startling me. I suddenly realized we were drifting into the van's lane. Lucas jerked the car back into his own lane. Flashing us a rude gesture, the driver pulled ahead.

"Do you want me to drive?" I asked.

"No."

"I don't mind. I love driving."

He hunched over the steering wheel. "Why? What's wrong with my driving?"

"Nothing."

"Do you want to get out and walk?"

"No."

"Then keep quiet."

Twenty minutes clicked by and I fought the urge to turn on the radio. Lucas kept flicking his eyes up to the rearview mirror.

"Do you think we're being followed?" I asked.

"Not yet."

After another twenty minutes he relaxed against the seat cushions. One of his hands fell away from the steering wheel and into his lap.

"Those vampires back there had the craziest weapons," I said.

"We have a lot of innovative tools for beheading."

"What about guns with silver bullets? Would that slow them down?"

"Silver bullets? We're not werewolves."

"Werewolves are real too?"

He glanced at me and then did a double take, seeing my bewildered face.

"Yes," he said, watching my eyes widen. "They hang out with Santa and the Easter Bunny."

I remained frozen for a moment and then pushed his arm.

"Hey, I'm driving," he said. He turned away from me to check the left lane over his shoulder but not before I caught a subtle smile on his face. It was gone so quickly that I wasn't sure if I had seen it at all.

A few minutes passed. "So, they're not real, right?"

***

All of a sudden, Lucas was tapping my leg and the car was no longer moving. My head snapped up and I rubbed my mouth with the back of my hand to make sure that I hadn't been drooling.

"What happened?"

"You nodded off."

He had parked in a dimly lit alley. He leaned over and pulled back the zipper on his bag. Rummaging inside, he took out two silver packages and handed me one.

I squeezed the squishy foil pouch.

"What is this?" I said.

"It's blood." He unscrewed the plastic cap on the top of the package.

"It even comes in convenient travel-sized containers," I said. "Vampires think of everything. Where does this blood come from? Are blood banks like your grocery stores?"

"Stop talking," he said.

I watched him put the pouch to his lips.

"What are you looking at?" he said after swallowing half the bag.

"It just looks...weird, you drinking out of that thing."

"What?"

"I just thought vampires would look, you know, vicious while drinking blood," I said. "You look like you're in kindergarten with your juice pack." I regretted it when I saw his face.

"Shut up and drink your juice. You're tired because your body is still adjusting to being a vampire. Maybe if you stopped flapping your mouth so much, you'd conserve some energy."

I unscrewed my cap and took a modest sip. Soon I was tipping it upside down and sucking at it greedily. So thirsty. The liquid burned going down. I pressed the bag between my fingers like a child finishing the last drop of her freezer pop. Blood dribbled down my chin.

"Hey schoolgirl, wipe your face," he said. "Let's go."

We climbed out of the car and trotted down the road. The people around us moved so slowly, as if they were swimming against the air. A trio of young women in short skirts and sparkly, oversized jewelry wobbled by us in stilettos. Their competing perfumes—one citrus, one floral, and one vanilla-laced—assaulted my nose. One of the women was so tanned she looked like she was wearing a crinkled, orange clay mask. The other two held each other and laughed joyfully, mouths open, strings of saliva between their lips. I felt a pang of longing. A week ago I had walked these streets, hoping that Ryka might come visit me. This could have been us.

The girls followed Lucas with their eyes, whispered in Italian, and giggled.

"What did they say?" I asked.

"Things that should not be repeated to a lady."

I rolled my eyes.

All of a sudden we heard shrieks and the screech of tires. Behind us the tanned girl punched the hood of a car that had almost hit them as they crossed an intersection. They shouted, their arms flapping and heads wobbling like chickens. The driver shook his fist out the window and jutted out his lower jaw. He then began typing feverishly on a BlackBerry while using his elbows to steer. His car rolled up beside us and I could hear the hurried clicking. It upset me that he had so little concern for others, for their delicate lives.

"I can't believe that guy was texting while he drove and almost ran those girls over."

"He was what?"

"He was using his phone when he should be paying attention to the road. That is so dangerous. I hate when people are so careless that they..."

Lucas moved to the edge of the sidewalk and reached through the driver's window. He snatched the BlackBerry and tossed it over his shoulder. The driver was so stunned that it took him a second before he slammed on his brakes.

"I can't believe you just did that," I said as we walked away. I glanced back at the man, who was shouting and stomping around the street, searching for his device. "Why did you do that?"

"So I didn't have to listen to you talk about it anymore. Where's the church? You said it was in this area."

I recognized the storefront with the stained-glass windows. The table where Paolo had bought my necklace was folded up and propped against a wall.

"This way," I said, leading him to the gate guarding the church. "This is it."

I peered through the bars. There was no movement inside. Lucas took two steps back and hurtled over the fence. "Show-off," I muttered. I scaled the fence and landed in the courtyard. I led him to the side door. This time it was locked. As I was trying the knob, I was acutely aware of how close Lucas was standing behind me. Reaching over my shoulder, he leaned into me and placed his hand against the door, forcing it open with a crack.

"I thought we were trying to be quiet," I whispered.

Inside, the church was dark. I stopped at the collection box. This is where I thought Paolo was going to kiss me. The movie in my mind replayed the scene. On a close-up of his angelic face, the reel switched to him screaming and scorched.

He can't hurt you anymore. Besides, on a list of scariest vampires encountered, Paolo no longer ranks very high.

Suddenly a blue-robed figure appeared out of the shadows and leaped onto Lucas's back. I saw the glint of a blade slip under Lucas's neck and my body stiffened. I tried to scream but there was no sound.

# Chapter 19

Lucas bent over and flipped his attacker onto the ground. The assailant tumbled onto the floor, the blue robe sliding up to reveal tiny, tangled limbs.

"Lettie!" I exclaimed.

Lying on her back, she looked at my upside-down face and gasped. "Zee?"

When she stood up, I wrapped her in a bear hug. I hadn't noticed that she had gone rigid in my embrace.

"I'm so glad to see you," I said into her tufts of hair. She softened and hugged me back. We peeled ourselves away from each other.

"Everyone's looking for you," she said, pointing a small knife at me. "How did you escape?"

"Lettie, what were you going to do with that?"

"Sorry," she said, putting her hands behind her back. "It was the only thing I could find. I heard you come in and I didn't recognize you. Why are you dressed like a boy?"

"Lettie, this is Lucas."

"Hi, I'm Lettie. Sorry about earlier."

"Where is the cleric?" Lucas said.

"Nice to meet you too," she said.

"Where's Uther?" I asked.

"He's gone."

"Where?" I said.

"Romania. He left a few hours ago. He wanted to consult the Sacriva about your coming."

"The what?"

"The Sacriva. The vampire scriptures," Lucas said.

"The original sacred writings are hidden in Romania. Uther has never seen them, but his sire taught him to interpret the ancient language. He said that he wanted to read the Eschatos passages in particular, to read what they say about you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Yes, what are you talking about?" Lucas echoed.

"After you escaped, there was a meeting of the clerics. Uther told me..." Lettie said, then paused. "They say that the Sacriva foretold your arrival."

"I don't understand," I said.

"The Ancients predicted this day would come," she said.

"The Ancients? Lettie, what are you talking about?" I turned to Lucas. "What is she talking about?" He shook his head.

Lettie tugged our sleeves and sat us down on the pews. She dropped her little high-pitched voice an octave.

"There's a legend about you."

"There is?"

"Listen," Lucas said, frowning, "you'd better start making some sense."

Lettie licked her lips and leaned forward.

"In the beginning, there were seven Ancients. They were considered to be the first vampires. It is said that vampires and humans worshiped the Ancients as gods, for they had infinite strength and terrifying powers. They walked under the sun. They knew what was in your mind. They could predict the future. Their prophecies became the Sacriva.

"One day, two of the Ancients fought and one was killed. It is said that all of the vampires who had been created by that Ancient instantly fell dead to the ground. The entire bloodline died with that one Ancient. After that all vampires feared for their own lives, and the ruling Monarchy decided that the empire needed to be protected. So in an effort to capture the remaining Ancients alive, the Monarchy waged a war against them that is said to have lasted a hundred years. Legions of vampires were slaughtered before the Ancients were finally contained. The Monarchy weakened them by draining their blood and then sealed them in gold casts, imprisoning them forever. Then the Monarchy dug a well so deep that it could never be touched by the sun and filled it with the blood of the Ancients."

She paused. I already knew what she was going to say.

"This is the well that you fell into," said Lettie. "We call it the Crucivium."

"And it was written in the Sacriva that a girl would fall into this well?" Lucas said.

"Not exactly. The Sacriva says that when the vampire empire is at war, when it is unstable and in danger of destroying the natural world, a human girl will be born a vampire by unholy means." Lettie stopped for a moment and looked away. "This girl"—her voice wavered—"will restore order by killing the entire vampire race."

We fell silent. Lucas looked at me in shock.

"That's impossible," I said.

"That's absurd," Lucas said.

"The Monarchy thinks this story is about me?"

Lettie nodded.

"That's absurd," Lucas repeated. "It's just an old story."

"Whether you believe it or not, the Monarchy believes this to be true. Uther says that's why they immediately ordered your death. To stop you before you..."

"Before I what?" I said. "Kill everyone? Lettie. Look at me. Do you think I could ever do that? That I would ever hurt you?"

"I don't believe you would intentionally hurt anyone now," she said.

"Now?"

"Zee. You have to understand. You're so new. You're still changing." Lettie looked at me with a mix of pity and fear, as if I was a small child—but one who might suddenly go berserk. "You were created from the blood of our gods. Who knows what that will mean? Their abilities, their...impulses could manifest themselves in you."

She spoke the word "impulses" with such dread. "They were uncontrollable, Zee. Wild and vicious like beasts. They were pure evil," she whispered.

"So what? The Monarchy thinks that I'm spontaneously going to go on a murdering spree?"

"I don't know," Lettie said. "I'm just telling you what Uther told me."

"But you think it's possible," I retorted.

She hesitated and I had to walk away. This can't be. My mind was in turmoil. I needed to hold something. Touch something solid, something real. I needed something to make sense. I rested my hands on either side of the collection box, stroked the grain of the wood, and closed my eyes. I'm just a girl, I had told Uther. I wished now, more than anything, for that to be true.

It made sense. Why they sent the general after me. Why they had everyone after me. To them, I'm not some girl. To them, I'm destruction. I'm extinction. How can I convince them otherwise if I can't convince Lettie?

What am I supposed to do? This will never end. They'll always think that I'm dangerous. They'll hunt me. They'll kill me.

Uttering a cry I crushed the box with my hands. Coins rained onto the floor, bouncing, rolling, whirling, and then wobbling to a standstill. My strength shocked me. This is what she meant. My abilities. I didn't know what I was capable of.

"Hey, killer."

I tried to ignore Lucas.

"Did that make you feel better?" he asked. "Are you starting your murdering spree with the wooden box?"

I turned away from him. I knew what he was doing—trying to lighten the mood like I might in this situation. But nothing would break my misery.

"It's not really fair, you know," Lucas went on, "because it doesn't hit back."

"Stop it," I snapped. "Didn't you hear what Lettie said? I'm going to go psycho killer on you all. You need to get as far away from me as possible."

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Don't be an idiot."

"Could you be more condescending?"

"Well, you're acting like a five-year-old."

"How am I supposed to act?"

"You're not going to hurt anyone, all right? That's just a stupid vampire folktale."

"But the Ancients predicted this."

"If they were so good at seeing the future, wouldn't they have seen their own imprisonment? Predictions are just good guesses or stories for the gullible."

"But the Monarchy..."

"Let them believe their myths." He lowered his voice. "Listen. You've got to get a grip. We need to think a moment. We have to keep moving. This place isn't safe. The Monarchy likely has scouts watching the church. They will come."

"Zee," Lettie said.

"Where are we going to go?" I asked Lucas.

"I have a friend. She can help us get out of town."

"Zee," Lettie hissed.

"What?"

"If you're going to go, you'd better go now," she said, her eyes round with fear.

We were so busy arguing that we hadn't been listening. Lucas straightened up. I could hear furtive footsteps in the courtyard, footsteps crushing the grass. With one hand Lucas reached back and grasped the handle of his blade; with the other, he grabbed my wrist and we ran, dashing down the same corridors as I had when I was trying to escape from Paolo.

"This way," Lettie said, grabbing Lucas's arm.

"Is there a back door?" Lucas asked.

"No," she said. "But if you go up the tower, you can jump from the window into a back alley."

"Show us," he said.

She led us to the doorway of the tower and pointed to the stairs.

"Just go up. The window is halfway to the top."

I pulled back against Lucas's grip. "Wait. Lettie. Aren't you coming?"

"No. I can't leave the church. I'm the guardian in Uther's absence."

"Lettie, no. They'll kill you. And you're only armed with a pocket knife."

"Just go, Zee. I promise I'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you here," I said, grabbing her hand. "Please, come with us."

She covered my hand with hers. "I'm staying. You need to leave now."

Lucas clamped his arm around my waist and dragged me away.

"Run, Zee. Be safe," she said before disappearing from my view.

The wind from the window met us as we climbed the winding stairs, our footsteps echoing up the tower. The moonlight from the opening illuminated Lucas's face, tense with concentration. He climbed up onto the stone sill. Following him, I put one foot on the edge. The sight of Jerome's runners jolted me to a standstill.

Lucas thrust his hand at me. I stepped back and away from him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I can't."

"You can't what?" I detected a note of panic in his voice.

"I can't keep running."

"This isn't the time..."

"Lucas, I'm dangerous. Look what happened to Noel. To Jerome," I said. A flicker of pain appeared in his eyes at the mention of their names. "I don't want that to happen to you. Just go without me."

He came down from the windowsill.

"After everything that you've been through, you want to give up now?" he said.

"We won't survive together."

"Survival is a choice."

"If I surrender then you'll have a chance. They only want me."

"Stop being stupid."

"You know that if I go with you, I'll only slow you down."

"You think you're being brave? You think you're being brave by giving up?" He grabbed my shoulders and shook them. I tried to push him away but he wouldn't let me go.

"Choosing to survive. That is brave. So be brave. Come with me."

Vampires were moving through the church. I heard their muted footsteps, the rattle and jingle of weapons harnessed to bodies. I looked up into his searching eyes. He released me and stepped onto the sill. He put his hand out.

Be brave.

I slipped my fingers into his palm.

"Let's go," I said.

# Chapter 20

I had left our backpack on the church pew, along with all our money and supplies. "For the children of the third world?" I had said in response to Lucas's glare.

We ran through the dark, narrow streets and Lucas stopped to fish change out of a fountain. He then went inside a tobacco shop. I waited outside, leaning beside the door and scanning the street for soldiers. What if they find us here? We'll make a scene.

A man came out of the shop and I shifted to avoid getting hit by the door. As it swung open, I was faced with an image that I knew. I gasped. It was my face. My high school year book picture. The photocopy taped against the glass window was grainy. Underneath my portrait was a description with my name and age. The only Italian word that I understood was "scomparsa." I had asked Sofia what it meant after seeing a missing-dog poster near her apartment. It meant "disappearance."

They're looking for me. My family. I put my hand over my mouth. My throat felt tight, as if it was lined with hardening plaster. Oh God. I blinked back tears as Lucas came outside with bus tickets in his hand. I turned away to hide my face but he had already seen my expression. He waited while I composed myself.

"My people are looking for me," I said, gesturing to the poster and then squeezing both my eyes with my thumb and index finger so I wouldn't cry.

Lucas peered at it. We didn't speak for a moment but the street noise mercifully filled the space.

"I hate that picture," I finally said to change the subject. "My smile is so fake."

"I think you look...all right," he said.

I watched him press his lips together and nod his head—This is Lucas being comforting—and I paused to appreciate his gesture.

"Come on," he said. "It's not safe to be on the streets."

He jogged along the sidewalk and followed a young couple boarding a bus. "They won't be looking for us here," he said as we got on. The roar of the engine startled me as it pulled away from the curb.

Lucas had removed his swords and held them behind him and against his body. He chose a seat in the middle of the bus, next to the door. As he sat down he quickly tucked the swords upright between his knees, hiding their handles with his arms. I slid in beside him. Six people, including the driver, rode the bus with us. A middle-aged woman near the front peeled an orange in her lap. A couple slumped in the seats across from her. A silver-haired man read a newspaper and a man in his twenties stood beside me, bobbing his head to the rock music blaring from his headphones.

The top button on the older man's shirt was undone, revealing a carpet of white curls. He breathed the soupy air through his mouth and when he inhaled, his chest bulged so much that I thought he might burst. Every time he turned a page, it sounded like someone was crushing a bag of chips against my ear.

Beside me, the young man pressed the buzzer to stop the bus. Cord-like veins snaked up his arms. His skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. His pulse thumped against the thin skin on his neck like a tiny fist against taut fabric. It reminded me of my thirst.

I looked over at Lucas who focused, unblinking, out the window. After spending so much time with vampires, I had never appreciated their stillness. Now here I was surrounded by people who were just sitting or standing and I was amazed by their bustle, their noise. Their frailty. Their humanity.

The young man glanced at me with his hooded eyes and stepped off of the bus; I found myself hoping that he would be careful crossing the street. Then I thought of Lettie. Her beautiful face and wide, brilliant blue eyes. I hoped that she was safe. I hoped that she knew to hide. How would I know that she was okay?

"She's fine," Lucas said to me, reading my face.

"Lettie?" I asked.

He nodded.

How is it that you know what I'm thinking? Am I so transparent?

He always looked brooding and preoccupied, but I could never tell what was going through his head. I didn't know how he was dealing with this ordeal. I chose to interpret his silence as strength. I needed something to believe in. He was all I had left.

"You really got me with that whole 'be brave' speech," I said with a small smile.

"I knew I had to say something to set you straight," he said. "You were being a big baby."

"Big baby?"

"Yes. That's what I said."

"I was trying to spare you."

"Next time spare me your cowardice."

"You are unbelievable. If I go on that murdering rampage, I'm killing you first."

"If that means that I won't have to listen to your nattering then I'll hand you my sword."

I huffed and opened my mouth to protest. But then I thought of a new strategy. Something that I learned in grade school.

"You like me," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"You pretend not to but I think you like me."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. That's why you didn't want to leave me back there. You didn't want me to die."

He sighed and he waved his hand at me, as if he was shooing away a fly.

"You know what?" I said, turning my body to face him. "'Be brave' is the nicest thing that you've ever said to me. So to me, it means 'I care.'"

"Think what you want," he said. "I didn't leave you behind because it was my father's last wish that I look after you."

The reference to Noel was sobering. We both stared out the window for a moment.

"I never thanked you," I said.

"Don't thank me. Just promise me that you won't be stupid and give up like that again."

"I can't promise about the stupid part, but I promise I won't give up again."

***

"Are you sure this friend of yours is still here?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

Even in the dark, the theater was opulent and grand, with hundreds of burgundy seats, gilded balconies, and a thick velvet curtain over the stage.

"In primary school, I played Dorothy in a production of The Wizard of Oz," I said as we walked down the carpeted aisle. "I ran off the stage crying when the house fell on the witch. That marked the beginning and the end of my theater career."

He hopped down into the orchestra pit in front of the stage. I followed him, maneuvering around chairs and music stands.

"Your friend lives under a theater stage? Like the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Schoolgirl?"

"Yeah?" I stopped close behind him and looked around. "What?"

"You talk too much."

"Maybe you talk too little."

"You're going to live forever. Pace yourself."

He walked into a large storage closet, and I followed. There he pulled a shelf unit filled with cardboard boxes toward him as if it was a door, then tapped his fingers against the wooden wall behind it. I felt dust settle on my skin and on my eyeballs.

"Your friend," I said, blinking. "You're sure that he's not in league with the Monarchy?"

"She is an anarchist," he said. "She hates the Monarchy. They're at war."

A portion of the wall pushed out like an unstuck puzzle piece. Lucas took it away and leaned it against the back of the shelf. In the opening stood a tall young woman with vivid violet, shoulder-length hair. Her rich chocolate eyes were half covered by her straight bangs. She had on white fishnet pantyhose under her black shorts, and her long legs disappeared into construction boots. The sleeves of her plaid shirt were rolled up to her elbows. She examined me, her hands on her hips, a smirk on her pretty olive-toned face, and she spoke in a husky, accent-inflected voice.

"So this is what all the fuss is about," she said. "I am Samira."

"I'm Axelia."

"I assumed," she said. She put her arms around Lucas's neck and drew him to her.

"Hello my dear," she said, embracing him. "It's been a long time."

She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. I averted my eyes. I felt as if I was intruding on a private moment. We followed her down a flight of stairs into a vast, open room. The place looked like an antique market. Round paper lanterns hung from the low ceiling. Intricate rugs were spread across the floor. Paintings, portraits, scrolls, stuffed animal heads, and mounted weapons covered every space on the wall.

"Still collecting things, I see," Lucas said.

"I can't help myself," she said.

I stopped to examine a six-foot-tall clay statue of a mustached man wearing armor.

"I picked that one up in China," Samira told me.

Lucas walked in between the tables littered with books, vases, and sculptures and sat down on a slate blue couch. He leaned his head back, his swords in his lap, and closed his eyes. I had never seen him look worn out. For the first time he appeared almost human. Samira dropped next to him and draped her lithe arm over the couch, her hand behind his neck, her knee touching his leg. Seeing them so close I was struck with a strange pang of jealousy. I shook my head to clear the feeling.

"I heard about Noel and Jerome," she said. "I am so sorry."

Lucas didn't look at her. He just stared at his swords.

"We need to get out of Italy," he said.

"I know. I also heard about the bounty."

"Can you help?"

"Of course."

I loitered beside the clay statue, pretending to look at a pile of rusty parking meters.

"What is her story?" Samira asked, nodding to me.

"Well, what are they saying about her?"

"That her creation is forbidden, that any vampire that returns her to the Monarchy will be rewarded beyond their imagination."

Did they have to talk about me as if I wasn't here?

Samira went on: "They say that you are abetting her illegal existence."

"Noel found her. He wanted to protect her."

"He was always so noble. Did he die fighting?"

"Yes."

"He wouldn't have wanted it any other way," she said.

I maneuvered around a desk topped with granite busts of pharaohs and golden sculptures of Roman gods. I turned and stood face to face with a creature baring a mouthful of fangs. I yelped and sprang back, bumping a table. A stone bust fell from the edge, crushing a violin on an adjacent pedestal.

Lucas sat up but Samira put her hand on his shoulder. I squinted at the creature on the shelf. It was a dinosaur skull.

"That's my whale fossil," Samira said nonchalantly.

"Shouldn't this be in a museum?" I said to hide my embarrassment.

"This is my museum," she said.

"I'm sorry about this," I said, picking up the violin, which had snapped at the neck.

She rose from the couch. "That was a gift from Bach," she said.

"What?" I coughed. I looked at Lucas. "She's joking, right?"

Samira moved like a meandering shark through her piles of junk. She approached me with a relaxed expression and took the instrument from my hands, her fingers grazing mine.

"I'm sorry..." I started.

"Don't worry," she said, tossing the violin into a corner. "It's just stuff. Stuff breaks. And we move on."

I sank down onto a chair.

"Don't sit there, hon," she said.

I popped up as if I had sat on a pin. I turned to examine the chair; attached to the wooden beam that served as the back of the seat was what looked like a metal collar.

"That I got in Spain," she said.

"What is it?"

"It's a garrote. Humans used it to execute people. See the crank at the back? You turn it and it tightens this metal collar, strangling its victim."

"That's terrible."

"Humans are so creative, aren't they?"

She tilted her head and inspected me. Her eyelashes were as thick as mustaches spreading across her big eyes. She brushed a strand of hair from my face and then tapped her fingers against her lips. The beaded bracelet on her wrist matched the colors of a peacock feather.

"Aren't you an interesting creation," she said. She pointed her chin toward her shoulder but kept her eyes on me. "I assume that she's going with you?" she said to Lucas.

"Yes."

"Lucky," she said with a smile. I didn't know if she was referring to me or him. "Where do you want to go? I have friends that I trust in Austria but that may be too close to the fighting."

What fighting?

"We also have an underground contingent in Johannesburg that could offer you refuge," she said.

Lucas hesitated. "I want to try to find my obaia."

For a second Samira appeared stunned. She parted her pink lips but no sound came out. She regained her composure and turned to face him.

"But it's been centuries," she said.

"I never looked for her out of respect for Noel but I need to find her now. If there is anyone who can protect us from the Monarchy, it's her. She will hide us."

"Do you even know where Nuwa is?"

He didn't say anything and Samira nodded. "You want me to help you find her."

"Who is Nuwa?" I asked.

Samira walked around me and sat down on the garrote.

"She is Lucas's sire. The one who created him."

# Chapter 21

Samira lit a few candles in her bedroom and everything in it shimmered. The hundreds of necklaces, rings, and bracelets on her shelves. The rhinestone-studded lamps on her vanity table. The beaded, colorful scarves that hung on a ladder propped against the wall. The gold and silver threads in her bedspread.

She opened a chest at the foot of her bed and took out some clothing. Turning to me she smiled.

"Here," she said. "These should fit you better than Jerome's clothing."

"Thanks."

She stood staring at me.

"Uh, Samira. I don't mean to be rude but is there somewhere I can change?"

"Why? You don't have anything I haven't seen," she said. "Or do you?"

"No, I don't have a tail or anything like that."

"I've seen that."

"Really?"

She sighed. "How about I just turn around?"

I laid the clothing on her bed and turned my back to her to remove Jerome's T-shirt. I wriggled into her fitted, V-neck black shirt and tugged at the hem to straighten it over my chest. It smelled like flowers. I glanced over my shoulder—she was gone—and stripped off my shorts. I jumped into the dark denim, stretchy jeans. They hung over my heels so I bent down to roll the cuffs into capris.

"What size shoe are you?" she said from out of the room.

"Six."

Samira returned with her hands behind her back.

"My clothing looks good on you," she said.

"Thanks."

"Et voilà, la pièce de résistance," she intoned. She revealed two low-top sneakers in black-and-white floral damask.

I clasped my hands and grinned. "Wow! These are great!"

"I hope they fit."

"I'll make them fit."

I hesitated before removing Jerome's runners.

"Sit," she said. I sat on her bed and Samira knelt to untie my shoelaces.

"So how are the two of you getting along?" she asked, slipping my feet out.

"We're not."

She smiled. "Actually, you are."

"How so?"

"If Lucas is speaking to you, then you're getting along."

"He only speaks to me to scold me."

"That sounds about right. He can be a little harsh with his friends."

"Well, in that case, we're best friends."

"He is a good friend to have. He is fiercely loyal."

"I am grateful to him."

"I can see why he likes you," she said, leaning in close. "You're young, you're vibrant. You're not...tainted. World-weary and jaded like the rest of us."

"You don't look weary."

"Oh, I do. We all do. We look tired. Or bored. But not you. You have that freshness that I always see in humans. How I envy that. How I envy that starry-eyed look of wonderment on your face."

"That look on my face is actually vomit-inducing terror."

She smiled. "You should be scared. Fear is the human instinct to survive. You need it."

"Well, I have no shortage of it."

She double-knotted my sneakers. My toes had ample wiggle room, but otherwise the shoes fit. I stood and knocked my heels together. "There's no place like home," I said. "There's no place like home."

Samira shook her head. "Sorry, dear. This isn't a fairy tale. There's no happily ever after. Just...ever after."

***

Lucas turned off the engine of his motorcycle and leaned to one side so I could step off. Samira parked her bike beside us. She was wearing fingerless gloves the color of eggplant and a short leather jacket. We surveyed the shipping yard, a field of red, yellow, and blue containers stacked like Lego blocks.

I adjusted my top, which had snuck up during the ride. My skin tingled from chugging a jug of blood before leaving the theater. I felt wild and alert. The glittering night lights, the keening wind, the traffic—it all assailed my senses. I heard everything but nothing because I could not focus. Far away, a car honked. Insects cackled. Lucas and Samira were talking about the trip, about finding the right cargo container.

"My friend will oversee the shipping..."

"...in the morning, they will truck your cargo container to the air terminal..."

That's when I heard whispers through the din.

"It's them," the voice said. "We need to take them now."

I spun around, scanning the yard. Did I imagine that? Who said that? Lucas saw my frantic search and stopped talking. He listened and then turned to face a stack of blue containers.

"Show yourself," Samira said.

Silence. Then three vampires appeared on top of the containers. One after the other they stepped off the edge, and by the time they landed on the gravel they were armed. Two males wielded an ax and a sword, respectively; a dark-haired female had what appeared to be a machete. They sized me up and then looked at each other as if trying to determine if I was dangerous.

Lucas drew his blades and Samira took something out of her pocket, which she kept in her closed fist.

"What can we do for you?" Samira asked. Her tone was hard.

"The two vampires with you are fugitives," the female vampire said. She enunciated every syllable so that 'fugitives' sounded like three words.

"That is none of your concern," Samira replied, copying the vampire's articulation.

"Step aside, Purple," one of the other vampires said. "We're collecting our bounty."

"That is not a good idea, sugar," Samira said. "I'm only going to give this one warning."

This would probably be a good time to become that crazy vampire killer.

I took a step back. My heel against the gravel was like the firing of a starting gun. The vampires sprang forward. Lucas blocked the two males, striking their blades away. The female vampire lunged for me. Samira dropped to the ground and tripped her. The vampire rolled in the dust before finding her footing. They hissed at each other through their fangs.

Samira turned and ran, stretching a string of wire out between her hands. The vampire chased her toward a wall of containers, the machete swinging inches from Samira's back.

Oh no. Dead end.

I thought she would crash but instead Samira ran up the wall and did a back flip. In mid air she put her hands on either side of her attacker's shoulders, the taut wire against the vampire's throat. Instead of landing on the ground behind the vampire, Samira kicked her in the back. The head came off and the body struck the wall.

As Samira jogged back toward me, she licked one of her fangs. She approached Lucas, who was still fending off the two males.

"Enough games," she said.

One of the vampires turned and thrust his sword at her. She leaped and spun, her body twirling parallel to the ground so that the blade slid underneath her. Kicking her leg out, she wrapped it around the vampire's head and pulled him down. She then wound her wire around his neck and did a front flip over him, tearing off his head. It went sailing into the yard and I heard it knock against a container in the distance. At the same time, with one quick slice, Lucas felled his opponent.

He kicked the head away as he walked to me. I straightened up because I had been cowering against a container.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to sound composed.

Samira's wire retracted like a tape measure into a silver cylinder in her hand.

"What a waste of life," she said, looking at the bodies.

"You did warn them," Lucas said.

"I did," she said with a sigh.

"I thought you were amazing," I told her.

"You liked my tricks?" she asked, smoothing her hair and tucking it behind her ear. "Well, you should see me when I'm actually challenged. Lucas, remember that time we fought those vampires in that palace in India? There were maybe twenty of them, and I lost my wire so I had to use Lucas's belt as a weapon. And then he couldn't keep his pants up."

Samira chuckled and Lucas allowed himself a fleeting smile. I found myself wishing that I had better memories with Lucas rather than the horrible ones we had shared.

"Let's get going," Lucas said.

I tiptoed over splotches of blood as we walked away from the scene.

"Remember, my friend Kinman will meet you upon arrival and set you up," she said. "Please give him my regards."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Samira shot a look at Lucas. "You haven't told her?"

"What difference would it make?"

"According to my informants, Nuwa was exiled to an island more than five hundred years ago," she said. "You know it as Taiwan. We're going to fly you there in a cargo container."

I'd never been to Asia before.

"It'll take more than twelve hours to get there so try not to kill each other."

# Chapter 22

I sat cross-legged on the floor of the cold box, testing my ability to block out the roar of the plane's engine. I was getting good at it. In my mind it sounded like I was turning the volume up and down. I faded other sounds in, like the whoosh I heard when Lucas struck the air as he repeated a pattern of martial arts movements. Or the drone of a fly trapped in the box with us. Concentrating too much on the insect reminded me of being at a soccer game, surrounded by vuvuzelas. Man, those things are annoying.

"Samira is really great for helping us," I said.

Lucas had lit the container with a flashlight pointed at the ceiling. He paused in a squatting position, his hands pressed together as if in prayer.

"Why didn't she come with us?" I asked.

"It's safer if she stays in Rome."

"But what if the arrabbiata track her down?"

"What?"

"The...sorry, arrabbiata is a pasta sauce. I mean the army guys."

"Samira can take care of herself."

Unlike me, he means. I wished that I could be tougher.

"So, how long have you been friends?"

"A long time."

"Have you guys ever been together?"

"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 stand 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.

He froze. "Out? Where?"

"Just to walk around. I've never been to Asia before and I wanted to see it. In the day."

"Absolutely not," he said.

"I'll wait until the sun is high so there won't be any vampires around. I'll be fine."

"Maybe it's not you I'm worried about."

"What do you mean? Like if I get hungry and start treating Taipei like a buffet? You know, start grabbing legs like they're drumsticks?" I mimed the action with both hands.

"That isn't funny."

"Come on, Lucas. I promise that I'll be careful. I'll be back before sunset. I just need to get out of the dark for a little while."

He shook his head.

"Please. I need this," I said. I needed a few hours to not feel scared. To be distracted. To be normal. To be myself. I needed to be out in the sun.

He read my face and his shoulders sagged. I knew he was giving in.

"I don't think..."

"Don't worry. It'll be fine."

# Chapter 24

The girl standing behind a pyramid of oranges grinned and blinked at me with her spiky false eyelashes. She greeted me with a nasally, high-pitched, elongated: "Ni hao!"

"Hi," I said with a smile. I should have asked Lucas for some general phrases: Excuse me. Thank you. How are you?

I continued strolling through the market. The street was steeped in the smell of sweet juice. The on-coming crowd stared at me but I didn't care; I was too busy marveling at the street life. Four people sat at a stall, wrapping minced meat into dough and then rolling the finished balls across a floured stainless steel table. At the next stall a man marinated steak in plastic vats. A car came down the street. Pedestrians, many carrying umbrellas for shade, meandered to the side, and the vehicle just fit in between the food stalls and the bodies. I had to turn my shoulder to avoid getting hit by the side mirrors.

I wished I had my camera; there was so much life to capture. I wanted to touch everything. I thumbed through a rack of scarves, stopping at a white pashmina with black swirls. I ran my hands over the fine wool. Oh my God, Tiffany would love this. The thought was followed by an ache in my chest. I could mail it to her from an anonymous admirer, but she might assume it was me, and that would cause my family such turmoil.

The shopkeeper, a man with exaggerated, thin facial features and spindly limbs, came out of his store. He pointed to the scarf and spoke to me. I smiled, shook my head, and retreated. As I tried to disappear into the crowd, he followed me with his eyes and kept trying to wave me back. Looking around I saw that I was the only one wearing black.

I had wanted to walk around as a distraction. A pause for my soul. But things kept reminding me of what I had lost. Suddenly, I felt empty and alone. I placed my hand over my abdomen and it gurgled in response. My mouth tasted sour and my stomach felt like it had begun to rot. I was so hungry, so thirsty.

All around me I saw people and food. I walked up to the nearest food stall, unsure of what I was looking at, and the elderly woman standing behind the steaming cart grinned a toothless grin, her face folding like an accordion.

Feet. Lucas said food would taste like feet. But how long had it been since he'd tried?

The woman pierced a single beige ball and presented the stick to me. When I hesitated she pushed it toward me, babbling and nodding. I felt like Snow White facing a poisoned apple. The glistening morsel, the size of a ping-pong ball, smelled fishy.

Just one bite. How bad could it be?

I took the stick and smiled.

"Thank you," I said. The woman grinned, gesturing with her hands, miming the action of eating. I put it to my lips and took a nibble. The flesh was soft and the salty juice gushed over my teeth. It didn't taste like feet. It tasted like fish. I put the whole ball into my mouth and smiled at the woman while chewing through its rubbery texture. Lucas didn't know what he was talking about. I swallowed the mouthful. I thought of a girl who had walked by earlier holding a crepe filled with ice cream. I'm so having ice cream. Like right now.

I took three steps away from the stall and felt a stab of pain in my stomach. Gasping, I grabbed my abdomen. It was as if I had swallowed a capsule filled with acid and it had just burst. It tore at my insides. I stumbled down a street, leaned against a green fence, and retched.

I vomited so violently that tears came to my eyes. I spat onto the pavement and dabbed my mouth with the back of my wrist. Then I wiped the blood from the corner of my eyes. Oh God. Sniffing, I straightened up—the pain had subsided—and looked around. People were staring.

"Bad fish ball," I said and wandered off.

***

I pushed against the slow-moving crush of pedestrians on the narrow sidewalk as the sky dimmed. The last time I lost track of time, I met a boy and he killed me. You'd think I would have learned my lesson.

People lounged on patio furniture on the sidewalk, eating steak and eggs sizzling on hotplates. The smells made me nauseous and my stomach groaned. Hunger was doing violence to my gut.

I passed a group of students skewering fish balls out of a paper bag and I scrunched my face. Their laughter rang in my ears, as did the chime of bells from a nearby stall selling doughnuts. A man behind a counter chopped up chicken parts; the rhythmic pounding of his cleaver rattled my brain. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was like a heartbeat. And then the sounds of human heartbeats bled into my consciousness. Squinting, I tried to block the noise attacking my ears. It sounded like a high school band practice with everyone banging on instruments and talking. I stared at the ground, focusing on the grit on the street, the cracks in the concrete, and the noise faded, as if I'd gone into another room and was slowly closing the door.

I needed to get back to Lucas.

Then I heard a scream. It had sailed over the market's clamor, striking me like an arrow. I froze. I searched the faces of the crowd but no one reacted. The teenagers around me were giggling, and the butcher was grunting at a customer while dropping animal parts into a plastic bag.

I thought I had imagined it but there it was again. A girl's voice, now a muffled whimper. Further down the street, over to the right. I followed it, shouldering past people into a tight, empty alley. The market din was just white noise now; all I heard was the girl's crying. I stood on the pavement for a moment, focusing beyond where I could see down the curving street.

Men's voices. The girl's snivel. Her heels scraping on the concrete. As I walked farther, her quick breath and her pounding heartbeat grew louder.

At the alley's dead end I saw her, struggling with two men. One pressed his body against her with his hand clamped over her mouth while the other held her wrists behind her back. Three others stood in the corner, watching, yelling, laughing. The stench of alcohol permeated the air.

The girl was my age, my size. She was wearing a caramel knit dress and white sandals. Throwing herself backward, she head-butted the guy behind her. He cried out, grabbing his nose. Meanwhile, his friend gripped her throat and slapped her across the face.

"Hey!" I yelled before I realized what I was doing.

They all whipped around to look at me.

Crap. I'm breaking my promise to Lucas.

# Chapter 25

Their heartbeats quickened and then slowed after sizing me up.

A short, stocky man said something to me, his voice taunting and nasal. He looked at his friends, barked something at them, and they all snickered. He nodded toward me, called to me. One of his friends puckered his lips and waved me over.

I heard a voice in my head. Run.

The girl was looking at me. I could see the whites of her wide, terrified brown eyes and the streaks of mascara on her cheeks. I thought of Paolo and the church and Uther coming to my rescue. And I knew. I knew that I couldn't leave her. I blinked and took a step forward.

The men were talking, laughing, whistling. The stocky one, who appeared to be the leader, gestured to the two men holding the girl. They dragged her back, farther away from me. The other two goons—one tubby and balding, the other slim with spiky hair—approached me.

"Let her go," I said. My low, guttural voice startled me.

The leader chortled, slapping his knee. His friends copied him.

I pointed at the girl. "I said, 'Let the girl go.'"

"Leddagirlgo," one taunted.

One of the guys grabbed the girl by her hair and yanked her head back. She screamed, her eyes squeezing out tears.

My face burning, I walked toward them until I was within five feet of the chubby guy and his spiky-haired friend. The chubby one winked at me, his hands on his bloated belly. He then dragged his gaze down my body, lingering at my chest. Laughing, he turned to his friend and slurped spit from his big purple lips. My fingernails dug into my palms as I balled my hands into fists.

"Speak In-gu-lish?" he taunted. He made kissing noises.

"You want boyfriend?" the thin one asked. He grinned at me with his yellow, crooked teeth. His friend jabbed him with an elbow.

Disgusting.

The men pushed the sobbing girl against the side of a building, crushing her cheek against the brick.

"Stop it!" I shouted. I felt a brief burn in my gums and then the hardness of fangs against my lips.

Sneering, the two men ran at me. And I waited. They moved so slowly. I could measure their steps. I could hear each breath they took with their strides. Their human bodies were jiggly and clumsy as they charged the space between us. And I wanted them to reach me. I wanted to make them stop grinning.

The slim guy extended his arms to grab me. I leaned back, placed my foot against his chest and kicked him. I felt his ribs shatter under my soles, as if I had just stepped on thin ice. His eyes bulged and veins protruded in his neck and his temples. He curled around my sneaker as if molding himself to it and then he was airborne. With his arms and legs trailing behind as he flew across the street, his body resembled a badminton birdie. He smashed into a pile of garbage bins, which exploded every which way.

His friend didn't even see what had happened. His fingers had curled around my forearm and he was growling, drooling like a dog. I slammed my arm into his round stomach and his mouth made an "oof" sound. One second he was beside me. The next, he was gone. It was like spiking a volleyball. He rocketed into the side of a building and collapsed onto the ground. His body had left a red splatter against the wall.

I couldn't move. Nothing was moving. There was no sound. I thought time had stopped. What is happening? Am I dreaming? Is this a dream?

Then all of a sudden reality rushed back at me. My entire body was trembling from rage. Even my teeth tingled. The girl was blubbering. Her captors were stunned; they were barely holding her anymore. I stared at the bodies sprawled on the street and looked at my hands. I did not understand what had happened. I couldn't think. Everything was moving so fast now. The leader yelled at his friends, snapping them out of their stupor. One guy picked up a stick, a wooden handle of a mop perhaps, and broke it over his knee. They ran at me, arms flailing, mouths flapping.

One man swung a piece of the stick at my head and I ducked. As he brought the other stick toward me, I caught it. I tried to wrench it out of his hands and I heard a pop. The man shrieked and dropped to his knees, clutching his dangling arm. I had dislocated his shoulder. The fourth man had been dancing around us. He lunged forward and took a shot at my face. I caught his soft fist in my palm. Without thinking, I squeezed it and the bones in all his fingers snapped, crackling like a crushed paper bag.

Gasping, I released his hand and he fell over, crying.

The leader had grabbed the girl and was holding her as a shield. Gripping her chin, he exposed her throat and pressed a switchblade against her pale flesh. He was screaming at me and I could hear their heartbeats hammering in their chests.

"Please," I said. I showed him my palms. "Please, don't hurt her. Just put the knife down."

I took a step toward them. Yelling, he pushed the knife against her throat, puncturing the skin. A trickle of blood ran into her collar. The girl wept.

"Please, stop!" I cried.

Panting, his eyes darted from his broken friends and then back to me. He reeked of beer and sweat, as if he'd been marinating in it for hours. I could feel his desperation. He was cornered. I could tell he was going to do something stupid.

He reached across the girl, moving his blade toward her ear.

"No!" I cried.

My eyes fixed on his knife, I rushed toward them. He brought the knife down under her jaw and pressed the blade to her neck.

But then I was there, my hand on his hand. I had crossed the pavement in between two of his heartbeats. His eyes looked as if they would explode from his head. His lips pulled back as if to grin but he started to shriek. He was terrified of me. I yanked him away from her, and it was like swinging around a sock puppet. Holding him by his throat I pulled his petrified, purple face to mine. The points of my fangs poked my lower lip.

I shook him. I heard things crack. His pulse fluttered against my thumb and his eyes started to roll backward. A tear leaked out of his eye and dropped onto my arm.

It extinguished my fury. And I felt as limp as the man in my hands.

Crying out, I threw him on top of one of his writhing friends. I slapped my hands over my eyes. I wished that I could breathe as humans did. That I could pull in the chilled air and feel it calm my nerves, feel it regulate a frenzied heartbeat. That heartbeat would tell me when I was in control again, when things felt safe.

The girl had crawled behind a row of bicycles. I walked to her, hunching to appear small. She hugged her knees to her chest, her face buried, her body a tight, convulsing ball. I knelt beside her. I touched her shivering elbow and she jumped.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" I asked. "Shh. It's okay. Don't worry. You're safe."

The force of her heartbeat made the inside of my chest vibrate, and I rubbed her back. Images flashed before my eyes. The empty alley. The men coming out of nowhere. The leader's crazy eyes and twisted smile.

"You must be terrified," I whispered. "It's okay. It's okay."

She looked up at me, her eyes overflowing. Tears streamed down her face and under her chin, mixing with the blood on her neck. I stared at the red smears on her collar and inhaled the metallic smell. I could taste it, salty, pungent on my tongue. The flavor seemed to coat the back of my throat. It was intoxicating.

When I opened my mouth, it was as if I could taste her scent, even though I couldn't breathe it in. The sounds of her deep breaths were hypnotic. I leaned toward her. Suddenly I longed to be closer to her, to taste the blood. If I could just hold her... I was so close that my nose was almost touching her cheek. I felt her pull away. I grabbed her arm, and my lips pulled up and away from my teeth. She shrieked.

I threw myself away from her. "Oh God," I said.

She scrambled up and ran from me, her face twisted in terror. I watched her disappear out of the alley and I stood alone in the street, listening to the moans and the faint heartbeats coming from the broken bodies around me. I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling my hard, sharp teeth against my palms, and I looked to the sky to keep the tears from falling. I saw that it had become dark and the full moon now lit the city. I felt the stillness of my body. I felt neither cold or warm. I just felt deep, unspeakable anguish. And in that moment, for the first time, I felt unequivocally that I was no longer a human being. I was a monster.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a figure on a building top, several blocks away. As I turned to look, the figure stepped off the edge and disappeared.

# Chapter 26

I tore down the street toward the apartment, knocking over a rack of clothing and shoving a young man into a display of sandals. In front of the building Kinman was loading our bags into the backseat of a car and Lucas was standing by the driver's side. When he saw my face, he ran to me.

Sobbing, I collapsed into his arms. I tried to talk but everything kept streaming out in a mess.

"I'm so sorry," I blubbered. "I shouldn't have gone out. I hurt people."

He shook me to break the grip of panic. "Calm down. What happened?"

I told them about the five goons and the girl in the alley. I told them about trying to save her and beating up the men. "And then, oh God, I tried to eat her," I said.

"What?" Lucas said.

"I tried to eat the girl."

"Did you?" Kinman asked.

"Nooo," I moaned, my face in my hands.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go out," Lucas said. He held me at arm's length, his hands on my shoulders. I looked at him through my fingers. Concern screwed up his face. His eyes were cast down.

"I'm sorry, Lucas."

He shook his head and stepped away from me. Free of his hold I staggered back. It stung. He must be so disappointed in me.

Kinman slung his huge arm over my shoulders.

"You know, Zee, maybe the humans deserved it," he said.

"No," I said, rubbing my wet face. "No one deserves that."

"What else could you have done?"

"My parents taught me about diplomacy."

"You don't speak Mandarin or Taiwanese," he said. "How were you going to negotiate?"

"I don't know." I leaned back against the car. I felt dizzy.

"It's all right. It's over now."

He smiled at me and patted my back.

The figure on the rooftop.

I gasped. "Wait. There was someone on a rooftop. I couldn't see his face. But he saw it all and then he jumped off the building."

Vampire.

Lucas and Kinman looked at each other and quickly returned to packing.

"What can I do?"

They ignored me. Lucas strapped his swords to his back. Kinman put a cooler into the trunk and slammed it so hard that the car hopped. He tossed the keys to Lucas, who got into the driver's side and started the engine. Kinman opened the passenger side door.

"We have to go now," Lucas said.

I ran to Kinman and threw my arms around him. He hugged me, crushing me, lifting me off the ground.

"Thank you for your help," I said into his ear.

"Safe travels, Zee," he said. "Stay alive."

I climbed into the car and Kinman shut the door. He reached through the open window and handed Lucas a map.

"Kinman. I am in your debt," he said.

"Don't worry. We'll meet again. Be safe. Oh, I almost forgot."

Kinman turned and grabbed something that he had propped against the gate. He put it through the window and into my lap. It was a short sword in a gleaming ivory sheath.

"For the lady," he said with a grin.

I touched the pearl inlays that decorated the handle, tracing the intricate floral patterns. Two butterflies flew among the flowers.

"Thank you," I said, forcing a smile.

"Don't be upset," he said. He rubbed the top of my head. "Everything is going to be okay."

Lucas put the car in gear. "Thanks again," he said.

"Hurry. You need to get out of here," Kinman said. "Follow my directions. Call me if you run into any problems." He stood and patted the roof of the car twice. As we drove away, I looked into the side mirror to see Kinman, but he was already gone.

We drove in silence. Lucas leaned forward, scanning all the street signs and double-checking his rearview mirror. I lay my sword on the floor against my knees and sat back.

I should not have gone down that alley. But I needed to help that girl. I should have been more in control of my emotions. Then I wouldn't have been so violent.

When we pulled onto a highway, Lucas asked: "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," I mumbled.

He shifted in his seat and studied my face. I could see him in my periphery, his eyebrows pinched, his lips tight.

I remembered Lettie's warning: "Their impulses could manifest themselves in you...They were vicious. They were pure evil."

I had been vicious. I had been evil. And then cowardly. I had left the men there. In broken piles. They had deserved punishment—but not the kind of pain I had inflicted. They could be dead for all I knew. I could have killed them. I could have killed that girl. I was what the prophecy had warned. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

In my mind I heard bones crunching. The girl's wail. The strained breaths of the wounded. I saw the leader's horrified expression. The blood on the girl's neck. The desperation that I felt to taste her blood. The images haunted me, tortured me, shamed me. What had happened in a blur was so crisp now in my memory. It was cruel.

"I should have listened to you," I said. "I should not have gone out."

"It's my fault," he said.

I looked at him. "Seriously? Don't..." I started.

"It's my fault," he repeated. "I should never have left you alone. You're my responsibility."

"No, Lucas, I'm not..."

"Yes, you are my responsibility. If you had a sire, he would be the one taking care of you and teaching you. So, in the absence of a sire, I'm it."

"I'm sorry that I've been a burden."

"You're not a burden."

"I did a terrible thing," I whispered.

"What?"

"I hurt those guys in that alley. I really hurt them."

"You didn't mean to."

"But I did."

He didn't respond. My guilt was excavating my heart.

"I wanted to hurt them," I said. "I wanted them to suffer. What does that say about me?"

"It says that you got angry. It says that you fought for something. You were trying to protect the human."

I shook my head. "I might have killed them. I don't even know because I ran away."

"Listen," he said. "You're still young. You're still getting used to your abilities. You don't have any sense of what you're capable of. When I first became a vampire, Nuwa was constantly testing our powers and our strength. That doesn't stop. The older we get, the more powerful we become. I still test myself. I tested Jerome every night. I should be testing you. I should be teaching you how to be a vampire."

Jerome.

"Since I became this, only bad things have happened," I said. "Everyone who I come in contact with is in danger. I used to be...good."

"Zee," he said. "These horrible things that have happened, they do not define you. You are still good."

For a moment we were silent. He looked so troubled by our conversation, by my misery. I was making him suffer with me.

"Hey," I said, fighting to lighten my tone.

"Hmm."

"I think that was the first time that you've ever called me by my name."

"What? No."

"Yes," I said. "See? You do like me."

He clucked his tongue and shook his head, but he had a faint smile on his face. It loosened the grip of grief. Feeling bold, I reached over to the gearshift in between us and rested my hand over his. He stiffened. I gave his hand a squeeze.

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded once. If I had blinked I would have missed it. I was about to move my hand when he closed his fingers around mine. He didn't look at me. I watched him watch the road. He now wore a slight frown but he looked peaceful.

My hand was the only part of me that was not hurting. It made me forget that we were running. It made me forget my fear and my remorse. The only thing that I wanted to be real was the pressure of his fingers gripping mine. And I thought if he could enfold me in his arms, if he could bury me in an embrace, then I could escape from this chaos, this pain.

He finally glanced over at me. The left corner of his lip curled and he winked. I smiled. I loved that. It filled the emptiness inside of me. It was a flash of light in the darkness. I felt grateful for his presence, his friendship. I thought of how he had encouraged me during our sword tutorial. How earnestly he had explained the correct stance and how pleased he'd looked when I countered his attack. I thought of how he called me "schoolgirl" and "killer" and how he'd called me by my name.

He released my hand to turn the wheel, crossing two lanes of traffic, and my hand felt naked. He shifted in his seat, making the leather squeak. His brow wrinkled, his eyes narrowed.

I had clung to his fingers like a starving leech and it creeped him out. My hurt was followed by the realization that I might have feelings for Lucas.

No, wait. You're confused because you've gone through craziness together. You feel gratitude because he's always saving your life, and you feel dependency because he's your only ally. And most of the time, he's sort of mean to you. But he's not. He's great to you. He takes care of you. He reminds you that you're good. Oh geez. He's going to feel weird around you if he thinks that you like him. Say something.

"So, if you're my substitute sire, does that mean you're like my dad?" I said, staring into my lap.

Oh my God. Of all the things you could say.

When he didn't respond, I looked at him. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I think we're being followed."

# Chapter 27

I twisted in my seat to look behind us. "Where?"

"A black sedan," he said. "Three cars behind. Every time I change lanes, it shadows us."

"Are you sure?" I inspected each of the vehicles behind us.

"Yes."

"Did you see who's driving?"

"I can't get a good look at them."

"Well, step on it. Let's get out of here."

"I'm not speeding."

"Why not?"

"There are other cars on the road and I don't want to get into an accident."

"Seriously?"

"Why do you always say that word? Of course I'm being serious."

"We're being hunted and you're driving below the speed limit."

"We have to stay calm. We can't draw attention to ourselves."

"We're being followed. It's kind of too late for that."

He huffed. I twisted to the left, leaned over him, and reached around his body.

"What are you doing?" he asked, alarmed.

"I'm hugging you goodbye," I said. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm putting your seatbelt on."

I pulled the belt across his chest and wrestled it into the buckle. Then I sat back and fastened mine.

"Seat belts save lives," I said, annoyed.

Lucas surveyed the highway and glanced in the mirror, then made an abrupt right down an off-ramp. I pressed my hand against the window to steady myself around the turn. In the side mirror, I saw a black car follow us down the ramp.

"Oh no," I whispered.

The car's windows were tinted but I could make out two figures in the front seat. We sped down an empty, darkened stretch of road. I heard their engine rev as they pushed forward in pursuit. In the side mirror their headlights rushed at us.

"Go faster!" I blurted.

They rammed us, smashing our bumper. The shock of it made my teeth crack against each other. Our car pitched forward but my seatbelt held my body down. I screamed, drowning out Lucas's cursing. He wrestled with the wheel, trying to keep the car straight. I heard them accelerate to hit us again and I braced myself. When the strike did not come, I searched the side mirror for their lights. The road behind us was empty.

"Where..." I started.

I turned to Lucas and saw the black car pull up beside his window. The faceless figures inside looked at us. Their car moved away and then veered back.

"Watch out!" I cried.

Lucas jerked the wheel toward them and the vehicles crashed into each other, metal scraping metal. We were stuck together for a few seconds before separating and bashing again. As our vehicles played bumper cars along the road, I gripped my seat.

Then Lucas pressed the gas pedal and our car jolted forward, edging in front of the black car again. His side mirror, which dangled by a cord, banged against his door. He gritted his teeth and grimaced, his fangs pressing into his lower lip. The road curved around a rock face and we could hear the rumble of approaching traffic. As we screeched around the corner, the black sedan rear-ended us again, propelling us into the other lane. The lights of an oncoming truck blinded us. It blared its horn and I gasped. Lucas swerved but it was too late.

The truck clipped the back of our car on the left-hand side and we were spinning. Everything was a blur. There was darkness, headlights and then darkness again. And then came an explosion. Glass burst inward and a blizzard of shards filled the car. The thunderous crunch of metal rattled my brain, and I saw Lucas's head snap toward his window. The car skidded sideways, skating across the pavement before stopping.

My ears were ringing. The windshield hadn't shattered, but, its surface had crackled into an intricate, aquamarine cobweb. Immediately I looked at Lucas. His head was flopped forward. With a trembling hand I touched his shoulder.

"Lucas?"

He didn't stir. Through his broken window, I saw the black sedan about twenty feet away. Its front end was crushed, the hood curled in to reveal its twisted innards.

I tried to turn to him but my belt trapped me against the seat. I fumbled with the buckle, pebbles of glass falling out of my lap, and yanked the belt away. Leaning over I put my hand on his chest and called his name. I held his chin in my palm and gently lifted his head. A piece of glass jutted out of his hairline and blood streamed over his closed eyes. Cuts on his cheeks opened like fish gills.

"Lucas!" My voice was shrill. I pulled the shard from his forehead. Almost three inches of it was stained with blood.

The doors of the sedan opened and two vampires emerged. They were mirror images of each other, clad in black suits without ties, both tall and muscular, with sloping foreheads and protruding jaws, like chimpanzees.

"Lucas," I said, shaking him. "Please wake up."

I pushed open my door and climbed out. Glass, metal bits, and pieces of plastic littered the road. My legs wobbled. Bracing myself on the hood of the car, I ran to the other side. The driver's side of the car was crumpled inward; it was as if a giant fist had punched the car into a U shape. The car, under the red paint, was gray.

"Oh my God. Oh my God."

I tugged the door handle but it didn't move. Lucas had yet to stir. I looked back at the approaching vampires. They were unsmiling, their dark hair slicked back against their scalps.

Crap.

I grabbed the handle and the window frame and, with a grunt, I tore the door free. Staggering backward I dropped the door and reached inside. When I ripped Lucas's seat belt buckle out, he groaned. The cuts on his face had healed and the gaping wound above his forehead was closing, squeezing out a clot of blood.

"Come on," I said. When I took his arm to pull him out, he gasped.

"Everything...is...broken," he said.

"Let me help you."

I heard a voice yell at us. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a man in jeans and a T-shirt. It was the driver from the truck. He had parked around the bend and had come back to check on us. He jogged toward the vampires, speaking in another language.

"No!" I hollered. I waved at him. "Run!"

But one of the vampires grabbed the man's throat and snapped his neck.

"No!" I screamed.

The vampire tossed the man onto the road. Slowly the vampires turned their heads to stare at me with their black, unblinking eyes. Then they started running. Desperate, I searched for a weapon, a distraction, and I picked up the car door. They were closing in on me. With a cry, I launched the door at them. It sailed through the air like a disk. They both leaped to avoid it, but it caught one of them in the midsection.

The vampire appeared to jump over it, but just his top half flopped over and he fell to the ground in two parts. The door kept flying through the air, and a split second later embedded itself into the side of the black sedan with a crash.

Both I and the vampire were immobilized by shock. Someone grabbed my wrist, startling me. It was Lucas. He was still sitting in the car but he had seen what happened. "What the..." he started.

The remaining vampire howled. He drew his sword, his beady eyes on me. Lucas squeezed my hand, wincing.

He's coming.

The white sword on the floor of the car caught my eye. I leaned over Lucas's legs, grabbed the handle, and whirled around to face the vampire. He was almost upon us. I looked him in the eyes—he was seething, spittle spraying from his mouth—and unsheathed the sword. I moved toward him, putting my body in front of Lucas.

The vampire spoke to me in another language.

"Get the hell away from her," Lucas snarled.

"You are the one that the Monarchy seeks," said the vampire.

"I don't want to fight you. Please walk away," I said.

He spoke through his clenched teeth. "You've slain my brother. I don't care if the Monarchy wants you alive. You're going to die."

"Please don't do this," I said.

"You're going to pay," he said, ignoring my pleading.

I had no choice. I had to protect us.

With a howl he charged. Steeling myself, I positioned both of my hands on the sword handle. He swiped wildly at my neck, but he wasn't as fast or as graceful as Lucas or the soldiers. I gasped, swinging my sword, knocking his blade away. He paused, slightly surprised, his blade quivering from the force, before attacking again. I ducked under his blade and batted away his strikes, stumbling back a few steps. My shoulders had crept up to my ears in fear.

The vampire hissed through his teeth, drawing backward for another charge. He rushed at me, his sword high above him, and slashed downward. Raising my sword I turned it sideways to block my head. Our blades clanged together, our elbows touching, our faces inches away. His onyx eyes bulged; his lips were pulled so taut that they curled under, disappearing. He opened his jaws as if to try to bite me and a rasp vibrated in his throat. Suddenly his arms fell, his sword dangling at his side.

"What...?"

I looked down between us and saw a blade through his heart. In that instant I felt Lucas behind me and I understood. Relief flooded my body. Lucas's hand was on my back. He moved me aside. As the vampire began to lift his weapon, Lucas pulled the sword from his body and beheaded him. The head bounced and rolled under the wreckage, and the headless body fell into a sitting position, propped against the car.

I turned to see Lucas stagger and fall to one knee. His left arm was pressed against his chest.

"Lucas!" I knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Still healing. I'll be fine in another minute."

After a moment he stood, stretching his neck and maneuvering his arm in its socket, his joints and bones cracking.

"Thanks for saving my life," I said. "Again."

"Who saved whose life?" he said, nodding at my sword. "You did pretty well."

I smiled but because I did not feel happy, smiling made me feel crazy. I slipped my sword back into its sheath. "I can't believe I had to do that," I murmured.

We stood in front of our doorless car. "I can't believe you did that," he said, pointing to the door stuck in the sedan.

"I didn't know that was going to happen."

Shaking his head he looked at me. "How strong are you?"

I shrugged.

"Were you hurt?" he asked.

"I don't think so."

He looked at the car. The metal was crumpled and puckered like aluminum foil. "How is it that you don't have a scratch on you?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Maybe I do feel a little bit sore."

"That accident destroyed me. I had a skull fracture. My ribs punctured my organs. But you. You were unharmed. You walked out of the car, ripped the door away, and threw it like a Frisbee."

He was still shaking his head.

"Don't look at me like that," I said.

"Like what?"

"Like you did when Lettie told us that story."

"I don't mean to. You're just..."

"Just what?" I snapped.

"I don't know," he said. "Why are you getting upset?"

I didn't understand why I had reacted so strongly.

"I'm not upset," I said. "I just can't stand that look."

"Zee..."

"I don't want you looking at me like..."

"Like?"

"Like I'm a monster," I said.

I preferred his look of disdain. Or his irritated scowls. But to see him so shocked, so alarmed, made me feel alone. It made me feel like the apocalyptic legend about me could be true. He walked over to me and took hold of both my arms.

"Hey," he said. "You are not a monster."

"I'm not like you. I know," I said.

"No. You're not like us. You are different. But you are amazing."

He lifted my chin with his finger. I looked up at his face, searching for sarcasm. Instead I found a softness in his expression, something I'd never seen before. Even in the dimness his emerald eyes were brilliant. A line of dried blood marked his cheek like remnants of a tear. I had no words and he didn't need to say anything else.

But then he broke the beautiful silence with this: "Don't be a baby, okay?"

He winked and I frowned, shaking my head. Suddenly my legs seemed to liquify.

"Whoa," he said, holding me up. "You must be starving."

"I hadn't noticed," I lied.

He went to the trunk of the car, which was already ajar, and pulled out a red cooler and a black backpack. He opened the cooler and pulled out a packet of blood.

"Drink this," he said, putting it in my palm.

"You're not having one?"

"I'm fine."

While I drank, he walked up to the top half of the vampire I'd bisected and cut off his head.

"Is he still alive?" I asked.

"No, but just in case."

He dragged the vampire body parts to the side of the road. "They'll burn up at dawn," he said.

He started to walk back to me and I pointed to the fallen truck driver.

"Please," I said. "We can't leave him like that."

The man looked like he was sleeping on his back with one hand tucked behind his head. I wondered where he had been headed tonight. I wondered if he had children. Lucas collected the man in his arms and carried him to the side of the road. He lay the body in the grass and returned to me.

"We need to keep moving," he said. He put his arm across my collarbone to move me but I would not turn from the accident site.

"Others will come," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

I didn't believe him.

# Chapter 28

"I want you to," Lucas said.

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's stupid."

Lucas moved in front of me so that he was walking backward in the road with his arms outstretched. My sword was jutting out the top of his backpack like a bone growing out the side of his neck. I stopped and crossed my arms.

"Hit me," he said.

I shook my head.

"I just want to see how hard you can hit," he said.

"Quit bugging me or I'll really punch you."

"Yes, do it. Here," he said, showing me his palm like it was a catcher's mitt. "Put it right here."

I looked into his hand and back into his eyes. He widened his stance and pumped his eyebrows, half smiling. My head flopped to the side as I sighed.

"Don't say, 'seriously.' Just do it," he said.

I made a fist with my right hand.

"Tuck your thumb in or you'll break it," he said. "Now hit me."

I pulled my fist back and jabbed at his hand. The contact made a satisfying slapping noise.

"How was that?" I asked.

His shoulders slumped and he dropped his hand. "Seriously?" he said in a high-pitched slur.

"Was that you trying to imitate me? Is that how I sound to you?"

"That was weak. I know you can do better," he said. He re-positioned his feet so he stood square to me and raised his palm. He wagged it, waving like the queen of England.

"Come on," said Lucas. "I want you to carry through this time. Don't just fling your arm. Put your weight into it, turn your hips. And don't aim for my hand. Aim at a target behind my hand. Punch through me."

"I can't."

"You can. Think of everything that you've been through, all your anger and your fears, and just let it all out."

"Oh, this is therapy now?"

"Yes. Pretend my hand is your enemy."

Pretend the hand is the general. My mind's eye saw Noel. Saw him fall. Saw the general smile.

I clenched my fist, wound up, and struck out. My fist shot out, faster than I had expected, too fast for me to soften the blow. The moment my knuckles touched Lucas's skin, I regretted it. He saw the speed and tried to pull his hand back to absorb the punch. But bones in his hands cracked and the force sent him staggering.

"Oh my God," I said. "I'm so sorry."

He clutched his broken hand and did a turn, like he was dancing.

"Lucas?"

"Just give me a minute," he said. He massaged the top of his hand, as if he was pushing the bones back into place. Once he was satisfied, he turned to me with a bemused expression.

"All right," he said. "You are definitely stronger than I expected."

"I didn't mean to do that."

"That was incredible. I can take a punch from Jerome and it barely stings. You've been a vampire for a week and you're possibly stronger than vampires who have been alive for centuries."

We continued our trudge along the side of the road. Lucas's hand was healed but he kept turning it over, flexing it, and looking at it. Then he would glance at me.

"Stop with the funny looks," I warned.

"I apologize. It's just incredible."

"You said that already."

"You really need to be aware of your strength," he said, "especially around humans."

Recalling the scene in the alley, I winced.

"Your abilities develop and build with time so you're going to get even stronger."

Stronger.

I kicked a rock and it disappeared in the distance. I imagined myself oversized and destroying a city like King Kong, knocking over buildings and swatting planes out of the air like flies. Soldiers on the ground were firing at me, their torpedoes plinking harmlessly against my forehead.

"You're thinking weird thoughts. I know by your face. Stop it," he said.

"I'm thinking that I'm hazardous. That I need a 'Beware of Freak Vampire' sign around my neck."

"You just need to learn how to control yourself."

"You still think that legend about me is just a story?"

"I think that whatever blood spawned you has given you great power. But no, I don't think that you're a danger."

How would I be able to control myself? Without a thought I had destroyed the humans in the alley, I chopped a vampire in half with a door, and broke Lucas's hand.

The hum of an approaching vehicle in the distance interrupted us.

"We need to take this one, all right?" he said. "We've let too many pass and we need to find shelter before dawn."

"But..."

"We're not going to find a stall selling cars on the side of the road, Zee."

I sighed. "Fine."

I followed him to the shoulder. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Go stand in the middle of the road."

"Why me?"

"Just do it. They'll stop for you."

Grumbling, I stomped back. "We're not hurting them."

The driver had the windows down. I could hear the bass from the stereo and a man's voice singing along with a ballad. He sounded happy. I blinked against the glare from his headlights and waved. He didn't let up on the accelerator so I hopped and flailed my arms.

"Stop waving so fast," Lucas said. "Move at human speed."

"Oh. Like this?"

"Slower. I said slower."

I waved my arms, feeling as though I was at a concert during a slow song. It was a young man behind the wheel. He looked startled. He slowed his car and pulled over to the shoulder. I ran over to his window.

"Hi!" I said. "Thanks so much for stopping. I'm a bit lost."

Before he could respond, Lucas was opening his door, tearing his seatbelt away and pulling him out. The guy gasped so deeply that he choked. He did a belly flop on the pavement, his glasses, wallet, and coins scattering around him. He flipped over on his back and lay with his limbs extended as if ready to do snow angels.

"I'm so sorry about this," I said, climbing into the passenger side.

When we drove away, the man was sitting on the road, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed.

"Man, I feel bad," I said.

"It's just a car, Zee. He can get another one."

"Maybe he's a student and he has to work two jobs to pay for this car. Maybe he spent years saving for this car so he could date the pretty girl at the tea shop. You don't know."

"Why would he want to date a girl who only likes him for his car?"

"Pfff. That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"These things mean a lot to people. Taking them hurts them."

"Humans focus too much on petty things. A car is an object. He wasn't hurt. He still has his health, his life, his future. We didn't take anything of value from him."

"To you, it wasn't valuable. How can you judge humans? You haven't been one for a very long time."

"You're right," he said. "But I wish they knew what I know now. They'd be happier, I think."

"Are you happier knowing what you know?"

"It's not the same. Humans would be happier because for them, it all ends. Everything is more intense, more precious, when it's finite."

"You keep saying that we're immortal. But this could all end for us too. If you haven't noticed, every vampire on the planet is trying to kill us."

"Try is the operative word there. They can try."

He was quiet for a few minutes. He turned the music off and leaned back from the steering wheel.

"Zee?"

"Hmm?"

"If something ever happens to me, I want you to run."

"What? No," I said. I twisted in my seat to face him but he wasn't looking at me.

"That was too close tonight. Too dangerous," he said. "You should have left me."

"I would never do that. Just like you couldn't leave me behind at the church."

"If something was to happen, I need to know that you would run away and be safe. That you would be brave."

I sat back. This was an intolerable conversation about an unimaginable scenario. The thought of it made me want to vomit.

"Be brave. Isn't that your code for 'I care'?" I said instead.

He was solemn. "I have lost a lot of people that I care about," he said. "I can't have anyone else die."

"I don't have any plans to die."

He appeared satisfied by my response but still disturbed by our conversation.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said. "I don't have...anyone else."

He turned to me for the first time since getting into the vehicle. "You will always have yourself."

On the dashboard a bobble-head toy in the shape of a cat wobbled its round, grinning face. I rested my head against the windowpane and counted the streetlights along the highway.

"You should rest," he said softly. "I don't think you've slept."

He was right. I hadn't slept in a while. But I didn't feel physically tired. I was only weary of thinking, weary of feeling scared. When my mind went blank, the marauding dread swept in. The stillness allowed the sadness to take hold.

Lucas turned off the highway and pulled up to a gas station. He parked in front of the doors, fluorescent lights filling the car. As I looked into the store, my mind's microphone slipped beyond the door. I heard the hum of the fridges, the laugh track from the television. The man behind the counter was clipping his fingernails. I heard the snap and the tick of the stray half moons hitting the floors.

"Safe to go in?" Lucas asked.

"Huh?"

"You have this funny look on your face when you're listening for things."

"I'm glad that I amuse you. What are we doing here?"

"Asking for directions. We need to find a hotel," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"You know, I could drive us in the day. We'll just have to put you in the trunk."

"And how will you know where to go?"

"How do you know where to go?"

"Listen. I'd feel better if you weren't alone. I can't help you in the day."

I thought of the last time that I was alone and acquiesced.

"Do you need anything?" he said, opening the door.

"Could you grab me a bag of barbecue chips?"

He paused, one leg outside.

"I'm joking," I said. "Did chips even exist in your days...?"

He slammed the door before I was finished talking. Why did he have to be so abrupt?

I opened my door and climbed out. "Hey. I never told you, I got super hungry in the market and ate a fish ball," I said.

He stopped. "And?"

"I got violently ill."

"I warned you."

"You did. But you said it would taste like feet. It didn't."

"That was what I was told."

"Well, you were misinformed. It's just a vampire urban legend to scare newbies."

Bells attached to the front doors announced our arrival, but the attendant didn't look up. The store was so bright that it made everything look surreal; the colors were extra colorful, the whites were fluorescent white. I could smell the chocolate and the pastries through their wrappings. While Lucas talked to the man, I wandered the aisles, touching everything. The packaging snapped like firecrackers under my fingers. When I was little, my father used to let me choose one treat at the gas station for the ride home. Though I wanted a Coke slushie, I always chose a bag of barbecue chips. They were my father's favorite and this way we could share.

I lingered in front of the shelf of chips and scanned the shiny, bulgy bags: pizza and prawn and seaweed-flavored chips. There were potato twists whose brand name in English read "Lonely God."

"That's an interesting name," I muttered to myself. Lonely gods. I thought of the Ancients, imprisoned forever in gold.

I glanced at the counter, and Lucas and the attendant were looking my way. The attendant was examining me and talking in animated tones. When I met his gaze, he averted his eyes and said something to Lucas. He scratched the back of his skull, the vein in his temple throbbing. Lucas replied with some sarcastic quip and the man threw his head back in laughter.

Back in the car, Lucas spread out a map.

"So what were you guys talking about?"

"Hmm?"

"You guys were talking about me. What were you saying?"

He smiled. "He asked if you were a movie star."

I coughed. "He what?"

"He said that he thought you were beautiful."

"And what did you say?"

"I said, 'Yes, but she can be a pain.'"

Ignoring the last part of his comment, I sat back and blushed. Only two men had ever called me beautiful. One was my father. The other had killed me.

"Don't let it go to your head," Lucas said.

"Oh, it's too late," I said.

We exchanged a smile and I laughed. It felt good to laugh. I sounded like me.

# Chapter 29

I sat on the stone edging around the pool, my pant legs rolled up over my knees and my feet submerged in the hot water. The stench of rotten eggs from the sulfurous hot springs was smothering. A ghostly mist floated over the surface of the water, obscuring the moon's reflection.

The resort was nestled in among mountains that rose around us like the furry backs of bison. Sounds of civilization were muffled by chirring bugs and bubbling water. Everyone at the inn was fast asleep, including the concierge who was supposed to be manning the front desk.

Without turning around I listened for Lucas, but he was silent. I thought he had gone back to our room, but I heard the wind rustle his shirt. He was several feet behind me, perhaps on one of the patio chairs.

"When was the last time you killed someone?" I asked.

"Do you mean someone human?"

"Yes."

Suddenly he was kneeling beside me. The pool lights made his eyes appear almost yellow.

"We killed a lot in our early years. That was how we fed. But in the last century the Monarchy took over the supply of blood. They made it easier to access, and it was less necessary to hunt."

"Where do they get the blood from?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know where your food comes from?"

"No," he said. "The Monarchy doesn't have an obligation to tell us."

"Good point. They probably don't have a customer service department where you can send your concerns. So—no one knows?"

"Samira has her theories, but then again she can be a bit of a conspiracy theorist."

"The Monarchy could have human farms where they're draining the livestock," I said with a shudder.

"It's possible. All of the blood tastes the same."

"What do you mean?"

"Kinman occasionally feeds on humans and he says the taste of blood varies depending on the person. The Japanese, for example, eat a lot of fish so their blood contains more mercury. Humans have altered their environments and their diets so much in recent times that their blood is full of chemicals."

"So some people taste like feet?"

He smiled. "Possibly."

I tapped my forehead to clear the image of Kinman pouncing on people like a crazed gorilla. I preferred to think of his friendly grin.

"I can't believe Kinman would do that," I said. "But I have to remember that my moral compass doesn't apply anymore."

"I don't know that he kills people. He might just frequent dens."

"What are dens?"

"They're like underground clubs for vampires. Humans who want to be fed on visit them."

"Really? I thought no one knew about vampires."

"There are small groups of humans who worship vampires and who serve vampires in hopes of becoming one."

"Vampire groupies," I said with a sniff. "Must be nice to have food that begs to be eaten."

"No one forces them to be there."

"So do you go to these clubs?"

"I have in the past but they're not really my scene."

I was relieved and realized that I had felt jealous. Of strangers throwing themselves at him.

"They're mostly run by members of the rebellion," he said.

"Did you ever consider joining them? To be with Samira?"

"I did. For a while I wanted to fight the Monarchy. To punish them for what they did to my family. But I needed to stay with my father."

"He wouldn't have joined?"

"No. He would never have put himself in direct battle against my brother. And maybe he thought that by making weapons for the Aramatta, he was somehow helping him."

"Taren," I said softly. "That was his name?"

Lucas stared into the steam swirling from the water and nodded. "He took great pleasure in training with the Aramatta and guarding the elders at court. I wasn't even surprised when he chose to stay at the castle. But I was happy to leave. I hated being there, at the beck and call of the Monarchy. I hated the rules, the ceremony, the ostentation. But the first years away were hard. Without my siblings and Nuwa."

"Are you excited to see her?"

He furrowed his brow and cocked his head as if confused. "I suppose I am," he said, sounding surprised. "It's been a long time."

"What are you going to say?"

"I haven't a clue. I'll know when I say it."

We sat this way for a while without speaking. I leaned over, lowering my head until it rested on his shoulder. I felt his cheek against the top of my head and I closed my eyes.

When we get to Nuwa's, we can stop running.

"Zee?"

"Yeah?"

"What does Axelia mean?"

"It means 'protector of mankind.' Maybe my parents thought I'd grow up to be Superwoman."

"You do have superpowers."

"I don't think this is what they had in mind."

A few birds twittered in the distance. He shifted so I sat up. "We should go inside. The sun will be up soon."

"You go first. I'm going to watch the sun come up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'll be there shortly."

I patted his back and he pitched forward, his eyes wide, his hand reaching back for the edge of the pool. I gasped and tried to grab his arm but it was too late. He slipped into the pool. By the time he was halfway in, he had given up, sinking under the surface with a small splash. I burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," I said, pressing my hand over my mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Lucas floated to the top. He was not smiling. "You did that on purpose."

"I swear I didn't. Are you okay?" I pressed my lips together to hide my smile.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, swimming over to me.

"I forgot that I have superpowers. I'm sorry. Here," I said. I stood and reached my hand out to him.

"It's all right," he said.

"No, let me help you."

He gripped the edge with one hand and reached out with the other. We clasped hands. Then he yanked me toward him.

"No!" I screamed, flying off my feet. I instinctively went to plug my nose. I hit the hot water, slapping it with my floundering limbs. It felt like I was swimming in bath water.

"Aaaah," I cried, coming to the surface. "It's boiling in here."

Lucas's laugh was low and throaty. It made me laugh as well. He orbited me, treading water as if he was walking. I dipped my head back to get the hair out of my face. "Put a couple of humans in here and you could have soup," I said. That was a sick joke.

"The humans like hot tubs," he said.

"I wasn't that kind of girl."

"What kind of girl?"

"The hot tub party girl," I said. "I was the play Scrabble with my parents girl."

"Is that what you did for fun?"

"Well, I hung out with my best friend, Ryka. And I loved taking photos. On the weekends, I'd spend hours hiking with my camera. My idea of excitement was getting the perfect shot of a ladybug on a leaf. Now I'm getting into car chases and sword fights. And I'm in a hot tub with a boy."

"You're in a hot tub with a vampire," he said. He hit the surface with the heel of his hand, splashing me in the face.

"You didn't just do that," I said. He dived and I chased him eight feet under, until the bottom was against my belly. He swam with his hands at his sides, twisting and curling his body to avoid me. When we surfaced, I grabbed his shoulders and pushed his head under. We sank down together and bobbed up, laughing. I slung my arm around his shoulders and the side of my body was pressed against his. Beneath his soft skin his muscles were hard, like stone. Our laughter trailed away. I felt his hand on my waist. His legs brushed mine as we treaded water. I searched his face. His expression was undecipherable. He just looked into my eyes, clenched his jaw, and swallowed. I looked at his lips. They gleamed from the water, the steam. I thought he might kiss me. I wanted him to.

He put his other hand on my waist and gently moved me away. My arm slid off of his cool shoulder into the hot water. I sank, as did my heart; I let my face disappear under, as if to wash away my feelings. I felt confused by the urge to kiss him and embarrassed that he didn't return the feeling. I blame the hot tub. It makes people wild.

He swam to the shallow end and leaped out of the water, landing poolside. His black clothing clung to his sinewy body and appeared to be dripping off like oil. I tried not to stare.

"Hey, hot tub party girl. Don't stay out too long," he said. "We're heading out at nightfall. Into the mountains to find Nuwa."

I glanced at the rocky peaks in the distance—a red glow radiated along their edges—and when I looked back, he was gone.

***

"How much further?" I said, clinging to the side of a rock face.

"Stop asking that," Lucas said.

He was several feet above me and pebbles were tumbling down the escarpment, hitting me in the forehead.

"Grab that hold there and swing up to this one," he said. "Hurry, but be careful!"

When he said "into the mountains," he wasn't kidding.

The climbing part wasn't difficult but the height made me queasy. "Remember, don't look down," he said, as if reading my mind.

We had left the resort at sunset and had spent hours hiking through the mountains. We loped across valleys, plowing through grass that was taller than us. We leaped up boulders as if they were stairs and launched ourselves from cliffs, snagging faraway ledges. I imagined my fingers walking across a map, and that was how fast we must have been traveling and how much land we were covering.

Lucas helped me onto a landing place. I shifted the rope across my chest that fastened my sword to my back. Having recovered my senses following the hot tub incident, I felt normal around him again. And having him scold me for the entire evening had helped.

"Hey, what if she doesn't like me?" I asked.

"What?"

"What if Nuwa doesn't like me?"

"Why are you talking nonsense?"

"I know I sound like we're dating and you're bringing me home to your mother and that's ridiculous because we're just friends but I still feel nervous..."

He put his hand up. "Stop it. She is going to like you. She is going to help us."

I nodded.

"And if she doesn't like you, she will grow to like you," he added.

"That's comforting."

"Hey, I didn't like you when we met."

"That's fine because I didn't like you either. I thought you were a jerk."

Lucas crouched down and sprang up thirty feet. He landed on the side of the cliff, like a fly landing on a wall, his hands holding the edge of a deep crack in the rock face. By this point, I knew to just follow.

"That's fair. I can be a jerk sometimes," he said, once I landed near his feet.

"It's okay. Sometimes it's warranted."

He pushed off, flying horizontally, and grabbed another ledge. I looked over my shoulder. Below us, the clouds looked like a frothy ocean from which the mountaintops emerged. I wished I had a camera.

"Amazing," I said.

"You coming?"

"Yeah."

I jumped up to meet him. I grabbed the ledge but the rock disintegrated like soil in my hands. I gasped. I groped the air and started to fall.

# Chapter 30

I kicked against the air. I reached for Lucas. He was half turned, looking at me over his shoulder, his nostrils flaring. I thought I heard him say my name but his mouth barely moved.

I shrieked.

Lucas's face came toward me. He snatched my wrist and the two of us came to a jarring halt in mid air. I stared up into his wide eyes and waited. Waited to keep falling or for something I understood to happen.

"Are...are you flying?" I asked. I tried to still my dangling feet so I would not swing. We seemed to be frozen in the air, mirror images of each other, connected at the hands.

"No. Vampires can't fly."

"Did you dive off the ledge to grab me?"

"Yes."

"How are you doing this?"

"I'm hanging by my toes," he said. "Can we have this conversation later?"

"Yes please."

With one yank he pulled me up, throwing me up to catch the ledge. I scrambled up onto the rocky landing and saw that he was indeed hanging off the lip by his toes. It looked as if someone had left their shoes on the edge. Reaching down, I grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him up beside me. Lucas fell back against the rock and closed his eyes for a moment. I peered over the edge and shivered. There was no bottom. Just thick white mist, like a bed of fluffy snow.

"That was insane," was all I could muster.

I tried to suck in air to flush away the nausea but it had no effect. I forgot I didn't breathe.

"You have to be mindful of your strength," he said. "You grabbed the rock too hard."

"I'm sorry," I said. "And thank you."

There was no time to recuperate. He rose with a sigh and kept climbing. In a few minutes we had made it to the other side of the mountain and started to descend.

"Do you ever get tired being a hero?" I asked.

"Do you ever get tired of being a troublemaker?"

"What if I had fallen?" I asked.

"By the time that I climbed down to get you, you would have been fully healed and then we'd just start back up again."

"Hmm. So instead of plummeting to my death, I would have just cost us maybe an hour of travel."

"Yes."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Yes, but you would have been in excruciating pain so I wouldn't try it."

"Oh, that's not something I want to try. Trust me."

The wind brought the scent of trees and flowers. Soon we were wading through bushes, my fingers brushing their soft leaves and folded, sleeping blooms. Lucas abruptly stopped and I walked into his back.

"What?" I asked.

"There, look," he said.

In the distance, a white pointed roof poked out of the thick mass of green, like the edge of a card in a bouquet. It was the top tier of a temple that seemed to sit on the mountain's shoulder, and in the heavy haze it would have been easy to miss. I felt a quiver of excitement in my chest and looked at Lucas. His eyes darted across the terrain, marking the quickest path.

Watching him, I was aware of the wistful smile on my face. The glimmer of anticipation I felt became a dull pain. His impending reunion made me hope for one with my family. I had never been separated from my parents for this long.

Meanwhile Lucas had not seen Nuwa in hundreds of years.

"Let's go," I said, swallowing the ache.

He took off first and because he didn't look back, I tried to concentrate on shadowing him to avoid a misstep. We tore across the woody landscape. Surrounded by trees I lost sight of the temple. He stopped in front of a three-story wall of green. Ropy trees had grown against the barrier, leaning on the wall for support and then spreading their arms to hold hands. I reached out and my hands slipped through the leaves and the vines to the cool stone underneath.

"The temple is just on the other side of this wall," Lucas said in a whisper. "I'm going to go over first. Just to make sure it's safe. Wait for me to call you before you follow."

"Be careful."

He leaped up into the trees. I searched the lush forest for movement and listened for his voice—or barking Dobermans. I was distracted by a whistling cricket dancing on a nearby tree trunk, its wings vibrating with every chirp.

"Shh," I said.

"Zee," Lucas hissed.

Coming.

I jumped up, breaking a few stems with my head before grabbing a thicker branch and swinging over the wall. On the other side there were more trees and I snapped several branches before hitting the ground.

"I called you a few times," he said, pulling a few twigs from my hair.

"Sorry, there was a..." I didn't finish.

I was in awe. The temple stood at the base of a slope, surrounded by a lake and gardens. We descended a path marked by flat, oval stones. The shrubs were shaped into perfect globes, and short trees held clumps of foliage like they were balancing green plates on taut, outstretched fingers. The edge of the lake was lined with boulders, statues of mini temples, and sprigs of white and fuchsia flowers.

"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen," I mumbled.

I lingered on a footbridge to watch huge white and orange koi wriggling in the shallow, clear pond beneath us. One stuck his whiskered face out of the water above a cluster of lily pads, and his silver forehead glimmered in the moonlight. I wished my father could see the size of them.

Lucas passed between two marble lion statues and started up a flight of stone stairs to the entrance of the temple. A light wind disturbed the red cylindrical lanterns hanging along the edge of the roof. I leaned on one of the temple's stone columns, my fingers touching a carving of a dragon's head. Lucas paused at the red doors and nodded once at me.

I wondered what Nuwa would be like after so many years of isolation. Could vampires go insane? Paolo was psychotic, so perhaps yes.

I thought he would knock but Lucas pulled on the iron handles, opening the doors. I sidled up to him as we walked into a darkened room and were faced with another set of open doors. Through that entranceway we saw a rock garden. Swirly patterns had been raked into the sand, and the stones were smooth and charcoal colored.

We stepped outside onto the veranda, and on the far side of the garden, beside a tree blooming with white petals, stood a figure. A small woman with a cape of shiny black hair. She had her back to us, her knees bent, her arms extended. A tiny hand emerged from the gaping sleeve of her white, silky shirt as she scooped the air and folded it over. She leaned forward and pressed an imaginary wall with her palms and then, as she leaned back, she turned her head to us.

A gentle, knowing smile spread across her beautiful face. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. I felt my shoulders sag and I wasn't sure why but I wanted to cry.

At last.

# Chapter 31

I had pictured Nuwa differently. In my mind, I saw her as Lucas's mother and imagined her to be older. She had the softest facial features, smooth and rounded like the stones in her garden. She had small black eyes and a heart-shaped, peach-colored mouth. She looked anywhere from sixteen to twenty-nine.

We walked along the edge of the garden to meet her, careful not to disturb the designs on the ground. I glanced at Lucas's face. It was rigid. He was impossible to read. We stopped in front of her and he surprised me by dropping down onto one knee, his hand on his chest, his head lowered. I took a step back, unsure if I should kneel.

Nuwa placed a hand over her heart. Then she knelt, put her hands on either side of his shoulders, and guided him to his feet. I couldn't see his face. For a moment no one spoke.

"My child," she said. Her feminine voice was full of warmth.

"Obaia," he said.

"You've returned to me," she said, still holding his arms. "I'm so pleased to see you."

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"It's all right, my child."

"Noel's dead."

"I know."

"And I wanted to see you."

"I always knew that we would be together again."

She peered around his shoulder at me. "And you've brought home company. Who is this?"

I bowed my head.

"Obaia, this is Axelia."

When I looked up, she was smiling. Her long hair undulated in the wind around her oval face. "It's a pleasure. I am Nuwa."

"It's so nice to meet you," I said.

"Come sit."

She said something in Mandarin and led us onto a terrace with a round stone table and four cylindrical seats. The garden was bordered on three sides by the temple, but at the edge of the terrace the ground dropped away. Beyond, there was nothing but fuzzy green peaks and misty sky.

We sat down and a vampire in a burgundy tunic shuffled out of a nearby door with a tray. She set the tray down on the table and set out three small teacups and a pot; a jade bangle on her wrist clinked against the porcelain. Without looking at us she poured a stream of blood out into the cups.

"Thank you, Yung," Nuwa said.

The vampire hastened away. As she turned to close the door, our eyes met. She examined my face, her hands frozen on the door. When I smiled, she slid it shut.

"I'm glad that you're not alone," Lucas said.

"The Monarchy was kind enough to allow me servants."

"You look well."

"I exist," she said. "I'm sorry about your father. That must have been awful."

"The Aramatta came to our home. They were after Zee—I mean Axelia. They killed Jerome and then they killed Noel."

"How terrible," she whispered.

"It was the general."

A look crossed her face, perhaps desolation or loathing, but it was gone in a second.

"They have everyone chasing us," he said. "We didn't know where else to go."

"You did the right thing," she said. "I was worried when you did not arrive last night. Your messenger said to expect you."

"We ran into trouble on the highway."

"Why do they want Axelia?"

He paused. "She fell into the Crucivium and became a vampire without a sire."

He didn't elaborate. I waited for her reaction. She considered the information and reached across the table, offering her palm to me. I took her hand. It was soft, like a flower petal.

"You must have been so frightened," she said.

I nodded. She squeezed my hand.

"You're safe now."

"Thank you," I said.

"Became a vampire without a sire," she said. "I've never heard such a thing."

"I don't think it's happened before," he said.

"Incredible," she said. "The Monarchy must have been frantic. It reacts so poorly to anything outside of tradition."

"We don't want to bring you any trouble," I said.

"She's right. We don't want—"

Nuwa raised her hand to silence us. "You are family. And we take care of our own."

"What will we do?" asked Lucas.

"We shall make no sudden movements. But we must leave here, carefully, quietly."

"Where will we go?"

"I have other refuges," she said. "Your obaia has had centuries to build her own empire. I have sent servants ahead of us to make sure the path is secure. They will report back tomorrow and we will escape."

"And if the Aramatta come before then?"

"My servants live along the mountain edges. They will know and they'll warn us."

She took a teacup and held it up. We toasted and drank the blood.

"It's fresh. Yung found some hikers..."

She trailed off after seeing Lucas shake his head.

"Oh, my apologies, Axelia," she said. "In any case, it is rude to talk about the food."

She clapped her hands twice and Yung came out to refill our cups, though I wasn't feeling so hungry anymore.

***

After we'd been fed, Yung and another servant, Ai-Leen, led us into the forest. The wind rustled the trees and occasionally it snowed tiny leaves. Lucas hung behind talking to Nuwa, who walked with an indigo paper parasol. Her slippered feet seemed not to make any noise, while I crunched leaves and twigs and booted rocks with Samira's sneakers. They spoke in low murmurs; I heard Nuwa say Taren and Noel's names but I tried not to listen. I stayed close to the servants and babbled about how I almost fell while climbing, though they appeared not to speak English.

Then I heard rushing water, constant and loud like static. We walked until Yung and Ai-Leen parted some leaves to reveal a waterfall.

"Wow!" I turned back to grin, open-mouthed, at Nuwa and Lucas.

"Look at how excited she is," Nuwa said, with a chuckle.

We descended stone stairs, moss-covered, jagged, and cracked. At the base of the waterfall, foamy white water poured over large rocks and into a milky, light-blue stream. Ai-Leen smiled at me; she had puffy cheeks and deep-set dimples, like buttons in a tufted couch. She was squat, with an ample chest and rounded hips. She put a green silk bag down on a rock and loosened the drawstring, then pulled out a towel and what appeared to be a roll of cream linen.

Lucas was already stepping on the heels of his shoes to remove them. When he peeled off his shirt, Ai-Leen tittered.

"I'm also working on my eight pack," I told her while patting my stomach.

Lucas dived in with his pants on. He didn't surface. The servants started tugging at my shirt.

"Whoa," I said with a nervous giggle, pushing my shirt down.

"It's all right, Axelia. Let them bathe you."

"Um, I'm okay. I can bathe myself."

"Please," she said. "It will cleanse the body and the spirit."

The servants pulled my shirt over my head and I turned away from the water and crossed my arms over my chest. Ai-Leen took the roll of fabric and started winding it around my torso. It was light, like gauze.

"Are you making me a bathing suit?" I asked. She just smiled. "Are they making me a bathing suit?"

"They are giving you privacy," Nuwa said.

Yung covered my lower half with the towel while Ai-Leen made me a skirt, then shorts with the strips of cloth. Yung rolled up her pant legs over her knees and led me into the water. She looked to be in her late thirties; her eyebrows were shaped like tadpoles, bushy and then thin over her small dark brown eyes.

Nuwa settled on the grass, cross-legged, the umbrella over her shoulder. Ai-Leen dipped a bucket of water into the stream and dumped it over my head. She opened a jar and started smearing a gray-green paste into my hair. "What is it?" I asked her.

"It is plants and mushrooms, and spices for scent," Nuwa said. "It will make your hair soft like rabbit fur."

Lucas was floating on his back at the base of the waterfall. He looked so carefree.

"Nuwa? Thank you again for taking us in," I said. "It means a lot to Lucas."

Yung plucked one of my feet from the water and started scrubbing it with a bar of soap. She started to hum and then stopped abruptly as if catching herself.

"It was without question, Axelia," Nuwa said. She watched me for a few minutes and said, "You must mean a lot to Lucas for him to help you like this."

"I'm so grateful. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. But I feel..."

"You feel responsible."

"I do, yes. If I hadn't come into his life, he wouldn't be in this mess. And Noel..."

"You mustn't blame yourself, Axelia."

"But Lucas..."

"Lucas makes his own decisions. He chooses to be here with you. You know, we will do almost anything for the one we love."

"Oh," I said as Ai-Leen dropped another bucket of water over me. "It's not like that. Lucas and I are just friends."

"I see," she said. "You don't love him?"

"Well, I care about him a lot," I said. "But—we just met."

"He loves you."

Stunned, I looked over at him.

"He said that?" I whispered to Nuwa.

She laughed. "No. But an obaia can tell these things."

Blushing, I stared down at Yung, who was splashing my thighs with water. She was looking at me. Her mouth was tight, as if she was chewing on the insides of her cheeks. She didn't blink. It made me uncomfortable so I patted her on the shoulder and stood.

"Thank you," I said to them. "I've never been so clean in my life."

I pushed off the rock and swam into the middle of the stream. The servants waddled back to the shore. I turned onto my back to look at the stars.

Could he possibly love me? And do I love him? I thought of the way I felt with him. I thought of the way he smiled. I thought of his laughter in the hot springs, how rare it seemed and how precious.

This is perfect—now I'm going to be all weird around him until I figure out how I feel.

I was so preoccupied that I didn't notice Lucas surface beside me. He didn't look at me or say anything. He must have heard my conversation with Nuwa but he was pretending not to have, which bothered me. With a single kick he propelled himself toward the shore so I followed him, silently sulking. I clomped out of the water and the servants covered me with a black robe.

"Come children," Nuwa said. "We have some time to train before dawn."

She doesn't know that I can go out in the sun.

"You'll enjoy training Axelia," Lucas said. "She's an incredibly fast learner."

"Is that so?"

Nuwa rose from the grass and closed her parasol. She placed the tip on the ground. With a flick of the handle, she whacked a rock at me. Without a thought I snatched it out of the air an inch from my face. It was so quick, the servants flinched only after the rock had buried itself in my hand.

Nuwa nodded, her eyes hungry. "Good reflexes."

I dropped the rock onto the soft grass. The indents from the stone faded from my palm and I smiled. I had impressed myself.

We returned to the temple at a brisk pace. Lucas marched with his chin high; he seemed excited to train with Nuwa. Like they used to when he was a young vampire. She disappeared inside the temple to change. In the rock garden Lucas handed me my sword and leaned into me.

"Don't mention the sunlight thing yet," he whispered.

"Why?"

"I don't want to unnerve her with too much information in one night."

Right, we don't want to freak her out by telling her that I'm a monster destined to slaughter the vampire race.

He cocked his head and clucked his tongue, reading my thoughts. "We'll tell her tomorrow," he said. "And I assume that you'll want to go exploring in the day."

"Maybe just around the garden?"

"Fine. But don't wander off."

I nodded and moved away from him. Yung was standing at the entrance to the temple, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes glowing in the dark. I bowed my head to her. She just kept staring.

"Lucas, how do you say, 'How are you?' in Mandarin?"

"Ni hao ma."

I repeated it immediately to Yung. She didn't respond.

"Did I say it right?" I asked Lucas.

"Sort of."

Yung murmured something. I turned to Lucas. He was already practicing with his swords on the terrace. "She said you remind her of her daughter," he said.

"You have a daughter?" I asked Yung. But she just shook her head.

You had a daughter.

Nuwa returned in a loose black shirt and pants, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She waved at Yung and spoke in Mandarin. Yung hesitated before retreating. I stared at the closed door after she had gone and I felt sad. She seemed lonely.

"Hey Trouble, don't fall over the edge, okay?" Lucas said, interrupting my reverie. I unsheathed my sword and joined him on the terrace.

"Even if I do fall, you'll rescue me, won't you?" I said.

Nuwa had a long sword in her hand. She leaped from the veranda, over the rock garden, onto the terrace. It was as if she walked on air. She pulled her blade from its black sheath and smiled.

"Let's see what you are capable of," she said.

# Chapter 32

I couldn't get Nuwa's words out of my head. He loves you. I obsessed over it all morning, unable to concentrate on the tour that Ai-Leen was giving me of Nuwa's underground lair. The temple was a surface marker, a buoy. Underneath, Nuwa's home extended for miles of corridors, staircases, and rooms, each modestly decorated with red rugs, scroll paintings, and mahogany furniture.

I reclined on a burgundy chaise longue in a library and pretended to flip through a book of photographs depicting Chinese landscapes. Having never been in love, I couldn't be sure that I loved him and having had only two boyfriends—Steve Salgado in third grade and Jay Carey in eleventh grade—I had no fair comparison. Not that any human comparison could be made. My days with Lucas had been filled with terror and tragedy, but when we weren't screaming or fighting or running, I had enjoyed being with him. I had wanted to kiss him.

I'm attracted to Lucas. I will allow that.

This confession was followed by the thought that it might be better to quell my feelings. I can't allow myself to like him. He's my only friend. Feelings will only complicate the situation. And despite what Nuwa said, he probably doesn't care about me like that. If he thinks I like him, he might want to distance himself from me. And I don't know what I'd do if he didn't want to be friends anymore.

Nuwa walked into the room with Ai-Leen in tow.

"Are you all right, Axelia?" Nuwa asked.

"Yes, Nuwa. Thank you."

Ai-Leen presented me with a folded blanket. "Thank you," I said. I laid it in my lap and stroked the red knit.

"You look upset," Nuwa said. "What is on your mind, child?" She lowered herself into a chair.

"Nothing. I'm okay. It's just been a lot to deal with this week."

"Given the circumstances, I think you are being very courageous."

"I don't think so. I'm scared to death."

"Courage, my child, is not the absence of fear. It's the triumph over fear. It's how you handle yourself in these times, and these times are not for the weak of heart."

"It's Lucas, really. If he wasn't always rescuing me or fighting for me or telling me not to be a baby, I might be dead."

"If you weren't who you are, he might not have fought for you."

"I just wish I could do more to protect him."

"You are what keeps him going."

We sat in silence for a moment as I digested her words. I didn't know if I believed her, but I was warmed by the possibility.

"Lucas told me that he has always wanted to come find you," I said.

She nodded. "I was sorry to leave him. I know what it is like to be separated from your family."

"I'm sorry about what happened to you."

"It was a long time ago," she said. "Did he tell you my history?"

"He told me about his sisters. About the general."

She leaned back in the chair. She had a faraway look in her eyes. A sadness.

"Hmm. Yes. The general. You know, Axelia, when he was human, he was legendary. He was the commander of great armies, and his forces were the only human warriors able to mount an admirable resistance against the Aramatta. The humans died of course, but the Monarchy was impressed with the general and he was blessed.

"When we fell in love, it was forbidden. He was only a soldier in the Aramatta and he was Ikkaru."

She saw my puzzled expression. "Vampires are divided into orders based on the bloodline. The Ikkaru are thrice removed from the Ancients and therefore their blood is diluted. Did you see the general?"

I nodded. She put her index finger under her eye and dragged it down her cheek. "It is why he still bears a scar from his human life. I, however, am Ilutu. A second generation vampire. My sire was created by an Ancient. So we had to hide our love. In the meantime, the general moved quickly up the chain of command. He was a brilliant soldier and fiercely devoted to the Monarchy. I was able to convince my obaia that he deserved to be general and when he was promoted, I requested her permission to be with him. She made the rare exception."

"Who is your sire?" I asked, though I suspected the answer.

She met my gaze. "The Empress is my sire."

I felt a chill. I could not imagine these two women together. The Empress was cold and hard like metal. Nuwa was soft and fluid like water.

"May I ask you a question?" she said.

"Of course."

"You've come so far. What makes you fight so hard to live?"

"I don't know. Fear of death?"

"What else?"

"Maybe the remote chance that I might one day see my family again."

"I understand," she said, nodding. "That is certainly worth fighting for."

She rose. "You must be exhausted."

I didn't respond. I didn't really need to sleep anymore.

"I'm going to turn in now," she continued. "If you require anything this afternoon, just call for Ai-Leen and she can bring you whatever you need."

Before she left, she turned and rested a hand on one of the stone jambs in the room. "Will you do something for me today?"

"Sure," I said.

"Take the afternoon to rest your spirits. You deserve it."

"Thank you."

"Keep your spirits up. Audentes fortuna iuvat. Fortune favors the bold."

After she left, I wandered the halls like a ghost, feeling the cool walls, examining the art. Time seemed to creep without Lucas's company. When I finally found my way above ground, back inside the temple, it was afternoon. I walked outside, savoring the sun's heat and the smell of leaves. I strolled through the grounds. I watched the koi. It gave me peace. Then I climbed the hill to the wall bordering the temple and jumped over it. I hoped to find the waterfall again. I wanted to see it under the sun.

The forest was thick with vegetation. Brush blanketed the ground, and trees blocked out the sun. When a ray peeked through the foliage, I ran to stand under its spotlight. I couldn't imagine an eternity without the sunlight. I followed a butterfly's flight for a few minutes. It fluttered among the trees and suddenly changed directions, narrowly avoiding a spider web. The web stretched five feet across, anchored in four corners to trees and bushes; its creator rested in the center, plucking the strings like a harp. I was as stunned as the butterfly.

"Whoa. That is a ginormous spider," I said.

All the mountain critters were ginormous, I found. The butterflies had puffy bodies like hummingbirds. Tree trunks were covered in bug-eyed green insects disguised as leaves. I was careful not to crush them while climbing into the canopy. I spent the rest of the day hiking and climbing the peaks. I pretended to take photos, creating a frame with my thumbs and my index fingers.

Yesterday the mountains had seemed like titanic monuments and I had felt so minuscule. Today I knew that I could reach their pinnacles. I mentally marked the temple among the green behind me. Ahead I saw something red against a mountainside in the distance. A patch of flowers, maybe? A flag? Curious, I trekked toward it.

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 around 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 comply."

"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.

Be brave.

# Chapter 34

It took several soldiers to wrestle me into a metal coffin. I heard their scramble to lock it, and I shouted obscenities at them from inside. I blinked furiously against the black, expecting my eyes to adjust, expecting to see something. Inside my narrow prison I thrashed away, pounding my fists, banging my knees, and trying to kick out the bottom. I don't know how long I struggled or how long I screamed. At one point, I thought I couldn't breathe, which made me panic and fight harder.

Then I stopped. I stopped when I realized that I didn't breathe. And when the dull ache subsided in my hands and feet from hitting the metal, I became still. No noise. No light. I felt nothing. This is what it's like to be dead. I'm dead.

I imagined the Ancients. Trapped but alive, like this, with nothing but their thoughts—forever. Perhaps this is worse than death. To spend eternity missing life, missing people. Missing Lucas.

I scratched my scalp. Vampire blood was viscous and sticky on my skin. It smelled bitter. It made me sick. There had been so much blood, so much death in recent days. In the darkness the images of the fallen and the dead were so vivid. The visions terrorized me, and I could not escape them. I could not escape the despair.

They're going to kill me. They're going to hunt Lucas and kill him. What had he said to me? It had all happened so fast. "I'll come for you. Wait for me." I couldn't recall anymore. I couldn't remember his last words to me. "Be brave." I remembered that.

I'm sorry, Lucas. I can't be strong right now. I can't do this. I can't.

Instead I wept.

If the Aramatta catch up with him and kill him, will I ever know? Does it even matter, because I'll be dead too? Is there an after-afterlife for vampires and will we meet there?

I conjured up our day at the resort, when I had accidentally pushed him into the hot springs. I had knocked on the bathroom door that morning and asked for his clothing before picking up detergent from the front desk. When I returned, I found his clothes folded outside the door, and I had gone and washed the sulfur out of our garments in the women's change room. The soap was called "Heaven Clean." I had wanted to tell him about it; I was going to make some joke about being ready to die in fresh laundry. It seemed inappropriate now.

I wanted more than anything to see him again. To tell him how much he meant to me. To have him hold me. To have him kiss me.

And now it was too late.

The coffin suddenly tipped upright so that I was standing. I heard them lift a latch, and a small window opened in front of my face. I peered through the small square pane; the glass was so thick it distorted my view. The lights in the room were bright, like in a convenience store. I could see only glossy black floors and a table with a mirrored surface, on which sat a single silver sculpture. It looked like a tree made of razor blades. On either side of my prison, two rows of soldiers faced each other.

The Empress crossed the room. She stopped ten feet from the coffin, wearing a double-breasted, knee-length burgundy coat with gunmetal domed buttons. Her gloved fingers were interlocked over her stomach. She glared at me with her ultraviolet eyes, and I pressed my back against the steel.

"Axelia," she said. Her voice was muffled through the metal.

I nodded.

"Address me as Empress."

"Yes, Empress."

"Do you know why you are here?"

Because a prophecy says that I'm the destroyer of your kind.

"Because you think I am dangerous," I said.

"You are dangerous."

"I'm not. I don't mean anyone harm."

"But you've done so much harm already. So many vampires have died because of you. My soldiers, the swordsmith and his young steward. There was also your Taiwanese accomplice and my exiled child."

I noted that she did not mention Lucas.

"I didn't mean for any of that to happen," I said.

"If you had died with the transporter, Paolo, then no one would have been hurt."

She took a few steps toward me. I noticed that her black leather boots rose above her knees. A soldier must have raised some concern because she put her hand out as if to quiet him.

"Tell me, then," she said. "How did you escape?"

"I escaped through the top of the tower."

"How did you avoid the sun?"

"I didn't."

She didn't move, didn't speak.

"The sun...it doesn't burn me," I said.

Her hands broke apart and wavered before she clasped them again, squeezing her fingers. She glanced at someone to the right of my coffin, then back at me.

"I see," she said. "What other abilities do you have?"

"I don't know."

"The general reports that you are already as strong as ten soldiers."

"Empress, in all honesty, I don't have any intentions of hurting anyone. If you've been informed otherwise, it must be a mistake."

"Our kind has been waiting for your arrival for ages. We knew this day would come. And we are prepared to stop you from doing what you are fated to do."

"I'm not..."

"I heard you, young vampire. You swear that you have no ill intentions. But this has all been foreordained. You don't know what your future will hold. But we do. Our earliest ancestors said that you would come to destroy us, and we cannot ignore their warnings. They did not describe your abilities, your strength, your immunity to the sun. But now, I do not doubt that if you are allowed to exist you will use these powers and gain other powers to fulfill your destiny."

I slammed my fist against the glass, shaking the box. The soldiers grabbed the handles of their weapons. "This is not my destiny!" I shouted. "People make their own destinies."

"You're not a person, Axelia."

I splayed my fingers across the glass and hung my head. Then, as tears of frustration sprang to my eyes, I banged my forehead against the pane. "I know. But I'm not what you say I am."

When I looked up, the ethereal queen's face was in the window and I gasped. Up close she looked like a mannequin. Her skin was white and waxen, like the surface of a boiled egg. Her pupils shrank as she pierced me with her eyes.

"Do you have a family, Axelia?" she asked in a softer voice.

"Yes."

"Would you protect them at all costs?"

"Yes."

"As Empress, it is the sole purpose of my existence. To protect the Monarchy. To protect the empire and our children. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Right now I need to protect them from you," she said. "It has already been decided. I, the court, and the council of clerics will witness your death in an hour."

She began to walk away.

"Empress!"

She turned to show me her profile but she did not look at me.

"What if there's a chance that I won't do the things you say?" I cried.

"That is a chance I cannot take."

***

The ballroom was as I had remembered, majestic in ivory, gold, and jade. But this time it was filled with more soldiers than clerics and members of the court. Those not dressed in combat gear were wearing suits. They assembled on elevated platforms along the walls of the room. Others were dressed in blue robes, as Uther had been, and they stood in three rows, like a choir, below the Empress's balcony.

They had removed me from the coffin and I knelt on the cold floor, my wrists cuffed and the chains held by four soldiers flanking me, as if I stood in the middle of their tug-of-war. Other soldiers stood behind me, the points of their swords aimed at the nape of my neck. Slumped over, I hid from everyone's prying eyes behind my matted hair. I looked at my trembling hands; they were stained with reddish-brown blood, likely from the battle at the temple.

I'm a monster to them. And they've come to see the monster die.

The voices subsided and when I raised my head, the Empress was on her balcony. She had changed into a leather turtleneck dress; its shiny vinyl sleeves appeared to be separate from the dress, revealing her white shoulders.

The general strode into the middle of the room, wearing a boxy black military jacket and pants. His epaulettes bore the Monarchy's gold emblem, and the sword at his hip was encased in a silver bejeweled sheath.

"Children of the Monarchy," the Empress said. "Tonight, we may stand down and glory in our triumph. The reign of terror brought upon us by the demon vampire is over."

Reign of terror?

"Our esteemed general has succeeded in capturing she who kneels before you defeated and humbled. We will now all bear witness to this extraordinary moment in history when we end her existence, preserving ours for all eternity."

She paused to allow murmurs of approval and continued: "The Ancients predicted the demon vampire's terror, but they could not predict our power in the new millennium. The Monarchy is at its strongest. We are unbreakable. Throughout the ages our empire has faced many threats. But we have always prevailed and we will always prevail."

The crowd clamored in response. A broad smile spread across the general's face. He turned his steely gray eyes to the Empress and she returned his gaze. Without a word she sat down on a high-backed, ornate wooden chair and curled her fingers over the armrest. She appeared rigid and anxious. Hungry for my death.

With a satisfied smirk the general approached me. His rubber-soled boots squeaked with every step until he stood in front of me. The soldiers rewound the chains around their hands to pull them taut. The general made a grand gesture of reaching for his sword, gripping the handle one finger at a time, and retracted it from the scabbard. I saw my anguished expression reflected in his blade, but it didn't register as me. I felt numb. I felt outside of my body.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening. I can't die like this. In front of all these vampires by his savage hand. Not without seeing my family again. Not without seeing Lucas again.

The general raised the sword. I didn't blink, afraid that I would miss the final blow.

Please. Not. Like. This.

Suddenly, screams and banging erupted outside the ballroom. Vampires started murmuring and the general looked at the double doors. They burst open. The crowd gasped. From the corner of my eye I saw the Empress rise, knocking her chair backward.

Lucas.

# Chapter 35

For a moment, chaos erupted. Everyone was yelling. Soldiers swarmed around me. Still kneeling on the ground, I could only see legs. I heard the clash of weapons and the disgusting squelching sound of separating flesh.

"Order!" The Empress's voice boomed. "Order! Fall back!"

The soldiers withdrew to the edges of the hall, leaving me, my four captors, the general, and Lucas in the middle of the ballroom.

"Lucas!" I shouted.

I moved to run to him but the general pointed his blade between my eyes.

"Stay where you are or I will split the demon's skull," the general said.

"Zee, are you all right?" Lucas asked.

"Yes," I said. "I'm so freaking happy to see you."

"General, is this the swordsmith?" The Empress asked.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I thought you were to have disposed of him," she said.

"I sent a battalion after him."

"Yes, about that," Lucas said. "They're all dead."

The crowd murmured.

"Swordsmith," she said. "This is foolhardy. What do you hope to accomplish by storming into my court?"

"I'm here for Zee," he answered.

"You're here for the vampire demon?" She sounded baffled.

"Her name is Axelia."

"Why?" The Empress asked.

Yes, why?

"Because, Your Highness," he said, "she is mine."

I smiled. I am yours.

The Empress shook her head. "No, Swordsmith. She belongs to no one. She has no sire. She is the harbinger of doom. Do you not understand that? If she lives, she will kill everyone. She will kill you."

"With all due respect, your Highness, I have a difference of opinion," he said.

"This is heresy!" the general roared.

"And you are willing to die for your beliefs?" the Empress asked.

"Yes," Lucas said.

She showed us the length of her throat and stared down her nose. "Then it shall be so."

"Your Highness, I request the honor of fulfilling your wishes," the general said.

She gave him a nod. The general threw his scabbard across the floor. Lucas twirled his swords in his hands and glared at his opponent.

"Please be careful," I whispered.

"Do you know who made this weapon, Swordsmith?" the general asked. "Your father. How fitting that I will now use it to reunite the two of you."

Lucas moved in, his head lowered, his shoulders hunched. They circled each other, a bear against a wolf.

The general went on: "You should be pleased. You will also be joining your sisters. I still remember their cherubic faces and their little voices. They cried for your father when we burned them alive."

Lucas attacked. The general warded off the torrent of hits, meeting each strike with a sneer, his sword unyielding, like a steel rod rooted to the ground. Then the general thrust his sword at him and Lucas flipped forward, landing on the blunt edge of the general's blade. Pushing away the general's weapon, Lucas tried to cut off his head. But the general was ready. He ducked and used his shoulder to knock Lucas back.

"I know all of your moves, Swordsmith. They are exactly like your obaia's."

The general swung at him and Lucas clamped the thick blade between his two swords. Then he head-butted the general in the nose. I heard it crack. As the general stumbled back, Lucas swiped him across the face.

Yes!

The general shook his head. A line of blood leaked from his left nostril, and his chin bore a two-inch nick. He dabbed at his face with the back of his hand.

"That one I learned from my father," Lucas hissed.

Snarling, the general rushed him. They collided, their swords producing a flurry of sparks. With every hit I grew tenser until I was paralyzed. A black hole in my gut was pulling me inside out. Though the general was stronger, Lucas was fast and unpredictable. They both launched themselves into the air and clashed ten feet off the ground. The general landed on his feet but Lucas crashed down on his back, causing a web of cracks to appear in the marble beneath him.

Lucas!

My gasp attracted the general's attention. As Lucas climbed to his feet, the general reached for a strap around his thigh; he took out a silver stake, and with a spin he whipped it at me.

But I saw it coming. My eyes followed it—like the time Nuwa aimed that rock at my head—and I snatched it out of the air, jerking the soldiers holding my chains. So predictable, General. I squeezed the metal stake and glanced at Lucas. He looked at me with relief.

Then I saw the blur coming at him. There wasn't time to scream. Suddenly the general plunged his sword through Lucas's chest. The force took him off his feet; his body curled over the blade and his swords fell from his hands. Lucas turned his head to look at me. Our eyes met. His lips moved but no sound came out.

"LUCAS!"

# Chapter 36

Something in me snapped. Broke. Exploded.

I threw the stake back at the general. He must have heard it because he jerked his head. Too late. It skewered his right eye. He cried out and the crowd gasped.

I yanked on my chains, pulling the four soldiers to me. They were in mid air when I grabbed a sword from one of their belts and flung it at the general. They collided behind me, cracking their skulls and crumpling into a groaning heap.

Tearing his sword free of Lucas just in time, the general batted away the oncoming weapon. The stray sword flew over the crowd and pierced a column next to the Empress. The general tore the stake from his face, pink goo squirting out.

Lucas staggered two steps toward me and then collapsed. I ran, dropped beside him, and pressed one hand to his wound. Choking, he tried to speak.

"Shh," I said. "It's okay. It's okay."

I cradled his face. Blood sputtered out of his mouth and I wiped his lips with my thumb. I saw my panicked reflection in his filmy eyes. "I'm here," I whispered.

I heard the squeak of boots. Enraged, I reached over Lucas's body and grabbed one of his swords. I stood up to face the general, curling my lips to bare my fangs. My body burned and shook. I stepped over Lucas, pointing the sword at my enemy.

"What are you going to do, demon?" The general sneered. His face was red and his right eye was a black pit. The top two buttons of his jacket had come undone.

"You're going to be sorry," I said through my teeth. "I'm going to make you sorry."

"Come on then!" he screamed.

I rushed him, slashing at him with the sword. The chains affixed to my hands whipped around as I moved. The impact of our blades vibrated down the shaft of my sword to the hilt, jolting my hands like an electric shock. The general grunted, his hideous face contorting and his scar twisting, as we clashed again and again and I tried to hack at his neck. When he countered, my strike pushed him back. He fought to maintain his balance and a flash of fear appeared in his eye as it darted from me to the Empress.

I'm stronger than you. Faster than you. The thought filled me with energy. He was twice my size but I was more powerful. It made him clumsy. Made him vulnerable.

"Is that all you've got?" I yelled.

He charged me. Our swords clanked above our heads. As I pressed into him, his arms wavered, his sword bending back toward his forehead. Suddenly he spun out from under me and I fell forward. From the corner of my eye I saw him turn to try to wound me from behind. Twisting in mid air, I blocked his blade with mine. My back hit the floor and I was pinned beneath our swords. Screaming, I lashed out at his leg with my heel. I felt his knee cap detach and heard his tissues tear. His leg buckled and he hopped back from me.

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.

"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
