by A. K. Koonce
With wide eyes I listen as he walks away. His quiet steps feel like they run on forever in the shadows before finally fading away entirely.
My breaths come in heaps. I feel blind and almost helpless here. It isn’t a feeling of fear. It’s almost a feeling of … intuition.
Something isn’t right.
We shouldn’t be here.
“This feels like a mistake.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Asher’s fingers skim the side of my cloak, rubbing my arm lightly.
“It’s not that.” I turn in a circle, searching the heavy darkness for something. “This place feels … dangerous.” A shiver runs down my spine. “Maybe it’s just the darkness, but it just feels … morbid.”
“It’s probably just the darkness. Hold on.” Asher’s warm feeling of safety falls away from me as his hand leaves my side, and I hear him running his palm along the concrete wall.
With a pulse of electricity the lights flicker on. My eyes blink hard from the intense brightness.
“Shit,” Asher says in a defeated whisper from behind me. When I open my eyes, I realize what he means.
Glass, casket-like incubators line both sides of the walls, tubes streaming from inside the glass. One thin tube is red … the color of blood. But that isn’t what has Asher staring wide, his chest rising and falling quickly as he assess each incubator.
He doesn’t dare move as the seconds tick by in silence. All I can think to do is slip my hand into his. He doesn’t appear to remember I’m here.
Within the hundreds of caskets are sedated hybrids.
Chapter Seven
Shame
Asher
Fallon’s simple presence pulls me back to reality.
“We should help them,” she whispers in a hollow voice.
I swallow hard, my gaze scanning over each one.
“We can’t. There are too many. They’re too sedated. It’d take days for them to wake up.”
The clouded memories of the compound come spiraling back to my mind. I was never a Curing Hybrid like this. Only a select few were. Ones that were close to death.
All of the hybrids in this room are close to death. The bright lights above shine down on sunken faces and sharp bones. I do a quick estimate of the hybrids in the room.
“It’s all of them.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there wasn’t many of us left. This is it.”
She squeezes my hand and pushes her hood back before walking along the incubators. My heart pounds even harder and anxiety rises in me, wishing like hell she’d put her hood back up.
“They’re … all male?” she asks, running a delicate finger along the glass.
She doesn’t look at me as she stares down into the face of a numbered hybrid. A pike.
“The females were … disposed of upon arrival at the compound.”
Elimination of the subhuman race is hard work, but the mortals seem to be doing a superior job so far.
“They’re storing their blood?”
“The Curing Hybrids are bled out. The mortals use their blood to heal the upper class.” What will they do once the blood runs dry?
Fallon’s beautiful face turns back to me, her fiery eyes shining.
Slow and almost fearful steps lead her back to me. She slips her fingers into mine again, and for an instant she’s the woman she was before. The caring and loving woman I married.
“We’ll save them,” she insists.
We won’t, but her promise and compassion is enough to make my heart calm.
Footsteps sound against the concrete and I flip the lights off, darkness comforting my thoughts once more.
***
Fear isn’t something that lives inside me. It visits from time to time in my life, but it never stays long. And yet, since I’ve met Fallon, I think fear has started to settle into me; making a home, getting a little too comfortable within me. Right now, as I wait for the president to unknowingly find us planted in her library, fear is thrashing through me, shaking my hands and rattling my breaths.
“You two shouldn’t have come,” Michael says in a quiet, chastising voice. His tone echoes up the enormous walls of the library. An attempt at a fatherly lecture, I’m sure.
Imagine if he knew about the other four of us who are just outside …
Neither of us utter a word in reply. Fallon walks away entirely, running her fingers down the thick spines of the endless selection of books. Her black cloak still conceals her face just as mine does, and it wafts eerily through the room as she studies each sturdy column of books.
“There’s still time for you to leave.” Michael shifts on his feet the farther away his daughter walks.
“No.” The word echoes through the room, loud enough to knock the dust off of a few unlit chandeliers. Fallon turns to us, an image of darkness among the shadows. “We came here for a reason, father.”
Michael shifts his weight once more, his shiny black shoes appearing less and less luxurious the more he fidgets under her scrutiny.
“Why did I live my entire life in a work camp while you lived here, reading all the books the world has to offer?” Her head tips back to seemingly admire the high glass windows that run along ceiling, letting in the caressing moonlight. “You abandoned her. You abandoned us. For a better life.”
Something jagged in her voice makes me nervous. It’s detached and unrecognizable, and yet I relate to that pained tone more than I’ll ever admit.
“We –” Michael’s voice cracks. He smooths the dark buttons of his crisp white shirt. “We were young. When we found out … we thought she’d be able to keep the pregnancy a secret long enough to complete the unity with Ky Morris. I –”
The sound of angry steps storming across clean tile fill the air, and Fallon is inches from his face in a matter of seconds.
“Ky was her unity partner?” The cloak rises and falls rapidly as she heaves breaths that fan across Michael’s sweating face.
I want to tug her arm, pull her back before he sees the mystic beneath the shadows of the cloak. But I don’t. I don’t move a muscle. My chest wants to crack open from the pain pushing to escape. Mostly I just want to hold her. To sooth the harshness of the world for just a little while with her in my arms.
But I still don’t move.
Michael nods, swallowing hard as he looks away from his only daughter. The daughter he wasn’t approved to have. The daughter whose life he ruined before she was even born.
Charlotte could have been happy with Ky. More than happy. They could have had the congress-approved, white picket fence, all around beautiful life …
And here I thought it didn’t exist.
Heavy breaths still consume her, but the rage has died a little. I can feel it calm, her emotions almost crack through the air, changing colors and sounding like a building storm. Her face is downturned, appearing to study the lines of the glistening white tiles along the floor at her feet.
Apprehension clings to my movements. I touch her arm, the cloak smooth and soft against my hesitant fingertips. I barely have time to feel the material against my palm when she’s already jerking out of my reach, striding to the other side of the room. Beyond the dozens of tables and thousands of books, she disappears past the stream of crisp moonlight and into the shadows.
For less than a second I consider going after her, to let her take out all of her confusing emotions on me. Just to make her feel a little better. It won’t, though. Nothing but time can make life’s mistakes bearable.
I stand with her father, letting the awkwardness fill the air. Allowing him time to fully appreciate just how much he screwed up her life.
A bookshelf behind me supports my weight as I lean my head back, crossing one ankle over the other. The protective Crimson Sword is forgotten as I slip my hands into my pockets and start to relax a little as we wait.
“You know, I hear she married a pike,” I add in a casual tone, just to throw one more scary though
t into his already muddled mind.
He looks at me, possibly for the very first time tonight. His mouth falls open, and his face is lined with outrage and … shame.
Good.
The hint of a smile tugs at my lips as the tension leaves my chest.
The silence seems to drag on forever.
The twinkling lights ignite the city below us, a look of heaven gracing the earth. Thousands of them glitter through the night. It’s the most light I’ve ever seen in one place. It seems wasteful.
An hour has passed, and Ayden has yet to lead the president to the library as he said he would. Trepidation is pressing in on me. What if it’s a trap? What if they throw me in with the other hybrids and take Fallon? The vividly cruel thoughts of what they might do to her blaze through my mind like fire.
The large glossy door opens with an echoing sweep, jarring me from my mock relaxation. My fingers tighten on the sword as I take a couple of careful steps closer to the newcomers.
Ayden holds the door open, and the looming image of President Docile breezes in like a decomposing leaf in the wind. A formal black gown clings to her thin frame, the material hugging her shoulders and wrists tightly and exposing little to no skin. A swirling pattern etches the inky veil that conceals her face. Long wisps of blonde hair tumble down from beneath the veil.
I’ve heard stories of the president all my life; the strange and cryptic woman who rules the mortals. The mere sight of her sets me on edge. A dark silence seems to follow her. Something unnatural clings to her presence.
Is she cursed?
“Thank you for waiting,” she says in an airy voice. “Ayden told me we had some surprise visitors tonight. Luckily, I hadn’t yet gone to bed.” She glides through the room, not coming closer to Michael or myself. She doesn’t appear confused by my obscuring wardrobe.
She also doesn’t bother to turn on a light, allowing us to linger in the safe shadows of the enormous library. Moonlight gleams in through the colossal windows. The sky burns all around us, threatening the sunrise in just an hour’s time.
From beneath the heavy darkness across the room, Fallon steps forth, almost matching the president’s eerie behavior step for step.
“Thank you for meeting us,” Fallon says in a voice filled with confidence, allowing her words to ring out among the books, chandeliers, and, of course, the small audience she is entertaining.
I have the urge to protect her, to cross the room and stand in front of the small woman she’s addressing. But I won’t. I can’t.
“There are some changes we would like to discuss with you and your council.”
Michael fidgets slightly, crossing his arms and quickly uncrossing them. Ayden keeps his hands held neatly behind his back and his dark eyes focused on the girl I know he loves.
“By all means, please continue. I enjoy a good discussion from time to time.” The president’s silky dress skims the glossy floor as she takes a few more steps closer to Fallon.
No one sits. Hundreds of chairs surround us, and yet no one dares to find comfort in this uncomfortable situation.
“With the … attack on the mystic’s community, you have broken the Exception Treaty. After further inspection of the mortal’s lifestyle, we’ve realized no one benefits from the current state of our government.”
The president’s head tilts minimally. “And tell me, what do you suggest we do about the current state of our government?” Another few steps are taken toward Fallon.
“A total reevaluation of the laws are in order.”
I can’t find it in me to look away from her. Her confidence and intelligence captures all of my attention. I swallow hard as my heart pounds to life, falling more in love with her with every word she says. Through the building tension in my chest, something similar to pride beams. If this meeting didn’t threaten her life, I’d be proud of the unyielding confidence Fallon holds.
While I stare wildly at the woman I love, the president flashes across the room. Her glossy black nails sinking into Fallon’s throat, shifting the hood slightly and almost revealing the pretty face hidden beneath.
“I appreciate your suggestions,” the president says in a calm and soothing voice, “and I will be sure to file them away. If you or your filthy mystic friend ever step foot on this island again, I will rip your heart right out of your chest.”
My feet stumble as I move toward them, and Michael grabs my wrist, throwing me off balance for a moment.
“Mary, please. She’s just a girl. She’ll leave. Just let her go,” Michael stammers, his voice cracking the more he speaks.
Seconds tick by, sparking more anger with each movement of the clock.
What the hell is she?
The president’s head tilts back and forth for a moment, seemingly holding Fallon’s shadowy gaze. With a trembling hand, she pushes the hood back from Fallon’s face. Her red eyes glitter in the minimal light.
“You fool!” The president spews the words into Fallon’s face, clinging tighter to her. “They were nearly dead; just another hundred years and they would have been dead. You have no idea what you’ve done. You’ve released the abominations. You are an abomination.”
Inky black nails sink further into Fallon’s smooth skin, threatening to strangle the breath from her throat. Within the few seconds it takes me to rush to her side, Fallon pushes the woman off of her, sending the president into several tables. The sound of cracking wood fills the air as her thin body breaks through the first solid table. She lands harshly on the ground, her veil flying off at her side, revealing her smooth pale features beneath.
Michael runs to her, taking her hand in his, tending to her as if she was his only care in this world. Perhaps she is. He’s her advisor, but in this moment he appears as more. She might trust him with more than just politics …
President Docile’s eyes flutter open, sending a shock wave of silence through the room. Gleaming red eyes sift over us all, waiting for an accusation to be thrown her way.
The president of the mortals is a vampire.
Chapter Eight
An Abomination
Fallon
She’s beautiful. The most beautiful abomination I’ve ever seen.
Striking features captivate my attention. Full lips meet the sharp angles of her face. The appearance of soft and hard toys with her beauty.
The way my father holds her hand to his chest is more of a surprise to me. As I look at them, it takes all of my effort to swallow down the irrational resentment and pain the simple sight of them brings me.
I could feel her unnaturalness the moment she entered the room. It clouded my senses. It called out to me, and the silence in her was the final confirmation. There was no beating in her, or will to live, or excitement, or lust, or … happiness.
Somehow she must have tricked the mortals here. Captivated them. Or maybe they just trust her. How else could she gain their approval as their president?
I can’t bring myself to meet Ayden’s eyes. I won’t allow myself to see the look of disgust I know coats his features now that he sees me for what I am. Part of me wants to hide from him for just a little longer. I can’t hide forever. And I certainly won’t hide from the vampire
A sway fills my hips as I cross the room, stepping over a few crumpled chairs that lay in my path. My boots quietly echo against the tile as I make my way closer to the frail mystic lying on the ground. Her weakness seems to fuel me, sending a new found courage spiraling through my veins.
When I’m only a foot from her, I squat, my cloak falling around me like a dark puddle and touching the hem of her pretty dress. Her eyes burn into mine. My father sits obediently at her side, but I refuse to look at him.
“Why are they – why am I an abomination and you are not?”
Her lips purse before she finally speaks. “I am. We both are. But I would have gladly died knowing I was the last of my kind. Now they’ll start again; breeding unnatural offspring into our world like a virus.”
I clam
p my jaw tightly closed at the description she paints of the hybrids. My glare burns into her porcelain skin, narrowing my sight on her features. She’s beautiful, and she knows she’s beautiful. Her power might rest in her image alone. Her power doesn’t work on me. I don’t envy her, or pity her, or even like her.
“Make the announcement by the end of the week. If nothing has been set into motion by that time, I will return.” I rest my elbows casually on my knees, a coldness creeping into my voice. “With friends.”
***
Without a word to anyone, I walk straight to my cabin, allowing the blackness to settle in around me. The door lays at an awkward angle against the frame, almost closed but not quite.
We made it back just minutes before the burning sunrise. The air grew humid, warming me intensely. Anxiety spiraled into me at the thought of the simple and consistent nature of the world. It rose right on time as it always does. Something I took for granted day in and day out now threatens my meager existence. I’m powerful, and yet I’ll never be stronger than Mother Nature.
A loud and disrupting knock rattles across the haphazardly propped up door.
For an almost-hopeful instant I wonder if it’s Asher, but the simple carelessness of the knock tells me it isn’t. The scent of the visitor is the second thing that lashes out at me.
“Fallon, can I come in?” Ayden’s hesitant but urgent voice flings through the small room.
“No.” The reply leaves my lips too quickly as I hold my breath, my nails biting into my palms as his smell lingers against my skin, begging me to come closer. I swallow hard, my eyes closing as images flash through my mind of my teeth sinking into him, his blood leaving his body to strengthen mine.
“Thank you, Ayden, but you should leave.” I back away from the dangerously small space that separates us until my legs hit the edge of the tiny bed. “Now.”
“I—I want to help you.”
“Ha!” The laughter crackles through my chest before I can stop it. “You can’t,” I say in a painful whisper, my voice teetering with emotion as the small smile slips from my lips.
He clears his throat, the sound of his boots shifting against the wooden floor is all I hear for a moment.
