He’d blessedly put on jeans, but I still couldn’t look at him long. Even under a thin coat of dried blood, the sight of him shirtless made me squirm, and not in a bad way. And yet, he was so irate that he wouldn’t have noticed.
“She was not as lucky as the other one.” Delilah said, glancing at the figure clutching the bed sheets between her bloody fingers. She wouldn’t let Delilah near her, and so Delilah had kept a small distance, her voice and gestures much softer than I’d have expected. They could do nothing for her now, anyways.
The other one... The woman who Xian had killed. She thought the dead one was lucky, that this young woman who was writhing in agony had been dealt a fate worse than death. I didn’t disagree.
“We have to kill her.” Julius said, stepping further into the room. He’d been leaning against the wall, watching everything with such a calm disposition that I wondered where his head was.
I turned to shoot him a disgusted look for talking about killing the woman who was right there, but he didn’t care. In truth, she was so consumed by the pain that I doubt she even heard him. Or cared.
James said nothing, his dark eyes following the girl’s every move, the labored rise and quick fall of her chest. She was groaning in agony, her breathing labored as she fought to take the last gulps of air she would ever need. Every once in a while, when the pain reached a crescendo, she’d scream again. I’d not heard a single word escape her lips.
“I should put her out of her misery now.” Delilah bowed her head in respect toward James, who stood motionless as a statue.
His eyes found mine, and then turned back to the victim, who was screaming again. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep her shrill cries from seeping into my bones, to no avail.
He nodded swiftly, and Delilah moved to the bed in an instant. Her sharp face was neutral, but I saw a hint of compassion somewhere in those hazel eyes.
“Stop!” My voice was surprisingly strong, much more so than I felt. I had been debating on whether or not to say that aloud, and wasn’t even entirely sure I was going to until it was already out in the air.
Delilah glared at me and then turned to James for approval, but he had eyes only for me. There were so many things on my mind I couldn’t even think of which to say, and so many things in his eyes I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Lilith?”
“Don’t kill her.” I could feel both Delilah’s and Julius’ eyes boring into me, but all I cared was that James was looking. “Please.”
“It is unfair, but instinct will dictate her actions. I can’t turn her loose.”
“So don’t.” I wasn’t sure where my brain was headed, but I let my tongue keep moving, words rolling off of it that even I didn’t expect to hear.
“What would we do with her?” His voice was soft, placating. He was trying to make me see reason or logic. We couldn’t do anything but kill her. “Behind these lines, she is a threat to us. And we cannot let her loose. One life isn’t worth a hundred.”
“I’ll take responsibility for her.” I said in a rush, before even considering the implications of that. “If we spare her life, we may earn her loyalty. I can help her.”
“Lilith,” James looked sad, “You can’t control her.”
“Come on, James, this is ridiculous.” Julius said, his harsh voice jarring my attention. “Kill the broad and get it over with.”
James ignored him in that impeccably stoic manner of his, and I reached for his hand. I could feel it shake so I wrapped it between mine, offering him the warmth that came from a wild vein of optimism. It was a ridiculous hope at best, and I knew it was dangerous to even think this could work, but I had to try. “I can help her James. You have to trust me now.”
James watched my face a long moment, and then he nodded. “Ok.”
“Ok?” Julius snarled, wheeling around to face James as if he was insane. For agreeing with me, he probably was. “What makes you think she won’t rip your throat out the first chance she gets? Or Lilith’s…Janna’s?”
“There are two ways this can turn out, Julius.” I managed to stay calm, despite my disgust with him for being so ready and willing to kill. “She can heal, be grateful we helped her, and offer us her loyalty. Or she can decide she hates us for not killing her, try to kill us, in which case you can release her from her misery. Please, let me do this.”
Julius seethed in silence, but he knew he’d lost. I didn’t need his permission when I’d already been given the King’s. “You’re both dismissed,” James said calmly, looking from Julius to Delilah, who shook her head in disbelief. She threw her hands up and left, and Julius turned and stalked out after staring at him for a furious moment.
James crossed to the nightstand and grabbed something from the silver tray Delilah had left there. Some kind of herb, it looked like. But as he approached the woman in the bed, she screamed and thrashed out, nearly catching him with her cruel nails. I stepped closer and took the root from his hand, inching towards the bed. The woman watched me, her jaw set in a defiant line, and as I got close she made a move for me. James whipped me out of her reach before her nails could do much damage. They left a trace of blood on my arm, but I was more surprised than hurt. I shook loose of James and pressed forward.
“This will help,” I told her, fighting to keep my voice soothing rather than insistent. “I know that you don’t trust us after what just happened, but you don’t have many options.”
I took one step closer, my palm outstretched. The woman moved hesitantly, her eyes sidling from my face down to the green thing in my hand. I thought she was going to take it, but then she grabbed for me again. This time her nails pierced the delicate skin at my wrist, and James dragged me back to assess the damage. It was deep, but not even close enough to require stitches. A scratch, in the grand scheme of things. The cup on the tray caught my eyes and I grabbed it, holding my wrist above it until a stream of my blood had pooled at the bottom, turning the silver red. I set it back on the tray with the root and watched the woman from a safe distance, James’ arm slung protectively around me.
She looked savage with a tangled mess of hair, her face covered in dirt and her clothes covered in blood. And yet something in her eyes was different…solemn. James led me toward the door with a hand on the small of my back. “It’s better warm.” I told her in a delicate voice, glancing at the cup. Her eyes followed my gaze, and I ducked out of the room with James.
He said nothing, and I followed him to the nearest bathroom, hesitating a minute outside the door. When he began rooting through the cupboards, I ventured in. James gestured towards the countertop, producing a bottle of peroxide and a thick roll of bandages. I braced my hands against the counter and pushed myself up, allowing James to pour the peroxide down my arm. Small white bubbles beaded along the length of the cut. I stared at it a moment, trying to grasp the gravity of what I’d done, and looked up to see that James was watching me as though he had something to say.
I hefted a sigh. “There’s more where that came from.”
James was still quiet as he began winding the cloth around my wrist. When he was done, he ripped the end off with his teeth and tucked it underneath. It was at least an inch thick; he’d certainly taken no chances of it unraveling.
I grabbed a wash cloth from the basket by the sink and ran it under warm water. He watched me, stoic, as I wiped the blood off his chest. Thankfully, none of it was his and it only took a minute.
We walked to my room in silence, both of us too drained by what we’d witnessed to attempt small talk. “I’m not going to let her keep hurting you.” James finally said after we’d stopped in front of my door. “If that happens again—”
“Xian was here.” I cut him off before he could tell me that it was only a matter of time before he killed the woman whose life I’d pleaded for. “When you went out into the woods, he came to me. He said every night, he will kill one more and turn one more. Tomorrow, he will kill two and turn two. The day after that he will kill thr
ee and turn three. And after that-”
James cut me off just by grabbing my hand and tracing a circle on my palm. I looked down and watched his finger swirl over my pale skin, tears burning my eyes. It wasn’t fair. None of it. I couldn’t let more people suffer through what I’d just witnessed. I wouldn’t. “Lilith,” James said quietly. I looked up slowly, and the tenderness he directed at me was too much. I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest.
His heart beat in my ears, a song so sweet it only made my eyes burn more. “Stay with me tonight?” I managed.
James obliged, wrapping me into his arms, my body cocooned against his on the pillow top. We stayed like that the rest of the night, together in complete silence. It may have been my imagination or an echo in the back of my mind, but I thought I could still hear her screams.
I didn’t even notice James move away from me while I slept; something about it left me feeling cheated when I woke up alone.
I pulled a fresh shirt over my head and slipped into jeans before going to the cellar where we’d left the woman last night. There was someone in the hall, and when I got close enough I could see it was Desmond. He stood with his arms crossed and his eyes flitted over me casually. “Good morning. James told me you’d show up.” He cracked a grin.
Desmond had a way of making you want to smile and be pleasant in return, but it didn’t come naturally for me. “I want to see her.” I nodded at the door he barred.
“I am not to allow anyone inside without the King. I’m sorry.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is she at least still alive? Is she ok?”
“She is alive.” He nodded. “The screaming stopped about four o clock this morning. She’s been resting since.”
“Four o’ clock?” So I hadn’t imagined it. “Has James had you standing here all night?”
“I’m here on the authority of Julius. But yes, I’ve been here all night.”
Julius. Of course. “Fine. Do you need anything? Something to eat?”
Desmond smiled. “You have a good heart. Janna has already brought me breakfast, but I thank you.”
My plans thwarted, and breakfast missed, I went off in search of Janna, but she was nowhere to be found. I considered going to the library again and at least trying to find something useful in the pursuit of saving my life. But I didn’t relish the idea, and then it occurred to me that Jocelyn’s diary was still where I’d left it on the mahogany dresser the night before.
I considered letting it stay there untouched. I wasn’t certain I wanted to know where this was headed, or whether it would make me feel better. But I did know there wasn’t much that could make matters worse.
The pages slipped through my fingers like falling leaves; I knew the exact spot that I needed. Three quarters of the way through the journal, the pages were bloated and wrinkled from having been constantly touched. The ink smeared in random spots, webbing out like unintentional stories from each tear-stained letter. I could practically see her, dark hair hanging around her face like a curtain, tears slipping down the bridge of her nose, and dropping on the paper to tell the story she wouldn’t.
I remember when I was practicing literature. Somebody somewhere once said about writing that you sit down to tell your story and you open a vein. It never made sense before, but now that I think about it, now that I’m actually going to admit what happened, it seems astonishingly accurate. I don’t want to tear open a vein. I’ve tormented myself enough. But I know my choices are also limited, and I’ve only got myself to blame for that.
My damnable pride. Everybody knows what happened—or at least, they believe they do. But I couldn’t tell them the truth, much less continue to talk about it. I’m supposed to be the strong one—the queen, a picture of indomitable strength. I don’t want to leech this upon my brothers, my parents, especially not Janna or Olias. The most important people to me can never know what truly happened, or else they would crumble. I will not take them down with me.
But I have no one to confide in. I never have…It’s a hard thing to come by when you’re entrusted with a kind of power, a responsibility so heavy that it’s already oppressive. I know I need to cut myself—not physically, but mentally. I need to lay it all bare, everything, and go from there. If I ever have any hope of recovering, I need this.
I can’t help wonder if my pride and my affair of the heart got me into this situation. They are both, after all, a sin. If I had gone another way that night, or not gone out at all, would the same thing still have happened? I want so say no, but I believe so. Everything has always seemed to happen for a reason—doors close so that you learn to walk away, people hurt you so that you can learn to be strong, the innocent die because…
Actually, I’ve never been able to justify that one.
I felt him watching me before I saw him, even before I caught the smell in the wind of rotting flesh, of whatever decaying humanity he may have claimed in a past life. It was a smell I knew in my deepest, most primal instincts, poorly concealed by an over-priced cologne.
Everything about him is so vivid. He is my most beautiful nightmare, the purveyor of my private hell. His eyes, hard and uncaring, are the things that wake me, sweating, in the middle of the night, silently screaming Olias’ name, never loud enough to be heard.
He wasn’t part of Arich’s group. In fact, there was a good chance he was older than Arich. Something about the planes of his face, sculpted and harsh and angular, and the way that he moved with a purpose, suggested he’d been like this for centuries. And that was, perhaps, the most horrifying thing about him.
I didn’t stand a chance to outrun him, and he was upon me even before I could shift, his fangs piercing into my neck with a slow, practiced control. I knew then it wasn’t about his survival or an uncontrollable frenzy. It was about the way it made him feel, like a God capable of anything, leaving me paralyzed under him, too weak to move, too strong to close my eyes and imagine myself elsewhere. He wasn’t a murderer—he was worse, inflicting torture upon others for some animalistic pleasure. I wish he’d killed me… that would have been easier. But that wouldn’t have been nearly as fun for him; he kissed me, dropping his lips to my ear and stared straight into my eyes when he whispered to me something that gives me chills even now...his name. “Remember it.” He commanded, smirking.
“Why?” I asked, because it didn’t make sense that he would leave me alive when I felt so close to death, much less tell me his name.
“You’re just another broken toy now, but you’re my broken toy. You belong to me, and I’ll not let you forget it.”
The words blurred before me before I could finish the entry, like viewing them through a haze of smoke. The book tumbled from my shaking hands and closed with a harsh snap on the ground. I barely made it to the trashcan in time to vomit.
James had impeccable timing. He managed to come in just as I was retching over the trash, dry-heaving because I’d already been at this for too long. Every time I thought of him, a new wave would wash over me. “What’s wrong?” James demanded, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. In the next, he had his hands on my shoulders, his eyes full of concern.
“It was him,” I managed, exhausted. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see his reaction, and then opened them because I couldn’t avoid it. “Xian.”
James tensed visibly, his jaw clenching. “What did he do to you?” My eyes were so heavy, my mind so full. How was I supposed to explain any of this? “Lilith?” He prodded, unable to hide an undercurrent of hysteria.
But I couldn’t answer him. I didn’t even know the answer myself. I couldn’t fathom how he still had control over me, though he repulsed me. How did he manage to still cause me anxiety, to break my heart over again, to make me scared to close my eyes? James folded himself against me, and I let myself lean against him so that we sat in an awkward tangle of limbs on the hardwood floor; I needed his strength. “You’re shaking.” He said, pressing his arms tight
er around me. “You don’t have to be afraid of him.” James seemed to have read my mind. “And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I’m here for you.”
I nodded against him, and we sat like that for a while, well past the point where my legs started to ache from being curled up in an unusual display of angles. I didn’t know how to tell him…there might never be a good way to share this burden, but he was here offering to help ease it. That was enough. “Xian is the one.” I mumbled. “He bit Jocelyn. He killed your sister.”
James was silent for an impossibly long moment before I felt him stand. I was scared to look at him, to see the hurt and anger and hatred churning in him, but instead he fixed me with a look of deadly calm. “James?”
“Relax, Lilith,” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. My hand slipped from his as he stood. “I won’t be long.”
“Where are you going?” I demanded. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”
“I won’t regret this.”
“James,” I tried again. He had the door shut behind him before I could even struggle to my feet. The hall was empty when I opened the door, as if he’d never been there at all.
Jocelyn’s journal in the corner haunted me; I wanted to read more, to know the events leading to the end of her story…our story… but I couldn’t keep reading. Not yet. As disgusted as I was by what I’d learned, as angry as I was at James for leaving me here, I was seething with hatred. I’d been through every possible emotion with Xian…he’d put me through the ringer even before I’d forsaken him. And still, not until that very moment did I feel such a toxic hatred for him. It swelled up inside me, turning everything black until I could almost feel myself rotting from the inside out with it.
That poison spread from one thought to another, tainting everything it could touch until I knew what needed done. I had to stop him…I just might be the only person able to get close enough to stand a chance.
The Celestial Kiss Page 26
