The Heart's Ashes

by A. M. Hudson

  “What change?” My throat tightened as we whizzed past the airport sign.

  “Just sit tight. We have a long drive.”

  “Where are we going now?”

  “Le Château de la Mort.”

  “Where’s that?” I sniffed, wiping my nose with my wrist.

  “No more questions.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head and said nothing more.

  Chapter 20

  The soft thud of a car door woke my mind from restless, unending sleep, and a dewy chill spread over my legs where they rested across the backseat. “Shh.” Jason’s strong arms circled my body, lifting me from the car.

  “Where are we?” I opened my eyes long enough to see a starless night behind tall towers of what looked like a medieval castle. I wrapped my arms gently around his neck and snuggled my brow under his chin. “Jase?”

  “Shh, it’s okay,” he said into the top of my head. “I’ll take you to David’s old room—just sleep, pretty girl.”

  I breathed his sweet cologne and closed my eyes; he squeezed me once, inhaling deeply through his nose—the sound of his breath and the warmth of his strong arms setting my heart at ease.

  The night closed in around us, bringing a cold, stone feeling from all six sides, while the patter of his shoes echoed like plastic rocks on marble.

  Time seemed to pass like the beat of a heart, taking me easily along the wistful realm of sleep until I felt the soft, cool caress of cotton sheets under the length of my body. “Jason—” I forced one eye open as he positioned my arms and legs comfortably under a blanket. “Are you doing that to me—are you making me sleepy?”

  “Yes, sweet girl. I’m allowing you rest. You need it.”

  I couldn’t fight it. I just wanted to sleep. “Am I going to be okay?”

  Cool lips touched my brow, his breath brushing my forehead. “Just sleep.”

  “Okay. Goodnight.” I rolled over, tucking my hand under my cheek. Gentle tingles trickled over my neck with the touch of Jason’s fingers; he stroked my hair from my shoulders and carefully unlatched my necklace at the back.

  “I’ll keep this safe for you,” he whispered as it came free.

  I reached out. “Jason, don’t lose th—”

  “Shh. Sleep,” he said, and everything went black.

  Sunlight never came. As my mind escaped the veil of exhaustion, I quietly took short breaths, unsure where I was, or if I was alone. I could feel my heart just below the hollow of my collarbones, beating like a hundred edgy little butterflies—making everything spin. The dark room held a deep kind of cool, like dirt at the base of a hole. All I could make out as my eyes scanned the floor, rising along the stone walls and to the ceiling, was a kind of wet, glazed moisture over every surface. Even the lungful of air I drew was laced with a murky kind of dryness, like old, damp clothes left in a basket too long.

  I pushed up on my elbows and looked beside me to the sleeping vampire; his hand across his belly, his whole body shadowed in the dim light. Only his sweet, familiar scent distinguished him as Jason.

  My stomach sunk a little. Why would he sleep with me? I wonder if the other vampires know he has a live human in here with him.

  He barely stirred as I rolled off the dirty old bed and slipped my bare toes onto the slimy stone, wincing with each step, balancing my hands over the empty space in case the dizziness sent me to the ground.

  What a gloomy room.

  I tried to make out the lines of a chest of drawers or picture frame, anything to give this room an identity, but couldn’t see a thing. As the last of sleep eased out of me, I extended my arms to the roof and stretched deeply, yawning, and when I brought my arms down, crossing my hands across them, gasped, feeling a thick, sticky substance there. My fingers drew slowly back across my skin, covered in dark muck. Blood? Is this blood? I touched my arm again, tugging the shredded strand of my lace sleeve, dangling helplessly over my forearm.

  I looked back at Jason, still sleeping soundly, then hurriedly spun on my heel and continued forward in search of a door, a window, anything.

  A tiny light filtered in through a hole in the roof then, orange, as though the sun had just risen, and as it brushed the walls at the same time my fingers did, I gasped, seeing what my touch recognised first as cold iron. Bars. A cell!

  I spun around to look at Jason—gone.

  “Feeling better?” he asked, suddenly in front of me—on the other side of the bars.

  “Jason! What’s going on?” I could hardly see his face, only a faded silhouette to show his movements.

  “Right now, nothing.”

  “What am I doing in here?”

  He looked down and toed a white foam box.

  “What is that?”

  “Look closer,” he said and squatted down to lift a small, fat bag, about the size of a hand, filled with dark red liquid.

  “Blood bags?”

  “Yes.” He looked at my arm then, at the small wash of colour running the length of my wrist. “It seems you’ve reopened the wound.”

  I held my arm out and studied it; it wasn’t bleeding before. I didn’t even feel any pain. My head spun, watching the gushing flow run down my skin and discolour my fingertips.

  Jason wrapped his fingers around mine as I grabbed the bar to steady myself. “No passing out on me, Amara.”

  “What happened to me?” I swallowed the bile in my throat, steadying my stomach with a few breaths.

  He pressed his face between the bars. “I drained you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I needed you to be weak.”

  “Why, Jason, what’s going on?” My stomach sunk, my whole upper torso lifting with each panicked breath.

  “Sit tight, girl—the Blood King will arrive soon, then I shall take you to see him.”

  “The what?”

  “Honestly, Ara, don’t you know anything? The Blood King—head of the World Council, ruler of all vampires—he wishes to meet you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because you’re special.”

  Special? “Jason? What have you done?” I grabbed the cold, gritty bar with my other hand.

  “I told him what you are.”

  “And what exactly is that?”

  “You’re a Lilithian pure blood.”

  “What? No, I’m not.” I tried to shake my cage. “Why would you do that? Why would you tell them that?” My memory flashed a conversation between Eric and I; Lilithians, how vampires killed all but the created ones. “You told them I’m a pure blood?” I yelled. “Don’t you know what they’ll do to me?”

  “Yes. They’ll kill you—after they punish you.” His smile trickled with malevolence.

  “They won’t believe you, Jason. I’m a human, not Li—”

  “Do you see how much blood I drained from you?” He looked down at the box. “I cut through your entire arm, and you’re not dead,” he said each word slowly, with detest. “So if you’re not a Lilithian, then what are you?”

  “They—they didn’t change me yet. I—”

  “No, exactly, and you didn’t change when I bit you. But you heal fast—you crave blood.”

  “No.” I backed away from the cell door and fell against the bed.

  “Yes. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “I—” I reached up to touch my locket, feeling only flesh where it should be. “When you kidnapped me last year, it was never about revenge, was it? It was always about me? You were setting me up to look Lilithian.”

  “Not everything is about you, Ara. But did it ever occur to you that maybe I was testing you—to see if you were human?” he snickered. “Oh, it’s bitter-sweet, the revenge I sought on my brother is so much greater now he’s accused of harbouring an enemy.”

  “Wait! No! He didn’t know,” I cried.

  “It matters none,” Jason continued, “he committed a crime by keeping you from us; a crime punishable by death—a death now possible by your hand.”

  “
Death—but—?”

  “Yes. He told you once, didn’t he, that only an original Lilithian can kill a vampire?”

  “No.” I shook my head, eyes wide. “I’ll never do it.”

  “Yes—you will.”

  “No.” I shook my head again, touching where my locket should be.

  “When we’re finished with you—” he looked down at me, his lip lifting over his teeth, “—you won’t even know who he is. You will kill him, and then I will dispose of you.”

  My ice-cold fingers hid my lips. “Jason, please, don’t.”

  “I am sorry that it had to be you, Ara. I meant what I said when I said I love you. But my hate for him and my desire to see him dead far outweighs any affections I have for a filthy Lilithian.”

  “What are they going to do to me?” I ran for the bars and grabbed them as he turned away. “Jason. Please, what will they do?”

  He turned back and clutched my hands, pinning them in place. “You are an abomination. You must die. But first, the king wishes to test the strength of your endurance. After all, there has not been a pure blood since the original Lilithian queen was alive. We need to see what a modern day Lilithian can survive, and then, we’ll extract your venom, so it may be used for our own purposes.”

  “Venom?”

  “Yes, Ara.” He dropped his arm then rubbed his brow. “You have venom. You didn’t know?”

  “No.” I touched my tooth with a salty-tasting, bloodied thumb.

  “Hm. Well, it’s a shame you didn’t accidently bite my brother—and kill him.”

  “I—” I bit my tongue and blanketed my thoughts.

  The vampire studied me intensely. Iron bars stood between us, but I could feel him inside my head, prodding around. I imagined the rug, covering my memories and protecting them from him. I needed to figure this out. The fact that David didn’t die when I bit him—does that mean I’m not what he thinks I am, or that my venom doesn’t really kill?

  On the other hand, if I’m not Lilithian, then what am I?

  “You’re tired. You need to sleep.” Jason stood back. “I will return within the hour, then submit you to the council.”

  “Jason. Please?” I reached for him through the bars.

  “Don’t beg, Ara,” he said, backing away, “it’s very unattractive.”

  “Jason?” I called again as he disappeared up the dark staircase. His long, stretched shadow faded from the wall under the spread of darkness, the loud bang of a closing door echoing through the empty space. “Jase?” I cried in a soft whisper, dropping my hand from the bars.

  The emptiness surrounded me then, giving rise to all the thoughts and fears I wanted to keep at bay; David, his capture. Mike. Emily. And the scary things that may be lurking beside me in these dark, ancient cells.

  How did it come to this—how was I so stupid to trust Jason?

  I looked down at my wedding dress, absolutely covered in blood. I had counted on that happening after the wedding, but not from this.

  The thin beam of light over the bed gave refuge as I sat under it and studied my arm.

  He drained me—to weaken me? That much blood, a whole tub, and I’m still alive.

  How can I be a pure blood? How can that be, when no one knew? Not David, not Dad, no one.

  All this time. All this time I was immortal—after everything David and I lost because of it; after all the tears, the worry, I was like him all along.

  And I bit him. I could’ve killed him.

  I shook my head, watching the memory of that night in my mind as if it were happening in front of me.

  Now I can kind of understand why he beat himself up so much when he accidently bit me—how it feels to think you could’ve killed someone you love, just because you bit them. But, if the Lilithians have him, maybe he’d be better off if I had killed him.

  Eric’s cheeky smile and his soft, overly confident voice came to mind: “The most painful lockdown a vampire can suffer.” And beneath that, Emily’s words the day we spoke in my bedroom made my heart stop: “Just enough venom to lock his limbs down, sensation remaining, then cut him in places guys don’t want to be cut.”

  I folded over and covered my mouth, shutting my eyes tight. Oh, David. What are they doing to him—what are they making him feel while I sit here with no more pain than a terrible urge to go to the bathroom, and a stubborn determination not to use that bucket in the corner?

  I rubbed my arms and looked down at my dirt-covered toes. And what about the rest of that story—about the queen, how the vampires killed her. I don’t even know what happened to her, only that it was brutal, and David went pale when I asked him once.

  If only we’d known. If only we’d run, if only David hadn’t hopped out of the car.

  We can’t go back. Our wedding is ruined, our life is ruined—if not, completely gone. I’ll never see my dad again, or Vicki, or Mike.

  What’s worse is, Mike and Emily will think we’re in Paris—they won’t know what happened. David will die. I will die, and they’ll never know. They’ll just think we gave up on them—fled by ourselves—they’ll never know the truth.

  It will be as if we never existed.

  Time passed. I’m not sure how long. More than an hour. Everything was so quiet—an empty kind of silence; not like a quiet night at home, with distant traffic or the wind or the song of a cricket, but dead quiet—like being buried in the ground. I fell asleep, I don’t know how many times. My throat was so dry and my stomach so tight with hunger it felt like days had passed, and all I had to keep me sane were the yellow memories of Jason and I on the grass in my dream, mixed with the grey reality of the future I’d never get to have with my David.

  From time to time, a quiet quiver of rage heated my blood, making my teeth pulse and mouth water, and I knew the feeling so well, knew it wasn’t just frustration laced with fear—it was blood hunger. I lifted my wrist to my lips and parted my teeth, my tongue trembling on the edge of my skin. Bite. If I’m a vampire, I should be able to bite my own arm—should be able to drink my own blood.

  But the need subsided again, falling away like water on a window, leaving me exhausted enough to lay on the filthy bed. I tucked my knees to my stomach and pulled my gown over my toes, holding onto them to make myself smaller.

  Beyond the safety of my cage, strange sounds lingered in the halls—like wind or deep groaning. It was so far away I only heard it intermittently, but each time, my skin crawled, as though the walls were glass and weak, and whatever creature might be lingering down the depths of these medieval cells might come to find me—alone, waiting to die. I suddenly wished Emily never made me watch that horror movie at our first sleepover—so, so long ago.

  “Jason?” I looked to the bed beside me and tried to imagine him there. “Tell me why?”

  The walls disappeared and greenish gold light flooded everything around me. Thin blades of grass rose up around Jason’s brow, tickling his lashes, making him blink a few extra times. He held my hand, stroking my face with the other.

  “How can you have hated me all along, Jase, been plotting to turn me in? It doesn’t make sense.”

  And before he answered, the day vanished, leaving the murky dark of the cell more severe than before. But the memory of his smile stayed, how he stole the petals of a flower I was holding and whispered love-me-nots with each one. Surely, at some point in all his pretending, he must have felt something for me. My only chance is to appeal to that side of him—convince him to help me.

  A loud, echoing crack shot through the silence, and I lifted my head. Voices. Two of them. Men, talking loudly, joking and bellowing with laughter. I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

  “Time ter go then, luv.” A face appeared between the bars.

  “Where’s Jason?”

  “Lieutenant Knight has business to attend.” The keys clinked heavily against the iron cell, and the metal groaned, wreaking as the door parted for what I imagined was the first time in hu
ndreds of years.

  Another man, a dirty, bloodstained one with rough hair, stepped in and grabbed my arm, yanking me from the bed.

  “Ow,” I cried out. “You nearly took my arm off.”

  “Shut up,” the other said. “Yur whinin’ e’ll do yur no good ere, lassie.”

  “Please?” I looked up at the man, searching his grey eyes for any sign of familiarity. “Just let me go—I’m not what he says.”

  “We’ll be lettin’ the council decide that.”

  I glanced backward to the safety of my cell, wishing I could grab the bars as we passed into the long, dark corridor. I dared to inspect the lengths of the black tunnels, but saw nothing, not even other cages.

  “Move it!” The man shoved me hard; my hands fell to the stony steps and I pushed up, climbing each one slowly, my feet tangling in the lace of my dress. “I said move it.”

  “I am,” I screeched when he shoved me between my shoulder blades. “These steps are really steep.”

  When we reached the top, finally, bone deep exhaustion swept through me. I leaned on the wall to catch my breath but the man shoved me through the doors and a sharp blast of daylight hit my eyes, blinding me. I covered my face, unable to see through the white.

  “Not what ‘e says, ehy?” The man asked. “Then ‘ow come a week wi’ no food gets yer all shy’n away from ‘er sun?”

  A week? Has it been a week? I straightened my spine. “I’m human—we all do after a week with no light.”

  The man groaned and gripped my arm, guiding me out of the light to a long, dark and draughty corridor. My toes scrunched up and lifted to the sides a little, escaping the spongy, mossy carpet.

  “Keep movin’. Faster,” the man ordered, driving me forward by my arm.

  The tall, reaching walls of this fortress were oddly terrifying; seeming to tower over and watch as we pass, like the ceiling was made of eyes, and the walls, long tendrils of evil, waiting to grab me. Dad took me to a castle like this once on a History tour we took, but it had been clean, maybe only slightly musty, with old books and dusty carpet.