The Heart's Ashes

by A. M. Hudson

  “What’s that horrid smell,” I asked, peeling my wrist away from my nose in an attempt to distinguish it. It reeked like the men’s bathroom at a truck stop.

  “Death,” said the Englishman.

  God, this is where David lived since he became a vampire? No wonder he’s always so serious.

  The same gel-like slime on the walls in the cell seemed to have spread like a snotty cold to the stones out here, too, and the once beautiful old paintings between each doorway were all torn, discoloured with long streaks of what looked like blood. The faces of the men, immortalised in paint, peered out at us as we wandered swiftly through the dark, to where, I had no idea.

  “Here.” The man stopped in front of a large, wooden door, its iron hinges seeming to hug it, or maybe imprison it. He rapped twice with the iron ring at the centre. The door opened almost immediately.

  “Jason?” I cried, so happy to see his beautiful face, until I remembered what he’d done.

  He smiled to himself and grabbed my arm. “I’ll take her from here, boys.”

  The men walked away and I stared up at the boy who once saved me. He looked down at my body, and I felt ashamed at my own appearance; my beautiful wedding dress, completely stained on one side with blood, was ripped at the sleeve, looking tatty and disgraceful.

  Jason closed his eyes for a second, his brow pulling in the centre.

  “Jason,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears as I reached up and touched his fingertips. “Please?”

  His grip tightened on my arm, his mad eyes opening, brimmed to the edges with a dark fury I’d never seen in them before. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Wait. Please. Don’t take me in there.”

  Through the doorway, the existence of life became apparent right away. Though I dared not look up, could feel their presence—vampires. Keeping my eyes hidden under the curtain of my hair, I peered out through the strands of brown and studied the room. Open, almost rounded, with a roaring fire to the right of a long table, which sat in front of tall, rectangle windows.

  “Lords of the High Council.” Jason stopped in the middle of the room and bowed to seven men, sitting behind one side of the table; each one with hands cusped in front of them, glaring judiciously. “I bring you the accused.” From a command I didn’t see, Jason thrust me forward with a soft shove, sending me to the floor beside his feet—the balls of my palms hitting the stone with a jolt, before my knees buckled down heavily after them.

  “Of what crime do we accuse?” A man with a deep, austere voice spoke.

  Please don’t say it, Jason? Please don’t.

  Jason stepped in front of me, blocking my view. “She is a Lilithian pure blood.”

  “And—” another asked; I didn’t want to look up, I knew what was up there, but the voice of that man had the most unusual, theatrical ring to it; soft, kind, yet somehow, with a cynical undertone that scared me. “How do we know this? She looks merely human to me.”

  “My Lords,” Jason started. “Humans do not bleed to death and endure, they do not break their spines then walk again—” he laughed without humour, presenting me with his palm, “—and they do not survive vampire bites, without the genetic capability.”

  A humble muttering spread through the men; I braved a glance through Jason’s legs. He pressed his feet together and stepped closer to me.

  “And what does the child have to say for herself?” the theatrical voice asked.

  Jason moved aside and I hid my face behind my hair, feeling safer under my shaggy mask.

  “Well, speak up, girl.”

  My mouth opened in the shape of a vowel, but nothing came out.

  A man appeared beside me, making my heart race, pulsing hot blood through my body as the flow of his dark cloak brushed the ground around him like a parachute. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, his curled finger lifting my chin.

  I shook my head.

  “I am Drake.” His voice was soft, a tone for a child. I turned my eyes to the side, catching a glimpse of his stubble-covered chin and the golden, tan colour of his skin. He reached down and shifted my hair to one side; gentle enough to show he knew kindness. “Do you know of me?”

  “You’re the king?” I asked delicately, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

  “So, you’ve heard of me, then?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “You know, Amara, if you do, in fact, prove to be Lilithian, that makes us relatives,” he spoke even softer, “—being that you descended from my sister’s bloodline.”

  I nodded again.

  “Then, you know you must endure the same fate as she.” He rose and stood above me.

  Feeling an upsurge of panic shake my elbows and chin, I looked down at my hands—blood-covered, long, thin fingers. These hands were made to play the piano, not to meet with an ending such as this. “Why do you have to kill me?” I nearly choked on my own dry tongue.

  “Do you not know?” Drake landed beside me again, cupping my face with his bony fingers. “You are a weapon, Amara—built only to destroy. We must rid the world of your kind of evil.”

  “I’m not evil.” I tore my face from his touch. “I’m just a girl. You’re evil.”

  Drake took a breath and drew back slowly, his arm rising as Jason’s hand shot out and hoisted me off the floor by the nape of my neck. “You will show some respect, creature,” Jason yelled into my face; I reached back, gripping his wrist with my nails to free myself from the tight twisting of my hair.

  “It’s quite all right, Jason.” Drake stood; I kept my eyes on his cloak. “She will learn her place soon enough.”

  The king floated back to the table of councilmen, and Jason released me; this time, I fell to my side, my hips wearing the dull impact of the fall. I pushed up on my hand and looked right into Jason’s soulless eyes; you nearly ripped my hair out, Jason. I touched my fingers to the back of my neck, so sure I was now bald there. Why are you doing this?

  “Because you are a creature of sin—and you must die.” He looked down at me with disgust, stealing my thought.

  Creature? How can he say that? He cared for me, taught me to fly in my dreams, picked wildflowers with me.

  The council talked quietly among themselves while Jason stood like a soldier in the middle of the room, me at his feet like a scorned pet, and my heart on the floor in front of me. The side of my hand hurt where he’d forced me to the ground, and I traced the tips of my bloodied fingers with tear-filled eyes. “So, you hate me?” I looked up at him.

  His eyes narrowed, staying on the council. “Yes.”

  I sniffled, unwilling to even hide my crumpling face. The council stopped talking, glaring up at as. “But…you said you loved me.”

  “I said nothing of the sort.”

  “Yes, you did!”

  Jason’s lip lifted over his teeth as his arm folded diagonally across his chest, coming back down sharply across my lip and nose; I screamed and fell onto my elbow, forced by the sting.

  “I don’t love you.” He dropped to his knees in front of me, squeezing my face before I could take a breath; “I never did. You we’re just a game to me.” I looked up at his clenching teeth, twisting my fingers around his wrists as blood dripped from my nose in one tickling line.

  “I don’t...I don’t believe that.” My eyes fell past him to see the reaction of the council, all motionless, watching the show with a hint of amusement.

  “Did you really think I would love you? You pathetic little whelp.” His hands shook tightly around my face as he laughed, then threw me away again. “You disgust me.”

  Leaning on one hand, I pressed the back of my wrist to my upper lip, and through heavy breaths, smoothed the blood away from the burn in my nose.

  “She has so much faith,” he addressed the council again. “I read it in her thoughts. She believes she will be saved.”

  Drake scoffed with a certain amount of amusement and went back to his discussion, no longer interested in our little show.


  My chest tightened into my stomach as I sobbed aloud, gasping through each pause enough to catch a breath. With pleading eyes, I searched Jason’s gaze for kindness, my face crumpling when only a cold, stiff man stared back at me.

  “Stop crying,” he said coldly.

  My shoulders shook harder. I folded over, dropping my face as the tears rolled in lines of three down my cheeks.

  “I said stop crying.”

  “I can’t,” my voice wailed out.

  “Then I’ll make you stop.” He grabbed the base of my neck again.

  “That’s enough!” Drake stood as I cried out.

  Jason stepped back, and in a slow, ghost-like movement, Drake swept toward us, his dark cloak gliding over the stone—his feet seemingly non-existent. My sobs quietened with a pause of my breath. Drake reached down to me. “To your feet, young one.”

  My hand trembled the slow ascension to his, and I pulled against it to force my shaking legs to a stand.

  “Do you know why this is happening to you?” Drake asked kindly.

  Lost for words, my lips sat rounded, parted slightly as air moved through them. Up close, Drake’s eyes were like a rare gem; if it weren’t for the malice festering in his soul underneath, the violet flecks over the brilliant blue would actually be very beautiful.

  “Did you remove her voice box as well?” Drake turned to Jason, smiling malignantly.

  “That can be arranged.” Jason folded his arms.

  My lips tightened into a pout and the sobs turned to snivels, my heart calming now with the safety of height.

  “Amara.” Drake’s hand hovered near my cheek, his lips tasting my name. “Princess Amara. Beauty beyond words, but a bite of death.” His rounded eyes studied mine carefully. “I must apologise for what we plan to do to you. Were it not for your bloodline, I’d claim you as my own. Please understand, my lovely girl, this is nothing personal.” His eyes narrowed into slits. “Then again. Maybe it is.” He laughed wickedly, his high-pitched burst of air greeted with the chuckles of the council at the table—all except one; a man whose face watched mine, studying me carefully, his eyes narrowed, intense—familiar somehow.

  “What are you going to do with me?” I drew myself up stiffly.

  Drake spun back to face me. “Well, of course, we plan to kill you. But before we take the young warrior’s word on what you are, we must perform a few tests—to make sure.”

  “What kinds of tests?”

  “Ha!” he squeaked with humour. “What kinds?” He turned to the council. “What kinds, she asks. Oh, such a brave little girl to question a king.”

  “You’re no king,” some stupid girl inside me said, running on nerves and adrenaline. “You’re just a man. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “That’s only because you know not what I’m going to do to you,” he said, his mouth suddenly on the bridge of my nose, his words spitting through his stark white teeth. I drew a quick breath. “I’m going to make you cry. I’m going to make you scream, and if you satisfy my needs, I will eventually offer you the mercy of death.”

  Drake shoved me to the ground; I tumbled like a heavy bag of clothes; my hands flew out as the force bent my weight into my elbows, just before my nose hit the ground. The dark shadow of the king lingered for a second, then tapered away, leaving me alone on the stone floor, like a dog.

  My teeth tensed in the back of my mouth, my face angled to the ground—away from the eyes of the council.

  I want to run away—to just get up and tell them I don’t want to play anymore. But this isn’t a game. And they won’t let me go. They got me, they did exactly what David told me to be afraid of, only now, it’s worse, because I’m equivalent to the creature they once so brutally destroyed.

  “Jason?” The king said. “Undress her.”

  “Undress her?” Jason looked at me.

  “Yes. The council wish to taste her blood. Undress her.”

  I rolled my face upward to meet Jason’s as he sauntered toward me, his arms still folded. With wide eyes and crawling skin, I shook my head, feeling the pinch of fear creep over me like nakedness. “Jason. Don’t. Please, don’t.”

  He grabbed my wrist and threw me onto my back.

  “No.” I crossed my arms over my chest, gripping my lace dress with unyielding desperation.

  “Stop it, Ara.” He clutched both my hands in one of his and pinned them against my neck, forcing my head to the ground. “Don’t struggle.”

  “Please,” I screeched, “Please just don’t undress me. I won’t fight. I promise. Drink from me, I don’t care.” I looked at Drake as Jason clenched the neckline of my dress. “Please?”

  “Stop.” Drake squatted beside me, lifting his cloak a little as he did, revealing that he does, in fact, have feet. “You promise to lay still while they drink from you?”

  I nodded, as much as I could with the cold stone under my head.

  “Very well.” Drake stood again. “Jason, lift her dress. My council enjoy the thigh.”

  I closed my eyes tight and pressed my arms into the floor beside me, rolling my head back firmly to the ground as Jason stood up from my body and touched the lace around my ankles. My jaw tightened—too tight to quiver—and warm, salty tears travelled down my temples, tickling my ears before dripping onto the floor.

  “You better not move,” Jason said, and cool air kissed my shins, my knees and my inner thigh as he rolled my wedding dress over my hips and left my legs, my waist and my underwear exposed to the room of men—one of them being his own uncle.

  Evil. So frickin’ evil.

  My teeth bit hard in my mouth, fear taking me somewhere outside my body, but not far enough to feel nothing. Their shadows descended around me, filling the once empty space with gloom. I kept my eyes closed, my mind ignorant, leaving only my skin promised to their evil intentions.

  From a touch at the base of my knees, they fingered their way across my skin—a doctor feeling for a hidden lump. I took a deep breath and held my squeal, forcing my nails into my palms.

  Oh God, just get it over with.

  Wet lips formed a seal around the soft flesh above my hipbones on both sides, and hair brushed along my legs, falling from the heads of those whose lips were there. Firm tongues licked the flesh first, so many, all at once. But the one by my left, his hands grappling my inner thigh, his finger worming against the elastic of my underwear, commanded all my attention.

  Jason, please. Don’t let him touch me like that?

  I waited but Jason did nothing, probably watching as this pervert abused the boundaries.

  “Be swift, Councilmen,” Drake called. “We’ve tests to perform.”

  The intruding finger inched away and tight, unwanted pressure of teeth broke the flesh. My nails pressed tighter into my palms, scraping ditches of raised skin. I focused on the sting in my hand—willing it to be the only pain.

  And though I promised to lay still, I just couldn’t; my back arched and my legs stiffened, fighting internally, forcing myself not to kick, not to fight them off.

  Fingers held tight but teeth loosened as my blood seeped out past the moaning on their lips. It hurt, but only the same as a human bite would; aching, pulsing, possibly bruising, but not stinging—not like Jason’s bite had last year.

  Like a deflating balloon, each of my limbs relaxed when their hands dropped from my skin, their presence shifting from my aura.

  A shadow hovered above my face; Jason stared down at me, his mouth agape, his eyes fixed on my lower half. I rolled up on my elbows and looked at my legs; purple bruises bubbled on the surface of my skin, droplets of red reeling, reversing into the wounds as they closed.

  Silence filled the room, resting under the soft crackle of the roaring fire.

  “Well, she’s a lot stronger than we imagined.” Drake stood motionless beside the council table.

  Can I move yet?

  I wanted to pull my dress down. Several of those creeps were glaring, too interested in my lower half.
r />   My hand edged toward my skirt. Jason kicked it away, pressing my wrist to the floor with his heavy, black boot. I glared up at him, my teeth forcing together inside my mouth.

  “Don’t you move,” he said bitterly, “Not until the king orders you to.”

  One at a time, I lifted my knees and pressed them together, planting my feet to the ground.

  I’m going to kill him if I ever get the chance.

  Each breath in my chest tightened my throat with rage and my hands shook under the clench of my fingers.

  “Right, well, I guess there is only one more preliminary test to perform,” Drake added, slumping down in the chair at the centre of the table. “Bring in the prisoner,” he called.

  The door buckled open and a wriggling, kicking being, with long blonde hair, struggled between the unyielding hold of the two men who brought me to this room. They threw him to the floor in front of me, his face hidden by the mop of messed hair, but I could tell immediately he was young, maybe no older than sixteen. He pressed up on the palm of his hand and kept his face to the ground—away from me.

  My heart twinged. Poor thing.

  Jason lifted his foot from my wrist and I sat up, whipping my dress over my cold legs, hugging my knees to my chest. The lace cover, though it was all I had before, now felt like the arms of a friend—safe, covering, shielding.

  “Amara?” Drake called; my head whipped up to look at him, my heart starting in my throat. “Bite the boy.”

  Confusion inched down my nose in a crinkle. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He nodded toward the whimpering waif. “I do not have time for your games, child. Bite the boy.”

  “No.”

  Drake moaned and waved his hand in a sideways flutter at Jason. “Show our dear princess what happens when we disobey.”

  Jason flew up beside me, forcing his fingertips into the top of my spine, each digit pressing hard; my neck stiffened, my mouth opening as I held a cry behind my breath.

  “Are you going to bite him, or do I have to force you?”

  I went to shake my head, but couldn’t move. I’m not biting him.

  Jason fumed. “Bite him.”

  “No.” I arched my neck backward into my raised shoulders.