by Kristen Day
I had closed the gap between Daman and I before I knew what I was doing. His eyes made me think of a rat's and I tried to push Daman away from me, but he caught both my wrists and yanked me closer to him. I attempted to scream but Daman closed his mouth over mine, breathing his foul breath into my lungs. My body screamed for release, my lungs burned as though acid had been poured into them, and slowly my vision was darkening. Somehow Daman was killing me again.
As he felt me weaken, Daman relaxed his grip on my wrists and I fell to the floor at his feet. Daman crouched down and lifted my face until my dimming eyes met his.
"Here I was thinking no one could be so naive as to be hoodwinked by my deception, but then I found you. It was so easy to get inside your head and make you think you knew me. I never went to the sixth grade, Alice, I'm not a hero, I am a conqueror. My experiment with you has proven what I already suspected to be true; I have truly mastered death!"
I couldn't move, Daman took my left hand in his and looked at it for a moment before using a black, sharpened nail to carve a circle into my palm. I gasped in pain, but it was only temporary, I didn't bleed but was left with what appeared to be a tattoo.
"When it is time, this will help me find you my queen," Daman whispered.
He stroked my cheek before standing and turning to the door. In a flash, Daman was gone; I just managed to stick out my hand in time to keep the door from closing behind him. My fingers crunched painfully, it was the last straw for my weakened body. My eyelids fell closed and I slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
I awoke to my lungs burning again, coughs racked my body and I turned over on my side to retch. I was appalled to see black sludge coming from my mouth. It was white hot on my tongue and throat, and I began to cry as well as vomit. When I had finished I rolled over onto my back and tried to breathe through my ravaged throat.
My eyes were still too dim to take in much of what was around me, but I seemed to be in a hospital. The fingers on my right hand were bandaged and I was lying on a comfortable bed. Something touched my arm; frightening me to the point I sat straight upright which began the coughing fits all over again. Thankfully, I was able to prevent the acid like vomit from coming up again.
"Don't keep it down," a woman's voice said from next to me, "that's demon poison. You want that out of your system as soon as possible."
I turned to see who had spoken. I could just make out a tall, curvy Irish-looking woman. Her hair was red, thick, and sensationally curly, not to mention, she was beautiful. Every enviable feature in the world seemed to have found a home on this woman's face. She had a slight, Irish accent that naturally made her voice sound warm.
"My name is Hannah, what is yours?"
"Alice," I rasped, she hadn't offered her last name I wasn't going to offer mine.
"Alice," Hannah repeated, "who gave you that name?"
"My parents," I replied. Who else would have named me?
Hannah raised her eyebrows at my tone, I guess my answer had been a little short and edgy.
"Sorry," I mumbled. My eyes were clearing up and I could see I wasn't in a hospital at all, just a very clean room. A warm yellow and white quilt lay on top of me; I noticed Daman's jacket was gone and that my pants had been traded for some kind of loose fitting pants like I would have worn to bed.
Without warning, my stomach revolted against me, I leaned over the side of the bed and vomited until I felt like my insides were going to burst into flame. As soon as Hannah had seen me roll over she knew something was wrong. She held my hair, patted my back, and shushed my sobs as I removed the poison from my system. Hannah seemed unafraid of the black liquid that continued to pour from my mouth, she even stooped to look at it when I had finished and returned to my back.
"Demon poison all right," Hannah said. She said demon like Daman, "you been kissin' a demon, lady?"
My throat hurt too much to respond, instead, like a child, I nodded and began to sob. I hid my face from Hannah and wailed into one of the many pillows keeping me on the bed. Hannah seemed to realize she had done something wrong, in an instant she was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling me into her lap. I let her; it felt good to have someone hold me, even if I didn't know the person.
As I cried Hannah sang something in a lilting language I didn't recognize. Hannah’s voice was soothing and the song eased my nerves. Before I knew it, I was relating the entire story of my death and what had happened after to Hannah. I left out names though; they were too painful to remember. She continued to sing and as she did I realized my body hurt less and less.
When I had finished the recounting of my tale, I looked up at Hannah’s face to see that her eyes were set and hard, she stopped singing and helped me into a sitting position next to her.
"Mortal death didn't used to be that way," Hannah said. She gently took my hair in her hands and began to twist it into two braids. She tied each off with a bit of cord from a pocket in the pants she wore. They were loose brown leather, and looked like something what would be worn under armor. Hannah had paired the pants with a tan tunic that just accentuated the beauty of her skin and made her look regal. Being in her presence I felt immature, juvenile, and naive. Hannah’s mere demeanor made her seem wise and too knowledgeable about too many things for her age, which can't have been much greater than my own.
"When I died, I came straight here," Hannah continued. I was tempted to ask her how long ago that had been, but I resisted and Hannah went on, "most of the people here are like you though. It used to be that when you got here, you could choose to move on, or continue living here to help the new arrivals cope. Then the one who calls himself Alecsander took control. He gave himself that name, what a conceited meaning."
Hannah trailed off and I could feel the contempt she had for Alecsander coming from her.
"What does his name mean?" I asked. Again, I felt like a child begging for more of a story before bed.
Hannah scoffed, "Defender of people. Calls himself the new Alecsander the Great. His followers were upset that so many people had easy lives and just walked right through here and moved on without truly knowing what others had gone through. Before, you died, walked through a hallway, opened a door at the end and came here. From there you could decide what to do. Alecsander was a prince; he overthrew his father and changed the rules."
"Has anyone ever made it through all twelve doors?" I asked.
"A few," Hannah replied. She didn't offer up any more information on the subject which led me to believe that there was something terrible about those people she wasn't telling me.
"Can I meet them?"
Hannah patted my leg and stood up, "After you've eaten. Now that we know you survived the demon poison we have to keep you alive."
"Keep me alive? I'm already dead."
Hannah smiled at me, and shook her head, "That's what you think. You're more alive here than you were on Earth."
I started to ask Hannah what she meant, but she just shook her head and told me she'd be back with food and more explanation in an hour or so.
"Meanwhile," Hannah said, "try and rest some more. Demon poison takes a lot out of you."
I didn't think I'd be able to sleep when Hannah left, I was too confused about everything that had happened, but just to make Hannah happy, I decided to lie down and at least pretend to sleep. It didn't take long for my ruse to become reality.
The instant I woke up I knew I'd slept longer than an hour, I should have known Hannah wouldn't wake me, even if it meant food.
"So you are alive, Hannah wasn't lying."
The voice had come from my right, startling me more than I wanted to admit. As soon as my still groggy mind processed what had made the noise I felt ridiculous for being frightened.
The speaker was a girl, no more than ten years old and that was being generous seeing how small she was.
"My name is Aida. Kinga gave me that name, Kinga says it means visitor, because I'm the only one who isn't worried I'll never leave this plac
e. What's your name? What does it mean? Who gave it to you?"
Aida's words were strung together so quickly it was hard to separate one from another, but her name seemed true enough. She hadn't stopped grinning since I'd opened my eyes and it didn't look like she was going to stop anytime soon. For some reason it made me upset that she was so happy, I wanted Aida to be as depressed as me. And who was Kinga?
"Alice, it doesn't mean anything, and my parents gave it to me," I said coldly, "don't you want to go by the name your parents gave you? Don't you miss them at all?"
It was a cruel thing to do, almost the same as Lacey accusing me of not loving James. However, my words seemed to bounce right off Aida's shiny smile.
"My parents called me, Leigh. but here everyone has a different name. Usually the first person you meet gives it to you."
"Why?" I asked. I had to admit I was truly interested now.
"It's something that describes you, usually. But if you're like Kinga you can earn a new name. Avery says it means 'stubborn mule', but I looked it up. It actually means bravery in war. Kinga is stronger than a million Averys and is leading the war against Alecsander."
I still didn't understand, "But still, why go by different names?"
I had been so focused on Aida and her answers to my questions that I hadn't noticed a very tall black woman in the doorway. She was dressed similarly to Hannah, but that was where the comparison ended. This new woman was wraith thin, angry, and wreaked of authority, her whole demeanor was cold and demanding, "Most people don't want to remember who they were when they come here,” the woman said, “A new name feels like a new start to them and they can more easily forget the person they were. The rest of us take new names to keep up continuity and respect for those who chose to change theirs. More prodigious names are like titles among us, but only when given by others."
"Yeah," Aida agreed, "like Kinga's!"
"That's enough," Kinga said, "Isn't it time for you to be in bed?"
Aida hugged me tightly, completely catching me off guard, "You're nice, Alice. I like you."
Aida hopped off my bed and skipped out the door, poking Kinga in the stomach on the way out.
"How did she die?" I asked Kinga.
"You'll have to ask her that one yourself," Kinga replied, she set a tray of food down in front of me. From what I could see it was all bland, unseasoned, and probably flavorless food. Not really my idea of a good meal. Kinga saw my skepticism and quickly explained that I probably didn't want to upset my stomach further by eating rich food too quickly.
I didn't want to admit it, but I knew Kinga was right, but I was already sick of her babying me, and I wanted to know what was going on.
"Will you tell me how you died then?" I asked hopefully.
"I was a slave," Kinga said, her Jamaican sounding accent seemed heavier then, "I died giving birth to a little girl. I would've named her Aida."
"So that's why you gave Leigh that name."
Kinga shrugged, "It fit her."
I hesitated, wanting to ask Kinga what she thought my name should be, but I bit back the question. I didn't want to sound like an overeager child.
"Your name intrigues me," Kinga said. Her eyes were not on me, but fixed somewhere above my head, "it means of noble kin. Few others here are known by that name. The old king's wife was named Alice before Alecsander stole her away. No one loyal to the old king will support Alecsander. For now we are in anarchy until one side conquers the other."
"So that's why Alecsander gave himself that name? To try to intimidate the ones who won't follow him?"
Kinga nodded her head, "I think for now we will call you Ira, meaning watchful. Perhaps your new name will remind you to look out for the demon who gave you that mark."
I closed my fingers defensively over my palm, "Can he find me because of this."
"Yes," Kinga said. There was no gentleness in her response, "but he will only know your general location. Just mind your name."
Kinga stood up to take her leave, but there was one more thing I was dying to know.
"Kinga, what was Alecsander's mortal name?"
Kinga thought for a moment, trying to recall the name, "Daman I think. Fitting, now that we see what he's become."
Chapter Seventeen
Kinga's information had frightened away all thoughts of hunger, but to make her happy I picked at the meager meal on my bed. I sampled the thin soup; it tasted like water. The plain piece of toast was dry and blander to my taste buds than it was to my eyes. The only thing that actually had the remnants of flavor was the water that seemed to be laced with peppermint.
I knew I had to eat and somehow I managed to make everything go down and stay down, but I got no satisfaction from it. My body felt no different. My eyes had finally cleared enough to let me see detail of the room beyond my bed.
The floor was dark, worn wood, not to mention completely clean, meaning that someone had cleaned up my tarlike vomit. I tried not to think about who got that awful task as I took in the rest of my surroundings.
The bed, the bedside tables, the chair Aida had been sitting on, and a small desk in the corner were all white painted wood. The walls were the same yellow as the quilt, the ceiling was plain white, but just as in my hall it seemed to be the source of the soft light that was illuminating the room.
All in all, the room was just as exciting as the meal I'd just forced down. There were no books to occupy myself, no music to listen to, and of course no television to mindlessly divert me from my own thoughts.
I sighed and reached up to feel the braids Hannah had put in my hair. As my hand passed my face I caught a glimpse of the circle on my palm. I instinctively shut my hand tight before I brought it down in front of my face to inspect it more closely.
For hours all I could do was sit and stare at the perfect little black ring. It didn't look as menacing as I sat in my quiet, dull room, and I began to think that there might be a way to get rid of it so that Daman would never find me again.
His last words still haunted me, "My queen," he had whispered.
Each time I recalled his voice a shiver went up my spine, the reverberations never seemed to leave completely, it just echoed quietly until it decided to remind me again. I felt like I was going insane, tears had worked themselves out of my eyes, cruelly wetting my face as they traversed over my cheeks. Intense anxiety wrapped its cold hand around my stomach and tickled the back of my head. I clenched and unclenched my hands on the quilt, under the covers my toes squirmed, and my legs spasmed with the need to walk off the terror that was filling me.
Finally, I could stand it no longer; I decided I'd rather deal with the wrath of Kinga than lie in that bed doing nothing for another moment.
I kicked the quilt off and jumped out of the bed. That was my first mistake; I nearly fell flat on my face and had to steady myself against the bedside table. My legs were jelly under my weight, but I forced them to hold me as I looked around for some kind of shoe. Finding none, I resolved to go barefoot; I just needed to get out of the room before I killed myself.
I crossed to the door and steadied myself against it for a moment before I turned the knob and stepped through.
Outside was not what I had expected. It looked like a subway tunnel, minus the train rails of course. The walls were white washed cement, same as the floor, though slightly less clean looking than the walls. The ceiling, as in the room I had just left, was emanating quiet light. On either side of me were more doors, they didn't look like the one I had just come through though. These were metal and I could almost feel the chill coming off of their cold surface. Still, it was better than the hallway I'd been stuck in for almost a year. I secretly hoped to myself that I would never have to return to that place.
The hallway was a dead end; I turned to the door on my immediate right and tried turning the knob. It wouldn't budge. My blood froze in my veins as claustrophobia and memories of my year stuck in a room of locked doors collided in my head. I felt di
zzy and nearly went back to hide in the room I had just come from before I realized I was being silly. It was understandable that a few doors would be locked, especially in a place like this with a person like Kinga running things.
Still, it took me a few moments to regain my composure, and it only lasted for another second before one of the doors behind me opened.
I yelped, twisted around, and pressed myself into the wall behind me, fully expecting to see Daman coming at me with his rancid breath forming a halo around his head.
It was not Daman, it was a very short, very angry, red-headed man who didn't even appear to see me, he was muttering under his breath "Yes, massah-Kinga, yes massah-Kinga, of course massah-Kinga."
His quiet tantrum stopped when he finally realized there was another human being present. My fright still had me pinned to the wall and, obviously, my terror looked very funny to the little man because he began to laugh. Not a chuckle, not a short titter, not even a snort, this man full on guffawed. As in belly-heaving, red faced, tears streaming, knees-buckling kind of laughter. Oddly, it put me at ease and I giggled nervously, easing myself away from the wall and noticing that I had backed right into a hinge and my spine was throbbing painfully.
Finally, the laughing ceased and the man was able to control himself enough to speak, "You're Ira, I assume."
"I'll never get used to that name," I thought to myself. It reminded me of an old man sitting on his porch with a shotgun in one hand, and some homemade sweet tea in another. No images of eighteen-year old girls were provoked by the name.
"Yes," I replied shakily, "that's me."
"Kinga's really outdone herself this time," the man said to himself. He thrust his hand out to me, "Name's Avery. Has been since birth, pretty prophetic on its own. Elf ruler. Kinga tried to come up with a better one. Terrell she called me, stubborn. I am not stubborn, I know what's right and I do it, and it ain't right to take a man's name from him. I've been Avery since I was in my mother's womb and I ain't goin' to insult her by goin' by anythin' else."
