She Dies at the End (November Snow Book 1)

by A. M. Manay

  “Day after tomorrow, at dawn,” November answered truthfully. She had no intention of trying to evade them, knowing that it would be futile. “Are you going to bite me?” she asked with some trepidation.

  “Almost certainly,” William answered with a grin, “but not right now. I wish we had more time to prepare, but we will have to make do. We shall see you tomorrow night, November. Stay out of trouble.”

  “Wait,” she cried. “I have more questions!” And in the blink of an eye, they were gone, silently and invisibly, and she was left alone once again, with only her visions for company.

  Chapter 3

  November stumbled through the rest of the evening on auto-pilot, tremendously grateful when the last patron made his exit. It didn’t seem real; it simply didn’t seem possible that she’d just met two vampires and a fairy, a dream come to life. She wondered briefly if she was losing her mind again but quickly dismissed the notion. In fact, she was strangely calm. The shaking and crying would come later, when she lay down to sleep and found her mind abuzz with questions and fears and strange images from William Knox’s too long life.

  November realized she was ravenous, changed clothes quickly, turned in her cash box, and headed down to the communal supper they held together late each night. As usual, she brought a book with her, but she found herself looking around the table rather than burying her head in its pages. There were a few faces she’d miss: Neil, of course, and sweet Mrs. Kravitz who had made her a birthday cake the year before. The workers chatted loudly, blowing off steam after a long day. She kept accidentally catching Mike’s eye; he would then quickly look away. That was odd. The carnival owner usually avoided even glancing at her, unless her mother’s behavior made it unavoidable; November had the impression he was a little afraid of her. Her mother was picking at her food with shaking hands. November knew better than to get anywhere near her when she looked that desperate for a fix.

  None of them knew anything of the revelations that had taken place that evening in November’s tattered tent. None of them were aware that the world they inhabited wasn’t theirs alone. November couldn’t imagine what their reaction would be to the idea that there were magical creatures among them, wandering the world with their own plans and their own laws. She wondered what her own reactions would be to what was sure to be a stream of disturbing revelations to come. Tomorrow, the troupe would pack everything up to move on to the next town, and for the first time in years, November wouldn’t be going with them. She wondered how long it would take them to notice she was gone. She wondered if they’d look for her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted them to or not.

  As soon as she crawled into the warmth and safety of her sleeping bag, her usual stoicism fell away, and she began crying out the shock that she’d had to keep bottled up all evening. She held tight to her grandmother’s rosary as she confronted her fear of being taken away into the unknown, into a world she knew nothing about, into the hands of ancient and dangerous predators who would somehow lead her to an early grave. Would she be miserable? Would they be cruel to her? She thought not, based on the little information in her vision, but how could she be sure? Would her mother be able to manage without her? What would become of that broken woman?

  After November had wrung out all her fear and trepidation, she fell into an exhausted sleep, watching William Knox forge weapons and shoe horses and bite people until the sun rose. Her dreams that night were vivid but not horrifying or terribly violent, to her great relief. She’d feared the scenes of war and murder she’d caught glimpses of during the reading would return in force, but she had been spared more of that for the moment.

  The next day, working all day and then striking and packing kept her occupied enough that she didn’t have too much time to think. She filled her small suitcase and trunk and kept them aside along with her sleeping bag, not knowing whether or not she’d need them in her new life. Once her own tent was packed up, she wandered around the camp offering a hand to those who needed some help with their gear. After years in this nomadic life, November was stronger than she looked, wiry and hard beneath her worn clothes.

  As she walked and worked, she caught snippets of conversations from the previous night. Normally she would ignore such clutter, but there came a moment when she thought she could hear William Knox’s voice. November had assumed that the mysterious trio had left the carnival directly after they had high-tailed it out of her tent. It appeared she had been mistaken.

  She began to listen more deliberately: it seemed that her new friends had been asking around, gathering information about her: “Frigid little witch, that one . . . Nice girl. Too bad about her mom . . . Nose in a book all the time . . . I hear she spent time in a hospital . . . Works hard, never causes trouble . . . Did you see what her mother did to her arm?” She spied Ben talking up the girl who ran the cotton candy stand, her hair dyed the same pink as her wares. She saw Zinnia deep in conversation with Neil, and she caught a glimpse of William having a quiet talk with Mike, but she couldn’t make out more than a few words. What was that all about?

  As the night wore on and she had no more work to keep her busy, November grew ever more anxious. Everyone else gathered to eat and celebrate the successful run. November hung back. Her appetite had left her; she was increasingly nervous, and she didn’t think she could manage acting normal in front of the others while they feasted.

  She wondered how long she would have to wait. Maybe the vampires would change their minds and leave her alone? She knew in her heart that this was highly unlikely. Would she have a chance to say goodbye to her mother? Did she even want to? What would she say? She didn’t imagine the woman would be happy to lose a source of income. November turned to the always helpful coping mechanism of indulging her nerdiness and sat reading on her trunk for the next hour, waiting for the hangman.

  “You didn’t run. I’m a little disappointed,” Ben whispered in her ear with no warning whatsoever.

  “Jesus!” cried November, jumping up and away from him. “What is it with you guys and the sneaking up on people?” She was thoroughly creeped out.

  “Sorry,” he replied with a grin that said he wasn't. “It’s kind of our whole bag.”

  “You seem to be in a much better mood today,” November said grudgingly as she willed herself to calm down. Stop shaking, she told herself sternly.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he allowed. “Baby vampires get cranky when they’re hungry.” He shrugged.

  “So you’re not hungry now, then?” she asked hesitatingly, keeping a wary distance.

  “Nope. You can thank the young ladies of Laney College for that. I ate before we left Oakland.” He looked awfully pleased with himself.

  November wondered if these college students had survived being Ben’s dinner.

  Ben must have caught her expression, as he added, “Relax. I didn’t kill them or anything. We don’t kill every time we eat. It’s wasteful, and what would we do with all the bodies? We try to avoid killing warmbloods, actually.”

  “Good to know,” November said, a bit awkwardly. “So, now what?”

  “Come with me,” Ben replied mysteriously. “There’s something Lord William wants you to see.”

  “Lord William?” she asked incredulously, both eyebrows and arms akimbo.

  “I know; it’s ridiculous. Vampires have a rather antiquated governmental structure. They’re crazy old fashioned,” Ben explained as they walked. “It takes some serious getting used to.”

  Ben stopped her as they came up behind Julia’s trailer. November’s stomach filled with butterflies when she saw William Knox deep in conversation with her mother, their backs turned to the young eavesdroppers. Ben and November stood in the shadow of a tree, close enough to hear their conversation without being noticed by Mrs. Snow. November listened closely, fighting a feeling of foreboding. Was the vampire going to harm her mother? To enthrall her into not calling the police once her daughter disappeared?

  “I’ll give you five h
undred dollars for her,” William coldly proposed. Julia was twitching, unable to keep still. Her dealer had raised his prices, and she was in a really bad way. November’s eyes widened in horror. She pressed her lips together to keep herself silent. She knew at once how this was going to go, but she refused to believe it.

  “She’s my daughter,” Julia protested unconvincingly. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

  “Don’t insult me by pretending you care enough about her to refuse,” William answered. “Do you have a counteroffer?”

  Julia hesitated, but only for a moment, such a painfully short moment. “A thousand. And the watch.” She pointed at William’s Rolex.

  November had to lean on the tree to keep from falling to the ground. She knew she had a bad mother, but this betrayal was a knife in her stomach. Her injured arm began to throb anew. She pressed her fist against her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud, but she couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down her face. That Ben was standing there watching her only made it worse, one humiliation on top of another. She had no desire to have an audience for her agony, especially that cocky man-child. She tried to hide behind her hair. Why do I feel so ashamed when I'm not the one doing something shameful? Part of her wanted to confront the woman she could no longer call her mother. The rest of her wanted to flee, to find a dark hole to climb in and never come out.

  “Done,” William replied, counting out the cash and taking off his watch. “You will leave the carnival and have nothing to do with any of these people ever again. You know they will turn you in to the police if they see you with this kind of money after your child goes missing. I told the owner that Child Protective Services was taking her away, and you’d best let them continue to believe that. Listen carefully: you don’t remember what I look like,” he said, his voice suddenly different as he enthralled her to cover his tracks. The he swiftly turned and began to walk away. The former blacksmith turned back to add, “You didn’t even ask me what I want her for. How do you live with yourself?” He strode away, shaking his head in disgust.

  November turned to run, unthinking, just desperate to get away. Ben stopped her, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was what he wanted you to see.” His face and voice were earnest.

  She looked at him for a moment, silent and uncomprehending. Then she let Ben take her by her gloved hand and lead her away. She was too dazed to argue. They found Knox standing by her meager pile of belongings. When she saw him, her pain turned to anger.

  “Why did you make me see that?” she cried. “What did I do to make you want to hurt me?”

  William turned to face her rage. “It was not my desire to cause you pain, child, but I needed you to see the truth. I need you to understand that there is no coming back to this place for you. You will be homesick in the coming days; you will grieve for the life you left behind. You will miss your mother, God knows why. But you will. You will think of running away. That is normal for someone entering our world. Such dramatic change is bound be difficult. But you need to understand that there is nothing here for you. There is no home for you here. That woman isn’t worthy of you. You owe her nothing. She doesn’t deserve your worry or your love.”

  William paused. “I also needed to be sure she wouldn’t go to the police after you disappeared,” he admitted. “You have every right to be angry with me. I hope that in time you’ll forgive me and come to understand my reasons. I hope you’ll be able to turn your anger to your mother who deserves it, and that in time you’ll let go of that burden and make a clean break with your human life. And I assure you that we will take better care of you than she ever has. Now, we must go.”

  "You're a monster," she spat.

  "Sometimes." He reached for her hand. “Come.”

  November refused to let him touch her, but she walked with them, silent and calm, too numb to fight or to feel much of anything. She let William help her into the back seat of a black sedan, not even registering the swanky brand and the leather seats. She took the handkerchief he offered and wiped her face of tears. Ben took the wheel, and Zinnia turned from the front passenger side to give her a sympathetic look.

  “That must have been awful. I could feel it all the way from here. I'm sorry.” The fairy reached for her hand to give it a squeeze. November let her. Zinnia looked at the bandage peeking out of November’s sleeve. “Hey, would it be okay if I healed your arm in the morning? So it doesn’t scar?” She glanced at both November and William for approval.

  “Good idea, Zin,” William replied. “And Ben, we’ll need to stop at the ranch on the way. I haven’t fed in days.”

  “Livermore it is, boss,” Ben said with a grin as he pulled out of the dusty parking lot. “I can always use a snack.”

  “Just roll up your sleeve so I can see it, November. If it’s really bad, we’ll have to ask someone else to take care of it. Healing isn’t my best gift.”

  Zinnia winced as the wounds came into view, three burns across her forearm about an inch wide and an inch apart. For an instant, November could see fury fill William’s eyes as he looked at the swollen welts. In that moment, she softened a bit toward him. His anger at her suffering seemed genuine.

  “What happened?” Zinnia asked in a near whisper.

  November was reluctant to answer at first, but seeing the concern in Zinnia’s eyes gave her the courage to come out with it. What the hell? Let's give having friends a try. “She thought I was hiding money. She needed it for drugs, and she wanted me to tell her where I was keeping it. I had the curling iron out. My hair had dried funny, and I was trying to get ready for the customers that afternoon.” November hesitated. “So, when I wouldn’t tell her where it was, she just picked it up and . . . It was impulsive. She didn't plan it or anything. She's not as bad as that. She just . . .” November trailed off, unable to say the words.

  “Were you hiding money?” Zinnia asked, appalled.

  “Of course I was. She can't be trusted with it. Winter is coming, and I’ve worn out my shoes.” She paused. “I hate being cold.”

  “Did you tell her where it was?” William asked in a soft voice.

  She turned to look him in the eye. "No," she answered firmly.

  Knox gave her a sad but approving look. “Good girl.”

  November smiled slightly at that, surprising herself and the vampire both. She looked back toward Zinnia. “So, how does this healing thing work?”

  “Fairies can heal injuries by laying on of hands. See, to eat, we use physical contact to feed on the life energy of other living creatures. When we heal, we’re basically giving some of it back. But it only works during the day,” she concluded with a shrug of apology, then turning back around and leaving November alone with William in the back seat.

  After a somewhat awkward silence, November ventured, “So, where are we going?”

  “We’ll stop briefly at a ranch I own in Livermore. I keep a variety of animals there, for hunting,” William explained. “From there, we’ll go to my house in the Oakland hills. We’ve set up a room for you there. We should probably do one at the ranch as well, but we haven’t yet had time.” The vampire’s smartphone buzzed. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

  November turned to gaze out the window as her host conducted his business. She tried not to eavesdrop as her kidnapper/rescuer/pall bearer discussed the stock options of some tech company he was involved with down in Silicon Valley. She looked around the car with calmer eyes, and what she saw was money, money everywhere: designer clothes, state-of-the-art phones, expensive haircuts, manicured hands. Whatever these creatures did for a living, it was lucrative.

  She looked down self-consciously at her own hands: her broken, dirty nails and dry skin and rough cuticles. She looked at her clothes: ill-fitting and worn and someone else’s before they were hers. She wasn’t ashamed of herself; she didn't consider poverty a sin. It was just one more reason for her to feel off-balance and out-of-place. Her new companions weren’t just fro
m an alien world— they were also from a very different class.

  November returned her gaze to the window. They were speeding along the curving interstate through the Altamont Pass. During the day, the arms of the windmills spin their welcome as the same wind that turns them ruffles the grass, tall and brown and ready to burn after the long, dry summer. At night, it is a bit eerie, the unlit hills rising black on each side, the road curving out of sight into the dark. She smiled as they came out of the pass above the Livermore Valley, looking down at all the lights as they began descending the long hill down into Livermore. When the wind is high, drivers feel like they are going to be blown off the road, but this night was calm. The valley below had a busy sort of beauty to it. It was hard to believe that amongst all that frantic development, alongside national laboratories and strip malls and subdivisions, there were still working farms, still people tending vineyards and raising cattle and sheep and horses. It was even harder to believe that a vampire lord kept a ranch as a snack bar amongst all the scientists, commuters, ranchers, vintners, and suburban families.

  They soon exited the highway, as empty at this time of night as it was gridlocked during rush hour. The roads became smaller, and soon the luxury sedan approached the gated entrance to William’s ranch. It seemed likely to be the best-fenced property in the area, national labs included. November looked up at the ten-foot-high electric fences topped with razor wire and her body gave an involuntary shiver.

  “It’s just to keep the neighbors safe, November,” William explained, noting her discomfort. “We don’t want animals or humans or, God forbid, children wandering onto the property while we’re hunting. If a vampire in pursuit caught scent of a human . . . there are very few of us who would be able to resist.”