She Dies at the End (November Snow Book 1)

by A. M. Manay

  “Must have been a very young fairy, to die from such a small wound,” Willow said, musing. “I guess they figured he could handle the weak human while the experienced ones killed me and Pine.” Willow smiled wolfishly at her. “I guess you showed them. They underestimated you.” She paused before adding, “They’re not the only ones.”

  They drove in silence for a while, and November’s pain began to set in. A nasty bump was rising on her head where the fairy had slammed it against the wall, and it hurt to take a deep breath. A steady ache was settling into her shoulders. Her jaw throbbed. Her tongue probed her mouth, tasting blood but finding no missing or loose teeth, which was a relief. Her forearms were bruising purple where she’d tried to use them to protect her face. On the whole, though, she was grateful for being lucky enough to escape serious injury.

  Pine, on the other hand, drifted in and out of consciousness, moaning occasionally in pain. She heard nothing from the trunk. She wondered what Lord William would do with Dogwood. She suspected it would be rather awful. She caught herself hoping it would be.

  It wasn’t until they hit the Altamont that she began to process what had happened. She had killed a man – well, a fairy, to be more precise. She had nearly been kidnapped by the same group of people who murdered her mother. You killed someone, she told herself. Then I brained another man with a mace. You killed a man. A boy. I killed a boy.

  She began to shake but did her best not to make any noise. Her fairy companion, however, noticed the change in her breathing. “Hey, it’s alright. You did fine. You did better than fine. We all got out alive,” said Willow in an unusually soft tone for her. November nodded but said nothing. “Is it the shock coming out, or are you starting to feel the injuries?” she asked.

  “Both. I think, um – I think it’s also just realizing that, ah, I seem to have killed someone,” November admitted in a whisper as the tears began to silently fall. Willow’s unexpected kindness had undone her.

  Willow peeked at her. “You know you were totally justified, right? It was self-defense, after all.”

  “I know,” November replied, drying her tears on the back of her hand. “I know it wasn’t a crime or immoral or anything. But still . . . it just feels . . . I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “The first time is hard, even for us,” Willow confided. “It gets easier. But you don’t want to let it get too easy.”

  November leaned her head back, feeling a bit better after the tears and the unexpected pep talk from Willow. She tried to focus on the music once Willow turned the stereo back on. She just didn’t want to think about anything for awhile. She found herself checking the mirrors, trying to see if someone was following them. She couldn’t take any more excitement. Relief filled her as they finally arrived at the compound she was already starting to think of as home. How strange her life had become, that a house full of people who could eat her was now her only place of safety.

  Willow pulled up to the front door. Half the household was already waiting outside. Daniel helped Willow lift Pine from the car and carried him inside. As soon as November climbed out of the vehicle, Lord William’s hands were on her shoulders and he was examining her for injuries. Judging from his expression, she looked about as bad as she felt. “Are you in pain? We have a doctor inside,” he said. “He’ll patch you up and in the morning, one of the fairies can heal you.”

  “Okay,” she said, wincing as pain shot through her head. “Sounds like a good plan. What else happens now?”

  “I’ll debrief Willow. Then we’ll see how useful Dogwood can be,” he said in a dangerous voice.

  “If you’re going to want me to do a reading on him, I’d rather do it before any, um . . . unpleasantness occurs with respect to . . . uh . . . his person,” she suggested as euphemistically as she could manage.

  “Are you sure you’re up to that? You’ve been through a lot today already,” he said, but November could sense his eagerness to put her gifts to the test. The vampire obviously wanted her to examine the prisoner but had been afraid of pushing her too far by asking himself.

  November thought a moment. She was not keen to get near the savage fairy, but she wanted to know who was after her. “If I can see the doctor and eat first, then yes. Just, you know, hold off on the torture.”

  “Deal. I’ll send someone out to get whatever you want, brave girl,” he said.

  “Pizza. Salad. Coke, please,” she said, suddenly ravenous. “Also, can we do this little séance in a room where no one’s been, um . . . harmed?” She did not want to see twenty years worth of vampire violence just by crossing the room’s threshold.

  “As you command,” he replied with a grin. “The doctor is in your room.” He turned from her and directed one of his men to take the car down into the garage where they could move the prisoner more easily.

  November made her way slowly to her bedroom, taking her time on the stairs as every deep breath felt like a blade in her chest. In her room, Zinnia was waiting with the doctor. Her friend jumped up and was about to fling herself into a hug when November warned her off, saying, “Careful, Zin. I’m a little banged up.”

  “Right, of course,” she exclaimed. “This is Dr. Cedar.” He rose to shake November’s hand. His eyes were an unnatural shade of electric blue that screamed fairy, but his hair was dyed brown. “Do you want me to stay?” Zinnia asked. November nodded and sat down on the bed for her exam.

  He checked her over thoroughly, tsking audibly at the livid bruises that had already formed on the right side of her face. He listened carefully to her breathing. “No indication of a rib puncturing the lung, which is very good, but there are definitely fractures. I’ll need you to take off your shirt so I can tape up your ribs.”

  “Zinnia, can you help me?” November asked. “I don’t think I can lift my arms above my shoulders.” They wound up having to cut off her shirt, revealing livid bruises across her torso and swelling around her shoulder. If November hadn’t been in such pain, she’d have been embarrassed about being half-naked in front of this strange doctor. He shook his head some more, finished his exam, and wrapped her in a copious amount of tape. Zinnia then helped her into a button-up blouse.

  “Take things very easy tonight until dawn when someone can heal you. The last thing you want is to turn a cracked rib into something more serious. I’ll leave you some Vicodin for the pain. Get some food. Get some rest. Any shortness of breath, straight to the hospital. No physical activity, you understand? And no one is to bite you.” November nodded and thanked the doctor. She made a quick trip to the bathroom, avoiding looking at her bruised face, then returned to sit on the bed with her friend.

  “All Lord William told us was that you were all attacked but you all survived. What the heck happened?” Zinnia demanded, her eyes full of worry. November had finished giving her the short version when Ben knocked on the door.

  “Special delivery for the fairy slayer,” he said, coming in with a pizza and a take-out bag. The smell reminded November just how starving she was. There’s nothing like a desperate fight for survival to whet the appetite.

  “Bless you,” she said, reaching for sustenance. She was glad he seemed to be choosing not to get angry about being sent on such a menial errand.

  “I got you a milkshake, too. That’s what I always wanted when I had a sucktastic day,” Ben said in a rare reference to his human life. He joined the girls sitting on the bed.

  “Thank you, thank you, a thousand times, thank you!” November said with a smile as she took the treat from his hands. “Ah, chocolate. You’re a prince among men.”

  "I know," he grinned.

  She ate while her new friends peppered her with questions. They demanded to see the killer rosary, so she pulled it out of her pocket. The two supernatural creatures were careful not to touch it. “Yep, definitely silver,” judged Zinnia as she held her hand above the crucifix. “Lucky you had that.”

  “Seriously, though,” November replied, finally done eating. “I
’d probably be in the trunk of their car or something right now. Or worse.” She put the leftovers in the fridge and concentrated on finishing her milkshake. A bath and some sleep, and she might actually feel like a human being again. “I still can’t believe I did those things. I fought a fairy kidnapper in a gas station bathroom and stabbed him in the eye and killed him. Me, a person who has to get her nerve up to kill a spider. And then I whacked another guy with a mace. A guy who is a centuries-old professional hit man. I hit him right in the face.” She looked down at her hands as the reality of her day once again overtook her.

  “You don’t feel guilty, do you?” Ben asked. “They were your enemies and had it coming.”

  “No, I don’t. Maybe that’s the problem. I feel like I should, but I don’t.” After a lifetime of seeing death everywhere she looked, her general attitude was that everyone dies and there wasn’t much point in expending a great deal of emotional energy on it. She knew that made her a freak by human standards. There was one real fear November had about her future after her upcoming death. She was afraid that if she became a vampire, she would lose whatever empathy she’d managed to retain after her years of seeing far too much suffering and death. Vampires were bloodthirsty by nature, after all. They had to learn to view humans as prey. And, it seemed, they fought with other supernatural creatures rather regularly. November didn’t want to become a monster. Am I a monster already? she asked herself, not for the first time.

  “You did great,” Ben said. “You really are amazing.” His eyes no longer had their usual mocking look. November was rather alarmed by his sudden change in tone. She was even more alarmed when he scooted closer to her on the bed, reaching his hand towards her face. Zinnia looked equally concerned.

  This awkward moment was mercifully interrupted when Willow knocked on the door and called, “Our lord wants to know if you’re ready to examine the prisoner.” Ben jerked his hand back as if burned and affected a slightly bored facial expression.

  “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. How’s Pine?” November asked.

  “Still hanging on. Thanks to you,” Willow replied. November grabbed her drawing pad and a couple of pencils and headed out the door. They walked down to the library, where she and Willow used one of the secret doors to descend to the basement.

  It turned out that there were several rooms down there that locked from the outside. The dungeon area was separated from the vampires’ resting places by a long, well fortified hallway. As they approached Dogwood’s cell, November hesitated. Willow looked at her with concern, saying, “You don’t have to be frightened. He is well-secured. He cannot harm you, and several of us will be in there with you. You are in no danger.”

  “I know,” she replied. “Lord William does not seem to be a careless man. It’s more that . . . I’ve never done anything like this before. I mean, I’ve never done a reading on purpose without permission, with the intent of doing the subject harm. I realize he deserves it, but it disturbs me.”

  “Well, try to think of it this way: the more you find out, the less we’ll have to hurt him afterwards,” Willow said brightly. November suppressed a shudder. She didn’t like to think these people she was coming to care about did such cruel things.

  Willow turned to face her, bending over to meet her level. “It must seem barbaric to you, but this is how our justice works. It’s how human justice works, too, in many places. They just hide it from you so you don’t have to think about it. We don’t torture people over petty crimes. And at least we don’t lock people in boxes all alone for 50 years like humans do. That’s barbaric. We have four punishments only: fines, pain, banishment, and death. Dogwood knew what he was risking, attacking Lord William’s people, in his own territory. He does not deserve your pity.”

  “I know. Let’s get this over with.” November and Willow walked to the door of Dogwood’s cell. The fairy was dressed now in beige hospital scrubs and was bound with many yards of silver chain to a cast iron chair that appeared to be set into the concrete. She felt assured that he would not be going anywhere any time soon. His face had healed from the mace’s blow. It was a face that she suspected had started life handsome but had wound up twisted by misdeeds. William, Daniel, and Birch were also in attendance. There was an empty folding chair, presumably for November. “I’ll need a few minutes to get used to the room before I start in earnest.” William nodded his understanding, and they crossed the threshold.

  A parade of previous prisoners passed through November’s mind. There were fairies, vampires, werewolves, in varying degrees of distress. There were not as many as she had feared, and William had listened to her request and used a room with no history of cruelty to torment and distract her. Perhaps they had a separate room for suffering. The thought of that repelled her. When she opened her eyes, the prisoner spoke. “So this is the prize for which I lose my life. She hardly seems worth it, all the bodies piling up at her feet.”

  “On that point, Mr. Dogwood, I believe we are in agreement,” November found herself replying. He looked surprised to hear her speak coherently.

  “Oh-ho, Knox, you don’t keep her on a leash, then? Is she more fun that way, unenthralled? Or maybe just more useful?” Dogwood asked snidely. No one gave him the satisfaction of a reply.

  November sat down in the chair, saying, “I’m just going to touch your arm for a few minutes. Please forgive the intrusion.”

  The prisoner barked a laugh at her unexpected civility. “Poppet, it will be rather the highlight of my evening, I expect.”

  November braced herself, unsure about the strange waters she was entering. She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and reached out her hand to touch the fairy’s bare, hairless arm.

  She began with the recent past, hoping that would be the best bet for relevant information. The visions were more fragmented than she was used to. This being the first fairy she’d really tried to read, she wondered if this was true for all of them. While reading William had been like swimming through deep water, reaching out to caress the visions as she passed by, reading Dogwood was like sifting through debris as it fell and piled around her, as she tried to grab enough broken pieces to put together something coherent without cutting her hands. It was still easier than reading a human, when she often felt as though she were drowning and smashing against submerged hazards, dragged through the visions by unseen forces.

  She tried to block out as much as she could of Dogwood’s brutal fight with Pine as well as her own intervention in it. She saw a flash of him speaking on a cell phone and caught the word “Manteca.” She then saw him speaking to a cruel-mouthed man in expensive-looking black clothes.

  The man has one brown eye and one blue. They are talking about a plan and the need for patience. Dogwood bows to him at the end of the conversation. Their words are unclear. Dogwood carouses with Agnes and Philemon, all taking turns feeding on a doomed man. Their victim dies with his eyes open as Dogwood sucks away the last of his life

  That one made her shudder, but she forced herself to continue and push further into the past. Sexual assault also seemed to be a popular activity for the three of them. Cruelty after cruelty she picked up and discarded in the search for something useful, forcing herself to wade through many violent deaths of vampire and werewolf and fairy and human. She was rewarded with the sight of him helping a vampire woman put on a vest of explosives and hide it under a purple jacket. He seemed to be encouraging her, preparing her. She caught the names “Clara” and “Victor.” That was a satisfying find. The next scene she found was a surprise, as she watched Dogwood and the late Queen Marisha in what appeared to be an intense conversation, about what, she could not tell.

  November returned to her body with a jolt, looking up at William’s face as he cradled her head and held a handkerchief against her nose. He had pulled her chair away from the prisoner, breaking their contact. “What happened?” she asked, confused and wondering why he’d stopped the session.

  “I decided that enough
was enough. Your nose started bleeding,” he said. “Does that happen often? When you do readings?” November shook her head. She’d never been affected like that while working. William held up a handkerchief soaked with blood and took a box of tissues from Willow. November grabbed a few and pinched her nose. In a few minutes, the flow stopped and she looked around the room. Dogwood looked amused. William looked hungry, for blood and information both, November suspected.

  “You better hope she doesn’t do that in front of a younger vampire. You can barely restrain yourself,” said Dogwood with an ugly smile. “Even a teetotaler like you, who eats animals like a filthy werewolf. She’s wasted on you.” He turned his attention from November back to the psychic. “What did you see of my future, fortune teller?” Dogwood asked.

  “I didn’t bother looking,” she replied honestly. “I think we all know that it will be neither very nice nor very long.” Her tone wasn’t mocking or cruel, simply matter-of-fact.

  “They won’t be able to protect you, you know. My master will have you for himself or he will see you dead. You should wish he’d found you first. He would enjoy you and then make you a queen,” Dogwood called out to November as William helped her to her feet and out the door. As she passed Willow, the fairy reached out and squeezed her less-injured shoulder, a much appreciated and unanticipated gesture.

  “I strongly suspect that I would rather be a corpse with these people than a queen with your master,” November responded firmly. She did not turn around for a last look at the doomed man.

  As they slowly climbed the stairs back to the library, Birch following close behind, Knox requested that she give him a brief report to inform his questioning, after which she could draw and write down her impressions in more detail. As they settled into some chairs, Savita walked in. “Perfect timing, akka. November has just done a reading on Dogwood and was about to give us her initial thoughts. Hopefully they will give you somewhere to start with the prisoner.”