She Dies at the End (November Snow Book 1)

by A. M. Manay

  It was nearly an hour before the Oracle came around. With Greg’s help, she sat up. They had moved her to the living room during her extended vision. Savita put a straw in her mouth, and she sucked down a full glass of orange juice.

  “Are you alright?” Pine asked.

  It occurred to November that he uttered that phrase an awful lot. She said nothing in reply. Instead, she stood up, looked down at herself to make sure she was steady enough to walk, and headed toward her room. Her companions looked at one another, uncertain. Pine stood up to follow her. Just as she reached the door, he stopped her. “Please, say something. Anything. November?” he begged, desperately worried that he’d derailed all her progress.

  She looked at his anxious face and had mercy on her friend. “You can also tell him that he made me cry.” Then she stepped into her room, closed and bolted the door, threw herself down on the bed, and was true to her word. She sobbed into a pillow until finally, exhausted, she fell asleep.

  She woke often from her troubled sleep, as she’d expected. The third time, she sat up, heart pounding, wondering if she’d screamed, and over her labored breath she heard quiet voices in the hallway.

  “Of course I have a key,” Savita said softly, “but I think you should just let her sleep.”

  “I want to make sure she’s okay,” came Zinnia’s strained voice. “She was seriously upset. I could feel it all the way in Berkeley.”

  “I felt it as well,” Ilyn’s voice added. He sounded terribly agitated. November’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, hope rising for the instant before she remembered the day’s events. “There has to be something you fairies can do about this,” Ilyn continued. “This isn’t supposed to be possible. I can’t stand it, this connection with her. I feel like I’m losing my mind. It’s only gotten worse since she drank my blood. I’ve never heard of giving blood having an effect like that, not in all my years.” He sounded as close to panic as a vampire of his age could get.

  At his words, November’s fury bloomed again, and she strode to the door and swung it open. “I don’t much care for it myself, your grace,” she said in a voice dripping with venom. “And I’m ever so sorry to have inconvenienced you with my unfortunate survival the other night as well as my following your order to Pine this evening. By the way, thanks so very much for making one of my only friends do that to me. That was super classy of you. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting the hell out of this house, I need to get back to bed. I think I can fit in a thousand more nightmares about you before breakfast, though I might have to cry myself to sleep again first.” And with that, she slammed the door and locked it again.

  November heard footsteps, then silence. She was seething, relieved to be alone again, when she heard a tentative tap on the door. “Please, Em,” Zinnia whispered. “Please let me in. The others have gone. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

  November sighed; then she went to let her best friend in, bolting the door behind her. “Do I look alright to you?” she asked in a harsh voice as she got back in bed.

  “You look awful,” Zinnia replied, climbing in beside her to give her a hug. “Pine filled me in. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  “Thanks, Zin. I'm sorry for sounding so mad. And thanks for coming,” November replied, trying not to start crying again. “Can you stay?”

  “As long as you need.”

  With Zinnia in the room, November managed to fall back to sleep and get a few hours of rest before more dreams made it impossible. It was a beautiful day, which helped lift her spirits. She decided to enjoy the warmth and the sunshine by having breakfast outside. Zinnia stuck close to her side but didn’t ask any prying questions, for which November was quite grateful. Pine did the same, looking vaguely guilty. Finally, November asked Zinnia, “Don’t you have school? I don’t want you to get in trouble over me.”

  “Mom pulled me out,” she answered sadly. “There was a bombing last night of a house being rented by several vampires and fairies who were students at a college back East. All four of them died. One of their parents is lord of Ohio. Whoever did it spray-painted 'Traitors' on the street in front of the house. Some people think that getting a college education means we’re trying to live too much in the human world, having too much respect for their intellectual achievements or some garbage. My mother is afraid I could be targeted, too, because of her politics and my friendship with you. So I’m on leave until this all plays out.”

  “I’m sorry, Zin. That sucks.”

  “Not your fault. Besides, I couldn’t really concentrate anyway, with all this mess going on. Too much drama,” the fairy replied.

  “Seriously, though. Hey, do either of you have any idea when we have to fly to Nevada?” November asked.

  “Last I heard, tomorrow night,” Pine answered.

  “And what exactly am I going to have to do there?” the seer inquired, wanting to be prepared. She was in no mood for more surprises.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll find out all that I can. One thing is for sure – no parties for you.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” November said, managing a little laugh. Pine smiled at the sound of it, and Zinnia looked much relieved.

  “The lords are pretty spooked, I hear. A few are making secret sleeping arrangements. Most are bringing frozen blood along. I heard a rumor that the lord of Kentucky is bringing a hundred caged squirrels for snacks, but I think that’s just a joke at his expense,” he added with a slight smile. “It’s possible that they might want you to examine Lilith before they do her in.” November made a long-suffering face. “I know, I know. It would suck. But maybe you might see something useful.”

  “She’s just so gross,” November complained. “Honestly, examining that knife would probably be more useful, since it belongs to Luka.”

  “Yeah, about that . . .” Pine began. “It seems to have disappeared.”

  November twitched at that piece of news, her hand rising of its own accord to rub the scar on her arm. It still ached, a little less each day. “How is that possible?” she demanded.

  “There was a lot of commotion that night. It’s an extremely valuable weapon. Very old. They don't make them that way anymore, thank God. The king was livid, of course,” Pine said, shrugging. “Anyone could have grabbed it.”

  Finished with her breakfast, November turned to her work. “I need to draw,” she told her friends, and they knew she was done talking for a long while.

  When she was finished, she took a walk to the gate at the end of the long driveway. After a little while, once the sun had set quite spectacularly, Greg joined her.

  "You want to run." It was a statement rather than a question. November looked up at Greg and didn't bother to deny it, nor did he bother to tell her that running would be at best an empty gesture. He knew that she knew.

  "I am having trouble seeing much difference between Luka and Ilyn. Other than that Ilyn hasn't blown anybody up. Lately."

  "Not that I often agree with my grandfather, but at least Ilyn doesn't want to rule the world, commit genocide against the werewolves, and enslave the entire human race," Greg offered.

  "No, just the ones he wants to make use of." She shook her head. "The things I've seen him do, the things he's said to me. . . and I can't stop thinking about all those girls at the parties. I'm supposed to be on his side because he's the lesser of two evils? But then he's kind to me sometimes, and I don't know how to reconcile it. And now I have this magic tying me to him, a tie I won't escape even after I die, according to my vision. I can't . . . I just can't. I don't want to be like him."

  "You don't have to be Ilyn or Luka. Though there is one thing I think my Uncle Luka has right." November looked up at Greg with more than a bit of shock before Greg continued, "Revelation. The only way to be a truly ethical vampire, or fairy, is if our prey gives informed consent. Which they can't do if they don't know we exist." November nodded, allowing that he had a good point. "At any rate, th
ere is more than one way to be a vampire. You could feed solely on animals, like Lord William. Or, you could do what I do when I feel the need to drink human blood directly from the source."

  "Which is?"

  He bent down to whisper in her ear. His breath was cold against her skin as he confessed, "I break the law. I bite people who know." He grinned at her surprise.

  "But how does that work? How does word not get out over all those years?" November breathed, fascinated.

  "It started with some people whose lives I saved, when I was young. Savita and I helped them escape slavery, like she helped me. They asked what they could do for me in return. I could somehow tell I could trust them. So, I told them, and they gave me blood freely, and they kept my secret. Over the years, I saved a lot of people from a lot of different things. They have children, grandchildren they teach about me, who want to know me, in case they ever need my help. Symbiosis."

  "Who knows? What if you get caught?" November whispered conspiratorially, peeking around for eavesdroppers.

  "I'm sure Savita knows, but she pretends not to. And nothing good," he replied. "William is utterly committed to the law. It would mean exile at best. But I hate enthralling people. It's too much like slavery. I have a real problem with slavery. As you might imagine." Greg's kind features turned fierce for just a split second, just long enough to make November's heart skip a beat. "There are stories, legends of a community somewhere, where vampires, fairies, werewolves, and humans live together honestly. Nobody thinks it is real, but I just love those stories, you know? Like a vampire garden of Eden, where we lived in peace before we all learned to hate and hunt each other."

  They stood together in silence for several minutes before November worked up the courage to say, "In my vision, it looks like Ilyn turns me. . . but what if you did it instead?" The words came out in a tumbled rush, as she tried to shove them out before she lost her nerve.

  "Oh, November . . .I wish that I could, but it just isn't a good idea," he replied gently, like a potential date trying to let a girl down easy. November looked at her shoes, mortified. The vampire knelt down next to her, gently turning her to face him. "Hey, it's not like that. It's not even that I'm afraid the king would be livid, which he would. Whatever, we could run away to another country. But turning someone into a vampire is not as easy as the stories make out. It doesn't always work, and my track record . . . I've tried twice and lost them both. I swore off of it. And Ilyn's made at least four and never lost a one at rebirth, and those are only the ones I know about."

  November looked down at him questioningly. "Humans and fairies have miscarriages and stillbirths, sometimes, right? So do we. Sometimes our progeny don't rise, even if we do everything right. Sometimes they rise, but they are sickly and waste away, or their minds aren't right. And just like with the fairies, it's happening to us more and more. Rumor has it the werewolves are having the same problem, not that they'd tell us."

  "The fairies?" she asked. She vaguely remembered someone saying something to her about fairy infertility.

  "Zinnia's parents lost five before they had her. Pine and his ex-wife stopped trying after four because they couldn't endure another loss."

  "How awful. I can't imagine." She swallowed the tears that sprang to her eyes.

  "I think Ilyn is just the safer choice. If I tried and you didn't make it . . ." he trailed off. "But I promise, I'll help you, if you really do wind up one of us."

  "Thanks," she said with a crooked half-smile. "Just don't let me hurt anybody."

  Her lanky companion unfolded himself. "Come on, we should get inside. You must be cold." She took his arm, and they walked back to the house, both wondering what life might have been like if things were just a little different.

  ***

  November had never been on an airplane before. She suspected that she had now been spoiled for life as far as air travel was concerned. They were sitting on a private jet, on their way to Las Vegas to finish preparing for the Assembly. The king was sitting at the front of the plane, talking on the phone. November was doing her best to ignore him. Ben and Lilith both had been transferred during the day to prevent any attempts at escape, and the plane had returned in the evening for the king and his entourage. Zinnia was sitting across from November, resting. Fairies didn’t sleep, but they had this way of zoning out when they had a quiet moment with nothing to do. Most of William’s other people were also making the move to Nevada, flying separately as a security precaution. Greg would be staying behind to hold down the fort in Oakland. Ilyn and November were accompanied by security staff, with Pine and Willow assigned watch over the human.

  The oracle and the king had already had one argument that evening. There had been the issue of her reward. It turned out that there was a tradition that a person who saved the life of the king could name his or her reward. Generally, of course, these would consist of money, land, lordships, priceless jewels, and other items of that nature. November had no interest in such things. Upon reflection, a strange notion popped into her head. She requested that Ben’s life be spared. She wasn’t sure why. The idea just came to her, but once it did, she was sure it was the right decision. She, however, could neither understand nor explain why. After all, she was the one Ben had tried to kidnap. Ilyn had not been pleased and had done his best to talk her out of it. In the end, he trusted that her gift was involved and would not lead them astray, and he agreed to her request, saying in a strained voice, “Perhaps we will find a way to make use of him.”

  On the plane, the remains of a gourmet lunch sat on the table next to her, along with a fresh glass of cola just delivered by a lovely fairy flight attendant. November looked out the window down at the lights on the ground as they approached the airport. Her ears popped as they descended. Take-off had been a little frightening for her, which everyone had found amusing. The current view of the Strip was pretty amazing, which was a good distraction from her nerves. “That one’s his,” Zinnia said, reaching over to point. “That one, too.” November was suitably impressed.

  “Could you help me with my wig?” she asked once they were safely back on solid ground. She’d removed it once they were in the air; it itched something awful. With her face still on telephone poles throughout Northern California, they’d chosen the closest thing they could find to the opposite of her own hair: a sleek, strawberry blonde bob with heavy bangs. Her shorn head certainly made dealing with the wig easier. Add a pair of designer glasses, tasteful jewelry, and expensive clothes, and she was unrecognizable as a scruffy, dark-haired runaway.

  They were whisked from the plane to a waiting limousine flanked by SUVs for the short drive to Ilyn’s primary residence at the Tayna Spa and Casino. They came through a private entrance, of course, bypassing the crowds on the gaming floor and in the lobby. Even the back hallways were spectacular. It was apparent that no expense had been spared in the construction and decoration of the complex, the flagship of Ilyn’s financial vampire.

  Zinnia and November were delivered to the rather large suite they were sharing. It was, in Zinnia’s always elegant parlance, “Ridonk.” It was certainly the work of someone with very good taste and a great deal of money at his or her disposal. Everything was perfect: the cream color of the upholstery, the cool stone floor of the bathrooms, the placement of the furniture, the smooth way the curtains opened and closed.

  Even so, something about the place was nagging at November. She wandered around for a long minute, trying to put her finger on it, until she finally opened the door to take a look down the hallway, and it hit her. She looked at the room number on the door, and the details came back in a rush.

  “November, are you alright?” Pine asked, right on cue. November decided that he should have t-shirts printed with that sentence on the front.

  “I need to talk to the king,” she said with quiet resignation.

  “I very much doubt that is possible right now,” Willow answered in a rather disbelieving tone.

  “Then someone
do me a favor and tell him that there’s going to be a fire in the hotel,” she replied with brisk annoyance and closed the door firmly, irritated that Willow would think she’d want to see him if it wasn’t an emergency.

  The fancy, extra long bathtub with its own pillow beckoned to her. She wanted to heed its siren call, but instead had to wait to see if she’d be summoned once her news reached the king. After about fifteen minutes, just as her irritation reached critical levels, there came a knock at the door. She took a peek before unlocking it and was surprised to see that the king had instead come to her. She opened the door and stood aside for him to enter. Lord William was just behind. They strode into the living room, Ilyn’s eyes seeming to study every feature in search of an imperfection while studiously avoiding looking at the human.

  Before November could even sit down, Lord William began with the questions. “What’s all this about a fire? When will it be? How does it start? When did you have the vision?” November ignored him and opened up her most recent binder of work, pulling out the relevant pages.

  “I first saw it the night before last. I saw the king, alone in a hallway filled with smoke, seemingly searching for someone. I heard crashes, alarms, and screaming. As you can see, the number on the door matches my room number, and the filigree around the peephole is the same. This leads me to believe that the fire will happen here.” She spoke quickly, in a businesslike tone that betrayed none of her extremely mixed feelings about being so close to the vampire monarch.

  “We have excellent fire suppression technology,” William mused. “And the security screening is thorough. I don’t understand how someone could get enough fuel in here to start a significant fire.”

  “Well, someone will,” November said. “Is there any way to move this thing somewhere else?”

  Ilyn shook his head. “That is not feasible,” he replied. “We’re talking about hundreds of people who would need lodging. And who knows how safe the alternate site would be?”