She Dies at the End (November Snow Book 1)

by A. M. Manay

  “If they know about a specific threat, a lot of them will take it as excuse to just go home. We need them to see the trial, to vote to support action against the rebel,” William added.

  “Surely you’re going to warn people?” November asked, shocked by their seemingly cavalier attitude.

  “We have developed a very good plan for quick, daytime evacuation, coordinated with each delegation,” Ilyn assured her. “They knew the risk when they came here. Believe me, after what happened in Oakland, we are taking every precaution. We’ll have guards everywhere. A whiff of smoke or fuel, and they’ll set off every alarm in the place.”

  “That is somewhat reassuring,” November replied. “There’s one other issue this brings up that I should probably point out to you. For me to have seen this vision, I must not be in the building when the event occurs. I can’t see my own future, remember? And since I have no plans to make a run for it . . .”

  “You’re afraid someone’s going to make off with you?” Ilyn finished. She nodded. “Let’s increase her guard,” he told William. “Keep the two on the door and add a man each in the elevators, lobby, and the stairwells. And six guards on her when she leaves the room.” William nodded. “Is that everything?” the king asked November.

  She looked him in the eye for a long moment before answering coldly, “Yes, that’s all.” The vampires blew out the door. “Don’t bother thanking me or anything,” she said to the closed door before finally drawing herself a very hot bath.

  The Assembly opened with a minimum of pomp, given the circumstances. The first major order of business was Lilith’s trial, where she was judged by a jury composed of twelve randomly selected lords, since it was the crown itself who was the wronged party in a case of treason. Not surprisingly, they quickly voted unanimously to convict. What was surprising was their choice to invite November to attend the execution.

  “They did what, now?” she exclaimed to William when he paid her a visit to give her the news.

  “They want to meet the great Oracle. You’re famous, and we’ve been holding you close,” he explained with a shrug. “So, to hell with precedent.”

  “I don’t want to be there,” she replied.

  “Look, if it were up to me, you wouldn’t be. But there are several very powerful lords on the panel, and the king really does not need to be disagreeing with them right now,” William said with earnest exasperation. “We need you to do this.”

  “Fine,” she said, throwing in the towel. “Just tell me I don’t have to wear a prom dress.”

  The king himself came to escort her. November would have preferred some warning on that score. Her chest got tight whenever she saw him, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap him or kiss him. No, scratch that – she definitely wanted to slap him. And yet, she got the strangest feeling of comfort just being near him. She was beginning to find fairy magic tremendously irritating.

  “You look lovely,” Ilyn murmured when she opened the door. She was wearing a grey cashmere suit with a slim skirt that stopped a few inches past the knee. A pale pink blouse provided a splash of color, and her stubble of hair was covered by a chic black turban. She was wearing William’s earrings again, as they were the only ones she owned.

  “Thanks,” she replied shyly. “So, just how awful is this going to be?”

  “You mean the execution?” Ilyn asked.

  “Yes, the execution,” she said, almost laughing. “Not the incredibly awkward conversation in which we are currently engaged.”

  “Well, that depends on the method of execution she chooses,” Ilyn explained as they began walking down the hallway, surrounded by a phalanx of bodyguards.

  “She gets to pick?”

  “That is our tradition if the jury deadlocks. They couldn’t decide between burning at the stake and dismemberment followed by decapitation.”

  “Classy.”

  She was silent for a spell as they rode the elevator up to the roof. They emerged to bows from the assembled dignitaries. Once Ilyn acknowledged them, everyone returned to their milling about and networking while simultaneously staring at November. It was a different kind of stare than she was accustomed to from supernatural people. It was more of a respectful, appraising gaze, as though they were trying to get an idea of how powerful she might be, rather than how her blood might taste or how she might be seduced. The lord of Texas, already one of her fans, strode over to pay his respects and introduce some of his allies. Bodyguards were constantly within reach, not just Pine and Willow, but half a dozen from Ilyn’s own guard. She was glad for them: the roof was closely packed, but the guards forced some breathing room around her, refusing to let the crowd press in. In one corner of the roof stood a stage topped with a wooden stake, for now empty of the condemned woman. The sight chilled November’s heart. It felt viscerally familiar; she knew not why.

  A number of people came up to thank her. Some had been at William’s house the night of Lilith’s attempted attack and credited November with saving their lives. Others had had friends or family there that evening and were similarly grateful. Others were simply glad she had helped get rid of Lilith’s poisonous presence in Ilyn’s court. November was all smiles, as gracious and charming as she knew how to be, and grateful that the entirely non-human crowd wasn’t taking too much of a toll on her mental shields. It was kind of gratifying to have her gift so appreciated by strangers. She felt less like a freak and more like a treasure. It was almost enough to make her forget the unpleasantness that was to come. Pine smiled at her during a lull in her receiving line and murmured to her, “We take life debts seriously, you know. You made yourself some powerful allies on New Year’s Eve.” Yes, she thought, but some powerful enemies, too, I’ll wager.

  Finally, the crowd hushed as Lilith emerged, flanked by guards. She held her head high, but her eyes were wide and her gait unsteady. An aisle opened up in the crowd, and she was forced to walk a hissing, spitting, shouting gauntlet. November kept well away from her. Ben was brought out, too, apparently to witness the fate of his fellow traitor, but drew considerably less attention, being comparatively much less despised.

  As they bound the condemned to the stake with silver chains, a slight smell of burning flesh wafted over the crowd. A hush came over the assembled witnesses as the king stepped up to the stage, his day minister at his side. “In what manner shall you die, Lilith Roosebeke?”

  Her reply was inaudible to November, but plain to the crowd around her, as they muttered such phrases as, “Stake, eh? Deserves a lot worse.”

  “And by whose hand shall you die, Lilith Roosebeke?” the king demanded. Most of their condemned chose a friend or ally, that a friendly face might be the last they saw. Lilith had few friends, even among those secretly loyal to Luka. She had, after all, failed her rebellious master. Again, her voice was too soft for November’s human ears, but the crowd let out a hue and cry, and everyone turned to look in her direction. Oh, no.

  Pine turned her way, his face alive with surprise. “She chose you, Em.”

  “I don’t want to do it,” she protested. “This is ridiculous. The king should do it. I decline. I refuse.”

  “You must,” Willow stated flatly. “It is our way.”

  The crowd once again opened up an aisle, this time for the oracle. Why is she making me do this? November asked herself.

  As she walked toward the stage, Pine and Willow flanking, the crowd applauded her, then began cheering. Ilyn looked at her apologetically. “I had no idea she would do this, little one,” he said, placing the stake in her hand, showing her how to hold it. It was the first time he had touched her since their falling out, and November was freaked out enough to be grateful for the help.

  “How do I do this?” she whispered, her voice shaking as much as her hands were.

  “Stab her in the center of the chest, as hard as you can,” he replied. Lilith looked at them both with contempt mixed with envy and desperation.

  November stood before her and felt stra
ngely sympathetic. She knew what it was to be helpless and alone. “Why did you choose me?” she whispered to Lilith.

  “Because you’ve been here before,” she replied cryptically.

  “What?” November asked, confused, sure she had misheard. But Lilith would say no more. She simply closed her eyes and waited for the final blow.

  “Now, little one,” Ilyn urged gently.

  So, November took a deep breath, pulled back her hand, and drove a sharp wooden stake into her enemy’s chest. As the blood of centuries began to pour forth, Ilyn picked her up at the waist and swung her out of the way so that not a drop of that awful woman landed on her. Almost immediately, the blood turned to ash, and Lilith was no more. November dropped her stake, squeezed her eyes shut, and covered her mouth and nose, not wanting any part of Lilith inside of her. Ilyn gave her his silk handkerchief and walked her quickly to clean air. The crowd released its anticipation and its rage in a cheer loud enough to make her ears ring. Cries of “Long live the king!” alternated with that of “Oracle, oracle!” Fangs began appearing in vampire mouths, provoked by the excitement of the execution.

  “Well done, little one,” Ilyn praised her before turning toward Pine. “This would be a good time to get her out of here, before they start looking for food,” the king instructed her entourage, who swiftly ushered her back into the building. Zinnia followed close behind, taking her hand to squeeze it in support. With great relief, they collapsed in their room.

  “Wow, Em, you’re a slayer now. A fairy and a vampire under your belt. I can’t believe she made you do that.” Zinnia shook her head in disbelief.

  “You and me both,” November concurred. She didn’t bring up Lilith’s cryptic final words. She wanted to hold them close for awhile, worry them a bit, roll them around in her head. It wasn’t until that moment that November started to shake. I just killed someone. On purpose. She’s dead now. Like, permanently. Zinnia, sensing her distress, moved to sit next to her friend.

  “Hey, there was no getting around it. She was dead before she even said your name. Besides, after what she did to you, she seriously had it coming,” Zinnia said reassuringly.

  “I know,” November sighed. “But I just looked a woman in the eye and killed her. And people cheered.” She leaned her head against Zinnia’s shoulder, not crying, simply overwhelmed and exhausted. “I’m never going to have a normal life again, am I?”

  “Did you have one before?” Zinnia asked gently.

  “No,” she admitted. “But nobody died because of me, directly or otherwise. And there were no geriatric vampires waxing hot and cold, or magic knives, or forced exchanges of blood, either.”

  “Fair enough,” her friend allowed. “You know, if I thought there was any way to get you safely away from this, I would do it. Sometimes I couldn’t care less about the war and the kingdom. The whole situation is terribly unfair, and you don’t deserve any of it. I’m pretty sure Pine feels the same way. He is super upset about everything you’ve gone through.”

  “I know,” she said, smiling gratefully at her friend. “But, per usual, I am at the mercy of forces beyond my control. And I am seriously sick of it.” She flopped back onto her bed before continuing, “So, what happens in the Assembly now?”

  “The lords meet in private session tomorrow night to determine a course of action against Luka. Mom will need me to be an errand runner, so you’ll be on your own up here, unless they summon you to ask questions about your visions. I wouldn’t think they would, but after tonight, anything’s possible.”

  “I’ll pray for a boring night, then!” November replied. “Hey, what’s going to happen to Ben?”

  Zinnia looked around furtively as though afraid of being overheard before revealing, “They're sending him with a message for Luka, one last offer for him to give this up and accept exile rather than risk war.”

  “But if he knows where Luka is . . . I don’t understand,” Em replied.

  “Oh, he doesn’t know. He would have spilled by now, believe me. After you almost died, that kid became an open book. No, the king’s people just assume that Luka’s people will find Ben and snatch him up. They'll just put him on the street. They'll try to track him, but of course, Luka’s people aren’t going to be careless enough to lead our guys to the secret base or whatever.”

  “But Luka will kill him,” November protested.

  “Maybe. Probably,” Zinnia responded, unconcerned. To her, Ben deserved to die after what he’d done to them all. “So it’s true, then? You asked the king to spare him as your reward?” November nodded. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, I kind of felt sorry for him, what with Luka taking advantage of how screwed up he was, but I don’t think that’s why. The idea just, sort of, came to me,” November replied.

  “Well, at least this way he has a chance, I guess,” her friend said a bit skeptically.

  “I guess.”

  Shortly thereafter, Zinnia’s phone buzzed, and she returned to her mother’s side where she had been spending almost every hour since they had arrived in Las Vegas. This left November to the task of calming down enough to eat before taking a much-needed bath and tumbling into her comfortable bed in her favorite white nightgown, hoping against hope for a dreamless sleep.

  A dead woman in threadbare clothes swings from a noose as birds peck at her dead eyes. A young girl screams at the hands of merciless priests. A woman rides a horse dangerously fast, her hair streaming behind her, her belly round with pregnancy. A fairy, silver-haired and silver-eyed, addresses her troops from horseback. A woman, running, becomes a wolf mid-stride. Lilith and Ilyn, arm in arm. Lilith and Ilyn, feed together.

  She slept exceptionally poorly, even for her. This was not too surprising, given the execution in which she’d just played a starring role. It seemed she couldn’t sleep more than an hour without jerking awake, shaking, sweating, occasionally screaming. Pine came to check on her more than once. In the end, he just sat in the room with her, which made her feel a little better, or at least, less alone. When she finally gave up on sleep, she opened her eyes to see him still sitting in the little armchair next to the television, his eyes trained on her, watchful and concerned.

  “Morning,” he said as she sat up in the bed and turned to check the clock. “Had enough tossing and turning?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe some food and some sunshine will make me feel human again.”

  “Do you want to check out the atrium? There’s a café down there, and it usually isn’t too busy this early in the afternoon,” Pine offered.

  November smiled. “That sounds cheerful. Let’s do it.”

  She dressed carefully, not wanting to look like a slob if she ran into any of the dozens of important fairies she had met the previous night. She might have been beyond caring about politics, but she still had her pride. She no longer felt like an imposter in designer clothes, but she was still acutely aware of the luxury of them. She put on a little makeup, mostly to cover up the constant dark circles that plagued her pale face. Then she stood staring at her hair, wondering how to hide it this time. It was growing back out pretty quickly, but it was still only barely an inch long. “Eh,” she said out loud. “What the heck?” She found some gel, spiked it up all crazy, and called it done.

  Pine smiled when he saw it. “November Snow, trend-setter. It’ll be on the cover of Vogue in two months.”

  “Right,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “As if fairies have room to talk about weird hair. Shall we?”

  The atrium was quite impressive: all glass and water and green plants quite out of place for the desert. She especially liked the waterfall. Most of the restaurants and night clubs at the resort had their entrances off of this central space. It was still afternoon, so it wasn’t yet swarming with the people who would fill the place after dark. There were some families with children, and a number of fairies who nodded politely to her and kept their distance when they saw her formidable entourage of fairy guards.

&
nbsp; All the vampires were, of course, still resting. November wondered what Ilyn might be doing. He was usually awake by 2 or 3 pm. She immediately caught a glimpse of him alone at a desk, drinking cold blood from a mug, his lit pipe lying forgotten in an ornate ashtray. Stop looking for him, she told herself impatiently. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t deserve you.

  After a light meal, she returned to her room to change before heading to the pool complex. She was in desperate need of relaxation after the previous evening’s violence and endless bad dreams, so she thought she might as well take advantage of the fact that she was trapped in a fancy hotel. The resort boasted four different pools and a number of steaming whirlpools. November chose the very well-heated salt water pool. It was located in a shady sort of grotto underneath a stone overhang, and with most everyone catching the last few rays of sun beside the outdoor pools, it was mostly deserted. Only one other woman began swimming laps as November floated aimlessly in an attempt to wash away her tension.

  Suddenly, a hand closed around November’s ankle like a vice, jerking her violently underwater. She kicked out frantically, struggling to escape as her assailant pulled her ten feet to the bottom of the pool and held her there. Unable to keep her eyes open in the salty water, she heard rather than saw her guards dive into the pool. Her lungs began to burn as her security team worked quickly to disentangle her from her attacker. Strong hands tugged her in several directions. Finally, just as she began to panic and her vision began to darken, she felt herself being pulled toward the surface.

  The next thing she knew, she was on the pool deck, coughing and gasping for breath as Pine pounded on her back. The whole episode couldn’t have lasted more than twenty seconds. She said a silent prayer of thanks for fairy speed. She looked around to see Willow and two other guards dragging away a dazed-looking fairy. “Who? Why?” she managed to ask between coughs. She began to tremble, and Pine wrapped her up in a towel.

  “That fairy from the gas station – you know, the one you killed in the bathroom? Apparently that’s his mother,” Pine explained. He shook his head. “I’m sorry we didn’t see her as a threat in time to head her off. I should have been suspicious – no fairy chooses shade when the sun is still out. Do you think you can walk? I’d like to get you back to the room before anything else goes wrong.”