What Kills Me (15 page)

“I don’t believe you would
intentionally hurt anyone
now
,” she said.

“Now
?”

“Zee. You have to understand. You’re
so new. You’re still changing.” Lettie looked at me with a mix of
pity and fear, as if I was a small child—but one who might suddenly
go berserk. “You were created from the blood of our gods. Who knows
what that will mean? Their abilities, their…impulses could manifest
themselves in you.”

She spoke the word “impulses” with
such dread. “They were uncontrollable, Zee. Wild and vicious like
beasts. They were pure evil,” she whispered.

“So what? The Monarchy thinks that I’m
spontaneously going to go on a murdering spree?”

“I don’t know,” Lettie said. “I’m just
telling you what Uther told me.”

“But you think it’s possible,” I
retorted.

She hesitated and I had to
walk away.
This can’t be.
My mind was in turmoil. I needed to hold
something. Touch something solid, something real. I needed
something to make sense. I rested my hands on either side of the
collection box, stroked the grain of the wood, and closed my eyes.
I’m just a girl, I had told Uther. I wished now, more than
anything, for that to be true.

It made sense. Why they
sent the general after me. Why they had everyone after me.
To them,
I’m not some
girl. To them, I’m destruction. I’m extinction. How can I convince
them otherwise if I can’t convince Lettie?

What am I supposed to do?
This will never end. They’ll always think that I’m dangerous.
They’ll hunt me. They’ll kill me.

Uttering a cry I crushed the box with
my hands. Coins rained onto the floor, bouncing, rolling, whirling,
and then wobbling to a standstill. My strength shocked me. This is
what she meant. My abilities. I didn’t know what I was capable
of.

“Hey, killer.”

I tried to ignore Lucas.

“Did that make you feel better?” he
asked. “Are you starting your murdering spree with the wooden
box?”

I turned away from him. I knew what he
was doing—trying to lighten the mood like I might in this
situation. But nothing would break my misery.

“It’s not really fair, you know,”
Lucas went on, “because it doesn’t hit back.”

“Stop it,” I snapped. “Didn’t you hear
what Lettie said? I’m going to go psycho killer on you all. You
need to get as far away from me as possible.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his
eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Could you be more
condescending?”

“Well, you’re acting like a
five-year-old.”

“How am I supposed to act?”

“You’re not going to hurt anyone, all
right? That’s just a stupid vampire folktale.”

“But the Ancients predicted
this.”

“If they were so good at seeing the
future, wouldn’t they have seen their own imprisonment? Predictions
are just good guesses or stories for the gullible.”

“But the Monarchy…”

“Let them believe their myths.” He
lowered his voice. “Listen. You’ve got to get a grip. We need to
think a moment. We have to keep moving. This place isn’t safe. The
Monarchy likely has scouts watching the church. They will
come.”

“Zee,” Lettie said.

“Where are we going to go?” I asked
Lucas.

“I have a friend. She can help us get
out of town.”

“Zee,” Lettie hissed.

“What?”

“If you’re going to go, you’d better
go now,” she said, her eyes round with fear.

We were so busy arguing that we hadn’t
been listening. Lucas straightened up. I could hear furtive
footsteps in the courtyard, footsteps crushing the grass. With one
hand Lucas reached back and grasped the handle of his blade; with
the other, he grabbed my wrist and we ran, dashing down the same
corridors as I had when I was trying to escape from
Paolo.

“This way,” Lettie said, grabbing
Lucas’s arm.

“Is there a back door?” Lucas
asked.

“No,” she said. “But if you go up the
tower, you can jump from the window into a back alley.”

“Show us,” he said.

She led us to the doorway of the tower
and pointed to the stairs.

“Just go up. The window is halfway to
the top.”

I pulled back against Lucas’s grip.
“Wait. Lettie. Aren’t you coming?”

“No. I can’t leave the church. I’m the
guardian in Uther’s absence.”

“Lettie, no. They’ll kill you. And
you’re only armed with a pocket knife.”

“Just go, Zee. I promise I’ll be
fine.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” I said,
grabbing her hand. “Please, come with us.”

She covered my hand with hers. “I’m
staying. You need to leave now.”

Lucas clamped his arm around my waist
and dragged me away.

“Run, Zee. Be safe,” she said before
disappearing from my view.

The wind from the window met us as we
climbed the winding stairs, our footsteps echoing up the tower. The
moonlight from the opening illuminated Lucas’s face, tense with
concentration. He climbed up onto the stone sill. Following him, I
put one foot on the edge. The sight of Jerome’s runners jolted me
to a standstill.

Lucas thrust his hand at me. I stepped
back and away from him.

“What are you doing?” he
demanded.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” I detected a note of
panic in his voice.

“I can’t keep running.”

“This isn’t the time…”

“Lucas, I’m dangerous. Look what
happened to Noel. To Jerome,” I said. A flicker of pain appeared in
his eyes at the mention of their names. “I don’t want that to
happen to you. Just go without me.”

He came down from the
windowsill.

“After everything that you’ve been
through, you want to give up now?” he said.

“We won’t survive
together.”

“Survival is a choice.”

“If I surrender then you’ll have a
chance. They only want me.”

“Stop being stupid.”

“You know that if I go with you, I’ll
only slow you down.”

“You think you’re being brave? You
think you’re being brave by giving up?” He grabbed my shoulders and
shook them. I tried to push him away but he wouldn’t let me
go.

“Choosing to survive. That is brave.
So be brave. Come with me.”

Vampires were moving through the
church. I heard their muted footsteps, the rattle and jingle of
weapons harnessed to bodies. I looked up into his searching eyes.
He released me and stepped onto the sill. He put his hand
out.

Be brave.

I slipped my fingers into his
palm.

“Let’s go,” I said.

I had left our backpack on the church
pew, along with all our money and supplies. “For the children of
the third world?” I had said in response to Lucas’s
glare.

We ran through the dark,
narrow streets and Lucas stopped to fish change out of a fountain.
He then went inside a tobacco shop. I waited outside, leaning
beside the door and scanning the street for soldiers.
What if they find us here? We’ll make a
scene.

A man came out of the shop
and I shifted to avoid getting hit by the door. As it swung open, I
was faced with an image that I knew. I gasped. It was my face. My
high school year book picture. The photocopy taped against the
glass window was grainy. Underneath my portrait was a description
with my name and age. The only Italian word that I understood was
“
scomparsa
.” I
had asked Sofia what it meant after seeing a missing-dog poster
near her apartment. It meant “disappearance.”

They’re looking for me. My
family.
I put my hand over my mouth. My
throat felt tight, as if it was lined with hardening
plaster.
Oh God.
I blinked back tears as Lucas came outside with bus tickets
in his hand. I turned away to hide my face but he had already seen
my expression. He waited while I composed myself.

“My people are looking for me,” I
said, gesturing to the poster and then squeezing both my eyes with
my thumb and index finger so I wouldn’t cry.

Lucas peered at it. We didn’t speak
for a moment but the street noise mercifully filled the
space.

“I hate that picture,” I finally said
to change the subject. “My smile is so fake.”

“I think you look…all right,” he
said.

I watched him press his
lips together and nod his head—
This is
Lucas being comforting—
and I paused to
appreciate his gesture.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s not safe to
be on the streets.”

He jogged along the sidewalk and
followed a young couple boarding a bus. “They won’t be looking for
us here,” he said as we got on. The roar of the engine startled me
as it pulled away from the curb.

Lucas had removed his swords and held
them behind him and against his body. He chose a seat in the middle
of the bus, next to the door. As he sat down he quickly tucked the
swords upright between his knees, hiding their handles with his
arms. I slid in beside him. Six people, including the driver, rode
the bus with us. A middle-aged woman near the front peeled an
orange in her lap. A couple slumped in the seats across from her. A
silver-haired man read a newspaper and a man in his twenties stood
beside me, bobbing his head to the rock music blaring from his
headphones.

The top button on the older man’s
shirt was undone, revealing a carpet of white curls. He breathed
the soupy air through his mouth and when he inhaled, his chest
bulged so much that I thought he might burst. Every time he turned
a page, it sounded like someone was crushing a bag of chips against
my ear.

Beside me, the young man pressed the
buzzer to stop the bus. Cord-like veins snaked up his arms. His
skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. His pulse thumped
against the thin skin on his neck like a tiny fist against taut
fabric. It reminded me of my thirst.

I looked over at Lucas who focused,
unblinking, out the window. After spending so much time with
vampires, I had never appreciated their stillness. Now here I was
surrounded by people who were just sitting or standing and I was
amazed by their bustle, their noise. Their frailty. Their
humanity.

The young man glanced at me with his
hooded eyes and stepped off of the bus; I found myself hoping that
he would be careful crossing the street. Then I thought of Lettie.
Her beautiful face and wide, brilliant blue eyes. I hoped that she
was safe. I hoped that she knew to hide. How would I know that she
was okay?

“She’s fine,” Lucas said to me,
reading my face.

“Lettie?” I asked.

He nodded.

How is it that you know
what I’m thinking? Am I so transparent?

He always looked brooding and
preoccupied, but I could never tell what was going through his
head. I didn’t know how he was dealing with this ordeal. I chose to
interpret his silence as strength. I needed something to believe
in. He was all I had left.

“You really got me with that whole ‘be
brave’ speech,” I said with a small smile.

“I knew I had to say something to set
you straight,” he said. “You were being a big baby.”

“Big baby?”

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

“I was trying to spare
you.”

“Next time spare me your
cowardice.”

“You are unbelievable. If I go on that
murdering rampage, I’m killing you first.”

“If that means that I won’t have to
listen to your nattering then I’ll hand you my sword.”

I huffed and opened my mouth to
protest. But then I thought of a new strategy. Something that I
learned in grade school.

“You like me,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“You pretend not to but I think you
like me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. That’s why you didn’t want to
leave me back there. You didn’t want me to die.”

He sighed and he waved his hand at me,
as if he was shooing away a fly.

“You know what?” I said, turning my
body to face him. “‘Be brave’ is the nicest thing that you’ve ever
said to me. So to me, it means ‘I care.’”

“Think what you want,” he said. “I
didn’t leave you behind because it was my father’s last wish that I
look after you.”

The reference to Noel was sobering. We
both stared out the window for a moment.

“I never thanked you,” I
said.

“Don’t thank me. Just promise me that
you won’t be stupid and give up like that again.”

“I can’t promise about the stupid
part, but I promise I won’t give up again.”