I Am Forever (What Kills Me)

by Wynne Channing

  Wow.

  The wet heat settled on my skin as we walked into a lush greenhouse. The lofty ceiling was a patchwork of white hexagons; it was like being inside a beehive. Silver sculptures soared at least two stories high, coiled like ribbon and topped with shrubs. Spiky crystal ornaments dangled from tree branches and plants. We followed a winding mosaic path made of pebbles and crossed a small bridge trimmed with clusters of fat, fleshy succulents. I heard a bird in the trees ruffle its feathers and take flight.

  Did they know that I love gardens?

  Through narrowed eyes Lucas scanned every inch of the greenhouse, and I hoped that I hadn’t led us into a trap.

  “Your Highness,” Uther said.

  The Empress, a thin, ethereal figure in a long-sleeved white gown, stood at the top of a spiral staircase. As she descended, the train of her dress spilled over each step like foamy water. The sides of her short, jet-black hair formed points at her chin, and her blue eyes were so bright they seemed fluorescent. As she gazed down at me, her lips, red as the poppies in my mother’s garden, parted slightly and then smiled.

  “Lady Axelia,” she purred. “Thank you for coming.”

  Her voice was smooth, low, and husky. It penetrated the air like the notes of a cello. “I appreciate your patience today,” she said. “I trust that you were not too uncomfortable while you were waiting.”

  I’m more uncomfortable with you plotting to trap me.

  When she reached the ground, I heard vampires approach from the other side of the greenhouse, their dresses swishing. I glanced at Lucas. He was frozen, listening and assessing the threat.

  Two female vampires wearing skin-toned gowns rounded the base of the staircase. Their hair was pulled back into chignons, their eyes rimmed with charcoal and their lips painted white. They looked, well, undead.

  One stopped in front of Lucas and me with a mirrored tray on which balanced two crystal goblets of blood. She curtsied while the other dropped her head and put her hand on her chest.

  “Please drink,” the Empress said. “You must be famished.”

  I was so thirsty that I could already taste the blood in the back of my throat. But was this the poisoned apple to make me sleep?

  No one spoke. Neither Lucas nor I moved.

  “Maid,” she called.

  The vampire twitched once before retreating to the Empress, who reached for one of the goblets. The skin on her hand was perfect, waxen. Slowly she pressed the edge of the crystal to her mouth, sipped, and then drank from the other goblet. She let out a low, satisfied hum. As I watched her savor the ruby liquid and run her tongue over her teeth, I bit the inside of my lip. How long had it been since I’d fed?

  Uther, who stood waiting between two bushes clipped into pyramid shapes, nodded encouragingly.

  “Please, my lady,” the Empress said. “We want you to be strong.”

  By “strong” she must mean locked away. “Why?” I asked.

  “Because if you are strong, then we are all strong.”

  Does the connection work that way? Or is this a metaphor? The vampire returned to me with her offering and I ignored her.

  “The Monarchy has been awaiting your arrival,” the Empress said, “and, finally, you are here.”

  Are you seriously greeting me like a long-lost relative? Are those goblets filled with crazy juice?

  “You’ve been waiting to kill me,” I blurted.

  The Empress’s beautiful face fell. “Yes. That was a horrible mistake.”

  Oh. Well, glad we cleared that up.

  Like a specter she floated away from us. Uther motioned for us to follow. “Please walk with me,” she said over her shoulder. I stepped around the gauzy lace of her dress but kept my distance.

  “Our kind has endured many tribulations,” she said. “We’ve been hunted. We’ve been at war. But we have always survived. As strong as your will is to live, so is ours.”

  We stopped in front of a sloping garden, where the Monarchy’s circular emblem was represented in red blooms against a bed of white flowers.

  “The prophecy said a vampire would be born and she would bring death. We feared for our lives. Naturally we wanted to protect ourselves. But we were wrong. We were so very wrong.” Her glare was hypnotizing. “You, Lady Axelia, are life. You are our future. We would never let anything happen to you now.”

  “By locking me up?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Why would we do that?”

  “You did it to the first vampires. You imprisoned them alive forever to protect yourselves. And I’m basically them, in one body.”

  “You are right. We did it to protect ourselves. But the Ancients were destructive monsters with an unquenchable bloodlust. Are you a monster, Lady Axelia?”

  Her eyes bore into mine and I looked away. I had worried that I was some sort of monster. Too powerful for my own good. Too different from anyone else on earth. I was no longer the silly girl who’d left Winnipeg for Rome and who climbed out of a window into the arms of a murderer. After everything I had been through, yes, I was different. And yet, somehow I was still me.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not.”

  “Of course not. You’re a miracle. It is so clear now. You were born to save us. We are at war with an evil enemy and you were born to ensure the survival of our race.”

  War. The rebellion Samira and Lucas spoke of.

  “We all belong to you now, Lady Axelia. I. Cleric Uther. Your swordsmith,” she said, acknowledging Lucas for the first time. “You must guard us all and keep us safe. In return, we will honor you and revere you as a god, as your true self—the First, the Only.”

  A god.

  “Oh God.”

  “Are we referring to oneself now?” Lucas said.

  I pushed his shoulder. A little too hard because he stumbled. “Hey!”

  Startled by Lucas’s outburst, the maids leading the way down the hall turned back.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But this is totally insane.”

  The Empress had called me a god. The rest of what she went on to say was a jumble. I remembered her saying that she would announce my sacrosanctity to the masses. That the Monarchy was my home. That anything I wanted would be provided. That she wanted me to rest and to think.

  “I don’t know what to think,” I said to no one.

  “Neither do I,” Lucas answered. “All I know is that everyone here is out of their—”

  Uther cleared his throat. “If I may suggest something, Lady Axelia? This must be overwhelming. I know you must feel so much confusion. You may need some time to process this information. So, please consider the Empress’s words. You’re safe here, and I promise that I will help you understand all that is happening around you. The Empress has made me your personal adviser and guardian. I will support you in any way that you need. I’m here for you.”

  For the first time I could distinguish a feeling in my kaleidoscope of emotions. A flash of faith.

  “Okay, Uther.”

  He seemed to brighten. “All right, then. Let us take you to be bathed and fed.”

  Two maids pushed open twenty-foot-tall doors made up of bronze panels depicting bathing women in ponds. Inside, a domed ceiling capped the round room and cove lighting created a glowing ring, as if a UFO was about to land on us. The air smelled sweet, like flowers and baked goods.

  “Your maids will now take you into the other room and help you freshen up,” Uther said. “Swordsmith, would you come with me and I will show you to another shower?”

  Lucas crossed his arms. “There is no way that I’m leaving Zee.”

  “Please, the lady requires some privacy,” Uther said. “It will only be for a moment.”

  “This isn’t up for discussion.”

  Uther’s mouth opened and closed mechanically like a garage door. He thought for a moment and said, “All right. How about you and I wait here?” He motioned to a nook with black leather couches. “The lady and the maids will be just beyond those doo
rs.”

  Lucas strode through the gilded doors and returned.

  “What’s in there?” I asked him.

  “It’s a bathroom.”

  I scratched the dried blood along my hairline.

  “I guess that would be okay,” I said. “They can’t shower me to death, right?” I thought of that shower scene in Psycho and heard the squealing violins in my head.

  “Zee,” Lucas said.

  “We’ll leave the door open a crack.”

  The maids led me into a sprawling, white-tiled room, lit around the edges with candles. We stood for a moment, I and three maids, and no one spoke. Finally, one with wavy red hair motioned for me to remove my clothing.

  I stepped on the heels of my runners and unbuttoned my jeans. After peeling the layers away, I jammed my hands in my armpits to cover my breasts. The redhead led me to an elevated cot lined with white towels.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  She froze and looked at the others, panic in her green eyes. She shook her head at me.

  “Please, it’s okay. What’s your name?”

  “Brogan,” she whispered.

  The two other maids averted their eyes to avoid the same question. You’re staring at my bare butt, yet you’re not allowed to talk to me.

  “Brogan. Thank you.”

  I lay on the cot, covering my exposed parts. A violin solo began playing over a speaker system. Brogan took a stainless steel showerhead that was hanging on the wall and twisted a faucet to release a stream of warm water over my legs. The maids, wearing fabric gloves, spooned a sugary paste onto my skin and scrubbed my arms and legs. They massaged my shoulders and lathered my hair.

  Nothing, I thought, would wash away the trauma of the last week. I dared not close my eyes lest the maids knock me unconscious and take me away.

  Brogan pulled me upright. She walked me to the center of the room and up four steps to a rectangular tub with a pillar at each corner. Scarlet rose petals floated over steaming white liquid, and the starkness of the colors reminded me of the Empress’s mouth against her pale skin. I sank into the opaque pool, thankful for the cover.

  Sweet milk. Orange. Vanilla. I tasted it on my lips as the maids scooped the liquid into crystal jugs and poured it over my head. One of the maids began to rub my scalp. A lock of my hair got entangled in her fingers and tugged at my scalp.

  I reached up and touched her forearm. “Excuse me.” She flinched, her fingers stretching open and freezing.

  What must you think of me? Do you see a monster?

  The music reached a crescendo, and in my mind I saw the general. His empty gray eyes. Dark red splashed across his face. Blood coagulated on the marble floor under his severed head. Screams. I heard screams as if they were in this room.

  I gasped and jerked away from the maids. What the...? The maids flinched, clutching their sponges to their wet dresses.

  The screams. They were so real. So loud.

  “Zee?” Lucas called from the other room.

  In the hot milk I shook the chill from my body.

  “Uh...yeah?”

  “Are you all right? What’s happening?”

  “I...I’m fine. I’m in a bowl of milk.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  What was that?

  I stood and Brogan draped a towel around my shoulders. Wet, Brogan’s fiery coils were a deep, shiny copper, like pennies. Her dark eye makeup had run and she looked like a sad mime. As the maids dried my body and my hair, I fretted about the sudden reel of images. It had been a second, or seconds, but the powerful memory had trapped me, and the rush of terror had swept me up. Get a grip, Zee.

  The maids braided my long hair and twisted the braid to form a bun at the nape of my neck; they pulled a royal-blue dress over my head. We returned to the round room, where Lucas hunched on the couch with his elbows on his knees. Next to him Uther sat upright and smiling, his hands folded in his lap.

  “I survived,” I said.

  Lucas approached me. He smelled of blood and earth and something woodsy that reminded me of his home. Dark red stripes streamed down his ropy arms, and his hands were grimy with dried blood.

  “Everything was all right?” he said.

  Instead of telling him about my fright, I said, “It’s fine. They hose you down and you come out smelling like a cupcake.”

  Uther said, “We’ll take the swordsmith somewhere else to shower and, my lady, you may accompany us if you wish. In the meantime, we’ve brought you something to drink. I sampled it for you.”

  A maid set a wine bottle and two glasses of blood on a table. My hunger took over and my mouth filled with saliva.

  “You should feed,” Lucas said.

  My hands trembled with excitement as I reached for the glass. Sighing, I tipped the liquid into my mouth and swallowed without tasting. The blood burned my throat and spread within me, setting my veins and arteries ablaze. My fingertips and toes tingling, I grabbed the second glass. And then the wine bottle.

  For a moment I forgot everything and relished the ecstasy of feeding.

  We had been walking for fifteen minutes through countless corridors and lobbies, some white, metal, and minimalist, others opulent, gold, and carpeted. A mix of new and old. Modern and traditional.

  The palace, Uther explained, was simply the tip of a vast underground city. “I look forward to showing the empire to you,” he had said. “It is truly magnificent.”

  While I gaped at the architecture, Lucas surveyed the place with suspicion. Showered and dressed in a black tunic and pants, he smelled of smoke and spice. I knew the scent well; it was that of the soldiers in the palace, and it disturbed me a little.

  Muffled sounds traveled through the walls. Voices and footsteps echoed around corners. I listened for danger—the clink of swords, the squeak of leather from nervous soldiers—but I heard none.

  “Here we are,” Uther said.

  The maids led us through a set of cream doors into the most beautiful room I had ever seen. Everywhere was texture and shine. Crystal chandeliers dangled from an elaborate molded ceiling. Gold flecks speckled the caramel-tiled floors. Sofas and chaise longues upholstered in navy and yellow damask velvet were pushed against the walls. The room smelled of lilies from a huge bouquet on an ivory vanity.

  “This will be your room temporarily,” Uther said, “while the Monarchy finds better living quarters.”

  “Better?” I blurted. “I mean, it’ll do, I guess.”

  I ran my fingers over the white bed frame, which had cherub faces and wreaths sculpted into the wood, and I petted the blue and mustard tassels on the cushions piled on the bed.

  “You’ve been through so much.” Uther sounded deeply concerned. “We thought it might be good if you got some rest. When was the last time that you slept?”

  I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember the last time that I was tired. I knew that vampires slept in the day. But underground, who knew what time it was?

  “Zee, maybe he’s right,” Lucas said.

  “I guess I could lie down for a while.”

  “You deserve some peace and quiet. It will give your body and mind time to recuperate.” As Uther spoke, a maid set a glass of blood on a side table. “Shall I sample it for you, my lady?”

  “Yes,” Lucas answered for me.

  Uther obliged. “We have some for you as well, Swordsmith. It is waiting in your room.”

  “Where, um, is Lucas’s room?”

  “We’ve arranged a place for him down the hall, my lady. Not too far.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good, then we shall take our leave.” Uther extended his arm toward the door. But Lucas didn’t move.

  “She will be fine. I swear it,” Uther said.

  “It’s fine, Lucas. I’ll see you in a bit.” It wasn’t fine. I was afraid to be left alone. But I took Lucas in, his eyebrows pressing down on his tired eyes, his strong body sagging, and I wanted him to have peace and quie
t. He needed to recuperate. He looked exhausted.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Zee,” he said.

  “I know, but...”

  Uther looked at Lucas. “Your room is a short distance away. Ten feet to the left.”

  Ten feet too far.

  Lucas frowned. “I don’t like it.”

  “I will personally wait outside of the lady’s room while she rests,” Uther said.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Swordsmith, may I have a word with you in private? Please, step outside for a moment.”

  Lucas was still frowning. “Zee, I’ll be back. If anything—”

  “If anything happens, you know I’ll scream,” I said.

  “I’ll be here in seconds.”

  “And you know I’ll be kicking some butt until you show up.”

  I watched them leave. Lucas kept pausing and looking back. When the doors closed behind them, I stood in silence for a few minutes, waiting. For what, I didn’t know. For almost two weeks I had known only terror. If I opened myself up, would this space be filled with peace? Or with dread? Did I believe the Empress and Uther, that we were finally safe, that there was nothing to fear?

  All I had wanted was to be alive. And now I wasn’t sure how to do that. Was I supposed to live here? Forever? Why didn’t I feel comforted by anything?

  I waited for an answer. When one didn’t come, I crawled into bed and closed my eyes.

  Axelia.

  It was a whisper. A hiss.

  Ax-eee-liaaa.

  Louder. Raspy. From the corner of the room.

  I sat up and blinked but saw only black.

  Lucas?

  It called my name again, this time from the foot of my bed. Oh my God. I froze.

  “Who’s there?”

  In the darkness something reached out and grabbed my leg, nails piercing my flesh. The agony shocked me. I screamed and struggled like an animal crushed in a steel trap.

  It was neither vampire nor human. It was slimy, oozing blood and some other rancid liquid. I choked on the putrid stink of rotting meat.

  I shrieked and kicked it in the face. The jagged edges of its fangs sliced my heel. I rolled sideways, fell from the bed, and hit the floor. My bloody feet slipped as I tried to skid away. But the creature was on me, snarling, dragging me by my feet toward its mouth. Then I saw its eyes. Yellow. Filmy. Their black centers bleeding at the edges.