by Amy Miles
Enael shrieks. A hand clasps around Roseline’s foot as she leaps and she plunges to the ground. She hits hard, her cheekbone shattering on impact.
“Roseline!” Strong hands yank her upright, holding her face. “Oh god. It’s already begun.”
“She just tried to eat me!” Enael screams.
“Shut up,” Malachi yells, yanking up his sleeve. Her head lolls against his lap, her vision hindered by the light of his lantern. She rolls to the side as the room begins to spin, sure that she is about to vomit all over his pretty shoes. “Hold on, Roseline. Just hold on.”
The warmth of his flesh startles her. The scent of his blood is too sweet to resist. She instantly buries her teeth into his flesh, relishing the hiss that passes his lips. She drinks deep, her eyes rolling back into her head as she gives way to need.
***
The cold splash of water does wonders to cool Sadie off. She cups her hands under the bathroom faucet and douses herself repeatedly. Water drips from the end of her nose and off her long eyelashes, splattering against the rusted sink drain.
“That’s a good way to get hypothermia,” an elderly woman says as she opens a stall door behind Sadie. The sound of the flushing toilet follows her out.
She steps up to the sink beside Sadie, staring at her wrinkled reflection in the mirror as she turns on the hot water tap. “Not dressed properly either,” she tsks.
The woman’s wrinkled face is about the only thing that can be seen. Despite the heat pumping adequately from the vents overhead, she is bundled from head to toe in warm animal skins. She looks like she belongs on the back of a dog sled instead of waiting around in an airport.
Sadie laughs, dabbing the excess water from her face with a paper towel. “I like the cold. It’s invigorating.”
The woman’s eyebrow rises. “Cold? Honey, you ain’t felt cold until you step out those front doors and into the heart of the arctic. You’ll learn. They always do.”
Arthritic fingers tear off a paper towel. The woman wipes her hands for nearly an entire minute before turning and tossing the used towel into the trashcan. She hobbles toward the door, her shoes shuffling along the polished floors. Sadie stands and watches the woman.
“Are you from here?” she calls out.
“Born and raised,” the woman croaks. “Lost my first toe when I was nine. Lost two more before I hit puberty.” She turns back, casting a hard look at Sadie. “You youngsters think you know it all. One of these days you will be old, wise and toeless like me.”
With a cackle that sounds disgustingly chunky, the woman opens the door and disappears. Sadie continues to look at the space where the woman stood, unnerved by her words.
The old crone was right. She should be huddled in ten layers of clothes like William or pacing anxiously like Nicolae, but instead she feels nothing.
Turning to look at herself in the mirror, Sadie stares hard at her image. Her cheeks show no signs of windburn. Her lips aren’t cracked or bleeding. There isn’t even the slightest hint of redness on the tip of her nose or a single goosebump to be found on her skin.
She is completely immune to the cold. Worse…she thrives off of it.
Sadie grips the edge of the sink as a heaviness lodges in her stomach. The girl staring back at her shows no signs of the human she used to be. Her eyes are the same, albeit brighter and more defined by the longer lashes. Her cheeks have been enhanced and the slight kink in her nose has been smoothed out.
Her forehead is higher than before and her hair has taken on a glossy sheen, several inches longer than before. Her skin is ivory, flawless in its creaminess. The slight pudginess of her stomach has been refined into toned abs.
The tiny scar on her chin, from when she and William were wrestling in grade school and hit the edge of the coffee table, has vanished. All of her imperfections are gone.
Sadie is gone.
Clenching her fingers against the basin, Sadie tightens her grip until the pipes begin to groan and the tile around the sink forms a spider web of cracks. She wrenches her hands back, horrified at her strength.
“It will get better,” a voice says from behind her.
She spins to find Fane looming in the doorway. The door slowly swings shut behind him, sealing them in. “Get out. You’re not allowed in here.”
He moves forward, his steps purposeful but non-threatening. “I have been waiting for this moment.”
“To stalk me in a freakin’ ladies room? You’re sick!”
Fane ignores her jab as he steps closer. His stride shortens as he draws close to her. “There comes a time in every immortal’s life when the thrill of speed and beauty fades and the truth replaces it.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, fighting for an air of indifference but she knows he hears the waver in her voice. “And what truth is that?”
The hard planes of his face soften and his stance relaxes ever so slightly. “That you are no longer human.”
Her breath catches and her lips part to shout back, to refute his incredible claim, but she knows he is right. Of course, he is right. She has known this for over a week now, but why has it only now sunk in?
Her gaze sinks to the floor as she leans back against the cold porcelain sink. “How do you do it? Accept it?”
“You don’t.”
She looks up, startled. She had expected him to have some great words of advice to help her, but she was wrong. “You don’t?”
“No.” He purses his lips, appearing to be unsure of how to proceed. She waits impatiently, held back only by the growing fear that constricts in her chest.
“I helped Roseline adjust to immortality,” he whispers. Fane refuses to look at her. His gaze is riveted on the dingy off-white grout in the tile floor. “I swore she would be the last.”
“Then why are you here?”
When Fane looks up, it is as if a hollow man stares at her. “Because she loves you and so I must as well.”
Numbness falls over her like a blanket as she looks at the broken man before her. Not as her mentor. Not even as her friend. He is the reject, the lover cast aside. No matter how Roseline may have tried to ease his pain, it is still haunting him. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
His nod is jerky and his skin is paler than normal.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, unsure of what to say. She never has been very good with making people feel better. Humor and snarky jokes are her strong point.
Fane clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. The hollowness in his eyes expands to encompass his facial features. “I realize that I haven’t been the best mentor to you. Part of that I blame on myself, but you must take a portion of the blame as well. There is much that you must learn, Sadie, but if you continue to fight me, I will not waste my time on you. Do you understand?”
She does. Painfully so. This is her one shot to get help. If something happens to Roseline and Fane refuses to help her, she will have no one to aid her in adjusting to this new life. Even though Nicolae would try, he will never truly understand how she feels.
“I can’t promise I won’t complain,” she hedges.
The ghost of a smile crosses his face but vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “I would think less of you if you didn’t.”
Sadie laughs. “I’m not very good with taking directions either.”
He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I’m not very good at not being obeyed.”
“Well that’s obvious.” She rolls her eyes but catches herself. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
Fane lips curl into a smile, not forced but not entirely welcoming either. “I must ask one other thing.”
He pauses, waiting for her to consent. Her hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed but her eventual compliance seems to satisfy him. “I need you to stay away from Nicolae.”
“No way!” She pushes off the sink, coming to a halt mere inches from his broad chest. “You can’t keep us apart.”
Fane holds up his hand and she fall
s silent. “It is not for his safety that I ask this but yours.”
Her face crumples with confusion. “I don’t get it.”
“You will once we arrive at base camp. Once the hunter’s arrive, you will finally understand just how dangerous all of this truly is.” He pauses, turning to look at the door. “I just hope we all survive the next few days.”
Thirteen
Roseline blinks sometime later, disoriented as she sits up. Her head is pounding and the pain is splitting straight down the middle of her skull. “Where am I?”
“Home sweet home,” Malachi grins, helping her back against the wall.
“I feel terrible.” She clutches her stomach as cramps roll through her intestines. She feels sated for now, but there is something wrong. She’s not healing.
“The poison is spreading. It’s my fault. I tried to get back sooner but Lucien had me…occupied.”
A disgusted snort comes from across the room. “Occupied? You skinned my friend alive.”
Roseline jerks her head around. The movement causes her far less dizziness than it did before. She squints up at Enael, shocked to find the boy alive. “You died and you…” she turns to stare at Malachi. “Did you really skin his friend?”
He winces, nodding. “It was my job. I did it. End of story.”
“End of story?” Enael struggles to rise from the ground. He has been freed from the manacles. The sleeves of his robe have been torn away and used as a sling for his right arm. His left hangs at an odd angle but appears to be at least partially of use. “How can you speak so callously about Ordin’s death? It was the epitome of cruelty.”
“No,” Malachi glares at Enael. “I let him die. That was mercy.”
Enael sinks back against the wall as tears fill his eyes. Roseline watches him, touched by his remorse. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He stares at her warily. “Do you still want to eat me?”
She laughs. “No.”
“Oh.” He inhales deeply. “Well…then good. I accept your sympathy.”
“Who is this guy?” Malachi whispers into her ear.
“Someone who knows where to find Gabriel.”
Malachi stiffens and stares once more at Enael. His gaze narrows as he looks up at the chains. “So that’s why Lucien wanted you dead. You really do know how to find the kid, don’t you?”
Malachi shakes his head. “I should have known the instant I found him here with you.”
Roseline turns to look at him, wary of his tone. “What do you mean?”
“Lucien is no fool. He placed that boy here for two reasons. The first to speed up your transition, which is pretty obvious by the state I found you, but also for information. He knew the boy would tell you where to find Gabriel. He used you.”
“But why?” Roseline stares at the chains overhead. They dangle lifelessly, only ten feet below the grate overhead. Anyone could have been standing there listening to them. What a fool she had been. “Someone tried to stop Enael from talking earlier.”
Malachi leans forward. “Lucien knows there is more going on with this prophecy than he knows. I’d guess that he is desperate to stop Gabriel from doing whatever it is that he’s doing. If that means killing everyone here, including you Roseline, I think he would do it.”
Roseline turns to fix her gaze on Enael. He stiffens, obviously not too thrilled about being the object of her intense scrutiny again. “You never told me where Gabriel was going.”
“No. I didn’t exactly get the chance, did I?” He casts an evil glare up at the chains, rubbing his wrists.
“No,” she shakes her head, “you didn’t. Why not?”
Malachi turns to look at her. “What are you getting at?”
“Lucien set us up, right? So why wait until the exact moment of the big reveal to silence Enael? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless…” the boy starts but falls silent.
“Unless what?” Malachi asks.
The boy glances between both immortals, obviously weighing his words. “Someone didn’t want me to tell.”
Roseline watches him closely, noting every facial tick and flicker of his eyes. She instantly notices a pattern. Apparently, Malachi does as well.
“You think I did it?” Malachi asks incredulously.
“It makes sense,” Enael says.
“Why would I do that? I work for Lucien.”
Enael laughs and rests his head back against the wall. “And yet you are here, helping us. I wonder why that could be.”
Malachi shifts beside Roseline. “That’s none of your concern, boy.”
“No,” she agrees, turning a cold glare on Malachi. “But it is mine.”
He opens his mouth to protest but he falls silent. His jaw clenches as he glares at the boy across from him. “Fine. I stopped you. I couldn’t risk someone overhearing what you had to say.”
“Why?” Roseline gasps, horrified at the things Malachi is willing to do.
“Because then you would be expendable,” he spits out. His features pinch with anger as he looks away. “I couldn’t let that happen, ok?”
“So you thought it better to rip my arms off?” Enael shouts, his cheeks reddening with anger. He tries to lift his left arm on his own but it’s no use. The flesh is badly torn and the tendons in his arm are beyond repair.
Malachi waves him off. “You’re in one piece, aren’t you? Just be thankful she couldn’t reach you.”
“She wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t tearing me to pieces!”
“How do you think this ends for you, boy? Do you think someone will come for you? Rescue you from this pit?” Malachi’s face is thunderous as he leans forward. “You have information that Lucien wants. He didn’t get it from your friend, no matter what I did to him and trust me, I have never failed to extract information before. That old man is a hundred times braver than you are. What do you honestly think your death will be like?”
Enael clams up. Tears slips from the corners of his eyes, but this time he doesn’t even try to hide them. Roseline places a hand on Malachi’s arm. “Go easy on him. He’s young.”
“He’s a dead man walking, that’s what he is. He needs to learn that real quick.” Malachi pulls out of her grasp and crosses his arms, fuming.
A heavy silence falls over the room, each person weighing out their lot in life. Enael is as good as dead and they all know it. Malachi is too if Lucien discovers he’s the reason Roseline has held on for so long. And what about her? Once the transformation is complete, will she even care about Gabriel anymore?
“We have to escape,” she says to no one in particular. “All of us. Today.”
Malachi snorts, shaking his head. “That’s impossible. The boy’s too weak to move and you are hardly better. Even if I could get you out of this pit, there are Eltat swarming the grounds. We’d never make it.”
“So we should just sit here and wait to die?”
He winces at her biting words. “No. I’m not saying that. I just don’t think now is the right time.”
“When then? How long have I been here, Malachi? How long until Lucien forces human blood on me? You know we don’t have a choice.”
He exhales loudly, closing his eyes as he leans back against the wall. “This is a really bad idea.”
“Best one I’ve heard all day.” Enael’s quip fades to the background as they begin plotting their escape.
***
Nicolae eyes Fane and Sadie with suspicion when they exit the women’s restroom together. It doesn’t set well with him that Fane went in after her, not because it’s somehow morally wrong, but because it should have been him by her side.
“You ok?” He whispers as she plops down beside him. It’s obvious that Sadie has been crying. He can see the puffiness around her eyes.
She offers him a small smile and nods. His suspicion grows as she falls silent instead of badgering William or loudly complaining about their wait time. Something is different.
“What happened
in there?” He asks, leaning toward her.
Fane glances in their direction but says nothing as he marches away toward the double doors of the small airport. Nicolae hopes he is going to find a taxi to take them the rest of the way. Something safe would be nice, with all four wheels on the ground.
“It’s nothing,” she responds vaguely.
Nicolae frowns. “You’re evading me.”
“Not really.” She smiles. “Just nothing really to talk about. Fane says I need time to adjust is all.”
“And he understands what you’re going through better than I do,” Nicolae finishes for her, exhaling loudly.
Sadie laughs, sounding almost like her old self. “Is that jealously I detect?”
“Maybe.” He slumps low in the chair, regretting having asked in the first place.
She tugs on his arm until he allows her to take it into her lap. She strokes the back of his hand. Although he feels embarrassed by her style of affection, there is no way he’s about to pull back. It feels wonderful to have her touching him, even with William sending annoyed glances their way.
“You know Fane is a pain in my backside.” She soothes. “He could never replace you.”
“Course not,” William says, rising in his seat. “No one can be a bigger jerk than Nicolae.”
“Ha-ha,” Nicolae scowls, kicking William just below the knee with the toe of his boot.
“That hurt!” William howls and grabs at his kneecap, swearing under his breath.
“Are you children done yet?” All three look up to see Fane standing before them, a scornful glare in his eye. “Yes? Good. Our ride is early.”
“Thank God. I’m dying for a hot shower and a big juicy hamburger,” William groans as he bends to stretch out the kinks.
“You will find neither of those where we are going,” Fane replies. He reaches down for their bags, easily lifting all of them in one hand. Nicolae frowns in disapproval at the obvious lack of human qualities, but upon further examination, he realizes the airport is almost empty. Their flight must have been one of the last for the day.