She Dies at the End (November Snow Book 1)

by A. M. Manay

  Resolving to occupy her mind in order to stave off panic, November returned to her exploration. In one corner stood a miniature fridge topped with a microwave and a small cabinet stocked with dishes and flatware. Well, at least they aren’t going to let me go hungry.

  Opening the fridge, November had to laugh in spite of herself. The eclectic collection of foodstuffs evinced the fact that this household was not accustomed to sheltering human residents. The contents of the fridge, in no particular order, included an artichoke, a jar of pickles, a bottle of ketchup, a box of teabags, a quart of now-melted vanilla ice cream, a jar of peanut butter, salami, goldfish crackers, a loaf of pumpernickel bread, a pomegranate, a package of chewing gum, green bananas, a bag of apples, and a box of raisins. November hoped they’d let her help with the shopping in the future, but she appreciated the effort. She paused her investigation of her new domain to break her fast with a peanut butter on pumpernickel sandwich accompanied by raisins, a glass of melted ice cream, and a cup of tea.

  Thus fortified, she went to the wall opposite the window to examine the desk. Surprise and delight filled her heart as she discovered that the desk was packed with art supplies: heavy paper, pencils, charcoals, pastels, paints, pens, brushes. It was like Christmas. A bookcase alongside was also well-stocked, with room for her own books to find space with additional textbooks and novels. She also found a somewhat reassuring note on the desk blotter:

  November –

  Please make yourself at home. I apologize for the locked door, but it was the safest thing for all of us. Zinnia will be home from school around 4 pm. You’ll see the rest of us after sunset.

  --William Knox

  She then turned her attention to the other doors in the room, which she assumed correctly would lead to the bathroom and the closet. She picked one at random and discovered a closet full of clothes. Someone had helpfully removed all the tags and hung up the outfits. She reached out her hand, sliding the smooth fabric between her fingers. Like the bed, these clothes had never belonged to anyone else. The quality was fine, but the clothes were not ostentatious. She was strangely grateful not to know how much they had cost. They looked to be the right size and included ensembles appropriate for a variety of occasions. A dozen pairs of shoes were stacked neatly in a shoe rack one the floor. There were a variety of flats and low heels that seemed pretty practical along with a couple of pairs that looked to be threats to life and limb. This was shocking extravagance to a girl who’d never had more than one pair of shoes without holes in them at any one time. The bureau alongside the closet was stocked with pretty underthings, socks, stockings, and t-shirts.

  Finally, she opened the door to the bathroom. November shook her head in pleased disbelief at the enormous tub and fluffy white towels, the perfect blue tile and shining faucets. The room was stocked with every toiletry item imaginable, and November immediately decided that the next order of business was a bubble bath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything more than a quick, cold shower. She stripped off her dirty clothes, unsure what to do with them until she found a cleverly disguised hamper, and drew herself a piping hot bath with copious bubbles.

  After a good long soak and thorough scrub, she emerged smelling of tea tree oil and feeling ready to face just about anything. She slathered herself in lotion, wrapped herself in the softest bathrobe known to man, and combed out her hair. Not knowing what was on tonight’s agenda, she dressed simply and neatly in jeans, a blue v-neck sweater, and some low-heeled boots. Everything fit, by some miracle. Who put all this together, and in only one day?

  When November looked at herself in the mirror, she was surprised and pleased to see that she looked like a normal girl for once. She was accustomed to having a general air of neglect. Her clothes never quite fit. There was always a hole that needed patching or a stain she hadn’t been able to get out in the sink. Today, she looked like someone cared. November examined her neck, expecting to see an awful mark from the previous night’s bite, but she found only faint pink spots where the fangs had pierced the skin. She’d never have been able to find them if she hadn’t known they were there. That vampire saliva is good stuff, apparently.

  The tour of her quarters complete, it was time to explore in a slightly different fashion. Her hosts could lock her body in a room, but they could not close in the rest of her. She had discovered this aspect of her psychic ability by accident when she had been about 11 years old. It had appeared of necessity one afternoon when November had been caught by a terrific thunderstorm while out walking alone. Before joining the carnival, this was how she had spent much of her time as it was the surest way of avoiding human contact. The lightening was growing closer; she was drenched to the bone. In her desperation to find shelter she’d managed to create a mental map of the terrain, enabling her to find and take cover in a shallow cave. She hadn’t had much need for this gift lately, but she enjoyed practicing it; it was a good break from her other, more upsetting abilities. She would look for underground water, for instance, or try to map the bottom of a lake, or try to see what stores were inside a mall before she went inside.

  November took a deep breath and began to feel around beyond the door. The first thing she noticed was how huge the place was: room after room, three floors worth plus a basement, separated into two wings. The house was largely empty. She caught glimpses of the vampires at rest in tastefully appointed rooms in the basement. They really did look dead when they were sleeping. She caught a glimpse of a fairy in an office. He had deep brown skin, lime green hair and eyes, and had the hurried air of the extremely busy. Another fairy was arranging flowers in a granite-countered kitchen. November picked up a smattering of decorative details here and there: the black and white marble floor in the foyer, the blue door on the guardhouse by the gate to the grounds, the mosaic of a rose and a sword on the bottom of the outdoor pool.

  As she continued to look around, November slowly began to realize that this was no mere mansion: it was a cunningly disguised fortress. The walls around the grounds were over 12 feet high, a foot thick, and topped with spikes, with only one well-guarded entry gate that looked like it had been lifted from Fort Knox. There were external metal shutters poised to block every window in the house as well as every exterior door. There appeared to be some kind of system of escape tunnels. There were generators in case of loss of power and a water storage tank, she presumed in case of fire, since she didn’t think vampires and fairies drank water. There was an armory stocked with crossbows, stakes, knives, guns, and weapons she didn’t even recognize. It was alarming. These people are loaded for bear.

  To combat her growing unease, November broke out her physics book, a notepad, and a pencil and started working problems. She played with the streaming service on the phone, searching for a few of the bands she liked from her many hours spent listening to the radio. She passed the afternoon lounging on her bed, nibbling goldfish crackers and working problems, until she was startled by a knock on the door.

  “Hey, Em, it’s Zin. Can I come in?”

  “Of course,” November replied, placing her books to the side. The fairy opened what sounded like several locks on the door and came bounding into the room, wearing a long, patchwork skirt with a black tunic embroidered with flowers and a bright scarf. Between the outfit and her hair, she looked like a punk hippie.

  Zinnia plopped down on the bed beside November, asking, “Did you have an okay day in your gilded cage?”

  “That isn’t funny, Zinnia. The room’s very nice, but that locked door really scared me.” Her voice cracked, but November forced herself to continue the speech she had prepared. “I came with you quietly because I know from my vision that I am meant to be in this world, but I thought it would be as a member of this household, not as a prisoner. I want to be treated like a friend. I could probably accept being an employee. But I will not be some . . . some dog kept on a chain. I won’t be treated like a criminal or a crazy person.”

  Zinnia looked sympat
hetic as she tried to explain the inexcusable. “There are eight vampires living under this roof, and during the day they rest, hidden away from the sun. It’s the only time that they’re really vulnerable to attack. It’s unheard of to leave a human free to roam a vampire’s home during daylight, especially one who isn’t enthralled. To have you wandering around their home plays to their most primal fear. Lord William will try to convince the others to make an exception for you, and they respect his authority, but his nestmates are some of his most important supporters. Most are part of his government, and he can’t risk losing their loyalty. He has to tread carefully. This is uncharted territory.”

  “I suppose I can understand that,” she said quietly, still uncomfortable. “Though I would point out that being kidnapped and held in a building full of predators plays to my most primal fears.” Em paused. “So it isn’t to keep me from running away? Not that I have anywhere to go, really.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s also a consideration, to be brutally honest,” Zinnia admitted. “To tell you the truth, you are safer here than wandering out in the world. If we heard about you, you can bet that other supernaturals have, too. We just got to you first.” Zinnia looked with curious revulsion at the bowl of multicolored goldfish crackers on the bed. She sniffed one and wrinkled her nose.

  “So, you came looking for me on purpose? How did you know I was even there?"

  “Ben heard about you from some human he was feeding on. He thought it was bull, but he was telling me about it, and I told Lord William, who became very interested. He cleared his schedule, and off we went to the boonies searching for you.”

  “And what if I had fought coming here, or run to the cops or something? What if I hadn’t already accepted my fate?” November asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

  Zinnia at least had the decency to look her right in the eyes as she confirmed, “Then we would have kidnapped you for real and tried to win you over after. That would have been especially hard for me, since I can sense other people’s feelings, but we’d still have done it. Lord William can be ruthless when he thinks he has to be, and we are all sworn to obey him and to serve his house.” Seeing the horror in November’s eyes, she added, “He is fair, and I’ve never known him to be gratuitously cruel. He is gentle with humans, criminals excepted. You don’t need to be afraid of him.”

  “Then why does he think he needs me badly enough to be willing to kidnap an innocent stranger?” November asked.

  “That’s his story to tell, November. And I promise you, he will.” She gave the human a reassuring pat on the knee. “Here, let’s fix that arm.” November held out the injured limb, curious and nervous. Zinnia laid her hand lightly upon the injury and closed her eyes. “This might be uncomfortable,” she warned. The warning was accurate, as November’s arm began to ache, burn, and itch intensely all at once. She caught flashes of Zinnia’s life, glimpsing the fairy as a tween making out with a boy behind some bleachers as well as a night sky full of twinkling lights of many colors. Zinnia was quickly finished, and November looked down in wonder at her completely healed, unscarred arm.

  “Thank you!” November exclaimed with an amazed smile. "I thought it would scar something awful."

  “No trouble at all,” her new friend replied. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour? The bloodsuckers will be up soon,” she said with a smile.

  November pulled on one of several pairs of gloves she had found in her underwear drawer (They really had thought of everything.) and followed the fairy, not mentioning that she had already conducted her own partial tour earlier.

  “So, what are you studying?” November asked as they walked down the tastefully decorated hallway.

  “Double major, music and history, at Cal,” she replied. “Everyone wants me to be a lawyer.” Going back to the tour for a moment, she added, “The house was rebuilt after being damaged in the Oakland Hills fire. Your neighbors on this hallway are all fairies. There are five of us who live in the house. Willow and Pine run daytime security with some other fairies who live offsite, and Birch is Lord William’s right hand man. Rose is the house manager, and Birch’s wife. Pine is their son. Rose set up your room, which used to be storage. There are also a number of guest rooms up here, for fairy visitors.”

  “Were the instruments and stuff in my room yours?” November asked. Zinnia replied with a nod. “Would you rather be a musician or a lawyer?” November had never really given any thought to her future, given that she didn’t have one. She’d also never lasted at a school more than a few days, so college wasn’t really ever on the horizon.

  “Fairies don’t sleep, so there’s plenty of time to do both,” she explained.

  “Never?”

  “Only when severely wounded. We’re more vulnerable at night, though, so we don’t go out alone after sunset, especially during a full moon. Werewolves are the biggest threat to us. Our power to absorb living energy doesn’t work at night, nor does our ability to change form. So, we can neither feed, nor fight well, nor flee. That’s why I didn’t go hunting last night with the boys.”

  “What do you mean by change forms?”

  “We have a fairy form, a tiny body that glows and flies. You know, like Tinkerbell in that book you humans like so much.” Zinnia made a face. “Man, that girl makes us look so pathetic. We kind of hate her.”

  “I saw a group of them, when you healed me, but I didn’t realize what I was seeing. It was beautiful.” November felt rather overwhelmed by all this information, but Zinnia’s matter-of-fact demeanor aided her effort to avoid freaking out.

  “Yeah. A bunch of us together makes a pretty good show,” Zinnia replied. While chatting, the two girls had made their way past the fairy bedrooms and down a couple of impressive staircases to the large entryway. There was a matching staircase on the opposite side of the foyer leading into the other wing. November had never been in such an enormous home. The foyer was quite modern in design, lots of glass and metal and the color white, with the marble tile she’d seen in her mental tour. The only rather incongruous touch of the antique was the collection of portraits, most of them obviously centuries old. They featured the faces of the three vampires in her burial vision, unchanged by time of course, plus a statuesque blond woman, portrayed as wife and mother to this vampire family. There were a number of other vampires and fairies she didn’t recognize.

  “Who is the blond woman?” November asked with curiosity. “I saw her when I did Lord William’s reading.”

  Zinnia looked sad for a moment. “That’s King Ilyn’s late wife, Queen Marisha. She died about 200 years ago, so I never got to meet her. They say the king has never been the same. They were together over 2000 years.”

  November gasped. The scale was incomprehensible. “How awful! What happened?” she asked.

  “No one knows. She was murdered, they think, but no one could figure out how or by whom. There were suspects, and the king and the whole family moved heaven and earth, but they could never find any proof of guilt.”

  Zinnia returned to the tour. “Now, the wing where our bedrooms are is the residence, with the kitchen, living areas, game room, theatre, swimming pool, music room, and ballroom. The opposite wing houses the offices, conference rooms, auditorium, war room, and courtroom. This house is the seat of government for vampires and fairies in California. No human has ever been permitted in the government wing, so I recommend that you don’t go wandering over there.”

  Zinnia took November through the domestic portion of the house, which was homey and comfortable while remaining thoroughly modern and stylish, courtesy of what must have been an excellent decorator. The kitchen was amazing: huge and bright and stocked with lovely high-end appliances. It seemed a shame that it was wasted with the exception of the refrigerator, which was filled to bursting with the blood of various creatures, neatly labeled and dated. November wondered how the human blood had been obtained but had no desire to actually reach out her hand and find out. “They had to have the bu
ilder include a stove and all. To do otherwise would have aroused suspicion,” Zinnia explained. "And it gets used occasionally, for human business partners and people like that."

  What truly impressed November, however, was the library. The brief glimpse she’d had of it in vision really didn’t do it justice. The room was two stories tall, with ladders on rails, stocked floor to ceiling with books both ancient and contemporary. It smelled of leather and old paper. Several large mahogany desks furnished this temple of learning, with couches and armchairs and reading lamps scattered about. For a bookworm like November, it was heaven. She must have looked as thrilled as she felt, for Zinnia grinned, saying, “I’m sure Lord William would let you read whatever you like.” November was wonderstruck.

  Zinnia continued playing tour-guide. “The vampires have their bedrooms underground, of course. The various entries to the basement are hidden and very well-secured. Their rooms are light-tight and impervious to fire.”

  “What did the contractors think of that?” November wondered aloud.

  “Lord William told them they were vaults for a priceless collection of artwork,” Zinnia replied. “People are pretty credulous when they’re being paid an awful lot of money. Also when you can enthrall them with the sound of your voice into believing anything you say.”

  “I bet.”

  The two girls sat in the library chatting and reading the newspaper. November avoided the news sections and the depressing visions they would inspire. Zinnia told her a little bit about herself. She was living with William while she went to school. Her father, originally from Japan, had died when Zinnia was small. She went to visit relatives in Japan every summer, but it was awkward. "I'm too American for them. Too white. Sometimes being mixed is hard," she said.