What Kills Me by Wynne Channing Read Free Book Online Page B

My
toes banged against the stone steps as they dragged me up a flight
of stairs. Doors slammed behind me. Whispers swept by me, like cars
speeding past. I heard the clank of metal and wood creaking.
Incense was burning. They opened a door, releasing a cacophony of
voices. People were speaking everywhere. I could hear heavy,
measured footsteps and the squeaking of leather as the soldiers
moved. A soldier shoved me to the ground. Someone grabbed my neck
and pushed my forehead to smooth floor.
    “Kneel,” he ordered. “Don’t
move.”
    The crowd quieted, becoming only the
rustle of clothing, the shifting of feet.
    “General.” A throaty, female voice
penetrated the hush. “We await your report.”
    Footsteps approached and the bag was
torn from my head. I blinked and squinted to adjust my eyes to the
light and flipped my head to remove the hair in my face.
    Oh my God.
    Hundreds of dark figures surrounded me
in a white marble-floored ballroom. The light from a
turquoise-colored glass ceiling cast a greenish pallor over their
dour faces. Some—men and women in tailored black suits—appeared
dressed for a funeral. Others—women in slim burgundy or black
floor-length gowns—appeared dressed for the opera. They watched me
with their flaming eyes and whispered to each other. A fence of
soldiers separated me from the onlookers.
    “Your Highness,” the general said. He
put his fist to his chest and bowed his head. “We visited the
sanctum and discovered Cleric Uther with this—creature.” He aimed a
finger at me. “The human gained access to the sanctum shortly after
dusk. Cleric Uther confirmed this. He had failed to properly secure
the entrance. The human was able to reach the shrine and tainted
the Crucivium.”
    The crowd murmured.
    “This is the trespasser?” the Empress
said. She seemed to exhale all of her words. She had an accent but
it didn’t sound Italian.
    “Yes, Your Highness.”
    The Empress stood on a balcony above
the crowd. She gripped the white balustrade, her fingers adorned
with bulky gemstones, her fingernails red. Her pale face was framed
by a sleek sheet of ink-black hair that cut across her jawline. She
wore a sculptural piece of jewelry, a spiraling steel ribbon that
coiled around her slender neck and rested on her collar bone and
chest. She studied me with her eyes. They were as vivid and blue as
her strapless ultramarine gown, which featured a tight mosaic of
mirror shards in a panel down the center, like the scaly underside
of a dragon. I wanted to kneel before her glory. But I was already
doing so.
    The Empress pursed her scarlet
lips.
    “What of her abilities?”
    “She is a vampire. But she is
extremely weak.”
    “Is she hostile?”
    “No. She did not resist
arrest.”
    “Does she have a name?”
    “Yes, Your Highness. But I did not
catch it.”
    “Child,” she said. It was as if I was
hearing her breathy, lilting voice only in my mind. “What is your
name?”
    “Axelia,” I said, my voice
trembling.
    “Speak up for the court.”
    “My name is Axelia.”
    “Do you know what you are?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you know why you are
here?”
    “No.”
    “Where did you come from?”
    “I’m from Canada. I came here to study
for the summer.”
    The Empress crossed her arms, her
movements smooth and serpentine. Her dress reflected a patchwork of
light under her chin. “Tell me then, what was your business at the
church?”
    “I…I was taken there by a boy, uh, a
vampire named Paolo,” I said.
    “How did you end up at our sacred
well?”
    “He told me that he was going to kill
me. So I ran. I just wanted to get away. He cornered me in the
basement and then I fell.”
    I swallowed.
    “Had you ever been to that church
before?”
    “No.”
    The Empress looked past me, and the
crowd followed her gaze. I swiveled my head around and instantly my
body locked up.
    Paolo walked into the ballroom with
two soldiers at his side. He gave me a brief look of surprise and
then disgust