I shook my head in an attempt to literally shake away those ugly thoughts. As I placed the cigarette to my lips once more, my Mother’s hand shot forward from the back seat. I was taken off guard and surprised by her swiftness considering her condition, but I am a Warrior, and no one moves faster than me.
Catching her by the wrist just before her fingers reached the cigarette between my teeth, I gripped her a little harder than was necessary. My Mother did not wince, though I knew she felt the force of it. It was all I could do at the moment to keep myself from breaking the bones in her wrist. They were weak and fragile from the malnourishment she had endured in the prison known as Dangeon. It would be so easy to crush the bones in her wrist to dust. My Monster was practically salivating in my head.
Before I turned my head to look at my Mother, I took one more deep drag on the cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, hoping that some of the anger that I always carried around with me would be expelled right along with it. Instead, it seemed to just be venting the fire that lives within me. When I did look back, I looked back into the hazel eyes of the woman who had helped to make me what I am today. The woman who had shown me how to kill.
I’m not sure what she saw in my eyes, but when I looked into hers I was reminded of all the things that had happened to me in the past month. I had learned many things since the last time I had seen my Mother, which was over a month ago. Things had changed. Things had happened. I was not the same person as I was before. My blindfold had been abruptly removed, the ignorance of childhood right along with it.
I know now that I am what is called a Sun Warrior; the last of a race of supernatural Warriors that were bred and built for battle and killing. More importantly, I know that this power I have comes with a huge price. The more I kill, the more I
want
to kill. The voice that I hear and refer to in my head as my Monster is a part of me that is hard to ignore. When I let it take control I am unstoppable. When I deny its urges I still have to listen to its crap. I fear I am losing my marbles as a result of it. I fear that one day the beast in me will break free and seize complete control. Many would die. The thought does not make me shiver. It should.
My sister, Nelly, is also one of a kind. Nelly is what is known as a Searcher—a type of vampire that is able to literally Search the souls of the people they come in contact with; see their thoughts, know their secrets and true desires. Nelly is different because she is only half-Searcher. The other half of her is unheard of. The other half of her is Lamia. This is why she would be killed if people were to find out what she is. The Lamia are highly feared, for very good reason. As far as I know, Nelly’s Searching abilities are stronger because of her Lamia half. How much stronger? I didn’t know.
The part I do blame myself for is leaving Nelly back at Two Rivers when I went in search of my Mother. When I left, I assumed that she would be safe there. I was wrong. The city of Two Rivers is beautiful and opulent, but all that glitter hides some pretty ugly secrets. Snakes in the grass and smiles on the faces of strangers… yeah, I should have known better. In hindsight it all seems so clear.
Two Rivers is hidden in the middle of the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. To find it, one must first be of supernatural blood, and also make a daunting trek through miles of dense forest. If you are human, you won’t even be able to see it. Two wide rivers run parallel on either side of it, and a high wall surrounds the place as well. Everyone and everything there is attractive. The two non-murderous races of vampires, Searchers and Brockens, live harmoniously with werewolves there. The two rivers flanking the city keep out the Lamias, who are unable to cross over running water. The children attend school and the older people work. Sounds fine, right?
Wrong. Beyond the city, behind the same walls and between the same rivers, is a village. In this village the outcasts of the supernatural society are milked for their blood and eventually murdered. They are slaves. Men, women, children. The deformed, handicapped, elderly, weak. The people who live in Two Rivers do not know that this is what becomes of them when they outgrow their use. A magic substance in the food keeps the knowledge from them, but I am beginning to think that more people know than I am aware of.
The man who put them there is known simply as the King. I have met him once. He made me fight Kayden. I hate him for that. The King is also responsible for the enslaved villagers. I suspect that he is the reason that the Lamia attacked my house on that night that now seems so very long ago, back when my world had been right-side-up. I believe he was the one who had the Lamia take my Mother, leaving me to think that she was dead, leaving me lost and charged to take care of my little sister while coping with this insane world I seemed to just have been dropped into. He was the reason that I was half-mad at the moment. Well, maybe not
entirely
the reason, but both halves of me were in complete agreement that we wanted to see the King dead. Yes, if it were to be the last thing I ever did, I would see the King dead.
I felt the right side of my mouth pull up in a small, crooked smile. Realizing that I still had hold of my Mother’s wrist, I loosened my grip and saw purple marks on her skin in place of my fingers. She withdrew her arm slowly, poorly contained fire behind her eyes. She wanted to hit me. I could see that clearly. Holding her cold gaze, I wondered if she would try.
Oh, yes,
yes
, try Mother Dearest. Just try.
I took another pull of the cigarette. I would not lose it in the car. I would not flip out on my Mother, nor would I succumb to my Monster. Not because I am strong, but because neither of the two mattered. Nelly mattered. I had to get to her, and that was all.
Because on top of all the other craziness, there was a prophecy that claimed that my sister, my Nelly, would be the one to liberate the people under the King’s hard hands. It also said that she would lose her life in the process.
Not on my watch. No. Way.
Except, right now, I was afraid my watch was running
too late.
Now, I shivered.
Turning away from my Mother, I leaned my head against the car window once more and watched the night rushing by outside. This time,
I
reached out and took Kayden’s hand, but not even his touch could take my worry away.
“You don’t have to tell me how bad I screwed up,” I said. “I know.”
Nelly
When I was a little girl, sometimes, when the weather was warm and the night was clear, I would sneak out of my bedroom window and lay on the grass beside our house. I would lie there and breathe, staring up at the night sky, and I would
feel.
Those were times when I still felt good about being what I am, times when I could still look around me and have hope. Back then, I reveled in the
feel
of it all. What a gift, I would think, lying on my back and searching the stars. If I concentrated hard enough, I could feel the life that hummed from the grass beneath me, the trees, the flowers. I could hear the thoughts of the animals, simple, nonsensical things, carried to me on the breath of the wind. I could see the light of it all, and the dark, and appreciate the contrast, knowing that one could not exist without the other.
It was Soul Searching in its truest form, only I was Searching the Soul of the universe. I would wonder at just being a piece in a puzzle too large to even contemplate. Staring up at the heavens, I would find the light and the dark there, too. And, if I really tried, I could feel the thrum of distant life, so slight and so far and so beautiful.
All Souls are unique, like fingerprints composed of desires and inclinations and conclusions and past times and environments. No one looks or sounds or feels quite like another. But all have similarities, as well. Somehow, despite the differences, every Soul sings in a sort of chaotic harmony with every other. Each is connected, and the web that holds them together is simple: the web is freedom.
In a more perfect world, I would be forever that little girl who snuck out of her window on warm nights and stared up at the stars. An observer, who got to see and smell and touch and
feel
the Souls that most people only ever have a vague understanding of. The beauty of it all, the wonder, was in the freedom. But freedom so often resembles shiny red apples. And I suppose that even back then, I knew that someday I would take a bite.
Look but don’t touch, it was how I defined myself. Seeing into Souls was one thing,
commanding
them was another. Sometimes, however, life throws you situations that force you to break your own code. Sometimes, you have to do the
wrong thing
, because it is the only option you have that you can live with.
Standing here, in the Queen of Two Rivers’ office, in the presence of eight Souls, that shiny red apple dangled in front of me, and it looked sweet and tasty to my suddenly parched throat. My mind – or rather that
muscle
in my mind that is a result of my tainted blood – salivated just at the sight of them all. Its hunger for control was amplified by my growing anxiety. Whatever the reason I was here, it was not a good one. I didn’t have to be a Searcher to figure that much out.
Two enormous warriors flanked the door – my only escape. Two more blocked the windows that made up the entire east wall. One more stood behind an armchair, across from which, on a couch that looked to cost about the amount of a college education, sat Queen Camillia and her niece, Bethany. In the armchair sat King William. It was his Soul that drew me so completely, like a secret present wrapped in shards of glass and thorns, fitting for what must be
inside
the box.
“Please, have a seat, Miss Montgomery,” said the King.
I found that I could not move. The battle I was silently fighting in my soul was all-encompassing. My mind wanted to be set free, to soar through the room and touch the souls within and hold them and squeeze them and see them. The muscles in my body were locked into their positions, as though by tensing and flexing alone they could keep in what stone walls would yield simply to. I wasn’t entirely sure I was still breathing, though my chest seemed to be rising and falling and filling, not with air, but with fear and fight. If I were to lose the battle over my control, things would go wrong. The apple would be sweet, I could no longer deny that, but the aftertaste was sure to be sour. If these people found out what I was, they would see my head on a spike. I was sure of it. My eyes floated over them. I couldn’t help it.
They will kill you or imprison you either way. You can see it on their faces. You weren’t called in for a nightcap. You’re half of a monster… and Alexa is M.I.A.
“Nelly, may I call you Nelly?” said the King. “Do you know who I am?”
It was that
voice
of his. It was as silky as flower pedals, as smooth as snake’s skin. My teeth snapped together as that muscle in my mind bucked hard, kicking and scratching in my grasp like an enraged toddler. For all the concentration it was taking to hold it in, I could not even risk sending the simple message of movement from my brain to my legs. I didn’t dare meet the King’s eyes, if his voice alone sent the beast that is my mind into a frenzy, there was no telling what kind of reaction the windows to his soul would receive.
In outright rebellion of my efforts, unwelcome thoughts from the dark side of me found their way to my head:
Secrets, sooo many secrets in his soul, bad man, bad man, he’s a bad man, secretssss…
I cringed internally, the tensed muscles in my stomach shriveling up and seeming to congeal. If I didn’t get out of here soon, I was going to make an involuntary attempt to Search the King. His soul held the answers to so many questions, but he would feel my assault, no doubt. I knew this because I knew that he was a Searcher as well, and he had been drinking Lamia blood. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did. I could
feel
it.