The Heart's Ashes
Page 129

The door buckled open and a wriggling, kicking being, with long blonde hair, struggled between the unyielding hold of the two men who brought me to this room. They threw him to the floor in front of me, his face hidden by the mop of messed hair, but I could tell immediately he was young, maybe no older than sixteen. He pressed up on the palm of his hand and kept his face to the ground—away from me.
My heart twinged. Poor thing.
Jason lifted his foot from my wrist and I sat up, whipping my dress over my cold legs, hugging my knees to my chest. The lace cover, though it was all I had before, now felt like the arms of a friend—safe, covering, shielding.
“Amara?” Drake called; my head whipped up to look at him, my heart starting in my throat. “Bite the boy.”
Confusion inched down my nose in a crinkle. “What?”
“You heard me.” He nodded toward the whimpering waif. “I do not have time for your games, child. Bite the boy.”
“No.”
Drake moaned and waved his hand in a sideways flutter at Jason. “Show our dear princess what happens when we disobey.”
Jason flew up beside me, forcing his fingertips into the top of my spine, each digit pressing hard; my neck stiffened, my mouth opening as I held a cry behind my breath.
“Are you going to bite him, or do I have to force you?”
I went to shake my head, but couldn’t move. I’m not biting him.
Jason fumed. “Bite him.”
“No.” I arched my neck backward into my raised shoulders.
“I said bite him.” He shoved down with a violent jolt until my mouth meshed against the boy’s neck.
He was so cold, but so tangible—so real; I can’t kill him, it’s not fair. “It’s okay,” I whispered softly into his hair. “It’s okay.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jason moaned and his cold, solid finger slid around the lip of my mouth, forcing my teeth apart. Stringy hair and salty flesh fell against my tongue—pushing it to the back of my throat.
I won’t do it. I won’t bite him.
“Bite,” Jason yelled, cupping my chin and striking me across the back of my head so my jaw smashed closed—piercing the skin of the innocent child.
No.
A part of my soul died in that one breath, my wet lips falling away as my teeth popped out of his bleeding flesh.
He dropped to ground, cupping the wound with his hand, screeching like an old whistling kettle.
“No.” I scuffled back on my hands when Jason released his grip; the boy writhed—ripping at his own hair as the skin dissolved around the wound. But the sound of his screams faded to the background of my thoughts while the sweet, delicate tang of his blood reminded my lips of the hunger in my stomach.
I could do it. I looked over at him, pity dissolving. I could roll him over and tear his arms away from his neck; pin him down with my legs and rip his throat open with my teeth. It would ease the acid-sting in my mouth—the hunger, the need—the need that burns like the will to run.
My hand edged, twitching with my thoughts.
No! No. He’s a person, what am I thinking—what’s wrong with me?
Sound came rushing back to my ears in violent waves, and a searing liquid rushed up my throat—rolling on the back of my tongue. My stomach contracted; I cupped my hand over my mouth, heaving as I folded over.
What have I done? What’s happening to him?
“He’s dying,” Jason informed.
I closed my eyes, clutching my belly—forcing myself to breathe as the boy who suffered my existence thrashed about under the fiery grasp of Hell.
Then, the terror-laced shrieking and scuffling stopped.
The room went silent.
Breath was not enough—tears could not suffice. He was still, because I made him still.
I have ended life.
A loud clap echoed and my eyes flung open. Drake waltzed over and lowered himself to the ground, lifting the boy’s head, studying him; no air pushed his chest, no twitching, no crying.
Dead.
“Dead,” Drake confirmed, slamming the boy’s face into the stone.
What did he do? Why did they bring him to an end like this? I sniffled, looking at the dead boy, who, in his moment of passing, brought a truth to the surface I wasn’t sure I could bear.
I am a Lilithian—punishable by death. I was immortal all along, and I never even knew it.
My stomach churned. If we’d known, if only we’d known. We could’ve run. We could’ve gone from here and never looked back.
The curse—Eric once said it’s triggered. But they don’t know how.
Blood. When I drank David’s blood—that’s when things started to change. That’s when I became immortal.
My eyes grew wide and round.
Immortal—but not undying.
A chorus of ghosts seemed to surround me then, chanting, calling my name in a hymn of eternal echoes. Silent, non-existent to those in the room. But to me, their empty song chimed a shattering story of a girl whose life never had the chance to begin.
I’m dead. I’m going to be killed in the most drawn out, most epically disgusting way. So horrid David never told me the stories, so painful Eric himself wouldn’t speak of it.
It once was Lilith, my ancestor, and now I, too, will play the protagonist in this sadistic tale; one of a ruined life, a tragic existence, and an unfortunate, eternally haunting end.
“Jason.” Drake looked past me. “You know what to do.”
“Happy to oblige.” Jason grabbed the wrist of the boy and dragged him across the ground. For a second, as I lifted my head, I saw his face; young, so young—his skin smooth, his nose pointed, his lips dark pink, like David’s.
“What are you going to do with him?” I sat up on my knees as Jason neared the blazing fireplace.
Drake looked back at me, his hands clasped in front of his chest. “Cremate him.”
I spun around and planted my face into my knees as Jason hoisted the boy into the flames.
I can’t watch this. It’s too horrible. Oh, God. Please. God, if you’re up there, please help me. Please? I rocked back and forth, hugging my knees. Please let me wake up.
“Come on.” Jason lifted me from the stone floor; my legs worked, permitting me to stand, though my spirit stayed on the ground. “It’s time to go.”
“Where?” I asked, but he ignored me, faced Drake and bowed, forcing my head down as he did.