She Dies at the End (November Snow #1) (7 page)

A tiny Asian-American vampire named Amy was the Lord Prosecutor, dressed to the nines from her spike heels to her perfectly coiffed hair.  Her counterpart, the Defense Advocate, was a tall, dark, and handsome vampire named Josue who was wearing a shiny three piece suit.  November wondered why there wasn’t a judge. She suddenly realized that William might well be judge, jury, and executioner, which made her stomach do a little flip.   The diplomat, Mary, had been middle-aged when she was turned, and sported a wild grey spiked hairdo.  She, too, wore a suit, a more conservative wool number.  Her job was liaising with other state lords and with the king’s court.

Rose, the fairy house manager, looked just like the stereotype of a high society hostess: she had a short blond bob, pearl jewelry, conservative designer clothes, and manicured nails.  November wondered what her real hair color was.  She supposed it must match her violet eyes.  She was the only one who smiled at November, for which she was grateful, even though she knew it might just be part of the woman’s job.  “Please do let me know if you need anything, dear.” 

“Thank for my lovely . . . accommodations,” November replied. 

“You’re most welcome, darling.  Were the clothes acceptable?  And the food?” the hostess inquired.

  “The clothes are wonderful, just perfect,” November assured her.  “I did wonder if I might have some influence over the grocery list,” she admitted, thinking about the strangely stocked fridge.  Rose shot an annoyed look at Zinnia.

“That was my fault.  I didn’t get the right things, did I?” Zinnia asked with a self-deprecating expression.  “None of us eat food, and we don’t pay all that much attention to what humans eat, because it all seems so disgusting.  I should have asked Ben to help, since he’s young enough to remember what you people actually like.”

“It’s okay.  You did fine.  It was just a rather odd assortment, that’s all.  It’s a better stocked fridge than I’ve had in a long time, believe me,” November reassured the two fairies.

“You see why I insist on doing everything myself,” Rose mock complained. 

The more interesting comments began after they’d all given her the once over.  “She’s pretty enough, I guess, but a little scrawny for my taste.  I suppose I’d be willing to take her off your hands once you’re bored with her,” Josue remarked offhandedly in William’s direction. 

“You might be able to fatten her up a little by then,” Daniel suggested.

“I’m surprised, my lord,” Mary commented.  “You usually go for a more  . . . experienced woman.”

“Yeah, this innocent virgin thing is a bit of a departure, isn’t it?” Felix agreed.  “That’s usually more my line,” he added with  suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

“Oh, I bet she’ll be a fast learner,” Willow said with a wicked grin.

November flushed bright red at the casual inappropriateness of their statements. 
He did warn me, but ouch.
  “I’d appreciate it very much if you would all stop talking about me like that,” she said firmly, pressing her lips together.  Everyone in the room turned to look at her aghast.  The silence was broken only when Amy burst out laughing.

“This is going to be fun.  A human who talks back!” the elegant lawyer whooped delightedly.   

“How many times do I have to tell you people that she isn’t enthrallable?  She can actually understand the words coming out of your mouths, and she is not here as a source of blood and recreation,” William said, irritated at how the introductions were going awry. 

“Sorry,” Josue said with a smile and a wink.  “No offense meant.  I’ve never met a magic human before.”

“Well, I’ve never been kidnapped and installed as a prisoner in a vampire slash fairy household, so I guess it’s new experiences all around,” November replied with an edge in her voice.  Apparently her latent anger and anxiety had been seeking a way out and had finally found one via her smart mouth.

“I’m afraid you’ll all have to fight me for her,” Greg finally chimed in matter-of-factly, looking up from the business section of the newspaper, “if these notes she’s made in the newspaper are what I think they are.”  He raised his eyebrow at November, asking, “Are they?”  His interest in her appeared to shock everyone in the room.

“The dates on the left are when the stock hits its next low point and the ones on the right are the next high,” November confirmed.  “It’s just a game I play when I have a newspaper around.  I pick a few stocks and see what I can see.  You know, after I finish the crossword.” 
Like you do.

An unaccustomed smile brightened the financial advisor’s face as he shook his head, saying to William, “You pay this girl whatever she wants.  She’ll make you ten times as much.”  He laughed, “I just need to make sure we don’t get investigated for insider trading.” 

November smiled, pleased to be appreciated for her gift instead of her blood.  After this little victory, it seemed like as good a time as any to bring up the difficult topic of her bedroom door.   “Can we talk about the lock on my door?” she asked, looking around at them.  William nodded permission.  “I have no intention of trying to run away, and I have no desire to do any of you harm.  I came here willingly, even though I know full well that things are going to wind up with me going into the ground.  I want to be able to sit in the library or eat lunch outside or go for a swim instead of being trapped in my room all day.  I want to feel like a person.”

She took a deep breath and screwed up her courage to continue.  “I could not stand living here as a prisoner.  I’ve spent time locked up at the mercy of unkind people, and quite frankly, I’d rather die than feel again the way I felt back then.  I’ll be a hell of a lot more useful to you happy than miserable, I guarantee you.”  November exhaled loudly.  She’d been working on that speech all afternoon.

“Why not?” Ben said.  He’d snuck in the library during the introductions and sat down on top of one of the desks, holding himself a little separate from the rest of the group.  “She’d never be able to escape the grounds.  As for our resting places, the doors are hidden and secure.  How could she even get in?”

November swallowed.  “Actually, I’ve already found a few of the doors by accident, and finding out the codes would be trivial.  I am here because I’m a psychic, after all.” 

"I told you we should get bio-scanners," Birch piped up.

“You are honest to the point of self-injury; you do realize that, right?” William said to November, exasperated.

“One of you would have figured it out eventually,” she replied.  “Withholding the truth when I’m trying to convince you to trust me seemed inappropriate.  Besides, it doesn’t matter if I got into the basement.  You must have motion detectors in there, and the doors to your rooms look like they belong in a bank vault.  I assume they’re locked from the inside.  I’d never be able to hurt anyone before the fairy staff stopped me.  Look, if you can’t trust me in your house during the day, how could you trust anything I told you about my visions?  I’m forced to trust all of you, even though apparently you’d all be happy to feed on me and do God knows what else.  Why shouldn’t you have to trust me a little bit?"  She sat down awkwardly, her speech complete. 

Her new housemates at least seemed to be taking her seriously, the patronizing looks having disappeared from their faces.  “Well,” William said, “While we digest that, we need to get on with our evening.  Feed quickly.  Gavel is in an hour, and the defendants have started arriving and are in holding. Ben and Zinnia,” he continued, turning to face them, “keep November company.  Watch a movie or something.  We’ll be done work in about 4 or 5 hours.”    

“I need to go hunting,” Ben countered.

“Use something from the fridge,” Lord William ordered as he strode out the room, retinue in tow. 

Ben heaved a sigh.  “The apex predator of planet earth, reduced to drinking cold blood and babysitting a human housepet.”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” November snapped.  “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you, or so I’m told.”

“Children, let’s play nice,” Zinnia said.  “Ben, it isn’t her fault that Knox doesn’t trust you with important things yet.  It takes time with Lord William.”

Ben nodded, chagrinned.  “I know.  Sorry.  It just gets old, being treated like a child all the time.”

“Tell me about it,” Zinnia and November said at the exact same time.  All three burst out laughing.  “Come on.  You both grab some snacks and meet me in the theatre.  Let's see what's on streaming,” Zinnia suggested.

The three teenagers settled in to watch the previous summer’s biggest blockbuster, which none of them had managed to see in the theatre.  November could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually been to the movies, so this was quite a treat.  It felt like something three normal teenagers might do together, and November wondered if this was what it was like to have actual friends your own age.  As it turned out, Ben was pretty funny and not such terrible company when William wasn't around. 

It was nice to have a distraction from her ever crazy life, and she was finally beginning to relax when she was jerked out of her body and dragged to an isolated roadside where two vampires were interrogating an unfortunate woman. 

She is a curvy brunette with a shag haircut and a pretty face, dressed in ripped jeans and a lace camisole totally inappropriate for the cold night air.  He looks to be barely more than a child, turned before he’d had to shave more than once a week.  His eyes are the only thing that give lie to his cherubic face: they somehow manage to be both amused and merciless.

The man holds his victim down on the ground as the woman rifles her purse and asks the wretch what has become of her daughter.  Terrified into honesty, the mother replies that she sold her daughter to a man whose name she didn’t know and whose face she couldn’t remember.  She is crying from fear, her mascara running down her face.  It looks like she tried to get away.  Her left ear is bleeding where the earring has been torn away; her shirt is torn and a bruise is already starting to form along her jaw. 

“So, vampire or fairy then, since she’s been enthralled,” the man remarks to his companion, “Not werewolf.”  He continues by asking Julia, “You sold your own young to a strange man?”  He shakes his head.  “Humans.  Such savages.”

“He was dressed so well.  He sounded educated and all.  Promised he’d take care of her,” says the wayward mother, trying to justify it as much to herself as to these strangers.  “I figured she had to be better off with him than she was with me.  She’d be better off with anyone else than with me,” she replies, closing her eyes in shame, for some reason wanting her attackers to understand and absolve her.

“We should hurt her some, make certain that she really was enthralled.  The boss doesn’t like things half done,” the female vampire comments in a disinterested voice.

“No, please!” their victim cries.  “I’m not lying.  I’m trying to remember, I just can’t.”  Her eyes are wide with desperate pleading.

“Don’t worry, puppy,” the creature replies, changing her mind as she pulls her hand out of the purse with a smile.  “I think we have everything we need,” she says.  “Look familiar?” she asks her accomplice, flashing the watch she’d found in the bottom of Julia’s knock-off handbag.

He grins.  “William Knox has been wearing that watch for at least fifty years.  He wants that little freak as much as our employer does.”

“It is interesting that he gave it to this crack whore in exchange for some human weirdo,” the woman remarks casually, trying to cover her hurt feelings.

“I was skeptical that some cow could be important enough to justify our paycheck, but maybe the boss is onto something, if William thinks so, too.  He’s not easy to fool.  Well, not most of the time,” he says, provoking a bark of laughter in his companion.

The two predators gaze down at their victim, whose face has lit up while they talked with a pathetic hope that she might escape with her life.  “Take it,” Julia says.  “Take anything.  There’s drugs in the trailer, too, under the couch cushions.  Just please, don’t kill me.”

“Time for breakfast?” the man asks.

“I’ve worked up a pretty good appetite myself,” his companion replies. 

Julia begins to scream when she sees their fangs descend.  Her eyes go wild, rolling as though they belong to a wounded animal.  Her mind cannot not make sense of what is happening.  For a moment she thinks it is a drug-induced hallucination, until the pain comes.  The vampires tear into their meal.  There is nothing of William’s careful feeding.  The predators revel in the fountains of blood and the torn flesh, groaning with pleasure at the kill as Julia’s blood soaks the dust below her into a gory mud.  Screaming.  The smell of blood.  The only mercy is that death comes quickly under such savage attack.  She passes out almost immediately; she does not have long to wait before her final breath escapes and her heart stops pumping her life away. 

The moment her mother was gone, November fell back into her body in William Knox’s little palace, the impact as stunning as falling onto concrete.  She looked around, disoriented.  She found herself on the floor, Zinnia and Ben on either side, clutching her hands tightly.  The movie was still playing in the background, all explosions and gunfire behind their troubled faces.   Zinnia’s expression was one of concern.  Ben’s was harder to read.

“Why does my throat hurt?” she asked in confusion.  “Why are you holding me down?”