The Heart's Ashes (64 page)

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.

“
Your majesty,” Jason said.

Drake bowed
his head slightly and Jason stood, clutching me close, his fingers
a tight sleeve as he pulled me along.

“
Oh, and, Amara?” the Blood King called. We stopped and I
turned my head to look at the council again. “I will call on you
later. When I do—” his eyes narrowed with a wicked smile, “—try not
to scream, we have guests.”

I looked at
Jason, my mouth falling open as my stomach jumped into my
chest.

He smiled to
himself and looked to the path ahead.

Chapter
21

My feet moved,
carrying my numb soul through the endless walk of dark
corridors—each door closed, housing some dark secret they didn’t
want me to know, or maybe some dreadful nightmare I was just about
to meet.

Death,
tragedy, loss, lingered in these walls like a paste that sticks to
the roof of your mouth. I knew it was there, I could feel it, taste
it, but couldn’t escape it.

We meandered
down a stone staircase into a dark, cold underground; each step
stung the tips of my bare toes, like ice. The bitter chill of earth
beneath rose up the stairwell, circling my arms and chin the way
fear gripped the fugitive. Jason held me close to his body; his
fingers twined tightly around my arm, piercing the underside with
his nails, our ankles hitching with each step.

“
You’re hurting my arm,” I said quietly.

“
Hm, let’s play a game called ‘see how long it takes you to
realise I don’t care.’”

I looked down
at my feet, my toenails lined with ridges of dirt, a cloudy
greyness to my skin. “You cared once.”

He just
laughed, walking with purpose, maintaining speed.

Shadows
wandered over my face, as we followed another really steep set of
stairs—going down. The air smelled dry, like sticking my face in a
bed of topsoil—gritty, dusty. I walked willingly, though, tired and
weak with apathy, devoid of all fight, or even the will to
fight.

I want to die.
Jason was right. I am an abomination—created to kill that which I
love. Created to kill my vampire, my David.

They’ll keep
me alive here until they’re done with me, but their torture cannot
measure up to the pain of knowing what will happen to David. He’s
being punished because of me; because I came into his life, because
I caused my mum’s death, moved here and met him. If I’d never come,
he’d be on the council—ruling, climbing the ranks and, one day,
serving at the right hand of the king.

“
My God, girl.” Jason shook his head and shoved me forward
under a stone arch as we reached the base of the stairs. “Could you
be any more self-defeating?”

“
Stay out of my head and it won’t bother you.” I folded my
arms to block out the ghostly frost making my teeth
chatter.

He shook his
head at me, then walked deeper into the darkness, leaving me on my
own in the centre of the wide space. If I focused intently on the
walls, I could mark out two, but it wasn’t until a flame torch came
ablaze at Jason’s fingertips that I could truly see this shadowy
dungeon—all four walls, no windows. Brick upon brick of thin grey
stone outlined the room, the foundations that held up a decaying,
dirt roof.

This must be
deeper underground than I thought—surely the castle isn’t mounted
over this rotting tunnel.

Jason moved
across the room and lit another torch, illuminating the clear, wet
slime, oozing down the walls, resembling the glossy surface of a
sweat-covered brow. As he lit the torch on the far side of the
room, and light fingered the objects around me, my shoulders lifted
to my ears, making me cringe with unsavoury thoughts. The room was
no dungeon—it was purpose-built, with oddly shaped metal implements
hanging from walls by iron chains, and artistic displays of
mutilated skeletons with hair still draping their skulls. All those
people—all of them were once alive, now, their fleshless, bloodless
remains hang eternally in a dark cavern where only the dead or
dying will know them. The room looked large and square, though the
shadowy part on the opposite side could quite possibly be a
corridor.

“
Take a seat.” Jason ushered me toward a chair in the middle
of the room. It resembled a dentist’s chair, large and oddly
shaped, with metal cuffs on the feet and arms—a feature I’m sure
most dentists wish for but can’t employ.

I stood fast
in the middle of the room like a hesitant child, unwilling to
suffer what I could only fear was to come.

“
Ara, I said sit.”

“
Please. Don’t make me sit in that.” It looked dirty,
slimy.

Jason sighed
and grabbed my arm. “You will sit, and you will do as you’re told.
Otherwise—” he turned and pointed to a small camera in the far
corner, “—the Blood King will order me to do unspeakable things to
you.”

“
He already did.”

“
M’yes, but it could be worse,” he stated coldly and pushed me
into the chair.

“
Oh, God—” I tore my fingers away from the wet, splintery arm
of the chair, and folded the back of my wrist to my nose. “What is
that smell?”

“
Centuries of rotting flesh.” Jason smiled.

My mouth
opened and my tongue came forward, choking on the gassy burn of egg
in the back of my throat. “How long has it been since someone died
down here?”

“
Stop asking questions.” Jason squatted by my feet and bunched
the base of my dress over my knees, tinkering with the cuffs, then
stopped and looked up at me. “Why aren’t you trying to
escape?”

“
Is there any point? I don’t know where to go, and although
you think I’m some horrible, evil being, capable of great malice, I
have no idea how to use any of that wrath.”

He shook his
head then nudged my ankle into the open arm of the metal cuff,
clamping it tightly. “You know I’m going to hurt you, right?”

“
Yes.” I stared him down.

He stood up,
motionless, his fingers twitching beside his jeans pockets. “You
seem awfully calm.”

“
Do I?”

He moved again
and pinned my arm down as he fastened the clasp over it, cranking a
lever until it capped my wrist like a tight bangle. “Yes, you
do.”

“
I—” I flexed my fingers and tried to twist my arm. “I don’t
know what to feel.”

“
Fear should be the first emotion, I would think.” He winked
then walked behind the chair—out of sight.

“
Jase?”

“
What is it, creature?”

“
Don’t do it,” I said calmly. “Please? Just don’t. Just let me
go.”

A breathy
laugh came from somewhere in the darkness behind me. “I really had
you convinced, didn’t I?”

“
Convinced?”

“
That I loved you.” He looked over the top of the chair, his
hands wrapping the back, rolling it downward. Butterflies bashed
violently inside my stomach. All I could do was watch the rounded
ceiling as I came to rest, my spine straight, my hair falling past
the headrest, reaching for the ground, my hands pulled into
position, stretched out beside my hips.

“
So that’s what it was?” I asked in a nervous attempt to gauge
where in the room he was standing. “It was a game—I was a
game?”