I Am Forever (What Kills Me) (35 page)

Mom? Dad?

My parents were seated back to back on rolling office chairs, their hands bound behind them, their heads cloaked in burlap. My father was wearing dress pants and his red V-neck sweater, as if he hadn’t changed from work. My mom was dressed in a purple tunic over black tights—her comfy clothes. Their bare feet were dirty and pressed flat against the square-tiled floors.

My mother’s chest heaved. A catch in her breath from over-crying caused her body to jump. My sister was behind them on a stool, her back pressed against our parents’ shoulders. I could smell their sweat, their tears, their fear.

I had seen death and bloodshed. But I was unprepared for this sight. To see my loved ones so hurt and so fragile. My legs liquefied and San grabbed my arm to right me. I sucked on my bottom lip and looked to the ceiling, struggling for control.

I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know what I felt. Relief. Anger. Grief. It hit me all at once. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say I was sorry for what I’d put them through.

All I knew was that I had missed them for months, and the anguish of that absence was a bottomless hole. I fell willingly into it.

I sank down in front of my mom.

Hi, Mommy. I missed you so much. Did they hurt you?

As carefully and lightly as possible I reached out, my hand floating like a ghost, and I rested my trembling fingers on her knees. I asked her what she was thinking and she told me with one crisp memory.

It was me. I didn’t remember this. I was shoveling macaroni and cheese into my mouth from a pot while standing against the kitchen sink. Orange stained my mouth. I looked like a kid who had been sucking a popsicle.

“Look at your face. You’re like a little baby,” my mom said, trying to wipe my face with her thumb. I twisted away from her with a laugh. “Well, I’ll always be your baby, right, Mom?”

The memory cut out as my mom gasped and jerked back from my touch.

“Iris?” My father said. “You okay? What’s going on?”

I let my hands slip away from her. I wanted to crawl into her lap and put my arms around her. But I was afraid of hurting her.

“Shh,” I said without thinking.

“Please let us go,” my father pleaded. His voice was even. “We’ll give you whatever you want. Please let my family go.”

My dad. So strong.
When my father spoke, it was as if he broke the dam holding back my mother’s calm. She started to sob and rock.
No, Mom. No, please. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay now. I’m here. I’m here.

I rose as if my limbs were filled with straw and stumbled back. I choked on a cry and slapped my hand over my jaw. Tears blinded my vision.

Lucas spoke. “Please don’t worry. We are returning you now to your home. No harm shall come to your family. You’re going to be all right. You’re going to be all right.”

My mother quieted. “I need a minute,” I whispered to San.

I needed to step outside and regain my composure. Before I left, I touched my father’s shoulder. I let my fingers graze the fibers of his sweater.

“Zee?” He suddenly said.

I froze in the doorway.
Could he see me?

“Zee? Are you there?” My father asked.

“John, is Zee here?” My mother said. “Zee!”

“Zee?” My sister chimed in.

How did he know?
I drifted back and stood in front of my father. I stared at the burlap and tried to picture his face. All three were silent. Waiting. I looked at Lucas and San, their lips tight, their eyes narrowed in concern. They were also waiting.

I put my hand out, hesitated, and then I took the edge of the bag on my father’s head between my fingers. Lucas came to stand beside me and he lifted his swords to sheath them behind his back. I started to pull the sack up.

Dad, it’s me.

As I tugged the bag upward, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in Lucas’s blades and stopped.

Oh God.

I looked hideous. I remembered my reflection in the elevator. Savage. Horrifying. Dried blood covered me like an armor of scabs. Fresh blood was splashed across my chest and hands.

The last time my parents saw me, I was a seventeen-year-old, fresh-faced, goofy student. And now this. They would see a monster. And I wasn’t a monster. I was their daughter. I would always be their daughter.

I couldn’t let them see me like this. This would scare them.

My father’s mouth was exposed. He opened it to gulp the air. With my filthy hands I lowered the bag back over his face and shook my head at Lucas.

I will see you soon, Dad. I promise. I will see you. But not now.

I backed away from my family, my eyes glued to them until I was out of the room. San and Lucas followed me out.

“You don’t want to see them?” San asked.

“I do, and I will. But not like this,” I whispered back. “Let’s get them home.”

We walked my family out. Lucas guided my father, San my mother. Afraid to injure my sister, I held her by gripping a knot of fabric at her arm. We walked them down the stairs and out to the underground parking garage. Lucas spoke to them, reassured them that they would be fine, that they were going home.

How can I make sure that they will be fine?

We found a black van, the keys still in the ignition, the windows at the back covered with duct tape. Lucas and San sat my parents and Tiffany in the back and got inside with them. It would be morning by now. I’d have to drive.

I tugged the seatbelt across my body; I must have pulled too hard because the buckle tore from the side of the door. I tossed it aside and drove the van up the ramps. The garage door lifted upon my approach and I pulled into the daylight. Bathed in sun, I sighed and relaxed against the leather seat. For a short while at least we were all out of danger. But that wouldn’t last. I needed a plan. And I knew what needed to happen.

I called Cormac from a pay phone at a deserted gas station and he gave me an address to meet him at. Then I hung up and called Ryka.

“Hey,” I said.

“Zee? I was so worried. I’ve been up all night going crazy. What happened? Were your parents at the ruins?”

“No, but I got them. They’re safe. Everything’s okay,” I said.

“Thank God. Where are you?”

“Saint Vital.”

“Are you going home?”

“No. It’s not safe.”

“Where are you going?”

“I—I can’t say, Ry.”

“What about your parents?”

“They’re going with me.”

There was silence.

“Zee?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this really happening?”

“Yes.”

“You’re really a vampire?”

“Yes.”

She exhaled loudly into the receiver. “Will I see you again?”

“You will. I promise.”

“Swear on your life.”

“I’m dead. But I swear on everyone else’s lives.”

“Okay.” Her voice broke. “God, there’s so much I want to say. I want to know what happened to you. I want to know about the fangs, the boyfriend—everything.”

“We’ll catch up. I swear.”

“I love you, girl. You know that, right?”

“I know. Love you too.”

“See you soon then?”

“See you in a few.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

I cruised through the empty streets. The motion of driving, of braking and accelerating, of slowly turning the big steering wheel, smoothed the sharp edges of the morning’s trauma. The sky was the lightest baby blue and unblemished by any clouds. The sun-drenched snow looked like piles of diamonds on the boulevards and rooftops. I kept checking the rearview mirror, though I knew no vampires could be out in the day.

I turned into an empty parking lot, drove to the end of a plaza, and pulled into the open garage. The door lowered behind me with a screech. Cormac appeared in a doorway, his hair forming a wiry bush around his small head. I got out of the van and hugged him. A little too tightly, because he gasped.

I asked for his thoughts and saw that he was thinking of his sister. He was remembering when they were children and she used to cling to him because she was afraid of the dark.

“I killed Izo,” I said.
For us. For Brogan.

“I heard,” Cormac said. “The Monarchy knows. Lines of communication are buzzing with the news.”

“What are they saying?” Lucas said, coming around from the back of the van.

“They’re celebrating. They say that the Divine is trying to end the war. The invincible, holy Divine—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” I muttered. “Propaganda.”

Lies. All the evil queen does is lie.

I swung open the back doors and Lucas and San carried my mother and sister out. They were so limp and exhausted that it looked as if the guys had fabric draped over their arms. Cormac took them through a doorway.

My father coughed from inside the van. He rose onto unsteady feet. I didn’t dare touch him. Lucas returned for my father and helped him down from the van. We went inside together.

The area looked like a workshop, with rows of metal tables and wooden stools, and shelves mounted on the walls. Boxes of all shapes were piled on every surface. Moths bonked themselves against dangling lightbulbs.

San and Lucas seated my family at a dusty table, the bags still on their heads, and Cormac filled paper cups with water from a sink. He handed them to San and nodded at me to follow him into another room.

“I need to move them somewhere safe, somewhere the Monarchy or the rebels will never find them,” I told Cormac.

“I will arrange it immediately. I have a safe house that we can use.”

“How safe?”

“It’s a remote northern location.”

“Who knows about it?”

“No one. Just me.”

“How can you be sure? The Empress knows that you’ve been watching my family for me, Cormac. She was probably counting on you to report back about their deaths so I’d hate the rebels.”

Cormac swore. “I’m sorry, my lady. I was always very careful.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.”

I wonder if it’s my fault. Did I tip her off somehow? Did Brogan? How about when she tried to fry Dr. Femi? Did someone see her?

“I have no choice but to leave with you and your family. The Monarchy will try me for treason.”

“Has anyone said anything or come for you?”

“The Monarchy has not indicated anything out of the ordinary. They still need me to process several shipments today.”

“How do you know that your safe house is a secret?”

“I only recently set it up. To be cautious, we can stay there for a day to assess the threat and move again.”

“Well, when can we leave?”

“In a few hours. I’ve got a sun-proof mobile home with a human driver. He drives to a certain location and leaves, and I make the rest of the trip after sunset. We must always be moving.”

On the run. Again. And forever.