one more real chapter left. I'm not really happy with this chapter, so it is subject to change once I start editing.
Chapter 46
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Dying wasn’t as hard as people seemed to think.
In Miriam’s case, it didn’t even hurt…
She knew the exact moment her heart stopped being.
The moment she stopped being.
The moment the last shreds of life faded away.
It was simple. Almost as if a curtain had been drawn shut over a part of her; the bright, brilliant memories of first birthday parties and high school dances all faded away like smoke scattered on the wind after a fire.
That’s what life seemed like to her now—fire. Quick and hot while it lasted, only to pitter out and leave just…
Ashes.
Thatwas the taste in her mouth she figured, ashes. Dry and smoky, it coated her tongue like—
Wait.
She blinked--shocked that she could blink at all. Sure enough, her eyes opened on command, revealing a brilliant, pure white that swamped her. Brighter than anything she’d ever seen alive.
Except…maybe one shade of ivory; the color of flesh so pale that it rivaled the light of the moon.
Kind of like mine, she thought.
Her own hand floated above her head, unconsciously raised to shield her eyes from the light. At least, it looked like her hand; that tiny scratch by her thump from where she’d accidentally cut it on a knife was still there. But the slim fingers weren’t the soft shade of pale pink like she remembered.
They were white. As pure as porcelain...
“Miriam.” The anxious tone made her turn, and instantly she found herself swept up in an endless ruby gaze. In fact, everything about the boy above her was beautiful. Strong bones formed a handsome faced, crowned by a mouth shaped by worry.
But…
“E-Eliot?" Confused, she shook her head. "But…I’m dead…”
He didn’t speak. Just watched her with an anxious frown.
And then it all made sense.
“Easy,” Eliot cautioned as she sat up, bracing her hands against the cold hard gravel beneath her. It was freezing out—she knew that much.
An icy breeze wiped at the nape of her neck.
Snow still dotted the ground.
But she wasn’t shivering. Her teeth weren't chattering. She didn’t even feel cold as the naked trees swayed in tune to the wind as moonlight filtered down from overhead.
It was the moon that was so bright, she realized. It hung up above in a navy blue sky, watching impassively as she scrambled to her feet.
“Miriam wait!” Eliot tried to hold her. Outstretched fingers reached for her arm, as she lurched to her feet.
But even he wasn’t fast enough to catch her.
“Miriam!”
He sounded terrified as she stumbled down the side of a narrow hill, bare feet scraping through the ice and snow. Below stretched the bank of Lake Kai, its waters gleaming like the surface a giant silver coin.
Somehow, she wasn’t surprised that he had brought her here—for of course he had been the one to carry her out this far, in the middle of the night. Wearing, she glanced down with a frown, a hastily tied hospital gown.
"Miriam!"
He was behind her. She could pick up on his fear like a bad smell. In fact…it was a smell. Sharp and pungent, the scent tickled her nose.
And that wasn't all. Everything seemed to have a scent. From the frigid scent of winter, to the icy cold aroma of the water and—
Her head whipped around as a faint, musky smell conjured the image of a furry creature shuffling through the trees in her mind. A squirrel.
She could smell a squirrel. In a tree. More than a few yards away, her mind supplied.
Head swimming, Miriam collapsed before the waters of the lake. She leaned forward until her own reflection came in crystal clear focus.
Brown hair. Brown eyes.
The girl in the water looked like her.
But the skin was several shades too pale. And…
She reached up, hands feeling over the space where her heart should have been.
Yep. It definitely was not beating.
“Miriam,” she could sense Eliot behind her, watching anxiously. “Just let me explain. Please.”
But there wasn’t anything to explain.
Everything led to only one conclusion, but she had to be sure. Desperate, she reached down, fingering the pale length of her wrist.
The bone was almost too easy to break.
A little bit of pressure was all it took, before the harsh snap scraped above the gentle rhythm of the lake.
The pain caught her off guard. Swift and sharp as it ratcheted up her arm. She gasped, but even before the sound fully left her mouth, her fingers regained feeling. Like magic, the bone began to heal.
And Miriam started to cry.
It started slow at first. Just a few tears sliding down her cheeks. She couldn’t even make a sound. Then all at once, she slumped down, face in her hands and just bawled.
Eliot crouched over her. “Miriam,” his voice was a croak. “Miriam—I’m sorry.”
Sorry?
She shook her head too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. Only two words managed to slip out on a whisper, “It’s gone.”
Through a haze of tears, she saw him reach for her, fingers hesitating beyond the curve of her cheek. As if he was afraid to touch her.
“What’s gone?” He pleaded.
Her mouth formed a trembling smile as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“The fear.”
The fear, and sorrow and emptiness.
That odd feeling that had always waited at the back of her mind, warning her that she was different, faulty, broken—it was all gone.
“The…fear?” Eliot seemed confused as he shrugged off whatever seemed to be holding him back and touched her. The palm of his hand gently cradled the side of her cheek as those ruby eyes gently bore into hers. “You mean, you’re not…”
Distraught?
Heartbroken?
Horrified?
She could guess every word he was going to say, and the thought made her giggle. The sound slipped out, and before she knew it she was laughing so hard that her hands clutched at her stomach out of habit.
On impulse she lurched to her feet and spun around and around and around…
Feeling the wind whip and snag at her flimsy little hospital gown. She didn’t remember why she was wearing it—all that mattered was that she didn’t feel that foreboding pinch on her spine anymore. That fear that had always lurked at the back of her mind in anticipation of a seizure was a thing of the past.
For now, at least, she felt…
“You’re going to break something if you’re not careful,” a stern voice scolded.
She found herself snagged mid-twirl and pressed against an ice-cold chest. Though, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t too warm herself.
She was still giggling, even as he tilted her chin up to face him. Those red eyes bore into hers, and for the first time she noticed tiny little details that she never had before.
How the light glistened off that red hair.
How his skin almost seemed to glow.
How his mouth was set in a tight line as if he’d spent centuries keeping himself from smiling.
Only he was smiling now. A helpless, confused smile. Maybe with a little bit of wariness mixed in. But a smile none-the-less.
“How do you feel?”
She thought about it, running her fingers over that empty spot in her chest. After seventeen years…the lack of anything beating beneath her ribcage would certainly take some time getting used to.
But it was only secondary—a necessary side effect.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” she heard herself murmur in awe. “I feel…whole.”
It was stupid. How the hell could she feel whole when she was…
Eliot took her face in his hands, cutting off the thought. “You mean—” Those amber eyes searched hers desperately, as if for any hint to prove that whatever he suspected wasn’t true. “You don’t feel…different?”
Miriam laughed, throwing her head back as a pleasant feeling began to hum its way through her. In fact every emotion seemed twice as intense as before.
She felt light and electrified and powerful all, at the same time. The dizzying rush pounded through her and she almost pulled away to twirl in a circle again.
I could get use to this.
“Miriam.”
Eliot pulled her down, forcing her to kneel against the icy snow. The cold shocked some sense back into her, as his eyes bore into hers, searching.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “You don’t feel…strange?”
She thought about it, and nodded, slowly. Now, she was aware of it all; the sounds, smells, sights her mortal brain had overlooked—everything was different.
Sharper. Clearer.
“I feel…” She fished around for the right words and could only come up with two. “Like myself.”
Only magnified by a thousand.
She still felt like Miriam. Silly, awkward little Miriam, prone to make jokes at inopportune times.
Only now that part of herself just seemed like another piece—there was a different half of her now, to balance out the old self. A quieter, more calculating person, who realized how crystal clear her vision was, even though it was oppressively dark.
How the snowflakes that still littered the ground looked like a million jagged pieces of broken glass. How every single line and curve was in clear focus.
But…
She turned as Eliot’s thumb caressed the side of her face.
“You don’t feel any different?” He pressed anxiously. “You’re not…thirsty?"
Miriam shook her head, knowing what he meant.
She didn’t feel bloodthirsty or murderous or insane with hunger—at least not yet.
For now, she just felt…
“Whole,” she repeated, falling back on that word again. “I feel like a part of me just woke up.”
She glanced at him through her lashes, positive that she was wrong.
Shouldn’t she be running around trying to bite the throats of a bunny rabbit right about now?
“You don’t smell any different,” he said, almost in awe. Eyes wide, he leaned closer, inhaling the skin of her throat. “Roses...”
Miriam laughed and, once again, that giddy feeling threatened to take over. Only one thought held her back.
“But why?” She copied him, trailing her own fingers along the side of his cheek, marveling at the feel of soft smooth skin. “Why did you turn me? I thought…”
His hand moved to cup hers against the side of his face.
“You’re pretty addictive,” he said with mock seriousness, copying her mocking habit. “For a human.”
“You’re not too bad yourself,” she giggled, “For a vampire.”
But then the good humor trailed off was she realized, I’m one too.
A vampire.
Confused, she glanced down at her ivory fingers, watching the moonlight play off the skin. Shouldn’t she feel different?
“What’s wrong?” Eliot demanded, running his fingers up along the nape of her shorn hair.
“Nothing,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I just thought I would feel different.”
She glanced up at him, positive that she was defective. Something had obviously gone wrong. She was broken—but he was…smiling.
Dazzling, it was the most breathtaking sight she’d ever seen. For the first time his gaze was open—fully open. She could see everything held within; pain and sorrow and happiness, and so much joy it made her want to jump up and spin around again.
This time, when she kissed him, he didn’t pull away.
Her lips lightly brushed his, carefully at first. Then, all at once his hand cradled the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
Zap! Suddenly, she was on fire.
Kissing him while human had been explosive. As a vampire, the sensation of his mouth of hers was downright epic.
Luxuriously, his fingers ran over her scalp, invoking shivers. She let her mouth explore his fearlessly, tongue flicking out to trail that silky bottom lip. His arm went around her waist, crushing her against him so tightly that she had to slide her arms around his neck just to keep her balance.
“Are we interrupting something?”
With a gasp, they broke apart. Miriam stumbled back while Eliot moved in front of her, as Sage and Hazel marched into the clearing wearing identical frowns.
“Sorry to spoil the lovely reunion,” Hazel chirped with a cold smile that revealed her fangs.
“But we’ve got bigger problems to worry about,” Sage grumbled. “That stupid witch of yours holed herself up in that cabin—”
“And while Sage and I were out…admiring the wildlife, we caught the scent of that pesky werewolf.”
“And the shadowhunters,” Sage added, looking downright murderous and excited at the same time. “They’re here.”
“Let’s go,” Eliot said, in a tone that made Miriam almost wish she was human again, so she’d have something to blame for the shiver than ran through her. Pale and cool his hand enclsoed over hers.
Hazel wagged a pale finger. “Not so fast, Eliot dear,” she cooed, stepping forward to reveal a dark shape she held clenched in one pale fist. Those black eyes met Miriam’s, glittering like gems.
“Men,” Hazel scoffed, wrinkling her nose. “I had a feeling it wouldn’t have crossed his inferior male brain to get you something decent to wear.” She cast Eliot a dark look. “Here.”
The vampire tossed something through the air and Miriam’s hand flew up automatically to catch it. It was thin and soft. A dress she realized unfolding it. An old one she recognized as something her mother had bought years ago, for the funeral of one of her father’s colleagues.
Hazel winked. “I took the liberty of finding something suitable—hope you don’t mind.” She eyed the short, sleeves dress with approval as Miriam unfolded it. “I thought it was fitting.”
“Lovely,” Sage grumbled sarcastically. “Now can we please get to the part where immortal authorities are circling around our back door?”
Eliot nodded, “Let’s go.”
Miriam wrestled the old dress on over her head and pulled the hospital gown off underneath. Then, she took Eliot hand, and they all took off through the trees, at a speed so fast that everything from the trees to the sky was an indistinguishable blur.
It didn’t take long for them to break through, into the empty grove where Miriam instantly realized that Sage was right. She could smell something; a pungent scent like that of wet dog only much more untamed.
Eliot did too. He let her go, eyes narrowed to glare into the shadows that dripped down between their houses like capes.
“Get to the cabin,” he called back. “I’ll handle this.”
“Whatever,” Sage growled. He looked upset but he turned away and followed his sister into the trees, but his voice floated back to them, “but I get the leftovers.”
Miriam didn’t move. She just waited until Eliot turned back to face her, shaking his head.
“Miriam—”
“I’m coming with you,” she said before he could protest.
To her surprise he smirked. In an instant, he was in front of her, fingers gingerly brushing the line of her cheek.
“I think it’s time for a test drive of your new senses,” he murmured. “Don’t you?”
“Definitely,” she said, giving him her best imitation of a feral grin.
He smiled, but the next second his expression smooth over into a blank lethal mask that she figured would have given anyone nightmares.
“Let’s go.”
They took off. The moon loomed full overhead, as they wove and darted in between the trees. Eliot seemed grimly determined as he zig-zagged through the undergrowth—almost as if following an invisible map.
But it wasn’t until a gust of wind brushed past that she realized he was, in a way. A sharp set of scents hung low in the air. The dog smell was the strongest, but just underneath lay another, almost spicy, tone.
The kind of smell that itched at the nose, like the overwhelming flavors of a spice market.
Together, they followed the strange smell all the way around the grove where their houses sat, and over to that small clearing where the first body had been discovered.
There, Devlin and Alyea Marcus stood side by side, almost as if waiting. Black jackets covered them frown head to toe as they tucked their hands into the front pockets. But their swords were gone.
For now.
“Well, well, well,” Alyea murmured, as Miriam and Eliot approached. “Lookie here. You leave the leeches alone for a second and already, they’re adding to their ranks.”
“Knock it off, Al,” Devlin snapped. Miriam didn’t miss the way his eyes cut over her warily, but when he spoke his words were solely directed at Eliot. “When didn’t come here to fight—”
“Speak for yourself,” Alyea muttered, shaking out her long hair.
Devlin rolled his eyes. “All we want is the witch. Are you going to turn her in or not?”
“Lizzie?” Confused, Miriam glanced at Eliot, who gave a firm shake of his head; not now.
“Let me talk to her,” he said to Devlin instead, face expressionless. “I’ll try to see if I can get her to come quietly.”
Alyea’s green eyes narrowed. “You had your chance, vampire.” she spat. “No dice.”
“I was…preoccupied,” Eliot said, glancing back at Miriam. “Just let me handle this—she’s more dangerous than you think.”
Alyea scoffed as if the idea was hilarious, but Devlin seemed more thoughtful.
He shrugged. “Ten minutes.”
“What!” Alyea turned to glare at her brother—while Eliot used the distraction to his advantage.
“Ten minutes,” he growled, eyes turning toward the direction of the guest house.
Once again, those cool fingers snagged Miriam’s wrist, pulling her forward as the siblings started to bicker. They crossed the dark road, and raced up over the hill, past her white house which sat dark and empty, and down to the little cabin near the woods.
Sage and Hazel leaned on either side of the door, looking horribly bored.
“What did she say?” Eliot demanded as they approached.
Hazel snickered and Sage looked as if Eliot had suggested he dive head-first into a snake pen. “We’re not going in there,” he muttered.
“Stay here then,” Eliot snapped, pushing between the two for the door. “Keep watch.”
He didn’t say for what, but Sage and Hazel instantly snapped to attention.
Inside, a small fireplace provided just enough light to make out the small huddled shape of Lizzie sitting cross-legged on the floor. Orange light played off her white skin, making her look like some porcelain doll come to life.
“I remembered more of the prophecy,” she called as they entered.
Her voice was eerily flat, as if her mind was ages—years—in the past and she wasn’t even aware of the face that her lips were moving. A thing sweatshirt covered her almost down to her pale knees.
“After all, I taught…V-Vadrian,” she seemed to stumble over the name, “how to read the prophecy nearly five centuries ago. You can’t blame me for forgetting a few little details.”
She laughed, but it was more pained than anything.
“Laz.” Eliot took a step toward her, but that dreamy voice cut over him.
“The seven would all be born in the same year,” she said, face utterly serene, but her voice took on a hard, icy edge. “They would all be ‘flawed’ in some way—like me. Abominations...”
“Alazzdria,” Eliot snapped. “They’re here; those shadowhunters. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t turn you over to them?”
“The shadowhunters?” Alazzdria laughed—truly laughed. It was the most beautifully broken sound Miriam had ever heard.
Like shattering glass.
“I’m not afraid of those juveniles,” the witch scoffed. She sounded insulted at the very idea.
"But..." Eliot stared at her, eyes narrowed. “They why the hell are you here? The whole point of you coming back was for protection—”
He broke off as some dark thought dawned on him. “But you never were afraid of them…were you?”
Alazzdria smirked, folding her pale hands in her lap.
“Why would I be? After all, the prophecy was more mine than anyone else’s.” Her beautiful face formed an ugly expression of rage, upper lip pulling back from her teeth. “They pried it from Vaddrian’s dead hands. So, it was almost fitting when I pried it back from the cold dead hands of one of theirs.” An ivory fang pressed against her bottom lip as she added, “not that they had any idea what it was. Those fools just figured the whole thing was all old superstition. An 'artifact' from the past.”
“Laz…” Eliot’s voice was strained. Cold. He watched the witch as if he had never seen her before. “Why did you come back?”
Alazzdria ignored him, lurching lazily to her feet.
“Vaddrian always knew that the first of the seven would belong to the Danva,” she murmured, rising elegantly on tip toe, hands held outstretched above her head. “He had hunches about these things, and in the years after I got my revenge on that wretched coven, I still kept close. Just watching. Even after Vaddrian died I observed the descendants of that bloodline…always waiting.” Those gray eyes were thoughtful as she raised one foot delicately in the air and brought it down in a careful swoop. “It took four hundred years—four long centuries of waiting…before a girl was finally born that was different from all the rest. Part human,” she added almost in a reverent whisper. “The perfect recipe for disaster, just like Vaddrian had predicted.”
Eliot’s expression seemed carved of ice. “You mean—”
“I always knew you were special, Miriam,” Alazzdria murmured, cutting over him. Like a demented ballerina, she twirled around, just once, and came to a stop so that those empty eyes bore squarely into Miriam’s.
“Always. Even when the first seizure stopped your beating mortal heart I knew that you were destined for something that no one could imagine.”
“You knew,” Eliot growled, jaw clenched. “All this time…you knew.”
Alazzdria shrugged. “I couldn’t be sure, now could I? The Danva curse would kill her, and I couldn’t turn her myself. Not without pure blood.”
Eliot laughed, but it was cold. As if something was so unbelievably convoluted that all he could do was laugh. “Sage and Hazel.”
Alazzdria smiled. “I had hoped that after a few centuries those little brutes had grown attached enough to you to be of use to me.”
“And you knew that I would always come to your rescue if the threat was big enough,” Eliot said, tone flat.
Alazzdria cocked her head in his direction, eyes wide.
“Don’t sound so disappointed, Eliot,” she scolded, voice soft. “Out of everyone…you are the only person that ever saw something in me—this damaged, broken girl—worth saving. I knew that once you saw Miriam, you wouldn’t be able to resist. Not when she was so much like how I used to be... Though,” she fingered a short strand of black hair, “it did help that you had some of my blood floating through your veins. In a way, Miriam was tailor made for you. I just…hastened things.”
“Hastened things?” Miriam had never seen Eliot look so furious. Downright lethal. “You—”
He broke off as Miriam pushed her way in front of him, eyes on Lizzie. “Why?” She demanded. “Why me? I’m not…”
“Special?” Alazzdria filled in, softly. “I wasn’t very special either. My life was nothing more than a mistake—a stain on the honor of a powerful coven. And just like a mistake, I was promptly erased. Vaddrian changed that.” Her voice took on a wistful, haunting tone edged with raw pain. “He gave me enough power to control my own fate. He taught me that there is no such thing as ‘weak’—it’s all just perception. What you see.” Before Miriam could react, suddenly Lizzie was right in front of her, hand brushing cupping her chin.
She was colder than even Eliot. Purely glacial from the inside out.
“You’re going to usher in a new world, Miriam,” she said softly, gray eyes bleak. “Are you ready?”
“What makes you so sure?” Eliot demanded. Miriam leaned into him as his arm slid around her waist, pulling her back. “How can she be one of these ‘seven?’ She doesn’t even have powers—”
“Oh yes she does,” Alazzdria said quickly. “But, like all of the seven her magic is just as flawed as she is. Vaddrian told me that the seven would be able to do the impossible—things almost as unimaginable as undoing blood magic. Creating something from nothing…fire that freezes…ice that burns…repairing broken souls…or even," her tone faded almost to a whisper. "Bringing dead things back to life...”
The statement wouldn’t have made sense—would have just been nonsense—if it wasn’t for what Alazzdria did next. With a dreamy smile shaping her mouth she reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled out something.
Something long and irregularly shaped that reminded Miriam of a horror movie prop. But it wasn't until Eliot reached for her that she realized what it was.
A wooden stake.
He lunged for the witch, but Alazzdria easily skipped out of reach. She was fast--impossibly fast.
Miriam barely even saw her dart forward with an acrobatic twist...
Right before she stabbed Eliot through the chest.