“To who?” The words caught in my throat. “And what do you mean tied?”
She pulled the edge of the ribbon from her neck, freeing it from the tidy bow. I cringed in anticipation of the ribbon revealing some hideous scar, but her skin was flawlessly aglow, as if bathed in candlelight.
“A young woman like yourself needs a beautiful ribbon. Something to hold her in place.” She coiled the black strand around my wrist.
The glossy sheen, the slick sound, the feel of it creeping across my skin. It was the same feeling I had in the subway when something grazed the back of my neck, the same feeling that came over me when my mother dug the bone needle into my flesh.
“No. That’s okay . . . really . . . I . . . I d-don’t . . . want it . . . ,” I stammered, trying to slip my hand free.
Violently, she twisted the ribbon, jerking my hand toward her.
A glint of gold in her hand.
A metallic whisper.
Searing pain, followed by numbing warmth.
The musky copper smell snaked its way into my senses.
I looked down in terrified awe to see that in one swift movement she’d cut both of our hands open with a golden blade, and entwined our fingers.
My knees buckled as I felt her warm blood press up against mine.
5
FIRST BLOOD
I STRUGGLED TO BREAK free of her, clawing at nothing but air.
The world tilted; flashes, images, and sensations burned beneath my eyelids like overexposed film. I felt her presence rise inside me like a fever, burning away my will to fight, to live, to feel anything other than what she wanted me to feel.
“Uhurahak a u’ a.” I heard her whisper to me from some deep sacred place, the same phrase my mother always said to me. “Let go and let yourself fall.”
Her words filled me, and with them came images from another life.
? ? ?
Remnants of charred flesh linger in the air. The faint roar of the crowd chanting my name—Katia. The heavy scrape of armor thunders in my ears as the guards pull me from my prison cell. Instead of leading me outside to the savage pack, they take me to the depths of the prison, to the watergate where a small vessel awaits. Coronado steps forward to meet me, his dark brown eyes smoldering in the lamplight. “I understand you seek passage to the New World.”
“Please, I’ll do anything you—”
Coronado plunges his sword through my chest. My bodice blooms crimson like a rose opening to meet the sun. I’m gasping for air, but my lungs only fill with blood. I’m drowning in it when a tingling spreads across the surface of my skin, settling deep inside of me. The air comes back all at once, flooding my body with relentless life. Coronado shoves his fingers inside the tear of my bodice, feeling my newly healed flesh. He knows what I am.
“What do you want from me?” I recoil from his touch.
He smiles, beautiful and cruel. “Immortality.”
? ? ?
I dropped to the hardwood floor, feeling cold and empty. For a moment, I still believed I was Katia, trapped in that cell, Coronado’s shark eyes boring into me.
I sprang to my feet, my head pounding like a tribal drum. I staggered around the library searching for her, but found no one. Had she really been here? Or was it just another vision, like seeing the dead girl?
My hand, I remembered. I studied my palm, but there was no mark, not even a hint of blood. I cupped my hands over my mouth, trying not to scream. Her scent was all around me—inside of me—both repulsive and intoxicating, like the narcotic scent of undiluted tuberose—utterly carnal—buttery sweet.
I pressed my hands against the bandage on my chest. Something must’ve gone wrong with the last protection mark. Instead of weakening the visions, it seemed to have made them stronger. Is this what it felt like to be a conduit?
I snatched my bag and ran into the courtyard to find the sky had darkened, everyone gone; the school gate was already locked. Somehow the entire day had passed me by.
Without another thought, I began to scale the stone wall next to the gate. I’d never climbed a wall before, but my fingers found the grooves in the rock easily, as if I were born to it. I could smell the ancient layers of oxygen and minerals in the stone, even the lake where the clay that formed the mortar had come from.
Something was happening to me.
Crouched on top of the wall, I jumped down to the sidewalk, scaring the crap out of some poor lady walking her dog, then took off running toward home. I ran until every thought in my head was snuffed out by the sound of my own heartbeat. Until I knew I was still here. That I was still me.
6
GOLDEN
AS SOON AS the elevator door opened to our dimmed apartment, I knew something was off. Usually, at this hour, Mom would be flitting around the kitchen, cooking dinner. Rhys would be camped out on the sofa doing homework, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Tonight, the apartment felt barren, with an odd musky scent in the air.