The Gates

The Gates - By Rachael Wade


PROLOGUE

THE UPRISING

1890, Amaranth

Arianna

“My pure, sweet girl, Arianna. What has he done to you?” Samira, my mother, asked this in a strained voice as she floated down the throne steps toward me; her eyes filled with grief at the sight of my glowing skin. I worked hard to keep my gaze low and my fangs out of sight. Resentment flooded my chest, the anger simmering, and I was furious at her unconcern for my heartbreak, instead concerned with her own agenda to keep me human.

“My sweet girl. Please, look at me, my child.”

Determined, I kept my stare lowered to the castle’s cold stone floor, rolled my eyes from left to right, thankful for the lack of servants and the absence of Dali and Akim, her pet wolves, both as evil as she. At least my mother had enough respect to clear the room and keep our matters private.

I lifted my chin and my gaze locked with hers, meeting her arctic blue eyes with vengeance. “Samira,” my voice fell flat, hoping my address stung her maternal pride, “Joel will come. Now let Marie escort me to the gates for the change. I will wait for him there, and you will do him no harm when he visits.”

Anguish washed her face.

“Mother.” I glared at her. “He will come. And you will do him no harm.”

“Please, Arianna.” She reached out to touch me but I flinched, stepped backward. “Please my child, tell me why. He pressured you to change, did he not?”

“Joel did no such thing. Why is it so difficult for you to accept that I chose this on my own? I asked him to change me, Mother.” My resentment surfaced, bubbling as it gave way to exasperation. “Don’t waste your breath on false sympathy. I’m not a fool. You are thrilled I’ve returned to live in exile. Thrilled that Joel and I didn’t last. You want me locked away, miserable, because you’re miserable without my father. You’ve been betrayed, and you want to hurt someone like the cold, heartless monster you are—”

Her red nails swiped my face as she smacked me; her fist tightened as she used her magic to blow me across the room. I pulled myself up to stand and ran a finger across my cheek where blood now oozed, dark and cold, toward my chin. “Now that’s the Samira we all know and love.”

Her face flushed with shame, her breathing quickened while she gripped her chest with one hand. Reaching out, she twisted her fist in front of her again, her magic holding me in place so she could approach me and take my chin in her hands, gentle this time with her blood-red nails.

“Contrary to what you believe, I’d never harm the one you love.” A single raspy breath escaped her lips. “Though I shall never trust him in your presence again.” She pulled her head back slightly to assess my eyes, searching, desperate for something. “Your father knows not what he has done. You are a miracle. An angel. You’ve been swayed by his magic. And he was a fool to ever take you from me.” Angry tears welled in her eyes, momentarily softening her rigid exterior. I almost felt sorry for her, until I remembered the innocent lives she casually took, the rage she housed for my father and her own kind, her need to control and to take out her bitterness on the Amaranthians.

My empathy dissolved.

“This has nothing to do with Father,” I said. “I was eighteen when he took me from Amaranth, Samira. I was of age and of sound mind, free to make my own choices. I’ve seen what it means to live as both human and a frozen soul. And I made a choice to be with the one I love.”

I felt the ravenous power slowly weaken around my torso as her fist uncurled in front of me, and I was now able to relax my shoulders and move freely again. Warm thoughts of Gavin, my earthly brother, flitted across my mind. My father had sent me to live with him and his family, an adopted family per se. Living with them on earth, I’d been able to think freely, to decide whether I wanted to remain human. My relationship with Joel led me to my decision to be a vampire, much to my mother’s dismay.

She hung her head, turned to retreat to her Louis XV chair. “I will do Joel no harm, and will grant him regular visitation to the gates, as you wish. But you are requesting to be human, Arianna, to be an Amaranthian. Just remember that no good will come from hanging on to a frozen soul who wishes to live on earth. No good at all, my daughter.”

“I don’t regret the choice I made to change, Samira. Joel’s decision to remain vampire has hurt me, but I’d do it all again.” I turned to the wooden doors where Marie stood, peeking in, hissing at me under her breath for leaving her son. Samira motioned her to lead me away, then stood and strolled to the fireplace behind her throne, her back to me. Without another word, I followed Marie out of the dreary room and began to sob, aware that despite my hopes of Joel visiting me, my love with him was truly severed. I would now be alone again, amidst the countless human souls in Amaranth who also chose the hard, solitary life of reformation, who chose to have their curses lifted and spend eternity here in exile.

* * *

Much to my despair, Joel never showed at the exile entrance gates. I waited weeks and weeks for him, every day rushing to the golden bars where I hoped to see his face appear. I’d watched when new vampires arrived and were ushered through. Watched as they transformed from monster to human again as they passed the threshold, their eyes revealing fear and then wonder as Samira’s magic lifted their curse with the admittance. The gates loomed high, angelic in their brass, golden glory, attached to a thick stone wall that rolled out like a ringed fortress surrounding the villages of the city below. Rows of guards lined the walls like statues.

Months passed, and instead of Joel, his mother Marie appeared at the gates.

“He wanted you to know that he didn’t come because he does not love you,” she said. “He didn’t come because he does. He can’t bear to bring you more pain, and he can’t bear it himself. Let him go Arianna. It’s time.” She looked at me with beady, pleading eyes, and all I could do was slip my journal through the bars of the gates and into her hands, to show her written proof of the desperation and adoration I’d been stowing away, waiting for him to change his mind and come to me. “Arianna, if you want to see him one last time—”

“Leave.” Tears made it difficult to see. My cold hands gripped the golden bars as I burned her with my bitter gaze. “Give him that.” I reached out, shoved the journal harder into her chest and stumbled backward.

“Arianna … he’s sorry he chose to stay on earth, sorry he ever changed you.”

“I said leave!” I screamed, began retreating through the fog and down the hill toward the city’s central village. The fog began to swallow up the gates as I ran, and I glimpsed a broken man with warm skin and a compassionate face—my favorite face—rushing toward Marie, joining her side to call out to me. He stood there, gripping the bars and begging me with his eyes. I continued to withdraw until his pained face was swallowed up along with the gates, the fog separating me from what I could not separate myself. Curse the day I ever gave my heart to that man!

* * *

Herds of villagers bustled about, more than I’d ever seen together at one time, shouting and pushing their way through the crowds that surged the city’s cobblestone streets. They were heading north, toward the gates at the top of the hill. I fought to keep myself out of the street, struggled to make my way toward my cottage door, but the heavy pail of well water and sack of produce I carried over my shoulder caused me to lose my balance when the villagers pummeled into me to get by.

The pail crashed to my feet and the sack fell behind me, and I was swept into the stampede and carried up, toward the open gates.

The open gates? I blinked in disbelief. Yes. They stood open. But why?

Samira’s guards flew above us, swooping down like demons from hell, plucking random people from their feet and sinking their teeth into them. More screams broke out as the guards ferociously swept the streets, trying to stop the Amaranthians from making their way up the hill. I latched on to whomever I could, just to regain balance so I wouldn’t be trampled on. The fears I’d had for some time now came true—an uprising had unfolded and hit its peak. The Amaranthians were finally rebelling against my mother’s reign and wanted out of this exile, wanted to return to earth to enjoy their human lives. Soon, Samira would send more guards into the city to control the rebellion, to stop the Amaranthians from escaping and returning to earth. I knew what her control entailed. It meant a massacre.

Getting closer to the gates, I ducked my head and winced each time I spotted a guard soaring over me. In mere minutes I would be outside the exile walls, free to make my way to the portal that led to earth, where surely a crowd would be gathering, waiting their turn to ascend to the bayou to make their escape. The crescent moon cycle, the one that declared the portal was open, was present. It was the only time visitors could travel between earth and Amaranth. This must have been planned. Samira’s guards would no doubt wipe out the city to regain control. She wouldn’t kill everyone off. Would she? She couldn’t. She would lose her power if she had no energy to draw from. Do I want this? Do I want to return to earth as human? Could I ever return to Joel? Could I forgive him and leave all of this behind?

It was now, or never. An opportunity such as this would never present itself to the Amaranthians again.

Struggling through the crush of villagers, I finally made it outside the exile walls, past the gates, and fought my way toward the portal entry, where my new fate awaited. Finding, then focusing on the maze in the distance, I charged forward with other Amaranthians who clearly had the same idea I did—to leave and never return to this godforsaken place. If I made it back to earth alive, a new season would begin, and I would embrace the change with every ounce of my being. Would there be enough time for the sea of people to make it through the portal? There was no way everyone would make it out alive. Too much hysteria. Humans rarely passed through the portal as it was. If they dared to travel here from earth, they were killed, or changed, immediately upon arrival to Amaranth. So the sight of hundreds and hundreds of warm human bodies surging the portal entry to escape was a foreign one, and alarmingly … inspiring.

I pushed my way through the crowd but was forced to wait my turn to get to the portal door, and watched, helpless, while people were trampled to their deaths, clawing their way to get to the underground tunnel. All I could picture was my mother, rotting away in her wicked kingdom, all alone after the Amaranthians and guards had left her desolate in her exile. Surely my father would leave her to die the worst kind of death: a sad, lonely, never-ending existence.