Page 64 of Xantera
In this haze of a nightmare, it’s only the Monster and me.
When the last vampire, the Seventh to be exact, finally unsuctions herself from a man’s neck with a sickening pop next to me, the man tips forward slightly.
Without thinking, I reach out to catch him just as he slams his hands down onto the table so he doesn’t fall right off.
My own movements feel like electric zings through my nervous system.
“Are you okay?” I gasp out as a drop of blood beads from his wound before trickling in a zigzag down to his collarbone.
The man groans in response, his skin paling instantly.
“Are you going to faint?” I rush out.
“He’s fine,” the Seventh Guardian says curtly with a hand on his shoulder.
Her eyes, though, aren’t on me.
They’re on the Third Guardian—who’s wiping my blood from his lips with a fingertip and watching me curiously with a groove between his eyebrows.
A rock weighs my stomach down. Sweeping my head around to assess the room, I find that everyone else seems to be off-kilter, like they’ve been administered general anesthesia at the Healing Center.
One man hangs his head to bury his face in his hands. One woman slumps against the Eleventh Guardian as she clings to his neck and that sickly-looking Adam’s apple.
Lucan, I hurry out,everyone else looks…
Hungover, he finishes, though I don’t know what that means.
…like they’ve lost too much blood.But I don’t feel like that?I say, focusing on my toes. I flex them inside my shoes and a snap echoes up my legs. Every tiny movement shocks me, as if I’m running on electricity, and I blink.Whoa. I canfeelthe tips of my eyelashes.
So you’re basically high then, Lucan says, worry lining his tone.I suppose it affects everyone differently.
I raise my hand in front of my face, and I swear the venom and blood pulsing there are speaking to me. When my hand falls to my lap, the Third Guardian’s face materializes in front of me, fading slowly into clear view.
Lucan’s concern grows deeper.Saskia, are you okay?
Actually, I feel great, I reply, practically smiling.
The Third Guardian and I stare at each other, both of our eyes narrowing in unison, until my head suddenly fills with air. I almost tip right into his lap, but lurch back just in time.
The laugh that comes out of him isn’t amused or humored—it’s triumphant.
“There it is.” He reaches out a finger as if to stroke a strand of my hair, but even in my current state, I have enough sense to jerkback. I clamber to my feet, trying to put as much distance between us as I can manage, but bump into the chair beside me. His laugh deepens, chiseling a cold pit into my stomach. “Don’t worry. It won’t last forever.”
And neither will you, Lucan grits out, and I swear his words must have hardened something in my eyes, because the Third Guardian’s own eyes widen just an infinitesimal amount—as if somehow, Lucan’s threat hangs in the air between us.
Before either of us can respond, the First Guardian commands the room again with a sharp clap. “Chosen Ones will now be shown to their rooms where you can rest and regain your strength. You will be called upon when needed by your Guardian, but until then, do not leave your room. A servant will be assigned to you. Anything you need, request it from them.”
Lucan’s relief that this is finally over is a tangible thing inside my heart.
Another clap and a handful of side doors in every corner of the room fly open. Blinking away electric stars, I gape as dozens of servants stream out—humanservants. They rush toward us to clear off the table in a flurry. I’ve never even given any thought to the possibility of non-Chosen humans living within the palace, serving our Guardians. Where did they come from? Have they always been here? Were they assigned to this job or born into it?
One of them approaches me and dips her head, gesturing for me to follow her, but the Third Guardian steps between us like a towering wall.
“You’re relieved of your duty this evening,” he tells her.
Curtsying, her eyes fall quickly to the floor, but I catch a glimpse of relief when she pushes her short, blonde bangs out of her face before she turns and scurries back through the same door she came through.
It’s not until the Third Guardian’s hand is cradling my lower back again to guide me to the door that I realize what he’s done.
