Page 90 of Veradel
I decide to break it by telling them more of the truth. They deserve to know all of it.
“It’s true, he’s the Monster,” I start, a little too loudly. “But the Monster has a name and a family and a story. A life outside of this Wall that was stolen by the Guardians centuries ago.” I swallow down the emotion edging into my voice, trying to sound firmer. “His name is Lucan, and they killed his grandfather and his father. Stole their kingdom and trapped us here for the sole purpose of feeding off our blood.” People exchange frowns and looks of disgust. “Yes, we turn to stone after being bitten, and the Guardians haven’t just been biting the Chosen Ones. They’ve been taking more than they need. Stealing from our children and neighbors in the dead of night.”
“What about you?” a silver-badged teenager pipes up. “You say the Guardians are bad, but you look exactly like them! Red eyes and fangs…”
The words stick in my throat, uncertainty taking over me again. What if Iamexactly like a Guardian, deep down? What if I should be killed alongside them?
Lucan opens his mouth angrily, but it’s Malcolm who says, “Anna, you were in the Healing Center for a week after your stroke.” He points to a middle-aged woman who looks vaguely familiar. “And Saskia nursed you back to health.”
Tears spring to the woman’s eyes as she nods. If I remember correctly, I also helped her for months afterward in rehabilitation after the right side of her body was paralyzed.
Then Malcolm spins to find a man I cared for after one of his operations.
“Daniel, Saskia’s the reason you still have all ten fingers after that machinery accident, isn’t she? She helped during your operation, then changed your bandages every day until you were discharged.”
Daniel hangs his head, then looks up at me and smiles softly as he wiggles his fingers like a thank you.
Lucan’s smile gets wider, more adoring, as Malcolm continues around the circle, pointing out people that he knows I’ve healed in the past. I’mnot sure vampires can blush, but if they can then my face is probably as red as my hair.
I never realized that Malcom paid that much attention to our conversations at the dinner table, when I would tell him about my day at work. I always thought of those times as forced formalities, but maybe he valued them all along.
Just as he’s pointing out a fifth past patient of mine, someone sarcastically calls out, “Let her speak, Malcolm!” and the crowd chuckles in unison.
This time it’s Lucan who squeezesmyhand in reassurance.
I take a deep breath to steady myself. “I am… like the Guardians, but in an entirely different way. The Thirteenth Guardian loved a human, and he was killed for it. But not before he fathered a child, apparently, making me his descendant. I was just as shocked as you are now. But I promise you that I don’t want to live like they do. I want to defeat them.”
A lot of faces in the crowd register hope, but from the back I hear, “If you’re not like them, whose blood do you drink to stay alive then?”
Well, shit. If the world could open up and swallow me whole right about now, that’d be wonderful.
“Mine,” Lucan supplies for me as my face heats. “And since my blood is different than yours, I don’t turn to stone when she does. Problem solved.”
More opinions and questions explode into the night, but we’re running out of time to keep answering them. The pack needs our helpnow.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Walter asks, louder than everyone else as he steps up next to Malcolm.
“Hide,” I say immediately, “in your housing complex while Lucan and I try to breach the palace.”
“We want to fight!” a man yells.
Others whoop in agreement, the energy in the crowd intensifying.
Another man yells, “Besides, my housing complex is on fire, anyway!”
“But you’re human, and you don’t have any weapons,” I argue. “You’re no match for the Guardians.”
“Maybe not,” says Malcolm gently, “but there will be more sentries in the Blood Moon Palace, Saskia. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“And besides…” a high-pitched voice adds. Odette bends at her waist to swipe a rapier right off one of the stirring sentry’s belts. With a swift kick to his face, she knocks him unconscious once again and raises an eyebrow at me. “Who says we don’t have weapons?”
As all the citizens who want to fight rush forward to pick the swords out of the pile of sentries, I murmur to Saskia that I need just a moment to myself.
She nods, but I can see the concern in her eyes. I plant a quick kiss on her cheek before bounding into the nearest alleyway opposite of the fire, until I’m bathed in shadows, alone.
Then I shift again.
This time, I don’t just spear toward the pack with my mind, but barrel into that barrier again and again. Trying to find cracks. To hearanythingon the other side.
