Julie Kagawa - The Immortal Rules

“You couldn’t have told me all this without slicing my arm open?”

“I could have.” Kanin shrugged unrepentantly. “But I had another lesson in mind. How do you feel?”

“Starving.” The ache in my gut had grown more painful; my body was crying out for food. I thought longingly of the once-full blood bag, lying empty on the floor. I wondered if there was anything left that I could suck out, before I caught myself in horror.

Kanin nodded. “And that is the price of such power. Your body will heal itself from most anything, but it will draw upon its own reserves to do so. Look at your arm.”

I did and gasped. My skin, especially the area where Kanin had cut me, was chalk-white, definitely paler than before, and cold. Dead flesh. Bloodless flesh. I shuddered and tore my gaze away, and felt the vampire’s smile.

“If you do not feed soon afterward, you will fall into a blood frenzy, and someone will die,” he announced. “The greater the wound, the more blood you need to replenish it. Go too long without feeding, and the result will be the same. And this is why vampires do not become attached to humans, or anyone. Sometime in your life, Allison Sekemoto, you will kill a human being. Accidentally or as a conscious, deliberate act. It is unavoidable. The question is not if it will happen, but when. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I got it.”

He watched me with depthless black eyes. “Be sure that you do,” he said quietly. “Now, from here, you must learn the most important part of being one of us—how to feed.”

I swallowed. “Don’t you have any more of those bags?”

He chuckled. “I procured that from one of the guards at this week’s bloodletting. It’s not something I’d normally do, but you needed food immediately upon waking. But you and I are not like the vampires in the city, with their slaves and pets and cellars of ‘wine.’ If you want to feed, you must do it the old-fashioned way. I’ll show you what I mean. Come, follow me.”

“Where are we going?” I asked as he opened the door, and we stepped out into a long, narrow hallway. Once-white paint was peeling from the walls, and glass crunched under my feet as we walked. Every few yards, a doorway opened into another room, the remains of beds and chairs and odd machines I didn’t recognize scattered about and broken. A strange chair with wheels lay on its side in one doorway, covered in dust and cobwebs. I realized I could see perfectly in the dark corridor, though there was no light, and it should’ve been pitch-black down here. Kanin looked back at me and smiled.

“We’re going hunting.”

WE TURNED A CORNER, and the hallway opened into what looked like an old reception area with another big wooden desk in the middle of the room. Above the desk, tarnished gold letters hung on the wall, most of them skewed or broken, so it was impossible to make out what it had once said. There were a lot of smaller signs, too, on walls and at the entrances to hallways, all difficult to make out. Glass, debris and sheets of paper were scattered about the cracked tile floor, rustling where we walked.

“What is this place?” I asked Kanin. My voice echoed weirdly in the open chamber, and the silence of the room seemed to press down on me. The vampire didn’t answer for a long moment.

“At one time,” he murmured, leading me across the room, “this was the sublevel of a hospital. One of the busiest and most well established in the city. They did more than treat patients—there was a team of scientists here, researchers committed to ending disease and discovering new cures. Of course, when the Red Lung virus hit, the hospital was overrun—they couldn’t keep up with the amount of patients pouring through their doors. A lot of people died here.” He gazed at the desk, his eyes hooded and far away. “But then, a lot of people died everywhere.”

“If you’re trying to creep me out, congratulations. So, how do we get out of here?”

He stopped at a large, square hole in the wall and gestured at the opening. I peered through the gap and saw a long shaft, leading up into darkness, with thick metal ropes dangling from somewhere up top.

“You’re kidding, right?” My voice echoed up the tube.

“The stairs to ground level are collapsed,” Kanin replied calmly. “There is no other way in or out. We have to use the elevator shaft.”

Elevator shaft? I frowned and looked back at him. “There’s no way I can climb that.”

“You aren’t human anymore.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re stronger, you have unlimited endurance and you can do things humans cannot. If it puts your mind at ease, I will be right behind you.”

I looked at the elevator tube and shrugged. “All right,” I muttered, reaching out to grab the cables. “But if I fall, I expect you to catch me.”

Tightening my hold, I pulled.

To my surprise, my body rose off the ground as if I weighed nothing at all. I shimmied up the tube, going hand over hand, feeling a thrill I’d never known. My skin didn’t tear, my arms didn’t burn, and I wasn’t even breathing hard. I could’ve done this forever.

I paused, my rhythm stumbling to a halt. I wasn’t breathing. At all. My pulse didn’t race, my heart didn’t pound … because I wasn’t alive. I was dead. I would never age, never change. I was a parasitic corpse who drank the lifeblood of others to survive.

“Having problems?” Kanin’s deep, impatient voice echoed from below me.

I shook myself. Empty elevator tubes were not the best places for personal revelations. “I’m fine,” I answered and started climbing again. I would sort all this out later; right now, my dead-corpse stomach was telling me I was starving. I found it very strange that my heart and lungs and other organs didn’t work, but my stomach and brain were still functioning. Or maybe they weren’t—I had no idea. Everything about vampires, I was learning, was a complete mystery.

A cold breeze hit my face as I scrambled out of the shaft, gazing around warily.

There had been a building here once. I could see the remains of steel beams and girders surrounding us, along with maybe half a wall, falling to pieces in the long yellow grass. The plaster was blackened and scorched, and charred bits of furniture—beds, mattresses, chairs—were strewn about and half hidden in the grass spreading across the floor. The tube we’d just come through was nothing more than a dark hole in the tile, hidden among the rubble and weeds. If you weren’t standing directly above it, you might never see the gaping hole until you tumbled down the shaft and broke your spine at the bottom.

“What happened here?” I whispered, gazing around at the devastation.

“A fire,” Kanin said, starting across the empty lot. He moved quickly, and I scrambled to keep up with him. “It started on the ground floor of the hospital. It quickly grew out of control and destroyed the building and most everyone inside. Only the lower levels were … spared.”

“Were you there when it happened?”

Kanin didn’t answer. Leaving the hospital ruins, we crossed an empty lot where nature had risen up to strangle everything it could get its green-and-yellow claws around. It pushed up through the once-flat parking lots and curled around several outbuildings, choking them with vines and weeds. When we reached the edge of the lot and looked back, you could barely see the hospital remains through the vegetation.

It was dark on the streets of the Fringe. Clouds scuttled across the sky, blocking the moon and stars. But I still saw everything clearly, and even more amazing, I knew exactly what time it was and how long we had until dawn. I could sense the blood on the air, the lingering heat of warm-blooded mammals. It was an hour past midnight, long after the bravest humans closed their doors against the dark, and I was starving.