Page 83 of We Were Eternal Once

“It is a symbol of the Church!”

“I am older than your church,” I say, raising the cross over my head. Zora covers her face and cowers. I embed the cross into the limestone to the right of her head, driving it as deep as I can.

“Do you think me stupid?” I ask. My voice catches and I hate myself for this weakness. I must keep my anger, otherwise the betrayal will flail my skin from my body. I hold my anger tightly, stoking it with reminders.

She lied. She wants to kill you. She wants to kill me. She was pretending to be my friend.

The last one has my bottom lip trembling, so I ignore it in favor of the other three.

“No! Let me explain…”

“So you can lie some more?” I ask. “So you can pull another item from your satchel to kill me?”

“The cross did not kill you,” Zora protests.

“You didn’t know that!” I yell, my voice reverberating back at me. Each echo is more pained than the one before it, trembling more than I wanted it to.

“Why did you steal my bag?” Zora asks.

“You are in no position to ask questions,” I hiss.

“Did you suspect? Is that why?”

“You are in no position to ask questions,” I repeat. If I admit that I had no idea, that another told me, I damn Le Sang Bleu. I don’t mind that so much as I mind letting her know there are other vampyrs here. That could lead her to you.

I must keep her from you.

“Then let me explain!” Zora protests.

“Explain what?” I press. I want her to say it, I want to hear it from her lips. I want to know that I am not misled, that she is truly what both Caterina and I think she is.

Will she admit it?

“I…” she starts, then stops. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I am a kresnik.”

I wait. The shadows from the flames flicker across her face, outlining every sharp feature. Her cheeks are no longer sunken, but full. Her under eyes are still dark, though not like before. The jut of her jaw is less severe…but there is a sadness there. A resignation.

She knows I will kill her.

Good.

“We are hunters of your kind,” she finishes.

“My kind?” I ask.

“Vampyrs. You kill humans and drink their blood to live. At least, that’s what I thought. That’s what I want to tell you! I was raised as one, my entire family is. We are a line that was cursed or blessed, depending on who you speak to, to carry out this ancient pact to rid the world of vampyrs.” She speaks quickly, her gaze raking my face, trying to read my expression. I school it as best I can, though every word is a confirmation of the fears I’d harbored for the last few hours.

“So you pretended to be my friend so you might kill me?”

“No! Well, yes—at first. Please, Melinoë, let me explain…”

“Then get on with it!”

“I was raised with that book! My parents are hunters, as are my brothers and sisters. They raised me to believe vampyrs exist, that they hunt and kill humans, that they are creatures of the devil. I did not want to be a hunter, I had other ambitions. I wanted to leave our village. My parents hadn’t killed a vampyr since my oldest sister was born, and my siblings had never even seen one. I thought they—you—were all gone. I thought it a figment of their imagination. I thought it…hysteria.

“I tried to convince them to leave our village! I wanted to see the world, I wanted more. I told them the only way to find others was to leave. They saw through it, and I was…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“I was sent to Paris because there were rumors of vampyrs here. It was my opportunity to prove myself, to use the skills I was raised with. They know nothing of the world outside our village, and the money they gave ran out quickly, and I took to stealing to survive. I tried to return, but they were explicit that I shan’t return until I’d found the vampyrs here.