Read The Immortal Rules Online
Authors: Julie Kagawa
I approached the bed and leaned close, smoothing the hair from his eyes, listening to the sound of his heart. “Hey,” I whispered, knowing he probably couldn’t hear me, unconscious as he was. “Listen, Zeke, I have to go. There’s something I have to do, someone I have to find. I owe him a lot, and he’s in trouble now. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
Zeke slept on. I put my hand on his uninjured arm, squeezing gently. My eyes burned, but I ignored them. “You probably won’t see me again,” I murmured, feeling something hot slide down my cheek. “I got you here, like I promised I would. I wish…I wish I could’ve seen your Eden, but this place isn’t for me. It never was. I have to find my own place in the world.”
Bending down, I brushed my lips to his. “Goodbye, Ezekiel,” I whispered. “Take care of the others. They’ll be looking to you now.”
He stirred in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Releasing him, I turned and walked away, out of the room and through the doors. As they swung shut behind me, I thought I heard him murmur my name, but I did not look back.
* * *
W
ALKING
BACK
THROUGH
the main hall was a much more hostile journey than when I’d arrived. The men and women in white coats either glared or cringed back from me, huddled along the wall, watching as I strode through the room. No one from our original group was there to say goodbye. Probably better that way. Caleb would make a fuss, and the others might want to know where I was going. But I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was Kanin, and now Jackal, were out there. I had to find my sire, see if I could still help him. I owed him that much. As for my “blood brother,” I was pretty sure he would find me, eventually. And I didn’t want to be around those I cared about when he did.
Outside, the storm had moved on, and the stars glimmered brightly through the clouds. A breeze cooled my skin, smelling of sand and fish and lake water, and a new beginning. Just not for me.
A squad of soldiers came rushing up to me, led by Sergeant Keller. I raised my hands as they surrounded me, leveling their guns at my chest, their faces hard with suspicion and fear.
The sergeant stepped forward, his previously smiling mouth pulled into a grim line. “Is it true?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Are you a bloodsucker, like the doc says?” When I didn’t reply, his face hardened. “Answer me, before we start pumping you full of holes to see if you die or not.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” I said calmly, keeping my hands where he could see them. “I was just leaving, in fact. Let me walk out of here, and you’ll never see me again.”
Sergeant Keller hesitated. The other soldiers kept their guns trained on my heart. From the corner of my eye, I saw movement on the waters of the lake; a faded white ferry pulling up to the dock. The boat that would take everyone but me to Eden.
“Sarge,” one of the men growled. “We should kill it. Now, before anyone hears we let a vampire through the gates. If the mayor finds out, there’ll be a citywide panic.”
I met Keller’s eyes, keeping my expression calm, even though I felt my body tense, ready to explode into violence if needed. I didn’t want to hurt these men, but if they started firing, I would have no choice but to tear them apart. And hope they didn’t shoot me full of holes before I could escape.
“You’ll leave?” Keller asked gravely. “You’ll walk away and not come back?”
“You have my word.”
He sighed and lowered his gun. “All right,” he stated, as a few of his men started to protest. “We’ll escort you to the gates.”
“Sarge!”
“Enough, Jenkins!” Keller glared at the man who had spoken. “She hasn’t hurt anyone here, and I’m not about to start a fight with a vampire if there’s no need. Shut up and stand down.”
The soldiers relented, but I felt their glares on my back as they led me across the muddy yard, back to the huge iron gates guarding the entrance. Keller yelled a command, and one of the gates creaked open, just enough for one person to walk through.
“All right, vampire,” Keller said, nodding to the gate. I heard the click of their weapons behind me, a half dozen barrels leveled in my direction. “There’s the door. Get out and don’t come back.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t look back. I walked to the gates and slipped through, feeling them grind shut behind me, sealing me off from humanity, Eden and Zeke.
We are vampires,
Kanin had told me, on one of our last nights together.
It makes no difference who we are, where we came from. Princes, Masters and rabids alike, we are monsters, cut off from humanity. They will never trust us. They will never accept us. We hide in their midst and walk among them, but we are forever separate. Damned. Alone. You don’t understand now, but you will. There will come a time when the road before you splits, and you must decide your path. Will you choose to become a demon with a human face, or will you fight your demon until the end of time, knowing you will forever struggle alone?
A silent road stretched before me, damp with rain and littered with cars. As I watched, pale figures began to slip through the trees or claw their way out of the earth. Rabids edged onto the pavement, filling the road, their hisses and snarls rising into the air. Their empty white eyes blazed with madness and Hunger, and they began to sprint forward.
Reaching back, I drew my blade, feeling it rasp free, gleaming as it came into the light. Looking up at the approaching rabids, I smiled.
* * * * *
Acknowledgments
Funny story, back at the beginning of my writing career, I remember telling myself that I wouldn’t write a vampire book. That there were already so many books about our favorite bloodsuckers, I didn’t have anything new to add to the masses. Obviously,
that
plan went by the wayside, and I am so thankful it did. I’ve loved every moment of writing this book, and I have many people to thank for that. My wonderful agent, Laurie McLean, who convinced me to give this whole “write a vampire book” a go. My editor Natashya Wilson for all her encouragement, hard work and little smiley faces next to the passages that she really likes. I live for those smiley faces. The fabulous people at Harlequin TEEN for awesome covers, awesome support and all-around awesomeness.
As always, my gratitude goes to my family, and especially to my husband, Nick, who continues to point out obvious logic-holes in the plot when I’m being stubborn and want it to work out “because I say so.”
Questions
For Discussion
Julie Kagawa’s
Iron Fey
series has been
praised as unique, innovative, entertaining, romantic and much, much more.
We’re pleased to share with you a special excerpt from Book One of a new
Iron Fey
trilogy, featuring Meghan Chase’s brother, Ethan… .
THE LOST
PRINCE
Chapter One
New Kid
My name is Ethan
Chase.
And I doubt I’ll live to see my
eighteenth birthday.
That’s not me being dramatic; it
just is. I just wish I hadn’t pulled so many people into this mess. They
shouldn’t have to suffer because of me. Especially…her. God, if I could take
back anything in my life, I would never have shown her my world—the hidden
world all around us. I
knew
better than to let her in. Once you see Them,
they’ll never leave you alone. They’ll never let you go. Maybe if I’d been
strong, she wouldn’t be here with me as our seconds tick away, waiting to
die.
It all started the day I
transferred to a new school. Again.
* * *
T
HE
ALARM
CLOCK
WENT
OFF
at 6:00 a.m., but I had been awake for an hour,
getting ready for another day in my weird, screwed-up life. I wish I was one
of those guys who can roll out of bed, throw on a shirt and be ready to go,
but sadly, my life isn’t that normal. For instance, today I’d filled the
side pockets of my backpack with dried Saint-John’s-wort and stuffed a
canister of salt in with my pens and notebook. I’d also driven three nails
into the heels of the new boots Mom had bought me for the semester. I wore
an iron cross on a chain beneath my shirt, and just last summer I’d gotten
my ears pierced with metal studs. Originally, I’d gotten a lip ring and an
eyebrow bar, too, but Dad had thrown a roof-shaking fit when I came home
like that, and the studs were the only things I’d been allowed to
keep.
Sighing, I spared a quick glance
at myself in the mirror, making sure I looked as unapproachable as possible.
Sometimes, I catch Mom looking at me sadly, as if she wonders where her
little boy went. I used to have curly brown hair like Dad, until I took a
pair of scissors and hacked it into jagged, uneven spikes. I used to have
bright blue eyes like Mom and, apparently, like my sister. But over the
years, my eyes have become darker, changing to a smoky blue-gray—from
constant glaring, Dad jokes. I never used to sleep with a knife under my
mattress, salt around my windows and a horseshoe over my door. I never used
to be “brooding” and “hostile” and “impossible.” I used to smile more and
laugh. I rarely do any of that now.
I know Mom worries about me. Dad
says it’s normal teenage rebellion, that I’m going through a “phase” and
that I’ll grow out of it. Sorry, Dad. But my life is far from normal. And
I’m dealing with it the only way I know how.
“Ethan?” Mom’s voice drifted
into the room from beyond the door, soft and hesitant. “It’s past six. Are
you up?”
“I’m up.” I grabbed my backpack
and swung it over my white shirt, which was inside out, the tag poking up
from the collar. Another small quirk my parents have gotten used to. “I’ll
be right out.”
Grabbing my keys, I left my room
with that familiar sense of resignation and dread stealing over me.
Okay, then. Let’s get this day over
with.
I have a weird
family.
You’d never know it by looking
at us. We seem perfectly normal; a nice American family living in a nice
suburban neighborhood, with nice clean streets and nice neighbors on either
side. Ten years ago we lived in the swamps, raising pigs. Ten years ago we
were poor, backwater folk, and we were happy. That was before we moved into
the city, before we joined civilization again. My dad didn’t like it at
first; he’d spent his whole life as a farmer. It was hard for him to adjust,
but he did, eventually. Mom finally convinced him that we needed to be
closer to people, that
I
needed to be closer to people, that the constant
isolation was bad for me. That was what she told Dad, of course, but I knew
the real reason. She was afraid. She was afraid of Them, that They would
take me away again, that I would be kidnapped by faeries and taken into the
Nevernever.
Yeah, I told you, my family is
weird. And that’s not even the worst of it.
Somewhere out there, I have a
sister. A half sister I haven’t seen in years, and not because she’s busy or
married or across the ocean in some other country.
No, it’s because she’s a queen.
A faery queen, one of Them, and she can’t ever come home.
Tell me
that’s
not messed
up.
Of course, I can’t ever tell
anyone. To normal humans, the fey world is hidden—glamoured and invisible.
Most people wouldn’t see a goblin if it sauntered up and bit them on the
nose. There are very few mortals cursed with the Sight, who can see
invisible faeries lurking in dark corners and under beds. Who know that the
creepy feeling of being watched isn’t just their imagination, and that the
noises in the cellar or the attic aren’t really the house
settling.
Lucky me. I happen to be one of
them.
My parents worry, of course, Mom
especially. People already think I’m weird, dangerous, maybe a little crazy.
Seeing faeries everywhere will do that to you. Because if the fey
know
you
can see them, they tend to make your life a living hell. Last year, I was
kicked out of school for setting fire to the library. What could I tell
them? I was innocent, because I was trying to escape a redcap motley that
followed me in from the street? That wasn’t the first time the fey had
gotten me into trouble. I was the “bad kid,” the one the teachers spoke
about in hushed voices, the quiet, dangerous kid whom everyone expected
would end up on the evening news for some awful, shocking crime. Sometimes,
it was infuriating. I didn’t really care what they thought of me, but it was
hard on Mom, so I tried to be good, futile as it was.
This semester, I’d be going to a
new school, a new location. A place I could “start clean,” but it wouldn’t
matter. As long as I could see the fey, they would never leave me alone. All
I could do was protect myself and my family, and hope I wouldn’t end up
hurting anyone else.
When I came out, Mom was at the
kitchen table, waiting for me. Dad wasn’t around. He worked the graveyard
shift at UPS, and often slept till the middle of the afternoon. Usually, I’d
see him only at dinner and on weekends. That’s not to say he was happily
oblivious when it came to my life; Mom might know me better, but Dad had no
problem doling out punishments if he thought I was slacking or if Mom
complained. I’d gotten one
D
in science two years ago, and it was the last bad
grade I’d ever received.
“Big day,” Mom said as I tossed
my backpack on the counter and opened the fridge, reaching for the orange
juice. “Are you sure you know the way to your new school?”
I nodded. “I’ve got it set to my
phone’s GPS. It’s not that far. I’ll be fine.”
She hesitated. I knew she didn’t
want me driving there alone, even though I’d worked my butt off saving up
for a car. The rusty, gray-green pickup sitting next to Dad’s truck in the
driveway represented an entire summer of work—flipping burgers, washing
dishes, mopping up spilled drinks and food and vomit. It represented
weekends spent working late, watching other kids my age hanging out, kissing
girlfriends, tossing away money as if it fell from the sky. I’d
earned
that truck, and I
wasn’t going to take the freaking bus to school.
But, because Mom was watching me
with that sad, almost fearful look on her face, I sighed and muttered, “Do
you want me to call you when I get there?”
“No, honey.” Mom straightened,
waving it off. “It’s all right, you don’t have to do that. Just…please be
careful.”
I heard the unspoken words in
her voice.
Be careful of
Them.
Don’t attract
Their attention. Don’t let Them get you into trouble. Try to stay in school
this time.
“I will.”
She hovered a moment longer,
then placed a quick peck on my cheek and wandered into the living room,
pretending to be busy. I drained my juice, poured another glass and opened
the fridge to put the container back.
As I closed the door, a magnet
slipped loose and pinged to the floor, and the note it was holding came
free, fluttering to the ground.
Kali
demonstration, Sat,
I read as I picked
it up, and I let myself feel a tiny bit nervous. I’d started taking Kali, a
Filipino martial art, several years ago, to better protect myself from the
things I knew were out there. I was drawn to Kali because not only did it
teach how to defend yourself empty-handed, it also taught stick, knife and
sword work, too. And in a world of dagger-toting goblins and sword-wielding
gentry, I wanted to be ready for anything. This weekend, our class was
putting on a demonstration at a martial arts tournament, and I was part of
the show.
If I could stay out of trouble
that long, anyway. With me, it was always harder than it looked.
* * *
S
TARTING
A
NEW
SCHOOL
in the middle of the fall semester
sucks.
I should know. I’ve done all
this before. The struggle to find your locker, the curious stares in the
hallway, the walk of shame to your desk in your new classroom, twenty or so
pairs of eyes following you down the aisle.
Maybe third time’s the charm.
Slumped into my seat, which thankfully was in the
far corner. The heat from two dozen stares blazed on the top of my head, and
I deliberately ignored them all.
Maybe this time
I can make it through a semester without getting expelled. One more year,
just give me one more year and then I’m free.
At least the teacher didn’t stand me up at the front
of the room and introduce me to everyone; that would’ve been awkward. For
the life of me, I couldn’t understand why they thought such humiliation was
necessary. It was hard enough to fit in without having a spotlight turned on
you the first day.
Not that I’d be doing any
“fitting in.”
I continued to feel curious
glances directed at my corner the rest of the class, and I concentrated on
not looking up, not making eye contact with anyone. I heard people
whispering and hunched down even farther, studying the cover of my English
book.
Something landed on my desk: a
half sheet of notebook paper, folded into a square. I didn’t look up, not
wanting to know who’d lobbed it at me. Slipping it beneath the desk, I
opened it in my lap and looked down.
U the kid who burned down his
school?
it read in messy
handwriting.
Sighing, I crumpled the note in
my fist. So they’d already heard the rumors. Perfect. Apparently, I’d been
in the local paper, a juvenile thug who was seen fleeing the scene of the
crime. But because no one had actually
witnessed
me setting the library on
fire, I was able to avoid being sent to jail. Barely.
I caught giggles and whispers
somewhere to my right, and then another folded-up piece of paper hit my arm.
I was going to trash the note without reading it this time, but curiosity
got the better of me, and I peeked quickly.
Did u really knife that guy in
Juvie?
“Mr. Chase.”
Miss Singer was stalking down
the aisle toward me, her severe expression making her face look pinched and
tight behind her glasses. Or maybe that was just the dark, tight bun pulling
at her skin, making her eyes narrow. Her bracelets clinked as she extended
her hand, waggling her fingers at me. Her tone was firm. “Let’s have it, Mr.
Chase.”
I held up the note in two
fingers, not looking at her. She snatched it from me. After a moment, she
murmured, “See me after class.”
Damn. Thirty minutes into a new
semester and I was already in trouble. This didn’t bode well for the rest of
the year. I slumped farther, hunching my shoulders against all prying eyes,
as Miss Singer returned to the front and continued the lesson.
* * *
I
REMAINED
IN
MY
SEAT
after class was dismissed, listening to the sounds
of scraping chairs and shuffling bodies, bags being tossed over shoulders.
Voices surged around me, students talking and laughing with each other,
gelling into their own little groups. As they began to file out, I finally
looked up, letting my gaze wander over the few still lingering. A blond boy
with glasses stood at Miss Singer’s desk, rambling on while she listened
with calm amusement. From the eager, puppy-dog look in his eyes, it was
clear he was either suffering from major infatuation or was campaigning for
the position of teacher’s pet.
A group of girls stood by the
door, clustered together like pigeons, cooing and giggling. I saw several of
the guys staring as they left, hoping to catch the girls’ eye, only to be
disappointed. I snorted softly. Good luck with that. At least three of the
girls were blond, slender and beautiful, and a couple wore extremely short
skirts that gave a fantastic view of their long, tanned legs. This was
obviously the school’s pom squad, and guys like me—or anyone who wasn’t a
jock, rich or politically inclined—had no chance.