The Asylum Read Free Page B

paces away, where a man- made ledge was carved into the dirt wall. She climbed up and swung her legs back and forth. She looked more like a girl sitting on a porch swing at a summer barbecue than a woman surrounded by vampires, hiding out fifteen feet below sea level.
    â€œCora…” I began. I wanted to let her know how much her sister had meant to me. “Even though I only knew her for a few days, I thought of Violet as a sister and…”
    Cora sighed. “I’m tired, and I’m sure you are, too. Please, can we just not talk?”
    â€œOf course,” I said quickly. I settled on the hard dirt floor. Not talking was probably for the best. Whenever I got too close to humans, something terrible happened. It had happened with Callie. It had happened with Violet. It had even happened with little Oliver. And I couldn’t let it happen anymore. And yet, I couldn’t help but want to comfort Cora in any way possible. After all, she must be terrified. If she kept all her emotions locked inside, they’d end up overwhelming her. I knew that all too well.
    I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly I could see stars on the insides of my eyelids. If Lexi were here, she’d have suggested a cup of goat’s blood tea to feel better. If Lexi were here, I probably wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place.
    Stop it, I said to myself. Feeling sorry for myself wouldn’t help matters. I needed to sleep. But lately, every time my eyes closed, my mind drifted to the root of my problems. How I’d become who I was now. I’d close my eyes, eager to untangle a complicated web of thoughts and emotions, only to be interrupted by the image of her porcelain face. Katherine. Her large, doelike eyes. Her lips, parting, ready to . . .
    Sc-ratch, sc-ratch. My eyes shot open. A rat was burrowing next to me, its beady eyes practically glowing in the darkness. Instinctively, I reached out, snapped its neck, and drank its blood in large, quick gulps.
    It was as foul as a pool of standing water, but it was something. Blood of any kind still had an intoxicating effect on me, tapping into a primal part of my being that I’d tried to suppress.
    It was only once the blood was rushing down my throat that I became aware of my surroundings again, and remembered Cora was only a few feet away. Pulling the dead animal from my lips, I leaned closer to her. Her breathing was as steady as ever. She must be asleep. Relieved she hadn’t witnessed my true nature, I laid back down, trying to find a comfortable position on the ground.
    And then a voice cut through the darkness like the light from a candle.
    â€œI hope you enjoyed your dinner.” Cora. But she didn’t sound frightened. Instead, she was equal parts curious and concerned.
    I felt shame rising like bile in the back of my throat, mingling with the acrid taste of blood from the rat. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, that I hadn’t meant for her to see that. “Good night,” Cora said, as if my midnight snack had been nothing but a glass of warm milk.
    I listened to the echo of her voice in the empty tunnel. “Good night,” I finally whispered back.
    But she didn’t answer.

3
    T hroughout the night, I could hear the clawing of rodents and the endless dripping of water. London seemed miles away, when, in reality, it was only a hundred or so feet above me. But despite the distractions, I somehow fell into a deep, dark sleep.
    â€¦Until I felt that familiar paranoid tenseness—someone was watching me. I opened one eye, then another. A pale blue eye looked back. Scrambling backward and instantly fully awake, I realized I was mere inches from Cora.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I asked roughly, running my tongue over my teeth, relieved to find that they were short and straight. As I stood, I heard the sickening crack of my joints. I may not have aged in two decades, but a year of living on the Abbott