Lili has a horrific nightmare, revealing something of her mysterious past.

A complimentary, sample chapter from LILI G MUST DIE

FIRST KILL

W

   here am I?

I move through the pitch black, feeling my way along an icky, stone wall of sorts. It is slimy and gross, like snot, yet for some reason I am unable to smell the moisture's composition. The clanging of cold steel rings in my brain like a hammer against a bell of iron, and to make everything worse, I feel sick to my stomach. I truly fear I will vomit again. But I must not, for the enemy shall detect the scent of my discharge, and thus easily track my location. Then they will eat my face—and my eyeballs. Vampires enjoy eating eyeballs.

I find it difficult to move. The boots I pilfered last week are ill fitting, and have filled with mud. They make an unsettling sloshing sound with each delicate step I take in this unfamiliar passage. Worse yet, I fear I will be heard.

But… when did I steal a pair of boots?

I know not, but I must find a place of hiding—a safe place. I have one? It is the only place I have left. What is it? Everything else is gone.

Raging hunger gnaws at my belly, as if the rodents I consumed were somehow alive and trying to crawl out of my body by chewing through my stomach. I haven't eaten anything proper in days. I am numb and cannot cry, even though I fear for my very existence. I can only struggle forward, carefully, step by step, hoping I do not fall into an abyss deviously laid out for any unwanted visitors in this unknown locale.

The sounds grow closer. I can smell them now. The ghouls are near. One is hunting me as if I were its next meal. I cannot cry. I must not cry. The hidey-hole? Yes! I have a place in which to protect myself. I know it is close.

I hear a nearby, acerbic scream, and it sends a flash of panic searing through my chest. It is difficult to use my hearing to determine the distance between the battle and myself—the pounding of my heart and the blood surging through my arteries prevent me from doing so. I wish Krynos were here. That is his name—King Krynos. He is good. I know that much.

I find my hidey-hole. At last I am safe. I back into my hidden space. It feels… slimy, but secure. The floor is covered in gravel and bones, which hurt my knees. From here I shall be able to defend myself. I have yet to take a life, aside from various rats, and that unfortunate cat last week, but I am ready. I am a lycan, and it is my duty to survive, especially against the disgusting, rotting creatures of the night. Perhaps the mud that covers me will guard my scent from my pursuer? If I hold my breath will it fail to find me?

Ouch! I touched something. It felt like a painful tingling that coursed up my finger. Hold! I know what that was.

This is good.

I reach around and find what gave me pain. I brace myself and run my finger along its length, tolerating the discomfort until I reach the wooden handle.

It is a platinum knife. I have my weapon now: my small, metal blade of death.

I grasp the handle tightly and wait. I can only wait.

Then I hear it call to me.

"Come out, little puppy."

Its voice is like the deadly hiss of a poisonous snake, and I can smell its disgusting, acrid breath. It maintains the odor of something that was ejected out of the waste hole of a dead elk. Wait. There is another scent, also. It is… chemical. What is that? Ammonia—that is what it is called. Its symbol is NH₃. We have no ammonia in the castle, so how do I know what it is?

I remain perfectly still and hope the creature will pass, but it does not. It hesitates outside my hiding place.

No, please go away. Please, Gods, I do not wish to die. Its breath is close. I can almost see the fiendish ghoul with my nose.

Then it screeches at me. It wants to scare me out of my place.

"Where are you, young one?" it says. "I know you are here."

I remain absolutely still, but my chest moves with each methodical respiration. Despite my efforts, I fear the putrid invader can hear the blood coursing through my veins.

Now it is leaning down, lowering its face in my direction. It is getting closer. It can smell me. It wants to eat my eyeballs. They are unable to drink my blood; only the blood of normals can nourish them, but they can eat lycan eyeballs.

I have no plans to relinquish my eyeballs today. Or is it tonight? I know not the hour.

Very well. One more second now. Just a bit closer. Come, come fetid ghoul…

Die!

I do not know its name, if it even had one. I do know, however, that it ceased to exist in an instantaneous and glorious flare of burning flesh and embers; its already short life terminated by my swift strike. I had plunged my small blade into the side of its skull, which immediately started a catastrophic chain reaction of self-immolating blood cells, flesh and internal organs. Its brain went first.

I think there is a piece of it on my chin.

In noble fashion I have made my first kill. Noble? I am a noble. No... I was a noble. Who am I? My mind is a jumbled mess.

Now I hear someone else. Who is it?

"Here—over here, my lord," the voice calls out.

It is a male. I back up into my hidey-hole. I still cannot see anything. Is this a different type of ghoul? Can he see me? Wait, he smells peculiar, and the scent is masked. It is unfamiliar. The ghoul's brain splatterings are disrupting my senses.

"What happened here, Kangor?" booms a different, approaching male. The voice is coming in fast from around the corner.

"I know not, Captain Morgus. We find the death cinders of… Hello! Come here, you—"

A massive paw of a hand grasps my arm.

"Unhand me!" I scream. He pulls me out of my hiding place, my last refuge. My lovely, rancid little hole I share with disassembled rat skeletons no longer offers me protection. Now I shall suffer a slow and agonizing death at the claws of this demon spawn. Should I set my blade against my own throat? My demise would be quick. I would suffer little, but that would be a dishonorable departure from the world of the living.

I struggle and spin around like a captured mongoose, kicking and clawing with all my might. I must escape, but his grip is tight. I still have my knife. I go to stab my captor, but he grabs my hand and stays my attack.

"Stop! Who killed this ghoul?" he demands.

Still fighting to get away, I hiss and spit like a wild animal. If I am to die, at least let my death be a difficult one.

"Hold still, child! We do not seek to harm you," yells the one who has accosted me.

Wait. Something is right. He is not a ghoul. He is like… me. I cease with my struggle. The other approaches us with a torch and I am finally able to see. I am safe—for the moment. They are lycans.

"Who killed this ghoul?" he again demands.

I am still breathing heavily, my chest heaving. I can only glare at the vampiric remains—the pile of ash and scatterings of internal organs, and know I need not provide an answer. The two soldiers look down at the platinum blade in my hand. A tiny smear of bubbling vampire blood causes the metal to gleam in the low light provided by the torch, and at the same time casts a small reflection on my face. I am now able to see myself. Is this odd? There is no mirror anywhere.

"What is your name, child?" asks the one called Morgus, but now in a kinder tone. He seems concerned for my welfare. I can smell his sincerity. His scent is warm, like roasted cinnamon, but with the slight tinge of ghoul brains layered upon his leather garb.

My name? Suddenly, it comes to me.

"Liliana, my lord," I say, "I am… I was the daughter of House Engel—"

That is my name. Liliana.

"Ah, yes, I knew of your parents, Lord Kenneth and Lady Marcella, but I was unaware they had pups. Have you any siblings, my lady?" Morgus asks.

"No, my lord. I am an only child," I tell him.

"Engel is a vassal house of the realm. Why do you sulk in a hole, covered in mud?" he continues.

I remember now.

"Proxy Lord Siegfried—he said I am an unmentionable, and am to be spurned, rejected and otherwise ignored. Upon my parents' deaths he stripped me of title, confiscated our lands and threw me into the sewers. Please, have you any jerky? I am weak and was unable to capture a rat for nutrition, so I had to eat a cat three days ago and became ill."

The cat. I remember the cat. Its meat so upset my system that I vomited for two days afterward.

Whence do these memories come? My parents are dead. They killed each other. Mother protected me from Father, who was unable to control himself on the full moon. I am an unmentionable. An orphan.

"This girl's parents truly suffered a horrible fate, and right after the departure of King Krynos, so many months past," says Kangor. "This cannot continue. Captain, I shall care for the child." He looks down and gives me a kind smile.

I like him. Perhaps he can be my father now?

"Your immediate talents are required elsewhere at the moment," says Morgus, "but the child shall be provided for. Alea!"

No. I want the Kangor one to care for me.

"My husband, what causes you to call for me in such a fashion?" a woman asks as she rounds the corner. She is pretty. She reminds me of Mother. I can see Mother's face now, lingering in my distant memories.

Alea approaches me, and I feel an instant, immersive sensation of safety and well-being. I know things will be better. I drop my knife and fall limp into her arms. She smells of vanilla and fresh rain. Her scent is honest and loving. She holds me close, my head upon her soft bosom, and I hear her steady heartbeat palpitate into my ear.

It has been so long since I was last held. It feels nice.

"This is Lady Liliana of House Engel," says Morgus. "Get her to safety. Give her food and find her some decent clothes. I shall deal with Siegfried and his cruel ways in a manner that should have been prescribed many fortnights past."

“I am off to find more of the rotting enemy, my lord. My lady, we shall meet again soon," says Kangor.

In a fraction of a second Kangor is out of sight and back on the hunt. I already miss his scent.

"Come with me child, and do be quiet—danger still remains," says Alea. She quickly leads me to a secret passageway off to the side of the hall.

"Oh, I forgot my knife. Do please wait," I beg, breaking from her grip and skittering back to where I had been hiding. I must retrieve my knife. It is the memento of my first kill.

Coming around the corner, what I encounter causes my heart to freeze. It is different this time.

This time I see more.

Now I know, and I must not forget.

END SAMPLE CHAPTER

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