Heir of Beasts

Ch. 1.2- Blood Like Wine

Warning: Strong language ahead.

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All I hear is screaming. Am I screaming? I must be. I can still hear the fireworks going off in the distance. My ears ring with the gunshots but I can't tell where they're coming from, who's shooting and who's being shot. It's just chaos, an amalgam of color and motion that my eyes can't make sense of.

I see Haim fall to the ground, not asleep with a dog but choking on his own blood. It pours from his throat, mixing with the wine from an overturned carafe to stain the marble floor purple and red. His lady wife lays dead-eyed next to him. A child I don't recognize has a neat hole in the center of his forehead, like a mark from the gods.

I see but I don't really see, because my mind can't keep up with my eyes. Nothing makes sense. All just sounds and color, because this is impossible. Impossible. Our palace is impregnable. I'm wading through a waking dream, or a vision, yes, a drunken vision—

But it's not. A second later reality clicks into place, like a bullet loaded into a gun, and I see it for what it is. Our own guard is firing on us. Most of us are already down, dead or wounded. Those who aren't are screaming and running towards the exit like panicked animals, trampling the wounded, tripping over bodies and overturned tables alike.

The guards at the exits keep them from leaving, mowing them down, creating a growing pile of corpses. I know everyone in that pile. I've loved everyone in that pile. My eyes meet the eyes of a dead cousin, a cousin who was just sitting across from me and laughing half an hour ago, and I have to swallow back the bile rising in my throat. My mind is spinning, tripping over itself. How is this happening? What do I do?

Shira. My mind grasps at the solidity of a name. Where is Shira?

I stare at the pile, feeling the bile rise again as my stomach constricts. Is he- he can't be—

Then I remember. He's left to watch the fireworks, hasn't he? I almost laugh, feeling an absurd surge of joy. He has a chance, at least. A better chance than I do.

Run, I think as loudly as I can, as if he might hear me. Run as fast and as far as you can.

Run. I need to run. I've been standing still, frozen in disbelief, for what feels like hours. My body begs me to let the heat of my blood drive me forward, but both exits are blocked. There's no way out.

There's the window.

It's a three story drop but if I fall the right way I might survive it. I might be able to get to town for help. Not in time to save the people in this room, but maybe in time to save the boy on the fifth floor balcony. I turn towards the window and start running—

A strong pair of arms wraps around me from behind. I try to get away, but the grip tightens, pulling me flush against a stranger's chest.

"Stay still," a hoarse voice commands. I do the exact opposite. I grab the stranger's hands and try to pry them off of me, digging my fingers into the flesh of his arm hard enough to draw blood. He curses, but doesn't let go, instead encircling both of my wrists in a crushing grip and using the other hand to press a gun to my head.

"One more move and I'll blow your head off," he hisses in my ear. I still, feeling the press of cool metal against my skin. "Good girl," he huffs, dragging us backward until we're almost pressed to the wall. He holds me tightly, the gun resting against my temple.

My mind feels like the frayed ends of a rope. I look around wildly, like I might find salvation hiding in the corner, but there's nothing more than madness all around me. It's all madness-