He doesn’t have to say my name. I know he’s talking about me. Just like I know, in a few minutes, I’m going to die.

“Now, I’m sure some of you might of at one time or another thought you might be stronger than the Highers,” Gabrielle says. “But, I can assure, that’s not the case. And I’m here to prove this to you and remind you all of what the consequences are if the rules are broken.” His gaze travel’s to me, just like I knew it would. “Kayla, come to the center of the mat.”

Everyone’s eyes widen, but I remain tranquil, rising to my feet and stepping to the middle of the mat. Something dances in Gabrielle’s eyes. He’s afraid of me; he’s afraid of what I am. And what I’m not.

“Vei muri în curând,” he whispers, moving in on me like a preadator.

I raise my hand, preparing to protect myself. I hear a pop. A cry, but not my own. Blood. Blood everywhere, coating my skin, the mat, my eyes. Then an angelic voice rises through it all, telling me to hold on a little bit longer.

Chapter 7

My body feels heavy. Lights flicker, my mind fuzzy.  I’m in the hospital, only it is bare and hollow. There’s no Monarch, no Maci, no IV’s. Even the medicine cabinet is empty. The room is as blank as the memories of how I got here.

Clumsily, I stumble to my feet, my normal graceful balance fleetingly gone and I stagger for the door. But it’s locked. Monarch never locks the door. Taking a deep breath, I tug on the doorknob, pulling and yanking, until the metal lock bends and snaps free. The hall is crowded, but I push past the people, moving swiftly for Monarch’s room, toward the one person I know can explain things.

With every step, my strength returns to me. And by the time I reach his room, I feel like my old self, perhaps even stronger.

I bang on his door. “Monarch! Open up. I think there’s something wrong with me!”

The only answer I get is silence and the conversation that fills the halls. I glance behind me, checking if anyone’s watching. A few are, but oh well. I kick the door in and my heart sinks. All that’s left of Monarch’s disorderly room is the tattered brick walls and the frame of his bed.

“I don’t understand.” I mumble. “I don’t understand any of it.”

“Don’t understand what?” an icy voice says from over my shoulder.

I turn to a set of pale eyes and a glare as deathly as the vampires. Gabrielle. A memory pops at my skull. Blood. Blood everywhere. Behind the red door.