“If it’s okay, I’d like to come back tomorrow to speak with you some more,” Sike said, looking with eager eyes at the rows of scrolls and books. “I’d love to go through some of these records if that would be acceptable.”
Echen nodded, some of his enthusiasm returning. “History is meant to be shared. Come any time, for as long as you’re here. That goes for both of you,” he added with a wan smile at me.
As he rose to show us out of the chamber, a wave of jaspeth musk hit me, strong enough to make my eyes water. I glanced down at his low table to blink the tears from my eyes, catching sight of a spiked font I didn’t recognize.
“What language is that?” I asked, pointing to the notes. “I haven’t seen any of the other vampires use it.”
Echen looked at what had caught my attention. “Oh, that is the language of balance bringers and scholars. It’s almost exclusively used by vampires now, although at one time Immortal scholars used it, too. I’m using it to write a letter to a colleague of mine in the upper echelons of the amber hallways, up by the council, asking for the official record of this endeavor you and your team are putting together so I can add it to our history.”
“I’ve never seen it before,” I murmured, looking closer.
“You wouldn’t have seen any of your teammates use it, as they speak and write the universal tongue with those from the Mortal Plane. Immortals use it, too, when they choose to speak nontelepathically.”
"Is that why we could understand the Immortal hunters we met?” I’d wondered about that but had bigger problems at the time.
“Yes,” Echen replied, ushering us toward the doorway. “Immortals and vampires do not share a language, so they both would have used the universal tongue during your interaction, which, I must say, I am deeply impressed you all survived.”
“Not for lack of effort on their part,” Sike joked, gesturing to his various injuries.
I noticed that despite his humorous comment, he looked weary. We probably needed to rest.
Finally bidding farewell to Echen, I insisted that both Sike and I return to our respective chambers to sleep for a while. He didn’t argue and guided us silently back through the multicolored maze of halls.
The implications of the scholar’s story haunted me. Did this mean Dorian and I had no chance of being together? Or could the madhat method of drinking my non-dark blood, if it even worked, be done safely? The human had allegedly died, but he hadn’t mentioned the vampire’s fate. They had probably passed away, as well, in the time since the tear. But if not, we needed to find them, or at least someone who might know more about the situation than rumors and dead researchers.
I said goodbye to Sike as we parted ways outside the chamber they had given to the vampires. As it turned out, it was just around the corner from the one given to us three humans. I had no idea what time it was or even how long I had been awake, but from the increased quiet of the Hive, most of its inhabitants seemed to be resting.
Both Bryce and Roxy slept soundly in their beds as I crept into the chamber. I wondered if Bryce had awoken at all today and when Roxy had gotten back from the team meeting. All at once, I felt startlingly isolated as it hit me that I was the only conscious human in the Immortal Plane right now. I understood more than ever how the vampires must feel being so far from their home. A sharp longing for Dorian’s presence washed over me. I desperately wished I could talk to him.
Inspired by the memory of Echen’s writing, I dug through my gear bag for a notebook and pencil. A letter was the perfect way to communicate when necessity compelled distance from the person you wanted to speak to. I sat on the low bed with the notebook on my leg and wrote by the light of the luminescent lichen.
Dear Dorian
I stopped. Was that too formal? Too intimate? It felt strange somehow. I crossed it out, instead writing him a brisk note. There was a lot that I wanted to get off my chest, brought on by the events of the day. And if previous discussions about our complex situation had taught me anything, it was that they often ended with Dorian insisting he knew best. This time, I wanted to write clearly and powerfully, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Dorian,
Writing seems to be the best option to communicate privately with you. I’m sorry you’re feeling the pain too, now. It doesn’t feel satisfying that you have to experience what I do. It feels worse.
Sike and I talked to Echen, a history scholar, today. I might have learned a way around the curse, but it sounds risky. I’m not sure it will work, but right now it is my only lead. I’m of the opinion that we should wait until we finish the mission to try it.
I hesitated, imagining his reaction to my next words, but I steeled myself and wrote them anyway. He was going to hate it.
I want us to consider the worst-case scenario if we can’t find a way to end the curse. We need to talk about this after the mission. Right now, I know you need to be at full strength for the rest of this journey.
Once again, I hovered over the page until I’d worked out what I wanted to say. Uncertainty wouldn’t read well.
In the balance of things, the success of this mission is far more important than whether or not I am involved. There’s too much risk that one or both of us could end up in a coma again. Our cause is more important than any of us individually. I am only one part of the team, and right now my presence is more of a hindrance than a help. Maybe it would be best if I wait here with Sike, Bryce, and Arlonne. It doesn’t change my commitment to you—to us—but we agreed to go on this mission as soldiers, not as lovers.
I sucked in a breath and reread. Satisfied, I hesitated, unsure how to end the letter. Sincerely? With love? Hugs and kisses? I snorted quietly at the last.
I finally settled on just writing my name, feeling like I’d chickened out. I tore out the page, folded the paper neatly, and wrote Dorian on the visible side.
I crept down the hall to the vampires’ chamber, not wanting to wake anyone with supernatural hearing. I peered through the open doorway. The last thing I wanted was to trigger any pain if Dorian saw me, but everyone was already asleep.
I spotted Dorian’s form in a bed beneath a rough blanket and tiptoed inside. Quietly, I placed the folded letter and the pencil near his bedside. He stirred slightly.
I turned to leave but froze when Dorian turned toward me in his sleep. He didn’t wake up, just shifted a little, his breath evening out. My heart stung with sadness. He reached out his hand in his sleep, eyes still shut. I desperately wanted to stay by his side… but I had to leave him.
“Goodnight,” I whispered, hoping he somehow heard me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The wraith version of Dorian found me in my dreams again. He walked toward me in the ruined city of Vanim, melting into shadows only to reappear behind me. Blasts of teal light burned through my vision. The world grew murkier as fog crawled over me. Screams of fear and pain sounded in the distance.
I woke up staring at the ceiling, engulfed in the same sense of loss that I had woken with the day before. At some point in my distressed sleep, I had kicked off the rough blanket. It sat at the end of the bed in a crumpled heap. I pressed my hand against my heart where it hammered in my chest. There was an emptiness in my hands, as if something had slipped through my fingers.
In the dim bioluminescence, I saw my teammates sleeping. Roxy snored softly beneath her pillow. Bryce’s leg stuck off the side of his bed, his big foot twitching every now and then as he shifted in his sleep. My eyes drifted to the stool beside my bed. My letter sat there folded neatly, notebook and pencil beside it. I blinked, disoriented. I leaned over to grab the note and realized that someone had folded the paper so my original note was on the outside. Had Dorian responded? Wide awake now, I sat up and snatched the letter off the table.
My Lyra,
Although there are risks, which I have considered, I need you on this mission. Our team needs you. You may not know how much you matter, but you are part of the glue holding our group t
ogether. I trust your skills.
My heart began to beat faster. He’d called me his. He wanted me to go on the mission. However, there was a seed of doubt beneath the flush of affection, because he once again seemed to be ignoring most of my points. My skills wouldn’t be worth much if I passed out in the middle of a battle. Worse, now I could take him down with me.
There are ways we can work around our problem so that you can join the mission. For surveillance, it might be wiser to have several small groups. We would be able to cover more ground and gather more intel. You and I would just need to be in different groups. Even when we’re not next to each other, we make a great team.
I smiled down at the letter, shaking my head. That point was comforting, but it didn’t entirely soothe the anxious feeling in my gut.
I need you to come on this mission. Really, honestly, truly. I don’t know how many more words I need to drive that point home. Even when the pain hits me, your presence grounds and reassures me. I have a suggestion to lessen the pain immediately. There are hungry Hive vampires, and I can donate a small portion of my dark energy to them. It might even help improve the goodwill we need to win their support.
I sighed, trying to keep the sound low for my sleeping friends. Here he went again, insisting on weakening himself for me, even at the cost to the mission. I pressed on, unable to escape my need to read more of his words, words he had written for me about how much he cared.
I miss our days on the run, as ridiculous as that sounds. I miss being able to curl up next to you without unbearable pain. I miss your laugh next to my ear. I miss your touch, your kisses, the shape of your body in my hands. You’re in my thoughts even when you’re not around.
Warmth spread through my body as my breath caught. I pressed the letter to my lips for a blissful moment, closing my eyes against sudden desire. It was amazing, the emotions that a mere letter could provoke within me. It was old school, but it worked.
I need you on this mission. We leave as soon as we can gather a party to accompany us.
The last sentence flung a bucket of cold water over those delightful sensations. He assumed I would go along, no questions asked, just like he had when he first announced the Immortal Plane mission. I dropped the letter to the bed, dragging my hand down my face. He was trying to decide for me again. I exhaled. In Moab, I’d found that I didn’t fit into a traditional command structure anymore, after the democratic way we’d run our group as fugitives from the Bureau. I had accepted that we couldn’t do that here, since Dorian was the expert in the Immortal Plane, but it still left a sour taste in my mouth. We’d mixed business and pleasure out of necessity, and now I found myself in the position of taking orders from a lover. I could see now why businesses and militaries didn’t allow that. I didn’t want to grow to resent him.
And our future? It stretched before me like the murky path in my dreams of ruined Vanim. He hadn’t addressed that part of my letter at all. I reread the beginning line again, annoyed that my heart still beat faster when I read how he called me his. I cared for him deeply, but I wasn’t going to let him manipulate me into doing something unwise.
Frustration, love, and desire boiled within me, pulling my heart in every direction. I put my head in my hands, processing everything. There was no help for it: we would have to talk this through in person. Even if it would hurt.
Someone knocked on the chamber wall beside the doorway, and I shoved the letter beneath my pillow, startled.
“Wake up,” Arlonne said as she stepped into the chamber. She wore a rough new linen shirt. The warm yellow looked good against her brown skin. Laini hovered behind her, stifling a yawn. “The Hive elders are giving their decision about aid for the mission.”
Roxy scrambled from her sheets, suddenly awake. “They’ve decided?”
I swung my legs out of bed and grabbed my boots. The speed of their decision—less than a working day—could either be a very good thing or a very bad thing. Either way, the next phase of our mission would be defined by whatever was about to be said in the council chamber.
Bryce never stirred. I hesitated. He’d probably want to hear this, but…
“Leave him be,” Arlonne said, her gaze lingering for a second longer than usual on the sleeping soldier. “He deserves to rest.”
* * *
There were fewer people in the council room today, though whether that was because of the early hour or because most of the population didn’t care about the outcome I couldn’t be sure. The room stank of jaspeth pheromones. The citrus needled me today, irritating my nose. Seven Hive vampires sat on rugs in a circle, including Echen, and the four elders assembled at the front. Mox peered over at our group of vampires and humans, which had stayed close to the curved wall again.
Dorian was the only one to stand before the elders, as though he were about to be judged. After that beautiful letter, I wished I could walk up to him and wrap my arms around him, even if we needed to talk about certain aspects of it. He’d find it harder to ignore my points in person. In the meantime, I hated the distance between us and how unnatural it felt.
“We have come to a decision,” Mox announced, drawing herself up. Her tiny frame somehow filled the room.
I stared at her stark white hair and fought the urge to fidget nervously in the silence that followed her announcement. Vampires really knew how to drag out the anticipation.
“I’m ready to hear it,” Dorian said and bowed his head, the picture of calm respect.
“We will not help you and your team, beyond the sanctuary that we are already providing,” she announced in a firm voice. “We will not authorize sending our people to the Mortal Plane, because we simply don’t have enough information about your alleged safe haven, nor do we know you well enough to trust you. We will not send any of our people with you to the Immortal city, either.”
My gut twisted as I watched Dorian bring his head up, meeting her gaze steadily.
“I regret being unable to provide supporting scouts and firsthand knowledge of the city,” Mox insisted. “We all do, but we’re not a resistance movement. Our primary goal is simply to endure, to survive, to protect the knowledge hidden within these walls. The Immortals grow greedier each day. They used to just kill our kind, but lately they’ve taken to capturing us. Captivity is a fate worse than death, as far as we are concerned. Each capture increases our risk of discovery. We want no more of our people in or around Itzarriol than necessary. The Hive will only journey there for feeding missions. Nothing else.”
Her final words fell. The chamber stilled into a terrible quiet. They wouldn’t help. The cold of disappointment stung me. I understood why, but I also wished they would consider that being proactive was its own kind of protection. This must be a terrible blow to Dorian. It didn’t show on his face, however—he remained outwardly calm and composed.
“However,” Mox’s face softened, “do not think that we disparage your goals. We have seen too much death and lost too many of our group to join you on the ground. You are more than welcome to stay here, humans and vampires, and become a part of the Hive, for as long as you so wish. We recognize and value the bravery you all have displayed in getting this far, and we know you could be of great service to the protection of the Hive.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Dorian said, a touch of genuine warmth in his voice despite the disappointment he must be feeling, “but we came to the Immortal Plane for a purpose, one which we intend to fulfill with or without your aid.” He paused. “Is there nothing I can say to make you reconsider any part of your decision?”
Mox shook her head. “The Immortals are far too dangerous for our group to face, and what we protect here is far too precious.” Her sharp eyes focused on him. “Tell me, Dorian. Do you honestly believe that your mission will help restore balance to the Immortal Plane and our kind?”
“I do,” he replied without missing a beat.
“Would you be willing to die if it gave your mission a chance to succeed?”
&
nbsp; “I would.” There was no hesitation in his voice.
His answer provoked a mixture of feelings in me, mainly pride in his certainty and fear that he might one day soon have to act on these words.
“And the Immortals do not scare you?” she asked, a note of genuine curiosity in her tone.
I glanced at the vampires gathered on rugs in the circle nearby. When she said the word “Immortal”, two of them shuddered. An older man dropped his gaze to the ground, a blank look coming into his eyes.
“Of course the Immortals scare me,” Dorian said with the hint of a frown. “I have seen the horror they inflict. I lost my home, my family, my city to their cruelty.”
“Then surely you understand why we are so wary of risking the Hive’s discovery,” Mox said. “You know that this is where the last traces of our civilization are hidden away. Most of those who live here are the old, the sick, the weak, the young, and those with no combat training.”
The Immortal rulers scare the hell out of these guys. I noted the slumped postures and the nervous glances they gave one another. It was understandable, but how did they expect to change their current circumstances if they wouldn’t take up their own cause? They couldn’t survive in hiding forever. As Mox had said, the Hive risked everything with each captured scout. I bit my tongue as I tried to soothe my frustration when I looked at the small elder, knowing the burden of leadership she was balancing on her thin shoulders.
Dorian respectfully bowed his head once more. “I understand your reservations. Should your mind or your circumstances change, my offer to move the archives and records, as well as the vulnerable population, to our camp in Scotland is a standing invitation.”
Darklight 3: Darkworld Page 27