Siri looked up and met his eyes once more. He towered more than a foot over her, but she was no more threatened by him than he was by her. His mouth was firm and unsmiling. The grief in his eyes was subdued, though she had no doubt it would rub him raw for the rest of his life.
Unfamiliar words spilled from her lips. “Thank you.” She hesitated. She only knew him by his identification number that tracked him as a unique individual in her population records. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Rafael Varens.”
“I’m Siri. Thank you, for this.” She held up the jar of salve.
He inclined his head. “You’re welcome.”
She stared at him. The loss of his only son was raw in his heart, yet his assistance and his courtesy stunned her. How many more ways will you surprise me, Rafael Varens?
Rafael spent the next hour preparing a second batch of salve. He ground goldenseal root, myrrh gum power, St. John’s Wort, and calendula flowers into a fine powder before blending it into a molten swirl of purified beeswax. The heat brought out the aroma of the mixture and filled the kitchen with its bittersweet scent. He scooped the salve into a sterilized jar, set it aside to cool, and then scrubbed down the kitchen.
The kitchen did not need cleaning, but he needed the physical distraction. He worked late into the night and then went out to chop firewood, taking out his frustration and sorrow on the hapless woodpile. The sound of splintering wood kept the silence at bay. His back ached and his knuckles were sore by the time he drove himself to exhaustion.
He looked down at his clothes. His homespun cotton shirt was soaked with sweat, his pants covered with wood dust and splinters. He needed a bath, although at this time of the night, the water in the bathhouse would be no warmer than the water in the stream behind his house. The decision was easy. He strode around his yard and followed the sound of running water into the forest.
The stream was one of the smaller tributaries of the waterfall spilling from Malum Turris to encircle Aeternae Noctis. The water was usually cold and always pristine. That night, the temperature of the water was mild, as if it had retained some heat from the sunshine that now graced several hours of each day.
Rafael lingered in the water far longer than he needed to. Besides, he had no responsibilities to which to return. No feverish, fretting child to watch over. No soothing brew of chamomile and lemon was needed to ease the phlegm-filled coughs away. He swam back and forth at a furious pace to escape the memory of Stefan, tucked in his little bed with the quilt pulled up to his neck and a broad smile on that tiny, pale face.
The familiar ache that burned through his shoulders and arms as he swam against the current anchored him and reminded him he was still alive. Reminders helped. Reminders to breathe, to eat, to sleep, to look up and around.
He had not fully grieved Ariel’s loss five years ago. With a sickly newborn, his entire focus was on keeping Stefan alive through each hour, and then, as his son’s condition stabilized, through each day. He did not have time for grief.
Well, he could grieve now, and it was all he could do to stay ahead of it, not to allow it to overwhelm him. Physical labor helped, as did mental distractions, including the icrathari, Siri.
What prompted her visit? Who was the intended user of the salve he had prepared?
Surely not an icrathari or a vampire. Their self-healing abilities were so potent that they were even able to repair the effects of aging, effectively rendering themselves immortal. A human, then, but as far as he knew, there were no humans in the tower, except for the thousands of children sleeping within the ark.
Rafael shook his head as he climbed out of the stream. He did not know anything about the icrathari or vampires beyond what was commonly repeated in the marketplace. His busy life as the city’s herbalist and a single father had not permitted him much time for gossip. Yet, even he knew of Ashra, the icrathari queen, and Tera, the warlord, which made Siri the third and final icrathari, the one rarely seen outside the tower. No one knew for certain what she did, although her appearance with the list of names and her overseeing the cryogenic process provided clues.
She was the icrathari responsible for culling the children.
The angel of death.
Drops of water trickled down Rafael’s long limbs as he gathered his clothes and walked back to his cottage. Silence closed in around him, a palpable presence with a voice that twisted at his grief. The night air had a distinctly cold bite. He shivered and glanced around at the unexpected rustle of wings. Sparrows darted from a large bush in a flurry of flight. Rafael’s eyes narrowed. Something had startled them. Not him.
A shadow shifted, took shape. It slammed him face-first into a tree. The impact exploded lights through his head. The rough bark of the pine tree gouged his bare chest.
The hand against his back effortlessly kept him pinned against the tree. “What herbs did you give her?” The voice was deep and sonorous with an otherworldly timbre. A vampire.
“Her?” Rafael struggled to form words through the shafts of pain pulsing in his skull. “Siri?”
“What did you give her?”
“The salve she wanted. Goldenseal. Myrrh.”
The hand pushed him harder against the tree. “What else? What else did you put in it?”
Rafael forced the words out. “St. John’s Wort. Calendula.”
The pressure against his back relaxed for a moment before returning, harder. “You be careful with what you give her. If you hurt her, you’ll pay. Worse than this.”
The vampire yanked Rafael’s head to the side, baring his throat, exposing his jugular. Incisors sank into his neck and then viciously tore away, ripping through skin, flesh, and vein. Rafael gasped and dropped to his knees as the pressure against his back vanished. He pressed a trembling hand against his neck. Blood gushed from the open wound. Aghast, he stared at his crimson-stained hand, hot and sticky with his blood.
He had to move, get help, or he would bleed to death.
His legs felt like rubber, not part of him, as he stumbled through the forest, toward the lights in the city. Twice he lost his footing and fell, but he dragged himself upright and pushed on. His vision blurred with each step until the world turned into shades of gray.
The warm sod of the forest floor conceded to cold cobblestone. Each step burned through his overwhelmed senses.
His body was shutting down from blood loss.
He was dying.
Give up. Let go. Be with Ariel. With Stefan.
But Stefan was not dead. Not yet. Siri had said so.
Rafael stumbled through the city streets. Through the haze of his vision, he made out a door. He staggered against it and pounded his other fist on the polished wood. The sound rattled his skull. He could scarcely make out the commotion of scurrying feet over the roaring white noise in his head.
The door opened inward, and he collapsed forward onto warm terra-cotta tiles. A flurry of activity exploded around him.
“Rafael!”
“Oh my God, he’s bleeding all over!”
“Hurry, child, run for the doctor. Get Spencer here right now.”
“Towels, quick. Bring him by the fire. We have to stop the bleeding.”
He struggled to stay conscious, tried to breathe a thank you, but his body no longer obeyed him. Black washed across the gray and dragged him down into the darkness.
Chapter 4
The first rays of sunlight peeked through the arc of the dome and sparkled against the carbon steel floor of the chamber. Siri looked up from her seat at the control panel and studied the pools of light. For the first time in many days, she managed an appreciative smile. The ever-present pain was subdued, thanks to a lavish application of Rafael’s salve.
Lucas stepped off the elevator and walked up to her. A quick glance confirmed that they had the chamber to themselves. “Did you get the salve from the herbalist?” he asked in lowered tones.
She nodded.
“How do you feel today?”
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“Much better.” She smiled at him.
“Good.” He relaxed, his shoulders sagging, though his eyes flicked from side to side, as if he were wrestling with unspoken words. The elevator shifted into motion and disappeared into the bowels of the tower. Moments later, it reappeared, and Yuri and Talon stepped off.
The air between the vampire and the elder vampire crackled with tension, created by equal parts professional disdain and personal attraction. Siri allowed herself a smile, but refrained from commenting on the charged atmosphere. Yuri and Talon would have to sort it out for themselves.
“What happened?” Siri asked.
Yuri wore a faint frown. “A bit of an uproar in the city. It appears that one of its citizens was attacked by a vampire last night.”
“Really?” Siri frowned. The attacker must have been a recently turned vampire defying the no-hunting-humans rule that had been set in place since the founding of Aeternae Noctis. “Do we know who’s responsible?”
“Not yet. I went to the city to collect a saliva sample from the victim’s neck wound, but I didn’t have enough to work with. It appears no blood was exchanged.”
“Really?” Siri arched an eyebrow. “Are you telling me it was a straight-out attack without an interest in feeding?”
“It appears so.”
Talon cut in. “It means we have a bigger problem on our hands than a vampire craving a midnight snack. The people won’t tolerate an unprovoked attack. Jaden’s in the city now trying to calm things down, but he signaled to me—”
“To me,” Yuri said flatly.
Talon did not look at her. “To us to make sure the military was ready to restore peace in the city.”
Siri sighed. The icrathari had enough real problems to deal with; another human rebellion was an absurd waste of everyone’s time. “Did you tell Ashra yet?”
“Tera’s debriefing her.”
Siri rolled her eyes and pushed to her feet. “Those two have been spoiling for a fight for several months. Let me go head that off right now.” She straightened her shoulders; her wings spread to their full ten-foot span. She walked to the edge of the central shaft next the elevator and glanced over her shoulder. “By the way, who was the human who got hurt?”
“His name is Varens.”
Siri froze. “Rafael Varens?”
“You know him?”
Her hands clenched into fists to keep from trembling. She turned to Yuri. “The herbalist.”
Yuri nodded. “Yes, he’s the herbalist.” Her tone turned speculative. “I didn’t realize you knew any humans in the city.”
With effort, Siri kept her tone nonchalant. “He’s one of the few I know by name. Is he all right?”
“Lost a lot of blood, but managed to get help before he passed out. Spencer, the human doctor, thinks he’ll make it, not that it stops the people of the city from being furious with us. It appears the people are quite fond of Rafael.”
Siri’s eyes narrowed into violet slits. “Find out who did this to him. Send someone down to talk to him; he may have seen his attacker. Put a guard on him. Whoever attacked him may return to finish the job.”
Yuri acknowledged the order with a nod of her head. She tucked her tongue into the side of her cheek and exchanged a quick glance with Talon. “That’s a lot of effort for an herbalist.”
Siri did not think so, not for the one human who possessed the ability to soothe her physical pain. She knew better than to rise to the bait, though; the vampires of Aeternae Noctis were notorious gossips. Siri leapt off the platform and soared to Ashra’s suite where two voices, raised in heated debate, carried through the closed door.
Siri walked, uninvited, into the suite. Ashra and Tera were glaring at each other. She tried to lighten the mood. “So, have we decided how to wipe out those ungrateful peasants? Fire or flood? Or should we just suck them dry of blood?”
Tera shot her an annoyed glance. Her wings flared as she turned to face Siri. “Your humor is misplaced. This is the second time in as many days we’ve found ourselves on the verge of a rebellion.”
“You underestimate Jaden’s ability to calm things down.”
“I don’t, but Jaden cannot always be around to play peacemaker.” Tera tossed her silver braid over one shoulder. “All that fuss over one human, and he wasn’t even killed. Six months ago, no one made a fuss over the lives lost each full moon.”
“They did,” Ashra said. “But back then, the humans were not strong enough to make their voices heard. They are still not strong enough now, but they know there is someone—Jaden—who will listen and speak on their behalf.” She paced the room, each step silent and graceful. Her long silver hair cascaded in lush curls down her back. “This awkward balance between benevolence and terror cannot continue. We need principles to govern our actions, so we don’t waste time debating each situation that arises. The humans need to know what we will or will not tolerate, so they can govern themselves accordingly.”
“Sounds great.” Siri sprawled in a chair. Her breath caught as pain ripped through her midsection, but the sound was lost in the rustling contact of her silk dress against the velvet cushion.
Ashra continued. Her golden eyes were steely. “Something has to change. Either we rule through terror as we have always done, or we find a new way of government.”
“Democracy?” Tera’s voice roiled with disdain.
Siri chuckled. With effort, she kept her voice steady and spoke through the rippling pain. “We’ve known each other for thousands of years, and we barely manage to listen to each other. What makes you think we’ll be any more successful listening to humans who can scarcely focus beyond each petty day, let alone their pathetic eighty-year lifespan? Besides, they got us into this fix.” She waved her hand to encompass the glass dome.
“And they’ve made the first steps toward getting us out,” Ashra pointed out.
“Technically, Jaden is an elder vampire now, not a human. Besides, he has an icrathari soul. He wasn’t even entirely human, even when he was.”
“What Jaden is or was isn’t relevant. We need a new system of government. A human representative on the council, perhaps?”
Siri shrugged. “Jaden’s on the council.”
“Jaden’s not human, as you’ve pointed out.” Ashra smirked at Siri.
Tera interjected. “What about the mayor of the city? What’s his name?”
Siri waited for five heartbeats before speaking. “The fact that neither of you can name him should be sufficient evidence that he is not the right person for the council. The mayor’s name is James Elkard. He is boring and pedantic.”
“How did he become mayor?” Tera asked.
“Because the people who elected him are even more boring and pedantic. Elkard comes from a distinguished line. Unfortunately, anything spectacular about that line burned itself out several generations prior. The shortsighted people of the city have yet to realize it, of course.”
Ashra tilted her head. “You don’t have much respect for the humans, do you?”
Siri shrugged. “How can I? I’m closer to them than either of you. I see all the chaos you distance yourself from.”
“You haven’t left the tower in years.”
Not true. I was in the city just last night. Nevertheless, Siri responded to Tera’s accusation. “I run the city from the chamber. I know the people, by number if not by name. I track their bloodlines, their genes. I can tell you which lineages are crippled by hereditary diseases, even if they haven’t manifested, and which—”
“So who should be the human representative on the council?” Ashra asked.
“Someone respected by the people, of course, which narrows it down to the craftsmen, several shopkeepers—the honest ones—and possibly the medical professions—the doctors, midwives, and herbalists. We’d want someone tapped into the hearts of the people, someone who knows what’s going on. Most importantly, we’d want someone inherently sympathetic to us.”
Tera snorted. �
�Scratch the entire list, then. Everyone has lost family members to the culling.”
Siri thought of Rafael, of his unerring professionalism in the face of his quiet grief. “Some handle it better than others.” For a moment, she contemplated putting his name forward, but she knew of far better candidates. “My pick is Michael Harlock.”
“Who’s he?”
“I believe he owns the city’s most popular tavern, the Blue Goose. He is also Jaden’s best friend, from his human days.”
“Won’t it appear biased if we select someone close to Jaden?” Ashra asked.
Siri arched an eyebrow. “You’re worried about appearances?”
“Regardless of what you think, the role of the human representative will not be a sham,” Ashra said. “It will have a voice, like the vampires on the council.”
Tera laughed. “Just pick someone with nerve. It’ll take a spine of steel for a human to stand unafraid in a chamber filled with icrathari, elder vampires, and vampires.”
Siri pursed her lips as she sank deeper into the chair. Spine of steel. Rafael had not been afraid of her.
Ashra strode to the balcony of her suite and looked out over the city. In her white gauzy dress, caressed by the sunlight spilling in through the dome, she looked like an angel, her black bat-shaped wings notwithstanding. “What about the human who was attacked?”
“Rafael Varens?”
Ashra turned to face Siri. “It would be a gesture of goodwill, would it not?”
“Well, sure, but—”
“What does he do?”
“He’s an herbalist,” Siri said. And an exceptional one at that.
Ashra nodded thoughtfully. “More than likely, he won’t be sympathetic toward us—not after the unwarranted attack—”
And the fact that his only son was just culled.
“But that would lend him credibility with his own people,” Ashra continued. She looked at Siri and Tera. “What do you think?”
Eternal Dawn Page 3