by Isis Rushdan
“But you are not human.”
After everything she’d endured and experienced, she was still coming to terms with that fact. “Thank you. This is fine.”
“When you’re finished, go down to the lower level where you may eat.”
Once Soren left, she undressed without thinking about her exposure to the elements or any warriors who might happen to fly by, and showered as quickly as she could. The fresh linen clothes were awkwardly loose, but tightening up her sneakers renewed the sense she could tackle whatever might come.
She crossed underneath the open dome through a shaft of warm sunlight on the lower level. A light breeze blew through the large spaces around the periphery, filling the hall with exotic floral scents.
Two men walked by, acknowledging her with a nod. As she glanced over her shoulder, both men stared back. They had two long slits along the spine of their blue tunics. She guessed they were warriors and the openings were for when they shifted and wings emerged.
In the dining area, long, white tables with benches were staggered in two circles, one inside the other. In the center, a bright array of food lined several tables pushed together. The seating could accommodate five hundred, maybe more. Yet only a handful of folks ate, speaking in hushed tones.
People stared and whispered as she passed. They probably didn’t get many visitors here, especially not ones with a Paladin as their companion.
A charged energy stream licked her electric core, probing for connection. Stiffening, she rejected the foreign stream, then it broke away.
“How curious, surrounded by the flock, you look lost,” a man said.
Spinning on her heels, she faced a young man—young being relative of course—that looked about mid-twenties. A playful smile broke on his beautiful, sun-kissed face, kind eyes laughing at her. Long, brown hair with golden highlights fell to his collarbone in wispy layers.
“Are you going to eat or simply stand here? They’ll remove the food any minute.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he cut through an aisle between the tables and went to the hodgepodge of food set in the center.
Biting back a smile and at an utter loss for words, Serenity caught up to him.
He handed her a bamboo tray and a plate with utensils that looked like they were made from a composite of shells. “If you get hungry throughout the day, be sure to take extra fruit for later. The next meal isn’t until sunset.”
She nodded, putting a mixture of sliced fruit on her plate.
“Neith said you were a queer bird. Although she failed to mention you were a mute.”
An awkward sound, something close to a giggle slipped from her lips. She had no clue where it came from.
“Finally, a smile.” He whisked a lock of hair from his eye. “I’m Adriel.”
“You already know who I am.”
“Serenity Ameliora. We all know who you are.” He juggled fruit in the air and tossed her an orange and banana. “Has Neith assigned you to a work detail?”
“Work detail?” she asked as they strolled to a table and sat at a bench.
“Everyone here works. Neith will assign you something productive.”
She put a spoonful of white porridge in her mouth and strained not to spit the bitter sludge out.
“You don’t like it?”
Forcing herself to swallow, she willed herself not to heave.
“It’s made from a root called Yaki, not to be confused with yucky. High in protein and will keep you full throughout the day.” With his wiry build and faint Aussie accent, he reminded her of a surfer.
“Perhaps it’ll grow on me.”
“I’ve eaten it all my life and can’t say it’s grown on me a lick. I prefer cereal from the mainland, but Neith doesn’t allow me to bring it back. Corruption of the palate is what she calls it. Refuses to let me infect the others.”
His charisma was stimulating, his easy-breezy style disarming, completely knocking her off balance.
“How long have you been here?”
A group of seven men and women dressed in yellow, their hair tied up, came from a side door and began to clear away the buffet of food.
“I was born here,” he answered.
She bit her bottom lip, uncertain how to ask what she really wanted to know. “That was my way of asking how old you are.” She ate a piece of sliced fruit. Sweetness exploded in her mouth.
“I’m fifty-two.” He gave a devilish wink.
A stocky man from the kitchen detail came to their table. “I saved the last two for you.” He tossed Adriel two pieces of fruit with scarlet skin.
Adriel caught them with ease. “Nikos, you’re the best, man.”
Nikos didn’t acknowledge her presence and Adriel didn’t seem concerned with introductions.
“Get to the evening meal early. I persuaded Lazarus to make your favorite tonight.”
“I appreciate your persistence. He’s so stubborn,” Adriel said.
“If only you knew.” Nikos shook his head and then darted back to the doors where the others left. He had two slits in the back of his tunic like the men she’d seen earlier, but he was dressed in yellow, not blue.
Adriel pushed one of the scarlet-colored fruit toward her. “It’s good to have friends in the kitchen.”
The fruit was warm as though it’d just been picked from the sun. It smelled like a cross between a mango and a peach, but was twice the size of anything she’d seen in a grocery store.
They dumped their trays by a stack of dirty ones and went up to the library on the third floor.
Pristine blue water, bluer than any she’d ever seen, called to her. She drifted to the railing near the walkway. The rippling expanse of lapis water was mesmerizing.
All light and beauty and warmth, this place appeared to be paradise. If only Cyrus was here.
When she turned around, Adriel was seated at one of the laptops. The library seemed more like a museum than a home for books with the antiquities along every wall. There was an empty sarcophagus with colorful Egyptian images painted inside, a painting of a goddess with wings and several marble statues.
Rows of papyrus scrolls were stacked in large bookcases thick and high as walls. Four ebony doors on the far side of the open space across from the bookcases had detailed carvings she couldn’t make out. Centuries of secrets were probably stored inside.
She knocked on the office door and wrung her fingers while she waited.
When Neith opened the door, Serenity peeked inside. Sothis sat in the same chair she’d been in last night, but dressed in a blue outfit. Three guards stood near the desk. A different scribe recorded the conversation.
“How did you sleep?” Neith asked.
“Very well, thanks to the honey wine.”
“Your mother will be more cooperative without you present. You may enter if you wish. Full transcripts will be made available at a later date if you elect not to come in.”
“I’d like to hear everything firsthand. I won’t interrupt.”
Neith’s delicate chin lifted a fraction, highlighting a long, graceful neck. “Your presence will disrupt the flow of information. I hope prudence will outweigh impatience and you’ll make a wiser decision.”
Obviously, the choice was no real choice at all. “Okay, I’ll wait. In the meantime, I need to contact Cyrus to let him know I’m all right.”
“Your situation is rather precarious. The only way to ensure your safety for now is to keep your whereabouts and even the fact that you’re alive a secret from everyone.”
“He’ll go mad with worry.” There was no telling what depths his despair would reach.
“A necessary consequence.” Not a drop of empathy in the opalescent, gray swirl of her eyes.
Serenity took a step forward and held the otherworldly gaze of the ancient beauty. “I won’t let Cyrus suffer needlessly. If he thinks I’m dead, there’s no telling how far off the deep end he’ll go. I can’t afford to risk that. Find a way for me to send him a message that I’m
alive or—”
“Careful.” A hint of a smile perked Neith’s lips. “Do not give an ultimatum you’ll regret carrying out, for petulant demands hold no sway over me. Your impetuosity and naivete would see us all in the ring of fire, but I have no desire to burn just yet. Have patience and enjoy my hospitality with grace. Feel free to use a computer at one of the historian’s stations, research any transcription.” Neith slammed the door in her face.
It took a moment for the burn in Serenity’s cheeks to subside. She prayed Neith’s words were governed by wisdom and not some self-serving agenda. Until she could be certain of which, she needed to act and speak with more caution.
Information in the database wasn’t organized in a user-friendly format she was familiar with. When she searched Herut, over 10,000 results came back. Each sigh of frustration elicited a glare from someone.
Despite the sophistication of the system, it lacked an Internet connection to send emails. There had to be a way to contact Cyrus.
Every ten minutes, she glanced at Neith’s door, wondering, waiting.
The light began to fade. Low in the horizon, the setting sun cast a rosy hue in the library. People shut down their workstations.
“You’ll enjoy the evening meal.” Adriel came up beside her. “Fish cooked in a saffron broth is a treat we rarely enjoy.”
Serenity looked at the heavy door to Neith’s office. “I’ll stay a bit longer.”
“I’ll save you some.”
Adriel was the last historian to leave.
Sconces on the wall illuminated. She stretched, walking around the quiet space. A long chart with numbers and symbols divided into three sections hung on the wall. Sections were labeled Akhet, Peret and Shemu. An Egyptian calendar. She remembered her birthday, Akhet III 26 and found it.
The door to the office opened, and Serenity pivoted. Sothis waltzed past the computer stations without a glance in her direction.
She dashed behind Sothis. “I’d like to speak with you.”
Grating silence.
“I’d prefer to hear the truth from you instead of reading it in a transcript.” She stayed on her mother’s heels down the walkway. “I remember watching Daddy die.”
The vivid memory raked her heart. All of the happy times with her father overshadowed by his brutal death.
Adriel and someone she didn’t know stared as they passed the second level.
“He swallowed the barrel of a gun and blew out his brains. I remember it just as clearly as if it happened yesterday.” The pain of losing her father welled in her soul.
Chest heaving, she stopped, holding on to the railing, and watched Sothis stroll away.
“You don’t understand what it’s like to have your memories stolen and your mind tampered with.” Long buried anguish cracked in her voice, carefully contained sorrow shattering. “Please!”
“I may be able to help you,” Adriel said.
Serenity turned to him, tears pooling in her eyes. “How?”
“I’m a healer. My gift is quite strong.”
Hope streaked through her and she hurried back up to him. “Can you heal my mind, restore my memories?”
“I’ve been able to heal anything I’ve focused on. I even saved Ximena from the dark veil before she was too far gone.”
He reached out to touch her forehead, but Sothis snatched his arm with the quickness of a phantom. A mark on the inside of his wrist poked out from the cuff of his tunic. Sothis yanked back his sleeve and turned his wrist upward.
Breath stalled as Serenity stared at his birthmark. A razor-sharp sickle twisted into a question mark. She knew the symbol well. It was one of thirteen. Adriel was Blessed.
“I know your kabashem,” Sothis spat at Adriel.
Another Blessed Kindred with a mate?
“What’s she like?” Adriel asked.
Sothis glowered at him. “Insane.”
Adriel wrenched his wrist free of her grasp. “Is it sangre saevitas or some other affliction? Perhaps I can heal her.”
A biting laugh scraped from Sothis’s mouth. “Her madness can’t be healed. You’d do best to stay far away from her.”
“That’s what Neith says, but she hasn’t given me a reason.”
A cruel grin split her mother’s face. “Your kabashem, Evane, is a fanatic that would sooner slit your throat than kiss you. Reason enough?”
Adriel recoiled.
Sothis turned to Serenity. “Don’t do this. No good will come from dredging up the past or—”she cut a sharp glance at Adriel, “—involving the other half of Evane’s twisted soul. You were loved, adored. That’s all you need to know. I carry the weight of what happened to our family for us both. Let the past go. Look to the future.”
“The past haunts me every day. It won’t let me go. Not until I know what really happened.”
Drawing in a breath, Sothis held her gaze. All emotion washed away from her face. “Then I leave you to your choice.” She stormed off and didn’t look back.
Chapter Thirteen
Serenity’s heart clenched. She yearned to reach for her mother, to be hugged and told the truth. She yearned for the impossible.
“If you still want me to try, we should go somewhere private so I can focus without interruption,” Adriel said.
With a nod, she followed him down the dormitory section closest to the showers. At the end of the hall, he opened the door.
A cool breeze caressed her face. His room was twice the size of hers and had a window. Neat stacks of comic books covered the top of his dresser. Some wrapped in plastic looked as if they’d never been opened.
“Sure you want to do this?” Adriel sat on his full-size bed. “Your mother seemed adamant it’d be better for you not to know.”
“I have to know.” Serenity sat beside him, resigned to her course of action.
“Close your eyes. I’ll focus on restoration of your mind, healing any damaged memories.”
She hesitated, reconsidering for just a moment, then shut her eyes.
Adriel placed both hands on either side of her head. His palms warmed, steadily growing hot. A vibrating bolt of electricity punched through her skull, hooking into her brain. Charged waves whirred in her head.
She gasped as she was reeled backward in her mind’s eye.
Scenes from the tattoo shop, college, high school, foster care—a dizzying blur.
A murky fog heavy with sediment clouded her mind. Crackling filled her ears. The smell of fire, wood burning clogged her nose. Heat from his hands seared her head.
Just as she was about to scream from the pain and sensory overload, it stopped.
Standing in her crib, Serenity shook the wooden railing. Nondescript sounds floated from her lips.
Lucien, her father, glided to her, smiling. “Hungry again?” He lifted her in a strong grip.
She patted his chocolate brown face, giggling.
Curled on a sofa, her mother extended her arms. “Is my precious girl up from her nap?”
Serenity cooed, cradled in her mother’s milky arms. Sothis removed a breast from her shirt and Serenity reached for a nipple, enveloped in rose-scented warmth.
A blinding flash of white.
Her mother sang happy birthday to her father while Serenity sat in his lap, staring at a cake covered in lit candles. “Make a wish,” her mother said.
Serenity stuck a finger in the frosting and licked off sweet icing.
“I already have everything I want.” He blew out the candles.
Hazy static stabbed her mind.
Coney Island amusement park was hot. The bright sun made her squint. She didn’t like roller coasters, but the last bite of her hot dog was yummy.
She broke free of her father and ran down the steps of the boardwalk into the sand. The watery hands of the ocean waved. She ran for the white foam that crawled back from the sand, daring her to come and play.
Her father snatched her in his arms. She chuckled.
“Where do you think yo
u’re going, little lady?”
“Into the ocean.”
“But you can’t swim,” he said, making a silly face. He blew on her belly, squeezing out laughter.
Sothis wiped Serenity’s face with a napkin. “I’ll teach you when I get back.”
“Take me with you, Mama. I wanna meet Gram-mama Rora.”
Sothis looked down. “It’s not safe for you to go with me.”
Lucien put Serenity on his shoulders and ran down the beach. “Don’t you want to stay with me? No bed time, you can watch television and we’ll make s’mores.”
Squealing with joy, she clapped her hands.
Fuzzy images whirled together, tangled with piercing shards of pain.
Angry at her mama, Serenity sat on the stairs, watching her parents through the wooden pegs of the banister.
Her mama stood in the open doorway, smiling at her daddy. “Give Serenity a hug. Tell her I love her.”
“She’ll get over it. Kids are resilient. Don’t let those witches—”
“I’ll come back as soon as I can. Don’t worry. I love you.” She gave him a long kiss that never seemed to end.
Surrounded in a halo of sunlight, Sothis waved goodbye.
A buzz saw hacked at memories, blasting in her ears with a shrill sound, tearing at the fibers of her mind. Distorted images tumbled and disintegrated into black.
Her father tucked her into bed and read a letter from her mother.
“I miss Mommy.” She cried, crumpling the letter. “When is she coming home?”
“Soon, I hope. The witches at Aten are making things difficult. They’re trying to make her feel guilty.”
“I don’t like those mean witches.”
“Not all witches are bad,” he said in a soothing tone.
“Like Gram-mama Rora?”
He nodded. “Like Grandma Aurora.” He wrapped her in a hug. “How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?”
She sniffled. “Tell me about the firebird with two souls.”
“It’s a phoenix with one soul split into two different bodies.”