by Isis Rushdan
He came out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of linen pants and carrying his toiletries. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s easier for the laundry detail if you put the sheets, clothes and towels in separate piles? It saves them the time of sorting it.”
Sighing, she separated the laundry into three piles. She glanced at him as he grabbed his towel. His weary face had bags under the eyes.
“I won’t have time to eat breakfast with you. I have to make the rounds today.”
He shrugged. “That’s fine.”
“You’ve been getting a solid ten hours of sleep every night.” She grabbed the tablet and followed him in the hall. “Are you still tired?”
With a yawn, he nodded.
“There’s been a change when we connect,” she broached. “Have you felt it?”
He gave a single, firm nod, but said nothing.
“When we separate it kind of hurts,” she said. He glanced down at her, not voicing the concern in his eyes. “It’s like my stream goes crazy yearning for yours to the point it makes me dizzy, even queasy sometimes. Is that what you feel when we part?”
He averted her gaze. “No.”
“What does it feel like for you when we separate?”
Cyrus put his arm around her shoulder. “Different.” He kissed the top of her head.
“What’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with me?”
Stopping, he cupped her face in his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you or us.” Cyrus gave her a peck on the lips and a hug. “I’ll meet you in the room before dinner.”
“Okay.”
As he walked toward the showers, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, riding out the wave of nausea and ripples of dizziness until he was out of range.
She left the main building and went down to the pier.
More than a hundred white motorboats, three times the number from her first day, rocked on choppy waves, tied to the dock. The engineering detail was out early, servicing each one.
Serenity got a report from the team leader and returned to the hill above the dock.
Before she could see them, she heard them. Clanking swords echoed in the wind, the sound muddled by waves rolling into shore. Chanting rumbled in the distance. Eight shifted warriors flew high in the air, swooped down with swords and ascended again.
Her gaze gravitated to the slender one with her hair in a bun. She’d never seen her mother in shifted form. Shimmering midnight blue wings of an archangel, arresting and grand, Sothis soared through the air. Her mother cut down low on an angle like a falcon on prey.
The formation came into view. Four separate clusters of warriors ran, defending themselves against the two shifted warriors flying above each cluster. They moved with shocking swiftness, blocking attacks from the air. Sothis dipped, swung at Argyle’s head, slashed Elianus’s shoulder and kicked Talus in the back, propelling her forward. She wielded her double blade, disarming another, and commanded them to move faster.
As they made their way to the dock, Sothis ascended in the air and ordered them to stop. Gasping and wheezing, the soldiers looked grateful. Even the shifted warriors who descended along with her mother appeared relieved the training exercise ended.
They all gathered around her mother in a huddle. They nodded, and then broke away, grunting with satisfaction, patting one another on the back.
When the crowd dispersed, her mother shifted back, midnight blue draining, wings retracting until no longer visible. The tunics with slits were quite convenient. Hurrying up the hill, the warriors greeted Serenity with a nod or a smile. Talus dashed by, panting, sweat streaming in rivulets down her face.
“Why are they rushing?” Serenity asked her mother.
“They have thirty minutes to shower and eat before reporting to the quarry for the rest of training.” Sothis sheathed her sword and smoothed her hair back into place.
“Well, aren’t you the drill sergeant.”
Sothis almost smiled. They walked at a clipped pace back to the main building.
“How is training going? Neith wants a report at dinner.”
“Everyone is completely dedicated to my methods. The older ones are having a bit of difficulty adapting to the new techniques, but they’re making progress.”
“And Talus?”
“She doesn’t allow her handicap to cripple her mind. This training may serve her best of all.”
Serenity shot a hard glance. “Why do you insist on calling her handicapped?”
“She is,” Sothis said matter-of-factly. “I know you care for her as a sister, but the truth is she’s barely a level four training with battle-guard warriors. Her lack of wings is a handicap, but I’m teaching her that skill can compensate for lack of strength and wings.”
Her mother’s gaze fell to Serenity’s neck. Halting, Sothis moved the collar aside. “I can’t believe he’s still marking you. This is extreme. You haven’t let Adriel touch you since we last spoke?”
“Of course not.” Keeping her distance from him hadn’t been physically hard, locked up in Neith’s office during the day and Cyrus insisting she wait for him in their room until dinner. She had hoped the bond would weaken from their lack of proximity, but it only served to heighten her desire to be near him.
“I don’t understand it.” Sothis proceeded to walk. “Was there anything else? I need to shower.”
“No.” As her mother turned away, she reconsidered. “Actually, I had one question.” Sothis looked at her, waiting. “Why didn’t you and Daddy want me to have siblings?” The question seemed to confuse her mother as her brows drew together. “I distinctly remember you two getting upset with me whenever I asked for one, mainly you.”
Her mother’s eyes lightened. “Your powers manifested at an early age. You’d ask for something, usually toys and if we didn’t buy it for you, you’d project one to play with. When you started asking for a sibling, things became problematic. I’d be in line at the grocery store checking out and a second child would appear. Or we’d be out to dinner and the waiter would come back with our order, but there’d be two children instead of one. Your father found it amusing, but it brought us unnecessary attention.”
Serenity smirked. “Did they look real or like holograms?”
“It varied.” Sothis looked over her shoulder back at the building as if she wanted to leave.
“I should let you go. Thanks.”
With a nod, her mother hurried off.
The growing intimacy between them that came in dribbles didn’t skim the surface of what she hoped for, but it was better than the icy tundra keeping them apart.
On her way to the education pavilion, she crossed the garden and dawdled by a flowering bush of plumeria. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before continuing down the dirt path.
The shrill crying of a baby pierced the tranquility of the morning. Quickening her steps, she rounded the corner and entered the pavilion. The smaller children, four to eight years of age, were grouped together reading and writing. A teacher walked through the rows of Nakia’s older group, instructing them on something, but the wailing from the baby drowned everything out. Nakia had her hands clamped over her ears and the teacher kept glancing with annoyance in the direction of the babies and toddlers.
Serenity rushed to the teacher attending the younglings. “What’s wrong? Why is it crying?”
The screaming baby had rosy cheeks, pink eyes and wisps of curly, blonde hair.
“She’s sick.”
Serenity inspected the child from a distance, keeping a good two feet between them. The little one with quivering cheeks and flailing arms fascinated her, but she had no desire to touch it. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know.” The teacher wiped the mouth of another baby and handed out small slivers of apples to the toddlers.
“I’ll send for Adriel.”
The woman’s eyes bulged from her face in panic. “Her parents said Adriel is not to touch her unless she’s close to
death.”
Serenity understood better than most why. “There’s another healer, Carin, she works down with Ximena.”
The teacher sighed with relief and walked over to the baby.
“We can go there now and get it fixed.” She turned, headed out of the pavilion, but the teacher shoved the screaming baby into Serenity’s arms. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t go,” the teacher said, pointing to all of the other younglings.
“Well I can’t take it.” She tried to hand the kicking child back.
“You have to take Rose, not it,” the teacher said. “I have to stay here. Bring her back once she’s healed.”
Serenity winced from the earsplitting cries. “Can you wipe it’s—Rose’s face? There’s slobber all over.”
The teacher tossed a cloth at Serenity and went back to attending the children.
Tucking the electronic tablet under her arm, she wiped the child’s face and rocked her. On television when people pacified a crying babe the movement looked natural, smooth, and the child settled immediately, but for some reason Rose appeared terrified, maybe even nauseated.
Serenity slowed the swinging of her arms and tried shushing her. Rose made a gurgling noise and took in quick gasps of air as she settled down. Once the crying abated, the baby snuggled against her chest, clinging to her tunic.
The child was so warm and soft. Holding her was almost enjoyable.
As she hit the path leading to the silkworm hut, Soren came running down a hill toward her, waving to catch her attention.
“Glad to have found you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Cyrus is complaining about being assigned to the trash detail. He says he never got a chance to work with the sentinels since he was reassigned to make your toiletries.”
“Put him on my mother’s team.” She continued along the path.
Soren jumped in front of her. “Neith doesn’t want him working with Sothis until he’s rotated through every other workstation on the island first.” He held her gaze. “She was adamant about it.”
Exasperated, she walked around him, increasing her pace. “Fine, he’ll work with my mother last, but for now reassign him to regular security with the other sentinels. It’s my fault he was thrown out of order.”
“And shall I give the team leader Neith’s usual spiel?”
“What spiel?”
“The one about Cyrus being special and how we must band together to help him. She directs the team leader not to be lenient and to be wary of Cyrus’s gift of persuasion. He is to be given a tough task and made to stick with it.”
There was wisdom behind Neith’s ways, and she’d seen a difference in Cyrus beyond his fatigue, like this morning with the sorting of the laundry. “Yes.”
Pure satisfaction warmed Soren’s face as he left.
The silkworm hut was just ahead. As she approached the door, Tony and the squirrel monkey lurking under a palm tree watched her intensely. The black-and-white monkey bared its teeth and hissed.
When she swung the door open, Ximena and Carin looked up from a table where they worked. A horde of moths dominated the room. Rose shrieked and began to cry.
She swatted at the moths with the tablet. “Carin, could I see you outside?” She caught a glare from Ximena on her way out.
Carin emerged and Serenity handed her the baby. “She’s sick.”
Something small and hard hit the back of Serenity’s head. As she turned, something struck her in the forehead. The demon monkey jumped up and down on a tree branch, hissing, throwing nuts. He launched another one, hitting her in the stomach.
“Knock it off,” she yelled at the vermin with opposable thumbs. The monkey bared its teeth and clawed the air.
Carin cooed, rocking the baby. “She’s perfect. No more crying for you little one.”
Serenity stroked Rose’s cheek and the baby giggled.
The smell of burning leaves and singed wood drifted on a breeze.
“Do you smell that?” Serenity spun, searching for the source.
Plumes of gray-black smoke curled through the air from one of the huts at the orchard.
“Take Rose back to the education pavilion.” She took off in a sprint in the direction of the fire. She raced down the dirt path, over the ridge and across a knoll.
Four sentinels arrived at the same time. One flew with a chain looped around his shoulder and wrist. The other three on the ground circled someone.
A bloody body lay crumpled next to the male the warriors had surrounded. He snarled bearing teeth turned to fangs, lunging at the sentinels, snapping his jaws in a manic frenzy, hands deformed—twisted by the curse into claws. His eyes were swirling pools of crimson.
Sangre saevitas—blood rage—had taken him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A frantic crowd formed, curiosity drawing them too close to danger.
“It just took him over,” someone said.
“He was agitated and confused one minute, and then pure madness. He attacked with no warning,” a male uttered to another worker.
Serenity turned to a female warrior from the orchard detail. “Get Adriel.”
The warrior nodded and flew off.
If the one with blood rage could be subdued long enough, maybe Adriel could heal him.
Swords drawn, the sentinels on the ground closed in. One warrior pounced.
In a savage blur, the crazed Kindred seized the warrior’s wrist and face. Bone crunched. The wet tear of flesh echoed as the sentinel’s arm and jaw were ripped off.
A shiver raced up her spine. She’d only seen Cyrus move that fast. The madness of the curse must have magnified strength and speed of the afflicted.
The one lost to madness lapped at the blood sputtering from the wounds of the fallen warrior. A female sentinel tried to sneak up on him, but he whirled, shoving a claw into her gut. Eyes glowing scarlet, he retracted his hand from her shuddering body holding her entrails and smeared them over his face. Then he charged the last sentinel on the ground.
The one in the sky flung the chain down, roping it around the beast’s neck. Going berserk, the demented Kindred clawed at the barenpetium chain, twitching like someone possessed. He howled and shrieked. The gut-wrenching sounds filled with the agony of his suffering and bottomless rage moved her to tears.
The last warrior on the ground closed in, sword raised.
Furious, crazed, the Kindred caught the blade in one hand and managed to lock his jaws on the warrior’s collarbone. With the other hand, he yanked on the chain, dragging the airborne sentinel down all at the same time. Growling and snorting, he sucked on the warrior’s wound, draining him of blood.
The sentinel fell to his knees trembling, blood gushing from his jugular.
The warrior in the sky yanked up on the chain, choking the beast. The deranged Kindred released the dead warrior and tugged the chain with both hands, jerking the last fighting sentinel closer to the ground.
Two more warriors flew toward the mayhem, barenpetium chains and swords glinting in the light.
Smoke wafted high in the sky and over the carnage of the four mangled bodies on the ground. If Adriel arrived, he’d never be able to do anything besides get killed.
Her heart cried out for her tormented brother and the warriors lost. No one else had to die. If she was focused, fast enough, she could end it.
Serenity waved the last two sentinels away as they prepared to throw their chains around the crazed beast. “Stay back!”
They shook their heads in staunch protest, positioning to proceed.
“No! Get back!” They’d only be killed like the others. As she waved them away, they glanced at each other uncertain what to do.
Letting the electronic tablet slip from her hands, Serenity unleashed the energy of her core, sending electric tentacles out to coil around everyone on the ground, to protect them from what she had to do next. She stepped forward, taking a deep breath.
She didn’t need
a booster from the others, with the constant siphoning. She could handle this on her own, but she needed to ensure she didn’t hurt anyone accidentally.
The beast jumped ten feet into the air, locking on to a sentinel and tore one of his wings from his body. Sinking fangs into his throat and tearing out his jugular, they both plummeted to the ground. The cursed brother acted like a psychotic murderer, but she understood his suffering was beyond his control.
His madness and this rampage needed to end before any more lives were lost. She focused her energy and thoughts on bringing him peace.
The remaining sentinel in the air swung the chain above his head, ignoring her order to stand-down despite what had just happened to the other warrior. He was at least two hundred feet away. She’d only been able to maintain contact with Cyrus at such a distance, but she stretched her stream and whipped a tentacle around him.
Stunned by the connection, he looked at her, halting all action.
She stared at the afflicted Kindred, sympathy flooding her stream.
The beast tore into the sentinel’s twitching body. Lapping at the flesh, he buried his mouth in the gaping wound.
With fluid control, she harnessed her energy and concentrated on releasing him from pain. He spun on his knees, facing her and the crowd gathered a few feet behind.
She peered into bloodthirsty eyes, a mind lost to bloodlust.
The madness of the curse was in complete control, no sense of reason or logic left in the beast’s face. He barreled toward her, claws raised, drenched in the blood of his victims.
She discharged a plasma ball, white and glittering streaked silver. The pulsating globe of light blasted through the beast, over the enflamed hut, dissipating out into the ocean.
In the wake of her projected energy stood the tormented Kindred, his body turned crystalline—frozen in time. The flames from the hut extinguished and everything the plasma ball had touched—the dead bodies, the ground, the half-burned cabin—had also changed to a pure, transparent substance resembling crystal.
Once she unfurled her energy stream’s hold on the others, most scuttled away from her, crying out in horror. The warrior in the air descended and stood at her side.