The Living Blood

by Tananarive Due

  He’d grudgingly trusted Teferi to watch his daughter for a short time, but he would never be foolish enough to expect more from him. Not again. They walked in silence this time, but the silence felt appropriate after such long, difficult exchanges and then the physical release of their lovemaking. He could scarcely believe they had even discussed the possibility that she might stay here with Fana, and now he only hoped that his optimistic prediction that the Life Brothers would one day accept them was true. He could have everything, then—his family, his Life Brothers, and Khaldun’s teachings. He would be a much better father to a child such as Fana with the benefit of Khaldun’s wisdom, and Khaldun would be invaluable to her. Certainly, for all his faults, Teferi loved Fana, too . . .

  But, no. He must stop this line of thought, he reminded himself. If Jessica decided to move to some other region of the mortal world, he must find a way to accept that, too. She was willing to listen to him, and he must be willing to listen to her. In this way, they would never again have to separate, even for a short time. That was worth any sacrifice.

  It always seemed to Dawit, when he reflected upon it later, that the very instant he warned himself not to raise his hopes was when he knew they were about to be dashed.

  • • •

  Fana didn’t know exactly when she first noticed the smell. It came gradually, barely registering to her as she explained her drawings to Teferi; she had lain all of them across the floor, and there were a lot! She’d drawn the house in Botswana, including the goats. She’d drawn her tricycle. And she’d drawn Aunt Alex, Aunt Sarah, and Moses, all in a circle, holding hands.

  That was when she realized the smell was in the room, when she looked at the circle of smiling faces in her drawings: Moses with his big grin, Aunt Alex with her step-o-scope around her neck, and Aunt Sarah with her hair shaved as short as a man’s. It was the smell of the Bee Lady from her dream, the one who’d given her all the cakes to eat, and it was a bad smell. It was worse than rotten eggs. It was worse than rotten meat.

  The smell put Fana in a bad mood, so she stopped talking to Teferi in the middle of a sentence, when she’d been explaining how tall Aunt Sarah was.

  “What’s wrong, empress?” Teferi asked her. “Tell me more about your aunt Sarah.”

  “Shut up,” Fana said crossly, even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to say that to anyone, not ever, and especially not a grown-up. But even though part of her felt bad because Teferi was always so nice to her—and not just what he said with his mouth, but he was nice in his head, too, where people usually hid their lies—she decided she didn’t care. Teferi wasn’t her daddy. He couldn’t tell her what to do.

  Fana got a picture in her head then, and she reached for the black piece of chalk because she suddenly felt like drawing it very, very fast. In fact, she was sure that if she didn’t draw her picture, something bad would happen. So, she poised the chalk above the image of her house and began to draw with sure strokes, much better than her other pictures looked, not babyish at all. The page began to fill up black. She hadn’t known what she was going to draw, but the shapes were beginning to look like rain clouds, the dark kind that came before a storm, like mudcakes in the sky.

  “Oh, my,” Teferi said, and she could feel the confusion of his thoughts. “Look at that! You’ve suddenly become quite the artist.” But he was worried, just like Moses. Like everyone. He was just a little bit afraid.

  But it’s good when they’re afraid.

  Suddenly, Fana recognized the smell in the room, and not just the faint fear smell rising from Teferi’s skin. And it wasn’t the smell from her dream at all, not really. It was hate, from someone who was close to her room, nearly inside. Fana’s heart thudded, but she drew faster to keep her fear away, filling up all the white space on her paper with brooding, well-defined clouds. Some parts were darker and some parts were lighter, just like in the sky. And in the center of it all, where her chalk flurries were darkest of all, one of the biggest clouds was beginning to look like some kind of creature. Not a real creature like the ones on a safari, but a creature from a bad dream, with ears sticking up like a wildebeest’s horns, and hulking shoulders, and big, clawlike hands grasping out on either side, as if he owned the sky. Fana searched for the piece of red chalk next, because she wanted to draw its eyes.

  thatlittlebitchandherwhoremother thecovenantsays no one must join

  The hate smell was talking to her now, just as Giancarlo had at the airport. The hate smell had mean thoughts about her and Mommy, so loud they sounded like screaming in her ears. Fana wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. Her hand wouldn’t stop drawing.

  She felt strong when she drew.

  And now she had the red piece of chalk. Her rainstorm was going to look like blood.

  • • •

  Jessica had known to expect something awful from the moment she saw the Life Brothers crowded outside the arched doorway of the House of Meditation, like gawkers at a crime scene. Teka and another man Jessica recognized from the banquet hall were standing in the doorway to prevent the others from entering, much like police officers charged with dispensing the lie There’s nothing to see here, folks. Jessica’s heart smothered her throat. Where was Fana?

  “What is it?” David demanded in that authoritative voice he always used when he was among his own kind.

  “Clear his way!” Teka said as he beckoned David forward. “Come, Dawit. Kaleb is found. He has been brought to the woman’s chamber for his apology.”

  The sound of Kaleb’s name, in itself, frightened Jessica so much that she nearly swooned as David pulled her past the curious crowd of a dozen Life Brothers, who were speaking animatedly amongst themselves. “He’s been brought where?” Jessica said, imagining that the brute was waiting for her on her bed, with Fana sitting in his lap.

  “Don’t worry, Jess. I’m sure he’s been chained.”

  “Oh, yes, the Searchers have restrained him,” Teka said, patting Jessica’s hand. “Your fears are unfounded. He is not inside your chamber, of course, but outside. We would not disturb the child. I hope this is not an inconvenience, but it is part of our custom.”

  “When any wrong has been done within the Colony, there are provisions for an apology,” David explained quickly, hooking his arm around her in a protective gesture. “Words mean a lot here. If the accused can apologize to the person he has wronged, it’s just . . .”

  “Khaldun believes it helps keep the peace among us,” Teka said in his usual hush, taking the familiar twists and turns through the labyrinthine area that Jessica had begun to learn well, past the sealed meditation chambers where she’d been told Life Brothers vanished for weeks and months at a time. The smell like sour apples from their nutritive vapors always lingered here.

  “Kaleb’s not going to apologize,” Jessica said, breathless. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “But it is the right of the accused to apologize, just as it is the right of the wronged to confront the one who has done him harm. Or . . . her, in your case,” Teka said.

  “I have a few words for Kaleb, but I still would have preferred if you had not brought him here, Teka,” David said. “Why couldn’t he have been taken to the Hall?”

  “Khaldun wants to pass sentence on him swiftly. Immediately after his apology, Kaleb will be taken to Khaldun to hear his punishment. It is expected to be quite harsh.”

  “I just want him to leave us alone,” Jessica said, barely audibly. In fact, right now she just wanted to get back to Fana and be with her; inside or outside the chamber, chains or no chains, she didn’t like the idea of Kaleb so close to her sensitive daughter.

  After they turned the final corner, the hall that contained her chamber came into view, and it was crowded with Life Brothers wearing the Searcher’s uniform: white skullcaps, white linen pants, and white tunics. She expected to see Mahmoud here, but she did not. The five men were all strangers to her, except for Berhanu, her bodyguard, who was also in the huddle around Kaleb.

 
Thankfully, Jessica noticed, they were well away from the closed door to her chamber, which was at the very end of the hall, forty yards back. If they kept their voices down, Fana might not even hear the crowd assembled here. That thought filled her with enough relief that she could relax a bit and try to catch a glimpse of the man who had attacked her.

  Kaleb was chained hand and foot, just as Teka had said. He was wearing Westernized clothes, blue jeans and a green pullover shirt, which made him look much less threatening to Jessica than he had when he’d been nude. His clothes were badly smudged and his shirt had a jagged rip across the breast, signs of his pursuit. Yes, despite the hatred burning from his eyes, he was just another man, after all. No big deal. And now he was caught. All his muscles were no match for the iron chains that were draped across him, binding his hands to his waist in front of him, and binding both feet together with just enough slack to allow him to shuffle. Kaleb wasn’t struggling against his captors, though he stood tall. His glare was unwavering.

  Dawit launched into a tirade at Kaleb in a language Jessica didn’t understand, rubbing his fingers across his healed face in a mocking tone. The other Searchers listened, though it seemed to Jessica that they had little sympathy in their faces for Dawit. Maybe they had simply done their job, but they took no joy in it. Wasn’t Kaleb a Searcher, too?

  “Please lower your voice, David,” Jessica said uneasily, touching her husband’s arm.

  One of the Searchers glanced at her with surprise, as if she shouldn’t voice an opinion while David was speaking. The whole time David spoke to Kaleb, his adversary glared at him with a small, icy smirk. The expression on his face enraged Jessica.

  “If you want to prove yourself, meet me with a sword,” David said, suddenly lapsing into English. He was breathing harder in his anger. “We’ll see if you smile then, you coward. Or perhaps you’re only suited to fight babies and men who are restrained.”

  At that, with impressive precision, Kaleb spat. His missilelike wad of saliva missed David’s face, but landed on his shoulder. Now, his smirk was gone.

  “Kaleb,” Teka began in his always pleasant tone, “you are accused of an assault of a blasphemous nature. Do you have an apology for Khaldun’s guest, who is visiting our colony at the wishes of our great creator?”

  Kaleb’s eyes shifted to Jessica, and she felt a distinct shiver in her belly. The hatred in Kaleb’s eyes was nearly manic. She took two steps away from him, to move out of spitting range. “Yes,” Kaleb said in a loud, clear voice, much to her surprise. “I will make an apology.”

  “I warn you, Kaleb, to watch your words,” Teka cautioned. “You will only make your lot worse if you defile this proceeding.”

  “I apologize,” Kaleb said, cutting him off, “for not offering my services in Mahmoud’s stead when he was first sent to kill this mortal bitch. I apologize that I did not shit on her dead daughter’s corpse, and that I did not yank her mutated child from the womb and roast it alive. These things I will regret as long as I draw breath.”

  Jessica realized she was actually trembling with rage, terror, and loathing at the cruel references to Kira and Fana. Tears stung her eyes. David wrapped his arm around her tightly, knowing how deeply Kaleb’s words had stung.

  “No, Kaleb,” David said in an even tone. “It is your actions against Khaldun you will regret. It is those words you will regret. Always remember I told you so.”

  Unblinking, Kaleb’s eyes seared into Jessica’s. He knew he could hurt her even without speaking, now that he had told her what he felt. But she refused to look away, to give him any kind of small victory over her. So, Jessica saw exactly what happened even before it actually happened. She saw the whites of Kaleb’s bright, burning eyes begin to grow red; not the faint red of fatigue or irritation, but a deep, crimson red that wrapped itself around his irises like squirting ink.

  Then, forty yards behind Kaleb, she saw the door to her chamber open, and Teferi emerged quickly, looking confused and distraught. Even from a distance, Jessica could see that his white tunic was dirtied with something that looked like splotches of blood, and he was pressing his hand to his nose. Jessica only had time to think, Fana—

  And then Kaleb’s eyes exploded.

  In the annual school haunted house when she was in junior high, Jessica had been in charge of the bowl of eyeballs, which was really just a large aluminum bowl of lukewarm water filled with oversize grapes. In the dark, though, the grapes felt exactly like eyeballs; and she remembered how a kid named Timmy Zalinsky had pulled a handful of grapes out of the bowl, put them on the tabletop, and smashed them beneath his palm. Everyone around him had screamed.

  Crazily, that was all Jessica could think about while she watched Kaleb’s bloody eyes fly out of their sockets like runny, half-boiled egg yolks, smashed beyond recognition. They left behind gaping sockets and a trail of blood tears streaking Kaleb’s face. For an incredible instant, Kaleb’s mouth was frozen open soundlessly. Then, like all Jessica’s classmates at the Horizon School for Gifted Children that long-ago Halloween, Kaleb began to scream. His scream mingled with hers, which she hadn’t even noticed until he joined her.

  All those near Kaleb stepped away from him, shielding their faces. Kaleb had pitched to the side and lost his balance in his shackles, falling against the wall. He made a few helpless choking sounds, and then he vomited violently. Blood rushed from his mouth in an impossible gushing, as if it were being poured from a bucket.

  By now, the Searchers had lost their composure. A confused, babbling shout had risen. What was happening? Poor Teka looked aghast, cowering away from Kaleb with wide eyes.

  Kaleb’s shirt and jeans were growing freckled with tiny dots of blood. The freckles grew larger and darker, and Jessica saw blood seeping from countless pinpricks on Kaleb’s bare arms, even as he retched again and another load of blood splattered to the floor. He shook his head, and blood flew from his ears. Blood was rushing from Kaleb’s every orifice, from every pore. A large puddle of blood was growing around his feet, spreading outward at an alarming rate. The corridor stank of it, a smell Jessica would forever remember as hot liquid copper. A sickening blood-smell.

  Even from within her own horror, as she screamed hoarsely, a part of Jessica’s mind was still operating with clear assurance and understanding. Calmness, almost.

  Fana was doing it, that was all. Fana had learned about exsanguination their very first day at the colony, when Teferi had told them what his son Shannon had done to him, cutting him open over a bucket. And even if Fana didn’t know it, whether or not she was doing it on purpose, that was exactly what she was doing to Kaleb. She was draining away all of his blood.

  Her daughter was making the bad man’s thoughts go away, just like before.

  It was so easy to understand, Jessica wondered why all those around her, even David, looked as if they were drowning in pure chaos.

  31

  Botswana

  Lucas woke up with a gasp, his fists clenched. He was confused, and his confusion was so palpable that he felt as if an unfriendly entity was glaring at him through his hazy car windows. But, no. Nothing except budding sunlight.

  Only when Lucas stared at his watch did he feel the deep shudder in his memory and a sudden, sharp headache. It was five-thirty in the morning! That meant he had spent the night here yet again, more wasted hours. He hadn’t driven to Serowe to call Jared as he’d planned, so he didn’t even know whether his son was dead or alive. He also hadn’t found a weapon. The plan that had seemed like such certain salvation before suddenly felt ridiculous, desperate. What was he going to do, burst into the house, scramble around for a kitchen knife, and hold it to Sarah Shabalala’s throat until Alexis gave him a bag of blood? Would he twist the nurse’s arm behind her back until she cried out in pain, just to show Alexis he was serious?

  Had that really been his plan all along?

  Lucas thought he’d already reached the depths of his despair, but he was wrong. That had been saved for now. He
felt robbed of his little remaining solace. That plan had been insane, he realized. He could barely believe he was the same man who had felt a surge of delight when Sarah’s brother had told him he was leaving the two women alone, unprotected. Unprotected from him.

  That train of thought sent Lucas into an even deeper gulf, one that made his fingernails clench so tightly against his palms that they bit into his flesh. What else had he done that was insane? What if he’d been waiting in this car in the middle of Botswana as an act of pure, grief-induced madness? Everyone had told him he was crazy to go, but he had been so sure of himself that he had not listened. Why hadn’t he listened? Because he actually believed there was magic blood at this house, or because he couldn’t bring himself not to believe it? What if Cal was right, and this entire exercise had been his mind’s elaborate way of helping him flee from pain?

  Lucas felt dizzy, and so sick he thought he would vomit. He had to go. Right now.

  Feeling like someone who’d dropped acid and was finally coming down from a hallucinogenic high, seeing all the sharp edges and dull colors again, Lucas climbed out of his car with his shaving kit, to prepare to go. A more rational, practical man was functioning inside him, making his decisions. There were things he had to do. He needed to use the bathroom, and badly. He needed to brush his teeth, wash his face; he’d prefer a shower, but he’d settle for less in the interest of time. And he needed food. He might not stop or think about food again before he reached Jared’s bedside in Tallahassee, and that was a long trip. He needed something in his stomach to keep him going. He couldn’t afford to faint somewhere along the way.

  Despite the early hour—the sun wasn’t even quite out yet, although a nearby rooster was crowing already—Alex was gracious to him when he knocked on her door and told her his plans to go, apologizing for the spectacle he’d caused. He felt so embarrassed, really, that he could hardly meet her eyes. For days now, this woman had begged him to believe he was wasting his time. She looked relieved he was leaving, and he couldn’t blame her. Who would want a nutcase living outside the front fence? This is one you’ll live with till the grave, Doc.