Kahtar stopped smiling as he remembered something else Welcome had said. Maybe someday you’ll trust me enough to explain why your baby is as strong and developed as a full term baby, at only twenty-six weeks gestation—or even why you’re genetically a Constantine but physically not. Kahtar had made it a point to avoid Welcome since that night, though he stopped by twice a week to check on Beth.
“—this is so you,” Beth said, sliding a little spoon into Dianta’s tiny hands and making certain one clutched the mouth-piece and the other the end of the stem.
Kahtar glanced toward the plebes, uncertain if Beth had brought him into the equation as a cover. It didn’t seem like her. Dianta would never look or act like him because she carried the DNA of a Constantine. The Constantine family looked and acted nothing like the immortal repeating being Kahtar was. Although Kahtar and Beth were tall and blonde and Nordic in appearance, genetically Dianta had inherited the swarthy Mediterranean genes he carried. She may as well have been conceived by another father entirely for all the similarities they’d ever share.
Beth continued to wobble the spoon between Dianta’s clenched fists. The little angel opened and closed her mouth. Kahtar tried to determine if her mouth looked like Beth’s.
“Just wait until you see this!” Beth enthused.
Dianta screwed up her face and shivered with the effort of holding onto that spoon. Her mouth opened wide and she bellowed something in her deep voice that sounded very much like, “Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom!”
Beth and the plebes burst out laughing.
Kahtar smiled into his wife’s joyful eyes. “Are you saying I do that when I’m hungry?”
“You do!” she said.
“You just said I had fortitude. That didn’t look like patience at all.”
“All bets are off when you’re hungry!” Beth leaned closer and tugged the spoon off Dianta. She brushed her lips across the skin of Kahtar’s bicep, right where the sleeve of his t-shirt ended. He resisted sliding his fingers through her shining hair to hold her and really kiss her back. He’d have to excuse the plebes first.
Later. Tonight I’ll show her what all bets are off looks like.
Sunshine shone through tall windows and lit the room. Kahtar hoped the grass would dry on the higher slopes today so he could really show Beth an old Beltane ritual. He’d spent centuries observing customs he couldn’t participate in. That had changed with Beth.
She smiled up at him. “Kahtar, look how pretty Dianta’s hair is with the sun shining on it. Look at her lashes! Aren’t they deadly? I knew they were long, but it’s really ridiculous!”
They both looked at their daughter, smiling. Dianta chose that moment to open her eyes wide for the first time, with full-on sunshine instead of rain-dampened light spilling through the windows, making each detail crystal clear. The lashes looked like pitch black butterflies. For one split second Kahtar beamed at the wide-eyed wonder in his arms. And then his world ended.
Very familiar steely gray eyes glared up at him.
Dianta did have something of Kahtar’s.
She had his eyes.
NO! HOW COULD Dianta have his eyes?
Dear Sweet ilu, no!
The entire universe seemed to shift, spinning to Kahtar’s left. If it weren’t for Beth standing beside him, Kahtar might have dropped the baby, having lost the ability to control his limbs properly. He stumbled in that direction, but caught himself.
“Easy, Kahtar, you have to support her head!” Beth caught Dianta out of his arms, seeming not to notice the entire cabin had slanted east.
Kahtar staggered to keep his balance as a roaring sound filled his ears. From somewhere far off he heard the young laughter of a plebe and swung his head in that direction.
“Go!” he shouted, but his voice sounded far away. “GO!” he bellowed, louder this time. Six plebes’ mouths hung open, as though they didn’t understand him. “GO, NOW!”
Quickly the boys obeyed. The entire room appeared to shift again as Kahtar watched them running for the door, two falling over each other as they tried to exit en masse. They scrambled to their feet again and were gone. The baby was screaming.
“Kahtar, you scared her!” Beth said from far away. “What’re you yelling about?”
No Constantine had those eyes.
Neither had Beth’s family.
Welcome had been wrong about the light inside her.
Dianta shared something of Kahtar’s.
Doom.
The entire world dropped out beneath Kahtar.
A baby’s screaming echoed in his ears and he turned his eyes to focus on the blurry pink of a woman’s dress.
Oh, sweet ilu, she has my eyes rumbled through his mind.
A woman held a baby against her shoulder, jiggling her up and down—or maybe the entire world was jiggling up and down. The crying made such a big noise for someone so small; it was a roar—or maybe that was just in his head, too.
She has my eyes, dear ilu, she has my eyes.
Despair raced through him, and the image of the woman in pink seemed to race away, shrinking into a dot on the horizon until the only one left in the universe was Kahtar, alone as always. Kahtar threw his head back and cursed at the heavens, fury lighting through his entire being. “ilu, dammit, NO! But that’s what you’ve done, haven’t you? Damned me! Damned her!”
From another world a woman’s voice spoke, but Kahtar couldn’t understand what she said. He spun on the spot, trying to find her, and bumped into an empty cradle. His focus latched onto it. He knew this cradle. He’d spent three months carving it for his child, his child who had his eyes. It seemed to touch him, like a soft hand patting his shoulder, mocking him. He pushed the touch away.
Suddenly he changed his mind and charged it, tripping over the cradle. Regaining his balance and snatching it up, he threw it against the stone fireplace. It shattered as though made of glass, and the pieces seemed to scream. Kahtar bellowed at them to shut up. A shield shining in the morning sunshine crashed to the floor and knocked a rack of pokers into Kahtar. Nabbing them up he dashed them against the floor and walls repeatedly, until long gouges were torn out of the wood he’d spent years cutting, hauling, sanding, laying, finishing.
Kahtar shouted the entire time, in a litany of languages, throwing things, kicking furniture, cursing his creator, his life, and the universe. Shades flickered—all those he’d failed, those he’d killed, they all filled the room, centuries of wrongs—and the screaming of women, one in particular, but he couldn’t think who it was or why it tore through his heart deeper than others. The shade of Golgotha intruded before he could puzzle it out—always Golgotha! The same shade that had haunted him for the past two thousand years dropped over him, though this time he was wide awake. There ilu was—Jesus, as some called Him—bound to a tree, bleeding—dead or dying, Kahtar could never tell, hadn’t even been able to tell the day it happened, when the shade had been real and he had been known as Longinus.
Without a lance in his hand this time, Kahtar took Longinus’s place and marched up a stairway to get to the tree. Instead of plunging a spear into Him as he had in his shades for thousands of years, Kahtar shouted at Him. “I want to know! I want to know! Why?” he bellowed at the man hanging there, although with every beat of his heart the man seemed to waver and vanish.
Between heartbeats Kahtar tried to focus on him. “I took it! I took it all! Everything you gave me because I had no choice, but I took it all! But not—” Kahtar’s voice broke, “—not, this! I can’t take this!” He sobbed, peering at the man through his tears. “I can take anything but this!” But it wasn’t a man, and it wasn’t the God from his Shade. Beth cowered on the stairs, her back to him, splotches of blood on her dress like flowers. Dianta’s little head rested on her mother’s shoulder, peeping through the silky curtain of Beth’s hair, steely gray eyes wide open, oddly fierce in the face of such a tiny baby as she wailed. She has my eyes. Standing on the stairs towering over them, Kahtar collapsed.<
br />
BETH’S SOBBING PENETRATED the fog.
Kahtar came to lying at the bottom of the staircase. He tried to move, but his head was too heavy to lift. The baby wasn’t crying anymore and Kahtar struggled to angle his head so he could see her, just to make sure she wasn’t hurt. That thought made him laugh without humor. The sound echoed in the big room.
It’s not like I need to worry. Nothing can really kill her, even if she begs for it. And she will. Many times.
The pain in his heart seemed to go supernova, and despite the fact that he couldn’t move, he started to cry. Part of his brain automatically assessed his injuries: a broken leg and collar bone, and a wicked concussion. There was blood spreading across the floor from the impact his head had made against the hardwood.
This kind of concussion could be fatal. Stay conscious. As if he ever really needed to fear fatal. Kahtar’s sudden sobs morphed again into laughter.
Behind him the screen door creaked open, and the sound of dog toenails click-clacked across the floor—a sound that meant scratches in the wood, something that used to anger Kahtar. Wolves paused above him, his shaggy fur glossy and combed thanks to Beth’s dedication. He didn’t smell as bad as usual. Wolves gazed down at him with one brown eye and one half blue. His lolling tongue came for Kahtar slowly, right across the mouth. Kahtar’s laughter died in his throat and once more sobs took its place. Wolves stepped over him and went up the stairs toward Beth, and Kahtar closed his eyes.
GREEN EYES SWAM into view. Pain greeted Kahtar this time. His head could feel the very particles floating in the air. They felt like torture. Light seared through his eyeballs into his brain like lightning strikes. The house wasn’t spinning anymore, but he was still in the cursed place, lying flat in his own bed. How’d I get up here? Did Beth call Old Guard? She’d never call Old Guard. Welcome Palmer sat on a chair beside him, waiting patiently, his hands pressed against Kahtar’s head as his lips moved in a silent, healing prayer. If Kahtar had the strength he’d have pushed him away.
Kahtar wet his lips. “Go,” he muttered. “Shesh go.”
“Beth told me you’ve always had night terrors.”
The traitor. Kahtar closed his eyes. Why the blazes would she tell Welcome that?
“You could have killed her,” said Welcome, and Kahtar opened his eyes. Welcome’s eyes held both sympathy and censure. “I won’t judge you, Kahtar. You can tell me anything. I might be able to help you.”
“Can’t,” Kahtar said, wetting his lips again. “Go.”
“Are you too proud to ask for help or too stupid?”
“Too bloody tired, Palmer. Go.”
“So it doesn’t matter to you that you could have killed your wife? Or your daughter?”
Kahtar’s heart iced over. He tried to remember, but it was all a blur—madness. It had happened before, in other repeats, usually on a battlefield.
“So it does matter?” Welcome said.
“Dianta hurt?” Kahtar whispered.
“No, but only because Beth shielded her with her own body. Beth, however, is hurt.”
“Where? Where’s Beth?”
“Not here. She’s shattered, Kahtar. I sent her home to her mother.”
“Shit,” Kahtar whimpered. “No.”
“What happened? I don’t think I’ve ever even heard you swear before.”
Kahtar ignored him.
“Beth needs love right now, not the censure of the clan. After what you’ve done she’ll only get that at her parents.”
Kahtar tried to sit up, his torso could be coerced but his head wouldn’t come with it. He fell back against the mattress. White light exploded inside his head. Time seemed to pass, and he thought Palmer had gone. Through his eyelids the room had gone dark, but a wet rag came to his mouth now and then, and water trickled down his throat. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes and ran into his ears. After a time, weak sobs escaped via pathetic gasps, shooting fierce pain through his entire body. Something told Kahtar it was late, but his head couldn’t even scan to know, and opening his eyelids only showed darkness.
TURNING ON THE light seemed like a bad idea. Welcome had said not to, that it would aggravate Kahtar’s head injury. Mostly Beth worried if she saw Kahtar’s face she’d start crying and never stop.
Kahtar sprawled on his bed, moaning in his sleep. The bed he threw her out of whenever his night terrors were bad. Beth had her own room, one that was more of a giant closet, because even when Kahtar’s night terrors were bad she sneaked back in here. This is where she belonged. With Kahtar.
What am I going to do now?
Where do I belong now?
Wolves nosed the bedroom door open wider. Beth sensed him standing there watching for a while. Eventually the dog left, his nails clicking on the wood floor.
In his sleep Kahtar whimpered. The touch of his heart circled hers. Lost. Broken. Afraid. Exactly the same feelings in her heart.
Beth leaned forward and brushed her lips against his forehead.
“Too far,” he protested, his voice too hoarse. The words were barely recognizable.
He thinks I’m Welcome.
Beth took the bowl of cool water Welcome had left and lifted the linen cloth from it. She held it to Kahtar’s lips and squeezed so water ran over his parched tongue to soothe his throat.
“It’s not like I’ll ever stop loving you, Kahtar.”
He tried to turn his head toward her but stopped. Beth sensed the pain of it in her heart.
“Where’s Dianta?” he asked.
“She’s with my parents.”
For a moment he didn’t respond.
“She hurt?” he whispered, as though afraid of the answer.
“No,” she said. But you might have, Kahtar. If not for me you might have hurt her! What then?
“You?”
“Yes,” she said honestly, battling back tears. “Welcome fixed everything, except my heart.”
Even in the dark Beth felt Kahtar reach for her. For a moment he struggled with the sheet covering his large body, but eventually got his hand out. The ache of his heart reaching made her place her hand in his.
“Has that ever happened before?” she asked. Please say no.
“Yes,” he said.
Beth waited.
“Long ago. Thousand years since last time.”
“Why, Kahtar? What am I supposed to do now? I can’t let you around our baby! I don’t understand! You were smiling, you were laughing, and then…” Beth couldn’t stop the tears this time. “You went crazy. I was so afraid.”
A dry sob escaped Kahtar, but he swallowed and responded through tears, “She has my eyes.”
Beth waited for more, unable to understand. She recalled Kahtar smiling into Dianta’s face as their daughter batted her black butterfly lashes. He was so happy! “What? What does that even mean? Is there an emotional trigger that makes you go crazy?”
“Beth, listen. You met my grandparents in the Arc. They’re dark, my father was dark—my mother, my biological mother in this repeat, she was black. But I look like this. I always look like this.”
For a moment that information threw Beth. He always looks the same? No matter what his parents look like? It seemed unfathomable. Beth couldn’t imagine how some clans must have reacted to that. “Oh. I hadn’t thought—always?”
“Every single time.”
“Oh. But—what do people say when—?”
“Listen to me,” Kahtar interrupted. “Genetically I am dark, like Dianta. This time around my DNA is Mediterranean and African.”
Beth knew that much. “I’m confused. I mean, I get it, that’s why Dianta’s dark, but why are you going over this right now? What does it have to do with you going insane?”
“She has my eyes,” Kahtar growled. “Mine, my immortal eyes.” His voice broke and the next words were a sob. “She’s immortal, Beth.”
For several minutes Beth held onto his hand. The words washed over her and made the hair on the back of her neck s
tand up like lies did.
What does that mean?
Beth had noticed Dianta’s steely eyes right off. It hadn’t even startled her. They were strangely pretty, so unique and unexpected with her dark lashes and cocoa skin. They were so Dianta that Beth hadn’t for one moment thought of them as Kahtar’s.
But he’s right. They are his eyes.
Does that make her immortal?
The hair on the back of Beth’s neck continued to stand up.
She let go of Kahtar’s hand. The thought of immortality was simply too much after everything else that had happened. She got up and walked out of the room. Just outside the doorway she stopped and looked back into the room. “What if she’s not?”
Kahtar didn’t respond to that. For a moment she thought maybe he’d passed out or fallen asleep again, but then he whispered, “Goodbye, my Beth.”
Goose bumps rose over her flesh and something in her heart emptied.
Beth shuffled back into the room, afraid to get too close, but afraid to leave. “Why did you say it like that?”
“You know why. We can’t be. We can’t risk another child, and I could never be your brother. Go back to your parents, Beth. I’ll think what to tell the clan in time.”
Unable to take in this abrupt dismissal after all that had happened, Beth turned and walked away.
BLOODY FACTS—MOTHER’S DAY
BETH SAT IN the kitchen of her parents’ home, a mug of tea between her hands, trying to not think. It wasn’t working. After sitting silently on the stairs in Kahtar’s house listening to her husband’s hoarse crying, she’d left him without a word.
What is there to say?
After what had happened part of her didn’t want to ever take Dianta back to that cabin. She thought she’d never been more terrified in her life than to see Kahtar bearing down on her with a poker in each hand, but the finality with which he had whispered, “Goodbye, my Beth” frightened her far more than his madness had.
Remembering to breathe, Beth took a loud gulp of air and noticed her mother’s watchful eyes from the other side of the breakfast counter. How long have I been sitting here? Did I talk when I came in? Beth couldn’t remember. She couldn’t recall the long drive to her parents’ house. Mentally she shook herself and forced her attention to the reality around her.
FOREVER The Constantines' Secret: A Covenant Keeper Novel Page 7