Eden's Creatures

by Valerie Zambito

  The older woman’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Of course. Walk with me.”

  Stassi followed her back down to the ground and they strolled together at a leisurely pace through the village. Several torches still burned, illuminating the trails in soft, flickering light.

  “Is there a problem?” Caliphy finally asked when Stassi didn’t speak.

  “No. At least I don’t think so.”

  “Where is Cal?”

  “Back at the nest.”

  “I see.”

  “Did you hear what happened today? With Gilad at the lake?”

  “I did.”

  “We cannot blame Cal for that,” Stassi said, hoping to get Caliphy on her side. “He only did what comes natural to him.”

  “Then he must be taught the ways. That is your responsibility.”

  “Yes, Caliphy.” After another moment of silence, she suddenly blurted, “We mated with our lips.”

  Caliphy inhaled sharply, but then quickly erased all emotion from her face. “Yes, I have seen humans do so outside of the veil. Such a barbaric custom, is it not?”

  “I would not say that at all,” Stassi replied breathlessly.

  Caliphy glanced sideways, trying unsuccessfully to hide her interest. “No? What did it feel like?”

  “I cannot describe it in words.”

  A delicate hand covered Caliphy’s breast. “Do try.”

  “Well, as soon as your mouths touch, a flood of pleasure surges through your blood, building and building until…”

  “Oh, my.”

  “…you think you might burst through your skin. Your body grows hot. No, not just hot, boiling! Your knees weaken and your heart races uncontrollably, knowing that you are as one. Knowing that…”

  “Yes?”

  “…the soft caress of his lips whisper a thousand promises.”

  Caliphy fanned her hand in front of her face. “I see. In that case, I am afraid that I cannot offer any further advice as I do not have experience in that… activity. However, I will caution you to be careful that you do not become too attached.”

  “Why? What is wrong with feeling such rapture?”

  “The Wonder is where we will obtain our rapture, Stassi, you know that. Besides, you are a warrior now. Duty comes before all other considerations.”

  “Why am I not permitted to have both?”

  “It is not—”

  “The Faedin way,” she finished softly. “Yes, I know.”

  Cal woke gasping for breath, his eyes wild. Although he quickly recognized the nightmare for what it was, it took several minutes to still his beating heart and then a second longer to figure out where he was.

  Stassi’s nest.

  He licked his lips and tasted her there. The bitter sweet taste of rejection.

  He twisted to the side. She still lay in the far corner of the nest, sleeping. He wanted to go to her, but she had already made her feelings on that pretty clear.

  Instead, he reached behind his back and removed a harmonica from his coat pocket. The soulful sound always helped to soothe his anxiety, especially after one of the shadow dreams. He cupped the instrument to his mouth and played an old love song his mother liked. The sweet music never failed to take him to a faraway place where shadows didn’t lurk. A place of innocence where his mind could be at peace — at least for a minute or two.

  So lost was he in what he was doing that he didn’t notice Stassi standing above him until she spoke. “It is very beautiful.”

  “Oh, I didn’t see you,” he murmured, shoving the harmonica behind him.

  “No, do not stop.”

  “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he said guiltily and jumped to his feet.

  “No, you… Cal!”

  “What?” he asked in alarm with a quick look behind him, just in case a monster Fallen had somehow appeared behind him while he’d had his back turned.

  “You’ve grown!”

  “What?” He looked down. Sure enough, his baggy sweatpants now hugged his legs around the thighs and stopped short at his ankles.

  Does this mean that I’m really becoming Faedin?

  The idea both terrified and excited him. The thought that he would be tall and strong and no longer a victim to the Pervalls and Ross Taylors of the world curled his lip with pleasure.

  Yet another errant thought hit him at the same time.

  Would the change also cause him to lose his humanity? Would he have to leave his world behind for good? What about his brother? Could he really abandon Landon?

  Stassi laid a hand on his arm. “Cal? What is it? Are you all right?”

  He shook away his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just starving,” he said, deciding to put his concerns aside for now. Maybe it was just a growth spurt after all. Maybe he wouldn’t become Faedin despite all of Stassi’s claims.

  “We will hunt then,” she said and grabbed a long bow and quiver of arrows hanging from a hook. She handed both out to him. “Here.”

  “What? No Subway?”

  “I do not know this word, Cal.”

  He shook his head and took the items from her. “Never mind.”

  “You should wear your coat so I can carry you easily.”

  “Oh, right.” He put it on and waited for her to lift him out of the nest, thinking the entire time how quickly one could get used to things — no matter how bizarre.

  The flight didn’t bother him as much as it had the other times. Stassi weaved low among the trees and along the many trails that cut through the forest.

  In a small clearing, she dropped him — closer to the ground this time — and landed next to him. That was when he noticed the changes in her body as well. She, too, was taller, her muscles more defined, yet still feminine. Her walk now sleek and predatory with the feral grace of a warrior.

  He tore his eyes away to study the woods around them. Although Stassi told him the Fallen would not directly attack, he still felt uneasy.

  “Stassi, how many Faedin are there?”

  “Around five hundred,” she said, gesturing for the bow.

  He handed it to her. “And the Fallen?”

  “Three times that number.”

  “When you hunt them, how do you find them?”

  “We hear them.”

  “How so?”

  “They are crying.” She removed an arrow from the quiver, fitted it to her bow and started away.

  “Wait! Why would they be crying?”

  “Because they are prisoners in their own bodies, compelled by the serpent. From what we can tell, the curse strips most of their intellect, but they know,” she said sadly. “They know.”

  “Yet Julius indicated that they appear to be more aggressive lately.”

  She shrugged. “I have seen no evidence of that, but I have not been a warrior either.”

  Cal retreated deep into thought about all she had said as he walked beside her. That was why her sudden scream scared him so. “Get down!”

  He threw himself to the ground and heard the thrum of her bowstring above him followed by great wrenching sobs and then a loud thud.

  He glanced up.

  A man lay in the middle of the trail with Stassi’s arrow sticking out of his back.

  Cal gasped in shock and scrambled to his feet. “What did you do?”

  Stassi walked over and pulled the arrow from the man’s back. She bent down to wipe the blood off on his shirt before notching it to her bow once again, her eyes cautiously sweeping the area.

  “You killed a man!” Cal accused angrily.

  “Keep your voice down,” she hissed and flipped the body over. “Not a man, a Fallen.”

  Cal walked over to look down at the corpse and recoiled from the all-white eyes staring up in silent death. “What happened to his eyes?”

  “All of the Fallen have them.”

  “He doesn’t have any wings. I thought you said the Fallen were Faedin who had been cursed.”

  “They are. All Faedin who are cursed lose th
eir wings, just as they do when they die.”

  “Faedin lose their wings when they die?”

  “Yes.”

  “I never asked. How does a Faedin become cursed in the first place?”

  “One bite of a Fallen is all it takes.”

  “A bite?”

  “Yes,” she said and pointed to the jugular vein at her neck. “Their bite passes their tainted blood through their fangs to others.”

  “And they never go after the villagers?”

  “Why would they?”

  “I don’t know. To make more Fallen?”

  “They do not think with logic. They only bite if they are attacked first. Like a cornered animal.”

  “How did this all start?”

  “With Zakiel,” she said with a growl.

  He remembered that name from yesterday.

  “He doomed us all by being the first to succumb to the serpent’s charms. His deliberate walk into the pit centuries ago is the only reason we have Fallen to begin with. Every warrior dreams of killing him.”

  “He’s still alive?” Cal asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. Unless we kill them, the Fallen do not die. They suffer day after day, unable to escape their torment for the Wonder. But, according to legend, Zakiel is different.”

  A chill of foreboding danced along Cal’s spine. The trees suddenly seemed to inch closer. The overhead sky turned darker. “How so?”

  “The few who have seen him and lived to tell the tale claim he is at least seven feet tall,” she answered, oblivious to the effect her words were having on him. “And, unlike the others, he seems to have developed a thirst for Faedin blood.”

  Stassi knelt in the middle of the trail and let loose an arrow.

  Cal crouched, preparing to see another Fallen drop out of the sky, but Stassi simply ran off into the woods and returned carrying a dead rabbit.

  “Nice!” Cal said, impressed. His mouth watered at the prospect of filling his stomach despite the horror lying just a few feet away. It had been a very long time since he had eaten.

  Stassi led them away from the body farther along on the trail. Finding a spot she liked, she knelt, pulled a knife from a small pouch on her skirt and began to skin the rabbit, her fingers moving with deft precision. While she cut the meat from the bones, Cal looked around for a good spot to start a fire.

  “Here,” Stassi said, handing him a slice of rabbit thigh with bloodied fingers. “Eat.”

  He flinched back from her. “Eat? Aren’t you going to cook it first?”

  “Cook?”

  “Over a fire!”

  “Why ruin the taste?” She tore a piece of flesh from one of the rabbit’s legs and started to chew, a line of blood dripping down her chin.

  “Er… no thanks,” he said, gulping back his revulsion.

  She licked her lips and pointed to a tree. “There are apples over there if you prefer fruit.”

  “I’ll collect some on my way.”

  “On your way? Where are you going?”

  “There’s a clothes maker in the village, isn’t there? One who specializes in leather?”

  “Yes, the clothier is there. His name is Eduard and you will recognize his shop easily by the goods outside.”

  “Perfect. See you soon.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Do not be late. The second trial starts soon.”

  “I won’t. I’ll meet you at the arena,” he said and hurried off before she could ask any more questions.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Arena

  Stassi paced at the edge of the lake, wondering what could be keeping Cal. Abram, Leeah and the warriors had already arrived and were giving her probing looks that said they were wondering the same.

  What could Cal possibly want with Eduard the clothier?

  “He’s not one of us!” an angry voice declared, drawing her attention to Gilad and Bannon standing together before the archway to the arena.

  That idiot! Stassi growled and made her way over with several other warriors to listen in on their loud conversation.

  “If one of the Fallen figure out what he is, what then?” Gilad questioned.

  “The Fallen don’t figure out much of anything,” the bearded Bannon pointed out.

  “But why should we take the risk?”

  “Julius made the decision to accept him, Gilad. Leave it be. It is done.”

  “Then we challenge him! The chieftain’s thinking is clouded because of Stassi’s involvement in all of this. The human is too dangerous and must be dealt with. I’ll kill him myself!”

  Bannon draped a thick arm around Gilad. “Maybe you need to rest, my friend. You may not be recovered fully from your injury yesterday.”

  “I’m fine,” Gilad spat, jerking out of Bannon’s grip.

  “Is there a problem, Gilad?” Stassi demanded, livid that he would not let this go. She had made her mind up. Why couldn’t he just accept it?

  He spun to face her. “No, but it appears you have one. Still no wings, Perstassia? What’s wrong? Have you picked a defective human? I can show him how it is done if he needs instruction.”

  Bannon and several of the warriors hooted, their wings bristling with tension. Half of them were hoping the conflict would resolve itself without bloodshed, and the other half were hoping it wouldn’t.

  “He needs nothing from you, and you should have no concern over my wings, Gilad.”

  “Oh, but I do. A warrior without wings is of no use to the Faedin.”

  Hushed murmurs rippled among the gathered crowd and a hole suddenly opened up.

  Cal stepped through the gap.

  “Don’t worry. Stassi will have her wings.”

  Gilad bared his fangs. “Ah, Rupa has arrived.”

  “She will have her wings,” Cal repeated. “And so will I.”

  “That remains to be seen, son of Adam.” A dangerous silence descended as Cal and Gilad glared at each other. Pride welled in Stassi that her mate stood his ground and did not run. Although Cal had grown, Gilad still stood at least a head taller. Stassi could see in Gilad’s eyes that he, too, had recognized the change. To her surprise and relief, he turned away first. “See you in the arena, Rupa.”

  “What’s the trial?” Cal asked his retreating figure.

  Gilad winked over his shoulder. “Hand-to-hand combat.” The Faedin took two long running strides and leapt upward, his wings outstretched to take him airborne. Bannon and the other warriors followed behind.

  “You did well, Cal,” Stassi told him proudly.

  Abram patted his shoulder. “Do you have a death wish, brother?”

  “No, I was just—”

  “Being human,” Leeah offered with a smile.

  The warriors flew in perfect formation over the center of the arena and loud clapping rang out.

  “People are in there?” Cal asked, sounding anxious.

  She nodded. “Many villagers come out to watch this trial.”

  “So what should I expect?”

  “Exactly what Gilad said,” she answered and started toward the arena. “This trial was created to test our fighting abilities.”

  “And the rules?” Cal asked, keeping pace beside her.

  “Four novices against four warriors. No weapons. Put your opponent on the ground.”

  Cal looked at her aghast. “How can we possibly win against experienced warriors?”

  “We’re not meant to. It’s just a test,” Abram replied and then glanced at Stassi. “Does he always ask all these questions?”

  “Always.” Cal came to a stop and she turned to him. “What now?”

  This time he was wearing a roguish grin. “If I have to go into that arena, I’m going in to win. And here’s how we’re going to do it.”

  Thunderous applause greeted the novices as they walked down the tiered steps, almost robbing Cal of his balance. It was only through supreme effort that he continued to put one foot in front of the other.

  Faedin of all ages crowded onto the
stone benches, their wings folded tightly along their backs. It all felt so surreal in this moment. A scene from a different time — a harder time. The noise. The eager faces. The promise of violence that hung heavy in the air. The part of his brain responsible for self-preservation screamed at him to turn and run.

  And then Stassi was there beside him, squeezing his arm. He latched on to her reassurance like a drowning man.

  Running was no longer an option.

  He forced himself to take a deep breath and look around. Julius and Caliphy sat in the center of the rows in two large seats befitting the chieftain and his mate.

  “Be brave, Cal!”

  Cal turned to the shouted words. Little Rebeka stood waving to him from the stands. He smiled and waved back at her awkwardly.

  “You have an admirer,” Stassi whispered as they stepped down onto the dirt field.

  Cal brushed the comment away with a wave in the air. “Remember,” he said to the novices as they approached the center. “Bannon first. He’s the largest. The others will be momentarily distracted enough that we can put the other part of our plan in place.”

  “You sure about this, Cal?” Stassi asked with a glance at the four warriors waiting for them.

  “Not really, but it’s our only choice.”

  The crowd quieted as the novices stopped before their opponents, a fifty-yard space separating them. Cal wasn’t surprised to see Gilad line up across from him. Bannon, he noted, stood on the far left.

  Julius rose to his feet and began to make some sort of speech regarding the rules, but Cal couldn’t hear through the blood pounding in his ears. He ran through the plan in his head. It’s either fight back or die. Well, maybe not die. He didn’t think the Faedin would actually kill him, but he would bet his last dollar that Gilad hoped to hurt him pretty bad.

  When the chieftain finally sat back down, Cal clenched his muscles, ready to run.

  Someone shouted the signal to go and everyone on the field started to move at the same time. Like possessed wraiths, the warriors rushed forward at lightning speed.

  “Now!” Cal shouted.

  Instead of going straight, all four novices peeled off to the left — straight for Bannon. Abram and Leeah shot into the air, their magnificent wings flapping furiously to thrust them over the field in a burst of white. In a coordinated effort, the lethal pair swooped in at Bannon and the towering giant disappeared beneath a barrage of beating feathers. The warrior shrieked in fury as he tried to free himself, but Abram and Leeah were relentless, and Bannon’s muscled chest soon blossomed with bloody welts from the sharp talons of his attackers.