The Eternity Road (The Eternity Road Trilogy, Book 1)

by Lana Melyan

  She went to the living room and dropped on the couch.

  “What did you want to tell me?” Craig asked, following her.

  “I checked the basement.”

  “And?”

  “And I found a body. It was our janitor, Mr. Sullivan.”

  Craig gritted his teeth. He put his hands in his pockets and began pacing in front of her.

  “Did you check—” he started his question, but Hanna interrupted.

  “Of course I did. He was bitten in three places—on the neck and on the wrists.”

  “Did you tell anybody?”

  “No. But I left blood marks on the door and the handle. I figure the other janitor will notice and they’ll find him faster.”

  Craig stopped.

  “You didn’t leave any fingerprints, did you?”

  “No. I used my palm.” Hanna nervously pushed her hair behind her ears. “Do you think they’ll come back?”

  “No. I think they already found a new place. If they had wanted to come back, they wouldn’t have left the body.”

  “That’s good,” sighed Hanna. “Craig, I know I said that I can protect Amanda, and I’ll do everything possible to keep her safe, but I don’t think I can stand against the three of them by myself.”

  “Three? How do you know there’s three of them?”

  “Because they set up a desk and three chairs.”

  “Hmm.” Craig sat beside Hanna. “And you don’t think it could be the students who did that?”

  “No. Mr. Sullivan checked the basement regularly to make sure that nobody smoked there. And, hello, three bites.”

  “Well, now we know there are three of them.”

  “For the time being.”

  “I looked around Amanda’s house but didn’t find anything.”

  “I smell coffee,” said Hanna unexpectedly.

  They moved to the kitchen. The big map was once again unfolded on the table. This time the red marks were placed along the big and small roads outside of town. Hanna poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, in front of the open laptop placed on top of the map. Google Map showed a house beside the field.

  “You’re looking in the wrong places,” said Hanna, taking a sip from her coffee. “You were right before. Go back to where you started.”

  “The forest?” asked Craig.

  “Yes. It’s a two-story house, surrounded by woods. She didn’t see any gate or road. But it has a fountain. Maybe that will help you make it out.” Hanna took another sip and stood up.

  “Thank you, it will,” said Craig, “At least now I know what I’m looking for.”

  “Craig, I still don’t understand. You’re looking for a house she saw in a dream.” She spread her hands. “Why?”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to go anyway.”

  Craig walked her to the door.

  “And, Hanna,” he said softly, “You are not alone. I can’t revolve around the school much. It’ll look weird. But Ruben is coming tonight, he’ll help you. Kimberly, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, does she?”

  Hanna saw a gamesome smile on his face.

  “Why? You don’t want them—”

  “Why not? He is young and––”

  “He is a hundred years older than you.”

  “You know what I mean. It will give him a reason to hang around the school when we need him and, at the same time, he will watch after her. Being your friend is putting Kimberly in big danger.”

  “What if she falls in love with him? He’s a handsome guy. His black eyes and his black curly hair, and he’s funny—girls love that.”

  “We’ll tell him to hold his horses. Go.” Craig smiled.

  Hanna parked the car at the school parking lot. Nothing had changed during her absence, and it bothered her. Of course, she could go to the principal herself and tell him that she saw something on the basement door that looked like blood. But, by doing so, she could draw too much attention to herself. The police taking her to the station for questioning was not an option; she couldn’t leave Amanda unprotected for that long.

  There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky, and Hanna thought it’d be much safer to take Amanda and Kimberly out of the school building, which now seemed so unwelcoming and dangerous to her. That’s why she chose to not go to the library.

  Avoiding running into Ms. Finch, she went to the end of the hallway. Her hands crossed over her chest, she leaned against the wall behind the big potted lemon tree.

  Hanna hadn’t been able to come up with a new lie like she planned, so she decided to tell Amanda and Kimberly as much of the truth as possible. They were going to find out that Mr. Sullivan was dead anyway. She’d tell them she found him. If they asked her any questions, she’d improvise.

  The bell rang, and Amanda and Kimberly came out of the classroom.

  “I didn’t lie to you,” Hanna said, cutting their incredulous looks. “I really was feeling ill. But it wasn’t because of my stomach. Well, my stomach did hurt, but it wasn’t because . . .” Seeing the confused looks on their faces, she said, “Let’s go outside and I’ll explain it to you.”

  Wading between the students and their backpacks down the cramped front stairs, they came out to the schoolyard.

  “I was taking the biology notes to my locker,” started Hanna as soon as they sat on the grass, “when I saw red marks on the floor. They looked like blood. I followed the marks—”

  “You don’t say,” chuckled Kimberly.

  “Kimberly, believe me, this is not funny,” said Hanna angrily.

  “Kimberly, wait,” said Amanda. “Then?” she asked, staring at Hanna.

  “I followed those marks, and they led me to the basement. I went downstairs and found Mr. Sullivan . . .” She paused only for a second, and Kimberly seized the moment.

  “That’s something we’ve never seen before.”

  “Kimberly, shut up!” Amanda said. She turned, exasperated, back to Hanna. “And?”

  “And he was dead, lying on the floor all covered with blood.”

  “What?” Kimberly’s face became serious in a second. “How?”

  “What how? I don’t know how,” lied Hanna. “I got scared and ran away.”

  “Did you tell the principal, or any of the professors?”

  Now came the improvisation part.

  “No. What if they think that it’s me, that I did something to him?”

  “What? No, they’re not that stupid,” said Kimberly, sounding supportive, to Hanna’s surprise. “You would never hurt anyone.”

  “You’re just a girl,” added Amanda. “Mr. Sullivan is . . . was . . . a strong man. You couldn’t hurt him even if you wanted to.”

  Hanna felt guilty again, because that was a lie as well. She wasn’t just a girl, and they had no idea what she was capable of. That she had killed things in her life much stronger than Mr. Sullivan. But in one thing they were absolutely right—she would never kill a human.

  “No, wait,” said Amanda suddenly. “What if he was shot?”

  “See, that’s what I’m saying. I don’t know how he died.” Hanna sighed. “They’ll find him sooner or later, though it’s horrible to think that he is lying there dead and nobody knows about it.”

  “That’s why you left? You couldn’t stay at school knowing he’s there?” asked Kimberly.

  “Yes.” Hanna nodded. “There wasn’t time to tell you, the class was starting, and I drove home, to Craig.”

  Hanna noticed that at these words, Amanda’s look softened.

  “I understand,” said Amanda.

  7

  YEAR 1669

  Craig returned to the room where, just a little while ago, he had woken up happy that he was alive. But now that happiness was long gone. He sat on the pallet with his head down, thinking about his family, which he could never see again. He imagined the moment when his father would read the letter to his mother, brother, and two little sisters, and his heart throbbed wit
h pain.

  But he was alive, and he was here, on this ship, among people he’d never met before. And he was not even sure if they were people, if they were human beings. But whatever they were, he didn’t think they were evil. Samson and Gabriella seemed nice. And now that he was one of them, he didn’t feel any different, he didn’t feel evil. He was the same Craig, except for the blood boiling in his veins, the rush of energy, and muscles that grew and stretched with every minute.

  He stood up and began walking back and forth. He needed to put himself together. They would call him to breakfast soon, and he had to be ready to meet the rest of them. He couldn’t go in there looking like a sad and scared boy. Samson said he couldn’t just turn anybody, which meant they were normal people, once chosen like Craig himself.

  The proof came a few minutes later. Somebody knocked.

  “Come in,” said Craig, folding his hands behind his back.

  The door opened, and a young face, framed in black curly hair, looked out from behind it.

  “Hello,” the face said.

  “Hello,” said Craig.

  The young man stepped inside.

  “I’m Ruben.”

  “My name is––”

  “Craig. I know, I already asked,” said Ruben, beaming. His black eyes were full of excitement, and Craig could not help but smile, looking at his happy face.

  “It is very nice to meet you,” he said.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” said Ruben, stepping closer. “I waited the whole night for your awakening, we all did.”

  “Thank you,” said Craig.

  He wondered what Ruben’s story was, how did he become a Hunter.

  “Samson was very worried about how you would take it,” said Ruben. His smile shrank, and he shifted from foot to foot. “You were unconscious, and he never got the chance to ask you for permission. I hope you’re all right.”

  “I think I’ll be fine.” Craig looked down, trying to hide how difficult it was for him to say those words.

  “Ruben!” Gabriella called from upstairs.

  “Coming!” Ruben yelled, sticking his head out the door. Then he looked back at Craig. “Breakfast is ready. We better go before the potatoes get cold, or she’ll bite my head off.” He made it just one step before turning back again. “That was a joke.”

  “I hope so,” said Craig, then asked, “What are potatoes?”

  “Oh, that’s her new discovery, and now she makes us eat them at least once a day.”

  The table was set up according to rules of etiquette, except it didn’t look like a breakfast. In Scotland, for breakfast they usually had porridge, cheese, eggs, jam, and buns with tea. This table had everything on it—chicken, fish, cold meat, cheese, vegetables, fruits, and something light yellow, shaped like an egg. Potatoes? Judging by the steam coming from them, Ruben’s head was safe.

  Gabriella was now wearing a satin gown, and her hair was neatly gathered. She politely invited everybody to sit, and when they took their places, two chairs remained empty.

  “Breakfast is ready,” said Samson, taking a piece of meat.

  Craig realized he was talking to the men beside the wheel on the other end of the ship. When two seconds later one of them entered the room, Craig’s wide-open eyes moved from one to another and stopped on Samson.

  “You can do it, too. Move fast. You just don’t know how, yet,” said Samson.

  The man, who seemed only a few years older than Craig, walked to the table and looked at him.

  “My name is Riley,” the man said.

  Craig stood up.

  “I’m Craig. Craig Kaylan.”

  They both sat down. Riley took the place beside Gabriella, opposite to Craig.

  “How do you feel?” Riley asked.

  Craig paused. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Is he in shock?” asked Riley, turning to look at Samson.

  “He’s doing fine,” said Samson.

  “How did you feel when you woke up surrounded by strangers who told you that you are immortal, that monsters are real and you have to kill them?” asked Craig with a little edge to his voice.

  Riley looked very confident, his tall muscular body reflecting power. It was very difficult to imagine that something could put him in shock.

  “I knew that monsters were real. I wanted to fight them, and receiving power and immortality was a priceless gift,” said Riley.

  “Let’s eat, the potatoes are getting cold,” said Gabriella, and everybody reached for food.

  “Fray and I met Riley in 1456 in the forests of Ireland,” said Samson, cutting the meat. “He was tracking down a werewolf, but he didn’t know there was more than one. There were three of them, and he was lucky we were tracking them, too. He had a big silver cross on his chest, attached to his clothes, and a homemade silver knife. He looked at our golden scabbards and said we couldn’t go with him because we didn’t have the right weapons; only a silver knife could kill a werewolf. He didn’t know that our daggers could kill anything.

  “We’d never met anybody like Riley before, somebody who not only believed that monsters exist, but who would go against them all alone. He didn’t have powers, not even proper equipment to protect himself. All he had was a silver knife, which was indeed the right weapon against werewolves. When I looked at Fray—you’ll meet him later—I knew that we were thinking the same thing, that we could trust him, that we could make him one of us. But first, we wanted to see him in action and show him what we were capable of. We followed him. When we took down the werewolves, there was no doubt left. We made him the offer, and he took it willingly. He said that he had heard stories about us that we were just a legend, but he always believed we existed. He was the first one we turned.”

  “I realize it could be difficult for you, and I didn’t mean to . . .” Riley shrugged. “I was concerned if you were all right.”

  “Thank you,” said Craig.

  “I didn’t know anything about monsters before they told me,” said Ruben, adding a chicken leg to his plate.

  “Ruben is from Cilicia. He was seventeen when I turned him. It happened eighty years ago,” said Samson.

  “Eighty-two,” corrected Ruben.

  “You are still a little boy,” said Gabriella teasingly.

  “I am not a boy,” said Ruben, pulling his black eyebrows together. “I am sixty-one years older than you.”

  “Ruben was on a cliff, trying to save his falling horse,” continued Samson. “We saw him from the hill and hurried to help. But by the time we reached the cliff, he wasn’t there; he had already fallen. His legs and spine were broken, blood was running from his head, but he still had a pulse. Were his actions heroic? No, they were stupid. But he was young and daring. I decided to give him a chance and have never been sorry. He is a very good Hunter.”

  Ruben raised his eyebrow, looked at Gabriella and loudly cleared his throat. Everybody smiled.

  Finished, Riley stood up.

  “I’ll replace Fray,” he said.

  The door closed behind him, and it took only seconds for Fray to enter the room. He walked right to Craig and extended his hand.

  “My name’s Fray.”

  Craig stood up and took his hand. Noticing that nobody was saying his last name except him, he said, “I’m Craig.”

  Fray looked to be the same age as Samson. His blue velvet waistcoat was unbuttoned, and Craig stopped his eyes on the big dagger hanging under a wide belt. He couldn’t see the dagger itself, only the sheath, which looked interesting. It was dark brown covered by golden text. Craig could see it clearly but couldn’t read it. The letters were unfamiliar to him, mostly looking like symbols.

  “There is no need to wear that on the ship,” said Samson, catching Craig’s look.

  “I always have it on me, you know that,” said Fray in a deep voice and then took his place at the other head of the table.

  “Nobody is going to attack you here, it’s just us,” said Gabriella.

  “Ho
w do you know?” Looking at Gabriella, Fray pointed his hand at Craig. “He just got his powers. Who knows what he’s capable of?”

  “Who? Me?” said Craig, glancing from one to another. He remembered Gabriella telling him that Fray and Samson were the First Ones, and it didn’t matter how strong Craig was now, Fray was experienced and definitely much stronger. He smiled. “I hope you’ll help me find out.”

  “First lesson in two hours,” said Fray.

  When they finished their breakfast, two dwarves came in, a man and a woman, and started cleaning up the table.

  “Thank you, Mary, everything was delicious,” said Gabriella.

  Samson, Gabriella, and Fray went outside, followed by Craig and Ruben.

  “Are they immortal, too?” Craig asked Ruben.

  “No. They work for us and they live with us, but they are not like us. Samson trusts them and he has offered to turn them anytime, if they ask. But they refuse.”

  Fray was waiting for Craig on the dock with his feet shoulder width apart and his arms crossed.

  “Are you ready to discover your new self?”

  “Yes,” said Craig, thinking it would be good to do something, to distract himself from the heavy thoughts of his family, of his ostensible death which disconnected him from his previous life with no chance to look back.

  “You’ll like it,” Ruben’s voice said behind him.

  Craig stepped closer to Fray.

  “Tell me what is going on with your body. What do you feel right now?” asked Fray.

  “I can feel my blood,” said Craig, musing. “It’s warm. I feel it running through my veins.”

  “That is temporary. Soon you won’t notice that.”

  “I can see and hear much better. I also feel my muscles. I don’t seem to have changed much outwardly, but my muscles are stretching. I feel them getting harder and stronger every minute.”

  “Those two days, you were unconscious because your blood was changing. That process is finished, but the transformation of your body is still in progress. That will take a little longer. You have to start training because you have to know how to use your strength when you need it and how to master that power in regular life. Hit me.” Fray unfolded his arms.