by Aja James
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Third millennium BC. Silver Mountains Colony, hinterlands of the Akkadian Empire.
Alad caught the huddled figure sitting atop her habitual stone bench out of the corner of his eye as he effortlessly parried with his mock battle opponent using a short sword.
“Spying on you again, is she?” Sargon, his partner for the workout, said with a half grin. “I wouldn’t mind having a beautiful girl worship me like she does you, my friend.”
Alad did not respond to the teasing with words, instead catching his opponent by surprise with a low sweep at the shins, followed by an elbow jab to the sternum, effectively knocking him to the dirt ground with a heavy thud.
“Perhaps if you concentrate more on your training, you will gain more favorable notice,” Alad said without change in expression, offering to help his partner up with extended arm.
Getting to his feet with a groan, Sargon shook his head. “I will never gain favorable notice being paired with you. Between that face of yours and your skill as a warrior, no Pure female between the ages of ten and ten thousand would look in my direction.”
Ignoring the remark, Alad replaced his sword back on the weapon rack and shot the parting words at Sargon, “Watch your legs. Don’t always rely on attack. You must have an effective defense also.”
Sargon waved away the advice as he walked off the training grounds toward the bath hall a short distance beyond. Verily, there was no Pure warrior who could equal Alad, with but one exception perhaps. Sargon could continue honing his skills for another thousand years and not be his comrade’s match on the battlefield.
Alad quickly wiped off his torso and pulled on his tunic before reaching the girl on the stone bench in a few long strides.
Her soulful blue eyes tracked his approach with admiration and affection. And something else Alad could not define.
“Libbu,” Alad greeted her gently, “is something amiss?”
Inanna gladdened slightly at his endearment for her as she always did.
Ever since she could remember, her father’s right-hand, the fiercest of all Pure warriors, Alad Da-an-nim, had called her his “heart.” He had always been there, as constant as her papa, and though she had lived only thirteen summers and he had lived many more, she didn’t think anyone could love him as deeply and as fiercely in a thousand years as she did in her short time in this world.
She gave him a brief smile, a sad shadow of her usual effervescent grin whenever she beheld him, and replied, “I just wanted to see you. One day, I will convince father to let me train to be a warrior too and I will be able to fight by your side.”
It was something she always said, since she was old enough to know the business end of a sword. It was something he indulgently accepted as the whim of a child, but which she held as a solemn vow, first as a determined, stubborn girl, now as a young woman sure of her mind and heart.
Alad peered closely at his young charge. Something was definitely amiss. Her usual sunny, joyful self was encased in a grim countenance that bordered on ashen, and a slight form that hunched over as if in pain. Spikes of awareness and worry pricked along Alad’s spine.
Verily, she looked quite unwell.
Inanna slipped down from her bench and began walking away from the training grounds, knowing Alad would keep pace with her. As she was her father’s daughter, he always made sure she had adequate protection, and when available, he always escorted her himself. She wondered whether he spent time with her because of duty or desire.
Recently, this question had been weighing increasingly on her heart.
“You must tell me if aught bothers you,” her bodyguard persisted. “Let us return to the fort so the healer can attend you.”
Inanna shook her head. “You worry needlessly. I am only experiencing the onset of my woman’s time.”
That silenced her escort effectively, as she intended. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a slight flush creep up the back of his neck.
She delighted in taking every opportunity to remind him that she was growing up. Even before her woman’s cycle unceremoniously announced its arrival, she felt her heart changing, her thoughts expanding, especially where her father’s Second-in-Command was concerned. She might be innocent and she might be a newling, but she had an old soul. And her soul had recognized his from the very beginning.
Mine, the word whispered through her consciousness like a spell or a wish from the deepest recesses of her heart.
She strode determinedly over a hill and down a winding path and up some steep mountain terrain toward the grove of tamarisk trees that bloomed on a secluded cliff overlooking the fort and surrounding villages below.
Normally, this trek would hardly wind her, though it was a good distance away and the climb required some nimble maneuvering. But this time Inanna fought to keep her shortness of breath to herself, hidden from the sharp detection of her companion.
She did not want more questions from him.
Her body in the past few weeks had become a mystery even to herself. It came suddenly upon her—this change. She felt weary and sleepy during the day and alive with excitement in the darkness of night. No matter how she tried, she could not fall asleep after the sun had set, staying awake full of nervous energy, writhing in her bed until the sun rose again.
She started sneaking out of her room at night. Sometimes so full of life, she ran through the valley and surrounding forests at the base of the mountain for hours on end, until the sun’s first rays imbued her young, lithe body with exhaustion, calming her overactive senses, slowing her erratic heartbeat.
And then there were the other changes.
The constant thirst that parched her throat.
Unable to be quenched no matter how much fluids she took in. The aching upper gums that throbbed in her mouth, the pain especially acute during the nights. The feverish heat that blistered her skin, making her scratch bloody streaks down her arms and legs. The bottomless hunger that gnawed in her stomach, and yet whatever she ate could not satisfy the beast, only making her nauseous at best, vomit everything back up at worst.
She could feel her thinning figure when she dressed each day. Her father was away on a scouting expedition and so was not here to witness her rapidly changing form and looks, but he would return within a day, two at most, and she loathed to worry him when he already had so much on his shoulders to bear.
Finally reaching the tamarisk grove, she sat beneath the largest one, leaning her back against the knotted trunk and closed her eyes. She was so weary she could barely keep upright. And yet, Alad’s presence gave her added energy, and she felt something more than her usual joyous excitement whenever he was near.
She felt a fissure of something darker. Something dangerous and greedy.
“You are not taking care of yourself,” Alad chided gently, sitting down beside her, spreading his long, long legs wide and bent at the knees, one hand casually draped there, the other brushing a wisp of hair from her face.
Inanna hissed involuntarily at the delicious contact, and he jerked his hand back as if scalded. She breathed in and out deeply for several moments, willing the dangerous desire within her to subside.
What was wrong with her?
“You are one to talk,” she returned with a bit of her old sass. “When you are not riding into battles, you are endlessly training in mock battles. Have you even healed from the wounds you sustained a fortnight ago? And if you train, you should at least teach me how to fight so I can do my part in the war.”
Alad could only shake his head. Stubbornness mixed with a blade-sharp intellect, wrapped in a maturity that belied her years, his charge had at times bemused him, befuddled him, and more recently, beguiled him.
“Your part is to help keep the fort safe and liven the villagers’ spirits as only your smile can do,” he told her teasingly but firmly.
She plucked at a blade of grass at her feet as her expression turned mulish. “And how can I defend the ones I che
rish if I don’t even know how to defend myself?” she argued. “Other Pure females train to be warriors, it is not so uncommon—so why not I?”
“You know why,” Alad said quietly, though he knew her question sought no answer.
She knew the reason as well as he did. She was simply bucking at the constraints of her role, now and in the future.
Inanna was the prophesized daughter of the leader of the Pure Ones in the Great Rebellion, at least that was what the Scribe and Seer said.
She was supposed to hold the key to their collective destiny.
Already, under her father’s leadership, the once Blood Slaves of the Vampire race had broken free of their shackles. Still many Pure Ones remained in captivity, some even by choice. Facing a new life without the old rules to bind them, without a well-traversed history to guide them, many Pure Ones felt like dandelion puffs in the wind, uncertain where the fates would take them, dizzy with the endless possibilities of the consequences from the choices they would have to make.
Inanna did not know why she had to be the Light-Bringer.
She was struggling hard enough as it was just to grow into womanhood with some semblance of grace and dignity and not be a burden to her awe-inspiring papa. She wished fervently and often that the keepers of the Pure Ones’ past and future had gotten it all wrong.
“Still does not mean I cannot fight,” Inanna said obstinately.
Alad considered this point in all seriousness. The Great War had already demanded countless casualties on both sides. Pure Ones had the disadvantage, for their roles had always been subservient, even the guards and warriors who safeguarded the Dark Ones during the daytime when they were most vulnerable.
They were not born aggressors; they defended, sheltered, protected.
Those who were once human might have had a different, more violent history, but Alad could not empathize. He was born to two Mated Pure Ones, peace-loving civilian farmers who lived simple lives. Until their village was burned to the ground and all the inhabitants within.
When vampire soldiers had come to pillage and set an example for the Pure Ones’ rebel forces, no one had been able to stop them. No one knew the first thing about fighting back.
Alad had been ten at the time. And he had fought like a wild animal blinded by bloodlust. Somehow he had survived and escaped, and the Pure Ones’ leader had found him, starving and on the brink of death. The General took him in, fed him, sheltered him and trained him to be one of the Elite warriors of the race.
He stole a glance at the child-woman beside him.
She was right. He would never forgive himself if harm befell her because of his neglect.
“I will teach you to fight,” Alad said finally. “But we will take it slow. You must train your body on flexibility, speed and endurance first. We can make a plan tomorrow at sunrise. Let us return now lest we miss the evening meal.”
She shrieked with excitement and hugged him tightly, albeit fleetingly.
But as she started to rise, a subtle breeze shifted the air around them and carried his unique scent to her nostrils, made muskier by his recent exercise.
A bone-jangling shudder racked through her body, and a sharp pain stabbed in her belly, doubling her over.
Immediately, Alad was before her, taking her by the shoulders, his gaze stricken with worry, roaming rapidly over her face, her body.
“What is it, Libbu?” he asked urgently, willing her to meet his eyes and tell him. “You are unwell. We must get you back to the fort.”
When he tried to take her in his arms, she resisted, pushing with surprising strength at his arms, his chest.
“You. Get away! You are making me…” Inanna gasped as her face contorted in agony and she tried to crawl away but could barely move for the pain. To her shame, she let out a whimper and felt tears leaking out of her eyes.
Alad could no longer bear it.
To see her in pain was a thousand times worse than any torture he could ever imagine.
When he took her in his arms again she did not protest, perhaps she lacked the strength. Instead, she curled into a tight ball, her knees drawn to her chest, and her arms wound tight like tentacles around his neck, her fingers nervously pulling at the hair at his nape.
“Inanna,” he said, trying to make her concentrate on him rather than her painful struggle.
Rarely did he use her name. Somehow it was too intimate. It was a woman’s name; it hardly fit the girl he cared for from a wee babe.
“Inanna,” he said again, turning his face to hers, starting to rise with her secure in his arms. “Hold on—”
Before he could finish the command, she abruptly pushed him back down, so strong and sudden that he landed hard on his back with her straddling his lap.
For only a split moment he gazed into her dark blue stormy eyes and saw the raw hunger in them. Then she bared her teeth, two sharp canines elongated from swollen gums—
And struck.
“Immortality is bequeathed only by the grace of our Dark Goddess. She who seeks to unbalance the cycle of life and death by giving Dark Blood to humans shall reap the sorrow she sows. Without the Goddess’s spark the creatures shall be mindless monsters, bent on violence and blood, and the creator shall lose her grasp on sanity with each Turn. Such will be her punishment.”
—Excerpt from the Dark Laws, verse nineteen of the Ecliptic Scrolls
Chapter Seven
Benji was fast asleep as he was delivered gingerly into Inanna’s arms when she came to retrieve him from Mrs. Sergeyev’s apartment after midnight.
Laying her precious bundle on the passenger seat of her Lamborghini, she drove smoothly into the City toward Morningside Heights.
The Pure Ones had readily agreed to watch over Benji when she called in a favor she hadn’t earned. He would be safest in their care for the time being; even the Russian mafia couldn’t possibly uncover the connection.
Meanwhile, she had business to attend to.
Despite the risk of blowing her cover, she had to go to Gabriel.
When Mrs. Sergeyev called her, she could hardly countenance the immediacy of the situation. Another fight night so soon! She was not prepared. With advance planning, she could have taken the time to train Gabriel, explain at least the basics of what they were up against. She could have pulled on her human partners to infiltrate the club and come to his aide if necessary. She could have researched the location, the setup, the potential fighters he might be pitted against.
But she had no time. No warning. And she had no choice.
No matter the cost, she was going to get him out of that Hell pit alive and whole.
She left her ride a few blocks away from the location Aella had given her and sprinted silently the rest of the way, a fleeting shadow in the darkness. She visually scanned the area as she ran, zeroing in through concrete walls and steel doors as if they didn’t exist, quickly isolating the fight pit, whose audience and participants had become embroiled in a free-for-all of mayhem and destruction.
He was not there.
She leapt with long, powerful bounds on top of a rusted crane and surveyed the surrounding area. The pit branched out into a couple of tunnels leading West and South. There was movement in the West path, close to a manhole in the middle of Chinatown. Her eyes grew sharper as she telescoped her vision from still a distance away.
Gabriel.
Held by a Vampire.
Dying.
Inanna’s body leapt back into motion like a missile even as her heart fought to keep beating. No no no no no! She was not too late!
As she reached the manhole, she unleashed her chained whip, the three-pronged hook at the end latching onto the heavy metal of the cover. With a flick of her wrist, she removed the barrier, sending it crashing with a clang against a nearby wall.
The street was deserted but for a homeless man huddling against the building. He started at the loud noise and looked about, but Inanna had already disappeared into the tunnel below.
A hiss of pure venom greeted her as the vampire realized her approach. Inanna let fly her whip again but the vampire was quick, dodging the hook at the last possible second and spinning away from her prey.
The vampire was fast, Inanna registered barely, and well-trained. No ordinary civilian could have evaded her whip.
The vampire did not give her time to contemplate further, nor did she wait for Inanna’s next move, instead disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving a faint echo of laughter in her wake.
With the immediate threat gone, Inanna fully focused on the man lying limply against the tunnel wall, blood still seeping from the gaping wound at his throat. The vampire had torn through his flesh in her feeding frenzy.
Inanna did not hesitate a moment more to check his vitals, instead lifting him bodily in her arms and leaping in one long bound out of the tunnel through the manhole. She had no time to lose.
Every moment could be his last.
She sped down a darkened alley and rammed her shoulder through the nearest door at the end, and staggered into a pawn shop closed for the night. Quickly she scanned their surroundings and ascertained that it was secure. She took them into a large closet-cum-warehouse in the back and settled with Gabriel against the wall, holding his head with one hand, clutching his hand with the other.
Only now did she feel his pulse and check his heartbeat. Too slow. His breath was fading.
No no no no no! Inwardly she screamed over and over. She could not lose him. Not now, not ever!
What could she do? What should she do? Think, Inanna, think!
The ugly wound at his throat was still leaking blood, though the flow was much slower now, reduced to a trickle. Involuntarily, she bent forward and licked at the twin punctures and the torn tissues around them, trying to help them close.
As the first salty-sweet tang of his blood hit her tongue, Inanna reared back with shock.