by White, Gwynn
“What is it? I know something is bothering you.”
“It’s Clarius,” she began.
“What’s he done?” He bolted up to a sitting position.
“It’s what he plans to do, Lucius.”
“Tell me.”
“He wants to punish you for breaking the eternae law.”
Lucius said nothing for a time. He leaned back against the bulkhead, and they both listened to the sound of the waves and the creaks of the mast for a time.
“Has a punishment been decided?”
“Not officially, no.” Petra couldn’t bear to tell him Clarius had demanded his head. If it was put to a vote, Clarius could end up killing Lucius permanently. She could never allow that to happen, but she didn’t truly know how to prevent it either. Could the Essentiae band together and take Clarius down?
“Will the Vindicatio take place at the next Vellessentia?”
“I believe so. I don’t think I can prevent it. We created the eternae laws. Laws Clarius agreed to. To go back on them now…” She didn’t need to finish. They both knew what was at stake.
“I didn’t actually kill him. I didn’t break eternae law.”
“You know he doesn’t see it that way. You threatened him, and for Clarius, that is more than enough.”
“What will you do?” Lucius asked.
“I don’t know. I will do what I can—what I must.”
“If it comes to it, Petra, I would give my life for you. That and more.”
Petra shook her head. “Even I don’t know what to expect from the coming Renascentia. All I know is I’ve traveled far to find you. I will not give you up so easily this time.”
* * *
“There are centuries upon centuries of history between us all,” Petra said after they had rejoined Cassian and Nencia on deck later that day.
The summer winds buffeted their bodies and the sun kissed their faces. Cassian seemed wary while his young goddaughter stared openly at all of them, likely attempting to make sense of her strange new life.
“Relations between the Sanguinea and Essentiae have been fraught with anger and revenge from the beginning. Our prejudices run deep.”
“And you would bring an innocent child into such a dangerous environment?” Cassian countered.
Petra narrowed her eyes at him. “Need I remind you that you held a dagger to her throat when I first met you? Do not preach to me of danger. Your goddaughter is safer than she has ever been in the whole of her life.”
Cassian grumbled and held tighter to the girl, who tucked her head into the crook of his elbow as they stood side by side.
“No, I didn’t want to turn one so young. But I, myself, was eighteen when I became an immortal. We will do our best to protect her.”
“How, if we are to attend these Vellessentiae, as you say?”
“I cannot protect her from all of it, but we will all work together. The time is coming when she will no longer be a child. We will explain as best we can why our lives are the way they are.”
“Petra tells me you still have a choice before you on whether to join us or not,” Lucius said. “Have you decided?”
“Choice?” Cassian nearly shouted. “What choice did I have? You think I would…” he glanced down at Nencia and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “No, there is no choice before me. I will do this—for her and for no other reason.”
“What choice, godfather?”
“To keep you safe. I will always keep you safe, my child.”
28
The Vindicatio
August 13, 1347
I demand his death, Petra.” She knew by the tone of Clarius’s voice he would not yield, that he would force his Sanguinea to side with him. His mouth flattened into a hard line and his blackening lips curled into a scowl. He looked like a demon to her, with flashing silver eyes and ash-blackened skin, a walking corpse among the beautiful immortals who surrounded the cella pool.
Petra locked gazes with Lucius, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to proceed. She studied his face, thought about a life without him, and then she fought.
“Lucius did not harm you, Clarius. He has broken no law.”
“That bastard intended to kill me. You all saw it.” Clarius wildly waved his arm around at his Sanguinea, looking less like a man and more like a rabid dog.
“And, yet, he did not,” Petra replied firmly.
Clarius’s mouth turned into a hideous grin, his fangs bared. “Ah, yes, but he murdered you.”
“By accident!” she shouted. “It wasn’t murder. It was—”
“You can’t have it both ways, woman. He intended to kill me, but he succeeded with you. There is a price on his head only he can pay. I call a vote, which you know you cannot now refuse.”
“I do refuse. I refuse this entire Vindicatio. You are a madman, because you walked away from our Renascentia last year. You have broken our agreement, a bargain struck long before our laws even existed.”
“How will you punish him, then, Petra?” he said petulantly, and she saw Lucius nearly go after him.
“Stay where you are, Lucius,” Petra warned.
Clarius immediately trained his cold eyes on Lucius, but his words were for Petra. “Putting your attack dog to heel, I see.”
“What I say to one of my own is not your concern, Clarius.”
“It is!” he screamed, his anger getting the better of him. She was surprised he had controlled himself thus far, but if she wasn’t careful, he would snap. “Everything you do affects me. Everything you do for him is a step against me.”
He wasn’t wrong. Of course she was working against him. She always would, until she finally defeated him.
“I call a vote!” he shouted, circling the column that held the torch throwing shadows across his face. “Begin the proceedings, Nicon.”
“A punishment has not officially been put forth—” Nicon protested, his voice as calm as his master’s was agitated.
“His punishment will be a Sanguine draw.” Clarius locked eyes with Lucius, then, as he began to inch closer. “My draw!”
Lucius tilted his head strangely, as if contemplating Clarius’s growing madness. For a moment there was a breathless pause, and then Lucius spoke with a calmness that terrified Petra.
“Let the vote proceed, Petra.”
All of them stared at Lucius, but Petra began to realize what he meant to do and why.
“No, I can’t let you do it.”
“He said it himself. You cannot stop it. Now vote.” Lucius gazed directly at her, daring her to send him to his death. So he could finally know what it felt like to die for love. So he could finally know what blood-ecstasy felt like.
“I vote no. No, Clarius!” Petra shouted. “Do you hear me? Damn you!”
“I vote yes.” Nicon’s voice was quiet but his allegiance was clear. She had hoped he would have the courage to vote against his eternae, but it was a fool’s hope. She was sure Clarius had threatened all of them not to defy him.
“I vote no,” Aurelia countered with a nod of solidarity toward Petra and a smile of encouragement at Lucius.
“I vote yes,” Phaedra said, her voice loud and steady.
Silvio voted the same, though his momentary hesitation heartened her, but it mattered not. Cassian and Nencia were not officially part of the eternae yet, so they could not vote. Clarius knew this. They all did.
Clarius laughed, and it echoed out over the pool and around the cella. “I vote yes.”
He didn’t hesitate. He rushed at Lucius with immortal speed and dragged him into the pool where they fell together, splashing water onto Phaedra and Silvio.
“Don’t—!” Petra screamed. But the vote was cast, the punishment agreed upon, the transgressor getting his just reward, the executioner getting exactly what he came for.
Yet she couldn’t stand to watch. She waded into the water, moving toward them as Clarius grabbed hold of an acquiescent Lucius and ripped into his neck, his arter
y spraying blood out into the pristine pool.
Petra screamed as Lucius cried out. She moved faster, instinctively trying to pull Clarius from Lucius, but he was too strong. A moment later, Nicon was at her back, yanking her away.
“No, no! Let me go. He’s killing him!”
“You must not stop this. Eternae law forbids it.”
“I don’t care!”
“He agreed to this, Petra,” he whispered into her ear as he held her. “You will bring him back.”
That made her stop, made her wipe the tears from her eyes and look at Lucius’s face. Pain crossed his features as Clarius drew and drew, filling his body with Lucius’s strength and skill and beauty. She ached to see it. Felt the exquisite agony of helplessness he himself had felt for millennia.
“Nicon,” she breathed, “when we die, take Clarius far away from here.”
He pressed his temple against hers so she could feel him nod his head.
“Lucius…” she said aloud, as the only sound was Clarius’s growls of pleasure at finally killing his immortal enemy. As Lucius’s pain moved into the final ecstasy before death, she held out her hand to him, though he was just out of reach. “I understand now,” she said, loud enough for him to hear. “I understand what I couldn’t then. I’m sorry.”
Through the thick, humid air, she felt his life force leaving him, and Nicon finally let her go. She moved around the men, where Clarius had pushed Lucius hard up against the center altar. Even though it made Clarius growl again, Petra pulled Lucius up onto the stone and held tight to him. She took up his hand, which was as weak as a child’s now that his strength was nearly spent. His shuddering body made her own limbs shake, and her own cries mingled with his as his life force disappeared, and he fell limp against her arms.
When she became aware of anything outside of her own grief, Clarius’s laughter, guttural and infinitely cold, brought her back to the present.
“I haven’t had such pleasure in centuries.” Clarius wiped Lucius’s blood from his chin and licked his fingers. “The taste of another immortal’s power. The strength of a man this time. And now it courses in me, Petra. He bleeds in me.”
“Be done with it, Clarius. Be done and leave us.”
“I want you to remember this,” he said, taking her roughly by the arm and dragging her across Lucius’s still-warm body. “I want you to remember as I take you that your lover’s blood runs in my veins. Soon, yours will too.”
Clarius grabbed her neck and his fangs dug deep. She refused to cry out, refused to give him an ounce of her consent. No, she would not ever forget. She would remember this moment and this death for centuries to come. And when all was done, and she had destroyed him at long last, she would bury this memory forever.
She let the burning fire of Clarius’s venom and the pain of his rough hands guide her to a strength of will that would keep her alive beyond the moment when he had had his fill of her. Even after she had drawn him into death with a vengeance matching his own. Even when she lay still as one dead and Nicon dragged Clarius away, and all that remained was the sound of running water, as it had been in the ancient days. Her lips found Lucius’s mouth, and she rested there, curled next to him, feeling his warmth passing away as the night winds cooled them both. A warmth she would resurrect tomorrow with her immortal kiss.
“I understand now, Lucius,” she whispered into his lips. “At last I understand.”
29
The First Codex
Sicily
February 21, 1723
The dawn’s light came up over the distant hills and shone full on the Prima Vita’s face as she finished her history. The lady gazed absently at the seat where Lucius had been sitting. He had left them before Petra relayed the story of the Vindicatio. Aurelia found it strange that after so many centuries, Lucius still could not bear to revisit that ancient moment in time. And, yet, she understood. She had been there, after all, during this tumultuous time. She had seen the after-effects of their pain and their grief.
“I grow weary at last, Aurelia,” Petra finally said.
“Of the past or the hour?”
“Both.” She laughed softly.
“Pardonnez-moi, Madame. It cannot be easy to dredge up such horrifying memories.”
“If I were like you or Lucius, my mind would surely have let those memories fade centuries ago. As an endless play in a darkened theater, my mind plays them back to me. Once a memory begins, no distraction can pull me out of it. I see it unfolding in front of me as if it were happening all over again.”
“Why after so many Vellessentiae have none of us acquired your great skill for memory?”
“I do not know. To some degree, I think you all must have this ability. It’s just not as transferrable as some of our other skills. I think, however, if we drew from each other more often—even every year—it would hasten the transference.”
“Is that what you would wish?”
“Yes. I would have you all be the best versions of yourselves that you can. Someday those shared skills may mean the difference between life and death.”
“But we are immortal, Madame. Life is all we know.”
“It may not always be so.”
“Forgive me, Madame, but is there something I should know?”
“Oh, don’t listen to the ramblings of an old woman, Aurelia. I worry needlessly about my Essentiae, so you don’t have to.”
“You may be on in years, but you have the face of a young Diana, Prima Vita.”
“As do you. Though, I believe your new lover would call you Venus.”
Aurelia blushed at this. “Cassian is not mine. As much as I…” She couldn’t bear to finish the thought aloud. As much as I would wish otherwise…
“Ah, but I have seen the way he looks at you, Aurelia. He is in love with you.”
“His strange nature… is beyond me, I fear.”
“You must not fear to love him. I may chide him endlessly. He may despise me for the wrongs I have done him, but Cassian is a good man. He is worthy of you.”
“Is he still angry with you over his turning? He never speaks of it—”
“Yes, the old anger lingers in his mind.”
“Do you regret what you did?”
“Do I regret taking his death from him? No. I regret that, after all this time, he still hasn’t come to terms with whatever demons he’s struggling with.”
“I don’t truly understand him.”
“I don’t either, Aurelia. He keeps silent about a past he should let go of. I fear it will be his undoing.”
“Please don’t say that, Madame.”
“We can never live beyond the mistakes we do not learn from. Of all the things I’ve learned in my long life, that would be the one piece of advice I would leave you with. Don’t let him be your regret. Frankly, I’ve never seen a man hold a grudge longer than Cassian.”
“I have, Madame.”
“Oh?”
“You, Lucius, and Clarius.”
“Ah.” Petra’s smile was sad, and Aurelia regretted reminding her again of those ancient grievances.
“If you could go back and change what happened that day, would you have let Cassian die?”
“No. I regret only that I could not gain his consent before he slipped into unconsciousness. He is and will always be a part of the Essentiae.”
“Yes. I cannot imagine our lives—my life—without him now.”
“Go to Cassian, then. You have listened to the horrors of our past long enough tonight. Rest well knowing you are safe within the sanctuary of my house and in the arms of one who would protect you with every ounce of his blood.”
Aurelia set aside her quill and left the codex’s last page open to allow the ink to dry. She blew out the candle, and the shadows of the bookshelves descended amid the rays of the sun.
Petra embraced her, and then her slight form faded into the darkened hall leading toward her bedroom. But before she turned the corner, she called out Aurelia’s name.<
br />
“Yes, Prima Vita?”
“Give yourself body and blood to Cassian. Love him without hesitation, without regret. Someday the tide will turn, and this fragile peace between the Essentiae and Sanguinea… this peace will not last.”
THE END
* * *
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About the Author
Cheri is a freelance author, editor, designer, and founder of www.AudaVoxx.com. Her bestselling debut novel, Artemis Rising, is a 2013 Cygnus Awards First Place Winner and a 2012 finalist in the Next Generation Indie Books Awards. Her second novel, Echoes in the Glass, is a half-contemporary, half-historical set on the Oregon Coast. Cheri also helped found the Paradisi Chronicles, a massive open-source sci-fi universe set on the fictional planet, New Eden. Her Paradisi Exodus series focuses on the early years of the human exodus from Earth to the new planet.
www.cherilasota.com/book-table
Glossary
ACHERON. One of several mythological rivers over which the souls of the dead had to pass in Hades. Etymology: Greek, Latin.
AETERNATUS. The act of becoming an immortal. Latin-based; meaning “immortalize.” Origin: Author.
AETERNITESCENTIA. The Initiation. The act of becoming an immortal. Etymology: Latin-based. Origin: Author.
ALTARAE AEVITATIS. Altars of Immortality. Etymology: Latin-based. Origin: Author.
AMATA MEA. My darling. Etymology: Latin.
AMOR MEUS. My love. Etymology: Latin.
AMPHORA. Ancient vessels used for holding oil, wine and other liquids. An amphora’s defining characteristics include two handles and a tapered bottom. Etymology: Latin.