Eternal Night (Aeternae Noctis Book 1)

by Jade Kerrion

  He stared, mouth agape, at the open door. Why would the magic favor him?

  No matter. Urgency plucked at him. He had to find Khiarra.

  The walls were cold to the touch, and the chill in the air leeched through his clothes. With an arm wrapped around his stomach to still the trembling and contain the bleeding from his injuries, Jaden traveled along the corridor as it twisted and turned. He explored every room and found his swords, which he wiped clean and sheathed in the leather scabbards strapped across his back.

  The weight of his weapons anchored him against the fluttering edge of panic as he searched for something, anything, to point the way out of the tower. It was as if he were in a different world. The air in the tower was odorless, even sterile compared to the stenches and noises of life that infused the city. A low hum shuddered through the tower, a vibration so intense that the air trembled and the floor shook.

  Raw grit rather than curiosity pushed him on. His exploration took him into rooms so large he could not see the wall on the far side; rooms enshrouded in darkness, save for the pools of yellow light emanating at regular intervals from the walls.

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out massive, funnel-like shapes, each as tall as the cathedral in the town square. The machines were pockmarked with narrow rectangle slits cut through the metal, reminding him of the heat vents in his kitchen oven. The large cylindrical pipes that emerged from the tops of the machines interconnected in an aerial labyrinth. He peered up, but the tangle of pipes was lost in the darkness.

  No human could have designed such awe-inspiring machines.

  Who then? The icrathari?

  They were monsters, like the vampires—predators who preyed on humans.

  His gaze searched the room. It appeared empty. Still cautious, he walked to one of the machines and peered through a rectangular slit. Wide, flat blades spun, emitting the now-familiar hum that pervaded the tower. The machine core glowed deep red as it forced condensed bursts of air through vents under the machine.

  But under…to where? What lay under the tower?

  Jaden quashed the flicker of curiosity; he had to focus. He was almost certain of one thing; he would have to head up the tower to find Khiarra.

  Hours of searching netted him little but exhaustion. He found a central shaft that soared so high it eventually vanished into darkness, but there was nothing he could use to access the upper levels. Jaden frowned. The icrathari flew, but the vampires were as land-bound as he was; there had to be a way to scale the tower. He turned and paced forward. His thoughts turned inward. If he had designed a tower around a central shaft, he would have put a stairway right about—

  A large square pillar stood several feet from the shaft. He had mistaken it for yet another foundational structure, but closer examination revealed a square panel of dark glass, similar to the one he had encountered beside the sealed door.

  Here.

  He leaned down to look into the panel. Once again, the thin red lines flashed horizontally across the glassy surface, and the entire wall of the pillar slid up. The motion was slow and grudging, as if it had not been opened recently. He peered into the darkness. His heart raced. Within the pillar, a narrow staircase wound up.

  He sighed and sagged with relief against the yawning opening. Hope inched forward as he began the climb.

  Hope kept him going when the minutes lapsed into an endless grind. The chill pervading the air, combined with his injuries, sapped his strength. He paused several times to rest, sinking onto the cold floor, his chest heaving from his efforts. Exhaustion lured him to the edge of collapse, but the fear lodged in his chest drove him back to his feet. He had to find Khiarra before the vampires killed her.

  By leaning against the wall and doggedly placing one foot in front of the other, he forced himself forward. After what felt like an hour of strenuous climbing, he dragged himself onto a landing sealed by a door. Once more, he opened the door by peering into the glass panel. He stepped out into a corridor lit only by light effusing from a room at the far end. A low murmur of indistinct voices wafted toward him.

  Careful to stay out of sight, he pressed against the wall and inched forward to look into the room. Panels of white light lit the large room, casting a pale glow upon the ten men and women who lay, apparently unconscious, on narrow beds. Thin translucent tubes engorged with blood emerged from the humans’ tender veins, and flowed into steel machines at the head of each bed.

  Unintelligible symbols danced across the machine screens in an endless stream of information that seemed to make sense to the vampire and icrathari who stood with their backs to Jaden. The two surveyed the machines, occasionally tapping on the screen, but otherwise apparently content to watch the data change.

  “I’m hopeful that the latest batch of humans will survive the transformation,” the vampire said. “I’m using the same ratio of icrathari to vampire blood that we used two months prior.”

  “That’s when you last managed to transform the entire batch?” the icrathari asked.

  Jaden tensed. That voice, sultry and low, was like black satin wrapped around a razor-sharp blade. Ashra.

  Her face, more dream than memory, flashed through his mind. For five years, since Khiarra’s birth, he had dreamed of her, a slender woman dancing beneath the light of the crescent moon. Waves of silver hair framed a face of ethereal beauty. Her golden eyes sparkled, gentle with love and sweet humor, as she looked at him.

  In his dreams, he had not seen her black bat wings.

  However, those wings made all the difference in the world.

  An icrathari. I have been dreaming of an icrathari. He recoiled mentally and emotionally, yet curiosity damped his instinctive revulsion. Why her?

  In the room, the vampire nodded in response to Ashra. “Siri keeps trying to increase the concentration of icrathari blood to strengthen the vampires we create, but the humans can’t handle icrathari blood in meaningful volumes anymore. I’m diluting it at a ratio of one to a hundred, and even then, it’s a hit or miss.”

  Ashra shook her head. “How much weaker are the vampires now compared to the early days of Aeternae Noctis?”

  The vampire shrugged. “Impossible to quantify. Record-keeping is not an icrathari’s strength, and there have been no elder vampires since before the apocalypse.”

  “We have created them,” Ashra said.

  “The elder vampires who go on to lose their minds and become immortali don’t count.”

  Ashra nodded, apparently conceding the point.

  “At least the trial has kept the city safe from the insane fury of an immortali,” the vampire continued. He shook his head. “I know we need stronger vampires, but I’m inclined to agree with Elsker. The humans can no longer tolerate full transfusions of pure icrathari blood; the transformation requires greater strength of mind and will than the humans today possess.”

  Ashra looked away. Her leather wings ruffled against her small back. “Are we fighting a losing battle, Lucas?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  “Perhaps,” Lucas said. “But you’ve been fighting it for a thousand years.” He chuckled. “Why stop now?”

  Ashra laughed, the sound like silvery bells. “It’s true. Thank you for what you do.” She turned away from Lucas.

  Jaden pressed back against the wall beside the entrance. He held his breath, but his heart pounded. Careful to make no sound, he drew a blade.

  Ashra stepped out of the room, her tiny face serene and lovely. The uneven hem of her white chiffon gown brushed against her calves. Her sandaled feet made no sound against the cold metal floor.

  He lunged forward. Jaden threw his arm around her slender neck, and pulled her against his chest. He held the point of his blade to her neck.

  She did not react. In fact, she did not even seem surprised.

  Confusion flickered through Jaden, but his grip around her neck tightened. “Where is my sister?”

  His voice was scarcely louder than a whisper, but the va
mpire Lucas appeared at the threshold. His bright blue eyes surveyed the scene with mild interest, and a flicker of a smile appeared on his lips. “Ashra?”

  She flicked her fingers at the vampire, dismissing him.

  Lucas shrugged and turned away.

  With a sinuous motion, Ashra twisted out of Jaden’s grip and turned to face him.

  Stunned, he stared at his empty hands before his gaze jerked up. Their eyes met.

  She shook her head, warning him against a foolish attempt to recapture her. She did not smile, though her golden eyes glittered with self-mocking amusement. “I will take you to your sister.”

  It had to be a trap.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Put your sword away. You can’t hurt me, and you’d only irritate me if you try.”

  His left hand clenched into a fist. He ground his teeth. Could he trust a monster?

  What choice did he have? His heart wrenched. Khiarra.

  Slowly, he straightened and returned his sword to its sheath.

  Ashra turned her back on him and walked away, clearly expecting him to follow. She led him away from Lucas and the humans who hovered on the brink of transforming into vampires.

  “How did you manage to find your way up here?” she asked.

  He checked his pace to match her shorter stride, and spared her a glance, uncertain of what to say or whether even to respond.

  She paused in front of the door on the far end of the corridor and looked up at him. “Well?”

  His brow furrowed. What kind of game was she playing?

  She folded her arms across her chest. A thin eyebrow arched.

  He leaned down to peer into the glass panel beside the door. As it had so many times before, the door slid open.

  Ashra’s laughter chimed again, musical and seductive. “But of course.” Her leather wings spread and beat down, lifting her a foot into the air so that she could stare directly into his face. “Such beautiful eyes.” A chuckle lurked in her voice. The sound was intoxicating, as mesmerizing as her kiss.

  He could not tear his gaze from her golden eyes, where ancient wisdom mingled with deep sorrow. Something else lingered in those fathomless depths. He could not put a name to the emotion, but he had seen it before; he was certain of that.

  Her lips parted as if a word trembled on the cusp of being spoken.

  He cut her off. Perhaps he was a coward and a fool, but he did not dare listen to the voice that was more seductive than a siren’s. “What…are you?” Demon? Angel?

  Her chin tilted up. The moment of vulnerability vanished. “I am an icrathari—the oldest of my kind.” Her wings folded against her back, and she landed soundlessly. Turning her back on him, she stalked past the open door and walked to the central shaft. The glance she threw over her shoulder was both mischievous and mocking.

  Did she think he was so stupid as to trust her with his life?

  On the other hand, how could he back down from so blatant a challenge?

  He walked up to her, met her gaze, and nodded.

  Her eyes widened. A ghost of a smile toyed on her lips. Her arm snaked around his waist, gripped hard, and she leapt into the shaft.

  The rush of wind tore the scream from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut until he heard her chuckle, low and soft. Forcing his eyes open, he realized that he had a death grip on her other arm.

  Her wings flared, and her weight shifted. They swerved through the shaft and toward an open landing. Jaden’s feet hit the floor first, the impact gentle. Ashra landed beside him. She released him and strode forward as if he were of no consequence. Her wings stretched out before folding against her back. “This way,” she said without looking over her shoulder.

  She led him down the corridor and paused in front of a sealed door. She rose to the tips of her toes and leaned close to the glass panel. After a moment, the door slid back. She stepped to the side and waved him ahead of her.

  Jaden shot Ashra a sideway glance and preceded her into the room. He stopped short, inhaling sharply. He had expected a tiny cell, not a room that extended as far as his eyes could see. Long tubes, each only a little longer than Ashra was tall, were stacked on top of each other like peas in a pod. Narrow corridors separated the rows of tubes. The air was cold, far colder than in the rest of the tower.

  His footsteps echoed, soft yet obnoxious like a whisper in church. “What is this place?” he asked.

  “We call it the ark,” Ashra said.

  He brushed his fingers lightly against the frosted glass surface of a tube. The thin layer of ice melted at his touch to reveal the face of a child, eyes closed, floating in a translucent liquid. He stumbled back. “What is it? Is the child—?”

  “In hibernation, not dead.” Ashra’s fingers glided over the surface of the container, her touch gentle, as if caressing the face of the child within.

  His gaze shifted. The room contained thousands upon thousands of tubes. “Is this what you’ve done with the children you’ve taken from us? You’ve stored them as food?”

  Ashra rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Why would we eat them? They’re not particularly tasty. Icrathari are immortal; we have no need for sustenance.”

  “But the vampires are blood-drinkers.”

  “The vampires are near-immortals. The only time they need nourishment is to heal from injury; and at those times, they need strong blood to heal—vampire or icrathari blood; human blood would not meet their needs.”

  “Then why take the children?”

  “Because there are too many of you. Aeternae Noctis cannot support all of you.”

  “So you cull them?”

  Ashra raised her chin. “Yes. Those with strong genes and bloodlines we leave behind and allow to reproduce. Those with weaker lineages we take.”

  His brow furrowed. “But you don’t kill them.”

  “We have no reason to kill them. The city cannot sustain increasing human numbers, but cryogenically frozen, the children don’t take up additional resources, other than space.”

  “Cryo—”

  “Cryogenically frozen in life pods, their growth suspended.”

  “And then what?”

  “They sleep, waiting.”

  “For what?”

  Ashra trailed her finger along one of the life pods, leaving a clear streak through the icy casing. “Someday, we might find a way to sustain more people here in the city, or when the planet is ready for us again, we will return the children to their parents.”

  “But you have been taking our children for a thousand years. Are there millions of children in here?”

  “No. When we run out of space, we selectively eliminate the children whose parents have passed on and whose families are gone.”

  “How?”

  Ashra moved to a lighted console. Words streamed over the screen. Her fingers tapped on the console. A single pod glowed bright, standing out from among the others that were still cast in darkness. Her hand hovered over the console, but it did not touch the red button. “We alter the nutrients in the selected pod. The child transitions from sleep to death without waking, and the acids liquefy the body.”

  Jaden’s eyes widened. “And then?”

  “And then the remains are recycled.”

  “Into what?”

  “Into the soil. Into your fields and forests,” Ashra said. “Waste not, want not.”

  “What? You’ve been using our children to fertilize the land?” He grasped her upper arms and shook her hard. “What are you, a monster?”

  “I know you’d like to think so,” she retorted. “But we’re not the ones you should fear.”

  No, she wasn’t. She was the woman who danced through his dreams, her stunning face awash with delight as she spun flawless pirouettes to music only she could hear. In his dreams, her smile was compelling, her laughter infectious. Her eyes were gentle with love.

  They were not the cool golden orbs that now stared at him.

  What changed you? He bit back the question and instead looked
over the array of life pods. “Where is Khiarra?”

  Her fingers danced over the keyboard. A different pod glowed.

  “Release her,” he said.

  She frowned. For a brief moment, her hand hovered over the red button, and then moved toward another button. She tapped it lightly and entered a few more commands into the console. A robotic arm lowered from the ceiling and extracted the pod from its column before lowering it to the floor. The upper half of the pod swung open.

  Jaden cast Ashra a narrow-eyed glance. He hurried toward the open pod. Khiarra was naked, her arms by her side. She lay unmoving, and her skin was cold to the touch. His heart contracted. Was she really only asleep? Perhaps they had miscalculated.

  “She’ll need several minutes to wake,” Ashra said. “There are towels and smocks over there.” She nudged her chin at a row of shelves set close to the ground.

  “Why do you have towels and smocks here?”

  Ashra looked away. “Sometimes, we return the children.”

  “When?”

  “When we think it’s the right thing to do.”

  A memory stirred. Jaden’s eyes widened. “William was returned. Three years ago, after his older brother was killed in a boating accident on the river, his parents found William in his bed, no older than he was on the day he was snatched by the vampires. You sent him back to his parents.”

  Ashra shrugged. “Necessity. With his brother gone, the child had to carry on their bloodline. Genetic diversity is as important, perhaps even more so, than genetic excellence.”

  What kind of monsters were these that culled children for genetic flaws, and then returned them to their grieving parents? He grabbed towels and a smock from the shelf, lifted Khiarra out of the viscous fluid, and toweled her dry, trying to rub warmth back into her body.

  Khiarra’s eyelashes fluttered. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Her eyes closed again as she sighed. The sound eased the worry out of his heart, though she was lethargic and her body was still cool to the touch. He tugged a smock over her head, wrapped a dry towel around her for extra warmth, and scooped her into his arms.