The Dark Evolution Chronicles

by Cassandra Di Rossi

  “Exactly.”

  *

  For three more days we made our way across the eastern desert, stopping only a dunes distance behind Jonah. He could feel our presence from the moment we drew close on that second night. He came into my dreams, watched us sleeping, and begged us to hurry on. I felt guilty that we were holding back, and guiltier still that I did not tell Osiris of his son’s pleas, but it was for the best.

  It was early evening, a little after sundown on the fifth day when I sensed they had reached the port. Now, all we had to do was get there before they acquired a boat and passage. This was part of the danger in my plan. It was altogether possible that they would not wait for the morning, as we hoped, and would find a ship departing on the evening tide.

  Osiris and I ran faster than we had ever done before until a tiny glow of lights appeared like fireflies on the horizon. As we drew closer the small port town began to rise up and spread wider.

  The town, the name of which I have long since forgotten, was settled in the nook of a sweeping bay on the coast of the Red Sea. The salty air was damp and fishy and the sky loud with the caws of seagulls. There was but one jetty and at the time of our arrival, only a single boat docked. I caught the dismay on Osiris’s face as he presumed that the party must have already gone on their way.

  We turned past the small wooden customhouse and into a short but brightly lit street. At foot level, there were shops. Everything was closed up for the night, but the smells from within and symbols over the doors gave away the purposes. I looked up at the sign for bread over the baker’s door and noticed lines of washed clothes flapping in the evening breeze above.

  They were strewn ingeniously on a looped pulley system of ropes that stretched across from one side of the street to the other.

  Lamps flickered through open windows of homes, the shutters flattened back against the mud-brick walls to let in the cool night air. Chatter could be heard from some, but the words were indistinguishable over the more raucous din coming from the far end of the street.

  “That must be a tavern, we should be able to take a room there,” Osiris suggested. At the same moment, a sailor staggered out into the street and puked down the side of the building.

  “Urgh, humans can be so disgusting,” I grimaced and covered my nose with the fabric of my sleeve. Osiris laughed.

  “You spend a great deal of time with such men in that brothel of yours.”

  “It is not mine, I merely…” I looked away from him, uncertain if I should be ashamed or proud. “This is also where the queen and her party are likely to be staying,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Yes. Let’s see if there is a back entrance and take a look around before we draw attention to ourselves.”

  The street was a terrace of mud-brick buildings, not a sliver of space between. We had to go to the very end of the row and past the drunken sailor. The man was slumped on the floor humming away to himself with drooping eyes and vomit staining his kilt. He hiccoughed as we slipped by, making me flinch in surprise. I glanced down at him and stopped.

  “Osiris,” I hissed. He stopped too.

  “What is it?”

  I pointed at the man, for he was no sailor after all.

  “That is the priest that was with the queen in my vision.” I could not believe my eyes. I bent forward and peered a little closer at his face, taking care to hold my breath for he smelled foul.

  “And the one that first showed me around the Temple of Amun,” he said with an irritated shake of his head. I straightened up. “Then they are still here, he added.” Osiris looked so relieved that I did not voice my concerns that the reason the man was drunk may well be that the party had sailed away, relieving him of his duty, and leaving him free to make merry.

  “Come,” Osiris crept past the tavern doors, around the side of the building, and down to a rough piece of scrubland behind. I followed him downhill to a wall of bushes.

  Crouching low amidst the plants we were able to see through the open window. For a town that constituted two short streets, a customhouse the size of a stable, and a couple of villas, there seemed a remarkable number of people gathered in the tavern.

  The chatter was loud and too convoluted to make out anything specific. There were men and woman of all colours and sizes holding pot mugs with exotic patterns marked on the side. Red and brown liquid sloshed over the sides as they talked and gossiped. The women were less in number than the men, but there must have been a dozen at least. There were even a couple of children squeezed on a chair together, staring at something with open mouths.

  “It looks as though the entire town is in there,” Osiris voiced my thoughts. There could only be one of two reasons a whole town would be in a tavern, one: they all like their beer and wine too much, or two: there is someone unusual there to draw them in. We did not have to consider for long.

  In the centre of our view was a large round woman with ebony skin and a braided Kushite wig that clung precariously to the back of her head. She bent over to remove a finger from the nose of one of the children. As she did so the space she vacated revealed a table, upon which was a very pale, sickly-looking young boy. His eyes were like large round holes and surrounded by heavy rings of hunger and exhaustion.

  “Jonah!” Osiris exclaimed a little too loudly. I clapped my hand over his mouth. As the fat woman straightened up she masked the boy again. Osiris tried to rise and make a lunge for the window. I grabbed him tighter, pulling him further back into the bushes. His shoulders sank and I felt a tear roll over my fingers. I let go of him.

  “He looks so ill, we must get him out of there,” he whispered with desperation.

  “The moment we set foot inside, the whole town will know of our presence, including the queen. She will have him on that ship and sail it out herself if needs be.” I reasoned. At that moment the woman in question walked past the window, her gold collar catching in the torchlight. Her hair had been brushed loose over her brown shoulders into long spirals. She was as beautiful as her reputation.

  “Sweet Hathor!” Osiris breathed, and I had to agree.

  She weaved through the crowd, pushing aside the fat woman and her tall male companions. We needed to move closer to see better what was going on. As quietly as possible we edged up the dusty path toward the window, then crouched down so as not to be seen. Very carefully we both leaned in, peering up over the ledge like cats after a mouse. The queen clapped her hands together,

  “Thank you for your kind hospitality ladies and gentlemen, you are most gracious.”

  “Will he do it again?” someone called from the back of the room.

  “Of course,” she replied with an air that was far too jolly to suit her. “Come, Jonah, close your eyes and tell us what you see.” She was standing at his side now.

  “I’m too tired,” he pleaded. He lifted his hands towards her as though he were begging. They were still bound together with reed-rope. The cuts on his wrists where the bindings had chaffed were open and raw. As soon as they began to heal they would slice open and bleed once more. “I’m hungry,” he said more quietly.

  “Ha-ha!” The queen laughed forcefully, turning a wide smile at the room, “well you would not eat a thing on our journey here, what can I do?”

  Of course, he had not. He needed their blood but he was too weak and afraid to take it.

  “We must help him,” I said to Osiris, hoping he had an idea as to how best to go about it.

  “How about a swig of beer,” a short skinny man shoved his half-empty mug at the boy. Jonah grimaced and turned his head away. The queen leaned in close to his ear and whispered something that sounded to me like, “Just do it you little bastard.”

  Jonah looked as though he would cry, but instead, he closed his eyes and complied. Osiris shifted at my side, ready to go inside. I reached over and laid my hand upon his thigh.

  “Wait,” I mouthed.

  The room had gone silent.

  “There is a man, a good man. He will
stand before his temple, his priests and his people and tell them they must be kind.” He paused to lick his parched lips.

  “Well that’s stupid, anyone could say something like that,” one woman whispered to another. The queen glared over in their direction.

  “Go on,” she encouraged with a pat of her hand upon the boy’s back. Jonah drew a sharp breath as though it hurt.

  “The man will be called the son of a god, and the people will follow him.”

  “But that was Moses,” a man jeered. The queen sensed she was losing the crowd. Jonah was shaking his head.

  “No, another, many years from now, when you are all dead.”

  “Tell us something more interesting. Tell us what will happen tomorrow,” someone complained.

  Jonah sighed,

  “I cannot choose what to see.”

  The crowd was growing restless and people began to talk amongst themselves again.

  “There is a woman,” Jonah continued, “she is as beautiful as she is cruel.”

  The queen gritted her teeth and rested a hand upon the boy's shoulder with a grin so false you could feel her anger. Her fingers gripped the boy painfully. He tried to shuffle away.

  “She is a queen of this land, but she will be Greek.” The Sheban relaxed her grip; pleased he was not referring to her. “She will rule with a heart of stone and a passion that will form great alliances. She will murder her brothers and sister, and she will cost the country its soul.”

  “When?” someone called. “When will the Greeks rule Egypt?”

  “Never!” another jeered. But the Sheban was enthralled. She began to applaud.

  “There, he has given you his prophecy. Now we shall let him rest. Come,” she pushed Jonah down from his table. He slid off and thumped his feet onto the hard floor with a wince. “Time for bed my boy,” she pushed him again right between his shoulder blades. He stumbled forward.

  “Wait,” I whispered to Osiris again, sensing he was getting ready to pounce, “just another moment.”

  Perhaps it would have been better had I let him make his move right then. Perhaps what happened next could have been avoided. But we shall never know.

  “What’s wrong with Greeks?” Someone shoved the heckler back against a chair. His accent was unmistakable.

  “Piss off you Greek bum fucker.”

  The Greek lurched at his critic, his fist flying through the air so fast I almost missed it. There was a crunch of bone as knuckle connected with jaw. A thump from the side sent the critic reeling back into the wall, cracking his head on the mud-brick.

  “Hey, leave my husband alone you fat Kushite brute,” a woman leapt onto the back of the large black man that had thrown the punch. He writhed and thrashed to remove her as she dug her skinny white thighs into his ribs and slapped her hands over his eyes, pressing her long thumbnails into his earlobes.

  “Get off bitch.”

  The woman scratched her nails across the man's face cutting his cheek open above his lips. Then all hell broke loose and there was no stopping the brawl. As fists flew, legs kicked, hair pulled and mugs smashed on heads. Beer and wine spattered the walls and sailed out through the open window onto our heads.

  “Now,” Osiris bellowed. He sprang through the window, landing on someone’s foot and shoving another forward so they sprawled into the fat woman and the children on the chair. The children began to cry but the sound was lost in the din of screaming and shouting.

  I climbed in after Osiris, slowly to avoid getting hit. With my back flat to the wall I looked around past flapping limbs and angry faces. Finally, I saw them. The queen was trying to usher Jonah out through the crowd toward the stairs, but every way they turned someone lurched or stumbled in their way. Blood was everywhere, over fists, down arms, splattered around mouths and the backs of heads. The metallic scent was overwhelming. We had not fed since Abu Simbel, but poor little Jonah was near starved.

  “What’s wrong? No boy, stop, stop that!” Agame was holding the boy by the elbows.

  “Let go of him!” Through the scramble of people, Osiris lunged at the queen. Someone plunged a knife deep into his side, sending him tumbling to the floor.

  “Osiris! Jonah!” I screamed, scrambling past two women who were crawling on the floor towards a table. Jonah collapsed into the queen’s arms, shaking violently. She held him tight as his body writhed. His head bashed back against her stomach. She gasped as the force took her breath.

  “Agame!” Ariana called from the top of the stairs. She tried to reach her lover, but there were too many others in her way.

  I made it to Osiris and dragged him to one side. He was gasping for breath, pressing his hand into the gushing wound in his side.

  “I will be all right in a moment, get Jonah,” he spluttered, blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth.

  “Your lung is pierced,” I said, trying to protect him from further attack.

  “It won’t kill me,” he gurgled. It was true, but it would take a while to recover. “Get him,” he grabbed my hand, “please, get him home.”

  I was not going to leave without Osiris, but I knew I was the boy’s only chance then. I spun around and leapt to my feet in time to see the convulsing child’s eyes grow pale and his teeth sharpen. There was nothing he could do to fight it. He grabbed the queen’s arm as tight as he could, wrenched it to his mouth and bit so hard she screamed. The woman on the stairs baulked in horror, backing away.

  I swept them both into my arms and flew past her up the stairs and into the first chamber I came to. I threw them on the bed. The boy was drinking hungrily, violently. Blood smeared over his face, over her arm and soaked through her gown. I watched him for a moment in disgust.

  But I knew he needed it, and there was no chance of escape unless he was stronger. The moment her pallor turned to grey I wrenched him away, throwing him back against the wall. He hissed and bared his teeth at me, growling deep in his throat, blood dripping from his chin. I pressed my head against the queen’s breasts and felt for the faint beat of her heart. Behind me, the boy’s breathing was returning too normal. I looked over.

  “Is she alive?” he gulped, looking down at his bloodied hands with wide frightened eyes.

  ‘Yes, she will live. But we need to get out of here.”

  Jonah may have been filled with fresh red cells, his cheeks flushed and body pulsing with new energy, but he had been starved for too long. When he tried to stand his legs wobbled and he stumbled onto his knees.

  “My father?” he asked quietly. I looked at the shallow rise and fall of the queen’s chest. Even in that state, she was stunning. I reached out and trailed a hand down the side of her breasts and into the slender dip of her waist. I wanted to cup her breasts in my hands and lick the spilt blood from her body.

  “Who are you?” the boy whispered.

  I looked down at his frightened face.

  “Your father is downstairs, but he is hurt. I am Cassandra, High Priestess of Khonsu at Djanet.” I smiled as kindly as I could find it in myself to do at that moment.

  “Cassandra of Troy?” A quiver of a smile twitched in the corners of eyes and mouth. “You are a Vampyr,” he added without waiting for confirmation.

  From the bed, there was a heavy groan. I turned to Agame. Her eyes fluttered open a fraction.

  “Damn Zeus, it was too soon.”

  The boy shuffled back to the wall. I watched as the queen’s hand reached for mine.

  “What do we do?” Jonah’s voice was shaky and tight.

  I stroked a twist of matted hair away from her face. As she licked at her lips I noticed a shining droplet of blood resting there. It vanished into her mouth before I understood what it meant.

  “Shit! That is not hers.” The blood was Jonas. She groaned again, only this time it was stronger. Her tongue darted out in search of more blood.

  “Will she turn?” Jonah was as white now as he had been before he had fed on her.

  “I…I am not sure. It was only a dro
p.” But the woman began to twitch and scratch as though spiders ran through her veins. She grasped my arm tighter than I expected she could.

  “Vampyr!” She glared at the boy as though she knew what that meant. Slowly she pulled my wrist to her mouth, licking softly at my skin. I was mesmerized, wanting to touch her. “Turn me,” she whispered. “Turn me now.”

  Snatching my arm away I jumped off the bed. She turned abruptly to face me again.

  “I know what you are, what that means. Make me immortal. Do it, now!” Her eyes flashed brightly as the small amount of Jonah’s blood mixed in with her own, poisoning her veins, killing the red cells.

  “Do it.”

  My gaze snapped to the door. Leaning against the mud frame with the drape pushed back behind him was Osiris. He was still pressing his hand hard into his side, but the blood at his mouth had dried and his breathing had returned to normal.

  “But…she will run mad,” I stammered. Downstairs the ruckus continued, shouting, smacking, pots smashing.

  “She is half gone anyway. There is not enough in her to go all the way, but enough to kill her unless she takes more.”

  “She must go to Solomon,” Jonah said quietly. “I saw it. So much depends upon it.”

  “For my children,” the queen pleaded, using emotional blackmail as only a human can. “My husband will not manage alone and they are so young,” she clasped at her chest and gasped. Her back arched sharply, throwing her head back and bending her neck so far it ought to have snapped. She thrashed in pain. Someone screamed from behind Osiris. We turned to see Ariana standing there, frozen with fear. Her eyes were so wide and her mouth open as though the scream could not stop. Osiris grabbed her and pulled her into the room, closing the drape behind.

  “Turn me,” Agame begged, her breath growing weaker.

  “She is dying,” Osiris said. “I can help her. I have been through this, I can bring her out the other side.”

  “That will take a long time.” I could not believe he wanted to do this.

  “A few months. We will take her to her home where it is most familiar and she feels safe. Isis, Jonah and I will go with her until she is ready.”