Eternal Dawn

by Kerrion, Jade;

A low snarl issued from Ashra’s throat. “I want the daevas stopped.”

  “We know where to find them. I can take the fight to them,” Tera said.

  Siri shook her head. “You can’t attack their base of operations. It’s suicide. There are thousands of them for every one of us. Even with the vampires behind us, there’s no way to win this fight.”

  “I’m not looking for a fight,” Ashra said. “I’m looking for peace.”

  “Fights often precede peace,” Tera said. “All we need to do is take out the leaders. I’m not suggesting a full-on attack. Perhaps something sneakier—”

  “I’m impressed; you have changed,” Siri said. “The Tera I knew from a thousand years ago would never have suggested entering through a back door when a front door existed.” She tapped her lower lip. “We need to bring them to the negotiating table. We have Megun,” she said, referring to the half-daeva, half-icrathari child born to Megun and Elsker, whom Ashra and Jaden were raising. “But we need something more to drive them out of the safety of their underground home. We could bring down the caverns with explosives. Choke them out with poisonous fumes—”

  “All I need is a daeva leader with whom we can negotiate,” Ashra said. “Thinning their numbers will drive them to desperation, and it can backfire on us.”

  “You could try asking nicely,” Tera said, her face impassive. “But historically, that hasn’t worked well.”

  Ashra’s gaze shuttled between Tera and Siri. “I want to talk to a daeva leader who is empowered to negotiate a peace. Do whatever you have to do to bring him or her to the table.”

  Siri frowned. “That’s a pretty wide mandate you’re giving us. Don’t you want to set boundaries?”

  “Do you need boundaries?” Ashra asked pointedly.

  Siri glanced at Tera and arched an eyebrow.

  The icrathari warlord shook her head, her long braid swaying.

  Boundaries only got in the way.

  After the council meeting, Siri carried her basket of flowers to her suite. Safe behind closed doors, she unpacked the jars and read the note Rafael had included. His instructions, written in a flowing script, were terse but clear. The salve had been tested on animals and on humans, but not on vampires or icrathari. She was to first apply the salve to unbroken skin to ensure she did not have an allergic reaction.

  Siri unscrewed the cover and brought the jar up to her nose. The scent was an earthy musk unlike the flowerlike scent of the salve she had been using. She dabbed a little of the ochre-colored salve onto her arm. It tingled from the contact, but it was not an unpleasant feeling. She held up her hand to the light as the salve absorbed into her skin. The reddish hue faded, leaving her skin as pale as ever.

  She was not sure what an allergic reaction looked like, but certainly, her reaction did not fall into the spectrum of anything worth noting.

  Her jaw tensed. It was time to test out Rafael’s new salve. She stood in front of the mirror and carefully unwrapped the scarf from around her neck. For a moment, she stared at the vicious red scar across her throat—no, it wasn’t a scar. A scar implied that some healing had taken place, but that was hardly the case with her injuries.

  They were open wounds.

  Siri spread a thin layer of salve across the open wound in her neck, over the pustules and dried blood.

  Her eyes flared wide. Pain, violent and visceral, seized her. It spasmed her throat closed and shredded through every ounce of self-control she had developed over the prior six months. She would have screamed, but she could not force the sound out. The open jar of salve tumbled from her lax grip. The world spun as she reeled to the floor. Darkness curtained her vision.

  Chapter 7

  Rafael filled a bowl with stew from the pot simmering over the stove and brought the bowl to the table. He lowered himself into a chair slowly and carefully, like an old man at the end of a long day of work.

  The aroma of basil and thyme wafted from the stew. He stared at the chunks of tender beef floating among carrots and potatoes and wondered when his appetite would return. It had been a month since he had looked at food with relish. Only discipline kept one daily meal, and rarely two, going down his throat. He had lost weight, enough for his clothes to hang loosely on his frame.

  At some point, he knew he would recover.

  The timeline, though, extended far into the future.

  The door burst open. Something sped into the room, yanked him off his feet, and slammed him against the wall. A voice snarled into his ear, “What did you do to her?”

  He struggled to focus through the burst of lights in his head. “Lucas?”

  “What did you do to Siri?”

  “What?” He grasped Lucas’s hands and shoved them away. “What happened to her?”

  “She passed out in her room. A jar of your salve spilled next to her. What did you give her, damn it? I warned you not to hurt her.”

  “You?” Lucas had attacked him in the forest? At that moment, though, the truth did not matter. Rafael grabbed his knapsack and filled it with several jars of herbs. “Take me to her.”

  Lucas hurried Rafael along the edge of the city. The drawbridge to Malum Turris lowered as they approached. Talon, the elder vampire, stood by the entrance.

  “How is she?” Lucas demanded.

  “No change,” Talon said. “Hurry.”

  A moving platform carried the three of them up the tower. They disembarked, and Talon led the way to a large bedroom suite. He pushed the door open and ushered Rafael in before him. “I found her here about ten minutes ago. She was on the floor in front of the mirror. I carried her to the bed and went to find Lucas.”

  Rafael glanced at the jar of spilled salve on the floor. “I need a bowl of hot water—as hot as you can get it—and a towel.” He sat by Siri’s bedside as Lucas scurried from the room.

  Talon leaned over Rafael’s shoulder. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Rafael looked back at him. “You don’t know?”

  Talon’s gaze fell on the thin red line on Siri’s neck. “Is that when Elsker attacked her? Why hasn’t it healed?” Something flashed in his eyes. “And why didn’t she tell anyone?”

  “She did.”

  Talon’s jaw dropped. “She told you? You prepared the salve for her?”

  Lucas returned with a large bowl. Steam rose from its surface. A large towel was slung over his arm.

  “Put it next to her, on the bed. Make sure it doesn’t spill,” Rafael said. He searched his knapsack for vials of rosemary and lemongrass essential oils, dripped two drops into the hot water, and then draped the towel over the bowl and Siri’s face to create a tent of air infused with potent fragrances.

  Siri stirred. She expelled a soft breath.

  Sighs of relief filled the room. Rafael removed the towel and smiled down at the dazed violet eyes staring up at him. “How do you feel?”

  “Rafael?” Siri’s voice was hoarse still, but it was louder than the whisper it had been. “You’re in the tower?”

  “In an emergency, I make house calls. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I tested the salve on my skin like you said.”

  “And?”

  “A slight tingling, nothing else. Then I applied it on my throat, and…”

  “And?” Rafael prompted when her voice trailed into silence.

  “It hurt…like nothing I’d ever felt.”

  Lucas snarled. He seized Rafael and would have pulled him away, but Rafael held up a hand. “Wait.” He glanced at the dressing table. “Bring that handheld mirror here.”

  Talon grabbed it and held it out to Siri.

  “Take a look at your throat,” Rafael said.

  Her eyes widened as she stared at herself in the mirror. “It’s gone,” she breathed.

  “Not entirely,” Rafael said. “But the surface wound closed, which is a step in the right direction.”

  Talon shook his head. “You mean this is an improvement?”

  Rafael nodded.

/>   Siri looked at him. “And you knew it would do this?”

  “I suspected it would. It worked on the rabbit I tested it on, and on me.”

  “You tested it on yourself?”

  “I did have a fairly fresh neck wound.” Rafael tilted his head. The jagged wound had closed, leaving only a faint scar. “I passed out too, and didn’t wake until the next morning.”

  Siri’s eyes flashed. “And you didn’t warn me?”

  “You’re an icrathari. I couldn’t predict its effects on you.” He leaned closer to look at the injury. “May I?”

  She nodded.

  With gentle fingers, he probed the edges of the scar. “The inside is extremely tender; you’ve still got a lot of healing to do. Unfortunately, the salve works best on open wounds, not so much on internal injuries.”

  “So I can apply it to the wound on my stomach to close it?”

  “Yes, but it will hurt,” he said quietly.

  Her jaw tensed. “I know.” Her gaze darted up to Lucas. “Bring the salve.”

  Lucas retrieved the jar from the floor. His bright blue eyes were troubled as he sat by her bedside and held the open jar in his hand.

  Siri stared at the salve, and then eased her red dress off her shoulders to bare her stomach. Her hands trembled only slightly as she removed the blood-soaked bandage that covered the wound.

  Rafael sucked in a deep breath. Siri was right. Her stomach wound was even worse than her throat injury. Talon made a choking sound. Rafael looked up; the elder vampire’s pale skin was ashen, and he looked revolted.

  The wound’s wet, yellow scabs leaked golden blood. “Here, let me clean it before you apply the salve,” Rafael said. He used the towel and hot water to remove the secretions, pausing when he heard Siri’s breath catch with pain, and continuing only when her breathing was steady once more. Finally, he set the towel aside. “All right, if you’re ready for this—”

  “I want you to hold me.”

  “What?”

  “Hold me. Lucas can apply the salve. I need something to hold on to.”

  Rafael hesitated. Either Talon and Lucas could have provided better support, but at that moment, he could not say no to her. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He cradled her slim body in his arms.

  Her body was rigid in anticipation of pain.

  He drew her close, his voice a quiet whisper in her ear. “I’m here. It’s all right. Just breathe with me. Focus on me; I’ll get you through this.”

  Long moments passed before her body relaxed against his.

  “I’m ready.” Her voice was a tremulous whisper.

  Rafael caught Lucas’s eye. He inclined his head.

  His lips pressed into a thin line, Lucas swiped a generous application of salve over Siri’s stomach wound.

  Her body seized up. Pain contorted every limb. Her mouth opened in a scream. In the dim light of the room, her elongated incisors gleamed pearlescent white.

  Instinct—irrational, inexplicable—spurred Rafael forward. He closed his mouth over hers, silencing her cry with a kiss. Her fangs cut against his lip and tongue. Blood seeped from his mouth into hers. The effect was instantaneous. Her chest shuddered; the tension seeped out of her as their union deepened.

  They shared one breath; their bodies intimately joined. He could sense the vibrations of pain washing through her, and he breathed through each one with her—in for four seconds, out for six. With his coaching, her rapid, erratic heartbeat steadied and slowed, but he did not release her or break the kiss until her body was almost limp.

  Her eyes were closed, but her hand grasped his as he lowered her onto the bed. Her lips moved. “Stay, please.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, still tasting blood in his mouth. He glanced down at her stomach. The serrated edges of her wound tugged together, the flesh slowly knitting. It would be hours before the injury fully closed, but the external healing had begun.

  The internal healing still eluded him. He needed more experiments with the samples of poison he had found in the secretions from her wounds, although it probably required medicinal plants he did not have. At least she would not have to contend with the external evidence of Elsker’s attack.

  Rafael gently pulled the satin covers over her body and settled in a chair by her bedside. He did not let go of her hand.

  Lucas nudged his head at the door. “Talon, let’s go. Let her rest.” His gaze flashed to Rafael. “We’ll talk later.”

  Rafael nodded, not deaf to the hint of threat in Lucas’s voice, but too tired to care. He slumped in the chair, closed his eyes, and allowed sleep to take him.

  Chapter 8

  Siri awoke, warm and comfortable, wrapped in silk and satin. The pain of her injuries still plagued her, but it was muted—constant, but no longer jarring. The absence of pain was almost enough to lull her back to sleep, if not for the unfamiliar contact with another person.

  Her gaze drifted to the hand that held hers. Next to her bed, Rafael dozed in a chair much too small for him. He would wake with a crick in his neck, she noted with an affectionate smile as she sat up and tried to adjust the angle of his head.

  He started awake. His hazel eyes flared wide with alarm for a moment before he seemed to recall where he was. Only then did a smile touch his lips. “How are you feeling?”

  She avoided the question. “How long did I sleep?”

  Rafael shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s too hard to keep track of time when the hours of daylight and darkness are erratic.”

  She did not want to get into a discussion on the city’s travel patterns, the need to conserve fuel, and the logistical nightmare of avoiding known daeva outposts. In fact, she felt no need to say anything. It was enough to be with him.

  Rafael was hardly remarkable; he was not physically unattractive, but neither was he eye-catching the way Jaden Hunter was. He did not have Talon’s flamboyant style, nor did he exude presence and power the way both Jaden and Talon did.

  Yet she enjoyed his company above anyone else’s.

  He rolled his neck and stretched out his back. The poor man must have been extremely uncomfortable in that chair. Yet, he had stayed because she had asked.

  His gaze studied the different textures and materials in her suite. “It’s like a different world,” he murmured.

  “These things are a thousand years old, designed and made by your ancestors before the final war.”

  “The final war?”

  “The one that destroyed the atmosphere and scorched the Earth.”

  “But if these were made by humans, how is it we have none of this technology in the city?”

  “Ashra decided humans couldn’t be trusted with technology. After we launched Aeternae Noctis, I redesigned the city and sent human civilization back five hundred years. The only twenty-second century technology can be found here, in this tower. Everything else in the city is pre-Industrial Revolution. Humans are ingenious, though. Every couple of decades, we have to purge the city of scientific advances that would have set it on the path toward industrialization.”

  “So it’s all just a lie, like the image of the world outside the dome. The forests, fields, snow-capped mountains, and waterfalls—”

  Siri nodded. “A projection from Malum Turris.” She inhaled deeply. “After the apocalypse, the humans we saved committed suicide by the thousands when they realized what they had done to the Earth. I designed the projection to give you hope, Rafael. Humans die without hope.”

  “I think we would have preferred the truth, although it’s irrelevant now.” He shook his head and changed the topic. “How are you?” he asked again.

  The question reminded her of their roles—healer and patient, human and icrathari. She pulled her hand from his and ran her fingers over the puckered scar left in the place of the open wound. “I’m much better.”

  “The poison is still in your body—”

  Her eyes widened. “The what?”

  “The poison. Your suspicions about Elsker’s
weapon being poisoned were right.”

  “Lucas has been working on identifying possible poisons for the past seven months, but he’s gotten nowhere. How did you find it so quickly?”

  “It was almost a dream.” A rueful smile crossed his face. “And perhaps it was. After the vampire attacked me, I thought you came to me. When you leaned over me, I smelled it on your breath.”

  “What did you smell?”

  “Aconitum. Processed aconite is used, though rarely, in medicines, and even then, in tiny doses. Crude aconite, however, is an extremely lethal poison. In humans, death can follow within two to six hours. If the dose is large enough, death is instantaneous.”

  “Yet I didn’t die.”

  “You’re not human. Poisons and medications affect you differently.” He pushed to his feet and paced the room. “That’s been the biggest challenge in treating you—I can run tests indefinitely, but I can’t fully anticipate what will happen when you apply or consume the herbal treatment.”

  “And you say the poison is still in my body?”

  “I found significant traces of it in the sample I took from you. Closing the external injury is one thing, but until you purge aconite from your blood, I suspect you’ll continue to suffer its symptoms, including gastrointestinal and cardiovascular damage.” He paused, turning to look at her. “If you were human, your body would eventually purge the contaminated blood cells, but I have no idea how an icrathari body works. Considering how ill you are seven months after the attack, I’m inclined to say that your body isn’t getting rid of the poisoned blood.”

  “One of the problems of being immortal is that your body doesn’t undergo constant change.”

  “Exactly so.”

  Rafael’s faint smile was so sweet, she wanted to pull him into her arms and hug him tight. Instead, she said, “So, what is the cure for aconite blood poisoning?”

  His smile faded. “I don’t know. I checked the book and identified eleven possible herbs—”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “I only have two of the eleven.” His shoulders slumped on a silent sigh. “We’ll start with those two—the jujube fruit and the ligusticum rhizome. We might make some headway with those, and may not need the others.”