Cyrus made a small fire on the stone outcropping that overlooked the lake and panfried the trout with lemon and herbs he’d brought in his pack. We ate the fish with our fingers while the fire dried us.
I ran my hands over the moth wings that had been painted onto the rocks. The pigment had faded from weather wear, so the depictions appeared ancient.
“Who painted these?” I asked. “Was it Sunday?”
He nodded.
“When was that?”
He shrugged. “Long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Years and years. You know time doesn’t mean much to us.”
Cyrus chose that moment to go down to the water to wash out his frying pan. He remained shirtless, and I noticed for the first time a series of pale scars crisscrossing his back. I sucked in a breath. I’d seen scars like that before, but only in movies. Usually movies about slavery, or children with abusive parents.
I remembered what Cyrus had told me about his mother, that she wasn’t the kind any kid hopes for. I got the feeling that was an extreme understatement.
Cyrus must have felt my gaze, because he glanced back at me and caught me staring. He frowned, and I turned my eyes away, feeling as though I’d been caught going through someone else’s things. I knew Blake inside and out. The boy claimed to be an open book, not a single secret to speak of. I could guess what he was going to say before he said it. Maybe it was the fact that I knew next to nothing about Cyrus that made him so attractive to me. It was exciting, but the mystery phase couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to find out who people really were.
Cyrus began to pack up. The day was waning, but I didn’t want to go yet. I put a few more sticks on the fire. Cyrus saw and smiled, pleased. He sat back down with the fire between us.
“If I’d planned better we could have stayed the night out here,” he said.
His suggestion made my stomach wriggle pleasantly.
Cyrus pulled his shirt on and then took a wineskin from his pack and offered it to me. I took a drink, felt the wine pool warm in my belly, and passed the skin back to Cyrus. He swigged, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“I saw you looking at my scars,” he said.
I glanced away. “You didn’t get them at Eclipse, did you?”
He barked a laugh. “No, those were courtesy of my mother. She was quite the disciplinarian. Spare the rod, spoil the child. That kind of woman. I ran away from home when I was thirteen.” He lowered his gaze, his voice softening. “I never talk about my life before Eclipse. Barely think about it, for that matter. It’s funny how you can learn to block out what you don’t want to think about.”
I thought about that Leatherman tool in Cyrus’s wagon, and the initials engraved on it.
“I’ve never been particularly good at that,” I muttered, twisting a long lock of hair around my fingers. Regular doses of anima seemed to make my hair grow faster. When I’d first arrived, my hair had barely reached past my shoulders. Now it hung halfway to my waist.
“Why didn’t anima heal your scars?” I asked.
“I got them before I became Kalyptra,” he said. “Anima can do a lot of things, but it can’t take away your scars.”
“And … how did you become Kalyptra?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual with an edge of disinterest.
“Ahhh, I know what you’re up to,” Cyrus said, not fooled for a second. “Rebekah told me about your deal. There are no secrets between your grandmother and me.”
“Why is that?”
“Why is what?”
“Why are there no secrets between you and Rebekah? Are you saying there are secrets between Rebekah and the other Kalyptra?”
Cyrus’s face closed for a moment, became unreadable. Then he shook his shaggy hair and his mouth curved in a tight smile. “Everyone has a secret or two, Kenna. Rebekah trusts me because I’ve proven myself to be trustworthy. That’s all.”
“Fine,” I said, dissatisfied with his seamless answer. I pulled my knees in so I could rest my chin on them and sulked in silence, hoping that if I pouted long enough Cyrus would give in and tell me something.
“Why do you need to know so badly?” he asked, staring into the dying flames of our intimate little fire. “Is there someone you want to make Kalyptra?”
I almost said no, but only because I’d never considered what Cyrus was telling me. Once I did, the idea bloomed in my mind like fireworks.
There was someone.
“My twin sister, Erin,” I said. “She’s sick. She’s always been sick, ever since she was born.” I turned my face away so he couldn’t see the tears glazing my eyes. “And it’s my fault.”
Cyrus shook his head, brows drawn in concern. “It’s your mother’s fault, not yours. She made the choice for you.”
“Doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.” I picked up a stick of firewood and peeled off a splinter. “Did my mom … do something when she was Kalyptra? Something bad?”
Cyrus hesitated. “She never told you?”
“Maybe I haven’t been entirely clear about this, but the only thing my mom ever told me was to not be Kalyptra.”
Seeing the grave expression on Cyrus’s face, I swallowed hard, bracing myself for what he was going to tell me.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“Your mom killed someone, Kenna.”
I swallowed hard, and for a moment my ears rang as though someone had blasted them with noise. A part of me had suspected something like this, but having it confirmed changed everything.
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
Cyrus’s eyes slid from mine. “Anya was the youngest of all of us when she became Kalyptra. I don’t know if that’s why she lacked self-control, or if that was just the way she was back then. She was … well, she was downright gluttonous. No matter how much anima she took, she always wanted more. Rebekah couldn’t control her. Joanna, who was her best friend, couldn’t convince her to try to curb her appetite. She was on a constant rampage.
“One day she went walking in the woods, culling life along the way. Her eyes were fully eclipsed when she came across a hiker. She told us she was too filled with anima to think straight. She saw him and decided he would tell other people about her eyes if he got the chance. She knew that could get the rest of us into trouble, get people asking questions. But I think the truth is that she just wanted to know what human anima was like, and there was no one around to stop her from finding out. So she culled him.”
He paused and raked his fingers through his hair, agitated. “She was tortured afterward,” he said. “She realized she was out of control and decided not to take anima anymore. But catharsis, after a lifetime of taking anima whenever she wanted, was too much for her. She couldn’t live with what she’d done, and she couldn’t live without anima, so she found another way to live.”
As he spoke, the air seemed to vacate the space around me until I felt like I was suffocating. We were the same. All this time, my mom had understood exactly what I was going through, because she had been through it, too. Only instead of locking herself up and waiting for catharsis to fade, she’d made a choice that nearly got her killed, that resulted in one sick child and one killer.
I was quiet for so long that the fire went out and we fell into dusk inside the shadows of the trees.
“Are you okay?” Cyrus asked.
I turned my eyes back to him. “I don’t think I can forgive her,” I said, though I doubted Cyrus would understand why. I climbed slowly to my feet, and Cyrus stood, too, as though worried I might be about to do something crazy.
And maybe I was.
“I can’t go home,” I said. “But I can’t stay here, either. Not without Erin. You have to tell me how to make her Kalyptra.”
“Kenna,” Cyrus said reasonably, holding up his hands in a whoa gesture, “even if Rebekah would agree to that, does your sister even want to be Kalyptra?”
Just last night
she had asked me if she could accompany me to Eclipse, but I thought about her reaction to seeing me cull for the first time, her repulsion, and I knew the answer to Cyrus’s question would be no. But I’d only culled the deer to heal her. She could be Kalyptra and never take anything more substantial than a blade of grass if she didn’t want to. And then she could be healthy and strong forever, independent of me. I didn’t know if she would ever agree to it, but maybe that didn’t matter.
I was her sister. Her twin. I always had her best interests in mind, and in this instance I knew what was best for her.
“She wants to live,” I told Cyrus. “This might be the only way.”
He kept shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
“At least tell me if it’s possible.”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “Rebekah knows how to do it. The question is, will she agree to it?”
“Maybe she will if you help me convince her.”
“I’m not sure I’m convinced.”
I knew it was manipulative, but I couldn’t help myself. Once I got an idea into my head, once I began to obsess, I was like a stone falling from a great height, picking up speed as I went.
I took a step, and that was it. We were kissing.
It was nothing like my first kiss with Blake. There was no sweetness to the heat and hunger of our mouths. No sweetness at all. There was only need. I wanted Cyrus. I had already admitted that to myself. But now I needed him even more than I wanted him.
There was nothing sweet about that.
YES
She has to say yes. She has to. She has to.
This thought rode a merry-go-round in my head as I paced the length of my room in Eclipse House. The kiss with Cyrus still burned on my lips like a pleasant brand, but its memory was overshadowed by my impatience to know Rebekah’s answer. When we got back from the lake, Cyrus excused himself immediately to speak with Rebekah on the matter of making my sister one of us, while I holed up in my room to obsess privately.
She has to say yes. She has to say yes. Erin is her granddaughter, too.
The question was, on the off chance that Rebekah did agree to this crazy idea, how would I convince Erin to take the plunge and leave behind everything she knew for a whole new way of living? And what about the rest of the Kalyptra? Would they accept her if Rebekah told them to? With the exception of Joanna, they had accepted me quickly enough.
Joanna.
I reached into my jeans pocket, remembering the scrap of paper Joanna had pressed into my hand the previous night. A part of me wanted to tear it up and toss it into the fire in my little stove, but curiosity got the better of me. There was nothing Joanna could do or say to scare me away from Eclipse. Nothing.
I held the paper up and read the three words she’d written: IN THE GUITAR
And then I remembered what she told me the night Blake came to Eclipse to take me home, that there was something hidden inside my mom’s guitar that she had expected me to find.
My mom’s guitar, which I’d begun to think of simply as mine, was where I’d left it, tucked safely beneath my bed. I brought it out and held it on my lap as I reached under the strings and into the sound hole, feeling around until my fingers caught the edge of something that had been stuck to the inside of the body. I pried it free, and pulled out a folded square of paper about the size of a slice of bread.
No wonder the guitar had always sounded a little off to me, no matter how often I tuned it.
I unfolded the paper carefully. It was yellowed and brittle, but I managed to open it and lay it flat on my lap without tearing it.
It was a topographical map, showing the mountains and the valley in which Eclipse was situated. I’d never been good at reading maps, but this one had been marked up, which made it a lot easier. Eclipse was indicated with a crude drawing of a house with a circle drawn around it. A trail that stretched through the orchard and into the wooded foothills had been outlined. At the end of the trail was a large, red X and a note written in black ink: THIS IS WHO WE ARE
Chills ran up my spine, as prickly as spider legs.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, I quickly refolded the map and jammed it back inside my mom’s guitar. But I didn’t have time to hide the guitar before Cyrus opened the door. I was still sitting on my bed with the guitar on my lap, an innocent expression plastered on my face.
I stood and set the guitar on the bed, my lips going hot again at the memory of kissing Cyrus. As soon as my mouth had touched his, I’d known it was the wrong thing to do, that it was too soon for us. There was still so much I didn’t know about him, and so much he didn’t know about me. But at that point it was too late. I’d been so distraught over the things Cyrus had told me about my mom, and my determination to make Erin Kalyptra, that I hadn’t been thinking clearly.
If Blake knew what I’d done, that would be it. He would never forgive me.
But if I wanted to become a permanent resident of Eclipse, I had to let him go. The thought made me ache inside, like some essential part of me was dying. Or maybe that was the ache for more anima. I’d taken plenty today on my hike with Cyrus, but none of it came close to satisfying my craving for more of what Rebekah had given us last night. And I’d been too distracted since we left the lake to cull anything more. Now the hunger opened wide in me, a sinkhole of desire. Was this how my mom had felt all of the time? Was this what had led to her killing a person to experience the life inside him? At least when I had killed Jason Dunn, I’d known why I was doing it. Or had I? Had what he’d done to Clint Eastwood and her kittens only been an excuse?
I tried to ignore the widening void and focus on Cyrus. His expression seemed deliberately blank.
“Well?” I said, growing impatient when he didn’t speak. “What did she say?”
“She said yes.” Rebekah glided into the room behind Cyrus, barefoot as always, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. She was stunning in a blue dress the color of a summer sky, fitted to the waist and then flaring out. The sleeves and hem were trimmed with silver beads that made a sound like falling rain when she moved. Her eyes went from me to the guitar on my bed and back to me, but if she recognized the guitar as my mom’s she didn’t show it.
“Are you serious?” I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself until now, but I’d been sure Rebekah would refuse my request.
“If the only way to keep you here is to make your sister Kalyptra, then yes,” Rebekah said. “But you have to know, Kenna, that our gift comes with a price. An … exchange is required. A sacrifice, if you will.” She smiled. “But after what Cyrus told me, I think it’s one you’ll be willing to make.”
I looked at her askance, uncertainty creeping in. “What price?”
Rebekah stepped up to me and touched my cheek. “Nothing you haven’t paid before.”
Her palm felt charged, and as I looked into her eyes I thought it strange that her pupils were so large. But then, it was dim in the room; only the glow from the stove lit the interior. Still, it was like she had no irises at all, only perfect circles of darkness surrounded by white, like the wing of an Eclipse moth.
Then, a feeling like a spark popped on my cheek where Rebekah had touched me, and I felt a wave of effervescence, like my blood had been carbonated. I forgot about her possibly eclipsed eyes, about my kiss with Cyrus, about the map hidden inside my mom’s guitar, even about Erin becoming Kalyptra.
There was only me, and I was more than me. I was everything, and I was part of everything in existence, an expanding cloud of being.
For the moment my hunger was sated, and I was full.
* * *
The night sped forward in an exhilarating blur of anima, enfolding me in color and sensation. Music crashed upon us in sonic waves that sank through our skin and vibrated our veins like guitar strings. Our bodies became electric as we danced, braiding our arms, fingers entwined like lace, weaving and unweaving. Joining and searching and finding and holding.
I had never been so happy. So ali
ve. So me, and so not me.
Things had never felt so right. Things had never been this right. Finally I was where I belonged, and soon Erin would be, too, and it would be perfect. I was going to make her Kalyptra. She was going to live a long, happy, glorious life. Much longer than she’d ever thought possible, maybe even forever. Both of us eternal. The goodbye I couldn’t say to her in the hospital would be wiped from the slate. I would never have to say goodbye. All I had to do was convince her to join me.
Join us.
this is who we are
I didn’t want them to, but as the night wore on and my anima high dwindled, the words Joanna had scrawled on the map crept into my ears and repeated themselves again and again, demanding that I listen.
I caught Joanna’s black pearl eyes on me, small and watchful as ever, and I read the question in them: Did you find it?
My mood darkened. What did she want me to do? Sneak off and follow the trail she’d drawn to the red X?
this is who we are
Could I really ask Erin to become Kalyptra without attempting to find out who they really were?
No, I decided. I could not.
X MARKS THE SPOT
I didn’t sleep. I sat in my room, a small fire burning in my stove. I studied the map and tried to ignore the cavernous feeling that had set in once my anima high had worn off and I’d become my mundane self again. Was I imagining it, or were my cravings getting worse?
I thought back to the night’s hazy events, an uneasy feeling heavy as lead in my stomach.
I had been filled with anima tonight, and it had been the anima of something potent, but I didn’t remember culling anything. What I did remember were Rebekah’s bloated black pupils, that delicious shock when she touched my cheek, and then … sublime abandon.
Rebekah had given me anima, but she hadn’t asked my permission. Looking back, I realized it wasn’t the first time she’d done this. Rebekah was always touching me, stroking my hair, taking my hand, touching my cheeks, and on numerous occasions I’d felt that same surge of energy enter me, only it had been subtler those other times. Too subtle for me to realize what she was doing.
The Killing Jar Page 22
