Eternal Night

by Kerrion, Jade;

  “Fool.” Ashra’s voice spat out a curse.

  He pushed to his feet and stumbled toward Khiarra. “It’s all right,” he whispered, his tongue heavy in his mouth, the words distorted.

  Ashra’s hand clamped down on his uninjured arm. “Sit down before you pass out.”

  His gaze fell on her arm. Her pale skin was reddened from her fingertips to her exposed shoulders. Her white gown appeared scorched in places, as if held too close to the fire. He reached for her hand. “You’re hurt.”

  She turned her flinty golden gaze on him. “And you are mad.”

  What? He shook his head. Clear thought demanded more effort, more energy than his flagging body could spare. He refocused on her, but there was no water, no herbs, nothing that he could use to treat her burns. Helplessness, worse than the pain, rose up, suffocating him.

  “Did you see the icrathari?” She snapped out the terse question.

  He nodded.

  “Describe it.”

  “Too fast—”

  “But it was an icrathari.”

  He nodded. “Short hair…”

  She pulled her hand from his and turned her back on him to continue her restless pacing.

  Jaden leaned against the wall of the cave and staggered toward the entrance. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight. With every step, the heat inched from oppressive to intolerable. He winced, swallowing hard to drive saliva down his parched throat, and backed away from the entrance far enough where he thought he could handle the heat. Slowly, with pain leaving fiery trails along the length of his spine, he slumped to the ground, stretching his body in front of the entrance of the cave. Darkness crept over his vision, and dragged him down to sleep.

  Fool.

  Ashra had to come up with a more inventive insult. The word “fool,” though apt, was wearing thin after repeated applications. Ashra was both ancient and immortal, but he had been worried about her sunburn while apparently blind to the fact that his skin had peeled off his flesh. He had held her hand, apparently searching for ways to soothe her burn, while heedless of his crippled arm, torn back, and the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death.

  Wounded and dying, he had laid down just inside the entrance of the cave. Anyone trying to enter the cave would have to go through him. Did he actually think she needed his protection? More fool him.

  There was that word again.

  In sulky silence, she watched as his eyes closed and his erratic breaths evened out, deepening. He must have lost consciousness. She gritted her teeth against the unexpected pang in her chest. Sleep would dull his pain and ease him into death.

  Guilt and anger warred for the upper hand.

  She should not have tested him. What was one man’s ingenuity and determination against the inescapable heat of the sun? She should not have left him. She should not have soared high above the Earth, watching him, trusting her superior speed to return her to his side if the need arose.

  She had been too late. She had not anticipated the presence of the daevas. She had not counted on him risking his life by returning for his sister.

  The girl crept forward. “Jaden?”

  Ashra cast the child an indifferent glance. What an absurd amount of effort had gone into saving the girl. “Are you worth it?” she asked, not expecting an answer.

  Khiarra chewed on her lower lip and pressed against the wall. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked toward her brother. “Will he be all right?”

  Ashra listened; his breaths slowed, each one catching in his chest. She counted the moments between each one. Jaden would be dead within an hour, certainly no more. She turned her back on him. She would be trapped with a corpse and a mewling child for the better part of twelve hours, until the sun set once more and it was safe for her to leave the cave.

  Fool.

  Why did he take on the daevas? How could a human fight an immortal and survive? And why had he returned for his sister when he should have stayed safe in the cave? Seeing his skin crisp and flayed beneath the punishing rays of the sun—

  Ashra stared at her clenched fists. She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory that had seared into her psyche.

  It had been too much like watching Rohkeus burn.

  A light tug on the hem of her dress recalled her to the present. Small fingers wrapped around her fist. The muscles in her arm tightened, in part to keep herself from striking out at the child but as much to keep from relaxing, relenting.

  Khiarra did not leave. Her small hand stroked Ashra’s fist, the touch gentle and tender, like a child persuading a terrified pet to emerge from its hiding place under the bed.

  The touch and the heartfelt emotion behind it pierced Ashra’s immortal senses, but still, she did not look at the child.

  Khiarra’s voice quavered. “I love my brother. Please help him.”

  Ashra’s shoulders sagged with a sigh. “I cannot help him. My blood will poison him.” Her conversation with Lucas replayed in her mind. “Humans aren’t strong enough anymore.”

  “My brother is strong,” Khiarra pleaded. “Just a little, please?”

  A little?

  Ashra glanced over her shoulder. Humans were turned into vampires by draining all their blood and replacing it with a blend of vampire and icrathari blood. Jaden would never survive a full transfusion of pure icrathari blood—no human had since the apocalypse—but what if she did not drain him? What if she gave him a few drops of icrathari blood instead of replacing all of his with hers?

  The worst-case scenario was unlikely. A full transfusion of pure icrathari blood would turn a human into an elder vampire, the firstborn of an icrathari; only these days, they were called immortali—the immortal outcasts, driven insane by the infusion of raw power. The likelihood that Jaden would turn into an immortali was slim with just a few drops of her blood.

  Besides, even if the worst happened, what chance would a newborn immortali stand against the oldest and the strongest of the icrathari? If he showed any hints of madness, she would break his neck and disembowel him—splintering both his life and soul, prerequisites for slaying true immortals, like icrathari and daevas—setting Rohkeus’s spirit free once more.

  Ashra tugged her hand free of Khiarra’s, and to her surprise, felt the loss of its warmth. She cast the child a narrow-eyed glance, but Khiarra’s blue eyes were wide, the expression pleading, hopeful. The icrathari turned her back on Khiarra and knelt to gather Jaden into her arms. He seemed to weigh nothing at all. His skin was clammy, and his faltering heartbeat skittered against her chest.

  With a fingernail, she slit her wrist and held it above his mouth, counting the golden drops that trickled down her arm and dripped into his mouth. Too little would provide no aid, too much would kill. Five drops. Six. Come on, Jaden. Seven. Eight. Give me a sign. Nine. Ten—

  His throat worked. He drew in a single unsteady breath, his chest heaving from the effort. Jaden’s eyes flashed open.

  Ashra snatched her wrist back and pressed a hand to the open wound.

  He arched, his hands clawing at his throat as if poisoned. His eyes were so dilated that they appeared almost black in the dim light of the cave.

  Oh, blessed Creator, he was transforming, going mad. She had to kill him before—

  Khiarra dashed past her and seized Jaden’s hands. “It’s okay, Jaden,” she crooned, her voice choked with tears. “It’s the angel. She gave you medicine. She’s trying to help. You’re going to be okay.”

  His gaze shifted and locked on his sister. His lips trembled. “Khiarra?” His eyes flicked past Khiarra’s shoulder to focus on Ashra. “Angel?”

  “Yes, she’s beautiful and good. She’s an angel. She saved our lives.”

  Ashra did not have the heart to correct Khiarra. Besides, her voice seemed to calm Jaden.

  Khiarra stroked his fevered forehead. “You can’t die. I need you. Daddy says you’re supposed to take care of me.” She swiped the tears from her eyes with delicate fingers an
d pressed them against Jaden’s cracked and bleeding lips.

  Ashra swallowed hard and looked away. Where there is love, there can be more than the tedium of duty. How did the humans, in all their foolishness, understand that fundamental truth, while the icrathari, ageless in wisdom, failed to comprehend?

  The terror-filled black of Jaden’s eyes conceded to gold-flecked green. The animal-like fear that she could smell rising from the pores on his skin dissipated. He slumped against the floor of the cave and his eyes closed. His heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm.

  With a shudder, Khiarra curled beside him and nestled into the warmth of his body.

  Ashra took a single step back. She stared at him, willing his body to heal. What good was her ancient and immortal blood if it could not save his life?

  Chapter 8

  An hour passed, and then two. Khiarra had fallen asleep. Her tears left pale streaks on her small, dusty face. The sun continued on the way to its peak, and Ashra paused in her restless pacing to move Khiarra and Jaden into the back of the cave. The temperature deep in the cave was substantially cooler, though sweat still glistened on Khiarra and Jaden’s skin.

  Ashra turned to the light-drenched entrance of the cave. Even the icrathari had no place in the sun, yet somehow the daevas and the immortali survived outside the benevolent darkness of Aeternae Noctis. How? And who was the icrathari who had met with the daevas?

  If she had been flying lower, she might have caught a glimpse of more than pale skin and bat wings. If she hadn’t stopped to save Jaden and Khiarra’s lives, she could have caught up with the traitor icrathari. She arched her back and her rustling wings flared. There was no reason for any icrathari to parley with a daeva. What kind of treachery did she have to contend with?

  She spun around as Jaden stirred. He rolled onto his side and pushed up on one elbow. He glanced over his shoulder and met her gaze, but said nothing. He laid a hand against his sister’s sweaty brow and checked her pulse before pressing his weight against the wall of the cave and dragging himself upright.

  His skin, though still flushed, now covered the once-burnt flesh. He had, against the odds, healed from the infusion of her blood. His back had stopped bleeding, and he regained strength in his arm. He examined his injuries and looked at her. “What have you done to me? Am I a vampire?”

  She laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re a human with ten drops of icrathari blood in your veins.”

  “Why? Why did you save me?”

  Ashra’s glance flicked to the sleeping girl. “Because she said please.”

  Jaden exhaled quietly. “Will you please take her back to the city?”

  His request did not surprise her, but his matter-of-fact tone did. She heard Rohkeus in his voice—calm, cool, always practical. She cocked her head to one side. “Back into the web of deception woven by the Night Terrors?”

  He inclined his head, acknowledging the rebuke. “Will you take her, please?”

  “And you? Will you return too?”

  He released his breath in a sigh. “There is nothing out here, is there?”

  She shook her head.

  “If we had known—”

  Ashra snorted. “Do you really believe it would have changed the way you humans perceive vampires and icrathari?”

  “You’ve never given us the chance to believe differently. Everything you’ve done has instilled fear in us. You destroy any progress we make.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Progress? Is that what you humans call the weapons of death you created, the weapons that destroyed our atmosphere and damned all of us to eternal night? Technology is for adults. Humans are children; they are selfish and petty. No, as long as I rule Aeternae Noctis, humanity will flounder in the medieval age, never progressing beyond steel swords and oil lamps. You can’t be trusted with more.”

  He straightened. “I know now, and you can’t stop me from telling the others. Consider it, Ashra, the task you’ve taken on of protecting the remnants of life on Earth would be easier if we did not hate and fear you.”

  Was he challenging her? In spite of herself, she smiled. Jaden had spirit; few would have dared stand up to an icrathari. Was Siri right? Could he bridge the gap with the humans? Ashra tilted her head, studying him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Don’t know what?”

  She began obliquely. “What is my name?”

  “Ashra.”

  “How did you know it?”

  “I must have heard someone call you by name.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He frowned. “I must have. I know your name, though I can’t explain how or why.” He inhaled, his breath tearing out of him in a sigh. The words drew reluctantly from him. “For the past five years, I’ve dreamed of you. When I close my eyes at night, I see you.”

  She blinked. Had Rohkeus’s memories survived the rebirth of his soul? How much did Jaden remember of his former life? She fought to cover her surprise. With effort, she kept her tone level. “Exactly as I am now?”

  Jaden stepped forward with surprising grace. He towered over her, but his hands were gentle as they cupped her face and tipped it up. “No.” His brow furrowed. She sensed his seriousness; there was no mockery, no jest, no flirtation in his attention. He traced her lips. “You smiled more.”

  “Is that all?” Ashra asked. She glanced at the cave mouth; sunset was two hours away. She had to decide by then if Jaden and Khiarra would return to Aeternae Noctis with her.

  Her heart mocked her mind. Was there even a decision to be made? Could she leave Rohkeus—even a sliver of him—to die?

  Jaden released her and paced in a circle around her.

  Uncertainty tickled her spine. She resisted the nervous reaction to turn and keep him in her sights. He was a human, after all. He could not hurt her. Instead, she endured his scrutiny. Her nerves flickered with anticipation when his calloused hands touched her wings.

  “It’s even softer than fine leather,” he murmured, wonder in his voice.

  “What were you expecting? Scales?”

  He chuckled.

  She clenched her teeth against the shiver that raced down her spine. She closed her eyes, listened to his voice, and felt only his touch. She could almost believe he truly was Rohkeus. No one else had been able to move her so much by doing so little.

  His gaze drifted down the front of her translucent white dress and halted at her abdomen. “I don’t remember this.” His touch, though gentle, seemed to burn through the gossamer gown as he traced the six-inch scar across her stomach. “Is this new?”

  “A thousand years old.” She did not consider herself vain, but she had to fight the instinctive recoil, the need to conceal her one physical imperfection from him. The old injury was only partially obscured by gauzy chiffon. Red skin puckered around the bruised flesh; she had poured acid into the wound in a frantic, maddened attempt to overwhelm her natural self-healing capabilities. After losing you, I tried to kill myself, but Elsker stopped me. With effort, she met his gaze. “You’ve been away for a long time, Rohkeus.”

  His green eyes sharpened into a troubled stare. “My name is Jaden.”

  “You carry an old soul, Jaden.”

  “Rohkeus? The designer of Aeternae Noctis.”

  “He was our prince.” And my lover. “He was the oldest and the wisest of the icrathari. He recognized humanity’s folly before most of us did, before the humans did. When the humans embarked on their final war, he designed and built Aeternae Noctis.”

  “The city is amazing.”

  She nodded, stepping past Jaden to approach the entrance of the cave. The scalding heat of the day subsided as the sun tormented another part of the planet. “He was amazing.”

  “What happened?”

  She inhaled deeply and kept silent until she was certain she could hold her voice steady. Even so, her voice trembled. “He died.”

  “I thought the icrathari were immortal.”

  “We do not age or die of sickn
ess, but we can be killed.”

  “How?”

  She turned to face him, her smile thin and without humor. “A human does not need to know how to kill an icrathari.”

  “When did he die?”

  “He never entered Aeternae Noctis. A human killed him at the entrance to the city as the sun was rising. His body was consumed by the wall of flame that purged the Earth on that first day after the apocalypse.”

  Jaden’s hand rested gently on her shoulder. His touch seemed to burn against her skin. “I’m sorry.”

  “We were all sorry. We could have used his leadership.” And I could have used his love.

  “It appears you haven’t fared too badly.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, he would have laughed at all the mistakes we made, though most mistakes can be fixed, given enough time.”

  “Is the city what he would have wanted it to be?”

  Is it? “I don’t know. We’ve tried our best, but no one knows if we fully attained his vision for Aeternae Noctis.” She turned to look at him. “Have we?”

  Jaden shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that I see you in my dreams.”

  Ashra pressed her lips together. “It’s nice to know he did not forget me.” She moved past him, but he caught her by her upper arm. She looked up at him, an eyebrow arched in question.

  “From the intensity of the dreams I have, I’d say forgetting you wasn’t an option for him.” His green eyes—Rohkeus’s eyes—were compelling, and they were all she saw when he leaned down. His lips hovered over hers, his breath fluttering against her skin. The first contact was tentative, little more than the brushing of his chapped lips against hers. The rough texture sent sizzles of sensation through her—so odd that he alone could make her body, toughened by age, feel even the faintest touch. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into memories. Love, scarcely a whisper, beckoned. “Rohkeus.”

  Jaden yanked away.

  He shook his head sharply, as if shaking off a dream or a nightmare. When he took two quick steps back on unsteady feet, her heart cracked.