by Isis Rushdan
“…Be merciful. It isn’t easy to share one’s greatest shame with the one we love most.”
“Merciful!” Talus choked on the word. “Who showed my brother mercy? Lysandra attacked us deliberately, toyed with us. She killed him, like he meant nothing. Like his life meant nothing. And still, he lets her live. He doesn’t deserve mercy!”
Falling to the floor, Talus wept. The sound of her wailing brought Serenity back. She had to forget her own pain so she could concentrate on Talus. She commanded her lungs to move and her heart to beat. She told her legs to straighten and her body to rise.
She went to Talus and held her. She closed her eyes, pictured a web and visualized sending vibrations of her energy out into it. The web lightened every time she sent out a pulse and prayed Talus could feel her. Talus tightened her embrace and dug into Serenity’s flesh with her fingers so hard she thought she might bleed.
“Promise me,” Talus pleaded in her ear, “if you loved Cassian, promise me you won’t show Cyrus any mercy.”
“I promise,” Serenity said. Fresh tears stung her sore eyes. “I won’t make it easy for him.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cyrus ripped off his jacket and dug a ditch. Wrath blazed inside of him, incinerating all other emotions. He tossed the broken bodies of the monsters he’d killed into the hole, poured sulfuric acid over them and covered them in dirt.
Molten fury pumped in his veins as his hands shook. Pressure built in his chest. He swung at a tree with the shovel. Metal buckled and snapped. He flung the pieces into the air and lunged at the tree. Tugging at the trunk, he ripped the roots from the earth and hurled it. He pushed on another one, shoving until the tree toppled.
Timber crunched and thundered to the ground. Each time he tore a tree up or knocked one down, he pictured Lysandra’s face. A howl escaped his lungs and he roared at the night.
When no more sound would leave his raw throat, and the rumble in his chest flattened, he dropped the chunks of wood and shuffled forward, the haze of anger and anguish clearing.
He stood over Cassian’s body, unable to believe he was gone. Falling to his knees, a strangled sound left his lips. He placed his hands on his son’s chest.
Not of his flesh, not of his blood, but his son in every way that mattered. He shook his body as if to wake him. His gaze traveled up to his boy’s neck…over to his head. She couldn’t even leave his body intact.
Hot moisture burned his eyes, blurring his vision. His son was dead.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When Cyrus finally entered the great room, it seemed like hours had passed. Clothes and hands covered in dirt, breathing labored, features contorted in a ferocious expression, he looked savage. Serenity scanned his body, searching for any sign of blood.
“I moved Cassian,” he said in a gravelly voice. “We’ll bury him properly at sunset.”
Talus whimpered, her body scrunched into a fetal position.
Abbadon rose and marched up to Cyrus. “You’ve let this go on too long. No more of our brothers and sisters can die at her hands. It’s time you release me from my oath. You have to let me put her down.”
“I release you, brother. We will hunt her. And when we find her, we will avenge Cassian,” he said in a low voice, hard as steel.
“Why was she here?” Serenity asked, still holding Talus.
Cyrus faced her. “This is uncharacteristic of Lysandra to come here like this. She must’ve been looking for something, possibly one of the documents in the safe upstairs.”
“I checked the safe. They tried to break in, but it wasn’t breached.” Abbadon ran a hand over his head. “This isn’t good. Now that she has Evan, she knows all about Serenity. We need to call in the team or even some of the battle-guard until we decide how to handle the situation.”
“I’ll call the others. We need to find her and put an end to this.”
Gently releasing Talus, Serenity stood and went to Cyrus. She ran a hand timidly over his chest, checking to make sure he wasn’t injured.
Lysandra was his inamorata.
She yanked her hand away as if touching him had stung her skin. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Evan?” she asked and held her breath.
“He lives.”
Thank goodness. She shut her eyes for a moment, grateful for the news. “Why was he with her?”
“It’s common for her to recruit humans that know about us,” Cyrus said. “She’s been doing it for years, but we didn’t know why. She was with those mercs from your apartment. We’ve never found a link between her and Gallacom Industries before, but it explains why they were interested in you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Evan wouldn’t volunteer to join a band of psycho mercs, and there’s no way he’d willingly go with Artemis if she’s Kindred.”
“Lysandra pretends to be human,” Cyrus said.
“Why?”
“She is a vile creature. She loathes herself and all Kindred,” Abbadon answered.
“Can I speak to you privately?” she asked Cyrus.
“Certainly.”
“Cyrus, I trust you won’t be leaving next week and I can cancel the arrangements?” Abbadon asked.
“We’re staying. I’ll cancel everything. Would you prepare the ceremony for Cassian’s burial?”
Abbadon nodded.
Serenity looked at Cyrus perplexed. “What arrangements?”
“I was going to take you to Morocco, to show you the Imperial cities. It was to be a surprise for your birthday.”
In the chaos of her new world, she’d forgotten all about her birthday.
“Where’s his body?” Talus asked in a hoarse voice that cracked.
“He’s in the meditation room,” Cyrus said.
They left the great room and Cyrus went to the stairs.
“Can we speak outside?” she asked.
He had a grave look on his face as he turned and walked outside through the courtyard. Every light blazed, casting a surreal glow. He drifted far out on to the grass. Once he reached an area away from the brightness of the house, he sat.
She sank to her knees just behind him. For the first time, a noticeable distance stretched between them like an emotional gorge. She was used to sensing some feeling from him, but a wall had gone up, blocking her from reading him. He sat quietly, staring at the dark lake. She opened her mouth to ask the question, but cringed, stifling her voice.
The vise tightened in her chest and she found it hard to swallow.
Cyrus didn’t want her to feel his pain or to have sympathy for him. He pictured himself far away on an island and imagined they were divided by an ocean. He visualized reeling in his emotions to contain them on that island, to spare her the brunt of his grief and shame.
“When I left House Herut, I was very young, younger than you are now.” He lowered his head. “I was naïve, full of rebellion. I didn’t want the responsibility that had been thrust upon me since I’d been born.” He stared straight ahead into the darkness.
“I wanted to figure out what I believed in, what I wanted, without the judgment of Herut and their ideals. When I left, Abbadon and a warrior named Elianus came with me to watch over me. I didn’t know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do. I only knew I wanted to travel, to be anywhere, except there. Abbadon’s sister, Lysandra, had left many years earlier and had settled down in Panama.”
His stomach churned at drudging up the old memories. “We went there. He thought talking to her might help me since she’s also Blessed and experienced the same doubts I had. She was living down in the valley and seemed to be doing well. We ended up staying.”
He looked down at his shaking hands and curled them into fists. “As I got to know her, over time, my attraction for her grew. I became curious. Eventually, Lysandra and I became lovers. Abbadon disapproved, but felt it wasn’t his place to intervene since I was on my journey of self-discovery and needed to find my own answers
.
“Abbadon and Elianus went with me to explore ruins in Costa Rica. We were away when it happened. When we returned to Panama…the sangre saevitas had taken her over. The Triumvirate had sent envoys to formally invite Abbadon to serve as battle-guard. My mother was with them. She wanted to convince me to return to House Herut.”
He angled his head as if to look at her, but didn’t connect with her eyes. He stared back into the darkness.
“Lysandra had killed them. We found her bathing in their blood. When she saw us, we fought. I ended up taking her eye in the struggle. Abbadon wanted to kill her, but I made him swear he wouldn’t. She had a mark of the Fallen.” His voice was despondent, a quivering thread. “And…I cared for her. I couldn’t kill her.
“We restrained her. The bout of madness passed. She didn’t have blood-red eyes yet. When she returned to herself, I saw the remorse in her after she realized what she’d done. I knew the sickness would take her over again in weeks, maybe days, and she’d have to be euthanized, but I let her go. I should have killed her, but couldn’t. We went back to Herut and told the Triumvirate what happened.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her chin trembled and her voice wavered. “How could you let me believe you’d never been with anyone else?”
“When I hold you and we are as close as two can be, I don’t want to remember there was ever a Lysandra or an Evan. Every time I touch you, I’m rooted in the moment, inspired by the possibilities of tomorrow and my past just fades away.”
“I tortured myself for giving Evan my virginity instead of saving myself for you.” Exasperated breaths left her mouth. “How long were you with her?”
“We were in Panama for twenty-three years.”
“How long were you with her?”
“Eleven years.”
The wind sighed in the trees and whispered to the grass. He longed to sail backward in time, an hour or two, when the world was as it should have been—whole and perfect.
“You loved her.” Her low voice broke with a sob. “It’s the only explanation why you would’ve hidden it. The only reason you didn’t kill her all those years ago. You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”
He twisted from the waist and fastened his hands to her arms. Tears streamed down her face. The pain from her need scalded him, tangling with his. He had to make her believe the truth. She was the only female he was in love with or had ever truly loved. Through pain or pleasure, she needed to believe. He tightened his grip and hauled her closer.
“Besotted affection doesn’t compare to the love I bear for you,” he said. “My soul is nothing… I am nothing without you.” His chest heaved. “It’s always been you,” he said, shaking her, “since the day you were born. And it’ll always be you. Only you.”
His hands fell from her arms and he faced the darkness. “What I did, leaving my people and violating all of the principles we held sacred, was unforgivable. I brought unspeakable anguish with my selfishness. I was supposed to be a great leader, bringing them light and hope. Instead, I was their greatest disappointment because I had put the desires of one ahead of the needs of many. Yet, they forgave, still believed in me somehow.” He paused. “Except for my father. He’s never spoken to me again.”
She hugged his back and pressed her cheek to his.
“Once they graced me with their forgiveness, I dedicated myself to Herut and to our path. For the last two hundred years, I’ve committed my life to all of them.”
His restraint dissolved and his emotions pooled into their energy stream.
The wall between them crumbled and grief battered her. She gripped him tighter, hoping her love could ease his suffering. How could she condemn him for the same transgression she had committed? He had already suffered the ignominy of his choices. She couldn’t bring herself to wound him deliberately, despite her promise to Talus. And now, his mistake continued to echo with the loss of Cassian. The misery he carried was great enough.
She had no sense of time. Her arms ached from holding him, and her knees were sore from pressing into the ground. She released him and wiped her face.
Sorrow threatened to suffocate her, but she took deep breaths and lay on the grass with her hands pressed to her stomach, holding her together. “Why didn’t you finish her back there?”
“She had the advantage while I was squashing her little minions. Before I could finish the last two, she used an energy gun to slow me down. Two shots were enough for her to get away.” He looked at her, his jaw tense. “We’ll find her and kill her,” he promised.
“Talus said Lysandra attacked them deliberately. Why does she hate you?”
“I suppose she hates me because I let her live. She hates herself and her own kind.”
“Why hasn’t she become consumed by sangre saevitas?”
“Once my Council convinced Neith, the historian, that Lysandra was a danger to Kindred, she agreed to notify us whenever her people spotted Lysandra. One of her watchers came across her in Brazil in the early 1900’s. She’d found a tonic that helped control the rage and appeared stable,” he said.
“How old is Neith?”
“At least sixteen hundred years old by now.”
“I didn’t think it was possible for us to live that long.”
“The others have only made it to twelve hundred at most. She’s the oldest of our kind.”
To walk the earth for almost two thousand years, without a kabashem, must take a degree of patience she was thankful she’d never know. “How has Neith survived so long without getting sangre saevitas or the dark veil? She’s Blessed like us. If she’d ever connected to her kabashem’s energy stream to inoculate her, wouldn’t the Houses know about it? I’d think there’d be some kind of legendary story like the ones you told me about the other Blessed couples.”
He looked at the sky. “I don’t know. Honestly, I’d never given it much thought. Neith is a legend in a way. I’ve never met her or seen her. Either she connected at least once to her kabashem and something happened to him or she’s found a way to stave off the affliction like Lysandra.”
“Lysandra,” she said in a whisper, still unable to shake the image of Cassian falling.
“Now that Lysandra knows about you, we’ll have to eliminate her quickly.”
She stared at the miniature bright bulbs scattered across the dark sky. As she gazed at the face of heaven, it was hard to believe the past few hours had actually happened. A dreadful nightmare she couldn’t wake from. How quickly their lives had changed.
Beautiful Cassian was gone and Talus was broken.
The dark canopy overhead, speckled with a million tiny lights, reminded her of how small she was in the world. Fatigue hit her. She wanted to give in to it, wanted to rest, but there was still so much she had to do.
“I should go find Talus,” she said.
“She won’t take any comfort from me right now. It would be kind of you to be with her.”
“What about you?” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “You lost him too.”
“We all lost him, but she needs you more,” he said.
She hugged him. Cassian had been a son to him. She understood the pain of losing a parent, but the pain of losing a child was inconceivable. Cyrus was still able to talk and function, but Talus had been ravaged by despair.
Inside the meditation room, Talus lay deflated on the floor with her head on Cassian’s covered body that was wrapped in dark canvas.
Serenity sat with her back to the wall. “Do you need anything? Water, maybe some tea?”
No response.
For hours, Talus kept her head pressed to Cassian’s chest, not moving, not speaking.
As the sky lightened, Abbadon came in. He rested his hands on Cassian’s torso and meditated. “I need to prepare his body now,” he said after awhile. He stood and carried Cassian out of the room.
Talus didn’t move. She stared at the floor in a trance. Serenity helped her stand and walked her to her room. Talus limped slight
ly along the way.
Serenity was surprised how much warmth the room had, decorated in red, fuchsia, purple, gold and brown.
In the corner was a low round table with large cushions on the floor. Stacks of old vinyl albums covered a dresser. A lovely Balinese style bed adorned the center of the room and an intricate gold chandelier hung above it.
She ran warm water in the tub, bathed Talus and washed her hair. After dressing the wound Abbadon had bandaged earlier, she struggled to get pajamas on Talus’s limp, heavy body. Serenity braided her wet hair and tucked her into the bed.
Talus lay on her back with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Serenity sat on the brown cushions on the floor and leaned against the wall, watching her.
Fatigue pressed down on her, but she was afraid to close her eyes. She needed to stay awake until Talus came out of her catatonic state and said something.
Sunlight shifted, dimming, her only indication of time passing other than her stiffening joints. She stood and stretched.
There was a light knock on the door. Abbadon walked in. He wore a long black tunic and loose fitting pants made of linen.
“The burial vault is here,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll start soon. These are for you and Talus.” He handed her two sets of black outfits. “It’s traditional to bury the departed with some of their personal items. I thought Talus might like to select a few things.” The grief was apparent even on Abbadon in the slow way he moved as he left.
Serenity lumbered to the bathroom to change her clothes. A glance at her appearance in the mirror shocked her. She quickly washed her face, brushed her hair into a ponytail and put on the linen outfit. Then she dressed Talus.
“We need to go to Cassian’s room to get things you want to bury with him. Can you pick out some stuff?”
Talus nodded slowly.
Serenity held her arm as she got up. Talus took sluggish steps to her dresser and flipped through a stack of records, next to a Crosley record player with dark cherry finish. She took out an old Purple Rain album by Prince.
