I opened my eyes. The world was beginning to darken. Above me, the moon was crossing over the sun. It happened every time, and only I could see it. All our dreams ended this way.
“Ishan… the eclipse. It’s coming…!”
And so was I. And he, too, I could sense it. Waves of pleasure washed over me, and as the world grew dark I roared into the gloom, denying the end of the dream, celebrating our shared pleasure.
The light faded, and the gunshot woke me from my sleep.
*****
Where the dream world was a peaceful and serene moment on top of a brilliantly lit hilltop, the real world was an uncomfortably cold bed and a faint, lingering pain in my left arm. I forced my eyes open.
I was in a dimly lit section of a cave. Faintly glowing electric lanterns hung from the ceiling, hanging from hooks driven into the stone. The bed I was sleeping on was sitting straight onto the stone ground, something that struck me as intensely odd. I was covered in a thin blanket which did little to keep out the southern cold.
Sitting, I swooned slightly, feeling lightheaded. The world seemed slow and dull, like I’d been drugged. I held my arm up in front of my face, struggling to see in the gloom. It was as it was; dark skin, unmarked. Not a scratch upon it.
“Feeling better?” came a voice. It was clearly a woman’s, but deeper than it should have been, throaty and purring. It rolled like a stone coming down a mountain. Further down the cave, towards the gloom, I could see a pair of bright green eyes and the outline of a face.
Strangely, I wasn’t afraid. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, “To be honest I feel pretty rotten. Am I supposed to feel so nauseous?”
“You lost a lot of blood,” the stranger said, “and we had to give you something to make you sleep. Because of what we are, it takes powerful drugs to force us to slumber, and powerful drugs have equally powerful side effects.”
I frowned, blinking away the fuzziness from my eyes. “I thought I was fairly asleep already. I remember fainting in my apartment—”
“People move in their sleep,” she interrupted, “and so do Rakshasa. But when a person moves, it’s just a person. A Rakshasa has claws and teeth and is much stronger. They can be dangerous, even as fledglings. We had to make sure you were still while we moved you. If you woke up, in pain and disorientated, your instincts could have taken over. You could have attacked us, or ran. If we lost track of you the humans may have found you, and that’s a situation we want to avoid if we can.”
It made sense, but that didn’t help the feeling that I was going to throw up. I peered into the gloom, trying to see the face of the person I was talking to. “Who are you?”
“My name is Asena. Don’t be alarmed.”
Stepping from the shadows into the light, a lithe but muscular woman covered in orange tiger stripes revealed herself, wearing a tank-top and a pair of loose, baggy pants. A long tail snaked behind her, almost touching the ground. She moved with exceptional agility, putting one foot before the other, her movements graceful and fluid. It seemed odd to see her at rest, as though a creature so adept at moving would be unnatural when still.
“I’m not alarmed, I’ve seen other Rakshasa before,” I said, doing my best to smile despite the churning of my belly.
Asena nodded, her tone mysterious and vaguely annoyed. “Yes, so we gathered.”
I regarded her, curious now. She had the same orange colour I had, the mark of the Altaica. I with my kind, other Rakshasa like me.
“I… Ishan told me about the Rewa. And how they and the Altaica don’t play nice together.”
“Did he now.” Her tone dropped slightly at the mere mention of the other clan. “Perhaps you could tell me how you met ‘Ishan’, and what you know about the Altaica?”
I shuffled on the bed, tugging the bedsheets up a little higher. “He told me that the Altaica have orange strips, and that the Rewa have white.” An important fact came to my mind. “I have orange.”
“We know.”
I was in my human form, now, as I was when I’d passed out. How she knew that escaped me. “The Champawat Tiger has orange stripes, is he one of our clan?”
She paused, regarding what I’d said. “How did you know he was a Rakshasa?”
“He tried to kill me.”
I thought she was going to press the point but to my infinite relief, Asena shook her head. “The one you know as the Champawat Tiger is Altaica by blood, but he has long since surrendered any link to our clan. He works, and hunts, alone.”
Hunting. The word conjured bloody images in my mind. What did the Rakshasa here eat? Did they hunt the local animals? I imagined Ishan leaping upon his prey with hungry eyes, tearing their throat out, opening its veins and letting the warm, red blood spill out. Australia didn’t have deer or anything that large predators could eat. Kangaroos, maybe, or wallabies, but nothing larger than that.
Nothing except people.
I remembered how I’d awoken on the hill last night, the day of my first transformation, covered in blood. I’d washed myself off in the creek, but never for a moment had I even considered the source of the blood. It wasn’t mine, since I was uninjured and there was too much of it for it to have come from a minor wound I hadn’t noticed. So where had it come from? Had I killed someone?
Perhaps catching my reaction Asena smiled comfortingly, her striped face lighting up. “Oh, you’re so precious. Just look at you.” She inhaled, shaking her head, seeming to drop the tough-girl act. “What? What is it?”
It felt utterly insane to be asking this question, but I had to know. “What do we… eat?”
Asena stared at me, a wide smile on her face. “Food. Normal human food. Chips, salad, steak. Instant noodles.”
I breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Okay. You had me going for a bit.”
I expected a smile, a chuckle maybe, but Asena’s expression slowly faded. “We eat what we ate as humans, but know this. There is one thing we have in common with our former species, that despite existing for thousands of years, we’re still—to a varied extent—bound to our instincts, some of us more than others. Those instincts are to hunt live prey. Although we live like civilised people, sometimes our instincts get the better of us, sometimes they take over. Usually an animal satisfies us, but sometimes… sometimes they don’t.”
That was worrying. Waking up on the hill, seeing all that blood, played over in my mind once again. It had been a cold night, people generally didn’t go out on their own, but…
“We try to avoid killing even animals, though. Doing so leaves behind carcasses, marked by our claws, and we risk being spotted during our hunts.”
Nodding, I pulled the blanket up a little more, feeling a draft chill my shoulders. “Makes sense.” I looked around the dark cave, hesitating slightly. I didn’t know how much to trust this new Rakshasa, but my instincts told me that she was friendly enough, and she knew Ishan. “I… think I killed something. Last night. I woke up covered in blood. It was my first transformation, and I didn’t know—”
Asena’s smile widened and she stepped over to the bed, sitting down right by my feet. “You did. A roo buck. Your first kill—I saw it myself. You’re quite the huntress, you know. It’s quite common for one’s first transformation to be bloody, but you were exceptional.”
A kangaroo. Far less serious than I had imagined. Nobody would miss a single roo.
“A don’t remember a thing about it. You were watching me?”
Asena reached over and patted my shin. “We all were, from a safe distance, of course. The Rewa too. We all take a very active interest in fledglings, since the Champawat Tiger started preying on them. They’re important to the species because fledglings are how we—” she made little finger quotes. “—reproduce.”
That piqued my interest. “I… we’re sterile?”
She laughed. “No, no. I have a young kid, myself, and I had him after my bloodline manifested. It’s just he’s, well, human… at least as far as we can tell so f
ar. He’s not old enough for us to know if he’ll manifest properly, so he stays with my cousins. They know about us.”
“Ah, right. Will he, eventually, become one of us?”
Asena pursed her lips. “The gift is more common in children of Rakshasa, but it’s not guaranteed by any stretch of the means.”
I nodded understandingly. “Ahh, right. Otherwise there’d be a lot more Rakshasa running around.”
“Right.”
I looked towards the entrance of the cave. I was feeling better, but my mind was slow, as though I were deathly tired. “How did I get here?”
No answer, immediately, but then Asena inhaled. “I was hoping you could tell me. We found you, bloodied and wounded, near the entrance to the cave network. We don’t know who brought you here.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just said it. “Ishan of the Rewa brought me here.”
Asena said nothing and I feared that I’d angered her. “I was unconscious,” I explained, “I didn’t know where he was taking me.”
“I know.” She reached up, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s okay. Not your fault. It’s just… going to cause some problems for us. Both clans are very territorial and trespass is viewed dimly.”
I slumped back in the bed, dejected.
Asena gave my leg a squeeze through the thin blanket. “There’s plenty of other people for you to meet, first. When you’re feeling up for it.”
I certainly wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, but for some reason I really didn’t want to spend any more time in bed than I had to. I threw back the covers with a sigh and slid my feet out to the ground. I felt woozy for a moment but, with a little effort, I was able to stand.
“Sure. Let’s do that.”
Chapter II
The Garden of Shadows
The cave system was surprisingly complex, winding itself deeper into what I presumed was one of the many mountains around Canberra. Asena lead me through the winding eroded limestone passage, deeper into the Earth, underneath the mountain.
Although the stone was cold against my bare feet the air was warmer than I expected. The way was lit by the dim glow of electric lights. I had no idea where they were getting their power from. They didn’t seem to be plugged into anything, merely nailed into the wall.
“This way,” beckoned Asena, gesturing with her paw. I squinted. I didn’t have my glasses on and the cave was very dark.
“Why don’t you turn up the lights?” I asked, gingerly extending a foot, moving in small shuffles to prevent myself from falling over.
A knowing smile crept across Asena’s features. “We did, actually, when we brought you in. Normally they’re a fair bit darker.”
“Darker? But I can barely see as it is!”
“Of course, but as your power grows you’ll find this light to be more than adequate. The most powerful of our kind can see in total darkness. Mind the slight drop here.”
“Oh.” I slid my foot forward, finding the edge. Slowly I eased myself forward, putting a hand on the smooth stone wall, using it to guide me. “How long will that take?”
The shadowy figure of Asena shrugged as she moved forward. “It varies,” she said, “from Rakshasa to Rakshasa. Some take only a few weeks for their vision to improve, while others take months or years.”
Years. That thought distressed me. “I didn’t used to like the dark, you know.”
Asena smiled over her shoulder. I could only tell because her white teeth appeared below her green eyes, glinting slightly in the barely-lit cave. “You’ll get used to it. Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”
And we were. I could see the beginning of light around an upcoming twist in the cave. Making my way towards the faint glow, I stepped around the corner.
It was a two story suburban house, snuggled up against the wall of the cave as though it had grown out of the stone. It had an old-timey feel to it, Victorian era maybe, with a single lamppost set out at the edge of the yard.
A yard. It seemed so out of place here, bright green grass growing on the lawn. It even had a mailbox.
“What is this?”
“This is our, and your, home away from home.” Asena’s form slowly melted away as she spoke. Her tiger stripes faded and she became a tallish Caucasian woman with red hair. She seemed about thirty years old and had freckles on her face which complimented a strange, easy smile.
I really didn’t know how to say it, so I just came out and said it. “Huh. I thought all the Rakshasa were Indian.”
“That’s the first question I hear. Every. Single. Time.” She laughed, stepping up to me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders, giving me a warm hug. “One of my ancestors was part of the British army. As far as I can tell, he met an Indian woman, fell in love, had a kid. He brought the kid back to England when his time was up and, generations later, me. There’s a spark of India in me, though, and it doesn’t take much. It’s kind of like what I said before. Sometimes the bloodline manifests itself, and sometimes it doesn’t.”
She released me and I nodded. “Right.” I pointed to the house. “A house, underground. Cute.”
Asena beamed, skipping along the stone towards the building. She seemed a lot more playful and less serious when she was in her human form. “Well, yeah. It’s been here for years. As long as I’ve manifested, anyway. We call it the Garden of Shadows.”
I moved closer, as well, grateful for the light. “Garden? It’s more of a house.” As we approached the lamppost, though, I began to see what she meant.
The yard extended into the property, growing on the inside. I could see, now that I was closer, that the garden was growing on the inside of the house as well; the interior walls were thickly lined with greenery. Asena hooked her hand in mine, leading me up to the front door, turning the knob and pushing it open, the heavy rosewood door creaking as she opened it.
As she lead me inside I was struck by the strangely natural beauty of the interior garden. Verdant vines and creepers crawled up the walls, to the point I could see nothing beyond them; blossoming yellow flowers dotted the carpet of green, a kind of species I’d never seen. The grass rustled underneath my bare feet as I brushed them across it. It was just like the grass from my dream, and the sensation caused memories to fly into my head. Memories of the dreams Ishan and I had shared. Memories of the love we’d made in those dreams.
I could tell, right away, that this house was going to be my favourite place in the world.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, but words couldn’t really describe how I felt at that moment. The house felt more like a home than anywhere else I’d ever lived. “You live here?”
Asena shook her head. “We have rooms in the cave system like yours. Only the garden lives here.”
A whole house for a garden. It seemed strange, but I accepted it. Curious about the rest of the house I looked around. There were no stairs. “Can I see what’s on the second floor?”
“Not yet,” she cautioned, “Not until you’ve joined the coven entirely.”
I frowned slightly. “Why? Is it like this?”
She gave a wry smile. “Not quite.”
I filed that one away for later. “Well, what now?”
Asena regarded me, her hands on her hips. “Well, you’re looking a lot better,” she said, “so I could introduce you to the others, if you like?”
I did want to meet the rest of the coven, but another urge pulled at me, so raw and strong I couldn’t resist it. “I want to go outside. I want to run.”
Her face split in a wide smile and Asena gave a little jump on the spot. “Of course you do!” She laughed joyfully, tugging my hand again. “Fledglings love to run. Come on, I’ll lead you out.” She began dragging me back out to the dimly lit cave and although I wanted to stay in the garden forever, I reluctantly went with her.
Chapter III
Fledglings Love to Run
Asena lead me into the light and I stood, blinking, in the glare of day. We were standing at th
e mouth of a cave half way up one of the mountains that were southwest of Canberra, and I had a beautiful view of the valley that stretched out to the next slope, an endless sea of trees. This was the Brindabella Ranges, a series of mountains in the Bimberi Nature Reserve that separated the Australian Capital Territory from New South Wales. It was cold, this high, but strangely the temperature didn’t bother me.
I wanted to run so I did. Shoeless and wearing only a t-shirt and shorts I sprinted into the wild, expecting to not go far, but the sharp stones underfoot didn’t hurt, didn’t slice up my skin. I ran for hours; the sun climbed across the sky and began to descend, my breath appearing in a white cloud as I ran from open space to open space. I moved fast, faster than a human should have been able to, at a pace that would have killed an Olympic athlete.
I was getting stronger.
I travelled down a valley, then began up the other side, and that’s when I saw it, stashed under a fallen tree. The corpse of a kangaroo, a bundle of grey fur and flies, smelling of decay and rotting meat. Strangely curious I drew close and inspected it, barely panting despite the hours of exertion. The carcass would have been about a day and a half old, rotten and partially eaten.
A sudden flash in my mind. A memory of flashing teeth and slicing claws. Of a kangaroo hopping frantically away from me, but of me leaping upon the poor creature, crushing the life out of it with my massive jaws. I’d watched it die. Then I’d feasted upon its flesh, starting with the muscles, storing what I didn’t eat.
Oddly, the sight and sudden flash of vivid memory didn’t disturb me. It would have in the past, though. Libby the Loser would have been puking and crying, distraught and grossed out by just seeing dead animal, let alone hunting it down and killing it herself. Let alone eating its raw flesh, still covered in warm blood.
Rakshasa Book I, Part #2: Aurora Page 2
