Evolution (Demon's Grail Book 2)

by Amy Cross

  “And I will!” I hiss.

  “I hope so, because if you fail again, there will be no further chances. Our forces are gathering for a major assault against the vampires, one those pitiful creatures will never see coming. If all goes well, we can strike a critical blow from which they can't possibly recover. You have a part to play, but...” He pauses, before another faint flicker of anger crosses his face. “Set off for the ridge at once, and try to learn from your mistakes. Your father wants you to play an important role in the coming battle, but he will dispense with your services if necessary. Don't take my word for it, though. He's waiting to speak to you.”

  I turn and look along the road I must take, and I can't help but notice that darker clouds are gathering ahead, darker than the night itself, almost as if they're clouds that are breaking through from some other world.

  “Where is he?” I ask, trying not to let my voice tremble.

  “He will come to you the way he always comes to you.”

  I look back over at him, and now there's a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if he enjoys the fact that I'm going to suffer.

  “You can't back away from your fate, Emilia,” he continues. “For all your failings, I never thought of you as a coward.”

  “I'm not a coward!” I hiss.

  “Then take the road that has been marked for you.”

  As he turns and walks away, I realize that there's nothing left for me to do except prove myself once again. I'd hoped that my time with Keller was enough for Father to see that I'm ready, but now it appears that he wants me to be even stronger. I've already improved so much since New York; how much further does he expect me to grow?

  Perhaps Skellig is right.

  Perhaps I should have merely killed the vampire Ferran quickly, but it felt so good to taunt him.

  Skellig isn't a spider, he doesn't feel our hatred for the vampire race. He can never know what it's like.

  Slipping the dagger onto my belt, I turn and look toward the trees. The Navarian ridge is a full three days' march from here, and my limbs already ache from my recent travels, but I know that Father will want me to move fast and I also fear that perhaps he is watching me more often than I had realized. After adjusting my armor, I set off along the empty road, with only my regrets and dreams of Karakh to keep me company. Already, after a few paces through the mud, I can feel my anger and indignation starting to churn. I am not some ordinary spider who belongs in the ranks, I am the daughter of -

  Suddenly a sharp pain bursts through my head and I drop to my knees, crashing into the mud. I wait for the pain to fade, but instead it builds and builds until I feel as if my skull is about to burst. Falling forward, I support my weight on my elbows while closing my eyes and grimacing, desperately trying to not cry out. Father has punished me many times, of course, but this feel worse, as if he's pushing me closer to death itself. I can even feel patches of darkness bursting through my mind, brief moments of nothingness that seem almost like teasing glimpses of the end. The harder I push back, the more they threaten to envelop me completely. It's as if the vast storm that has gripped this land is now, suddenly, inside my head.

  Is this death?

  The pain builds and builds, rippling through my body as wind and rain howl around me.

  “You will serve the cause,” Father's voice roars in my head, with other voices whispering in the background.

  “Please,” I stammer, “the pain...”

  “Skellig was right,” he continues. “You are on the brink of failure.”

  “No,” I reply, trying not to panic as the agony in my head gets stronger, “Father, Skellig is an outsider, he's not like you and me.”

  “He is my trusted representative,” he replies, “until I am able to return to your world.”

  “But he -”

  “This is just a taste,” Father's voice continues, “of the pain you will endure if I am forced to end your life. You can still make me proud, Emilia, but you can also disappoint me. The choice is yours.”

  I try to reply, to tell him I'll do anything he wants, but the agony is paralyzing every fiber of my body and all I can manage is a faint gasp.

  “She is weak,” another voice hisses. “She will fail us. We cannot rely on her.”

  “She has already has enough chances,” adds yet another. “She is a failure.”

  “Do you hear their advice to me?” Father asks. “Constantly they tell me to give up on you, Emilia. I defend you, I tell them that I still have faith, but I tire of your weakness. I was right before, there is something in your heart, something you're trying to hide from me.”

  “No,” I stammer, “please...”

  “Your hatred for Abigail Hart is commendable,” he continues, “but why does her brother not make you feel the same way? You had him under your control once, you could have killed him yet instead you hesitated, constantly making excuses to keep him alive, and now he is free. I can think of no reason why you would have done that, except...”

  “Please,” I whisper, as I feel a trickle of blood running from my nose. The pressure in my skull is immense, and I can feel hairline cracks developing around my brain. “Father...”

  “If I thought for one moment,” he adds, “that you felt anything less than hatred for the son of Patrick, I would have no choice but to kill you instantly. Do you understand?”

  I try to reply, but the pain is too great and I can barely get any words at all out of my throat. I can't even breathe.

  “Do you understand?” he roars.

  For a moment, I swear I can feel him rooting through my thoughts, dredging up memories of the time I spent torturing Jonathan in the basement of Keller's house. I try to push back, but I'm powerless to do anything as Father relives every moment of that time, and I know he must be able to read my thoughts. The more I try to resist, the more he must realize that I genuinely came to care about Jonathan. I can hide such things from anyone else, but I've always know that my own father is able to uncover every secret in my heart.

  I'm a disgusting failure.

  Suddenly the pain bursts, flaring through my mind and then fading, and I let out a gasp as I feel Father's mind lifting a little from my thoughts. The storm, still raging all around me, feels so much weaker in comparison.

  I struggle desperately to get air back into my lungs.

  I no longer hear Father's voice, but I know he's still here.

  He knows.

  And if he knows, he'll have no choice but to kill me. I've let him down, and I've let our species down. There's no honor in my soul, not if I felt sympathy for a vampire. Closing my eyes, I wait for death.

  “Go join the ranks,” Father whispers finally, sounding tired. “Prepare yourself for your final chance to make me proud.”

  “I -” Pausing, I realize that for some reason he seems to be ignoring what he found when he entered my mind. There's no reason for him to do that, not unless...

  Not unless he loves me, and he can't bring himself to follow through with his threats, which case I have one final chance to prove myself. Opening my eyes, I feel a flash of honor.

  “I'll serve you with true commitment,” I stammer, struggling to my feet. “Father, I swear -”

  “I believe you,” his voice replies, sounding so weary now. The effort of speaking to me from the void is clearly too much for him to maintain for so long. “When the chance comes for you to redeem yourself, you must strike hard and fast. I will be watching.”

  “Of course.” I pause, waiting for him to continue, but finally I realize that he has fallen silent. “And Father,” I add, “I... Thank you.”

  “We must find Karakh soon,” he replies, his voice already starting to drift away into the storm. “Every second that I am left to wait is another second of unimaginable agony. I need to return to your world, to take a new body and begin the work of resurrecting the great spider empire. You have no idea how long I have suffered in darkness. I can taste victory now, and patience is difficult to maintain.”r />
  “Skellig says will be at Karakh before the twelfth sun has set,” I tell him. “I have no reason to doubt him.”

  “Skellig is always right,” he replies. “Never question him.”

  “I won't, Father, it's just...” I pause for a moment, aware that I shouldn't ask too many questions but overcome by curiosity. “What is he?”

  “He is wise.”

  “Of course, but what species? I've searched through the Book of Karakh, but there's no mention of anything like him. I know there are others of his race, I've seen them at the camp. Why did you enlist them to help us?”

  “Because I could not rely on you alone,” he says firmly. “The spiders have always sought alliances with those who can help them. This is no different.”

  “But -”

  “I am tired now,” Father whispers as his voice fades further. “I must rest.” He adds something else, but I can't make out the words as he drifts away, back to whatever dark void he inhabits while he waits to be freed at Karakh.

  Taking a deep breath, I realize that despite all his threats, Father chose to let me live. There's no way my own father could have failed to understand my feelings for Jonathan, so I can only assume that he still has faith in me, that he still needs me. Those errant feelings in my heart must be destroyed, and I must kill not only Abby when I get the chance but also her brother.

  I must embrace my full potential as a daughter of Karakh.

  Even though my body is still filled with pain, I set one trembling foot in front of the other and start walking, making my way as fast as I can manage toward the Navarian ridge. There, I will be united with the army and I will wait for our final orders to come, and soon we will march upon the vampires and crush them beneath our boots.

  Victory is coming. I can feel it in my bones.

  Part Three

  The Mistake

  Abby Hart

  While Jonathan and Absalom talk, I busy myself with the task of preparing a proper camp. We've been on the road for almost a month now since leaving Jagadoon, and our supplies have long since been used up. Still, I know how to start a fire, even with little more than a few sticks of swamp-wood, and I can already hear the tell-tale rustling sound of wild rabbits in the long grass at the edge of the clearing.

  At least we'll eat tonight.

  I've barely spoken during the journey so far, preferring to keep my thoughts to myself, even to walk a short distance ahead so that there's no chance of getting drawn into another pointless conversation. The truth is, now I know how Absalom really views me, I hate the idea of going anywhere near him. When he seemed to have faith in me back at Jagadoon, I allowed myself to trust him and to believe that despite all my uncertainty, he might know better. I began to see myself as much through his eyes as through mine, and maybe I allowed myself to think I saw a warrior emerging from my soul. Now I still see myself through his eyes, but as nothing more than a failure. For the first time in my life, I feel weak and helpless.

  The truth is, I never really thought I might screw this whole thing up. I don't mean that I was full of myself or over-confident, it's just that when I left New York and went to Jagadoon for my training...

  I honestly never considered the possibility that I'd fail so miserably.

  Still, there's time to turn that around. Not at Jagadoon, obviously, but out here in the real world. I can still make a difference. I'm going to prove Absalom and Oncephalus wrong.

  “Need a hand there?”

  Startled for a moment, I realize that I was so caught up in my own thoughts, I didn't notice someone approaching. I turn and see Jonathan nearby, but although my initial instinct is to smile, I quickly remind myself that there's no point. My brother must have realized by now that I'm not what I once seemed, that I failed to meet the standards asked of me. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Absalom has told him the truth about my failure at Jagadoon,which would just make me feel even worse. I'd rather not speak to either of them too much, not until I've redeemed myself.

  “I'm fine,” I mutter. “I've got this.”

  “You can't be the one who sets up camp every night,” he replies. “We should all -”

  “Why not?” I snap. “It's what I'm good at.”

  As if to prove my point, I roll the swamp-wood between my palms and then drop the pieces into a nest of twigs and grass, and sure enough the first faint flicker of a fire starts to spread. Soon there'll be enough heat to keep us warm during the night and to scare away wild animals, and I can get on with hunting rabbits in the nearby forest. After all those years spent thinking about grander things, it feels good in a way to be concentrating now on more mundane, practical considerations. Every evening during this journey, I've busied myself with making a fire, catching food, and cooking. There's really not much else worth doing.

  “How long do you think it'll be before we reach this Gothos place?” Jonathan asks after a moment.

  “I don't know,” I reply, tossing some more twigs onto the fire. “Why don't you ask the almighty Absalom?”

  “He just keeps saying that it's not far now.”

  “So there you go,” I mutter with a shrug. “It's not far.”

  “I told him I can't be a fighter,” he continues. “I told him there's no way I can learn to be some kind of... vampire warrior.” He sighs. “Those words sound so ridiculous. I still expect to wake up at any moment and find that this has all been a dream.”

  “You'll learn,” I mutter.

  “To wake up?”

  “To fight. You're the son of Patrick. Trust me, you have it in you.”

  “No, I really don't.”

  “You'll find the anger in your soul,” I tell him.

  “It's not there. I'm a librarian, not a soldier.”

  “You can still be angry.” I turn to him. “When the battle comes, you'll fight with the rest of us.”

  “For what? For something I only ever read about in books?”

  “Don't give up. You can do this.”

  “I don't want to fight.”

  “No-one wants to fight,” I tell him, “it's just the way things are. You can't go back to your old life, so your only choice is to stand with us. Believe me, even if you turn around and run, the spiders will eventually track you down and finish you off.”

  “Just because of the blood in my veins?”

  “Yes!” I say firmly. “They hate us!”

  “And we hate them?”

  “Of course,” I tell him. “You will too, once you feel the fire burning in your chest.”

  “Shouldn't it be burning already?”

  “Give it time,” I mutter. “You're a vampire, and all vampires hate spiders. You'll feel that hatred soon.”

  I work to get the campfire burning properly, but after a few silent minutes I turn and see that my brother seems lost in thought.

  “I felt the same once,” I tell him cautiously. “When I first met Benjamin and the Watchers, and Shelley, and Patrick and our uncle... I felt I was being dragged into a completely different world. It took time for me to feel comfortable with who and what I am.”

  “But you weren't happy with your old life,” he points out. “I was happy with mine. I had a job I enjoyed, I had friends, I had a family, I'd had a few dates with a woman named Laura and I was hoping to see her again... I want that life back.”

  Sighing, I realize that he has a point. After all, it might be good to sink into obscurity, and to not carry the weight of our species on our shoulders. At the same time, I have a sense in the pit of my stomach that we're sitting targets, waiting for the spiders to strike, and it's shocking to think that I might not be able to do something to help. Maybe the reason I couldn't prove myself at Jagadoon was that the place was just a school, and Oncephalus was just a teacher. I need to feel real danger if I'm going to make a proper stand. After all, I did okay against Keller.

  “What about the prophecy?” Jonathan asks after a moment.

  “What about it?”

  “Aren't you sc
ared?”

  Turning to him, it takes a moment before I realize what he means. “The prophecy says that when I go to Karakh, I'll die. That doesn't mean I have to rush.”

  “Is that how these things work? You have the power to resist?”

  “I have the power to -” Pausing, I feel a shiver pass through my body. My cold, wet clothes are clinging to my flesh, but I'm not going to take them off so they can dry. That's not what a real warrior would do. “I have the power to make a fire for us,” I tell him, “and to hunt rabbits. I don't think I need to do anything else tonight.”

  “But if -”

  “And I certainly don't need to organize my entire destiny,” I add, interrupting him. “Not right now, not here in this damp little clearing.” Reaching down, I grab one of the knives I'm going to use when I catch a rabbit for dinner, and then I turn and start trudging toward the trees. “Sometimes you have to ignore all the grand prophecies and just focus on simple things like where to get your next meal. There'll come a time to fight spiders, but right now I need to hunt rabbits.” Stopping, I stare ahead into the darkness, and for a moment I can't help feeling the weight of history resting on my shoulders. “No,” I continue finally, turning back to Jonathan, “I can't resist. None of us can, not when it comes to destiny and fate. If the Book of Gothos says I'll die at Karakh, then I guess I'll die there. It's already sealed.”

  “The Book of Gothos doesn't say anything about me,” he points out.

  “Why would it?”

  “Patrick and Sophie were my parents too,” he points out. “It's almost as if you have this grand role carved out, and I'm surplus to requirements. Maybe whoever wrote the book understood that I'm never going to be a warrior.”

  “Yeah, well...” I pause for a moment. “You'll feel the anger in your soul eventually. I know I did, a long time ago. And when it comes... You won't be able to remember what you were like without it. You'll feel like a new person.”