FOREVER The Constantines' Secret: A Covenant Keeper Novel

by S. R. Karfelt

  An Old Guard’s large, glowing hand moved downward, past the dress bunched over a protruding belly to touch a naked hip. It smeared blood as it moved. Kahtar struggled to take a deep breath to continue his mental assessment—this woman had been used as she died. A torn pair of blue underwear lay in the grass nearby.

  “She bled to death,” the Old Guard said, running a large glowing finger down the bridge of the woman’s perfect nose.

  “Can you heal her?” Kahtar’s voice sounded dead.

  “She’s gone,” the Old Guard said. The shimmering hand touched the pelvis. “These bones are shattered. She was used roughly.” Heartlessly the Old Guard pressed his hand between her legs and jammed the other against the swollen belly.

  All three of the Old Guard shimmered in tandem, and six pair of black eyes flickered in Kahtar’s direction. Had he ever seen surprise on an Old Guard’s face before? “The babe inside still lives,” they said in unison, a chorus of gravely voices.

  “That’s impossible,” Kahtar said, though he sensed it too then, the small life inside the dead woman’s body. Not Beth’s dead body—that would be unbearable—but the woman’s.

  Impossible.

  The universe paused in its assault.

  THE CLEARING LIT like day. The bright light of so many Old Guard barely shimmered as they glowed solidly into form. Silas Jacobson, Elder and Arc physician, appeared at the side of one. A look of horrified disbelief crossed his thin face when an Old Guard pointed at the dead woman, indicating his reason for being summoned.

  Soaked in blood, she lay on her back with her corduroy jacket so saturated with blood the color was impossible to know. An Old Guard bent and pushed the woman’s dress higher to better reveal her pregnant torso slick with blood. Another respectfully draped the underpants over her shattered pelvis, underlining the belly. Although Kahtar still refused to look at the face, he saw from the corner of his eye that the woman’s expression wasn’t peaceful. It had not been an easy death. A furrow trenched between her brows, her jaw tense. Kahtar recognized the expression; she’d gone with regret. He’d worn it greeting death many times.

  Jacobson’s countenance mirrored it. Surely the man had never been to the scene of a murder in his existence. Life inside the Arc was so much different, and Kahtar doubted Jacobson had ever been outside the Arc before today.

  “The babe is still alive,” said Kahtar, struggling to push the words past the gravity bearing down on him.

  Frowning, Jacobson bent forward as he scanned. He looked curiously at them, knelt and touched the woman’s stomach. He shook his balding head and looked at them again.

  “No, it isn’t alive. I’m sorry, Kahtar. You know that’s not possible. There’s no oxygen and no heartbeat, and the blood is congealing. Every cell doesn’t die at the moment of death. The fetus is better protected than the mother. You’re simply sensing residual of a very strong being.” He removed his hand and cleaned his bloodstained fingers on fallen leaves.

  Gravity resumed its assault full-force. Kahtar tried to press against it and remain erect.

  “I’ve never sensed it so strongly in all my time. It will fade though. It is a sorrow. That being would have been a very strong Covenant Keeper had it lived.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, shivering in the cold night air in nothing but his trousers and blouse, his focus now returned to Beth’s lifeless form. His eyes darted away and he stepped from Beth’s side to gaze curiously down at one of the dead men. Silas poked at him with his booted foot. “Merciful torment! Is that a seeker? I’ve never seen one before.”

  “May you never see one again.” Kahtar growled. Words of hatred came easily and filled his heart for what these seekers had done to the woman.

  “Well, yes. I hope not,” said Silas. “But they didn’t do that to Beth.”

  The name blasted against the shield around Kahtar’s heart like a bomb. It felt like the force of it could take him off his feet and bury him with the potency of a tidal wave. He wanted to hit Silas for daring to speak it, but then the rest of Silas’s comment penetrated. He had to be wrong. Of course the seekers had raped the woman, shot her, and Honor had found them and killed them both. It was the only thing that made sense. Seekers in his veil didn’t make sense, but the evidence lay in front of him. Honor Monroe’s life would be forfeit for killing the men without permission and Kahtar lifted his head to tell an Old Guard to find him and take it. He wished he could thank the man first.

  “She wasn’t raped,” said Silas. “Not in the traditional sense, and those men are fully clothed. I sense nothing of them on her.”

  Kahtar glanced at the seekers, duty forcing awareness into his brain. How had he missed that obvious fact? Because your world is collapsing. You are done.

  Silas knelt next to the woman’s head and briefly laid his hand on her chest, drawing back instantly as though it were hot. “ilu save us from such darkness. You poor, dear woman. Kahtar, no one could blame you for shunning her, but you had no right. Old Guard, take him. Kahtar did this to Beth.”

  Kahtar shifted his gaze to the Old Guard, but they didn’t move, staring at him with their solid black eyes. Kahtar turned his scan to the woman, razing it over her, trying to sense DNA on her that didn’t belong to her, Dianta, or Wolves.

  “It’s not DNA I sense,” said Silas. “But the light beneath his DNA is all over her. It’s white, pure white. I’ve not known anyone with white light but Kahtar. He did this. Who else could it have been?”

  IN THE COOL humidity of the cave Kahtar sat on the cold ground forever, his back against the stone plinth holding the woman’s body. Jacobson had been right about one thing; the life light inside her had faded away so that Kahtar could barely sense it anymore. Brushing his hand over his bristly head he watched a swirl of white gowns brush past him. Legs rushed past, busy doing whatever women did before a funeral. Above his head a clan woman directed the others with hushed words, and after a time she squatted beside him.

  “We’re finished, except perhaps for the gown. White is tradition.”

  “Not for this woman,” he said.

  “This woman is Beth, Kahtar,” she said firmly, and Kahtar focused his eyes on The Mother’s blue gaze.

  “You’re not alone,” she said, and leaned to kiss his blessed spot, her lips cool as they lingered on his forehead. “I’m sorry for Silas’s accusations. Welcome has disputed them and the Old Guard back him up. That is all the proof we need. You must know that, Kahtar. I know if you had done something like this, you’d have the honor to admit to it.”

  Kahtar wondered if she really thought he cared what any of them thought or did to him now.

  “I’m allowing Honor to attend the funeral. After that, if you want to speak to him, do so soon. Today will be his last.”

  His words came out too slow to his own ears. “Honor doesn’t have the strength to kill like that. I thought at first, but no, he couldn’t have.”

  “Honor admitted to it, Kahtar.” She pressed her cold hand against his cheek. “Remember, you’re not alone.” The Mother stood and hurried away, herding the others all clutching rags and bowls of bloodied water.

  The Mother was wrong. In many ways he’d always been alone until Beth. Now he was alone again.

  It was nearly time to be finished.

  Kahtar rose to face the truth.

  The woman on the limestone altar now looked exactly like Beth. Her hair, still damp from washing, had been combed neatly into place. An inappropriately short flowered sundress clothed her, far too tight over her swollen belly and he knew the buttons behind her were completely undone. Yellow heels, her favorite, were strapped to her feet and her toes were already turning dark. Kahtar quickly moved his gaze to her hands, folded neatly over the bump of her belly. He reached to touch it and drew his hand back, certain that his world would end this second if he did. Duty required he finish the ceremony.

  A plump arm reached around his waist and a head leaned into his torso. Not as alone as I’d prefer. Tiny Elde
r Abigail Adit offered a one-armed hug. The familiar gesture surprised him. This was family time, time for those closest. He’d thought to be alone. Abigail had spoken to Beth maybe once in the past year, refused to take her on buying trips. Now she hung onto him, her old face wrinkled up with sorrow and tears. Out of obligation Kahtar awkwardly patted the top of her bun, wishing she would go.

  Honor Monroe appeared beside the marble plinth, his face buried in his hands. “I did this! This is my fault. My sin!”

  No wonder they think he killed the seekers, Kahtar thought as Honor threw himself across Beth’s body and begged her forgiveness. That should be me. Why can’t I feel this?

  “It’s too big of a loss,” said Abigail, as though she’d heard him. “Grieve as you will. I am sorry, warrior, sorry for everything. I thought you’d be good for each other. But it just hurt you more, didn’t it? I made it worse and I failed and now we’ll all suffer for it.”

  Kahtar had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn’t care enough to ask. He wanted them to go, and didn’t speak in the hopes of hurrying their departure.

  IN THE BACK of his mind Kahtar eventually sensed that the entire clan now filled the cavern. He hadn’t heard them come in, and wondered how thousands could enter a cave so silently. Gazing down at the woman on the altar, he now knew it was Beth, and the shield around his heart disintegrated until all he knew was loss. As the chemistry of death changed her body, he felt it claiming her, pulling her away, going where everyone eventually went, except him.

  I knew this day would come. I selfishly hoped to move on before it did.

  Kahtar moved closer, and his sword glanced loudly off the stone plinth. He looked down, wondering when he had changed into the familiar quilted tunic and tight pants, the silver balteus and his swords. He should have worn color for Beth.

  Finally he touched her, resting his left hand on her chest. She was cold and stiff, and agony writhed deep inside him. This he would not recover from.

  The sound of Dianta’s cry drew his eyes away, and he looked to where Nehemiah held his daughter. His arms ached to hold her. Welcome Palmer had healed her as well as anyone could have. She’d have a limp, he’d said, whispering it as though it were his fault. Kahtar wondered if his grandparents had already begun to build the extra room on their cottage, if they felt anything but the vaguest remorse that Beth was gone. Surely for the entire clan it was more relief.

  Kahtar’s gaze flitted over the crowd. It was different than usual, an awkward funeral. Even in death Beth didn’t belong.

  He turned his eyes from them, moving his hand over Beth’s chest, desperately needing one last touch of that heart. “My Sweet Beth,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t.”

  Tears slipped down his face and dotted her dress. Even in cold death she looked beautiful, whole. With the blood washed away, the worst of the damage was hidden from sight beneath the flowery little dress.

  Movement in front of him caught his attention. The girls from Avalon were gathering to sing. Kahtar held their gaze, forbidding it. Sliding his hand from Beth’s chest and bulging stomach, hard with rigor mortis, he slid his hand under her, to hold her one last time. Something shifted beneath her, something that didn’t belong inside the Arc.

  Kahtar tugged Beth’s iPod from beneath her, his gaze searching the crowd for Honor Monroe. Honor stood with arms crossed, shamelessly sobbing, and Kahtar nodded his thanks. Beth would have appreciated the gesture from her one-time friend, even if the motivation was only guilt. Tears stung Kahtar’s eyes and he pressed the button on the side of the device. The screen sprang to life. The electronic tapping echoed in the cavern until Kahtar hit the play button and the Ramone’s I Wanna Be Sedated blasted into the cavern.

  Bending to Beth’s left ear, Kahtar whispered, “The truth is you were such a bad influence on me.” Shifting, he bent to the right ear. “Thank you.” He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on the cool blessed spot. “You’ve given the clan their perfect ending this way.” Kahtar straightened, sliding his hand back to her heart. “That’s not like you, Beth.” He ran his hand down her torso to her belly. Their belly.

  He stepped away as the song ended. There would be time later when he put her in the ground, to speak to their unborn babe. Surely it would repeat like he always had, though he would never know or be able to find it. Kahtar shoved that knowledge away. He’d have forever to know it.

  The girls in gray moved out of the crowd, falling in line and approaching. Kahtar watched impassively as their serene features turned in his direction. Almost as one their expressions changed. Mouths opened and eyes widened, but instead of their heartfelt song, a very familiar voice echoed through the cavern behind him in a scream.

  “Dianta!”

  Kahtar whirled as gravity receded to its proper weight. Beth lay upon the stone, her head and shoulders raised as she gazed toward her daughter. Her eyes landed on Kahtar for a brief moment, and her expression reflected sheer terror. “Ahhh!” she croaked, and dropped back onto the marble.

  Inside the cavern, panic erupted.

  “Be still!” Kahtar roared, but it was useless. Cultuelle Khristos was used to miraculous happenings, but someone rising from the dead—the very cold and dead since yesterday dead—wasn’t one of them.

  How?

  Kahtar knew dead. It was a permanent condition, for most people. He’d never stayed that way for long, but it hadn’t worked like this. He took several fast steps to Beth’s side, afraid to believe it. Old Guard shimmered to her side, lighting her corpse—her body—as they flickered in what looked like their own state of panic. Blood from the bullet wound now stained the front of Beth’s dress where moments ago no blood had flowed.

  Kahtar touched her cold cheek, sensing blood moving through her body as it did through someone submerged too long in icy water. He leaned closer and felt air blow from her nostrils.

  Beth opened her eyes, and for a split second the entire cavern whirled around Kahtar. Beth wasn’t the same; the eyes weren’t the sky blue they’d always been, but a very recognizable steely gray. They were his eyes, shining from Beth’s face. All feeling vanished from his arms.

  “Shades of Misery. What have I done to you, Beth?”

  GORY BLOODY SURPRISE—ALL SOULS' DAY

  BETH’S THOUGHTS CAME slow, disjointed, nightmarish, and strange.

  Rotten filth grinding into her heart.

  A sequined unicorn horn.

  Cruel, steely eyes laughing.

  She kept her eyes shut, afraid to open them. Memories stirred, until the mental image of thousands of wide-eyed Covenant Keepers clutching candles swam to the forefront. I’m not in the veil anymore.

  An image of Wolves interrupted, and she could almost feel his fur brushing past her as he leapt over her, snarling. Wolves! Oh, Wolves! The remembered sound of a gunshot reverberated in her head, followed by Wolves’ cry and the memory of being pounded into the ground with hot horse breath on her neck.

  Cruel, steely eyes watching.

  Despair gaped open in every direction.

  Dianta, broken.

  Cruel, steely eyes laughing.

  Darkness beckoned to Beth from all sides, and she wanted it. Emptiness. Nothing. Escape. All she had to do was step toward it.

  Another image cut through the horrible memories—Nehemiah holding Dianta, a dusky hand patting a reassuring rhythm against the back of a lacy white dress. Dianta’s steely eyes, wide and scared—alive! Dianta is alive! That matters, nothing else matters.

  Beth opened her eyes. Shadows clouded her field of vision like in the candlelit memory of the cave. The gentle ceiling tiles of Cobbson Clinic came into view. They looked like blurry pink scallop shells.

  Safe.

  Blinking, Beth swung her gaze, searching, and steely eyes appeared above her.

  No!

  She tried to escape but her body wouldn’t obey. She opened her mouth to scream and nothing came out. Terror iced her heart. My filthy, ruined heart.

&nb
sp; “Beth, you’re safe, my love. Dianta’s safe. You’re at Cobbson. Can you hear me?” Kahtar’s voice, her favorite voice on earth, soothed with its calmness. These steely eyes were his. Kahtar’s eyes, so like Dianta’s.

  The good kind.

  Beth wished she could claw them out of his head.

  “Do you hear me, Beth?”

  Beth opened her mouth and again nothing came out. She tried again, and realized she couldn’t feel her mouth. She felt nothing.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Kahtar leaned nose to nose. By the angle she thought he had his arm under her shoulders, but couldn’t feel it.

  It doesn’t matter.

  She couldn’t feel the touch of his heart either.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Kahtar shifted so she could see that he held Dianta in the crook of his other arm.

  That is all that matters.

  Beth took a quick breath of air. It sounded dry, like wind rushing into the opening of the cave. Dianta blinked at her, her little chin quivering.

  She is alive!

  “You died,” Kahtar whispered, like it was a secret.

  Beth heard truth in the words, and tried to remember what dead had been like. What had happened in the woods inside the veil wasn’t something she wanted to ever remember, but it wouldn’t go away. Terror waited impatiently for attention, a cloud of filth floating around her numb heart.