Thirst No. 4

by Christopher Pike

  “It was impressive. But he never explained how he got the arrays to talk. He barely spoke about Tom, Wendy, and Noel. They were always in the background, like props.”

  “I noticed that. It made me wonder.”

  “Do you think Freddy’s still under Brutran’s control?”

  Seymour sucks on his cigarette. “I think he’s still in love with her, and he’s not as ready as he thinks to bring her down. He suffered big-time when he lost Henry. I can see how he would be attached to Jolie. Even if her mother is the Wicked Witch of the West.”

  “That little girl gave me the creeps.”

  “I remember. Still, this is all talk. I want to leave. So does Shanti. Why don’t you let us fly back to New York and try out the new vaccine? If you think you still have something to learn here, then stay here with Paula.”

  “I’m not ready to break up the group yet.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Let’s give it one more day here. I feel . . . I feel like something’s going to happen.”

  “Good or bad.”

  “Both.” I pick up Yaksha’s book and hug it to my chest. “I’m going to search for more secret sections. I can do it outside, the moon’s bright. Do you think you can sleep?”

  He starts scratching before I finish my question. “When I get tired enough, I’ll pass out. You remember to sleep, too. Teri’s body needs to rest.”

  I step toward the door. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “Good night, Sita. Love you.”

  “I love you more,” I say.

  Outside is a dream. The branches on the surrounding trees sway in a warm breeze. A myriad of moonbeams dance like at a celestial party where angels mingle with intoxicated fairies. There’s a sweet odor in the air I’ve not been treated to in ages. Jasmine; it reminds me of Vrindavana, Krishna’s forest. There, the jasmine flowers grew wild on the banks of the Yamuna River. It’s been centuries, and yet I remember those woods as if it was yesterday. The cows grazing in the meadows. The gopis laughing in their saris, talking endlessly about their Lord.

  I wished right then I had been one of them, a gopi, free to leave this world for Vaikuntha, Krishna’s supreme abode, at the end of a normal life. Yet I recall how Krishna left Vrindavana and the gopis when he was still a young man, and never returned. Later, it was said he did it to force them to suffer the pangs of separation, so they would think of him and nothing else. Even at the moment of death.

  “I called your name when I died,” I whisper to the mysterious night. “Why didn’t you take me?”

  No one answers and I’m not surprised. I don’t really care what John said about my duty being left unfinished. I still feel I’ve been cheated.

  The night is filled with unanswered questions that call to me. All my doubts, my fears, my hopes—I feel as if they have gathered nearby but still hide in the shadows so I can’t easily confront them. The fragrant air feels pregnant with the possibility of discovery, but I’m not sure I want it to speak to me, for I fear that whatever it reveals will kill what little hope I have left.

  Like the previous night, I take the spray bottle that contains a mixture of well water and my blood and sit with my back beside the stone well. Yet I have hardly opened the book when I close it again. The smell of jasmine is stronger here than elsewhere, and I realize it’s because it’s coming from the well.

  Standing, I peer down into the hole, the sharp angle of the moonlight allowing me to see no deeper than thirty feet. Even with my vampire sight, I cannot pierce the darkness beyond that point. Plus I hear a trickle of water, and it would seem a foolish idea to climb down into a well that’s already flooded, even with help of the nearby rope and bucket.

  Yet I wonder at the source of the smell.

  Why it should come out of the earth. Why tonight.

  As I mentioned, my hearing has been my most trustworthy sense over the years. I suspect if I simply drop the bucket, let the rope spin out at full speed, the sound of it hitting the water might tell me something about the structure of the well. There are a hundred yards of wooded land between the well and the house. I doubt the others will hear the splash, and if they do it won’t be the end of the world.

  I untie the knot that holds the bucket in place and let it drop. The well’s wooden shaft spins wildly, for a long time. The well is deep, more than fifty yards, half a football field. Finally I hear the splash as the bucket strikes the water.

  How does the noise echo in the deep?

  To my surprise, the sound doesn’t bounce around the stone hole and pour out the top. Rather, the noise dissipates at the floor of the well as it spreads out underground. It makes no sense. Of course, neither does the smell. It’s decided. . . .

  I have to climb down and see what the hell is going on.

  I return Yaksha’s book to the car before I proceed.

  Teri’s body is a hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle. Before I changed her into a vampire, the girl had less than 5 percent body fat and spent a fair amount of time in each workout stretching. She was addicted to yoga and used to brag that her stride was as long as it was because of her flexibility.

  Bottom line—Teri left me with a perfect physique for rock climbing. Grabbing the rope, I hoist myself over the edge, plant my feet on one side of the well and my back on the other. I’m able to adopt this stance thanks to the well’s narrowness. It’s less than four feet across.

  I’m in no hurry, I descend slowly. As I pass out of sight of the moon, my vampire eyes adapt further and I can still see the perfect spots to jam my rubber soles against the uneven rocks. The pressure on my upper back is uncomfortable but bearable. My arms remain strong, although I find myself breathing hard. The humidity in the air increases as the sound of the trickling water grows louder.

  Approximately ten feet from the water’s surface, the walls of the well suddenly vanish and I’m left hanging in midair, clinging to the rope. There’s a reddish glow off to my right, but it’s so faint it doesn’t allow me to see my surroundings. Nevertheless, I think I’ve already solved part of the mystery of the well. Its source of water is not your normal underground stream. I’m in a cave, with an open brook running beneath my feet.

  I can’t tell how deep the stream is, but I hope it has a shore. Like most newborn vampires, I can’t stand the cold, and I sure as hell don’t want to get wet. I grip the rope tightly and kick out with my legs, trying to build up enough momentum so I can swing back and forth. Since I have nothing to kick off of, I struggle like an astronaut caught in weightlessness. Nevertheless, after a few minutes of hard kicking, I’m swinging freely, and I finally build up enough courage to let go.

  I land on smooth dry stone. The underground stream does indeed have a shore, although it’s narrow, two feet wide at best, good enough to support me. I take a few minutes to stretch my arms and legs, and free myself of the cramp in my upper back.

  The glow fascinates me. I hike along the bank of the stream, drawn by its haunting color. The glow would be invisible to most humans, but there’s a reason for its faintness. The cave winds left and right, making it impossible for the light to travel in a straight line.

  As I turn a particularly sharp corner, it suddenly grows in intensity and I recognize its source. The light is created by a torch, or a series of torches. Its color and a faint crackling sound give it away.

  Minutes later I enter a well-lit cavern.

  It’s possible the cave’s a natural structure, but this space is definitely the work of human hands. The dome-shaped roof is too smooth; it expands steadily in width and height, creating a large egg-shaped grotto. The six-foot-wide stream flows through the center, while a dozen burning torches reach out from the curved walls.

  To my left, on the other side of the stream, is a stone altar. Its design is primal and powerful. Three steps rise to an oval-shaped platform, over which stands an inverted triangle, a six-foot-tall etching encrusted with a thousand glowing rubies, with a single large pearl in the
center, a symbol of Mother Kali. Near the bottom tip of the triangle someone has kindled a bonfire, and close to it, lying on her back on a white cloth turned blood red by the light, is the body of a young blond woman.

  It’s me lying there. I knew it would be me.

  I don’t recall crossing the stream but I must have leapt over it. Suddenly the body is within arm’s reach and I’m staring down at her face. She looks at peace; it’s a lie. She looks almost alive; maybe that’s not a complete lie. On the sheet that covers her, near the heart, is a red stain. It looks fresh.

  I drop to my knees as the strength drains from Teri’s body.

  “Krishna,” I whisper. “Why?”

  I close my eyes and weep. I’m not sure for who. It doesn’t matter, my sorrow is real, why should I be ashamed to share it with myself?

  Time passes. It passes slowly when your body’s dead.

  I hear a sound at my back.

  Someone breathing. Someone alive.

  I don’t turn. There’s no need. I know who stands there. I probably knew the truth from the start. I had seen the wisdom in her eyes. And it was that wisdom that had told her to position herself as the lover of the one man who still had the love of her enemy.

  “Hello, Umara,” I say to Mary.

  She moves until she is standing over my left shoulder.

  “I took it here to protect it,” she says.

  I open my eyes and stare at my body. “Do the dead need protection?”

  “Yaksha died once and came back. You can do the same.”

  I turn and look at Mary, at Umara, the oldest living creature on earth. She still wears her blue jeans and a plain red blouse. Her feet are bare. But the way she stands, so carefully balanced on those feet, she gives off a sense of incredibly coiled energy. I wonder if I, even at my peak, could have taken her.

  “I didn’t see that story in his autobiography,” I say.

  “You’ll find it. I notice you’ve begun to use your blood.”

  “Did you put that idea in my mind?”

  Umara gestures. “Perhaps this place did. It’s very old.”

  “How old?”

  “I’ve been coming here for three thousand years. The Native Americans built it for me. A wonderful people, you would have liked them. They called themselves the Rulan, although that name has become lost in history.”

  “Did they worship you?”

  “They tried but I forbid it. They were a simple people, attuned to nature.” She gestures to the triangle. “I taught them about Isis, the Great Mother. They had their own gods but they were wise enough to understand they were all the same.”

  “India. America. Egypt. It sounds like you got around.”

  “I can say the same for you. I’ve watched you, Sita, since you were young.”

  “I know. You offered to kill me.”

  “Couldn’t you tell I was teasing him? Yaksha would never have allowed that. And there was no need. When Yaksha took his vow, you became the forbidden fruit, whereas Krishna wanted me to help Yaksha.”

  “Lucky you. God blessed your union.”

  Umara sighs. “It wasn’t that way. Our lives were filled with struggle. From the day I met Yaksha, I was never again to know peace.”

  “But it was worth it.”

  Umara is reflective. She nods.

  I stand and face her. “When did you last see him?”

  “It’s been over a hundred years.”

  “Matt saw him fifteen years ago.”

  “He was fortunate.”

  “Why would he see his son and avoid you?”

  “He didn’t allow Matt to have much contact with him, not toward the end. But I think he found it harder to say no to his son.”

  “Yaksha was afraid the Telar would find all of you.”

  “Of course. It was the primary reason for our separation.”

  “What was the other reason?”

  “You.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yaksha knew his time was approaching. He didn’t want to leave the earth without fulfilling his vow. Yet he couldn’t imagine killing you. It tore him apart.” Umara pauses. “In the end, you tore us apart.”

  “You say that like I should be pleased.”

  “You’re obviously jealous that I was his wife.”

  The need to challenge her feels silly. Still, I find it hard to resist. “I could have been with him if I wanted,” I say.

  Umara treats my petty emotionalism with more respect than it deserves. “He often spoke of you. He kept better track of you than you realize. He was never at ease unless he knew you were safe. At the same time, he used to boast that you were invincible.”

  I nod toward my body. “It seems he was wrong.”

  She reaches out and touches my arm. “You’re a living miracle. Even in death, you found a way to survive. You stand before me in another body, true, but I believe your original form can be saved. Have you studied your chest wound? It’s almost healed.”

  “How did you know I was in Teri’s body?”

  “Matt tried to contact me as soon as you were killed. He left a long message for me describing what had happened.”

  “Did you respond?”

  “No. But I flew to Denver to watch over you.”

  “And you knew I was in Teri’s body?”

  “The second I saw you.”

  “Are you a healer as well as an immortal?”

  “You misunderstand. I brought you here to keep you safe from Haru and Brutran, and to help preserve your form. Up until this evening, I’ve kept your body anchored in this water. I kept you near freezing, as I did to Yaksha when he was fatally injured. The cold halts the decay. At the same time the water gave your body the time it needed to regenerate.”

  “What’s so special about this water? Besides its temperature?”

  “The Rulan had a legend that said the source of this river was located deep in mountains that overlook this part of the coast. In a chamber filled with massive crystals that shine with their own light. There may be some truth to the story. Long before I came here, this cave extended deep into the earth. I was able to confirm that fact with my own excavations. But it soon became clear to me that a massive quake had closed off the bulk of the cave and I’d never be able to reach the stream’s source. Still, we’re lucky the water continues to flow. It has healing properties.”

  “It can restore me to life?”

  “No, but it has given your body a chance to recover. Now, with your blood, nothing is impossible. I know your history. Yaksha, Kalika, and John have all contributed their blood to yours. Think about it, Sita, that’s a remarkable trinity.”

  “How did you resurrect Yaksha?”

  “It’s better I show you than tell you.”

  “How was he killed?”

  “That’s a story for later, when you’re back in your own body.”

  I shake my head. “You can’t do it. You’re not Krishna.”

  Umara grabs me by the shoulders. “But I knew him. I spent years with him. I can’t draw a breath without feeling his grace, and the instant I met you, I felt it as well. He’s still with us, you know in your heart he is, and I believe it was he who brought you here.” She pauses. “You can’t defeat the Telar or the IIC unless you reclaim your full power.”

  For some reason I find myself staring at Teri’s hands. “If it works, what will become of this body?” I ask.

  Umara lets go of me. “It will die.”

  “No. You don’t know that. Maybe she could come back.”

  “She’s dead, Sita. She died the day she was supposed to die.”

  I stare at her face. “Matt doesn’t know I’m in here.”

  That startles her. “You never told him?”

  “He was furious when I tried to change Teri into a vampire. I only did it to save her life, and still he didn’t care. He threatened to kill her in the middle of her transformation. That’s when the Cradle struck and he shot me instead.”

&nbs
p; Umara frowns. “The Cradle couldn’t have controlled Matt.”

  “Why not?”

  “Brutran would need a sample of his blood to get a hold on him.”

  “I figured the same thing. Somehow, she must have gotten that sample.”

  “From where?”

  “I don’t know. It worries me. And it terrifies me how Matt’s going to react when he discovers I’ve swiped his girlfriend’s body.”

  Umara turns and wanders around the cavern. “I only saw him with Teri from a distance. He seemed to care for her. But I never got to spend time with them. Tell me, was it a deep love?”

  “She was the love of his life.”

  Umara nods to herself. “He knew she was your descendant. It makes sense. I’m glad he got to experience a love like that at least once. It’s a pity she died so young.”

  “I loved her a great deal. I wish I could have died instead of her. But what’s happened has happened. I need to get back in my real body before he discovers the truth. Even then I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle him.”

  “He’s not going to hurt you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m his mother.”

  “Then you know how strong he is. How fast.”

  Umara shakes her head. “I’m not going to fight him. I’ll talk to him, he’ll listen to me. Trust me. But we’re going to have to tell him what we’re doing beforehand. The one thing Matt can’t stand is to be lied to.”

  “You don’t get it. When it comes to this point, I don’t trust you. There’s no way I’m going to call Matt and say hey, guess what, I’m not really Teri. I’ve just been pretending for the last week. He’s not going to accept that.”

  Umara stops pacing and stares down at my body. “He’s still trying to reach me. He’s left messages warning me about the Telar and a supervirus they’ve developed. Of course I’ve known about it for years.”

  “Do you still have friends among the Telar?”

  “Contacts. People who report to me. Telar who don’t trust Haru or the Source. You’d be surprised how many there are.”