“Freyit says he will pull through.”
The corners of her mouth turned upward. “Of course he will. His line is far more resilient than ours.”
“What do you mean?”
She raised an eyebrow and a devilish grin crossed her face. “You’ll see.”
“He’s still just a descendant of man, like me.”
She shrugged.
“Are his people …” I couldn’t think of the right word to use. To name them “gods” seemed inappropriate.
Saba’s aspect suddenly changed, despite her always looking angelic to me. In the light of the tower, as Vincent had manipulated my perspective, so too did Diomedea, showing me how much she relied on Saba, as she spoke of the future, using my daughter as her mediator.
“We must leave this place behind,” Saba said. “Our new family awaits.” Saba’s eyes were fiery, pulling me into her. “Only after we cross the sea will we find what we seek.”
I was about to question my daughter when Peter’s voice clipped my own. “Diomedea has found him,” Peter said, standing behind me as if he’d been there the entire time. “Saba must go to him.”
The goddess released Saba, and she looked unchanged, except for the dullness that rose to her eyes. She’d heard the goddess, and smiled at Peter. He stepped forward, and put a hand on my shoulder, his eyes glued to my daughter.
“You must come with me, Dagur” he said. “Hannah is no longer kinblood.”
* * *
The mood in Heorot was somber. I’d been to see my daughter where she lay in her marriage bed, gripping the thread of life left her. The transfusion had worked but she’d yet to regain consciousness. A change had come over her.
Evelina and Peter were with me. They’d followed Gerenios and watched the scene with Hannah from afar, as it unraveled. When the New Men grew heated about finding Huitzilli and lopping off his head, my kin made their exit.
“What can this mean?” I asked, worried for my daughter.
“She’s beginning to show,” Evelina said. “The colors are dull yet, but she’s no longer for us.”
“It means stranger science abounds,” Peter said. “You’re more compatible with them than us.”
“Not me.” I dropped my eyes, insulted at the idea.
The banquet hall was full to capacity, and when Dion raised his fist and pounded on the tabletop, the room went silent. Even the sizzle of the logs on the fire obeyed his command and quieted their hissing.
“By now all of you know what has happened to Andor’s wife,” he said.
The New Men in the room raised their voices in assent, then quieted again.
“She’s going to pull through,” he continued, “thanks to Freyit.”
The room raised cheers to their medicine man, but Dion took to banging on the table once more.
“This is a call for celebration, but not now. There’s much to do first.” Dion gestured to my father, and the Hematopes thumped on the table to bring Gerenios forward.
I’d a chance to speak with him before the meeting but he’d said little about their plans. The one thing he did say which told me everything I needed to know was, “You’ll finally get your trip, my son.”
With that, I was convinced of our fate. My kin were going to be banished, and I would have to decide how to take my family with me.
“Now, now,” Gerenios began. “This is a grave affair. Almost worse than what we faced with the nimrod.”
The crowd jeered and belly-ached, but Dion stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled to gain their attention.
“We have to decide how to proceed, and I think it best—”
“Kill them all,” Andor said.
He’d come in quietly, not expected at the meeting. He’d been with Hannah when I left their cottage, and he assured me he’d no desire to come to Heorot. But his voice sent chills down my spine, the pain and anger all too palpable.
The crowd stayed reasonable for a time, some mumbling their opinions, others holding their lips. My father could have tamped down any rebellion before it gained power, but said nothing.
Andor stepped forward. “My Hannah suffers,” he said. His anguish, were it a solid, would’ve filled the room to bursting. The Hematopes sensed his mood and mimicked it. “She’s going to pull through,” he continued. “She’ll be safe forever. She’s mine. I’ve fed her my blood, and she will never be food for another again.” He looked over at me, where I sat with my kin.
Evelina, who was at my side, rose and faced Andor. “Your loss is ours, too,” she said. “We didn’t want this for Hannah. We’d never cause her pain.”
Andor stepped toward Evelina, though he was across the room, the hearth acting as referee between them.
“You didn’t want this for Hannah?” The sadness had gone now, mockery filling his voice. “But you are made to protect your kin and you failed. Her change is your punishment. You brought this on yourselves, but she suffers worse for it.”
Dion stepped up behind his brother, but the two Hematopes looked meek in comparison to my matriarch. With Peter there too, the Gen H had too much to lose. But it was the rest of the colony I worried about. This war wouldn’t bode well for the life of my daughters.
“My children will receive the same treatment as Hannah,” Andor said. “The cure to this virus.” He spat out the words and tossed his hand in the direction of my kin.
I stood up then, a David among Goliaths.
“This is something to discuss with cooler heads,” I said, inching forward, working to put myself somewhere in the middle. “My bloodline is to remain pure. This isn’t up for negotiation.”
“How can you?” Andor turned on me now, his disgust oozing from every pore.
“You will do no such thing to my people.” I felt the rage boil in me, as I hit my chest with my fist. The anger was like a fire that burned through me. “Never.”
“The infraction has made it so the law must be changed,” Dion said. “There’s no going back. Only forward.”
I repeated my position, my throat tightening, the choler squeezing the breath from me.
Gerenios’s deep voice boomed throughout Heorot. “You have lost your say, Dagur. The infraction can’t be undone, or defended.”
My father was behind me, somewhere at the edge of the hall, and I turned to seek him out, wanting to throw daggers at him. I’d never been more enraged with him in my entire life.
Peter touched my arm, his hard fingers like pincers on my skin. Evelina stepped forward and put her hand on the back of my head, quelling my anger by taking it inside of her. “No, my boy,” she whispered. “The end is here.”
I’m certain my shoulders slumped, as the voices in the hall grew muffled.
“You must go now,” Peter said. “Make the preparations.”
I knew what he was saying, and yet I wasn’t of my own mind. I obeyed my kin, and backed out of the fray, no longer on the sidelines of a war that was to come sometime in the future.
“I will not allow this,” I mumbled, my limbs carting me off of their own volition. “This isn’t how this colony was made, why I was made, why my daughters were made. My daughters, my daughters.” I must have sounded unhinged, but I felt the desperation throttle me. I needed to regain control over a situation I could see getting out of hand.
“The law was broken,” Andor said. “The pact no longer holds.”
The last thing I saw was Evelina stepping forward, toward Andor, her body practically floating past the hearth.
An arm was pulling me back now, a voice speaking at me. “Come,” Freyit said. “We’ve got important matters to discuss.”
I need to stay, I thought but couldn’t voice my desire.
“You need to listen.” His eyes spoke through me, as he led me away from the crowd that looked to be closing in, the vampires surrounded by Hematopes.
I blacked out, and woke on the cot in my studio at the top of the tower. “My kin,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
Freyit pac
ed the room, and sat at my side the moment I spoke.
“The blood I gave Hannah has changed her,” he said, the words spilling from him as if they’d been knocking to get out.
“I know.”
“Your reaction is nothing. This should mean everything to you.” He was gentle with me but the desperation strangled his voice. “I have changed our world.”
I’d always considered the talented hunter someone with an even spirit, the kind of person you wanted on your side, but only if he wanted that too. He’d been loyal to me, fair and generous, but he’d also grown deeply attached to my family, intimately so, and it wasn’t until then that I realized it.
“I did this,” he said, touching the cuff of my shirt. “I’d no choice.”
“I believe that. I know it. You did what you could to save Hannah. For that, I owe you everything.”
He shook his head. “But I’ve changed everything.”
He shook me, his grip tight. I patted his hand with my own but I couldn’t soothe him despite how hard I tried.
“Do you see what I’ve done,” he said. “I’ve changed the line. I’ve made it so none of you will be kinblood any longer.” His forehead creased.
“How is that so?”
“The others have asked me to make the change to all …” He couldn’t finish the sentence he began, too profane to say aloud.
“Impossible,” I said.
“They see the transfusion will relieve them of their duty, and they believe the pact is now broken.”
I couldn’t believe my daughters would allow such a thing. “My daughters will fight this,” I said. “They’re committed to our kin.”
Freyit shook his head. “You can’t know this,” he said. “But there’s been talk for many seasons now.”
“What talk?”
“Some are conspiring.”
“To do what?”
He looked away. He was betraying his kind. The New Men had already discussed the possibility of cutting off my kin.
“The heads of the families will decide,” he said. “I believe this is what they’ve been looking for.”
“How could they deny my kin otherwise?”
“Things have been suggested … other things.” He dropped his eyes, his intensity having let up a bit, his grip about my arm now loose.
“They can’t do it without you.”
“Not without risk, no.”
“Refuse, then.”
His head rolled to the side, and he let out an exasperated breath. “This isn’t how we do things.”
“No, your leaders decide. Andor decides.”
He nodded. “I’m not in a position to refuse.”
I couldn’t believe my daughters, born into this commitment, knowingly a part of this project, would turn their backs on their mother and me. I raged once again, feeling a surge of regret at my position.
“Is it possible?” I asked. “What if Hannah doesn’t recover, what if—”
“You don’t mean that.”
I dropped my eyes in shame for thinking it.
“It’s not wise to suggest such a thing,” he said. “She’s more than on the mend now. Stronger than ever.”
“You’ve seen the change.”
He nodded.
“I must go to her.” I moved to get up, but he stopped me with a gentle hand to my chest.
“The rash is getting worse,” he said. “Your nosebleeds will continue to come, and you will die from this.”
“I’m fine.” I used all my force to break his, and sat up, leaning on my elbow. “I must see Hannah.”
“There’s a solution, you know that. A cure to what ails you.”
I hadn’t considered it, I wouldn’t either.
“You’ll recover from this marrow poisoning with Hematope blood in you.”
His expression was desperate. His eyes urging me to let him do the thing that would cure me but destroy my kin forever.
“Never.”
“You’re going to die.”
“I’d rather die than do what you suggest.”
I was angry with him for planting the idea, one I shoved to the back of my mind, in hopes I’d forget it forever.
“Your kin will understand,” he said.
I pushed myself up, forcing him from my side so I could stand. My head spun and I saw points of light in front of me when I got to my feet, but I made on I was fine.
“I must go to Hannah.”
“I gave her the transfusion to save her life,” he said. “That was the reason. I couldn’t know it would change her. I never meant to change everything …”
I believed him, but I couldn’t bring myself to draw closer to him to thank him properly for saving my daughter’s life. Freyit deserved better, but the truth was I couldn’t dismiss the rift his actions had caused, the tear he’d made in the seam of our combined patchworks. I didn’t care if the burden was heavy on him. I was crushed beneath it.
I made for the door, walking as though I could fall at any moment. When I felt his arm on my elbow, I gave in, letting him walk me to Hannah’s.
“I am bound, you know,” he said.
“Bound?”
“To my people, Dagur. If they should command this of me, I can’t refuse.”
“We all have free will,” I said. I’d thought of Vincent’s words, and how readily he’d relied on autonomy and one’s freedom to choose one’s fate.
“I belong to the Second Colony of the Resurrected. My first duty is to the New Men.”
“A poor excuse,” I mumbled.
“Maybe so, but it is truthful.”
“What about Saba? Do you think my daughter will allow anyone to change her?” I sniggered, as we continued out of the tower toward the cottages.
“That girl has a mind of her own.” He looked away when he said, “She and the young hunter have gone.”
I thought the ground fell from under me. The last I knew Saba and Finn were resting in my home, under the watchful eye of my wife. I couldn’t know Netta had withdrawn to sit with Hannah, my older daughter needing her more than Saba.
“What are you talking about? Gone where?”
Freyit stopped us in the middle of the gully on the edge of town. He kept his eyes down when he reached into his vest and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He peeled it open to show me my daughter’s handwriting, her chicken scratch an inelegant version of the stylish script I’d pressed on her. These two sentences were all she left me: I’ve gone to take Finn home. He must get back to his father. The second sentence seemed to be written for my benefit. I assumed she thought I might be sympathetic to the cause if it were a child returning to his father. She forgot how much it would tear out this father’s heart to lose his daughter.
“Does she know about Hannah?”
“She does,” Freyit said.
The whole thing seemed madness. Finn had barely regained consciousness, and Saba had yet to recover. The two had taken to the sea with little skill for navigating, armed with nothing but their bravery.
“Why didn’t you stop them?” My voice was kissed with anger.
“I thought it safest for her if she were far away when the colony decided to change your bloodline. Don’t you think it wise, too?”
I folded then, seeing Freyit’s hand in it. He’d urged her to go. “And Finn?” I asked.
“The boy’s in love.” He shrugged, a grin spreading across his lips. “What could I do but encourage him to lead his object of affection out of harm’s way?”
I feared she was headed into harm’s way, the real threat waiting for her, hunting her, coming at her.
* * *
Saba tiptoed, as she entered the darkened room. The figure of her sister on her marriage bed, lying helpless in the middle of it, made her stomach turn. The emotion swelled in her and she could barely continue onward.
Hannah was sleeping soundly. She’d come to and spoken to Andor, but he was gone to Heorot now, and Hannah was alone.
Saba had passed N
etta on her way in, hugging her mother for the last time, though the woman didn’t know it. She squeezed Netta, and said, “Only your love can help her recover. Be strong, mama.” Netta melted in Saba’s embrace, hearing again the moniker her daughter hadn’t spoken since she learned to wield her longbow.
Saba knelt beside the bed, and whispered Hannah’s name. “I am praying for you, dear one,” she said. “I am going to seek out our god and bring him back to heal you.”
Hannah stirred at the sound of her sister’s voice. Saba laid her head down at her side, closing her eyes for a moment, as she thought of the voyage to come. She’d made arrangements with Lucia and Veor, and they were readying the boat with Finn as she sat with her sister.
“Tell Peter you love him.” Hannah’s voice was barely a whisper. The croak of her dry throat changing her soft sound to something unrecognizable. “Before it’s too late.”
“What?” Saba’s head perked up, and she gazed on her sister.
Hannah’s eyes remained closed, but she sensed her sister there, and knew they were seeing one another for the last time.
“Peter is the one,” Hannah said. “Don’t waste time with another.”
How simple her sister made it all seem, Saba thought. If only it were a matter of choice.
“Why do you say that?” Saba whispered.
“Come,” Hannah said, tapping the bed beside her. “Put your head next to mine one last time.”
Everything was one last time, but Saba didn’t know her sister was speaking in terms of her, not Hannah herself.
Saba crawled up onto the mattress and lay down beside her sister. She turned to face her and curled herself about her, working as delicately as she could, not willing to harm her broken body. Hannah rested her lips on Saba’s forehead, feeling the warmth of her sister’s skin.
“You’re changed,” Hannah said.
“As are you.”
Hannah’s face grew hot with tears, the sadness too much to keep inside. “I am,” she whispered.
Grief For Heart: The Vincent Du Maurier Series, Book 4 Page 19
