Thirst No. 3: The Eternal Dawn

by Christopher Pike

  I raise the needle in front of her eyes and squirt out a few drops.

  “But the pain adds a certain sweetness, doesn’t it?” I ask.

  Numbria stops thrashing and stares. “What are you talking about?”

  I squirt out more of the drug, wasting it on nothing.

  “It sweetens the blood. There’s nothing like a meal when the victim screams for mercy, before they realize there’s no chance. The pain is only going to get worse.” My grin widens. “You must know that by now?”

  She shakes her head. “This isn’t you talking. It’s this thing in my head. It’s in your head too. Listen to what you’re saying. You’re not a monster.”

  I grip her wounded arm and twist it so that she cries out.

  “But I am, the worst monster of all. I’m a demon. That’s why I’ve lived so long. That’s what he told me. I live in his light and I feed on his darkness.” Pulling at her arm, I use my nails and rip off a chunk of skin. Her blood flows so bright, so warm, so dripping, I can hardly wait.

  “No, Sita! Don’t do this! I don’t want to die!”

  I open my mouth and lick. I bite and laugh out loud.

  “Then you should never have been born!”

  It’s been too long since I’ve fed. Her screams make it so sweet.

  There’s an explosion at the motel door. Blinding light pours in, and for a moment I cannot see. A person, it is a human being, rushes to my side and grips my shoulders. I don’t know who they are or what they want, but I hate to be interrupted, and I’m going to kill them. How dare they touch me!

  “Sita, it’s me, it’s Seymour. Can you hear me?”

  I smile, my face cracking with dried blood. I don’t know why it’s dry. I feel as if I was feeding only a moment ago. No matter, I will feed again off this one.

  I giggle. “Yes! I hear you. I know you. Seymour, lovely Seymour.” I reach out a hand and stroke his face. Such a pretty face it is. Too bad I will have to rip it to pieces to get what I want. “My, you’re so warm, so tasty. Can I have a little bite?”

  “No. Sita, you’re caught in a spell. You’re—”

  “Yes!” I scream as I yank him closer. “You’re supposed to say yes to me. No one says no to me! Certainly not a pathetic mortal like you! Do you know what you are? You are meat! Bloody meat!”

  He does not struggle the way the other one did.

  His eyes remain calm as he stares into my eyes.

  “Krishna,” he says. “Think of Krishna and it will stop.”

  I feel as if I have been stung by something burning.

  I strike him, and he flies across the room and hits the wall, crumpling on the floor. His eyes stray to the motel door. For the first time I realize there is another one there.

  “Shanti,” Seymour gasps. “Run.”

  But this Shanti creature does not run. Instead, she walks slowly into the room. Her eyes remain focused on me—she doesn’t even glance at the meat on the bed. At first I’m annoyed, but then I’m glad she’s there. The more the merrier. She is smaller than the male. I’ll eat her first, in front of him, draw out his terror, and then start . . .

  “Sita?” this Shanti says.

  “Ah.” I grab her by her shoulders and shake her roughly. But she shows no fear, and that annoys me. It does something else to me. I feel suddenly dizzy and weak. She’s draining my power! I raise my hand to strike her, to kill her . . .

  But she reaches up and strokes the side of my face.

  Her touch stings. Like that damn Krishna word.

  “It’s all right, Sita. Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I love you.”

  “Stop it!” I yell. I will kill her, she’s hurting me. But I can’t keep my arm up. All the strength falls out of it and it drops to my side. She continues to stroke my face. Her hands don’t feel as awful as they did a moment ago. Actually, it’s kind of nice, her touch.

  “That’s right, Sita. It was just an evil spirit, and it’s leaving.”

  I blink, I recognize her. “Who are you? What are you?”

  “Shanti, your friend. Seymour’s here too. We both love you so much.”

  “But you’re . . . you’re meat!”

  Shanti shakes her head. “The spirit told you that. It lied to you. Let it go, let it leave. Remember Krishna and it will go.”

  I grip my head. “No! Don’t say that word. It hurts.”

  “Krishna is soothing, like my touch. You know him. Tell me something about him.”

  It’s a question I hate to answer. But I don’t want her to stop touching my face. It lessens the pain inside. So I say a few quick words. “He carried a flute. He played it. . . . I remember. . . . The music was nice.”

  “What else do you remember?”

  “His eyes. They were blue. A beautiful blue.”

  Shanti puts both hands on my head. “Say his name aloud. You’re almost back. You’re coming back.”

  “Krishna. Krishna.” The warmth of the name and her palms washes over me like a healing balm. So soft, so soothing, so comforting. I feel as if my mind, which was locked in a black box, has suddenly been returned to me on a gold pillow.

  “Shanti,” I whisper.

  “That’s me.”

  “Seymour.”

  “Over here,” he says from his place on the floor. “You okay, Sita?”

  I feel a smile on my face. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m Sita.”

  Then I’m all the way back inside my body.

  I sense a black cloud flee the room. It leaves behind a faint stink, but the more I focus on who I am, and my friends, and Krishna, the more I sense a perfumed odor fill the room. I remember everything.

  The memory gives me the strength to look at the bed.

  At what remains of Numbria.

  A mass of torn flesh. It leaks onto the floor.

  I feel I will be sick. “No,” I moan.

  Shanti and Seymour both hug me. I hear him talking.

  “It wasn’t you, Sita. It was the Array. Brutran and her cronies waited until now to attack.”

  “But why? How?”

  “I don’t know how,” Seymour says. “But I think the why is becoming clear. All this time we’ve assumed we were dealing with a single enemy. We were wrong. The IIC is composed of normal people who have stumbled onto some great power. These others . . .”

  “They call themselves the Telar. They’re immortals.”

  “The Telar are their enemies. It makes sense. That’s what Brutran was offering you in her home. Protection from the Telar. But you turned her down, and it pissed her off.”

  “I wonder what she wants in exchange for her protection?”

  Seymour turns and steps toward the open door. He’s going to close it.

  “Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” he says. “Anyone who would focus the Array on you and force you to do something like this has got to be pretty sick.”

  I put a hand over my eyes, to shield them from Numbria’s remains.

  “Wait till you meet her,” I say. “She’s cold as ice.”

  “I hope to God I never meet her,” Shanti says.

  I hear Seymour closing the door. Then it bursts open.

  “Alisa?” I hear Teri’s gentle voice. “Are you there? Matt and I didn’t mean to pry, but we decided to follow . . .” Her words trail off, and she screams. “Oh, God! Alisa! The blood . . . What’s that on the bed? Oh, no!”

  I leap to my feet, see Teri and Matt standing in the doorway, frozen in shock, their faces pale as ghosts. Teri’s eyes are the worst. The horror inside them, I don’t know if I can bear it.

  “Teri! Matt! It’s not how it looks!” I say, even as my lips crack on the dried blood that covers my mouth. “I was attacked by a group. They’re the same ones who are harassing Lisa and Shanti. It’s a long story, but I swear to you I didn’t do this. Tell them, Shanti. Tell them, Seymour.”

  “It’s true, she didn’t do this,” Shanti says.

  “Listen to her,” Seymour says.

  Matt stares at them.
“You guys just got here. What do you know?”

  “We know she’s telling the truth,” Shanti says.

  “Matt! Damn it! Just listen to her!” Seymour snaps.

  The setting is too sick. The gross mass on the bed wipes away any chance at reason, as do my blood-soaked face and clothes. I hold out my hands, trying to calm the air, and speak in a gentle tone.

  “Matt, get Teri out of here. But please let me explain later. It will all make sense then. I promise you, this is not how it looks.”

  Matt steps in front of Teri, who’s on the verge of fainting, and pushes her outside the door. Then he turns to me, and I can’t help but notice how cool he remains in the face of such horror.

  “It makes sense now,” he says. “There’s no need to explain.” Taking Teri by the arm, he turns his back on me. “Stay away, Alisa. Stay far away.”

  They walk away. I hear a car start.

  Red tears pour over my bloody cheeks.

  Deep inside, I feel a pain in my heart I have never known.

  But I cannot call on Krishna to fix it.

  Lucifer was right about one thing.

  I deserve this pain . . . for I have sinned.

  SEVENTEEN

  A week later, Seymour and I sit on the deck of a massive ferry and gaze out at the blue-green beauty of the warm Mediterranean. To our left and right are a handful of rocky islands, but our boat’s next destination is straight ahead—Santorini, one of the most lovely spots in the Aegean Sea.

  The sun is bright and hot and has the effect of making me sleepy. But Seymour is charged with energy. Today is a dream come true for him. Years ago he wrote about a Hispanic woman, Paula Ramirez, who gave birth to a remarkable baby named John. Now Seymour’s finally going to see the child. In describing John, Seymour and I went so far as to hint the child was divine, a possibility that is still very much open to debate. What I can say with a clear conscience is that John is special. He gives off the greatest vibe. Sitting with him is like bathing beneath a waterfall of peace.

  “How old is the boy now?” Seymour asks.

  I yawn. “He should be sixteen.”

  “You tired?”

  “Just feeling lazy. The sun, you know.”

  “We can go inside.”

  “Not at all. You like it out here, and the water is beautiful.”

  “It’s so clean and clear. I can’t wait to go swimming.”

  “You mean you can’t wait to visit the nude beach and check out the scenery.”

  He nods. “Nothing wrong with that. I can swim afterwards.”

  “I hope you don’t expect me to go skinny-dipping.”

  “It’s the main reason I came here. Since when are you shy?”

  “I’m not shy at all. Except around you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  Seymour smiles. “When was the last time you saw the boy?”

  “He was a toddler. They were living in Tahoe at the time.”

  “At least I got that part right.”

  “You got most of the story right.”

  “I don’t suppose you used his blood to bring me back to life?”

  “True, that was your version. It was me Kalika impaled with a sharp stick. It went through my heart. I should have died. But when my daughter left me for dead, I injected myself with a syringe of John’s blood—directly in my chest—and I lived.”

  “That should be proof enough he’s no ordinary child.”

  “I never said he was ordinary. But is he Christ? Is he Krishna? Those are much more serious questions.”

  “You always speak of them as the same.”

  “To me they’re one and the same. They taught the same thing. They lived similar lives. They even died the same way. To skeptics like Teri, this means they’re nothing but fables. I was lucky I had the advantage of meeting one of these fables.”

  “I thought Krishna died from an arrow to his heel, like Achilles.”

  “History has a habit of mixing fables and facts. There is a story in India that says Krishna was completely divine, except where his feet touched the earth. It was only there he was vulnerable—hence his death from an arrow to the heel. But if you travel in India today, you’ll find a number of ancient paintings and murals that depict Krishna as being crucified between two criminals.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “In the West, people have trouble with the idea there might have been more than one divine incarnation. Indians accept the concept easily. It’s seems logical to them, and less dogmatic. They have a word for such beings. They call them avatars, or ‘those who descend.’”

  “Where do they descend from?”

  “I was sitting near Krishna when he was asked that question. I actually spent more time with him than you described in your books. His answer was fascinating. He said between earth and his realm were fifty levels, with earth being the lowest and his being the highest. He said a few of the older races in the galaxy had evolved through these fifty levels. When I asked if there was a chance I could move on to these higher worlds, he said yes, but first I’d have to pay the price of my long life here on earth.”

  “What did he mean?”

  “I don’t know, I was afraid to ask.” I lower my head, feeling a sudden powerful desire to be with Krishna. “Sometimes I feel I can’t keep paying.”

  Seymour hugs me. “Teri will forgive you. She loves you.”

  “I think I terrify her. Besides, Matt won’t let me near her.”

  “The Sita I know wouldn’t let anyone stand in her way.”

  “The Sita you know doesn’t exist. Besides, Matt’s right, she’s safer away from me.”

  “Hey, how come you don’t worry about my safety?”

  “You’re just a writer. All you do is make up shit. That makes you expendable.”

  Seymour laughs. He doesn’t disagree.

  Soon after, we dock at Santorini. The ferry slides into the harbor like a hand into a glove. The entire lower level of cars exits in minutes. From the Athens airport, we’ve brought with us an Audi convertible. Even I, a creature of darkness, have to admit you should never visit the Greek islands and drive around with a roof on.

  There’s too much to see. Besides the sparkling ocean, which is seldom out of view, the stark countryside and the whitewashed brick buildings create a timeless aura. I visited Santorini a century ago, and it hasn’t changed. I’m not surprised Paula Ramirez sought out such a peaceful environment to raise her son in.

  Yet I’m disappointed she moved here without telling me her address. Paula’s another person who thinks I’m dangerous. I had to use my CIA and Interpol contacts to locate her. I understand, though—I probably would have done the same in her position. I’ve saved her child a couple of times, but he’s the one who’s supposed to save the world.

  If Suzama’s prophecies are accurate when it comes to John.

  That is a big if.

  I let Seymour drive to Paula’s house. He notes my reflective mood. “Does she know we’re coming?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Will we be welcome?”

  “The wolf at the door is never welcome.”

  “Would you stop that crap. John’s alive because of you.”

  “He almost died because of me. Paula knows me as well as you do. She sees how violence stalks me. She hasn’t gone out of her way to keep in touch.”

  “Why are we going to see her?”

  “We’re going to see John.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you about that lead I found in Numbria’s bag. The address in Arosa, Switzerland. I’m pretty sure Yaksha spent time there, with his wife. Now that’s he’s no longer there, I think the Telar have a base in Arosa.” I pause, knowing I have yet to answer his question. “I have to check it out.”

  “Cool. I’ll go with you.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t stop me from coming.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “You took
a vow in Central Park. You said you’d never leave me.”

  “Then you have to release me from that vow. Numbria said there are five thousand Telar on earth. How many do you think there will be in Arosa? There’s no way I would be able to protect you.”

  “You talk like you’re walking into a death trap.”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Then don’t go, Sita. Leave Europe, run and hide. You’ve spent most of your life in hiding and it’s worked out pretty well. I’ll go with you.”

  “The Telar are fixated on me. They won’t leave me alone until I’m either captive or dead. Plus they’re a danger to humanity. This has gone way beyond me and my personal safety. It’s the same with Brutran and the IIC. They might be worse. Look at the way the Array twisted my mind, and Brutran and her cronies weren’t even in the same country. Imagine if they aim their weapon at the president of the United States.”

  “Who says they haven’t?”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Seymour is thoughtful. “It puzzles me how Brutran was able to focus the Array on you even though Numbria was in the same room. Your mind was obviously more powerful than hers. Yet you lost all control, while she remained relatively sane.”

  “It puzzled me for a long time, ever since I was in Brutran’s home in California. I think I’ve figured out the answer. When I first visited IIC, they didn’t know I was coming that day, but they were probably worried I’d show up eventually. They had killed Jeff Stephens, Lisa’s boyfriend. They had killed Randy Clifford too, Lisa’s ex. Randy was the one who’d hacked into their files and discovered they were collecting info on me. It didn’t sound like they knew what I was, but they suspected I was older than any normal person. Putting all these facts together, they must have assumed there was a strong chance I’d force my way into their Malibu office. So they set a trap.”

  “You told me about your first meeting with Brutran. You two hardly talked.”

  “You’re right. On the surface it didn’t seem like much happened. But then I began to examine my entire visit there. When I burst in and demanded to see Brutran, they didn’t throw me out like you’d expect. They told me to sit and wait and the boss would be with me in a few minutes. They kept me waiting a long time. Eventually a woman came in with her daughter, and we talked in the waiting area. Then the woman did something odd. She asked if I’d watch her daughter while she went to the bathroom.”