Dark Requiem (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 3) (17 page)

I was lying on his bed and
the windows were open to the night which remained a reassuring hum
trying to entice me to it.

I smiled and the tension
melted from him. He beamed at me, making my heart lurch at the
sight of his beautiful smile although his eyes were still
sad.

He moved to sit on the bed
and reached for my wrist. Some emotion I could not decipher flooded
his face when he saw I still had the hairband with the blue baubles
tied around it. He removed it and clasped a bracelet around my
wrist. It was made of white gold and blue sapphires.

“
What’s this?” I asked as
I stared at it, touched at the gift and also reminded of Jessica’s
bracelet.

“
I’m sorry, Dallas. I
wanted to say it at the time, but...well... I’m sorry for what I
said after what happened in the woods.”

I smiled as my eyes filled
with tears, tracing my fingers along the bracelet.

“
Thank you. It’s
beautiful, Avery.”

He made to stand, but I
grasped his hand. I held onto it even when he tried to ease out of
my grip. In the end he relented and just stared at my hand around
his, his eyebrows drawn together hooding his piercing blue eyes and
intensifying the anguish and yearning within them. He eventually
tore his gaze away from my hand, but held it tenderly in both of
his.

My wound healed in a
matter of days, but I remained weak. A despondency had settled over
me and my thoughts remained on Jessica. I kept seeing her body,
lifeless and discarded beneath the trees. I thought of the darkness
that had descended on my world in the wake of my aunt’s death and I
could not stop thinking of Jessica’s family and what they were
going through.

Did they know she was dead
or had she just disappeared? Plucked out of their lives whilst they
still held onto a fragile hope, waking to meet each day believing
she would re-enter their world and banish the darkness that had
been left by her absence.

I was so anguished by the
thought of their pain I could not bear the thought of drinking
human blood. Blood was now inextricably linked with death for me.
Even a drop of it lit the hunger within for the kill at the end of
that crimson tunnel. It was a slippery slope that would see me
hunting human beings as if they were mere cattle. So Avery insisted
I drink small amounts of his blood. But now my preternatural body
had been given a taste of human blood, it seemed to rebel against
vampiric blood and I remained incredibly weak although Avery
assured me I would soon regain my strength. But as the weeks wore
on I continued to weaken. I was still stronger than most vampires,
but became fatigued easily, at times feeling that the rope keeping
me tethered to this body had grown slack and it would take very
little to sever it.

I spent most of my time
asleep in Avery’s room as the weeks wore on. Mallory, Shadrach and
Maryse spent time with me, trying to coax me out of the mansion and
into the night for even a few minutes. Mallory was as loving and
supportive as she had always been. Shadrach would gaze at me with a
gleam of curiosity in his eyes along with a hint of excitement, and
at times it seemed he was on the verge of saying something. Then he
would merely smile, that curiosity deepening. Maryse was terrified
of me. She was her usual humourless self, but that fear was there,
the image of Auria—such an old and powerful vampire—rendered
helpless in mere seconds, never far from her mind.

Avery did not leave my
side and his presence was able to draw me out of the despondency
that had befallen me. He often sat by the side of the bed holding
my hand and staring at me as if the very sight of me was a miracle
he could not fathom. Then he would quickly look away, guilt
colouring his handsome face.

Since Jessica’s death I
had questioned my decision to become a vampire. But with Avery
before me gazing at me with quiet patience, it was difficult to
regret the decision I had made as I would not be here with him
otherwise. Although his expression was sometimes grave, I could
sense a burden had been lifted from him. Perhaps saving my life had
exorcised some of his demons.

Auria’s death, however,
was a blow. She was the only one, aside from her son, who knew
anything at all about what the chapel entity was and how to defeat
it. I sometimes awoke to find Avery sitting at his desk with thick,
heavy books open before him, his head in his hands, the vague wisps
of thought that reached me ones of utter dismay and crippling
panic.

The dreams of that ancient
culture continued to assail me during this time, and I found myself
sleeping longer. It always took a long time to wake me, and I awoke
on many occasions to find Avery hovering over me, relief drawing
the tension out of his face when I finally opened my eyes. Even
when I was awake I was often confused, those waking dreams tugging
me out of my reality often and without warning, making it difficult
to know who I was or where I was. That whisper that had been trying
to draw me to it louder now.

At times I would turn to
Avery and stare at him in surprise for a few moments, having
expected his hair to be grazing his shoulders, as it had been when
he was with Luna, instead of curling just at the nape of his
neck.

One evening I walked into
his study only to come to an abrupt halt.

Instead of Avery’s study,
I was standing in a room with furniture and decor that was
restrained although still elegant, a fire burning in the fireplace.
Avery was seated in a chair by the fire. He was dressed in a brown
frock coat with a black necktie. His hair grazed his shoulders, was
parted to the side and slicked down. He was deep in thought, his
brow furrowed, his mouth turned down, clearly unhappy.

He looked up toward where
I stood and a timid smile came to his lips although I saw weariness
in his eyes. His demeanour was tense as though he were unsure
whether he would receive a smile or a sharp word. I felt a crushing
sorrow at that expression even when the room returned to the way it
should be with its sturdy dark wood furniture and muted
walls.

Avery was sitting at his
desk dressed in jeans. He sensed my presence and turned to face me,
a smile pushing back the sorrow that had for too long laid claim to
the contours of his beautiful face. Remembering the uncertainty of
that timid smile I had seen only moments ago, I wanted to walk over
to him and embrace him. Instead I merely smiled, trying to fight
back the nauseating feeling of intense turmoil at these episodes
and what they meant.

The worst episode occurred
one night when Avery left the mansion. I awoke in a thick web of
confusion, feverish and struck by panic. I believed I was Luna and
it was the night she fought with Avery and he disappeared for a few
nights.

I ran out into the dark
believing I would find Avery at the lake.

I walked for what seemed
like hours through dense woodland, the moon seemingly stalking my
steps from its frosted throne above the tree tops. Whenever I
turned around I saw two Negroes following me. One was a young,
handsome Negro male with a clean-shaven head. The other was a girl
of about sixteen. They wore strange clothing. The male had a
fascinated gleam in his eyes, the female looked bored. They glanced
at each other repeatedly throughout the journey and their
expressions changed every time they did so as if they were having a
heated conversation, although no words passed their lips even once
throughout the long walk. And as I walked, rather than diminishing,
the anguish tearing at me deepened.

I came out of the trees
expecting to see a lake turned to a dark sheet of glass by the
night time shadows. What I found instead was a dank swamp. Ancient
cypress trees reached desperate thin arms out of the water towards
the aloof night sky.

Avery was nowhere to be
found.

I sank to my knees and
wept, pain rolling over me, breaking upon my wounded
spirit.

“
Avery, Avery.”

“
Let me take you back to
the mansion.” The male Negro was standing before me. “Avery will
soon be home.”

He held out his hand, but
I could only weep by the edge of the swamp, bent over in pain with
my arms around my stomach, certain what he had told me was a lie
and I would never see Avery again.

“
What is this?”

I opened my eyes and
turned to the sound of the voice, the tide of sobs easing. My heart
filled and overflowed when I saw Avery standing a few feet away
from us, staring at me. Anger, along with anguish, burned in his
vivid blue eyes. Behind it, swallowing that anger, was clear, raw
anguish. He too wore strange clothing.

“
Avery,” I gasped, smiling
through the tears.

“
She thinks she’s Luna,”
the Negro female said to Avery.

“
Make her stop,” he
whispered, his features twisting in pain, his gaze never leaving
mine as I got to my feet.

“
You have to let whatever
it is play out,” the Negro male said to Avery before turning to me
again, a tender smile on his lips. “Go on, Luna. Go to
him.”

I moved to Avery,
wondering at his expression and why he appeared to be so angry with
me. I threw myself against him and peered up at him, tears still
streaming down my cheeks.

“
Avery, I thought you’s
never coming back.”

Distress blazed in his
eyes. He remained rigid as I lay my head against his chest and
sobbed. After a few moments, his arms came around me.

“
It’s all right. I’m here
now,” he said, his words clipped and stiff.

I looked up at him,
placing my hand against the side of his head. “Why you done leave
me like that?”

His face tightened with
misery along with intense helplessness as he stared at
me.

“
Promise you’s never gonna
leave me again, Avery. Promise me.”

There was only silence,
his distress intensifying. Then he spoke, looking away from me and
into the distance, undulating desolation in his eyes.

“
I promise.”

I clung to him, the fear
and panic subsiding. He was here and he would never leave me again.
I closed my eyes in relief and before I could open them again,
sleep swept in and tugged me away from everyone and
everything.

Akan

Later that day Akan was in
the sun-drenched woods, his bow and arrow aimed at a deer. He
released the arrow. It flew through the air over the deer's head,
hitting the tree behind it with a crack and disrupting the
stillness. The deer darted away and was soon out of
sight.

He sighed and rubbed his
eyes.

“
Why don’t you just go to
sleep? You’re completely useless today.”

Akan turned toward the
sound of the voice to find Rutia behind him. He faced forward
again.

“
Do not tell me what to
do, woman.”

“
Hm. If you
wish.”

He heard her footsteps
move away. She came to a stop a few moments later.

“
Men. It always takes them
twice as long to do a thing as a woman because they do not think.
It is not enough to reduce the amount of the potion. You need to
counter its effects. Men, they do not think.”

He spun around in
surprise, but she was already moving away again. He watched until
she disappeared out of sight.

Counter the effects of the
ekniwa? What other herb could do that? Agu, the village medicine
man, would know. After all, he was the one who had discovered the
herb the potion was made from. Now a drunk who talked freely and
had falsely predicted Akan’s death in battle on countless
occasions, he would be able to tell him which herbs could counter
the effects of the ekniwa—if such herbs existed—and not even
remember the next day.

Akan retrieved his arrow
and raced home to see if there was any alcohol left. He returned to
find Rutia had left several jars of alcohol in the courtyard for
him, along with a basket of food. He stopped short and stared at it
in wonder for a few moments. Then he picked up the bundle and raced
to Agu's house.

Akan found Agu already
drunk, cheerily so, wandering outside his home in just a loin
cloth, his grey hair tangled and greasy. He was apparently
searching for something.

“
Akan,” he called, smiling
as if Akan were an old friend. Then he frowned at him. “Are you
dead? You’re supposed to be dead. You should have died a hundred
times over by now.”

“
I am very much alive,
Agu.”

“
A pity, a pity. Well,
come inside and have a drink with me.”

Akan followed him into his
home. Unlike the rest of the houses in the village, Agu had
insisted on building a house using the old method of wood and
thatch. Akan walked through the narrow door, stepping down onto
packed earth. Despite Agu’s appearance, his home was ordered and
neat, and although there were many jars of alcohol against one of
the walls, Akan saw no food. He was glad Rutia had given him a
basket of food to bring with him.

“
Why do you insist on
living like the old ways?” he asked Agu.