Eternal Dawn (8 page)

‘You’re doing the “I wanna bite you” face again,’ Tony said. He glanced at Tracy, who was huddled close to Kate and Claudia. They walked out of assembly and on to
the quad.

‘I’m here to protect him,’ I said. I
really
didn’t like those girls talking to Rhode. Especially, the brunette with long legs. She touched Rhode’s
shoulder, letting her hand linger a bit too long.

‘OK, Crazy,’ Tony said. ‘Whatever you say. But promise me, no more dagger eyes, OK? I’m going to the library.’

‘For what?’

‘I want to find out more about people who can use the elements. Manipulate water, fire, you know.’

‘I really doubt you’ll find much in the library here,’ I replied, still focused on the brunette who was now trailing her fingers from Rhode’s shoulder to his wrist.

‘Justin said that Sully guy used the elements.’

‘There’s a distinction. Suleen was the oldest vampire in existence.’

‘You said those Hollow dudes are old too.’

Tony’s mention of the Hollow Ones distracted me from my petty jealous fit. It didn’t seem natural to hear their name coming out of his mouth. He was involved now, just as I had
wished, and with that came the fear that he would be hurt.

We stepped outside the auditorium and I slipped on some sunglasses to shield the harsh sunlight. Tony kept watch on Tracy, who stood further out on the quad with Kate and Claudia.

‘There has to be something somewhere about why vampires choose to manipulate the elements,’ Tony continued.

‘They do it to feel closer to nature. Most learn to do it when they’ve stood outside the rotation of the world for too long. Imagine the control they experience when they can make
the wind bend to their will. It makes them feel that they can be masters of their lives.’

Tony blinked at me. ‘OK . . . well, I guess that settles that.’ He shook his head, seeming to recharge with enthusiasm. ‘Still, a bit of research – it can’t hurt,
right?’ Tony suddenly raised his voice by about thirty decibels. ‘And that’s when I said, “Hell, no. I will
not
go out with you. I like someone else,
OK
?”’

Tracy stood next to me.

‘Yes, well, you turned her down amicably,’ I said, going with it.

‘Someone asked
you
out?’ Tracy asked as we walked on to the pathway.

‘Don’t act so surprised. It happens all the time,’ Tony protested.

We walked across the quad with ten minutes before our first class. I scanned for Rhode. It nearly bowled me over to see him standing beneath the shade of a tree alone. He looked up from his
hands and stared at me
hard
. As usual, the beauty in his blue eyes almost knocked me backwards. He took a step in my direction.

‘Um,’ was all I could get out.

‘Is Rhode coming to talk to you?’ Tracy said, and gripped my arm. I flinched from the residual pain of where Justin had wrapped his cold fingers around my flesh the night before.
‘We’ll give you some space,’ Tracy went on, and pulled at Tony’s arm.

‘Hey!’ he said, clearly not wanting to be taken away.

‘Morning,’ Rhode said to me.

This synthesis of Rhode, the dark, mysterious, always-knowing-more-than-me Rhode, was mixed with this modern boy wearing a collared shirt and jeans. I wanted to scream, ‘Don’t you
know you were once a knight?! Tuck in your shirt!’

‘Are you doing OK? After your near-death experience?’ he asked.

If only he knew . . .

And
OK
? When did Rhode ever say ‘OK’?

He chuckled, trying to make light. I basked in the surprise of seeing him smile at me.

‘It’s not every day a hunter’s arrow is shot at my head,’ I managed to get out.

Rhode raised his eyebrows. ‘A
hunter’s
arrow. Impressive.’

Rhode was flirting with me
.

‘Well, I don’t catch them as they fly through the air – not like some people I know.’

‘I hardly caught it in mid-air. It hit the building first,’ he said.

I had to stay focused. I needed the details of the arrow. ‘Yesterday, you said that the arrow wasn’t a Wickham team arrow.’

Rhode stiffened. ‘I did?’ he said, crossing his arms.

‘Yes. You said the—’

‘Forget that. Massively stupid comment. Of course it’s a Wickham arrow. Someone probably misfired, that’s all. What’s your first class?’ he asked.

‘French,’ I replied allowing him to change the subject.

‘Isn’t that something? Me too. What happened to your finger?’ he asked, and pointed at my shoddy Band Aid job.

‘Not sure. Caught it on something.’
Or hurt it in a fight with a murderous lunatic.

‘Guess I’ll have to watch out for you.’

My cheeks warmed and I prayed he wouldn’t see me blush. I couldn’t be so obvious.

‘So if you know so much about archery, do you shoot?’ He kept pace with me, stride for stride.

‘No. Not at all,’ I said. ‘Never shot an arrow in my life.’

‘Want me to teach you? Tomorrow. On the archery field.’

Hathersage, England, at target practice.

Rhode’s hands on mine, my back presses against his stomach as the sunset bleeds over the rolling hills. He holds my hands steady, the bow vibrates, and we’re about to let the
arrow go
. . .

‘Definitely,’ I said.

We reached French class, but Rhode hesitated at the door.

‘
Après vous
,’ he said.

When a vampire is made, the countdown begins. A countdown to madness. The mind is all that remains active in the vampire body. The senses go, the ability to feel happiness and
joy – those go too. No one knows if the soul remains, deep down and hidden.

The mind wanes slowly.

Like polished silver tarnishing.

Even the most brilliant shine will blacken over time.

12 January, 1725, Hathersage, England – the years of the Vampire Queen

The hour was early – just past sunset. As a vampire queen I spent my nights lying in bed, ruminating over the moments in my life when I had been most happy. Meeting Rhode,
falling in love, moments with my family, dancing with Rhode at countless balls. I sat up in bed. Outside the window, flecks of snow whipped past. The house was utterly silent. It was a house of the
dead. I listened to this melancholy silence as I tiptoed barefoot down the long darkened hallway.

I stepped out of the back door, immune to the icy stones of the terrace, past the tiny cemetery where a coating of snow lined the tops of the tombstones. I descended the steep hill that abutted
my home. I had a very clear destination. The land veered to the right and I followed it. My white sleeping gown skirted over the frozen grass.

I walked until I reached a small river at the foot of another hill. The water swirled and curled though the darkened valleys of Hathersage. The river crept by and the evening cast snowy light on
to the rocks and branches. I stepped down the embankment, my feet squished into the mud. The gooey consistency made me sink lower into the ground. I stepped into the running water.

I must remember this date
. I wiggled my toes in the current. As I crossed to the middle of the water, it deepened to my ankles, and then to my knees. I stepped through from one side of
the river to the other. Back and forth, back and forth. The pebbles and rocks dug at the bottom of my feet, but no, it was most definite:

My sense of touch was gone.

I dropped my gown so the water soaked through the hem. The icicles on the trees hung in sharp, dewy spears. I stopped pacing the river and lay down in that shallow stream. There wasn’t
really enough water to float, but I arched my back, trying anyway. I submerged myself to the tip of my nose. Flat discs of ice floated past my eyes. Hours . . .

Passed.

The current would never bite at my skin again. The churning of the silt would never circle over my toes, nor would the rushing, splashing or bubbling water.

It was over.

Through the spaces between the branches, the stars dimmed – sunrise approached. I waded out of the water and headed back home up the hill.

The sky had turned a lighter shade of purple. Atop the hill in the distance, my great house came into view. I stopped. Next to me, at the end of the long lane leading to the house, Rhode’s
longbows sat in a pile.

I’d never shot an arrow before, but now I picked up a bow and loaded one. I found the target in the distance, the black bullseye, and focused. My hair, which was frozen now in thick cords
of ice, lifted off my shoulders. I had seen Rhode do this countless times. Raise your right elbow, find your target, shoot, hit, he had said. With a snap, I released the arrow. I did it again and
again.
Thump
,
thump
,
thump
– the arrows sailed through the air.

It took me two hundred tries to hit the bullseye. After that, every single arrow went home. The stars travelled over the curve of the sky until it lightened from purple to pink. I hadn’t
been out for the sunrise in so long; it was more dangerous than the sun at midday. Dawn’s light could mean death for the inexperienced vampire. I pierced the bullseye again as a yellow light
broke over the rolling hills.

‘Is this where you’ve been?’ Rhode asked from behind me.

I let an arrow fly.
Whap
– right into the centre.

‘Lenah, it will be sunrise in moments.’

I bent over and picked up another arrow. Rhode grabbed my wrist and focused on the tips of my index and middle finger. A thick red indentation slit the skin; blood seeped through.

‘Lenah, stop.’

He wrested the arrow from me and I flinched away from him.

‘I will not be controlled!’ I yelled. ‘You will not be the master of my life!’

Rhode’s eyes flickered with worry.

No, I did not want to do this to him. Immediately I wrapped my arms around him and held his face to mine. The faintest warmth pooled on the apple of my cheeks – a small heat rippled again
and again, until it dissipated away leaving an icy, familiar chill.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said pulling back with a small shake of my head. ‘I went down to the river. And I could not feel it. I have lost, lost . . .’

‘The sense of touch,’ Rhode finished for me.

I placed the bow on to the ground; my blood had stained the fibre. He took my hand into his.

‘I feared it for so long. And now it has come,’ I said.

‘You will always have me,’ Rhode said, and we started back up for the great stone manor in the distance. ‘I hope that gives you some comfort.’

If I was human, the wound on my fingers would have throbbed and ached for weeks. By the time I assessed the cut, it was healed.

‘Will I ever stop feeling your warmth?’ I asked.

Rhode did not answer.

‘Will I?’ I pressed, knowing that vampires who were in love could still feel the warmth of each other’s touch even when the rest of their body had gone cold.

When we reached the house, Rhode led me into the darkened foyer and answered me with a kiss. A kiss I could not taste but that warmed my chest – a kiss that told me in one gentle gesture
what he could not utter aloud: one day I would no longer be able to feel his embrace.

Present Day – Wickham

‘Are you coming?’ Rhode asked. He stood above my desk. ‘You don’t really want to stay in here, do you? Unless, of course, you’d like to draw some
more storm clouds.’

I had doodled endless black bulbous clouds instead of taking notes.

I collected my things and followed him to the hallway. He walked close to me as we headed out of class.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ I piped up, shaking away the memory of Hathersage. ‘I have a question though,’ I said. ‘You never told me what part of England you’re from.’ I
led with this to see how similar this Rhode was to the Rhode of his past.

‘Devon,’ Rhode replied.

The old Rhode was also from Devon. Hope blossomed inside me. Maybe if he remembered this fact, he would remember some of our past too! We left Hopper and crossed the quad towards Turner, the
girls’ dorm.

‘And I heard, I hope you’ll forgive me for asking . . .’ I started to say, until Rhode jumped in before I could finish.

‘That I haven’t got any family. Yes it’s true.’

We showed our IDs to the Turner security guard and entered the dorm.

Some girls stopped mid-conversation as Rhode and I walked down the hallway to my room. It certainly wasn’t me they were interested in.

‘No family. It’s tragic, isn’t it?’ he said with a wry smile. ‘My parents died when I was young. I only have memories of living here in Lovers Bay. I’m OK
with it, really.’ He leaned his shoulder against the wall just outside my room.

‘Hey, Rhode,’ a girl I didn’t recognize said. He acknowledged her with a small nod.

‘So you’ll come shoot?’ Rhode asked me.

‘You’re really offering to teach me?’

‘Yes, Lenah.’ My body electrified at the sound of his voice saying my name and I couldn’t drag my gaze away from his face.

‘Oh, you two,’ Tracy said, appearing down the hall. ‘Get a room.’ She laughed and went to unlock our door. The keys clanged as they hit the floor, and Tracy screamed so
loud the shriek was a needle through my eardrums.

Rhode placed a palm on Tracy’s shoulder. ‘Don’t move,’ he commanded.

‘What happened?’ I asked. Tracy had her palm over her mouth.

Rhode said, in a grave tone, ‘Call the resident advisor.’

‘Frogs?’ Tracy cried through her hand. ‘Seriously?’

Frogs? What?

I pushed past her into the room and froze. She was right – frogs. Dozens of dead frogs were scattered around our room. They dangled from the mirror, on top of our beds, even from the light
fittings. Some looked as though they could have been sleeping. Others were split down the middle, carcasses – dissected.

‘This is so disgusting!’ Tracy cried. ‘What the hell kind of prank is this?’

She screamed again as she uncovered more frogs in the bathroom.

A memory sprang unbidden to my mind. Justin and me. Before. In biology.
‘You can rip a cat open with your bare hands but you couldn’t cut the frog?’ Justin asked
gently.