Kindred of the Fallen (36 page)

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her chin trembled and her voice wavered. “How could you let me believe you’d never been with anyone else?”

“When I hold you and we are as close as two can be, I don’t want to remember there was ever a Lysandra or an Evan. Every time I touch you, I’m rooted in the moment, inspired by the possibilities of tomorrow and my past just fades away.”

“I tortured myself for giving Evan my virginity instead of saving myself for you.” Exasperated breaths left her mouth. “How long were you with her?”

“We were in Panama for twenty-three years.”

“How long were you
with her
?”

“Eleven years.”

The wind sighed in the trees and whispered to the grass. He longed to sail backward in time, an hour or two, when the world was as it should have been—whole and perfect.

“You loved her.” Her low voice broke with a sob. “It’s the only explanation why you would’ve hidden it. The only reason you didn’t kill her all those years ago. You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

He twisted from the waist and fastened his hands to her arms. Tears streamed down her face. The pain from her need scalded him, tangling with his. He had to make her believe the truth. She was the only female he was in love with or had ever truly loved. Through pain or pleasure, she needed to believe. He tightened his grip and hauled her closer.

“Besotted affection doesn’t compare to the love I bear for you,” he said. “My soul is nothing… I am nothing without you.” His chest heaved. “It’s always been you,” he said, shaking her, “since the day you were born. And it’ll always be you. Only you.”

His hands fell from her arms and he faced the darkness. “What I did, leaving my people and violating all of the principles we held sacred, was unforgivable. I brought unspeakable anguish with my selfishness. I was supposed to be a great leader, bringing them light and hope. Instead, I was their greatest disappointment because I had put the desires of one ahead of the needs of many. Yet, they forgave, still believed in me somehow.” He paused. “Except for my father. He’s never spoken to me again.”

She hugged his back and pressed her cheek to his.

“Once they graced me with their forgiveness, I dedicated myself to Herut and to our path. For the last two hundred years, I’ve committed my life to all of them.”

His restraint dissolved and his emotions pooled into their energy stream.

The wall between them crumbled and grief battered her. She gripped him tighter, hoping her love could ease his suffering. How could she condemn him for the same transgression she had committed? He had already suffered the ignominy of his choices. She couldn’t bring herself to wound him deliberately, despite her promise to Talus. And now, his mistake continued to echo with the loss of Cassian. The misery he carried was great enough.

She had no sense of time. Her arms ached from holding him, and her knees were sore from pressing into the ground. She released him and wiped her face.

Sorrow threatened to suffocate her, but she took deep breaths and lay on the grass with her hands pressed to her stomach, holding her together. “Why didn’t you finish her back there?”

“She had the advantage while I was squashing her little minions. Before I could finish the last two, she used an energy gun to slow me down. Two shots were enough for her to get away.” He looked at her, his jaw tense. “We’ll find her and kill her,” he promised.

“Talus said Lysandra attacked them deliberately. Why does she hate you?”

“I suppose she hates me because I let her live. She hates herself and her own kind.”

“Why hasn’t she become consumed by
sangre saevitas
?”

“Once my Council convinced Neith, the historian, that Lysandra was a danger to Kindred, she agreed to notify us whenever her people spotted Lysandra. One of her watchers came across her in Brazil in the early 1900’s. She’d found a tonic that helped control the rage and appeared stable,” he said.

“How old is Neith?”

“At least sixteen hundred years old by now.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for us to live that long.”

“The others have only made it to twelve hundred at most. She’s the oldest of our kind.”

To walk the earth for almost two thousand years, without a
kabashem
, must take a degree of patience she was thankful she’d never know. “How has Neith survived so long without getting
sangre saevitas
or the dark veil? She’s Blessed like us. If she’d ever connected to her
kabashem’s
energy stream to inoculate her, wouldn’t the Houses know about it? I’d think there’d be some kind of legendary story like the ones you told me about the other Blessed couples.”

He looked at the sky. “I don’t know. Honestly, I’d never given it much thought. Neith is a legend in a way. I’ve never met her or seen her. Either she connected at least once to her
kabashem
and something happened to him or she’s found a way to stave off the affliction like Lysandra.”

“Lysandra,” she said in a whisper, still unable to shake the image of Cassian falling.

“Now that Lysandra knows about you, we’ll have to eliminate her quickly.”

She stared at the miniature bright bulbs scattered across the dark sky. As she gazed at the face of heaven, it was hard to believe the past few hours had actually happened. A dreadful nightmare she couldn’t wake from. How quickly their lives had changed.

Beautiful Cassian was gone and Talus was broken.

The dark canopy overhead, speckled with a million tiny lights, reminded her of how small she was in the world. Fatigue hit her. She wanted to give in to it, wanted to rest, but there was still so much she had to do.

“I should go find Talus,” she said.

“She won’t take any comfort from me right now. It would be kind of you to be with her.”

“What about you?” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “You lost him too.”

“We all lost him, but she needs you more,” he said.

She hugged him. Cassian had been a son to him. She understood the pain of losing a parent, but the pain of losing a child was inconceivable. Cyrus was still able to talk and function, but Talus had been ravaged by despair.

Inside the meditation room, Talus lay deflated on the floor with her head on Cassian’s covered body that was wrapped in dark canvas.

Serenity sat with her back to the wall. “Do you need anything? Water, maybe some tea?”

No response.

For hours, Talus kept her head pressed to Cassian’s chest, not moving, not speaking.

As the sky lightened, Abbadon came in. He rested his hands on Cassian’s torso and meditated. “I need to prepare his body now,” he said after awhile. He stood and carried Cassian out of the room.

Talus didn’t move. She stared at the floor in a trance. Serenity helped her stand and walked her to her room. Talus limped slightly along the way.

Serenity was surprised how much warmth the room had, decorated in red, fuchsia, purple, gold and brown.
 

In the corner was a low round table with large cushions on the floor. Stacks of old vinyl albums covered a dresser. A lovely Balinese style bed adorned the center of the room and an intricate gold chandelier hung above it.

She ran warm water in the tub, bathed Talus and washed her hair. After dressing the wound Abbadon had bandaged earlier, she struggled to get pajamas on Talus’s limp, heavy body. Serenity braided her wet hair and tucked her into the bed.

Talus lay on her back with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Serenity sat on the brown cushions on the floor and leaned against the wall, watching her.

Fatigue pressed down on her, but she was afraid to close her eyes. She needed to stay awake until Talus came out of her catatonic state and said something.

Sunlight shifted, dimming, her only indication of time passing other than her stiffening joints. She stood and stretched.
 

There was a light knock on the door. Abbadon walked in. He wore a long black tunic and loose fitting pants made of linen.

“The burial vault is here,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll start soon. These are for you and Talus.” He handed her two sets of black outfits. “It’s traditional to bury the departed with some of their personal items. I thought Talus might like to select a few things.” The grief was apparent even on Abbadon in the slow way he moved as he left.
 

Serenity lumbered to the bathroom to change her clothes. A glance at her appearance in the mirror shocked her. She quickly washed her face, brushed her hair into a ponytail and put on the linen outfit. Then she dressed Talus.

“We need to go to Cassian’s room to get things you want to bury with him. Can you pick out some stuff?”

Talus nodded slowly.

Serenity held her arm as she got up. Talus took sluggish steps to her dresser and flipped through a stack of records, next to a Crosley record player with dark cherry finish. She took out an old
Purple Rain
album by Prince.

Then they went to Cassian’s room. Painted the same pale green as the meditation room, it was simple and organized. Talus went to a bookshelf and pulled out a book by Khalil Gibran, called
The Prophet
. She drifted to his bathroom and picked up a gold ring. Staring at it, she stood motionless.

Framed posters of movies and cars hung on the walls. Serenity walked around the room, passing posters of
Blade Runner
,
Silence of the Lambs
,
Bullitt
, and
Marvel’s Avengers
.

In a small sitting area across from a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall was a professional setup of weights, complete with bench and rack.

Serenity turned to check on Talus who stood holding a large pair of scissors. She rushed to the bathroom as Talus held her braid and snipped it off, leaving her hair short, hanging just below her chin. Serenity snatched the scissors out of her hands and set them on the sink.

“Are you ready?”

Talus stared at her with a blank expression.

They went down to the garden. Cyrus and Abbadon came out of the back of the house, carrying Cassian. Cyrus was dressed in a black linen outfit. Cassian’s body was bound tightly in white cloth. They put him in a simple coffin, then lifted it and carried it together. She followed them beyond the lemon grove to a beautiful spot near a thicket.

A large burial vault was open in front of two trees. Mrs. Carter was there with a stunned look on her face. She kept shaking her head in disbelief. Serenity was surprised to see her. She had forgotten she would be there for work that day. They put his coffin down into the vault.

Talus dropped to her knees beside the grave, cradling the items she’d selected close to her heart. Serenity stood near Cyrus and held his hand. Mrs. Carter took a handkerchief from her purse to wipe her eyes.

Abbadon spoke for several minutes in their language. She wished she could’ve understood his words. He placed two amulets in the coffin. One was the eye of Heru. The other was a scarab with wings. Talus put the items she had collected next to Cassian and her lock of hair on top of him. Cyrus closed the coffin. He sealed the vault with a heavy lid. On top of it was a metal plate, which simply read
Cassian Amatus Harmerty
.

Abbadon drifted off toward the lake. Mrs. Carter went back to the house.

Cyrus trudged over to Talus and knelt. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she erupted to life in a hail of swinging fists, growling.

“It’s your fault he’s dead!” She punched his chest and face. Her fists struck him like gunfire. “If you had killed that bitch when you were supposed to, he’d still be alive.”

He didn’t back away. He took her thrashing with a stone face in silence.

Sorrow melted Serenity’s heart and tears fell from her eyes as she stood helpless to comfort either of them. Talus flogged him until her arms and fists petered out and her rage ebbed. She collapsed into his arms, her head slid to his lap.

“Why didn’t you kill her?” she sobbed. “Why?”

Chapter Thirty

Serenity stood at the window on the second floor, watching Cyrus hold Talus outside near the burial vault.

Darkness had fallen by the time they came in. Cyrus carried Talus to her room and stayed with her. Serenity went to her room and showered, trying to scrub away the memory of what had happened. She threw on her robe and fell into bed. Exhaustion encouraged her eyes to close. She rested lightly, hovering somewhere short of sleep.

Sometime during the night, Cyrus slid into bed. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed his body into her. His hot tears cascaded down her neck. She interlaced her fingers through his. He was so quiet. If it hadn’t been for the moisture on her skin, she never would have known he was crying. His anxiety and grief perforated her with a thousand tiny holes. Distraught with anguish, she cried with him. If she could have taken away his pain, so only one of them suffered, she would have done it without hesitation. She wanted to roll over and kiss his tears, but he held her tightly, fastened in place, facing away.

After sunrise, he slipped out of bed and left the room. She opened her eyes and stared at the clock, six-thirty. Still fatigued, she closed her eyes, but instead of darkness, she saw Cassian’s body, falling. How could anyone take pleasure in killing him? There had been a smile on Lysandra’s face, the same face Cyrus once touched, once kissed and loved.