Protector of the Flame (18 page)

Abbadon had told her the terrifying story about the ancient who had the same gift she possessed.

Heat radiated from his body, brushing her skin like a warm feather. “Your light has the power to tear the heavens asunder. Your darkness—” a smile of adoration, “—to make every demon in hell quake. You’re beautiful and rare. They will love you and hate you for it.”

His words hooked into her, bringing tears to her eyes. “Does that include you?”

He closed the distance between their faces. His mouth grazed her cheek, warm face pressed against hers, he whispered in her ear, “I could never hate my dearest sister, any more than I could hate the perfection of a rose…petals soft as velvet, exotic fragrance that intoxicates the soul, thorns sharp as obsidian that prick the heart.”

She clutched her stomach, thinking of the tattoo around her navel. The same one her Uncle Archie had on his neck.

With a bowed head, Adriel stepped back and hurried away from her sector, leaving her alone and trembling.

Chapter Seventeen

Endless days passed learning more about Kindred while Serenity waited. Separated from Cyrus, time had become the enemy.

Adriel slinked into the library, drawing her attention from the history of House Sekhem she’d been reading.

“Where do you go every afternoon?”

He slid in front of a workstation beside her. “You ask me that every day.”

“And you avoid answering every day.” The more he refused to tell her, the more she wanted to know.

“I’ve done my best to entertain you. Must you know my secrets as well?”

Stiffening, she turned to her laptop. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

He leaned in close. His breath was scented with mint. “You take me too seriously.” He winked. “I’d share my secrets with you, sister.”

Neith’s office door opened. “Mira,” she called from the doorway.

Everyone looked around, but no one stood.

“Serenity.” Neith beckoned with a hand.

She went over to the ancient beauty.

“Someone is to fetch Mira immediately,” Neith said to the historians, then guided Serenity to the railing in the office where they had a view of the entire island.

She looked out over the crops, vineyard and sections of huts. Vermillion, gold, coral, soft white and burnished copper speckled the verdant landscape.

“This place brings me immense joy. It takes a firm hand to manage it all,” Neith said.

“It’s a garden of Eden.”

“Let us hope not. Adam and Eve were kicked out of Eden.” Neith smiled. “We grow all of our own food and make our own clothing. We’re entirely self-sufficient, although we do get spices and other small luxuries from the mainland. Once a week I check on every workstation to ensure things function smoothly. You shall accompany me from now on. It’ll be good for you to get to know the others and see the intricacies of how everything works.”

There was a knock at the door. Mira stood with hands clasped and eyes lowered. “Pardon me,” she said breathlessly.

Neith walked past her out into the main area of the library. When she stopped near the bookcases filled with scrolls, Mira ran to stand in front of her.

“Everyone here has a place and a purpose.” Neith’s authoritative voice carried without yelling. “If the sentinels forgot their place, we would be left unguarded. If the farm detail failed to serve their purpose, we’d starve. Your place is in the library. Your purpose is to be a historian.”

“It won’t happen again.” Mira bowed her head. “What did you require of me?”

“After your delay, I cannot remember.” Neith turned to Serenity. “Let us make the rounds.”

She followed with alacrity down the walkway.

“Have you learned much from your personal searches in the library?” Neith asked.

“There’s so much information and the database isn’t very user-friendly.”

“The database is properly organized. You must learn to ask for assistance. I will give you a list of things to focus on while searching the archives,” Neith said.

They strolled out the massive front doors, which she realized remained open day and night. They must’ve closed the doors when she had arrived to make an impression.

“I hope whatever you want me to read is in English.”

“Your
kabashem
didn’t teach you Latin?” Neith asked in an appalled manner.

“No. We didn’t have long together.” Their time together had the kind of heat fueled by years of longing, an inexhaustible passion only centuries of lovemaking would quench. Yet the sad reality was they’d barely had six weeks.

A silvery white peacock and a brightly colored blue one crossed their path.

White foam tips of the ocean slapped the smooth rocks below their trail. A quarter of a mile down was a long stretch of white sandy beach.

“Why did you take the library?” A riveting question not even Cyrus knew the answer to. “And how have you managed to hang on to this without getting the dark veil or blood rage? There isn’t anything in the files on you.”

Neith’s long ivory gown flowed gracefully around a lean, statuesque figure. “If I tell you, you must agree to populate the records with what you learn.”

Any of a dozen historians could have populated the archives with the ancient beauty’s story years ago, but Neith had a reason for everything. “Agreed.”

“I took the library to hurt Seshata.”

Never in a million years would she have anticipated that response. “For what?”

“I have a long and complicated history with the immortals.” Neith’s lips tightened.

“Why haven’t you been inflicted by the curse with the dark veil or blood rage?”

A breeze blew Neith’s flowing silver strands back. “My
kabashem
was the first of the Fallen to be reborn. He was four hundred years when I was born in the end days of Shabanu.”

“The age of harmony,” she said, remembering all Abbadon and Cyrus had taught her.

“He held me once. I was just a babe, but it was enough for our energy streams to merge so I’d never fall sick to the afflictions of the curse. I don’t remember him, only the bliss of perfect connection.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was murdered to prevent the curse from ending, to stop the birth of the redeemer.”

So many slain, so many soul mates torn asunder. “I’m sorry.”

“My womb is tainted and my
kabashem
hasn’t been reborn in almost two thousand years. It’s in the hands of those much younger now.” Neith turned along a path that went uphill. “There are many who fear the prophecy that all of the Fallen will be reborn and if a child is ever sired from such a union, it would strip Kindred of our essence and bring us closer to humanity.”

“Do you believe the prophecy?”

They came to the peak of the knoll. Serenity glanced at Neith’s ethereal face. Many humans would pay any price to have such radiant beauty.

“Prophecies can be self-fulfilling. I don’t trust them, especially when foretold by one of Seshata’s oracles.”

Sekhem would do anything to see her or Cyrus dead to prevent the end of the curse. Even the rogue immortal, Ravich, wanted to sterilize her. “Why do the immortals care if the redeemer is born?”

“Before I left Rekhem with the library, the immortals had a cataclysmic fight about the Fallen and how the fate of Kindred is linked to theirs. After that day, Nefertiti has never written or spoken another word about the Fallen, the Blessed. I believe they bewitched her.”

“Do you think our people will lose their
ingeniums
if the curse is broken?”

“When reunification of the Fallen produces a child, it will mark a new era. The plight of our curse shall be lifted, but there is a price for everything. I do know the Creator relishes diversity and permits every living thing a degree of distinction.” Neith stopped on a hilltop, overlooking a field of flowers.

A heady fragrance wafted in the air.

“Redemption may very well bring us closer to humanity,” Neith continued, “but I do not believe we will be stripped bare and made to be human.”

“Why did you lie to Sothis?” The question had irked her.

“I do not lie.”

“You told her I wouldn’t be allowed to stay unless she paid the price of giving you information. I think you would’ve given me sanctuary regardless. This place is a safe haven for the Blessed.”

Neith stared at her. “One aspect of my
ingenium
is the ability to see the weakness of a thing, a person, even an argument. Misleading Sothis was the only way she’d give me what I wanted. It was also the price of sanctuary for her, not you. Your mother is proud and loyal to the brotherhood. She never would have betrayed them in exchange for her own safety. It’s a flaw you both share.” Neith touched her shoulder. “Neither of you know when to ask for help.”

“Is that my greatest weakness?”

“You already know the answer. Do you not?” Neith strolled toward huts at the orchard.

Selfishness had broken her best friend Evan, driving him to madness.

Taking too much had almost killed Talus.

Neith looked back at Serenity. Shimmering tresses of fine-spun silver fluttered in the wind, her skin glowing as if she’d swallowed a star. “Fear not, young firebird. I shall help you overcome it.”

Those were the least reassuring words she’d heard all day. If Abbadon’s help had come in the form of a beating with a bamboo rod, there was no telling what to expect from Neith.

“I have a favor to ask.”

A smile curled on Neith’s lips. “Of course you do.”

The ancient beauty couldn’t possibly know what it was. “I need time with Sothis. Ten minutes in private. An opportunity for a real discussion. I’m asking for the impossible, but—”

“All things are possible,” Neith said, “but one day, I shall ask for a favor in return.”

“Consider it done.” The price for this favor didn’t matter.

Two nights later the impossible happened.

Seated at dinner, Serenity had only half heard Soren. “What?”

“Arrangements have been made for you to bathe with your mother after this evening’s meal. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

Adriel nudged her. “Are you all right?”

She glanced at him, but her gaze was drawn to her mother seated across the hall. “I’m fine.”

Wearing team leader blue, Sothis sat with her back to Serenity. Always surrounded by warriors she trained, not because they feared what she might do, they simply admired her as a skilled soldier.

Adriel brushed the side of her forearm with his hand. “You haven’t eaten.” Concern laced his voice.

Perhaps it was the food or how she ached to see Cyrus or how she longed for some tangible relationship with her mother that dampened her appetite. “I’m not hungry.”

“The crab is actually delicious,” said Caelius, seated across the table beside Nakia. “If you’re not going to eat, may I have yours?”

As she handed him her plate, Caelius stared at Adriel. His wary gaze remained fixed as he took the food.

Adriel lowered his head and resumed eating.

Across the room, Sothis rose from the table. One of the warriors stood, touching his chest and spoke with a furrowed brow. When he extended his hands, she allowed him to take her dishes. The twenty or thirty warriors around her all stood and bowed. Her mother gave a curt head nod.

That’s new.

“Serenity,” said Soren from the end of the table. “Your bath is ready.”

The time had come. A moment couldn’t be wasted. Biting her inner lip, she wiped sweaty palms on her pants.

“Which one?” demanded Nakia.

“Number five.”

“I’ll take her,” Nakia said.

“Good luck.” Adriel rested a hand on her wrist. “It’ll go well.”

She gave a shaky smile.

Caelius shot Adriel another sharp glance. This time Adriel didn’t avert his gaze, his posture stiffened. They looked like two bucks debating whether to charge and lock antlers. It was the most peculiar thing between them.

“Ready?” Nakia wiped her mouth with a napkin, pushed her dirty dishes toward Caelius and rose.

As they took the walkway to the second floor, Nakia held her hand. “The night Layke performed, the blue light you projected around us felt like warm kisses all over my body. I was overwhelmed with love and desire for nothing in particular and for the whole world at the very same time. I couldn’t sleep that night. I just lay in bed and cried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They were tears of joy and longing,” Nakia continued. “What were you thinking of when you projected your light?”

“Cyrus.”

“Oh, how you must love your
kabashem
,” she said with a dreamy look. “What does it feel like to make love with your
kabashem
?”

The question rattled her thoughts, clearing her mind. “I imagine everyone feels something a little different,” she said, not wanting to discuss it. At all.

“Does sex hurt?”