Unbound (31 page)

“Aeternus eternus
.”
The thunderous reply echoed from floor
to ceiling several times before fading beyond my hearing.

Gabriel
gestured to Amerlyn, who stood slowly, taking time to adjust the black robe
that hung on him like a child’s dress-up costume. Looking up, his eyes crinkled
beneath his bushy white brows as his gaze met mine. He nodded once thoughtfully
and then turned to the others and cleared his throat. “For almost two thousand
years I have lived among you; like you, but not exactly one of you. Your
immortality was a birthright passed down by the most careful and meticulous
breeding. My immortality was discovered – borrowed if you will –
from the original source that granted the first of your ancestors eternal life.
In this way, I am more like the roots of the tree of life, whereas you are the
branches that reach towards the sun.
 
Because of that, I notice the differences between us. Each successive
generation of immortal is slightly different from the last. You’ll know for example
that although your lifespans are infinite, your mental stability is not. When I
joined the Council it had become plain that with each passing generation the
problem was becoming more...troublesome.”

Amerlyn
shook his head sadly, his eyes touching mine before moving on. “The
Mafte’ach
were a solution, albeit a
costly one, to the growing dilemma facing our kind. Yet since their creation,
we have become increasingly relaxed about the debt we owe our mortal friends.
Like those mortals who forget to be thankful for the earth and land that supply
their food and water, we have come to feel...entitled. Let us not lose sight of
our purpose. We are not gods. We are not creators. We are simply humans who
have been entrusted to watch and record the history of the world. In exchange
for that responsibility, we have long lives of comfort and luxury.”

Closing
his eyes, he inhaled deeply as if gathering the strength for the words that
came next. “Since the dawn of humanity, we have lived among mortals peacefully.
We have guided their actions and kept them from the worst of themselves. In
exchange, we are the most powerful beings on the planet.” His eyes flew open.
“Yet some amongst us feel that our power is penultimate.” He lifted a hand and
pointed a finger towards the opposite end of the dais. “Amun desires a world in
which humans are not influenced and guided by us, but instead mastered and
controlled. Until now, there has been no clear way to accomplish this. Until
now.”

Amerlyn
stared directly at me with a mixture of pity and
appreciation. “The first female
Mafte’ach
has survived gestation, and it seems her survival has brought a new twist. Some
would say that her mutation is beneficial for all. But I would remind you that
cancer cells are not destructive in isolation, it is only the replication of
these new cells that is problematic. My heart fears that breeding a race of
humans that are malleable will be the cancer that destroys us all. My heart
fears that when we use the
Mafte’ach
as a tool for power, rather than as release from suffering, we are changing the
nature of our relationship. This mortal child is special. Let us not manipulate
her, but celebrate her evolution. Her free will symbolizes the free will we are
willing to grant her mortal race.”

Amerlyn bowed his head and was silent and then he
met the eyes of each Council member in turn. “My heart fears we will destroy
ourselves if we ignore the very lessons of history we have guarded so
carefully. Do not be deceived by the allure of more power. We are not Gods.”
With a nod, he sat and folded his hands on the dais placidly.

As if waking from a trance, I came back to myself.
The room was silent, my breath loud in my ears.

Amun rose fluidly, with the grace and dignity of
royalty and his black eyes glittered like uncut diamonds as he gazed upon me.
His smile was neither kind nor reassuring, but the satisfaction of the predator
that looks upon his prey, knowing the end is a foregone conclusion. “Our dear
friend Amerlyn would like us to remember the debt of gratitude we owe mortals.
Indeed, we have much to thank them for.” His tone was dry, his accent making
the words a mocking tribute. “As immortals we have had the privilege of
watching as the world to which we were all born is damaged beyond recognition.
Oceans polluted so badly that species older than our own have been wiped from
existence. Resources depleted in a heartbeat that have taken a vast share of the
planet’s history to create. A former world of plenty reduced to a scarred and
ravished asteroid. Even our own existence is threatened by their reckless
short-sighted behaviour.”

I flinched as his fist pounded the dais, his voice
filled with scathing indignation. “Left to their own devices, humans would
still be scrabbling with stone tools and sleeping on bare rock, warring
barbarically with each other which bone is whose. And yet Amerlyn speaks of our
debt.”

He grimaced. “For more than 10,000 years our race
has been entrusted to witness and record their history. That we, so small in
number, have managed to lift them from pre-civilization to their current state
of post-modern technology should not go unrecognized or remarked upon. Without
us, mortals would have destroyed themselves long ago. But Amerlyn, and those
like him, would counsel us to interfere less.”

His lip curled slightly as he looked at Eaden.
“Immortal brothers, we
are
the superior
race. Our infinite lifespans give us the wisdom of infinite generations –
our memories are long and we do not forget. That we now have the means to curb
mortals’ destructive ways is good news for us. But also for them. We do not
seek to eradicate free will,” palms open, he spread his hands wide in a gesture
of goodwill, “but to provide guidance and direction to a race that appears
hopelessly lost on its own. Just think, brothers, this one mortal child who
stands before us may be the salvation of her entire race. Wars ended, poverty
eliminated, suffering diminished. And eventually, with time and patience,
perhaps our own race will step out of the shadows and receive the accolades we
deserve, not the censure he suggests. Amerlyn, the very creator of the
Mafte’ach
urges us to resist what he was
unable to resist.” His smile was mocking. “If meddling with mortals is so
unwise, why did he create the very thing he is asking us to disregard? Why
should we listen to a man who urges us to stagnate? Like all species on this
planet, it is time we evolved. Our days of waiting are over.”

Amun’s face softened into an almost pleasant smile
as his eyes settled upon me. “Of course, if you hesitate because one of our own
has become entangled in the fate of this mortal, I say this to you; I am not
against letting the female live. If our brother has such strong affections for
his pet, then who are we to question his judgement? It is not her death I seek,
but her life. Let her live amongst us and be watched. She need not suffer. In
fact, her existence may well be improved. Certainly she would be safer here
among us than among her own kind in their violent unpredictable societies.”

Eaden stiffened beside me, as rigid as stone, his
eyes as cold and implacable as Amun’s. My own limbs felt loose and watery. The
dilemma we faced came instantly into focus, like the swift dial of a lens. My
life or death meant very little to these men, I was so insignificant that they
had no objections to my life. They wanted proprietorship of my body, but my
soul mattered very little to anyone, save those who’d accompanied me into this
room. I was fighting for the existence of mortal kind, but my own existence was
irrelevant.

Gabriel waited until Amun had sat down and then
addressed the Council. “Before we ask our brothers to witness the Council vote,
Amerlyn has recommended that we let the child speak.” His eyes fell on me with
something like pity. “What can you offer us, child?”

What
could I offer?
The question was
ludicrous. These men did not believe I had anything to offer except my most
basic construction, my genetic material, which was either dangerous or divine,
depending on whose side you were on. But I had something to say, even if they
only paid lip service to my contribution.

 
I was
aware of the stillness of the immortals suddenly. The silence that pervaded the
room when they were at attention. Never before had I experienced such
self-possession in the presence of so many living creatures. I thought of the
grief I’d seen so often in Eaden’s eyes, the madness that had lit Sabas’s gaze.
They were still human, I reminded myself. Long life was not always a blessing.

Closing my eyes tightly, I thought of my father’s
last weeks. It was not death he had railed against, but the absence of friends.
It was a party he hadn’t wanted to leave.

“No one wants to die.”
 
My voice was barely more than a whisper
and I made a conscious effort to raise it. “But it’s what we’re born to do. We
have very little choice about how, or where, or when we die. We have little
choice about why. As a mortal, my only choice is how I live. Only the sickest
of us choose death out of despair – thinking that they have lost that
choice. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Maybe because there is no death, the importance
of life has lost its meaning for you. But if you believe that you won’t change
us forever, by forcing your will upon us, you are making a mistake that may
have more repercussions than you think. I don’t want to die,” I repeated. “But
I’d rather die than live a life that was not my own.”

Amun returned my stare without flinching, but his
eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between Eaden and me. His lips
twitched as if holding back a smile and my stomach sank with my hopes as I
caught the gleam of triumph in his expression. What had I said? What clue had I
given?

Leaning towards Gabriel, he spoke a few quiet words.

Raising an eyebrow, Gabriel studied Amun for a few
seconds and then nodded. He addressed the hall, but spoke directly to me. “Amun
wishes to address the Council to alter his proposal. You will wait in the
antechamber while the council hears his amendment.”
 

Eaden took a step closer, pulling me against him.

Gabriel dismissed him as well. “Yes, Eaden, you may
accompany her.”

I caught the rapid exchange of glances between Eaden
and Amerlyn before we turned to leave the room.

Amun interrupted our departure. “I’d like our other
guests to remain here in the Council chamber,” he said, motioning to the three
Sisters. “The Sisters of Cailleach are renowned for their…talents. I’d hate for
our proceedings today to be delayed any further.”

Turning to look at them, I saw the same bland
expression on the faces of my friends, but a quick glance upward confirmed that
Stuart was alarmed. He had moved down the balcony to position himself directly
above them and stared fiercely down at Sita as if wishing he could fly.

Eaden nodded absently and, placing a hand on my
elbow, guided me past them. Mara and Elora looked at me without expression, but
their eyes and mouths were tight with strain. Sita’s eyes had filled with
tears. Looking down, I saw that the three of them clutched each other’s hands
tightly. Offering a weak smile, I let Eaden lead me out of the Council room.

The young woman in the antechamber got up from her
desk as we exited the vast chamber and promptly opened a door leading to
another, smaller room. She smiled politely as she wordlessly waved us into the
well-furnished sitting room and gently closed the door behind us. A couple of
sleek leather chairs and a low coffee table kept company with another large
vase full of white calla lilies. The last time I had looked so closely at the
bright white petals and thick green stems was the day of my father’s funeral. I
remembered wondering how such a striking flower could adorn such a dismal thing
as a casket. It had seemed odd that the dark wood coffin had looked so stylish
and elegant; the flowers like window dressing on a car crash – utterly
unsuitable for the disaster they were a testament to. Not much had changed.

Looking away, I realized that Eaden had barely made
it past the threshold. He stood with his back towards me, facing the door, his
hands braced against the frame as if he were supporting himself.

“Eaden?”

No response.

I approached him quietly and placed a hand on his back.
A muscle jumped under my palm, but he did not turn. I wanted to see his face,
to understand why he had stalled out in the doorway.
 

“Eaden?” I peered up under his arm, trying to gauge
his mood. Wanting to feel less alone.

Abruptly, one large hand came down and pulled me to
his chest, my gasp of surprise lost in his thick wool sweater. I heard the rasp
of his breath before strong arms enveloped me in a fierce embrace. My face was
pressed into him so tightly it was difficult to breathe.

I felt the deep rumble in his chest before I heard
his words. “It was a mistake to bring you here. I see that now.” His voice was
eerily flat. “I’ll be sorry for it until the end of time.”

End of time? He wasn’t making any sense. My fear
spiked as my heart skipped a beat.

I tried to push him back a little so that I could
see his face, but despite my efforts, I remained firmly clasped against him. He
seemed unaware of my struggles.

Raising my voice a little to be heard, my words were
still muffled by the wool. “Eaden, we don’t know what’s going to happen yet.
There’s still hope.”

He barked out a laugh that was more like a sob and
then pressed his lips to the top of my head.

Although I felt uncomfortably restrained, I squeezed
back trying to offer comfort, my hands slung around his waist.

After a moment, his lips moved along my crown and
down until I felt his warm breath in my ear. His grip relaxed only slightly as
his mouth moved down towards my neck. I loosened my own grip, more puzzled than
relieved by this latest shift in his temperament. Removing one of the hands
that encircled me, he began to stroke my hair as his lips continued to lightly
travel along my neck. I could hear him murmuring something, but was unsure if
he was speaking English or Gaelic.

“Eaden?”

He continued to ignore me, but I realized that
somehow my back was now pinned against the doorway. Rubbing my hands lightly
where they rested on his waist, I was trying to get his attention when I
realized that his kisses had become more insistent. His mouth no longer
searched my neck, but devoured; his breath audible and erratic. As he hungrily
pressed his lips into my collarbone I felt his teeth close on my skin
painfully. I yelped a little as the hand that was tangled in my hair tightened
so that my scalp tingled, while his other hand snaked further around my waist
and pulled me even closer to him, his hips pushed painfully into my ribs.

My heart sped up as adrenaline ripped through my
system. Something was wrong. The frantic clumsiness to his movements was so
unlike his usual self-possession. Lifting up from my neck, his mouth found mine
and the force of his kiss shocked me, my lips crushed and bruised under his. He
was like a drowning man struggling for air. As he shifted, I managed to wedge
an elbow between us and pushed him forcefully away so I could see his face.

I went cold. The grief and despair that had always
been so visible, yet contained, seemed to have exploded and consumed him. His
eyes were those of a man who believed that he had already lost the battle. Wild
and unfocused, he looked at me without recognition and then pushed me back
against the door.

Hard. Both hands now searching, seeking. His mouth
demanding.

Real panic began to bubble in me.

“Eaden, stop.” I tried to make my voice calm, but the
quiver was unmistakable.
 

As if unconscious, he continued, unaware that I’d
stopped responding, unaware of anything. As he continued to kiss me with a
ferocity that bordered on manic, he pushed a knee between my legs, forcing them
apart.

My heart stopped completely.
Oh God. Oh no. Not this. Please God. Not like this
.

“Eaden?” I could feel the tears that had gathered in
my eyes start to slide down my cheeks.

“Please?” My voice was barely a whisper.

He froze as my quiet plea registered. I heard the deep
pull of his breath, like a gasp of air as he broke the surface. Jerking back
from me as if I were on fire, he wiped a hand across his eyes, shock and horror
registering at the same time.

My knees buckled and I slid down the door, trying to
catch my breath that had suddenly raced out of my control. “It’s okay,” I tried
to say, but choked around the words.
 

He stared at his hands like they were twin vipers
and his eyes held all the terror of a man who awakens from a nightmare to find
out he wasn’t dreaming.

“Rachel.” My name was a croak on his lips.

My back still pressed against the door, I heard the
knock at the same time I felt the sharp rap of the efficient young secretary.

Awkwardly, I crawled out of the way, unsure if I
could stand, and unwilling to risk collapsing in front of him.
 
The assistant’s face appeared in the
crack between the door and the frame. Shielded by the door, I was hidden from
her view. She would have only seen Eaden standing there.

“They’re ready for you now.” Her curt efficiency
seemed completely incongruous with the roaring in my head and the lurid
electricity that seemed to crackle through the room.
 

Glancing at Eaden, I saw the curtain come down. I
saw the shield settle back in place. His mouth first, and then his eyes, resuming
that expressionless mask he felt necessary to wear for survival.

My
God, what had I done to him?
She
was right. Sannah was right. If this goes on, he’ll be destroyed.

“Thank you,” he said formally. With the detachment
of a shock victim, he placed a firm hand on my upper arm and helped me to my
feet. Guiding me back through the reception area, his stride was so long I felt
half-dragged rather than escorted.

“Eaden, please look at me,” I implored, stopping
just before we re-entered the Council chambers.

He seemed unaware that I had spoken.
 
Eaden led me wordlessly towards the men
who would change my world forever.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Gabriel did not smile or welcome us back. Instead he
folded his hands in front of him and regarded me with those strange, empty eyes.
“Amun has withdrawn his proposal. He has conceded that this decision is too
complicated to address at the current time. He has agreed to let the issue rest
until such time as more information is available.”

I glanced quickly at Eaden, not sure whether or not
this meant we were free.

His expression like stone, his eyes narrowed
slightly as he looked at Amun. He was unconvinced.

Gabriel continued. “However, Amun has highlighted
the inherent danger in having a
Mafte’ach
with unknown and untested powers living unprotected in the mortal world. It
might be very unwise to let others have unrestricted access to you, child. We
could not guarantee your condition would not be investigated by those whose
aims are not consistent with the Council.”

Puzzled, I looked at Gabriel. Who else was there? I
had thought all the players were here.

He looked steadily back at me, providing no answers.
“Consequently, we have decided that you shall remain here with us, with all of
the comforts you could ask for, but safely protected.”

Gabriel’s voice sounded distant, and my head swam
alarmingly. My initial cautious optimism when he had begun was replaced by
hopelessness as I began to understand all too clearly the message I had been
given. I could stay here, in London, with Eaden, as a prisoner in a velvet
cell. It would never really be over. I understood that implicitly. What I was
being offered was a stay of execution until Amun had engineered some other
disaster or event that would provide him with the evidence that he needed to
prove that the mortal race had to be controlled. He was biding time. And
clearly, time was on his side. This was simply an attempt to regroup. The next
time, he would be surer of the outcome.

“Or?”

A slight twitch in Gabriel’s eyebrow was the only
hint that he was surprised by my question, but he did not dissemble.

“Or, if you choose, you may complete your duties as
a
Mafte’ach
, and you will have our
word that your remains will be destroyed. You may end it all here today, if
that is what you wish, young one.” The quick glance he shot at Amerlyn led me
to understand that this had been a condition he’d insisted on.

For the first time, a note of compassion crept into
Gabriel’s tone. He was aware that he had offered me no real choice. That Amun
had bet on my inclination for self-preservation and Eaden’s clear need to
protect me at all costs.

He had bet that Eaden would not let me die.

Eaden was living up to that bet. His eyes were as
fierce as I had seen them and although his face was rigid, anger and pain emanated
from him in waves that were palpable. He grabbed my arm and thrust me behind
him.

My heart sank then, in earnest. Knowing what Eaden
had already figured out.

We were trapped.

There would be no escape if I stayed. I would have
Eaden, but no guarantee that eventually, I wouldn’t become a guinea pig for
whatever research project they chose. And what would that do to Eaden? How much
longer could he bear the strain of trying to protect me from those he had sworn
to obey? From those he was born to obey. He knew what had to be done and at the
same time, knew there was no way he could allow it.

I looked away from Gabriel’s calm gaze, away from
Amun’s victorious smirk, and most desperately away from the emotional chaos
that wound itself around Eaden like a cloak. When Amerlyn’s eyes met mine, they
were infinitely sad. He knew before I did what the conditions and consequences
of my release were. Silently I asked the question he knew was coming, wanting
confirmation that he would hold true to his promise. He nodded slightly and
resigned, stood slowly to regard us. He raised his right hand towards Eaden,
fist closed, knuckles white.

“
Tibi impero.
”

Instantly the men above us began to murmur and
whisper again.

Composure abandoned, Eaden looked panicked, terrified
even. “Amerlyn, no!”

Sita began to cry.

Amerlyn raised his voice. “
Tibi impero
.”

The hall fell silent as Eaden let go of me and
stumbled to his knees, his head bowed.

Amerlyn shook his head. “I’m so sorry,
mo bráthair,
it’s
what she wants.”

Eaden
turned his head slightly and looked at me. The grief and pain in his eyes
burned like ice and fire. Death could be no colder than his eyes.

A
sob caught in my throat and I tore my gaze away. He would survive. I would not
drag this on one day longer. This would kill him or send him closer to the edge
of madness.

“I
am
Mafte’ach
.” I felt a small
stirring of pride with this claim. If I could fulfill Jacob’s legacy and still
protect Eaden, not to mention ensure the free will of the mortal race, perhaps
my life would not be considered a complete disappointment.
 
“This is what I choose.”

Gabriel’s
eyes did not leave mine, but he addressed Eaden. “Do you choose to exit now,
brother?”

Silence.

Eaden’s
eyes remained fasted on the floor in front of him.

I
understood. Having made the choice to renounce his claim on me, there was no
way he would go back on his word. He would not kill me, not when he had
promised with all of the honour that defined him to protect me. As I had both
hoped and feared, Eaden would not allow himself his exit now. Not if my death
were the means to that end. He would survive me as punishment.

The
silence dragged on. Unable to bear it a second longer, I spoke for him. “Eaden
has already declined.” I heard a sharp intake of breath and looked to see Mara,
her hands clasped tightly between Elora’s, tears streaming down her face. She
looked relieved and grateful and desperately sad. Mara’s tears buoyed me; they
reminded me that Eaden was important to others besides me.