Buch lesen: «Dark Journey»

Chapter 1

It was time.

Daniel moved through the woods to the edge of the field, making one last check to be certain that his clothes were appropriately dusty. Cattle grazed in the waning light, and in the distance Daniel could make out the small white forms of sheep. Farther on stood more fields, green with crops, and beyond that...

Tanis. The former Citadel of Tartaros, rising beside the river, its odd but impressive silhouette revealing its nature as a place where—if the stories were true—humans and Nightsiders, or Opiri as they called themselves, lived side by side in peace and equality.

They lived the same way in Avalon, the colony to which Daniel had escaped when he’d fled the Nightsider citadel Erebus, and in Delos, the compound he had governed in the far north of Oregon, where Opiri, humans and half-bloods worked together to fend off common enemies.

He’d given up his command of Delos and returned to the place where he had first been free. But his reunion with old friends and comrades had been incomplete.

His father had disappeared. Ares, former Bloodmaster of Erebus, had gone east in search of the mysterious half-domed Citadel at the foot of the mountains. He’d wanted to find out if it was truly possible for an entire city to maintain the equality that only smaller settlements and colonies had managed since the end of the War.

Daniel had serious doubts that such a thing was possible. Nevertheless, since Ares had not returned, he had volunteered to complete his mission. And if Ares’s disappearance had something to do with his going to Tanis, Daniel would find that out, too. No matter what role he had to play.

For now, that role meant blending in among the human field workers as they ended their workday. The path between the fields widened to a dusty dirt road, bounded on both sides by pastures. By the time Daniel reached the crops, the last light of day was reflecting off the several towers of the former Citadel and glinting on the surface of the river behind it. Workers—humans—gathered along the road to return to the city, while other figures, white-haired Nightsiders, arrived to take their places.

It was just dark enough for Daniel to slip in among the retiring workers, just another man in a plain shirt and pants and work boots. He didn’t let on that he could see everything as if it were full daylight; as far as the people of Tanis would know, he was fully human.

He lingered at the back of the group as the workers started toward the city gates, talking in low voices. One of the women shot a curious glance Daniel’s way, but said nothing.

The human workers stopped as a flood of artificial light fell over them from the parapet walk above the gate made of immense logs bound together with steel, which would require the efforts of more than a few inhumanly strong Nightsiders to open. Opiri looked down on them from the walk, and they appeared to be armed.

Clearly the people of this city feared attack. But from whom?

Daniel braced himself for some kind of screening or check on the workers, but no one seemed to pay any particular notice as they passed through a smaller door just to the right of the gate. They entered a large, canopied courtyard, where other humans and a few Nightsiders spoke to the workers, tallied the day’s harvest or engaged in activities Daniel couldn’t identify. Daniel noted that there seemed to be little mixing between the Opiri and the humans.

Not a good sign, Daniel thought, in a place supposedly devoted to peaceful coexistence between humans and the beings they used to call vampires. But he didn’t have much time to think about it; the humans were passing through one of the doorways at the other end of the courtyard, moving more quickly as if they were eager for food and rest. Again, nobody stopped them, and they entered an open area like an immense, railed balcony that was part of a raised causeway circling the inter wall of the city. Two wide ramps on either side of the landing descended to the lower part of the city. The humans hurried down the ramps, paying no attention when Daniel fell behind.

Waiting until all the humans had left the landing, Daniel moved to the railing. His gaze followed the causeway, exactly like the one in Erebus where Bloodlords, of lesser rank but far more common than Bloodmasters, displayed their Households in grand promenades, showing off their wealth and power, accompanied by a train of their favorite serfs.

Daniel forced himself to look away to the city below. A single main avenue ran through the center of the city, terminating at the base of the largest tower. Unlike Erebus, the former Tartaros’s towers were clustered at the far end of the Citadel, piercing the half dome that protected the area from the sun. Once, such towers would have been occupied by the wealthiest and most powerful Bloodlords and Bloodladies, Bloodmasters and Bloodmistresses, shrouding blocks of lesser buildings in their shadows.

Closer in lay the low town, where Opiri of lesser rank would have made their homes, a maze of structures interspersed with plazas and small parks. The town glittered with lights like distant stars.

Tanis.

Daniel ground his teeth together, resisting the overwhelming emotions that took hold of him in that moment. He hadn’t set foot in any Citadel since Ares and his allies had helped Daniel and dozens of human serfs get out of Erebus, but he had not forgotten one moment of pain or humiliation, not one day of being chained like a dog or forced to give blood to a ruthless master and other Opiri of his master’s acquaintance.

This Citadel had changed, yes. Half of it was now open to the sky. Human workers left and entered the city without being subjected to checks or examinations.

But that didn’t mean Tanis was like Delos or Avalon or the other mixed colonies. It would be a miracle if it were.

“A lovely sight, is it not?”

Daniel stiffened and then forced himself to relax. The woman who had come to stand beside him at the railing spoke softly, without concern or threat. But the hairs at the back of his neck prickled with recognition even before he turned to look at her.

The first thing he noticed was her hair. Glossy and black as a raven’s feathers, it fell past her shoulders and almost seemed to move of its own accord as she spoke, tempting any man within reach to run his fingers through it.

But the hair framed something even more remarkable: a face of astonishing beauty by the judgment of human or Nightsider. Her chin was firm, her brows finely shaped, her eyes nearly black with the slightest tinge of deepest purple, her lips full. The skin of her face and bare arms was golden bronze. Hints of her figure appeared beneath the layers of her flowing, semitransparent robes—a hip here, a breast or shoulder there. Daniel had no doubt that this woman’s body was as sleek and perfect as her face, hair and voice.

And there was something more about her that Daniel felt all the way down to his bones: a profound charisma, a pull that Daniel had experienced before, and not only in Erebus.

Surely she couldn’t be what his senses told him. Not with hair like that or eyes so dark or teeth as blunt as any human’s.

But Ares’s hair was just as black, an anomaly among pale-haired, pale-skinned Opiri. And he knew of other anomalies. Daniel, for instance, lacked the sharp Nightsider cuspids of his kind, the half-breed offspring of a Nightsider father and a human mother. He looked nothing like a normal dhampir, and had no need for blood.

She was not what she was pretending to be.

“It is beautiful,” he said, as if he believed she was only another human sharing the view.

“It isn’t often that our fellow humans come here,” she said, every word as rich and smooth as sun-warmed honey. “I often wonder why that is so.”

Daniel gripped the railing, breathed deeply and unclenched his fingers. “Memories of a darker past?” he said.

She ran her fine-fingered hand along the railing and gazed at him until he had no choice but to look at her fully. Her eyes were not only striking; they were wise and perceptive and sharp with intelligence.

“Were you one of the original inhabitants?” she asked. “I do not recognize you as a former serf of Tartaros.”

“No,” he said. “I came here for refuge, after I escaped from another Citadel.”

“How long have you been here?”

Daniel leaned against the railing. “In Tanis? A few months,” he said.

“Not long enough to forget what your life was like before,” she said, sympathy in her voice. “This still must be very strange for you—a Citadel without masters and serfs.”

He smiled with one side of his mouth. “Can you read minds?”

“No. But I have had many years of experience in understanding people.”

Many years. Daniel looked at her out of the corner of his eye. How many? he wondered. A hundred? A thousand? Certainly far more than the twenty-odd years her body and face suggested.

“May I know your name?” she asked, moving closer to him.

It didn’t matter what he called himself, he thought. It was highly unlikely that anyone here would know him from Erebus, Delos or Avalon.

“Daniel,” he said.

“I am Isis,” she said.

He held his breath for a moment and then let it out slowly. How appropriate that her name should be that of a goddess, as Ares’s was that of a god.

If Ares had been here, she would certainly know.

“You have just come in from a shift in the fields,” Isis said, breaking the silence. “You must be tired, and hungry.”

He went on his guard. Her concern seemed a little too intimate. And she was standing too damned close, close enough that he could smell her fresh, citrusy scent and hear the beat of her heart.

“Where do you work, Isis?” he asked.

“In the administrative offices,” she said. “It is an easy job compared to the fields.”

“We all do what we’re best suited for,” he said.

“That is how it is supposed to be, is it not?” she asked, her lovely lips sliding into a faint frown. “The more difficult the work, the higher the reward.”

“You don’t agree?” he asked.

“‘Difficult’ is a subjective concept. Should one person be given more credit for being able to do what another person cannot?”

“There is no perfect system,” he said.

She cocked her head. “And I think you were no ordinary serf, Daniel,” she said, sliding her hand closer to his.

The comment was too personal, and definitely unwelcome. “I had a decent education in my Enclave before I was sent to the Citadel,” he said coolly.

“Or perhaps you were never a serf at all?”

He stared at her, suppressing his anger. This was the interrogation he’d expected if he’d been caught entering the city, but it wasn’t proceeding at all in the way he’d imagined.

But I was caught, he thought. This was no chance meeting.

“Oh, yes,” he said, very softly. “I was a serf, for many years.”

“In what Citadel?”

He was prepared for the question. “Vikos,” he said, naming a Nightsider Citadel in the area once known as northern Arizona.

“And you escaped?” she asked.

“Bloodlords don’t release their serfs.”

“Except here,” she said.

He pretended not to hear her. “Where did you come from, Isis?” he asked.

“I was never in bondage,” she said, looking down at her slender hands on the railing.

“Then why are you in an isolated Citadel instead of in a human Enclave?”

“Perhaps because I believe in what this city represents. There are many like me, or this place could not exist.” She met Daniel’s eyes. “Of all the refuges you might have sought when you escaped, you chose Tanis rather than a human compound or even another Enclave. Yet surely you have good reason to hate Opiri?”

“I don’t hate them,” he said. “My own fa—”

He broke off, appalled at what he had been about to say. It was she, this woman, who threw him so off balance with her allure and questions and keen observations. It was as if she’d known him before.

She came from outside, he thought. From some other Citadel, where she must have been a Bloodlady of distinction, an owner of many human serfs.

“The majority of humans here are former serfs, aren’t they?” he asked. “Do they hate all Opiri?”

“No. I must seem rather foolish.” She smiled again. “In which ward do you live?”

This wasn’t a question he’d expected. He knew too little about Tanis to answer.

“I need to get home,” he said suddenly. “It’s been pleasant talking to you, Isis. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“I am certain of it,” she said. Behind her, men in olive-drab uniforms—both of them Darketans, children of Opir mothers and human fathers, human in appearance save for their sapphire eyes and sharp teeth—advanced on Daniel with shock sticks in hand.

“What’s going on?” he asked, backing away in seeming confusion.

“Please go with these men,” she said, her voice still as musical, her face every bit as flawlessly beautiful as before. He felt the push of her “influence,” that particular gift limited to the most ancient and powerful Bloodmasters and Bloodmistresses.

But he was fortunate enough to be virtually immune to the lady’s subtle power. “Why?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the guards.

“I know you are not a citizen of Tanis, Daniel,” she said. “We do not allow strangers to enter our city without first being questioned and screened.”

“You turn away refugees?” Daniel asked.

“Only those incompatible with our way of life,” she said.

“Do you enjoy spying on your own kind?” he asked, still playing along with her masquerade.

She blinked several times. “You were recognized as an outsider when you entered the gates,” she said. “My purpose was only to determine if you were a threat to us.”

“A threat?” he said, holding his arms out to his sides. “How?”

“Please, Daniel, go peacefully. You will not be harmed.”

“And if I refuse?” Daniel asked.

Moving almost more quickly than Daniel could detect, the two guards lunged at him. One of them caught his left arm. He swung around, defending himself without thought, and punched the guard in the face with his fist. The second guard grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind him.

Everything within him, all the instinctive desire to be free, urged him to keep fighting. Panic nearly overwhelmed him, but he pushed it down. He bore the pain silently and allowed the other guard to jerk his other arm behind him. Manacles locked around his wrists.

He gave Isis a long, cold look. “They were wrong about this place,” he said as the guards pulled him away. “And you’re wrong about me.”

“Come quietly,” the Darketan guard said. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

“Wait,” Isis called after them as they turned for the archway. “I will accompany you.”

The two guards inclined their heads...deferring to Isis, Daniel thought, as if they were still in a traditional Citadel. Daniel knew that they, like him, were feeling that indefinable magnetism, whether she intended to use it on them or not.

Head down, Daniel slipped into his role as a downtrodden serf.

Letting all the resistance go out of his body, Daniel allowed the guards to escort him back down the left ramp. He was aware of Isis behind them, though her footsteps were almost inaudible to his sharp hearing. He still didn’t understand how an Opir of her obvious stature would be employed in meeting and questioning outsiders, unless her work could be considered evidence of real equality in Tanis.

But he was still a prisoner, and he couldn’t afford to remain one. Nor could he risk being ejected from the city without getting the answers he needed.

The ramp ended abruptly at ground level in the low town and led out onto a wide plaza open to the sky. Clearly designed to be as welcoming as possible, adorned with decorative murals, many benches and large planters filled with flowers, the plaza was deserted save for a few humans strolling along tiled water channels cut into the concrete. They smiled and bowed to Isis as she passed by, and some of the men stopped and stared as if they had never seen anything so beautiful. On every side stood recently built, multistory buildings; above, the stars were so numerous and bright that it felt more like twilight than full night. The partial dome at the other end of the city cast a deeper, almost sinister shadow.

They crossed the plaza toward a cluster of tall buildings. The guards headed for one of the larger structures and pushed Daniel through the door.

A large reception area was dominated by a desk attended by a human receptionist sorting through a stack of papers. She immediately rose to her feet and stood alert while another pair of uniformed Darketans materialized from a corridor behind the desk. Three pairs of eyes made note of Daniel and then focused on the woman behind him.

“Isis,” the receptionist said, her voice a little breathless, her smile very bright. “How may we serve you?”

“I will require a private room,” she said, sweeping past Daniel and the guards.

The receptionist’s gaze fell on Daniel. “Will you require more guards?” she asked with a worried frown.

“I need none,” Isis said, glancing at Daniel with a slim, raised brow. “I do not think our friend will cause any trouble.”

“Yes, Isis.” The receptionist nodded to one of the guards behind her, who strode back into the corridor. A few moments later he returned and nodded to Isis.

“If you will come with me,” he said.

With Isis striding ahead of them, Daniel’s guards led him past the desk and into the corridor. It was dim and plain, punctuated by a dozen identical doors. The escorting guard stopped at one of them, unlocked it and inclined his head to Isis.

“If you need assistance—” he began.

“I know what to do.”

The guard held the door open for her. The room was as featureless as the corridor, with gray walls, a single table and two chairs.

“Unbind him,” Isis said. Daniel’s guards exchanged glances and unlocked the manacles. Putting on a mask of confusion and fear, Daniel shivered and rubbed his wrists.

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” Isis said, catching his gaze. She believed his panic was real. She took his arm, and he felt the power of her nature, magnified a hundred times—warm, soothing, almost magical. As the door closed behind them, she led him to one of the chairs at the single table.

“Please, sit,” she said.

Daniel took one of the chairs and watched Isis as she sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Now,” she said, “it will be easier for everyone if you cooperate. Nobody will hurt you, but we must know why you are here.”

And that, Daniel thought, was precisely what he couldn’t tell her.