***Author's note: Dear Readers, I'm sorry it has taken so long to get this dang chapter out. I moved, put all 4 kids into school, got very sick (pneumonia, bronchitis and asthma, hospital 4 times...), my husband got sick, and I also developed a terrible case of writer's block with this chapter for some reason. But nevertheless, here it is, and I promise the next one won't take nearly so long! Please comment to let me know you're still out there. Thank you, to all the ones who sent me emails asking me if I was ok, pleading for an update, and even the mildly threatening ones: they got me motivated! I hope you enjoy it. JB**
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 17: Out of Africa
JPOV:
Whoa.
"This won't hurt for more than a few moments?"
My mind reeled as my traitorous body obeyed Mwanya's words, moving meekly to follow behind the other two elder vampires, and Alice fell in line behind me. But with every step my horror and rage built, battering ineffectually at the insides of my body, which had suddenly become a cage confining me, a mindless vessel bearing me to an unknown and painful fate. We slumped to the ground before Mwanya, face-down in the cool, glowing sand. I had never felt so exposed or vulnerable in my life.
Mwanya's rich chuckle filled the vastness of the cavern where he and his siblings dwelt. "Peace, Jasper Whitlock, be calm. Nothing calamitous will befall you or your lovely mate."
I lifted my head to look him in the eye, trying to project my defiance and mistrust. I felt Alice behind me, her own trepidation flowing over me: I didn't care what their intentions were, they weren't going to hurt her. Even for only a few moments.
Mwanya shook his head. "I understand your feelings, Jasper. But listen: this is nothing but a formality. It will all make sense eventually."
"Jazz, calm down." Alice's small, sharp fingers slipped around my upper arm, squeezing tightly. "There's no danger. I see that."
I took a long, unnecessary breath to try to calm down. "Then what is going on?" I hissed. I despised being face-down in the sand, helpless, trapped.
"Relax." Iwe spoke from above us. I felt hands tugging at the folds of the ridiculous red garment I was wearing, exposing my lower back. My rage and fear expanded exponentially as a cold palm pressed itself to the base of my spine. "You must simply be given something to remind you, when the time is right."
Clear as mud, as my father used to say.
Mwanya stood up and crossed the sand to stand over us, then held his strange, dark staff over us for a moment. He muttered a few words in some guttural, unintelligible tongue. Iwe's hand lifted away, and strangely I felt even more exposed with its absence. Then Mwanya touched the tip of the staff to my back. A mere brush, no more than a whisper, a breath, a feather.
Oh, my Lord, but that hurt.
I have no idea what that staff was made of, or why it burned me when it touched my skin. All I knew was that for that moment, it was as if all the fires of hell were concentrated into that small spot of pressure, and I swear I smelled the heavy, cloying scent of burning vampire.
And I was apparently the vampire that was burning.
The pain was so intense that I couldn't even scream; I froze in mute shock, suspended in an eternal moment where all there was, was pain. It was like the raging inferno of the change, distilled down and focused into that tiny point at the base of my spine.
But then it was over, and the pain was gone, as suddenly as it had come, and the void it left behind was filled with a relief so profound it ached, and I wanted to weep. Then Mwanya stepped over me, and touched the staff to the instep of Alice's right foot.
I fought against the iron bands that seemed to hold me to the earth with all my might, but it was fruitless. I couldn't even shift my head to look up at Alice's face, but I saw the rigid tension of her body, felt the anguish of her pain as she endured what I had just endured. That was another eternal moment of pain for me, but it wasn't my body that felt it, it was my very soul that burned as she was hurt.
"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Iwe's voice came again from above me. "You can release them now, I think, Brother."
"Not so bad?" I growled, surging to my feet and lunging for Alice, to scoop her up into my arms and hold her tightly against me. "What the hell are you doing?"
The three Elders blithely sat down upon their cushions and regarded us calmly. "You have been marked. Where the staff touched you, there will always be a scar," Mwanya finally said.
"And what good will that do? You're taking our memories from us anyway, right?" I shook my head, ignoring Alice's murmured placations. "What good does one more scar serve, especially one I can't even see without a mirror? And why on Alice's foot?"
Ngo chuckled. "Precisely the point, Jasper. Yes, your memories will be hidden from you. But one day, as we have told you, you will be allowed to remember, and there will need to be a thing that will...hmmm...jog your memory, as they say among the humans? That thing will be triggered by the realization of these new scars. Do you often contemplate the small of your back? Or does Alice often gaze upon the sole of her foot? Both are very out-of-the-way places on the body. Easily ignored.
"You will both notice those scars in passing, as lovers do, and you will wonder where they came from, but not be too preoccupied by it. After all, Jasper, you have many scars. And Alice will once again remember nothing of her life before she became immortal, so she will shrug the scar off as something unknowable. But someday, someone will come to remind you of your time among us, and they will point out the scars as a proof of the things long-buried, and all of your hidden memories will return."
I froze again, trying to digest it all. I felt Alice reach around my chest, her fingers slipping down my spine, to touch the scar there, round and slightly depressed. I winced: it still stung.
"May we go now?" Alice spoke for the first time, her voice sounding strained. She pushed against my chest, letting me know she wanted down, and I unwillingly allowed her to stand.
Ngo nodded, and I felt my whole outlook on life brighten for one brief moment, at the idea that we could go, get away from all the strangeness. "Yes. But not alone." The brightness was immediately snuffed. "We will travel with you, for the time of the meeting is at hand. We must be at Kilimanjaro on the eve of the Equinox. We do not have much time."
Alice sighed, and her disappointment was a twin to my own. We were both very ready for all the intrigue and mystery to be over and done with. The impending memory wipe was something I was actually looking forward to with an odd kind of anticipation: at least then, we'd be free again, just Alice and I, to live our lives in blissful ignorance. At least for a while.
"Come now." Iwe swept past us and drew us with her, out through the glowing hall and up into the pitch-black tunnel leading back up to the surface. We came out into the open suddenly, unexpectedly, startled into stillness again by the sight of the pyramids drenched in silvery moonlight. How long had we been underground? I wondered fleetingly, thinking that the moon was further along in its phases than it had been before we descended into the cavern of the Ancients...wasn't it?
Did I mention before how I disliked all the mystery and meddling with minds and memories?
"Now, to conceal the cave, and safeguard the Sleepers," Mwanya murmured from beside me, making me jump a little in surprise. I hadn't sensed him. He made a vague gesture with the staff, and I watched the cave entrance sink into the sand, until it was no more but a shallow depression among the dunes, completely unremarkable. I had to really convince myself that it had ever been there in the first place. I felt Alice's fingers curl around my own convulsively.
"Now, we shall go!" Ngo rubbed his hands together eagerly, flashing a grin at us. "Ju'mai!" he called, glancing around as if expecting someone.
And then, someone was there. Well, several someones, actually.
"Yes, Grandfather, we hear." Seemingly out of thin air, other immortals appeared, long and lean, swathed in pale robes from head to foot, only the glittering eyes and teeth catching the starlight.
There were seven of them, nearly indistinguishable from one another, although I wondered whether the smaller, slighter three were female.
"It is time?" The tallest robed figured spoke, inclining his head respectfully.
Ngo clapped his hands. "Yes, my children, the time is at hand. You must bear us and our guests to the Mountain, Ju'mai."
The tall vampire regarded us dispassionately, then shrugged. "As you wish, Grandfather." He gestured to the others, who moved to surround us, matching up with us, until we were all standing in pairs: Ju'mai with me, a tall female with Alice, three others with the Eldest, leaving two to flank the whole group. I looked at Alice and saw her eyes were a bit wild, and wondered if she could see what was coming.
A low chuckle rumbled beside me; I turned to see Ju'mai, his hood cast back across his shoulders, smiling a bit mockingly. "I can taste your trepidation, pale man. But do not fear, we shall bear you well and safely."
"I'm not afraid," I growled back.
"Oh no?" Ju'mai grinned, the effect of his white teeth startling in his dark, exotically planed face. "Let us see, then!"
And then I was in the air.
Now, I have always been a down-to-earth kind of man. And that particular characteristic of my nature has never seemed so outstanding until that moment, when I was suddenly hovering in midair, several hundred feet from the ground. I know the fear, because that's what it was, really, if I'm man enough to admit it, was irrational: as a vampire, I'm practically indestructible. A little fall from a few hundred feet...hell, even a few thousand feet, isn't a big deal.
But dammit, I should at least have some choice in how and why I got so high up. At least a, "hey, brace yourself," or something. My dignity was seriously dinged, my ego bruised.
Ju'mai's laughter rang around me; he drifted a few feet away from me, appearing perfectly comfortable. "How pale, like the moon! How like you the sky, white one?" I struggled to gain control of my wayward limbs, but more than anything, I longed to bridge the gap between us and perhaps rip something important from his body and throw it as far as a could.
"Ju'mai!" Iwe's voice cut through the other's humor like a hot knife through butter. "Stop antagonizing our guest! Behave yourself, as is befitting a Guard!"
He winced. "My apologies, Jasper Whitlock."
I forced myself to be gracious, even though it was harder than I'd ever imagined, especially when I heard Alice's giggle from behind me.
"Oh, baby, calm down! This is wonderful!" she trilled, and somehow managed to do a pirouette, a graceful little dancer silhouetted against the stars. I realized that the entire retinue was now airborne, all regarding Alice and I with bemused expressions.
"So, now we go." And we went, somehow propelled through the cool desert night, the land streaking past at an unimaginable speed.
After a while, my ego not smarting nearly as much as it bad been before, I turned to Ju'mai.
"How exactly does this work?"
He glanced over at me. "The flying?" I nodded. "Well, I suppose you have met Masudi? You have seen his talent?" I nodded again. "It is similar to that. Manipulation of fields: energy, magnetism, gravity, repulsion, however you wish to call it. We are Movers."
"Movers?"
Ju'mai nodded. "There are multitudes of talents, abilities, each one is special to its bearer, although some of our kind have none at all, but we have found that it is uncommon to be truly untalented: there is almost always something in the person that comes through in the Long Life, their gift, their specialness. Even though the gifts are all individual, many are similar enough to one another that they may be grouped together for the sake of classifying them. My ability is in the area of the handling of fields, as I said. I move things. Many of us can: we can lift objects or people, suspend them in the air or move them about. Flight is simply that, moving you into the air, holding you there, moving you along. It is very easy to do. Some of us are better at this, while others have a difficult time making objects fly but are good at other aspects, such as establishing boundaries or breaking down obstacles, or making things become invisible to the naked eye."
I felt Alice's presence, her love warm next to me as she clasped my hand. "So there are Movers. What else is there?"
This time Iwe's voice answered. "Well, children, there are those which are less easy to define, and we only have our particular names for them." Her eyes grew distant as she thought. "There are the Seers, like yourself, Alice, and like Miali, who can glimpse the future in some way. They are not very common. There are those who have offensive gifts, which can usually only be used as weapons, and those are Soldiers. There are those of us who can hear the thoughts of others, and sometimes speak to the minds of others, although they do not necessarily go hand in hand; we call them Listeners or Speakers. Some of our kind can know things, such as when they are lied to, or what direction to go or not to go, and they are Trackers or Hunters or Judges, such as Ngo. And then there are of course those like Ebele, or like Mwanya, who have an ability to actually manipulate the fabric of the mind and memory and compel obedience, we call them Weavers, for lack of a better phrase, for they plait and tie and weave the reality of the ones they touch with their ability."
"What about Jasper? What would you call him?" Alice asked, grinning at me. I stuck my tongue out at her, not liking more attention brought upon me.
Iwe nodded to herself, considering. "Your mate is a rare specimen, child. His talent is something like Ebele and Mwanya's, in the fact that it involves manipulation of the fabric of another...but it is also similar to my own, in a way."
"How so? What...what can you do?" I realized then that I'd never heard her or anyone else mention Iwe's talent, although I had assumed there was something there.
Iwe smiled benignly. "I can make things grow. Or, if I must, I can make them die."
I blinked, nonplussed.
"My ability lies in the influencing of the physical body. I can make a plant bloom or wither, or an animal thrive or fail...or a human...or even another immortal. I can heal or injure, and it all hinges upon my will, my desire. It is a heavy burden to bear, one that caused much pain and suffering in others around me when I was young to this Long Life, when I was new and uncontrolled with my emotions."
Her deep burgundy eyes glittered sadly, then locked on my own. "That is perhaps one reason why you have always been so solitary, Jasper Whitlock. It is the natural state of equilibrium for those of us, empathic as we are, who are influenced so by the emotions of others...and influence the emotions of those around us, dependent on our state of mind. We are unbalanced by others, and we cause unbalance in them."
I felt as if a lightning bolt had pierced me, a heady rush of odd kinship between myself and this tiny, ancient immortal woman. I thought for a long moment about what she had said about herself, and the burden of her gift, terrible and wonderful at the same time, and it dwarfed my own problems. She had hurt others with her power, in a way I could never do, thank god.
"So we are Weavers in a way, Jasper, but Weavers of a different kind of fabric."
***
APOV:
My mind was spinning with all the information that was being crammed into it, and I was frustrated by the knowledge that I would lose it all too soon. It was fascinating to hear the things the Eldest had to tell us about ourselves. I held onto the distant knowledge that someday I could remember it all, and share it with others, for all our benefit.
But more than anything, I wanted the whole thing to be over with. Fast.
I mean, flying was exhilarating. But I was ready to resume a "normal" life. I wanted so much to just be with Jasper again, and the idea of not remembering all the arcane knowledge...even the parts concerning my past and my future...was becoming more and more attractive with every mile that slipped past us. Africa was a dark blur that was slowly taking on more definition as the night waned. I could see the distant glow in the east as the sun began to rise, and wondered what would happen: surely our hosts would take us down soon. After all, a contingent of sparkling objects flying through the sky at such a speed would attract attention, even in sparsely populated Africa, right?
Sure enough, just before the dawn broke fully, Ju'mai signaled for us to descend, and we alit, taking cover beneath a stand of acacia trees. "The Elders require some time to meditate," Ju'mai said quietly at my questioning glance when they all found places beneath the trees. I followed the example of the others and sat down in the shadows; the others slipped into vampiric stillness, their eyes distant and their bodies frozen as they lost themselves in that oddly comforting lack of motion that our kind finds so natural. Jasper slouched down next to me and pulled me into the familiar and comforting circle of his arms, his lips against my ear.
"Soon, eh?" I knew exactly what he meant. Soon we could leave. I looked up at the rapidly rising sun, a coppery disc in the almost colorless summer sky. The temperature was already stifling, at least it would be for a human. The savannah rippled with heat waves, the golden grass and stunted trees stretched on for a seeming eternity to the horizon. I leaned back against my husband and closed my eyes, trying to see ahead, into the future, but it was hard: everything was scattered and blurred by the influence of the others, and then there was the impenetrable wall that Ebele had evidently built up in my mind that shielded me from the impending future after we left Africa. I knew it was for the best, I knew everything would be all right, because I trusted the strange ones, oddly enough...but it didn't make it any more comforting.
"Relax, sweetheart." Jasper's voice, barely a whisper, vibrated in my hair, and I felt the warm rush of him "urging" me to calm down.
"Cheater," I muttered in response, but allowed myself to sink into the sensation, to float on it, like a cloud on the breeze, or a leaf in a stream, borne away by the comfort of his love. He chuckled and tightened his hold on me, and we sat together like that for a while, slipping into our own stillness for a long moment, only feeling each other.
After a few hours, at some unspoken signal, the Elders rose to their feet and simply took off running across the savannah without a word or a backwards glance. We all caught up quickly and ran until it was dark, through the rolling hills and over the grassy plains. When the sun had completely slid below the horizon, we took to the skies again, once more lifted up into the air with no warning. This pattern repeated itself for three days, until the towering shape of Kilimanjaro began to form against the sky one morning. After our normal early morning respite, the Elders once again rose to their feet and took off at an even faster pace than normal, and before I knew it, we were ascending the side of the mountain, the air cooling and the shadows of the forests welcome after the arid plains.
Jasper took my hand as we ran together, and I felt his growing anticipation and apprehension join my own as we came closer to the summit. I also became aware of the presence of others of our kind...many of them. I could sense them in the forests, watching from the shadows, and Jasper could feel them too, and he echoed the emotional impressions he got from them back at me: curiosity, censure, amusement, and even some anger and resentment. I tried to ignore the negativity and concentrate on the future: this would all be over soon. I hoped.
Then we were there, at the clearing with the circle of huge old stones, where Masudi and Ebele and Miali had first told us about themselves, and shown us their power, and there they were, sitting on the same stones we'd left them on, smiling. Well, Miali and Ebele were smiling. Masudi was not glaring, and that was something, at least.
Miali rose to her feet and held out her arms in welcome to Jasper and I, like we were long-lost friends. "How good that you have returned, on time, and in such company, my pale friends!" she said, and she drew us to her in an embrace that encompassed us both. After a moment she stepped back and realized her faux pas in etiquette: she seemed to blanch in chagrin and bowed deeply to the three Eldest, who stood to the side, watching her bemusedly. "Fathers and Mother, we welcome you to the mountain," she murmured shakily, obviously hoping they would not rebuke her for greeting us first. Surely it was a serious blunder to not acknowledge the Eldest first.
Masudi rolled his eyes at his wife and bowed as well, as did Ebele, repeating Miali's welcome in his deep voice. Mwanya came forward and kissed the women on each cheek, then clasped forearms with Masudi. Ebele and Miali embraced Iwe, and the three seemed ecstatic to see one another. Ngo watched the whole thing from a few feet away, his deep burgundy eyes drifting over to take in Jasper and I, who had pulled back, trying to make ourselves less noticeable to the family reunion.
They were a strange family, to be sure, but a family nonetheless. I felt a sudden and unexpected surge of a feeling akin to jealousy watching them, and a longing, a longing to have something like that for myself. Be patient, Alice, I reminded myself: soon. A little less than two more years and all that will be yours, and Jasper's. The idea was exciting to me in a new way, I realized, as I watched the African vampires exchange greetings and touch each other in warmly familiar ways. Others, strange to us, began to drift out of the trees and join the Elders, swelling the group to nearly fifty immortals, all obviously happy to see each other. Their laughter and the babble of their greetings and small talk grew louder as their numbers grew.
Before I realized it, Jasper and I had backed into the shadow of the trees, his arms around my shoulders as he held me back against him; I knew from the feeling of his emotions that he was thinking the same kinds of things I was thinking, about family, but his thoughts were colored with unease and vague worry. He didn't have the comfort of my visions to help him, the years to get used to the idea of it. He'd been part of that twisted family of Maria's, although "family" wasn't exactly how I'd ever term her collection of vampires.
I didn't blame him at all for being nervous about meeting a family he'd never even dreamed of, much less knew was possible, ready-made and waiting for him. Kind of like he hadn't imagined me. I giggled at the memory of our first meeting, the shock and amazement on his face so apparent and so tangible floating in the air between us, thanks to his gift. What a surprise I'd been for him.
"What're you thinking about?" Jasper whispered in my ear. "What's got you feeling so bubbly and worried at the same time?"
"I think you know, you're thinking the same thing, I think." I shook my head at my overuse of the word "think." "Someday soon, we'll have our own people, something to be part of." I paused, savored the word on my tongue before I said it. "Family."
He made a noncommittal sound and was quiet for a long moment. "Alice, the only family I ever had was the one I was born into, so I only have them to compare to. They're all dead and gone now, and the relatives still living are strangers." He shook his head. "Just like the people, these Cullens, you say we're going to meet. I didn't exactly have a choice regarding my blood family...Will they be people I'll like well enough to actually want to be around, to call them family?"
I sighed. "I wish there was some way for you to get inside my head and see what I've seen. Maybe then you'd feel a little better. But believe me, the Cullens aren't nearly as...well...as strange as these people are."
"So we are strange to you?" Ngo's voice came from behind us, and I had no idea how he'd gotten there; I nearly came out of my skin, he startled me so much. He laughed quietly as Jasper and I turned to look at him, me struggling to regain my composure, Jasper struggling to stifle his chuckles at my discomfiture. Good boy. I didn't want to have to stomp his foot again.
"Well, in a way-" I began weakly, then gave up. He knew what my intentions were as well as I did, so there was no real reason to keep fumbling for an explanation. He smiled back at me.
"I understand, Alice. I imagine this all seems strange to you." He gestured toward the group of immortals. "But I know you do not mean 'strange' in a malicious way." Ngo chuckled. "And after all, I think you have not seen so many dark-skinned people ever in your life. It must be quite a shock to your system!"
Jasper lost his battle with his laughter, and the welcome sensation of his lighthearted mood warmed me; I didn't mind that it was at my expense.
Well, not much, at least.
The three of us watched the growing gathering for a while, each of us silent and lost in our own thoughts. I could tell that Jasper was thinking about having some "alone time," feeling frustrated by how cloistered we'd been with others for so long, not having any privacy. That made me smile. I glanced again at Ngo, who had gone statue-still as he looked at his people, cast into deep shadow by the trees, the only thing really visible being his gleaming deep red eyes. His face was unreadable, set in stone, his mouth a tight line, as if considering something intensely. After a while his eyes shifted to me, and we locked gazes for a long moment, and I had the feeling that he was "reading" me, as if he were pulling aside the curtains of my personal privacy or peering up my skirt, looking for a hidden motive or a furtive untruth.
Ngo smiled, the serious expression seeming to shatter, his powdery-stone skin crinkling. "Wondering what I am thinking about, Alice?"
I nodded, knowing I had no hope of dissembling with him.
He sighed, his eyes again shifting to the gathering before us, and his expression grew sad, and for the first time since I had seen him, the weight of his years seemed to weigh him down.
"It is a burden, young one, to be able to look into the heart of a person and know them. To know their intentions, their desires. I have always been one to hope for the best, but with the years, my expectations have lowered...and my pragmatism, my knowledge of the fact that human and immortal alike are all flawed creatures, rises."
I stilled myself, taking his words in, a dry sponge soaking up water. I felt Jasper tense behind me as his attention shifted to Ngo as well.
"And millennia of sitting in the seat of judgment, that has not helped at all. I have had to judge and punish those I loved dearly, because without rules there is no order, and without order, we would be discovered, and disaster would befall us." He pursed his lips, his eyes distant with memory. "That is the one thing we truly have in common with the Volturi: the secret must be preserved. But we go about it differently than they do, and we do not relish our power. They do."
I nodded, thinking back to the visions I had seen of the Volturi, and I remembered again the things that had been mentioned, hinted at: that something was coming. Something big. But there were many years that needed to pass until that happened, many experiences to have, many people to meet and things to do. I dragged myself back from preoccupation with the distant future to try to concentrate on the immediate one.
Ngo eyed us speculatively. "You will not be needed until later, once the moon has risen. I imagine you are thirsty?"
I nodded, my hand unconsciously rising to my throat, the burning there having escalated steadily in intensity with each passing hour. It had been almost a week since Jasper and I had last hunted. I knew that my love was tormented by his own thirst, showing so plainly in his eyes, which had turned blacker than pitch, but he'd never complained.
"Then consider yourselves excused until then. But be prompt. Once the moon has risen, we convene all business, and you should be here."
That was all it took: without even a glance at each other for confirmation, we were off like shots, sprinting down the side of the mountain as if pursued by all the hounds of hell.
When we were finally off the mountain and down on the sweltering savannah again, the sun pounding down on us, surrounded by mile upon mile of rippling summer-dry grass, I turned to look at him, and found him staring back at me, and knew that we were both wearing the same ridiculously relieved expression.
"I'm so glad this is almost over-"
"Aren't you glad it's almost done-"
Our words tumbled over each other's, and we both stopped, grinned, and fell into each others' arms with a relieved sigh, which morphed into a relieved laugh, which shook us until we'd tumbled to the ground in a giggling, relieved pile.
And who could blame us if one thing led to another? Something about that release, that sudden ease, the anticipation of the longed-for end in sight...and also not having been able to satiate that particular desire in far too long for either of our tastes...Well, suffice to say, it was satiated again, for a tiny bit, there in that golden grass, below a golden sun and an endless blue sky, without a care in the world to stifle our pleasure.
Afterward, I was content to simply lay there in his arms and watch the sun glitter along the lines of his arms as they held me against him, but Jasper growled low in his chest, sucking in a deep breath of air, and by the taste of his emotions I knew he was thirsty. My own thirst welled in a constant burn at the back of my throat, controlled and managed, but it needed no more encouragement than my mate's own thirst to roar to a life of its own, battering against my tight hold on it. I scented the wind myself, and found something there that was very appealing, and odd.
"What is that?" I hissed, rising to my knees to get a better whiff of it. Not lion, not cheetah or hyena.
Ugh, I shuddered at the memory of hyena, the gamey and bitter taste of that animal's blood still unforgettable on the back of my tongue. It had been an experiment, a failed one at that, to hunt hyena, a few weeks ago, on our trip north, before meeting the Eldest.
"Don't know. But we'll find out, won't we?" Jasper stood up, straightening his clothes, and reached down to pull me up. I twitched my garment back into place as we ran off in the direction of the smell, going against the wind, seeking the source.
The rolling grassland grew more hilly and rocky, the tall grass broken more and more by scrubby bushes and low, wind-twisted trees, and the landscape began slowly sloping down, until we could see ahead of us a waterhole, surrounded by animals of all kind, who had come to the place to drink.
Wildebeest and Cape buffalo crowded each other among the reeds at the edge of the waterhole, gazelle and zebra further back, and in the center of the wide, shallow pond were a few elephants, old and young, playing in the water with obvious relish, spraying each other and trumpeting their fun to each other. But I knew their smell, it wasn't them that drew us on, though the idea of hunting an elephant, perhaps a big surly bull, was intriguing.
Oh, come on now. It was 1946. There was no such thing as an endangered species back then. No one knew. And besides, we never did it. Thought about it, yes, but never followed through.
But then, there it was, the source of the bewitching scent. Jasper growled beside me, dropping into a hunting crouch as he spotted the animal, too. I joined him. There were two, after all.
Leopard. Two of them, their coats deep golden and spotted black, their heavy, sleek bodies parting the golden grass with silent ease, slinking through the rocky, shrubby landscape, their amber eyes fixed on the waterhole ahead with a singular focus. They were hunting. They were hungry, and the wind had blown our scent away from them.
They were hunting, but they didn't realize they'd just become prey.
It was over fast; we're never needlessly cruel or slow, we don't play with our food. It only took a moment for Jasper and I to ambush them and take them down with barely a sound; they tasted as good as they smelled, and then we were able to "top off our tanks" with buffalo, which are almost as good as predator.
My man had become a skillful and neat hunter; not a spot of blood stained his skin or his clothing, not a drop spilled on the ground. I was proud of what he'd become, and I thought ahead, to the oncoming years, and remembered the glimpses of what I'd seen of our future, and knew my pride would only grow with time. And he was so unbelievably beautiful to me, all pure, clean lines and planes that seemed sculpted by some otherworldly master, his body strong and perfect, perfect at everything it did...
"What's got you so riled up?" Jasper touched the tip of my nose and grinned at me.
I grinned back. "You."
One golden eyebrow climbed incredulously, his smile becoming wide and wicked. "Again?"
"Yes. Again." With a sigh I pulled him to me, and we sunk back into the tall grass together, hands and lips suddenly busy sipping up under and impatiently pushing aside clothing that was suddenly in the way, skin siding against skin, the heat of the sun nothing compared to the heat generated between us. This time it wasn't over quickly, we took our time with each other, each sensation separately lovely and leading to the next, building in intensity, until we both burst through into that precious shining place where we were one in every way.
No two people could ever have been so completely perfect for one another. It just couldn't be possible. I closed my eyes and marveled at the warm red-gold glow of the sun through my eyelids, felt his body curled around mine like a second skin, and I was at peace. For those few long, timeless moments, I was at peace, and so was he.
***
JPOV:
"All who have come, attend and listen! So is begun this Meeting of the People of the Long Life! Welcome, brothers and sisters!"
The words, bellowed out in Masudi's deep bass voice, echoed across the mountainside, carried on by the breeze into the deepening night sky. I wondered what any humans who might have been within earshot might think of this, my Sunday School days coming back to me with vague recollections of voices from the sky and burning bushes.
Oddly, it suddenly struck me that Masudi hadn't been speaking in English. He'd called out in the language I'd heard them all converse in at various times, a tongue that I learned later-years later, in fact, from Carlisle, once our memories had been restored-was an ancient relative of Kiswahili, the language spoken by millions of humans on the African continent. Apparently, though there were many other languages with which they could converse, they'd chosen that one tongue as their "universal" means of communication with each other. And what was odd about it was that I had understood him. Apparently all those days of hearing the Eldest and Ju'mai and his group had rubbed off on me. The capacity of my mind once again startled me.
"Jasper, pay attention!" Alice's sharp little elbow caught me just below the ribs, bringing me back from my drifting to the events at hand.
We were crouched at the farthest edge of the crowd, in the shadows beneath the trees, which was gathered in an impressive natural amphitheater that had been scooped out of the side of the mountain by some forgotten geological occurance millions of years before. The Elder nine stood several hundred feet away, atop a huge rock that had been flattened and thrust upward by those same geological forces to make a stage of sorts, surrounded by torches, their eyes and skin glittering in the sputtering light of the flames. The rest of the African clans spread out through the bowl of the little valley, surrounding the huge rock, gazing expectantly at their leaders, and they were not paying any attention to us in a way that was almost painfully obvious.
Masudi was flanked by his wives, the three of them in new clothing, Masudi and Miali resplendent in crimson, Ebele in maroon and gold-stamped kente cloth. The eldest three stood in the center, awesome in their age, which they wore like mantles of authority. The three I had never met, the siblings Siti, Adeben and Majid. They were all swathed head to toe in fabric, the men in white, the woman in black, their burgundy eyes gleaming from between the veils. I wondered why they covered themselves, even here, among others. I remembered what we'd been told about them, that they watched over the burning deserts to the north and east, among Muslims and beneath that scorching bright sun, and the covering made sense when they were in their home lands, but here?
But I didn't have time to follow my thoughts down that particular rabbit trail. Ngo's voice cut into my reverie that time, instead of Alice's elbow.
"Let those who have complaints or grievances present themselves before the Council for judgment."
There was a murmur of hushed voices and movement as a few separated themselves from the crowd and approached the huge stone. Alice's small hand slipped into mine and gripped it tightly. We were both wondering what was going to happen. As they waited for the supplicants to approach, the Eldest took their seats atop the ubiquitous cushions which had been placed on the stone for them.
Seven individuals formed a line in front of the makeshift stage, and one at a time they were called up to stand in front of the nine ancient vampires. One by one they spoke to present their cases, and that was when we began to realize that the Africans weren't so much different than others of our kind we'd met in the rest of the world. They called up witnesses and squabbled and argued, and sometimes it descended into growling and hissing, with one or other of the Elders having to call them to order if it got too heated...Mostly the disputes were about territory and hunting rights, although one case, the last one, was more serious.
The woman was beautiful, tall, her hair bound tightly in long braids like Ebele's, but hanging loose and disarrayed down her back instead of coiled neatly, her skin black and glistening like ebony, her eyes brilliant and fierce rubies. She pointed at the man who faced her defiantly, his shoulders set, a snarl curling his mouth as he watched her.
"He killed Ati with no provocation! I demand blood debt!" she shrieked, baring her bright white teeth at him and snarling back.
The man shot a nervous glance at the nine Elders before he responded. "No, Ati provoked me, and I challenged him. It was an honorable fight. He knew the consequences of a battle with me." He flexed his considerable muscles and looked back at the woman, who was making a noise like a wet cat, hissing and spitting. Several of the others had moved to flank her, to hold her back if necessary, I imagined. "Samaya is simply angry at the outcome. She grieves for her mate, which I understand. But Ati was weak."
"Liar!" she screamed, lunging at him; the others took her by the arms and held her back, murmuring comforting nonsense to her as she crumpled, sobbing tearlessly. One of the woman picked her up from the ground and held her protectively, glaring at the accused man, who looked away uncomfortably. The sight of the grieving woman's pain was difficult to bear; Alice's fingers clenched convulsively around mine, and I knew she was thinking what I was thinking: what would it be like if one of us lost the other?
I couldn't even bear to consider it for a second.
I watched Ngo, who had leaned forward, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. I could tell he was "reading" the situation, looking into the hearts of the two: was the accuser right, or was the accused simply trying to muddy the waters? I thought it was surely foolhardy for anyone to try to deceive the Eldest, especially Ngo, with his gift.
"Osunga," Ngo said quietly. "How did Ati provoke you? What was so serious that you must challenge him?"
Osunga stepped back a bit, away from Ngo, away from Samaya, his eyes wide. "He-he trespassed." He swallowed nervously. "He hunted on my lands, and then when I called him out for his offense, he laughed at me, insulted me. My honor demanded a challenge!"
"He's lying," Alice murmured under her breath, her eyes still fixed on Samaya, who was still weeping soundlessly against the woman's shoulder. I didn't ask her how she knew, because I had the same gut feeling. Even from that distance, I could see the lie plainly written on Osunga's face.
Ngo sighed and shook his head. "Osunga, I feel that there is some truth to what you say, but-"
"Father Elder, hold for a moment." It was Miali. The tall woman had stood up, graceful as a cat, and was approaching the tableau before them, her eyes fierce with determination. "I can show what transpired. Let us all know what Ati did that shamed Osunga so badly that he says he felt a challenge was necessary to avenge his honor."
Osunga turned and stared at Miali with wide eyes, then shot a terrified glance at Samaya, who had finally lifted her head and seemed hopeful. "No, that is not necessary, Elder--" he began hesitantly, but was cut off.
"Yes!" Samaya cried, exultant. "Let us all see what took place!" She glared at Osunga.
Ngo nodded permission to Miali, who came forward and touched Osunga's forehead gently. "Now, show us, show us your past," she murmured.
Then everyone could see, a semi-transparent shimmering that reminded me of movie screens back home.
Everything was being seen from Osunga's perspective, the images pulled fom his memories by Miali's power; first it was just a landscape, a tangle of lush green, trees and vines and tall grass, the sounds of the birds and insects echoing through the amphitheater. Osunga must live near the rainforests; I wondered if he was one of the dreaded Adze or other legendary African vampires inspired by these people.
It was obvious from the point of view that Osunga was up in a tree, gazing down into the forest from his perch. For a long moment nothing happened, just the birdsong and monkey-chatter, but then, there was movement to the right, and Osunga turned to look.
Someone, a tall, dark, lithe someone pushed through the thick undergrowth, the sunlight slanting through the branches above striking her dark skin to scatter a shower of diamond-like prisms against the boles of the trees. It was Samaya, looking considerably less haggard, her eyes wide and her full mouth pursed in thought as she scanned the forest. Looking for someone. Or something.
How did she not notice Osunga? I wondered. Surely, she must have smelled him, so close. But then I watched as her lips parted in an elated smile, and she came fully out of the trees to walk beneath Osunga's perch, away from him, down a hill. Toward where we could hear the sound of a river babbling over stones.
Once she was out of sight, the perspective changed, as if Osunga had jumped down from his branch, and we all went with him, captivated by his memory, as he followed along behind Samaya, stealthy and silent even in the tall grass.
We peeked around a huge boulder to see her there, at the edge of a small river, as she began removing her clothes. She was splendid in her nudity, her legs long and muscular-
"Ow!"
"Watch if you have to, Jasper, but can you at least keep your reactions to yourself?" Alice hissed acidly, her eyes narrowed and snapping amber sparks in her fury. I surreptitiously rubbed the spot on my diaphragm where she'd punched me with her hard little fist. It still ached.
"Sorry, baby-"
"Oh, shut up and watch."
By the time I dared turn to look again, the phantom image of Samaya had entered the water and was having a nice bath. I had to look away again in embarrassment, hazarding a glance at Samaya, who was watching the whole thing with a stunned expression: she hadn't known he was following her, that she was being watched. Realization dawned slowly over her face, and she turned to look at Osunga, who refused to meet her eyes, instead staring off into the distance with the stolid resolution of someone who realized he'd been caught and needed to meet his fate head-on...but refuses to.
After a while in the vision, Samaya reclaimed her clothing and took off into the forest, Osunga following behind her again, skulking in the shadows. We all heard her cry out in happy greeting to someone Osunga hadn't glimpsed yet. Once he rounded a bend and hid behind a tree, we saw them, Samaya and another man, embracing. A tall man, slender and dark as she was; he held her up, her feet off the ground and kicking like a girl's as they kissed passionately. Ati.
Somehow, all of us watching the scene felt Osunga's jealousy as if it were our own; my stomach clenched into a knot at what I knew was going on.
Osunga loved her. And he hated her mate. He wanted her for his own.
"Lover, shall we hunt?" Samaya asked, her tone carefree and sweet as she looked up into her mate's eyes.
Ati glanced around, his eyes narrowing. Somehow, he knew they were being watched. "Go on without me, choose your prey. I will follow in a moment, my love." Samaya didn't seem to notice his tension, his wary expression: she was a creature completely besotted. Perhaps their relationship was new, still so blindingly passionate that she noticed nothing except that. Or perhaps she simply trusted Ati so much that she never questioned him. Either way, she kissed him again and slipped off into the forest, Osunga's gaze following her until she disappeared into the trees.
"Come out, I know you watch!" Ati's voice was a mere whisper: he didn't want Samaya to hear him, to have her come back and see. "Come out and face me!"
Osunga hesitated for a moment before stepping out from behind his tree. Surely he knew his having watched them like that made him appear a pervert, a cad. But he did, and Ati was suddenly there before him, his darkly handsome face twisted with scorn.
"I have sensed you before, Osunga, but I shall not permit this any longer! I know your tricks, I have known you too long to not have learned how to feel you even when you use your gift of concealment. Leave us alone! She chose me!" Ati stabbed at Osunga's chest with an accusatory finger. "Me! Not you!"
The other man stared down at Ati, his rage evident, but Ati didn't flinch. "Only because she is young and blind and foolish. She should have been mine. I watched her from when she was a child, Ati. I chose her, I asked our maker to make her for me. Not you!" Osunga was bigger than the other vampire, taller, broader. But Ati still didn't back down, even when Osuga took a menacing step toward him; he bared his teeth defiantly, a growl building in his chest like low rolling thunder before a storm.
"None of that matters, and you know it. The woman chooses whom she will. And she chose me, Osunga. Now leave us alone!" Ati took a step back, his eyes going soft with regret. "I am sorry for your grief. I would not cause you pain, but this is how it is. I will not fight you, brother. Just leave us in peace, and we shall have no more problems."
Brothers! They were brothers! Now I saw the resemblance between them. Physically, they were siblings, and they had been turned by the same maker. Doubly brothers.
And then, Ati made a fatal mistake. He turned and began walking away.
Osunga hesitated for a moment. We couldn't hear his thoughts, but we all knew what was happening inside the man: the hatred, the jealousy, the rage and bruised pride, they were all roiling within him in a curdled mess, warring against his loyalty to his brother, his fear and respect for the traditions of the People.
And the anger and jealousy won.
With a fluid leap Ati was down, Osunga's teeth at his throat: without even a cry it was over, Ati's head bouncing to the ground and rolling away like a grotesque ball, and Osunga was ripping his brother to shreds, the shrieks of the tearing metallic flesh filling the jungle. Then, he piled the bits and pieces of his brother up and struck flint to iron, the spark catching the quivering obsidian flesh and carrying it away in streams of choking purplish smoke up into the sky.
It had only taken a few moments. The passage of fifteen breaths, maybe.
"
No!" Samaya cried, her voice strangled, and she fell to her knees as she watched the image fade, reaching out toward it, as if she could bring Ati back to her from the vision. "No!" She fell forward onto the stone, sobbing, pointing at Osunga. "Murderer! Murderer!"
Mwanya, Iwe and Ngo stood up, coming toward Osunga, their faces dark with anger and disappointment. "Osunga, how could you betray your brother so? And to lie to us, to try to put the blame on him, when it was you who were jealous and scheming. To murder a brother is one crime, to murder a fellow immortal's mate is another, to lie to the Elders is yet a third. What have you to say for yourself?" Mwanya thundered, gesturing angrily with his staff.
Osunga seemed to pale; he dropped to his knees, his hands coming up as if to ward off an oncoming attack. "I love her! I wanted her, had to have her! I have no other excuse!" he cried, his eyes closing as he slumped down into a pitiful heap at the Eldest's feet.
"As if I would ever have you! I have always known you to be a low creature, not fit to have shared blood and bond with your brother!" Samaya spit, her tone biting; Osunga flinched away from her. "I call for the satisfaction of this blood debt, Fathers and Mothers!"
Iwe sighed, her eyes sad. "Are you sure it is death you want, child? Would you not be avenged by a long Sleep for him? Perhaps he could learn his lesson-"
"No!" Samaya shook her head savagely, her wild hair whipping her shoulders. "No! It is death he brought me, it is death he should have!"
The nine Elders looked at one another in turn, and after a long moment of silent deliberation, all nine nodded in unison.
"Death." This from Siti, the black-gowned woman, from between her white-robed brothers. Then the three of them turned, presenting their backs to the condemned man, as if cutting him out of existence.
"Death," whispered Ebele, shaking her head sadly. And she and her sister wife and their husband all turned away as well.
Ngo shook his head gravely. "Osunga, you have been tried and judged by our laws. And by our laws, you shall die the final death. No more shall your eyes see the sun or the moon. No more shall you taste the blood of the living to satisfy your thirst. No more shall you know the fellowship of your family and friends. All who knew and loved you cast you out, cut your memory from our history. You are dead in every way to us, and now your body shall die the ultimate death." He nodded to Mwanya, and he and Iwe turned away as well.
"Death," Mwanya proclaimed, his voice cold and echoing, and his staff came down on the stone with a hollow thud that seemed to echo in my bones.
"Death," Samaya whispered gladly, her eyes hungry as she watched.
Osunga seemed to collapse in on himself, his hands covering his face as he wailed in shame. Without any hint of emotion, his demeanor as cold as his words had been, Mwanya reached out with the staff and shoved the sobbing vampire off the stone, where he sprawled onto the ground before the crowd. "Death!" Mwanya called again.
And like a tidal wave, like a swarm of killer ants, the other vampires fell upon the condemned man with a vast cry. Osunga was quickly hidden from view, but his screams grew louder and louder, until they were all that could be heard.
"My God, what are they doing to him?" Alice whispered, burrowing her face into my chest, her anger obviously gone. "Why isn't it over?"
"I don't know, Alice. If I were to guess, they're pulling him to bits...very small bits...very slowly."
She shuddered against me, and I held her tightly and tried to wrap her in my love, to drown out the rage of the crowd that washed over us, until finally, blessedly, the screaming ended.
A few moments later, a column of thick smoke was ascending into the night sky, where it was scattered quickly by the wind, blowing the last remaining traces of Osunga among the stars, never to be heard of again.
For a long time there was silence, heavy and oppressive, as the seriousness of what had just happened settled in over the crowd. Samaya stood alone, facing the crowd, but her eyes were closed. Even from so far away, I could feel what she was going through, her emotions were so strong, so raw. I'd never felt such pain before, such utter and complete loss. Yes, Osunga's death had assuaged her desire for revenge...but that revenge had been consumed by the fire of her rage, and what was left behind were cold and lonely ashes. It was as if all the life had been drained out of her, and she was a shell full of nothing but grief, looking forward to a long life of nothing else.
"Brother, this one should be granted a Sleep without dreaming," Iwe murmured to Ngo. She had turned around and was watching Samaya, who had settled to her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around herself; she was rocking slowly back and forth, her eyes closed, and she was keening softly, some ancient funeral song, perhaps, mourning her dead mate. "And perhaps...a bit of help with healing."
Ngo turned and sighed at the sight. "Yes, I agree. Ebele." He made a peremptory gesture and Ebele was there. "Help her."
The small woman nodded, her eyes wide and full of compassion as she reached out to take Samaya in her arms. The two were gone in a moment, leaving the crowd hushed and expectant, waiting for the next thing to happen.
And then, all the eyes were upon us.
Uh oh.
***
APOV:
I have never experienced anything so horrible as Osunga's death. But even so, I would never wish the pain I saw in Samaya on anyone, not my worst enemy. I watched her grieving and I held tight to my husband, and I prayed to whatever god there might be, who might listen to the prayers of one who might be damned, that I never have to be in her place. Or, even worse: that Jasper never had to hurt like that. I could bear it if I hurt: but I couldn't bear to know he did. It was unthinkable.
And then it was over, and the whole crowd had turned to stare at us. We were the final show, the last act. They were all waiting for this, for the white outlanders to be cleansed and removed from their lands.
"Come forward, Alice and Jasper. Do not fear." Iwe's voice was calm and gentle.
"Yes, come down now." This was Mwanya, in his commanding voice, but I didn't fear the effects this time. It was actually comforting to not have to make my feet move of their own volition: they carried Jasper and I to the front, ascended the stone to stand before them, all on their own. Just fine by me.
We'd been waiting for this for weeks. We'd been practically counting down the minutes until we could be released back into our own lives. We'd been anticipating it, begging for it...and now that it was finally here, the moment we'd been waiting for, it was scary as hell.
Miali came forward and put her arms around us. "Do not worry. No harm shall come to you." I tried to have confidence in those words. But I had just seen these people sentence someone to die so horribly, it was difficult to trust them completely.
Then Ebele was there, smiling at us. "But you have been wanting this! Why so fearful!" she joked, reaching out to take our hands. "Come. Sit." She drew us toward the cushions, pushed us down to sit. The other six Elders grouped themselves behind us, blocking off the view of the crowd, which helped a bit. I never realized I got stage fright until then.
"Alice and Jasper, tonight you will be sent back to Capetown. You will remember nothing of the People of the Long Life. You will be given new memories, memories of the trip that should have taken place, and you will return to America happy and content. But someday, the memories we will bury today will be allowed to resurface, at the proper time. Until then, you will be blessedly ignorant."
I
smiled a bit at Ebele's words. "Good enough. Thank you for your kindness, and all your teaching. I wish I could remember it all, at least, for now!"
She chuckled, then leaned forward and placed her fingertips against my forehead and Jasper's. Her burgundy eyes sipped shut as she concentrated. "Sleep. Dream. Remember not, until you are bidden to do so. Be at peace," she murmured, her voice oddly deep and vibrant.
And then I was gone, falling away from everything into emptiness, blessed soft, dark emptiness that reached out and surrounded me, held me like a baby and wrapped me in its featureless comfort. My mind was at rest, at peace, every thought I'd ever had separating away and vanishing, every fear or doubt leaching into nothing, until I was as empty as a balloon, floating in the blackness, into oblivion.
I slept.
It was a beautiful morning, the sun slanting in through the wide windows and pooling in golden puddles on the hardwood floor. I could hear the sounds of Africa beyond those windows, the chirping of birds and insects, and the breeze that stirred the gossamer curtains and moved the mosquito netting that swathed our bed was fragrant with bougainvillea and jasmine, and salty with the sea.
Africa! We'd had such a good time! I took a moment and ran back through the events of the last few weeks with satisfaction: hunting the lions with Jasper, making love in the grass, climbing mountains and swimming in deep rivers. Playing tag among mountain peaks, racing across the plains together. Seeing the moon glisten along the lines of the Pyramids in the dry coolness of the desert night. But most of all, the memories of how it had just been the two of us, losing ourselves in each other, exulting in each other's bodies and in each other's company. A honeymoon, a true honeymoon, with no Maria, no problems, no worries. Just us.
Jasper and I lay tangled in the sheets, and I opened my eyes to the brilliant light and appreciated every gleaming inch of his skin. He was motionless next to me, his eyes closed, his dark blonde lashes heavy against his silvery cheeks. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping, dreaming even. I thought back for a moment to the last few hours: we'd made love and talked all night long, made plans for the return trip that was imminent, before each of us retired to the privacy of our own minds before the sun rose.
"Wake up, sleepyhead!" I murmured, reaching out finally to touch his face. But I was joking. Of course he wasn't asleep. He'd just slipped into that peaceful stillness our kind finds so relaxing, completely motionless, even when I touched him. Our kind can't sleep.
Can they?