Nightborn, page 22
“There are tribes on Earth that survived with less,” he said.
“You don’t like the idea?”
“Of numerous women getting pregnant right now, with all that’s going on? All of them due to give birth at the same time, in mid-winter? No, I don’t like the idea.” He paused. “But you’re right, of course. Any day now, we could lose all that DNA. Do you think others will want to join them?”
“I suspect as many as you’ll allow. We can stagger them a bit, but if we wait too long, the opportunity may pass.”
He sighed. “Yeah. I’ll have to do some math, weigh all the different factors, come up with a viable plan.” He blinked. “But why did they come to you instead of me? I’m the person who would have to give that permission.”
“I’m a woman, Leo.” She smiled gently. “Not to mention, I’m the one who would have to deactivate their contraceptive implants.”
Her eyes widened, as she realized what she’d said. There was a moment of silence.
“Shit,” Leo said.
“Ditto that.” She wiped a stray lock of hair back from her face. “I’ll get to work on some kind of backup contraception, in case that tech fails too. Which we should make available as soon as possible. We sure as hell don’t want everyone getting pregnant at the same time.”
“That would be something to see in December, wouldn’t it?”
“Knock wood, we never will.” She started to reach out to fulfill the traditional ritual, then realized there wasn’t any wood in the pod. Chuckling, she had to settle for tapping her knuckles on the top of her desk. “Knock polymer?”
He tapped the cabinet beside him in agreement. “Knock polymer.”
The body was discovered just after dawn.
Ted and Pravida had already left to work on some joint project—or perhaps to claim a few moments of privacy before the day’s work began?—so Leo and Lise were alone in the pod when the knock came. It was earlier than visitors would be expected, so Lise watched with curiosity as Leo got up and opened the door. Outside were Chao and Asahi, part of the group staying in the quarantine pod. The expressions on their faces were grim enough that there was little doubt about what kind of news they had come to deliver.
“Faren Whitehawk went missing this morning,” Chao said without preamble. “He must have left while the rest of us were asleep. Once we realized he was missing, and not just off taking a piss, we went to look for him.” His jaw tensed. “We found him.”
For a moment Leo was silent. Then: “Still alive?”
Mouth tight, Chao shook his head: No.
“Where is he?”
“In one of the tents in the last row. We left the flap down so passers-by wouldn’t see. We thought we should report it to you first.”
“That was a good thought. Thank you.” He glanced back at Lise, then told the two men, “Give us a minute, will you?”
“Of course.” Asahi closed the door to wait.
Leo looked at Lise. For a moment neither of them said anything. Then he sighed deeply. “So much for ‘the worst is over,’ huh?”
“No shit,” she muttered.
They pulled on fresh clothes and joined the two men outside. This early in the day there were few people around; most of the colonists were still sleeping, blissfully unaware that Erna had claimed yet another life. The emptiness of the camp reminded Leo of when he had returned from Casca’s ritual. Not exactly a comforting image.
The body was in a tent in the northeastern corner of the camp, close to the pod Faren had been sleeping in. Chao pulled aside the door flap for the others to enter. There was enough light coming through the canvas walls to make the interior visible, albeit dimly, and Lise could see Faren’s body lying in the center of the tent. With his limbs askew and his eyes staring into nothingness, he looked more like a broken doll than a person. Lise’s stomach tightened in dread as she remembered the state they had found Wayne in—so similar!—and she reached for a lantern hanging by the door, buying a moment to gather herself. By its light she could see the body more clearly now. Faren’s normally ruddy skin was a ghastly bleached color that made it look like he had been dead for days, and the expression frozen on his face was one of horror. She crouched down warily by the side of the body so she could inspect it more closely. A touch to his neck confirmed the lack of pulse, but his skin was slightly warm and still pliable.
“Whatever happened to him,” she told the others, “it was recent.”
“What killed him?” Asahi asked. “Can you tell?”
“Not yet.” She looked up at Leo. “Give me a hand turning him on his side, will you?”
Leo helped her roll the body on its side so she could pull up Faren’s shirt and inspect his back. “No lividity,” she mused. “So this was very recent.” She brought the lantern close to the man’s face so she could inspect his neck. She thought she’d felt a small bump there while checking for his pulse, and wanted to see what it was.
There were two bumps, she discovered, about an inch apart. Both had black holes in their center, with ragged white edges and flakes of dried blood around the rim. An insect wouldn’t make holes that large, and an animal’s bite would have left the impression of more teeth than that. A snake, perhaps? God, she hoped so. The only other possible explanation seemed crazy. But wasn’t that par for the course on Erna?
“What is it?” Leo asked. He was on the other side of the body and couldn’t see what she had found. Nor could the two men standing respectfully near the doorway, because she was blocking their view. For one terrible endless minute, she was the only one who knew the truth. Then she forced herself to turn Faren’s neck to one side so that the twin wounds caught the light, and she moved back far enough that everyone could see them.
“What the fuck?” There was fear in Asahi’s voice now. “I mean . . . what the fuck?”
“Please tell me those aren’t what they look like,” Chao begged.
She took out her utility knife and made a deep cut into Faren’s neck; her hand was trembling. The flesh she revealed was bloodless. So much for snakes. “I’m afraid they probably are.”
“Vampires?” Asahi sputtered. “Are you telling me there are vampires on Erna? Jesus! What’s next? Werewolves? Zombie hordes?” An edge of hysteria was creeping into his voice. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”
“Shush,” Chao warned. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t everyone know about this?”
“Not right now,” Lise said sternly. “Not until I can confirm this is what it looks like. Unless you want everyone to panic over a monster that may not even exist, in which case, go ahead and shout it from the rooftops.”
“Monsters do exist here,” Chao reminded her. “Everyone knows that.”
They exist because we create them, she thought. And then they feed on us. Whatever killed Faren came from his own mind. The bizarre alien intimacy of such a relationship was almost as disturbing as the death itself. “Come on,” she said, “help me get him back to the clinic so I can do a proper autopsy. We can all decide what to do then.” She doubted an autopsy would tell them anything new, but at least that plan would keep Asahi calm and buy her and Leo some time before these two started talking to everyone in the camp about vampire killings.
As for Leo, he looked like he had aged ten years in the last ten minutes. Little wonder. This was about more than a single killing. It was proof Angie’s wards weren’t working. Lines of stress aged his face in a way they hadn’t the day before, and the spark of life that had been so bright in him yesterday had been swallowed by shadows once more. Her heart ached to see the change in him.
Chao hoisted the corpse onto his shoulder while Asahi pulled the door flap out of his way, and the four of them headed back toward the clinic. The camp was marginally brighter now; soon the sun would rise above the horizon and bathe Erna in its cleansing light. Nearly all the fae-creatures had appeared during the hours of darkness. Nightborn, Dani called them. The colonists would think themselves safe while the sun was shining; not until nightfall would they have to deal with the wave of panic this new assault would conjure.
When they had laid Faren’s body on Lise’s exam table, Leo asked Chao and Asahi to please tell Angie and Dani and to come to the clinic, after which they should go get some breakfast and try to relax. Leo would share with them whatever the autopsy revealed, he promised.
He closed the door behind them so that he and Lise were alone.
“It came from inside the camp,” he said in a strained voice. “Otherwise the sentries would have seen it. It probably manifested inside that tent. And damn quickly, or Faren might have been able to run from it or at least yell for help. Which means there’s no safety anywhere, not within the camp, not even in enclosed spaces. No safety and no defense. Jesus.” He rubbed his forehead. “How can I protect people from something like that?”
“You’re not alone in this,” she reminded him. “We’re all here with you.” But she could see in his eyes that her words had no power. In his mind he had taken personal responsibility for the welfare of this colony, and every new assault was further proof of his failure. She didn’t know what to say that would help.
“We can’t escape this thing,” he muttered. “Or fight it.”
“We’ll find a way.” She wasn’t sure she believed that anymore, but she had to at least pretend that she did, so she could reassure others.
We all banked our hopes on Angie’s wards, Lise thought. We convinced ourselves they worked because believing in them helped us maintain our sanity. What will happen when that illusion is shattered? When primitive instincts cry out for people to fight or flee—-only there is no way to fight, and nowhere to flee to?
With a sigh she turned her attention to examining Faren’s body, but the process revealed exactly what she had expected: the body was completely bloodless, with no sign of damage other than the two holes she’d already observed. There weren’t even defensive wounds, which either meant that the creature had attacked too quickly for a human to react, or that some kind of mesmerism had rendered Faren incapable of self-defense. Similar to what had happened with Leo, perhaps? The creature might even have lured Faren from his pod, convincing him to go off alone against his better judgment, like Tia’s attacker had done with her. Why else would he have taken a risk like that? If all fae-creatures had such power, what hope was there for humans?
Evidently Angie and Dani had been briefed on the situation, because when they showed up they didn’t ask any questions, just came to the exam table and stared down at the body in a combination of fascination and horror. Angie took Faren’s head and turned it to the side so that the marks were more visible; she inhaled sharply when she saw them. “Words can’t prepare you for something like this,” she murmured.
“Or wards,” Leo said quietly. “Apparently yours don’t provide the protection we were hoping for.”
She looked up at him sharply. “My theory was sound. And now that I know how to alter my vision properly, I can see with my own eyes how they affect the fae. There’s no question that they’re having an effect.”
Lise said, “You see it all the time now?”
“No. It still takes effort. But not nearly as much. It’s like the Magic Eye pictures we keep talking about; once you know how to look at them so the hidden picture appears, it’s not hard to make that happen.”
“Yet your designs failed in their purpose,” Leo challenged her.
“They weren’t strong enough,” she said. “I tried to reinforce them with blood sacrifice—as you saw—but apparently even that wasn’t enough.” She shook her head in frustration. “These creatures we’re fighting, they’re reflections of the human mind. And there are more than a hundred human minds in this camp, all broadcasting their hopes and fears and dreams into the ether, day and night, offering the fae hundreds of guises to adopt. One small personal sacrifice clearly can’t supply enough energy to suppress all that.”
“But a bigger one could?” he asked. The words were voiced casually enough, but there was an intensity in his tone that suggested he was trying to mask his emotions. That worried Lise.
“Maybe,” Angie said. “It worked for Ian’s final sacrifice, so we know the planet responds to such things. But that entailed a terrible price.”
“Loss,” Leo muttered. “The emotional pain of nearly two hundred people.”
“Well,” Dani said, “unless you’re planning to build a bonfire and throw all our tablets into it, Ian’s precedent isn’t really applicable, is it?” She looked at Angie. “If human minds influence the fae, can’t we use religion to do that? A hundred minds praying in unity must have some kind of power.”
“It didn’t the night the module blew up,” Angie reminded her. “Or if it did, the effect didn’t last. Who knows? Maybe we were really safe during your service. Maybe a hundred human minds focused on divine protection was enough to hold the fae creatures at bay. But once the service was over they resumed killing us, so that clearly wasn’t a long-term solution.”
“You talk about the power of sacrifice,” Dani countered. “Christianity is all about sacrifice: a divine figure suffered and died to save mankind. Isn’t that exactly the kind of symbolism you’re looking for? I usually prefer a more syncretic approach to my services so everyone will feel welcome, but if a traditional Christian service will help protect this camp, I can certainly offer that. You can’t get a more powerful symbol of sacrifice than Christ on the cross, Angie. If we focus on that—”
“It’s not the same, Dani.”
The chaplain’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because it’s someone else’s sacrifice, performed half a galaxy away. Your congregants aren’t participants in that, just observers. The people here, on Erna, wouldn’t be sacrificing anything. In fact, according to Christian mythos, they benefit from that sacrifice, don’t they? That may have value in a theological debate, but it’s not going to conjure the intensity of emotion that we need.”
Leo looked at Angie. “Maybe that’s why your wards failed to protect us. It was a token gesture, nothing more.”
When did you learn so much about ritual sacrifice? Lise wondered. She wasn’t sure what disturbed her more, the fact that he had learned the details of ritual sacrifice or the strange intensity of his tone. Angie did make a big public show of smearing her blood on the palisade, she reminded herself. He might have wanted to understand why she did that. But the words rang hollow. Something about him was off; she felt it in her gut.
“Perhaps,” Angie said. “I should pay more attention to my own teachings.”
“So, what then?” There was an edge to Lise’s voice now. “Someone needs to injure themselves to empower your wards? Is that what you’re saying?”
Angie sighed. “All I know is that my wards have the potential to protect us. That wouldn’t solve our problem with the fae outside the palisade but could turn our camp into a haven of safety while we seek a more permanent solution. But the wards aren’t strong enough for that yet.” She looked down at Faren’s body. “And we’re running out of time to come up with new ideas. I’m sorry. I don’t have an answer for you.”
You didn’t even try to answer me.
“I’ll hold a prayer service at sunset,” Dani said. “Maybe that will help people deal with this tonight. But we need a better long-term solution than praying for the problem to go away.” She looked down at Faren’s body and shook her head sadly. “Assuming there is one.”
The breakfast bell suddenly rang in the distance, startling everyone. Dani and Angie looked at each other. “Go,” Leo told them. “Get some food. Try to relax. We can talk more about this once Lise has had time to study the body.”
“You sure?” Dani asked.
She seemed hesitant to leave. Had she sensed the same change in Leo that Lise had? They were the two people who knew him best, so the most likely to notice if something about him was off.
“I’m sure,” he said, and if the smile that followed wasn’t genuine, it was a convincing enough mimicry to satisfy her.
Leo closed the door behind Dani and Angie and for a moment just stood there, his hand on the latch, his eyes half-closed as if in thought.
“You okay?” Lise asked.
Her words seemed to startle him. “Yeah.” He released the latch and turned back to her. “Just a lot to process, that’s all.”
“I’m worried about you, Leo.”
He came to her and took her hands in his own. Strong, warm hands. “I’m fine, Lise. Really.”
“All the talk about sacrifice . . .”.
“Angie can be a bit obsessive.”
“You really think her wards might work?”
He sighed heavily. “If they don’t, then we’ll need to come up with some new ideas.”
Again there was a subtle change in his tone, and she sensed that something about him was not quite right. Normally, if that were true, he would confide in her. The thought that he might not want to was deeply disturbing.
She placed her hands on his cheeks. “I’m here for you, Leo. You know that, right? Whatever you’re worried about, whatever you need, you can talk to me about it.”
He whispered it: “I know.”
“I would never judge you.”
“I know.”
She gave him a minute to say something more, hoping that he would share something—anything!—that would give her insight. But he was silent, and after a moment she reached up and kissed him, gently: communication without words. For a moment he didn’t respond, but then he put his arms around her and pulled her close. So very close. She sensed a need in him that was born of fear as much as desire, an almost desperate hunger for human intimacy whose cause she could not fathom. When he kissed her, it was like he wanted to lose himself in her.
After a few minutes more he took her by the hand and led her to the storage space in the rear of the pod, where they could put a door between them and Faren. And for a brief time there were no words between them, and no need for any.
