Unbound, page 28
The low murmur above us rose in intensity to an audible buzz.
Gabriel continued, unperturbed. “Each Council member will be given an opportunity to substantiate his proposal, after which a decision will be made. “ He looked pointedly at Amun and then at Amerlyn. “A final decision. I mean to have this matter settled before the end of the day. I do not intend to let this fractious issue cause further dissent among us.”
Rising, Gabriel pitched his voice to address the now-silent men who watched from above, shoulder to shoulder. “Antiquus Fratri, for millennia you have been entrusted to witness the events of the human race. Today you are called to witness the Council’s decision. Whatever the conclusion, all who are present will be the record keepers of our history. Coniunctis viribus.”
“Aeternus eternus.” The thunderous reply echoed from floor to ceiling several times before fading beyond my hearing.
Gabriel gestured to Amerlyn, who stood slowly, taking time to adjust the black robe that hung on him like a child’s dress-up costume. Looking up, his eyes crinkled beneath his bushy white brows as his gaze met mine. He nodded once thoughtfully and then turned to the others and cleared his throat. “For almost two thousand years I have lived among you; like you, but not exactly one of you. Your immortality was a birthright passed down by the most careful and meticulous breeding. My immortality was discovered – borrowed if you will – from the original source that granted the first of your ancestors eternal life. In this way, I am more like the roots of the tree of life, whereas you are the branches that reach towards the sun. Because of that, I notice the differences between us. Each successive generation of immortal is slightly different from the last. You’ll know for example that although your lifespans are infinite, your mental stability is not. When I joined the Council it had become plain that with each passing generation the problem was becoming more...troublesome.”
Amerlyn shook his head sadly, his eyes touching mine before moving on. “The Mafte’ach were a solution, albeit a costly one, to the growing dilemma facing our kind. Yet since their creation, we have become increasingly relaxed about the debt we owe our mortal friends. Like those mortals who forget to be thankful for the earth and land that supply their food and water, we have come to feel...entitled. Let us not lose sight of our purpose. We are not gods. We are not creators. We are simply humans who have been entrusted to watch and record the history of the world. In exchange for that responsibility, we have long lives of comfort and luxury.”
Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply as if gathering the strength for the words that came next. “Since the dawn of humanity, we have lived among mortals peacefully. We have guided their actions and kept them from the worst of themselves. In exchange, we are the most powerful beings on the planet.” His eyes flew open. “Yet some amongst us feel that our power is penultimate.” He lifted a hand and pointed a finger towards the opposite end of the dais. “Amun desires a world in which humans are not influenced and guided by us, but instead mastered and controlled. Until now, there has been no clear way to accomplish this. Until now.”
Amerlyn stared directly at me with a mixture of pity and appreciation. “The first female Mafte’ach has survived gestation, and it seems her survival has brought a new twist. Some would say that her mutation is beneficial for all. But I would remind you that cancer cells are not destructive in isolation, it is only the replication of these new cells that is problematic. My heart fears that breeding a race of humans that are malleable will be the cancer that destroys us all. My heart fears that when we use the Mafte’ach as a tool for power, rather than as release from suffering, we are changing the nature of our relationship. This mortal child is special. Let us not manipulate her, but celebrate her evolution. Her free will symbolizes the free will we are willing to grant her mortal race.”
Amerlyn bowed his head and was silent and then he met the eyes of each Council member in turn. “My heart fears we will destroy ourselves if we ignore the very lessons of history we have guarded so carefully. Do not be deceived by the allure of more power. We are not Gods.” With a nod, he sat and folded his hands on the dais placidly.
As if waking from a trance, I came back to myself. The room was silent, my breath loud in my ears.
Amun rose fluidly, with the grace and dignity of royalty and his black eyes glittered like uncut diamonds as he gazed upon me. His smile was neither kind nor reassuring, but the satisfaction of the predator that looks upon his prey, knowing the end is a foregone conclusion. “Our dear friend Amerlyn would like us to remember the debt of gratitude we owe mortals. Indeed, we have much to thank them for.” His tone was dry, his accent making the words a mocking tribute. “As immortals we have had the privilege of watching as the world to which we were all born is damaged beyond recognition. Oceans polluted so badly that species older than our own have been wiped from existence. Resources depleted in a heartbeat that have taken a vast share of the planet’s history to create. A former world of plenty reduced to a scarred and ravished asteroid. Even our own existence is threatened by their reckless short-sighted behaviour.”
I flinched as his fist pounded the dais, his voice filled with scathing indignation. “Left to their own devices, humans would still be scrabbling with stone tools and sleeping on bare rock, warring barbarically with each other which bone is whose. And yet Amerlyn speaks of our debt.”
He grimaced. “For more than 10,000 years our race has been entrusted to witness and record their history. That we, so small in number, have managed to lift them from pre-civilization to their current state of post-modern technology should not go unrecognized or remarked upon. Without us, mortals would have destroyed themselves long ago. But Amerlyn, and those like him, would counsel us to interfere less.”
His lip curled slightly as he looked at Eaden. “Immortal brothers, we are the superior race. Our infinite lifespans give us the wisdom of infinite generations – our memories are long and we do not forget. That we now have the means to curb mortals’ destructive ways is good news for us. But also for them. We do not seek to eradicate free will,” palms open, he spread his hands wide in a gesture of goodwill, “but to provide guidance and direction to a race that appears hopelessly lost on its own. Just think, brothers, this one mortal child who stands before us may be the salvation of her entire race. Wars ended, poverty eliminated, suffering diminished. And eventually, with time and patience, perhaps our own race will step out of the shadows and receive the accolades we deserve, not the censure he suggests. Amerlyn, the very creator of the Mafte’ach urges us to resist what he was unable to resist.” His smile was mocking. “If meddling with mortals is so unwise, why did he create the very thing he is asking us to disregard? Why should we listen to a man who urges us to stagnate? Like all species on this planet, it is time we evolved. Our days of waiting are over.”
Amun’s face softened into an almost pleasant smile as his eyes settled upon me. “Of course, if you hesitate because one of our own has become entangled in the fate of this mortal, I say this to you; I am not against letting the female live. If our brother has such strong affections for his pet, then who are we to question his judgement? It is not her death I seek, but her life. Let her live amongst us and be watched. She need not suffer. In fact, her existence may well be improved. Certainly she would be safer here among us than among her own kind in their violent unpredictable societies.”
Eaden stiffened beside me, as rigid as stone, his eyes as cold and implacable as Amun’s. My own limbs felt loose and watery. The dilemma we faced came instantly into focus, like the swift dial of a lens. My life or death meant very little to these men, I was so insignificant that they had no objections to my life. They wanted proprietorship of my body, but my soul mattered very little to anyone, save those who’d accompanied me into this room. I was fighting for the existence of mortal kind, but my own existence was irrelevant.
Gabriel waited until Amun had sat down and then addressed the Council. “Before we ask our brothers to witness the Council vote, Amerlyn has recommended that we let the child speak.” His eyes fell on me with something like pity. “What can you offer us, child?”
What could I offer? The question was ludicrous. These men did not believe I had anything to offer except my most basic construction, my genetic material, which was either dangerous or divine, depending on whose side you were on. But I had something to say, even if they only paid lip service to my contribution.
I was aware of the stillness of the immortals suddenly. The silence that pervaded the room when they were at attention. Never before had I experienced such self-possession in the presence of so many living creatures. I thought of the grief I’d seen so often in Eaden’s eyes, the madness that had lit Sabas’s gaze. They were still human, I reminded myself. Long life was not always a blessing.
Closing my eyes tightly, I thought of my father’s last weeks. It was not death he had railed against, but the absence of friends. It was a party he hadn’t wanted to leave.
“No one wants to die.” My voice was barely more than a whisper and I made a conscious effort to raise it. “But it’s what we’re born to do. We have very little choice about how, or where, or when we die. We have little choice about why. As a mortal, my only choice is how I live. Only the sickest of us choose death out of despair – thinking that they have lost that choice. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Maybe because there is no death, the importance of life has lost its meaning for you. But if you believe that you won’t change us forever, by forcing your will upon us, you are making a mistake that may have more repercussions than you think. I don’t want to die,” I repeated. “But I’d rather die than live a life that was not my own.”
Amun returned my stare without flinching, but his eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between Eaden and me. His lips twitched as if holding back a smile and my stomach sank with my hopes as I caught the gleam of triumph in his expression. What had I said? What clue had I given?
Leaning towards Gabriel, he spoke a few quiet words.
Raising an eyebrow, Gabriel studied Amun for a few seconds and then nodded. He addressed the hall, but spoke directly to me. “Amun wishes to address the Council to alter his proposal. You will wait in the antechamber while the council hears his amendment.”
Eaden took a step closer, pulling me against him.
Gabriel dismissed him as well. “Yes, Eaden, you may accompany her.”
I caught the rapid exchange of glances between Eaden and Amerlyn before we turned to leave the room.
Amun interrupted our departure. “I’d like our other guests to remain here in the Council chamber,” he said, motioning to the three Sisters. “The Sisters of Cailleach are renowned for their…talents. I’d hate for our proceedings today to be delayed any further.”
Turning to look at them, I saw the same bland expression on the faces of my friends, but a quick glance upward confirmed that Stuart was alarmed. He had moved down the balcony to position himself directly above them and stared fiercely down at Sita as if wishing he could fly.
Eaden nodded absently and, placing a hand on my elbow, guided me past them. Mara and Elora looked at me without expression, but their eyes and mouths were tight with strain. Sita’s eyes had filled with tears. Looking down, I saw that the three of them clutched each other’s hands tightly. Offering a weak smile, I let Eaden lead me out of the Council room.
Chapter Twenty-One: The End of the World as We Know it
The young woman in the antechamber got up from her desk as we exited the vast chamber and promptly opened a door leading to another, smaller room. She smiled politely as she wordlessly waved us into the well-furnished sitting room and gently closed the door behind us. A couple of sleek leather chairs and a low coffee table kept company with another large vase full of white calla lilies. The last time I had looked so closely at the bright white petals and thick green stems was the day of my father’s funeral. I remembered wondering how such a striking flower could adorn such a dismal thing as a casket. It had seemed odd that the dark wood coffin had looked so stylish and elegant; the flowers like window dressing on a car crash – utterly unsuitable for the disaster they were a testament to. Not much had changed.
Looking away, I realized that Eaden had barely made it past the threshold. He stood with his back towards me, facing the door, his hands braced against the frame as if he were supporting himself.
“Eaden?”
No response.
I approached him quietly and placed a hand on his back. A muscle jumped under my palm, but he did not turn. I wanted to see his face, to understand why he had stalled out in the doorway.
“Eaden?” I peered up under his arm, trying to gauge his mood. Wanting to feel less alone.
Abruptly, one large hand came down and pulled me to his chest, my gasp of surprise lost in his thick wool sweater. I heard the rasp of his breath before strong arms enveloped me in a fierce embrace. My face was pressed into him so tightly it was difficult to breathe.
I felt the deep rumble in his chest before I heard his words. “It was a mistake to bring you here. I see that now.” His voice was eerily flat. “I’ll be sorry for it until the end of time.”
End of time? He wasn’t making any sense. My fear spiked as my heart skipped a beat.
I tried to push him back a little so that I could see his face, but despite my efforts, I remained firmly clasped against him. He seemed unaware of my struggles.
Raising my voice a little to be heard, my words were still muffled by the wool. “Eaden, we don’t know what’s going to happen yet. There’s still hope.”
He barked out a laugh that was more like a sob and then pressed his lips to the top of my head.
Although I felt uncomfortably restrained, I squeezed back trying to offer comfort, my hands slung around his waist.
After a moment, his lips moved along my crown and down until I felt his warm breath in my ear. His grip relaxed only slightly as his mouth moved down towards my neck. I loosened my own grip, more puzzled than relieved by this latest shift in his temperament. Removing one of the hands that encircled me, he began to stroke my hair as his lips continued to lightly travel along my neck. I could hear him murmuring something, but was unsure if he was speaking English or Gaelic.
“Eaden?”
He continued to ignore me, but I realized that somehow my back was now pinned against the doorway. Rubbing my hands lightly where they rested on his waist, I was trying to get his attention when I realized that his kisses had become more insistent. His mouth no longer searched my neck, but devoured; his breath audible and erratic. As he hungrily pressed his lips into my collarbone I felt his teeth close on my skin painfully. I yelped a little as the hand that was tangled in my hair tightened so that my scalp tingled, while his other hand snaked further around my waist and pulled me even closer to him, his hips pushed painfully into my ribs.
My heart sped up as adrenaline ripped through my system. Something was wrong. The frantic clumsiness to his movements was so unlike his usual self-possession. Lifting up from my neck, his mouth found mine and the force of his kiss shocked me, my lips crushed and bruised under his. He was like a drowning man struggling for air. As he shifted, I managed to wedge an elbow between us and pushed him forcefully away so I could see his face.
I went cold. The grief and despair that had always been so visible, yet contained, seemed to have exploded and consumed him. His eyes were those of a man who believed that he had already lost the battle. Wild and unfocused, he looked at me without recognition and then pushed me back against the door.
Hard. Both hands now searching, seeking. His mouth demanding.
Real panic began to bubble in me.
“Eaden, stop.” I tried to make my voice calm, but the quiver was unmistakable.
As if unconscious, he continued, unaware that I’d stopped responding, unaware of anything. As he continued to kiss me with a ferocity that bordered on manic, he pushed a knee between my legs, forcing them apart.
My heart stopped completely. Oh God. Oh no. Not this. Please God. Not like this.
“Eaden?” I could feel the tears that had gathered in my eyes start to slide down my cheeks.
“Please?” My voice was barely a whisper.
He froze as my quiet plea registered. I heard the deep pull of his breath, like a gasp of air as he broke the surface. Jerking back from me as if I were on fire, he wiped a hand across his eyes, shock and horror registering at the same time.
My knees buckled and I slid down the door, trying to catch my breath that had suddenly raced out of my control. “It’s okay,” I tried to say, but choked around the words.
He stared at his hands like they were twin vipers and his eyes held all the terror of a man who awakens from a nightmare to find out he wasn’t dreaming.
“Rachel.” My name was a croak on his lips.
My back still pressed against the door, I heard the knock at the same time I felt the sharp rap of the efficient young secretary.
Awkwardly, I crawled out of the way, unsure if I could stand, and unwilling to risk collapsing in front of him. The assistant’s face appeared in the crack between the door and the frame. Shielded by the door, I was hidden from her view. She would have only seen Eaden standing there.
“They’re ready for you now.” Her curt efficiency seemed completely incongruous with the roaring in my head and the lurid electricity that seemed to crackle through the room.
Glancing at Eaden, I saw the curtain come down. I saw the shield settle back in place. His mouth first, and then his eyes, resuming that expressionless mask he felt necessary to wear for survival.
My God, what had I done to him? She was right. Sannah was right. If this goes on, he’ll be destroyed.
