Silence: Part Two of Echoes & Silence (53 page)

“So, what d’you think it’s for?” I’d said to him. “I mean, why would I have this kind of power? Like, what use is it?”

“I don’t think vampires inherit certain powers because of any use they may have or even for a path they might take in the future,” he’d told me, “but maybe since you’re an Auress as well, your abilities might have some benefit to nature.”

“How so?”

“No idea.” He’d shrugged. “What good could possibly come from heating water or melting stone?”

“What good could possibly come from melting stone?” I whispered, my hands wet against the stone, tiny vines creeping out from inside it, growing across the surface.

I closed my eyes for a moment as the sharp point of a vine cut through my palm, releasing the pure blood from inside me. The tip of each vine moved in for the blood then, drinking it down, the colour red changing their appearance closer to the rock’s surface, and with the purity of my blue light filling the clearing, I could now see the very tops of the trees, glowing in the dark dawn like faraway flashes of lightning. I laughed as warmth trickled from the Stone and into my hands like a happy feeling, the vines moving away from my blood when they’d had their fill, stretching and tangling themselves around another, twisting and binding until they became thick white branches. They glistened slightly as flakes of snow landed against them, melting in their warmth, and as the last of the rock melted away, nourishing the new roots with water, I shuffled back in the dirt, falling onto my hands.

A bright blue light beamed off the trunks of the surrounding trees as the new plant curled and stretched its way upward in the sky, spreading its branches like the wide arms of a loving friend. It stood at half the height of the older trees around it, white and glowing like warm sun.

I could feel the Life—centuries of energy from all manner of living things—trickling through its veins. And at the base of it, tangling and squirming in the soft, cold soil, the roots took hold of our earth, running deep within its core—to where, I wasn’t sure. All I knew, by a feeling in my chest, was that it touched a river of running water—something far away or perhaps far from this world. But the energy it drew could not be compared to anything I’d ever felt. Except maybe for holding my baby and seeing her take a breath for the first time.

I forced myself to stand in its presence, my eyes locked to the elegant twist of the branches, like an intricate weave of family history.

A deep voice, one I knew I could hear but never actually heard, seemed to call me to the tree’s circle.

I rushed forward and laid my hands to its warm, milky trunk. Its branches hung high above my head, despite the taller trees around the clearing dwarfing it, and as the sun rose higher into the new day’s sky, Nature’s light touched it for the first time.

It stretched its arms out wide, as if angling its face to the sun, and I could almost hear its limbs growing and moving to the glow of the winter light.

“Never has there been such beauty in a world so tainted,” Lilith said, her usually very strong voice breaking.

I turned my head to see her watery eyes, fixed on the majesty of the tree.

“When I brought the seed of Life to this land,” she said, “it was barren here, and bare. The magic within that seed brought richness to these lands—lands that now and will forevermore belong to my descendants. But, though the roots ran deep between this world and the next, the fruit of that tree was too pure to breathe the air of Man. When the branches touched the sky, the purity was sickened by it—it recoiled—and for many years I blamed God, when the truth was, this soil needed purification—a gift I could not give it. But you, Seeker—” she appeared beside me, gently tilting my face to hers with the tip of her finger, “—with your pure heart and blood, had the power to set it free… to set
me
free.”

“Set
you
free?”

Lilith nodded once, letting go of my face. “You once wished with all of your heart for a place to call home—a place in the world that you belonged. And I was no different in my younger years. When I left the Garden of Eden—left Adam—I had nowhere to go. After a while walking this realm, I had been scarred and damaged by Man, and I could not stand the smell of him. I needed a place that I could be safe, free—a place to call home. So I chose a land that none other wanted and I hoped to nourish it with the seed of Life. But because the soil was too impure, because too many had died here and too much sin had been committed, the tree could not grow. In its weaker, infant form, it shrivelled up in the ground to protect itself, but it was still vulnerable—the magic radiating off the stone casing, free for the taking. I swore that if it left Life here, nourished the soil, I would remain and protect it from evil until the day came when one would be pure enough to cleanse the soil and free it of sin.

“You have set it free now, Seeker—given it strength to survive in this world. Now, the magic, the power, belongs to you—is yours to protect…”

“So I’m stuck here now? In this forest—”

“No, Seeker.” She wiped her cheek, shaking her head as though she felt silly for crying. “I mean simply that this tree is yours now. Your pure heart, pure blood, pure soul has set it free, and now you must protect it and guard it for all time.”

“How do I do that if I don’t stay in the forest?”

“See to it that its power is never used for evil—that its fruit is never tasted by the lips of an impure man. Its roots run deep into the Rivers of Life, and the magic, the power that radiates throughout the world now is too great to be measured. Those sensitive to spirits, to magic, will feel its power—can use its power to See, to Charm—for many things. And you, in turn, will feel it when that power is tapped into. If you feel darkness, you must seek it out and end it.”

I nodded once—accepting this—and placed my other hand back against the tree, feeling a connection to it that ran deeper than the soul. “It wants me to bring my child here—lay her beneath its boughs.”

“Then you must,” Lilith said, turning to take my other hand. “And I will be awaiting your return—to meet my new great great granddaughter.”

My shoulder sunk. “First, I need to find that crux.”

“Look where you have looked before.” She smiled knowingly. “Perhaps, in your clearer state of mind, you will see that it was in plain sight all along.”

“Great,” I said, turning away. “Another one of this family’s infamous riddles.”

***

By the time I returned to my room, David and Emily had cleared away all Walter’s junk and pulled my things from storage, piecing the room back together as if none of the past few weeks had ever happened.

I stood for a moment in the open doorway, watching David where he sat on a chair at the foot of the bed, his arms folded, the muscles in his face tightly pulled with thought.

A tiny little bundle of blankets—blue Peter Rabbit ones from the old Institute for the Damned—lay in the middle of the bed, breathing softly in the quiet of early morning.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

He looked up quickly, wiping his hands over his head as if to rub off whatever expression he’d been wearing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly.” I leaned across the mattress and defensively scooped my baby off the bed, cradling her lovingly in my arms. “Did she cry while I was gone?”

“No.”

“Did she need a bottle?”

“No.”

“A nappy change?”

“No. That’s just the thing, Ara…” He got up. “She… she does nothing. Doesn’t cry, doesn’t stare, doesn’t look at you. She looks… through you, as if…”

“As if there’s nothing there,” I said, gently kissing her soft little head. “So is that what you were thinking about when I came in?”

“No.” He sat down again with a long sigh, his shoulders slumped, hands loosely resting between his thighs. “I was thinking about last night.”

“What about it?”

“I just… can’t believe it, Ara. I can’t believe our daughter is actually here—that you…” He looked at me, his eyes washing over my face and then moving down to my belly. “That you gave birth, by yourself. I just keep thinking how horrible, how terrifying that must have been. And then I think about the fact that I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s over now,” I said absently, kissing my sleeping beauty sweetly on the head. Her soft, fuzzy hair tickled my upper lip.

“No, that’s post labour euphoria—you’re going to need some counselling, Ara—”

“No. It’s just that none of the past matters now, David. Look.” I showed him our baby. “I went through Hell. And I was scared. And I felt more pain than I did when Jason tortured me. But we have a perfect little baby girl to show for it—so, like I said, nothing before her matters.”

“But she’s
not
perfect.” He appeared behind me, startling me a little. “She’s… I don’t know. But there’s something… not right.”

“Do you mean, aside from the fact that she has no soul?” I took a more purposeful look at her, rolling the blanket back a little to see her tiny, curled fist and the little creases where her fingers bent.

“Don’t you see it—feel it?” he asked. “Ara, her eyes are
black
. And… I don’t know if it’s just first-time-dad syndrome, but I can’t…” His voice quivered as he motioned a hand forward to our baby. “I can’t hold her. I don’t feel anything for her.”

I clicked my tongue, trying to find a way to make him understand. “If I dropped her right now, would you put your hands out to catch her?”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “What’s your point?”

I angled the pretty, round little face to him as she opened her eyes, and sure enough, they were black as a deep hole—so cold and empty that I wasn’t sure then what
I
felt for her. “She has no soul, David—nothing to connect to. You might love her, care for her, protect her, but without that connection, the love has no real meaning. She won’t cry, because, without a soul, she has no hope, no will to survive. No need to fight. She doesn’t look at you, because she has no wonder for the world, no curiosity—she’s not looking to make connections. She’s an empty vessel.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” He looked from her hollow eyes to mine. “
You
don’t seem to have a problem loving her.”

I laughed, turning her in my arms again so she could look up at me or, rather, through me. I could see my reflection in her eyes and, strangely, for the first time ever in my life, I could also see my own reflection in the shape of her face. “I’m her mother, I guess that’s why it’s easy for me. And besides, you know me—I’ve always had a gift for loving things no one else seems to.”

David smiled at that, relaxing enough to place his arm around me, his hand gently on my hip, leaning in a little. “She is beautiful, though.”

“And she’ll be even more beautiful with a soul.”

“Then, you’ve found a way,” he asked, stepping back a bit to look at me, his eyes spring-green with hope. “You can save her without taking another life?”

I nodded, bringing the baby up to my face. Her skin felt warm and there was a softness to it I’d never felt before—not like silk or cotton—but more like perfect skin that had never seen a day of sun—never taken a breath of pollution, never experienced the turmoil of life. This was what innocence felt like, and I couldn’t keep from running my cheek slowly along hers. “We need to bring her to the forest—”

“But she’s too new to take outside, she’ll—”

“She’ll be warm there—in the presence of the Tree of Life.”

“The what?”

“It was a tree, David,” I explained, my eyes wide with wonder, “the power beneath the Stone—all this time. It was trapped in there, locked away until a being with a pure heart, and with light from pure blood, could set it free.”

“Set it free,” he whispered the words to himself, casting his eyes downward in thought. “You used to say that in your sleep—a lot.”

“Did I?”

He nodded. “So… you set it free? There’s a tree there now where there once was a rock?”

“Mm-hm.” I nodded, smiling gleefully. “And the fruit gives immortal life. Just imagine,” I said, dreamy-eyed. “We could make you human again and you could eat the fruit, and then you’d be immortal, but without all the killing.”

“What?” he scoffed. “But I like killing.”

I laughed. Then stopped suddenly. “I bet Safia would love to get her hands on that fruit.”

“Safia aside.” He stepped around so he stood in front of me, cupping one hand over mine against the baby’s head. “How do we save our daughter?”

I cradled her upright against my chest, looking over at the jewellery box on Arietta’s dresser. “We give her Eve’s soul.”

As I looked back at David, his eyes moved to the jewellery box, too. “The crux—we never buried it. Are you saying…”

“Here.” I rolled the baby out from my shoulder and handed her carefully to David. He tucked her into him as though he’d cradled hundreds of babies over his century of life, and followed me to the dresser, leaving his previous question unfinished.

“Do you even know where it is?” he asked, standing behind me as I sat down on the stool. “I thought it faded, and only the leaf remained.”