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Finally I seek out the Dryad, alone, in a small room in the cluster of buildings near to mine. She is dressed in loose green robes that are quite fine, but her room is very nearly a prison cell. A toilet, shower, and sink, a flat metal bed, and the chains that hook her feet to the wall even while she sleeps. I find her lying on her back on the bed, humming to herself, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. If it weren’t for the sound, I would assume she were dead, her eyes are so blank and terrifyingly empty.
I clear my throat. She stops humming but doesn’t stir.
“May I come in?”
“Why ask?” she says in a very dry voice, with a strangely bitter edge. “You come in whenever you want to. Don’t think I don’t notice your type coming in to stare at me while I sleep, hoping to catch a glimpse of the famous Dryad beauty.”
I blink. “I’m not a soldier.”
She looks at me, her hazel green eyes still totally expressionless. “Well, damn,” she says flatly. “You’re not.” Then she promptly looks back up at the ceiling.
“Are you…all right?” I ask hesitantly.
I see her eyebrows rise. She doesn’t look at me, though. “Peachy,” she says in the same flat voice. “Just peachy. The groping just adds an extra perk.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. I look around for a chair. There isn’t one.
A few moments later she speaks again. “So, what do you want?”
“What?”
She glances at me, her eyes rich with contempt. “You’re a human, so you’re here for one of a few reasons. You’re telling me Keearh has died, you’re taking me somewhere, or you have a request. Since I would know if Keearh had died, and he hasn’t and you don’t have the authority to take me anywhere, I presume it must be the third.”
I shuffle my feet awkwardly and ask, “Why would you know if the – if Keearh died?”
A bitter smile plays around her lips. Her eyelids are lowered lazily, but anger lurks in their hazel depths. “I wouldn’t expect a human to understand.”
I bite my lip, hesitantly. “What can you tell me about the word “yassa?””
Her eyes widen slightly, but other than that her expression doesn’t change. She rolls over and looks up at the ceiling. “He used it, then?”
I don’t need to ask who she means. “Yes,” I say slowly.
She closes her eyes. “Since you’re still alive and I’m not free, I guess it didn’t work. And that means that Taine’s gone, too.”
“Yes,” I say warily. Her eyes open and she looks at me, not bothering to hide the flames of green anger.
“What do you know about vampires?” she asks in a midnight voice. When I hesitate, she smiles wryly. “Next to nothing. Like everyone else. Vampires live alone for nearly their whole life. They are dependent on no one, they have no solid mate. After the child is born, the father and mother separate their own ways. Vampires rarely know their parents. But no one can live their life completely alone. And that is what a yassa is. ‘Soul of my soul,’ it means. A vampire’s only friend, closer than a brother. A vampire would kill his mother for his yassa. The yassa is the only bond other than a blood debt that a vampire is held to, and it is far, far stronger.”
I stare at her. “So Keearh was…is…Taine’s yassa?”
“He wouldn’t have said it if he wasn’t,” she says, closing her eyes again. “He said he’d only use it if there was no other way. And he has. And if Keearh didn’t heed him…” She turns toward the wall, her back to me. “Leave,” she says sharply. “I want to be alone.”
I reach for her shoulder, half wanting to offer comfort. She twitches her shoulder away. “Until you are dead and Keearh is free, I do not want to hear your voice again,” she says in an utterly flat voice. I flinch and turn away. As I reach the door, though, I turn back and say softly, “He heard him. He almost went. And I do not think that all is yet lost.” I don’t know why I said it. Only that, as the door closes behind me, I hear a soft wail from the bed.
Adam calls me to his office nearly a day later. I go nervously, afraid that I’ve done something wrong, but he welcomes me in with a genial smile and invites me to sit down.
“I thought I’d tell you something about this place,” he says. “Pull up a chair and I’ll tell you what I can.
“Every occupation has a resistance movement. This encampment is merely the beginning of ours. There are twelve other places like this in the Southern Territories alone, and more hidden around the globe.”
I stare at him, stunned, sure I must have misheard. More places like this? I look into his eyes. He’s gloating, pleased by my surprise. I feel an unreasonable surge of hatred.
“I imagine you’re wondering how we did it? Controlling, subduing all those savages without loss of life that would cripple us, without alerting them? We’ve found their weaknesses. Not just physically, but mentally, and that’s far different. You can fight a werewolf for days and never break it down, but push it one millimeter over their code of behavior and they snap like a string. We can break anything now, and with the amount of silver we’ve managed to salvage, subduing them won’t be a problem.” His eyes have a feverish glint. “Imagine it. Being able to walk in the sun without fear, raise a family. One large uprising. Coordinated. Sudden. And the world will be ours.”
I swallow hard and find myself thinking of the young Selkie dying in her cage. How do you break a Selkie? I almost ask, but instead I say, “And the Head is leading this operation?”
He laughs a rich, booming laugh. “No! Oh, no. He’s just a figurehead. Oh, he may think he’s in charge, but he’s nothing, knows nothing. Little more than a toy.”
“And what of those who will die?” I ask, my head buzzing.
He waves a hand dismissively. “Casualties for the fight for justice. It is always so.”
I think of my feelings when my ex-boyfriend died. Then I think of Taine grieving his brother alone. I feel sick. The room sways and then Adam is supporting me to a chair. “Are you all right? I should not have…it was callous. Forgive me.”
No. Forgive me. For not seeing who really led this operation. For forgetting that werewolf smile, forgetting what he is willing to do – what he has already done – to realize his dream of a free world, no matter how many more were destroyed. For not realizing that here, there are monsters on both sides of the fence.
I realize slowly that he’s kneeling in front of me, his eyes on my face, hand stroking my knee. He’s saying something.
“-better stay here for a bit while you calm down.”
His eyes make me nervous. I don’t want to stay here. “I’m fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “I should go. I need to get…” I’m halfway out of my chair, trying to think of something I need to get when strong hands press me back into a chair and press a glass to my lips. I smell the brandy, but it’s not enough to mask the sharp tang of a narcotic. I try to push the glass away.
“You’re hysterical,” he says calmly, his hands steady. “Just drink up.”
I take the glass, pretend to take a sip or two, hope that he doesn’t notice. Then I drop the glass to the carpet and slump in the chair, hoping I look drugged. Apparently so, because I hear him moving around for a few moments before he comes back. It takes a superhuman effort not to flinch when he reaches out and gropes roughly at my breast, fumbling at my shirt. I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper opening and then her bends over me, begins fumbling with my pants fastener. “Now, bitch,” he growls in a low voice, “I’ve got you right where I want you.”
With a prayer, I slam my head upward and my feet outwards. My head rebounds ineffectually off his upper arm, but my foot slams right into his groin and the exposed flesh. He roars and crumples, snatching at my ankle as I leap over him and flee to the door, jerk it open and run run run run until I reach my house, slam and lock the door behind me and collapse on the bed, sobbing with disgust and relief.
When no one comes for me, when Adam doesn’t come roaring in my door, I slowly uncurl, stiffened muscles protesting, and pad into the bathroom. In a cloud of unnatural calm, I wash my face and neaten my hair. And finally, when night falls and the curfew bell has rung, I stroll out my door, dressed in a freshly pressed uniform.
It’s easy to find the building again. There are no soldiers. There’s a security pad now, but the access code is written on the pad. It’s almost ridiculous how easy it is. I stroll in the door and close it softly. All sound from outside vanishes, and I am left in a pit that seems totally empty.
The first thing I hear is the soft snuffling of a child trying to quiet their crying. Slowly, like an old switch flickering on, bright green eyes appear and, following them, the murmuring. I understand none of it – it’s all in the mysterious Common dialect that Others use, but I don’t need an interpreter to understand this kind of blatant hostility.
I turn my flashlight on the lowest setting. Still, a few cries of pain permeate the suddenly suffocating silence. Silence. Nothing speaks, but the whole air whispers human. Beware.
I have no doubt that they would kill me if they could.
I grope my way along the cages, counting until I get to the one I remember. I find the door and feel for the lock. It’s a simple latch. I guess they’re not worried about her getting out anymore. I turn the light on a little higher and unlatch the cage slowly. She is cowered in the back of her smaller cage, her eyes wide and utterly terrified. She’s sickly, weak, and I suspect only partly because of the silver’s effects.
I slip the latch out and reach for her. She shrinks from my hands, but I catch her under the arms and carefully pull her close enough that I can maneuver her into my arms and take her out of the cage, cradling her. She looks at my eyes and I can almost feel her mind pushing at me, lonely and clumsy. I can’t make a connection with her, but I try to open my mind, let her see that I mean no harm. I cradle her for a few moments more, crooning softly into her hair. She stinks of dirt and sweat, but underneath it I can still barely catch the sweet smell of young children.
“How touching.” His voice is a rasp from behind me. Quickly I set the child down, murmuring a “stay here” to her before turning around to face him. I recognize the cage. I spoke to the last occupant last time I was here.
His hair is lank and dirty and his torn clothing is stained beyond repair. Half of his face is massively swollen. He still exudes that sexual heat that I remember so clearly. He gives me a twisted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, frost forming little circles around his feet.
“Hello, Anna,” he croons, his voice a little smoother. “I was anticipating another little chat, but I didn’t expect you so soon or I would have dressed up the place.” He gives me a razor edged smile. A moment later his full weight slams into the bars as he hurls himself at me. The cage holds, but his fingers snare my neck before I can stumble back. He could break every bone with one squeeze, leave me crippled or dead in an instant.
Another day, I would have frozen, terrified. Another day I wouldn’t be floating in this fog of deadly, deadly calm. But here I just move sideways one inch before he stops snarling.
Something hisses. I smell a stench of burned flesh and hair. Taine falls back, clutching him arm that sports raw, blistered flesh where skin touched silver. His eyes slide out of focus, and he sways, giving me a moment’s warning before he lurches forward and spews the contents of his stomach where my feet had been a moment before. Still doubled over, he spits weakly and wipes him mouth. “Bitch,” he says in a raw voice. My moment’s pity vanishes faster than a drop of water on a hot skillet.
“I came to offer you something,” I say in that clear, unnaturally calm voice not my own.
“I want no gifts from human scum,” he snarls. I shrug.
“Suit yourself.” I begin to turn away.
“Wait.” The word is ripped out of him. I pause, waiting. I hear a quiet, savage curse. “What do you want?”
I turn back to him and thrust my hand and wrist between the bars, palm up. I watch his eyes. They flick to the veins pulsing blood underneath my skin, visible in the wan light. His pupils dilate and I hear the hiss of his sharp intake of breath.
“What do you want?” he purrs in a much softer voice. His eyes don’t leave the pale, vulnerable underbelly of my wrist.
I look him in the eyes. “Blood makes you stronger, right? I’m offering mine. I’ll help you and the others get out of this place, as long as I don’t have to kill anyone and you try to hold back.”
His eyes narrow suspiciously, but his tongue flicks hungrily across his lips. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t welcome a world free from the scourge of monsters.”
I smile. The still sensible part of me recoils from that smile, recoils and shivers. “I don’t help movements that are privy to rape and the breaking of…people…like Aliah. Or those led by men for whom every death is faceless.
“Done.” And he is there, dropping to his knees and lowering his mouth to my wrist. I feel sharp pain for a moment, then a peculiar numbness settles on my arm, though I can feel his teeth holding me and the brush of his tongue against my skin. I feel a strange, swirling vertigo and nearly fall, but he steadies my upper arm, rising smoothly. A cut on his lip is gone. His face is hardly swollen at all. My dizziness is gone in three blinks as I stare at him. His tongue cleans a few drops of blood from around his mouth. My blood. I resist the urge to giggle as part of me gibbers in abject terror. He smiles, bows.
“Maybe a ferret rather than a rat,” he says softly. His nostrils flare and he tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “Ah. It has been too long since I have hunted. Here, in the dark, with the smell of blood in the air…”
I shuffle my feet, my calm deserting me quickly. He looks at me through his gemstone eyes. “I am stronger,” he says. “but not strong enough, and I cannot simply drain you for all that it would give me enough to break free. There is the blood debt I owe you…twice over, now…but more importantly I suspect that human help will be useful. But if I am to get out of this cage I will need to pass through silver, even if the door is open, and I am not strong enough yet for that.”
I nod, slowly. “I’ll be back. In a few days.”
He bows again, carefully avoiding the bars. “Farewell, Anna. I anticipate your next visit with hunger.” He gives me a chilling smile. I resist the urge to run as I turn my back and move to where I left the child. She hasn’t budged, but is sitting with her legs crossed regarding me quizzically, her thumb in her mouth. I pick her up and try to gently deposit her back in the cage. She fights, but finally the cage is closed, though she is crying again and will not look at me. I walk briskly toward the door. I have no idea how much time has passed, but I need to get back. Then I pause.
“Taine.”
“Anna.”
“Keearh isn’t lost. Your yassa remembers you. He will fight.”
His breath hisses through his teeth. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” I open the door. His voice rolls through the darkness.
“Anna?”
“Yes?”
“She’ll need a Selkie. So does Aliah. Think about it. And tell Deirdre – the Dryad – that fire only burns when you give it fuel. She’ll understand.” I nod, slowly, and I turn.
“And Anna. Call us Tsarri. It was our name for ourselves.” Before they were Other. Before they were the aliens, they were their own people. I nod, then realize that he won’t be able to see it.
“I’ll remember.”