A Stone-Kissed Sea
Page 52
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
In fact, she might have wanted him more.
That night, while Makeda and Kato walked out into the water, Lucien was running an analysis on a sample of Kato’s blood he’d asked for.
“Like you,” the giant vampire said, “my preference is for saltwater. But the basic practices are the same. You’ll only be stronger, more in control, in the sea.”
“The Elixir virus broke your connection to your element,” Makeda said. “But you’ve recovered fully?”
He didn’t seem offended by her question. “I wouldn’t say fully, but I am nearly whole. My children are all dead, but they had their own children, and their blood strengthens me.”
Makeda flipped through what she knew of current Elixir treatment. “Partial transfusion?”
“Total exsanguination followed by partial transfusion.”
Something wasn’t adding up. Even total exsanguination wouldn’t have killed off the virus in his marrow. At least, not that alone. “It’s startling that you have survived.”
“I’m vampire.” Kato smiled. “And I’m still the strongest of my kind.”
“Do you mean the strongest of water vampires?”
“Yes.”
Makeda paused. “The strongest in the world?”
Kato shrugged. “I believe so.”
“Because you’re the oldest?”
“I don’t know that I am,” he said. “Though it’s possible. There are rumors of some ancients in the South Pacific who may be older than me. But in my world, I am the greatest.”
Makeda supposed that for an ancient Mediterranean king, the world still revolved around his sea. “You’re the common ancestor Baojia talked about. The one all the water vampires are descended from.”
“Am I?” He cocked his head. “Possibly. It’s been so long that none of us really remember our origins. The elders in the East claim to have accounts of the earliest vampires—they call them Sida—but they could be lying. Ziri believes them, but that could be because the Sida were supposed to have been wind walkers like him. He said his sire was one of the horse people.” Kato put his hands on his hips and looked at Makeda. “History isn’t interesting to me. We should play with water.”
Makeda couldn’t stop her smile. Lucien was correct. She was quickly growing to love Kato. He was jovial and humorous. And though his power was frightening, Makeda’s fear was tempered by his charm. There was an innocence to Kato. To him, the world was still a simple place. He spoke warmly of his friends and children’s children. He spoke of obliterating his enemies with a deft levity that confused and charmed Makeda at the same time.
As for Saba, Makeda found the other woman too intimidating to be lovable.
Kato and Makeda waded into the water and dove deep. Kato had demanded Makeda wear as little clothing as possible for her lessons, so she’d stripped down to only panties and an undershirt. The freedom in the water felt incredible.
“I feel everything,” she said, surfacing after long minutes and floating on her back to watch the stars. “I can feel the fishes and the hippos. The birds as they float or dive. How is that possible?”
“Because you’re connected to the water, you feel the void where the animals exist,” Kato said. “That is why Lucien couldn’t understand. Earth vampires reach for the substance, while we look for the void. Much as your mind assumes information to paint a cohesive picture of a mosaic, your amnis fills in the information you’re sensing from the water.” He pointed to his right. “A group of six hippos is over there sleeping.”
Makeda laughed. “Hippos are easy to sense.”
“Because they displace so much water. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What you need to learn is how to coax the water.” He swam to her and grasped her hand. “Hold on to me. Feel what my amnis does first, then try it yourself.”
They floated for hours, most of which consisted of Kato demonstrating how to coax the water and Makeda fumbling through some poor imitation of it. Nevertheless, her teacher was endlessly patient.
“Remember, Makeda, your own body is over half water.” He stood behind her, her hands cradled in his giant palms as she felt his amnis move. “Water is in the air. In the soil. It’s everywhere. Water is what came first of all things.”
“But how do I manipulate it?”
“You have to find its energy first,” he said. “Don’t think. Feel. Allow yourself to listen to your instincts.”
“I thought I was supposed to fight my instincts.”
She felt his chest rumble in a quiet laugh. “Why would you do that?”
“So I don’t kill anybody?” she said. “That seems like a good reason.”
Makeda felt him shrug massive shoulders.
“People die all the time. It’s the way of things. You shouldn’t kill innocent people because there is no honor in killing that which offers no harm. You shouldn’t let your hunger consume you. But self-control is a weapon like anything else. Be careful you don’t let your armor weigh you down.”
“So learn self-control. And also learn when to let it go?”
“If you can’t ever let it go, it becomes a prison.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Not a tool.”
Makeda wondered if Kato could read minds. Waking that night, she hadn’t been hungry for food; she’d been hungry for Lucien. She’d slaked one thirst, but the other still burned.
That night, while Makeda and Kato walked out into the water, Lucien was running an analysis on a sample of Kato’s blood he’d asked for.
“Like you,” the giant vampire said, “my preference is for saltwater. But the basic practices are the same. You’ll only be stronger, more in control, in the sea.”
“The Elixir virus broke your connection to your element,” Makeda said. “But you’ve recovered fully?”
He didn’t seem offended by her question. “I wouldn’t say fully, but I am nearly whole. My children are all dead, but they had their own children, and their blood strengthens me.”
Makeda flipped through what she knew of current Elixir treatment. “Partial transfusion?”
“Total exsanguination followed by partial transfusion.”
Something wasn’t adding up. Even total exsanguination wouldn’t have killed off the virus in his marrow. At least, not that alone. “It’s startling that you have survived.”
“I’m vampire.” Kato smiled. “And I’m still the strongest of my kind.”
“Do you mean the strongest of water vampires?”
“Yes.”
Makeda paused. “The strongest in the world?”
Kato shrugged. “I believe so.”
“Because you’re the oldest?”
“I don’t know that I am,” he said. “Though it’s possible. There are rumors of some ancients in the South Pacific who may be older than me. But in my world, I am the greatest.”
Makeda supposed that for an ancient Mediterranean king, the world still revolved around his sea. “You’re the common ancestor Baojia talked about. The one all the water vampires are descended from.”
“Am I?” He cocked his head. “Possibly. It’s been so long that none of us really remember our origins. The elders in the East claim to have accounts of the earliest vampires—they call them Sida—but they could be lying. Ziri believes them, but that could be because the Sida were supposed to have been wind walkers like him. He said his sire was one of the horse people.” Kato put his hands on his hips and looked at Makeda. “History isn’t interesting to me. We should play with water.”
Makeda couldn’t stop her smile. Lucien was correct. She was quickly growing to love Kato. He was jovial and humorous. And though his power was frightening, Makeda’s fear was tempered by his charm. There was an innocence to Kato. To him, the world was still a simple place. He spoke warmly of his friends and children’s children. He spoke of obliterating his enemies with a deft levity that confused and charmed Makeda at the same time.
As for Saba, Makeda found the other woman too intimidating to be lovable.
Kato and Makeda waded into the water and dove deep. Kato had demanded Makeda wear as little clothing as possible for her lessons, so she’d stripped down to only panties and an undershirt. The freedom in the water felt incredible.
“I feel everything,” she said, surfacing after long minutes and floating on her back to watch the stars. “I can feel the fishes and the hippos. The birds as they float or dive. How is that possible?”
“Because you’re connected to the water, you feel the void where the animals exist,” Kato said. “That is why Lucien couldn’t understand. Earth vampires reach for the substance, while we look for the void. Much as your mind assumes information to paint a cohesive picture of a mosaic, your amnis fills in the information you’re sensing from the water.” He pointed to his right. “A group of six hippos is over there sleeping.”
Makeda laughed. “Hippos are easy to sense.”
“Because they displace so much water. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What you need to learn is how to coax the water.” He swam to her and grasped her hand. “Hold on to me. Feel what my amnis does first, then try it yourself.”
They floated for hours, most of which consisted of Kato demonstrating how to coax the water and Makeda fumbling through some poor imitation of it. Nevertheless, her teacher was endlessly patient.
“Remember, Makeda, your own body is over half water.” He stood behind her, her hands cradled in his giant palms as she felt his amnis move. “Water is in the air. In the soil. It’s everywhere. Water is what came first of all things.”
“But how do I manipulate it?”
“You have to find its energy first,” he said. “Don’t think. Feel. Allow yourself to listen to your instincts.”
“I thought I was supposed to fight my instincts.”
She felt his chest rumble in a quiet laugh. “Why would you do that?”
“So I don’t kill anybody?” she said. “That seems like a good reason.”
Makeda felt him shrug massive shoulders.
“People die all the time. It’s the way of things. You shouldn’t kill innocent people because there is no honor in killing that which offers no harm. You shouldn’t let your hunger consume you. But self-control is a weapon like anything else. Be careful you don’t let your armor weigh you down.”
“So learn self-control. And also learn when to let it go?”
“If you can’t ever let it go, it becomes a prison.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Not a tool.”
Makeda wondered if Kato could read minds. Waking that night, she hadn’t been hungry for food; she’d been hungry for Lucien. She’d slaked one thirst, but the other still burned.
