Chapter 6 Kidan
KIDAN
Kidan woke up in the hallway.
She’d been dreaming about GK again, his bone chain clinking all around. She dreamed of him often these days. He was trying to speak, but she could never make out what he was saying.
All that remained were his cold, betrayed eyes. Soft brown pupils sharpened to golden mahogany. Claws emerging from his fingers. She didn’t linger too long on it, memories of his bleeding body and transformation had the tendency to make her ill.
Throughout the night, June’s soft sounds of distress echoed, a sound Kidan had been familiar with her entire life.
It was why she’d changed clothes and returned to the hallway.
To stay close just in case. June’s nightmares hadn’t stopped.
Those terrors gripping her body and making her writhe until Kidan woke her each night…
it was like nothing had changed. Only this time Kidan didn’t go to her.
Instead, she gritted her teeth and read her book under the flickering bulb until June quieted and Kidan could sleep again.
She kept wondering, how the fuck had they gotten here? Even living it, Kidan couldn’t believe it. June wanted to take over this house. How long before Dranacti encouraged her to take Kidan’s life?
Kidan stretched, yawning. It was all quiet now. Faint rays danced on the carpet, warming Kidan’s curled frame. That was when she noticed it. A blanket had been draped over her.
She frowned, wondering who had put it there, and reached for the worn book she’d been obsessively reading.
Traditional Myths of Abyssi.
Kidan traced GK’s circled note—around the name Nefari, singular form of Nefrasi.
He’d led her to uncover Susenyos’s secret with this book and there was more buried in its withered pages.
She flipped to the section titled “The Three Binds and the Three Artifacts.” She needed to know how, exactly, the binds would break.
Why the hell June and Samson were so desperate to get the mask artifact.
But the sections barely spoke about them before moving on to the next myth. There was a slight zigzag between the pages as if some had been torn out. No page numbers to know for sure, though.
According to Slen, there were once many copies of this book.
Then they started to disappear. Adane House had the last original.
Traditional Myths of Abyssi was a simplified version of Ye Abyssi Tarik.
And Abyssi, a mysterious place between two eclipsing mountains, was said to have birthed the first Sage and the first vampire.
No one truly knew the full myth in Ye Abyssi Tarik, as each page was written in a different African language.
Kidan traced the jagged line in the book, nearly smooth if you didn’t know to look for it. Susenyos had been hesitant to give her this book. She’d assumed it was because it exposed the origin of the Nefrasi. But there was something else he apparently didn’t want her to know.
Enough to tear it out before he gave her the book.
Instinctively, her fingers reached for her wrist. But her butterfly bracelet and the blue pill inside it were gone.
Susenyos had made her give it to him. Some days, Kidan wanted to die again.
It was a passing thought like the color of the sky or her favorite quote from The Mad Lovers, but the house would catch it and magnify it.
When this happened, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded paper, like now.
She traced the perfect cursive writing, the care and warmth fitted to each sentence.
The first few lines always made her heart seize.
My dearest Kidan,
There are many grotesque evils in this world. Trust me, I’ve encountered them all. But the cruelest of all is the one of the mind.
This was her most shameful secret. She read his letter every time she needed the reminder, for moments when the world pressed heavily from all sides.
That he wanted her to live.
So you can get him the artifact, a cruel voice whispered.
She pushed the letter down, pressing fists to her eyes. No, that wasn’t true. Was it?
“Still drowning in the hallways I see,” a low and earthy voice said, parting the quiet morning.
Kidan jerked back, her heart jumping to her throat. Susenyos came up the stairs and leaned by the rail, eyes shining. “I thought you conquered it?”
She tensed, looking to his old room—now Samson’s. Waiting for him to come out any minute.
Susenyos followed her gaze. “He’s not here. He took my room, didn’t he? How very predictable.”
Kidan still had his letter in her hand, which she quickly slipped inside the blankets.
“We can talk freely now,” he said. “Your sister has left too.”
A little relaxed, Kidan studied Susenyos.
He appeared the same—tall, lean build, frustratingly clear brown skin, and jaws framed by his twists.
Eyes the color of coal. He still looked like some lost king, a regal face meant to be captured on canvas.
An unfair sort of beauty with too many secrets still.
Fire extended from her feet and licked the bottoms of his shoes, making his lip tug. “Why are you burning, little bird?”
“You made me lose my gun,” she said, hating the way this house betrayed her.
“I’ll get you a new one,” he said dismissively, then smiled. “So when are we killing her?”
“Who?” Kidan blinked.
“Your traitorous sister. Do you want to do the honors or shall I?”
Her jaw dropped for a second. Then a muscle ticked. “We’re not killing her.”
He raised his brows, almost amused. “She threatens your position as heiress, leaves you without reason, and we’re supposed to let her be?”
Kidan opened her mouth and shut it, a wave of pain spreading in her chest. With Susenyos, it was easy to be honest, even if it was dangerous.
“I hate her,” she finally admitted.
His smile broadened. Usually, she found it handsome. Now she wanted to punch him.
“But I’m not killing my sister.”
A sigh left him, making her bristle.
“You stopped me from killing Samson. He’s our enemy.”
His eyes narrowed at her tone. “I only spared his life because we need the blade artifact. What value does your sister’s life bring?”
Kidan shook her head, unable to comprehend his violent words.
Value.
What value did Kidan’s life bring, then? Was that why he kept her alive? And if she stopped being valuable, what would he do?
He tracked her dark eyes. “What is that look? You’re not judging me again, are you, yené Roana?”
“You don’t want to kill June for me,” she said carefully. “You’re worried she’ll read the house law. Find out it’s about you.”
He matched her gaze with an equal measure of wrath. “I can have more than one reason to kill someone, little bird. I had five for you once.”
Kidan almost smiled but didn’t let him distract her. “If June reads the law, she will tell Samson, right? Don’t tell me that hasn’t crossed your mind.”
There was no trace of a smile now. A shiver went down her spine at the swift coldness creeping over Susenyos’s face.
“I won’t have that.”
“You’re not touching June,” Kidan said slowly, and got off the ground, pulling aside the blanket. “I’ll handle her. I’ll master the house and make her pay.”
Instead of expressing the anger Kidan expected, Susenyos’s gaze traveled down her bare legs, slow and careful like it was an unusual sight.
She’d forgotten she was still in shorts and an oversize shirt.
Her face warmed as the hallway curled with faint mist. The familiar heady scents of the Bath of Arowa were playing at their shoulders.
Was this her desire or his?
She waited for him to make his usual teasing comment, one that would encourage her to touch him or punch him, but he didn’t. He merely took her in, appearing to enjoy his time like she was a piece of art.
It flushed her skin, to be studied in such a careful way. As if he knew there was so much more inside her to explore and enjoy. Awful, wicked things. But gentle dreams too. Things she’d never tell a soul, maybe except him. It made her reckless, glimpsing herself through his glinting eyes.
The mist thickened, making her mouth water.
He bent down, and she stilled, aware of his every movement.
He retrieved the Abyssi myths book, his fingers brushing against her calf on the way up.
So gentle she wouldn’t have felt it if she hadn’t been paying attention.
She drew in a breath and held it, unsure if he’d done that on purpose.
They stood there, without speaking, for a long time.
Until the urge to lean closer was nearly painful.
Focus on the book.
Clearing her throat, she spoke. “Some pages are missing. About the three artifacts and the three binds.”
Kidan studied his smooth face for any sign of the truth.
“There are enough myths about the artifacts to drive you crazy if you let them.” His tone sounded reasonable, but he was careful—from his words to the guarded way he stood before her.
They couldn’t have been more than a step apart, close enough to embrace, but the book and its lost knowledge were a cold reminder of the distance they had yet to bridge.
Kidan’s gaze dropped to the cracked leather spine. “Lying to you doesn’t remotely brush against the horrors I’ve committed. You said that to me once. About how you will always protect the knowledge you have about the artifacts, no matter what happens.”
It wasn’t something he denied, which, oddly, she appreciated. Like two con artists, they could be honest in their secrets.
“Knowledge isn’t always power. It’s a prison too,” he said. “Dranacti students enter the Philosophy Tower every semester free and unburdened until they learn the truth of what they must do. They can never unlearn and neither can you. It is its own curse.”
Without his vampirism, the rich glow of Susenyos’s skin was tempered, and it was easier to take him in. The house changed him, rubbed off all his immortal ease and left him melancholy.