Chapter 34 Kidan
KIDAN
The night air bit at Kidan’s skin as she left the Arcane Tower in search of Adjoa Piran.
Her mother’s ghost fell into step beside her, younger, thick and soft curls around her face.
Eyes made of quiet resolve. Adjoa Piran waited on a bench, the glow from the streetlight wrapping around her like a blanket.
This was the woman who had Kidan’s mother and father killed.
The smooth ground appeared to crack beneath Kidan, fissures hissing with smoke, pure lava straight from hell leaking out to match the wrath brewing inside her.
Kidan slowed three steps from Adjoa. Tried to calm down.
A well-dressed vampire, Sacro Tar, straightened up and stepped forward in warning.
Kidan bristled at the sudden movement. She wished he’d try something.
“It’s fine.” Adjoa’s voice was melodious, too calm. “I’ve been waiting for this. But we can’t speak here.”
Sacro bowed slightly and stepped back.
Adjoa stood and walked into the adjacent woods, signaling for Kidan to follow. Kidan cast a cautious glance between them, turned to the tower for Susenyos.
She should wait for him. Whatever this was, she would feel safer dealing with it with him by her side.
“He can’t accompany you,” Adjoa said, her eyes slightly slanting.
“Why not?”
“Because he can’t be trusted.”
Kidan almost laughed. “I trust him more than you.”
“Really?” The woman tilted her head. “Do you know what he’s doing at this moment? Or who he’s speaking with?”
When Kidan said nothing, Adjoa continued. “He meets with the rogue vampire you brought in, Arin Tawendyo.”
Arin… Kidan knew her only from a distance. The cruel vampire who’d burned Yusef’s hand and spent most of her time with Professor Andreyas.
Why was Susenyos speaking with her?
Kidan tried not to show her surprise and hardened her voice. “Why are you following him?”
The square of Adjoa’s shoulders straightened, her voice cold. “Because he killed a vampire from my house.”
Good, Kidan was about to say when the woman began to walk into the woods, her vampire falling behind her.
Swearing internally, Kidan followed the crunching path of the spindly trees. She should have grabbed a coat because the branches cut at her arms. They walked for a long time, long enough for her apprehension to reach a limit.
“Hey!” Kidan called, trying to catch up. “I’m not going any farther.”
Adjoa stopped at a small clearing, looking to her vampire. On cue, Sacro circled the space, once, twice—searching for threats.
“All clear,” he said.
Adjoa put her hands inside her long furred red coat, the collar of which sat like a fat cat. “You look like her, you know. Mahlet. Except for your hair.”
Before, Kidan would have felt uncomfortable, but she straightened a little. She was done being judged and labeled as less than her legendary parents.
Adjoa’s eyes traveled to the silver house pin fixed to Kidan’s chest. The twin mountains twinkling on a sea of red.
Deep sorrow eclipsed the woman’s face. “I’m sorry you’re wearing a silver pin.”
“Most people would say ‘congratulations,’” Kidan spat out.
“Would they?” Adjoa’s eyes grew cloudy. “What’s there to celebrate about what you have done?”
Adjoa’s fingers tightened on her own house pin. A golden symbol of a crown. “Who would have thought Silia would succeed out of all of us.”
Kidan wasn’t sure what she’d heard. “My aunt?”
“She took you and your sister away from Uxlay. Gave you a chance at a normal life.”
This woman had no idea what kind of life Kidan had led.
In third grade, June and Kidan would wait in the park for hours after school finished.
Mama Anoet wouldn’t be home until six and they weren’t allowed in the house without her.
So they’d wait on the broken bench, backpacks tight around their shoulders, watching other parents pick up their children.
Some stayed in the park, letting their kids play while others barely stopped the car, honking noisily, in a hurry.
Kidan didn’t mind the angry ones really.
At least they showed up. When the sun set and it was clear Mama Anoet had forgotten to pick them up, June would be asleep, mumbling and fighting off her nightmares.
Kidan would carry her on her back and walk home quietly.
That wasn’t normal. They hadn’t gained anything by their parents’ deaths, they were only damaged by them. And anything alluding to the idea that their life had been good made her teeth ring.
Kidan put ice in her words, cutting to the chase. “Did you order your vampire to kill my parents?”
Adjoa’s face grew thunderous, her nostrils flaring. “Your mother was my friend.”
“Your house vampire killed them.”
Kidan’s ears rang with anger, and the wind picked up, disturbing the leaves at their feet.
“Please,” Sacro said, voice gentle. “Be patient and she will explain all of it to you. This isn’t easy for her.”
“Easy for her?”
Adjoa must have sensed Kidan was ready to face down a vampire because she stepped forward. “Go on. Ask your questions.”
Where to begin? Kidan’s breath was forming a fog before her, small quick puffs.
“Why would my mother risk prison to tell you the truth about Dranacti?”
Adjoa took her time lifting her gaze from her pin.
“I was not the first person your mother told. After she graduated Dranacti, Mahlet was upset with an institution designed to push students to kill. She was motivated to find a better way. She couldn’t accept the fact that an acti must kill of their own free will to share their blood.
” Her eyes grew haunted. “Knowing the risk, each year she told a select group of us, warning us away. She gave me an option: join her society and fight to have a better system implemented or leave Uxlay. Only in my case, she told me a day too late. I’d already taken a life and couldn’t be spared. ”
True sorrow circled her tone.
Her mother had her own society… that stood against Dranacti.
Out of all things, Kidan hadn’t expected this.
“My father discovered she told me, and they arrested her for Dranacti disclosure.”
The guilt in Adjoa’s voice leached all the moonlight from the clearing.
She fished out a photo from her pocket and gave it to Kidan, who accepted it tentatively.
The picture was faded, showing a group of at least fifteen students crowded around a bar, smiling.
Kidan’s father was there, glasses framed his brown face and he wore a university sweater that had “Addis Ababa” printed on it.
He looked almost shy. Her mother raised a drink, grinning wide, hair worn naturally in thick, loose curls.
Kidan recognized three of the students. They were now adults from Temo, Rojit, and Piran Houses.
Adjoa was there too. All young and bright eyed.
The Dirt Diggers, 1994.
“It was the first meeting I went to,” Adjoa explained, branches drawing long shadows on her face. “Your mother had a dangerous idea. She wanted to find the mythical Sage artifacts. Break the vampire binds, as well as the First Bind, the one that makes vampires feed from the acti houses only.”
Kidan’s head snapped up. Which would mean there would be no reason for Dranacti lessons anymore. No need to kill.
“That’s…”
But she couldn’t quite finish.
“Ambitious?” Adjoa offered. “Most left then, believing it was nothing but dreams. The artifacts were lost, and a bunch of students weren’t going to find them.”
Her mind couldn’t begin to process what she was hearing. Re-create Dranacti? Break the binds?
Regret flickered in Adjoa’s eyes, the crushed hope that lingered of a dream too big.
But it wasn’t a dream anymore. Kidan’s mother did discover the mask artifact. Hid it inside Adane House.
Why didn’t she tell the Dirt Diggers? Why not break the bind then and there? Was she waiting until she collected all three?
Kidan touched the photo again. Her mother was… a hero to these people. The discovery made her stomach twist, although she didn’t know why. Mahlet Adane didn’t let her murder consume her. She made it her mission to stop others from slipping under its thrall.
Kidan wasn’t a hero. She would kill again if it was necessary.
The answer to the third question on the Four Points of Culture was illuminated.
Do they believe power should rest in community, tradition, or individuals?
Community.
The connection between them began to dim like a dying light, making her gut sink.
Kidan looked up from the photo. “But do you know how the binds break? They say the myth is written in Ye Abyssi Tarik. Do you know it?”
Sacro shifted, his light eyes sliding to Adjoa. A hidden message traveled between them.
“No, that’s a level of knowledge we haven’t reached.”
It was clearly a lie. Kidan’s patience was running thin.
“Why did Daric kill her?” she asked, and hated how there was more mourning in her tone than anger. “Why?”
Adjoa’s face became hollow. “This is a mystery that haunts me still. Because I don’t know. I’m hoping you can learn the truth.”
She didn’t know what to believe.
Kidan gave them her shoulder, her vision blurry. The picture of the Dirt Diggers faded in and out. Fools with dreams. But her mother had left her one good thing at least. Allies. Houses with the power to vote.
She took a moment to swallow her grief. Now wasn’t the time to lose track.
“I want to talk with the Dirt Diggers,” Kidan said, her breath all fire. “I need your votes.”