Eternal Dawn

  For Jonah and Ellie – the littlest but brightest lights in the whole world

  And to the Cheese Sandwiches of The Wheeler School Class of 2019, my very first 7th grade class; I promised I would dedicate a book to you. May you live up to your class name and write fiction that soars!

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Dear Girl in Red,

  I dreamed of you again today. You stood in a field of lavender that stretched all the way to the horizon. The sky was orange and burning. Where are these worlds that I cannot touch? Why are you always there? You stood in the centre of this field wearing a red gown. When I reached you, you vanished, leaving nothing behind but a crimson feather. Is this a symbol? What are you trying to tell me?

  Today is a three-year anniversary. Three years since Justin Enos went missing from this school. They say he vanished, taken from his room in the middle of the night. No sign of foul play. No fingerprints left behind. Just a room with no one in it. They found lacrosse sticks leaning against walls, tipped-over coffee mugs and unfinished English papers.

  You have something to do with this, don’t you? Girl in red, come to me. Come to me and tell me your name. Are you real?

  I must be near you. I know this. You know it too. The truth is in your eyes.

  Rhode

  CHAPTER 1

  1418, Hampstead, England – the Heath

  ‘Genevieve Beaudonte! We must practise your letters . . . tonight.’ I called to an adjacent row in the orchard. Where had she run off to?

  I picked up the last basket of apples just as a crack of thunder prickled the hairs on the back of my neck. Grey clouds travelled across the sky in a continuous dance, unfurling and folding in on themselves. I inhaled the scent of the soil and of the apples that hung from the trees above me. My three-year-old sister, wearing a filthy frock, jumped out before me. Her short curly hair stuck out from her head at crazy angles.

  ‘Thunder! Did you hear it, Lenah? My favourite!’ Genevieve cried.

  I held on to her hand as we made our way out of my father’s orchard and towards the house.

  ‘Perfect weather to study your letters,’ I said.

  ‘But why? It is hard,’ Genevieve complained with a drop of her head.

  ‘You will need it someday,’ I said, and lightly pushed her so she would move faster.

  An image overwhelmed me: I playfully push my best friend Tony and he trips over his feet. He turns to me, open mouthed and laughing. The images came like bullets: concrete sidewalks; steam rising from coffee mugs; a school with a stone tower. Friends.

  Even the smallest movement could bring back the memories of my favourite place in the modern world: Wickham Boarding School.

  ‘Why?’ Genevieve asked. Her voice rooted me to the present conversation. ‘Why will I need to learn to read?’

  ‘I told you – when you are older I will explain. But for now . . .’ I pulled her gently by the back of her dress to stop her from walking. I bent down to look in her eyes; they were exactly the same colour as mine, a stormy blue. She had the longest eyelashes of anyone in my family.

  ‘For now we must keep it a secret. Not even Mama and Papa can know,’ I said.

  ‘Tell me the story again tonight. The one about the maiden and her true love,’ she whispered. She meant my story of the Vampire Queen. The one I told her in darkness. The one of Rhode . . . and me.

  ‘Our secret?’ I said.

  She nuzzled my nose and I took that as a yes.

  I stood up and we headed towards the house in the distance. The smoke from the chimney swirled into the sky. Genevieve tossed an apple into the air, and just as it bounced off of her open palm the thud of knowing punched me in the stomach.

  I straightened up and took a step backwards, letting Genevieve chase the rolling apple.

  Something was coming.

  We should run.

  But would we make it? The hair on my arms stood on end. When an otherworldly creature enters into a human world, the energy shifts and the air crackles.

  My hands trembled, so I balled them into fists and we continued on towards the house. Row by row, I expected something or someone to materialize between the gaps in the trees. A hand could curl around the bark followed by a body, and that person, whoever he was, might want to hurt us. Even kill us.

  Genevieve continued to skip along the path.

  ‘Darling,’ I said. ‘Get to the house. Tell Mama I will be there anon.’ There was a quiver in my voice that I hoped she did not notice.

  ‘No. I want you to walk with me,’ she said, and continued to toss the apple up and down, up and down. She dropped it, chased after it, picked it up and threw it into the air again.

  My fingertips tingled. I placed the basket of apples softly to the ground. If this supernatural being wanted to hurt Genevieve or me, I would need both hands free.

  ‘Go along,’ I said to Genevieve. ‘I forgot someone – I mean, something,’ I corrected.

  ‘All right,’ she groaned. The back of her dress bounced as she skipped to the house. By a sliver of luck, she did not turn around. The latch closed and I stared at the wooden door of the house, waiting to see if she would step back outside.

  I closed my eyes again and inhaled the smell of rich soil, the oppressive humidity and the impending rain. I attempted to calm myself by drawing a deep breath. Goose bumps erupted over my arms and the hum grew louder making little pops of sound in the air.

  It was behind me.

  ‘Three years,’ I said to the unknown entity. ‘Three years and I finally stopped –’ I paused, turning behind me – ‘looking over my shoulder.’ But the word shoulder was cut off. I gasped. There was a blast of red light, a sharp crack, and the sky opened up. I clutched at my chest as a body fell from the tops of the trees.

  Suleen hit the ground with a hard smack. I ran to him and fell to my knees at his side. His white robes were tattered, hanging in shreds. Bite wounds spread over his neck and arms. They came from an attack. It was unmistakable; dozens of circular puncture wounds spread over his body.

  Vampire wounds.

  What kind of vampire drains another? And why? For blood? I had never heard of that before. Vampire blood is of no use to another vampire. The blood must be drawn from the living. It is the death of the human that is the magical sacrifice; the blood keeps the mind alive in a dead body.

  I helped Suleen on to his back. The oldest and most powerful vampire in the world rested his head in my lap.

  ‘Justin is . . .’ Suleen’s voice failed.

  Justin?

  I placed my hands on Suleen’s shoulders and they were immediately covered with his blood. ‘Justin is what? Is he –’ I had to draw a deep breath to get it out. ‘Is he dead?’

  Suleen squinted. ‘The sunlight. It’s too much.’

  I raised myself on to my knees to shield him from the sky above. I hoped to make a large enough shadow.

  ‘There is a revolution. Walk into the sunrise and go back. Stop him.’

  ‘A revolution? Suleen, stop who? Who do I stop?’

  Suleen’s eyes widened with panic; he seemed desperate for me to unders
tand. A line of red dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘He is still a vampire,’ he growled.

  ‘Justin?’ My voice shook as I spoke. ‘Suleen, that’s impossible. Fire said it herself – if I came back here to the medieval world, that history would be changed. My past would be erased.’

  ‘He has made them from your blood,’ he said.

  ‘Made who? Suleen, look at me.’ This made no sense. I needed more time.

  He was bleeding out too fast. I stuck out my arm, offering my wrist. If Suleen fed from me, his wounds would heal instantly. He was far too damaged at this point for accelerated vampire healing to save his life.

  Suleen needed my help and he needed my blood.

  ‘Feed from me. Do it,’ I commanded. His feeble fingers pushed my hand away.

  ‘You must go back.’ He grasped my dress in a clench of his fist. ‘Justin made . . .’ He had to stop to gather the strength to speak. ‘He made them from . . . your . . .’

  He gurgled something I couldn’t make out. His eyes widened even more as the blood oozed out of the bite marks all over his body.

  ‘Kill Justin,’ he begged.

  ‘Suleen, please.’ I stuck my wrist directly under his nose.

  He did not feed.

  A roll of light ran over the tops of the apple trees, down to the orchard floor and on to us. Suleen lifted his chin to the sun breaking through the clouds. I could not block his whole body; the beams of sunlight were too wide. He smiled, just faintly. The sides of his mouth curled upward just enough that I was positive he was basking in the light.

  And then . . .

  The oldest vampire to ever exist turned to ash.

  Suleen was still whole but seemed to be a statue made of ivory-coloured cinders.

  ‘No,’ I whispered. He’s going to blink those powdery lids and look out at me with his brown eyes. He’s fine. Just be patient.

  The statue of cinders didn’t move.

  My fingers trembled as they reached out. At my touch, his form dissolved into a pile of powder. I gasped and sat back on my heels.

  How could someone so indestructible turn to ash in my hands?

  I stood up and looked around. How had Suleen travelled to 1418? Last time I had seen him, I was living in modern times. Suleen, despite his enormous power as a vampire, couldn’t manipulate time.

  I searched through the grey shadows falling over the orchard.

  Fire could. Fire could travel through time.

  She was a member of the Aeris, one of the four elements of the world: earth, wind, and water being the others. She had enabled me to change my vampire past and return to my family and the medieval era. What had happened in my absence?

  Justin’s broad shoulders and brilliant smile sifted through my mind. He wasn’t supposed to remain a vampire. I didn’t want to think of his blond hair and casual cadence. Because if he was a vampire, he would now be hardened and robotic.

  ‘How?’ I asked aloud in the empty orchard. When I had last seen Justin, Odette had made him a vampire, but that was supposed to change when I came back to the medieval world. Hadn’t I said that already to Suleen – that reality was meant to be erased when I came back?

  I rubbed my fingers and frowned at Suleen’s remains.

  As a human, Justin was a daredevil adrenaline junkie, but he had never been violent. There was no way. Not Justin. If he had attacked Suleen, someone had to be influencing him, no, encouraging him to be so dangerous. What had Suleen said?

  Your blood . . . He made them. Suleen’s voice resonated in my head.

  What did Justin make from my blood? No – more specifically, how could he get my blood if the Aeris changed history?

  A crack of thunder shot through me and I jumped just as the first globule of rain fell on the tip of my nose. Another crack!

  And the sky opened.

  ‘No!’ I cried, and clawed at the earth before it melted to mud. I couldn’t let Suleen’s ashes wash away; they had to be buried, with respect. The rain came hard, pelting the orchard.

  ‘Lenah!’ Genevieve called for me from the open window of the house.

  Oh no . . . not now!

  I scraped the ground, making a hole so the ashes could be buried deep below the surface. My knuckles knocked against roots and rocks.

  I dug into the soil with one hand, and moved the ash with the other. I continued scooping the earth and pushing in the silvery white remains. I withdrew my hands from the ground with an ache. My knuckles bled, making pink watery lines over my fingers. Orchard dirt had collected under my fingernails, but I didn’t care. Suleen’s ashes were safely buried underneath the wet earth and that’s all that mattered to me. My hair stuck in long strands to my skin, sending cool trickles of water down my back.

  He did not deserve to die. His ancient blood had dripped from his mouth and body on to my clothes. It stained and blotted my work dress. ‘Go for—’ I tried to say the familiar vampire phrase aloud. I wanted to wish his soul peace. Why should it be so hard to just say goodbye? After all, Suleen had taught the saying to me long ago.

  My back seemed heavy and I bent over, placing my palm on the wet ground. This can’t be real. He’s not gone; this is a trick.

  But the rain continued to fall.

  I grabbed the hem of my dress and ripped away a thin stretch of wet fabric. The strip of cloth dangled in my hand and I tied it around my wrist like a bracelet. Suleen’s blood was on my skin, and even though it would dry, I would wear this fabric around my wrist until it broke apart. Until that happened, I would mourn Suleen and the life he had sacrificed.

  ‘Go forth’ I said the phrase, finally. ‘In darkness and in light.’

  I pulled a small knife out of my dress pocket and walked to the end of the orchard row. I grabbed an apple out of the nearby basket and came back to where I had buried Suleen’s ashes.

  The apple sat in my hand and lines of rain ran down its skin. I sliced it across its midsection to reveal a pentacle. The severed core and the seeds created a perfect five-pointed star, a symbol of life, the symbol of the four elements – the Aeris. We stood together, that star and me, in the rain, above the ashes of my dead mentor.

  Fire must have sent Suleen to me; it would be the only way he could time travel. I would leave her this symbol so she would know that I received her message. This pentacle faced towards the heavens, where I hoped Suleen’s spirit would go – if there was such a place. He deserved silence, peace and a place without bloodlust.

  I wiped the rain out of my eyes with the back of my hand, turned to the small mound of wet earth and shook my head. It can’t be, I thought again, but it was true. I knew this kind of violent death all too well.

  Vampire Queen, a voice in my mind whispered and I swore it sounded malicious, like a taunt. I am not a vampire. Not any more.

  When I opened the door of the house Genevieve grasped both arms around me. ‘There you are!’ she cried. I drew her to me and relished the grip of her gentle fingers.

  As I closed the door behind me, I threw one more glance at the orchard, at the burial spot – the apple was already gone.

  Genevieve’s frame was curled into a ball beneath the blanket. All of it, every strand of the wool, was hers tonight. Instead of fighting me for a scrap of fabric, all that poked out beneath the wool were two dirty bare feet. The medieval world did not allow the comfort of many bedrooms, at least not for my family, a farming family living on the orchard of a monastery.

  I kissed Genevieve’s head and she shuffled under the covers.

  ‘Je t’aime,’ I said in French, and turned to the door.

  The apple was my beacon; Fire would come soon. She would arrive at sunrise just as Suleen had told me she would.

  I tiptoed down the stairs and stopped at the little window that overlooked the orchard. I was not afraid to decipher this mystery. I had been the Vampire Queen, and with Suleen’s death, whatever had happened, it was clearly now up to me to fix it.

  My fingers ran against t
he cool windowsill and I stepped down on to the ground floor. I lingered at my father’s favourite chair and my sister’s riding stick. She loved to pretend to ride a horse up and down the orchard rows, her curls bouncing and her laughter echoing through the many lanes. I closed my cloak even tighter to keep in the warmth and glanced back at the stairs. I could go up and sleep, pretend this wasn’t happening. Just get up in the morning and go about my business. I shook my head because I would never do that. I couldn’t and wouldn’t leave Rhode, Tracy and the rest of my friends at Wickham Boarding School to torment. The house creaked in the silent summer morning. Soon the floorboards would squeak with my father’s familiar footsteps.

  The stone mantel of the fireplace was cold, the night’s fire long burnt out. My mother’s hearth smelled just like her – lavender and rosemary. I detached a sprig of the dried purple flowers from a bushel hanging above the fireplace and placed it in my cloak pocket. I closed my eyes, inhaling my home: fresh air, wood and various herbs. Nowhere, in all of my many travels, smelled as good as this special place.

  ‘I’ll come back,’ I whispered to the house. ‘I promise.’

  I headed out the door and set off towards the edge of our property, towards the spot where once, so long ago, Rhode had made me a vampire. Far in the distance, at the horizon, the sunrise hit the land.

  I headed for the light.

  My feet crushed the soft morning grass. The dew slicked the tree trunks and branches. I passed Suleen’s buried ashes and turned my face away from the place. He was never coming back.

  I kept on, and when I turned the corner, there, at the end of the lane, stood Fire. She wore a cloak of red as vibrant as her hair. She held a hand out to me and I hurried forward. Once I reached her, she gestured to the dirt lane that ran along one end of the orchard rows.

  ‘I follow that path to Wickham?’ I asked. She nodded and led the way. We did not need pleasantries. We did not need to say our hellos. Fire’s cloak trailed over the ground as she walked. It swayed back and forth and seemed to bleed its colour, transforming my path to a bright, tangerine light. The trees were covered in a blaze of yellows and red. Everything, even the trunks and leaves, was saturated. As I walked, the colours mellowed into browns and the natural colours of the Earth. The orchard was behind me and ahead were tall sycamore trees.