Thirst No. 3: The Eternal Dawn

  Yaksha’s first lines don’t surprise me. I might have started my own story the same way, if I had been the first one to tell it, instead of Seymour. Nor does his reaction to Krishna shock me, for we both felt the same awe, reverence, love, terror, and, most of all, confusion around him.

  However, Yaksha’s faith that Krishna was divine seems stronger than mine. Certainly he embraced his vow to Krishna, to destroy all the vampires he’d made, with a true believer’s zeal.

  The first part of his story deals with that gruesome task, and how much he hated killing each member of his extended family. I had almost forgotten how close Yaksha was to many of the vampires. Witty and beautiful Sadrai. Powerful and sincere Apon. Brilliant and loyal Jamune. It was Jamune who was his closest friend, next to me, and it was Jamune who first understood what Yaksha was up to, and organized the other vampires to resist him.

  This part of his life I barely knew, because I fled Vrindavana not long after meeting Krishna. But I find it fascinating to read how Jamune captured a human fort not far from modern-day Madras, on the east coast, and set about strengthening it to resist Yaksha’s attacks. The move was clever, because even though Yaksha had many times their strength, Jamune had numbers on his side.

  Yaksha estimated Jamune had two hundred vampires in the fort, and despite repeated attacks he was fortunate to kill a dozen of our kind and escape with his life. Jamune was quick to train each vampire in the art of archery. He knew that a stake through the heart was the best way to destroy our leader.

  Yet Jamune was hampered by two weaknesses all young vampires possess: The need to drink blood regularly and an allergy to sunlight. Of course, the myth that a vampire will burst into flames in the sun is silly, but at midday a vampire of less than twenty years is not much stronger than your average human.

  Yaksha sought out help in a bizarre place. He convinced the local raja that the fort in question—Samir, it was named—had been taken over by a band of demons. He called upon soldiers who had been stationed at Samir to testify, and naturally, not wanting to look like cowards, they told the raja they had been defeated by monsters possessing superhuman strength.

  Yaksha had the raja take a tally of all the deaths in the region around Samir, and the king quickly discovered that not only were his subjects dying in unusual numbers near the fort, they were being drained of all their blood. It did not take Yaksha long to make a believer of the raja.

  Yaksha himself managed to escape suspicion. From birth the bright sun had bothered him, and he tried to avoid it whenever he could. At the same time, it didn’t cause him to swoon, and he was able to hide his aversion to it without much effort. Likewise, he could go for a long time without drinking blood. He made a point to stay in the raja’s castle, where hundreds could watch him, and that alleviated any fears that he might be a vampire himself.

  But he did demonstrate to the raja what a powerful swordsman he was in battle, and the king put him in charge of an army of five thousand soldiers and ordered him to bring back the head of every vampire that had infected Samir. To further enhance his advantage, Yaksha attacked the fort at midday.

  Jamune was not caught unawares. He was too shrewd. Using a treasury of gold he had collected over the previous fifty years, he solicited spies about the land. He knew the day the hammer was to fall, and he took precautions. He was able to repulse Yaksha’s first attack. It was not until Yaksha brought out catapults, fueled with oil-soaked bundles of sticks, that the tide of the battle changed. Surprise in a fight usually gives the advantage. No one had ever seen the catapult before, because Yaksha had invented it. Plus fire can destroy a vampire as easily as a stake through the heart.

  The day Yaksha attacked, Jamune lost the fort and half his followers, but it was a testament to his planning that he didn’t lose everyone. He had made provisions for defeat. He had a large sailing ship waiting for him and his people in the warm waters of the Bay of Bengal. Jamune and his followers escaped through a secret tunnel and raced to the coast. Yaksha had no sooner taken the fort than he realized he had lost his best chance to fulfill his vow.

  Yaksha reached the shore in time to see the ship disappear over the horizon, but he had no idea where Jamune was headed. He had heard rumors of Europe, we all had, but he had no concept of the New World.

  Yaksha felt he had no choice but to return to Krishna and beg to be released from his vow. At that time, Krishna was reputed to be in the north, near Delhi, where the two most powerful factions of India were at war with each other.

  I stop reading at this point, because I find myself reentering Yaksha’s tale almost without knowing it. For I, too, was at the Battle of Kurukshetra, when the five Pandava brothers—Arjuna, the most famous of all—fought against Dhuryodhana and his ferocious army. It was said before the battle that Arjuna was offered the choice of having Krishna’s army as an ally or Krishna himself. To the dismay of Arjuna’s soldiers he chose the latter, and during the famous battle Krishna served as Arjuna’s charioteer.

  I stood on the battlefield, before the fight began, hoping to catch a glimpse of Krishna, not knowing that Yaksha did likewise. Now I tremble at my desk in Arosa, because I realize I’m about to have one of the greatest mysteries of my life either confirmed or ridiculed.

  I remember that day well, and how confusing the start of the fight was. With Krishna by his side, Arjuna rode out to accept battle from his rival. Yet Arjuna stopped before he reached his foe and threw down his bow and arrow, saying out loud, “I will not fight.”

  Besides Yaksha and Krishna, I must have been the only one on the battlefield to hear his words. To say I was dismayed was to put it mildly. Arjuna represented Krishna, and vice versa, and if one was a coward, then what was the other? All my faith in Krishna teetered.

  But then Krishna spoke to Arjuna. I should have been able to hear, but I could not. However, their dialogue was to become the main Indian scripture for five thousand years. In the next twenty minutes Krishna gave to Arjuna the Bhagavad Gita, The Lord’s Song, the Indian equivalent of the Bible.

  Through some mysterious power, Krishna was able to cloak his voice from me, and since I left the continent soon after, a thousand years were to pass before I was able to hold a copy of the Gita in my hands, and read it.

  Still, I was never to know for sure if the book was an accurate record of what was said. Until now. Because Krishna did not block Yaksha from listening, and in Yaksha’s book I see a word-for-word rendition of what he heard before the battle began. A wave of joy washes over me as I realize it was all true—the Bhagavad Gita is a precise reproduction of Krishna’s conversation with Arjuna.

  For a Christian, it would be like discovering that every word of the gospels was true. Yet, since I’m neither Christian nor Hindu, one might wonder why the revelation means so much to me. To be frank, I don’t know. Like most people, even Vedic pundits, I don’t understand most of the Gita. Krishna’s words, I must assume, were meant to lift Arjuna into an exalted state of God consciousness. They were not designed to be dissected and grasped by the intellect.

  Yet it comforts me to know that at least one scripture on earth wasn’t man-made. To this day I don’t know if Krishna was God, but whatever he was, he was not human.

  Yaksha fought with Arjuna and helped him win the battle.

  His tale resumes after Kurukshetra, when Yaksha meets with Krishna and is told two amazing secrets. Krishna warns Yaksha that Jamune and the rest of the vampires have traveled to an unknown continent on the other side of the ocean and set up a culture of human sacrifice. Krishna also warns him about an even more dangerous group of immortals called the Telar. He tells Yaksha they’re based in Egypt.

  “Do I need to destroy them, as I do the vampires?” Yaksha asked.

  “You won’t be able to destroy them,” Krishna replied. “But try to contain them.”

  “How?”

  “They have forgotten much of what they once knew. They have even lost the secret of their origin. But I will give it to you, and
this will give you a powerful advantage over them. Do you know the legend of the Hydra?”

  “Yes,” Yaksha said.

  “It has its origin in the Telar. The Hydra is a many-headed monster, and it does not matter if you chop off one head, it simply grows another. No single head of the Hydra is very strong. That is its weakness. Yet when all its heads are aligned, no power on earth can stop it. That is its strength. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Yaksha replied.

  “No!” I shout at the manuscript. I don’t understand what Krishna is saying, and I need to, because this Hydra sounds a hell of a lot like Brutran’s Array. Yet it’s the IIC that has the Array, not the Telar.

  At least, as far as I know.

  Damn!

  Now I’m more confused than before I started Yaksha’s book.

  I’m also a lot more paranoid.

  I stop reading and finish making a copy of it and contact one of my European handlers. Then I summon Shanti to my room. I place the copy of the book in my carry-on suitcase and hand it to her. It’s the middle of the night, and Shanti’s eyes are sleepy. Yet she listens closely as I speak.

  “This book’s important. It might be the most important book on earth. I believe it contains the secret of what the IIC are up to, how they were using you and other kids like you. I need you to take this copy back to America tonight. A helicopter will land at the end of the block in half an hour. It will take you to Zurich, where you will find a private jet waiting to take you to JFK. Give the book to Seymour—I’ll give you his cell number in New York. He’ll pick you up, and you’re to stay with him until you hear from me. Do you understand?”

  She nods. “What about you? You said you can be attacked if I’m not around.”

  “I’ll have to take that risk. Our situation’s just changed. It’s because of this book. It might hold the key to all our problems. Tell Seymour to find a Vedic scholar who can translate it for him. Tell him to first study the part after the Battle of Kurukshetra.”

  “My uncle knows Sanskrit.”

  “Can he read most Vedic scriptures?”

  “That’s all he does in his spare time.”

  “Perfect. Put him and Seymour together.”

  Shanti is curious. She’s from India, after all—she knows about the battle. “Is the book about Krishna?” she asks.

  “Parts of it are. Have Seymour read you those parts, but only those parts. Otherwise, I want him to keep its contents private.” I pause. “Now go get ready. The helicopter is already on its way. It will set down for a moment—you’d better be ready to jump aboard.”

  There are tears in Shanti’s eyes. “I feel you’re in danger. Why can’t you come with me?”

  “There are some things in life that get worse the more you run from them. This is one of those. That’s all I can tell you. Now get dressed and packed, I’ll walk you to the helicopter.”

  I try to read while Shanti packs, but I’m too anxious. Stepping outside, I visually scan the area and listen for the sound of Telar heartbeats. The moon shines bright on the snowy mountaintops. The air is utterly silent. I hear nothing and wonder if I’m overreacting to Krishna’s secrets. My head says yes, my heart says no. Somehow, I’m convinced, the Telar know about this book and want a copy of it.

  I hear the helicopter before I see it. The pilot is skilled. He swoops around a mountain and lands at the end of our road beside the lake. I’m the one who insisted on an immediate landing and takeoff, in case someone unseen should wish to interrupt Shanti’s escape.

  I whisper Seymour’s cell number in her ear and make sure she memorizes it. I don’t let her write it down.

  “I love you,” Shanti says as she hugs me good-bye.

  “You are love, child.” It hurts to let her go, as much as it hurt to see Teri leave.

  The helicopter rises and vanishes into the night.

  The pilot has orders to call me when Shanti is safe on the jet.

  Back inside, I begin reading again.

  I finish the book two hours after dawn, in time to keep my promise to Reinhart. Feeling tired from the intense night, I take a cab up to the Pratchli. True to his word, the hotel owner is at the front desk at eight o’clock. He smiles when he sees me.

  “Did you enjoy it?” he asks.

  “It’s very interesting.”

  “Ha! There’s no way you read it all in one night.”

  “I’m not saying I read every word.”

  Reinhart gestures to a young couple waiting for his help.

  “I’m busy at the moment, Lara. Can you find the vault without me?”

  “Sure.” I turn toward the stairs that lead to the basements.

  “Take a flashlight!” he calls after me. “And please don’t lock it in the vault. Fair is fair—it’s my turn to have a peek.”

  “I hear you,” I call back, although I’m not going to listen. Following the creaking stairway down three levels, I eventually reach the suite where Yaksha wrote the book. It appears the same as yesterday, except the vault is wide open. I place the manuscript inside and close the door and spin the gold dial. At the same time, I hear a click from the direction of the hallway.

  I find the door to the suite closed. Locked.

  A tiny TV monitor comes to life beside the door. Reinhart stands outside the door. His voice comes through a speaker.

  “Not very sporting of you. Locking the book back in the vault.”

  “Is that why you’ve locked me inside here?”

  “No,” he replies, and I notice he’s lost his Swiss accent.

  So many things become clear to me in that instant.

  The pacemaker he wore—just part of his disguise.

  “You’re Telar,” I whisper.

  TWENTY

  They leave me alone for two days. I spend the time giving my cage a thorough but useless examination. Behind every wall is the same metal alloy that was used to make Numbria’s handcuffs. The door itself is composed of the metal, although they wisely hid that fact from me by covering it with a layer of varnished oak. The smell of the varnish kept me from smelling the alloy. They thought of everything.

  Yet a part of me is not surprised I’ve been captured. Coming to Arosa, I knew it was likely. As Paula said, the fact Numbria had her home address on her was no accident. I’m just happy I sent Shanti away when I did. I pray all my friends are safe.

  I find myself thinking of Krishna a lot. Perhaps because I feel I have reached the end of the line. From reading Yaksha’s book—and I read every single word of it—I have a clear idea how formidable the Telar are. They do whatever is necessary for their survival, and they appear devoid of any moral conscience.

  Except for Umara, the female Telar Yaksha married and had a son with. According to his story, she was the kindest person Yaksha ever met. He loved her, he said, as much as he loved me.

  It’s childish, I know, but I feel jealous of Umara.

  Yet those were my favorite parts of Yaksha’s book.

  I read them with great relish. A few times, actually.

  At the end of my second day in captivity, the suite lights go on.

  I have a visitor.

  His name is Haru. He is Umara’s brother. Indeed, he’s the ruler of what the Telar call the Source. He’s the one responsible for the death of Umara and her son, a boy Yaksha named Keshava. If Yaksha’s tale is accurate, Haru had the two burned alive. It seems Haru didn’t approve of Telar marrying outside their own kind.

  Haru is an odd duck. He’s squat and heavily muscled. His torso is 50 percent longer than his legs. He has black hair, which he wears short, and copper skin that smells of exotic oils. His skin is unlined, but his nose and mouth are big even for his large head. His dark eyes are small and beady, always staring, probing. He sits before me on a stool, four guards at his back. They carry rifles that look like lasers. Their aim never wavers from my head or heart.

  Haru’s voice . . . it does not sound entirely human. Deep and soft, it has a faint metallic timbre that
makes it seem robotic. On the surface, to a mortal, it might feel soothing, but I sense nothing but manipulation.

  He wears a black suit, a dark red shirt. His hands are small, his fingers blunt but strong. When he speaks, his mouth barely moves. He could be a ventriloquist who uses his own body as a puppet. Yet that is almost certainly an illusion. He’s ugly, but that doesn’t dampen the power he radiates. This is a man no one says no to.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you after all this time,” Haru begins. “I’ve heard so much about you. You’ve led quite the life.”

  “Yaksha didn’t tell you about me. Who was your source on my life?”

  “You must know we have spies all over the world. Not all of whom are Telar.” Haru shrugs. “I’ve read Seymour’s manuscript.”

  “You did so without his permission. Or mine.”

  “I doubt you would have given it.”

  “True. But you Telar, you seem to do whatever you want.”

  “That surprises you?”

  “It annoys me.”

  “Doesn’t our age count for something? Our experience? Our wisdom? If I’m not mistaken, you have done whatever you wanted to do all your life.”

  “I’ve lived a life that’s pleased me, yes. But not at the expense of others.”

  Haru smiles thinly, his white teeth small and numerous. “So says the last vampire, who has fed off the veins of thousands, if not millions.”

  “Few people died taking care of my hunger, especially after I matured. The vast majority of those I’ve killed were of questionable moral character. Like the assassins you sent to kill me.”

  “They were sent to capture you, not kill you.”

  “You should have told that to Claudious and his Gatling gun.”

  “We sent Claudious to test you. If I’d wanted you dead that night, I would have sent a dozen like him.”

  “Why test? When you’ve heard so much about me?”

  “To see if the stories were true. I saw everything that happened that night. You were most impressive.”