The Living Blood

  “So now you have it, Dr. Shepard,” Stephen said, feeling his heart smile, knowing he had done the right thing, probably for the first time in many years. He felt like a revolutionary again.

  Lucas Shepard slept on, unaware, dreaming that his son was screaming out his name.

  29

  Gaborone

  Stephen Shabalala expected to die with a clear conscience, after what he’d done.

  He’d raced south on the main road to Gaborone, longing to get a hotel room as soon as he could to wait out the night for an early-morning flight to Cape Town. Every time he thought of how he’d given the scientist one of his vials of blood, his heart quailed and then sang. True, he’d nearly turned around to try to retrieve it when he was just a few kilometers out of Serowe, to see if he could somehow steal it back from the sleeping man. But that had just been fear, he realized. The nobler part of him was not afraid.

  He tried to remember that feeling of nobility when he first saw the gun.

  In detention, if there had been one phrase his fellow inmates returned to again and again, it was the old cliché, It all happened so fast. You are standing at a marketplace. You are enjoying dinner at the table with your family. You are walking along a deserted road. Their stories began in different ways, but the ending was always the same: It all happened so fast.

  Stephen was reminded of this as he leaned into the window of the sleek black sedan with darkened windows parked beside him at the Mirage Hotel, where he had just pulled in to take a room. He’d heard a voice that sounded like an old man’s, asking him meekly for directions. The stranger’s tone had been respectful, calling him sir, and the sound of that word was still a novelty to Stephen from a white man’s lips. Stephen had his briefcase in his hand, and he’d momentarily worried that he was exposing himself to robbers by carrying it with him through the parking lot, but he figured he could be charitable enough to give some rich old tourist a helpful word late at night. No robber would drive a car this expensive.

  And that was all it took. Three quick strides to the car. A half-lean into the open backseat window. Then, he’d had a shiny, nickel-plated Smith & Wesson at his throat.

  Instinctively, Stephen hugged the briefcase close to his chest. “Kak, man, what—”

  Suddenly, another man was standing behind him, a silent-footed phantom; he, too, had a gun, because Stephen could feel a hard muzzle pressed to the small of his back. “Don’ do nothin’ stupid, mate. Just ge’ in the car.”

  Stephen had done exactly as he was told, even though all the while he felt as if his blood were draining into a sink. He felt dizzy. He’d banged his head slightly when he was pushed roughly into the backseat, but the dizziness wasn’t from that; it was because in that instant, he recognized the ruddy-faced man in the backseat with him, the one with the revolver trained at his head. He was the man who’d been reading the newspaper outside the curry house!

  “Yebo,” said the Boer who had been following him, a mocking greeting.

  Another man, the stubby one who’d sounded as if he was from London, climbed in on the other side of Stephen. A third and fourth piled quickly into the front seat, all of their car doors closing in nearly synchronized succession, slam slam slam. The car lurched backward. There was an eerie calm to the men’s manner, which only heightened Stephen’s sense of surreal terror.

  Stephen had no idea who these men were, but he knew exactly what they wanted, and he made his decision right away. Whispering a curse mourning his mother’s high blood sugar and his never-to-be status as millionaire, he said quietly, “Take it. You can have it.”

  Because when all is said and done, he thought, nothing is more precious than one’s life. And, in a larger sense, the blood had never really belonged to him, so how could he lose it?

  “Fuck your briefcase,” said the Boer. He was sitting so close to him that Shabalala could only make out his huge set of brown, tobacco-stained teeth. His breath smelled of cigarettes. “You’re going to show us where you got that drug inside.”

  At that, for the first time, Stephen felt true despair. A pool of it settled across his spirit, making it difficult to breathe and just as difficult to move. These men would kill him, he had no doubt. They would hurt him. Stephen knew pain. During his time in detention, he’d tolerated all the usual tortures because he’d considered himself a revolutionary, and death would have meant martyrdom. But he’d been eighteen then, and that was a different time. Now, he knew he would do anything to avoid pain, to avoid death. Absolutely anything.

  Except what he’d just been asked.

  Be safe, my silly little brother.

  “I . . . can’t,” he heard himself saying, uttering words that, for the first time in many days, were completely without deception. He realized he was fighting back tears he did not dare show. He was too proud for tears. “I can’t . . . do that.”

  “Do you know English, Kaffir? Maybe you didn’t understand,” the burly Boer said, and he buried his hand in Stephen’s crotch, sliding his fingers between his legs until he found his testicles, so gentle in his touch that Stephen was too astonished to squirm. Then, when the man’s iron fingers squeezed, everything went white in a burst.

  The pain itself. His thoughts. Everything. Pure, crystal white.

  Stephen Shabalala didn’t even hear himself scream.

  blood price

  The mantis is watching the butterfly.

  The shrike is watching the mantis.

  —Proverb from Botswana

  Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you,

  will you join the dance?

  —Lewis Carroll,

  Alice in Wonderland

  30

  Lalibela

  Tentatively at first, but now with growing earnestness, Jessica and David were making plans for the future. To her, their talks felt oddly reminiscent of many talks they’d had when they’d lived together as husband and wife: Should we move to a bigger house? Should we leave Miami? Should Kira go to a public or a private school?

  Except everything was so different now.

  The underlying assumption, which was a big one—that they would remain together—was never stated, only implied. They were nibbling at the edges, searching for their common ground, always focusing on Fana and never on themselves. That made it easier, at least for Jessica. If she expected Fana to have a father, well, here he was. And like a divorced couple trying to work out the logistics of visitation and custody, they were asking themselves tough questions, tougher perhaps than those facing any parents who had ever lived before them.

  How do you best raise a goddess?

  Even after everything that had happened, David wanted all of them to stay at the colony. Jessica had tried to snap off the entire line of conversation the first time he’d brought it up, but he’d slowly begun to open her mind slightly with his gentle, patient persistence. Kaleb was the most hostile element here, Jessica, and now he’s gone. Once he’s captured, Khaldun will lock him away and he won’t trouble us further. I know my brothers. They will resist you at first, but they will be faithful to Khaldun. And think of what the colony will offer Fana! There is nowhere on earth she can receive a better education. She’ll speak a dozen languages, and she’ll absorb scientific concepts here that have yet to be understood anywhere else. She can learn control of her gifts in the House of Mystics. And she’ll always have Khaldun, her protector, to guide her. Neither of us can offer her what Khaldun can.

  Jessica still had big concerns, but instead of allowing those concerns to bias her completely against the idea, she forced herself to relax to see if she and David could address them somehow. First, she didn’t want Fana to be so utterly isolated—there were no other women here, no other children. How could she develop normal friendships?

  Surprising her, David had a ready answer: In a few short years, when she is six or seven and has more conscious control, we can take frequent excursions outside, Jessica. She might be able to spend entire summers with other children at a s
pecial school of some sort, or a camp. We can see to it that she develops loving relationships with mortals, that she learns to identify with them. Maybe your sister will consent to live here, too. Would that help?

  Jessica almost laughed at the idea of Alex trying to live here at the Life Colony. She’d love the naked men, all right, but her sister would be bored to death. Unless . . .

  “I guess she could imagine she was in some kind of exchange program for a while, in an exotic place. Alex would love to see the House of Science, if they’d let her,” Jessica mused, strolling with Dawit on the paths in the dense tangle of the rock garden. Teferi had agreed to stay with Fana for a while, to give them time to talk. Teferi had brought Fana enough colored chalk and paper to keep her occupied for hours.

  Jessica noticed a few Life Brothers gazing down at them from the balconies of the other levels, their heads tiny little pinpricks above her, but the sight of them no longer filled her with fear. They watched for a time, curious, and then they moved on with silent footsteps. Maybe David was right—maybe, in time, her presence here wouldn’t be so strange to them.

  “Would you be happier if Alex were here?” David asked, searching her eyes. Again, he seemed so much like the David she’d known before, striving so hard to keep her satisfied.

  “You know I would, David. She’s my sister.”

  “Then we should bring her for that reason alone. And we can only consider it a bonus that it would be good for Fana, too.”

  Jessica sighed, considering that. The rock forest had thickened above them, giving them a more private canopy. “No, David, I think we have to change our thinking completely now. Everything we do now has to be for Fana’s sake, just like Khaldun said.”

  It had been at least twenty-four hours since their meeting with Khaldun, Jessica guessed, but she and David had not slept since. Her memory seemed to have grown superkeen, because she could replay portions of Khaldun’s words in their entirety, like a videotape in her mind. She concentrated on what she’d liked, and fast-forwarded past what she hadn’t. Something about him still didn’t set right with her, but she tried to believe he was being sincere, at least. She’d decided to trust Khaldun’s word that Fana had killed the soldier in Italy, and she knew she and David would have to find a way to discuss that with her. Fana would be harmless here, surrounded by immortals, but she would definitely need to understand that she could not kill people, no matter what she felt toward them, if they went back to the world above. Could Fana even control it yet?

  That concern alone, she realized, was a good reason to remain. At least for a while.

  “Let’s soak in the springs,” David said. She could already feel the change in humidity as their walk took them closer to one of the dozens of spring pools that dotted the garden area in this forest of rock trees. Before she could answer, David was already slipping out of his linen pants, as unself-consciously as he’d undressed in front of her years ago. Quickly, Jessica glanced upward; nothing in sight but the clusters of tentacle-like rock branches. David’s genitals bounced as he balanced himself on one leg, peeling off the pants. She realized he probably felt so open with her because his Life Brothers wore clothes so rarely, not because of any sensual intent. Still, her eyes gazed across his nakedness with lingering appreciation before she followed his example and began to take off her T-shirt and jeans. As she looked at his virtually hairless chest and the thick cluster of wiry hair beneath his navel, she remembered the milky muskiness of David’s private male scent, and the way she had always savored it. She felt her nipples tingle.

  The spring pool before them was larger than most in the area, about the size of a small swimming pond. Steam wafted from its surface in a gentle, enticing fog. In her earlier experiences with the colony’s spring pools, Jessica had found the water so hot that it seemed to sear her skin, but apparently she’d gotten used to it. Now, she eased herself in with only the slightest feeling of discomfort before the sensation gave way to hot, lulling pleasure. She closed her eyes, feeling her buttocks glide against the pool’s smooth, slippery floor as the water crept to her neck and then her chin. Jessica rarely felt completely relaxed here, but when she was in the hot springs, relaxation blanketed every inch of her. She seemed to be floating.

  And it wasn’t purely the heat of the water, David had told her. The springs were treated with chemicals much like those found in the dream-sticks, which crept into the skin’s pores and elicited a strong psychic response. She could feel the slickness of the chemicals in the water, like a light oil. Jessica was aware of them, so she tried not to put too much credence in the glow of satisfaction she felt in the water, especially since she was soaking naked beside David. She had to admit, though, it was hard to think of reasons not to lean over and . . .

  “I’ve been so happy with you here,” David said, angling his head to gaze at her. “I’m surprised at how happy I am. These past years feel like a vast blank space, and now . . . it’s as if my life has begun again. I thought I had lost you.”

  Would Jessica have answered him at all if not for the springs? She didn’t know. “This is the last place I ever expected to be,” she said, but it was hard to meet his gaze. Her soul felt naked before his, and she wasn’t ready for him to see everything there, not yet. Somehow, keeping most of herself hidden from him felt like the only weapon she had. But against what? “What if I decided I couldn’t stay, David? That I had to take Fana and leave?”

  “Then I would go with you. We would find a place to suit us all.”

  His hand had found her inner thigh, six inches above her knee. His touch brought a jolt to Jessica’s skin unmatched by that of any chemicals in the pool, but she fought it. Gently, she put her hand on top of his, pushing it closer to her knee, away from the regions that would quickly make her lose her concentration. Still, their hands felt good together.

  “Can we do that?” she whispered. “Is there a place like that?”

  “We’ll create it, Jessica. We have the best reason in the world. We’d be foolish not to.”

  And he was right, wasn’t he? They no longer had to search for reasons to be together; with Fana to raise, it was harder to find reasons not to. Even if their relationship had shifted, if they behaved more like brother and sister—

  But that thought vanished as soon as Jessica felt David’s warm lips over hers. The parts of her that had not already melted in the water’s soothing bath fell clean away, and she felt her body’s overwhelming yearning. His lips pressed harder, with more moisture, and suddenly she was tasting his sweet tongue again. Her mind swam, and she whimpered like a child.

  David pressed against her, his skin as fevered as the springwater.

  This time, Jessica did not intervene when she felt David’s hand begin its journey along her thigh. Her skin gave a spasm under his touch, and her hips took on a mind of their own, nudging closer to him. When David’s fingertips brushed the edges of her pubic hair, then gently circled her clitoris, Jessica yelped. Was it the springs? Her long abstinence? Or was it the blood? Sexual touch had never felt like this to her. David’s mere fingertips, with his expert plying, were making her wonder if it was possible to faint from pleasure. Her entire body shuddered, locking tight, then released itself with violent waves that felt as liquid as the water embracing them. If she did not make love to him right now, she thought, she would lose her sanity.

  “I love you,” David whispered. “I always have.” Tears flooded Jessica’s eyes. The anger and hatred that had cloaked itself around her for so long reared up and showed its true underbelly, which had been love all along. How could she not have known?

  “I love you, too, David,” she said, gasping. She sounded astonished. “God help us.”

  “He has,” David said, sliding his finger effortlessly against her skin in the oily water until her insides enveloped it, clamping tight. Jessica momentarily forgot that David had always professed to be an atheist. Or was he referring to Khaldun? “He will.”

  Jessica didn’t have lo
ng to ponder it. Her body banished her thoughts.

  • • •

  After so much longing, Dawit had finally dared make an overture toward Jessica. First he had been prevented by the bandages, and then by fear: What if she drew back? What then? He’d known she would be less likely to resist in the spring pool, but Jessica had a strong will and a deep heart. A deep heart was capable of great love, but also of profound coldness. Deep hearts protected themselves, as he knew well. He had been protecting his own for so long that he had nearly fooled himself into believing he had not wanted to see her.

  Yet, once he had, he could think of nothing except her face. Her voice hypnotized him. When he was in her presence, no matter how grave the subjects they discussed, his body raged for her with nearly adolescent desperation. He’d told himself he would not make love to her in the spring pool because he hadn’t wanted her with the aid of chemicals. She might retreat once they left her system. He wanted her to want him.

  But he hadn’t been able to help himself. Seeing her nakedness, feeling her skin . . .

  Ah! If it had been a mistake, it was a mistake a legion of men would have made under the same circumstances. The chemicals in the pool had affected him, too, he realized; they were not intended to make bathers succumb to false feelings, but they made feelings more clear, uncomplicated. Serene. His flesh had been a helpless vessel for his love, behaving as it must.

  As they had dressed themselves in silence, dampening their clothes with the beaded moisture clinging to their skin, David had stolen glances at her. She still seemed hesitant to meet his gazes, but her face looked unguarded, calm. He might not yet have won her, but he had not lost her, either. Knowing that, he’d felt encouraged to take her hand as they wound their way back toward the House of Meditation, to the chamber where Jessica and Fana shared their quarters. Perhaps all was not lost.