33

Somewhere in Kirlan

KNOT ONCE AGAIN LURKED in the shadows of Astrid’s memories. It had taken him a few days after the first memory he had accessed from his cell to work up the courage to go back inside Astrid’s past. But as horrific as the last memory had been, the more time Knot spent thinking about it, the more he thought there had to be some kind of explanation, something behind what he had seen. The girl he had seen murder her own family was not the girl he knew.

Knot had been back time and time again since that memory, seeking some explanation, but he’d yet to find it. He’d seen all sorts of things—a few variations of that first memory, where Astrid procured groups of children from humans, always taking them back to her “employer.” He’d even seen her take children from another group of vampires, killing one brutally in the process. Other memories played out her days with Cabral, all of which made him sick to his stomach in one way or another. He’d witnessed times when she’d spent days, months, years absolutely alone. He hated coming across those memories almost as much as he hated the one where he’d watched her kill her father; experiencing her isolation only compounded his own.

The monotony of his captivity was enough to drive Knot mad. He ate the same meal three meals a day—porridge that was too watery, a crust of bread, and, inexplicably, an apple, of all things—at the same time each day, as far as he could tell. The same four Sons of Canta guarded his cell, switching shifts roughly the same times each day. No contact with anyone else, no explanation of why he was here. Considering how much the Black Matron had wanted him in the first place, she seemed to have little idea of what she was actually supposed to do with him. He was clearly being treated well, for a prisoner—fed consistently, not tortured, and so forth. That only confused him all the more.

Finding a reason, some purpose behind’s Astrid’s actions, had become perhaps the only thing that kept Knot sane while in the Black Matron’s captivity.

And now, here he was, in yet another memory.

Astrid walked along a curving road in Triah. Knot did not recognize the street; he had no idea when this memory was, but based on the businesses and tower-houses he saw along this section of the city, he guessed it fell between the Twenty-fifth and Thirtieth Circles.

The sun was low on the horizon, and Astrid moved quickly. This time, however, Knot noticed she was not alone. Another young girl, roughly of an external age with Astrid, walked next to her. Knot glided along beside them, staying in the shadows. For some reason, he felt more comfortable there than out in the middle of the road.

He looked closely at the new girl, wondering if he might recognize her from another memory, but she did not look familiar at all. The two spoke almost constantly, even laughing and joking. Knot wondered if this girl was another vampire.

They stopped at a large building with just one sign hanging from a horizontal pole out front that said “We Welcome All Children.” Astrid and the other girl entered, and Knot was transported with them.

He moved with them through a reception area, and then toward a large common space with a very high ceiling. Stairs led to a loft above that housed almost two dozen bunks, and through a hallway to his right Knot saw a busy kitchen—most of the people working inside of which were children.

A woman with long blonde hair stood near the stairs of the common area holding the ears of two young boys, both squirming. Knot did recognize both of the boys, from two separate memories of Astrid gathering children and bringing them back to her “employer.”

“The two of you will behave,” the woman said sternly, looking down at each of the boys in turn, “or you’ll both end up on dishes duty for the next week!”

“Yes, Homemother,” the two boys said in unison.

Homemother?

The Homemother looked up, and her face brightened. “Astrid!” she exclaimed. “I am so happy you’ve returned safely.” She smiled at the other girl who’d entered, now hovering shyly behind Astrid. “And who have you brought with you?”

Astrid squirmed out of the way in a gesture that was surprisingly childlike. “Camy, this is the Homemother, the woman I told you about. Homemother, this is Camy, from Cineste.”

The Homemother’s eyes widened. “Cineste! That is quite the journey. I am happy to see the two of you made it here safely. Welcome to the First Light Orphanage.”

An orphanage? Was this where Astrid had been taking all of the children she’d been rounding up?

“Thank you,” Camy said, her head bowed.

Astrid laughed. “You’ll love it here, Camy.”

Camy glanced around the room, strands of messy brown hair falling in front of her eyes.

A loud knock sounded at the front door of the orphanage. The Homemother cleared her throat. “I’ll go see who that is. Won’t take me long.” She bent down to look Camy in the eye. “Astrid and I can show you around later this evening,” the Homemother said, “but first, we’re all going to have dinner together. The children have helped cook up something special this evening.”

Camy smiled, nodding quietly.

The Homemother went to the door while Astrid and Camy began to chat excitedly.

This is what she’s been doing this whole time, Knot realized. Helping children. He’d been right; there was more to her story, after all.

From down the hallway, Knot heard anxious, whispered voices in a harsh conversation. Then, despite the Homemother’s cry of “Wait!” a group of adults entered the room. Knot recognized the red and white livery. A priestess, a Goddessguard, and half a dozen Sons of Canta, two of whom supported a young man between them. The lad had likely not yet seen his twentieth year, and he did not look in good shape, hanging limply between the two Sons.

The priestess, however, drew Knot’s eye the most. The subtle slope of her jaw and the way she wore her hair in a tight bun were hints, but what gave it away was the flatness of the woman’s eyes; Knot felt that if he were to look on them, he would not see the reflection of any light whatsoever.

This was the Black Matron. The Black Priestess at this point in time—she was at least fifty years younger than the woman Knot knew—but it was certainly her all the same.

“My dear Homemother, thank you for inviting us in. I was so looking forward to seeing your orphanage with my own eyes.”

The Homemother bowed, but she seemed confused as well. “It was the least I could do, Priestess, after your generous donations to our cause.”

“More of which are sure to come, my dear,” the Black Matron said.

“Might I ask what brings you by so early?” the Homemother asked.

Knot narrowed his eyes. Something about the way the woman spoke felt off to him.

“We found someone,” the Black Matron said, indicating the young man her Sons carried. “Someone very ill, that we are going to help care for. He says he knows you, Homemother. He goes by the name of—”

“Jidri,” the Homemother said quietly, rushing to him. “Are you all right?”

Knot recognized the name immediately, and as he looked more closely at the young man, realized he truly was looking at an older version of the young boy he had seen in the first memory of Astrid’s he’d experienced.

“He needs medical attention,” the Black Matron said. “We can provide him with what he needs, but we wanted to stop by here first. He seemed very insistent on seeing you before we treated him.”

Slowly, Jidri looked up, taking in his surroundings. “Where… am I?” he asked.

The Homemother hugged him, holding his face. “Please,” she said, looking at the Sons, “put him down. Let him rest.”

The Black Matron nodded, and the Sons set him down on a large chair near the center of the common area. The Homemother knelt beside him, holding his face in her hands.

“Jidri,” she said, “can you hear me?”

The lad looked up, his eyes a sickly yellow.

“Homemother?” he asked.

“You see?” the Black Matron said. “He recognizes you. So touching.” Then, over her shoulder, “Bar all the entrances and exits.”

The Sons of Canta quickly obeyed. The Goddessguard stayed by the Black Matron’s side.

Astrid stared at Jidri, her feet rooted where she stood. “Homemother, what is going on?”

“Astrid?” Jidri asked. He coughed violently. “Is that you?”

The Homemother looked over her shoulder at the Black Matron. “This was not part of the plan,” she said, tears in her eyes.

Astrid’s eyes never left Jidri. “What plan?” she asked. The sun must have set outside, as Astrid’s eyes were beginning to glow, but her voice quavered.

As the Sons had moved to the exits, children had slowly filed into the common area. Knot counted twenty-two in total, including Camy, all watching what was going on.

“It’s Astrid, is it?” the Black Matron said, stepping towards her. “I have a gift for you.”

The Black Matron tossed a small flowered sprig toward Astrid, and the girl fell to her knees.

“Vampires are a curious race,” the Black Matron said. “So powerful, but their weakness is so… weak, is it not? Nightsbane. A simple herb, and you’re completely incapacitated.” She shoved Astrid over with her foot, and the girl toppled to the side, the nightsbane just touching her shoulder.

Knot had attempted to interact with Astrid’s memories numerous times to no avail, but never in his life did he want something more than to take the nightsbane from next to the girl and move it far, far away. He tried, but just like every time he attempted to interact with a memory, his hand passed right through the object.

“There’s a phenomenon associated with newborn vampires,” the Black Matron said, walking over to Jidri and leaning over to look into his eyes. “Once a vampire has completed its transition, it experiences what most vampires call the Bloodlust. An insatiable thirst for human blood. They will tear apart anyone nearby to satisfy that craving. It is completely involuntary, uncontrollable, and truly horrific to watch.”

She shrugged. “Or so I’ve heard. The tradition surrounding that phenomenon,” she continued, “interests me even more. Many vampires, while siring another through the transition, lead the sick, disoriented soul right to their family’s doorstep just as they are about to complete the process. They leave that soon-to-be daemon, unattended, in the arms of the people they once loved most in life.”

A low groan echoed throughout the common area, and Knot thought at first that it came from Jidri. But the boy was still, his head hung limply in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Knot saw Astrid move, one arm slowly dragging across the floor towards the nightsbane. Goddess, the girl was trying to push the herb away from her.

“Pleeeaaaaase,” Astrid moaned, barely above a whisper.

The Black Matron raised one eyebrow. “Impressive,” she said. “From what I understand, most vampires are hardly coherent when that close to nightsbane, let alone able to move. I think we chose right when we sought you out, my dear.”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaase…”

“You know the tradition of which I speak, don’t you, girl?” the Black Matron asked, looking down at Astrid. “Someone did it to you, if my information is correct.”

“Get up, girl,” Knot whispered, his eyes not leaving Astrid. A tear, reflecting green light from her eyes, slid at an angle down one cheek towards the floor. “Fight.”

“Priestess, what is the meaning of this?” the Homemother said, tears streaming down her face as she turned to face the Black Matron. “Our deal was for you to take the vampire, not to threaten my entire orphanage.”

“I didn’t just want to take the vampire, my dear,” the Black Matron said. “I wanted to own the vampire. This is how I’m going to do it.”

“The deal is off,” the Homemother said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I can’t watch it happen, and I can’t let you risk the lives of my children. You were supposed to donate to us so we could give more children better lives, not—” The Homemother’s voice broke in a sob. “Not take away the lives of the children I have,” she whispered.

The Black Matron pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said. “I’ll do what I can to get what I want. And this is the surest, most secure way to get that.”

Knot sensed movement from the chair in the middle of the room, and turned to see Jidri standing slowly.

Astrid’s groan amplified, becoming a strangled, gurgling shout.

“You want to stop this?” the Black Matron asked, crouching down next to Astrid.

The girl nodded her head, almost imperceptibly, but it was there.

“Then swear fealty to me,” the Black Matron said. “Swear you will obey me, swear you will do what I say, when I say it.”

“I sweaaaar,” Astrid whispered.

The Black Matron smiled. “Good.” She nodded to her Goddessguard, who walked right past Jidri, and bent to pick up Astrid, placing the nightsbane gently on her chest as he cradled her.

Astrid groaned, the sound broken and cracked as she struggled weakly in the Goddessguard’s arms.

“Let’s go,” the Black Matron said.

“Wait,” the Homemother said, looking up at Jidri as his eyes began to glow red. “You can’t leave us alone with this!”

The Black Matron did not respond. The last sound Knot heard was Jidri’s croaking voice.

“So… thirsty…”

* * *

Strangely, Knot didn’t return directly to the Void. Every memory he’d experienced so far had been one continuous scene, more or less, occasionally transitioning from one adjacent space to another. This time, however, the memory went black, and then Knot found himself in a plain stone room, not unlike the cell in which he knew his body now rested. Somehow, even though it did not take place sequentially, this must be part of the same memory.

Astrid was chained to a chair in the middle of the room, staring vacantly into nothing. It must have been day, as her eyes no longer glowed, and she did not even bother struggling against the chains.

Thick steel bars split the room in two, and on the other side of them stood the Black Matron.

“I know you said you would serve me,” the Black Matron said, “and I want to take you at your word, but I hope you understand why I cannot do that.”

Astrid said nothing, did not even move, and Knot wondered whether her mind was really there at all.

“What I can do is offer you something.”

The Black Matron placed both hands on the steel bars in front of her, her face almost touching the metal.

“Redemption,” she said.

Astrid snarled as she railed against the chains that bound her.

The Black Matron leapt backwards from the bars, eyes wide. She cleared her throat, composing herself. “Well, I thought it was worth a try. The basic idea is there, at least. Why else would you devote your life to helping children after you killed your own younger brother and sister?”

Astrid continued to snarl, struggling against her chains, but her daytime strength simply wasn’t enough.

“I have one more thing to offer you,” the Black Matron said. “Something I think you might actually consider. You’ve been through a great deal over the years, my dear. Much of it has been very difficult, I’m sorry to say. I already mentioned you tearing your family to pieces. But then, oh—the first woman you’d begun to trust in decades betrayed you, and all you’d worked to build with her was destroyed. That cannot be a good feeling.”

Astrid’s struggling slowed, and Knot saw the tears forming in her eyes.

“What I’m offering could fix all of that,” the Black Matron said. She leaned forward once more. “I can make you forget.”

Astrid met the Black Matron’s eyes.

“Forget,” Astrid said, her voice hoarse and raw.

“Yes,” the Black Matron said. “If you promise to serve me, I can make all of those memories go away.”

There was a silence that seemed to last a lifetime, until Astrid finally responded, her voice barely above a whisper. She nodded, once.

“Forget.”