Isai concurred with her conclusion. “After the last of the monks died, we chose the youngest of us, which is kind of funny because he was nearly the same age, just lacked by a quarter of a century, but we referred to him as the ‘boy.’” He sent her a small grin. “We did not feel, but we still used humor. We did our best to follow the advice of the monks and using humor, whether felt or not, was one of the things that was told to us. Sandu, one of the brethren, was the best at it, but we all practiced.”
“You’re good enough,” she said, as if knowing he was telling her not to expect him to make her laugh, although he wanted to do so. He craved her smile and the sound of her laughter.
“Fane became the gatekeeper,” he continued. “He was the youngest of us, although he was enormously skilled, and we trusted him as our gatekeeper. He was the only one of us to come and go from the monastery. He would find sustenance and then return to feed each of us. It was not an easy job.”
“I can imagine, with so many of you.”
“During our time there, others came and stayed awhile. That helped Fane. Some stayed half a century or more, others less than a decade. If the call to find their lifemate became too strong, they would leave. Not everyone is suited to such an austere lifestyle. Living there was like living without hope, yet at the same time, we were safe from killing.”
“I just can’t imagine what that was like.”
“We lived for our lifemates. I lived for you. We etched our creed into our backs.” He turned around to show her the Carpathian letters flowing down his back.
Her fingers brushed over the first words. “Olen wäkeva kuntankért,” she whispered softly. “Tell me the translation, Isai.”
“‘Staying strong for our people.’ We were there behind those heavy gates, the thick walls surrounding us to remind us that the Carpathian people were honorable, and we needed to be strong and fight against the nothingness. That gray void we all lived in. It was like a terrible abyss we had gone into, digging deeper and deeper throughout the centuries until one morning, we looked up and there was no way out. Honor was all we had left.”
Her fingers brushed over the second line multiple times. Lingered. Cooled and soothed when he had felt no discomfort but now, forever, would crave the touch of her fingers.
“Olen wäkeva pita belső kulymet.”
Surprisingly, her pronunciation was excellent. He glanced over his shoulder at her. Her gaze was fixed on the dark scarring on his back.
“The second line says, ‘Staying strong to keep the demon inside.’” Her hand covered the line. He felt the imprint of her palm like a brand. It felt a little as if she was trying to take the weight of his demon from him.
He swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat. “Each of us in the monastery lives with our own personal demon. I know that sounds silly because all people do. The difference is, as the gray nothingness grew inside us, making up our world, it fed the worst of our traits, the killer inside us. Our demons are very real, and they are living and breathing, waiting for the moment we are so weary we are no longer diligent, and they can slip free. We vowed to stay strong, so those demons would never be unleashed. As brethren, we watched one another, just as the monks taught us to do, to help when needed. When one was at a very low point, we all pitched in to get them stronger.”
“That’s amazing, Isai,” she murmured softly.
Were her lips brushing those dark scars? Either he had a vivid imagination, or they were. If so, he wasn’t going to turn to see. He wanted her that close to him.
“The monks taught us so much about working together. We had almost always worked alone, tracking and destroying vampires. We were not near our families, or even our people as time went on. We traveled to various countries. Alone. Now, we were living in close proximity to one another and we had to learn to live that way. The monks offered us so much and we were grateful to them.”
“And the third line?” She ran her fingertip over it.
He felt reverence in her touch. The lump in his throat grew. “That line is extremely sacred, Julija.