Eden nodded. “But we call ourselves the Blessed.”
His sad eyes lowered as he exhaled, and then they slowly returned to her face. “They are not Blessed, Eden. They are monsters.”
“I’m a monster you mean.” She shook her head, her voice flat. “Don’t worry about it. I already knew that.”
He surprised her by reaching for her hand. He clasped it tight between his huge warm palms. “You are not a monster, Eden. Let me explain. Please.”
That strange connection, that unreal feeling of security and contentment she had felt last time Cyrus touched her, flowed up her arm and into her chest. Wonderingly, the hunger receded and her mouth fell open with surprise. “OK,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t let go.
He didn’t. “The Ankh was born when it became apparent the Neith were no match against Merneith. Bat placed her essence into the womb of a female warrior and from her an immortal race of warriors was born.”
Eden frowned. “The Ankh?”
“The Ankh. There are few of us. Only one or two are born every century and we cannot produce children. The Ankh are born to Neith, a quirk of fate deciding which child shall be an immortal. The child is handed over to the Ankh and raised with Ankh parents. Noah is our youngest. He was born in1940 and raised by two of my brethren, Alain and Emmaline Valois. We are born to hunt and kill soul eaters, to aid the Neith in the hunt.” He sighed and gripped her hand tighter. “The Neith are divided and governed by Councils and they are governed by an Over-Council called The Circle – ten of the oldest Warriors of Ankh. I am the Princeps: the leader of The Circle.”
She struggled to compute it all, so much information all at once. So this man, this Cyrus was the leader of all the Warriors, Neith and Ankh alike. And Ankh were immortal. They lived forever?! Immortal children born to Neith and given to the Ankh. Her brow furrowed as she tried to get a handle on it, wondering what on earth it had to do with her.
A vague memory of a dream prodded her, of a circle, of her birthmark…
Slowly, Eden raised her eyes to meet Cyrus’, the blood rushing out of her face with suspicion. All the things that had never made sense… were suddenly starting to make sense. “How do you know a child is an Ankh? How do you know to turn it over to the Ankh?”
His grip on her hand tightened and those warm eyes of his seemed to offer her strength and support. “The child will bear a birthmark… in the shape of an ankh.”
The breath whooshed out of Eden’s body and she tugged her hand out of Cyrus’, her trembling fingers reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. Someone had undressed her and put her into pyjamas and a t-shirt. She frowned at the thought of it, but put it aside. Instead she lifted the hem of her shirt.
There it was.
The birthmark she’d had forever.
A tiny little birthmark… in the shape of an ankh.
“What the hell is going on?” she whispered hoarsely, brushing her fingers over the mark wonderingly.
Cyrus reached for her again. “Let me explain, Eden. I need to explain for you to understand.”
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked numbly, not meeting his eyes.
“No!” he said vehemently, raising his voice. “No I am not, and neither is anyone else.”
Eden turned to him wide-eyed. “Then what do you want?”
“I am trying to tell you.”
She nodded, exhaustion making her head feel as heavy as a cannonball.
A weightless silence fell between them as Cyrus seemed to gather himself to speak. Eden noticed he didn’t shift or fidget like anyone else. He moved gracefully, in control, every movement measured and thought out. She wondered vaguely how old he was to be the Princeps.
Bloody old, Stellan would have snorted.
She willed the agony away.
“Not all Ankh are lucky to have found love. I had lived my eternal life for hundreds of years before I discovered Merrit. My love.” His eyes washed over Eden’s face, tabulating each tiny feature. “She was courageous and light-hearted and so beautiful it hurt to look at her. She was tall with blue-green eyes and hair the color of midnight.” His eyes drew to Eden’s hair, it too as black as darkness. “We loved each other deeply.” Eden heard the pain now in his words and something awful began scratching at her, something she didn’t want to know. No. She shook her head but couldn’t speak. No. “Eighteen years ago Merrit was on assignment. The Ankh is called in to deal with soul eaters who are particularly strong and difficult to handle. One such group was terrorizing Los Angeles. Merrit went in with a group of Neith, but the soul eaters had planned for their attack. They injected Merrit with a high concentration of potassium chloride-”
“The lethal injection?” Eden interrupted, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Cyrus’s face had hardened. “Yes. Lethal poisons will not kill the Ankh but will debilitate them until our bodies fight it off. As with what happened to Noah at Ryan’s home,” he spat Ryan’s name. “They took Merrit and killed the Neith. Merrit was…” he turned away, his jaw flexing with controlled rage. Eden had never seen anyone so stoic in her life. “Merrit was raped by the leader of the soul eaters.”
An image of the iron door and the basement flashed before Eden’s eyes and her heart palpitated in her chest. “Ryan.”