ask all the right questions,” Kalon added, his gaze still glued to me.
I’d yet to get used to his presence, thus pulling double duty between asking “the right questions” and keeping my composure in front of him. For a moment, I thought about what my parents would’ve said, had they been here for this. Or Grandma Anna. Grandpa Kyle…
“Shall we continue with our walk?” Zoltan interrupted my train of thought.
Derek nodded. “By all means, lead the way.”
We left the town square and made our way up a broad alley littered with flowerpots and small shops with stained-glass windows, selling pretty much everything—from fabrics, buttons, and fashion accessories, to various foods and preserves, fragrances, home décor objects, and building supplies.
As the sun went down, however, most of these shops closed their business, the shopkeepers locking the windows and pulling the heavy wooden shutters closed. By the time we reached the end of this alley and looked back, it was almost empty, the people already having gone to their homes to rest for the day. There was something sweet about the routine itself, another piece to add to the puzzle I was building in my head.
Petra did most of the talking again, telling us about local cuisine and habits, along with the Aeternae’s penchant for adding spices to their blood—yet another thing we had in common with their species, as did the Maras, for that matter. It was becoming increasingly clear that the Aeternae were basically day-walking vampires, and that it was their blood we’d need in order to bring all the vampires up to Derek’s physical level.
“They’re weirdly a lot like us,” Tristan said, keeping his voice down. Kalon had gone ahead, talking to Zoltan as he led our small group toward the city center. Out here, buildings became taller, well-mannered giants with sculpted façades and French-style windows, neat little balconies loaded with wrought-iron chairs and bursts of red and orange flowers, and supple porte-cocheres. For a moment, I thought we’d gotten ourselves lost in nineteenth century London. It was peculiar how a species so much like ours could follow such a familiar artistic evolution as well.
“I think we’re missing important chunks of the story, though,” I replied. “We’re barely scratching the surface at this point.”
“Oh, that’s for sure. But it’s okay. I think we’re off to a good start. Don’t you?” he asked me, and I needed a moment to think about my answer. I wanted to say yes, but it didn’t feel entirely genuine. There was something about these Aeternae people that bothered me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Maybe my instinct was glitchy. Then again, as far as Kalon Visentis was concerned, I had every reason to be worried. He was too good-looking and overconfident. That was either the mark of a sociopath or a reckless fool likely to get himself killed. You do have a predilection for bad boys, Esme.
“You could say that, sure,” I mumbled, then decided to ask a tougher question, seeing how open Petra had been until now. There had to be a limit here, and I wanted to figure it out, so my brother and I could later determine how to get past it. “High Priestess, if you don’t mind me asking, what is the average lifespan of an Aeternae?”
Kalon’s head snapped around, almost breaking his neck as he looked back at me. Petra, on the other hand, was remarkably unfazed. “That is a difficult question, mainly because it varies so much. I wouldn’t be able to give you an average, I’m afraid. Some of us live to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million years old. A few have been around for much, much longer than that.”
“Would we be able to meet one of them?” Tristan replied.
“No. The seniors are kept safe, away from the big cities. They prefer peace and tranquility, having their own homes in the heart of nature,” Zoltan said firmly.
“So how does an Aeternae die, usually?” I asked. “I get the beheading and burning part, but how do those come to happen? Your society strikes me as peaceful. Maybe I’m wrong?”
“There’s the usual unfortunate accident,” Kalon replied dryly.
“How does one go about getting beheaded accidentally?” I shot back.
“Then there are murders,” Kalon continued, completely ignoring me. “The Aeternae are not saints. Many of those who commit terrible crimes are executed. And there are plenty of people who simply choose to end their lives, having lost the will to keep going.”
“How does that happen?” Tristan asked.
Petra