Page 58 of Blackthorn

This was a disaster. Her actions landed Orianne in trouble. “I wasn’t thinking. Please, don’t punish her.”

He regarded her with an inscrutable expression.

“Please,” she added, her voice barely a whisper.

He turned to Orianne, hands folded behind his back in a military stance. In that instant, it seemed impossible that she had forgotten he arrived on the planet as an army general. Everything about him radiated precision and a confidence that expected to be obeyed.

Until he turned into a rebel and seized the Aerie for himself.

Yes, that bit was impossible to forget.

“There will come a time when the Aerie is under attack. When that happens, I trust you to protect the most precious thing on this cursed mountain,” he said. “You will not become distracted by an emergency or blood or people dying or whatever fucking catastrophe you think is important. It is not. Nothing is more important than Charlotte. Nothing. Not a pretty lad from the kitchens. Not even me. You will not leave Charlotte alone again.”

Orianne nodded and muttered her assent.

“Leave us,” he said. Orianne tossed Charlotte a grateful look and retreated before Draven could change his mind. Draven missed it, having turned his attention to pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I apologize for the unpleasantness, but it was necessary. You understand.”

Again, an order, not a question.

“I understand.”

The Aerie was a dangerous place, and he was the biggest danger of all.

Chapter Fifteen

Draven

The Aerie

Restricted Levels

Worthless machine.

Draven was tempted to toss the thing from the Aerie’s highest tower, but even as broken as it was, it could still be used for parts. Sadly, that could be said for many things in the fortress. Once it was a marvel of cutting-edge technology, then a relic of a more advanced age, and now it was a trash heap. A very well-fortified trash heap.

Repairing and patching equipment took most of his time. Lemoine and Stringer were more than capable of handling the day-to-day operation of the Aerie, but this? Who else could he trust? Someone with barely two decades of life and who regarded the aging technology as something akin to magic? No. There was no one else alive who knew how the machines were meant to operate. Even though he was never an engineer, he did have years of experience.

Centuries, even.

In the days following the incident in the library, Charlotte had been wary in his presence. He sympathized. It could not have been pleasant to have been reminded that his fangs were for more than show. The way she had pleaded for mercy, like she expected him to flay the guard alive, troubled him. He had wanted to frighten the guard, to press upon her the importance of her task. He had meant every word when he said no one was more important than Charlotte. He needed someone he could trust to stay with Charlotte during the day while he dealt with what could not be delegated. Not that he trusted the fresh-faced guard, but she was eager to earn her place and unlikely to deviate from orders a second time.

Electronic innards spread across the workbench, roughly grouped into two piles. On the left, what could be salvaged. To the right, scrap. The pump worked reasonably well, so it went to the left. With a new power supply, it’d function. The filter was a poor substitute for activated charcoal, but it accomplished its task. It could be reused. Some circuits were free of obvious damage and wear, but the majority went to the scrap heap.

Draven stretched, rolling his neck to work out a knot. A leaking battery did this. He had inspected the unit not long ago and failed to detect any corrosion. It seemed like only a matter of weeks but might have been as long as a year ago. Maintenance logs would have the answer, but he didn’t care that much. What did it matter? He was the only one who performed the inspections, and he simply did not have time to see to them all. Maintenance lapsed. Batteries leaked. A broken machine was always a priority, and as soon as he cobbled one together, another one broke.

Somedays the Aerie felt like a chain, holding him frozen on this mountain. Escape seemed impossible. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a chance to do his work. His real work, not the endless mending. To add to the frustration, he’d rather spend the time with Charlotte.

That thought surprised him. Much about Charlotte surprised him. Her determination. Her intellect. The way she melted with pleasure when he praised her.

She was unexpected. He hadn’t expected to enjoy her questions. They ranged from fact gathering about the colonial ships, about the tech, historical events, his condition, and his personal history. Draven sidestepped the questions that were too personal. While he entertained her questions, he wasn’t interested in revisiting his past. When he contracted his condition, so much about himself changed. Not only his physiology, though that was the most dramatic, but also his temperament. His wants and ambitions. Before, he had been a man with a curious mind. Charlotte’s curiosity was one of the things that drew him to her. Other than his willingness to explore the intellectual frontier, he had been frightfully bland in every other aspect of his colonial life.

How the masses would be disappointed to learn the bloodthirsty vampire had started as a meek and mild scientist.

Draven mentally shook himself before melancholy settled on him. It didn’t matter how he started. He changed. He left that name—that life—behind.

Charlotte’s questions kept picking at the past, bit by bit. She was determined to uncover him and occasionally he wanted to be uncovered. How would she react if he recited the terrible deeds he had done? If he recited the names of those he wronged? The lives he ended? A better man would be able to recount all their names. He was not that man, and the list was too extensive.

No. It was better to keep his past hidden. Some things were better left buried. Considering his misdeeds—how generous, when others would call those misdeeds crimes against humanity—perhaps his affliction hadn’t changed him so dramatically. The darkness had always been there. The vampirism just gave him an excuse to indulge in his destructive tendencies.

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