Blood of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 2)

I closed my eyes and grasped his shoulder. “I know.”

“Den’ give up on our girl either.”

Fierce conviction snapped through my voice. “Never.”

The problem was, our beautiful daughter, who had endured six years of my poking, swabbing, plasma-drawing examinations, was as normal and human as her best friend, Eddie. I’d ingested her blood from vials and still couldn’t sense her aura like I could with Jesse and Roark. Her blood didn’t cure programmed spiders. She was immune to the programming but didn’t have fangs or spots or superhuman speed. She had the power to make my heart swell, but did she have the power to save mankind?

I could analyze physical things, such as inherited conditions derived from DNA, molecular function, and interactions among genes. But I couldn’t use the scientific method to prove she was the solution we were waiting for.

Prophecy was a concept that correlated to faith, which was something that couldn’t be studied under a microscope or grown in a petri dish. I just had to believe. As a man of science, that was something I struggled with on a daily basis.

Maybe she would eventually grow into her power. Or maybe something significant would trigger it the way the virus had set off Evie’s biological changes.

Dawn was defined as the moment after which the sky was no longer completely dark. Until that moment, when she was ready to rise, my job was to protect her, train and prepare her, and love her.

That night, I sat on the edge of her bed beside Jesse. Roark stretched out on the other side, with Dawn tucked into the blankets between us. Darwin curled up at her feet, but he would move to her side the moment we left the room.

The soft slapping sound of water against the hull floated in through her window. A candle’s flame swayed lazily on her bedside table. Darwin’s steady snores vibrated the mattress. All was peaceful, warm, real. This was my favorite part of every day.

Jesse adjusted the blankets around her sweet little chin. “I love you.”

Roark and I echoed him.

“Love you, too.” Her eyes drifted closed, her auburn lashes fanning over her cheeks. Then she popped them open. “Will I see Eddie tomorrow?”

Roark pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’ll be kissing him again by sunrise.”

“Yuck.” She scrunched her nose then leveled us with a curious look. “Who did Mommy kiss the mostest?”

“The most.” I leaned over her, bracing an arm on the other side of her legs. “What do you mean?”

Her brows stitched together. “Which of you did she love the best?”

I rubbed the back of my head and looked at Jesse. “I’m not touching that.”

Jesse stared at Roark, who was grinning like an asshole.

She shifted her sleepy gaze to me. “I bet she kissed you the mostes— The most because you’re the prettiest.”

“Be the love of the lamp lighting Jaysus, that’s a load of bollix.” Roark rolled to his back and said to the ceiling, “She’s craictose intolerant, that one.”

She giggled and poked a finger against his mouth. “Did Mommy talk funny like you?”

“No, baby.” Jesse leaned against the headboard. “Your mother could actually form words and make sense.” He closed his eyes. “And she was by far the prettiest.”

I could still see her in my mind, every perfect inch of her. One of my biggest fears was losing that image. We didn’t have photographs to trace or recordings to listen to. What if my memories faded? What if I couldn’t picture her anymore?

A heavy silence fell around us, and I knew Jesse and Roark were thinking about her, too.

We had good days and bad days. For years, I blamed myself for her death, anguished over all the things I could’ve done differently that morning in the garden. Guilt eventually morphed into acceptance and settled on purpose. I strived to be a good father, to be an emotional and physical support for Jesse and Roark, and to help the people. Her people.

Evie hadn’t left me as a hollow shell. She’d made me a better man.

I bent toward Dawn’s face and kissed her nose. “Whose turn is it to tell a story?”

She turned toward Roark and pulled on his beard. “It’s yours, Da. Tell me another one about England.”

“Let’s see…” Roark settled in, pulling her back against his chest, his finger stroking the medallion around her neck. “One time, your ma and I sought safety in a bank vault. ‘Twas barely big enough to hold the two of us. Aphids surrounded us, prying at the door, trying to claw their way in.”

Thirty minutes later, she was asleep. We kissed her good-night, slipped from her room, and wordlessly went our separate ways. We all had our own bedrooms with king-sized beds, where we each attempted to retire alone every night. But eventually, always, they showed up in my room.