And here it went again. Mantis closed his eyes, exhausted, thinking if they wanted to kill him, there was nothing he could do about it, and he might as well die in peace. It didn’t seem so bad, after all.
Never enter an alley on your own, Jinsen had always said. Never go without your gun and knife. He hadn’t thought you’d be left without choices, did he?
He’d kill Jinsen when he saw him again.
But he never would, would he? Because dad had come back from work, started fighting with mom, and Mantis had left home before the blows began falling. It was too early to meet Jinsen, so he’d walked aimlessly in the bitter cold.
When he’d seen the smoke rising, he started running. The whole row of buildings was burning, flames leaping from the doors and windows. The whole row. He’d tried to get inside, save his mom, save someone, but it was too late. Nothing was left.
Jinsen was dead.
***
“Here, drink this.” Kalaes pushed a tin cup into Mantis’ hands. “It’s tea to warm you up.”
Kalaes was the leader of the small gang, and the others had grudgingly agreed to let Mantis come along. They’d walked through dark back streets, Kalaes’ hand on Mantis’ elbow steering him inexorably on.
An abandoned building was their destination. They climbed up to the first floor and huddled in one of the rooms. The cold wind whistled through broken windows. A little girl squatted at the center and quickly built a small fire, adding paper and bush twigs. The smoke filled his nostrils, and he fought to keep his stomach from turning over at the smell and the images it carried.
“You should let him finish his tea and then out with him,” another boy said, wrapping his long jacket around his thin shoulders. His eyes were a startling blue. “You can’t take on another one, Kal.”
“Too many strays,” said the girl with the pigtails and the big gun. She was leaning on the doorjamb, staring at Mantis under lowered lids. “Too much trouble.”
“Yes, you are,” Kalaes drawled and grinned. “And yet I didn’t leave you to die in the streets, did I?”
The girl tsked and looked away, but a smile twitched her lips.
The tea was sweet and warm. Mantis’ chest thawed, but now he felt as if it was cracking in half. Dammit, he hadn’t wanted to remember, and he’d had good reason not to. Too late now. Too pissing late.
Mom. Jinsen. Everyone he’d ever cared for.
Darkness waited to swallow him, and monsters lurked inside. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to think. Could he just forget? Would it mean the last night could be undone and the dead brought back to life?
“Why are you wet?” Kalaes asked, laying a hand on Mantis’ shoulder. His dark eyes seemed kind and concerned. “You smell like the sea, and the way your t-shirt is stiffening... What in the hells happened to you?”
Mantis put his cup down on the cracked concrete floor. He recalled the flames, the noise and heat, the crushing sense of panic and horror. He’d tried to enter the building, and someone had stopped him, shouting it was too late. He’d fought that person, and others. A car, there had been a car, and he’d run and...
He jerked, trying to shy away from the memory, and found Kalaes’ hand pushing him down, steadying him.
“What do you remember?” Kalaes asked. “Why did you fall into the sea?”
“They threw me from their patrol boat,” Mantis said, his voice so hoarse it startled him. “The police did.”
“That’s not promising,” said the girl. “Told you he’s trouble.”
“Let him talk.” Kalaes gave Mantis’ shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Why would they do that, fe?”
Not disbelieving but not entirely convinced yet, either.
Mantis shook his head. The images rushed in faster and faster, drowning him. “My mom’s gone,” he whispered, and suddenly Kalaes was right next to him, an arm slung over his shoulders, drawing him closer. “And Jinsen. And all my friends.”
There was a hush, the crackling of the fire the only sound.
Then Kalaes said, “How did they die?”
“Flamethrowers.” Kalaes’ hold tightened, and Mantis croaked, “The police burned them.”
When he next looked up, the other three kids sat around the fire, staring at him, their eyes wide.
“Shit,” said the boy with the long coat. “What the hells is going on? They’re doing it everywhere.”
“It’s the resistance, silly,” said the girl, her mouth flattening. “The Undercurrent has started its attacks and the regime retalates.”
“Retaliates,” Kalaes corrected absently, patting Mantis’ back. “Yeah, that’s probably why. Hey, you still haven’t told us why the bath in the sea, fe.”
“I attacked the police cars.” Mantis sat still as the memory surfaced with an almost audible splash in his mind, opening toothed jaws. “I grabbed one of the flamethrowers and turned it against them police. They ran.” His stomach cramped and churned again, and he hoped he wouldn’t be sick all over Kalaes. “Then they grabbed me.”
No wonder they’d been pissed at him. He tried to remember if he’d hurt or killed any of the Gultur police, but couldn’t.
It still didn’t help with the nausea, because he could imagine it all too well.
“Holy netherhells.” Kalaes whistled. “You attacked the police? On your own?”
It sounded mad, Mantis realized, and maybe they’d call him a liar and send him away, but did he care? Not one bit. About anything. Not anymore.
“You’re freezing,” Kalaes muttered and rubbed Mantis’ back roughly. “We need to get you some dry clothes.”
“You are taking him in,” said the girl, sounding resigned. She sighed.
“Enough whining, Fran.” Kalaes managed to sound both exasperated and amused. “I’m taking him to Pelia in case she has clothes to spare, and then we’ll see.”
“Pelia?” Mantis sat up a little straighter, wincing. He didn’t know these kids, but Kalaes seemed all right, and the idea of being passed on to some unknown woman twisted his insides into knots.
“Don’t worry, kid, she’s nice,” Kalaes said. “And I’m going with you to make sure you’re okay.”
Mantis shook his head. Burning cobwebs filled his mind, covered his heart. “I’ll make them pay,” he breathed.
Kalaes pulled out his gun, checked the chamber, holstered it at his hip. “What are you muttering about?”
“What they did wasn’t fair.” Mantis looked up at Kalaes, saw understanding flash in his gaze. “We didn’t do anything wrong, and they killed...” He couldn’t say it.
“You’re right, it’s not fair.” Kalaes patted Mantis’ knee. “But there’s not much you can do about it, fe. Surviving, that’s how you fight back. Not letting them destroy you.”
Mantis swallowed. Wasn’t it too late for that? He was already shattered.
“Kal, what about Don’s gang?” It was the first time the third boy spoke. He hid his eyes behind his long bangs, and dark wisps curled around his neck like ropes. “Shouldn’t we chase them down and give them a lesson?”
“We will. Later.” Kalaes gave the boy a fond look and turned back to Mantis. “Ready to go?”
Mantis shuddered but let Kalaes pull him to his feet, let him take his hand and walked down the stairs and out of the building, into the icy wind.
***
“Have a seat,” Pelia said, pointing Mantis to a long table piled with food packages and water bottles. “You too, Kalaes. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Kalaes fell in a chair across from Mantis, rubbing his chin. “Have been busy.”
“So I see.” Pelia dragged a chair in front of Mantis and sat, blocking Kalaes’ view. She smiled. “Busy collecting strays again.”
She was a beautiful woman, her face delicate, her eyes large and dark. Fine lines around her eyes and mouth and deeper ones in her forehead told Mantis she was older than he’d first thought. Her black hair, shot with whit
e at the temples, was held back in a knot. Her hands caught his, warm and strong and capable, like his mom’s.
He turned his gaze away. She wasn’t his mom. His mom was gone. He was all alone and nothing could fill the void. A sob was caught inside his chest, in his throat, but he couldn’t cry. The tears wouldn’t come.
“Yeah, well, you know me.” Kalaes muttered, a smile in his voice. “Can’t help it.”
Pelia’s eyes twinkled. “It’s a good sign. It means you’re back on your feet again. Do you need more medicine?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“So what about this one?” Pelia asked, pointing with her chin, and Mantis realized with a start she was talking about him.
“He’s a survivor,” Kalaes’ voice floated over, neutral. “His name is Mantis.”
“Mantis.” Pelia raised an eyebrow but said nothing more for a while, checking the burns on his arms. He barely felt them, barely felt anything. It was as if he floated above his body in a warm void where nothing hurt.
Then Kalaes was there, helping Pelia pull off his sodden clothes and dragging on dry ones — pants, a long-sleeved shirt, socks. Pelia smothered a cool cream on the burns and bandaged his arms.
“Good as new,” she whispered, but he’d never be what he was, the son of Kia, Jinsen’s buddy, the best student in his class, a good shot with the sling. He wasn’t good anymore, couldn’t be, and he wasn’t new. He was an old creature, full of anger. It burned his insides, made his hands fist, his mouth twist in a snarl.
“I’ll kill them,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady. “I’ll destroy them for this.”
Pelia’s eyes snapped up, a flicker of shock in their depths. “Sweetheart, you’re upset—”
“I’m not.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m not a sweetheart. Don’t call me that.” His mom had said he had too much rage in him. Just like his father, she’d said, but who cared? She was gone. “Kalaes said there’s nothing I can do. But I want to fight them. I can’t just stand and watch them kill. There must be a way to bring them down.”
“Look at you. You’re just a child.” Pelia stood, gazing down at him, her expression closed. “What do you intend to do against a regime that can torch down whole towns without fear of repercussions?”
“Anything. I’ll do anything.” He stood as well, feeling his brows draw together. “So what if I’m a kid? They’ve taken everything from me. I’ve a right to do war against them.”
“War?” Pelia glanced around at Kalaes. The older boy shrugged, but he looked somehow pleased.
“You could initiate him,” Kalaes said. “Let him in.”
“No. He’s too young.”
“I’m twelve!” Mantis grated.
“Exactly. Too young,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. Her long, gray dress billowed behind her as she turned around and paced to the other end of the room to gaze out of the window. “I’ve never taken anyone so young in the circle.”
“What circle? What do you mean?” Mantis looked from her to Kalaes who was rubbing the furrow between his brows. “Kalaes?”
But the older boy shook his head, the beads of his two small braids clinking together, and turned to Pelia. “Just think about it, okay?”
The woman was silent for a moment, as if entranced with the view outside, then she sighed. She walked over to Kalaes, set a hand on his shoulder. When he turned to her, she caught his face in her hands and kissed his brow.
“You’re my favorite, Kalaes.” She smiled. “Others do things because they must, but you do them because you feel.”
Mantis saw the color rise in Kalaes’ cheekbones and the sob in his throat rose like a bubble, trying to burst. My favorite boy, his mom used to call him, even though he was an only child. My favorite person in the whole world, she’d reply when he pointed that out. He knew he’d never be so loved again, knew it in the marrow of his bones, and the loss was unbearable.
“He feels, too, I reckon,” Kalaes said, and Mantis glanced up to find both of their gazes locked on him.
“I’ll think about it,” Pelia said cryptically, nodding. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep him here until he decides what he wants to do.”
He didn’t know if they were waiting for an answer, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he just nodded. The rage was fading, withdrawing, leaving the cold and the void behind. Without the rage, he was adrift, lost and alone.
Completely alone. The knowledge crushed him, and his legs gave out. He dropped to his knees and his eyes filled up with tears. They came scalding hot, blurring his sight, a tide rising to cover the world.
“Shit. You okay, kid?” Kalaes came over to him. When Mantis didn’t answer, Kalaes lifted him up, and wrapped an arm around him. With his other hand, he stroked Mantis’ hair out of his eyes. “It’s all right.”
Mantis’ head barely reached Kalaes’ chest. He clung to Kalaes’ strength. “It’s not.”
Kalaes sighed. “Listen to me, fe. You’re brave and what happened to you was wrong. You’re a fighter. You’ll survive this, you hear me? You’ll grow older and stronger, and one day you’ll set things right. But right now you need to live. I’ll help. We all will.” He wiped the tears from Mantis’ cheeks, held his shoulders. “You can cry. I cried too when my dad and brother died. Let it out, and you’ll feel better.”
And for some reason, Kalaes’ words, the implicit permission, broke down all barriers and Mantis burrowed in Kalaes’ strong arms and wept until he thought his heart might break.
“I’ll fight them,” he insisted, voice hoarse and muffled against Kalaes’ chest. “I’ll stop them.”
“Yeah, fe.” Kalaes voice held a smile, and his arms tightened around Mantis. “You will.”
THE END
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Read the first book of Elei’s Chronicles
REX RISING
In a world where parasites create new human races, Elei leads a peaceful life — until a mysterious attack on his boss sends him fleeing with a bullet in his side. Pursued for a secret he does not possess and with the fleet at his heels, he has but one thought: to stay alive. His pursuers aren’t inclined to sit down and talk, although that’s not the end of Elei’s troubles. The two powerful parasites inhabiting his body, at a balance until now, choose this moment to bring him down, leaving Elei with no choice but to trust in people he hardly knows. It won’t be long before he realizes he must find out this deadly secret — a secret that might change the fate of his world and everything he has ever known — or die trying.
Book Two of Elei’s Chronicles
REX CRESTING
Still recovering at a hospital on the north coast of Dakru, Elei is convinced that his part in bringing down the Gultur is over. Rex has infected the other race and their dictatorial system is starting to collapse. Not every Gultur, though, has been affected, and on top of that, inside Elei’s body, Rex has matured and goes through another transformation. Elei isn’t sure he can survive Rex’s new strength — but that is the least of his worries, as the Gultur descend on him again.
Book Three of Elei’s Chronicles — coming November 2012
REX: EQUILIBRIUM
With a map that leads underground and the hope of toppling the Gultur regime, Elei and his companions seek a weapon to tip the balance of power. But unrest within the resistance means that this time they’re on their own, and, as if crossing a world torn by war while keeping Rex under control wasn’t enough, Elei fears that before the end Alendra might break his heart.
Book Four of Elei’s Chronicles — coming Spring 2013
REX: AFTERMATH
An uneasy peace has settled on the Seven Islands. Elei and his friends are trying to find a measure of normalcy and Hera is talking of joining the underground investigati
ons, while Kalaes is helping Elei keep his promise of protection to the street kids. Meanwhile, Elei’s attraction to Alendra is growing, and the signals he receives are confusing. What did Alendra mean by her kiss, and what will she do when she sees the whole of him?
A novelette set in the world of Rex Rising
HERA
Hera, member of the Gultur race governing the Seven Islands, thought she knew right from wrong and what her future held in store. A chance meeting with a lesser mortal, though, will turn her world upside down and force her to see her race and the laws with different eyes. For Hera, knowledge means action, so she sets out to put things right and change her world.
Taking place in the World of the Seven Islands almost three years before the events in Rex Rising, this is the story of Hera’s first confrontation with the truth.
About the Author
Greek Cypriot with a penchant for dark myths, good food, and a tendency to settle down anywhere but at home, Chrystalla likes to write about fantastical creatures, crazy adventures, and family bonds. She lives in Cyprus with her husband and her vast herds of books. Her stories can be found in Alienskin magazine, Lorelei Signal, the Shine Journal, Encounters Magazine, and Bards and Sages ezine. She is also an author for MuseItUp Publishing where you can find her YA Urban Fantasy novella Dioscuri.
Here is the link to Chrystalla’s writing blog where you can find short stories, samples and link to other longer works:
Blog: https://chrystallathoma.wordpress.com
Other links:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/chrystallathoma
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Chrystalla-Thoma/117863861560579
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