Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles)

by Thoma, Chrystalla

A sharp breath and Elei was released. “Is he alive?”

  He swayed and bent over, the sudden movement making him want to puke his guts out.

  “His heart stopped,” someone said — Bestret, probably — “but now it’s beating again. He’s still unstable, though.”

  “Let’s get moving,” Hera snapped. “Start driving, Sacmis is clearing the way. And get me the Palace on the transmitter.”

  Hera was back. Hera was in charge. Everything would be okay.

  Elei’s frantic heartbeat began to slow at long last. He listened to Hera bark orders against the static of the transmission, commanding whoever was at the other end to demand the hospital’s cooperation.

  They’d obey, he thought fuzzily, resting his forehead on his drawn-up knees. The hospital, the guards, everyone.

  For their own good, they’d better.

  ***

  Gurneys, nurses and doctors giving them dark looks, the sweet scent of Regina wafting everywhere.

  Hera shut it all out. She was vaguely aware of Alendra leaving with Zoe to check a gash on her arm, of Sacmis standing guard at the door of the room they’d been issued, grateful one of them, at least, kept a level head.

  Hera was too horrified to think straight.

  Elei, Kalaes, Ale — they’d been supposed to be a distraction. Meant to stay out of the battle. And she’d thought they’d all died.

  They looked like they’d been through three wars and barely come out alive. In fact — Hera leaned closer to Kalaes’ cot, her throat closing — some of them were still fighting for their lives. Electrodes were attached to Kalaes’ broad chest, connected to a large artificial pacemaker. Bandages covered much of his ribs and were wrapped around one thigh, under which, Hera knew, were stitched-up wounds.

  He was so still. His face was blank in an unnatural sleep. Coma, the doctor had said, but she did not like the word. He’d wake up soon. He had to.

  She smoothed the dark hair off his face. Please, Kal, wake up.

  “His heartbeat is still irregular,” the doctor said, her cold blue eyes not meeting Hera’s.

  Hera knew that. She’d been watching the heart monitor like a hawk for the past couple of hours since they’d come in. “But he’s improving?”

  The doctor pursed her lips. “Yes, he is. Although his body temperature is much higher than expected for a mortal.”

  Hera rubbed a hand over her mouth. “Rex,” she whispered.

  A whimper drew her attention and she glanced over at the other cot where Elei lay.

  The boy didn’t look much better than his adopted brother. He was stitched up as much as Kalaes, his arm, his side, the side of his face. His jaw was swollen, his right eye almost shut. A bandage was wrapped around his head. He, too, was running a fever according to the doctors, but Hera hoped that was Rex as well, helping him heal.

  The worst thing, though, was the muttering, the seemingly endless string of words coming from Elei. Elei who was usually so quiet you had to drag the words out by force.

  “What about him?” Hera whispered.

  “Cat...” Elei muttered, shifting restlessly on the cot, his fingers clutching the covers. “I lost Cat. Can’t find him, there’s smoke... Ale? Come back. Please, Ale, come back. I wish... I wish Hera was here...”

  Tears stung Hera’s eyes. She wiped at them shakily and went to sit at his side. She took his hand. Blood had crusted under his fingernails and his knuckles were scraped raw. She smoothed them. “What about him?” she repeated, her voice choked.

  “Hits to the head are tricky.” The doctor walked around the cot to stand on the other side and folded her arms over her green coat. “You said he was coherent when you found him?”

  Hera opened her mouth to say yes, but stopped. Coherent. He’d spoken her name, she remembered that clearly, with such disbelief in his voice... He’d hugged her back.

  Had he?

  Oh gods. The tears finally spilled free, the tears she’d been holding inside since she’d seen the explosion on the giant screens. They burned her cheeks. “No, I do not know. But he was awake.”

  Unlike now, when he seemed caught in an endless loop of nightmares and memories, unable to surface.

  “Talk to them,” the doctor said, moving toward the door. “That helps.”

  Elei’s fingers suddenly clenched around hers, grinding her bones together. His eyes opened, unfocused, and he frowned. “Hera?” he whispered.

  “Yes. I’m here.” Her heart rose to her throat.

  He nodded, a slight dip of his chin. “Did we win?”

  She laughed, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I think we did.”

  “You’re fuzzy.” His frown deepened.

  “It’s the concussion,” she said. “You’ll get better.”

  “Kal?” He rolled his head on the pillow, squinting beyond.

  “He’ll be fine,” Hera croaked, a lump the size of Dakru Island in her throat. “We’ll be fine.”

  He squeezed her hand again, weakly this time, his eyes closing, energy already spent. “Stay?”

  “Of course. Not going anywhere.” She drew a shaky breath.

  “We missed you.” He huffed, a soft exhalation. “We love you, you know.”

  Hera shook her head, unable to speak, breath caught on a sob. He’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if she should have known.

  Perhaps she should.

  No more doubts.

  ***

  Hospitals weren’t so bad after all, Elei decided. Painkillers. Less dizziness. Food. A bed. Quiet.

  Or maybe he was getting used to staying in white rooms with peeling paint, dressed in funny, paper-thin clothes.

  Maybe.

  He slid his hand under his pillow, touched his Rasmus, the gun Pelia had given him. Hera had found it in Iset’s aircar. Its shape was familiar, comforting.

  Garish lightning that cast a greenish sheen on pale skin. Rows of cots. Alendra curled up in the cot next to his, pale hair hiding her eyes. Kalaes, who’d finally woken up, with an arm thrown over his face, electrodes on his chest monitoring the steady rhythm of his heart. Zoe asleep by his side.

  Hera was there, and Sacmis, dozing in the chairs by his bed. His whole family. He hadn’t jinxed it; the gods hadn’t held it against him.

  So now you believe? a little, mocking voice muttered in the back of his head.

  He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to move. The doctor had said he seemed to be getting better. His brain had been rattled pretty badly, what with dropping facedown on the asphalt a couple of times, getting punched in the head and then banging his skull inside the urn of the Bone Tower temple.

  On the whole, he was getting off lightly, the doc had said, and Elei had only shrugged, wondering what her reaction would be if Elei told her how much.

  It didn’t seem important.

  The main thing was that now he could see just fine, didn’t want to puke all the time, and his memories, if fuzzy, were there. He’d told Hera and Sacmis about Mitt who had betrayed them, being an acolyte of Regina, about Iset and Bestret and the other New Gultur. Kept nothing back — about Iset’s and Bestret’s double-crossing and later remorse and how in the end they’d begun to earn back his grudging trust.

  Then he’d had to stop, too tired, and Hera had made a rare joke, saying it was time he shut up, as he’d been chattering endlessly while unconscious.

  Very funny.

  Meanwhile, Kalaes’ heart was recovering. Alendra and a couple of others were kept for dehydration and exhaustion. Alendra had stated she wouldn’t move from his side unless they pried her off with a tong. That had settled the argument.

  He grinned like an idiot, eyes still shut, hands lax on the bed sheets. He felt... as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of daylight and was about to float off the bed.

  Happy. That was how he felt. So happy his eyes burned. Wasn’t that ironic? That he could cry in joy just like in sadness, the tears cleansing.

  He must have dozed off, because the
next thing he knew, voices were rambling around him. He panicked where he lay on his side, trying to remember where he was and what had happened — was he in Bone Tower? Artemisia? Teos? — then relaxed as the memories rolled back in.

  Hospital. You’re safe.

  “We thought he was dead,” Hera was saying somewhere on his left. She’d been there when he’d fallen asleep, hadn’t she? Who was she talking to? “When we saw the explosion at Bone Tower... I was certain I’d never see him again.”

  Yeah, he’d thought that, too.

  He rolled on his back, wincing as various old and new wounds pulled and protested — his side, his arm, his back, his leg — and forced his gummy lids apart. He blinked at the harsh light, his head throbbing.

  Blinded, he turned his head against the hard pillow and found himself gazing into Alendra’s golden eyes. She’d pulled her cot next to his, and had a hand resting on his hip.

  He stared, caught by surprise. She stroked a fingertip over his cheek and he couldn’t help a smile.

  “Hey.” Hera leaned over, smiling too. Her dark eyes twinkled, transparent somehow, touched with dark green and gold. “You look better.”

  Elei patted the bandage that wound around his head and snorted softly. Yeah, right.

  “Well, well.” Kalaes sounded amused and Elei glanced past Alendra’s head to see him with his arms folded under his head, a lazy grin on his face. “I see you found the time to map each other’s bodies in detail once more.”

  It took Elei a moment to realize Kalaes wasn’t talking to him. Dammit, Kalaes looked okay. Elei had seen him brush death so often lately he could hardly credit it. A knot came undone in his chest and he drew a shaky breath.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Hera griped.

  “Ignore him,” Sacmis said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

  “I bet you did it in the guest room of the hospital.” Kalaes arched a brow. “Naughty of you, I must say.”

  “We did not!” Hera’s voice dripped indignation. “You just made that up like you—”

  “Uh uh.” Kalaes chuckled. “Yes, you did. You shouldn’t pretend in front of someone who can see where your hands have been.”

  That shocked a bark of laughter out of Elei. “You can see that?” Of course he could. Hells.

  “How can he see that?” Elei demanded, finally able to sate his curiosity. “How can he see where Gultur touch?”

  “It’s possible that, uh, he can see the residue,” Hera cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed, “of electric discharge left by Gultur hands.”

  Elei let the words roll in his mind, tried to connect them to Kalaes’ comment, and snorted. Oh gods, this was too precious. Hera caught red-handed with no way out. “So it’s true. You were doing it.”

  “Elei. I’m not...” Hera stammered.

  “Yes, we were,” Sacmis put in calmly and slung an arm over Hera’s shoulders. She wagged her pale brows. “That’s what lovers do.”

  Damn. It was Elei’s turn to blush, his mind suddenly bursting with images of Alendra’s body, the softness of her lips, the roundness of her breasts, and how it might feel to touch her and...

  “Earth to Elei.” Kalaes waved a hand. “Still with us?”

  “What did I miss, pooskers?” Zoe entered the room, a bottle of water in her hands. Her slender dark brows drew together and she pointed the bottle in Kalaes’ direction. “You’re laughing. Why are you laughing?”

  “Slander. I’m definitely not laughing,” Kalaes protested, snickering so badly he was barely able to talk. He wheezed, an arm wrapped around his middle. “And Hera and Sacmis definitely didn’t go at it like rabbits while we were all asleep, so don’t get any ideas in your pretty braided head.”

  “Kal!” Hera sounded horrified.

  Sacmis’s smirk was challenging and satisfied at once, like the cat who ate the songbird and used its feathers as toothpicks.

  “I see.” Zoe sat on Kalaes’ bed and prodded him lightly in the side with a finger. “Sounds like fun. Why don’t we do it, too?”

  Kalaes pretended to swoon with shock. “I’ll show you my scars if you show me yours,” he breathed, gripping Zoe’s wrist. “How about it?”

  “Sure.” Zoe’s smile was pretty, her teeth small and white. “What are these?” She trailed her finger on the side of Kalaes’ neck and down his side.

  “They’re palantin scars,” he said. “I’ve got some nifty ones under my pants, too, if you’d like to—”

  “Kal!” Alendra threw her pillow at him.

  “Ale, don’t.” Elei sat up and grabbed her arm, his pulse rising. “His... I mean, he’s still...” Gods, he couldn’t even speak the words. His heart, he nearly shouted. His broken rib, he almost died, be careful.

  She sobered instantly. “Are you okay, Kal?”

  Kalaes threw the pillow back and it hit Elei in the chest. He fell back on the cot, the air leaving his lungs.

  “Elei?” Alendra’s expression turned worried, but then he pulled her against him and her frown melted away. Her blond hair draped around his face, tickling his throat and chin.

  “I have some marks of my own, if you’d like to see them,” she teased and he swallowed hard.

  He wanted that. But didn’t want her to see his. He was covered in them and was too pissing scared she’d take a look and run.

  “So let me get this straight,” Kalaes said, breaking the moment, for which Elei was grateful. “Hera, are you saying Gultur leave electrical fingerprints where they touch?”

  “The skin on the fingertips of each one of us leaves a specific signature on anything we touch. We deposit a positive static charge along with pheromones and other chemicals. In the past, it served Regina to know when other hosts of her kind were in the vicinity. Somehow Rex has allowed Kalaes to see it.”

  “And you knew about this all along?”

  “It came up in a paper I read during my studies,” Hera said.

  “Can you see it?” Kalaes tilted his head to the side.

  “Nobody can. You’re the only person I know,” Hera admitted stiffly, glaring daggers at him. “I never thought it had any use.”

  “Oh it does, trust me.” Kalaes wagged a finger in her direction and laughed, then clutched his ribs. “Ow shit. Okay, guys, this is the greatest gift Rex has given me. I’ll always know when you’ve dipped a finger in the cookie jar.”

  Hera’s lips pulled in a reluctant smile. “There will be consequences for your actions, Kalaes Ster. I’ll remember this and make you eat shit for it.”

  Eat shit? Elei arched a brow, wondering if Mantis had taught her that particular expression.

  Sacmis winked, biting her lip, struggling to keep a straight face.

  Kalaes was still laughing.

  Epilogue

  (After the kiss)

  Elei stepped into their apartment and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He paused, leaning against it, taking in the common room with its long table and black nepheline chairs. Waited. Rex didn’t stir, didn’t tense his muscles, but that wasn’t surprising. Hera and Sacmis were out a lot.

  Then again it didn’t hum along his nerves either.

  Kalaes wasn’t in. Alendra either — her familiar, fresh smell was absent.

  He limped to the table, slid into one of the chairs and let his head rest on top of his folded arms. He’d taken a temporary job fixing machinery in an aircar factory. It was part time and it allowed him to help Kalaes and Alendra at the orphanage they were setting up.

  He was tired. Tensions ran high in Artemisia, and he’d heard that the police were confiscating weapons because of all the killing going on. He shook his head. They’d have to confiscate the arsenal of the whole city if they wanted to make a real difference. They said that, in the East Sector, near the big Gultur Temple of Artemisia, the gangs demanded a toll to let you pass. Looked like the closer you were to the port, the worse the situation was. Good thing he worked in the Western Sector.

  As it was, he’d barely dodged a
brawl and then a knife-fight on his way back home.

  Home. He smiled against his arm. Despite the political unrest and fights between Gultur, mortals and all the different factions — after a war, it wasn’t unexpected — he felt safer than he ever had in his life. It had been more than a month now since they’d moved to Dakru, and the elections of the Gultur and the mortal leader of the new, temporary government had rolled by with less violence than anyone had anticipated. Maybe they were all too tired of it, after all, too fed up with bloodshed. He hoped it was that, and not something else brewing below.

  Mantis had called, talked about the new police force, the new laws, the new everything that was needed to make the Seven Islands safe. He’d talked about the teams exploring the underground tunnels and the caches. Had mentioned something about Hera giving him a bad copy of the map.

  Hera had only smiled darkly and offered no reply. Alendra had suggested later that Hera hadn’t given the real map to anyone, not even Mantis, that she was wary of handing anyone such knowledge.

  Elei approved.

  And Alendra... Elei raised his head, touched a finger to his lips. She’d kissed him twice more, quickly and in passing, her lips hot, her breath cool. She’d hugged him and leaned against him, soft curves fitting perfectly to him, and he’d felt so good he hadn’t dared suggest doing anything else.

  Whatever that was. He had a vague idea how sex went, but hadn’t done it before, or researched it.

  Truth was, he was scared to jinx it. He hadn’t thought himself superstitious, but whenever he thought of losing what he had now, his chest clenched with apprehension. Having a family, having a home, had one undesirable side-effect he hadn’t foreseen: the fear of waking up and finding it had all been just a dream. Knowing hope, finding happiness and losing it seemed harder than never having it at all.

  And wasn’t that ironic.

  He rubbed the furrow between his brows. That wasn’t all. He remembered an echo of a dream, Alendra telling him that a kiss wasn’t enough, that what came after might destroy him, break his heart.

  He shivered. Was it really so cowardly to try and be happy with what he had? Not to push anything?