Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3)

by Chrystalla Thoma

  “I am paying attention to you, dammit.” Elei pressed his hands against the throbbing wounds. “Relax.”

  Of all the parasites he carried, Rex was by far the most powerful and still an unknown factor. Worse still, his body had scant defenses against it. Even telmion, the killer parasite he’d carried inside him since childhood, the only one offering any real resistance, was obviously struggling against Rex.

  Spilled in the water of the Gultur sacred fountain together with his blood, Rex had been supposed to bring down the Gultur, the dominant all-women race who’d been genetically altered by Regina, another powerful parasite, in centuries past.

  It had succeeded, hadn’t it? He tried to remember what Hera and Kalaes had told him. Something about Rex infecting the Gultur, about the resulting chaos.

  He swung his legs off the bed, gritting his teeth. “Nothing’s wrong,” he whispered, soothing, but Rex sent lightning pain through his skull and blinding light to smother his vision.

  If Rex believed Elei was in danger, it’d probably do anything to ensure his survival — and so its own.

  It would help if Elei knew what Rex found threatening. He stood, swaying and blinking away black spots. He reached for his gun, then remembered he didn’t have it and had no clue where it could be. He should stop by Kalaes first, wherever he was, tell him about Rex’s warning and find a way to contact Hera. Getting his hands on some clothes and shoes wouldn’t be a bad idea, either, in case he had to run. Barefoot and in a hospital gown he wouldn’t make it anywhere.

  He tottered to the wall and leaned against it. His bandaged thigh burned. Various other hurts flared in his torso. The gods knew how much time he had until the painkillers in his bloodstream wore off. After a small hesitation, he opened the iron door and stepped out.

  A green pulse went through his vision, showing him a passage empty of human presence, with doors along either side. Since he’d never been outside his room in a conscious state, he had no idea which way to go. Choosing randomly, he shuffled to his right, passing metal doors identical to his. Women’s voices rang from behind one, and he paused. Maybe if a nurse was there, he could—

  His body jerked and he gasped, almost falling to his knees. The corridor flashed white and he closed his eyes, blinded.

  Okay, fine. I won’t knock.

  Forcing the pain down, he hurried past the door as fast as he could. Obeying Rex seemed the only way to avoid the pain. Anger swam through despair and heated his neck. He wouldn’t be slave to a damned parasite. Maybe Kalaes knew a way out of this mess.

  With Kalaes he’d be safe. He only had to find him.

  Move.

  His possessed eye throbbing along with every healing wound on his body, he limped to the end of the corridor and wrenched open the emergency double door. A flight of stairs led down and he descended in near darkness. The eye Rex controlled took over and everything around him glowed as if lit from the inside. He heard a commotion above — voices, footsteps, crashes, racing heartbeats — the sounds echoing inside his head. He thought he caught a whiff of sweetness and flowers.

  Gultur? No, that couldn’t be. They’d been infected, destabilized.

  But the scent persisted, and Rex sent bright flashes and changing colors through his vision. With new urgency, he exited into the lower floor and hobbled toward what looked like an entrance hall, with a reception cubicle in one corner and rows of black nepheline seats.

  He slowed. Where were Kalaes and Hera?

  Rex sent another warning jolt through his limbs, but anger kept Elei on his feet. Hells, no. He wasn’t leaving his friends behind, not if someone was after them, but where could those two be? He stopped and opened the first door he found. An empty bed greeted him. The next two doors revealed more of the same. Opening the fourth one, he found an old woman in a bed.

  She screamed.

  His pulse leaped, the room lit up in a dizzying sequence, and the woman’s shriek threatened to split his eardrums. He backed out, swallowing hard, his heart slamming against his ribs. Voices rang farther to his right, at the stairwell. He limped into the next room and found it unoccupied. He stared at the empty bed, trying to gather his wits.

  His memories of the previous days were hazy at best. Perhaps Kalaes said he was staying somewhere else. Maybe together with Hera? He wished he could recall.

  Rex screeched inside his skull. Holy gods. Footsteps in the distance, coming down the stairs. Urgent voices. The click of guns ready to fire. The sound of a knob rattling down the corridor perhaps fifty paces away. Closer. Always closer. The sweet scent swirled on the air, tickled his senses.

  Dammit, he’d been right. Rex had been right. They were Gultur, and they’d found him. His heartbeat went up another notch, kicking the insides of his skull.

  Elei backed away from the door and turned toward the entrance hall. He half-ran, half-staggered across the large room, past a couple of wide-eyed people, his hospital gown flapping. His pulse throbbed in his ears and the pain faded as more adrenaline pumped through his veins. He reached the revolving doors just as a shot rang behind him, the bullet smashing a glass window. He stumbled but caught himself and pushed through the doors, his bare feet hitting the cold, rough asphalt.

  With barely a glance to either side, he raced across the avenue toward the smaller streets that opened between gray blocks of apartments and offices. Hera had said he was at the north coast of Dakru, in Teos. He’d never heard of the town before, knew nothing about it and hadn’t the vaguest orientation.

  Just perfect.

  The sound of helicopters thundered overhead and he pressed on, grinding his teeth. Bullets zipped by, hitting aircars with ear-splitting eruptions of noise.

  Get out of the avenue.

  He chose a street at random and ran between graffiti-covered walls, evading piles of trash and cats fighting. A woman in a long coat stared at him, a dead rat clutched in one hand. Elei jumped over a rotting paper box and almost fell, his hurt leg giving a warning twinge through the haze of adrenaline. He kept running, aware of shouts and more gunshots behind him, wondering when his leg would give out and how in the hells he ever thought he’d escape the Gultur on foot.

  The ties at the back split, and his hospital gown flapped, getting in the way. Impatiently, he tore it off and ran naked but for the thick bandages winding around his torso and thigh.

  He burst into another avenue, and a woman squealed, pointing at him.

  Unwanted attention. Rex sent a blue pulse, then a green one, zooming on an alley too narrow for aircars. Elei sped up, his side burning, and zigzagged between pedestrians and vehicles to reach it. He entered the darkness of the alley at a dead run, tripped over a twisted tube of rusted metal and crashed, putting out his hands to stop the fall. He groaned at the impact. He rolled, his whole body one giant ache.

  Move!

  Blood trickled down his chest and back. His gunshot wounds had reopened — whether from his desperate running or his fall, or both. They burned like fire. On all fours, he crawled behind a blue trash container and huddled on the rough asphalt. The sour stench of rotten vegetables, meat and piss was familiar, as was the fear tightening his stomach.

  Just like old times. He never thought he’d flash back to his childhood in the trashlands of Ost while awake. He often visited the place in his dreams, dreams that often turned into nightmares replaying Albi’s death.

  Everyone who cared for him died in the end. Albi, Pelia. But not Hera and Kalaes. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them. He needed to find them, make sure they were okay.

  The adrenaline rush was fading. Shivers wracked his body and rattled his teeth as he fought to stay still. Large vehicles passed in the avenue, just a few steps away, and shouts rang. He was sure the Gultur were combing every nook and corner of the town. He wasn’t safe there, but the thought of using his leg again made him grit his teeth.

  Braced with one arm against the container, he felt the wounds on his thigh. They were the worst of all his injuries. Shot at alm
ost point blank, the bullets had barely missed the femoral artery. The bandage had slipped, and wetness met his fingers. He swallowed hard and rested his pounding forehead on his arm.

  I’m screwed.

  Cold wind blew through the alley, whistling, and Elei trembled, feeling the ice all the way to his bone marrow. Buck naked, sitting on the dirty cement, he hugged himself and clenched his teeth, afraid their loud gnashing might give him away.

  A cat’s meow startled the holy crap out of him, and he hissed. The animal wandered closer, a black cat with green eyes that glittered. A female most probably, small and thin, she butted her head against his thigh. He shoved her off. Animals carried parasites and he had enough of his own, thank you very much.

  The cat returned, unruffled, which was strange. Had nobody ever kicked her or was some parasite playing with her memory? When she butted him again, he fought the urge to grab her and throw her across the alley. Minutes trickled by. He sat as still as he could, shaking.

  The cat observed him, sniffed his leg. Something in the shape of her bullet-like head, her silky fur, drew him to caress her nose and he felt a rough, warm tongue. She licked between his fingers at the still-wet blood streaking them, pulling at the skin there, purring.

  He snatched his hand back, his breath coming in gasps. What’s wrong with me? The cold pressed on him, made his face ache.

  Then the cat, the alley, the sour smell of garbage — it all faded as a mechanical hum reached his ears. A flash of color went through his vision, and he knew he had to hide, that he’d be found if he stayed.

  Movement caught his eye. A rat flashed red, scuttling along a wall. The cat didn’t stir, sitting by his side, a pulsing orange. Puddles of water stood on the street, glowing green and white.

  More shouts from the avenue. The buzz of engines. Helicopters.

  Shit. A dark shape on the wall across from him drew his attention. His gaze zeroed on a small black door close to the ground. A basement.

  Managing to keep a groan of pain behind his teeth, he got to his feet and stumbled across the alley to the door. The helicopters were closing in, their helices adding to the wind currents blasting through the alley.

  The cat mewed behind him, hard on his heels.

  He fell to his knees before the door and yanked on the handle with both hands. It resisted. A surge of power went through his arms and his heartbeat redoubled. Sweat poured down his back, scalding. Heat went up his neck and face, and his breathing hitched, turning shallow.

  Do this or die.

  With one last pull, he wrenched the door open, cracking the lock, and damn well fell on his back from shock. He stared at his hands, then back at the lock. He’d forgotten for a moment he carried the king of parasites — or had it been his own desperation that lent him this sort of strength?

  He went in, feet first, finding a metallic ladder. Pushing the curious cat back out, he pulled the door closed over his head. He slid down, flashes showing him a dead place stacked high with boxes. Broken stuff spilled from them — ceramics and chairs and tools.

  As soon as his feet hit the floor, he collapsed, blood running hot down his leg. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.

  A gun safety clicked off, spoiling his efforts. Dammit, need a moment to catch my breath. With a groan, Elei grabbed the ladder and heaved himself back to his feet, straightening knees that threatened to buckle.

  “Who the hells are you,” asked a man’s voice from the gloom, “and what do you think you’re doing in my basement?”

  Chapter Two

  The boat was old and small, a skiff with an outboard motor. It rocked alarmingly when Hera shifted her weight.

  Standing at the prow, she nodded at the owner of this sorry excuse of a watercraft. She forced a smile, trying to appear non-threatening and fighting her growing irritation at the delay this caused.

  “I’ll take this... boat.” If you can call it that. She gestured at the dilapidated benches and the threadbare tent. “If you make me a better price.”

  He scowled. “Why should I? You need my boat and I need money to feed my family.”

  “You do not want to anger me,” Hera said calmly. “Do you?”

  The mortal seemed shaken, just a little. Lines appeared between his brows and he lifted a hand to rub his thin moustache. “Hey, listen.” He glanced around. “I’d love to help, but it’s a long way to Torq, and I need the money to pay for the fuel.”

  “You did not understand me.” Hera leaned closer to the man and bared her teeth. “I am buying your boat. Is this clear?”

  “Buying it?” He paled. “No, lady, I’m not selling—”

  “Oh really.” She took a breath to say more, then remembered what Kalaes had told her about mortals preferring politeness in negotiations. She licked her lips. “Um, please?”

  He frowned. “No, I can’t, I—”

  “Yes, you can.” Politeness obviously did not work. “And you will.” She opened her mouth, then jerked at the crack of thunder behind her. No, not thunder. She spun around, hand going to her longgun. What in the five hells? The rattling, echoing sound could only be gunshots. From the direction of the town.

  The man’s already pale face went gray. “Gultur police,” he whispered and started his dakron engine. “Get out. I’m leaving now.”

  With a curse, Hera rushed to climb out. She’d barely stepped onto the pier when the boat turned around and raced away along the coast.

  Another shot rang, and Hera’s spine went rigid. It had come from the direction of the hospital, she was sure of that.

  Frigid hells. Kalaes. Elei.

  And then she was already running.

  ***

  “Who are you?” The dark-haired man was dressed in gray overalls and black boots. He raised his gun and hesitated on the steps going down into the basement. “If you’re here to rob me, think again.”

  Elei took a limping step toward the man and shivered. Damn but it was cold. “I won’t hurt you.”

  The man cocked his head to the side, rubbing the stubble on his chin, and squinted in the half light from a swinging bulb overhead. He took one more step and swore softly. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s just a naked kid.”

  Elei frowned. A kid. Well, better look harmless than not, he supposed.

  The man came down the steps. “Son of a bitch, what’s with all the bandages? Someone beat you up? Did you get into a fight?” His voice echoed in the basement. “How did you get inside? I’d swear the door was locked.”

  “Door was open,” Elei lied. “I was cold.” And that was the truth.

  The man shook his head, cursing under his breath. Up close, his forehead was lined and there were fine wrinkles around his eyes. He had to be quite old, in his thirties or forties. “What are you doing here? Did you run away from the hospital?”

  So many questions he needed to avoid answering.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Are the Gultur police after you?”

  Dammit. He had to distract him. “The Gultur are still in power?”

  The man scowled. “Yeah, they are. Are you talking about the infection rumors?” He tsked. “You still haven’t answered me. Are they after you?”

  “No.” The less the man knew the better. Elei licked his cracked lips, fighting fear and worry. Apparently nothing had changed. The Gultur ruled and he was still on the run. “I only need to borrow some clothes. Please. Then I’ll be out of your way. I promise.”

  Suspicion lit the man’s dark eyes. He raised his gun again. “I don’t know. Can’t trust you, kid, too risky. I think you’d better leave.”

  White light flashed on his plexus, the side of his knee, his neck. Rex was suggesting where to hit the man. Eliminate danger.

  No. I’m leaving. Elei opened his mouth to say so.

  Rex jolted him, twisted his insides and knocked out his breath, sending him to his knees. Another jab in his gut and he whimpered.

  “Hey, are you all right, kid?” The man stepped closer and hissed. “Holy g
ods in the nether hells, you’re bleeding.”

  Screw you, Rex. Elei struggled to rise, but the pain still rippled through him in waves, stealing his breath. I’m not your damn puppet.

  “To the hells with this. Come.” The man slung his gun over one shoulder, hooked his hands under Elei’s armpits and pulled him upright. “I can’t send you out like this.”

  “Just some clothes,” Elei gritted through chattering teeth. “That’s all.”

  Muttering, the man helped him up the stairs to the main house, and to his embarrassment Elei found the help necessary. Without the adrenaline Rex injected into him when it sensed danger, his battered body shook with exhaustion.

  “Name’s Idomeneus, by the way,” said the man. “Menes for short.”

  “Menes.” Elei glanced around as he was dragged up the steps and through the door. The apartment was old but in good condition, the walls newly painted, the furniture clean.

  “Papa?” A little girl appeared around a corner and took Menes’ other hand. “Who’s he?”

  Elei hastily covered his naked groin with his hand. Oh gods, a kid. He needed to leave here soon. If the Gultur entered and found him in their house, they’d both be dead, father and child.

  “Look.” Elei tried to disengage from Menes’ hold. “I’m fine, really. Pants and a shirt, if you can afford it, that’s all I need—”

  “Hush, boy.” Menes’ brow furrowed. “You’re bleeding, you limp, and you look like you haven’t had a plate of food in a while.”

  Well, there was no arguing that.

  Menes turned to the girl, reached out to stroke her hair. “Sweetie, go and fetch Papa a pair of pants, a shirt, and my old boots, they’re in my closet. Hurry now.”

  Sweat ran down Elei’s back, stinging reopened wounds, and his thigh throbbed. Menes helped him to a chair and sat across from him, a bowl of water in his hands. He put it down.