“Where are you taking me?”
But he followed her into a narrow side street with the starchy smell of fried blue algae and the sharp stench of dog piss, walking as if in a dream. She drew him into a dark corner and pushed him down. He groaned as he let himself sink to the cold pavement.
She squatted before him, hands on her knees over her threadbare blue pants. Her small, bare feet were callused and black with dirt. “I’m Afia. And you’re Elei.”
“Yeah.”
“Elei. I’ll help you,” she said, her small face set in earnest lines, and she held his gaze without flinching.
Laughter bubbled up his throat, burning and bitter. “The Gultur have him, for the gods’ sakes. How’re you going to help?”
“I have friends.” Her mouth pressed into a straight line. She raised her hand to his marked cheek. “What do you need?”
“To do what? Storm the hospital? Attack the Gultur on my own?” His breath hitched. He saw in his mind Kalaes struggling against the Gultur, saw his split lip dripping blood. On the giant screen, the liquid had looked black like pitch, running down his chin. Oh hells. He closed his eyes, inhaled the cold air.
He couldn’t wait for Hera to save the day this time. He couldn’t just pissing sit and wait.
“I need watchdogs to have my back,” he heard himself say as if from a distance. “And grenades. Guns and bullets.”
“Automatic guns, machine guns, rifles?”
He looked up. “You know about guns?”
“Jek knows more. I’ll ask him.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who’s Jek?”
“You’ll see. What else?”
Elei remembered Kalaes talking of street gangs and fights. It seemed normal here, that a girl of six or seven knew so much about weapons. “Machine guns,” he muttered. “And an automatic.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, all business, and rose. She patted her pants, raising a cloud of dust. “Stay here, wait for me.” She turned to go, throwing a look over her shoulder. “And don’t forget, after you’re done, you owe me money.”
He did laugh then, out loud, at the insanity of it all. “I won’t.”
Chapter Three
The hospital swarmed with Gultur and vehicles. Hiding inside an abandoned building, concealed behind a tattered curtain, Hera counted at least fifteen aircars and a hundred guards. When in Sobek’s name had they arrived? If they’d crossed Teos, she’d have seen them, heard them.
Which only left the sea. They must have come by boat.
Hera butted her head against the wall. Maybe some pain might help with the frustration and worry. It felt as if a half-dozen rats gnawed at her stomach.
Cursing silently, she left her hideout and walked the perimeter, keeping low and weaving through stinky alleys, looking for any signs they’d captured Kalaes and Elei.
She saw nothing. Not that she knew what exactly she was looking for. For signs of struggle, perhaps, severed limbs, photos of the two boys tied up and beaten bloody, displayed proudly on the hospital facade.
At any rate, the absence of evidence only meant she had to assume the worst. Knowing the Gultur interrogation methods only served to tighten the knot in her stomach.
Sweat rolling down her face, she walked around the back, hoping for a breach in the security, a wall she could scale, a fire escape she could climb. It was useless. The hospital was guarded on all sides, and even worse, a stench of unwashed fur and rotten meat reached her nostrils. She sniffed.
Geryon’s balls. They’d brought molosse, huge, blood-thirsty hunting dogs that could shred anyone to pieces in seconds. They would probably not attack her, but it made breaking the mortals out all the more difficult.
Hera kicked a bag of rotting trash that split on the street and she strode off into the maze of alleys, away from the hospital. There was not much she could do on her own.
She needed to contact the rebels. The Undercurrent.
***
The light changed subtly, shifting the shadows across the dirty concrete of the walls. Elei waited, hidden behind the dumpster in the filthy alley. More than once he wondered if the girl had lied to him about helping — but what reason would she have?
Unless she’d gone to betray his position to the Gultur. For all he knew they’d offered a good prize on his head. Fear made his hands clammy. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier? Too tired, perhaps, his mind too slow. Rex didn’t react to the thought. Did that mean he was safe, or was Rex sulking?
Damned complicated parasite.
With the new fear taking root inside, he scooted back and examined the alley for hiding places. He suddenly felt trapped. Wondering what lay beyond, he hobbled to the other end of the street where an aircar was parked. He peeked around the corner into a broad avenue with shops and knew he was better off where he stood. A creaking of metal above his head made him glance up. Another fire escape, a metal staircase this time, not a ladder. If he hid on the first landing and the Gultur came for him, he could jump onto the vehicle and get down from there, escape into the avenue.
As plans went, it was terrible — but he couldn’t think of a better one. He climbed the creaky staircase, his thigh protesting. He crouched on the rusty landing, careful to be hidden from view, and watched both sides.
White wisps of mist curled on the street below. A rat crossed, followed by another; gray shadows. A scrawny gray dog came sniffing in, following a zigzag trail Elei couldn’t fathom, and left. By the time the girl found her gang and the guns — if she did — it would probably be evening. Elei yawned, his jaw cracking with the force of it.
Movement on the far left caught his attention and he hunched down even lower, his heart pounding madly. He dared peek above the metal rail, just barely. Blurred movement streaked through the alley, then it was gone.
Blinking, he raised his head higher. A soft squeak sounded and Elei slumped. More rats.
Then something tapped on the metal staircase, the sound ringing and vibrating through Elei’s bones. “Are you up there?” a soft, boyish voice said.
Elei jerked, hissing when wounds pulled. He reached for his gun only to remember he didn’t have one.
He glanced down. The girl stared up, a frown on her small face. A skinny boy accompanied her, slightly taller than her, dressed in overalls of unidentifiable color, with a duffel resting at his booted feet. His tangled blond hair fell down to his shoulders and covered his eyes.
“Coming.” Elei climbed down the rickety steps, eyes flicking right and left, scanning the alley in case he’d been betrayed after all. “You were quick.”
She shook her head, cast a furtive glance at the boy. “Tell him, Jek.”
“You tell him.” He looked down, avoiding Elei’s gaze. “Your friend, not mine.”
“Jek!” She elbowed him hard in the ribs.
Elei winced in sympathy. “Tell me what?”
Jek grimaced. His eyes were a dark blue when he finally looked up. “If we don’t hurry, your friend won’t make it.”
Ice spread in Elei’s insides. “Kalaes?”
“Not so loud!” Jek glanced wildly around. “You never know who’s listening. Tell him, Afia!”
She flinched and Jek sighed. He patted her back in an awkward gesture. It was obvious he normally took care of her, because she accepted the small comfort, turning her bright stare on the boy.
They both looked so little. Elei swallowed past a knot in his throat. Had he seemed like that to Albi when she’d found him in the trashlands? He’d been a lot younger than Afia was. “Just tell me.”
“Okay.” Afia straightened her thin, narrow shoulders. “The Gultur have him, right? And they’ll want to know what he knows. Where you are. Where the Undercurrent is. They’ll ‘terrogate him. We know their methods.”
Elei’s hands clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “They’re killing him, aren’t they?” Bile rose in his throat. “Torturing him.” And Hera might be dead already.
She nodde
d, biting her lower lip. Jet shuffled his booted feet.
The world darkened. “How will I ever get him out of there?” He’d run from the Gultur before, but hells, he’d never run toward them, well, not when in his right mind.
“Here you are.” Jek gestured at the duffel. “Machine guns, grenades. That’s what you asked for, right?”
Like cold water, the words washed over Elei, steadying him. “You found weapons?” He dropped to his knees and opened the bag. Three machine guns, several bullet cartridges, five grenades. He whistled softly. “Where did you get these?”
“Better not know, fe,” drawled Jek, and for a moment, superimposed on the blond boy, Elei saw Kalaes, black hair sticking in all directions. He swallowed hard.
“Right.” Elei scratched his cheek. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll pay you later. I told Afia—”
“We’re coming with you.”
“What? Are you mad?” Elei stood, shaking. “That’s out of the question. You’re just kids.”
“And you’re so much older,” Jek said with a sniff.
“Think of Afia,” Elei said. “Would you put her in such danger?”
Afia stomped her small foot, brows drawn together. “You’re not going in alone,” she said.
“You heard her.” Jek lifted an eyebrow.
Five Hells. Would these kids not see reason? Elei cocked his head to the side and tried to sound firm. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Exactly. Not a job for one person. Or do you think you can take the Gultur on alone?”
Jek’s quiet words sent a shiver through Elei. “I have to.” Then a jolt of fire went through him. Rex had to be sensing his fear and reacting, accelerating his pulse. Dammit.
Jek glanced at Afia and some silent understanding took place between them. “No, you don’t have to.” Jek cleared his throat, somewhat theatrically. “Afia put out a yellow roach.”
“A what?” Elei’s head hurt like all the hells. Colors flashed in his possessed eye. He focused on his breathing, tried to relax.
“A code of emergency. The gang’ll find us at the hospital. We’ll distract them, fe, keep them busy while you get your friend out. And we know how to use the grenades and guns, so don’t you worry about us.” His young voice was serious. The damn kid couldn’t be more than twelve.
“Why are you doing this?” Elei asked.
It was Afia who spoke. “Because you promised to pay us back.” Her small chin trembled for a moment, then she set her slender jaw. “I trust you. I know you’ll keep your promise.”
“You do, huh?”
Elei swallowed hard as crimson flashed over Afia’s chest, and sweat rolled down his temples. That was a tough little girl. He had to hope that, if he didn’t find a way to come up with the money, she’d not have her gang shoot him down.
Then again, with the stunt he was planning, storming the hospital and the Gultur together with a bunch of kids, a few guns and five grenades, soon enough he’d probably be too dead to care.
***
Kalaes’ pendant, his bloody mouth, images of the Gultur hitting him flashed before Elei’s eyes as he trudged behind the two kids, following them through a maze of streets and alleys he would’ve had trouble negotiating even on better days. His stomach twisted with fear and adrenaline and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. Saliva pooled in his mouth. Sugar.
Damn, now was not the time for cravings. He wished he had his Rasmus, but the gun had probably stayed with Kalaes. Now the Gultur surely held it, and the thought curdled in his mind. His only possession, his gift from Pelia, the woman who’d been a mother to him and who had died, leaving him to make sense of a world gone mad.
Madder.
His combat boots squeaked on concrete and splashed in runny mud. He followed the kids to a flight of wide concrete steps. Jek and Afia scampered up like cats, not even looking back to see if he followed. Walking had been okay, but his damn leg protested when he took the first step up. Clenching his jaw, dragging his leg, he climbed after them and into an avenue, passing underneath lit windows.
Night fell as they crossed the town of Teos, and Elei realized he’d run much farther from the hospital than he’d thought possible. He pressed a hand against the bandage winding around his chest and a stab of pain helped him locate one of the bullet wounds. He felt shaky now that Rex had receded to the background. Obviously the parasite would react only if it sensed immediate danger, but Elei had to wonder if it needed time to rest after each such take-over, to replenish its forces. What did a parasite need to keep strong? How was it using his body?
Not so long ago, it had wanted Elei to die — or had it? Rex had pushed him to shoot himself and spill his blood into the water, but hadn’t made him blow his brains out. Maybe Rex hadn’t wanted his death back then; maybe the parasite had been confident that Elei would survive, although what gave it such confidence was anybody’s guess. He’d barely survived, if his memory was anything to go by.
“Here,” Jek called, breaking through his muddled thoughts. “There’s the hospital, eastern wing.”
They’d entered a covered parking lot. Rough concrete under his feet, dimness in the vastness of space where small aircars stood in orderly rows, like dogs waiting for their masters. The two kids marched between the vehicles, lugging the heavy bag behind them, and it occurred to Elei he should’ve offered to help, though walking was challenging enough already. They reached a low wall at the end of the parking, and a vista spread beyond and below. They stood at the height of a second floor, overlooking the town.
With a grunt of relief, Elei sank down next to the boy, stretching his leg and kneading the cramping muscle of his thigh. Leaning over the parapet, he took in the area.
The hospital, which he’d only seen from the inside so far, was a square block of a building, silver in the moonlight with rows of small windows lining its walls. Some were lit, some dark. Where would they keep Kalaes?
“He might not be here at all,” he whispered, the thought driving the air from his lungs. “This could be a trap without bait.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw small shapes move inside the parking lot. Cats.
Afia crouched next to him, frowning. “Your friend was here in the film they showed.”
“What if they moved him some place else?” It would be a logical step, and the Gultur were nothing if not practical and rational in a cold and scary way.
“He’s here,” Afia said. “The rats checked when I sent out word. I’m sure he’s still kept inside the hospital.”
“Rats?”
“Street rats,” Jek muttered without turning. “Street children.”
“They saw him?” Elei tried to control his excitement.
“No, but they’re keeping someone locked up with lots of guards outside the door.”
Elei nodded. It had to be Kalaes. Unless they’d got Hera, but that made no sense. Why wouldn’t they use her as bait, too, if they held her?
He shifted to look at the avenue running in front of the hospital, noting the absence of traffic. They probably controlled the whole area. Hells, who was he kidding? They surely had outposts and wouldn’t let him come within half a mile of the damn building.
Still, he had to find a way in. “Where’s your gang?”
“We’re waiting for them,” Afia said, a little absently, a hand toying with a strand of her black hair. “Should be here any moment.”
He turned fully to face her, incredulous. “Here?”
She shrugged, a roll of narrow shoulders. “They’re scouting, checking the area.”
“Dammit, Afia. You’ll get them killed.” His heart stuttered. “Don’t involve them any more.”
“Too late.” She flicked a crooked smile at him. “Just sit tight, they’ll come. Hey.” She placed a small hand on his leg. “You’re bleeding.”
He didn’t even look down. The wounds in his chest burned, and the bandages stuck to them with fresh and dried blood. He shuddered just thinking about removing them,
and didn’t want to even imagine what his leg looked like. “I’m fine.”
With time to kill, his thoughts took a down-spiraling path along well-worn ruts in his mind. Pelia dying, blood soaking her blouse. Hera driving the aircar, her long hair dancing. Kalaes, pulling him out of the water of the sacred fountain, risking his life to save him, sitting at his bedside at the hospital. Kalaes bleeding on the giant screen.
“What are they doing to him?” Elei muttered.
“Are you sure you wanna know?” Afia asked.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Yes, I do.”
“What if then you wish you didn’t know?”
“No matter.” He lifted his chin. “I still need to know.”
She nodded, approving, and why the hells did that bring warmth to his face? “Jek.”
The boy in question had been staring across the expanse separating them from the hospital as if memorizing different routes. Perhaps that’s exactly what he’d been doing.
He looked their way and quirked a pale brow. “What?”
“Tell him about the Gultur,” Afia said. “Their ‘terrogation methods.”
“Why would he know?” Elei glanced at Jek.
“They caught him once.” Afia’s voice was as flat as a blade, and just about as sharp. “The Gultur thought he and other kids were planning something. Jek escaped.”
Before or after he was tortured? Elei opened his mouth to say it didn’t matter, to spare the boy some pain, but he stopped himself. To help Kalaes he needed all the information he could get. Damn.
Jek nodded, the only sign of agitation a stiffening of his posture. “They’ll find his worst wound.” His eyes flicked sideways, as if distracted by something, then turned to Elei’s. The intensity of that stare sent Elei’s hand to his hip for his Rasmus, but of course it wasn’t there. “His worst pain.” He kept staring at Elei as if daring him to understand, to read between the words, and suddenly Elei knew he wasn’t talking about physical pain, or perhaps not only. “They’ll use it, fe. They’ll extract as much agony from that as they can, until he’ll wish he was dead. And then they’ll kill him. Slowly.”
Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) Page 27
