He nodded, not knowing what to say.
“Thank the gods you’re okay.” She glanced over her shoulder, and when she turned back to him, she rolled her eyes. “Hera says I’m to drive for a while because she wants to speak with you.” She wiped her hands down her pants. “Talk to you later.”
He nodded again, his tongue tied in a knot. She’d talk to him? About what? Images surfaced in his memory, of her face over him, her hand tangled in his hair. Heat curled around his neck. Had she really been there for him?
Then Hera appeared at the door and her face lit up when she saw him, its lines smoothing out into bright planes. Without a word, she strode over, sank to the floor and took his hands. He stiffened, afraid Rex would stir again, but it was quiet inside his head.
“Elei.” Her hands were warm around his own, her face so close he could see the shadows her long lashes cast on her cheeks. “I’m glad you’re well.”
He drank in her smiling face. “You’re okay,” he murmured. I didn’t hurt you, didn’t kill you. Didn’t push you away.
“We succeeded,” she said, breathless. “We took a risk, a gamble, and we found Hecate’s box. Thanks to you. Your dreams were true memories.”
His heart boomed. “Can I see it?”
“Yeah, what’s in it?” Kalaes asked, scooting closer.
Hera bent and pulled the box from under a seat. “It’s a map and documents.” Her eyes smoldered with excitement. “Look.”
He took the slim box, opened it. Inside the lid, in a flowing handwritten script, were the words, ‘Descend below’. A mermaid swam underneath. Just like on the medallion.
“Siren,” he whispered.
“What did you say?” Hera leaned closer, her gaze intent.
“Siren, the mermaid.” He looked up at her. “It was the password to the safety box.”
“Sobek.” Hera snatched her hand back, as if she’d been burned, and her eyes glittered. “Project Siren. I knew Pelia was connected to it.”
“What’s it about?” he asked. “The project.”
“It has something to do with the origin of the Seven Islands. Something important.”
He pulled out a much folded paper and spread it on the floor. A map of the islands. Symbols surrounded them. “These symbols. I’ve seen similar ones on the walls of the tunnels. What do they stand for?”
Hera leaned over, traced them with a finger. “They are religious symbols, linked to the four elements, and to specific minerals and metals.”
Well, hells, what did it all mean? Had it been worth the trouble of getting it?
Kalaes’ tousled head bent over the map, too. “These look like vertical vents below the islands.”
Below the cylinders were cubes and more cubes and more vents... “Below,” Elei whispered. “What is below?”
“Caves?” Hera rubbed her nose. “Geothermal vents?” She licked her lips, her expression going from frustrated to excited and back in a blink. Her cheeks colored. “I think the Gultur have discovered something of great importance, something they’re not sharing. The source of their wealth and power.”
Could this be what Pelia had meant, what she’d wanted them to do? Find the secret of the Gultur and take away their power? Afia’s face swam in his mind. Destroy their power, take possession of their source of wealth. Make sure everyone had food and a roof over their heads, make the world better. Could he do that? Could he do more? Had Pelia expected that much of him?
“We need to study the documents and the map better once we’re back at the safe house,” Hera said. “We need to contact the Undercurrent, report what we have found.”
“With Sacmis?” Kalaes glared. “You’re letting her into an Undercurrent safe house?”
“She’s our prisoner. What else would you have me do?” Hera gathered the map and put it back into the box. “We cannot let her go now, and I cannot... I cannot kill her.”
Kalaes nodded, his expression shuttered. “I wasn’t asking you to. It’s just damn risky.”
“I’ve taken risks before,” she nodded at Elei, “and they paid off.”
From Hera’s lips, that was surely a compliment.
She pushed the box under the seat again and gave them a ghost of a smile. “I’ll go and see if Sacmis is awake. Rest, both of you. You need it.”
“Sure thing.” Kalaes stretched again like a cat, joints popping, and lay down on his back, arms folded underneath his head.
Cat. “Where’s my cat?”
“That creature?” Kalaes blinked bloodshot eyes. “Must have stayed in Dakru City, fe. What d’you want it for?”
“Nothing.” He missed the warmth on his shoulder, the rough tongue licking his cheek. Cat had been his companion, had been there for him when nobody else had. Shaking off the heavy sense of sadness that settled over his thoughts, he took a deep breath.
Finding the box, coming out alive, that should be all that mattered. But instead of excitement, he felt a strange emptiness.
“What’s wrong, fe?” Kalaes sat up and gave him a dark, no-nonsense look. “Spill.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Did something happen when you went to get the box? Is it Alendra?”
“Alendra?”
“You like her. I can see it in your face when you look at her. Hells, you’re in deep, fe.” Kalaes grinned. “Come on, you can tell me.”
Elei shook his head. “It’s not that.” No, not only that. He thought again of her slender fingers tangled in his hair, the freckles on her cheeks, her fresh scent, the way she strode into the Gultur Palace, so confident and beautiful. The way she looked at him sometimes and what the hells that meant.
Kalaes reached out and ruffled Elei’s hair. “There’s nothing to worry about, fe. We’re going home, just you and me. Well, Hera too, if she wants, but I’m not sure she’d like that.”
We are? “But Zag—”
“Zag.” Kalaes frowned, looking at Elei out of the corner of one dark eye. Then he scowled harder, brows knitting together. “I thought I told you to forget about him.”
Confused, Elei pressed his palms to the cool aircar floor and took a deep breath, determined to explain.
“I made a promise,” he said, “to help you find Zag. Maybe that’ll make your nightmares go away.” He tried to smile, pushing the small pain down where it belonged. He had much more than he’d ever hoped for — friends and warm memories. “Nobody can replace your real family.”
“What are you talking about? That’s not—” Kalaes’ voice cracked, his face twisted. “You don’t need to replace anyone, fe. You have your own place.”
He did?
Kalaes pushed his fingers through his wild hair. “Listen, kid. It seems I wasn’t clear when I tried to explain. Pissing drugs messed up my head. The two braids I had...”
Elei felt them inside the pocket of his pants, writhing like baby snakes, waiting to bite.
“I let them grow in memory of my dead — my dad and my brother.” Kalaes swallowed hard. “Zag died, Elei. He died many years ago. Pissing hells, I can barely remember his face.”
The words penetrated slowly, burrowing into Elei’s mind, coiling there.
“Zag is dead?” Elei whispered, feeling like a fool. He shifted his legs and leaned on his hands for support as the aircar swerved. “But I asked you, and you said he was alive, that he lived in Akert, you said—”
Kalaes pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Akert is the memorial ground near Artemisia. We go there to drink with the dead.” His hands fell to his sides, thumping gently on the floor. “I thought you knew.”
Drink with the dead. Memorial ground. Elei had never seen one. The bodies of the poor were disposed of in the ocean, and he remembered dragging Albi’s body to the cliffs, sitting by her side until the rabid dogs had come too close, and he’d thrown her into the foaming waves. His memory of her was the only memorial she’d ever have.
“I’m sorry,” Elei muttered. “For your brother.” He couldn’t order
his thoughts. “But the rest of your family—”
“Stop.” Kalaes let out a long breath. “You are my family, fe. That is, if you haven’t changed your mind.”
Elei stared at him, his mind refusing to process. “What?”
Kalaes’ mouth tightened. He reached down, and pulled a knife from his belt. He pressed the tip into his palm.
“Kal, stop!” Elei caught Kalaes’ wrist. “What the hells are you doing?”
Kalaes gazed down at the blood welling in his cupped hand, then wiped the knife on his pants and sheathed it. He dipped three fingers in the glistening crimson and raised them toward Elei, touched his fingertips to Elei’s cheek and dragged them, forming lines. A mark mirroring his own tattoo — the symbol of his gang.
Elei’s throat constricted and he had to swallow.
“Brothers,” Kalaes said, his lips quirking in a crooked smile, his eyes serious. “We can do this properly once we stop running, but for now this will have to do.”
Elei sat speechless, his hands on his thighs. His chest squeezed so tight he thought he might be having a heart attack after all. The blood on his cheek felt cool and it pulled as it dried.
“Brothers,” he choked out the word.
Kalaes grinned, clenched his bleeding hand and pulled Elei in a tight hug, his voice muffled against Elei’s shoulder. “We will go home, sooner or later.”
Awkwardly, Elei returned the hug and held on, eyes burning. For the first time since his flight from the hospital, since the madness and doubt and fear, he felt solid and whole.
Felt, in fact, like he was already home.
Table of Contents for Rex Cresting
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rex Equilibrium
The bonding
With the help of his friends, Elei has managed to disorganize the regime, run by the all-women race of the Gultur, and he's on a mission to bring peace to the Seven Islands.
Old secrets come to the surface, friendships are forged and betrayals discovered, and a girl, Alendra, has managed to take hold of Elei's feelings.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 are 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.
Orphic Hymn to Hecate
Hecate the Beauteous, you I invoke:
You, of roads and crossways,
Of heaven, of earth, and sea as well.
You, the saffron-clad one among the tombs,
Dancing with dead souls the Bacchic rite.
You, daughter of Perses, lover of desolation,
Taking joy in deer and dogs, in the night.
You, terrible Queen! Devourer of beasts!
Ungirded, possessed of form unapproachable!
You, bull-huntress, universal sovereign Empress:
You mountain-roaming guide, and bride, and nursemaid,
I entreat, O Maiden, your presence at these sacred rites,
With grace to the Oxherd and a joyful heart eternal.
Rex Equilibrium © Copyright 2013 by Chrystalla Thoma
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design by Chrystalla Thoma, David M. Pearlman and Renée E. Zerah.
To my grandparents
For their love of the sea that we, their descendants, carry in our blood, on the shore where the ancient ships landed.
The translation of the Orphic Hymn to Hecate is copyright 1994 by S. Eyer and published with permission.
THE SEVEN ISLANDS
Chapter One
“Medicine time. I know you love it.” Grinning, enjoying himself too damn much, Kalaes placed the cup on the kitchen table. “Bottoms up, kid.”
The sour smell wafted up to Elei’s nostrils, making his eyes water. He took the cup, toasted Kalaes silently, and gulped the stuff down. Bitter and acid, a combination of herbs and real medicine, available to them now they’d reached one of the resistance’s main hiding places. It was meant to strengthen telmion, one of his most powerful resident parasites — a killer he’d lived with for over ten years. He’d gladly be rid of it and not miss the cramps it sent through his insides and the bouts of fever and vomiting, but he had no choice but to keep telmion alive and kicking. Because it was the only thing that could control Rex, the king of parasites, his newest acquisition. Without telmion, Rex would surely kill him, and even if it didn’t, it controlled him like a puppet.
He’d rather be dead than played by a parasite, out of control and at risk of killing people. Killing Hera. He returned the cup to the table, grimacing.
He leaned closer to the half-open window. Below spread the small town of Dion. Aircars crowded the street below, their acrid dakron fumes nauseating.
Kalaes sank into the chair across from him and lit an ama cigarette. He lifted an eyebrow, pushing the packet forward, and Elei nodded, accepting a cig. He borrowed the lighter and lit it, drawing a long drag of its sweetness. It relaxed his muscles, and Kalaes’ presence was calming, too. The warm aura of strength that surrounded the older boy and his companionable silence set Elei at ease.
A good thing, with Rex aware of the scent of two Gultur inside the apartment, trying to send his heart into overdrive. It wasn’t like they could exactly keep their distance in the space of four rooms and a kitchen, while waiting for word from the Undercurrent.
Hopefully the medicine would work and telmion would stabilize, flaring just enough to suppress Rex without landing him in bed — again. The last few days flashed before his eyes, and they were a glimpse into the nether hells. He remembered Kalaes sitting on the mattress, applying cool compresses to his hot forehead, helping him up when he had to puke. Between vomiting and fever, he’d dreamed of Pelia and the freezing depths of the ocean, of monsters lurking in the dark.
But the medicine dosing had been too high, and Hera and Kalaes had ended up in a shouting match. The dose was lowered and the queasiness diminished.
He drew another mouthful of sweet smoke and closed his eyes, rubbing his chest. Ghostly pain lingered from the near heart-attack he’d had a few days back, right after they’d retrieved the box. Rex had fixed that, apparently. Now the constant adrenaline spikes had stopped, he finally felt human again. Well, as human as he could at this point.
“Have you seen—” Alendra’s voice broke through the quiet.
Elei’s eyes opened in time to see her retreat from the room. It was hard to feel human with Alendra around. Before arriving at the safe house, he thought she’d gotten over her initial dislike of him, her disgust with the snakeskin visible on his neck and cheek, mark of telmion. But over the days he’d spent in bed, sick and feverish, he’d barely seen her around, and now she’d taken to avoiding him completely.
“Ale, wait!” Kalaes called out, half-rising, but she was gone. He shru
gged and sat back down. He rubbed his tattooed cheek, the three black lines that looked like scars. “So... What crawled up her ass and died?”
Elei choked on the smoke. “No clue.”
“Tell you what.” Kalaes leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “The girl likes you, fe. I could read it on her face after we left Dakru City. Go and talk to her, hash it out, then kiss the living daylights out of her. What d’ya say?”
Elei stared at the glowing end of his cig, the embers burning golden like Alendra’s eyes. “She hates me.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Kalaes glared briefly, then smiled. “She doesn’t,” he repeated softly, and Elei wished he could see what he saw.
“Right, she pissing loves me.”
“Hey, wipe that scowl off your face, fe.” Kalaes raked a hand through his wild dark hair and winked. “Too old for you, I’ve told you this before. You’re squinting like an old hag and it’ll spoil your complexion.”
“My what?” Elei blinked.
“It’ll give you wrinkles.” Kalaes waved his cig in the air, leaving red trails. The spiral tattoo on his hand seemed to writhe. “And indigestion.”
“You sound like you’re on drugs.” Elei stared thoughtfully at his cig. “Tell me you didn’t add something extra to this?”
“What? Hells, no. We want no trouble and security’s tighter than a virgin’s—” Kalaes met Elei’s gaze and snapped his mouth shut. “Why you looking at me like that, fe? You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”
“Done what?” Elei frowned, and then heat rushed up his face. “Oh.”
“Yeah, that. The bump and grind.” A gleam entered Kalaes’ eyes. “So?”
Elei grunted. He’d swear his face couldn’t get any hotter. Soon his skin would start to blister.
“Well, shit!” Kalaes smacked his open hand on the table, making Elei jump. “You really haven’t?”
Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) Page 51
