EXILED (The Connected Series)

by RaShelle Workman

  “Michael—”

  “So, how’s your shin?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Better, thanks.” Venus looked away and began to re-braid her hair. She focused on her hands, trying to figure out what to do. He was angry, but she needed him to understand she hadn’t done this. It felt like she was being framed again. Why was this happening to her?

  “What about the stuff you knew about my mother? And me?” He glared, but appeared curious, too. He wanted answers. “And what’s the deal with your blood? The color.”

  “I can’t . . .” She trailed off, placing her hands back in her lap. How could she explain herself? He must have an idea of her differences, which had to be why he asked the questions. She chewed on her bottom lip, ignoring the pain in her body.

  “Yeah?” He watched her, eyes guarded, but still full of interest. Then he shook his head. “You wanna take a walk?”

  She did. The car left her claustrophobic. “Sure.”

  They opened the car doors and climbed out. Freezing air stung her cheeks. The smell of pine trees and frozen dirt filled the air. Above them, the sky looked heavy, burdened with moisture. A snowflake fell on her nose. She brushed it away, but another fell in almost the same spot. Raising her face skyward, she tried to breathe it in. Another flake hit her cheek, melted. The beautiful snow left her breathless. It didn’t snow in Alayeah. At the top of Hathinia’s Peak, the snow never melted, but she hadn’t ever been.

  Venus looked over to see how Michael reacted to the snow. He frowned, his body stiff. Stifling a sigh, she went to stand next to him. Together, they started up the mountain. He walked fast. She tried to keep his pace, but the higher altitude wasn’t making it easy. And she started to fall behind.

  He looked back, “You coming?” The set of his jaw had slackened a bit, but tension still radiated. Sorrow, too. Snow clung to his hair, melted, and more took its place.

  Venus worked to speed up, but it wasn’t possible. “Yes.” A tight tickle, evidence a cough was coming, filled her lungs. She grabbed a clean tissue from her pocket and covered her mouth.

  “I’m not sure I can make it. Can we stop here a second and rest?”

  He appeared anxious to move on, but he walked back to her. When he stopped, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course.”

  Venus searched the surrounding area and found what she wanted, a large speckled boulder, off to the left of the trail. A thin layer of snow dusted the top. She went over, brushed it off. “So cold,” she whispered and sat, watching the fluffy sheet fall from the sky. Flakes kept catching on her eye lashes. She blinked them away.

  “I’m going to walk up a ways. Be right back.” Michael pushed his hands deep into his pockets and continued up the trail.

  “Okay,” she nodded, but he wasn’t paying attention. Obviously, his mind was elsewhere, most likely on his mother. She hurt for him. Ached. Venus wanted to take away his pain. If she could’ve brought his mother back, she would’ve. Probably having a parent, even one so mean, was better than nothing. She didn’t know. Her parents, though always busy, were kind. She knew they loved her. But what could she do for Michael? What did he want? An urgency to leave raced through her stomach and pressed against her chest.

  But she couldn’t run. Her lungs, skin . . . her entire being felt exhausted. She wasn’t going anywhere for a few minutes. The idea of taking another step seemed incomprehensible. So she remained on the rock, watching the snow envelop her.

  Light diminished as the darkening sky deepened. The pine trees turned from green to white. It really is beautiful. She wanted to fully enjoy the moment, but sadness and fear forced away any other emotion. The invisible weight, Earth’s atmosphere, compelled her to breathe in shallow spurts, which brought on the scratchiness in her lungs. When Michael finally reappeared, she felt relieved. It was time to go. She needed rest.

  “Hey, maybe you should’ve asked Cheverly to come with you instead of me. Sorry, but I don’t think I can go all the way up to the stream.” Venus tucked her hands in her pockets.

  He shrugged. “It’s fine. We can sit here and talk, if you like.” He made his way over, brushed off a spot on the rock and sat next to her. Hands in his lap. Head down.

  “You want to tell me about it?” She placed a hand over his. He flinched; pulling away like she’d hurt him or had a contagious disease. No, it was more like he knew she . . . wasn’t human. He seemed afraid of her. “Michael, I’d be glad—”

  But she wasn’t able to finish. A clothed sack went over her head. And large, rough hands pulled her backward off the rock. Venus tried to scream, but started coughing. She heard noises all around her, including shouting and a constant beeping.

  “Help. Please, help me. Michael!”

  Someone pulled her arms behind her back. They placed a restraint over her wrists and tightened. Venus tried to back-kick whoever it was, but they must’ve moved. Off to the side, maybe. She began twisting her body and yelling. “Stop. Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

  A man said, “Son, get her legs.”

  Then she was lifted up and dropped heavily to the ground. Pain seared through her hands and shoulder. Someone crossed her right foot over her left. Because of her boots, she didn’t feel their hands, only the pressure. When she tried to move her feet, they wouldn’t budge. The inside of the bag which covered her head had become sticky, a combination of blood and snow. When they moved her, different parts of the bag touched her face. Blood smeared her cheeks, nose, forehead, neck and probably even her hair. The smell of her blood made her sick.

  “Michael, help. Please stop. Why are you doing this?”

  “Get the bag off her head. She’s too loud, we need to gag her.”

  When they removed it, the light hurt her eyes. She squinted, blinked, but it was difficult to see. She heard someone suck in their breath.

  “Why is there blood everywhere?”

  “I told you Frank, she’s sick.”

  Michael and his dad were behind this evil.

  “Michael,” she screamed.

  A hard instrument bashed against her head.

  39. Voices Carry

  Almost fifty percent of Wyoming’s land belonged to the United States Government. More than thirty million acres. That was a lot of land. And in 1853 a secret deal was struck between Dervinius and Andrew Jackson, giving The Order access to over 100,000 acres. That document, shuffled amongst the treaties and formal requests to have land swindled from the American Indians, allowed Dervinias complete and private dominion. Not that he needed their permission. It also helped that Wyoming had little more than 500,000 citizens—the least populated state in America.

  The perfect place to host The Order’s secret. The perfect place to create his new race.

  There were those within the governments who understood him. They allowed his tests, looked the other way when a human died. Of course, they had no idea what his true intentions were. World domination. It sounded cliché, but he didn’t care.

  In some circles, the humans considered him a scientific genius. Those who knew he existed respected his knowledge and devoured the scraps of technological advances he bestowed upon them. He couldn’t help but find the humor in the workings within the U.S. Government—in every government on the planet, really. On one hand, he had a secret alliance with them. On the other, they tried to kill him. One group never knew what the other group did. They called it classified. He called it riotous.

  When he arrived at The Order’s compound, he slid to a stop. If a human had been tracking him (as he figured at least one government used their satellites for), they’d see him stop in front of . . . nothing.

  To the untrained eye, even to an infrared scanner, the compound would be invisible. He’d allowed government officials inside, as a courtesy. He was good a playing nice, but no human knew the full extent of the compound or had seen the outside of the buildings. And they never would. With his immortal eyes, he could see the whole compound extending out in front of him. The tall metallic
, cigar-shaped buildings were magnificent, built with materials from other planets.

  Dervinias touched seemingly thin air. Its surface rippled under his fingers, almost a caress. He pressed an access code into a concealed panel and the metal door whooshed open.

  After he’d closed it and made it disappear, he walked through the sitting area. It’d been created to put the humans at ease. ‘Breezy’ and ‘Comfortable’ were words many of the humans had used. That had been the point because once inside the facility, it was as though they’d never existed.

  He chose those who were homeless or without family, and looking for a quick buck. When one died no one would miss them. No one could hear them scream. The probes, drones and various other instruments he used were considered invasive, but no more so than what alien hunters around the globe intended to do to him, if they could.

  His work mattered. It was imperative he study them. The more he knew the better. Understanding their psyche, the way different DNA functioned when combined with kelvieri DNA, meant the difference between a mutt and masterpiece.

  The sitting area’s walls were painted a calming shade of light blue, and the floor was covered in a plush light green carpet. Assorted couches and chairs, each covered with lots and lots of decorative pillows, had been placed around the room.

  Potted ferns and exotic lilies sat atop oak tables of different sizes. Framed pictures of the ocean and warm sandy beaches adorned the walls. Directly across from the entrance was a three-hundred-gallon saltwater fish tank, loaded with several species of fish: a dog-faced puffer, several yellow tangs, clown fish or ‘Nemo,’ as he’d heard hundreds of times, and many others.

  To the right sat the receptionist, an American Indian girl by the name of Liseli. She’d become part of The Order recently and he’d put her to work right away.

  “Hello Dervinias. I’ll let you in.” Her bright doe eyes and dimpled smile communicated much more than a greeting.

  “Good.”

  Next to the fish tank stood a door. He waited momentarily until he heard a buzz and click. The door shimmered. Dervinias hurried through, anxious to check on a particular subject. Since Zaren had arrived it’d been difficult to get away. But he’d gone to contact the Gods. The fool!

  His pants rang. Probably Seth, his informant in A.L.T.. “What is it?”

  “Michael and Frank have Venus.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Your job, man.”

  “Where are you?”

  “None of your business.” He clicked the phone shut.

  Now that A.L.T. had Venus, he could almost hear their evil laughter; almost see them rubbing their hands together in wicked glee. Sure A.L.T. might learn something of an alien species, but the knowledge would be worthless. A complete waste of time. Venus didn’t truly represent kelarians—at least not the ones in power. Still he had a feeling dissecting, studying and ultimately killing her would keep Frank and his allies happy for a long time—at least until it was too late.

  He needed her death to be sooner rather than later. His father had given him two more days. A.L.T. would kill her.

  It surprised him Michael had come for Venus so quickly. After the death of his mother, Dervinias knew it’d be easy for Michael to make the leap and assume Venus did it. The jump happened faster than anticipated.

  Quickly, he checked on a woman who’d been injected with kelarian DNA. She looked sick, which was expected. As their bodies changed, the Earth’s atmosphere became poisonous.

  Again, he thought of Michael. How had they done it? And who were they?

  “Michael!” He wondered if he should tell his father about the other prophecy, the one that talked about a child from two worlds. It went something like:

  A child of two worlds

  Forsaken by one

  Heir to another . . .

  It could be talking about Michael. Perhaps the Gods thought he was the one. If Michael was the child spoken of in the prophecy, he could cause him a lot of trouble. Michael could ruin everything! It wouldn’t do. He needed a plan and he needed Michael. Alone.

  “Damn them. Damn them all.”

  Leaving the facility, he used Britorent to travel home. The rushing wind and lyrical colors did nothing to soothe his rage.

  40. My, Oh My

  When Dervinias arrived at his house, Cheverly got out of her car and walked toward him.

  “You took a big risk showing up here. What do you want?” he asked.

  “Cheese, Dervinias. I need to know your plans—for me . . . and for Michael.” Her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and she wore her red coat. Cheverly radiated youth and beauty.

  He smiled. She was the best of the best of all his followers. Dervinias wanted her to be the mother of his new race. He picked her up, in his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Many passionate minutes later, their lips separated. Chev’s breath came quickly, her heart pounding against his chest.

  Dervinias studied her face a moment before he said, “Why don’t I take you inside and demonstrate.”

  “It’s about time,” she said, pressing her mouth to his again.

  41. Owner Of A Lonely Heart

  Venus struggled to wake numerous times. Each instance brought with it pain, a pressure of some kind, and an overwhelming sadness, which sent her back into the blackness. No dreaming, only emptiness. She had no idea how long they kept her in such a state. But she wasn’t dead.

  I still have time.

  When she finally did come out of the darkness, it was to a horrible realization. She’d been taken. And the captors were Michael and his father. It hurt to think Michael had been part of her capture. She needed to escape. Prospects didn’t look good. If she’d been immortal, she wouldn’t have been in this predicament.

  But she hadn’t gone through the change yet, which made this planet very harmful. All of her organs were shutting down. She had no power, no hope. Her life rested, like a broken baby bird, in the hands of those who despised her.

  When she opened her eyes, Venus immediately looked around for Michael. She wanted to reason with him or his father. If they could see they had nothing to fear from her, perhaps they’d let her go.

  The room looked like a place where operations were performed. She’d been strapped to a table. Machines of different sizes and shapes surrounded her. The walls were a brilliant white, except one portion across from her, which looked like a blacked out window. A large round light hung over her head. It glared so intensely she prayed to the Gods it wouldn’t burn her corneas.

  To the right sat three blinking, beeping machines. Clear tubes attached her to them. One looked to be taking fluid out of her and the other seemed to be putting a substance into her. Another appeared to be monitoring her heart rate. Still another machine looked to be monitoring her pulse. Or was it her other heart?

  They know. Frightened, she struggled against the restraints. It didn’t do any good. The plastic manacles around her upper and lower arms were too tight. She could twist her wrist. Clench and unclench her hands, but she couldn’t break free. Her feet had been bound too . . . which meant . . .

  “Cret,” she swore, raising her head, wriggling her bare toes. They’d figured out how to remove her boots. How? They were only supposed to come off at her command after she’d finished her journey. Venus felt frantic. Without her boots, the effects of this planet’s atmosphere would break down her body at a much quicker rate. She guessed that’s why they were able to remove her boots; her life force wasn’t strong enough to hold them to her anymore.

  A tear escaped. She’d never felt so alone.

  Near her head, she heard a door open. Shifting, she saw four people, all dressed in the same shiny white suits being sprayed with a misty air. It hit them in all directions. The top, sides, and bottom. A clear, plastic shield covered their faces, making it difficult to tell whether they were male or female. When the machine stopped, they stood there a few moments. She guessed the
y were waiting for the air to clear. The thick, hazy air reminded her of the Manshum Mountains. There, the thick fog never dissipated and remained cloaked in mystical mist. The air did clear in the room, though. A glass door slid open and the people came out.

  Venus debated whether or not to talk to them. Now that they were close, she could see their eyes, distinguish their faces. Two men and two women. She watched them move around. They had to know she was awake, but they ignored her. Instead they checked the restraints, flipped on new machines and raised her gurney. When one of them stuck a needle into the back of her hand, Venus spoke.

  “What are you doing?” She’d meant the question to come out a yell. Instead the words came out scratchy.

  Venus waited, but no one responded.

  “Why am I here?” she whispered again after clearing her throat.

  She tried to catch a set of eyes.

  “What do you want from me?” Still no response. The questions seemed perfectly appropriate. But they wouldn’t talk to her. She felt like a braying calf about to be slaughtered. Her eyes pricked with tears. Fear overwhelmed her. For the first time she decided to be thankful for the fact that Zaren and Dervinias could read her thoughts—if they were close enough. She had no idea where they’d taken her, but she decided to try.

  Dervinias. Zaren. I’m being held captive. Michael and his father took me. I’m in a room full of strange machines. Please, help me. She repeated that over and over until a female started wheeling her into another section of the large room. The female disconnected whatever fluid flowed into her arm through the I.V. and, with the help of the other woman, lifted her onto a table. Finally one of them spoke to her. “This is an x-ray machine and body scanner. We’re going to put your whole body inside the large tube here so we can take pictures. If you hold still it’ll go a lot faster,” she said, seething with menace.