He resisted the urge to scratch his arms. “I was shot, remember?”
“Shot, Elei. A bullet is not the same as a biotransmitter.”
“There was no bullet.”
Kalaes made a small snorting sound.
Maera stood up, eyes narrowed. “You dug it out, didn’t you?”
Elei shook his head. “I never dug it out. It just wasn’t there.”
“And you think it could be…” Hera shook her head. “But I told you how biotransmitters are. You would not need a gun for them, nor would they leave you with a wound.”
“What about the older types?”
Hera started pacing, hands held behind her back. “Yes, well, the older kinds were bigger, true, and needed some force to be embedded if no surgeon was present. A gun could have been used.”
“Elei, you’re making no sense!” Maera threw up her hands. “You got hit by a stray bullet. How can that be a transmitter?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure about that. I told you. Pelia shot me. My memory is real.”
Maera snorted. “Yeah, right.”
Hera halted. “But even if she did inject it in you, why would she use an older type? Why should she put a transmitter in you at all?”
Elei shrugged. Had he said it made any sense? Because it didn’t. “Maybe she worked for the Gultur after all, not the resistance. Maybe the Undercurrent was just a cover. And as for the transmitter… Well maybe she had nothing else at hand to inject it with.”
“Oh come on!” Maera tapped her fingers on the table.
“Nevertheless, we must make sure,” Hera said matter-of-factly, face expressionless, and Elei hadn’t expected anything less from her.
Kalaes lifted his head, a strange expression in his gaze, curious and confused.
Elei stood up and paused, suddenly unsure of the whole thing, including undressing in front of everyone. Snakeskin sure wasn’t pretty. Kalaes has seen it, a small voice in his head said. Hells, yeah, he had. But Kalaes was a guy. It didn’t make undressing with two pretty girls gaping at him any easier.
He shrugged and took off his jacket, then the polo neck sweater and the t-shirt. He dropped them on the mattress.
Strangely, it was Kalaes who gasped.
Elei stiffened and stayed still.
Kalaes stood from the bed and walked over to him, then stopped just shy of touching. “They’ve changed.”
Elei was about to ask what Kalaes was on about, when he realized what those words meant. He twisted his shoulder to look behind, dreading what he’d find.
Indeed. Changed. The scales had turned a light blue. Like his eye. His knees decided not to hold him anymore and he sat down heavily on the bed.
“What is it?” Hera growled. “What are you talking about?”
But Kalaes stepped back and sat on his bed, mouth a hard line.
“The snakeskin,” Elei grated. “It’s a different color now.”
Hera leaned and looked over his shoulder. “I see. Pale blue. And these?”
“Huh?”
She grabbed his shoulders and turned him sideways. “Here,” she tapped along his spine, where he couldn’t see. “Black spots, like the ones around your neck.”
“Whatever this parasite is, it’s fighting telmion very hard,” Hera said in a quiet voice. “I know of no parasite capable of such a feat, not even cronion, let alone a poor relative.”
He shook his head. Right. And the point was? “But we don’t know what it is. So let’s get on with this. If I’ve got a transmitter inside my body, we have to remove it.”
She took the dakron cube, face blank. “Where?”
He turned to face her, presenting her his healing wound. She squinted at it, shrugged and passed the dakron over it. Nothing. They stared at each other.
“Just pass me the dakron cube,” he said gruffly, fear crushing his chest. He caught the cube from her fingers and passed it all over his chest, pressing it deep into his abdomen and his sides. Then he just sat there, holding it on the palm of his hand, shivering.
“No transmitter. Good.” Hera smiled, a glint of her teeth barely showing through her lips. “Things were getting too complicated.”
“Good,” he forced his mouth to say.
“You said you did not remove the bullet?”
“That’s right, I didn’t.”
“But someone else did?”
He wondered at the intensity in Hera’s eyes, in her voice. Her thoughts had probably followed a similar path to his, examining the possibility that the bullet was still inside him somewhere. He shuddered. “There was a girl in an alley, just when I arrived in Dakru.” He remembered fingers digging into his side and a smile of black teeth. “She tried to get the bullet out. Maybe she did.”
“She must have. The street gangs always try to get bullets,” Hera said.
Elei pulled his t-shirt and sweater back on, wincing as they rubbed on skin that felt raw and tender, and wondered once again if he’d seen the girl take the bullet away with her or not. “We should be able to rest today. No transmitters. Perhaps we’ll have some peace.”
Hera snorted softly and lay down on one of the beds, lacing her hands under her head. “It sounds too good to be true.”
Maera threw herself on the other bed, making the springs creak.
“And you?” Elei turned to Kalaes.
“Leave me alone, fe,” Kalaes said coldly and didn’t look up.
“Are you all right?”
“Just shut the hell up.”
Elei cringed. He was a fool to expect the easy camaraderie they’d had before. He’d made Kalaes lose his house, his job, his girlfriend, now his cover and maybe soon enough his life.
But Kalaes was a traitor.
Wasn’t he?
Elei’s head pounded and his skin crawled and burned. Whatever parasite this was, it was driving him crazy. Elei groaned and lay on his belly on the bed, resting his head on his folded arms. He observed under lowered lids as Kalaes shifted on his bed and checked the bandage over the small wound in his thigh where Hera had removed the transmitter.
It made no sense. Why had Kalaes revealed the use of the transmitter? He had no reason to. He’d let Maera play with the dakron cube unconcerned. What was this game about?
He was half-asleep and images of Ost flashed before his eyes — the trashlands and Albi’s wrinkled face, the piles of electronic garbage leaking toxic liquids and deformed animals prowling the vast expanses. He saw his first gun, made of discarded parts, and heard the howl of his first kill, a rabid dog. There was blood. Always the blood. Albi’s death. More blood. Gore. Pain. It was never a kind death in the maw of a dog. And he’d shot it too late.
Always too late. He never saw things in time. They caught up with him later, when he huddled in fear and anguish; they came in waves, taunting him, showing him what could have been if he’d been quicker, cleverer, more prepared. If he’d been ready.
The air turned to water and he floated in it, suspended. He gasped, fighting for breath.
He heard a girl’s silvery laughter and looked up, able to breathe again. “Poena.”
She approached him, wreathed in red flames, walking on the water. She smiled. “Elei. You will find that the king is awake and doing war. You will find the armies are spreading.” She came closer, her eyes, a metal gray, looking right into his mind, hurting him, thrusting deep like knives. “What is it? Swamped by guilt again?” Flames jumped, twisted around him like tongues, wrapping him in pain. He writhed. “Time is in short supply. The king is here.” What was that obsession with the damn king? “Get into the water, Elei!” She pushed his face down until earth filled his mouth and he couldn’t breathe. “You must die!”
Chapter 22
In Hera’s dream, the seven islands rose from the ocean deep with a noise like thunder. They broke the blue surface, water rolling off their summits, and soared toward the gray sky. The water surged in huge waves that battered the bulk of the emerging peaks. Sleek they were, these
mountains, covered in green algae, corals and seashells. Fish writhed and jumped on the dry land, silvery scales glittering as light broke from the clouds. The islands kept rising and there was a glint of metal on the mountain slopes, as if they were man-made constructions, towers of steel operated with machinery. A deep thrum went through the earth. They rose and rose.
She knew they would cut into her with their sharp summits, pinning her limbs, as she lay spread-eagled against the sky, staring down at them.
Dakru, rising at their center, higher than all others, would pierce her heart.
* * *
Damn nightmares. When his heart stopped thumping madly and the sweat dried on his skin, Elei forced his eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep. Poena haunted his thoughts, though, and the sound of splashing water echoed in his ears, making sleep impossible. So he settled for staring at the ceiling, too tired to get up.
But contemplating the peeling paint didn’t bring him any closer to falling asleep. Elei heaved a sigh. He turned on his side and bit back a groan as new scalding tongues of fire licked at his limbs. It was dark inside the room, night had fallen, but he could clearly see the three others sleeping atop their beds, scintillating forms of gold and orange with blue at the extremities. Hera’s form had a silvery tinge to it. A Gultur. He’d seen the difference from the start. Had not trusted his eyes.
The urge to immerse his burning body into cold water ate away at his thoughts. He hadn’t wanted to make noise and wake the others up, but the pain was too much.
Screw it.
He stood up quietly and padded to the water faucet. His first attempt got him nothing and his pulse thumped behind his eyes. Struggling to clear the red haze from his gaze, he twisted the faucet viciously until some water dribbled out and he spread it on his neck and shoulders, sighing at the brief respite of coolness. Bracing himself one-handed on the sink, he rubbed the back of his neck and shoulders, trying to ease the burning itch.
This was ridiculous. He’d barely avoided a harrowing death by telmion, only to burn from the inside out.
Cursing silently, he padded over to the window. Outside, Tisis twinkled, some flickering street lamps, lights flickering in a few windows. The Bone Tower gleamed in the distance.
The fountainhead.
A bed creaked. A silhouette came to stand beside him. He wasn’t surprised to see Hera. In the faint light from the street, her lashes cast long shadows. Her cheekbones seemed to sparkle.
Elei tried to pull his gaze away but couldn’t. “Can’t sleep?”
“No. Too many things have been happening.”
No shit.
She moved away from the window and leaned her back against the wall, one arm crossed over her stomach, half her face lost in shadow. Her gray suit of polyesthene was open now at the neck and small scales shimmered on her breastbone.
“Do you dream?”
The unexpectedness of her question snapped him out of his surely impolite scrutiny. He forced his gaze up to meet her dark eyes. She looked away.
“I do.” He didn’t ask her if she also woke drenched in cold sweat, like he did. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“I do as well.” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly and it looked like he wasn’t going to be spared. “I dream of the islands rising from the deep blue of the ocean. They rise higher and higher and seem made of metal, like naked blades. Then…” She closed her eyes, opened them again and this time she was the one who met his reluctant gaze. “They impale me.”
Under her hard stare, he fought a shudder and said, “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“Do you ever wonder, Elei? Do you ask yourself if there are other people elsewhere? Do you ever want to know where we came from, where the islands came from? And do not tell me the gods created everything because I’ll shoot you.”
But her hand didn’t move toward her gun and, besides, he was a good shot himself if it came to that. “I don’t think about it.”
Only a Gultur would have the luxury to wonder about the origin of life and the meaning of it all. He’d always had more urgent things to worry about. Food. Water. Medicines. Survival.
Like now.
“I see,” she whispered. Her hand trembled slightly when she raised it to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. He never thought he’d see her affected so much by a dream.
More immediate concerns buried the thought. “Listen. If we manage to hide in the towns around the Bone Tower, where can we flee to if we’re discovered?” His knowledge of the geography of Dakru was patchy. Beyond the Bone Tower, there were hills and then mountains, and at some point one would reach the northern coast, or go around the mountains, to the west.
“Two towns in the mountains house resistance groups.” She spoke so low he leaned closer to hear. “We need to reach either one of them, to get fake IDs and codes. I’m sure the Gultur will not stop until they get us. My advice, as I said before, is to reach the northern coast, hire a boat and travel to another island, maybe Ker.”
“You’re coming with us, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
His shoulders relaxed. Maybe relying on her so much was a mistake, but he had no other option. “Will the vehicle codes get us that far?”
“I think they’ll last long enough for us to reach the mountains, at least. I…” A faint blush formed on her cheeks. She gripped his shoulder with her long fingers and breathed the next words into his ear, so that he shivered, “I messaged the Undercurrent. They’ll look for us to provide an escort. You’re…” She shrugged and turned toward the window, releasing him. “Somehow, right now you’re the only one I can trust.”
He started. “Would they risk themselves for us?”
She shook her head. “Yes. We still have hope.” She glanced sideways at him and her eyes were hard. “Hope that you’ll remember more of what Pelia told you.”
Clenching his jaw, he went back to looking at Tisis. He’d thought she’d done it to help him, but it was only to get to the information he might have buried in his memories.
And why are you so disappointed?
Someone knocked on the door. His breath hissed out and he drew his gun. “Who’s there?” He went to stand behind the door and his hand twitched on his Rasmus.
“You asked for water and food!”
It was a young girl’s voice. Still, paranoia kept Elei in place. He pointed his gun at the door, nodding at Hera to open it. The girl came in, a package gripped tightly in her hands. For a moment, he thought he saw Poena, golden hair and a tattered dress. Breath caught in his throat, he stepped out from behind the door. She stiffened and turned to him.
Not Poena.
Her eyes widening, the girl dropped the package and covered her mouth with her small hands; then she wailed and ran out. Her steps echoed down the corridor.
“You scared her,” Hera said in a flat voice.
“Coming from you,” Elei muttered, “that’s almost funny.”
She grinned.
Maera and Kalaes stirred in their beds.
“Food.” Hera plopped the package on the table and tore it open.
Water. Elei rummaged until he found a bottle. He twisted off the cap, raised the bottle to his lips and drank in great gulps. Coolness ran down his throat to his chest and stomach, soothing the fire.
Hands wrenched the bottle away. “Whoa. Leave some for us too.” Cradling it to her chest, Maera walked back to her bed.
He stared after the bottle with longing, his hand reaching out for it. He was still parched.
At least there was food.
Inside the package, he found blue bread, but also some algae cheese and K-fungi. He bit into the bread. He hadn’t felt this hungry in a while. He wolfed down chunks of bread and algae cheese, barely chewing.
“Slow down,” Hera gripped his arm, not looking at him, “you’ll choke.”
He stopped chewing and followed her gaze.
Kalaes sat still, head bowed. When had he last had water an
d food?
Hells. Dropping the bread, Elei wiped his mouth and strode over to Maera, took the bottle of water right out of her hands. “If you’re finished…” She made a grab for it but he was already out of her reach. He sat down next to Kalaes and pushed the bottle into his hands. “Drink.”
Kalaes’ hands closed automatically around it. He looked up, eyes wide. “Thanks.”
Elei nodded and reached up to rub his itchy shoulder blades.
“What’s wrong with your shoulders?” Maera came to stand before him, chewing. “You keep rubbing them.”
“Let me see,” Hera said. “Whatever it is, it’s probably spreading.”
Elei turned his back and let Hera poke at him with cold fingers.
“Well?”
“The pepper smell is stronger.” Hera sniffed. “I was right, it’s spreading. What in the hells is this parasite? Did you come in contact with anything unusual lately?”
Spreading. His breath hitched. “You mean apart from you?”
“Very funny,” Hera said drily. “Did you, Elei?”
“No.”
“The bullet,” Kalaes said, voice barely above a whisper.
“What about the bullet?” Hera’s fingers lingered on Elei’s shoulder. Her cool touch felt divine on his overheated body.
Silence. Outside an aircar zoomed, a man’s angry voice rang from the street.
Elei got that empty feeling in his stomach again and his vision blurred. “Pelia. She injected me with something, but not a transmitter.”
“What then?” Maera came to join them. “What is it?”
“Don’t you see it?” Kalaes said.
“You do not mean…” Hera trailed off, sounding uncertain.
“What’s this about?” Maera’s voice rose in pitch.
“The cure.” Sweat ran down Elei’s temples.
Maera snorted. “The cure? The thing everyone is after?”
Hera rested her hand on Elei’s shoulder. “The marks of this parasite are spreading down your back, over the snakeskin. But it’s a parasite, not a cure for anything.”
Rex Rising (Elei's Chronicles) Page 20
