“Anyway, I got worked up and ran away from the house, feeling unwanted and worthless. I thought they were right—I didn’t belong anywhere. Only, I didn’t realize there was a storm coming. When the rain started to fall, I sought out the only shelter I knew. I went to the storm drains and hid in there, waiting for it all to pass. Soon enough, my fear of the storm outweighed my fear of the older Idrax brothers, but it was too late. I was stuck in the drains, with lightning striking outside. At ten years old, I didn’t know what to do. So I just tucked my knees under my chin and cried.”
I gasped. “You poor thing.”
“Then, the water came. It flooded through the drain system, bombarding me like a tidal wave,” he went on solemnly. “It crashed down on me, and I didn’t know how to escape. As soon as the first wave hit, I was totally disoriented. I had no idea which way was out, and the drains were pitch-dark, so I couldn’t find my way to the exit.”
I realized I was holding my breath, listening to the story. In fact, we’d come to a complete standstill, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hear every word.
“A massive surge knocked me into the side of the drain, and I blacked out. I remember waking up to Navan calling my name, and I saw a flashlight in the distance, shining like a beacon,” Ronad said with a small smile. “I was bleeding and had no idea where I was, but Navan was there. He’d come to rescue me. The darkness of the drains didn’t matter—he just wanted to see me safely back home. It made him forget his fears.”
“How did he get you out?” I asked, desperate for more.
“I shouted out to him, and he found me lying on the ground, completely drenched, and half-drowned.” Ronad chuckled. “He picked me up, put my arm around his shoulders, and helped me all the way home.”
I grimaced. “Did his brothers get in trouble?”
“What do you think?” Ronad murmured. “Jareth and Lorela loved me as one of their own, once upon a time, but I was never actually one of their own. Nobody was punished, and we never spoke of that day again, though Jareth was pleased that Navan wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. I suppose it was a stupid thing to do. I could have died.”
I watched his face, horrified that such a thing could happen to a child. Then again, it wasn’t a million miles away from what had happened to me, one night after school. I’d been walking home, listening to the taunts of bullies, and I’d believed every word they’d said. They’d called me worthless and unwanted, and even though I had a loving adopted family at home, waiting for me, I hadn’t been able to shut out their voices.
I’d run to the park and hidden under a slide as a New York storm had hailed down, an icy wind whipping up around me. I could still remember the sound of the heavy raindrops beating against the metal slope in an angry rhythm. I must have been around the same age as Ronad—a time in life when words really began to hurt, lodging like arrows in a person’s mind.
Roger had come to find me. He’d coaxed me out from under the slide and taken me home, where Jean had wrapped me in a blanket and run a hot bath. I’d told them what the cruel kids had said, and they’d assured me I was loved. When they said it, I believed them, but when they weren’t around, it was easy to forget.
“It wasn’t stupid. Sometimes it’s hard to shut out the cruelty of other people,” I said quietly. “I know how it feels.”
He looked at me. “You do?”
“My biological parents weren’t good people. They were addicts, and they were dangerous to be around. Then, two wonderful people came into my life and let me call them my parents. They’ve been the only true parents I’ve ever known, but it didn’t stop the nastiness of other kids, making me feel unwanted. My adoptive parents never made me feel that way, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore the negative comments that come from other people, especially when you’re a kid.”
I didn’t know why I was telling him all of this, but I felt like I had to. He and I, we were the same, and I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. We’d experienced the same hardships, though I hadn’t almost died because of it. I’d only ended up with a nasty cold. Then again, everything was more severe here on Vysanthe—there was a hardness to the landscape and to the people who lived on the planet’s surface.
“I didn’t know,” Ronad said softly.
“I guess there are people like us all across the universe.” I forced a grin onto my face.
He laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“At least you had someone like Navan to watch your back,” I said.
“I’ll always be grateful I had him around when I was a kid. It would have been a lonely existence without a friend like him,” Ronad agreed.
“Well, now that we’ve bared our souls to one another, let’s see where this passage leads,” I teased cheerfully, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
“Left or right, compadre?” Ronad asked, chuckling to himself. I could tell he was glad we’d spoken, too, with no hint of awkwardness lingering between us. Somehow, I felt we’d grown closer to one another, bonded by the ghosts of our troubled childhoods.
I pointed to the right-hand fork, and both of us headed down it at a leisurely pace. Kaido would still be busy upstairs, and Jareth wasn’t due back from the city for several hours. We had time. It led through a narrower chrome tunnel, ending in a steep staircase that rose toward a trapdoor.
Flashing Ronad a conspiratorial look, I clambered up the steep steps, until I was high enough to reach the latch above me. Once there, I clicked the fastening open and slid the panel to one side. To my alarm, it bumped against something. Fearing it was a person, I ducked away from the gap overhead, terrified that I might have blown our cover.
A few minutes passed, but nobody came to investigate. Satisfied, I climbed up the steps once more and poked my head through the trapdoor. It was dim beyond, but I could just make out the familiar shape of a bed above me. The trapdoor was hidden beneath, under the mattress and slats of a frame.
“What’s up there?” Ronad asked.
“I’m in a bedroom,” I whispered back, pulling myself up through the gap in the floor.
Emerging from beneath the dusty underside of the bed, I kept low to the ground. Rising slightly, I saw that I was in Lorela’s bedroom. She was sleeping on the bed I’d just crept out from under, her snores susurrating across the room. I smiled down at her. She looked peaceful.
Just as I was about to edge closer, she stirred in her sleep, rolling over to face me. Her eyes were closed, but I froze, knowing she could wake up at the slightest sound. It was then that I noticed the scent of Sakaros that Ronad had talked about earlier; it drifted from a glass vase of curly white flowers on Lorela’s bedside table. The sugary aroma reminded me of vanilla frosting—just the right amount of sweet.
“My boys… My poor boys… Please don’t kill my boys,” Lorela murmured in her sleep, thrashing against the covers. “No, Your Majesty, please have mercy!”
I watched her, not knowing what to do. I thought about waking her up, but something stopped me. If she woke up and saw me loitering in her room, she’d grow suspicious. No, as much as it pained me to leave Navan’s mother in the throes of a nightmare, I knew I had to.
Quickly, I ducked back down and slid under the bed, dropping onto the staircase below the trapdoor. I was just about to close the hatch above me when my eyes were drawn to something glinting between two of the slats. A small, circular device was caught there, between the wood and the mattress. It was the kind of device I’d seen before, when Pandora instructed me and Navan to go to the market to fetch the ingredients for Queen Brisha’s ill-fated love potion. Yes, it was a payment device—the kind that hopefully had credit on it.
I was about to reach for it, when the whole mattress shifted above me, sandwiching the device between the slat and the mattress. It looked well and truly wedged in. I cursed under my breath. If I tried to remove it, I risked waking Lorela completely. We’d have to come back for it later, when the coast was clear.
“Did you find a
nything?” Ronad asked as I dropped back down into the tunnel, closing the hatch behind me.
“It’s Jareth and Lorela’s bedroom.” I explained, making sure the fastening was properly locked. “I saw a credit device under the bed, though. It might have some money on it.”
“Why didn’t you take it?”
“It was wedged between the frame and the mattress. We’ll have to snatch it another time, when Lorela is out cold. Maybe you could do it, next time you visit her?”
He nodded. “I’ll see if I can get it tonight, before Jareth gets back.”
Feeling a little more hopeful, we retraced our steps and took the left-hand fork in the tunnel. This passageway was longer than the other one had been, the air more stifling, the chrome tube slightly narrower. Another staircase stood at the far end of it, leading up to a second trapdoor.
There was a passage beyond it, too, with a heavy metal door fixed in place. We walked past the staircase, heading for the door. It had a scanner to one side, which looked like it might need a retina or a fingerprint in order to open up the hatch. I guessed the only person able to open it was Jareth. Ducking down, I could see a thin crack of light, making me realize it led to the outside world. This was the escape exit, but it required Jareth’s permission first.
“I guess he wants to control who leaves,” Ronad said, leaning closer to the scanner. “Pity we don’t have a spare one of his eyeballs hanging around.”
“We should see what’s up there,” I replied, walking back toward the staircase and the hatch in the ceiling. “Why would Jareth build all of this?” I wondered why he hadn’t put scanners on these openings, but I figured he didn’t feel it necessary—nobody could escape the house this way. Only the heavy metal door led to the outside world.
“He’s probably covering his ass, in case Gianne starts to suspect he’s not entirely what he seems. After all, with Navan and Bashrik’s shenanigans in the North, and her slowly losing her mind, she’ll start wanting to make examples of key families. She’ll want to send a message that nobody is safe,” he replied grimly.
I had a horrible feeling that Ronad might be right. Yes, Jareth was Gianne’s right-hand man, but for how long? I’d heard about crazed monarchs in history textbooks, and the terrible things they’d done to retain their crowns. Executions had seemed popular back then, and it looked like they were making a comeback here on Vysanthe, too.
“You really think she’d suspect Jareth of foul play?”
Ronad shrugged. “Right now, I wouldn’t put anything past either of our so-called queens.”
We moved toward the second trapdoor. This one was slightly different from the last. Nestled beside the hatch was a large, red lever. Given the color and the placement, I desperately wanted to pull it, but I knew that probably wasn’t a good idea. If a misspent youth of Saturday morning cartoons had taught me anything, it was that red buttons and levers were never to be touched.
Instead, I reached up for the latch and flicked it open. The trapdoor swung down, taking me by surprise. I ducked out of the way just in time to avoid a concussion, before clambering back up to see what lay above. I glanced again at the red lever, wondering what on earth it did. If it didn’t control the lights or open the trapdoor, then what was it there for?
To my relief, there was no bed above my head, but an open space instead. I pulled myself out of the tunnel and stood up, taking in my surroundings. For a moment, I worried I might’ve ended up back in Kaido’s lab, simply through a different entrance. It looked like a lab and had many of the same tanks, beakers, and vessels as Kaido’s, but there were no pleasantly glowing plants, and a sour smell lingered in the air, like the scent of a firework after it’s sputtered out.
Ronad emerged behind me, his mouth going wide in shock. “This is Jareth’s lab!” he hissed. “I knew there was one in the house somewhere, but we’ve never been able to find it! We used to try all the time, when we were kids.”
There was a set of cabinets to one side of the room, which Ronad instantly made a beeline for. A few of them had glass panels, revealing books within, but every single door was locked. I watched as Ronad pressed his face closer to the square pane of the central cabinet, his eyes narrowing. A moment later, I jumped as he slammed his fist into the metal frame.
“He’s got it!” he snarled, his anger spiking.
“Got what?” I asked, clutching my chest in fright.
“Naya’s journal—he’s got her journal!” he spat, slamming his hand into the metal frame again. For a moment, I thought he was going to smash the glass itself. If he did that, we’d never get away without arousing suspicion.
I hurried over to him and grasped his arm, pulling it away from the cabinet. “If you break anything, Jareth will know we’ve been here.”
“He’s got her journal, Riley. Her secret journal!” he muttered. “He told me he’d burned it, but here it is, locked away in his private collection!”
“I’m sure he had his reasons, Ronad,” I said, trying to calm him down. “Look, right now we need to find something useful—a notebook, or test findings, or notes on the elixir. We can’t take anything he might miss, and I’m pretty sure he’d miss that journal if we smashed the glass to take it.”
Ronad looked at me, his eyes filled with tears. “He has no right to have it.”
“Maybe not, but we can’t take it right now. We’ll come back for it, but now isn’t the time,” I insisted, praying nobody had heard the slam of his fist against the cabinet door.
A second later, we froze, all thoughts of stealing a notebook forgotten. The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed beyond the solid wood of the alchemy lab door, approaching fast. Ronad grasped me by the wrist and dragged me back toward the trapdoor, lowering me through it. He let go, and I dropped down the last few feet, my face turned up to where he stood, on the edge of the hatch.
“Run!” he whispered, clambering down the steps above me.
I didn’t wait to be told again. Leaving him to close the trapdoor, I sprinted through the tunnel system, bolting out of the secret doorway that led into the basement. Not bothering to catch my breath, I weaved between the dust-sheeted furniture, knocking my hip on what felt like an old sofa, before reaching the stairs that led back up to the main body of the house.
A few more floors, and I’d be home free. Nobody would ever have to know we’d been sneaking around the house. I gulped, steeling myself for the final leg. Never had such a short journey seemed like such a marathon.
Chapter Five
I took the basement steps two at a time, turning the corner sharply. All I could hear was the sound of my feet pounding on the sleek wooden floor and the rush of panicked blood in my ears. I trusted Ronad would be following close behind me and prayed Jareth—or whoever had been outside the door—hadn’t heard us hunting around the alchemy lab. If he had, our relative freedom to roam around the house would come to an abrupt end.
I was just about to round the corner that led to the main staircase when a figure appeared out of nowhere. I was going too fast to stop, and my body careened into the unsuspecting person with such force I felt the air knocked clean out of my lungs. Unfortunately for me, they were as solid as concrete, causing me to bounce backward, staggering away as I struggled for breath.
My knees almost buckled, but strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me. It was only then that I took notice of the person I’d barreled into. “Sarrask?”
He scowled, quickly removing his hands, as though I were something dirty. “You should watch where you’re going,” he grumbled, lowering his gaze. “You could have hurt yourself.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” I gasped, trying to slow my panting, my lungs burning.
He peered at me, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Why are you breathing so hard? What are you up to?” He glanced over my shoulder, looking down the hallway behind me.
I was about to answer when the thunder of footsteps distracted us both. Ronad appeared a second later in the corrid
or, running at a casual pace, looking decidedly less flustered than I felt.
“There you are, slowpoke!” I called, with forced brightness. He flashed me a subtle questioning look, glancing between me and Sarrask, evidently trying to gauge the situation. “I was just about to tell Sarrask the game we’ve been playing. I’m not sure it’s his style, though. What do you think?”
Ronad slowed to a stop, laughing heartily. “Nah, Sarrask is way too serious for this kind of thing. Although, thanks to him, you’re going to be pretty easy to tag!” he cried, lunging forward to tap me on the arm. “You’re It! And you thought you could outrun me!” A defiant expression of triumph crossed his face as he put his fists to his hips, striking a superhero pose.
“That’s not fair! You can’t tag me while I’m talking to Sarrask. I call for a time-out,” I declared, but Ronad shook his head.
“You have to say you need a time-out before you get tagged. Sorry, Riley, those are the rules, and you are still It!” He laughed.
I let out a deep sigh. “Thanks, Sarrask! I was doing pretty good until you came along,” I teased, touching his arm. “Now, if you were to join our game, I could take my revenge. How would you like to be It with me?”
Sarrask wrenched his arm away with almost comical violence. “The pair of you are acting like children. I would not be caught dead playing your juvenile little game,” he said sourly. “Some of us have actual business to attend to, instead of running amok.”
Hotbloods 5: Traitors Page 4
