After some time, however, the spike Byron had shot into his brain began to recede. Pain swelled in Draven, and for a time after Angel had drawn the rod free, he did not move. Angel sat studying him, no longer weeping. At last he spoke.
“I have brought death, but little suffering. For I have held back, taking only what I must needs take, and bringing joy above sorrow to each I fortuned to love. Never have I desired to bring harm to any creature, and yet, I have brought only suffering to myself in each death, no matter the joy of the receiver. For death is an end to suffering, while my suffering continues past their deaths as love continues after grief.”
Draven tried to move, but after straining to exhaust every resource in his body, he could only manage the slightest twitch. Angel sat stroking his hair. “To have given back what so many times taken… This I longed for.” He studied Draven a bit longer before pouring his body onto the floor again. This time when his mouth found Draven’s splintered bone, a coldness leapt into the pathway left by the spike, a biting iciness that ached into the core of him, and with it, a sense of peace floated over him, like the chill spray drifting off the moonlit ocean onto powder-fine sand. Every urge to escape had vanished, replaced instead with the sweetest calm. As it swelled inside him, so too did another sensation, one he could not control as it warmed his frozen body any more than he could control the muscles swelling in response.
Never before had he been overcome by such intense desire, known such peace and certainty, and such utter helplessness in its power. A wave of terror surged through him, violent enough to send a spasm through his entire body, but he could not yet control his movements. He forced a sound from his mouth, though his tongue could not yet form words. Angel had continued for a short time before releasing Draven. When he’d finished, he had bid Draven goodbye, risen, and before he vanished, advised Draven to draw all the sap from the dead sapiens. Draven had protested that he could not eat so much, but Angel had only given him a strange look and told him that of course he could.
As it happened, he could. He seemed to never fill, although at times he had to rest. His head had healed quickly, and he had continued eating until he thought he would burst. After only a few minutes, however, he had been able to eat again, draining each of the saps in the room as well as he could without the pressure of a heartbeat to aid him. He had been thankful that Angel had gone and could not see him glutting himself on the blood of dead humans. But soon afterwards, he had strength he had not known possible, and had learned exactly how powerful Superiors could be when fed adequately.
Since that day, Draven had avoided thinking of Angel when possible. Still he did not know for certain what had happened, or if he could have known even if he’d seen it taking place. Had Angel taken energy from him? That seemed impossible. Angel had given him something, had put some healing remedy into the wound. He had given Draven strength. Hadn’t he? Or perhaps he had urged Draven to eat so that he would not notice his weakened state after Angel had taken from Draven what he took from humans.
As he lay in the Enforcer’s trailer, Draven began to wonder what Angel had breathed into his wound, what coldness had entered to heal him. Like a Superior, did the incubus use saliva to heal, and had he pushed his tongue or a saliva coated finger into Draven’s brain? Or had he only pushed his breath into the passageway the rod had left? And if so, had that changed Draven somehow, in ways he had not dared think of until now? He had tried to maintain order in his mind, but lately he had begun to wonder. Now, alone in the trailer and facing his impending prosecution and execution, he let himself consider the changes that had come over him since that day in the theater. Changes that perhaps had occurred as a result of months spent in the hands of Sally’s vigilante community and his subsequent isolation, but perhaps had some deeper, more sinister origins.
Draven shifted in the cold trailer, forcing his mind to his current predicament. The Enforcer had never started the engine. What had become of him? While Draven lay waiting, unwelcome thoughts continued to haunt him. During these last months with Cali, he’d occupied his mind with thoughts of avoiding capture and had not allowed himself to dwell on the scenario he now faced. Though he’d known the dangers, it had seemed far away, hypothetical. Now, the full weight of it settled over him. If someone had found the trackers, if they had found a way to tie him to the murders, he would face execution. He knew little of the techniques Enforcers employed. Though he had done his best to destroy all trace of the trackers, Enforcers likely had ways of unearthing what evidence they needed.
Where had the Enforcer gone? He’d said he meant to take Draven to the office, but the car had not moved. Perhaps he’d left Draven to lie captive in the endlot until he went mad from hunger. Perhaps he had taken matters into his own hands and, knowing no one would miss an inferior-class criminal, sentenced him to lie in a tomb forever. Byron would find such a punishment fitting, especially if an outlaw like Draven tried to stab him to death.
Draven grew increasingly agitated the longer he lay in the light-and-soundproof trailer. The steel’s cold burned against his cheek and neck. The cord circling his middle cut into his abdomen and his shoulders throbbed. He had heaved himself onto his stomach to take the weight off his bound hands, but the pain in his shoulders only subsided a bit. Now he pressed his cheek against the floor and cast his senses in the vacuum of silence, searching for a vibration. The steel blocked all, shut him away from the outside world. Other than his discomfort, every sense was void. He could almost believe he’d already been executed. That this was what waited after death.
Suddenly, the door slid up and his senses were flooded. He twisted his body, jackknifed to see the door, realizing why the Enforcer had not left once he had Draven in custody. Of course he’d gone back. Her scent rushed in to greet him, the warmth and comfort of it, the familiarity that made him recall her taste and all the mornings he had fallen asleep beside her in his mummy bag. That was idle memory, meaningless now. Never again would he enjoy the intoxicating flavors of her sap or savor the bouquet of fragrances that made up her aroma, all the qualities and flavors subtly mixing to create the perfect combination, the fascinating result of which was Cali.
“Let me go,” she said as she writhed and twisted in the Enforcer’s grasp. He showed no sign that he noticed her movements. Instead, he lifted her and deposited her inside the trailer as if she were a sack of sapien feed. As the Enforcer began to close the door, Cali dove out and scrambled away through the snow. Again the Enforcer collected her thrashing body and stuffed it into the trailer.
“I can bind you if you prefer,” he said. Halfway through crouching to spring free again, Cali paused as if considering, then slouched against the wall with a sullen look. The door closed.
Absolute darkness swallowed them. Now, though, the trailer contained more than Draven alone. Casting his senses, he could detect her position, could hear the sounds of her life continuing inside her, could feel her warmth radiating across the space between them.
“Where are we going?” Cali asked, and he could feel the movement as she slid down further against the wall, her feet approaching him until they touched his side.
“You will go back to Princeton.”
“And you?” she asked, her voice smaller than usual, higher.
“I’ll be alright.”
“You always say that.”
“And you? Did that Enforcer hurt you?”
“Not much. Just when I struggled, he squeezed me a little.”
“Did he draw from you, or touch you…inappropriately?” Draven shifted away from Cali’s warmth, uncomfortable at the thought. In all the years he’d worked catching sapiens, he’d never once thought to ask that. It simply did not cross his mind that a Superior would want such a thing. And the Enforcer had seemed businesslike enough with Draven. Certainly he’d only chanced upon the thought because he’d let memories of Angel creep into his mind.
“No, of course not,” Cali said.
“Good. That’s good. Then he�
�s probably an honest man.”
“How do you know that? He caught us, didn’t he?”
“He was alone and could have done anything he liked to either of us, but he didn’t. We’ll be treated fairly in his hands.” He did not mention that the Enforcer would soon turn them over to others, some of whom may not be so kind, especially to him.
“Would someone really do something like that? I mean, he couldn’t just kill me, could he?”
“Yes. That is why it’s good to stay inside the Law, Cali. It cares for you. At the Confinement, even at the restaurants, there is regulation of these things. You’re safe. Here…we are castoffs. Anyone who stumbled upon us could choose to use us and discard us as easily as turn us in.”
For a few moments, they rode in silence. Cali’s foot lay close to Draven, its heat tickling him with infuriating relentlessness.
“Am I going back to Byron? Master, I mean?”
“Yes.”
“He…he said I was lucky he didn’t hobble me. Last time. He said he’d take the whole leg.”
Draven did not answer. He grappled with a boiling rage that crashed into his mind at the idea of Byron slicing into Cali. The Law was immaterial. Cali was his.
“Do you think he will?” Cali asked.
“No.”
“Maybe he’ll just do something like… the chain he had on me?”
Draven paused. No use increasing her fear. “Similar, yes.”
“Well, that didn’t work, so what would he do this time?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? Tell me what he’d do. What kind of hobble…that’s not the leg?”
“Sometimes…Superiors cut the tendon on the back of your foot to make walking difficult.”
“Oh,” Cali said, her voice even smaller. “Does it hurt very much?”
“I don’t know, Cali. A bit, I’m certain. You’re a brave girl, though.” He could not bear the thought of Cali that way, crippled. And he knew of much worse cases of hobbling. To spare her that fate, he would have ripped his own arms off. To ensure she went to anyone but Byron. Even if Draven could not keep her, knowing he’d left her somewhere safe would have eased his mind. She might prefer the blood bank to what Byron had in store. Byron’s revenge would not be inconsequential or painless.
“What will happen to you?” Cali asked after a time.
Draven considered how to best let Cali know not to speak of his deeds, not to utter some careless word about the trackers, further condemning him. The government had outfitted prisoner transport trailers with built-in microphones, and sometimes cameras as well, so Enforcers could observe their captives. Draven should not know that, but Byron had told him once, when they had been friends.
“I will be sent to Princeton,” Draven said. “There, I will be tried and…depending on the nature of the crimes they find me guilty of, I will be punished accordingly.”
“Oh,” Cali said. She began moving the toe of her shoe up and down against his hip. “I don’t know what that means,” she said after a bit.
“It depends on the charges against me,” Draven said. “Stealing you, of course. Perhaps they will find evidence of other crimes I’ve committed to ensure your survival.”
“You mean—”
“Yes,” Draven said, before she could finish. “All I’ve done to avoid capture, such as stealing food for you.”
“Oh. Well, what will they do to you?”
“I imagine it depends on who is called to judge my case. Usually the arresting officer is on the panel, but since I’m going back to Princeton… If Byron is on the panel…I could be executed. That will be his desire.”
“What does that mean?”
“Killed. It means I could be killed.”
“What? How can they kill someone? I mean, isn’t that illegal?”
“Not when the government does it.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I mean, Superiors don’t. How is it okay if they do it, but not okay if you do it? You’re one of them.”
“That is as it is, Cali. Do not make me speak treason. It’s one more crime against me, if I’ve yet to be charged with it.”
“What’s treason?”
“Speaking out against or wronging the government. Which I suppose I have, as the government supplied you to Byron, and I stole you.”
“I still don’t understand your laws at all.”
“As you shouldn’t,” Draven said, hoping he wouldn’t receive further punishment for revealing so much to a human. If anyone discovered all he’d told her, she would perhaps face a far worse punishment than hobbling. Humans should not know so much, should not know Superior weaknesses or the other information Draven had imparted. The government wanted all saps ignorant. They certainly did not want one knowing how to kill a Superior. The last time Byron had found that a human had such knowledge, he’d somehow deactivated the boy’s brain.
“Cali,” Draven said, after a moment of thought. He lowered his voice to a whisper, although Enforcers surely had access to equipment that could separate it from the other noises coming through the microphone. “Remember when I told you, back home at the Confinement, that you were smart for a sapien?”
“Yeah…”
“Do you remember what else I said? What I advised you do about it?”
“You said I should—”
“Then do it,” Draven cut in. “It’s important, when you’re back with your master. He’s smart. Not in the sapien way. When you’re obedient to him, your life will be easier.”
“Now you’re telling me to be obedient? You’re the one who stole me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, quite. Now that I’ve failed so miserably, I only wish I’d not put you through this. I am…sorry.” His mouth could not form into words the thoughts that hurtled through his mind. Fears crowded into him and multiplied more and more rapidly—Cali’s future, Byron punishing her, someone torturing her to get information of Draven’s crimes. He had told her she’d be fine, she’d return to Princeton and life would resume as before. He should not have given her such hope.
And his own life, what did it amount to now?
He’d lived his life as no one, with no importance, and now he’d die a criminal, less than nothing. The Enforcer would have taken Cali’s stake, and he’d find some trace of the trackers’ blood on it, and that would be the end for Draven. A sense of panic rose in him, an instinctive will not to die that he had forgotten in his desire to live. He’d spent the winter trying to live—trying to find food so they could eat, trying to keep them warm, to survive. All these months he’d focused on living. Now he had to face death.
His mind teemed with fears and desperation, longing to go back and change everything, every part of his life. He’d done it all wrong from the beginning. He’d been given life, potentially endless, and he’d squandered it. Ineffectual in life even before becoming Superior, he’d been the wrong type for evolution. Good at surviving, poor at living.
The only happiness in his outcast existence had now come to an end. He’d lost his freedom, and he’d lost Cali. Because he’d allowed her to convince him to remain in the endlot, they’d been captured. Neither would know freedom again for a very long time, if ever.
“Cali…” For a moment, she seemed not to have heard him, but after a short silence during which the hammering of her heart echoed about the steel chamber, she murmured in acquiescence. “Lie with me a moment,” Draven whispered.
Again, a moment’s pause preceded her answer. Then her rustling movements muffled her heartbeat, and her hands moved over him, feeling for his position before she nestled herself against his bound body. Her warm breath licked his cheek. A tremor traveled through his arm where her hand settled, her cold hand that, like her body, held the promise of heat inside.
“May I… Once more?” he asked. His position made penetration difficult, but he twisted his head and slipped his chin under hers. Pressing his cold face into the warmth of her angled throat, he inhaled her scent, lett
ing it spread through him. His teeth broke the skin and he slowly began to draw on her. His usual desire to continue was curiously absent in the absence of hope. He drew only a bit, letting his tongue lap at her trickle, again inhaling her as if he could capture her scent to savor until his last moment. If he died with her scent still lingering inside him… If he didn’t eat again, with her taste still on his tongue…
The trailer’s abrupt halt interrupted Draven’s thoughts. The minute vibrations from the car ceased when the engine switched off. Overwhelming fear surged through Draven, and he released Cali’s throat.
“Cali,” he whispered. His mind fought to tear through the webs of panic descending over him. “Cali, I…I love you.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. “That’s really…nice.”
Before Draven could fully absorb what he’d said, what she’d said, the door slid up.
“Alright, you two,” the Enforcer said. “Let’s get you in the system and then we’ll send you on your way. Looks like your master has been missing you,” he said to Cali. “Good thing we caught this guy before he killed you. Can’t be too careful with these renegade types. You’re lucky to be alive, I’d say.”
The Enforcer extended his hand to help Cali down from the trailer. She inched forward, took his hand and stepped down into his arms. Then, at the exact angle Draven had taught her, she thrust her aspen knife into the Enforcer’s chest.
Chapter 52
She’d thought he would scream. She’d thought he’d bring his fist down hard enough to crush her skull. But he didn’t do anything. He just blinked like he couldn’t believe it, and then he fell over backwards, that expression of shock and pain frozen on his face. The knife stuck out of his chest like a deformity, a strange third arm.
She had forgotten, had let it slip from her hand. Draven had told her that the most important thing was to never let go of the knife. But she’d shocked herself too much to remember. Sure, she had planned it since the moment the Superior had caught her, pouncing on her from behind and trapping her arms, arresting her step in midstride. But planning was fantasy, not real. Just like planning an escape had filled her days with dreams of heaven, while the reality had proven much more complicated.
The Renegades (The Superiors) Page 36
