Authors: Kate Wrath
Eden (9 page)
"No going to dark places," Apollon demands,
kicking me in the shins. "Look, this is a stupid conversation."
I glare at him, rubbing my leg. "That was a little
hard, don'tcha think?"
He ignores me. "Have you noticed what's different
about this place?"
I glance around the bar. "Umm... it's filthy? Wait.
That's not different."
He rolls his eyes and tosses his blonde hair.
"Seriously."
I take a moment and consider. Obviously, he's not just
talking about the bar, but about Miami. And now that I take a second, there
has been something niggling at me, but I've been too busy to really acknowledge
it. I close my eyes and picture the city. "There's a lot more
space," I say, opening my eyes to look at him. "Less people crowding
everything. What do you think it is? People don't want to be here because
it's so hot?"
He gives me a look that says 'unlikely'.
OK, I am being a little naive, I suppose. Maybe the rum is
helping. "Just tell me."
He glances around like he's making sure no one is listening,
but then he just shrugs. "I don't know. But to be honest, it creeps me
out."
"So you've been thinking this all along, and you didn't
pry it out of Celine when you had the chance?" I ask incredulously.
"I was kind of busy."
I raise my eyebrows.
"Not
that
," he insists. "I mean I was
a little more interested in how my really good friend needs to have her head
cut open and all."
My look silences him. We glance around, but no one seems to
be paying us any attention. I lean closer and keep my voice low.
"'Needs' is a strong word. I'm not sure about all this."
"No shit," he says. "But honestly, Celine
was pretty convincing. And pretty distraught over it. I think she's the last
person who wants it to happen, but she seems to think it needs to be
done."
"Are you sure she wasn't playing you?"
Now he gives me a look. "You think I wouldn't
know?"
I shake my head. "I don't know what to think."
"So..." I think we're going to have a very serious
talk about it, but he says, "Have you noticed that there's no old
people?"
"What?" I blink and look around the room. And I
think about all the time we've been in Miami. Have I seen any old people?
"...Holy hell." My eyes widen in alarm. "What do you think
they do with them?"
He gives me a look—a very wary, disgusted look.
I shake my head, starting to climb to my feet. "We
shouldn't be here."
He grabs my arm and pulls me back onto my stool. "We
can't go anywhere until we deal with your noggin."
"My noggin," I repeat. "Did you just
seriously say we had to deal with my noggin?"
A little smile smirks onto his face. Flash. WHOMPH!
Splinters flying at us from behind him, where the wall was. Pain—everywhere—and
my eyelids, clamped shut. The smell of blood and burnt hair and sulfur.
Ringing silence. I'm on my back, and around me, a swelling heat.
For a moment, blackness and heat swirl around me. I'm
crushed, absolutely crushed. There are noises—burning noises. A fire. I
can't seem to get my body to move, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to die. I
manage to pry my eyelids open, but everything is fuzzy. I close them again.
Someone is moving through the wreckage, pulling away boards,
throwing them to the side. Maybe we'll be rescued.
We'll
. I remember
Apollon, and now I'm truly scared. The noise. The boards flying at the back
of his head. I blink my eyes open again and struggle to focus. Smoke stings
my eyeballs and lungs, making me sputter, cough, and blink. But something
heavy is across my legs, and I'm pretty sure now that it's Apollon. I struggle
to move my legs, to twist, to raise my head enough to see him, but the effort
makes me dizzy. Black spots swarm my brain and I collapse again. I'm out for
what?—a moment. When I regain consciousness, my arm is unbelievably hot. The
pain is growing.
Weight shifts off of me. My hope that Apollon has come to
is quickly shattered as I make out the shape of someone standing over me. A
man, dragging Apollon back by the armpits. He tosses him aside, then comes
back for me. He bends over and grabs me out of the wreckage—not gently, but
I'm not going to argue considering my arm feels like it's about to catch fire.
He lifts me out—I'm limp in his arms and my body is still not wanting to listen
to my commands—and steps carefully over piles of burning wreckage and Apollon.
"Apollon," I choke out, and I manage to get my
legs moving. I squirm away from my rescuer, needing to save my friend from the
fire, but the guy’s grip on me tightens.
My head swims with my movement, making the whole world
spin. Air seems hard to come by. But there are noises. Loud noises. The
ratt-a-tat-tat of gunfire. Another battle.
An unearthly shriek rises out of nowhere and I only just
make out the toothless woman, bloody and tattered, running toward us with a
raised knife. I brace myself for impact. My rescuer drops me but doesn't
block in time. Her knife sinks into his chest, and his blood drips onto me as
I try to scrape myself off the floor, hurting from smacking into the ground.
He wavers. I roll sideways, narrowly missed by his knees as they crush into
the floor. More gunfire whizzes above me, and the toothless woman falls in a
dead heap on top of me.
I clamber out of the pile of blood and limbs, scrambling on
my hands and knees toward Apollon. As I glance back, three large figures
carrying guns stride toward us through the smoke. Their steps have a deadly
purpose. I need to run. But I can't—I won't—leave Apollon. I sink to his
side, gathering his head in my hands. He's unconscious, and I think he's
bleeding profusely, but that could just be me. I'm covered in blood, unsure
how much of it is my own.
The three men reach us. I grab my knife and swing viciously
behind me in a wild arc, slicing across their shins. They spit curses. One
kicks me, sending me flying sideways, and the other two subdue me and pry the
knife from my fingers while I bare my teeth at them. I should be worried for
myself—really worried—but all I can think about is Apollon.
Bursts of gunfire are all around us, but I can't see
anything past this veil of smoke. Two of the men are distracted, firing to the
side. I bring my knee up into the groin of the guy leaning over me. He grunts
in pain, doubling over. But before I can do anything more, he shrieks at me in
rage, places his hands around my neck, and presses his fingers into my throat.
I kick and thrash, struggling to stay alive, to escape. I have to escape.
Have to get Apollon out of this fire. The last thing I realize, is that I'm
not going to.
***
I open my eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Everything is a
blur. Panic slaps my brain—hard. I struggle to get up, to hit my feet and
start running, but I can't. A hand firmly grips my arm and keeps me in place.
My legs thrash. My fingers curl, ready to use my nails as weapons—to scratch
out eyeballs or whatever else it takes.
"You're safe. You're safe." The voice—not the
words—floods me with relief.
"J-Jonas," I sputter, trying to focus on the face
leaning over me. I blink furiously. My eyes feel sore, raw.
"Shhh," he says, stroking my face. "You're
OK. It's all OK, now."
I squint, determined to make sense of the shape that I know
is him. It's coming to me now—softness underneath me. I'm laying on a bed.
On our bed, probably. It's quiet around us. Everything is over.
"Apollon was hurt," I say, pushing his hand away and struggling to
sit up.
Instead of fighting me, he helps me, scooping his arm around
my back to support me as the wave of dizziness and nausea rises in my body. He
waits until it settles, then brushes my hair out of my face. "He's
OK," Jonas assures me. I love the sound of his voice—how it can make
everything better in an instant. "A little banged up, but not really much
more than you."
I take the time to look down at myself. I'm a mess, but
they must have cleaned me up while I was out, because I'm not completely doused
in blood, like before. I'm in fresh, loose-fitting clothes—probably something
out of Jason's drawer. There are a lot of scrapes and cuts and bruises, but
nothing that looks major.
"You should rest," Jonas says, giving me a nudge
that encourages me to lie back down. "Everything is OK."
"Here." It's Celine's voice. I blink and
squint. As the room finally starts to come into focus, I realize that we're
not alone. Celine, Spec, even Kobee. Celine moves toward me and presses a
glass of water into my hands.
I tremble as I raise it to drink, but the cool water inside
feels like heaven on my parched throat. I sip, then gulp, and finally let out
a long sigh as I lower the glass.
Celine takes it from me and sets it on the table. "Do
you need anything else?"
I manage to shake my head and allow Jonas to help me lie
down. My head feels almost bruised as it hits the pillow—bruised inside, like
even the pressure of laying down pushes on my brain. Maybe that's why I can't
really think about all this yet. I feel myself sinking quickly into darkness.
"Good," Jonas murmurs beside me. "The best
thing for you is sleep."
Clearly, my body agrees.
***
I wake to the low murmur of voices. They sound pleasant,
chatty. I listen without listening. Sounds, not words. And I linger in
sleepiness, in half a dream.
My eyelids are warm. Light filters through, so it must
still be daylight. There seems to be a shape traced across my vision, a spot
of light, glowing lines. They float as my eyes move beneath my lids. I try to
focus on it, and it drifts. The softness of feminine laughter floats around
me, somehow attaching itself to the shape I'm tracking. Only I'm not really
tracking it. I'm drifting. For a moment I'm dreaming something about a tree.
There is a noise—loud, but only because it breaks the
softness of the other noises. The door opening—that's what it is. Part of me
wants to wake up, but no. My eyelids flutter, and I can feel my forehead
pulling into a frown. Where did the lines go? I breathe deeply, and try to
find them. I focus on the dream and the... what was it? There was an
alligator, I think. But I already know I've been jolted. It's all sinking far
away before I can catch it. Disappointment seeps in like water.
"Back." It's Apollon's voice. Now everything
else is gone.
I pry my eyes open and roll over to see him shutting the
door behind himself. Something stretches against my spine. A low, steady
rumbling shuts off. The cat.
"Welcome back, handsome," Celine purrs from the
end of the room. I shift my head so I can see her, sitting on the couch
snuggled up to Jonas' side. A little flare of jealousy hits me. Their arms
and hands are all to themselves, but they're practically sitting on top of each
other.
It doesn't faze Apollon at all. He wanders toward them,
smiling, and slowly sits down across from them. He must still be hurting,
stiff. "Any news?"
"She's awake," Celine says, glancing toward me. I
didn't realize she had noticed.
Apollon turns toward me and looks like he's going to get up.
"Stay," I grunt, and he does, giving me a grateful
look.
I begin the task of prying myself up, but Celine and Jonas
get to me before I manage more than placing an elbow under myself. Each of
them have me by an arm, helping me with the tenderest of care.
"I'm not going to break," I manage, trying to shoo
them away and still sit up. Admittedly, I'm unsteady, and my head is
swimming. But I don't think it's going to get any better unless I just get on
with things.
Celine sits on the bed next to me as I slide to the edge.
She puts an arm around my shoulders, but looks at Jonas. "I've got her.
Bring her some food, won't you?"
He hesitates, then does as instructed. He's back in about
ten seconds with a glass of water and some orange slices. They must have had
it all ready.
I take the plate from him, and Celine takes it from me,
holding it in front of me since I don't have a table. I glance at her warily,
but I eat one of my orange slices, take the glass of water from Jonas and chug
it, then hand it back to him and go for more oranges. I'm absolutely famished,
and thirsty as can be.
Jonas is already refilling my water, but Celine says,
"She's going to need some
real
breakfast."
"Breakfast?" I mutter, glancing at her. "Is
it morning?"
She gives me a single nod. "You were exhausted,
sweetheart. I put a little something in your water to help you rest."
My eyes dart to her face. "You
drugged
me?"
"You wouldn't have slept comfortably if I hadn't,"
she says, as if it was the most innocent thing in the world. "You're in
much better shape, now. Though those bruises are... disturbing." Her
fingertips tentatively trail along my neck, her eyes lingering there.
I look down, stupidly, because obviously I can't see my own
neck. But I remember, and I can guess what it looks like. "They tried to
kill me," I mumble.
"Doubtful," Celine says. That's all.
Jonas and Apollon exchange a look.
"What?" I demand, annoyance rising in my voice.
"What the hell happened?
Why
did it happen? What's going
on?"
Now the
three
of them trade looks. I sigh.
Celine takes my empty plate, carefully unhooks her arm from
my shoulders, and walks to the table. After she sets the plate down, she
hesitates. Then, finally, she turns to look at me. Uncertainty still shadows
her face. "It's really not good," she says. "You're not going
to like it."
"Ya think?" I fix her with a sardonic smile. Her
eyes narrow. The cat picks that moment to climb into my lap and start kneading
its claws into my bare thighs.
Celine's gaze drops to the cat for a moment, thoughtfully,
while I curse at it under my breath.
Apollon, still sitting across the room, drops his hand
toward the floor. "Here, kitty, kitty," he says in that voice—that
cat-luring voice.
The cat's head snaps toward him, considering. I grab it and
clutch it to my chest, glaring at Apollon across the room. A slow smirk
appears on his face, stretching into an evil grin with completely misleading,
boyish dimples. For a moment, our gazes communicate silently, a lot of words
that don't need to be said.
Jonas is laughing. I don't think I've heard him laugh like
this in a long time. When I look, his head is back, huge smile stretched
across his face. Everything in me responds to his laugh. I'm smiling—really
smiling—and the giggles start to bubble out of me, unbidden. And before you
know it, all three of us are laughing whole-heartedly while Celine looks from
face to face in quiet amusement. The cat, though, not liking the way my chest
jiggles with laughter, frees itself from my grip, jumps to the floor, and stretches,
throwing me an indignant glare.
As our laughter dies down, my gaze moves to Celine, leaning
against the table, facing me, with crossed arms and a cocky smile.
"Well?" I manage, becoming serious, though still
breathless. "What aren't I going to like?"
"Those were Warner's men." She tosses the words
down before me.
I consider. "I probably could have guessed that. They
were behind the last bombing."
"Yes." Her words are soft, almost floating away
with her thoughts as she stares into space. When she comes back to earth, she
squints at me, pulls herself up from the table, and saunters toward me again.
She flops down at my side, looking at her hands.
Apollon gets tired of waiting—he knows my impatience—and
spits it out. "We think they were targeting you, Eden." He ignores
the look that Celine throws him at the use of my
other
name. "They
were watching us. Nothing else in that area was bothered, and none of it would
make sense to target. They were there just for you."
I shrug. "They wanted to kill me. Like I said."
Celine shakes her head, but it's Apollon that goes on.
"If they'd wanted to kill you, they would have killed
you. They had the element of surprise. They were trying to take you, not kill
you."
I purse my lips. I'm not sure if that's better or worse.
"Why?"
Apollon gives me a look.
"Ah," I murmur. "My noggin."
Celine glances at me warily. "It's complicated,
keeping secrets within a tribe. We did a decent job of it for a while. But
it's out, now. They know you're back. They know what you've done. And they
want to use it for their gain... or at least take the possibility away from
us. And..." Her words trail off. When I look at her, she shakes her
head.