Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (28 page)

The cat observed him, sniffed his leg. Something in the shape of her bullet-like head, her silky fur, drew him to caress her nose and he felt a rough, warm tongue. She licked between his fingers at the still-wet blood streaking them, pulling at the skin there, purring.

He snatched his hand back, his breath coming in gasps.
What’s wrong with me?
The cold pressed on him, made his face ache.

Then the cat, the alley, the sour smell of garbage — it all faded as a mechanical hum reached his ears. A flash of color went through his vision, and he knew he had to hide, that he’d be found if he stayed.

Movement caught his eye. A rat flashed red, scuttling along a wall. The cat didn’t stir, sitting by his side, a pulsing orange. Puddles of water stood on the street, glowing green and white.

More shouts from the avenue. The buzz of engines. Helicopters.

Shit
. A dark shape on the wall across from him drew his attention. His gaze zeroed on a small black door close to the ground. A basement.

Managing to keep a groan of pain behind his teeth, he got to his feet and stumbled across the alley to the door. The helicopters were closing in, their helices adding to the wind currents blasting through the alley.

The cat mewed behind him, hard on his heels.

He fell to his knees before the door and yanked on the handle with both hands. It resisted. A surge of power went through his arms and his heartbeat redoubled. Sweat poured down his back, scalding. Heat went up his neck and face, and his breathing hitched, turning shallow.

Do this or die.

With one last pull, he wrenched the door open, cracking the lock, and damn well fell on his back from shock. He stared at his hands, then back at the lock. He’d forgotten for a moment he carried the king of parasites — or had it been his own desperation that lent him this sort of strength?

He went in, feet first, finding a metallic ladder. Pushing the curious cat back out, he pulled the door closed over his head. He slid down, flashes showing him a dead place stacked high with boxes. Broken stuff spilled from them — ceramics and chairs and tools.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, he collapsed, blood running hot down his leg. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.

A gun safety clicked off, spoiling his efforts.
Dammit, need a moment to catch my breath
. With a groan, Elei grabbed the ladder and heaved himself back to his feet, straightening knees that threatened to buckle.

“Who the hells are you,” asked a man’s voice from the gloom, “and what do you think you’re doing in my basement?”

Chapter
Two

T
he boat
was old and small, a skiff with an outboard motor. It rocked alarmingly when Hera shifted her weight.

Standing at the prow, she nodded at the owner of this sorry excuse of a watercraft. She forced a smile, trying to appear non-threatening and fighting her growing irritation at the delay this caused.

“I’ll take this... boat.”
If you can call it that
. She gestured at the dilapidated benches and the threadbare tent. “If you make me a better price.”

He scowled. “Why should I? You need my boat and I need money to feed my family.”

“You do not want to anger me,” Hera said calmly. “Do you?”

The mortal seemed shaken, just a little. Lines appeared between his brows and he lifted a hand to rub his thin moustache. “Hey, listen.” He glanced around. “I’d love to help, but it’s a long way to Torq, and I need the money to pay for the fuel.”

“You did not understand me.” Hera leaned closer to the man and bared her teeth. “I am buying your boat. Is this clear?”

“Buying it?” He paled. “No, lady, I’m not selling—”

“Oh really.” She took a breath to say more, then remembered what Kalaes had told her about mortals preferring politeness in negotiations. She licked her lips. “Um, please?”

He frowned. “No, I can’t, I—”

“Yes, you can.” Politeness obviously did not work. “And you will.” She opened her mouth, then jerked at the crack of thunder behind her. No, not thunder. She spun around, hand going to her longgun.
What in the five hells?
The rattling, echoing sound could only be gunshots. From the direction of the town.

The man’s already pale face went gray. “Gultur police,” he whispered and started his dakron engine. “Get out. I’m leaving now.”

With a curse, Hera rushed to climb out. She’d barely stepped onto the pier when the boat turned around and raced away along the coast.

Another shot rang, and Hera’s spine went rigid. It had come from the direction of the hospital, she was sure of that.

Frigid hells. Kalaes. Elei.

And then she was already running.

***

“Who are you?” The dark-haired man was dressed in gray overalls and black boots. He raised his gun and hesitated on the steps going down into the basement. “If you’re here to rob me, think again.”

Elei took a limping step toward the man and shivered. Damn but it was cold. “I won’t hurt you.”

The man cocked his head to the side, rubbing the stubble on his chin, and squinted in the half light from a swinging bulb overhead. He took one more step and swore softly. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s just a naked kid.”

Elei frowned.
A kid
. Well, better look harmless than not, he supposed.

The man came down the steps. “Son of a bitch, what’s with all the bandages? Someone beat you up? Did you get into a fight?” His voice echoed in the basement. “How did you get inside? I’d swear the door was locked.”

“Door was open,” Elei lied. “I was cold.” And that was the truth.

The man shook his head, cursing under his breath. Up close, his forehead was lined and there were fine wrinkles around his eyes. He had to be quite old, in his thirties or forties. “What are you doing here? Did you run away from the hospital?”

So many questions he needed to avoid answering.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Are the Gultur police after you?”

Dammit
. He had to distract him. “The Gultur are still in power?”

The man scowled. “Yeah, they are. Are you talking about the infection rumors?” He tsked. “You still haven’t answered me. Are they after you?”

“No.” The less the man knew the better. Elei licked his cracked lips, fighting fear and worry. Apparently nothing had changed. The Gultur ruled and he was still on the run. “I only need to borrow some clothes. Please. Then I’ll be out of your way. I promise.”

Suspicion lit the man’s dark eyes. He raised his gun again. “I don’t know. Can’t trust you, kid, too risky. I think you’d better leave.”

White light flashed on his plexus, the side of his knee, his neck. Rex was suggesting where to hit the man.
Eliminate danger
.

No. I’m leaving
. Elei opened his mouth to say so.

Rex jolted him, twisted his insides and knocked out his breath, sending him to his knees. Another jab in his gut and he whimpered.

“Hey, are you all right, kid?” The man stepped closer and hissed. “Holy gods in the nether hells, you’re bleeding.”

Screw you, Rex
. Elei struggled to rise, but the pain still rippled through him in waves, stealing his breath.
I’m not your damn puppet
.

“To the hells with this. Come.” The man slung his gun over one shoulder, hooked his hands under Elei’s armpits and pulled him upright. “I can’t send you out like this.”

“Just some clothes,” Elei gritted through chattering teeth. “That’s all.”

Muttering, the man helped him up the stairs to the main house, and to his embarrassment Elei found the help necessary. Without the adrenaline Rex injected into him when it sensed danger, his battered body shook with exhaustion.

“Name’s Idomeneus, by the way,” said the man. “Menes for short.”

“Menes.” Elei glanced around as he was dragged up the steps and through the door. The apartment was old but in good condition, the walls newly painted, the furniture clean.

“Papa?” A little girl appeared around a corner and took Menes’ other hand. “Who’s he?”

Elei hastily covered his naked groin with his hand.
Oh gods, a kid
. He needed to leave here soon. If the Gultur entered and found him in their house, they’d both be dead, father and child.

“Look.” Elei tried to disengage from Menes’ hold. “I’m fine, really. Pants and a shirt, if you can afford it, that’s all I need—”

“Hush, boy.” Menes’ brow furrowed. “You’re bleeding, you limp, and you look like you haven’t had a plate of food in a while.”

Well, there was no arguing that.

Menes turned to the girl, reached out to stroke her hair. “Sweetie, go and fetch Papa a pair of pants, a shirt, and my old boots, they’re in my closet. Hurry now.”

Sweat ran down Elei’s back, stinging reopened wounds, and his thigh throbbed. Menes helped him to a chair and sat across from him, a bowl of water in his hands. He put it down.

“Those marks on your cheek and back.” He grabbed Elei’s chin and turned his head to have a better look. Elei let him. “They took a long time to give you the medicine, didn’t they? Never seen anyone with so much snakeskin before.”

Elei said nothing.
Medicine
. If Albi hadn’t given him cronion, another parasite, he would never have survived.

“You’re a quiet one,” muttered Menes. He unwound the bandages and grimaced. “Who shot you?” When Elei didn’t reply, he started washing the blood off. “It
is
the Gultur, isn’t it? You’re running from them.”

Elei winced. He couldn’t deny it any longer. “Yes.”

“This isn’t the usual roundup of suspects I’ve seen them do, is it?” Menes said. “After those rumors of a parasite released in their sacred fountain and the changes in the government, the police haven’t been active at all in the past week. What did you do to make them want you so badly?”

Even if he told Menes, the man couldn’t possibly believe him.
I’m the one who spilled his blood into the sacred fountain and infected the Gultur. Yeah, right
.

“I’m sorry but I can’t tell you,” he said, while Menes cleaned out the wounds and dabbed disinfectant that stung and burned. “It’s dangerous, do you understand? If they found me here, with your little girl…” His teeth rattled and he hunched over, trying to get warmer.

Menes nodded, wrapped Elei in the same stained bandages and patted him on the shoulder. “Damn, you’re frozen solid. How long were you down in the basement?” He stood, without waiting for an answer. “Phyllis, where are you, baby?”

“Coming!” The girl bounded back into the room, her pigtails flying, brandishing a pair of black pants, a white shirt and a pair of scuffed and holed combat boots. “Look!”

“Thanks sweetie.” Menes smiled, and the pull of his lips transformed his grim face. He snatched the clothes from the girl and passed them to Elei. “Here, try them on. Phyllis, boil some water for an herbal tea, will you? Our guest is cold.”

“Yes, Papa.” So serious, Phyllis stood on tiptoe to fill a black kettle with water from the tap, and then lit the stove and set it on top. “Can he stay?”

Elei stilled with the clothes in his hands. Something in his chest clenched. He tried to imagine for a moment how it could be, to be part of this family, a big brother to Phyllis, a son to Menes, in this cozy kitchen, and found he couldn’t.

Kalaes and Hera
. They were his family. He had to find them, had to make sure they were okay.

“He can’t, sweetie,” Menes said.

She turned to face her father, her large eyes wide. “But, Papa, he’s cute. We could play together.”

Cute?
Elei choked. He resisted the urge to touch the snakeskin on his cheek. His eyes were different colors, the one possessed by Rex a bright blue, the other brown. Black dots went around his neck like a necklace, another manifestation of Rex. His torso and back were a mottled surface of scars, wounds and snakeskin patterns.

He buried his face in his hands and laughed quietly.

Small hands touched his own and he blinked, uncovering his face. She touched his cheek, the unmarked one, and smiled. Afraid his laughter might turn into something else altogether, Elei shook his head and clutched the clothes.

“Come here, sweetie.” Menes held out his hand to the girl. “Let’s make that herbal tea, shall we?”

Elei stared after them, their bodies touching lightly, the way her small arms clutched his leg. He wanted to belong like that.

Well, no reason why he couldn’t. Hera liked him, and Kalaes had promised, hadn’t he? That they’d go home.

Mouth pressed tight, he pulled on the pants and the shirt. They hung overlarge on his skinny frame. The pants slipped down to his sharp hipbones. Menes was right; he’d lost a lot of weight.

The clothes were soft and held a faint scent of burnt dakron. Maybe the man worked with aircars. Elei’s shivering lessened. There were even socks. Grateful, he pulled them on, and then the boots. They were close to his size, thank all the gods. He laced them up and sat back, tucking his shaking hands under his armpits to warm them.

Menes returned to the table with a steaming mug of tea. Inhaling the aroma of mint and sageron, Elei sipped and let the warmth seep into his chilled fingers, trickle down his throat to his stomach and chase the shivers away. Wordlessly, Menes placed some K-blooms before him in a chipped white plate, and Elei’s stomach rumbled loudly. Suddenly ravenous, he stuffed his mouth with them, chewing on their sweetness. His eyes closed in bliss. He felt almost human again.

Phyllis chuckled and he cracked one eye at her. She covered her mouth with both hands and snickered quietly, then inflated her cheeks and pointed at him.

Heat spread into his cheeks and he slowed down, eating one bloom at a time. Yet his lips twitched, and Phyllis snickered again. He ate another bloom and discovered to his consternation that he’d finished them off.

“I’ll make some real food.” Menes grabbed a pan and a spoon. “Something warm to fill your belly.”

“No, I really have to go—”

“Nonsense. Just a while longer.” Menes turned his back and stood still for a moment. “Phyllis wants you to stay.”

I can’t stay
, Elei wanted to say.
My friends are in danger
. But he did want to stay longer, for this illusion of safety, this respite in the frantic chase, with Rex quiet inside his head.

“Maybe they gave up on finding you,” Menes muttered as he opened a box and shook out some red mushrooms. He washed them and threw them into the oiled pan. “Maybe they’re already gone.”