Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (29 page)

Elei said nothing.
Gone. Not likely
. His thigh hurt like a bitch now that the painkillers were leaving his system. He really had to leave — for them. Placing his hands on the table top, he started to push himself up, but his wounded leg buckled.

Maybe resting a little longer —
just a little
, he told himself sternly — wasn’t such a bad idea. He drank his tea, let the warmth spread inside his chest.

Menes placed the food on the table and sat. He clasped his hands to say a prayer to the gods of the deep, and Elei froze while reaching for a mushroom. He drew back and bowed his head.

Some people still believed.

The last word of the prayer still hung in the air, a soft whisper, when flashes lit Elei’s vision. With a groan, he pushed back his chair and stood unsteadily, his heart pumping hard. His possessed eye ached and throbbed. The aches in his body faded to background noise as his pulse filled his ears.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he heard Menes say as if from a deep well.

“They’re here. I’m leaving.” His own voice echoed in his ears. He stumbled around the table toward the door.
Where to go?

“Don’t leave!” Phyllis wailed. She ran toward him.

“Keep her off me,” he said harshly and kept walking. “Where’s the emergency exit?”

Menes hurried along, his face dark with fear and worry. He opened another room, revealing a ladder, and led the way upstairs. Elei followed him, climbing easily, dimly wondering how his leg held.

A study was there, and a black metal door. Menes unlocked it and icy gusts of wind whipped inside, strewing papers on the floor.

Elei looked outside. A rusty ladder led down into an alley. He turned to Menes. “You never saw me.”

“Who are you?” Menes’ eyes narrowed. “They said the guy who infected the Gultur with Rex was very young. Are you—?”

“Just forget you ever met me. And thank you for everything.” A moment of fear —
for them
— gripped Elei’s chest so tightly he couldn’t breathe. Then he heard the pounding on the front door and swung himself out.

“Take care,” he whispered and descended into the madness of the chase once more.

***

Elei ran. His steps echoed in the dark alley as he raced toward its intersection with a wide, brighter street. At the corner, behind a fire escape, he crouched and took in the traffic. Old aircars rumbled by. The Gultur were probably standing inside Menes’ apartment right now. He and his daughter might pay for their kindness with their lives. Elei shuddered. He might as well use the distraction while it lasted.

When he dashed out into the street, a beggar reached out to grab him, asking for money. He twisted to avoid the claw-like hands, and ran along dusty window and storehouse fronts, the blood pumping so fast in his veins he barely limped, barely felt his wounds.

Possibilities flashed through his mind.
Hide. Run. Find the others
. But where? Back at the hospital? Had Kalaes met with Hera? Were they looking for him?

He dived into another alley and slowed. In his tainted eye, emergency fire escapes and doors flashed blue. The urge to open one and hide rooted him to the spot.
Stay low
.
Wait. Be safe
.

Hesitantly, he shuffled over to the first fire escape and grabbed the rusty rungs. He placed his foot on the first one.
Break into another house. Hide. Disappear for a while, a day or two. Let the Gultur move on
.

He climbed four rungs up and stopped, hanging on the wall like an insect.
And Kalaes? Hera?
He frowned and looked down.

Hide
. It was practically a voice in his ear, a male voice that sounded suspiciously like his own, soothing, reassuring.
You can’t face the Gultur alone, without a gun. And for what?
The emergency door above him blinked with blue light, a pulsing beacon.
Save yourself
. The thought of a secure, quiet place, dark and warm like a womb, sent vibrations of pleasure through his body — a caress on his back, a feathery kiss on his cheek, a touch on his hip.
Do it. Be safe
.

Before he realized, he was all the way up, reaching for the black door handle, his body still tingling with vague pleasure and his mind filled with a sense of calm and joy.

What the hells?
Rex was getting way out of hand. Lips pressed together tight, Elei started to descend. He expected the jolt of pain when it came and gritted his teeth, his hands tightening on the rungs.

“Stop it,” he hissed and resumed his descent. “It won’t work.” Burning pain stabbed his head and his vision went white. “Shit.” Blindly, stubbornly, he kept moving downward, until his feet touched the ground. He folded down, panting, until his knees hit the asphalt.

“Stop this, you hear me?” He felt like an idiot, talking to a parasite, but its actions were calculated and subtle like a person’s.

Rex wouldn’t go as far as to kill him, he hoped. He was the host and Rex needed him. Sometimes, though, he wondered if Rex might make a mistake and end both their lives. Nobody was perfect, not even the king of parasites.

Besides, if it had released its offspring or whatever it was in the water, then what did Rex need him for? It was a sobering thought.

One hand against the wall, soaked in sweat, he got to his feet. It finally hit him how bad the situation was. When he’d fled Ost, he’d been shot, true, but at least he had money, his gun, and a simple goal: Find Kalaes Ster. He even had Kalaes’ address.

Now he had no money, no gun, and no clue where Kalaes was.
Damn
.

He straightened and scanned the alley. A stray dog padded along one wall, sniffing his way. A street urchin scuttled away to hide behind a green dumpster. Street kids probably kept tabs on everything that went on in the town. Maybe this one could help.

Mind made up, not giving Rex a chance to react, he took off at a sprint. The child squealed, uncoiled from its spot behind the dumpster and shot like a bullet to the left. Cursing, Elei made a grab for the child and missed. His head buzzed, and warning jolts went through his body.

Screw you, Rex
.

He accelerated, booted feet hitting the asphalt hard, eyes narrowing as he marked the kid’s path. He gripped the kid’s arm and pulled, bringing them both down. The impact jarred his leg and he rolled onto his back, managing to hold onto the thin arm he’d grabbed.

“You’re hurting me,” muttered the child, a girl, eyes wide, blood oozing from a scrape on her cheek. She sat up, trying to tug her arm free. “What do you want?”

For a moment Elei had to close his eyes, dizzy, his memory overlaying the image with Poena — the dead girl who’d visited his dreams before.

She tried to pry his fingers open with her free hand. He tightened his grip, wrenching a small whimper from her throat. Her eyes were a light blue, her hair black like Kalaes’. He took a deep breath.
Not Poena
.

“I need your help.” He sat up. “I’m looking for my friends. A tall woman with long dark hair, and a guy with spiky hair and two small braids.” He met her fearful gaze and forced a smile on his lips. “Please. Ask around, ask your friends in the alleys if they’ve seen them. I need to know they’re okay and where to find them.”

She relaxed slightly, her arm going lax in his hand. “What will you give me?”

Shit, what did he have to give? “If you find him, I’ll give you money. I swear.”

The girl squinted up, giving him a speculative look. “Why should I believe you?” She sniffed. “You come here in your fancy clothes and say you’ll pay me. You rich people have no idea what it’s like to live on the street, fe.”

Fancy clothes?
Startled, Elei glanced down at his borrowed clothes. He couldn’t deny they were clean and crisp, apart from a couple of smudges from the rusty ladders he’d climbed. “I’m not—”

“You don’t know what’s like not to eat for days,” she spat the words at him. “To be hungry and cold and afraid. And you want me to work for free?”

“But I said I’ll pay you,” he pointed out.

“Don’t you think I stink?” She raised her chin defiantly. “Like the trash I roll in?”

It sounded like a phrase she heard someone use and he winced in sympathy. “You don’t stink,” he lied.
At least not worse than I used to stink
.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, an adult imitation, but her gaze snagged on something. With a soft gasp, she raised her free hand toward his face. “What’s this?”

Elei reached up and touched his cheek — the roughness of the snakeskin. His fingers followed it down to his jawbone and he had to force himself to stop. “Telmion.”

Her eyes widened. “Why would you have telmion? You…” She tugged at his shirt. “And the marks on your neck?”

His hand trailed lower. “Another parasite.”

“And your eye…” Her eyes went round. “You’re one of us.”

Shaken, he released her and got up, wincing. “Yeah, I’m one of you.”
Of the street, of the trash and filth
. He tried to swallow but his throat was bone-dry. “Forget it, it’s okay. I’ll find them myself.”

“Wait.” She rose too. The top of her head barely reached his waist, and she tilted up her face to stare into his eyes. Hers were determined. “I’ll do it, I’ll ask around. Will I find you here later?”

Startled, he battled with himself, but that was probably the best way to do this. “Yeah.”

“What are their names?”

“Hera and Kalaes.”

All color drained from her face. “You’re the one,” she mumbled and backed away.

“The one what?” Desperate, he reached out for her again, but she slipped from his grasp like an eel. She didn’t run away, though, she merely looked over her shoulder and waved at him to follow.

“Where are you taking me, kid?” he asked as he limped after her.

The girl led him to the mouth of the alley and stopped. She pressed a small, grimy finger to her lips and he almost laughed. Did she think this was some sort of game?

“What is it?” He opened his mouth to ask again and she tugged at his hand, pulling him in the shadow of the wall. A large aircar was approaching, its engines rumbling. A booming voice sounded over a loudspeaker, setting Elei’s teeth on edge.

“Who’s that?”

“Gultur,” the girl said.

A woman’s voice thundered: “Come forth, Elei. We have your friend Kalaes at the hospital. If you do not come soon, we will end his life. Come out, Elei. We have your friend Kalaes...”

A wave of cold went through Elei, and he slid down the wall. He’d really hoped Kalaes hadn’t been at the hospital, or that he’d made it out in time. An image of Kalaes lying in a pool of blood flashed before his eyes. 

“It’s a lie,” he croaked. “They’re trying to lure me out.”

And Hera? Why hadn’t they mentioned her name? Hope kindled his thoughts. Perhaps they hadn’t caught her, or... Oh gods, what if they’d already killed her?

“Come with me.” She tugged on his arm and he got up and followed her, too dazed to pull free or ask where she was taking him.

Their descent into a dark tunnel brought him back to his senses and he jerked back, but they were already splashing through cold, ankle-deep water. The walls were bare concrete, a metal door opening into one side, perhaps an emergency exit. The girl only towed him onward until they stepped out into the light, and then she hustled him behind a telespeak cabin.

“Look,” she whispered, “look at the screen.”

There was a large square on the other side of the avenue. A monument to the Gultur victory disgraced its center, a massive black monstrosity depicting a visored Gultur stepping on the body of a man. But that was not what made him shudder so hard his teeth rattled.

Mounted on a building behind the square was a giant screen, and a short footage played in a loop. Elei stared, his hands curling into fists.
Gods, Kalaes
.

On screen, three Gultur held him as he struggled, shouting and cursing, hair wilder than usual, eyes huge with fear. Blood spattered his face. Then another Gultur approached and backhanded him, splitting his lip. She snatched the medallion hanging around his neck and ripped it off. She raised it before the camera.

The medallion depicting the Seven Islands.

Elei’s heart raced, his stomach roiled. There was an acid taste in his mouth. “I have to save him,” he whispered, his mind blank. “How can I save him?”

The girl’s bony fingers dug into his wrist but he barely felt them. “Follow me.” Without another word, she pointed to another side street, and he resisted briefly, trying to catch another glimpse of the screen.

“You saw it,” she muttered sharply and pulled again on his wrist. “Come.”

“Where are you taking me?”

But he followed her into a narrow side street with the starchy smell of fried blue algae and the sharp stench of dog piss, walking as if in a dream. She drew him into a dark corner and pushed him down. He groaned as he let himself sink to the cold pavement.

She squatted before him, hands on her knees over her threadbare blue pants. Her small, bare feet were callused and black with dirt. “I’m Afia. And you’re Elei.”