Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (38 page)

“Elei.” He blinked at Hera’s voice and looked up. She leaned over the rail, a hand reaching down. “Come. Give me the walking stick first.”

Ridiculously relieved, he lifted it for her to take. With both hands freed, he managed to haul himself up to the next rung, but when he tried to use his injured leg, a vicious stab of pain stole his breath.

“Elei!”

He blinked dazedly and gulped in air. Nausea stirred his stomach and shimmering spots danced in his eyes. The effect was kinda pretty, even if he did feel like throwing up. “What?”

“Hang on,” another voice said.

Alendra?

Hera’s strong hand clasped his in a bone-grinding hold and she pulled just as he let go of the ladder and caught Alendra’s smaller hand. Suddenly he was hanging in the air and he jerked, like a fish caught on the line. The cat growled, reminding Elei of its presence, and dug its claws deep into Elei’s shoulder, slicing into his skin. He twisted, surprised.

“Stop moving,” Alendra hissed and her hand tightened.

The cat tensed and leaped up the ladder and onto the deck. A moment later, its tiny black face peered down at him.

Bastard
.

Together, Hera and Alendra pulled him up, inch by inch, until his arms felt about to pop out of their sockets. Swaying, he had to close his eyes against the dizziness. He snapped them open again when he reached the deck. He sprawled there, struggling for breath. Then he heard steps. A man hurried toward them, a hazy form, and for a mind-faltering moment Elei thought it was Kalaes. But it was the elderly man from the garage. He grabbed Elei under the arms and lifted him to stand.

The pain returned, like blades slicing into his leg, and he sagged in the man’s hold. More hands grabbed him, supported him and dragged him into the passenger cabin. Shaking off the daze, he managed to get his feet under him as they crossed to the seats.

Kalaes sat there, fingers buried in his dark hair, eyes scrunched shut. He looked up as Elei sank in the seat next to him, and a spark jumped in his gaze. He cocked his head to the side, his braids draping over his cheek.

“Zag?” he whispered.

Elei’s heart boomed painfully. “I told you, I’m not Zag.” He groaned as he straightened his leg. “Who the hells is he?”

Kalaes jerked back, eyes wide, and his hands scrabbled against the
nepheline
seat. Sweat rolled down his temples.

“Hera, you need to get moving,” said the old man, tearing Elei’s attention from Kalaes. “Will you be all right?”

“We’ll be fine,” Hera said with grim finality and turned toward the cockpit. “Thank you.”

“Be careful.” The man stroked his scraggly beard. “Don’t stop anywhere on the way and hurry before the blockades are back.”

And with that, he left, exiting onto the aircar deck. The other two entered the cockpit, Alendra not even looking Elei’s way.

Which was just fine by him. Really, it was.

He turned round. “Kal?” There had to be a way to make Kalaes see him. “You’re okay now.” He forced his voice to be strong. “We’re fine. We’re safe.”

Kalaes shook his head and looked down. “They’ve taken them. They’re dead, and I can’t...” He shivered. “I can’t help them. And then the others were gone, too, and I couldn’t get there, I couldn’t pissing move.” His teeth ground together and the words came out distorted. “I swore to protect them, and I couldn’t. They died, fe. I should’ve been the one they took, not them! I should’ve died so they could live.” He banged his fist against the window. “Pissing gods in the deep, I can’t do this anymore!”

Shit
. Elei grabbed Kalaes’ arm, dug his fingers in. “Nobody’s dead. We’re all fine. Listen to me. We’re fine.”

That seemed to break through whatever else Kalaes had been seeing and he looked down at Elei’s hand clamped around his forearm. “You...” He glanced up, then back down at the hand. “You’re...”

“What is it?”

Kalaes shook his head, his cheeks white. “You’re dead.”

A knot lodged in Elei’s throat. He released Kalaes’ arm, dropped his hand. “I’m alive, Kal, and that’s only thanks to you.”

In the echoing, spreading silence, Kalaes shifted and the creak of his seat sounded like thunder.

“Elei?” he whispered.

Elei glanced up, not daring to hope. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Kalaes’ gaze was fixed on him, his brows drawn in a deep frown as if he was trying to figure out a riddle. “Dammit, fe, you’re alive? I saw you die, I saw you get shot, shot in the head, and your head exploded and... I’m telling you.” He took a shaky breath. “You were dead.”

Elei’s head pounded.
Pissing drugs. Pissing Gultur
. “Well then, I must be haunting you, I guess.”

Kalaes swallowed hard, the knot in his throat bobbing. “No pissing way, fe. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

That sounded more like Kalaes, much to Elei’s relief. “Good. I don’t either.”

Kalaes tugged on his blood-stiffened braids. “I feel like someone ran me over with a truck. And I still can’t believe...” He looked at Elei out of the corner of one dark eye. “How do I know you’re real? I’ve seen the walls breathe, fe, people change into animals, I’ve seen people I thought dead, and others die when they’re alive. I saw Zag, they’d beaten him bloody, and then...” His eyes darkened.

“I’m real,” Elei said. “Hells, I’m solid.” He placed his hand on Kalaes’ arm, but this time Kalaes flinched and Elei pulled back, feeling sick.

Kalaes hunched over, trembling. Bruises marked his wrists, dark, almost black in the faint light from the phosphorescent lines on the ceiling. The bruise on his jaw matched similar ones on his neck, and purple fingerprints circled his throat like a necklace. At least the swelling in his jaw was going down.

All my fault
.

“Here,” Elei whispered, lifting off the medallion hanging around his neck. “I got this back for you.”

Kalaes’ eyes narrowed and he reached out in a slow, hesitant movement to take it. His fingers wrapped around the circular pendant and he drew it to his chest, cradling it.

“Is it Zag’s?” Elei asked.

Kalaes shook his head and pressed his lips together, his breath coming in short gasps. “Leave me alone.”

Elei’s throat closed. “Fine. Just tell me...” He swallowed hard. “Who is he?”

Kalaes didn’t look at him. He clenched his fingers around the pendant until his knuckles turned white and said, “My little brother.”

Chapter
Ten

T
he metal gates
grated open, an inch at a time, and the aircar backed out into the street. Elei stared at the gray buildings, his heart heavy. He shifted uncomfortably, the bandages sticking to his wounds. Yet the worst was the endless churning in his mind, the little snarky voice snickering at his fears.

Kalaes had a brother. He didn’t need another.

“Shut up,” he muttered to himself, resting his forehead against the cool window pane. He stretched out his leg again, trying to find a comfortable position. The aircar hovered, then it moved down the street, its engine humming. They turned into another avenue and weaved among the other vehicles. It was late night and the streets of Teos were half empty. They drove past multi-story buildings with lit windows and squat warehouses, all dark and shuttered. The half moon was high up in the sky, shiny and curving over the rooftops like a knife.

The cat wandered in and jumped on the seat, then curled in Elei’s lap, a warm cushion of fur. Elei wondered if he was supposed to pet it. The black fur looked clean and shiny. Maybe the little cat was healthy. Probably much healthier than Elei himself. He reached down and stroked the flat head. The cat purred.

It was quiet. Kalaes was a brooding presence to his left. Elei forced himself to look away.

Kalaes had Zag, and he was probably someone who laughed a lot, led a normal life and didn’t spread parasites and death at every step.

Death
. Images of torn limbs flashed before his eyes. Bullets and grenades.
Gods
. He gripped the window frame and stared outside to distract himself. They were moving south, leaving the town center behind. The buildings gave way to low houses and deserted roads. The mountains cut a blacker outline against the night sky and towns flickered with lights on their slopes.

Leaving Teos.
Jek and Afia
. He had to find a way to help the street kids.
And Kalaes
. Breaking him out of the hospital had obviously not been enough. He had to do something about that, had to make sure Kalaes found his brother, that he went back home. Even if it was without Elei.

The thought sent a pang through his middle. Hells, had Kalaes ever said he’d take Elei home with him? Maybe that had been a drugged dream.

The aircar moved at a sedate pace, not to raise suspicions, heading to the intercity road. Hera’s driving was smooth and confident. He wondered if all Gultur did everything perfectly.

Maybe they
were
a higher race.

He grimaced and chanced another glance at Kalaes who sat facing the opposite way, staring out of the window. He’d hung the medallion around his neck and was fiddling with it. His shoulders were stiff and Elei wondered if it was physical pain.

Elei returned his gaze to the landscape, staring at it blindly. The last houses rolled by, and the road unfolded among empty fields and blue algae ponds. Fog was gathering, hovering above the ground in white clouds. Soon it would roll across the road and they would move through it like ghosts.

They accelerated, racing down the road toward the south. He wondered where the safe house was. His thoughts ran thick like mud. Exhaustion was finally gaining on him. The faint humming of the engine was lulling him to sleep. His eyes closed.

He saw Pelia’s face. He didn’t remember her wrinkles so deep, like scars. She held a gun in her hand — his Rasmus. She raised it, offering it to him grip first, and he took it. It was bigger than he remembered, and beautiful, covered in curling and geometrical designs, black on copper yellow.

“What is it for?” he asked and she laughed. He smiled then, her laughter a soft caress on his face.

“It’s a gift,” she said.

“I know that.” It was for his birthday. That’s what she’s said, an excuse to give him something to use for his protection on the streets.

“It shoots bullets,” she said seriously, her eyes pleading with him to understand something — but what?

“Okay.” He raised the gun and touched the trigger with his finger. He aimed at her chest. “Is this what you want me to do?”

As she nodded, he fired. The impact threw her backward and blood sprang on her white blouse. Suddenly, dismembered bodies sprang around them, severed limbs and a sea of blood. Terror filled him, rattled his bones and teeth. He fell to Pelia’s side, gasping.

“Why?” he whispered. “What do you want from me?” All the pain of her loss was there, worse than ever, a blunt knife twisting in his chest. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Blood bubbled from her lips. “This isn’t over. It’s only the start.”

“Please, stay.” He fought down tears. “Please.” He couldn’t live without her.

“Bring them down.” Pelia held his gaze. “Find what they’re hiding from you, find the source.”

“The source of what?”

She raised a hand to his cheek and the tender gesture broke him. A sob tore through his throat as he leaned into her warmth.

“The gun,” she whispered. “The gun is the key.”

“The key?” He could barely push the words out, another sob wracking his chest. “For what?”

‘The gun.’
“Follow the lines. Find the truth and bring the regime down.”
‘The gun is the key.’

Something warm and rough and wet swiped his cheek. Then again. He blinked through blurry eyes and Pelia’s face cracked and broke. He reached out for her but she was already falling to dust.

He was inside the aircar. Pelia — was gone, the gore and blood gone, and he held nothing in his hand. The gun had vanished, too.

The cat stopped licking his cheek, licking his tears, he realized, mortified, and he wiped his face with his hands. Outside, early dawn spilled pallid gray into the black sky.

He hadn’t shot Pelia, dammit. Why did his mind have to play such dirty tricks? He’d killed and hurt enough people—

Was that it? What the dream tried to tell him? Depression clung on him like a dirty film.
My gun
. He needed to touch it, to hold it, Pelia’s voice whispering inside his head.
Bring them down
. Had Pelia ever spoken those words? Was it a memory or just a dream?

The key
. Afia had said that too, back in Teos.
When you need an army...

He pushed himself upright and grabbed his walking stick. A glance at Kalaes showed him only a black-clad back, no signs whether he was awake or asleep. Leaning on his cane, Elei hobbled over to the cockpit door and pushed it open.

Hera looked up from the control panel. Pale light from the windbreaker silvered her profile and her loose hair. “How is Kalaes?”

Elei glanced at Alendra. She kept her back to him, her long ponytail catching rays of light like molten metal. “Better. He’s better.”
I think
. “Where’s my gun?”

Alendra huffed. “I don’t see why you cling to this old thing.” She fished the Rasmus from a bag at her feet and thrust it at him, letting it dangle from her fingers, not even looking his way.

A sneer curled his lips as he took it. “Remember to disinfect your hands afterward.”

Her back stiffened and she threw him a sideways glance full of venom. “Don’t worry, I will. You haven’t answered my question.”

Gods, the girl hated him. “It’s none of your business,” he bit out the words, and caught a surprised look from Hera.

“Is there a problem?” Hera’s gaze flicked to Alendra and back to Elei, dark and ominous.

“Ask her.”

“What is it, Ale?” Hera’s face was drawn, not surprising if she’d been driving all night. It seemed even the Gultur could hit a limit.

“No clue what he’s talking about,” Alendra said quietly and pulled her ponytail over one shoulder to toy with her hair.

He supposed he had been snide the last time they’d talked. But she hadn’t been much nicer, either.

Hera sighed. She nodded at the road ahead and leaned forward to adjust their course. “We are not out of danger yet.”

Elei holstered his gun, vowing to check it over once he was alone. He probably shouldn’t place so much importance on a dream, but he had nothing to lose. “Hera, let me drive, you need to rest.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Will you tell me where we’re heading?” The mountains were now to their right. He frowned. “We’re heading to Dakru City?”

“Soon we’ll turn off the road, direction west. When things calm down, we can head out to the coast again and get a boat to another island.”

But that wasn’t the solution. What he’d done — spilling his blood in the water — hadn’t been enough. His dreams obviously threw back his own thoughts at him, his deepest fears. He’d disorganized the Gultur, but they still had control of the Seven Islands. How could he take it away from them? Afia had mentioned an army.

An army. To take down the Gultur
. “You still think leaving is the best plan?” he asked.

A faint blush rose to Hera’s cheeks. Her blood pumped under her translucent skin, and her scent of sweet fruit made his mouth water.

“Right now we cannot do much else,” she said and he struggled to hear her over the rushing of blood in his ears. “Everywhere on Dakru, the Gultur have army stationed, but on the northern islands their presence is minimal. I will take you there, find you a place to stay.”

“We can’t run and hide forever.” He could see buildings rise in the distance and wondered if that was the small town Hera had mentioned. “Can you?”

“So what do you suggest?” Hera’s eyes seemed to catch fire.

But he shook his head and said nothing. He didn’t have any suggestions yet.

“I guess you would march into Dakru City, like you did in that hospital, and slaughter them all,” Alendra said, her voice low and sharp like a blade. “A final solution to the problem of the Gultur.”

With a wince, he turned toward her and to his surprise found her gaze locked on him, her limpid eyes yellow like a cat’s.

Then her words sank in, and the sound of grenades exploding filled his ears. He saw the severed limbs and the sea of blood rising, and he knew he was going to lose his dinner — or lunch or whatever it’d been. He spun around and hobbled blindly out of the cockpit toward the deck door, his stick thumping madly on the floor. He heard Kalaes’ seat creak but all his focus was on getting out. With a push, he opened the door to the fresh air and stepped onto the deck, taking deep gulps, willing the nausea down. He reached the rail and leaned against it, watching the dark fields roll by.

“Elei!” Hera hurried out onto the deck and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

He just shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Listen to me.” She touched his cheek and he was back in the dream, with Pelia’s soft voice in his ears.

He heaved a silent sigh. “What?”

“Look at me.”

Her eyes shone, mirroring the early morning light. Her long dark hair fluttered in smooth ribbons around her small face.

“You did good,” she said, her voice softening, although her lips twisted briefly into a grimace. “You did what you had to do. Killing to save Kalaes. Nobody can blame you for that.”

Except myself
, he thought, but he nodded, accepting the small comfort.

***

Leaving Elei outside, on the wind-swept deck, Hera headed back into the passenger cabin, rubbing her middle and waiting for the pain to fade. Her thoughts spiraled down. Regina was reacting — but to what? The only thing she’d done was check on Elei, show her concern and—

Oh gods
. Hera groaned. Her Maturation Day was approaching. Regina was getting stronger and Regina hated mortals. Could that be the reason for the pain? Was Regina going to force her to hurt them?

Taking the free seat next to Kalaes, she glared at the slight tremble in her hands.
Fear
. She was not accustomed to the feeling, and even identifying it did not make her feel better.

I will not hurt them. I refuse.