Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles) (13 page)

Rex screeched in Elei’s head and sweat ran down his face, scalding hot. Zoe’s voice from a memory said,
‘They want Elei.’

They want Rex.

But they hadn’t mentioned Kalaes or Alendra. Chances were, his friends hadn’t been caught. The plan would be set in motion. And they wouldn’t be able to figure Rex out in one night, and by tomorrow everything might change.

He only needed to escape.

Piece of cake.
He almost laughed.

The Gultur scent wound around his senses, cloying sweet, Regina’s smell, and Rex jolted him, sending pain down his spine to get him to move.

He ground his teeth, fighting it. Blood flowed faster in his veins with every bruising beat of his heart, and the numbness receded, leaving in its wake blinding pain.

Move
, Rex screamed inside his skull, using his voice,
kill them all.

Not yet.
He was bound, dammit. Could he break those bonds? A metallic jingle when he moved his hands told him these were steel manacles. The Gultur weren’t taking any chances.

Kill them.
Rex sent another jolt through his heart, raising his pulse until it rang in his ears.
Kill them now and flee.

How?
Tied up, no weapons, no cats to provide distraction, no friends.
Alone.
And oh shit, fear was all Rex needed to kick it up a notch, howling in his head, making his body shake.

“Is he having a seizure?” the cool, disdainful female voice said, closer than before, barely audible through the gale in his ears.

“It might save us the trouble of terminating him.”

“
Gwen Kheret
wants him alive. She says we drive past headquarters and pick her up, she wants to meet him.”

“We should kill him now.”

“Are you afraid?” The woman’s voice turned soft and mocking. “Because he’s Rex? Look at him. Just a
kheret
, a puny child.”

“Tell that to all those he’s killed,” the other said and she had a point.

Never been a child. Too late for that.

Elei focused on their voices, trying to breathe through his mouth, not to smell them. Be afraid of me. I’ve killed many of your kind, and Rex even more, so you’d be stupid to let your guard down. One mistake and I’ll take you out and be gone.

He pressed his cheek to the floor, bit his lip. Wasn’t sure if those were his thoughts or Rex’s, wasn’t sure what he felt — terror, panic, anger, glee. The clashing emotions tore him up, hurled him into the storm and he didn’t know what he thought, what he felt, who he was.

He was Rex, they’d said so. Alendra would never forgive him if he died now, and Kalaes would feel guilty. He wasn’t sure that made any sense, but who cared? Better alive than sane. Or something like that.

They’d make a mistake. Stopping to pick this
Gwen Kheret
up could be his chance. He’d be ready.

***

Elei’s muscles tensed as the aircar halted for the third time, but it was yet another blockade or ceremony. He was getting lightheaded. His heart wouldn’t slow, his breathing wouldn’t settle and deepen.

Pissing hells.
He only hoped Rex wouldn’t kill him before he had a chance to break free.

The aircar set off again, the movement jostling him, sending fire down his back. Spikes drove into the muscles in his arms and legs even as the thrum of Rex rolled in his body.

Images from his dream danced before his eyes —
Albi, Poena, Alendra
— and he shook his head to dislodge them. Alendra wasn’t Poena, she’d never been on Ost, and the last he knew she was still alive.

Damn his mind for playing such tricks.

The aircar slowed, engines whirring, and ground to a halt. The door hissed open and he tensed. Voices sounded outside and the vehicle rocked as someone came up the ladder.

“Welcome aboard,” the Gultur behind him said and hands grabbed him, lifting him and slamming him against the metal wall.

A gasp tore from his throat. His back screamed in pain and his head swam as he slid down, his bound hands pressed into the wall. Darkness teased the edges of his vision and he blinked furiously to clear it. His hair fell in his eyes and he wished he could push it back.

Then someone came to stand before him — slim legs encased in a gray Gultur uniform, a narrow waist. The woman lowered herself on her haunches and peered at him with large, dark eyes. Soft curls framed her pretty face and a tattoo of two black dots marked her chin.

Okay, they must’ve hit his head harder than he’d thought. He couldn’t be seeing... “M... Maera?”

“Hi, Elei.” She smiled and her smell confused him — a whiff of moist earth, the scent he remembered, but also sugary sweetness.

Hadn’t he killed her? He shook his head, and that was a bad idea because nausea roiled in his stomach and threatened to send his breakfast —
or dinner?
— back up.

No, she wasn’t dead. His mind was fuzzy, but he remembered seeing her on Mantis’ datarod back in Calydon. She was a member of the corrupt council of the resistance.

 
Shit.
And here he’d been thinking this day couldn’t get any worse.

“I was sure you’d be dead by now,” Maera said, her voice conversational and pleasant. “But you always surprise me, don’t you?

He eyed her, in too much shock to speak. He took her by surprise? Was she kidding him? Even Rex was so stunned the pulsing colors had faded, allowing him to see her in every pissing detail.

Like the small, jewel-like scales glinting on her cheeks.

Hells.
“You... How did...?” He couldn’t decide what he wanted to say or ask, finally settling for, “Are you mad?”

Because it would explain a couple of things.

She lifted her fingers to her cheek. “This? They converted me. I’m a Gultur now.”

Not an answer to his question, although maybe it was, and it accounted for her mixed scent. Mortals didn’t survive Regina. Hera had said it, so how in the hells did this happen?

Maybe he’d made a questioning sound, because Maera cocked her head to the side, regarding him.

“Regina in its pure form can kill us, but this is a weaker manifestation.” She winked. “And it likes women.”

Sweat stung Elei’s eyes. He wanted to wipe it, wanted to get out of there, wanted to shut her up. His hands jerked in the shackles and his breath hissed out.

“If you’re alive, I’m guessing Kalaes is alive, too?” she asked and he should have seen it coming.

“Is this why you wanted to see me?”

She looked away, cheeks reddening.

Pissing gods, did she want him to believe she still cared for Kalaes? “You almost killed him.”

“Almost. But I didn’t.” She swallowed. “Just tell me where he is. I need to speak to him. I need to explain.”

He laughed, and his ribs hurt. Gods, she was so convincing.
A great act
. If he hadn’t been there when she’d pressed the metal into Kalaes’ throat...  “I thought I was crazy, but you beat me hands down.”

The two Gultur flanking him took a step closer, longguns pointing at him.

“You don’t believe me.” Again the soft, hurt tone. “We have all the information we need, and we have you. I just want to talk to him.”

And it didn’t matter if he did or didn’t. “I don’t know where Kalaes is.” It was the damn truth. He had to be somewhere on the way to the meeting point and Elei would be damned before he’d say anything else. Curiosity nagged at him, though. “The information. You got it from Iliathan and Mitt?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Who’s Iliathan?”

Confusing.
But she hadn’t denied knowing Mitt.

“Kalaes cares for me,” she said. “I know he still does.”

And that brought the fury back, because she’d been that close to severing Kalaes’ jugular right outside Bone Tower, so close to killing him, and why was he talking to her anyway? “Damn you.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?” She chuckled. “If you move, they’ll shoot you like a dog, and there are many more outside. You got caught, Elei.”

The colors were blinding, her chest a darker orange, the sweetness of her scent subtle but still enough to drive Rex into a frenzy. Did she think he cared if they shot him? He only wanted to get her out of his face.

Ready for me?

He uncoiled like a spring, bound feet kicking up, catching her in the side, sending her sprawling. A shot rang, deafening, leaving his ears ringing, and he threw himself in the other direction, knocking into one of the Gultur. A bullet zinged past his ear, ricocheting off the wall.

His heart pounded fit to burst through his chest. He gritted his teeth and drew his hands apart, muscles burning in his neck and back, pain flaring along his shoulder blades, harder and harder, until the chain binding the manacles snapped and he slammed into the floor.

The breath went out of him.

A snick sounded — a bullet entering a chamber — and he rolled, as round after round hit the floor and walls. A jerk of his legs and the chain of his ankle shackles broke.

How in the hells had he done that?

Oh right. Rex.

Surging to his feet, he bowled over the Gultur who was coming through the door, throwing her off the aircar. He slid over the deck, glimpsing a mass of Gultur down in the street, gathered around the one who’d fallen.

He jumped.

Crappy idea
, he thought as he dropped, but climbing wasn’t an option. He fell on a Gultur, sent her crashing into another, and rolled, hitting the asphalt hard with his shoulder.

Stars danced around his head.
Pretty.
Feeling returned, and his shoulder and arm hurt like blazes.

Up. Get up.

It took two tries to get his legs under him, and then he reeled like a drunk, catching a glimpse of guns lifting toward him, cool blue of metal held in hands of sparkling gold.

Too close to go off the radar, to mimic their smell or lose his heat signature. Did Rex have anything up its sleeve or should he run and be shot in the back? Telmion had stopped one bullet — could it stop a hundred?

No time to think. He dropped as the first shot rang out, rolled and grabbed a Gultur’s legs, bringing her down. Her gun went off, a bullet grazing his shoulder, a glittering line of pain. He snatched the longgun out of her hand, hit her on the head, and opened fire.

They fired back. Deep inside he knew he was done for, but he let the gun drop and twisted sideways, covering his head.

That’s it then.

A bullet hit the snakeskin on his upper arm, another left a stinging line on his side, and then...

Nothing. No more bullets.

He lowered his arms. He was kneeling on the street, three Gultur bodies strewn around him, and everyone’s attention had turned the other way.

Another vehicle had stopped in front of the dark building that had to be a police headquarters, and more Gultur spilled out, machine guns in their hands. Tall and graceful, dressed in the same gray uniforms, visors in place.
Another patrol?

Then the bullets started flying again and he dived under the hovering aircar. He laid his throbbing head on his arms, crouched as small as possible.
Gultur against Gultur?
The hells?

He had to admit, though, it was nice not to be the one shot at, for a change.

Chapter Nine

The gunshots had stopped. Elei knew because he could hear the sound of his thudding heart and Rex screeching inside his head. He never thought he’d be glad of it.

In the quiet, he was all too aware of the huge vehicle hovering just an inch over his head. If someone set it down, it’d crush him like a bug.

Rex screeched harder, like nails dragging inside his skull, and Elei clapped his hands over his ears as if that could blot it out.

Now was a good time to make his escape. He peered from under the aircar just as two hands reached in and dragged him out into the open.

Gultur,
he thought, jaw clenched tight not to make a sound because, dammit, his whole body ached.

Caught again, and this time he wasn’t sure he could run; his knees were like rubber. He hung in the Gultur’s arms and waited to be shot, or at best punched into oblivion. Hells, at least it would stop the pain.

“Are you all right?” one of them said, her voice muffled behind the visor.

A dream?
Had to be.

“He’s hurt,” she said, and Elei’s eyes stung because he was. He was hurt and he’d failed to escape. Failed Kalaes, failed Alendra.

What a pissing disaster.

“Let’s get him off the street. You two, get rid of the bodies. We take both aircars.”

“Maera?” he whispered.

“
Gwen Kheret
has fled.” The Gultur pulled Elei’s arm over her shoulders, supporting him, and he wondered why, wondered how his leg held, then found another Gultur on his other side, steadying him.

“Rex,” she whispered, low and respectful, and guided him to the parked aircar.

Elei decided he had to be dreaming for sure, but with both arms slung over the Gulturs’ shoulders he couldn’t pinch himself. Which was annoying, since this was his dream, after all, but what in the hells. Might as well go along.

As long as he didn’t dream of the dead again. Surely he could manage that, at least.

He was hauled onto a small aircar with a ramp instead of a ladder, for which he was grateful, and then lowered to a
nepheline
seat. This assured him it was a dream, since he’d expected to be dumped on the floor and kicked to the hells.

The aircar revved up, rising off the ground, and lurched forward.

A hand on his chest kept him from falling over. Yeah, nice dream, though all the bruises and wounds flared with bright fire. Next he’d have to work on not feeling pain. Maybe there was an on/off switch somewhere.

He barely stifled his chuckle. Hoped he didn’t look completely mad. Then decided it didn’t matter. His dream, and all...

He could test this, nudge the dream in the right direction. “Do you have any water?”

When a glass was brought to him, he nodded.
Yeah.
Maybe he’d wake up in Artemisia, planning the attack, or even better, in Teos, or... Or on Ost, with Pelia. Maybe she’d never died.

He clutched the glass and sipped the water. When pills were pressed into his hands, he took them. Look at that, he’d even dreamed up painkillers.

Okay, final test.
“Kalaes and Alendra?”

“Let me have a look at your arm,” the Gultur said. “You’re bleeding.”

He snorted. If he couldn’t conjure Kalaes and Ale, then what good was it? He swallowed the rest of his water and gave back the glass, his arm protesting every movement. Dammit, still no on/off switch.

The Gultur sat by his side, her scent sweet but with an undercurrent he couldn’t place. He expected Rex to flip out, start screaming for him to kill her, pour adrenaline into his body.

Nothing happened. This couldn’t be real. Therefore, a dream. “Kalaes,” he said again, “Alendra,” and suddenly he needed to see them. This dream was creeping him out; had he ever met his friends or had he made them up?

Oh gods, he hoped they were real.

“They’re in another aircar,” the Gultur said, and Elei was so relieved he let her open his jacket and prod his side.

He winced when she peeled off his shirt. She made a disapproving sound at what had to be a bullet furrow, but he felt strangely numb. Kalaes and Alendra were in another aircar? What did that mean?

The world spun and he leaned back, staring at the white ceiling. “Dizzy,” he murmured.

“Rex,” the Gultur said, then grabbed his arms and shook him. “Stay awake.”

“How...?” His brain felt a size too big. “I’m dreaming.”

“You’re certainly not dreaming.” The Gultur lifted her visor, revealing blue eyes set in a pretty face, and gestured. Another Gultur approached them, removing her visor, too. “Strip the shirt, I’ll bring the medic-kit.”

With their help, he shrugged off the jacket and the shirt, gritting his teeth against new waves of pain. This dream sucked. The antiseptic stung like fire, and then the Gultur threaded a curved needle and set to stitching the wounds, which brought the dream closer to a nightmare.

Damn.

“You barely made it out alive.” Her dark head was bowed as she sewed his side. “We almost lost you.”

 “I don’t know you,” he felt obliged to point out, “and you’re a Gultur, so why...?” Damn, he really wanted the dream, the pain, the confusion to end.

“I’m Iset,” she said. “The painkillers will kick in soon.”

“Good,” he said, his voice slurring.
Right.
Maybe there was a sound quality button somewhere, too. He’d get to it after he found the pain switch.

That made him want to laugh again. Gods, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Enough,” he whispered.

“Listen to me,” the Gultur said, cutting the thread, winding gauze around his torso and securing it with adhesive tape. “You’re our brother, our king.” She looked up, her blue eyes bright. “We want peace. We’ll fight on your side.”

Shit, he was going mad.
Batshit
. And he couldn’t wake up. He clutched her arm. “You’re Gultur. What are you talking about?”

“We’re all human,” she said and pulled down her neckline. Around her slender throat was a line of black dots, and his hand went automatically to his own throat to touch the mark of Rex.

That was the scent — pepper spice, Rex’s smell, mixed with Regina’s sugar. This Gultur had been infected with Rex.

“I did this,” he said, his throat painfully tight.

She bowed her head and smiled. “Yes, you did.”

The new type of Gultur. He sat up carefully, bright pain flaring in the deep bruising in his back and arm. “And Kalaes—”

“We were following the patrol, saw when they took you. Saw you wave at someone so we decided to talk to them. We split up to find you. We contacted them and they’re on their way here.” She smiled at him. “We were looking for you, because we heard of your plan to attack tonight. We have vehicles and weapons at your disposal.”

He stared at his hand on her sleeve, letting this all sink in. He wasn’t dreaming? “How did you know?” he whispered. “How did you hear?”

“That,” the Gultur said, pretty caramel eyes flicking in the direction of the other Gultur who was talking to the driver through a window, “is Bestret. She’s Iliathan’s lover.”

***

He wasn’t dreaming. This wasn’t a dream. Elei kept repeating the new mantra as they sped through the western suburbs, his hand pressed against the cold window. The painkillers had kicked in, and he’d eaten a nutrition bar stuffed with sweet bush berries. Rex was happy — with the food, and with the two Gultur sitting by his side, checking their guns and talking in low voices about the best place to stop.

Sisters.
Elei scowled.
Yeah Rex, you can stop laughing now. Bastard.

“How many of you are there?” He was pretty sure he’d seen four or five come out of the vehicle when they’d arrived, but he’d been shot at and his head knocked about a lot. Maybe he’d been seeing double.

“We do not have the exact numbers,” Blue-eyes by the name of Iset said. “Here in Artemisia we are a force of thirty but more join us every day.”

That hadn’t been his question, but he nodded, glancing around the aircar. The compartment contained one row of seats, so he guessed that the partition behind them hid more.

“And you’ll help us tonight?” he asked. “With the attack?”

Iset rummaged through a box and pulled out a bottle of water. “We did not have much time to converse with your friends. We had not been planning an attack of any kind tonight, but it appears a battle is starting and our help could be instrumental.”

No arguing with that. “And you said Iliathan...” He glanced at the other Gultur, Bestret, who was busy cleaning her gun. “He didn’t betray us?”

 “He said he was going to tell you about us but did not have the time,” Bestret said, not looking up from her task.

Elei frowned. They’d had to leave him in a hurry, hadn’t they? His memories of those moments were a bit jumbled. He stared at Bestret and felt as if he was a thousand miles away. Maybe it was the painkillers. Without the pain, his body felt light, his head floating over it like a balloon, barely attached to him at all.

“Thank you,” he said. “For saving me.”

Iset smiled. “We’re only sorry we did not find you earlier, King.”

King.
Elei shifted uncomfortably on the seat.
Accept Rex
, Hera had said.
Well, screw her words of wisdom.

“I’m not your King,” he said. “You don’t need a King.”

What are you then? What are you really?

“What we need and what you are, these are different things,” Iset said.

Ah right.
Probably some deep philosophical shit or other. The aircar lurched to a stop before Elei had figured it out and he turned to look out of the window. A dark structure rose at the end of the street. “Where are we?”

“It’s an abandoned Regina temple on the road to Aerica.” Iset rose to open the aircar door.

Aerica.
Elei gave himself a tiny shake and got up, satisfied when his legs held.

The next moment he was thrown back down, his arms full of slender limbs, a scent of sea breeze enveloping him.

“Oh gods, I thought you were gone for good,” Alendra whispered, burying her face in his neck and holding on as if her life depended on it. Pain flickered up his side despite the pills, but he gathered her close, resting his cheek on her soft hair.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking.

“I don’t care if it’s only for today,” she whispered against his neck, making him shiver. “I don’t give a damn if this is all the time we have. I’m not wasting any more of it.”

He didn’t know what to say or think, so he breathed in her scent and waited for the burning of tears behind his brow to fade.

Then Kalaes stepped in, hair wild and eyes red-rimmed. He stood still for a long moment, mouth pressed shut.

Elei nudged Alendra off. “Kal?”

“You.” Kalaes jabbed a finger at him, jaw tight. “My hair’s turning gray. Soon I’ll look like I’m a hundred years old. See the wrinkles?”

Elei blinked. Kalaes was pissed, he could see that much. He looked ready to start punching people.

And Elei had seen that look before, knew what it meant. Wincing, he got to his feet. “Kal, this isn’t your fault.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, so stop beating yourself over the head for it. I got distracted and lost you. I’m not a kid.”

Kalaes swallowed. “So you always say.”

“I’m indestructible. You said so.”

“I’ve been known to make the occasional mistake. You don’t need to pissing test it.” Kalaes’ hands clenched and unclenched. “You’re okay, then? They said you were, but I couldn’t... Dammit, kid, why do you keep trying to get yourself killed?” He slung an arm over Elei’s shoulders and pulled him close, in a half-hug. “Do I have to put a leash on you?”

The hug was doing bad things to Elei’s bruised back and wounded side, but Elei didn’t care. “I don’t know. Collars chafe,” he muttered and that earned him a light cuff on the head. He grinned as he pulled back.