“I know.” Sacmis glanced over her shoulder at Mantis who sat in one of the back seats, his gun in his lap. A transparent mask covered his nose and mouth. Hera noted he looked pale.
“Is it the gas?” Hera sniffed. “I assume it’s odorless.”
“Maybe. Here’s your mask.”
Hera put it on. “Do you think it will do any good?”
Sacmis pulled hers on and adjusted the straps. “They’re cheap masks he probably grabbed from the hospital as we ran. They filter the air but I do not know if they can keep the gas out.” Her voice came muffled. “Nothing to do but try.”
“You seem to know more about these swamps than the rest of us.” The light reflected on the mask and teased Hera’s vision. It was damn uncomfortable. “And you look very relaxed for someone going to her death. What else do you know?”
Sacmis shrugged. “It’s all rumors. I do not know what’s true and what’s fantasy.”
“Sacmis...” Hera swallowed an exasperated sigh. “You promised not to keep things from me.”
“And you promised to trust me.” Sacmis scowled, which looked odd with the mask distorting her features.
“I do trust you. But I want to hear your thoughts.”
Sacmis stilled, then moved to check the thrusters, the fuel indicator. Stalling. Hera waited. Not much else she could do except grab Sacmis by the throat and demand the information, but of course she could not do that, no matter how loudly Regina groused inside her about unknown factors and distrust.
She trusted Sacmis. With all her heart.
“There has been no official investigation on the gas,” Sacmis said, her voice low. “The only information we have comes from tales told by mortals in the area.”
Hera nodded, wondering why Sacmis was practically whispering. “And?”
“And as Mantis said, the noxious gases seem to knock people and animals out, so they drown in the shallow water.”
Hera glanced at the water surrounding them, imagining corpses below the shiny surface. Beautiful and treacherous indeed. She shivered. “But there’s something on your mind, right? I know that smug smile.”
Sacmis pitched her voice even lower, so Hera barely heard her. “There’s no account of a Gultur succumbing to the gas. It might be that you and I at least can make it through.”
Ice gripped Hera’s spine and she glanced back at Mantis who seemed to be dozing, his blond head propped back against the seat. Dozing or passed out?
Oh gods. A sting in her eyes, in her heart, like a thorn. She could not get the image of him as the young boy out of her mind — as she’d met him years back in Artemisia, fearless and yet courteous, determined and proud.
“Hera?” Sacmis laid a hand on her leg. “I know it is not good news, but...”
“The important thing is to remove the machine and march on Dakru City,” Hera heard herself say, even though her ears rang and drawing breath was near impossible. “That’s what we came for.”
Even though the thought of losing Mantis was like a blade in her chest. This was not about her, or Sacmis. Not about her feelings or weaknesses.
This was about the world, and she’d already accepted she might have to give her life for it, as had they all.
We are Dakru’s last frigging hope.
***
It was cold. The trashlands of Ost stretched far. The tall buildings of Sestos, the capital, rose high, grazing the sky and lining the horizon. Clouds floated overhead. The air was crisp and clean, smelling of burnt sugar, not the sourness of rotting garbage.
Odd, that.
Elei was walking among the mounts of trash, hands in his pockets, stuck there. He couldn’t take them out, and he felt a little trapped, but not enough to care. He knew this place. It was home.
Albi walked by his side, white hair hanging lank in her eyes, her mouth drawn in a tight line. That worried him, but she walked with a purpose and he could only follow, as always. She was his mother. She knew everything there was to know in the world, and would keep him safe.
Dogs barked in the distance, the sound jolting him. He missed a step but recovered. They were distant. No danger. No need to keep them away from the body.
He frowned. What body?
The air swirled, darkness battering him like a gale, and he was kneeling on a sea cliff, a rusty knife in his hand, the dogs snapping at him, bloody froth dripping from their jowls, and he jerked, his heart banging.
“It’s Poena,” Albi’s voice said in his ear, and when he turned she saw her face was a grinning skull. “She’s dead.”
His chest ached and he bowed his head, finally seeing the body of the girl laid out before him, covered in a blanket. The wind tugged at the cloth, revealing her face. Ash-blond hair framed the fine features instead of dark, and when her eyes flew open, they were golden and cat-like.
Alendra. She was dead.
With a gasp, he jerked awake, Rex hammering inside his head. Sweet scent told him Gultur were close by. He lay panting, blinking through blurry eyes at the dim interior of what had to be an aircar. A jolt confirmed it. They were moving. Because...
Because what? He remembered meeting the gang leaders, Iliathan studying his screen, Alendra running in the streets, Kalaes waving... And then?
What in the hells had happened?
He lay on his side, face mashed into the hard floor, and he couldn’t feel his limbs. He tried to move them but restraints bit into his wrists and ankles.
Tied. This was bad. There had been a fight, he recalled, and his jaw throbbed as if triggered by the memory. He’d been hit on the head.
Taken by the Gultur.
Rex rose with a vengeance inside him, making everything pulse and glimmer. Dammit, not now. He blinked and blinked, struggling to control his breathing. At this rate he’d hyperventilate and pass out before he did anything. And wouldn’t that be just pissing great.
“He’s awake,” a woman’s voice said from behind him and he tried to roll over. Found he couldn’t.
Shit.
“We have the blood sample, senet,” another female voice said. “I do not think we need him any longer. Should we terminate him?”
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 s
hould 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.
Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles) Page 11