They were travelling on a well-worn, dirt trail. Snow lined most of the path. It contained muddied tracks and the occasional patch of grass. She knew it’d be easy to follow and she needed to run. “I’ll meet you at the halfway point? It’ll have picnic tables, right?”
Cheverly nodded. “Good luck, though. No one can get Betsy to go very fast. She’s kind of—”
Venus clicked her tongue again, pressed her knees harder and leaned further forward into the saddle. “Run girl.” Betsy took off like she’d been anxiously awaiting some action for a decade. After a few more clicks of the tongue, Venus didn’t need any more encouragement and ran faster. Venus put her head down next to Betsy’s; hoping the hat Chev lent her wouldn’t blow off.
Thankfully, it didn’t.
One thing she hadn’t considered was how out of breath she’d be by the time she reached the halfway point. Breathing heavily, she climbed off Betsy, patted her neck, loosened the horse’s saddle, tethered her to a rail, and headed toward a table. The ground was slick, though, and she fell onto her hands and knees.
“Cret!”
Like a fish out of water, she gasped, struggling to get enough air in her lungs. The quick breaths helped, until a tickle in her chest forced her to cough. And cough. Her body shook, whether from weakness or adrenaline, she didn’t know.
Blood misted the snow like spray paint, a reminder of her mortality. A reminder of how far from home she’d been taken. And, a reminder that she didn’t have much time. She closed her eyes against the truth. Didn’t want to face it. In fact, she wanted to lie down and curl into a ball. Pretend none of this was happening. She’d about decided too when the crunch crunch of footsteps interrupted. Probably Dervinias. Come to help, or, more likely, gloat.
“For someone who has people bow before her or die, you seem to spend a lot of time on the ground.”
How’d Michael get here?
Venus tried to stand. Of course, if she looked at the situation from his point of view, she understood his sarcasm. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been on the floor. “I—you’re right.” She tried to laugh it off, but coughed again. “It must be like opposite week or something.”
Embarrassed and frustrated, she scooped a handful of snow over the blood. On shaking limbs, she went to stand, but fell back onto all fours.
“Wretched! Infuriating! Cold, stuff,” she said through chattering teeth.
“What’s wrong with you?” Michael moved so that his booted feet were inches from her nose. Placing his hands under her arms, he helped her up.
“Now there’s a loaded question.” She laughed as she pushed him away.
He didn’t join in with her fake merriment, but grabbed a portion of his t-shirt, exposing leather-belted jeans, and a part of his hip bone and chiseled stomach.
She couldn’t help but notice a small line of dark hair that began under his belly button and disappeared into his pants. Flushing, she looked away. He hesitated a moment before he turned her face back to him. Using the t-shirt like a cloth, he gently dabbed her lips.
The sun etched his outline, making his eye lashes glow gold. His eyes were so intent on her lips, they quivered. Venus fought against the ache in her belly at his nearness. The Gods obviously picked the wrong kelarian for this job. “I just ran the horse too hard. All of the exercise—”
“And your excuse for yesterday?”
“Crazy red-head. She kicked me. Ringing any bells?” She pursed her lips.
He dropped his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. “I meant . . . forget it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Wobbly, like a colt on new legs, she started over to a table. “Chev should be here in a few—” She slipped, sailing backward into his outstretched arms.
“You’re a mess.” He wrapped his arms around her. Held her tight. For a second, she sank into him. Allowed herself to give in. Glazed pears. He smelled good enough to eat. To kiss . . . Her heart started beating faster.
What’s wrong with me? Why does his nearness affect me so much?
“Let me go,” Venus said, hoarsely. The words had come out with less harshness than she’d planned. To make up for the lack of severity, she turned and pushed his chest with her hands. She wanted him to fall back, show some weakness.
He remained upright and Venus fell against a table. He moved toward her, as though to help, but must’ve changed his mind.
“So tell me, your highness, how did you know my mother’s name?” The egotistical anger was back. That was better than concern, or worry, or . . . any of his other stunning looks.
“I think Cheverly or Dervinias told me.” Holding onto the table, she moved around and sat on the cold, snow-covered bench.
“Michael,” Cheverly called, cheerfully as she and Zaren rode up. “You made it.”
Zaren and Chev slid off their horses, tethered them and walked over to Venus and Michael.
“Hey Chev.” Michael waved slightly and then stuck his un-gloved hands in his pockets.
Venus scanned the area, unsure what she was searching for, but something felt off. The halfway point consisted of a hefty concrete slab surrounded on all sides by a two-railed wooden fence. Five picnic-styled tables were interspersed around a firepit. A fine layer of snow glazed the landscape like sparkling diamonds.
Venus peered up at the sky. It went on and on—a clear blue—without a cloud in sight. The smell of pine swirled on the wind. A horse whinnied. She looked in its direction and it wasn’t something but someone she searched for. There were five horses and only four of them.
“Michael. Is that horse yours?” She pointed at a tall, gray with dark freckles and knew it had to be his. Which meant Dervinias was missing. “Anyone see Der-Vinny?”
They turned in different directions to look for him. He wasn’t anywhere to be found.
“Cheese, the guy’s a nut. He probably rode further on. Or went back on a different trail. It wouldn’t be the first time.” She gave an indifferent shrug. “Who wants hot chocolate?”
31. Cult Of Personality
Dervinias walked determinedly down Michael’s street. When he reached the bus stop, he sat next to a nervous old woman. He gave her a smile. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”
“Oh, my dear, it sure is.”
He turned away, done with niceties. He had a lot to think about. The Humieri Project hadn’t been moving along as planned. Still, as a scientist, he continued his work—testing and reevaluating. Patience was the key in any scientific experiment. And he had time. An eternity.
His next live test would be to inject a female human with eggs fertilized by a combination of kelarian and human DNA. He’d already tried mating with human females. Though he didn’t mind the physical experience, the copulation proved lethal. Several had died during the process. One had become pregnant; at least he’d thought so, until a paternity test proved the child belonged to another human.
Over the last several months he’d made some headway. He knew he was close. And when he succeeded, he’d be a God. The author of a new race. Creator over a species that respected the gift of immortality. Humieri’s would be his masterpiece. Like an artist, he used humans as his canvas and the DNA of kelarians as his brushes.
Kelarians and their obedient worship of Ith and Aetha disgusted him and his followers. The blinded kels were like bees in a hive—working, mating, existing without question.
Immortality wasn’t to be given freely. Yet the unthinking kels received the ultimate endowment—and for what? Some were Discoverers, sure. Others were given the right to be Formytians. But immortality should only be awarded to leaders, those who’d proved themselves worthy of eternity.
Creating a new race would be the perfect solution, Earth and its similarities to Kelari, the perfect worldly candidate.
A kelarian/human hybrid—able to heal more quickly and live longer, as kels did, yet inhabited with the humanity the humans possessed. He’d chosen the girl—the vessel—the one who’d be
the mother to his new race. Cheverly.
The theory would be tested on her.
And then there was Michael’s mother. Whoa! She’d been a total surprise. He’d intended to kill her as a means of separating Venus and Michael. During the process, he’d discovered the woman had many, many secrets. Through her, he was able to see just how far reaching The Order’s tentacles went. Images of the crusty old Thomas Jefferson and his interest in Native Americans . . . There’d also been something to do with an illegitimate child . . . But the more juicy tidbits were blocked away from him. It’d been frustrating that, even with torture, he couldn’t break her. The skill had to be taught. He knew of one other kelvieri, before Zaren, who knew a human’s mind could be read and probed.
He had a feeling Catherine knew more about his planet and kelarians than any human he’d ever met. In fact, Dervinias had a feeling she knew more about him than most.
Her death left him with more questions than answers. Two pieces of information he was able to extract: The man Michael knew as his father was also the leader of A.L.T. and, on top of that, he wasn’t even his real father. Who his father was . . . he’d been unable to ascertain.
It seemed likely, though, that his hypothesis had already been tested and proven. What exactly was Michael?
He looked forward to finding out the truth.
It occurred to him that the Gods had specifically chosen Michael as the boy Venus had to help find love. They never commanded anything without a reason.
Yet, before Zaren contacted their Gods, Dervinias was sure no one outside his group knew The Order planned to kill Venus. But the Gods had taken the development—that Venus had been sent to Earth—and used it to their advantage. Or had they somehow instigated it? Were they behind the supposed screw-up? Why should they care about the boy?
It freaked him out to realize they might even know about The Order, and were using The Orders’ plans to perpetuate their own. That perhaps the Gods wanted her to succeed.
From the beginning he’d thought the idea of her helping a human find love preposterous. It was hardly a consequence at all. Real consequences for what she’d been accused of would’ve meant disowning her as a member of kelarian royalty, condemning her to spend eternity in Helker, or death.
Venus had to die! His life depended on it. As did his work.
The Order had determined she die because of a prophecy they’d uncovered years ago. It specified that a female warrior would destroy all who rebelled against the Gods, and restore peace to Kelari.
After his father spoke with The Ancient Witch, she revealed Venus as that warrior. And since his father believed he should be the only ruler of Kelari, he’d ordered Venus’ death. He’d sent his secret assassins, the Volshayers, out several times over the past sixteen years to kill her. They’d never succeeded.
It’d been thought they’d accomplished the task once, when Venus was seven, but the child had been the princess’s playmate.
In truth, he didn’t care one way or the other about the girl. She seemed like a valiant, cool kel. But killing Venus would allow him to continue his research without the interference of his father.
His cell rang.
Letting out a freezing breath, he pulled the phone from his front pants pocket and flipped it open. “This better be important.” He stood and sauntered away from the prying eyes and curious ears of the woman.
“Where the heck are you?”
“Calm down, Chev. I’m on my way back. No worries.”
“Hurry. Michael and the others are asking questions.” She hung up.
Dervinias closed the phone and placed it back in his pocket. The moon overhead twinkled, and though it wasn’t fully dark, with his immortal eyes, he could see millions of stars. Inhaling he searched for Kelari, knowing he wouldn’t find it. Still, he could see other colonized planets. Like Mars.
Humans believed the red planet was uninhabitable. If they only knew. The creatures were very exceptional at the art of deception. Other species only saw what Rhlanges wanted them to see. A whole world of intelligent beings existed if one knew how to see them. They’d even visited Earth. At one time, thousands of years ago, they’d wanted to assert the planet as their own. But the humans reminded them too much of cockroaches—annoying and hard to get rid of. So they decided against claiming the blue planet.
“Ah, well,” he sighed, glancing over at the heavy-set woman. Then he turned toward the street, where several black cars whipped by. A.L.T. had arrived. Right on time.
A large bus rumbled down the street and screeched to a stop. The lady hefted herself up, and onto the steps. She paused and looked back.
He smiled, frightening.
She dashed out of sight.
The bus driver yelled out, “You comin’ kid?”
“I’ll catch the next one.”
The doors closed. Dervinias watched the bus pull away.
With his hands in his pockets, he strolled down the street. Michael distracted him—amused him—the idea that he could be a new species.
In a few hours the kid would come home and find his mother. He wanted to know what Frank would say to his son. He hoped Michael would put the wrong one and one together and conclude Venus had killed his mother. If Michael killed Venus, well that would be poetic.
Checking his watch, the hands verified what Chev had called about . . . he’d been away from The Hartford Ranch, Venus, Zaren and Michael, for too long. He’d have to make excuses, which he detested.
Thinking of the place he left his horse, he used Britorent to return. As he rode to the halfway point one thought raced through his mind.
Michael, what are you really?
32. Eye Of The Tiger
When Venus left The Hartford Ranch with Dervinias and Zaren, darkness blanketed the night.
Dervinias had torn into view around seven, right after the moon appeared. Like a dragon dropping from the sky, he’d emerged from the shadows, large wisps of smoke from his and his horse’s breaths coming into view before he did. He’d appeared haggard. Acting scared, he said he’d gone on ahead and become lost.
Venus knew he lied because kelvieri couldn’t lose their way.
She’d exchanged a knowing look with Zaren. Neither of them called him on his fabrication. Confronting him in front of Cheverly and Michael would’ve raised too many questions. Perhaps caused them to wonder about their relationship, or remind Michael of other strange oddities Venus possessed—like the color of her blood. It took a lot of effort to ignore the concern biting its way through her stomach. Still, she’d resisted and waited to say anything until they drove away in Dervinias’s truck.
“Where’d you go?” Venus asked. Her stomach clenched with dread.
“I got bored waiting around. You guys were taking too long. Not to mention the obvious fact that I’d have been a third wheel. The trip wasted my time. I deserve the chance to have some fun.” His eyes shone with a renewed excitement.
Venus’s inclination to panic settled. Clearly, there was no reason to be worried. His excuse made sense. She wouldn’t have enjoyed being the odd person out either.
Zaren seemed rigid. He kept his face straight ahead when he said, “Michael thought it was odd. Cheverly said you’ve done that before—taken off. Why come if you’re going to turn around and leave?”
“Why not? When there’s a big group, I usually hook up with a girl. If I don’t, I leave.” He shrugged like it wasn’t any big deal.
“Michael suggested sending out a search party. He didn’t care if you died or not, but worried Chev might get into trouble for losing you. She didn’t seem too concerned, though, so Michael blew it off. I think he knows you’re different. You should be more careful.” Zaren crossed his arms.
Venus studied Zaren, trying to get his attention. He had to know she wanted to be included on whatever was going on in his head, but he didn’t respond. Venus huffed, wishing she could read his mind.
Dervinias glanced over. “Chev’s cool. No worries buddy.” H
e pounded Zaren on the shoulder.
Venus stopped caring, momentarily too tired to do anything but breathe. Plus, the truck cab was stuffy, her shoulders touching Dervinias on one side and Zaren on the other. Venus tried to empty her mind. That was impossible, so she worked to think of safe subjects.
She’d no doubt Dervinias would be listening in. She wished she knew of a way to block his intrusive behavior. Zaren probably listened in as well. So she thought of home, of her family.
The chorus of a song from her childhood, Alayeahian Sea, kept repeating in her head. Her mother, Queen Karrina, used to sing it to her when she was little, after tucking her into bed at night. The one time each day she spent alone with her mother—the two of them. She’d stroke Venus’s hair, her fingers soft as she sang.
Her mother’s voice reminded Venus of the Eding bird. Turquoise, bright pink, buttery yellow and salmon feathers covered its compact little body. The birds were tiny, but their song rang loud and strong, exploding from their black, pencil-tip-sized beaks. Such beautiful music, it made people burst into tears at its loveliness.
When her mother sang, she possessed the same beauty. Her father, King Quinlin, bragged she could sing better than anyone in all of Kelari. Venus agreed.
If Venus tried, she could’ve remembered the whole song. But it was easier to keep the chorus on repeat in her head.
Friends. Lovers.
We had the chance to be,
Together forever under the Alayeahian Sea.
EXILED (The Connected Series) Page 14