“They won’t be so lovely by tonight,” he said, going to the backpack, which hung from the lowest branch of a tree near the shore. He dug out Leo, who had somehow fallen asleep in the bag as it swayed. He shuffled Leo into Cali’s arms before repacking the bag, swinging it onto his back with a quick little inhalation, and taking Leo again.
“You must walk today,” his muffled voice said from inside the wet hat. “It will warm you.”
He started walking, and Cali followed.
Chapter 26
For three days, they traveled with no sign of rain or Superior life. Draven obsessed about the garlic, making certain he stopped every hour or so to reapply. In addition, he had Cali ingest it, as Sally had instructed in her letter. The garlic masked Cali’s natural scent, covered it the same way it smothered her flavor. He did not secure her or her child while he slept, though he knew that, using the garlic, she could slip away without leaving a scent trail. But if she ran, he imagined she’d kill him first, now that she knew how. And he could not bring himself to tie her like a common animal.
They kept no regular schedule to determine when they would travel or rest. Sometimes they walked during the day, and sometimes at night, and sometimes a portion of each. When they walked at night, Draven carried Cali and Leo. During the day, he carried Leo and the pack while Cali walked. She complained little, far less than her baby. Despite Cali’s silence, Draven knew she tired quickly. Each day she walked more slowly than the last, and on the third day after leaving the cave, she began to limp.
Early that evening, they stopped in an area of dense evergreen growth. Since reversing his sleep schedule, Draven had acquired a constant foul mood. During the day, weakness and exhaustion wore on his nerves. His head pounded no matter how he protected himself from the sun, and the backs of his hands burned and blistered one day when he failed to cover them. In addition, cold gnawed at him constantly.
Knowing Cali fared worse did nothing to improve his mood. Instead, it reminded him of his failure to deliver what he’d promised. What had he been thinking, taking two weak sapiens into the wilderness and imagining they could survive? Perhaps they’d have thrived if he’d waited until late spring to leave Princeton, but late fall was the worst possible time. Each day dawned colder than the last. Leo began coughing and fussing much of each night. Though Draven felt sorry for the sapling, he could do little to alleviate the cold. Why had he listened to Cali? Including a child was madness.
Leo would likely die, but Draven dared not suggest the logical solution to Cali. Since the baby would die, and Cali needed to reserve her strength even more so than Draven, he should draw from the baby. It made the most practical sense. Though he found the prospect of drawing from a helpless sapling distasteful, it was preferable to weakening Cali. Unlike the baby, she had some chance of survival.
Draven gathered firewood when they camped, looking always for signs of trackers in the woods as well as fuel. Each evening, encouraged at not having seen any sign of pursuit, and having no other means by which to warm his charges, he built a fire, despite the increased risk of drawing attention.
This evening, like the others, he returned to his humans without indication of pursuit, carrying a load of deadfall. Cali fed the baby while Draven lit a fire and settled their things around it. They needed supplies—food for Cali, a tent, bedding. When he’d acquired a sapien, he hadn’t fully realized the responsibility it would entail. It had been a status symbol. But he should have an apartment with separate quarters for Cali, a bedroom, a bathroom with a toilet, the small but necessary comforts of a sapien life. Yes, he would’ve had to work harder than ever just to ensure her survival, but not like this. Out here, it seemed an impossible task.
Draven watched Cali devour a packet of freeze-dried food. Soon she would have finished all he’d stolen. He had miscalculated the amount of energy sapiens required. Despite his having abstained from drawing from Cali for two days and nights, she appeared wan and listless. She sat with her knees drawn up, clutching his jacket around her and staring into the fire while she ate.
Somehow, Draven had imagined he could provide her with a better life than Byron had. Instead, he would likely lead her and her baby to their deaths. He’d taken on this burden, and now it weighed on him, heavier and heavier with each passing night. Though he’d procured a precious possession, he was worse off than when he’d been alone. Watching Cali’s weary face, he cursed himself. Byron was right. He was a souldamned fool.
Though he tried to ignore his hunger, his teeth throbbed continuously, his mind was cloudy and slow, and he tired rapidly. Pushing these concerns aside, he drank from the water he’d gathered from a stream that morning.
“Don’t you need to eat?” Cali asked. He looked up. He hadn’t noticed her watching him.
“Not often.”
“Then why do you?”
“Why do you eat so often?”
“I don’t know. So I won’t starve, I guess.”
“I starve more slowly than you.”
“Are you hungry?”
He paused. “Yes.”
“Then eat. You carry everything.”
“Perhaps I should…draw from the baby. He doesn’t need strength as you do.”
Cali slid her arms protectively around Leo, who coughed and flailed his legs. “You can’t draw from him. He’s a tiny baby. What’s wrong with you?”
“It makes sense, Cali.”
“I don’t care. If you’re hungry, you can feed from me. I’d rather you bite me ten times than bite him even once. You keep away from him, you hear?”
“I’m not so hungry,” he said. “I simply thought it practical.” He stood and gingerly began to remove his shirt. Bits of blood stuck to his shirt and glued it to his skin. He clenched his teeth and tore it free, letting cold air wash over the painful sores. He examined his shirt, now speckled with dried blood, a few spots as large as the pad of his thumb. The condition of his back had deteriorated rapidly. Each day, carrying the load pushed the splinters deeper and aggravated the surrounding skin.
He stuffed the shirt into the backpack. Soon he’d have to find a place to wash his clothing. Dirt caked his socks and pants, and blood stained his shirts. Cali’s clothing was in still worse condition. And if he longed to collapse with exhaustion, this girl, a mere human, must feel far worse.
Draven removed the blanket from the pack and draped it around her and her child. When he straightened, she reached out and grasped his arm.
“What is it?” he asked, pulling away. His teeth ached far into the roots whenever she drew near.
“Tell me what’s wrong with your back.”
“Nothing.”
“You’re bleeding. I saw your shirt. Why won’t you tell me?”
He looked at her for a moment, then sighed and settled himself next to the fire. “I have a few splinters.”
“Splinters? What is that?”
“Small slivers of wood.” He picked up a piece of firewood, broke it in half and showed her the jagged break. He did not like having to explain things that mattered little to her.
And yet, this could mean everything to her. Perhaps in his weakness, he’d make some careless mistake, and she’d need to defend herself. Any knowledge he could impart, no matter how inconsequential, might prove her only chance, albeit a miniscule one. He must give her every advantage in his power.
His resolve to keep her in her place softened as he watched her examining the wood with great interest. “Do you remember when I asked you to trust me?”
Cali hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. So?”
“Do you?”
She hesitated longer, and her eyes flitted to the fire.
He smiled. “Use a qualifier if you wish.”
“I don’t know what that is. But I guess I trust you. I believe you, that you’ll try to keep us alive. We’d be dead by now if you didn’t know so much.”
“Very well. Now it is time for you to know some things.”
“Really?”
she asked, shifting to look at him. “I’m awfully grateful.”
“Indeed.”
“Okay, well, what do I need to know? Can you teach me everything you know?”
“One thing at a time, yes?” He reached for the pack, dragged it over and removed the dagger. “It seems I don’t have a choice but to trust you. Had you ever seen or touched wood before you came with me?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “Well, not before Princeton. I didn’t even know what a tree was. Shelly made fun of me.”
“Superiors would rather you not know,” Draven said. “We’ve populated areas where wood is scarce, because it’s one of the only means to kill us.” Draven handed her the dagger. She took it without hesitation and ran her fingers along its crude length. Though not sharp, when used with adequate aim and force it would prove most effective. He had given Cali a weapon and told her it would kill him. Yet he knew how difficult finding a Superior’s heart could be to an untrained hand. If she wished to end his life, he could only hope she’d succeed in her first attempt and not leave him to suffer.
“You’ll have to strike quickly, and with all your strength, so as to pierce the clothing. Here,” he said, pointing to his bare chest. “Or in the mouth. If you put it through the mouth, aim upwards. Not into the throat. Upwards enters into the brain. That is the lethal blow.”
Draven took her wrist and pulled it towards him, turning it so the dagger’s tip lay directly over his heart. With one thrust, she could drive it home. She could end his life in a moment. With a sense of dismayed horror, he noted that her heart had begun to beat quite rapidly.
She wished to kill him.
“If you intend to kill me, do it now,” he whispered, his eyes on hers. “I’ll not stop you.”
He closed his hand around hers and pushed the dagger harder against his chest, until the dull end pressed into his skin and began to ache. It did not break the skin—it was not sharp enough. For a moment, Draven expected her to finish it. The mixed blessing of his long life would end.
But she wrested her hand from his and shook it out. “I can’t kill you. I’d die in a day.”
“Doubtless.”
Did sapiens always feel the way he’d felt just now? Vulnerable and uncertain, as if at any moment they could be killed? They had only the trust that their masters valued them enough not to do it, because Superiors needed them, the same way that Cali needed him now. Spared not out of respect or kindness or fondness, but out of necessity and the instinct to survive.
“You told me once that you couldn’t be killed,” Cali said.
He smiled, but tonight he could find no humor. “Rather, I said we didn’t die. We do not age or die as other living things. But everything will end eventually. It’s simply a matter of time. Our blessing and our curse is that it’s quite difficult for us to die. At times…that has been more curse than blessing. We must be killed. We must die violently. Your species—all other species—can die peacefully.”
“Are you scared to die?” Cali asked.
Draven paused, surprised she’d ponder such a thing. “At times,” he answered. “At times I have wished for it.”
“Did you want me to…maybe, kill you just now?”
“If that is your plan, I’d rather allow it than have it done while I slept. It’s the closest to a peaceful death I could hope for.”
“That’s sad,” Cali said. She reached out and touched his arm, but when he didn’t respond, she withdrew her fingers.
“If the trackers kill me, you should try to kill them,” he said. “Perhaps, with the element of surprise, you could escape. If you put the dagger into one of them but do not deal a fatal blow, he’ll be stunned with pain. We feel things in a more pronounced way than humans, so a great deal of pain can put us into a sort of shock. Never let go of the dagger. That is of vital importance. Remove it and try again until you hit the heart. You can use a broken branch, anything sharp enough to puncture a body. Use all your force. Muscle is tougher than you imagine.”
“Okay.” Cali turned to lay her sleeping child on the blanket, where he coughed and fussed a few moments before he stilled again.
Draven handed Cali the dagger. “Have this. Keep it within reach while you sleep. Carry it during the day. Have it always at hand.”
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“I’ll make one for myself later. This is yours.” He smiled a bit. “It is made from an aspen tree. Aspen for Aspen.”
“Wow. That’s…” She didn’t finish her thought, so he went on before she could say something he did not wish to hear.
“I’ve put my death in your hands. You know this, yes?”
She looked up with her big, caramel eyes. “Why?”
“I have to trust that you’re with me,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m simply the fool who stole a sapien so she could kill him.”
“I don’t think I could kill anyone.”
Draven turned away. “I hope you’re wrong,” he said.
He lay beside Leo, towards the trees, and Cali lay on Leo’s other side, towards the fire. She pulled the blanket around her and met Draven’s eyes across the sleeping child. “Don’t you bite him,” she said.
“Take some sleep. We should leave soon.”
Cali snuggled closer to Leo, and a few moments later, her warm little hand found Draven’s hip and rested there. Her eyes closed.
Draven wanted to move away, fling her delicate, scarred hand from him. Her warmth no longer repelled him. It now had the opposite effect. But he found something in her touch, in her limp, indifferent hand on his bare skin, maddening. He reached out and touched her eyelids, her cheek, her lips.
Her eyes fluttered halfway open. “You didn’t tell me about the splinters,” she murmured.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Wood…causes lasting injury. So if we receive a splinter, we do not heal as our bodies do from other injuries. If you got a splinter, over time your body would expel it. Ours do not know how to respond to wood, so it stays.”
“Forever?”
“Or until removed.”
“So why don’t you take them out?”
Draven shrugged his top shoulder. “I can’t reach them.”
“Well, why don’t you have someone else do it?”
“A doctor would have me arrested.”
“Then let me do it.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not? You’ve done lots of things for me.”
“Perhaps another time. You need rest.”
“I want to. I mean it. They bleed when you carry something on your back, which is always, and don’t tell me they don’t hurt, because I’ve seen them, and I’ve seen your face when you undress.”
He looked at her a long minute. “It’s not a pleasant sight.”
“You think I’ve never seen anything unpleasant? My arm turned black and oozed for a month, and you could smell it from two houses down.”
“I know. I sucked it out.”
Cali sat up. “You did?”
“Yes.”
“How? Why?”
“The doctor said you’d die, and I thought it might help.”
Cali lay down again and rearranged the blanket before speaking. “Did it?” she asked.
He paused, wrestling with the ugly memory of that night. “Yes.”
“I don’t remember that,” she said. “But Master…if you sucked that stuff out of my arm, at least I can take a little piece of wood out of your skin. I don’t mind. There’s no point in hurting when I can help you.”
“Another time.” He rose to feed the fire, and stood warming himself near the new blaze. Cali arose also, and went into the woods a bit. The scent of her urine drifted from that direction. She returned, approaching from behind. Though he sensed her position, he stood motionless, waiting. For a moment, he wondered if she had broken a tree limb and meant to kill him. Perhaps he should have been terrified, but he was only a bit frightened. Equal to the
fear, a thrill of exhilaration filled him.
Death. The end to his endless life, at last.
Chapter 27
Cali stood behind Draven for a minute, wondering what she should do, what he’d allow her to do, and if he’d get mad if she disobeyed him. She rested her fingertips on the small of his back and waited for his reaction. When she touched his skin, he drew a shuddering breath. Then he stood still, not even breathing. His skin, usually cool to the touch, now had a heavier depth of cold that never ended, one that seemed unnatural even in the cold night.
Cali moved her hands to Draven’s hips and nudged him to one side. At first, she wasn’t sure he’d move, but he let her turn him. Up close, in the firelight, she saw for the first time the awful state of his back. Burrowing bugs would have been preferable. Splinters littered his skin, some with drops of dried blood around the entry point, some bristling from the skin like hair, all disgusting looking. She didn’t ask how he’d gotten a thousand splinters in such a strange place. If she spoke, he might change his mind.
Looking at the speckled landscape of his skin made her a little queasy, but it was the least she could do. He’d sucked out the bites Master had left unhealed on her dozens of times. Besides, usually she felt like a useless burden. She didn’t carry the baby she had insisted Draven go back for, she didn’t get food for herself or the baby, and so far, she hadn’t done such a good job of feeding Draven, either. He didn’t even like the baby, and he carried it the whole time, without eating, without complaining. Tired and sore and selfish, Cali hadn’t even offered. But she could help him with this. It cost her nothing to get some splinters out, and it cost him something to keep them, maybe a lot.
She touched him again, and this time he didn’t move or react. A black speck in a circle of dried blood marked each splinter, and though she half expected them to feel hot like the unhealed bites on her, they were cold like the rest of him.
“Can we sit?” she asked, quiet so he might not notice her too much.
He sat, drew his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on them. The whole time she worked, he didn’t make a sound or draw a breath. Maybe he could hold his breath for hours. All her life, she’d heard stories about what Superiors could do, but she didn’t believe most of them. To her, Superiors looked the same as humans, so she figured they probably were a lot like them, and humans had made up the stories. But now she might rethink that theory.
The Renegades (The Superiors) Page 14