The Heart of Two Worlds

by Anne Plichota

  “Nicely done,” remarked the Felon, pretending to clap slowly.

  In the Fairyman’s arms, Gus was struggling less frantically. His eyes, wide with terror and pain, rested for a fraction of a second on Oksa, who reeled as though she’d been struck by lightning.

  “I volunteer!” suddenly exclaimed Tugdual, coming forward with his sleeves rolled up.

  Dragomira went over to him and put her hands on his shoulders.

  “It’s very generous of you, lad, but I think it might be better if we chose someone whose blood is as close as possible… to its origins.”

  Tugdual’s face darkened with disappointment.

  “Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Tugdual,” Pierre added. “We’re so touched by your offer. However, Dragomira is right: Gus is an Outsider and we must give him the best chance we can.”

  “Haven’t you realized yet that you’re not good enough for them?” Orthon said to Tugdual. “Join me and you’ll receive the recognition you deserve. There’s still time!”

  Tugdual hunched down into his black scarf and gazed at him, looking wounded and upset. Even though Tugdual had already proved his loyalty, Oksa was afraid that he’d give in to temptation. Why did she doubt him? She was ashamed of herself for thinking such thoughts. If anyone was disloyal, it was her, not Tugdual.

  “We love Tugdual much more than he realizes and not just because of his invaluable powers,” retorted Dragomira, much to Tugdual’s great surprise.

  “I’ll go and get Reminiscens!” cut in Naftali.

  “You refuse my help, yet ask for hers?” exclaimed Orthon. “That’s ridiculous! Perhaps you’ve forgotten that exactly the same blood runs through our veins—mine’s just as good as hers.”

  “Yes, but what’s inside your heart isn’t!” replied the Swede. “Open the door, Orthon.”

  Frostily, the Felon complied, without moving an inch. He merely rotated the tip of his index finger and the bolts began unlocking with a sudden clatter. The door swung open onto the stone corridor and Naftali disappeared to the sound of Gus’s muffled cries.

  A few minutes later, Reminiscens stalked into the large room. Without a glance at the Felons she hurried over to Gus, who was unconscious again. Tenderly she kissed his forehead and stroked his cheek. Then she rolled up her sleeve to bare her forearm and clenched her fist to make the bluish veins stand out. She pulled a dagger from the inside pocket of her jacket and was about to make an incision in her wrist when Orthon stopped her with a mocking laugh.

  “Come now, dear sister, there’s no need for antiquated weaponry—this is the twenty-first century, after all!”

  Stung, Reminiscens looked up at her hated brother, who was wheeling over a stand hung with all the medical equipment necessary for transfusions.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said in a low, threatening voice. Orthon stopped short.

  “You’re not making much of an effort, are you?” he remarked. “Annikki!” he shouted into the corridor. “Someone get Annikki!”

  The young fair-haired woman arrived a few seconds later, visibly awed by the number of important people in the room. She deferentially suggested that Reminiscens lie down on a bench, then inserted a needle attached to a plastic pouch into her arm. The blood quickly filled the pouch, allowing Annikki to proceed with the transfusion. So, with a catheter in his forearm, lying there in deathly silence, Gus received blood from a woman descended from the legendary Temistocles—as well as a Gracious on her mother’s side and a Werewall on her father’s—a blend of dark and light representing everything that was most deadly and most powerful about Edefia.

  23

  FROM BAD TO WORSE

  AFTER WATCHING OVER GUS’S LIVID BODY FOR HOURS, Oksa had fallen into a fitful sleep filled with bad dreams that left little room for hope. The last dream, more violent than the others, woke her. Feeling dazed, she shook her head to banish images of Gus transformed into a belligerent crow that had raked her face with its talons then swiftly taken flight towards the light of a strange horizon. She felt uncomfortable and realized with a sigh that she was starving. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Her stomach growled and she flinched, mortified. How could she think about food when Gus was in such a bad way just a few feet from her?

  She looked round; she was alone in this small alcove with Tugdual and Zoe, who were asleep. Farther off, in the spacious laboratory, the adults were also resting. The young Lunatrix was curled up against Gus, snoring with his face buried in the hollow of Gus’s neck.

  “How cute that little creature is,” thought Oksa, stretching out her hand to stroke him. Her eyes strayed to Tugdual. His lean body was stretched out with his legs crossed and his face, unguarded in sleep, wore a troubled expression Oksa didn’t recognize. She watched him for a moment, ashamed of taking advantage of the situation, but unable to resist.

  Gus groaned softly and swatted away an imaginary insect with his hand. Oksa sat up, then slumped back in her chair. False alarm… Gus seemed to be on the road to recovery—his face wasn’t so tense and he was breathing more easily, but who knew what this abnormal transfusion might do to him. Oksa looked at the slowly dripping blood, then at Gus’s inert body. He was her best friend and nothing would ever change that. The chimes from the big clock in the living room echoed through the house, like a sinister death knell. Six o’clock in the morning. It would soon be light. And by the end of this new day which had only just dawned, Gus would no longer be the same. He was bound to be a few inches taller and broader. His face would be squarer, his jaw stronger, and he’d look older. Would he have the confidence of a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old? Would he find it difficult being physically more mature when he still had the mind of a younger boy? Would it affect their relationship? WOULD SHE STILL LOVE HIM AS MUCH? As if she could read her mind, Zoe murmured:

  “All that matters is that he survives this ordeal.”

  Oksa gave a start at these words, embarrassed that she hadn’t realized she was being watched. Gus’s survival was more important than anything, and here she was worrying that Gus might be two or three years older than her!

  “What a waste of space,” she muttered. “A useless waste of space.”

  She took a deep breath and looked at Zoe. Her friend was ashen-faced, with red eyes and lips white with worry. She seemed the worst affected of all the Runaways. She’d had to deal with so many shocks these past few months—and her reunion with Mortimer hadn’t helped.

  “He’s changed a lot, hasn’t he?” said Oksa, in a bid to start a conversation.

  “Who?”

  Zoe hunched down in her armchair and didn’t seem keen to talk about this.

  “Mortimer,” pressed Oksa. “He doesn’t look the same at all.”

  Zoe sighed. What Oksa didn’t know, and what no one could suspect, was that she was eaten up inside with grief and confusion. She gazed at her friend, torn between wanting to confide in someone and her natural reticence. Oksa looked at her encouragingly—talking could be such a relief.

  “I thought she was going to kill him,” began Zoe in a barely audible murmur. “I was so frightened, Oksa… I realized that I don’t know my gran very well and it was terrifying to see her capable of something like that.”

  “She’s been so badly hurt,” said Oksa, a lump in her throat.

  “That’s no excuse,” objected Zoe, her voice breaking. “She was so desperate for revenge, she was so much like Orthon… I was shocked to find that out—it’s tearing me apart.”

  Oksa watched her helplessly, as Zoe took a deep breath.

  “It’s like being trapped inside a vicious circle that intensifies and spreads the effects of evil. My father was killed by Orthon. It was unbearable finding that out. But it was worse for my gran. Her only son was killed by her twin brother! Her only son! And I only found out today, when she’s had to live with it for months. Why did he do it, Oksa? Why did Orthon kill my dad?”

  Zoe buried her face in her hands. Oksa watched her, unable to move or say
anything. She didn’t know how to answer that question and nor would anyone else. She could sense how deeply wounded Zoe was and she could do nothing to help. Absolutely nothing. Nevertheless, she got up and urged her cousin to make room for her. Rummaging around in the bag she wore across her shoulder, she slipped a small pouch tied with a leather thong into Zoe’s hand. It was Oksa’s talisman, which was supposed to chase the clouds from the sky. Zoe leant her head on Oksa’s shoulder and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Oksa smiled at her tentatively. The clouds in Zoe’s sky were so much darker than hers…

  “I do think Mortimer’s changed,” continued Zoe.

  “He looks rather tense,” added Oksa. “I thought he wanted to go to you, but didn’t dare.”

  Zoe didn’t reply, thinking back to the last time she’d seen him, in Hyde Park. That meeting had at least clarified things: they’d each chosen their side.

  “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you,” continued Oksa.

  Wearily, Zoe leant back in the chair. No, Mortimer hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and what she’d seen had upset her—they’d been filled with resentment, fuelled by his disappointment at her rebuff. And sadness. Or had it been pity? If only she could lock and bar her heart so that nothing bad could get in. Some hope! But as she’d said to Oksa, all that mattered was that Gus survived. She loved him so much… and Gus was in love with Oksa.

  “The transfusion is finished,” whispered Annikki suddenly, coming over.

  She carefully removed the catheter from Gus’s arm. He’d been so still during the procedure that they’d all assumed he was unconscious, so it was a huge surprise when he jerked bolt upright, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Annikki gave a scream and backed away, while Oksa and Zoe jumped to their feet.

  “How do you feel?” cried Oksa, her heart thumping.

  Gus looked at her wildly.

  “Odd,” he said, sounding confused. “What happened?” he added, seeing Annikki wheeling the transfusion equipment away.

  But there was no time to explain anything to him, as his body was wracked by another violent convulsion of pain. He arched his back and gave a blood-curdling scream. Oksa rushed over and sat down on the edge of his bed.

  “Oksa…” moaned Gus, grimacing at the relentless pain inflicted by the venom.

  “Everything will be OK, you’ll see,” she said, her cheeks shining with tears. “We’ll make you better.”

  “Why are you crying then?” he asked, doubled over by another agonizing spasm. “AND WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?” he yelled.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, he grabbed Oksa’s hand and bit down hard on her wrist. Oksa shrieked. Tugdual threw himself on Gus to immobilize him as the Runaways and Felons rushed into the alcove, terrified by Oksa’s screams. Pavel lifted Oksa from where she was sitting by the camp bed, paralysed by shock, and carried her away. Her heart was racing with fear at the indescribable pain shooting up her arm and bewilderment at Gus’s actions.

  “Why did you do that, Gus?” she gasped. “I’ve never hurt you.”

  Everyone was in a panic—even the Felons couldn’t hide their concern. The Young Gracious had been bitten by Gus, who was undergoing drastic cellular change and had huge quantities of Chiropteran venom in his system. The consequences could be fatal, as everyone realized. Filled with shame and anger, Gus was struggling, held firmly by Pierre and Abakum.

  “I don’t know what happened! I didn’t mean it!” he yelled. “Oksa! OKSA! Forgive me!”

  His head suddenly drooped and he crumpled into unconsciousness. At the back of the room a white-faced Tugdual put down his Granok-Shooter, watched in horror by Zoe, who looked a shadow of her former self.

  24

  DEADLY SOUND WAVES

  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” GASPED ZOE. “YOU’VE killed—you’ve killed Gus!”

  Tugdual stared at her, devastated. With surprising gentleness, he tilted her head up to look at him.

  “Gus is one of us,” he said quietly. “I’d never hurt him. I just hit him with a Dozident Granok, to protect Oksa and to protect him from himself. You ought to have more faith in me, Zoe. I’ll never be on their side,” he added, glancing at the Felons.

  Zoe felt icy cold. Contrary to appearances, Tugdual was much more loyal to the Runaways than she was. Had he ever been tempted? If he had, he’d never given the slightest sign of it… As if to confirm her thoughts, he murmured almost inaudibly:

  “You made the right choice, you know—they’d only have used you.”

  With a solemn look filled with understanding, he led her over to Oksa.

  Surrounded by the Runaways, Oksa was in worse pain than she’d ever have believed possible. The agony was invading her limbs and increasing with every passing second. The shock waves caused by every breath she took—every thump of her own heart, her friends’ heartbeats, the ebb and flow of the sea around the island, the wingbeats of the gulls wheeling in the sky—were wreaking havoc inside her body. If she’d been strong enough to find words to describe the torture she was enduring, she’d have said that it felt as if burning acid were eating away at her brain, her lungs and every blood vessel. She put her hands over her ears to try to lessen the deadly sound waves, but to no avail: nothing blocked these infrasonic frequencies. They were spreading through her body and wouldn’t stop until they killed her. Unable to hide their concern, the Felons milled around the Runaways. Orthon pushed his way through his entourage to get to Oksa, but was stopped by Dragomira and Reminiscens.

  “Are you proud of the consequences of your criminal behaviour?” spat Dragomira, trembling.

  Orthon flinched, his face tense with unfeigned anxiety.

  “My trial will have to wait, I think,” he hissed frostily, “as we seem to have a little emergency on our hands, wouldn’t you agree? It isn’t just your young protégé who needs the antidote now,” he added, his eyes sliding towards Oksa, who was moaning and holding her head.

  He waved a bottle in front of his two sisters, lightly pushing them out of his way. The Runaways had no choice but to let him through.

  “Annikki, pass me a pipette!” he ordered. “And go and get the transfusion equipment.”

  Annikki obeyed immediately. A few seconds later Orthon was trickling the precious antidote between Gus’s bluish lips, watched tensely by the members of both clans.

  “What happens now?” asked Dragomira gravely.

  Orthon waved one hand at the transfusion stand which Annikki was feverishly setting up and the other at Oksa, who was shaking with pain in her father’s arms. Looking horrified, they all realized what had to be done.

  “Is there no other way?” whispered Pavel, sounding broken-hearted.

  Sadly, Dragomira looked at him, shaking her head. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife. When Orthon rolled up his sleeve, though, Reminiscens sprang up with a cry.

  “In your dreams, Orthon! Oksa is not going to become a Werewall with your blood!”

  Orthon stopped abruptly. His eyes narrowed like a wild beast about to pounce and he puffed out his chest, seething with resentment.

  “You’ve already donated a lot of blood,” he remarked, “the transfusion has weakened you—it could kill you to give any more.”

  Alarmed, the Runaways looked at Reminiscens with justifiable concern. Fatigue and worry had turned her skin grey, as if her face had been smeared with ash. There were dark circles under her eyes and her straight-backed, slender figure was bowed. With superhuman effort, she straightened and declared firmly:

  “I’d rather die than let Oksa receive blood from that monster!”

  Shocked by these words, Zoe moaned quietly. She obviously didn’t count—even her grandmother couldn’t wait to abandon her. Her life was a nightmare.

  “If that’s what my dear sister has decided, who am I to stand in her way?” spat Orthon, looking tight-lipped. “Annikki, please do the honours.”

  Annikki concentrated on getting the tr
ansfusion equipment ready. A great deal depended on this fresh procedure.

  “It will take a few hours for the antidote to work,” announced Orthon. “Oksa and your protégé will be safe for the time being. They’ll just have changed a little…”

  He stumbled slightly as he delivered this last piece of information.

  “Will it hurt?” asked Pavel, his voice trembling with hatred.

  “Yes and no. The antidote eliminates the effects of the venom by erecting a barrier against sound waves and infrasonic frequencies, but the accelerated growth rate may be physically painful and might also cause certain emotional problems.”

  “Certain problems?” thundered Pierre. Orthon shot him a treacherous glance.

  “You can’t suddenly age a few years and not experience a certain amount of confusion.”

  “Can we please get on with it!” broke in Pavel. “There’s no time for delay.”

  They all turned to look at him. Oksa was hanging limply in his arms, frighteningly comatose.

  25

  ACCELERATED GROWTH

  WHEN OKSA SURFACED FROM THE DEPTHS OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS, she became aware of an amazing sense of well-being. She clearly remembered her last few seconds of agonizing lucidity and the unbearable pain which had sapped her will to do anything, even survive. Was she dead? Had Gus’s bite killed her? She was curled up in a ball and her body felt light, as if floating weightlessly. Her chest was rising and falling steadily with each breath she took and she could even hear her stomach gurgling! “I’m alive!” she thought joyfully. But where was she? All she could remember was the sight of Annikki sticking a needle into Reminiscens’ thin arm and her father’s sad, worried eyes. Although the pain had gone, the memory of it was still very much alive, lurking ominously in the background. She didn’t feel afraid, though. She should have been shaking with dread, but she felt calm, confident and at peace.