The Fugitives, A Dystopian Vampire Novel: Book Four: The Superiors Series

by Lena Hillbrand

  When the noise stopped and he felt no motion around him, he fought to free himself. He was thankful for the tree now that the trunk pointed the way out. He was buried so deeply that he would have been confused if he’d not had a tree to hold onto as he made his way to the surface. What had seemed like a huge avalanche was only a small snow slide.

  He could have stayed buried and slept, but his tolerance for discomfort had decreased in the hundred years or so since the War ended. Now the going was more difficult and the snow softer, the crust disrupted. Byron struggled, flailing through the snow with a sense of panic that grew in proportion to the headache brought on by the increasing light. His tolerance for sunlight had gone down even more than for discomfort.

  By the time he reached the car, he was almost completely blind. After crawling inside, he let out a sigh of relief and lay on the seat, trembling with pain and fear at how close he had come to disaster.

  That night he drove back down to Princeton.

  CHAPTER ThreE

  Cali convinced Draven to stay in the car one more day, but that night, he went in search of a place to stay. Though she wanted to help, she knew she’d only get in the way. She’d have to learn survival in other ways, because she’d never be able to scale buildings like he could. As she watched him climb the side of a brick building, she marveled at his ability. It reminded her of a time back home when she’d worked in a restaurant, and at night, her room was always crawling with spiders. She’d chased them from her bed each morning and watched them crawl up and down the walls until she fell asleep. That’s what Draven looked like when he climbed, but a little slower. More like a cat.

  He boosted himself over the edge of the roof and landed on his feet. Cali watched him run, gathering speed, and then he was suspended between two buildings for a moment, caught in the cool, wet air before he disappeared into the darkness.

  Though she’d have rather explored the new place, Draven had told her to stay inside. After relieving herself, she looked around and didn’t see anyone, but she got back in the car as instructed. If she saw a Superior, she could be sure it would have seen her first. And that would be the end of her freedom, maybe her life, depending on the Superior. She didn’t think most of them would kill a human, at least not right away. But one might keep her. One who didn’t love her and take care of her the way Draven did.

  She lay in the dark car and played a game with herself, something she liked to do while Draven slept. Her life in the dark couldn’t all be spent in sleep. During the day, Draven darkened the windows and slept, just as he’d stayed in the darkened tent. At night when he went out, she stayed in the car. It was too cold out, anyway.

  When Draven slept or went out, she would get one of his packs, open it, and take out each thing, touching them individually, feeling the texture and weight of them, measuring and recording them in her memory. She would guess what each object was, and if she couldn’t guess, she’d wait until she saw Draven using it. Some of the things she never saw him using, but she never used a flashlight to see what they were. That would be cheating, which would ruin the whole game.

  She pulled out Draven’s sleep sack, slinky and silky, that made a whisking sound when the fabric rubbed against itself. She pulled it over her legs before taking out the other objects and setting them on her lap. A book, the pages loose and marred along the edges. He’d read her the story, and she hadn’t asked too many questions because she didn’t want him to know how little she understood. A world without Superiors was hard to imagine.

  Next, Cali felt through the clothes, recognizing as many as she could by texture and softness and weight, by the holes and tears in each. She explored Draven’s denim trousers, the pair with a gash that a dog had torn from the leg. Two or three pairs of his linen pants, which she thought looked particularly good on him and reminded her of when they’d first met, when he’d always looked so fashionable and clean. Now his clothes were stained, and his face was paler and had a pinched look of worry on it constantly, and his hair was dusty and limp instead of fluffy like feathers, as it had been when she’d met him. Shelly had said he looked good, and she’d agreed at one time. Now, she was so used to him that she didn’t notice.

  If he looked bad, she must look much worse. She hadn’t used a comb in months, or bathed properly, or eaten enough. Her clothes, the wool suit she’d run away in, hung on her loosely now, and the pants Draven had given her to wear on top of them had to be tied with a length of string. She didn’t smell too good, either.

  She dipped into the pack’s inner compartments, fingering the soft leather folder that fit in her hand, and inside it, the worn, often-folded paper that Draven looked at when he thought she was sleeping. A letter from a sapien woman he had loved. His pet, before Cali. He didn’t talk about her much, only said she’d saved his life. But he read the letter a lot.

  After the letter, Cali explored the folder he kept it in, opening the slots inside and feeling the softness of the leather, holding it open and pressing her nose inside to smell it. Then she took out the jar that held the magic cloves that made her scent disappear, made her untraceable to Superiors. She could use them to run anytime. Draven trusted her not to, left them with her when he knew that she could use them. Maybe he was giving her the choice. He didn’t hold her prisoner like her last master.

  Before closing the jar, she inhaled the strange scent. Then she dipped back into the bag, her fingers following the lengths of cord and string and the metal chain in the bottom of the bag. It filled third of the bag and made it very heavy. It must be important if Draven would carry all that weight.

  Maybe he was more like her old master than she’d known, and he meant to bind her when they reached their destination. She’d worn a chain before. Now she searched for the metal cuff, stretched and broken, that he’d taken from her ankle after he’d stolen her. Four links of iron hung from the cuff. Leaning her face into the opening to the bag, she inhaled the metal smell of the chains.

  When she’d finished her inventory, she lay down. Her schedule was not set, and she slept for a few hours at a time all through night and day. She woke when she heard a tapping on the window.

  “Cali, open the door,” Draven said. She obeyed, blinking in surprise at the gust of cold air that swept into the car. Draven climbed in, his hands together, and opened them for her to see. In his palms, he held a handful of round, brown balls with little tan caps.

  “What are they for?” she asked.

  “To eat,” he said, smiling. “They’re acorns.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” She put one in her mouth and bit down, but it only hurt her teeth. She couldn’t bite through it. “It’s not funny,” she said, depositing the spit-covered acorn into her palm. “I’m hungry.”

  “And you’ll eat them,” he said, still smiling. “Only not like that. First remove the outside shell.”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know?”

  “You weren’t. I should have told you.” He dropped them in his lap and began opening one with his knife. Cali wondered again how he knew so much about feeding her if he’d never had a sapien before. “Do you know what this means?” he asked, holding out the whitish center to her.

  “No.” She put it in her mouth and bit down, but immediately spit it out and began wiping her tongue on her sleeve.

  “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  “What is that?” she asked, her eyes tearing over with the burning in her mouth. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Oh?” Draven picked up half the chewed acorn and licked it. “That does taste dreadful,” he said. “I thought it would be quite special…”

  “Especially awful,” Cali said. She lay back on the seat.

  “It seems I used to grind them…” He had that look on his face he always got when he tried to remember something.

  “I’m cold,” Cali said. “Can you close the door?”

  “Right, yes.” He pulled the door closed, plunging them into darkness again. “I went
outside town, looking for a place,” he said. “If we could have hidden the car in the woods nearby, perhaps we could have kept it.”

  “Did you find a place?”

  “No.” His hand rested on her foot, the weight of it comforting even when he gave her bad news. “There is no forest nearby. Only flatlands with scattered trees. There is nowhere to hide. And I cannot start the car again.”

  “Why not?”

  “I…lost the key.”

  “You lost the key? How can you lose the key?”

  “We’ll leave the car here and go into the city tonight.”

  Cali lay thinking, wondering how he could lose something. He never made mistakes. Not ones this big. “Maybe you could go look for it,” she said after a while. “If we found it, we could keep the car longer.”

  “I won’t find it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know. Do not question me.” He withdrew his hand from where he’d begun massaging her calf.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, Master,” Cali said, knowing that bothered him. But if he didn’t want to be called Master, he shouldn’t act like one.

  “I’m not your master,” he said, his voice more like a growl than talking. She knew when she could provoke him, and when not to. Sometimes he scared her plenty, but most of the time, he didn’t seem much different from her. Smarter, and stronger, but not like a different species, like he said.

  The funny thing was, when he got mad, he treated her like a sap, like he was her master, even if he was mad because she’d called him that.

  He found her arm and drew it to his mouth, but he dropped it without eating. His hand closed around the bottom of her chin and he drew her face forwards. “You smell like garlic,” he said, his face almost touching hers.

  “I only smelled it,” she said. “I didn’t eat it.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I’m…sorry?” She didn’t move the tiniest bit except to speak.

  Draven’s nose brushed hers, then her cheek and her lips. “Good,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your taste. I could eat you forever.”

  He pulled her onto his lap and bit into the base of her neck so suddenly that she cried out in surprise. Usually, he gave her more warning, sniffing out the place he wanted to draw from and letting his lips trace her veins before he bit in. Now she fought the urge to push away from him. Instead, she let herself drop back from the moment, relax away from the pain. He made his soft breathy sounds as he held her against him. He’d been rough with her before, but now he wasn’t. Just sudden. With one arm still around her, he stroked her hair with his other hand.

  When he’d closed the bite, he licked the mark, letting his lips move up her neck. She sank into the shivery sensation of his coldness. It wasn’t until a minute later that she realized he wasn’t anywhere near where he’d bitten her, that he was kissing her ear.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, scared suddenly.

  “Nothing,” he said, pushing her off his lap. He stooped to climb over the seat, and the shiny brown acorns fell from his lap and scattered over her seat and the floor. She didn’t pick them up.

  CHAPTER Four

  Meyer opened a big box and set a stack of pajamas inside, making sure the corners stayed crisp and didn’t get bent during shipping. He hated wrinkled pajamas, especially when the whole set was nice and neat, with the fold lines in the right places. If it weren’t for that, he’d let one of his servants do the packing.

  When his pod began flashing, he stood and picked it up. He smiled to himself and flipped on the wall screen before accepting the call.

  “Why, hello there, Milton. If it isn’t one of my very favorite people on earth.”

  “Hi, Kidd. Packing up to go home?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I know how dearly I’ll be missed.”

  “Dearly,” Milton agreed. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have some news for you.”

  “Pertaining to?”

  “Pertaining to that fugitive you’re suddenly so interested in. Is this just because of Byron harassing you? Because I have to say, you’re usually not drawn into battles of spite so easily.”

  “No, no, I’ve already explained that to you. I have my reasons. And you know I can’t discuss them with you. So, what’s the news?”

  Milton sighed. “They were picked up at an endlot. The sapien with him, the one that belongs to one of our Enforcers, staked the Enforcer who brought them in.”

  “Is that right? Well, I wonder who taught her to do that.”

  “Don’t get smart with me. And please for the love of god tell me you didn’t teach her that.”

  “Me?” Meyer said, hardly able to pull off an offended look without laughing. “Now, what would give you a batty idea like that?”

  “Here we go again. Son of a sapien, Meyer. You know I can’t work with you if you keep doing these crazy things up here. I could lose my job.”

  “In which case I’d give you a better one. You know I look after my own.”

  Milton sighed and ran a big hand over his bald head. “Can’t argue with that.”

  “Mind giving me an update? Have they been detained?”

  “Nope. They got away. Cut off the bastard’s hand and stole his car. Left him on the side of the road in the prisoner transport trailer.”

  Meyer laughed and clapped his hands. “Now I’m sure I made the right decision in leaving him out there.”

  “You really think your trackers can find him that easy?”

  “Of course they can, Milton. The problem with your government trackers is they aren’t paid enough. With enough money, you can do anything.”

  “Wish I could argue.”

  “Ah, but you can’t,” Meyer said. “Where are they now?”

  “The Enforcers found the car’s tracking device easily enough, but this guy took it out of the car. Seems he knows how to disable the thing.”

  “This is priceless, I say, priceless.”

  “Glad someone finds it amusing. If you’d lost a hand, you wouldn’t.”

  “True, but I can’t lose a hand. I’m the man of steel, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.” Milton shifted in his seat. “The Moines Enforcers are looking for the missing car. We think they’re making a getaway in it, but where they’re going is anyone’s guess.”

  “Moines, you say?”

  “Yes, they left the Enforcer in Moines.”

  “This just keeps getting better. I was going back to Texas, but maybe I’ll pop over to Moines for a few months, do some work there. Maybe pay a visit to your fugitive.”

  “I really wish you’d just bring him in.”

  Meyer shrugged. “Perhaps I will. Depends on how much I like him.”

  “Don’t you do anything illegal, Kidd. You know I can only protect you so far.”

  “Me? Illegal? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, I’m leaving Princeton, so you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got other informants, you know.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  “I’m sure you are. Your only job now is to keep me updated on that psychotic Byron and his quest to ruin me.”

  “I can do that. However, should your fugitive be sent back to Princeton, I’m not protecting him. He’s dangerous, and he ought to be disposed of.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Can I ask you for a favor?”

  “Does it matter how I answer that question?”

  “Not especially. I’d like you to activate his tracer for me.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Kidd,” Milton said, shaking his head. “All kinds of government forms and red tape to go through. I can’t just do that on anyone I want. He’s a known criminal, and we haven’t even been authorized to activate the tracer.”

  “How’s life, Milton? Anything you need? Your desk there is looking a little crowded.”

  “Don’t try to wheedle it out of me, Kidd.”

  “Wheedle? Who said anything about whee
dling? I’m just asking after your general welfare.”

  Milton sighed. “My desk is fine, thank you. Life is good.”

  “Is it? But I’m sure there’s something that could make it better. How’s your car? I hear they’re putting out a new Rosso this year.”

  “My car is in excellent condition. Thank you for asking.”

  “And your sapiens? You know, I have a family of them up here this year, and they’re so expensive to transport. Maybe I could lend one to you until, say, next winter?”

  “Not doing it.”

  “What a shame. You’ve been such a good friend to me, Milton. How about I give you one as a special thank you, just for being so willing to help me out with my little endeavors over the years? Maybe you could lend it to me for a few months when I’m visiting, and the rest of the year, he’s yours to keep and do with as you see fit. I only ask for the use so I won’t have to haul them around with me every year.”

  “You’re never going to quit, are you?”

  Meyer smiled his most winning smile. “Quitters never win and winners never quit.”

  “Dammit, Meyer.” Milton ran a hand over his shiny, bald head again. “Fine, let me see what I can do.”

  After agreeing, Meyer continued packing, glancing at the screen every now and then while Milton tapped away at his own screen, looking for the information he needed to pull up the forms. After a while, Meyer noticed that Milton had stopped moving and sat frowning at the side of the screen that didn’t contain Meyer Kidd’s face.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “This can’t be right.” Milton studied his findings. “He’s already been activated.”

  “Too bad. The Moines Enforcers must be on him by now.”

  “No,” Milton said slowly. “No, the Moines Enforcers didn’t activate him. Byron did.”

  “Byron? When?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “Where is Byron now?”

  At last, Milton pried his eyes away from the form. “He’s on personal leave.”

  “Since when?”