Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (53 page)

The tunnel burst into neon colors, disorienting him. He clicked the safety back on and slipped the gun in his belt, shoved the box into the back pocket of the uniform. The stairs were faintly glowing rivers, patches of orange and yellow showing where lichens and fungi grew. Tiny lights flickered — insects, spiders, mice running along the walls.

He sought the first step with his foot, blinded by the colors, found it, descended. He took a deep breath, inhaling again that Gultur scent, and wished his heart would finally slow, his head clear.

No such luck. It would be a long way out.

***

Kalaes’ spiky head was barely visible ahead as the tunnel stretched into a darkness not even Hera’s eyes could pierce. She glanced over her shoulder at Sacmis who followed two steps behind, one hand touching the wall of the tunnel. Tall, pale, beautiful, just like Hera remembered.

But when she tried to recall all that had happened since she’d stepped out of the Management House together with Kalaes, things became hazy. Sacmis’ appearance had jumbled her brain.

Her arm throbbed. They’d been hiding inside storehouse, keeping the Gultur guards busy with the occasional gunshot, when she’d felt the bullet slice through her muscle, leaving a trail of fire in her flesh. She’d heard Kalaes’ shout of dismay, had observed his mad dash to her side. He’d surprised her with his concern, his fury at those who’d injured her, his gentleness as he examined the wound and bandaged it.

And then he’d decided they were going back and had led the way. Gods, the boy was fearless — or at least pretended to be, flinching from time to time at the sound of exploding grenades and the racket of helicopters. It made her chest warm and tight to know he really did care, that he was a friend. She’d been friendless for far too long. Now she didn’t think she could live that way again.

She barely remembered the way back, ducking and running as bullets zipped and crashed around them. A miracle they made it back without further injury, losing their pursuers that easily.

Kalaes had been right. It’d been a half-assed plan. Yet it had worked, and then Sacmis had entered, penetrating the gloom like a ray of light, gold and silver gray, putting everything else to shadow.

Hera forced her eyes forward, to the slippery floor, trying to focus. She should not be thinking of Sacmis, not now, maybe not ever. What if she was a spy, trying to find out what they knew, then betray them? She should not let herself hope.

But she’d hoped for so long, longed and felt and desired... How could she stop herself feeling and wanting?

Her boot skidded on a patch of slimy mold and she gasped, grabbing the rail. Gods damn it, now was not the time to get sidetracked.

A warm hand closed around her arm, steadying her.

“Are you all right?” Sacmis asked, her voice smooth, her scent sweet. “Hera?”

“I’m fine.” Hera wrenched her arm free and hurried on, discomforted at the booming of her heart, the excitement in her body. “Come on,
senet
. We are not there yet, and there’s much we need to discuss.”

Sacmis gave a soft snort of laughter, and Hera ignored it, ignored the heat rising to her face, the way her body tightened inside, wanting Sacmis. She moved farther into the dark.

Old habits died hard, and suspicion last of all.

***

The trek through the tunnels was a blur. Elei’s heart hammered against his ribcage, too hard, too fast.
No safety. No respite
. He slid a few times as he climbed down the steps, clinging to any ridge or hollow he could find, to avoid barreling down into the others. His gun slipped and skittered along a step but he grabbed it before it fell over the edge. Gun in hand, he climbed back to his feet, trembling. Hera’s smell wafted up, so sweet, and he couldn’t draw enough air into his laboring lungs.

Almost there
.

But the tunnels stretched on and on, down stairs and alongside slimy walls. Behind, in the distance, doors clanked and a shot was fired. Had they been discovered? Sounds echoed in the tunnels, running footsteps, voices.

Faster, he needed to move faster. As soon as he found himself on the bridge, he broke into a jog, feet skidding on the metal floor. His heart fired inside his chest, irregular, rapid beats. 

Another staircase going down, and finally he plunged into the frigid black liquid that came up to his thighs. He was hopelessly cold, teeth chattering, muscles spasming in his legs and arms. The sounds behind him intensified — he thought the footsteps were now right behind him, hounding his heels — and again he smelled the sweet perfume of Gultur over the sewer stench.

So close now
.

Then daylight shone ahead, and he squinted, blinded. He slogged through the slush, dragging his feet. The others had already climbed up the ladder to the surface when he reached it, and it took him forever to follow, hands and feet so numb he hardly felt them.

Then Kalaes was there, giving him a hand up, saying something he couldn’t quite hear. How could his pulse ring so loud in his ears?

“We’re being followed,” he ground the words out as another whiff of Gultur, less sweet than Hera’s, caught his senses.
Enemies. Danger
. “We need to hurry.”

“What did you say, fe?” Kalaes glanced down the tunnel, as if he could see anything in its murky depths. “Someone behind us?”

“Gultur.” Elei grabbed Kalaes’ arm and propelled him forward. “Let’s go, now.”

Night was falling and the wind stung like the kiss of a blade, carrying various scents and above all Hera’s blood, sweetest of all. He saw them walking ahead, Hera’s form glowing in yellow and silver, Sacmis in orange.

He walked among the flaring colors of mortals scuttling away, dogs jumping behind fences, warm aircar engines. The world was hushed and curtained off. When they left the people and busy streets behind, the intensity of the colors lessened, but not so the thundering of his heart.

Not safe. Not safe
.

The agaric grove rose from the rocky ground, great white stalks with faintly glowing umbrella caps, emerging from a floating cloud of phosphorescent spores. He trailed after the group, his eyes fixed on the pulsing orange in Hera’s chest, his finger caressing the handle of his Rasmus.

I won’t kill her. I won’t
.

The aircar appeared and he climbed last onto the aircar deck. He stood at the cabin door, panting, blinking bright spots from his eyes. His chest hurt and he couldn’t catch his breath. Maybe Rex had gone too far this time.

Calm down
.

Then he entered the cabin and came face to face with Sacmis and Hera. Bright orange flashed in their chests and heads, and their sweet scent hung heavy in the air. Blood-splashed images flickered in his vision and his mind filled with white static. His hand convulsed on the grip of his gun.

“Everyone’s inside.” Alendra nodded and headed to the cockpit.

Hera tilted her head to the side, waved a hand. “Elei? Are you okay?”

“Sit down, fe, I’ve got this,” Kalaes said.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t surface. He was drowning in the colors, the flashes, in fear and fury, sinking deep. His pulse rang inside his head, battered the space between his eyes.

Sacmis scowled at him, and Hera’s mouth opened wide, too wide, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. She lifted her hand and her nails grew into claws. Blood dripped from them, the smell sugary sweet.

No
. Gasping for air, he drew his Rasmus and aimed at her.
Kill her. Do it
.

“Elei!” Kalaes shouted something more but the sound was sucked into a gaping void.

Kill the Gultur, stop the fear. Stop everything
.

Kalaes approached him, face swimming in and out of focus. He didn’t fear Kalaes, trusted him even, but when fingers wrapped around his hand and tried to pry the gun away, he fought them. He wrenched the gun free and took aim once more.

Still he couldn’t fire, even though his finger twitched on the trigger —
she’s a friend, can’t kill her, don’t want to
—

“Elei,” Kalaes said again, softly, and tugged on the gun.

Elei released the Rasmus and stumbled back. His head felt about to split and a weight crushed his chest. Grinding his teeth didn’t help and he wanted to scream with frustration. Instead, he turned and smashed his fist into the aircar window. But even that pain didn’t distract from the rusty nails being driven into his skull, his eyes, the back of his neck.

Then searing pain pierced his chest, crushing it. He gasped, breath caught on a cry, and dropped to his knees. Sprawled on his back, clutching at his chest, the ceiling flickering. Tried to breathe. Heard a shout.

Lost track of time.

He lay on the floor, staring at the fluorescent light tube above. The floor shook, rocking his inert body as the aircar rumbled, its systems coming to life.

Then a shadow loomed over him, cutting into his line of sight — a face pale and small, with large, dark eyes.
Hera
. “Elei. Can you talk?”

The heavy weight on his chest allowed only for shallow breaths, and his voice came out rough and wheezing. “What... happened?”

“I do not think it’s a heart attack,” she said, and Elei blinked.

A heart attack?

“Damn it all, then what is it, fe?” Kalaes knelt next to Hera, his hair sticking in all directions. He looked like a sea urchin. A vein throbbed in his jaw. “Could it be what you said about Rex, this final stage?”

Hera pursed her lips, frowning. “I hope not. From the symptoms, my best guess would be an overdose of stress hormones, such as epinephrine.”

“Epinephrine?” Kalaes muttered, frowning hard.

“Adrenaline. Rex feels threatened and keeps pumping more of the hormone in his bloodstream. Prolonged exposure to it causes poor blood flow through the coronary vessels of the heart muscle.” She cocked her head to the side. “If the pain is becoming bearable, then it’s probably not life threatening.”

Probably
. Dizzy, Elei closed his eyes.
Damn you, Rex
.

“Hey, fe, can you hear me?” Kalaes leaned closer and put a hand on Elei’s arm. It felt comforting. The pressure on his chest subsided, the weight lifting, so it didn’t feel like his ribs were caving in. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he forced the word out, to reassure Kalaes, but it was just a wheeze. Why weren’t they moving? “We should...go. The Gultur—”

“In a moment, fe.” Kalaes patted his arm, giving him a strained smile. “Systems are still warming up. I can’t see anyone following us, we’re okay. Just breathe.”

Breathe
. 

“Being able to worry about other things is a good sign,” Hera said.

“Oh yeah? And how would you know?” Kalaes muttered, his voice strangled and his eyes flashing anger as he turned to her. “As a matter of fact, how would you know what’s wrong with him? You’re not a pissing doctor, are you?”

“I’ve studied cronion, remember?” Hera winced and clutched her bandaged arm. “It acts much as Rex does, only it’s weaker, therefore the doses of adrenaline it pumps into the blood are lower. Prolonged surge of adrenaline with tachycardia and other side effects can overtax the body. It can happen after periods of great stress.”

“Cut to the chase. What are we gonna do?” Kalaes’ dark eyes looked huge in his pale face. “Does he need medication, a hospital?”

Hera placed a finger to Elei’s throat, and he tensed. “His heart rate is still too fast. Rex is sensing danger and does not let him relax.” She tsked. “Before it fixes his heart and regulates his body, Elei needs to feel safe, so that Rex will stop pushing him to take action.”

“And how do we make him feel safe?” Alendra crouched next to his head, the scent of her hair like a fresh breeze. “We have to do something.”

When had she come out of the cockpit? And, come to think of it, when in the hells had she stopped hating him and started to care?

“I don’t hate you.” Alendra made a small sound of distress and stood up. “It’s not you.” She shook her head and turning she hurried back to the cockpit, slamming the door behind her.

Damn, he’d spoken the words out loud. Mortified, Elei stared at the cockpit door.
‘Not you.’
What did she mean?

The clicks of switches reached his ears, and then the aircar rocked and finally started moving.

Hera tsked. A thin line of blood ran down her cheek, escaping from the butterfly bandage on her cheek. “You’re blind, Elei.”

“Blind?” Elei rasped, confused. What was Hera talking about?

“That was Alendra’s way of telling you she likes you.” Hera smirked. “I’d try to seduce her if it was not clear she prefers you.”

“Really.” Hera trying to be funny — a good sign, he guessed, even if he couldn’t spare the breath to laugh. He rubbed his aching chest. “I’m not dying then?”

The smile faded from her face and her fine features glowed faintly. He could see the pulse in her throat, a deep crimson. “You need to calm down, let Rex know there’s no danger.”