Read Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) Online
Authors: Chrystalla Thoma
Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (55 page)
Elei sat speechless, his hands on his thighs. His chest squeezed so tight he thought he might be having a heart attack after all. The blood on his cheek felt cool and it pulled as it dried.
“Brothers,” he choked out the word.
Kalaes grinned, clenched his bleeding hand and pulled Elei in a tight hug, his voice muffled against Elei’s shoulder. “We will go home, sooner or later.”
Awkwardly, Elei returned the hug and held on, eyes burning. For the first time since his flight from the hospital, since the madness and doubt and fear, he felt solid and whole.
Felt, in fact, like he was already home.
Table of Contents for Rex Cresting
The bonding
With the help of his friends, Elei has managed to disorganize the regime, run by the all-women race of the Gultur, and he's on a mission to bring peace to the Seven Islands.
Old secrets come to the surface, friendships are forged and betrayals discovered, and a girl, Alendra, has managed to take hold of Elei's feelings.With a map that leads underground and the hope of toppling the Gultur regime, Elei and his companions seek a weapon to tip the balance of power.
But unrest within the resistance means that this time they are on their own and, as if crossing a world torn by war while keeping Rex under control wasn't enough, Elei fears that before the end Alendra might break his heart.
Orphic Hymn to Hecate
Hecate the Beauteous, you I invoke:
You, of roads and crossways,
Of heaven, of earth, and sea as well.
You, the saffron-clad one among the tombs,
Dancing with dead souls the Bacchic rite.
You, daughter of Perses, lover of desolation,
Taking joy in deer and dogs, in the night.
You, terrible Queen! Devourer of beasts!
Ungirded, possessed of form unapproachable!
You, bull-huntress, universal sovereign Empress:
You mountain-roaming guide, and bride, and nursemaid,
I entreat, O Maiden, your presence at these sacred rites,
With grace to the Oxherd and a joyful heart eternal.
Rex Equilibrium © Copyright 2013 by Chrystalla Thoma
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design by Chrystalla Thoma, David M. Pearlman and Renée E. Zerah.
To my grandparents
For their love of the sea that we, their descendants, carry in our blood, on the shore where the ancient ships landed.
The translation of the Orphic Hymn to Hecate is copyright 1994 by S. Eyer and published with permission.
THE SEVEN ISLANDS
“M
edicine time
. I know you love it.” Grinning, enjoying himself too damn much, Kalaes placed the cup on the kitchen table. “Bottoms up, kid.”
The sour smell wafted up to Elei’s nostrils, making his eyes water. He took the cup, toasted Kalaes silently, and gulped the stuff down. Bitter and acid, a combination of herbs and real medicine, available to them now they’d reached one of the resistance’s main hiding places. It was meant to strengthen telmion, one of his most powerful resident parasites — a killer he’d lived with for over ten years. He’d gladly be rid of it and not miss the cramps it sent through his insides and the bouts of fever and vomiting, but he had no choice but to keep telmion alive and kicking. Because it was the only thing that could control Rex, the king of parasites, his newest acquisition. Without telmion, Rex would surely kill him, and even if it didn’t, it controlled him like a puppet.
He’d rather be dead than played by a parasite, out of control and at risk of killing people.
Killing Hera
. He returned the cup to the table, grimacing.
He leaned closer to the half-open window. Below spread the small town of Dion. Aircars crowded the street below, their acrid dakron fumes nauseating.
Kalaes sank into the chair across from him and lit an ama cigarette. He lifted an eyebrow, pushing the packet forward, and Elei nodded, accepting a cig. He borrowed the lighter and lit it, drawing a long drag of its sweetness. It relaxed his muscles, and Kalaes’ presence was calming, too. The warm aura of strength that surrounded the older boy and his companionable silence set Elei at ease.
A good thing, with Rex aware of the scent of two Gultur inside the apartment, trying to send his heart into overdrive. It wasn’t like they could exactly keep their distance in the space of four rooms and a kitchen, while waiting for word from the Undercurrent.
Hopefully the medicine would work and telmion would stabilize, flaring just enough to suppress Rex without landing him in bed — again. The last few days flashed before his eyes, and they were a glimpse into the nether hells. He remembered Kalaes sitting on the mattress, applying cool compresses to his hot forehead, helping him up when he had to puke. Between vomiting and fever, he’d dreamed of Pelia and the freezing depths of the ocean, of monsters lurking in the dark.
But the medicine dosing had been too high, and Hera and Kalaes had ended up in a shouting match. The dose was lowered and the queasiness diminished.
He drew another mouthful of sweet smoke and closed his eyes, rubbing his chest. Ghostly pain lingered from the near heart-attack he’d had a few days back, right after they’d retrieved the box. Rex had fixed that, apparently. Now the constant adrenaline spikes had stopped, he finally felt human again. Well, as human as he could at this point.
“Have you seen—” Alendra’s voice broke through the quiet.
Elei’s eyes opened in time to see her retreat from the room. It was hard to feel human with Alendra around. Before arriving at the safe house, he thought she’d gotten over her initial dislike of him, her disgust with the snakeskin visible on his neck and cheek, mark of telmion. But over the days he’d spent in bed, sick and feverish, he’d barely seen her around, and now she’d taken to avoiding him completely.
“Ale, wait!” Kalaes called out, half-rising, but she was gone. He shrugged and sat back down. He rubbed his tattooed cheek, the three black lines that looked like scars. “So... What crawled up her ass and died?”
Elei choked on the smoke. “No clue.”
“Tell you what.” Kalaes leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “The girl likes you, fe. I could read it on her face after we left Dakru City. Go and talk to her, hash it out, then kiss the living daylights out of her. What d’ya say?”
Elei stared at the glowing end of his cig, the embers burning golden like Alendra’s eyes. “She hates me.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Kalaes glared briefly, then smiled. “She doesn’t,” he repeated softly, and Elei wished he could see what he saw.
“Right, she pissing loves me.”
“Hey, wipe that scowl off your face, fe.” Kalaes raked a hand through his wild dark hair and winked. “Too old for you, I’ve told you this before. You’re squinting like an old hag and it’ll spoil your complexion.”
“My what?” Elei blinked.
“It’ll give you wrinkles.” Kalaes waved his cig in the air, leaving red trails. The spiral tattoo on his hand seemed to writhe. “And indigestion.”
“You sound like you’re on drugs.” Elei stared thoughtfully at his cig. “Tell me you didn’t add something extra to this?”
“What? Hells, no. We want no trouble and security’s tighter than a virgin’s—” Kalaes met Elei’s gaze and snapped his mouth shut. “Why you looking at me like that, fe? You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”
“Done what?” Elei frowned, and then heat rushed up his face. “Oh.”
“Yeah, that. The bump and grind.”
A gleam entered Kalaes’ eyes. “So?”
Elei grunted.
He’d swear his face couldn’t get any hotter. Soon his skin would start to blister.
“Well, shit!” Kalaes smacked his open hand on the table, making Elei jump. “You really haven’t?”
“None of your business.” Elei gathered as much dignity as he could around himself. Growing up in the trashlands didn’t give him much of an opportunity to hang around others, and the monks who’d taken him in after Albi’s death kept boys and girls apart. He was pretty sure many other guys his age hadn’t done it either...
Right?
“The hells.” Kalaes’ grin reached his ears. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my brother. I have to make sure you get laid.”
Elei groaned. “Can we just drop it?”
Kalaes stuck the cig in his mouth and smoke curled over his lips. He leaned back, half-squinting at Elei. “There’re a few things I need to make sure you know. Hey, as an older brother, I’ve a responsibility. Because if you make out with Ale, I—”
“Drop it!” Startled by his own outburst, Elei pushed back the chair and stumbled to the window to press a hand against the cold glass, resisting the urge to smash his fist through it. “Look, she can’t stand me. I make her skin crawl. I can’t...” He shook his head, rubbed his chest.
“Hey, relax. I bet she’ll get over it.” Kalaes shifted, his chair creaking. “I mean, she went with you into the Palace, had your back, didn’t she? Maybe it’s that special day of the month—”
“She doesn’t need a special day. This,” Elei touched his marked cheek, “is enough reason.” He forced the bitterness down. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.” Thought I was. Maybe most boys his age had gotten laid.
Dammit
. “It’s okay.”
A rustle, footsteps, and Kalaes stood next to him, looking out into the evening, the cig forgotten between his fingers. He was silent for a while, just standing there, the tattoo of the three black lines on his cheek stark and vibrant, like war paint. The smudges of a bruise on his jaw and others circling his wrists were the only visible reminders of the torture he’d endured from the Gultur, along with the deeper darkness in his eyes and the uncharacteristic silence.
Elei touched his own cheek, where Kalaes had drawn three lines in blood, marking him as one of his own, one of his gang. The lines had washed away, but he almost thought he felt the drying blood pull his skin.
“Sorry, fe,” Kalaes said. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, you...” Elei looked for something else to say, but found nothing, so he stuck the cig between his lips only to discover it’d gone out. “You didn’t.”
“I’m not much of a brother. Hells, I lost everyone placed under my care.”
Startled, Elei turned to stare at Kalaes who was rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face. “You didn’t lose me. You’re not such a bad brother.”
The gloom lifted from Kalaes’ gaze and he flashed Elei a smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Good, because you aren’t getting rid of me that easy, kid.”
“I sure hope not.” Though the fear lingered, waiting to pounce again.
“Now that you’re better, I think it’s time we all had a meeting to decide what to do next.” Kalaes frowned. “We should go through the box again. Not that Hera hasn’t been through the documents ten thousand times already and then some.”
Hera. Elei’s gut clenched in reaction —
Gultur
— and he hoped Rex would behave. “Hera’s asleep.”
“It’s about time she woke up, then. She’s recovered, her wound’s all but healed, and her chick’s here. She can’t spend the whole day sleeping.”
Her chick?
“Sacmis?”
“Who else?” Kalaes grinned and winked at Elei. “A nudge in the right direction, and they’ll jump each other’s bones, I’m telling ya. I can already feel the heat.”
A snort escaped Elei and he turned away. He could feel the heat all right; it licked his skin with fiery tongues, wrapping his body in flames. He could see them, Hera and Sacmis kissing...
Alendra holding him, kissing him...
Damn the images. His body reacted, tingling, tightening, a maddening pressure that suspended him between pain and pleasure with no way out.
“Stop it.” He shifted uncomfortably.
Kalaes clapped him on the back again, snorting. “I told ya you need to get laid, fe.” And he left the room, chuckling.