Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (62 page)

“I’ll listen,” Hera’s shoulders were stiff. “Is it about the Siren project?”

“Partly,” Sacmis said.

“Go ahead and dazzle us with your secrets, sweetheart.” Kalaes tapped his fingertips on the table, his eyes dark like chips of dakron, glinting in the mellow light. “I bet you’re the mastermind behind some complex plan to save us all — maybe uproot Dakru and sail away into the sunset for all I know.”

“Very funny,” Sacmis said, coming to stand at the head of the table. “And do not call me that.”

“Not call you what? Mastermind?” He looked baffled. “I wasn’t aware it was an insult.”

“Do not call me sweetheart,” she snapped.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Kalaes’ gaze turned hard. 

“Kal...” Elei said warningly.

“Come on, children.” Alendra tapped her hand on the table. “Enough playing. The Fleet is still hunting us, we don’t have time to squabble.”

Sacmis harrumphed. Kalaes shrugged, his eyes half-lidded and a faint smile playing on his lips. Hera was fiddling with the table edge. Elei could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her look this uncomfortable.

“I hope you will not betray my trust,” Sacmis said and her voice wavered. “You saw Nine’s reaction to the map, and you heard that our own side double-crossed us. The Undercurrent council is corrupt.”

“The Undercurrent council can’t be pissing corrupt.” Kalaes’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “They’ve been resisting the regime for as long as I can remember. My father sat on that council, was goddamn killed by the regime for working for the resistance. You can’t just walk in here and slander them!”

He’d half-risen, fists pressed into the table surface so hard they looked like they’d leave indents in the brown nepheline.

“Kal,” Hera reached out blindly to clasp his forearm, “sit down.”

“Dione has vanished, Kalaes,” Sacmis said. “Things have changed. Three women with code numbers as names have taken over. Nine is one of them.”

Kalaes fell back into his chair, wincing, and shook his head.

“Hard to credit.” Hera released him and straightened. “I thought I still reported to Dione.”

“Dione vanished before I joined the resistance,” Sacmis said.

“Sacmis,” Alendra said, propping her elbows on the table and leaning forward. “We hardly know you, well, most of us anyway,” she shot a look at Hera who stared blankly ahead, “and you want us to believe that the resistance we’ve all been working for is corrupt and gave us over to the regime.”

“They said so, did they not?” Sacmis said, her face grim. “At that village where they attacked us. They said our own side betrayed us.”

“The enemy,” Hera said slowly, lifting her gaze to Sacmis, “would say anything to hurt us.”

Sacmis gripped the back of the chair in front of her and sighed. “I feared you’d not be easily convinced. So how do you think we were betrayed?”

“How about you tell us?” Alendra said.

“Could be you betrayed us,” Kalaes muttered, “and that you’re carrying a biotransmitter to give away our position. We’ve seen it before.”

Like Maera
. Elei’s throat was painfully dry.

“Good thinking. But Hera checked both me and Alendra,” Sacmis said. “We’re clean.”

“You did?” Elei turned to Hera, surprised.

She nodded, her long dark hair billowing like a silken curtain. “Back at the safe house. One cannot be too careful.”

Something about this struck Elei as funny and his lips twitched. “So you got both girls naked without us present.” Then he caught Alendra’s blushing face and his mouth went dry. “I mean...”

Kalaes snorted. Hera scowled harder and said nothing. She looked pointedly away.

“So is this your response?” Sacmis sounded tired. “You will not believe me?”

Kalaes opened his mouth, but Elei beat him to it. “Depends. Can you tell us more?”

Sacmis pulled out the chair and sat. Her face was drawn, and the bandage around her shoulder stained with fresh blood. Her sleeve hung empty; she’d shrugged it off to have the wound dressed. Hera leaned forward, as if against her own volition.

But it was Alendra who asked, “Are you okay, Sacmis? You’re bleeding.”

Sacmis rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m fine.”

Hera seemed unable to look away from the bloody bandage. Her hands clenched and unclenched on the table. Quiet filled the room, and then a patter of sounds filtered from the outside — aircars honking, a child shouting, a dog barking, and seleukids flying overhead.

Elei wondered if they might bomb Calydon, like they’d bombed Akmon, to draw them out, kill them on the spot.

“I was accepted into the resistance about two years ago,” Sacmis said, her voice soft. “The resistance,” she looked down at her hands, folded on the table, “but not the Undercurrent.”

Kalaes flinched.

“Why did you join?” Hera asked. “You believed in the ideals of the Gultur.”

“Something happened to change my mind.” Sacmis took a sharp breath. “I was so angry at you for doubting us.” She glanced at Hera. “I did not believe you when you said mortals had helped us during our first patrol. Could not believe it. Mortals are animals with no reason, and they slaughtered us during the Great War. Everyone knows that.”

Alendra made a small noise in the back of her throat, and Kalaes squinted at Sacmis as if he couldn’t see her well.

“What did you say?” he demanded.

Only Hera seemed unsurprised. “That’s what they teach us,” she said, “since infancy.”

“I was transferred to Artemisia after my first two years on the island of Aue, with a promotion. I headed a unit of enforcers.” Sacmis’ cheekbones flushed. “I thought it was great. I believed I was punishing criminals, unlawful mortals who set out to destroy us, shatter the peace.” She shrugged, a graceful, sparse movement. “I had not known I was to kill children.”

Elei frowned. “You did what?”

“I was told to burn down certain buildings where criminals were hiding,” she whispered. “I did not know... I should have suspected something was off, but I did not. Could not.”

Elei couldn’t breathe. He thought of Afia and Jek and all those grimy little faces in Teos. “What happened?”

“In one of those extermination missions, as they called them, I thought I heard children screaming. I approached and entered the foyer of a building.” She looked at her hands. “I got caught in a wall of smoke and passed out. When I came to, a child sat next to me, face blackened, and asked if I was okay. A group of mortal children had managed to drag me out of the crumbling foyer. Next to me lay little corpses.”

Her hands spasmed on the table, and Hera reached out and covered them. “Sh,” was all she said.

Sacmis shook her head. “I realized something was very wrong. I started seeing things I’d refused to see before. I decided to join the resistance. I found someone who helped me, who made me a part of it, and who also told me that the Undercurrent could not be trusted.” She gripped Hera’s hands. “He told me that the Undercurrent Council betrayed them time and again. That he couldn’t trust them, but that if I wanted, I could join him and his army of street children.”

Elei sucked in a sharp breath. You’ll need an army, Afia had said. We’ll be your army, your eyes and ears. “Who was he?”

“He said he knows you, Hera,” Sacmis said quietly. “And he’s here.”

“Me?” Hera blinked. “Sacmis...”

A knock and the door creaked. Elei leaped to his feet with a curse, drew his gun and took aim. From the corner of his eye he saw Kalaes do the same.

The door swung open and someone stepped inside — a boy of Elei’s build, with white-blond hair that fell to his shoulders in curling wisps. The handles of guns jutted over each hip, and he wore black pants and a blue, long-sleeved shirt. His dark eyes swept over them, confident and hard.

“Are you going to shoot me?” he asked lightly, a sandy eyebrow raised.

Hera gasped and pushed back her chair. It screeched on the linoleum floor as she stood up. “You...” she whispered, her voice raw with shock. “Are you...?”

The boy took a small, mocking bow, blond hair tumbling forward to hide his face, but his smile when he straightened was pleased. “You remembered me. I remember you as well, Hera.” A faint scar ran across his chin, long and thin, as if made with a sharp blade. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Mantis.”

Chapter Eight

“T
hat’s an
odd name you’ve got.” Kalaes stood by the window, arms folded across his chest, one foot propped on the wall. “A code name?”

“Nah, it’s my real name.” Mantis rummaged in one of the bags of food someone had thought to bring upstairs, and pulled out a box of sweet K-fungi, the smell making Elei’s mouth water.

No sweet for you
. It’d only make Rex stronger. Elei’s hands fisted. “How do you know the Council is corrupt?”

“Besides, why should we pissing believe you?” Kalaes muttered. “I bet you’re only saying the Undercurrent Council is corrupt to replace them.” He cocked his head to the side, scowling.

Mantis lifted a K-bloom, examined it for a moment, then bit into it, his eyes closing in bliss. “Because,” he said, swallowing, “they sold you out, like they sold me.”

“I met Mantis four years ago.” Hera leaned against the table, gripping its edge. “He’s the one who put me in touch with the resistance.” She stared at him, an odd expression of fondness softening her face. “I often wondered what happened to you.”

He grinned. “That’s nice of you. I didn’t have to wonder. I kept tabs on you.”

She frowned. “You did? Why?”

“First because I didn’t trust you,” he said, still grinning. “Then because I did.”

“What do you mean, they sold you out?” Elei asked.

“Oh, shortly after I met Hera,” Mantis finished the rest of the K-bloom, “the Undercurrent asked my gang and two others to break into a storehouse and steal weapons.” He licked his fingers one by one. “The guards were waiting for us, even knew our names and histories. Not many of us escaped.” His expression darkened. “This happened once more, and I started to avoid contact with the Undercurrent. I talked to other street gangs, heard more such stories. Something was fishy.”

“That’s not proof,” Alendra said, and Kalaes gave a supportive huff.

“I guess my death would’ve been better proof?” Mantis asked.

“You can’t be hoping to grab the power if the regime falls, can you?” Kalaes asked, his voice low but sharp.

Mantis laughed. It was a clear, ringing laughter that splashed in the room like cool water. “Are you mad? I’m just a kid.”

A kid
. Elei leaned back in his chair, observing Mantis. Strange that a street kid felt like a child, even if he led a resistance movement, while Elei had never felt that way for as long as he could remember. He fought the protectiveness that welled inside him. Mantis didn’t need that.

And Elei couldn’t protect him, even if he wanted to.

“So you are the head of a revolutionary movement,” Alendra said slowly, “and just by chance you were here when Sacmis called to ask for help. Kind of odd, isn’t it?”

“I happened to be in the area. In fact, my gang’s right outside the door.” He stalked closer to her, gave her a hot look. “And who are you?”

“I’m Alendra.” She shrank back in her chair, her cheeks infused with red. It made Elei’s neck prickle. He wanted to punch Mantis.

Are you jealous now?
He got up. “You just happened to be here.”

Mantis gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah. And I had to meet you. This is important.”

“Because?” Alendra asked.

Mantis sighed. “Because. We’re at war now, full-blown war. Since the Gultur became infected with Rex, since their control shattered and infighting began, the regime has been teetering on the verge of something huge. Another great war, another attempt to wipe us mortals out. We think they’re preparing for a full assault, bomb the cities and slaughter the population, scare them into submission.” He didn’t sound light-hearted or teasing anymore, but like a leader of the resistance. “They’ve been evacuating the unaffected Gultur from the big cities. I think they’re planning to attack soon. We’re running out of time.”

Elei exhaled. “That’s why you need us.”

“Because of the map you found.” Mantis smiled. “Pelia’s map.”

“You knew Pelia?” Kalaes pushed off the wall, his gaze intent.

“I knew her.” Mantis smile seemed frozen, tiny cracks showing in the dark mirror of his eyes.

“You...” Kalaes advanced on Mantis, then stopped a few feet from him. “Haven’t we met before?”

Mantis gave him a pensive look. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kalaes.”

A soft gasp escaped Mantis. “You. You sent me to Pelia. You found me and helped me and sent me to her. Oh, gods, it
is
you!” His face had transformed, the arrogant, confident mask slipping. “Kalaes.”

Kalaes’ eyes widened. “You’re that scrawny little kid I sent to Pelia? Frigid hells, that was at least three years ago.”

“Four,” Mantis said. “I was thirteen. I met Hera a few months later.” He made a face. “I was scrawny, wasn’t I?”

“How do you know about the map?” Hera interrupted. “Did Sacmis tell you?”

Sacmis drew a sharp breath. She was rubbing her bandaged arm. “I answer to Mantis, Hera. He’s the one who told me where to find you and what you were trying to do.”

“How did you know what we were trying to do?” Hera focused her dark gaze on Mantis. “Who told you?”

“We knew Pelia had information about the islands, about resources that we needed. She’d told me as much. She’d promised to let me know when she’d be able to give the details to me and then she’d create a distraction to help us.”

“She kept in touch with you?” Kalaes’ voice was bitter. “After she left Dakru?”

Because she hadn’t kept in touch with Kalaes, Elei knew. She’d abandoned him and never told him where she went. Why had she done that?

“Very little,” Mantis admitted. “But I waited. I knew she couldn’t send messages for fear of someone intercepting them. Whoever knew she was in the resistance risked death.”

And that was probably why she’d never contacted Kalaes. To keep him safe. Though it must’ve hurt him. Hurt them both.

“When was the last time you had a message from her?” Hera asked.

“A few weeks back.”

Right before her death. The thought surprised Elei. It felt like years. “Did she say who she’d send?”

“No, of course not. But when she died, we knew the Undercurrent had assigned someone to find her driver who’d gone missing. We found Hera’s tracks, found you. After that, we followed the Undercurrent Council’s moves. We knew something important happened when Nine came to meet you herself.”

“How do you know all this?” Alendra asked.

“We’ve got a mole in the Undercurrent Council,” Mantis said.

“You’re spying on the resistance?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” This time Mantis’ smile was all teeth. “They’re fighting against us. Of course we’re spying on them.” He licked his lips. “We need to find a cache. We need vehicles, weapons, dakron, anything we can get our hands on to win this war. That’s why I’m here. To help you. To help us. I lead the resistance, the real one. Join us.”

“I still can’t believe all this,” Kalaes said.

“You think in straight, simple lines.” Mantis lifted his chin. “But reality isn’t simple, is it? The resistance, Kalaes, not the regime, killed Pelia.”

A horrified hush fell over the room. But it made sense, if the Undercurrent didn’t want the Gultur overturned, and they’d know what she was trying to do. He’d often wondered how the Gultur had found out. Well, they hadn’t even needed to try. Pelia had reported to the resistance.

Not about everything, though. Pelia had known all along something wasn’t right.

“She was a Gultur, wasn’t she?” Elei was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded.

“Yeah.” Mantis nodded, mouth twisting. “She was.”

“So she really was Hecate,” Hera said. 

Sacmis reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, and Hera let her, probably too distracted to react.

“I don’t know, fe,” Kalaes whispered. “You drop all these bombshells on us and expect us to take you at your word. It’s all too damn perfect.”

“Perfect?” Mantis jabbed a finger at Kalaes. “You were betrayed too, a few weeks back. By a girl. Maera.”

Kalaes stiffened, all color draining from his face. “What do you know about her?”

Mantis let his hand drop to his side. “She has become a member of the corrupt Undercurrent Council. Now tell me, Kalaes, if I showed you a video of that moment, would you believe me?”

***

Hera barely heard the back and forth between Kalaes and Mantis. Past and present blurred. She remembered the day of her first patrol with Sacmis, the day she came face to face with the lies of Gultur teachings and the end of the world as she’d known it. She’d been fifteen, full of pride and zeal.

She remembered two mortals on their raft, helping her save Sacmis who’d fallen into the sea. She remembered the sensation of tumbling into a void from which there was no way out, only a struggle to reach the bottom and find the truth.

And the truth had come in the face of Mantis, a boy leading a gang of street children. He’d taken a huge risk— talked to her openly, even though she was a Gultur, took her to see a Gultur raid, and then put her into contact with Pelia and the resistance.

We’re all human
. Afia had said it in Teos, told Elei to use the words as a battle cry, to summon the street kids if he ever needed help. She’d hinted at a revolutionary movement among children.

And she’d thought, then, that Mantis might be involved in this. It was, after all, to him she’d first spoken those words, words she’d read in an old letter her mother had written, hoping to gain his trust and be accepted into the resistance. She’d thought that he might have started his own revolution. In his dark eyes she’d seen a spark of defiance and strength even then.

She’d never thought he’d end up being the new leader of the resistance, unofficial though the title might be. Then again she’d never thought the Council would be corrupt, causing internal strife and necessitating a counter current led by children. It was not the first time she’d been wrong, nor would it be the last. Gultur were, after all, still human.

But something was hissing and clawing inside her.

No, not human
. A hot wave pressed inside her chest, trying to burst out.
We’re not human. We’re better. We’re stronger
. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms, pinpricks of pain.

She blinked, trying to clear the dark haze, and another wave of heat went through her.
Look at them, so weak and fragile, sick and vulnerable
. Her blood rushed in her ears, deafening.
Sick. Sick. Not like us. Kill them
.

“Hera?” Sacmis’ face swam in her eyes, and Hera brought a hand up convulsively to grab her friend’s arm.

“You have to...” She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Have to stop me,” she whispered.

“What are you talking about?” Sacmis winced, and Hera belatedly realized she was squeezing the hell out of her injured arm. She let go, bowed her head.

“Regina. You must promise me.” There was screeching in her head, and she closed her eyes. “Promise me you’ll stop me if I try to kill them.”

“Hera. Look at me.” Sacmis placed a finger under Hera’s chin, lifted it until their eyes met. Hers were gleaming gray, not like steel, not like stone, but like rippling water, clear and transparent. “I know you. You can control it. You’re strong. Do not listen to Regina. Listen to your own beliefs. You always have. And you were right.”

“I wish you’d promise me,” Hera whispered, “I really wish you would.” Because she was an Echo princess, carrying the original strain of Regina, the purest, the strongest — and sooner or later, she would fight a battle she might not win.

***

Mantis produced a sort of flat data-rod from a pocket. He lifted it for all to see. A clip was playing in a loop on its small screen.

Elei stared.
Maera
. Alive and well, dark curls soft around her face, the two black dots of her tattoo visible on her chin. Favoring her right leg, her arm in a sling, smiling as she took a seat at the council table. She looked around, confident, and gave a small speech about how they’d be strong together, meshing their power with that of the Gultur regime, so that they’d soon reign supreme over the Seven Islands.