The Renegades (The Superiors) (34 page)

In
the dark, his cold fingers found her chin, her lips. “I would feel your
tongue,” he whispered. The quietest, deepest warmth flowed from his voice into
her body, until the heat spread inside even while his fingers like the icicles
she sucked for water slid into her mouth. “Suck them.”

Even
as she began to obey, mindless and without intention, powerless against the
undeniable insistence in his low voice, he said, “No, don’t.” He withdrew his
fingers before she’d completed the act. And just as quickly, he rolled from her
side. The space between them stretched out in the darkness as he drew further
from her, to the far edge of the tent, and she didn’t have to switch on the
flashlight to know he’d turned his face to the wall.

Cali
lay still, heart pounding, waiting for him to come back. But he didn’t.

Without
meaning to, she had done something wrong again, something that caused a sudden flare
of guilt and the urge to apologize, to reach out and pull him close, comfort
him. But maybe he was just suffering from his wounds. The dogs had bitten him
up awfully bad. She, like most humans, had seen enough suffering to recognize
someone in misery, whatever his reasons. Even if the someone was a Superior.

Chapter 46

Draven
slept for several days, waking only to draw as much from Cali as he dared,
until she grew as weak and lethargic as he. The bites on his legs had begun to
heal, the pain dwindling in proportion. Though several days had passed, when he
went out into the snow, he saw he’d left obvious tracks, a beacon signaling
animals—or worse, Superiors. He cursed his carelessness. Though at the time it
had seemed excusable, he could not afford even a minute mistake, let alone such
a glaring one. The slightest error could lead to their capture or death.

He
kicked snow over the blood, working his way out of the endlot. Though snow had
fallen nearly every day since they’d made camp, it appeared not a flake had
fallen since he bled into the snow. Blood-splattered chunks of the crust atop
the snow slanted into the trail he’d made, collapsing under his feet. He erased
what evidence he could before returning to the tent.

Perhaps
if Superiors saw the blood, they would not think it so strange. Perhaps, if
they only saw bits of blood and did not approach to catch the scent, they would
assume a wounded animal had crawled into the endlot to die. Stray dogs
sometimes lingered in the area, although they shied away, suspicious, when he
talked to them. Not like the ones that had attacked him.

Vicious
guard dogs protected wealthy Seconds and their human property. Though he’d
caught their scent before he entered, he had imagined he could talk them down,
the way he always did. Usually, dogs could sense that he intended them no harm,
and they responded obediently to his soothing tone. These Rottweilers were of a
less forgiving disposition.

Draven
wandered through the endlot a bit, neither looking for anything to salvage nor
hoping for anything. He had spent years after the War scouring cities for
usable material. He knew how meticulous the search had been, and he imagined
searchers had combed everything at least once after the initial push for
building materials. No matter how he longed to find a stash of burnable items for
a fire, he knew he would not. Most of the sapien houses in the sector were
temperature regulated from inside the Superior owner’s home. Further into the
city, they lived in attached apartments like the one Cali had shared with her
mate. Using fire as a heating method had long ago become outdated, and Draven
had counted himself fortunate to find the few fire biscuits he’d procured. He
could not return to the same store to steal more, though.

His
failure to keep Cali warm, and his inability to find out how to do so, caused him
constant frustration. He’d relied on his pod for so long that without it, he
did not know how to find the information he needed. Already he’d recalled more
about human survival than he remembered knowing as a human, knowledge of how to
chip bark and peel slivers of wood from trees for making fires, or use the
fibers under the bark or the intestines of animals to make tentative rope, how
to catch fish and butcher rodents. But knowing how to survive and knowing how
to care for a human seemed quite different. As a human, he’d never been forced
to survive alone in such an open space, with no place to hide and nothing to
burn.

He
returned empty-handed again that morning. While Cali slept, he undressed
outside the tent and scrubbed himself with snow. When he finished, he turned to
go inside, but something stopped him. He’d caught something familiar on the
wind, the scent of danger, foreboding and unmistakable. The scent of Superior.

Though
a truck came to the endlot each week, it should not come this night. Draven
paused, turned his face into the wind. He found it again. That scent. That
person. He turned, slowly, and their eyes met.

She
stood watching, fingers hooked into the chain-link fence behind the endlot,
close to the tent. Not ten meters separated her from their camp. For a moment,
neither moved. In his surprise, Draven did not react, only stared back at the
small wide-eyed girl regarding him with solemn eyes. Then a gust of wind threw
her scent at him once more, wrapping it around his bare body. He snatched his
trousers from the snow and thrust his legs into them, springing towards her
before he’d finished securing their button.

Why
was she out there, in the middle of nowhere?

Draven
leapt the tent, landing in a pile of debris that sent him tumbling. He sprawled
in the trash heap, then rolled to his feet, gained his legs, and sprang at the
fence.

The
woman had run when he made apparent his intention to pursue. She’d gotten a fair
start on him. Although Draven scaled the fence as quickly as he could, he’d
lost much of his speed as well as his strength in the past months. By the time
he dropped into the snow on the opposite side of the fence, the woman had sprinted
far ahead. Ignoring the tearing pain in his mangled legs, he pushed himself
forward with every bit of strength he still possessed. Speed had always been
his advantage, and now he called on every reserve of energy left to propel him
after her, leaping further than he’d known he still could. A bolt of pain tore
through him when he landed, and he felt his freshly healing skin split when he
leapt at her again.

This
time, he came down close behind her. She had run, but perhaps she had never
attempted the feats he performed, perhaps she, like most Thirds, still did not
know the full power she possessed, because she had never utilized it. Draven
steeled himself, and in one final bound, he smashed into her.

They
toppled into the snow together. She let out a yelp of surprise and twisted
under him. Even through her coat, he could feel the slimness of her body, and
its strength. He hadn’t realized how weak he’d become until that moment,
wrestling to pin a child-sized Superior and failing so miserably. She scrambled
forward on all fours, slipping through his hands without much difficulty.
Grasping her coat, he clung to her as she dragged him a meter forward in the
snow. Then she twisted onto her back, braced her hands behind her in the snow,
drew her knee towards her chest, and smashed her heel into his face.

Teeth
snapped off into his mouth as the force of the blow shot through Draven. He
blinked hard, trying to clear the momentary haze of pain from his eyes. His
tongue convulsed to prevent the fragments from slipping down his throat, and he
heard the moan escape his lips with a gush of blood. The woman had torn herself
free and run again, leaving a handful of fabric from her coat in Draven’s
clenched fist. He stumbled to his feet, ripping his mind from the waves of pain
that threatened to overtake him.

The
little woman had disappeared from sight. He followed her trail through the snow
until he reached the first cleared road. Her trail stopped, and he stopped with
it. She’d returned to her scooter and fled into the night. From her tracks and
those of the tires, he could tell she alone had dismounted. He’d managed more
than a cursory glimpse of her before she fled. Though unusually young, he
guessed she belonged among his order. Like most Thirds, she had that soft,
underused look about her, nondescript and ill-defined as a shape outlined in
watercolor. Only her youthful appearance set her apart, and that only slightly.
Though most Thirds had evolved having twenty or so human years, the woman he’d
seen watching him appeared no more than half that. Still, many had only managed
fifteen years before the Evolution, and some even less.

Draven
tread back through the snow, cursing her and himself. He stopped to pick the
shards of teeth from the patch of bloodied snow on his way, and gathered them
in his mouth while he scaled the fence. His body protested every movement, as
if it would give out before he’d gained the top of the fence. With relief, he
dropped to the other side and trudged to the tent. He crawled inside and
collapsed on his sleep sack.

Cali
stirred inside her bag.

“Cali,
awaken,” he mumbled through the mouthful of broken teeth. “We must leave at
once.”

She
sat straight up and turned to him, wide-eyed. “Why? What happened?”

“Someone
saw us. A woman. She was outside the fence, watching me.”

“Well,
maybe she was surprised to see you. That doesn’t mean she’ll turn you in.”

“She
ran when I went after her.”

“Why
would you go after her?”

“So
she wouldn’t report us.”

“Were
you going to kill her?”

Draven
considered. He’d not stopped to formulate a plan. He’d acted. “I don’t know.
But we must go now. Someone knows where we are.”

“What’s
wrong with your mouth? You’re talking funny. I can hardly understand you.”

“Hurt
my lip.”

“Oh.
Well, that woman, she doesn’t know who we are. Right?”

Draven
paused. “Perhaps. She didn’t look important.”

“Maybe
she was just one of the homeless people you told me about, the ones without
papers. Maybe she was looking for a place to stay or some food. You should have
talked to her. Maybe she could have helped us.”

“She
wasn’t an Illegal, she had a car. And what do you imagine she would have eaten?”

Cali
didn’t answer.

“They
often travel in packs. Would you invite a group of Superiors to draw from you?”

“I
guess not.” Cali rubbed her eyes and touched Draven’s back. “You’re freezing.
Where are your clothes?”

“Outside.
I was bathing in the snow when she surprised me.”

“You
still have splinters,” Cali said, running her hand down his back slowly. He tried
not to lose focus on their new problem, but her hand, her warm, soft hand…

He
pushed her away. Though he did not tell Cali, he knew he’d not have the
strength to fight off even one Superior if the woman came back for Cali. If she
brought a pack… But no. The woman had savored a human and not tried to reach
the tent. And she had a car. No paperless Third would own a vehicle or pass up
a chance for a hot meal. She was a law-abiding citizen, and she would follow
the correct procedure for reporting suspicious persons. “She’ll likely report
us,” he said. “I look suspicious. And she ran without speaking to me.”

“Because
you ran after her. She was probably just scared.”

“People
don’t run without reason. Not Superiors. We’re not scared of unknown people.
She knew I was a criminal.”

“That’s
silly. She could have just been startled, or scared because you ran at her. I
doubt most people’s big goal is to turn us in or even find us. Only Byron, and
maybe a few more trackers by now.”

“Perhaps,”
he admitted. “Still, it would be safer to leave.”

“Come
on, can’t we just stay and be on the lookout? I really like it here. And I want
to finish our house, once the snow is gone. Don’t you? Please? Please?” Her
voice had gone softer with cajoling, her finger kneading into his lower back. Warmth
flowed from her, thawing him, sinking into his skin where her thumbs massaged.
He began relaxing back towards her, letting his mind go, taken over by the
sensation of her fingers pressing into him…. He jerked away from the dart of
pain, turning quickly away from her probing fingers.

“What
was that?” she asked, staring at him.

“Nothing.
It’s not anything.” He began to search for a clean shirt.

“Yes,
it was,” she insisted. “I know what those are. I have them all over. And you
have them, too.”

“It’s
not what you think.”

“Yes,
it is. It feels exactly the same. Who bit you? Can you drink each other’s
blood?”

“Of
course not. Rather, I could, but it’s…wrong. Like cannibalism.”

“Then
who bit you?”

“No
one. It matters not. It was a long time ago.” A long time ago when he was
human. He’d had more then, as many as Cali and more. He’d removed most of the
beads with his teeth or a knife, but he could not reach those at such an
awkward angle.

With
an unmistakable look of pity in her soft gaze, Cali moved forward on her knees,
tentative, and slid her hands around him, pressing her fingers into his back
again. Draven twisted away and pushed her back. She sat down hard, such a hurt
look crossing her face that he regretted it at once. “Don’t,” he said. “I’m
fine.”

He
studied Cali for a moment, trying to determine if he’d hurt her, but she only looked
offended.

“Do
they still hurt?” she asked when he’d turned away to look for socks in the
bags.

“Yes.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“We
should pack the bags, have everything ready, in case someone comes. We’ll die
without these things,” he said. “I’ll stay nearby for a bit...Until we’re certain
she didn’t report us.”

“So
we can stay?”

“I
don’t imagine it is wise.”

“But
we can? Maybe? For a while, at least.”

“Perhaps.”

“Thank
you,” Cali said, and, missing or simply ignoring Draven’s wary look, threw her
arms about his neck. “I’m so happy.”

“Yes,
alright, very good,” he said, and patted her back the way he might pat a dog that
jumped on him. “Here now, come away.” Her heartbeat thrummed against him,
beating through her clothes, that pulse inside her that always made him yearn.

He
untangled himself from her arms. If he could touch that wonderful, life-giving
part of her, reach inside her and cup her hot, beating heart in his hands for
just a moment, to know with all his Superior senses the wonder of a heartbeat.
If he’d had one, could he feel the blood move within him, hear the sounds of
beating and flowing life inside his own body? Would it deafen?

In
a way, it made sense that he no longer contained the noisy processes of a human
body. He needed his other senses, the ones that would not function at optimal
levels when surrounded by the sounds and scents of a warm human body. To evolve
to a state of such perfect clarity, the body must be secondary but nearly indestructible,
so the other senses could function at full capacity.