Angel Arias (14 page)

N
aif’s voice lingered in Lenoir’s mind; a distraction he had tried to shed, but could not. The humans he’d bonded with before had bent to his will; they’d come at his calling and could be blocked from his mind when he grew weary of them. But when Naif was troubled, he could think of nothing else but her.

That had never happened. Never had he been able to feel another’s emotions so keenly.

He pushed apart the thick, pliant strands of his cocoon and uncurled from his resting sac so that he could let his feet drop to the floor of the cave.

More pressing things should be occupying his thoughts than the slim, serious girl whose life he’d saved.

Since he’d seen Naif safely aboard the airship, the balance of powers had shifted on Ixion and it was no longer safe to rest beneath Syn. Instead, he and his allies shifted location every few days, avoiding Brand and her believers.

The labyrinth of island caves was extensive enough to hide from them, though he hated to skulk and cower in his own home. Yet Brand’s numbers were greater than his. Only eighteen still followed him, including his two bonded humans, while twenty had gone to Brand. Of those remaining, several had disappeared into the dark, perhaps sent mad by the division among their kind.

Varonessa held the rest close to her – a small band only, but they had the future in their hands. Whoever they sided with would wrest control.

Lenoir wanted to believe that Varonessa would capitulate to him. He hoped that she merely feigned neutrality, buying herself time to confirm her decision’s correctness.

Varonessa did not like change and that counted in Lenoir’s favour. It also meant that she had not moved from Syn, their resting place since they’d settled on Ixion. She still shared that place with Brand.

Anger rattled through Lenoir like rocks shaking loose in an earth tremor. He must find a way to see Varonessa. As hereditary arbitrator among them, it was her obligation to ensure the survival of the clan. With so much unrest among their brothers-of-the-dark, Varonessa would be obliged to listen to Brand and her malcontents. He must ensure that what he hoped was her lip-service to Brand’s side became no more than that.

And he must keep his own safe.

My own.

Once that had been simply the Riperian clan, but now Brand’s dissent and this girl – this
human –
had forced other considerations upon him. Frustration at his situation clashed with his longing to see Naif. He ached to taste her again. Her blood had been like a rainbow in the dark; fierce and pure and exotic.

‘Lenoir?’

Test’s pale face emerged from between the strands of her sac, interrupting his musing. His second always rested near him, and remained attuned to his movements.

‘Move the others to the place we agreed. I must check on the young,’ said Lenoir.

As Test slid out of her pouch, Lenoir heard the slight sucking noise and smelled the secretions. For a moment, he felt nostalgic for their distant home world, where their sacs had numbered in the thousands. Not this pitiful handful.

‘The girl holds you in thrall, Lenoir. You tend her human friends that would harm us, ahead of your own family.’

‘These circumstances are not something to be seen in such simple terms, Test. You know that.’

She dropped her voice to a soft whisper. ‘I know that Dark Eve and the young one they call Clash have done nothing but work against us. And yet because of your bond with the girl, you protect them. There are but eighteen of us and even some of those are wavering. I no longer understand what you want from me.’

‘You must keep them right. Keep them believing.
That
is what I want from you.’

‘But our agreement with the Elders has served us. It has kept us alive. By helping these young ones you threaten that.’

‘To truly survive we must adapt. Ixion is on the cusp of change. We can bargain, make new rules.’

‘Then surely we should stop the young ones who interfere? Come down hard.’

‘No!’
Lenoir let enough power surge through his voice for Test to taste it. She swallowed hard and her fingers clenched.

The other sacs in the cave began to shake and their occupants moaned in one accord.

‘Lenoir,’ Test gasped. ‘Please.’

He withdrew his power and gave his second a piercing stare. ‘We must learn – that is how we survive. Our home world was destroyed because we did not do that. These militant young humans may be our allies in the end. We cannot foresee it all.’ He softened his gaze and warmed his voice. ‘Trust me, Test. As you have always done.’

Test lowered her head in deference. ‘Of course, Lenoir. But do not forget us.’

‘Forget my blood?’

‘The girl clouds everything because she is in your blood now too.’

‘Her name is
Naif
.’ His chastisement was mild but firm. ‘Honour that.’

Lenoir left Test in the cave and went to the lava vents they used to reach the surface. Ripples in the smooth rock made it easy for him to grasp with his strong fingers, and the sides felt comfortingly solid against his body as he ascended.

Above ground, the night air was warmer and music thrummed against it, creating vibrations that helped calm him.

On light feet he ran along a scant, dark path, barely feeling the stress of the incline or the sharp rocks that flicked up against his legs. It was a relief to be in the open after days in the caves; a relief to expend some energy.

He followed the streaming light trails made by the kar tracks and let them guide him to where his carriage lay hidden near the church of Agios.

It was close to here that he’d found Leyste stalking Naif.

The memory brought a flood of desire. He’d carried her to his carriage, bleeding and frightened, and as they sped to Vank she’d kissed him. The beast inside him that he kept so tightly contained had almost found its way out then, stirred wildly by her touch.

It also brought a stab of guilt. He’d killed one of his brothers on this slope that night. Without hesitation, he’d torn him apart.

Was Test right?
Had
he put Naif before his clan?

Now her blood was in him, he could no longer help himself. While he lived, so would she.

A scream pierced the thrum of music and jangled his senses. A Riper was in trouble. Not one of his, he thought, or he would have felt it before now. One of Brand’s Ripers, or Varonessa’s. Or perhaps one of the rogues.

In the past he would have gone to help them. But not now.

Lenoir activated his carriage, watching its metallic legs unfold and shudder upright, like a sleeping animal shaking itself awake.

He climbed inside and settled on the plush velvet seat. He could still smell her in here; her blood and her secretions. Strands of her hair would be caught in the creases of the seat. He fought the desire to search for them.

‘Take me to the dam,’ he told the carriage and settled back to watch the night kaleidoscope past.

There had been only one safe place to take Clash and Dark Eve; only one place where Brand would not think to search for them. The uthers had accepted his strange request without argument and had cleared space among their tools and machines to make room for the much larger humans.

Lenoir didn’t know if their simple acceptance was driven by sympathy or fear. Uthers’ thoughts were as opaque to him as their physical appearance could be translucent.

That was the reason it had taken his clan so long to discover the Uthers’ presence on Ixion – their aptitude for invisibility. Only the small gifts they’d begun to leave for the clan, their shy gestures of greeting, gave them away. And with the discovery of their existence, so the clan had learned about their unique manufacturing skills. Uthers could make anything with their strange machines and clever minds.

It had been straightforward at first; a barter system in which the uthers provided clothes and food in exchange for the long-coal that kept them healthy.

But the Elders had not been content with that and –

The carriage jolted and lurched, interrupting Lenoir’s reverie. They were on the rutted bank of the uthers’ dam. He braced himself against the upholstery so as not to be thrown about the carriage.

After a few more moments the vehicle stopped and settled into a resting pose. He slid open the door and peered into the dimness. Enough light travelled down here from the kar tracks that he could see the mounds that formed the dam walls and the glistening water pooling behind it. He smelled damp, musty fur.

A thin grey form was nearby. It stood on its hind legs, twisting its paws together.

‘Unam. I wish to see Clash, Dark Eve and the boy, Rollo,’ said Lenoir.

The uther shook his head, almost sadly.

‘Where are they?’

‘Gone.’ The uthers rarely spoke and when they did, the words squeezed into the air as though great pressure had been exerted on them.

‘Gone?’ Lenoir slid power into his question.

His body quickened with concern. Dark Eve and Rollo were of no great consequence to him but if something happened to Naif’s brother . . .

The uther shuffled away towards a shadowy ridge, forcing Lenoir to climb out of the carriage and follow along the slippery bank. He mimicked Unam’s path exactly, knowing a step either side of the narrow, dry strip would send him sliding down the algae-covered slope and into the water.

Finally the uther crossed a thick mud and rock bridge onto a firmer section of the dam. Here the dry silt was peppered with brush and twigs which Lenoir knew hid the tunnels that led down into the uthers’ lairs.

Unlike the smooth lava vent Lenoir had just climbed, these tunnels were studded with twigs and sharp pebbles, and muddy-wet in patches. The uther beckoned him into one and crawled to the bottom. Lenoir followed and was soon covered in dirt and fur.

Inside, the lair was lit by a lamp, and the makings of three beds lay on the floor. A pile of clothes was balled-up on one of the beds, as though hastily pushed to one side.

‘Gone,’ said the uther again.

‘Why did you bring me here just to say that?’ asked Lenoir, struggling to keep anger from his voice.

Unam bent over and lifted the corner of one of the bedrolls. Underneath, there were scratchings in the hardened dirt.

Lenoir crouched down to examine them.

In the halo of light they looked unremarkable, even incidental, but as he concentrated, he began to see images. Lines led to squares in a pattern that he recognised. It was a map of the kars and churches.

A number of small crosses marked the area around two places; the station at Syn and the slope below Agios, close to where he kept his carriage.

His remembered the Riper’s cry and his heart sped up, causing his senses to heighten. What were Dark Eve and Clash planning?

‘Thank you, Unam. I will not forget your help,’ he said softly. He glanced up at the uther but the creature was nowhere to be seen.