Sea of Stars (15 page)

“Oh,” I murmur, looking down, “I was just looking for the umm . . . you know,” I whisper shyly, “the Commodus.” As a point of fact, it’s not a lie; I’m so scared I’m about to pee my pants.

He doesn’t laugh at me. Instead, he looks around, gauging the state of things. “You want something . . . private,” he states, not like a question.

“Preferably,” I agree.

“Can you climb stairs?” he asks.

My heart leaps in my chest.
Is he serious?
“Urr, yeah. I think so.”

“There’s a Commodus in the gallery above. Would that work, Elle Kricket?” his eyes soften in concern. “I’ll help you up there.”

“Lead the way,” I return with a small smile.

I lean on his arm as he guides me to the stairs, needing his support more than I care to admit. Once there, we climb them together. He pauses several times to let me rest. I play the part of an invalid, because I sort of am one, but I cringe every time he stops, covertly looking over my shoulder to see if anyone has discovered the medic I’ve left in a drug-induced stupor on my cot. I’m also terrified that Kyon will return at any moment. He’s much harder to lie to than everyone else, because he knows what I’m capable of.

When we reach the top of the stairs, I’m ushered to a doorway nearby. “I’ll wait for you here,” he says, allowing me access to the Commodus. As I shuffle in, I search for another way out. The facility is elegant, but there’s only the one point of entry, which is currently being guarded by an enormous, armed giant. I exhale an irritated breath. “Really?” I mutter sarcastically to myself. Since I’m here, I quickly use the facility.

Afterward, while showering my hands with the warm steam spray at the beautiful shell-shaped niche in the wall, I study the ceiling for vents that I can fit into. Nothing. My knees feel weak. I sit down on the floor, and then lie down—the tile is cool, it chills my skin through my dirty shirt. Staring up at the ceiling, I wonder for the millionth time,
How did I get here?

After a short time, Keenan’s voice sounds through the open doorway. “Elle Kricket, do you need some assistance?” I don’t reply; I just stare at the ceiling—it’s beveled with clouds projected onto it—it’s a little like being outside on a summer day—blue sky.

Keenan’s bootsteps echo off the elegant walls. “Elle Kricket?” he asks hesitantly, when he sees me lying on the floor. I don’t make eye contact, continuing to stare at the ceiling.

Keenan squats down next to me, touching his hand to my shoulder. “Do you need me to call you a curer?” he asks, nervously looking into my eyes.

I whisper real low, “I need . . .”

He leans his ear close to my lips, trying to hear me better. I move my arm up, pressing the tranquilizer gun against the side of his neck. The gun makes a sharp hissing sound as I pull the trigger. His shocked eyes meet mine as I load him full of sedative. My arm falls away, resting again on the floor with a thud.

His pupils dilate within seconds. “Why?” he asks as he slips to rest with his elbows on the floor. He reaches for his weapon, but his eyelids droop. His cheek crashes onto the tile next to my ear. When his eyes close, I exhale a deep breath.

Gazing up at the ceiling once more, I point to a passing cloud on the screen—it looks like it has a long neck. “Giraffe,” I say softly to my unconscious companion.

I ease myself up off the floor. My joints creak like I’m a thousand years old. Every muscle I own is stiff to the point of cramping. I glance at the gauge on the tranquilizer gun: it’s empty. I let it drop to the floor. Next I strip off the rehyde-pack from my arm, letting the discarded cylindrical tube bounce with a clatter onto the hard surface.

I pull Keenan’s weapon from his shoulder and place the strap across my chest, before examining the gun. It’s not as heavy as it looks. It has readouts on the side. Notchlike finger grooves indicate where the gun is supposed to be held. It’s long like a rifle, and unfortunately, my arms aren’t nearly long enough to hold it the way it should be held. I let the gun swing around me so that it rests against my back.

Turning toward Keenan, I pat him down, searching him for something I can use. I tug an earpiece from his ear. I hold it up near my own ear and listen—I think I hear Kyon’s voice coming through it, but it’s faint. I rub the earpiece on my pant leg before I place it in my ear.

“Keenan, report. Give me your location,” Kyon’s voice growls. A pause and then, “Report—do you have Kricket with you?”

I touch the side of the earpiece to press it farther into my ear; a small microphone snakes out, stopping near my mouth. I breathe a shallow breath.

“Kricket,” Kyon says my name like a warning. “Where are you?”

“How’d you know it was me?” I whisper. I forget about searching Keenan and hurriedly tiptoe to the doorway of the Commodus.

“Call it the electricity between us both,” he replies in a softer tone, like the one he’d used with me earlier when he’d called me lovely. “I know the light sound of your breath—it falls heavy on me.”

I peek around the door frame. There are soldiers at the top of the gallery steps, looking in all directions, presumably for me. I’ll have to go soon; they’ll find me in here if I wait.

“Why do you want to hold on to me? Find someone else—just let me go.” I slip out the door and hug the illuminated wall, quietly backing away from where the soldiers are. I glance over my shoulder to make sure I go down the hallway that will take me to the skywalk between the buildings.

“I don’t want another for my consort; I only want you. I’ll be your first lover—”

“No you won’t, because even if you are, I’ll
never
love you,” I retort.

“There’ll be no martyrs here, Kricket. I’ll tear your heart off your sleeve and bury it deep in my chest. Your savage heart will beat for me. Run if you think you can—I’ll hunt you down.”

My tongue is heavy in my mouth. “I’ll have my finger on the trigger when you get here.”

“You best have more than that—have a bullet with my name on it. It’ll make no difference. I won’t allow you to deny me anything—your mind, your heart, your body—”

My limbs are weighted down by fear. I have to get him out of my head. I pull the earpiece from my ear, throwing it away just as Kyon reaches the top of the staircase. His eyes are on me immediately, like he senses me. He gives me a dirty smile, one that makes me feel as if he’s seeing me naked.

As he pauses to assess the fact that I haven’t drawn my weapon on him, like I’d promised to, I can’t help noticing the same of him. He doesn’t pull out his gun; he doesn’t need it. He’s bigger than all the other soldiers near him—physically perfect—and a hell of a lot stronger than me. I can see the intimidation on the faces of the other Strikers. It’s not his rank that does it either; it’s the fact that he exudes raw power.
I’d bet most people in his life do exactly what he tells them to do when he tells them to do it. I’m probably the only one who doesn’t.

Kyon’s cold blue eyes warm the longer he looks at me. He scares me like no one ever has. I know he’s capable of anything.
He was very gentle with me when he thought I was sick . . . Would I have loved you if you’d managed to keep me in the beginning?
my eyes ask him. He tilts his head to the side, like he hears me.

His look devours me, and I’m fairly certain now that he truly
is
picturing me naked. My breathing becomes shallow, and I turn and run from him on shaky legs. In my panic, I’m unable to think of a reason why no one is guarding this entrance to the building. The feminine guide-bot hologram materializes once more as I approach the exit leading to the skywalk. “Thank you for visiting the Premiere Palisades—” I blow past her, glancing over my shoulder.

Kyon is not far behind, catching up fast. The door slides open for me. Passing the threshold, I realize now why there are no guards to the skywalk: it’s been destroyed. There’s a huge gap between the buildings now. Unable to turn back, I run down the glass tunnel to its jagged edge, finding shattered pieces of debris where the skywalk has been torn away. I run over it, cutting my feet on sharp pieces.

Nearing the edge, I realize the gap is entirely too wide for me to jump to the other side. I gaze down over the edge. The fall is around two hundred stories—not survivable, even with the reservoir at the bottom of it—even if I could swim.

I glance back over my shoulder. Kyon slows, and then comes to a stop. He holds up his hand to the soldiers following him. They stand down, not coming any nearer to me. “Kricket,” Kyon says gently, like he had before when I was sick, “come here.”

It’s an order, however softly it was spoken. I glance over the edge once more; it nearly gives me vertigo. I press a shaky hand to my forehead, rubbing it. My head feels like it’s going to burst. Kyon takes a cautious step toward me. He murmurs, “Remember the last time you jumped?” he asks me. “This isn’t the same thing. You were only two stories up in your Chicago tenement—you broke your ribs and your clavicle. You wouldn’t survive this fall.”

My eyes widen in shock.
He knows about my past—the night I jumped from my foster father’s apartment after he’d nearly killed me. But he’s wrong about one thing.
“My ribs were already broken before I jumped,” I murmur.

He growls at this information, his face darkening more. “He hurt you badly,” Kyon says. He takes another step toward me, and I inch to the precipice of the skywalk.

“You’ve hurt me too,” I say honestly.

“I didn’t understand you before,” Kyon admits. “I’m beginning to now.” He pauses again, and then he says in a gentle tone, “Do you know what I’ve thought about since I awoke from medical stasis?”

“Killing everybody?”

He smiles at my accusation and shakes his head. “No, not everybody. I thought about what you said to me—how you think I’m like your foster father, Dan. Do you remember telling me about him?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“I’ve made a point, since our misunderstanding at the palace, to read every file that we’ve collected on you. I had largely ignored your past on Earth until now, thinking it wouldn’t be very important to me because I’m your future. But it is important, Kricket, where you come from, is it not?”

I just stare at him, not understanding where he’s going with this. “I’d rather you know nothing about me. In fact, forgetting about me would be the best thing you could do.”

“I’m going to find him,” Kyon says softly.

My eyebrows rise in surprise. “Find who?” I ask, my mouth going dry.

“Dan O’Callaghan.” As he says my foster father’s name, he takes another step toward me. “He doesn’t get to live after what he’s done to you.”

“You’ve done worse,” I reply.

“Have I?” He advances toward me again, his movements stealthy.

“You know you have.” The backs of my heels cross the edge of the skywalk. Kyon stops abruptly once more, my threat implicit.

“I’ve never been in a position to betray your trust, or your love, like he has.”

“I don’t want you to hurt him,” I state forcefully, so that he gets the point. “I mean it. I don’t want anything other than to never see either one of you again.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

“Don’t think of the consequences; there are none for us. He brought this upon himself, whatever I choose to do to him. He brought you up in the dark. I thought you couldn’t feel pain, but you do . . . you just hide it well. You need strength, someone you cannot manipulate with your intelligence, someone who gives you boundaries. It’s the only way you’ll ever feel safe.”

“What?” I pale.

“I want you . . . your beautiful face, your taste, your mouth full of lies, your sad, violet eyes—I hate them, but I want them.”

“Kricket,” Trey’s voice says from behind me.

I whip around, seeing Trey coming toward me on the other side of the skywalk. He’s not alone: Jax, Wayra, and several other Cavars who were incarcerated are with him. Immediately, the Strikers behind Kyon open fire on the Cavars. The Cavars drop to the glass floor of the tunnel. I step between them to the middle of the skywalk, blocking a clear shot to Trey.

With a wolfish scowl, Kyon barks an order to his men. “Cease fire!” When his eyes return to me, he has a concerned expression on his face. He extends his hand to me. “Kricket,” he says gently, “come here.”

I glance over my shoulder at Trey again. He must have come from his apartment—he has on one of his black combat shirts, it molds to his muscles like a second skin. Gone is the jet pack that he clung to the last time I saw him. He’s on foot now and has his weapon drawn up to his shoulder, but he hasn’t fired any shots. He’s assessing our situation. He holds his hand up to the Cavars behind him, silently ordering them not to fire.

“How’d you find me?” I ask Trey, raising my voice to be heard over the chaos swirling around us. Aircraft blast through the air overhead; dogfights between Rafe and Alameeda pilots tear up the sky. Ammunition fire rains showers of orange and red, turning the twilight to day for brilliant moments. Our skywalk trembles as bombs hit the deck of the ship.

Trey holds up his watch on his wrist; it blinks with a blue light. “We’re tracking the slipshield on your wrist.”

I lift my wrist, studying the clear sticker that resembles the symbol on a USB port that I’d used to open Trey’s cell door. The small patch is blinking with a blue light. I look back at him and see anguish in his eyes. He doesn’t have a jet pack to reach me. I’m stuck on my side, a world away from him.

Kyon calls to Trey, “Tell her to come away from the edge. She’s too close—she’s going to fall.” Kyon is no longer wearing his jet pack either; none of the Strikers with him are. It’s a fact that makes Kyon’s jaw clench tighter the farther I lean over the gap.

Trey’s jaw tenses too, as he steps to his edge of the skywalk. He judges the distance between us. Lowering his gun, Trey touches his wristband again; the flashing blue light stops throwing its pale light on his face. When his eyes meet mine, I see fear in them. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

I nod my head, whispering, “Yes.”

“Then jump!” he says. I flinch, my heart pounding in my chest like he struck me. “
Do it!
” Trey implores.