The Daughter Of Lava (#3 Reclaimed Souls Series) (11 page)

I suppose being an enhanced half-human has its privileges, I think ruefully, especially as I remember her tongue. I smile at
that
particular memory.

She moves easier than me and Roland. We’re both a mess. Burned. Limping. Deaf. Extremely bloody. And, I’ll admit it, pretty damn ugly—not that we were much to begin with.

Cat and Roland turn us down another darkened hallway whose lights do not glow, and I have to clutch onto Cat’s arm to follow. I hear something moving—a door—as stone slides against stone. I move when Cat does.
 

It’s another pitch-black hidden passageway with an uneven, carved-out floor. Instantly, I know we’re in the mountain. The air is cool and smells chalky.

Cat jerks downward on my arm and I take it to mean the path will decline. And it does, in the form of a stone staircase—also uneven—but the steps are shallow, long, and wide, and I’m able to traverse it somewhat easily. It continues down forever, so much so that I think, rather sarcastically, that once we finally come back to the surface, we’ll be on a different continent. I wonder what’s happening topside with the war. Guilt gnaws at me for not being outside.

We reach a flat landing, and Cat slows down. I see a small flare a few feet away and then it turns into a larger, glowing torch, and, since it is in Roland’s hand, he just as quickly deposits it into a chiseled-out hollow crook in the wall.

It illuminates the chamber—or small cavern, I should say—and I discover, somewhat enchantedly, that the room is a naturally derived grotto, complete with a small pool of fresh, clean mountain water. A little bit of my hearing is back in my left ear and I can faintly hear a gentle trickle of liquid as it flows from someplace higher than this into the basin of water.

In my visual dedication to all of this, I miss seeing what Roland and Cat are doing. Which means I failed to see, in the beginning, the other room joined to this one. They walk in and out of it repeatedly. Carrying things. Food. Water pouches. Clean clothing.

Then, as if we all think the exact same thought, they immediately strip off their dirty garments. I mostly stare at Roland, at his smooth, red-raised chest and his smooth, hair-free sex, with extreme interest; however, Cat’s physique intrigues me, too. Her tall, lithe, tattooed figure also arouses desire within me as I view her small breasts, flat stomach, and her double-gender sex parts. She is both male and female, able to please just about anyone at any time,
and
she can seriously kill giant, full-blooded Patroxi ass.

Everyone should be in love with her.

“Over here, Rahda,” Roland says, breaking my thoughts, pointing down to a box with my name on it. Roland steps into the pool of water, Cat follows, and I quickly disrobe, though careful around my burned arm and leg, and enter the pool.

Dear goddess, the water is liquid ice, and as I stand up—it isn’t deep—the bone-chilling water feels exquisite against my fevered skin. I sink under, allowing my head and hair to get wet. By the time I break the surface, Cat’s already leaving the pool, and Roland isn’t far behind.

This isn’t a vacation. It’s a quick respite, a change of clothes, and a bite to eat before we carry on. I climb out of the rocky pool, find a towel in my box, dry off, coat my leg and arm in a stinky, viscous burn salve that Cat tosses my way, and then change into a fresh set of clothing and new boots. Roland hands me my dagger and the sword that Cat gave me earlier, plus a set of diamond-plated-chain mail, which I quickly pull over my head and fasten around the sides of my waist.
 

“Here,” he says, shoving two tins of canned meat in my direction. I eat the contents instantly, relishing the feel of food in my stomach. As if on cue, he hands me other canned food, which I do not inspect but consume just as quickly.

Satisfied, I retrieve The Pale Waters vial and the communicator tablet out of my old trousers. I notice other boxes, crates, and even a few other containers literally bolted into the mountain rock—I presume this to house the
valuables
Cat mentioned earlier—as Cat and Roland finish eating, talking about how Mr. Underwood must have been here already, maybe as recently as thirty minutes ago, and how we might be able to catch up to him before he redirects the waterfall.

“What’s this about a waterfall?” I ask.

“Skyscraper City sits in a valley,” Roland explains. “We’ve damned up the waterfall for years, since before the royal revolution, to dry out the mineral-rich land below. We’ll flood it to push back the Patroxi and the soldiers from the city.”

“But you’ll ruin Skyscraper City,” I protest.

“You must admit, Rahda,” Cat says, “that there isn’t much that hasn’t already been ruined by a hundred years of savage ruling, the lack of clean water, and now, the ravaging fires destroying it as we speak.”

“Our citizens. What do you have to say about them?”

“Mr. Underwood’s taken care of that,” Roland says with some relief in his voice. “But we’re behind schedule. We knew about the attacks, but we had no idea someone would dispatch eight full-blooded Patroxi aliens on us.”

My mind spins.

“Say that last part again,” I order him.

He gives me a confused look, but he complies. “We knew about—”

“No, no,” I swipe my hand in the air urgently. “After that.”

Cat watches us intently, her head going back and forth.

“That someone would send eight full-blooded Patroxi aliens—”

“
Dispatch
,” I correct him. “You said
dispatch
.”

“And?” Roland shakes his head, still confused at my line of questioning.

Make ready and dispatch eight.

“
You
sent the encrypted message,” I blurt out quickly, stepping back. Even Cat is looking at him in a new light. “
You
ordered the full-blooded Patroxi ambush.”

Twenty-Three

T
HE
MUSCLES
IN
HIS
jaw work back and forth. Clenching, unclenching, and I can almost hear the murderous words bouncing around in his head.

Finally, he exhales, though his icy glare stays fixed on me. “Why the hell would I do that, Rahda?”

“You deny it?”

Cat clears her throat. “I thought that we established that Jaucey called them. We’re wasting time,” she mutters in a tone that suggests she knows we aren’t paying attention. But what I do hear in her voice is that she doesn’t seem all that concerned if Roland did or didn’t call in the full-blooded Patroxi. She moves to the far side of the room, grabs the torch, comes back. Behind her I see a second set of stairs that lead up.

“Of course I deny it,” he all but growls at me. “How could I have ordered it?”

“A secured network terminal, obviously,” I snarl back at him as I close the distance between us, limping. My head throbs and I try to push away the rest of the pain in my body. Unsuccessfully. “Everything’s connected. The buildings. The mountains. Everything. Even to the Old City. The Palace Skyscraper must have several terminals.”

“It has one,” he says without hesitation. “But it is in part of the Palace I haven’t entered for a number of years. I certainly wouldn’t use it to order a full-blooded Patroxi attack. Furthermore, I do not know
who
I would send such an order to, Rahda.”

I steal a glance at Cat. Her face reveals nothing. But, between the two of them, she’s the more technical one. Savvy one. Cunning one. She stands like a proud warrior, ready for battle, poised for danger, and bored of our conversation.

“Alright, what about you Cat?”

She scoffs as her eyes narrow. “So I’m the bad guy now, right? We don’t know anything about the message you are referring to or how the full-blooded Patroxi were ordered. In my opinion, I would suspect whoever it is that told you this information.”

Did Dev lie to me?
I never saw the actual message. He
told
me about it. He hates Roland, and because of this I have to acknowledge that I do not know all the facts.

I let out a long breath and decide to do something I rarely do. “I apologize. The last few days and certainly the last few hours have been one hell of a ride.”

The firelight casts an orange glow over the both of them.

After a long pause, Cat finally sighs and accepts my apology. “Tensions are high. There is nothing to forgive, Rahda.”

Roland remains silent, but shakes his head at me disappointingly. I feel like I can read his mind:
You should have more faith in me, Rahda.
He picks up a large duffle bag and slings it over his shoulders.

He joins Cat at the staircase and they climb, the firelight moving with them. But he turns around. “You coming?”

I look down at the rock beneath my feet and notice that the water is higher. Mr. Underwood must be redirecting the waterfall already. Soon, this entire cavern will be completely underwater.

I nod and meet him at the staircase.

Twenty-Four

E
VERYONE
HAS
SECRETS
AND
everyone lies. One or both of them are lying, but I don’t know why.

As we climb the steep steps, I mull over the complexity of their relationship and about the conversation a few moments ago.

Roland is several steps ahead of me. By his stiff, strong back, I can tell he is still insulted by my accusation. While I no longer think that he
personally
ordered the Patroxi, by now I’m confident that he knows who did. So why is he keeping his thoughts to himself?

It is easy to suspect the Grandfather, but he has no access to the Palace Skyscraper. For as long as I’ve know him, the Grandfather has despised half-humans.
An injustice on humanity
, he used to say, and that only
filthy humans
would mate with the damn aliens in the first place. His only consolation was that their offspring were infertile and unable reproduce further. I don’t see him calling in the full-blooded Patroxi as reinforcements. Possible, but doubtful. The Grandfather wouldn’t summon something he couldn’t control.

Jaucey and his daughter are the best culprits, but why wouldn’t Roland say so? While Jaucey lived, he seemed to be the type to enjoy inflicting cruelty on others. Elwyn’s possibilities were limitless in the amount of savagery that I felt she could invoke. Plus, it is possible that she has, or had, access to the Palace.

Then I think of Cat. She is a contradiction within contradictions. She would lie
to
Roland to protect him. She would lie
for
him to protect him. He is the sun she orbits. So what would happen if I took him away from her?

I might get the
real
Cat Evinas. Half-human. Half-alien. Warrior. Lover. Former personal pleasure servant.

Her lack of human emotions makes her more alien than human. But she loves Roland in her own way. Like how a victim might idealize her savior.

Classifying Cat as a victim is like calling a mighty mountain range a couple of small pebbles. And the more I think about it, the more I feel I observe the situation in reverse.
 

Cat is the savior and Roland the victim.

So who am I supposed to be?

Twenty-Five

T
HE
HIGHER
WE
CLIMB
, the darker my thoughts. Step, step, step. One after the other, not even pondering the staircase deeply embedded in solid rock that would, I presume, end at the peak of the mountain range several miles away.

What I wonder about is why Roland gave me battle armor before we started the climb. What will meet us at the top, if not Alben Underwood?

Surely he could have been trusted to divert the waterfall without our direct assistance… right?

And how will we return to ground level? So far, no other paths have been presented to us. Only up or down. And down leads back to the cavern, probably already completely under water by now. It feels like I’m running away from it all.

I worry about Dorni, Wren Idon and her granddaughter, Gilly, and the rest of the citizens who I convinced to stick around to fight.

For me. For the continent. For themselves. And for what? Nothing, that’s what. In short order, everything below a certain point on the mountain will be one large, ocean-sized lake, blank-slating everything the way a priestess might absolve lost souls of their darkest deeds at confessional.

My goddess, what an idiot I am.

Goosebumps ripple my flesh, then my ears pop several times due to the advanced elevation. Each pop is a piercing pain that feels like mini-explosions inside my ears. I stop suddenly and grip the wall like it might understand and take the pain away from me.
 

The roughly cut stone wall digs into my skin, slicing my palms open.

I seem to be able to hear everything now. My shallow breathing. My traitorous heart knocking against my rib cage. Gushing water from some unseen, hollow cavern to my left. My companions’ footsteps ahead of me.

Cat and Roland, unaware of my stop, continue on and very quickly, the torchlight moves out of my sight, though its burnt orange hue illuminates the path ahead, bathing it in a heavenly manner.

They talk quietly, but I can’t make out the words as they progress higher. Maybe they’ve been talking the whole time. Maybe they’ve been talking to me, too, and I didn’t hear it.

Warm blood slides down my wrists, and the urge to lick it shocks and repulses me.
 

“Here I am, turning into a damned vampire,” I soliloquize, wiping my palms on my trousers, chuckling.

I hear something and jump.

I hear a scuff just up ahead, like boots touching stone, but no light touches the darkened space. Cat must still be far ahead.

Roland… did he turn around?

“That’d be a shame,” his warm voice says in response. He no longer sounds irritated with me. Something about his voice soothes me instantly. “But I suppose I’d have to let you bite me,” he sighs teasingly. “Go ahead. Be fast.”

I smile.

“That’s better,” he says as if he can see the stupid grin on my face.

“Did Cat leave you in the dust?”

His hands find mine. His thumbs halt as he fingers the cuts in my palms. Heat sears into my skin and for some reason, my entire body sings and feels alive.