The Fugitives, A Dystopian Vampire Novel: Book Four: The Superiors Series (16 page)

CHAPTER tWENTY-seven

For several nights, Draven carried Cali, who had yet to recover from her bullet wound. They traveled from early evening to late morning, following the small river until it joined a larger one. They came upon it just after light had broken on the third morning. Draven stopped and let Cali slide from his back. When he turned to speak, her face had gone pale. She huddled close, clutching a handful of his shirt.

“Cali? Are you unwell?”

“N—no,” she said staring wide-eyed at the rushing water.

“What is it then?”

“Is this where we die?”

Draven shook his head slowly. “No. Why would you ask that?”

“That’s what takes people when they die.”

“Did you dream this?”

“Everyone knows,” she said. “I’ve heard about them my whole life. And now I’ve seen it. The river that carries us home.”

“It is a river,” he said. “But it won’t take us home. There’s no place for us there.”

“No, it takes you home to freedom. In the afterwards. You don’t die, so you don’t know.”

“That’s nonsense. When you die, you become part of the earth. If you drowned, you’d go into the river for a bit before that. But we won’t drown.”

“How do you know? That’s what the stories say. When you die, you go into the water. Eventually, it all meets the big rushing water that takes your spirit away, back home, so your body can be washed clean of it.”

“Of what?”

“Your spirit.”

“Still your mind, my
jaani
. That’s not to happen today,” Draven said. “This river cannot take your soul, because you’re alive. Yes?”

“I…guess.”

“Very well. Eat what food we have while I take sleep. When I awaken, I will find more.” He lay on the mummy bag and covered himself with their clothing. Cali remained awake, eating the bit of food he’d caught along the way. When he awakened, they set out again, moving westward along the river. It seemed they traveled in the wrong direction, north again as well as west. Several days later, the sky above the horizon began to glow with the unmistakable luminosity of electric lights.

“Is that where we came from?” Cali asked.

“It’s what we’re looking for.”

“Can we find another house there?”

“Before the city lies a bridge. We can cross there.”

“And stay?”

He hesitated. “No.”

They crossed during daylight, uneasy that they’d seen no sign of Byron’s continuing pursuit. From the height of the bridge, they could see far ahead, past the kilometers of farmland to where a thick forest stretched into the haze of morning. Fog hung low over the river and the surrounding area. Now that planting season had begun, saps worked the fields, which no longer provided refuge for the fugitives.

Draven could think of no better place to stay the day, so he pulled Cali underneath the bridge. They spread the mummy bag on dusty bank of the river, as far under the bridge as they could squeeze, with spiders weaving in the small space above them. Draven curled his cold body around Cali’s warm one and took sleep. When he awakened, Cali had gone to sit on the rocks of the riverbank, bathed in the last rays of sunlight.

He covered his eyes with a shock of pain and waited again until the brightness faded. When he uncovered them, the sun had gone, and only the sky glowed with its reflection. Though the sun had left an ache behind his eyes, something of the picture had leached away without its direct rays. Now the tones were muted, and along the river, colorless shadows crept, swallowing daylight’s hues.

They left the river and moved south over the farmland, pushing on until morning, when they reached the forest. This was a real forest, unlike the sparse trees they’d encountered on the riverbank. The bright, yellow-green grass along the edges of the forest burst from the earth with unbearable vigor. In the forest, the leaved trees grew close, then tapered off, replaced with bare trees that reminded Draven of his time in the mountains.

They set up camp on a bed of needles under a towering pine. When Draven awoke that evening, he went in search of food, though he did not stray far from Cali. Within an hour, he returned with a rabbit and lit a fire from downed limbs and bark from nearby trees. As Cali stared into the flames, he watched her with such longing, watched the golden light flicker across her face and gleam off her hair, watched the flames reflected in her eyes. How much he wanted her.

“Are you hungry?” he asked at last.

“So hungry,” she said, her voice almost faint with longing. She only wanted warmth and food. That’s how he should look at her, with the longing of hunger alone. But he hungered for much more.

He rose suddenly, angry at himself for wanting what could not be. He knelt and began to open the rabbit along the middle to clean it.

“How do you know so much about human food?” Cali asked, watching Draven clean the rabbit with swift movements.

“How do you know about Superior food?” Draven asked, frowning as he peeled the skin away.

“I am Superior food,” Cali said with a laugh. “But really. If you’ve never had a human, how do you know all this? You can’t even eat it. I’m going to eat it, and I’d have no idea how to do what you’re doing.”

Draven shrugged without looking up. “I was once human, too.” He’d finished cleaning the carcass before he noticed how long it had been since either had spoken. He glanced up to find Cali staring like he’d grown an extra set of teeth.

“You used to be a human?” she asked slowly.

“Well…yes.”

“How is that possible? I knew you’d evolved from humans, but I thought it took hundreds of years. How—when were you human?”

“A hundred years ago, give or take a few years.”

“So when you say you evolved…”

“Evolution only takes days. By our definition.” Draven slid the rabbit onto the spit, propped it over the fire, and stepped away to wash his hands with a flask of river water. When he returned, Cali continued to study him with wary curiosity.

“I hope I’ve not upset you,” he said. “I forgot you wouldn’t—didn’t—know.”

“How would I know?” Cali asked. “Does anyone know?”

“We know, of course. A few humans likely know.”

For a time, they sat listening to the rabbit sizzle over the fire, letting the sound take the place of conversation. Cali couldn’t take her eyes off the food. Draven pierced the meat, letting juices and oil trickle over the crispy outside, blackened in places and golden pink in others. As it cooked, it released a wonderful aroma. Combined with the smoke and pine needles around them, it smelled like nature itself. When he estimated it done, he removed a bit of meat with his fingers.

“Doesn’t that burn?” Cali asked.

“A bit,” he admitted.

“Then why’d you do it that way?”

“I’d forgotten it would hurt.”

“You didn’t know touching something that’s cooking would hurt?”

“How would I know before I’d done it?” Draven began separating the meat from the bones.

Cali leaned forward and watched closely, as if memorizing his technique. After a bit, she said, “How long were you human?”

“Twenty-three years.”

“That’s how old you are.”

“Yes.”

“Because you never age,” she said. “I always wondered how you knew, since you never change. So if you evolved when you were five, or fifty, you’d always be that age?”

“Yes.”

“And when you were a human, you learned how to do all this?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you live? How different was everything?”

“Not very,” Draven said, turning the rabbit. “I lived on a food farm.”

“Then how’d you learn to do all this survival stuff? I’d never know how to catch a rabbit, or how to get food or cook it.”

“I was never good at being a good human.” Draven smiled and shaved off a slice of meat with his knife. “I suppose I’m not good at being a good Superior, either.”

“I think you’re good at it,” Cali said. “Maybe you’re just not good at…doing what everyone else wants.”

“That in itself means I’m no good at being a Superior.”

The firelight played over Cali’s face, made her hunger lovely and simple, gave her a depth she didn’t seem to possess in artificial light. “Do you ever miss it?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Of course not. What is there to miss?”

He had to stop watching her like that, thinking about the ways she looked like a woman. The ways in which he wanted her to be a woman.

He busied himself with the meat. “I miss daytime, the warmth of sunlight,” he said. “I saw you…you were lying on the shore. I wanted to lie next to you.” Draven glanced at her, but she stared into the fire without reaction. “I miss food sometimes. Being able to eat different things, to try new things. I wish I could share this new experience with you.”

“You’re part of it,” Cali said, hesitating only a moment before accepting the piece of meat he held out to her. “Besides, what would happen if you ate it?”

“I’d get sick.”

“You couldn’t even taste it?”

“If I swallowed it, I’d be sick later.”

“How do you know? Have you tried it?” She leaned forward and held the meat against his lips, somehow soft and challenging at once. Grasping her wrist, he plucked the meat from her fingers. He held it against her mouth, and after a moment, she opened her lips and he slipped it inside.

“I’ll taste it later in you,” he said, bringing her fingers to his mouth to lick the oil from them. She watched, her eyes shining in the firelight, her lips glistening with oil. A fleck of black clung to the corner of her mouth. He dropped her hand, leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Her lips were hot and slick from the fat of the rabbit.

She pulled away. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “I’ll be soft with you.”

“No, please.” Her eyes were wide and frightened like the rabbit’s, her heart beating nearly as rapidly.

Draven turned back to the fire. “Of course not. It was wrong of me to do that.”

He handed her the sheet of foil upon which he’d piled the meat. She ate it in silence. Afterwards, he took the bones away. When he returned, their eyes met, and the moment hung between them, suspended on the lines of their gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was…not thinking clearly. I was remembering what it was like to be human. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, okay. That’s good.”

“Forget it happened.”

“I will.”

“We should go on. It’s full dark now.” They had wasted too much time already. But she had to eat so he could eat. Still, he felt strange asking for sap, as if he’d lost that privilege when he’d kissed her. It hadn’t been much of a kiss. And yet, it had been one. He had crossed some invisible line, and he was afraid he couldn’t undo the crossing of it.

CHAPTER tWENTY-eight

Cali watched Draven cover the fire with dirt and dump the bloody, greasy wash water over it. He avoided looking at her. Had he kissed her? Had a Superior really kissed her?

She knew he had.

She didn’t have much experience with kissing, but she’d done it a few times. She’d kissed boys at the Confinement when she’d been small, and a girl at the restaurant. Once, she’d kissed Shelly in an attempt to make him desire a woman. She’d been kissed by one of the breeders who had tried to impregnate her. A smashing of lips together. Her sisters had talked about how much they liked it, but Cali didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t very exciting, either.

Draven’s kiss hadn’t been hard, just sudden. His lips were cool. Hers had been hot and oily. When his slid against hers, it had shocked her.

“I would like to eat before we leave, if you do not object,” Draven said, standing to face her as if making a formal request.

Sometimes Cali had to fight the urge to laugh at the strange way he worded things. She wanted to try to talk like him, but she didn’t feel comfortable with him tonight, not now that he had kissed her.

He said he’d been thinking of something else. Maybe it had been that. He said he’d be soft with her. Did he mean another kiss or something else? Sometimes, she caught him looking at her with a strange hunger, a longing so deep it made her bones shiver.

When she’d given her consent for him to eat, he strode towards her. She took one small step back, half afraid of him when he had that purposeful, almost mean look about him. If he noticed her hesitation, he didn’t correct her. She never expected to have to treat a Superior like a Superior again. Somewhere along the way, they had stopped thinking they’d go back.

He usually ate from her neck now, which she’d grown to enjoy, though she would never let him know that. Knowing it herself made her feel funny. But now he lifted her wrist to his mouth. He paused, keeping his eyes on hers as he kissed her wrist, a soft flutter of his lips that sent a chill curling over her skin. His lips were still a little slick from hers.

Draven turned her arm and bit her. When his needle-sharp teeth punctured her skin, she sucked in a quick breath. He drew in a quick breath as well, through his nose, without releasing his hold. In the darkness, his eyes looked black, the same color as his soft hair. His lips were drawn back from his teeth that glowed white against her skin in the moonlight. Cali let out her breath, trying to still the quiver that was building inside her. Draven drew in a long, steady breath, pulling from her at the same time. His breath came out as a cross between a sigh and a soft moan. After he withdrew, he swirled his tongue over her wrist and then smiled, that smirk of a smile.

“Thank you.” He pulled her to him so unexpectedly that she lost her footing and fell against him. He chuckled deep in his throat, that warm sound that both warmed her and made her shiver. With one arm around the small of her back, he took her hair in the other and pulled her head back. She thought he would bite again, since he liked that spot and held her hair that way when he ate. But when he put his mouth to her skin, he didn’t break through. Instead, he ran his nose lightly along her throat, breathing in and then out, a cool stream of air that tickled the fine hairs on her skin.

“I’m burning for you,” he murmured into her ear.

She shivered. “Burning what?”

He gave a quiet little laugh and released her, then went to gather up the backpack. Why did he laugh at her? Did he mean she burned him? She touched her neck to see if she was warmer than usual, but she didn’t feel awfully warm. Not enough to burn someone. It must be one of the sayings that Superiors thought humans were too dumb to understand. It irritated her that she couldn’t prove him wrong.

They traveled through the night in silence, through an area of rolling hills and rough terrain. While Draven walked, Cali dozed on his shoulder, waking with a start each time he boosted her up or jumped over a fallen log or off a rock. Towards morning, she woke from her doze to find Draven carrying her along a stretch of pale road.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s an old highway,” Draven said, stepping over a wide ditch.

“Where are we?”

“We’re far from civilization,” he said. “Superiors don’t live in areas with so many trees.”

“What about the road?”

“A human road,” he said, climbing over a crumbling section where the road had risen and buckled, leaving small slabs of cement overlapping in a heap. “They used to say, I read, that you could judge a civilization on the strength of their roads. I can see why this civilization crumbled.”

“But you said that was two hundred years ago.”

“Roads can last for thousands of years.”

“Really? That many?” Cali didn’t even know how many that was. More than she would ever see or be able to count.

“Byron will find us soon,” he said.

Cali glanced over her shoulder. “How do you know?”

“My wounds have healed.”

“What does that mean?”

“That his have already healed, and he’s had time to track us.”

“But I wore the garlic…”

“He’s trained for finding men.”

“And killing them?”

“And killing them.”

Cali shivered and tightened her arms around Draven. He felt like steel, so strong he could never be broken. What would happen to her if Byron killed him? She pressed her face into his hair and inhaled his familiar non-smell. After only a few days, her hair smelled dirty, especially now that the soap was gone, but Draven always smelled like his surroundings. Sometimes dusty, or like dirt, or leaves if they’d slept in the leaves, or like fresh air and night.

Maybe she didn’t mind that he’d kissed her. It had been sort of nice. If he died, if she died, would it have been so bad to have kissed him back? But what if he wanted more than that? She couldn’t mate with a man who drank her blood, sometimes with such obvious enjoyment that it embarrassed her. But who else was there?

Whatever questions she’d had, she soon knew the answer. When the sun rose into the sky and Draven had to stop, he piled a heap of musty-smelling leaves between two boulders and they lay down together. But when she turned towards him, instead of away as she usually did, he turned his back to her. That was not the way a man acted if he wanted another kiss, or more than a kiss.