The Fugitives, A Dystopian Vampire Novel: Book Four: The Superiors Series (8 page)

“Were you satisfied?” she asked.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. Can you only do it rough?”

“No. I just don’t find you have what I need.”

“And what’s that?”

What was it he needed? He’d never needed more in the past. So what hadn’t he found in her? Warmth? Was it that bad, that now he couldn’t because she wasn’t a sapien? Or did he need more than that, as she did—a connection? If he needed that, he’d never find it in a sap. And certainly not in Eva, either.

“I should leave,” he said, standing. “Thank you for the drink.”

She laughed. “Thank you for the experiment. I thought maybe you’d like to stay the day. We could try again in the morning?”

He could stay, to prove a point, but in the end he’d be proving her point either way. And even if he found satisfaction physically, what he wanted wasn’t in the physical. He needed more, and tonight only confirmed that. He was cursed with a cross between Superior and incubus longing. Perhaps he’d never be satisfied, but at least he knew it now. No reason to prolong it by searching her for something she did not possess.

“Thank you for the offer,” he said after a moment. “I’m flattered. But I have business to attend to.”

She looked like a woman who had heard that excuse before but was wise enough not to ask. Draven left her with a cheek press and walked out into the cold whiteness of morning. He felt stronger than he had in some time, having eaten four rations in one night for the first time in months. But the bright, cheerful morning only contrasted with his dark mood and did nothing to brighten it.

After scaling the fence, he set the bag of supplies in front of Cali’s door, but he did not awaken her before slipping inside the stone house. He sat on the floor of the shower for a long while, letting the hot water scald his skin and fill the bathroom with claustrophobic steam. When he emerged, he heard Cali outside, sweeping the dirt away from her doorstep. He closed the blinders on the windows and went to bed, but he did not take sleep. The familiar discontent that had haunted him most of his life had caught up with him at last.

CHAPTER fourteen

“I miss you, my wife,” Byron said, setting his car to auto mode and turning his full attention to Marisol.

“We miss you, too,” she said. Two smaller heads crowded into the screen on either side of her chin. “When are you coming back?”

“You know the assignment is ten years,” Byron reminded her. “It’s only been a year.”

“Over a year,” she said. “I thought you’d at least visit.”

“Well, the case hasn’t been going well. Besides, you’re probably living it up while I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Marisol said, which meant that she was doing exactly what he guessed. He tried not to let it bother him—she’d always been more social than he was. She liked to go out dancing with all her beautiful friends. When he was home, he went with her. He knew how men looked at a group of women like that.

“How much has your mother been going out?” Byron asked his daughter.

“I’m not supposed to tell,” Paige said.

Marisol laughed with the greatest delight. “That’s right, honey. Don’t tell Daddy, or I’ll get in trouble.” She turned to Byron and smiled as she assured him, “It’s not that much.”

“So, every morning.”

“Not
every
morning. Besides, what else am I supposed to do? Sit around here and rot while you’re off on a fun adventure?”

“It’s hardly fun. I’m working.”

She smiled and leaned into the screen. “What are you doing now? Where are you going?”

“One of my saps was stolen a while back, remember? I think she’s been found, so I’m going to get her.”

“Why?”

“Because I want her.”

“But don’t you have a new one, one who’s not defective?”

“That’s not the point.”

“But what will you do with the pregnant one? I thought you wanted to make money off them.”

“I do. But I have to get this other one to… Because I have to.”

“What are you going to do with her? We can’t afford another one right now. Just let them take her back to the Confinement or the blood bank or wherever.”

“I have nothing to do in Princeton, anyway,” Byron said. “I needed a break, to step back and clear my head a little. This is just a side project.”

“You’re lying.” Marisol’s brief period of Enforcer training hadn’t taught her to catch people in lies, as his extensive training had, but she could tell when her husband lied.

“It’s complicated, that’s all.”

“Dangerously complicated?”

“Of course not. You know I wouldn’t do anything humanoid.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that dangerous, honey. I’m going to get her back from the man who stole her, but he’s just a Third. They didn’t even send someone with me. It’s that safe.”

“A Third? Really?” She paused a moment, then smiled. “Well, that makes me feel better.”

“I’m getting another call. Do you want to wait?”

“No, I’m just going. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Don’t go out today, okay? Stay in with the kids. They don’t get to see you that often.”

“Okay, okay. Bye, Dad.”

Byron hated it when she called him that, even after a few centuries of hearing it. Now, their years were close and age didn’t matter. All Superiors were adults. But in their human lives, he’d never gotten past wondering what people thought of him. He still couldn’t stand it when she brought up their age disparity, which was probably why she did it. He had been old enough to be her father when they’d married. But what was twenty-some years when you’d lived two hundred and fifty?

He swiped the screen with his finger, drawing the blinking contact to the forefront. “Hello, Milton.”

“Hey, Byron.” Milton cleared his throat. “Uh, listen. We looked into that missing file for that Enforcer injury? You remember the one?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Well, it seems this Superior, uh, Draven Castler?”

“Castle.”

“Yeah, well, we looked into his record and…I don’t know how to say this nicely, sir, but we know you’ve activated his tracer.”

“And?”

“And that’s illegal.” Milton shifted, looking uncomfortable. “We’re going to have to ask you to come on back. We figure you’re out there tracking him. Is that right?”

Byron had never broken a law before, not even a small one. Not even one as small as lying to an Enforcer. But he was an Enforcer, so it didn’t really count. He wasn’t about to let the Law ruin this for him.

For a moment, Marisol’s warning entered his mind. She’d be furious if she learned he was defying his boss’s orders, breaking laws to wreak the appropriate revenge on Draven. Marisol had liked Draven. Maybe she’d liked him too much, Byron thought, remembering his envy upon seeing his friend’s physique.

“I’m just getting out of town,” Byron told Milton. “I needed a break, a little time away from Princeton, that’s all.”

“And the tracer?”

“What’s that matter? He’s a suspect. Someone will bring him in.”

“I’m sorry, Byron. You know we have to follow protocol. I had to turn the tracer off.”

“You can’t turn it off.”

“It’s already done. Sorry, buddy. It may seem unfair, but we have to do it the right way, no matter who’s the victim. Even if it’s you.”

“I’m not a victim.” Just wait until they saw what he was going to do to Draven. They’d see what a victim looked like.

“You know what I mean,” Milton said. “I’d like to help you out, but I just don’t know what to think anymore. I’d hate to see you taken off this case, but the way you’re handling things, harassing suspects with no proof…”

“No proof? Two trackers went out looking for him and wound up dead. How is that no proof?”

“We don’t know what happened to them. We haven’t recovered the bodies.”

“Did you find any evidence Draven was in the woods at all?”

“I’m not sure you should be involved in this investigation.”

“It’s my sap, dammit. What did you find?”

Milton paused before answering. “We found the remains of a few fires. And…”

“And what?”

Milton cleared his throat. “We found the remains of a sapien infant.”

“The baby. You found her baby.”

“We think so.”

“Did he kill it?”

“We can charge him with it, yes. It’s hard to tell with saps how they died. So many causes of death, as you know. It had some broken bones, but the body was still in good condition, since it’s been so cold.”

“So, what? Draven beat it to death?”

“It had some bruising, but the main thing is, the body’s been drained. We can assume that’s the cause of death.”

“So he killed my sap, but I can’t activate his tracer?”

“It was a sapien, Byron,” Milton reasoned. “The first he’s ever killed. He’ll owe you restitution, and he’ll not be able to buy a sap for five years, but you know how it is. The laws aren’t real strict about that first kill. Accidents happen.”

“But it was
my
sap.”

“So he’ll owe you the fine instead of the government. And we can charge him with stealing a sap. That’s a big charge. But just because you’re the victim, that doesn’t change the Law.”

“Dammit, Milton. Can’t you just let me track him down? You know as well as I do that he killed Lathan and Lapin.”

“Sorry, Byron. Wish I could look the other way, but I can’t. I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

That was a dirty little dig. Byron could hardly blame him for it, though. A year ago, he would have said the exact same thing if he were in Milton’s place. Hell, six months ago he would have said it. But things were different now. Now he’d broken a law, and it seemed a waste to have done it without result. And the only way to get results was to keep breaking more laws. He finally understood how criminals were formed, how one small slip could lead to more dire ones, until the Law became something fuzzy, or something that applied to everyone else.

But he’d never be one of those people. He’d just do this one thing—find and punish Draven, and retrieve his sapien. It might be harder now that he couldn’t find them by Navigational Guide Piloting, but he had an idea where they were. He could find the area, and then he only had to look around and feel the people out. Afterwards, he’d go back to obeying and enforcing and holding the Law sacred, the way he always had. The Law was everything, the foundation of government, order, and faith. The Law was ruler and king and friend and god. As long as he still believed, he’d be fine.

CHAPTER fifteen

Cali couldn’t make changes to the little hut because the owner might come back, so she spent her days either shivering under her blanket or returning to the stone house. Sleeping at night again made her feel better, than when she’d stayed up half the night and half the day. She woke, rose and stretched, and shook out her damp blanket. The mat on the floor had begun to stink of mildew, and the ends of the straws poked through at her while she slept. Still, it made a better bed than the thin sleep sack, which had made her body ache on nights when they’d slept on hard ground.

After she ate, she went to the door of the house, dislodged the pebble, and stepped inside. She stood in the doorway and waited, listening. No sounds. Still, she felt funny going inside now, like she had to sneak in. She always tried to be quiet, and Draven never said anything, never called to her or came out of the bedroom, so she must have been doing okay. She tiptoed into the shower room, holding her breath as she slowly pulled the door closed. She paused, but she didn’t hear him, so she gave the last little tug until the latch snapped into place. Her heart caught for a second, waiting to see if he’d call to her.

When she didn’t hear any sound, she relaxed. She didn’t even know why she tried so hard not to disturb him. He probably wouldn’t get mad. When she’d left, he hadn’t been mad, he’d been sad. And he’d told her to use the house, begged her to.

After her heartbeat returned to normal, she undressed. Every time she came into the house, she went through this same routine—the nervousness, the relief, and mixed with it, a tiny flicker of disappointment that he didn’t talk to her. But it was better if he only talked to her in her hut, where she felt safer even though it was outside. In truth, no matter where she was, she’d never be safe from a Superior. But with her out there and him in here, coming out to see her, he seemed like a master, like he’d never…

Do what? She’d been the one to do something to him.

She turned on the water and stepped into the shower. Showering had become her favorite part of the day, on the days when she dared to come in and take advantage of the warm water. After a while, she always got nervous and rushed to get out. She felt silly doing it, like a kid running from the dark. Something about the big house, and being in it while Draven slept, made her edgy. Maybe the guilt about the way she’d behaved the other time she’d been in the house while he slept caused the nervousness. Still, she didn’t want to give up the house entirely. She loved this room too much.

It held a wonderful array of new things, and although she’d liked it when she first saw it and used the shower, she hadn’t seen much. She’d been too happy about getting clean and warm again. Afterwards, she’d begun to notice each separate, amazing thing in the room, how each time she went in, she thought she’d memorized every detail, but every time she came back, she saw something new. Square stones fit together to make up the floor, completely smooth but not slippery even when wet. The dark grey squares weren’t like the outside of the house, the blue-grey sparkly, rough stones. The flat stones of the shower room floor chilled her feet when she stepped from the tub, no matter how hot she’d gotten. But they cooled in a soothing way.

Usually she didn’t stay too long, but she made sure to get clean. She’d never summoned enough courage to look in all the colorful bottles around the huge tub, but she loved them, anyway. Glass jars in all sizes and shapes, of varying hues of blue and green, lined one side of the tub, along with a plant with slippery leaves that spread its vines among the edge. A few oblong bowls held different colored rocks, smooth and rounded, worked in among the vines. It looked more like decoration than a shower. But the shower was the best part—the two different nozzles on each end of the huge tub that sprayed warm water anytime of day or night. Cali had tried all the different showerheads, but she still hadn’t figured out how one person could get dirty enough to need all four.

Today she looked at the one cake of soap she’d used every time she showered. She had always used that kind of soap for hair and body, just like at home in the Confinement. So many people had lived there, and all of them used the bars of soap provided in the communal showers. She had seen Draven washing his hair with a different kind of soap, a liquid kind, but she’d never heard of such a thing back home. Superiors must have all kinds of luxurious things she couldn’t imagine.

She picked up one of the dark blue bottles and looked at the iridescent sheen of the glass, felt the surprising weight of it, the rounded corners. Opened the top, she looked into the bottle, standing with her back to the spray of hot water so as not to get the contents of the jar wet. Inside, white liquid, thick and shimmery, filled the jar. The smell that came out filled her nostrils, intoxicating and sweet, like the most delicious food she could imagine. She wondered if she could eat it without getting sick. She wanted to use it, but then she wondered what the other bottles contained, if they held similar wonders.

One by one, Cali removed the lids and looked into the bottles and jars and tubs. One had grey powder and smelled like cooked eggs. A little of it spilled out when she untwisted the top, and she cast a guilty look at the door. How long had she been in the shower? She should get out, but not just yet. She had to smell all the wonderful scents, see the insides of the containers, touch the contents. Some of them had clear liquid, some whitish, all of it thick. They smelled of water in the dry season, of flowers, fruits, sweetness, indescribable scents she could only imagine but not name. One of the flat containers had a big white lid, and when she unscrewed it, the clear yellow gel inside released a tangy fragrance that made her mouth contract and fill with saliva.

She rubbed a drop of gel between her fingers, wishing she could keep a tiny bit of each one to smell forever. If she had such a wonderful array of happiness in her bathroom, she’d never leave. Maybe that’s why Superiors had to decorate their showers, so if they stayed in them all day, they’d have something pretty to look at. Probably why they didn’t let saps have anything but flat, dusty smelling bars of soap, too. Saps had to work, not spend all day in the shower.

Cali opened the last two jars, matching white ones with stoppers in the top. One of them contained white lotion that smelled of roses, and the other had green gel with a tart scent. If only she could keep one. She looked at the door. But no…Draven wouldn’t want her to steal. And she’d done enough bad things already. She didn’t need to make him mad again.

But if she used just one, only once…

He wouldn’t come in the shower room, so how would he know she’d used it? If he smelled it, she could say she’d only opened the bottle to see what it held. She chose the first bottle she’d opened, the one that smelled like food. When she tipped the bottle, a whole handful of the stuff came out at once. She glanced towards the door again, but the steam from the shower clung to the glass and obscured the bathroom door. Working quickly, she massaged the soap into her hair. She’d never stayed in the shower so long. What if Draven heard her? He might wonder what was taking her so long in the shower. He might come to check on her.

He moved so quietly, so quickly, she wouldn’t even hear him. Once, he’d taken her to his apartment back home, and he’d come in the bathroom and yanked back the curtain while she showered. But he wouldn’t do that now. And if he did…

But he wouldn’t. At least, she didn’t think he would. But if he did…

She rubbed the soap over her face, closing her eyes and lifting her chin so the water coursed over her head, down her neck and body. If he did…

He wouldn’t look at her the way he had then, determined and uncomfortable and demanding all at once. Now he looked at her differently. Deeper, fierce and intense and yet somehow soft. Like the way he’d felt in her hand, soft and then fierce. Thinking of it still made heat blossom in her face.

Cali scolded herself for her silliness. It wasn’t her he wanted. He could go out and get a Superior woman any time he liked. Is this how they felt, warm and steamy and clean and smelling like mouthwatering food, like caramel but spicy? If Cali felt that good all the time, she’d probably want to share herself with any stranger she met, too, just so they could see how amazing she was.

If he walked in, he might think she smelled as good as a Superior woman. Would she mind terribly if he thought that, for a minute? Maybe he would walk in, and he’d think she looked like those women, too, sex-y.

And then what?

And then he’d undress and step in the shower behind her. This time, she’d get to feel him up close. If those were his hands, not hers, moving over her bare breasts, slippery with soap that left her hair silky and heavy and slick. And down, over her stomach, over the front of her thighs, slippery soap everywhere, so much of it. Between her knees, her thighs, and then… What?

She knew what came next. She knew, in a hypothetical way, how to do the thing that made babies, although she’d never succeeded. As far as she could tell, all women had to do was wait on all fours to get stabbed a few times down there and pray it would be over quickly. She didn’t think much of mating.

Except Draven said Superiors called it something different. Sex. A strange, short word that slid hissing slippery off the tongue and stopped like a knife driven to the hilt. Maybe they had it right.

And maybe they did it different, and that’s why it was called something else. She’d seen enough of it to know other people liked it. In her little tin shanty growing up, her mother brought men home. They tried to be quiet, but usually Cali would wake. And later, she’d seen people outside at night, between the shanties, not wanting to disturb their families. Like most anyone who happened to come out at night, she’d turn away, but she knew what they were doing. Kneeling on the ground, on hands and knees to keep their bodies clean of the dust, so they only had to brush off their hands and crawl back in their houses. In the barracks, on the little bunks, people didn’t have enough space to push up on all fours. And the bunks weren’t dirty, so they just lay there, girls on their stomachs with men on their backs.

The exact same thing that would happen if he did that, came in the shower behind her. The same way, but upright. And then she thought about his down-there again, how it would feel against her, willful and seeking. She finished rinsing quickly. She couldn’t think like that. If he really did that, she’d die of fear. But the thought had been nice. The hot water and steam overwhelmed her now, though, made her choke and sweat. She turned to the other end of the tub and turned on the other shower, cold. The water hit her full blast, a shock after the overheating time under the hot water. For a second she stepped back and stood with the hot water coursing down her back and the cold down the front of her body.

After turning off the cold, she turned to shut off the hot, but she hit the wrong button, and a blast of scorching steam hissed out of the showerhead at her. She jumped back, her skin on fire. The steam had scalded her shoulder and arm and one of her breasts. At least it hadn’t gotten her face. She reached around the roiling mass of steam and hit the button that turned it off. Why anyone would want burning steam to shoot out at them, she couldn’t imagine. She’d gotten more than enough steam from the shower. She turned on the cold water for a minute before she got out. Maybe the burn was her punishment for messing in all the Superior’s things. Still, she thought when they left, maybe she’d steal one of the little pots of scent, just a little one. To remember. Surely one person couldn’t use that much soap. She probably wouldn’t even notice if Cali took one.

Cali opened the door and stood in the doorway, letting the steam billow out around her. She hadn’t realized how long she’d stayed in there. Guilt washed over her as she glanced at the bedroom door. Not that he’d know what she’d imagined, but still… A funny trembling started inside her when she thought about the real person and not the one in her imagination.

And then he was there, standing in the bedroom doorway, as silent and sudden as in her fantasy, but dark and solid and remote, not like the half-steam man who came into the shower and ran his hands over her breasts, letting the nipples spring back up when his palms slid over them. The thought darted through her, quick and sharp. And she remembered something she’d heard about Superiors, that they could read minds. She turned and bolted from the house, sure he’d follow, sure he knew. The bright coldness of the day surprised her back to reality, and she almost laughed. Of course he couldn’t read her mind.

Still, she didn’t stop running until she’d reached her hut, gone inside, and slammed the door behind her.