Drowning in Deception (28 page)

“No way,” Clover shot back. “You know
perfectly well that I’m safe.” She looked at Sera out of the corner of her eye,
hoping that she wouldn’t clue in to what she meant by that.

“No one is safe from gods with guns,” he
said. “Clove, I will not let you get yourself killed. Not tonight. Not when
we’ve just…”

Clover shot him a warning glance.

“Fine. Then I’ll hide with the two of
you to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“But…”

“At least until we can assess what’s
going to happen. If it looks tame, then you can do whatever it is you need to
do. Deal?”

“Deal,” complained Clover. “But you make
sure to find us a hiding place where we can see and hear what’s going on. And,
we get to decide when it’s time for us to come out of hiding.” She looked to
Sera who nodded in agreement.

Rye led them into a back door of one of
the factories and then through the building to the front. He stopped in front
of a large, glassless window that gave them a front row seat to the helichopper
landing platform. The two choppers were just touching down. They watched the
group that Rye had assembled push their way to the top of the platform.
Clover’s heart beat like a ticking clock in anticipation of what was to come.
It was the night when the Carnae finally made a stand against the gods.

She watched breathlessly as three men
hopped out of the first helichopper. Her father and a second man stepped from
the other one. They carried guns, all of which were much larger and longer than
the ones Gart had managed to smuggle out of the Watch Tower.

And then there was her father, Bromer
Swelton, with his gleaming curved knife. His face looked vicious, like that of
a man who was out for blood. She could only guess that the newspaper article
had something to with his current mood.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” yelled
one of the gods. “Bow to us and then start loading up the choppers.”

“No. We will no longer be your slaves.” Clover
couldn’t tell who had said it, but five of the Carnae immediately cocked guns
and aimed them at the gods. The gods didn’t hesitate to aim their own weapons right
back.

Rye gripped her shoulder tight. Clover
paled as shots were fired with no further words exchanged. It happened so
quickly. Why hadn’t they tried talking first? She knew she should have gone
right to the top of the platform herself. They wouldn’t shoot her. Would they?  

Screams echoed out into the night and
dust flew in a flurry through the beams of light from the choppers. Clover
watched as a few of the Carnae transitioned and were shot on sight. One of the
Eadin men went down, blood droplets flying from his chest.

“Enough!” It was loud and firm, and
thankfully it shocked everyone into both silence and stillness. Clover stopped
holding her breath and waited, as everyone else seemed to be doing, for the dust
to settle so they could see who had shouted.

It was Turk. He was nose-to-nose with
Clover’s father and holding the blade of a small pocket knife up to Bromer
Swelton’s neck. They were staring hard into each other’s eyes, two men of
identical stature. If not for the fact that Bromer’s hair was buzzed short and
Turk’s was long and shaggy, it could have been the same man staring back at
himself in a mirror.

Turk spoke up loud and clear. “This man
that we worship as a god…” He wedged the little knife closer to his neck. “He
is no god.” His eyes penetrated Bromer’s. “He is my brother.”

Gasps made their way like rolling waves
throughout the crowd. Clover sat up straight with interest, her body now
pressed hard against the window sill. Sera gave her a sideways glance and said,
“What?”

“That’s right,” Turk confirmed. “This
man who claims to be a god is no more than my very own little brother.”

“Liar!” shouted Bromer. “I am of no
relation to you or any of your kind. Filthy savage!”

Turk’s voice quieted slightly. “Oh, yes.
It’s been many years. But make no mistake. I know the eyes of my baby brother.
I first gazed into them only moments after our mother pushed you into this
world.”

Bromer’s eyes left Turk’s to look at his
men, who were watching the exchange carefully, suspiciously. “He’s lying. Can’t
you see they’re desperate? They’ll do anything, say anything. Dirty murdering
creatures.”

Shouts and cries came from the crowd and
it looked as if chaos was going to take over once again. Then a single shot
echoed into the dark. Everyone froze, including Bromer and Turk. All eyes
looked toward one of the Eadin men, whose smoking gun was aimed right at the
two large men who held everyone’s attention.

Turk’s expression changed from one of
anger to one of sadness. “How could you betray your own, Bromer? How?” And then
he dropped to the ground as blood oozed from his temple.

Clover’s father whipped his head around
to leer at the shooter. He raised his knife in the direction of his own man,
and looked as if he was going to lunge at him. But then he inhaled deeply and
turned to the crowd. “Do you see what happens when you defy the gods? Now hand
over your weapons and let this be a lesson to you. And rest assured that there
will be death to those who acquired these guns. We will find out who you are.”

Shoulders slumped in defeat as the
Carnae did as they were instructed. Two of the men from Eadin gently lifted
their fallen man and loaded him into a helichopper. Then both choppers rose
into the dark and disappeared over the Wall.

Clover was frozen in shock, not knowing
what to say or do. Then she saw Smith emerge from the crowd with his arm draped
across a crying woman’s shoulders. She had forgotten all about Smith.

“Smith, Delila, over here,” called Rye.

Delila’s head hung low. Although Clover
had never met her before, she could sense that Delila, with her pretty face and
tiny frame, was normally an even-tempered, hospitable woman. But at this moment
she had the look of one whose world had just been trampled. Her eyes were
red-rimmed and she stared off at the ground as if she could see right through
it, to the very bowels of the world.

When they reached them, Rye told Delila
he was sorry for the loss of her husband, Turk. He wrapped the woman into a
warm embrace, but she was unresponsive. She was nothing more than a sagging rag
doll in his arms. Rye’s entire face was helplessly drawn as he released her.

“I’d like to stay with Delila tonight,”
Smith said. “But there’s going to be a lot of high emotions now, so it’s
probably not safe for me to stay here. Rye, can you make sure someone gets her
home and takes care of her?”

“Of course,” he said.

“And the two of you,” he addressed
Clover and Sera, “We had better go find Zander and get out of here right away.”

“Clove, what was that all about? Your
dad and that man claiming to be his brother? They sure did look alike.”

“It was a lie,” Rye stated before Clover
could even think of how to answer. He glared at Sera with a stern warning to
say no more about it. Sera nodded.

Rye took Delila outside of the building
and found someone to get her home, then returned to the others. “I’ll walk you
back to the door.”

“No,” said Clover. “I’m not going just
yet.”

Smith took her gently by the arm. “Clover,
it’s not safe. You have to come now.”

Rye stepped up. “It’s okay. I’ll make
sure she makes it back. You two go ahead.”

“Okay.”

They waited until Smith and Sera were
long gone. Rye grabbed Clover and pulled her into a giant hug. “You okay?” he
asked.

That was it. The tears she’d been
holding back erupted from her eyes in great waves.

“Ssh… C’mon. Let’s walk.”

He took her by the hand and led her out
of the building, away from the platform and to the wooded area behind. She
inhaled the cold air as they walked, and soon was able to calm her sobs. They
stopped and Rye leaned his back against the trunk of a large tree. He pulled
her into his arms again.

“Turk. Was he really my uncle?”

“I think so. I remember hearing a story
once about how he’d had a little brother. A boy that was filled was shame and
great anger. One day when he was in his teens he just disappeared. Vanished
without a trace. Everyone assumed he was dead.”

“My dad…” The tears started again.

“Ssh…” he whispered into the top of her
head.

She took a step back from him, releasing
herself from his grasp. “It’s all my fault, Rye. My fault. People are dead and
it’s all my fault.”

“No, Clove. I think tonight was the
start of a war. Did you see the reaction from the others tonight, the ones who
weren’t part of the group? I could tell just by watching that most are ready to
join the fight. So, yes, it’s the start of a war. And people die in wars. They
die fighting for what they believe in. And that’s not your fault.”

“But the war started tonight because of
me. You were right. I was being impetuous. I let my own anger overtake my
common sense. I’m no good. I should just go back to drinking my milk like a pretty
girl.”

He sighed and looked at her helplessly. “This
was going to happen. Don’t you know that? You just got it going, that’s all.
Believe it or not, you did us all favor and made us take action instead of just
sitting around and endlessly talking.”

“Rye. Why are you so good to me? I don’t
deserve it. What you said earlier was right. I am just like my dad.”

He came at her fiercely. “Never say
that,” he blurted, grabbing her arms. “I was wrong. I only said that because I
was mad at you. But I’m not mad at you anymore. I’m proud of you.”

She blinked the last of her tears away
and looked up into his feral eyes. They were so dark in the black of the night,
with the gold flecks dancing wickedly. “Proud of me?”

“Yes. And I love you.”

His lips crashed into hers and
immediately her pulse went crazy. Her hands flew to his face, then his back,
and his chest, wanting to feel every inch of this wonderful boy. He seemed to
want the same as his hands wildly traveled every piece of her they could
access, all the while their lips moving in mad unison against each other’s.

He was groaning passionately, seductive
music to her ears. The night was ice cold but she could feel the rush of warm
blood flooding throughout her body. The intense emotions she felt, the love,
the lust, she wanted him, needed him. Her skin started to tingle and she
growled. A low guttural sound that at first she thought had come from Rye.

She stepped back and looked to him
questioningly.

“It’s happening, Clove,” he whispered. “You’re
transitioning.”

“Oh,” she choked. “I’m… I’m…”

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. Let it
happen. I’ll be right here with you, and I’m about to transition too.” He
moaned deep and dangerously.

Clover felt every nerve ending in her
body pulsate and explode. She could feel the blood rushing in great waves from
her heart to flood every part of her body. She was dripping with heat and began
to pant. Her muscles stretched and quaked as her bones seemed to elongate.
There were snapping, cracking sounds as a great surge of adrenaline coursed
through her. She felt alive and healthy with a great hunger throbbing in her
gut. 

She looked down to her hands to find
gnarly claws had replaced her fingernails. Her eyes trailed up to find Rye. He
looked amazing. His hair loosely dangled around his head, his eyes were fierce
with passion, and his body was lean and hard, bulging everywhere with masculine
beauty.

The most surprising thing wasn’t how he
looked on the outside, but on the inside. She could actually see his heart
beating and the blood pumping rhythmically from it to feed even the tiniest of
veins. His blood glowed a beautiful, neon blue as it pushed its way throughout
his body. How strange. For a split second, curiosity struck her but then was
gone almost immediately.

She needed to run, to chase, to hunt,
and to find something to quench her sudden overwhelming thirst and to fill the
burning hunger in her stomach.

Rye didn’t say a word. He placed his
hand in hers and together they ran. They headed toward the wilderness of the
far, east side of Quell. It was a place of high hills and low valleys. Dense
with full trees and thick underbrush, but most importantly, it was home to a
large population of mammals. He didn’t need to tell her this. She knew. She
could sense it, could almost smell the odors of the wild creatures long before
they reached the edge of the thick brush.

Running was exhilarating. She had no
idea a body could move that fast. She felt like one of the wild cats she had
read about in a book once. The wind was shushing by her ears and the cold
winter air vibrated into her nose, following a quick path to her lungs where it
both cleansed and intoxicated. Even her hearing was accelerated. She could
swear she heard a thousand little noises of night animals: the padding of a
heavy paw against the earth, the tiny shuffle of scurrying feet, and something
digging a hole in soft earth.

They were thick in the woods when she
finally spotted her prey. It wasn’t a large animal, a fox perhaps. She couldn’t
be sure, and she didn’t care, because all she could focus on was the little
heart thumping in its chest and the bright red blood that dashed and darted
throughout its body. It was the perfect size for her first hunt, the perfect
size to satisfy her intense craving.