Exiled (20 page)

“Home. Sweet. Helker.” This wasn’t where she’d wanted to spend her final hours.

“So why can you speak English?” Michael asked after a few quiet minutes.

She heaved a sigh. For the first time since she’d arrived, breathing didn’t hurt.
No emotion. No contempt. That’s how I’ll answer his questions.

“Because I’m in an English-speaking country,” she replied easily.

“Can I hear what your language sounds like?”

“No. Well, here are a few words. Ith. Aetha. Irrihunter. Helker . . .”

“Helker?” he laughed. “What does that mean?”

“Helker is sort of like your hell. When kelarians have done some really, really bad stuff, that’s where they’re sent. They aren’t dead, though. At least not like humans die. It’s more an eternal torment. Some prisoners are kept there until they’re sentenced.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Michael said, rubbing his head.

“Ha, yeah. A total blast.”

“Why can’t you speak all of your language? Is it a secret?” He looked over at the black window.

“No. Our language can only be spoken on Kelari; because that’s the language our planet speaks. See, we’ve travelled all over the universe, discovered many, many different worlds, with many, many different languages. Right after we’re born, a device is inserted into the language center of our brains.

If, and when we go to another planet, it’s like changing a channel. Click. We can speak English. Click. We can speak Orthosian. Click. We can speak Garthisiny. Click. Click. Click. I have over ten thousand languages stored in my brain. So, when I’m here in . . . Wyoming, I speak English. If I were in Mexico, I’d be able to speak Spanish. France. French. And so on.

But I don’t control the click. When my brain hears a language, it’s automatic.”

“Are you saying if a Spanish-speaking person came up to you and started talking, you’d be able to understand and speak with them right away?” He spoke with curiosity.

“Yes.”

“What if a French, Spanish, and Arabic person was in a group and spoke to you in each of their languages, what would the click in your head do?”

She smiled, “The click would turn them all on and I could speak and understand them all.” The effects of whatever the woman gave her were really kicking in. Her tongue felt thick and her eyelids wouldn’t open even if she’d wanted them too.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Isn’t it obvioussss?”

“What about Zaren? Is he from your planet? Why doesn’t he seem sick?” Venus heard the cot creak and his feet scuffle over to the bars.

“He’s been through the metamorphosis . . . a kelvieri. The air can’t harm him like it does me. Actually nothing can harm him.” Venus couldn’t help a giggle. Must’ve been the meds, but she felt great.

“A kelvieri? What does that mean?”

“It’s what our species call an immortal.”

“Kelvieri.” He rolled the word around in his mouth as though he wasn’t sure of the taste. Then he continued, “Does Zaren want to hurt humans?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t even want to be here. He only came because of meeee.” The need to sleep had become irresistible. Venus struggled to stay alert.

“And you’re here because . . .?” He let the question hang.

“Because someone from my home must despise me and my family. They killed . . . killed . . .” Tears formed and pushed through the creases of her eyes. “. . . Sadraden and her ba . . .”

Michael stood there and watched her sleep. Couldn’t move. He’d never felt so torn. A part of him had the irresistible urge to protect her, yet he couldn’t help but wonder how much she wasn’t telling him about the Order. About those from her planet who’d killed his mother. She’d seemed sincere. He no longer believed she was the murderer. The fact remained she was from another planet. It excited and terrified him. It was strange that he felt anything at all for an . . . otherworldly being.

What an effin stupid word, anyway. She didn’t look like one or act like one. She seemed cool. Even sick, she radiated beauty and energy. Yet her body betrayed her in its frailty.

Her hands were tucked under her right cheek, pressed together. It looked as though she prayed, like an angel. Above the constant buzzing of the electric current, he could hear her wheezing. Each ragged breath moved her cracked red lips.

He made his way to the two-way glass and pounded on it. “Hey, Frank. I need to talk to you.” Michael tried to peer into the small observation room he knew existed on the other side. But he couldn’t see anything. “You hear me. We need to talk.” He pounded the glass again.

Venus mumbled in her sleep.

Michael moved back over to the bars. “Venus. What did you say?” His mom had talked in her sleep a lot, especially when she’d fallen asleep drunk. When that happened, he’d sometimes ask questions. She’d answer. He hoped for the same response from Venus.

“Boots . . . A heart . . . beating. Boots!”

Those strange boots she always wore. That must be what she meant. It’d been difficult to remove them. Abe had tried to cut them off with an electric saw, pound them off with a hammer. He’d also tried a drill, too. When he’d pulled out a torch, Michael couldn’t take anymore. He’d rushed into the room and told Abe to stop. Then Michael pulled on the boots and they’d released from around her legs and come off her feet into his hands.

He, Abe, and Frank took turns checking out the stuff in the heels. A lightly glowing arrow surrounded by a blue substance in one and a slow beating heart with a grayish matter swirling throughout the other. They were bizarre, but awesome, too.

After a while, Abe finally gave up, and handed them over to others. Last he’d heard they were running tests on them. If she needed those boots, then he wanted to get them.

Michael went back to the observation glass and pounded. “She needs her boots. Bring them to her. Frank! Frank!” He waited. A few minutes passed. He was about to yell again when he heard the shuffle of shoes against the tiled floor. Frank stood in front of his buzzing cell.

“I hear you. Know that. But, Abe can’t give her back those . . . boots yet. We’re still testing them.”

Michael avoided eye contact, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I think she’s dying, Frank.”

Frank glanced over at her. “Yes, I agree. That’s why we need to continue testing her. I’d rather she not die. Strange, though, I was under the impression
you
wanted her dead.”

If Michael had been able, he would’ve clocked Frank right then. He was a heartless jerk. “She didn’t kill Mother. It was stupid of me to think she had. I’m sure you knew that though. Didn’t you?”

Frank sighed. “Michael, we need her.”

“I want to know what you’re doing to find the . . . alien that really murdered mother?”

Since Venus had arrived two days ago, they’d tested and retested different parts of her. He’d watched them put needles in her, draw blood, and more. Luckily Venus seemed oblivious to most of the horror. He wasn’t. Michael watched it all, from them sticking a needle the size of a semi-truck into her abdomen, to them putting tiny needles into her eyes. She’d cried out many times, each scream like a dagger shoved into his soul. He experienced her pain. When she hurt, he hurt, too. Even though he’d been furious, it still killed him to watch her suffer.

“We haven’t had a chance to search any further. We’ve been too focused on—Venus. We’ll go out again when . . .” He didn’t finish.

Michael understood the meaning. He meant they’d begin their search again when they were done with Venus—done cutting her into pieces. “But why don’t you let her go? She can’t hurt anyone. You told me the one you’ve been hunting was an invincible super villain. It’s obvious Venus can’t be a part of his group. They can’t even be the same species.”

“But they are.” Frank rubbed his eyebrows, which caused flakes of dry skin to float onto his cheeks. “Want to know what gave them away?”

Michael waited.

“Those boots. The thing that taunts us has worn a pair like them before. We’ve seen them and have the pictures to prove it.” He grinned again, large, flashing those yellow-stained teeth of his.

“Oh?”

“When she wakes again, see if you can get her to talk about them. What do they mean? They may be the key to our killing the other one.” Frank started to walk away. He stopped at Venus’s cell, turned back to Michael and said, “You might as well get back on board with us where
it’s
concerned. She won’t be leaving here for a long time, even after she’s dead.” With that, he rushed off, before Michael could agree or disagree.

He guessed Frank figured he wasn’t going anywhere without his say. Michael knew he’d asked for this. It’d been the only way to save her, but he hated feeling trapped. A.L.T. had him as locked up as Venus. Stupid Frank!

Michael flung himself on the cot and tried to sleep. It wouldn’t come. He kept going back and forth between conversations he’d had with Venus to thinking of Cheverly. He knew Chev was probably worried sick. There’d been his promise that they’d get together. That’d been days ago. He hadn’t talked to her since telling her about his mom. She had no idea what’d happened. A wave of panic toppled over him.
Will I ever see her again?
A few days ago he hadn’t cared one way or the other. Not really. Then he’d been bombarded with memories of her. He realized he wanted to see her.

I told her I loved her.
And he did . . . didn’t he? Michael sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. As a friend, he owed her the courtesy of an explanation. She deserved that much.

Michael considered what Zaren and Vinny were doing. Surely they knew Venus was missing. The Zaren guy was probably beside himself with worry. Guilt tore at his gut. When he’d told Frank about Venus, what she’d said to his mother and her strange blood, he’d been angry. Beyond devastated and too far gone in his grief to really think.

Now he knew Venus wouldn’t, couldn’t have committed the murder. She’d been at the ranch all day. With him.

Michael watched her tattered body struggle for air. She was too weak to walk up a trail in the mountains. Someone as feeble and sick as she was didn’t have the strength to kill.

He couldn’t let her die. She had to get back to her planet. Crossing his arms over his face, he tried to block out the lights. He needed to think, to rest. The lights overhead couldn’t be turned off with a switch. They were automatic.

“Damn. Damn. Damn. Dammit to hell—”

He stopped at the sound of a light giggle.

Taking two steadying breaths, he removed his arms from his face. Then he turned so he could see her. She looked amused.

“My favorite curse is cret.”

Her voice sounded low and raspy, like she’d been smoking a pack a day for thirty years.

Michael sat up. “Cret? What does that mean?” She still lay on her side, electric-blue eyes intent on him. Her teeth chewed on her bottom lip.

“The English word would be crap, I think.”

Michael laughed. “That is a good word. Mind if I use it?”

She shook her head no. “Do you think they’ll give me back my boots?”

Her question took him off guard. He wanted to tell her yes, but that’d be a lie. By the look on her face, maybe she needed to hear a lie. Anything to bring back her hope. At least until he could make it a truth. Michael promised himself he’d find those boots and get them back to her. “Probably. In a little while,” he said, glancing at the two-way mirror.

She sighed. “Good. They’re important to me.”

“Oh?” Here was his chance to ask about them. It was what Frank wanted and if he were going to keep them trusting him, Michael needed to play along. “Why’s that?”

Venus pulled her hair around so it rested on her shoulder. She began braiding it as she spoke. “From the time we’re kelki’s, we’re taught their importance. See, when kelarians are born, we all look the same. We have metallic white skin. Our hair is stark white and everything else is silver.”

“That’s cool.”

Venus snorted and continued, “But when we turn sixteen, we’re given our boots. Inside the heels the Gods capture our weaknesses. As we grow in wisdom and overcome the weaknesses in our heels, they change. They’re a constant reminder to each of us that we aren’t perfect, that we aren’t Gods. And since we become immortal after we receive our boots, that knowledge is important . . . to some more than others. We all need reminding though.” She took a deep, raspy breath. Didn’t cough, which meant the medicine continued to work.

“If you’re immortal, a kelvieri, why are you sick?” Michael had always guessed immortality meant living forever. No death. No disease.

“I’m not kelvieri yet. I’d received my boots and prepared to take the journey to Ith and Aetha, our Gods, for my final rites, when something . . . happened.”

Michael watched her eyes fill with tears. How could anyone hurt her? He wanted to wound them, make them pay for allowing her to suffer. Anger boiled in his veins. Guilt, too. Why had he done this? Her being in this place was his fault. He’d been the cause of most of her suffering.

“What happened?”

“I’m-I’m not sure. One moment I was packing and the next I was on your planet.” Her eyes clouded over like she deliberated the situation in her mind. “I was supposed to get back to my planet and find out who’s responsible. I want them to be punished—severely—for everything they’ve done.”

He listened as the words lashed out of her, like a sword against her unknown enemies. Casually, he looked over at the two-way glass again. Was someone there, listening? Without a doubt, they had to be. Or at least recording everything they said. “Well, why can’t you go back?” It was a stupid question. She probably knew it’d take a miracle to escape, especially in her condition. He’d do it though, break her out. Tonight or tomorrow, at the latest. He also thought Zaren had to search for her as well. That wouldn’t end well. When Zaren discovered what he’d done, all hell would break loose. And it’d be over his head.

Frank and Abe could suck rocks for all he cared. Sure, he still wanted his mother’s killer found, but they had the wrong alien. This girl wouldn’t hurt a fly—at least not on purpose.

“I can’t go back. The Gods gave me a task . . . and I’ve failed.” Tears leaked onto her cheeks and fell onto her still-praying hands.

“Wait, what? What were you supposed to do? Doesn’t whoever did this know you’d get sick?” Michael stood and walked over to the steel bars that separated them.

“I’m sure they knew. That’s probably why they sent me. I’ve been accused of horrible crimes. The Gods gave me one chance to get back.”

Her eyes bore into Michael’s. He sensed she needed to tell him what that “chance” was, but as a dense fool, he didn’t understand.

“What can I do to help?” Retribution for all he’d done.

She tried to laugh, but it seemed too difficult. “You have no idea how funny that is.”

“Why?” he asked, still densely unaware of what she meant. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to understand. Michael wanted to, though.

“Tell me your favorite color.”

With that demand, came a revelation. She’d never give him a direct answer about what she’d been required to do. If they were alone, maybe, but not here. “Electric blue . . . I never had a favorite color—until I saw your eyes for the first time.”

“Really?”

That seemed to please her. Michael’s heart skipped a beat. He knew he’d do anything for this girl. Alien or not, if Michael were honest with himself (which was a long time in coming), he would admit he thought she was the coolest, most amazing person he’d ever met. “Straight up.”

She laughed.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“It’s blue as well—irrihunter blue.”

Michael raised his eyebrows in response. ”Oh?” She blinked, her beautiful eyes watching him, waiting for more. “Hang on a sec.” Michael walked over to his cot and dragged it next to the steel bars. “What’s irrihunter?”

He lay on the cot, on his side, so that his head rested directly even with hers and waited for her answer. She didn’t give it right away. Instead she stood and began pulling her cot over to her side of the steel bars. When it clanged against them, she stopped. Michael noticed her wheezing grew stronger.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She shook her head no and lay back down, their faces a foot apart, maybe less. Michael could feel her breath on his face and smell her hair, like coconuts.

“Can we get some water in here?”

Within moments, he heard the clacking of high heels against the tile. The woman who’d given Venus the shot earlier returned. No mask or head gear this time. She was younger than Michael expected her to be. Early twenties, dark blond hair pulled into a ponytail and a cute, slender face. At his cell, she zinged the rectangle authorization badge around her neck into a slot he couldn’t see, but knew existed. The invisible, electric wall vanished. For a split second he deliberated the idea of bolting. Making a run for it. But, almost as quickly, he changed his mind. He wouldn’t leave Venus. No way.