Hotbloods 5: Traitors

He nodded. “I forget about it, too. I’ll catch sight of myself in a mirror and wonder who the hell the dude in the reflection is. I expect gray skin, and I see this, instead.” He sighed, lifting his tanned arms. “I even feel my wings sometimes, though I know they’re not there anymore. I think I miss them the most.”

“Would you change it, if you could?” I asked, as we headed down into the basement. The dim lamps washed the room in a sickly shade of yellow, revealing the dustsheets and detritus I’d woven through the previous day. I could still feel the bruise on my hip, where I’d bumped into something.

For a long time, Ronad didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to a box in the corner and lifted it onto the sheeted remains of an old table. Inside, there were unwanted cloaks and coats. He plucked out a dark gray trench coat of thick, wool-like fabric, chucking a long cloak in my direction. The cloak was made from a forest-green wool, with a fuzzy interior and a brown fur trim, the hem sweeping the floor.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot.” Ronad finally spoke as he threw on the dark gray coat and buttoned it up to the throat. “I became more human so I could stay on Earth, and now I’m back here. To be honest, I feel like I went through all that pain and suffering for nothing. More often than not, I find myself wishing I’d never done it.”

“Is there a way you could reverse it?”

He laughed tightly. “It would probably be twice as painful to grow everything back again. Even if the option was on the table, I’m not sure I’d go for it,” he admitted. I thought about the wing serum that Queen Brisha had given me, and the agony it had caused. That had been bad enough, and it was only a temporary procedure. “Anyway, forget all of that. Nothing I can do about it now. Do you think you’ll be warm enough?”

I peered into the box of clothes and pulled out a sweater. It was way too big but looked incredibly warm. Putting my cloak to the side, I pulled the sweater over my t-shirt, before fastening the cloak around my throat. Ronad smiled.

“Of all the clothes in that box, you pick the one thing that belonged to Navan. Maybe you two really are destined to be together,” he teased, putting the box back where it had come from.

“This is Navan’s?”

He nodded. “It was his favorite when he was a teenager. He called it his lucky sweater. Not that it ever actually did anything for him,” he said with a playful wink.

“Well, it’s my lucky sweater now.” I grinned. “Hopefully, it’ll stop us from getting ourselves killed. Do you have the pay device?”

Ronad nodded, taking it out of his pocket. “Check.”

“Disguise on?”

“Check.”

“Then we’re good to go.”

We hurried back up the basement steps and entered the kitchen again, letting ourselves out the back door, which led through the garden. Ronad fiddled with the latch, leaving it off so we could slip back in, undetected.

I’d forgotten just how cold Vysanthe could be, but remembered in a hurry as an icy wind whipped through the grounds, shaking the boughs of the gigantic trees. The leaves susurrated with whispers of warning. I was surprised that any flowers could grow in weather like this, but there were many vibrant petals holding on for dear life against the wintry gusts.

“Rask, was it always this cold?” Ronad hissed.

My face was already numb. “Yeah, it sucks.”

We exited through the silver archway at the bottom of the Idrax garden, checking for any unseen observers before continuing down the wide road. There were no houses to our left, only the dense rustle of thick forest. I couldn’t help peering into the shadows, wondering who might be watching from within.

We followed the road all the way down the entire length of the affluent neighborhood, until it came to a halt at an expanse of open parkland. On the opposite side of the greenery, there was a stretch of shops, though nobody seemed to be shopping today.

As we reached the storefronts, I peered into the darkened windows, trying to guess what each shop was selling. There was a clothing store, a bar, a comm device shop, and a blood bank, all of which were closed, no doubt in honor of Queen Gianne’s weekly executions. After all, everyone had to attend.

Up ahead, we could see a few coldbloods, but they seemed to be in a rush, their faces panicked. One man, presumably a shopkeeper, bolted out of the door in front of us, taking me by surprise. He muttered a vague apology before sprinting down the street, pausing at an obelisk that protruded from the sidewalk. He pressed a button on the side, gazing impatiently skyward. A few moments later, a squat, silver vehicle descended from above, its engines clattering. It was half the size of a Snapper, with a small back compartment for passengers.

This must be what a coldblood cab looks like, I thought, watching as the flustered Vysanthean hopped in the back, before the sky-cab took off again.

Ronad stepped forward, pressing the same glowing button. I looked up at the sky, like a child watching fireworks, waiting for our cab to descend. It did, a minute or so later, with a particularly gruff-looking cabbie at the proverbial wheel.

“After you,” Ronad insisted, opening the door to let me in.

“Thank you kindly,” I replied, my heart gripped with sudden panic.

As Ronad got in beside me, I knew there was no going back now.





Chapter Eight





“It’s eighteen credits to get to the queen’s show. I need the dough up front. No credits, no ride,” the cabbie informed us, turning over his shoulder to look at us. He was an older coldblood, with a crinkled face and a shock of thinning gray hair.

“That’s not where we’re going,” I said firmly, pushing the fear from my voice.

“We need to go to the eastern edge of Lake Tristitia,” Ronad chimed in, since he had the directions. I had no idea where Ianthan’s secret man cave was. “You can drop us off by the concert hall.”

That got the cabbie’s attention. His whole body twisted around in his seat so he could get a good look at us through the glass divider. I pulled the hood of my cloak tighter around my face, while Ronad did the same with his coat.

“You’re skipping the execution?” he hissed. “You got yourselves a death wish? If you miss it, you’ll be the next ones on the chopping block! She’ll dip your heads in that sap stuff and put them on pikes around her palace walls! I mean, come on, Queen Gianne is out of her freaking—never mind. She just wouldn’t be too happy to hear about folks skipping out on her execution, that’s all.” He sounded like he was about to say something rude about her, stopping himself before anything treasonous could pass his lips. I supposed he thought anyone could be listening in.

“Well, then you’ll have to make sure nobody hears about it,” I insisted.

He looked uncertain, peering through the windshield of the cab as he took off. “Look, even if I wanted to take you where you want to go, there’s no point. Everything by Lake Tristitia is probably a smoking pile of debris by now. It was one of the first places that got hit—there was a huge aerial battle over it, just a couple of weeks ago.”

I shot a worried glance at Ronad, whose expression mirrored mine. We’d come this far, and we weren’t turning back, not without getting the black box. No, we had no other choice but to go there anyway and hope the battle had missed Ianthan’s cabin.

“If the place is a wreck, can you at least take us to the outskirts of the lake? It doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s close,” I pressed, ignoring the waves of anxiety flooding through me.

The cabbie shook his head defiantly. “No way. It’s not worth the trouble, lady. You might be willing to risk your necks, but I’m not!”

“You have to take us there—just get us close!” I urged.

“Again, even if I wanted to, I’d never get you there and back in time. I’ve got to stop running fifteen minutes before the event, so I can get there myself,” he replied, glancing at the clock on the cab’s console. “Every able-bodied citizen has to be there, or be labeled a traitor. You know that, so don’t ask me to risk my life for a fare!”