Renegades (The Praegressus Project Book 2) Page 16

  He looked up into her grey eyes, watching her throw herself against the wire, still not quite believing what he was seeing.

  How could this happen?

  Finally he had to look away, to close his eyes and wait for the end to come. But to his surprise, a sudden silence fell over the room. Looking up, he found Liz still standing outside his cage, her grey eyes staring. Then they blinked, and her chest swelled as she sucked in a great, shuddering breath.

  For a long while, she stood still, fists clenched at her side. Chris stared into her eyes, searching for a trace of her crystal blue, hardly daring to breathe. Time stretched out, long seconds uncounted.

  Then Liz shook her head, and her grey eyes blinked as she retreated a step. Her head twisted, her gaze sweeping the room, seeming to take in the devastation for the first time. A shudder went through her as she lifted her head, her nostrils flaring.

  A low growl came from her throat as she turned and stared at the door. Her shoulders rose as she drew in another breath. She shook her head, snarling at the bodies lying scattered around her.

  “Liz,” Chris whispered, desperate to reach her.

  She whirled at his voice, eyes wide, flashing with sudden fear.

  Then she spun back to the door, and fled.

  28

  The Chead roared as a bullet grazed her shoulder. Then she was amongst the men with their puny weapons, tearing and rending, and they were falling back before her rage. Their screams sent a warm thrill through her veins, but they quickly fell silent. She stood amidst their bodies, the taste of blood strong in her mouth, as she searched for fresh victims.

  Alone.

  Growling, the Chead moved on. Turning a corner, she found the woman she had missed, staggering away down the corridor. Rage spread through her veins as she leapt, bearing the woman to the floor. The woman’s screams cut off as the Chead’s fingers tore through her throat.

  Straightening, the Chead scanned the corridor, searching for movement. Blood stained the walls, but none had escaped her vengeance. Lifting her head, she tasted the air, seeking out the strange smell. It called to her, alien but familiar. Desire tingled in her veins as she breathed it in. Turning, she moved towards it.

  The Chead moved down the long corridors on silent feet, her senses reaching out, searching for signs of life. But there were no more sounds, no hint of movement. The stark white corridors were empty, the group she had slaughtered perhaps the only occupants.

  Turn back, the Chead hesitated as a girl whispered in her mind. Then, snarling, she pushed the voice aside and continued after the scent. It filled the air, growing stronger with every step, rich and sweet and irresistible. Her pace quickened, desire mingling with rage, muting the need to rend and tear.

  Long minutes later, the Chead found her way barred by a steel door. She paused outside. Lifting her head, she breathed deeply, tasting the scent she tracked. It hung heavy around the door. There could be no doubt. The source was beyond.

  Clenching her fists, the Chead charged. Again and again she hurled herself at the door, feeling it bend and shift with each blow, rattled by her power. She sensed movement beyond, and redoubled her efforts, determined not to let the source of the scent escape her.

  Stop, the voice came again, but she ignored it.

  Roaring, the Chead drove herself against the door a final time. Steel hinges shrieked and with a crash it buckled inwards, collapsing to the ground beyond. Triumph quickened the Chead’s racing heart, and teeth bared, she stepped inside.

  29

  Chris sagged against the wall of his cage as Liz fled through the door. His shoulders slumped and he slid to the concrete. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

  What the hell was that?

  His mind was still reeling, struggling to comprehend what he’d witnessed. But there was no denying it – Liz had changed, succumbed to the relentless rage of the Chead. The vile guards had never stood a chance. And neither had he.

  “Chris?” Richard’s voice came nearby.

  Chris opened his eyes and looked through the wire at the others. They huddled in their cages, wide eyes staring back at him, faces pale with shock. Richard had found his feet, but Jasmine and Mira still sat on the floors of their cages, their faces lined with exhaustion. He could feel the same fatigue throbbing in his muscles, and he found his mind drifting.

  What did they use in those tranquilisers?

  Shaking his head, he fought against his weariness. “What did you say, Richard?”

  Richard was looking out at the room, his eyes lingering on the bloody slaughter Liz had left behind. Blood and limbs and bodies lay scattered across the floor, barely recognisable as the three men that had stood there a few minutes earlier.

  “We have to get out of here,” Richard said grimly. “Can you get out?”

  Chris took a second to assess the damage Liz had inflicted on his cage. The poles had bent, but not broken, and the thick wire still hemmed him in on all sides. Grimly, he shook his head.

  Then he saw a glimmer of metal amidst the bloody mess on the floor outside his cage. He scrambled forward eagerly. “The keys,” he said.

  Twisting, he tried to reach them through the wire mesh. But with his hands cuffed together, he couldn’t manoeuvre enough to reach them. He looked up at Richard and Jasmine, despair welling in his chest.

  “I can’t reach them,” he said.

  Jasmine snorted. “You clearly haven’t watched enough television.”

  So saying, Jasmine lay down on her back on the floor of her cage. With her arms still cuffed behind her, she stretched them down until her hands rested behind her knees. Then, lifting her legs, she bent her knees and strained until the handcuffs passed beneath her feet. Climbing to her feet, she waved her hands in front of her in triumph.

  “Now you,” she grinned.

  Chris, Richard and Mira quickly repeated the procedure. When Chris looked back up, Jasmine was staring down at her hands, her forehead creased. Veins stood out along her arms as she strained. With her hands in front of her, she could now bring the full force of her strength to bare. Slowly, the chains of her handcuffs buckled, until with a violent jerk, they snapped apart.

  Looking up, Jasmine grimaced. “These people have underestimated us for the last time. Come on, Chris, get the keys.”

  Chris nodded. Gritting his teeth, he tensed his arms and pulled them apart. Pain streaked down his wounded arm, but he resisted it, determined not to let the others down. A second later the steel gave way with a sharp shriek. Dropping to his knees, he reached a hand through the wire links and lifted the keys from the bloody floor.

  Within minutes the four of them were standing outside the cages, looking around at the carnage their friend had left behind. The keys had also unlocked the broken remains of the handcuffs, although it had taken time to find the right key amidst the bulging chain.

  Staring at the slaughter, Chris forced himself to avert his eyes. Looking at the others, he saw the questions in their expressions, the same ones whirring through his own mind. Why had Liz changed? And were they destined to follow her? Would they all one by one turn into monsters?

  Shuddering, he pushed away the thought. “We’d better get out of here. Liz can’t have gone far.”

  Richard frowned. “Chris…” he lowered his head and looked away, “Chris, Liz is gone. You saw her eyes. Whatever that was, I don’t think she’s coming back from it. We can’t waste our time looking for her. Halt could be back any minute.”

  Chris stared back, the first embers of rage catching in his chest. “How can you say that?” he growled. “After everything we’ve been through, how can you even think about leaving her?”

  “I don’t like it any better than you do,” Richard met Chris’s eyes for just a moment, long enough for him to see the sorrow there, “but we have to be realistic. She turned, Chris. She’s Chead now. She’s gone.”

  “No.” Chris stepped in close and grabbed Richard by the arm. “She’s not. She
’s still in there. You saw her, she had the chance to kill me, but she didn’t. I’m not leaving her.”

  Richard pulled his arm free and turned to Jasmine. “Jasmine…” he started, then stopped, still unsure of himself with her, “Jas, tell him we have to go.”

  Chris looked across at Jasmine, pleading silently for her help. He was so tired, his strength at its end. He couldn’t do this without them.

  Jasmine’s eyes flickered from Chris and back to Richard, a frown twisting her lips. Finally she let out a long breath, and stepped up beside them. Her eyes fixed on Richard as she drew him into her arms.

  Richard’s eyes widened at her sudden show of affection, but a second later his arms went around her, and they stood for a second in silence. Finally, Jasmine pulled away again and looked up at Richard.

  “Thank you, Rich,” she smiled. “You took a bullet for me, back in the apartment.”

  “Well, they were darts, but…” Richard trailed off as Jasmine placed a finger on his lips.

  Then she turned back to Chris, her eyes resolute. “And so did Liz. I told her to run, to leave us behind. She could have gotten free, but she chose to stay and fight for us,” she looked back at Richard, “If our positions were reversed now, she wouldn’t leave, Rich. We’re family, we have to help her.”

  The two of them stood staring at each other for a long moment, before Richard closed his eyes and nodded.

  Just then, a low whimper came from Mira. Chris turned and staggered backwards as she sprang at him. Her wings beat the air, carrying her past as Chris leapt out of her path. But she was not aiming for him. With another beat of her wings, she disappeared through the open door.

  Chris swore, and no longer hesitating, he started after her. He heard footsteps and muttered curses as the others followed, but outside Mira was already racing down the long corridor. Sucking in a breath, Chris sprinted after her, desperate to catch the girl before she got them all killed.

  At the end of the corridor, Mira took a sharp turn to the right. Chris picked up the pace, afraid of losing her, as his eyes scanned the path ahead. A trail of bloody footprints led in the direction they were heading, and silently he prayed Mira did not encounter Liz before they caught her.

  Turning the corner, his stride faltered as he found a fresh scene of slaughter. But Mira was already halfway down the corridor, sprinting hard on her short legs, her grey wings beating sporadically to hurry her along. Panting, Chris leapt after her.

  Two men lay slumped one over the other halfway down the hallway, their blood making the floor slick beneath his feet. A rifle lay on the floor nearby, while another had been embedded in the plasterboard wall.

  Ahead, Mira vaulted around another bend. Chris barrelled around the corner after her. She was still fifty feet ahead, but he was closing fast. The hushed voices of the others chased after him as he glanced around, expecting guards or doctors to appear. But the hallways remained empty, and he guessed Liz had killed those men before they had a chance to sound the alarms.

  Slowly he closed the gap with Mira, until only a few feet separated them. But as he reached out to catch her, Mira’s wings beat down and sent her soaring forward out of reach. Swearing, Chris tried to do the same, and crashed to the ground as the length of his wings struck the walls on either side. The narrow corridors were perfect for her smaller wingspan, but it left his all but useless. Climbing back to his feet, he chased after her again.

  The game of cat and mouse ended as Mira abruptly drew to a stop. Chris’s arms windmilled and he staggered sideway into the wall to avoid smashing the girl from her feet. Coming to a stop, he quickly reached out and grabbed Mira by the arm.

  As the others drew up behind him, he straightened, finally paying attention to where Mira had led them. The first thing he noticed was the bloody footprints – fainter now, but there was no doubt in his mind they had been left by Liz. Then his eyes travelled a few feet further down the corridor, to where a steel door lay crumpled on the ground.

  His stomach twisted and he glanced sideways at Mira. She stood beside him, staring through the broken doorway, her shoulders rising and falling with each shallow breath. Her wings shuddered on her back, and her whole body was coiled tight as a spring.

  “Where have you brought us, Mira?” Chris whispered.

  Her strange eyes looked up at him, their green and blue irises shining. “Artemis.”

  30

  Eyes closed, Liz rose from the darkness, following the soft whispers of an ancient voice. Tendrils of madness wrapped around her, threatening to pull her back down, but the voice was urgent, insistent. It lifted her from the haze, pulling her into the light, returning her to reality.

  She shuddered as sensation suddenly returned. A scream built in her throat but she swallowed it down. Blinking, she looked around, biting back a sob as memory of the Chead flashed through her mind. Trapped in her own body, she had witnessed the creature’s slaughter, helpless to intervene, a silent witness to its madness.

  When the men had grabbed her, when she had realised their intent, a wild fury had taken her. Laying on the ground, helpless and threatened, she had felt a pressure build within her. As they reached for her, that pressure had snapped, and the rage had swept her away. Powerless against it, Liz had closed her eyes and succumbed.

  When they opened again, it had been the Chead staring out.

  The steel handcuffs had given way like paper before her power, and her tormentors quickly followed suit. She could still remember the ecstasy, the wild joy of the slaughter, the pleasure she’d taken ripping the guards limb from limb. But now the memory made her sick, and tasting bile in her throat she rolled onto her side and threw up.

  Her arms shook as she finally sat up. A memory flickered through her mind, and she recalled the voice that had called her back. Blinking, she looked around the room, and finally noticed the man sitting beside her.

  They were on a narrow hospital bed in some kind of infirmary. She could not quite recall how she’d come there, only that the Chead had followed a scent, that she had been drawn through the facility by it. Looking at the man, there was no doubt he had been the source.

  He sat watching her, an old man out of time. His face was lined, the skin hanging from his arms in heavy folds. His skin was ghostly pale and he wore a plain white shirt to match, stained with age. A rattling came from his chest as he sucked in a breath. Only his hair had remained untouched by the years. Its long black strands hung across his face, out of place on his ancient body. The cold grey eyes of the Chead stared from the wrinkled face.

  “Welcome, my child,” the old Chead whispered, a smile touching his lips. “I have been waiting for you.”

  As he spoke, a dam seemed to shatter within Liz, and she felt all the horror, the terror and anger, the devastation of the past week come crashing down on her. She suddenly found herself sobbing, overwhelmed by the emotions boiling within her. Then frail arms were wrapping around her, and shuddering, she buried her head in the Chead’s chest, and cried until she thought she would surely drown in them.

  The ancient Chead said nothing, only held her, his soft hands stroking her hair and wings.

  Time passed. Nestled in his lap, Liz could almost imagine herself a child again, wrapped in the warm embrace of her parents. Closing her eyes, she breathed in his scent, the strange sweetness that marked the Chead. Only now, with him, it no longer seemed threatening.

  They waited in silence, staring across at the broken door.

  Liz sat up straight as Chris stumbled through the doorway, her heart lurching in her chest. His eyes widened as they swept the room and found her on the hospital bed, sitting beside the ancient Chead. She closed her eyes, expecting to see his face twist with the horror of what she’d done. Blood covered her clothes and wings and hair, forming a gruesome paste she feared might never come out. Biting back a sob, she waited for his anger.

  A soft hand brushed across her cheek, lifting her chin, pulling her up. Her eyes fluttered open and found Chris
beside her, arms open to embrace her. “Liz,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder. “Your eyes, they’re blue.”

  With a half-choked cry, Liz threw herself into Chris’s arms. His hands went around her back, stroking her wings, even as her arms wrapped around his back. His shirt slipped up and she felt the warmth of his flesh beneath her fingers. Desire flickered within her…

  Then Chris was screaming, stumbling back from her, his face twisted with pain. He staggered across the room, crashing into another hospital bed and crumpling to the floor. Mouth open, Liz stepped after him, reached out to help him.

  A wrinkled hand caught her wrist and pulled her back. “Stop, child,” the Chead’s voice whispered, “You’ll only hurt him further. It will pass.”

  Liz stilled, staring in horror as Chris writhed on the ground, his hands clawing at his back. His wings slammed into the hospital bed and sent it crashing to the floor. A sound came from the doorway, and Liz looked up to see Mira, Richard and Jasmine staring in. She swallowed.

  What have I done?

  On the floor, Chris’s movements slowed. He panted softly in the quiet, his eyes clenched shut, as he fought some unknown battle, some unspeakable pain.

  Finally he stilled, and his eyes flickered open again. Liz groaned as she looked into his bloodshot eyes, desperate to go to him, but the Chead still held her back. Slowly, Chris picked himself off the floor, his limbs trembling with the effort.

  “What…” he croaked, his voice trailing off. Grimacing, he tried again, “What is going on, Liz?”

  Tears filled Liz’s eyes as she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  She turned as the Chead released her wrist, looking up into the ancient face. The grey eyes stared back at her, filled with a soft compassion. “I am sorry, my child. Sometimes, the change has… unpredictable outcomes.”

  “Artemis!” Mira’s shriek echoed through the room as the girl shot through the open door, apparently willing to wait outside no longer.

  Leaping across the room, she threw herself into the old Chead’s arms. The Chead chuckled as he stumbled backwards and sat down hard on the hospital bed. “Mira,” his voice was warm as he addressed the girl, “My child, what has he done to you?”