Читать книгу Night Quest - Susan Krinard - Страница 12

Chapter 5

The boy’s mouth opened, but all that emerged was another groan.

“I know you suffer,” she said. “But I can ease your discomfort.” She laid her hand on his cool forehead and bent over him. She placed her mouth on his neck, releasing a little of the healing chemicals she had used on Garret. He tried to resist her, but he didn’t have the strength to fight for long. After a few moments he relaxed and closed his eyes.

Artemis withdrew and sliced her wrist with her smaller knife. While the blood of a pure Opir could not nourish another full Opir, it would temporarily ease his raging hunger. She offered her wrist and let him take what he could.

When he was finished, she pressed her palm to her wound until it began to close, and then touched his forehead again. It was slightly warmer, but she knew he had little time left.

“Listen,” she said, stroking the boy’s pale hair out of his face. “I am seeking a pack of Freebloods who might be carrying a human child with them. Have you seen such a pack?”

Confusion crossed the young Freeblood’s face. “Human?” he mumbled.

“A child, who never did any Opir harm.”

“Why...you care?” he whispered.

“Because I believe that it is not our true nature to kill each other over humans, or take life, even human life, simply because we can.”

With unexpected strength, the Freeblood grasped her wrist. “I...saw...the child,” he said. “I was...with...”

She covered his hand with hers. “Where?”

Both she and the Freeblood heard the approaching footsteps before he could answer. The young Opir flinched. His fear nearly paralyzed Artemis, and only her rational assessment of Garret’s essential character permitted her to keep her objectivity.

“Stay back,” she called to Garret without looking away from the Freeblood’s panic-stricken eyes. “He won’t hurt you,” she said to the boy.

Disregarding her warning, Garret circled around the bushes to stand just on the other side. “He was with them?” he asked. There was no pity in his voice.

The young Opir pushed against her, the urge to flee warring with his body’s need for blood. Artemis held him down.

“What is your name?” she asked him.

“P-Pericles,” he croaked.

“Pericles,” she said, “this human is called Garret Fox. He saved my life from other humans who would have killed me.”

“Where is my son?” Garret demanded.

“Garret,” Artemis said sharply. She cupped the dying Freeblood’s head in her hands. “Pericles, where did you see the child?”

Pericles closed his eyes again. “Make the human go.”

Ruthless in his suspicion, Garret moved to stand behind her and gazed down at the boy with his hand on his knife. “Where is he?” he repeated.

Shifting her body, Artemis placed herself between human and Opir. Garret felt like a looming thundercloud at her back.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.

“Answer me,” Garret said, stepping around her.

Artemis stood and turned, her face only inches from his. “It would be very foolish if you and I were to fight now, when we may learn something of use to us,” she said.

They stared at each other until the Freeblood gurgled in a way that sounded very much like death. Darkness swirled up in Artemis’s mind.

The boy’s time had run out.

Pushing all thoughts of dying aside, Artemis knelt beside him again. “It’s all right,” she said gently, cradling his head in her arms. “Garret, if you provide him with a little blood, he may be able to speak.”

She expected refusal. Instead, he crouched beside her and gazed at the boy, his jaw working. He began to draw his knife from its sheath. Artemis caught his arm.

Garret jerked away and cut his wrist. “Tell me where I can find my son,” he said to Pericles.

“Take it,” Artemis urged. “His blood cannot cure you, but if you help us, at least one of your people will remember you with honor.”

Licking his dry lips, the boy stared at the dripping blood in fascination. “North,” he said. “Beyond...Oceanus’s territory, across the...Columbia River.” He choked. “Wa-Washington.”

“Why?” Garret asked. “Why are they taking my son so far away?”

“I...” Pericles closed his eyes, beginning to lose consciousness. With a quick glance at Artemis, Garret offered his wrist to Pericles. The young Freeblood’s mouth clamped on his flesh. Garret winced but held steady, and Artemis found herself battling both her own unexpected hunger and Garret’s heightened emotions.

After a minute the boy’s head fell back onto Artemis’s arms, and he went still. The echo of his pain faded from Artemis’s mind. Then there was only an emptiness where he had been for such a short while.

Somewhere in the darkness, an owl hooted. Perhaps, Artemis thought, the same owl as before. She laid the boy’s head on the ground and closed his eyes with a sweep of her palm.

“Thank you,” she said to Garret. She took his arm and sealed the wound. Garret hardly seemed to notice.

“He was with the ones who took my son,” he said, his voice hoarse with anger.

“And they left him here to die,” she said.

“They are rogues, and so was he.”

“Yet you showed him mercy.”

“To find out what we needed to know. It’s unlikely he’d have done the same for me.”

Garret had not felt the boy’s very real fear of him, Artemis thought. She wished she had not. She lifted the boy in her arms and carried him to a place under the trees. She laid him out there, his hands folded across his chest, and stood over him for a few moments. Garret waited silently behind her.

“I know you don’t believe it,” she said, “but this boy was also a victim. I do not think he has been Opir for more than a few years.”

“That makes it worse,” Garret said. “He doesn’t have the excuse of having had decades or even centuries to forget what it was like to be human. He chose to join a pack of rogues and kidnap a human child.”

“Did it occur to you that he might have needed to join a pack in order to survive?”

“Like you did?”

His sarcasm bit hard. “It is because I am older that I could do what he could not,” she said.

“You can’t make excuses for every rogue who commits crimes against humanity.”

“Many of your kind would say that I have committed such crimes merely by existing.”

Garret gripped her arm and turned her to face him. “Those humans would be wrong,” he said.

“How many would have saved my life?” she asked, trembling at his touch.

“I would not be the only one.”

“And I believe that only the worst of my kind would harm a human child.” She pulled her arm from his light hold and strode back to the ruins.

“Artemis,” he called after her.

She stopped without turning. “I do not wish to quarrel,” she said.

“Neither do I,” he said. His moon-cast shadow fell over her, and she felt his breath stir her hair. “We obviously don’t understand each other very well yet.”

“Perhaps it would be better if we did not.”

“Our survival might depend on it.”

She swung around to face him. “What is it that you do not understand?”

“I heard you tell Pericles that you believe it isn’t in your people’s true nature to kill each other over humans, or take human lives just because you can.”

“Why is that a surprise to you?” she asked.

“Are you really concerned about saving humans, or only about Freebloods killing each other?”

Without answering, she broke into a fast walk back to camp, where she began to gather up her things. Garret did the same, though he moved more slowly. Artemis thought she sensed regret in his mind. He checked again to make certain the fire was out, and that the rabbit carcasses and entrails were well buried, not that an Opir hunter couldn’t have smelled them if he’d been searching.

But there was still no sign of intruders, so Garret withdrew a folded sheet of paper from his pack, and carefully smoothed it across the cracked and overgrown floor of the building, right where a shaft of moonlight illuminated the ground. Artemis recognized a precise drawing of the western half of the former state of Oregon.

“If I judge correctly,” he said, pressing his fingertip to a spot on old Highway 99E, “we’re right about here, roughly twenty miles south of Albany.” He glanced up at her for confirmation.

“Yes,” she said, grateful for the need to focus on practicalities. “That is also my estimate.”

“And ten miles north of Albany is the southern border of Oceanus,” he said, indicating a large black square on the eastern slope of the Coast Range. “We have only limited information about this area. Do you know how far inland their territory reaches?”

“Why do you think I can tell you?” she asked.

“You were exiled from Oceanus, weren’t you?”

“How do you know?”

“Because we’ve learned that most exiles stick pretty close to their home territory. There are only a few small Opiri outposts between Oceanus and the northern California Citadel, Erebus. And I know you didn’t come from Erebus.”

“What of the rogues who stole your son? Were they not from Erebus, nearer to your colony?”

“As near as I can tell, they were from a Citadel some distance away. They were acting out of character. It’s all a mystery.” He withdrew his hand and clenched his fist on his thigh. “From what the Freeblood—Pericles—told us, the rogues are taking Timon across the river into old Washington. God knows why. But if he was right, they’ll probably have to cross the Columbia River near Portland, where one bridge is still supposed to be intact. They’ll follow the path of least resistance, the I-5 corridor.”

“But that will also be a more exposed route,” Artemis said. “Oceanus itself may be situated in the foothills of the Coast Range, but its territory reaches across the valley to the western slope of the Cascades. The rogues will be summarily executed if they are caught.” She tapped the map with her fingertip. “They might have gone farther into the Cascade foothills to avoid any chance of meeting a patrol.”

“And that’s much rougher terrain,” Garret said. “If we can find a more direct route across the territory, we may catch up with them, or even get to the Columbia before them.”

“Or we may be captured,” she said. “I am of no use to them, so they will kill me quickly. But they will either take you as a serf or, if they think you are dangerous enough, execute you as an example to other humans.”

“No surprises there,” Garret said, carefully folding the map. “But I don’t expect you to take unnecessary risks on my behalf.”

“You always knew I would be taking such risks.”

“Yes,” he said, meeting her gaze. “But I’m prepared to release you from our pact.”

“Because we quarreled?”

“I was wrong to interfere between you and the Freeblood. And I have no excuse for saying what I did about your motives for helping your fellow Freebloods. But my son must come first.”

“Then nothing has changed,” Artemis said, feeling another jolt of his worry and pain. “The most logical route to Portland is also the shortest, but there is still no guarantee that the rogues have not chosen the same route.”

“Agreed.”

“So we continue to parallel Interstate 5 for the time being.”

She shrugged into her pack and returned to the path, leaving the young Freeblood to the elements and the scavengers that would return him to the earth.

* * *

Three days’ cautious travel brought them to Oceanus’s southern boundary. They crossed the Willamette River at Albany and continued north, roughly paralleling Interstate 5, to the rural city of Salem—which, like most other pre-War human cities, was a mishmash of half-fallen buildings and bare foundations, overgrown parking lots, cracked streets and patches of woodland that filled every available space in between. The river and a long line of hills stood between them and the western half of the valley and the Coast Range.

Patrols of Opiri and Daysiders from Oceanus would have to cross those hills to find them, Garret thought, and the presence of such a patrol on their side of the Willamette would be a matter of very bad luck.

At the moment, he and Artemis were observing from the edge of what had been a wide street bordered by parking lots and the remains of large, warehouse-style buildings. The woods ended here, replaced by scattered, smaller trees and shrubs, and resumed a thousand feet to the northeast.

Artemis rose from a crouch, shaking her head. “Nothing new,” she said.

Garret concealed his frustration. Artemis had been vigilant; as they’d traveled, varying the hours between night and day, she had found numerous indications that Freeblood packs had passed this way. The “when” was more difficult to pin down, and there had been no clear signs of the presence of a human child.

He’s still alive, Garret told himself. He’s a fighter. And they must have a reason for taking him so far.

“Garret.” Artemis laid a gloved hand on his shoulder, her dark eyes catching reflected light under the shelter of her hood. It was the first time they’d had any physical contact since they’d left Pericles, and suddenly he was immersed in the warmth of her body and the indescribable scent of her skin drifting out from beneath her heavy cloak. His heart began to race as it had when she had taken his blood, triggering the same startling current of desire and longing he had felt before and had struggled to ignore ever since.

Her fingers began to shake, and she withdrew her hand. “It’s still early,” she said. “We can be halfway across the territory before night falls.”

“How long since you’ve taken blood?” he asked, breathing deeply to slow his heartbeat and suppress his arousal before it became too obvious. “You haven’t hunted for yourself since you took mine, have you?”

She shook her head in a distracted way that worried him. He’d expected her to hunt at least once during the times they’d stopped to rest, but he’d begun to suspect that she’d neglected herself because of his eagerness to keep moving.

“Go now,” he said, “I can wait as long as it takes.”

“Later,” Artemis said. With an abrupt, almost clumsy motion, she hitched up her pack and headed north toward the next patch of forest. Garret jogged to catch up, and then strode ahead of her. He could see far better in daylight than she could, and though the chances of ambush seemed small, he wasn’t prepared to risk her walking into one. The Vampire Slayer, though still hidden in his pack, was close enough at hand that he could pull the segments out, assemble them and fire in less than a minute.

Sooner or later Artemis would find out about the weapon. He just hoped it wasn’t because he had to kill a Nightsider right in front of her eyes.

They cleared the ruins of Salem by midday and began to travel in a more northeasterly direction, moving well away from the river and mountains to the west. Garret kept a constant eye on Artemis, watching for any sign of weakness that would indicate an urgent need for blood. But she continued to behave as if everything were normal, and he knew that forcing the issue wouldn’t do anything to gain her cooperation.

At last they crossed the old six-lane freeway, passing through former pastures, farmland and orchards that had given way to mixed conifer and deciduous forest. Several times Artemis detected the scent or tracks of Opiri moving in groups, but again there was no indication that they carried a human prisoner. They met no patrols from Oceanus. It seemed to be going almost too smoothly until, soon after sunset, Artemis began to weave and stumble again.

Garret was looking for shelter where she could safely rest when she jumped the thicket of wild roses that stood between them and barreled into him, dragging him to the ground. Her hood barely stayed over her head.

“Opiri!” She flung her body across his as if to prevent him from rising.

His pack—and the VS—were trapped beneath him. He lay still as her breath puffed against his cheek, the gentle curves of her body seeming to fit against his like a missing piece of a puzzle falling into place.

“How close?” he asked.

Artemis turned her head, her lips inches from his. “Close,” she said. “It is fortunate that the wind is with us.”

“Patrol? Or rogues?” he asked.

“I believe they are Freebloods. I think there is a human with them, but—”

“Timon!” Garret began to rise, but she held him back with all her obviously waning strength.

“Don’t be a fool!” she said. “If they have him, it won’t do us any good to rush right up to them and try to take him.”

Closing his eyes, Garret worked to regain his composure. Artemis was right. God knew what the Freebloods might do with Timon if they felt threatened. If it even was Timon.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m all right.”

She stared into his eyes for a long moment and then rolled off. Keeping low, he got to his knees and looked over the top of the thicket.

“You won’t see them,” Artemis said, kneeling beside him. “They are some distance ahead.” She slid him a glance out of the corner of her eye. “You know I have a far better chance of getting near them without alerting them.”

“Not when you haven’t fed,” he said.

“I am well,” she said.

“You’ll have to take my blood again.”

“No.”

“You’re being irrational, Artemis.”

“I will not do it.”

“Then you’ll have to stay here while I scout, or you could get both of us killed.”

“I tell you I am well!” she said, her voice nearly rising from a whisper.

He took her face between his hands, though he knew what it might do to both of them. “Are you so disgusted by what happened between us that you’d ignore your own health and risk your life?”

The moment he finished speaking, he realized how desperately he wanted her to say no.