Chapter 22 #2
His thumbs stroke my face, and I lean into his caress. His lips part, and I wait for the sweet love words that are surely coming.
“Now I need you to vomit.”
That breaks the spell. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You ate their food. I can’t be certain they didn’t poison you again, so you need to vomit and we’re going to leave.”
I sputter even as he leaves my side, heading across the room. “Leave? You think they’re going to just let us walk out of here?”
“I don’t think that at all, actually. They’re going to be furious. But I’m not interested in what they want. I’m interested in what you want, and I can tell you hate them both.”
“But if it was up to you?”
He picks up a delicate bowl and tosses the scented dried flowers and potpourri it cradles onto the floor. “If it was just me, I wouldn’t care. I still don’t care about them. But I do care about you. Now, vomit.”
I take the bowl, staring down at it with dismay.
“Wait,” he says, and he’s kissing me all over again. I moan against his firm mouth, because this is better than the time I kissed him at Gental’s celebration. He’d been surprised and unresponsive then—he’s not now. His tongue flicks against mine, and it sends desire skating up my spine.
I sneeze, angling my face away from his and rubbing my nose. “Are you losing control of your powers or did you just give me a bug?”
“It’s my powers.” His jaw clenches and he brushes my hair back from my face. “I’m pissed that he touched you. You belong to me.”
“I’m your Anchor,” I agree.
“No. You don’t get it. You. Belong. To. Me.”
I shiver, because I’ve never seen him so possessive.
How is he like this when he's supposed to be apathy?
Did something happen? Did I miss a switch being flipped somewhere?
My nose itches, the sign of another sneeze about to break its way through.
I put my hand to my face, scrunching in the hopes of avoiding another sneeze, and he takes a step back.
“I am losing control. The angrier I get, the more my powers flare.”
“We don’t want that,” I say quickly, rubbing a finger under my nostrils to chase the tickle away. “I’m worried we’ve been dragging plague along with us as we travel. You don’t think that’s the case, do you?”
But Kalos doesn’t answer. He’s moving towards the door, listening to the other side. His hand rests on the heavy wood for a moment, and he grimaces. “I need to touch them.”
“Touch them for what?” I ask.
He moves to Dingle’s side, all action, and slides his collar and lead over his neck. “Hurry up and vomit. We don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?” I demand, clutching the bowl to my chest. “You had time to kiss me. You can take the time to tell me what the fuck is going on!”
He doesn't explain, though. His expression turns grim and he leans closer to me. “Hurry, Elsie. We have one chance at this. If they catch us before we’re gone, they’ll kill you and take me out of contention. As Seth said, if we are not with them, they have no interest in letting us survive.”
I want to ask how we’re going to fight our way out, but I have a sneaking suspicion. He killed the fisherman before, when he tried to harm me. Plagued him instantly and the man died. I’m guessing more of the same is about to happen.
Am I okay with this?
If we stay, we’re going to be working with Seth and Margo, and there’s going to be a lot of bad things happening. Leaving will probably result in some deaths, but staying will probably end up with mine. And Kalos’s. And Dingle’s.
And, well, shit. I’m going to be selfish.
I clutch the bowl against my chest, willing my food to come up. When it doesn’t happen quickly, I give Kalos a panicked look. “Can you make me just sick enough—”
He touches my cheek, and dinner flies out of my throat and spews into the bowl before I have a chance to think about it. I vomit pathetically, hunched double, even as he brushes the hair back from my face and murmurs reassuring words.
When my stomach is emptied, I wipe my mouth, whimpering. “That was the worst.”
“But it is done. Now we must go, unless you’ve decided you want to work with the god of chaos.”
Hard pass on that.
I scrub at my face one last time and get up, dizzy. Kalos grabs my hand and hands me Dingle’s lead. “Do not let go of me.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not slow down. Do not stop. I will not let them take you from me again.” His eyes are hard and glittering. For a moment, he doesn’t look like the Kalos I know. He’s not the tired, erudite, beautiful man who finds it difficult to smile. This is a hard, dangerous stranger.
I swallow and nod.
He wraps a cloak around my shoulders, tugs the hood over my head like I’m a child, and takes my free hand. “Remember.”
“Don’t stop for anything,” I agree.
He leans in to kiss me once more but I flinch back. “I have vomit mouth!”
“You would still be the best thing I’ve tasted.” He doesn’t smile, but I feel caressed by the affection in his eyes as he devours me with his gaze once more. Then he grips my hand tightly and opens the door.
The guards turn to look at us, confused. “My lord—”
Kalos touches one and blood spurts from his mouth. The man’s eyes roll back and he topples over. Kalos reaches for the other, and the man’s skin blisters and turns pink with welts. He moans in agony before collapsing, too.
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper as we step over them. “Do you have to make it so awful? You can’t kill them quickly?”
“I am disease,” he says, and I have to stifle another sneeze that crawls up my nose. “I am just accelerating things they are already fatally infected with.”
God. And this is the best option we have? I swallow hard, choke back the tickle in my throat, and let him lead me through the castle.
It feels like it takes an eternity for us to escape, but I suspect it’s only a few tense minutes.
The process goes like this—we run down a hall as quietly as possible, with Kalos feeding Dingle scraps and leaves he’s been gathering, all to keep the goat quiet as we race through the keep.
We turn down a hall and run into guards.
Someone approaches to stop us. Kalos touches them.
Bad things happen. Lots of bad things. I watch people bleed from places I didn’t know they could bleed.
I see things grow and erupt, and people topple over painfully.
One by one, Kalos fells each person in Seth’s personal guard.
We head down a set of stairs and when we hear a great many voices, cut through the kitchens instead.
To my relief, Kalos doesn’t kill anyone there.
He just snarls for them to keep silent. Thankfully, the staff does.
A young girl points at the root cellar. “Secret passage. It leads beyond the moat.”
Kalos draws up next to her, his expression baleful. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
“Because I want to go with you.” Her face is full of terror. “Please.”
“We can’t take anyone with us,” Kalos says. “Our path is too dangerous.”
“Just out of the keep itself. You won’t see me afterward. I swear to all the gods.” Then her eyes widen, and she bobs into a curtsy. “You most of all, of course.”
Dingle starts to wander towards a bucket of potatoes, and I grab one, shoving it into the goat’s mouth. “We need to decide quickly.”
Kalos, thin-lipped and pale, nods. He flicks a hand indicating the girl should follow us, and we descend a rickety ladder into the root cellar, one at a time.
I hand Dingle down to Kalos, and climb down myself, followed by the stranger.
The root cellar is lit by a small globe tucked into a corner, and it’s massive, full of shelves of cheese wheels and barrels of alcohol.
She heads off, passing shelves laden with vegetables and what looks like an entire butchered pig hanging from a hook, and leads us deeper.
“There’s a trap door down here,” she whispers. “Just past last year’s pickled turnips.”
Naturally. But something about this doesn’t make sense. I speak up as she leads us down an even narrower portion of the cellar with jar after earthenware jar lined up on shelving. “I don’t understand. If you’ve wanted to leave, why haven’t you?”
“Because there are guards stationed at the other end of the tunnel,” she says, glancing up at us. “Lord Seth knows about this. He places three large men there day and night. I cannot get past them myself, but they will be nothing for my lord Kalos.”
Some secret. I snatch a carrot from one of the storage bins we pass by and offer it to Dingle. I’m not going to think about the body count. I’m not. “Let’s just keep going.”
The girl pulls the trap door open. It leads to another dank tunnel, accessible only by another wooden ladder.
I hand off Dingle again, stuffing a few more carrots into my sleeves for the goat to keep him quiet, and we’re heading down the new tunnel.
This one twists and turns, and there’s nothing of interest here except for the occasional barrel, as if someone got tired of hauling it away and abandoned it here.
It’s darker than before, lit only by a handheld candle the girl leads the way with.
The claustrophobia of our situation grates on me, the taste in my mouth metallic and unpleasant. I’m sweaty and nervous.
I’m also not entirely surprised when we come to another door, this one heavy and old. The girl turns and looks expectantly at Kalos as she tugs it open, the wood creaking in protest.
Moonlight spills out and I can see a few guards nearby, camped out on the hillside in a covered lean-to. They look up in surprise as we emerge from the door, one drawing his sword.
The god strides out to meet them, hands raised.
I sneeze violently. Once. Twice. Three times.
My eyes water and I choke from the sudden onset of vicious sneezes, and I can’t see as the torrent rips through me.
Kalos is using his power, and it’s taking its toll on me.
I can’t breathe, and gasp for air even as vomit surges in my throat.
He’s making me violently ill and I’m helpless before the onslaught.
Collapsing, I barely manage to cling to Dingle as the fight breaks out, and the girl screams nearby.
“It’s over,” Kalos says as I finish another sneezing burst. “You can quit caterwauling.”
She sobs and I wipe my streaming eyes, trying to peer out. I see fallen bodies at Kalos’s feet, and that’s all I need to see. “Let me guess. They were all sick, too?”
He dusts his hands. “Two of them were. One was perfectly healthy. I had to stab him twice.”
I moan, wiping my nose. “This is wrong. All of this is wrong.”
“It is, but Seth left us no choice. And these men follow him, knowing who and what he is. I will not waste my sympathy on them.” Kalos helps me to my feet and I shiver, a chill overtaking me. My teeth chatter and I’m weak. He frowns at my wet, sweaty face. “You’re sick.”
“No shit.”
“I don’t like that.”
I don’t either but disliking something doesn’t change it.
“Come on,” the girl cries, racing ahead of us down the hill and into the nearby trees. “We have to go. There’s a farm a few leagues away. We can hide out in the barn.”