Lana lit a cigarette, sucked in deep, and blew it out in Astrid’s direction. “You ever notice something, Astrid? No two moofs have the same power. There’s not two kids with super-speed, just one. Not two or three or five or ten with Sam’s laser thing, just him. One Jack, one Dekka.”
“Yes,” Astrid acknowledged cautiously.
“One healer.”
“Yeah, we all noticed that,” Astrid said, making no secret of the fact that she wished someone less volatile was that one healer.
“But this Gaia monstrosity seems to be able to heal itself, and to shoot light beams, and to do the whole telekinesis thing. Interesting, isn’t it? Kids have been telling me stories while I lay my little magic hands on them. Okay, now take Sam by the waist. Grab on, because this is going to be really bad.”
Astrid did as Lana directed. Don’t start crying, she told herself. But it hurt seeing the body she loved broken this way.
“You’re going to pull, see, so I can try to push the bones back into line. And you’re going to keep pulling until I tell you different. Got that?”
“I do,” Astrid said.
“Pull.”
Astrid pulled and Sam thrashed and Lana yelled at Astrid for loosening her grip so Astrid tightened her grip and pulled hard and Sam opened his eyes and yelled and flailed with his hands so Sanjit ran over and grabbed his hands, fast, because Sam’s hands could be very dangerous, and Quinn came around to help Astrid pull.
Lana pushed vertebrae back into place with a sickening wet crunch, then slid a wooden shelf beneath him and let Quinn and Sanjit work together to wrap strips of sheet around and around, locking Sam into place.
Sam quieted and lapsed again into unconsciousness.
“He may have internal injuries,” Lana said. “I can fix the back and the shoulder, maybe. We’ll see about anything else.”
“I should get back to Edilio, see if he needs . . .,” Astrid said and stood to leave.
“Yeah. You should go,” Lana agreed. “And then you better figure out which is worse, smart girl: That we give someone up as a living sacrifice to Little Pete. Or the other thing.”
Lana was smirking now, angry and challenging. Astrid didn’t want to ask, because she knew the answer. But she couldn’t not ask.
“What other thing, Lana?”
“The thing where we kill Sam, and Caine, too, if we can find him, to disarm the gaiaphage.”
Astrid stood stock-still.
Lana laughed her cynical laugh. “Yeah, you’re the genius, but that doesn’t make me an idiot.”
Astrid nodded. Her focus went to the big pair of shears, and beyond to the automatic pistol at Lana’s waist. She bit her lip hard and then said, “Sam?”
“I’m not going to hurt him,” Lana said. “That’s not what I do. Remember? I’m the Healer.”
TWENTY-FOUR
14 HOURS, 22 MINUTES
“I WANT MY whip back.”
Drake’s head had melded perfectly well to Alex’s neck, although there was a definite red line, like . . . well, like surgery had been done and not quite healed.
Alex’s own head, now a fleshless, tongueless, and empty skull, lay in a ditch.
“Be glad you have a body at all,” Gaia snarled.
“I am glad,” Drake said, trying to sound obsequious. “But I can’t fight beside you like this.” He pointed with his remaining hand at the stump of his other arm. “It happened once before. It could happen again.”
Gaia seemed uncertain. It was a strange expression for the face of a goddess, Drake thought. But then Gaia herself was strange for what she was. He knew better than to take the beautiful, olive-skinned, blue-eyed face at face value. He knew he was still looking at the creature formerly represented by a seething carpet of green particles. But she was a beautiful girl now, almost his own age by all appearances.
As beautiful as Diana had been before starvation took its toll. As beautiful as Astrid and just as smug and arrogant.
It confused him. Because he instinctively wanted to hurt her. Fantasy images came to his mind and shocked him. She would kill him if she knew.
It was not a good idea to lust after a god. Even worse to imagine the whip coming down on her—
No, he ordered himself. Stop. She was not Diana or Astrid. She was nothing like them. She was still it. She was still the Darkness. Still the evil that had welcomed him, given him a place, given him a purpose.
“I need my arm,” Drake said, willing to push on this point at least because without his whip hand he was weak. Without his whip hand, what weapon did he have? Without it he was just Drake, not Drake Whip Hand.
“Why do you want it so badly?” Gaia asked. “What would you use it for?”
“To fight beside you, defend you, protect . . . To . . .”
Her face was blank, but her eyes bored into him. “Tell me the truth.”
If he lied . . . she could destroy him right here, right now. How much did she guess? He had to answer. Truth or lie. “Diana first,” Drake hissed. “Astrid more slowly.”
Gaia shook her head. “Later. If.”
“If?”
“If you bring me the Healer,” Gaia said. “She is . . . She resists me. She looks for a way to deprive me . . .” Suddenly she seemed to think better of opening her thoughts to him. “Just bring her to me. Then you can do what you like.”
She put her hand on the stump of an arm. “I don’t know what will grow,” she said.
“Yes,” Astrid acknowledged cautiously.
“One healer.”
“Yeah, we all noticed that,” Astrid said, making no secret of the fact that she wished someone less volatile was that one healer.
“But this Gaia monstrosity seems to be able to heal itself, and to shoot light beams, and to do the whole telekinesis thing. Interesting, isn’t it? Kids have been telling me stories while I lay my little magic hands on them. Okay, now take Sam by the waist. Grab on, because this is going to be really bad.”
Astrid did as Lana directed. Don’t start crying, she told herself. But it hurt seeing the body she loved broken this way.
“You’re going to pull, see, so I can try to push the bones back into line. And you’re going to keep pulling until I tell you different. Got that?”
“I do,” Astrid said.
“Pull.”
Astrid pulled and Sam thrashed and Lana yelled at Astrid for loosening her grip so Astrid tightened her grip and pulled hard and Sam opened his eyes and yelled and flailed with his hands so Sanjit ran over and grabbed his hands, fast, because Sam’s hands could be very dangerous, and Quinn came around to help Astrid pull.
Lana pushed vertebrae back into place with a sickening wet crunch, then slid a wooden shelf beneath him and let Quinn and Sanjit work together to wrap strips of sheet around and around, locking Sam into place.
Sam quieted and lapsed again into unconsciousness.
“He may have internal injuries,” Lana said. “I can fix the back and the shoulder, maybe. We’ll see about anything else.”
“I should get back to Edilio, see if he needs . . .,” Astrid said and stood to leave.
“Yeah. You should go,” Lana agreed. “And then you better figure out which is worse, smart girl: That we give someone up as a living sacrifice to Little Pete. Or the other thing.”
Lana was smirking now, angry and challenging. Astrid didn’t want to ask, because she knew the answer. But she couldn’t not ask.
“What other thing, Lana?”
“The thing where we kill Sam, and Caine, too, if we can find him, to disarm the gaiaphage.”
Astrid stood stock-still.
Lana laughed her cynical laugh. “Yeah, you’re the genius, but that doesn’t make me an idiot.”
Astrid nodded. Her focus went to the big pair of shears, and beyond to the automatic pistol at Lana’s waist. She bit her lip hard and then said, “Sam?”
“I’m not going to hurt him,” Lana said. “That’s not what I do. Remember? I’m the Healer.”
TWENTY-FOUR
14 HOURS, 22 MINUTES
“I WANT MY whip back.”
Drake’s head had melded perfectly well to Alex’s neck, although there was a definite red line, like . . . well, like surgery had been done and not quite healed.
Alex’s own head, now a fleshless, tongueless, and empty skull, lay in a ditch.
“Be glad you have a body at all,” Gaia snarled.
“I am glad,” Drake said, trying to sound obsequious. “But I can’t fight beside you like this.” He pointed with his remaining hand at the stump of his other arm. “It happened once before. It could happen again.”
Gaia seemed uncertain. It was a strange expression for the face of a goddess, Drake thought. But then Gaia herself was strange for what she was. He knew better than to take the beautiful, olive-skinned, blue-eyed face at face value. He knew he was still looking at the creature formerly represented by a seething carpet of green particles. But she was a beautiful girl now, almost his own age by all appearances.
As beautiful as Diana had been before starvation took its toll. As beautiful as Astrid and just as smug and arrogant.
It confused him. Because he instinctively wanted to hurt her. Fantasy images came to his mind and shocked him. She would kill him if she knew.
It was not a good idea to lust after a god. Even worse to imagine the whip coming down on her—
No, he ordered himself. Stop. She was not Diana or Astrid. She was nothing like them. She was still it. She was still the Darkness. Still the evil that had welcomed him, given him a place, given him a purpose.
“I need my arm,” Drake said, willing to push on this point at least because without his whip hand he was weak. Without his whip hand, what weapon did he have? Without it he was just Drake, not Drake Whip Hand.
“Why do you want it so badly?” Gaia asked. “What would you use it for?”
“To fight beside you, defend you, protect . . . To . . .”
Her face was blank, but her eyes bored into him. “Tell me the truth.”
If he lied . . . she could destroy him right here, right now. How much did she guess? He had to answer. Truth or lie. “Diana first,” Drake hissed. “Astrid more slowly.”
Gaia shook her head. “Later. If.”
“If?”
“If you bring me the Healer,” Gaia said. “She is . . . She resists me. She looks for a way to deprive me . . .” Suddenly she seemed to think better of opening her thoughts to him. “Just bring her to me. Then you can do what you like.”
She put her hand on the stump of an arm. “I don’t know what will grow,” she said.
