Night Whispers: The Complex Page 8

  His thigh is ragged and misshapen. There are indents where there should be strong, bulging muscle. White scars are surrounded by inflammation.

  That goddamned war.

  While I’m left with psychic and emotional scars, my brother’s physical being has been ravaged. I hate Metas even more.

  I press the frozen cloth, loosely wrapped in Uni-preserver, onto his red skin. He’s hot to the touch, way too hot.

  He pats his hip and mumbles. “Left front pocket. Get it.”

  “Get it? Get what?”

  He lets out an anguished moan, unable to answer.

  I find the pocket inside the folds of his pants and fish around until I find something papery. I pull it out and hold it up. “Is this what you meant?”

  He opens one eye with obvious effort.

  “Yeah,” he breathes. He extends his hand to me and gestures with his fingers. “Give it. Better yet, open and pour. Pronto.”

  His mouth falls open.

  Opening the flap to the tiny envelope, I peer inside to see a twinkling blue powder. “All of it?”

  His head slowly nods.

  Gingerly, I pour the blue sparkles into his mouth.

  He wiggles his jaw side to side. Swallowing results in coughing.

  “Shit!” he exclaims, gasping for air. He licks what he can from his palm and downs what’s left in his mouth.

  “I could’ve given you some water,” I say.

  He gives me a heavy-lidded, tortured gaze.

  “Yeah. No time. Hold on.” His head falls back.

  In seconds, his breathing grows deep and even.

  I gently press the compress into his leg.

  His hand finds mine and gives it a squeeze.

  “I’m fine,” he mutters, his eyes closed tight. “Let me be for a second or ten. I’ll be back among the living in no time.”

  And then, like that, he snores.

  I’m more determined than ever to get the SV to merge with the Snow Hemp. My brother won’t make it otherwise.

  Leaving the icy-compress in place, I step toward the kitchen, retrieve a dish, and add some of my burnt meal to the plate--a gamy bird from the desert of Lorn. I think it’s called a Shork Red.

  Some hunter probably wrapped himself in sun-protection, took off on his Flyer, and zapped a whole bunch of Shorks with his blue-blazing segif weapon, rendering them unconscious. The rest of us are trapped here for the duration. All I have to keep me going is my mental sanctuary. I shiver, remembering who else shares my secret space—a Meta.

  I add a scoop of Complex-grown vegetables and sit down at my table. Reve remains silent. I pick at the dried out meat. It tastes better than the non-burnt food at the cafe. “This place…” I whisper. “And what does Paki want with me?”

  Reve stretches and lets out a long groan. He opens his eyes and blinks. Then, he scrubs his face with his hands.

  “Got anything caffeinated?” he asks, as if we’re here having a simple dinner together and nothing’s amiss.

  “Reve,” I say, getting to my feet.

  “What?”

  “Are you okay?” I step toward him and pluck the cooled compress from his leg.

  He looks at it, frowns, and then tugs up his pants.

  “What’s for supper?” he asks, ignoring my question.

  “Burnt desert bird,” I say. “A fine Shork Red.” I make my way to the disposal and drop the cloth in. I’d rather get a new one than work to get his dark, painful energy off of this one.

  “Mmm, sounds delicious,” he says.

  I fix a plate for him, step across the room, and hand it to him. I brush a few bright blue sparkles from his shirt.

  He seizes my hand and looks at me, his hazel eyes sparking. “Don’t ask, all right? Not one word. I do what I have to in order to get through each day. It helps with the hangovers, too, if it’s any consolation.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, smiling slightly. When I start to pull my hand back, he tugs it toward his lips and licks the powder from my fingers. I say nothing, wiping my hand on my uniform when he’s finished.

  “Paki’s a dick,” I say, changing the subject.

  “I know,” he says.

  “He’s after me. I just don’t know why.”

  “I know,” Reve says, hungrily shoving food in his craw. “I’ve made some inquiries. I’m waiting for intel. It will come, don’t worry.” He wipes his face with his sleeve. “Thanks for dinner. I really appreciate you feeding me.”

  “I know,” I say, echoing his words. I pause before continuing. “So, Reve. I haven’t wanted to say anything, but we’re working on a pain and restoration cure. Combining Snow Hemp and Silbalda Volaticus.”

  His eyebrows raise like rainbows.

  “We came up with a good idea to graft the two. It could work. This could really work. I wanted to keep it a secret but seeing you tonight…” My words trail off. “Anyway, it could work. Thras is excited about its potential.”

  “I don’t want any substance endorsed by a Meta,” he snarls.

  “We don’t know what Thras is,” I say, but Reve cuts me off with a look. “He said his kind were affected by the war, too.”

  “Shut up, Sakhi. You’re starting to sound like one of them.” He drops his fork. It clatters onto the plate. He starts to get up, winces, and falls back onto the sofa. “I’m here because of Metas. You’re here because of Metas. I fucking hate all things Meta. Do you know what I had to do to get the shit that takes my pain away? Or what parts of my body I’ll have to use for repayment?” His hand waves wildly in the air like a dying snake. Without waiting for me to answer, he says, “You don’t want to know, trust me. Now I owe a Meta a favor and he’s going to make me pay, you can bet your S-Co on it.” He heaves his body to standing and limps toward the door. “Let me out.”

  “Wait,” I say, reaching for his arm.

  He brushes me off and gives me a fierce, wild-eyed look.

  “Let me out, sis,” he snarls. “Please,” he adds, softening his disposition. “Just please let me out.”

  “Where are you going?” I say.

  “To get drunker so I can fall into oblivion.”

  “Reve…”

  He shakes his head. “Open the door, Sakhi, before I do something we’ll both regret.”

  His eyes are frothing pools of sorrow and rage.

  I palm the door open.

  He makes his way unsteadily through it. Once more, I’m engulfed in my drab, white and gray world, with only the promise of my dreams to look forward to—the dreams that scare the life out of me and draw me into naughty temptation. At this point he’s my only comfort. I wish I could find out who he really is.

  Chapter 11

  A few weeks later, as I enter the horrible, hallowed greenhouse of the Eleven, I scan each team member for signs of recognition, the same way I’ve done each day. All males are dream-stalker suspects. There’s Kipp, the werewolf. Daylon, the incubus. A Strogoi possessing magical powers and immortality named Reiker. A loner, he doesn’t speak much. He barely interacts with me, but I can’t be sure. The quiet ones hold mysteries. It could be any of them. One of them could be my dream stalker. I don’t, for a moment, want to consider Thras.

  “Girl, I hope you’re getting laid every night. You look a hot wreck,” Kipp says to me as I step along the rows of tiny plants. His golden eyes rake me up and down in a long slow sweep. “As usual.”

  His hands…those warm hands, stroking my breasts.

  I’m lost in thought, barely comprehending the filament water tubes hanging from the ceiling and the coils of fertilizer feeders snaking through the pots.

  And then his hands drift downward.

  I don’t track the electrodes in the corner, busy stimulating our test subjects.

  But he’s been distracted lately. Watchful. Alert. We haven’t been able to let go into one another.

  “Hey, you with me?” Kipp asks.

  “What?” I glance at him, already weary at five
-thirty in the morning. I’ve been here since four-fifteen. I start to make my way between the rows of plants. I trip and catch myself before falling into him.

  He laughs. “Right. I’ll take that as a yes. Or else you’re an insomniac,” he says as he saunters off. “Or, a newbie vampire. Or a succubus. Or a…”

  He steps outside and I can’t hear what he’s saying any longer. Not that I care.

  I spy Daylon at the far end of the greenhouse. He’s holding one of our newly grafted experiments. It’s too early to be celebrating, but the seduction experiment seems to be working.

  “Hey, Daylon,” I say, stepping toward him, attempting a smile. I’m sure it looks forced.

  My brother’s an addict because of what your kind did to him. Anger boils in my belly.

  He looks up, frowns, and then sort of smiles back. “Hey.”

  “Isn’t this great?” I say.

  “Isn’t what great?” he says, setting down the two conjoined plants. He fixes his red-brown eyes on me.

  Those eyes still make me nervous. “The seduction experiment. We owe the success partly to you.”

  “I don’t know, something’s not quite right.” He lifts the two plants again, peering at them.

  “What do you mean?” I stare at the green and gold child plant of the two parents, emerging from the scion in a delicate swirl.

  “I think someone forgot to turn on the Uni-feed tubes again. These babies need regular doses of the fertilizing compound at precise intervals.” He glares at me.

  “Wow. We’ll have to alert the Eleven,” I say, my face reddening. “Make sure everyone’s doing their part.” My lip sneaks between my teeth, begging to be bit.

  “Uh-huh,” Daylon says, pointing his strange gaze in my direction. “The team needs to hear about it.” He snorts, sets the plant down, and shakes his head. “You’d best alert everyone.” His voice is laced with sarcasm.

  Everyone knows it’s my job to set the timer at night.

  “You can be sure of it,” I say, whirling to find something to do far, far away from Daylon.

  Naazira stands outside the clear door, talking to Thras.

  They’re laughing. She puts her hand on his arm. He draws it to his lips and kisses it. He kisses it! So much for impropriety and keeping things on the down-low.

  My stomach knots. They’ve grown closer the last few days. He and I have barely spoken for weeks.

  The door swings open, and Naazira practically dances inside.

  She approaches me, a lilt to her step. “Hey, Sakhi. Thras needs to see you. He said to come to his office, pronto.”

  “Oh, he did, huh?” I say, picking up a trowel. I want to rake that grin right off her face. I pretend to study some plants, pushing the trowel around the growing mixture. “And you found that so funny you burst out laughing.”

  I want to die. I didn’t mean for those words to come out.

  “What?” she says, her face crinkling into one of her stupid, cheery smiles. “Just now? Oh, no. He told me something funny. And guess what?”

  “What?” I say, in the most petulant voice ever.

  She leans in and whispers in my ear. “We’re going on a date.”

  “You’re not supposed to date on the Complex. Ordinance 62751. No interrelations between species. No dating.” My fingers clutch the handle of the garden tool.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says, looking annoyed. “No one listens to that rule.” She purses her lips. “What’s gotten into you? I thought you were going to be fun.”

  Ouch.

  “I’m, uh…I’m only looking out for you,” I say, attempting to cover for my dumb outburst.

  “Right,” she says, shaking her head.

  I’m going to strangle the next person who shakes their head at me. I grit my teeth.

  “You’d better get to his office. He’s waiting for you.” She rolls her eyes and then sashays away from me.

  “Fine,” I snap, dropping the trowel and rush out of the building.

  Outside the greenhouse I see Paki, chatting with a uniformed guard. He turns his head as if we’re connected with an invisible chain.

  “Miss Borren,” he says, staring at me with his evil eyes. “What’s the rush?”

  He nods to the guard and steps in front of me, blocking passage.

  I shiver. Is he the dream predator? I’m going to completely lose it if he’s my night stalker. Even considering it sends me into a cold sweat.

  “I have a meeting,” I say, trying to swerve around him.

  “Not yet, you don’t. It’s our regular meeting day but you’re early,” he says, smirking. It makes the creases in his cheeks look like jagged scars.

  My eyes flick up to his. “What regular meeting?”

  He smiles coolly. “The one we’ll be having every other day, starting today. Come to my office at…” He consults his wrist-com. “Oh, say, eleven-hundred hours.”

  “But that’s my lunchtime,” I protest. “I only have thirty minutes for lunch.”

  “Well, today you’ll have ten.” He flashes his evil grin. “Don’t let me stop you from your other unimportant meeting. Ours matter.”

  He gives me a challenging glare.

  I chuff out a breath and hustle past Paki, toward Thras’ office, leaving the world of growing green for the lifeless gray-white walls of the Complex.

  When I arrive, I make a timid tap, tap, tap on his door.

  It opens with a whoosh.

  Thras sits at his desk, flicking his fingers across a holoscreen. Dressed in his Uni-uniform, his hair combed back, his face appearing freshly shaved, he’s a bold contrast to the bleak surroundings.

  “Miss Borren,” he says, making the dancing words and images disappear into nothingness. “We’ve got a problem.”

  I inhale sharply, freezing in place.

  “Come in, come in,” he says. He gestures to a Smuntine chair before his massive desk. “No need to stand in the hall.”

  I let out a sigh and step toward the seat.

  “What is it?” I say, plopping into the hard, unyielding metal.

  “I’ve noticed your fatigue of late,” he says, his large hand stroking his chin.

  Why does he have to be so utterly handsome?

  My gaze drops to my lap. “Sir, I…I’m sorry. I don’t sleep well here.”

  “Why are you here? At the Complex?” he asks.

  My back stiffens. That’s the same thing my dream stalker asked me. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that.” Thras steeples his fingers. “What are you hoping to get here?”

  “I…I don’t know. To get to the other side, I guess.” My mind whirls.

  He looks at me for a few seconds with an incomprehensible gaze.

  “The work we do here is critical to the Complex,” he continues. “My team needs to be topnotch, on their game. You know that. We’ve already had this discussion.”

  His words lance me like a sword. “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s Thras,” he says, more gently.

  I lift my head. He’s looking at me with his infinity eyes all soft. It makes me uneasy to be regarded this way.

  “I’ll get a scrip from the Uni-med techs, sir…I mean Thras.” I know there’s nothing they can give me that will really work, though. Nothing will work.

  He nods.

  “Good. See to it.” His eyes grow cold. “Because as of today you’re on probation.”

  “What?” I blink stupidly.

  “We all know you’re the one forgetting to set the fertilizer timer at night,” he says.

  Words explode from my mouth. “And we all know those things should be set on automatic. It shouldn’t be a manual task. There’s always room for human error when things are manual.”

  My hands gesticulate as if under someone else’s command.

  The eyebrow over his dark eye lifts, creating a murky shadow over a midnight moon. “Are you finished?”

  I nibble my lip into submission and stare at the ceiling.
>
  “Yes, sir.” The anger and complete frustration that’s been building since I got here boils over. I lower my gaze to him again. “Wait. No I’m not done. This experiment is a joke. A total waste. We’re all biding our time. And you…” I lean forward and stab my index finger at him. “I don’t think you’re injured. I think you faked it to set me up. To make me feel sorry for you and triangulate with me against our stupid Meta team. Everyone hates me. They think I have some special connection with you. That was your point, wasn’t it?”

  His lips form a stiff, straight line. “We’re not discussing this.”

  “Whatever.” I flick my hand at him, but the words keep coming. “And another thing. You’re not supposed to date on the Complex. Especially you. You’re supposed to set an example.”

  Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  His face crumples into angles and lines. “A date? Who told you I’m dating anyone?”

  “Your date, that’s who. She made sure to tell me,” I say. This time I stare straight into the eyes…those beautiful eyes of infinity. I look away, lest I get swallowed in that gaze.

  He shakes his head. “My social life is no one’s business. This conversation has veered way off course.” He straightens a couple writing devices on his desk. “I’ve been advised to fire you by my superiors. Your lack of ability to perform a simple task each evening looks atrocious. My team has to perform and perform well, Miss Borren.”

  I nearly double over.

  “What, so you can get a gold star promotion when this is over?” I snap, giving him a sidelong glance. I wish this day would be over and it’s barely begun.

  He almost smiles. “Why yes, I want an array of gold stars to line the walls of my office. I think it would look elegant right behind me, don’t you think?” he says. He pivots in his chair and sweeps his hand in an arc. “Like a gateway to excellence over my head. What do you think?”

  I almost laugh.

  “It might work,” I say, suppressing my smile.

  He swings his chair around to face me again, appearing serious once more. “I don’t want to lose you, Miss Borren. But if this behavior continues I’ll be forced to fire you. It will be out of my hands.”

  My heart hammers. “What will happen to me if I’m fired?”