Part 20 (1/2)
Dreary. Off white and hard. Her bed rested against cool cement. The back wall divided in two. The upper half looked like two-way gla.s.s. She walked over and pressed her face against it, trying to see what or who stood on the other side. All she could see were her own eyes, her own face, being reflected back. A metal toilet (it looked like aluminum foil) sat to the left, below the gla.s.s. Ten steel bars separated her room from another. Everything the same, except someone still slept in the cot.
Michael.
A part of her wanted to lash out. Yell. Tell him what a horrible person he turned out to be. But she remembered he'd been the one to save her from cut-happy Abe. He helped capture her, but he'd also saved her.
”Cret!” She cursed softly.
Michael rolled over to face her. His legs together, knees bent and hands grasping a book. She wasn't sure whether he bunched into that position to protect himself from the cold or from her. He still wore the same clothes he'd had on when they went hiking, which made her wonder how many days she'd been held captive. Venus wanted to know why he slept in a cell, like her. Had he upset Frank? She hadn't seen what'd happened in his memories. It didn't make sense. None of it did. She wasn't even supposed to be here, on this forsaken planet. Flying on Sadraden, that's where she should've been. Instead she'd been stuffed into this awful room.
My coffin. She kept her eyes focused on the troublesome boy.
His dark hair poked up in random places. Messy. An image of her fingers running through his hair, smoothing the ends, sent her stomach dancing with fickle b.u.t.terflies.
She shuffled to the bars and pushed her face in between two, the cool steel touching her ears. She rested her hands on the bars to either side. They were freezing, but Venus resisted the urge to pull away. The pain helped her feel more awake-alive. She stared at him a moment, watching his face, debating her decision.
Three. Two. One. ”h.e.l.lo, Michael.”
He sat, unfolding himself and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Rumpled and glorious and mean.
”You know when I first saw you I thought you were an Angel . . . of Death,” he whispered, gloomy.
No point in denying what she knew. She figured truth would be best.
”I know.”
He blinked, surprise changing the shape of his face. Michael sat up straight.
”How-”
”What are you reading?” she asked quietly, interrupting.
He peered at the book as though he'd forgotten he still held it. ”Oh, it's by William Shakespeare. You heard of him?”
”I have. Are you reading one of his comedies or tragedies?”
He raised a brow. Perhaps wondering how she knew so much, now that he'd discovered she was an alien.
”A tragedy, I suppose. Have you heard of a poem called Venus and Adonis?”
”Mmmm, yes. I believe it doesn't end happily.”
”No, it doesn't.” He stood. ”Um, hey, I'm really sorry, but I need to-” He stopped and pointed at the toilet.
Gross.
”Right.” Venus walked back to her cot, lay down, her back to him and placed the pillow over her head. ”Ready,” she shouted. While he busied himself, she debated what she should or shouldn't tell him. In the end, she decided not to hold anything back. Why bother? She'd be dead in a couple of days anyway. Possibly sooner.
Plus, Zaren could take care of himself. Humans had no way of getting to her planet, their technology millennia behind. Sharing her planet with Michael might be enjoyable. And she hoped it'd help him be less angry with her, with his life. When she'd gone, he could try to be happy. Venus hadn't had a chance to really talk to anyone in so long. Years. And she wanted to share the best parts of her world with someone. Why not Michael?
Venus heard a loud noise, which she guessed was flus.h.i.+ng.
Then he yelled, ”Hey!”
Removing the pillow from her head, she asked, ”Are you finished?”
He chuckled. ”Yes. What about you? Need to go?” Michael pointed at her aluminum toilet.
She shook her head. ”No. I'm good.” Venus turned and sat, making sure to cover her back side, since they'd put her in a tacky blue-flowered hospital gown. Michael watched with a half-smile, his face pressed against the bars exactly as she'd done. The book had vanished and she knew he wanted to talk about other matters-namely her. Questions practically oozed out of him. Venus tried not to breathe. Afraid she'd spew words he wasn't ready for. Or worse. Words meant to be hurtful.
”What . . . are you?” he finally asked.
For some reason, the question annoyed her. She huffed. ”An alien from another planet. Duh.” When he didn't respond to her sarcasm, she continued, ”I'm not going to sprout tentacles and grow another head.” He still watched her, doubt filling every crevice on his face. Venus clenched her hands into fists and pushed down a curse.
”Well, at least not today. Tomorrow, watch out. I'll be a two-headed octopus with blood sucking tentacles and three thousand razor sharp teeth.” She glared back, a strong desire to rip his hair out barely kept in check. He stared at her like she was a newly discovered specimen in a Petri dish. Venus had about decided to lie down and roll away, when he asked his next question.
”What I mean is, are you the Venus poets and writers like Shakespeare have written about over the centuries? Are you the G.o.ddess of Love?”
She snorted. She couldn't help it.
He scrunched his brows together and his face turned a shade darker, whether from anger or embarra.s.sment she couldn't be sure.
”I don't know the first thing about love. My parents gave me the name. They said because I was conceived from love. But that's as far as it goes.”
He studied her, as though trying to decide if she were lying or not. Finally he asked, ”Why are you here then? On my planet?” He moved away from the bars and started pacing. Back and forth. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Chaotic hair falling across his face.
She had already decided to tell him everything, but where to begin? Explain that some awful kelarian probably poisoned her, and then sent her here as punishment and certain death. Or enlighten him on his love life. How the G.o.ds had commanded her to a.s.sist him in finding true love. Venus snorted. He'd surely laugh. If the tables were turned, she would've laughed at him.
”No answer.” He stopped pacing and turned away from the bars. Venus saw the slouch in his shoulders. He drooped in defeat and went back to his cot. After he'd sat he asked, ”Have you heard of a group called The Order of Eternal Fire?”
She watched his face twist as emotions seemed to overwhelm him. The words barely above a whisper, he said, ”They kill humans and then carve markings into the dead bodies.” It looked like the words choked him.
”The Order of what?” She shook her head. ”No.”
”You're lying!” He picked up his book and brought it over to the bars. Flipping a few pages, he stopped and shoved the book through. ”See this?” He stabbed the page with a finger. ”That mark was carved into my mother. It's what this Order does after it murders people.”
Venus went over and took the book from him. There was a penciled drawing of what looked like a sun eclipsing a moon with rays shooting all around it. Another circle had been drawn inside the big one. It was oblong and inside was a symbol. The markings also reminded her of an eye . . . She closed the book and handed it back to him. Turning, she went back to her cot. Her knees shook of their own accord. And she felt sick.
”Do you know what it means? Are you a part of this Order?” He paused and Venus heard him take a deep breath.
She'd seen the symbol before. On her sister, Amberlee. It'd been the ink she'd had on her forearm. Disbelief settled over her. How could her sister be involved with this Order? Was it a coincidence? Venus doubted it. What had her sister become mixed up in?
”Venus? Why are you hurting people? Why my mother?”
She turned and watched him wipe his face with the back of a hand.
”Michael, I-I don't know who's doing this? I swear it wasn't me.” She wanted to learn more of what he knew so she continued, ”I have seen that mark before, but I don't know what it means.”
”You saw it where?”
”On Kelari. A few days ago.” She sat.