Hotbloods 5: Traitors

I nodded. “Maybe there’s hope for you—you’re catching on.”

“I have always struggled with the intricacies of social interaction. I miss things that others do not, and I do not fare well with elements of comedy,” he said. “We Vysantheans are not exactly known for our humor, but I wield even less skill in that area.”

“You don’t find anything funny?” I asked, wondering what sort of life that must be.

He offered a shrug. “I like the sensation of laughter, but I do not laugh easily. It is not that I do not enjoy humor; I simply do not understand much of it. Indeed, during my lifetime, I have noted that others find me to be a great source of hilarity, though I cannot see why.”

I thought back to the kid in my high school who’d shared some of Kaido’s attributes. He’d been intelligent and logical but couldn’t follow everyday social cues. He’d laughed at strange moments and worn a blank expression when everyone else was doubled over in hysterics. I really didn’t want to warm to Kaido, but he was making it pretty hard. Despite being a touch robotic, he had an undeniably childlike innocence.

“Have you ever tried to use neurobotany on yourself?” I asked, feeling a pang of sorrow for the bullied runt of the Idrax litter. I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

“You are very perceptive for a species with such limited brain function,” Kaido replied. “Indeed, I have attempted it, but to no avail. I have yet to discover the botanical construct that can alter my brain function to replicate that of a normal Vysanthean.”

“Is that where your interest in neurobotany came from?”

“I suppose it did, now that you mention it,” he said with a shrug. “I always enjoyed reading about flora and fauna and the many things they could do, both to heal and rejuvenate, and destroy and sicken. In nature—and, more specifically, in botanicals—there is always equilibrium. One plant may poison, but another will be the antidote. Do you see?”

I nodded, just as fascinated.

“One day, I shall find the antidote to my mother’s sickness, and I shall discover the antidote to mine, too,” he said, though he lacked emotion. “It is nature, and nature is infallible.”

“You really think you’re sick?”

“Oh, I am certain I am. I have a known ailment of the mind.”

I could see he believed every word, but if my inkling was correct, Kaido didn’t have a sickness at all. He didn’t have an ailment he could cure. Instead, he was simply different and would always be that way. Then again, judging by the way he’d emphasized the word “normal,” I understood how hard it was to be different in Vysanthe.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” I said defiantly. “Some people are just different, and that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. I think you’re fine just as you are.”

He looked puzzled. “You do not understand the way things are done here in Vysanthe, and I would not expect you to. There is nothing to be gained in difference—unity and uniformity are the keys to success. We do not tolerate weakness here. My mind is a weakness that I must endeavor to fix.”

I could see that I wasn’t going to win this fight, but at least he knew what I thought of him. To me, he was completely fine. I just hoped he might, one day, be able to see it for himself, preferably before he started “curing” himself with all manner of alarming serums.

“I think my brain is feeling better now,” I announced, feeling things become clearer. I still couldn’t quite remember everything that had gone on as the serum entered my system, but I could remember sensations—a feeling of relaxation and sleepiness, which had pulled the blinds closed around my mind.

“Excellent. I have another question or two,” he replied. It was amazing how quickly he could switch from one subject to another, with no change in emotion whatsoever. “First of all, how old are you?” he asked, bringing another recording device over to me.

I paused, but not because my brain couldn’t remember. It was something that had completely passed me by, given everything else that had been going on. I had been eighteen when we’d left Earth, but weeks had passed since then. I was a late-summer baby, my birthday falling on the eighth of September. That day had definitely come and gone, and I hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m nineteen,” I said quietly, coming to terms with the fact that I’d spent that milestone on the wrong side of the universe. I had no idea what day it was back on Earth. How long had I been nineteen?

I thought about Jean and Roger celebrating my special day without me, wondering where I was. I knew they were safe, and that they knew I was safe somewhere, thanks to Ronad’s quick thinking. If he hadn’t managed to get them into witness protection, I knew I’d have so much more to worry about. At least this way, I could be sure they were in good hands, their lives protected by the government, out of Orion’s reach.

While hidden inside the walls of the Idrax house, I had the same assurance. Jareth and Kaido would keep me and Ronad out of harm’s way, as long as we didn’t do anything stupid. That was the problem—we were prone to doing dangerous things when it came to the survival of our friends.

Right now, we had no idea whether they were all alive and well. All we did know was that they couldn’t risk coming here to save us. To stop that, we had to get word to them.





Chapter Two





Kaido continued to ask me basic questions about my health, making our session feel like a doctor’s appointment, but one question actually surprised me.

“And, where does your species come from?” he asked.

It didn’t matter how endearing he seemed—he wasn’t getting that information out of me.

“Krypton. I don’t think it’s far from here,” I lied.

“Krypton? I must say, I have never heard of it. You must be a very primitive race not to appear on our celestial maps. In a millennium or so, I’m sure you’ll be of merit,” he remarked. “Did you experience any pain throughout the procedure?”

“A minor stinging at the temples, from the needles,” I replied, then realized an opportunity lay before me. Kaido was a surprisingly open sort of guy; I could seize the moment and ask a few questions of my own. “So, is this what you do all the time? Are you a full-time neurobotanist, the way your father is a full-time alchemist?”

He shook his head, not bothering to look up from his recording device. “I am a soldier by trade. It is why I was permitted to look for you on the other side of Vysanthe in the first place, under the guise of fighting on the battlefield,” he explained. “War is not useful to many people, but it was useful for my purposes, enabling me to capture you and Ronad. True, my initial plan was to obtain Navan, but sometimes we are forced to improvise. With you as a lure, the amended plan will yield the same result—to get Navan to return here.”

“Why haven’t you been sent back?”

“My father has requested an extended leave of absence for me.” Kaido fiddled with the device in his hand. “Permission has been granted for the same reason I could not attend Queen Gianne’s public convocation. My mother requires someone to be in the house, to care for her throughout her illness. I am that designated individual.”

I frowned. “Why doesn’t your father do it? She’s his wife.”

“He is an important man, Riley. He has more pressing tasks to attend to,” he said. “Marriage is a contract, but there is no clause where weakness or sickness is concerned. Should a spouse’s wellbeing be compromised, there is no obligation to offer care. If they are not willing to seek medical supervision, that care falls to a child or sibling.”

“So, no ‘in sickness and in health’?” Honestly, I wasn’t surprised by the coldness of the Vysanthean marriage contract. I’d always been under the impression that there was something a bit Spartan about the coldbloods.

“I do not know what you’re referring to,” Kaido said.