Hotbloods 5: Traitors

I gazed at him in awe. “Come on, you have to tell me more!”

Ronad chuckled. “We must have been about ten or eleven, and two of Navan’s brothers had been giving me a hard time. They were teasing me because my own parents didn’t want me, telling me I’d never fit in here—that I’d never be one of them, no matter what Jareth and Lorela said,” he began, his tone thick with emotion. “They were trying to get me to go back to my own house, not realizing I had nowhere to go. They didn’t like sharing any more attention than they already had to, and I guess they hated me for it. Still do, by all accounts, though that might have a few things to do with Naya, too.” He gave a wry laugh before continuing.

“Anyway, I got worked up and ran away from the house, feeling unwanted and worthless. I thought they were right—I didn’t belong anywhere. Only, I didn’t realize there was a storm coming. When the rain started to fall, I sought out the only shelter I knew. I went to the storm drains and hid in there, waiting for it all to pass. Soon enough, my fear of the storm outweighed my fear of the older Idrax brothers, but it was too late. I was stuck in the drains, with lightning striking outside. At ten years old, I didn’t know what to do. So I just tucked my knees under my chin and cried.”

I gasped. “You poor thing.”

“Then, the water came. It flooded through the drain system, bombarding me like a tidal wave,” he went on solemnly. “It crashed down on me, and I didn’t know how to escape. As soon as the first wave hit, I was totally disoriented. I had no idea which way was out, and the drains were pitch-dark, so I couldn’t find my way to the exit.”

I realized I was holding my breath, listening to the story. In fact, we’d come to a complete standstill, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hear every word.

“A massive surge knocked me into the side of the drain, and I blacked out. I remember waking up to Navan calling my name, and I saw a flashlight in the distance, shining like a beacon,” Ronad said with a small smile. “I was bleeding and had no idea where I was, but Navan was there. He’d come to rescue me. The darkness of the drains didn’t matter—he just wanted to see me safely back home. It made him forget his fears.”

“How did he get you out?” I asked, desperate for more.

“I shouted out to him, and he found me lying on the ground, completely drenched, and half-drowned.” Ronad chuckled. “He picked me up, put my arm around his shoulders, and helped me all the way home.”

I grimaced. “Did his brothers get in trouble?”

“What do you think?” Ronad murmured. “Jareth and Lorela loved me as one of their own, once upon a time, but I was never actually one of their own. Nobody was punished, and we never spoke of that day again, though Jareth was pleased that Navan wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. I suppose it was a stupid thing to do. I could have died.”

I watched his face, horrified that such a thing could happen to a child. Then again, it wasn’t a million miles away from what had happened to me, one night after school. I’d been walking home, listening to the taunts of bullies, and I’d believed every word they’d said. They’d called me worthless and unwanted, and even though I had a loving adopted family at home, waiting for me, I hadn’t been able to shut out their voices.

I’d run to the park and hidden under a slide as a New York storm had hailed down, an icy wind whipping up around me. I could still remember the sound of the heavy raindrops beating against the metal slope in an angry rhythm. I must have been around the same age as Ronad—a time in life when words really began to hurt, lodging like arrows in a person’s mind.

Roger had come to find me. He’d coaxed me out from under the slide and taken me home, where Jean had wrapped me in a blanket and run a hot bath. I’d told them what the cruel kids had said, and they’d assured me I was loved. When they said it, I believed them, but when they weren’t around, it was easy to forget.

“It wasn’t stupid. Sometimes it’s hard to shut out the cruelty of other people,” I said quietly. “I know how it feels.”

He looked at me. “You do?”

“My biological parents weren’t good people. They were addicts, and they were dangerous to be around. Then, two wonderful people came into my life and let me call them my parents. They’ve been the only true parents I’ve ever known, but it didn’t stop the nastiness of other kids, making me feel unwanted. My adoptive parents never made me feel that way, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore the negative comments that come from other people, especially when you’re a kid.”

I didn’t know why I was telling him all of this, but I felt like I had to. He and I, we were the same, and I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. We’d experienced the same hardships, though I hadn’t almost died because of it. I’d only ended up with a nasty cold. Then again, everything was more severe here on Vysanthe—there was a hardness to the landscape and to the people who lived on the planet’s surface.

“I didn’t know,” Ronad said softly.

“I guess there are people like us all across the universe.” I forced a grin onto my face.

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“At least you had someone like Navan to watch your back,” I said.

“I’ll always be grateful I had him around when I was a kid. It would have been a lonely existence without a friend like him,” Ronad agreed.

“Well, now that we’ve bared our souls to one another, let’s see where this passage leads,” I teased cheerfully, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

“Left or right, compadre?” Ronad asked, chuckling to himself. I could tell he was glad we’d spoken, too, with no hint of awkwardness lingering between us. Somehow, I felt we’d grown closer to one another, bonded by the ghosts of our troubled childhoods.

I pointed to the right-hand fork, and both of us headed down it at a leisurely pace. Kaido would still be busy upstairs, and Jareth wasn’t due back from the city for several hours. We had time. It led through a narrower chrome tunnel, ending in a steep staircase that rose toward a trapdoor.

Flashing Ronad a conspiratorial look, I clambered up the steep steps, until I was high enough to reach the latch above me. Once there, I clicked the fastening open and slid the panel to one side. To my alarm, it bumped against something. Fearing it was a person, I ducked away from the gap overhead, terrified that I might have blown our cover.

A few minutes passed, but nobody came to investigate. Satisfied, I climbed up the steps once more and poked my head through the trapdoor. It was dim beyond, but I could just make out the familiar shape of a bed above me. The trapdoor was hidden beneath, under the mattress and slats of a frame.

“What’s up there?” Ronad asked.

“I’m in a bedroom,” I whispered back, pulling myself up through the gap in the floor.

Emerging from beneath the dusty underside of the bed, I kept low to the ground. Rising slightly, I saw that I was in Lorela’s bedroom. She was sleeping on the bed I’d just crept out from under, her snores susurrating across the room. I smiled down at her. She looked peaceful.

Just as I was about to edge closer, she stirred in her sleep, rolling over to face me. Her eyes were closed, but I froze, knowing she could wake up at the slightest sound. It was then that I noticed the scent of Sakaros that Ronad had talked about earlier; it drifted from a glass vase of curly white flowers on Lorela’s bedside table. The sugary aroma reminded me of vanilla frosting—just the right amount of sweet.

“My boys… My poor boys… Please don’t kill my boys,” Lorela murmured in her sleep, thrashing against the covers. “No, Your Majesty, please have mercy!”