Renegades (Hotbloods #3)

I sighed, holding up my hands in surrender. “Okay, if you say you’re not interested, then I believe you,” I lied, knowing full well that she didn’t believe my words either.

As we continued on through the city, I let the topic rest, talking about less incendiary subjects instead. We discussed how the building was coming along, and how she was enjoying her peculiar apprenticeship in architecture, while she asked about my military training and the adventure in the cave the night before. It was nice just to wander and chat, the way we would have done if we were back home. Glancing at her, I realized I missed it. Navan was handsome and charming and wonderful, but sometimes a girl just needed her friends. If Lauren had been here too, I knew it would have felt complete.

It was a fairly short walk to the Vysanthean equivalent of a train station. The station itself sat beneath a concave glass roof that curved upward. Coldbloods were rushing in and out, their eyes staring up at blinking boards that showed a number of platforms and destinations. The oddly domestic, banal scene made me laugh. It seemed that, no matter where you went, there were always commuters trying to beat the rush.

We entered, pulling our hoods up around our faces as we went to the ticket machines and pressed what I hoped were the right buttons for two tickets to Palamon. Navan had instructed me on how to do it, since the machine was all symbols I didn’t recognize, but sure enough, two silver discs clattered out. I picked them up and handed one to Angie, and we went in search of our platform. In the end, I had to ask a passing coldblood which one it was, but he answered without a hint of derision, too preoccupied with dashing away to observe the color of my skin, so pink and human beneath the hood of my fur coat.

With barely a minute to spare, we jumped onto the train and sat down, just as it pulled away from the station. Catching our breath, we both sat back, though my eyes trailed toward the window, where the Vysanthean world was flashing past in every shade of gray, white, black, and silver imaginable. Now and again, flashes of dark green blurred by as we passed a patch of woodland, but there was little color to this planet.

A few other passengers dotted the train, though nobody seemed eager to speak to one another. The sight reminded me of the subway in New York City, where it was pretty much a crime to make conversation. I wondered just how similar humans and Vysantheans were, at their very core.

Fifteen minutes later, the train pulled into Palamon station. We got off as quickly as we could, but the doors almost closed on us. Glaring at them for almost taking my hand off, I turned and walked toward the gates, with Angie following after. We waved our silver discs over the flashing beacon and exited into a strangely suburban world.

Everything was quiet, with quaint houses in the near distance, complete with low picket fences and boxed-off gardens that grew what they could in the harsh flowerbeds. Coldbloods walked hand in hand with their coldblood children—a weird sight, in truth, though it was undeniably cute to see them open out their small wings and flap them enthusiastically, only to be pulled down by a stern-faced parent.

Checking the map for Yorrek’s house, Angie gestured to the right. We walked away from the station and headed down a silent main road. We kept going—past shops, a park, a glittering lake—until we reached the edge of a forest. The leaves swayed in the cold breeze, whispering secrets. Ahead, bathed in the shadow of the woodland, was a single house. It looked like a fairytale cottage, with a slate roof and whitewashed walls, and a small garden out front that bore cream-colored roses in a flowerbed protected by glass.

And yet, there was something strange about it.

“Is this his house?” I asked, as Angie checked the map again.

She nodded. “This is the one.”

The windows, rather than being aesthetically pleasing like the rest of the house, were boarded up with thick steel panels. Where a pretty door might have once been, now stood a solid metal shutter, with various panels. Flashing an uncertain look at each other, we pulled our hoods closer to our faces and opened the front gate. I felt for my bandolier of knives, readying my hand to unzip my jacket.

As we walked through the garden, Angie stumbled, her foot sinking into one of the stone slabs that formed the pathway. An alarm shrieked, the sound piercing through the air, splitting my eardrums. Angie looked up, terror in her eyes. A split second later, small openings in the side of the house slid up.

“Get down!” I yelled. Flying missiles shot from the openings. Angie managed to extricate her foot just in time for us to duck and roll out of the way. The missiles were sharp, barbed arrows with blinking tips, one of which whizzed right past my ear, making my heart stop. I lay there, panting on the ground, willing the howling siren to cease so I could get my mind to think clearly.

“Yorrek, turn off your alarms!” Angie bellowed, her voice echoing across the garden. “It’s me from the build site! Turn your alarms off. I want to speak with you. I’ve got an update about the lab!” she continued, her voice loud, even above the alarms.

A moment later, the alarms stopped abruptly, followed by the grate of scraping metal as the shutter of the door rolled up. Relieved, I got up and headed toward it, only to find another shutter behind it, just as solid as the first. Angie stepped up beside me, both of us evidently expecting Yorrek to emerge… but there was no sign of him anywhere.

And then, a bluish image flickered in front of us, the picture solidifying to show an old man with wispy gray hair and a steely black stare. His shoulders were hunched, his features pointed and chinless, giving him the appearance of some sort of vulture.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than come and harass your respected elders?” the hologram barked. “Look at you, dressed up like lesser-furred mangolins. You look ridiculous. Take your hoods down!”

We did as he instructed, though I wasn’t sure how he’d react to two underlings being sent to his door. He made his thoughts known as soon as we revealed our faces.

“Oh, of course they’d send you!” he snapped, looking at Angie. “What, is everyone too busy? They had to send their little slaves to do their dirty work? I suppose you’re going to tell me it’ll be months until my lab is ready. You expect me to wait around here, with all these eyes on me? You want them to get me, don’t you? Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? They’ve sent you to check if I’m still alive? Well, I am, so you can go and tell whoever sent you that they need to try a little harder if they want to get rid of me!” he cried, violently flailing his thin arms around.