In The Dark Of Dreams Part 30

Perrin's fingers pressed lightly on either side of the parasite. "It is . . . it is just the size it should be."

His voice was raw. Jenny tried to look at him, but he held her down, with another hand on her shoulder, this one a little firmer. Her uneasiness grew.

"You going to take it out?" she asked him.

"No." Perrin's voice was even quieter, rougher. "No, I won't do that."

This time she forced his hand aside and rolled over to look at him. Perrin had pale skin-most anyone would call him albino, she thought-but he seemed even whiter than usual. Or maybe just ashen. His expression was grim and cold, but there was no hiding his eyes, and the pain in them was frightening.

"Perrin," she whispered.

"It is a kra'a," he said, practically breathing each word. "It should never have bonded to you."

Jenny swallowed hard. "Will it kill me?"

His hesitation was not rea.s.suring. "I don't know."

She stared at him, helpless, filled with questions she didn't know how to ask. "What is it?"

Perrin closed his eyes. "It is the . . . larva . . . of a Kraken."

Jenny burst out laughing, then choked, feeling sick. "No."

He didn't seem disturbed by her reaction. "It's not what you think. Every thousand years, a sleeping Kraken, male or female, produces a clutch of these larvae. They do not mature. They are like . . . antennae. Linked to the Kraken's mind. A way for the beast to see the world around it and know if it is time to wake."

Jenny hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly filled with the need to be very small. "Your kind uses these . . . kra'a . . . to keep the Kraken down."

Perrin nodded, eyes still closed. "We destroy all but one, then bond that surviving larvae to a suitable host, as it would have bonded to any other life-form, if left on its own. When a larva is newborn, it is untrained, unfocused. Only the very strong are given the task of training an unformed kra'a. It requires intense mental stamina. The first three hosts usually do not live longer than a decade during that initial bonding."

Jenny frowned. Perrin said, "The one in your head is over seven hundred years old. You don't need to worry."

Creeped out was a better description for the way she felt. "It seems to have a will of its own."

"Kraken are intelligent, their larvae no less so. That kra'a shared the minds of twelve others before you. It is a . . . deep relationship. The kra'a becomes part of your soul."

Perrin looked ill when he said that-a broken quality in his voice, something broken in his eyes. Stirred her instincts in a bad way.

"This was yours," she said.

Grief twisted his face, but it smoothed into a cool hard mask. "Yes."

"It was taken from you."

"Yes."

"Maurice-the old man I was sailing with-tried to remove this thing from my head. Almost killed me. Or felt like it."

Perrin shuddered. "I had been its host for almost eight human years when my kind ripped it from me."

f.u.c.k, she thought. f.u.c.k.

The parasite twitched. Inside her head, a voice whispered, We grieved. We grieved and did not understand. His dreams were good, strong.

"They didn't think I would survive," he said, and again, there was a broken quality to his voice that cut her: loneliness, and despair, and a hurt that ran all the way to the soul. She heard herself in his voice. She heard her own voice, six years younger, sitting in a cemetery by a gravestone with no name.

"You did nothing wrong," she said, and didn't know if that was the parasite talking or her. Just that she knew it was the truth-deep in the heart of her gut where all her most trusted instincts resided.

"I dreamed," he whispered. "And they tried to take my dreams."

Jenny had no idea what that meant, but the parasite twitched again, and a wild roaring heat rushed from the base of her skull down her spine. She reached out, and very gently placed her hand on top of his. Then, just as carefully, she leaned off the bed and kissed his ear, and murmured, "Breathe."

He drew in a choking laugh that sounded like a sob. And then it was a sob, strangled into a terrible silence that left him shaking so violently, Jenny was afraid for him. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him close until his head rested on the cot, their cheeks pressed together, her mouth against his ear, whispering words that she forgot as soon as she said them, just that her heart was in her throat, she wanted him to feel her heart, and hear it, and know he wasn't alone.

She sensed movement at the door. Eddie. Pale, with dark hair that curled loosely over his eyes. He must have been in his early twenties, but he had an old-man gaze, something she had not noticed in the surveillance photos. He didn't look dangerous, except for his eyes. Core of steel.

Eddie looked at Perrin, his expression startled, then embarra.s.sed. He carried power bars, and another bottle of water. He did not make a sound, but Perrin suddenly stilled.

The young man backed away, disappearing into the hall. Jenny listened for his footsteps. He was quiet, but she heard the faint sc.r.a.pe of sneakers against wood.

Perrin tried to pull away. She tightened her grip around his neck and slid off the cot, into his lap. He made a m.u.f.fled sound of protest, but she shook her head, making herself comfortable on the floor, with him. His arms were heavy and warm, his cheeks wet.

Why did this happen? Jenny wanted to ask him. Why me, why you?

More questions. So many questions.

But she didn't ask them. Not yet. Instead, she listened to his heart beneath her ear and felt the rise and fall of his chest, and it dragged her under into that soft place that felt perilously close to dreams, dreams that had always been safe.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to Perrin. "I'm so sorry."

Perrin said nothing, but his fingers slid through her hair and rested warm on the parasite.

We dream again, said that quiet voice. We dream.

The next time she opened her eyes, Perrin was gone. Jenny lay on the floor. A pillow had been pushed under her head, a blanket draped over her hips. She was sweaty, her hair smelled like hot pepper-and her mouth tasted like cotton b.a.l.l.s.

Jenny fumbled for the water bottle that had been laid beside her. She saw power bars, too. Her stomach growled, followed by a reeling ache that had her ripping one of them open, pushing it into her mouth before she realized what she was doing. Tasted dry, but good.

She washed it down with half a bottle of water, ignoring the low, throbbing ache in her face. Eating and drinking hurt. So did standing. Her entire body was sore.

The floor vibrated beneath her. She heard an engine running, a dull roar that rose and fell in a slow, chugging rhythm.

Jenny stumbled to the door. A small hand mirror had been nailed to the wall, and she caught her reflection. More like, it caught her.

Half her face was purple, though the bruising was worst around her mouth and cheek. Her eye was a little swollen, but thankfully not enough to limit her vision.

Jenny looked like someone had punched her, though. And she hated that. She hated looking like a victim. Again.

Les, how could you?

Les, I'm going to kick your a.s.s.

Les.

Her charming friend. Her good friend. She had traveled with him for years. Laughed and cried her way around the world, with him and Maurice.

"Les," she murmured, staring into her eyes. Grateful that she still recognized the woman in the mirror. There had been a time, years ago, when she hadn't.

She remembered. Bad days. She still recalled, with perfect clarity, how she had felt then-and her current emotions were following a similar course. All she had suffered, until now, was shock and anger. Devastating shock and anger.

But until now, she hadn't let herself feel hurt. Really hurt, in the heart.

And it hurt like h.e.l.l. It was like being betrayed by family, all over again.

She heard shouts. Perrin's voice. It didn't sound like they were under attack, but any anger was enough to make her uneasy. Jenny straightened her shoulders, pushed back her hair, and left the cabin for a narrow, dark hall that reminded her of some pa.s.sage in a tomb. Too many shadows, and deep alcoves. She could see, though. Her vision had improved considerably over the past few days.

Breathing underwater could probably be considered an improvement, too.

And yet, she was totally unprepared for the hand that reached out from behind one of the side doors and grabbed her.

Jenny stepped back and twisted until she was flat against the wall-forcing her attacker to loosen his grip, or else risk a broken arm. He freed her, but she didn't have time to slip down the corridor toward light and freedom. A slender, wiry man flowed from the doorway, blocking her. She remembered glimpsing him last night. Fast, all muscle. Black eyes glittered, and a tattoo of a dragon covered his shaved head. He gave her a toothy grin. Jenny wondered if she should start screaming.

"I know about you," he said. "We all watch each other."

Jenny set her jaw, then forced it to relax when it ached. "Who are you?"

"Sajeev." He gave her a sly grin and smoothed his hand over his bald head. The dragon tattoo seemed to flex beneath his fingers. "Old women are powerful, yes? Powerful and deadly."

A chill touched her. "You're not A Priori. Are you Dirk & Steele?"

Consortium? she almost asked.

But he didn't answer. All he did was smile and sidle back into the shadows, out of sight from even her improved eyes.

Jenny fought down a shudder and tried not to run down the corridor toward the light.

Topside, she had to shield her eyes. It looked like morning, the sun only a quarter over the horizon, and blazing white in the blue sky. A sultry breeze touched her face. No land, no other boats in sight.

Perrin stood barefoot on deck, his back to her. He was dressed only in swim trunks. He wore wraparound sungla.s.ses, and his long silver hair had been tied at the nape of his neck. Jenny glimpsed scars there, a thin trail of them leading up into his scalp. She had seen them before, in the water, but now had a terrible sense of what had caused them. His mouth was slanted into a frown, his ma.s.sive arms folded over his broad chest.

Rik stood in front of him, wearing cutoff jeans. He looked angry. He wasn't as tall as Perrin, but big enough-lean, bronze. Bruised and cut. Jenny had seen his file.

The Consortium had kidnapped Rik, along with another shape-shifter and several members of Dirk & Steele-taking them to a facility in far eastern Russia. All of them had been tortured, experimented on. A Priori had been planning a raid of the facility, but Rik and those others had escaped by then.

Your friends killed my uncle's wife, she thought, watching Rik with satisfaction. May Beatrix Weave burn in h.e.l.l.

Perrin's head tilted slightly, as though he knew she was behind him. Rik glanced at her. "Finally."

"Leave her out of this," Perrin said. His voice was quiet, but in a deadly sort of way that made the hairs stand on the back of her neck. Eddie, who had been leaning against the rail, pushed off and straightened.

"I don't like it any more than you do," said Rik. "But if it can be done, I don't see that we have a choice."

Jenny frowned. "What's going on here?"

"The thing on the back of your neck-" Rik began, but Perrin shook his head.

"No," he said. "I'll kill you first."

"Yeah, you would," Rik shot back. "You're good at that."

Perrin took a step toward him, and she was suddenly reminded just how big he really was. Almost seven feet of raw muscle and bone. Huge. Every inch of him p.i.s.sed off.

Jenny made a small sound of protest. Eddie was suddenly at her side, a gentle hand on her elbow that disappeared as soon as she pulled away.

"Don't," he whispered to her, his gaze dark as he watched Rik and Perrin stare each other down. "I don't know what's between them, but better it gets out now."

"You sure about that?" Jenny muttered. "What was Rik talking about?"

Eddie gave her a speculative look. "Perrin should tell you. But I'll be honest, ma'am . . . I don't like the fact that you know who we are but we don't know you. I have an idea who you work for, but that doesn't make it any better."

"Talk to Roland," she replied.

"I did," he said, voice strained. "He hung up on me."

Jenny's mouth ticked up into a grim smile, and that hurt her face. "You have a phone? Radio?"

"Satellite cell," Eddie began, but Perrin moved again, swaying toward Rik with deadly grace. Rik did not retreat, but his face hardened until everything about him that was young and soft withered into anger.

"Why are you here?" Perrin asked him. "Why did you bother? You'd be happy to see me die."

A nasty smile flitted around Rik's mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe that's why I'm here."

Perrin shifted on his feet. Jenny moved, too-circling so that she could see his face better. Eddie moved with her, giving her an uncertain look, but she ignored him. She wished she could see Perrin's eyes behind the sungla.s.ses. His jaw was rigid, shoulders tense.

"She's dead, you know," Perrin said, with deceptive gentleness. "That was never a lie. I hope . . . I hope you don't think you're going to find her."

Jenny didn't know who "she" was, but the hammer hit true. Rik's entire body hitched, as though a hook was caught between his shoulders. Grief shimmered in his eyes. Hollow, aching pain.

Then, nothing. Swallowed up. But he looked older than he should have, old and hard and tired. So did Perrin, what little she could see of his face.

The parasite twitched. Jenny's vision shimmered. She found herself looking at Rik from a different angle: taller, standing directly in front of him, the world tinted brown from sungla.s.s lenses.

Terrible regret slammed into her-I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but it was out of my hands, done before I could stop them, and there was no fixing that, no forgiveness-and she would have gasped from the onslaught, but she had no mouth, no body, she was nothing but a wisp riding behind someone else's eyes- -until, suddenly, it was her eyes again, and the only mind she heard was her own.

Perrin swayed, touching his brow. So did Jenny. Eddie held her elbow, murmuring words she couldn't hear above the roar in her ears.

She had been in Perrin's head. Right there at the front of his thoughts.

Something else slid inside her mind: that dry parasitic voice, as much a part of her as a needle jabbing into her body.