The Connected - Exiled Part 20

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 flushing.

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.

He let out a noise, like a strangled cat. His face was hard with rage and his eyes were gla.s.sy with tears. One slid onto his cheek. He wiped it away. Sniffing, he asked, "What's Kel-ari?"

She swallowed. "Kelari is the name of my planet."

"Well, someone from your planet has been killing people on Earth for the past ten years, including my-" His voice broke. "Why?"

She raised her hands, palms up, fingers stretched toward him. "I don't know." Anger began to build at the predicament. She didn't know anything. She was a doof princess.

He seemed to be fighting his emotions. How long before he killed her?

"Michael, I'm so sorry about your mother. I don't understand." Venus started breathing heavily. A bad idea. Her body shook as she coughed. She stood and searched the room for tissue, but there wasn't any-not even toilet paper, so she covered her mouth with a section of her hospital gown. It felt like her insides were coming out. Her skin burned and she shook uncontrollably. Still she coughed, unable to stop.

"Venus?"

She held up a hand, trying to tell him to wait as she stumbled back to the cot.

"Frank, do something."

There were quick footfalls coming from the hallway. Someone running. Venus peered over and saw simple, black heels. Then she heard a beep. The buzzing stopped and those black shoes crossed into her cell.

Venus looked up and saw a woman dressed in a green lab jacket, which covered most of her knee-length black skirt. She wore white latex gloves, a green cap and a surgical mask. Only her hazel eyes could be seen.

The woman's darted around in fear. In one hand, she carried a shot, the cap removed from the needle. A clear liquid dripped from the tip. The woman's shaking hand caused the liquid to dance.

Venus laughed, but it sounded more like the bark of a wounded dog. She couldn't help but think that maybe they really were expecting her to change into some six-eyed creature.

"What is that?" Venus whispered, trying to control her infuriating lungs.

"It's medicine. To help you breathe," the woman said, though she didn't seem convinced it'd work. "May I give it to you?"

Venus nodded. She'd give it a try, though she doubted anything would help.

She moved toward Venus, her steps hesitant. "I'm going to move your sleeve."

Venus glanced at her warily and then nodded.

With more confidence, she added, "It'll sting, but only for a second." The woman jabbed the needle into the back of Venus's arm. She felt the liquid enter and make its way through her body. With a grunt, the woman said, "It should only take a minute if it works." Then she pulled tissues from one pocket and a new medical gown from another. "Let's get rid of that bloodied gown, shall we?"

With a glance at Michael, Venus agreed, wary. "Okay."

After Michael turned his back, Venus rose and the woman helped her change. She worked carefully, avoiding the bloodied portion of her gown. Maybe she believed her alien blood would change her into an eight-legged monster. Covering her mouth with the back of a hand, she resisted another laugh.

"Thank you," Venus said, sitting carefully. Rather quickly, her lungs began to feel less ticklish and more solid. The medicine might actually work. A drowsiness enveloped her, causing her eyelids to grow heavy.

"Is this going to make me sleep?"

"It might, which is probably for the best." Some of the fear left the woman's eyes. She took a step backward, toward the entry. "Feeling any better?"

"Sure." Venus closed her eyes. The woman's heels clicked as she headed back toward the hall. Zing. A beep and then the buzzing started again. The clack-clacking of her heels reverberated as the woman walked away.

"Home. Sweet. Helker." This wasn't where she'd wanted to spend her final hours.

"So why can you speak English?" Michael asked after a few quiet minutes.

She heaved a sigh. For the first time since she'd arrived, breathing didn't hurt. No emotion. No contempt. That's how I'll answer his questions.

"Because I'm in an English-speaking country," she replied easily.

"Can I hear what your language sounds like?"

"No. Well, here are a few words. Ith. Aetha. Irrihunter. Helker . . ."

"Helker?" he laughed. "What does that mean?"

"Helker is sort of like your h.e.l.l. When kelarians have done some really, really bad stuff, that's where they're sent. They aren't dead, though. At least not like humans die. It's more an eternal torment. Some prisoners are kept there until they're sentenced."

"Sounds like a blast," Michael said, rubbing his head.

"Ha, yeah. A total blast."

"Why can't you speak all of your language? Is it a secret?" He looked over at the black window.

"No. Our language can only be spoken on Kelari; because that's the language our planet speaks. See, we've travelled all over the universe, discovered many, many different worlds, with many, many different languages. Right after we're born, a device is inserted into the language center of our brains.

If, and when we go to another planet, it's like changing a channel. Click. We can speak English. Click. We can speak Orthosian. Click. We can speak Garthisiny. Click. Click. Click. I have over ten thousand languages stored in my brain. So, when I'm here in . . . Wyoming, I speak English. If I were in Mexico, I'd be able to speak Spanish. France. French. And so on.

But I don't control the click. When my brain hears a language, it's automatic."

"Are you saying if a Spanish-speaking person came up to you and started talking, you'd be able to understand and speak with them right away?" He spoke with curiosity.

"Yes."

"What if a French, Spanish, and Arabic person was in a group and spoke to you in each of their languages, what would the click in your head do?"

She smiled, "The click would turn them all on and I could speak and understand them all." The effects of whatever the woman gave her were really kicking in. Her tongue felt thick and her eyelids wouldn't open even if she'd wanted them too.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Isn't it obvioussss?"

"What about Zaren? Is he from your planet? Why doesn't he seem sick?" Venus heard the cot creak and his feet scuffle over to the bars.

"He's been through the metamorphosis . . . a kelvieri. The air can't harm him like it does me. Actually nothing can harm him." Venus couldn't help a giggle. Must've been the meds, but she felt great.

"A kelvieri? What does that mean?"

"It's what our species call an immortal."