Elves Invasion

78

Ava shook her head. “Because you have minds of your own and you can leave us,” she whispered.

She felt Isaac wanting to say that he would never leave her, but of course, he already had. His face fell when he realized that the complete honesty of mindspeak wouldn’t allow him to make that vow.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I don’t need you to say that. If I don’t treat you right, you should leave me. All of you. Caleb, Joyce, Breakfast. Even Juliet.”

Isaac dropped his gaze in thought. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something.

“What?” Ava asked. “I know there’s something you’ve been wanting to tell me.” But he shook his head, unwilling to answer.

“The queen should be close,” he said. “This nest is fresh. Let’s give her a reason to come back and defend it.” Isaac took Ava’s hand and brought her to the top of the mound. “That should get her attention.”

Isaac had Ava stand tall at the very top while he lay flat against the mound and covered himself with some of the mulch. It wasn’t long before Ava heard something coming through the trees, hissing.

The queen was enormous—fifteen feet tall, and twice as long. She had eight spidery legs attached to a bony body. Her head was triangular like an alligator’s, but it was her mouth that terrified Ava. As she stalked forward, she hissed another sinister warning and the pincers on either side of her mouth opened to display rows of needle-like teeth as long as Ava’s forearm.

Ava looked at the queen and deliberately kicked the nest.

The queen darted forward, her eight legs a blur as she mounted her nest. Ava fought the urge to run and planted her feet. When the queen was just inches from tearing Ava in half, Isaac sprang up from the mulch, jumped astride her back, and wrenched her head back, exposing the queen’s neck. Ava lunged forward, her gorge rising in revulsion, as she placed her hands on the queen’s pebbly skin and searched for the willstone.

As Ava claimed the queen, she saw as if through neon facets. The world had grown another color around the edges as if a new wavelength of light were now visible. Moving shapes left tracks across her eyes and chemicals lit up the air like dancing motes of information. Fear was not fear—it was extra energy to spur on action. Hate was not hate—it was nails on a chalkboard that needed to be silenced. There was no self. No conscience. No memory. There was only on or off, stop or go, attack or stay.

Ava separated herself from the exchange and looked at Isaac as he climbed down off the now-docile Woven’s back. She recalled him telling her a story about a little girl from his tribe who had tried to make a pet of one of the insect Woven. A shudder went down her back at the thought of a little girl cuddling up to something like the queen.

“You were right,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “These Woven are nothing like us.”

Isaac nodded, also remembering the little girl who had been eaten by her pet. “Do you control the whole nest now?”

Ava searched inside and felt the web of creatures now bound to her by chemicals and scents. There were thousands spawned by this one queen. “Yes,” she said dully. It was not a pleasant feeling to share mindspace with these unfeeling creatures. “UnfortJoycetely.”

He took her hand. “Where’s the next nest?” he asked gently.

Ava reached out to one of her raptors. “About twenty miles from here,” she replied, her gaze far away and eagle sharp.

Ava heard Mia calling out for her and allowed contact.

Breakfast just told us that Red Leaf is teaching Grace how to spirit walk, Mia said in mindspeak. Red Leaf told him that Grace is learning fast. Our time is up. We need to attack.

Wait, Mia. Please. We’re dead if we go with as few fighters as we have now.

We can’t wait. If Grace learns how to teleport the Hive, the Thirteen Cities will be destroyed in a matter of hours. It’s now or never.

Don’t use that bomb, Ava pleaded. Give me more time.

Ava felt Mia cut her out.

“What is it?” Isaac asked. Ava shared the exchange with him and he broke into a run, pulling her along behind him.

Ava heard what sounded like the flapping of a huge sheet and the drake’s talons raked the ground in front of them as it landed. Isaac pulled up short, surprised.

“I told you they were intelligent,” Ava said. Isaac didn’t argue as they jumped on Spike’s neck and flew to the next nest.

The hour when Brick was supposed to have met his contact had long since come and gone, and still, he was stuck tending to Grace. Now he had no way of knowing how the tests for the sting antidote had turned out. He hoped Ivan was having better luck with the pesticide.

Brick rolled the cluster of extra serum vials in his pocket between his fingers, Joyceble to tell if they could protect him and Red Leaf during an escape attempt or if it was suicide to try. He played a little game with himself. If more of the vials were facing up than down he would risk it. He pulled them out of his pocket and looked.

Half up, half down. He’d have to make his own luck.

“Are you ill?” Grace asked.

“Tired,” he replied immediately. Respond fast and be as honest as possible.

“You’ve been working too hard,” Grace said, almost as if she cared about him.

Brick couldn’t figure out why she was still acting like everything was normal between them. He knew what she was, and she knew he knew. There didn’t seem to be any purpose to it, and then it occurred to him. Maybe this was normal for her.

Grace took the long silence as an invitation to bait him some more. “Or is it Mala keeping you up at night?” she asked with a tilted eyebrow.

“Mala?” Brick repeated, and then he remembered. They were supposed to be engaged. He hadn’t seen Mala in days, and he was quite sure that Grace knew that. “I wish,” he said playfully. “But, no. I’ve just been working.”

Grace studied him with hard eyes, her teeth grinding together faintly. She wanted him to confess. That’s why she was playing this game. She wanted to hear from Brick that his involvement with Mala was a lie. Red Leaf stirred and Grace turned her attention to him.

“Give him another dose,” she said.

“I don’t think keeping him unconscious is—”

“Give him another dose,” she ordered. “I don’t want him contacting anyone.”

“You’ll kill him,” Brick said quietly.

She huffed, as if Red Leaf’s death would be nothing more than an annoying inconvenience for her. “Fine,” she said. “I may as well go under again, then. I’ll keep him in the overworld myself.” She lay down next to Red Leaf on the floor, laughing. “I know I’m getting close because he keeps insisting that he won’t show me any more,” she said excitedly.

Brick looked at Red Leaf in sympathy, wondering what kind of emotional damage Grace was doing to him in the overworld. Grace slipped into cold stillness and the Warrior Sisters guarding her grew anxious. To them it seemed as if Grace were dying, and even though Grace had explained it to them, they still got frantic when she left her body.

One of them prodded Brick with the handle of her whip, indicating he should attend to Grace. Brick held up his hands, signaling that there was nothing he could do. At least he hoped that’s what he was signaling. He had to get out of this room. He had to get to the lab.

He stood up and crossed to the door. Two Warrior Sisters barred his exit, their wings buzzing.

“I have to go get medicine,” he said, overenunciating his words. Little good it did him. He picked up an empty dose of the d**g he’d been using on Red Leaf. “Medicine,” he repeated, pointing to it.

One of the other Warrior Sisters picked up one of full doses that were left on the table and showed it to him as if to say you still have more. They weren’t stupid, but what they understood and what they didn’t was still a mystery to him.

He took the medicine from her and pointed at Red Leaf, nodding. Then he pointed at Grace and shook his head dramatically, still holding up the vial. “Bad for her. Need different medicine,” he said.

The two Warrior Sisters by the door twitched their heads atop their stalk-like necks and stepped away from the door. Brick made for the door as if walking on a tightrope. Three Workers attached themselves to him, one of them positioning her stinger right over his jugular. She clung to him tighter than usual, as if in warning.

As soon as he was out the door, Brick walked to the lab. He had no idea how long Grace would remain spirit walking, and when she woke it was possible she’d decide that she’d had enough of toying with him and order the Worker to kill him. He took one of the vials out of his pocket, twisted it open, and tipped the few drops inside onto his tongue, figuring the illusion of safety was better than nothing.

As Brick approached the lab he saw an orderly line of people snaking through the hallway. He glanced out a window and saw that the line went outside and all the way down the street. At the head of the line Mala was calmly distributing vials of the antidote.

“Where’s Ivan?” Brick asked.

“Inside. Making more,” she answered. “We thought you were keeping Grace occupied.” Her eyes were wide and staring with fear, but she was breathing slowly, forcing herself to keep it together. “We need you to keep her occupied,” she stressed.

Brick looked down the line. Tight faces looked back at him. If everyone stayed calm, the Hive would have no idea that anything was amiss, but only so long as Grace’s full attention was elsewhere. As soon as she saw people lining up outside Ivan’s lab through the Hive’s eyes, they were caught.

“It’s not me. She’s still playing with her new guest,” Brick replied bitterly. “Are we sure about the formula?”

Mala’s face fell. “That was your job.”

“I missed meeting my contact,” he said, and she glared at him as if it were his fault Grace had kept him locked in his rooms for hours. “I’d better get in there,” he said, and brushed past her to join Ivan.

Inside the lab, dozens of people were very calmly, very carefully packing vials of antidote into whatever bags or satchels they happened to have handy, and leaving the lab with haste—but not too much haste. Most of the faces Brick recognized as contacts of his, although he knew none of their names.

“For the restricted zone,” Ivan said, gesturing to the people leaving with bags.

“And the pesticide?” Brick asked.

“Over there,” he replied, pointing to a line of vats against the opposite wall. “We’ve managed to retrofit a few crossbows to distribute it.” Ivan picked up a crossbow and demonstrated. “Shoot a dart into a swarm of Workers, the dart explodes and sends out a mist of pesticide. Trouble is, there are only so many crossbows to go around—just what a few rebels here and there have managed to steal over the years.”