Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (30 page)

Chapter
50

Betrayal

Tastes like: Lime.

Smells like: Decay.

Sounds like: A whimper.

Feels like: A
tattoo-needle, scraping into your flesh.

Looks like: Judas’ kiss.

Kael is staring at me from the other side of the
horse-shoe. His expression is worried. I think he expects me to cry, but I
can’t squeeze any more emotion out from my wrung out mind or body. Besides,
crying would be a relief, and I don’t deserve any.

I know this emergency meeting is important. Nan called
it to discuss the escalating events. They’ve spent the past hour – or is it
more – discussing the kidnapping, the fires, and the attack on my parents…

I’ve been sitting here, but I haven’t heard a word. Snatches
of phrases and sentences flit through my head in an incoherent mess.

Kael could never
fall in love with you.

It’s bad, Shaylee.

He’s immune to
you.

We don’t know if
she’s going to make it.

I should be there, with my mother. She annoys the hell
out of me most of the time, but
she’s my
mother
.

I blink and frown, trying to focus on what Nan is saying
but I only catch the tail end of Kael’s response to her question.

‘The kidnappers were human,’ he says. There are a few
surprised murmurs.

‘But what would humans want with Shaylee?’ Sarah asks.

‘They must be working for someone,’ Kael says, ‘or
something.’

A hushed stillness descends on the meeting.

‘What if they return?’ Nan asks. ‘How are we going to
protect Shaylee?’

I expect Kael to reply with his usual: ‘it’s my job,
I’ll protect her’ but he glances at me, drops his gaze to the table before him
and doesn’t speak.

‘There’s a way,’ Tristan says, drawing everyone’s
attention.

He rises from his chair and moves slowly to the centre
of the horse-shoe.

‘We can’t take chances anymore,’ he says, looking at
each person sitting around the table but avoiding my eyes. ‘If the Weres are
recruiting humans, it takes things to a whole new level. Even if we’re right
about Shaylee’s attacks, we can’t rely on the advanced warning anymore – not if
they’re using humans. We can’t have her falling into the wrong hands. We’ve waited
centuries for this opportunity.’ Tristan’s voice is firm as his eyes finally come
to rest on me.

‘You are my blood promised, Shaylee’ he says. ‘I want
you safe. There’s only one way to ensure that.’

My heart sinks as his meaning sinks in.

‘Tristan…’ I say.

‘No, let me finish. I know what you’re going to say: you
need time, well we’ve run all out of that.’

‘I’m not ready,’ I say, shaking my head.

‘What the hell is it that you’re waiting for, Shaylee?’
Tristan asks, coming toward me and growling with frustration.

My eyes go involuntarily to Kael. Tristan frowns and
follows the direction of my eyes. For a moment, he seems confused as he stares
at Kael and then he returns his gaze to mine and a range of unidentifiable emotions
flicker across his face.

 
‘Well,’ he says,
this time, with a hard edge to his voice. ‘It isn’t just about you anymore, Shaylee.
I say we vote on it.’

 
I stare at him,
and then let my gaze flow over the rest of the group. Most of them are nodding their
heads.

‘Tristan -’ Nan says, a warning note in her voice.

‘No, Tanya,’ he says. ‘This affects all of us. We should
have a say.’

‘This isn’t the middle ages,’ she replies. ‘It’s
Shaylee’s choice.’

‘There’s too much at stake here Tanya. We can’t wait anymore.’

I stare at Tristan in horror. Is he being serious? Does
he really intend to
force
me into
marriage?

‘Let’s vote. All in favor of an immediate wedding raise
your hands.’

‘Tristan!’ Nan raises her voice. ‘You are out of line.’

My eyes flit around the circle as, despite Nan’s
outrage, people start to raise their hands.

‘No!’ I shout, jumping to my feet as rage and anxiety
war within me. ‘You have no right to force me. It’s
my
decision and I’ll make it when I’m good and ready. Until then, Kael
will protect me.’ My eyes fly to his. ‘Tell them,’ I plead. ‘Tell them you will
protect me.’

‘Can you, Kael?’ Tristan asks quietly. ‘Can you promise
us without a doubt that she will be safe in your care and that she won’t be
hurt again?’

Tristan’s eyes move to my bandaged wrist and Kael’s gaze
follows. He stares at the white material, flicks his eyes to mine, and then
slowly, he drops his gaze and gives a slight shake of his head.

The world fades away. I stare at Kael’s downcast head,
unable to move, unable to breathe. His betrayal is a knife, ripping into my
chest, drawing out my heart, leaving nothing behind but an empty, cavernous
space.
He doesn’t love you
, the words
reverberate in my head. I turn and walk out of the meeting hall.

I don’t know what was said after I left the meeting. I
don’t know the outcome. I don’t care. As I sit, staring out of my bedroom
window in the middle of the night again, my insides feel like ice, and it has
nothing to do with the open window that billows the chiffon curtains over me.

I consider my feelings with cold detachment, like an
eagle, circling its prey from above. I should probably feel angry at how the
Circle treated me, like some kind of object to be bought and sold, but I can’t
muster anything as passionate as anger.

How do I blame them, when all they’re trying to do is
protect their families. I’m a danger to all of them and my track record isn’t
promising. Those who love me, and those who try to protect me - die.

My mother’s face surfaces in my mind and my throat closes.
I wish I was there with her, holding her hand, apologizing for the awful things
I said the last time we spoke and for the calls I ignored, but it’s better that
I’m not. In fact, the further away from her I stay, the better chance she’ll
have at survival.

And Kael…

The memory of him, eyes downcast, shaking his head at
Tristan’s question does something to my cold heart; it’s kind of like pins and
needles and it makes my throat constrict.

I press my face through the open window and try to
breathe in, but my chest is so tight that I can’t get enough air into my lungs.
With a gasp, I fling the window wider, but it’s still not enough. I’m
suffocating inside.

With one fluid movement, I step out onto the oak branch
and balance like a trapeze artist from branch to branch until my feet hit the
patch of bare earth at the base of the trunk. I start walking, across the
landscaped lawn toward the street, across and into the copse of trees lining
it. Moonlight filters through the canopy, illuminating the gnarled roots in
places, catching a pair of tiny bright yellow eyes in between the leaves.

Kael would have a fit if he knew…or would he? Maybe he
doesn’t really care? He doesn’t love -

Pain slams through me, obliterating my train of thought.
I clutch my one arm good around my middle as the familiar waves course through
me, driving me to my knees in the middle of the forest dirt.

There is a sudden scurry of movement behind me, but
before I can turn, something soft is shoved over my face and the harsh odor of
chemicals fills my mouth and nose. I immediately try to hold my breath, but
it’s too late. I push against the hand covering my mouth but in mere seconds,
the darkness threatening at the edge of my vision becomes all encompassing.

Chapter
51

Hostility

Tastes like: Cayenne
pepper.

Smells like: Hot, Durban
curry.

Sounds like: A growl.

Feels like: The hard
bristles of a hair brush.

Looks
like: A rugby player, arms akimbo and legs apart.

 
I hear voices,
deep and male, echoing around me as I swim up through the haze of chemically
induced sleep. Every sound seems distant and my head throbs. I try to move my
hands and give an involuntary whimper as the slight movement sends pain slicing
through my temples. Something rough bites into my wrists and it’s agony against
my existing injury. I lie still, and try to take stock of where I am.

The last thing I remember is being in the forest. Memories
flash disjointedly through my mind: the Circle meeting, the vote, Kael’s
betrayal. A fresh wave of desolation breaks over me as I picture Kael’s
downcast head...

I should never have gone walking alone in the forest at
night, it was stupid, but I’d been so destroyed by Kael’s reaction, I hadn’t
been thinking straight. Look where that has gotten me; here I am, trussed up
God knows where.

Instinct urges me to lay still and listen. I need to get
some idea of what, who and where I am before I give away the fact that I’m
awake to my kidnappers. Voices reverberate off the walls of my prison, but it’s
difficult to determine their proximity because there is a strange echo quality
to the sounds.

I crack my eyes open into narrow slits and survey my
prison. It’s a cave of some sort. Large spot-lights gleam up from the rocky floor
on which I lay, illuminating the reddish-grey tones of the walls of the cavern
that appears to be empty, except for me.

The scene looks oddly familiar and I struggle to recall
where I’ve seen it before. The only caves I’ve ever been into are the Sterkfontein
caves, a million miles away in South Africa, and this looks nothing like the
‘Cradle of humankind’ where the infamous remains of ‘Mrs. Ples’ were discovered.
But I’ve definitely seen it before, in a picture or brochure…

That’s it
! The brochure Kent had shown me for the Outdoor festival. I
remember seeing a picture of Clearwell caves in the brochure, which corresponds
to the cavern I’m in.
 
The excerpt beside
the picture had described the history of iron-ore mining in the area and touted
Clearwell as a prime location for caving fanatics.

I focus on the voices, which seem to be coming from
outside this cavern.

 
‘Go check on the
girl,’ one voice says. There’s a hint of an accent that I can’t quite place.
Russian maybe?

‘She’s out cold,’ another voice replies, in a lilting cockney
accent.

‘How do you know? Do you have x-tray vision?’

‘Can you hear anything? ‘Sides, it’s not like she’s
going anywhere.’

‘Just go check!’ The accented voice replies irritably.

‘Why can’t you go?’

‘Because I’m guarding the entrance,’ the accented voice
growls and I hear a single, distinct click. ‘And because I’m the one with the
gun. Now go.’

The other voice grumbles unintelligibly. I hear
shuffling and then footsteps. I shut my eyes and force my body to remain limp.
The footsteps grow louder and there’s the slightest movement in the air around
me.
 

Then I feel boots brush against my rib-cage. Even with
my eyes closed, I can feel him staring at me and it takes every ounce of
willpower to keep my eyes shut and my body immobile. He stands there a moment,
and nudges me lightly with his boot. I bite the inside of my lip.

‘What’s so special ‘bout you, little girl?’ the man
mumbles under his breath. I hear a joint crack and feel the slight pressure of
his shins, resting against my torso. He must be hunched down beside me, and
from the sour smell, he’s leaning over me. I almost jump when I feel one hand touch
my thigh and despite my efforts, my breathing increases tempo. He doesn’t seem
to notice as my muscles tense and he continues, talking to himself. ‘What’s he
after?’

 
One hand slides
against my chin and he moves my head slightly to the side, but when I feel his other
hand move from my thigh, to the edge of my blouse and start to lift it, all
pretenses are off.

With lightening reflexes, I whip my head into his hand
and clamp my teeth down hard. The flesh is hard and bitter with sweat but I manage
to rip into the softer flesh on the side of his hand and taste blood for
second, before he wrenches his hand away with a howl.

He scrambles back and falls onto his backside beside me.
I spin sideways on my back, lift my legs against my chest and put all my
strength into a kick, aimed at his groin.

‘What’s going on in there?’ the Russian voice shouts
from outside the cavern as his partner lets out another yelp. I sit up and
raise my aching bound hands, intending to bring them down hard onto my
kidnapper’s head but he has recovered enough to grab my arms, midair. He
squeezes my injured wrist and my vision goes blurry.

‘Bitch!’ he snarls and snaps my head sideways with a
forceful slap through the face. ‘You’ll pay for that!’

He slaps me again, hard enough to see stars and pushes
me away with enough force to send me flying backwards. There is a loud crack as
my skull makes contact with the rock wall behind me. Agony lances through the
back of my head. A boot connects with my rib-cage and I cry out.
  

‘What the hell are you doing?’ The accented voice sounds
from behind my attacker, just as he lands another kick to my thigh. I groan and
try to keep my eyes focused on the man, to block the next move, but my head is heavy
again and something sticky and wet is seeping into the collar of my blouse.

There is a scuffle as someone or something wrenches my
attacker backwards and blackness descends once more.