Invaders

  “They want to destroy our baby, Riley. They want to destroy something that you and I made, and it’s so stupid because there isn’t even a child yet, and already I’m on the edge of doing everything it takes to tear down that door and get us out of here… all for the sake of an impossible baby that doesn’t even exist!” he ranted, furious tears glimmering in his eyes.

  I smiled sadly, lifting my hands to his face and holding it steady. “But it does, Navan. The child does exist. You and me, we created life.”

  “What?” he rasped, a flurry of emotions moving across his features. He looked confused and scared and wary and sad, all in one flicker.

  “The baby already exists. Mort confirmed it, no nudity required.” I laughed nervously, hoping it would break the tension.

  “You’re… already pregnant?” His face morphed rapidly through another flipbook of emotions, starting at surprise, flowing through terror and despair, peaking at elation, before ending in unexpected tears. They had already been on the edge of falling, but now the floodgates had opened. His arms encircled me, my face buried in the comfort of his chest, my cheek feeling the rise and fall of his lungs as sobs wracked them. I’d cried out all my tears earlier, though I shared in every single emotion he was feeling. His sadness was mine; his happiness was mine; his uncertainty was mine. I held him tight as he pulled me close in return.

  As long as we had each other, there was nothing we couldn’t face. This road was going to be harder than most, but there had to be a light at the end of it. Even if there wasn’t, I was determined to believe there was, if only for the sake of Navan and our child. This baby deserved my optimism, because otherwise how could I dare to grow it, love it, nurture it, and feel nothing but despair? I wouldn’t let my child know pain or suffering. It wouldn’t learn that from me.

  Slowly, Navan pulled away, holding my face in his hands. They were trembling slightly. “How can you be so calm?”

  “I’m not. I’ve just had longer to let it sink in than you,” I replied quietly, gazing lovingly into his eyes. His face was harder to read now, which made me nervous. “Are you okay? You’re not saying much.”

  “I guess… I guess I don’t really know how to feel,” he said, and my heart sank. “But I’m going to go with happy and devastated. I wish we were somewhere else, hearing the same news. But we aren’t, and the reality is a bitch.”

  I nodded. “It really is.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that in front of the baby.” He smiled, making me feel, for barely a moment, that things might be okay.

  “I don’t think it can hear you,” I mumbled, as he tilted my chin up to kiss me softly on the lips, his hands moving around to the front of my abdomen, his palm pressed to my stomach. A moment later, he dipped down, sinking to his knees in front of me. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he lay his ear flat against my tummy.

  “I can’t hear it, either,” he said.

  “It’s too early to feel anything yet. We’ll have to wait a while for that.” There was something so sweet and intimate about the moment that I didn’t want it to end. In fact, part of me willed the tiny creature to do something, just so he’d stay there forever, marveling at my pregnancy. It was having a funny effect on him, and I adored it.

  “Hush, I’m trying to tell it something,” he said goofily, raising his eyes to me for a second before turning his focus back to the baby. “Now, if you can hear me in there, I want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of here before those rebel… buttheads can harm you in any way. That goes for you, little one, and your mom. You’re my family now, and I will protect you, come what may.”

  I smiled, my heart brimming despite the lingering fear. “Buttheads?”

  “I told you, I don’t want to swear in front of the baby.” He grinned halfheartedly, getting back to his feet. “I mean it, though. I’ll protect you no matter what happens. I’ll do everything within my power to get both of you out of here, before Ezra and Aurelius can lay a finger on either of you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love—”

  The door sprang open with a heavy hiss of machinery. Clearly, our privacy wasn’t that private, if someone could just waltz in unannounced. I’d been expecting Ezra or Aurelius to make a return visit, so it was a shock to see Lazar striding over the threshold, a concerned expression knitting his brow. We’d known he was on board somewhere, helping Ezra and his rebel offshoot, but we’d yet to see him again in the flesh.

  “I heard the news from Mort,” he said, pausing for breath, “and I think we need to talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  After the way the three of us had left things on the rooftop of the rebel alchemy lab, a lingering tension still bristled between Navan and his uncle. Lazar was constantly surprising us, though not always for the better. True, he’d helped us with our scheme to snatch Orion, but I’d held some of the plan back. Had I told him the full truth, would he have been so forthcoming with his aid? I wasn’t sure. That was the thing about Lazar—I could never tell which way his moral compass would swing.

  His one good eye stared at the gaping holes in the wall. As his gaze flickered back toward Navan, pausing for a moment at the torn knuckles of his nephew’s fists, there was a refreshed wariness that hadn’t been there before. Even with the guards, and the heavy door, and the fact that we were in space, he seemed scared to be alone with us.

  Good, I thought, you should be worried about what he might do to you. I hadn’t quite forgiven him for refusing to come with us when we’d given him the chance. Moreover, the two of us had unfinished business where Yorrek’s notebook was concerned. He’d sworn he didn’t know anything about it, yet Aurelius and Ezra had told us that he was the one who’d cracked the code by using Yorrek’s findings. Something didn’t add up.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.

  “Let’s not play games here, Riley. Mort has already told me of your pregnancy, and I’m here to ensure that the two of you understand what’s expected of you, going forward. It is also my duty to make sure you’re aware of the processes that will be taking place,” he said, acting cold and clinical.

  I smiled frostily. “I’m not the one playing games, Lazar. You lied to us. You told us you didn’t know anything about Yorrek’s notebook, but then Ezra and his sidekick come in here and tell us that you are precisely the person who’s been reading it and finding out all sorts of juicy little secrets… secrets that have put me in here so I can be some sort of human farm for them!”

  “Actually, I didn’t know about the notebook until after you kidnapped Orion,” Lazar said. “Your actions must have rattled Ezra, because I was expecting punishment for assisting you, but instead he gave me the notebook, asking me to devote my time to its study, as we didn’t have any time to waste.”

  “Why would he do that? Why would he trust you, after seeing you help his enemies? You’re a snake to everyone whose side you join,” Navan interjected venomously. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I explained the predicament you had put me in, and how my only desire had been to see the notebook that had been kept from the rebel alchemists,” he said. “Naturally, this must have piqued his interest, prompting him to offer me the notebook. I discovered he had only allowed one of his alchemists to view it—the only one he thought was truly loyal—but the idiot hadn’t been able to glean anything. I took that fool’s notes and used them to my advantage. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. I, on the other hand, was soon able to decipher the pattern in Yorrek’s failures combined with our own.”

  “So we’ve heard,” I said.

  “Indeed, I figured it all out so quickly it even took me by surprise.” He puffed out his chest, clearly pleased. “It’s amazing what a sharp mind can see that others can’t.”

  “But why you?” Navan spat. “Didn’t he have other alchemists at his disposal who were almost as good as you are?”

  “Why wast
e precious moments on ‘almost as good’ when you can utilize the best you have?” His tone carried a hint of arrogance. “Anyway, given the urgency of our impending battle with the queens, he had no choice but to let me see the notebook. And I have proven my worth. He will never doubt me again.”

  “And that’s something to be proud of?” I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling Navan bristle beside me.

  Lazar shrugged. “My own vision doesn’t align precisely with Ezra’s, as you know, but through him I will be able to achieve my own purpose in this. I wish for a peaceful Vysanthe—I’ve told you so before—and immortality is the key to that utopia. I’m more certain of that now than ever before.”

  “You can’t still believe that crap,” I nearly shouted.

  “I must believe it.”

  “That doesn’t explain why they only need one child, though,” Navan said, his voice brimming with anger. “One child isn’t going to immortalize an entire nation.”

  Lazar grinned. “It will, thanks to another invention of mine. It was something I’d been working on under Orion’s leadership, before he was mercilessly killed. He’d been very excited about it, in fact, because he knew it would mean we no longer had to kill vast quantities of indigenous stock. After all, that had never been his intention, and I think all that death was starting to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, especially considering our failed attempts. It really was wasteful.”

  “Rebels with hearts, how quaint,” I muttered bitterly. “You know Ezra killed Orion, right?” I wondered how deep his blind ignorance ran.

  “There have been several stories circulating, but I’ve learned never to trust gossip,” Lazar said with a shrug. “Regardless, Orion had put me to the task of discovering a way to limit the samples we needed to take from humans and coldbloods alike. I devised a blood ‘replicator’ and had a working prototype ready just a few days before the strike on the rebel base. Naturally, Ezra has inherited it alongside myself, but the purpose remains the same. It takes a few small samples and replicates them at rapid speed, dispensing with the need for large quantities of harvestable stock.”

  Navan glowered at him. “I swear, if you call those poor human beings ‘stock’ one more time, I’m going to do something I might regret.”

  “You shouldn’t get emotional over the meaning of words, Navan. It’s alchemical speak, that is all. You should know I mean nothing derogatory by it.”

  “You coldbloods always mean something derogatory by it,” I shot back. “You think humans are just here for you to leech off, quite literally bleeding them dry. I’m here for the same reason those victims got taken from their homes, only you don’t want to bleed me dry; you want to bleed my child dry.”

  Lazar looked sheepish for a moment. “At least only one will be required, as we can replicate thousands upon thousands of samples from it.”

  Now, I understood why Ezra had agreed to leave Earth alone: he only needed the one child’s blood to act as the catalyst for the warring Vysanthean and human blood, making it function within the complete formula of the elixir. He already had enough human samples to create the baseline of the elixir, and he could pick any coldblood he liked to replicate samples from. He had everything he needed, right on board his secret space station, so why would he want to continue with the hassle of Earth? There was no advantage to it anymore.

  “How can you stand there and say that to my face? You realize that ‘one’ has to be my child, right—the ‘one’ that’s growing inside me right this very minute, safe and warm under my protection?” My fury was rising. For once, it was Navan’s hand on my arm, instead of the other way around, as he attempted to calm me down.

  Lazar sighed. “It’s not ideal for you, I know, and I sympathize with your position, but there is nothing I can do about it. The peace and advancement of an entire nation is far greater than a single life.”

  “Tell me more about this replicator,” Navan cut in before I could release my venom at Lazar. His slate eyes gazed down at me, silently repeating the promise he’d made about keeping us both safe—me and the baby. I had to trust him, but it didn’t mean I had to be civil to his uncle.

  Lazar seemed delighted. “I knew you would be interested in it, Navan! You’ve always enjoyed your technological wizardry,” he mused, ignoring my glares. “Essentially, the process it uses is a method of cloning, replicating the sample on a cellular level. It’s far more efficient in time, quality, and physical space to accrue blood samples by this means, instead of extracting large amounts through brutish mechanical processes. I believe there’s a subtle artistry in what the replicator can do.”

  “Not to toot your own horn,” I muttered. No matter how much “artistry” went into what it could do, it still required the sacrifice of initial subjects. How could death be in any way artistic?

  He ignored me. “So, with a few solid samples of blood, hundreds more can be created. The more we have in the initial stage, the faster we can replicate it,” he continued. “Back on Vysanthe, Queen Gianne thought me monstrous for suggesting such ‘outlandish’ theories, but I suppose I shall have the last laugh on this occasion. Yes, it was expensive to create prototypes of the machine, and yes, I was using a lot of resources, but what right did she have to stand in the way of our species’ advancement?”

  “I suppose you think your theories have been vindicated now,” Navan said dryly, his fake enthusiasm dwindling.

  Lazar didn’t seem to see the change, determined to carry on with what he was saying now that he’d been swept away on a tirade. “Why, yes, yes I do! Even Jareth had worked tirelessly to discredit me, always whispering in Queen Gianne’s ear about the wastefulness in my experiments. Jealousy, I suppose. Jareth was not the only one, I suspect, trying to cloud her better judgment.” He paused thoughtfully. “You were always a supporter of my work, though, Navan. I never told you back then, but I was always appreciative of your interest in my ideas. You were young, but it was nice to have someone attentive to talk to about alchemical advancements.”

  Navan smiled unexpectedly. “I remember you talking about a replicator like that when I was a kid. I liked the idea then, because I knew it meant fewer creatures would have to be killed for their blood. The hunting parties traveling all across the universe would only need to bring back one individual at a time to feed us with the exotic types we’d come to love.” A sad expression drifted across his face. “I just never thought it would end up being used on something I really loved.”

  “I am sorry, Navan, for what it’s worth,” Lazar said, after a lengthy pause. “I am sorry to you too, Riley. I wouldn’t have wished this on either of you, and though I understand the necessity of the act, it doesn’t change my sympathies toward you both. Believe me, if it could be anyone else, I would request it in a heartbeat.”

  Despite everything, I felt myself softening a tiny bit toward Lazar. He was a borderline fanatic who thought he was doing the right thing—arguably, the most dangerous kind of person there was—but without him, we never would’ve captured Orion and gotten Stone back. I thought of the ambaka recovering in the medical wing of Lunar HQ, with Lauren sitting at his bedside. That was worth something. Not to mention the fact that he’d gotten us out of danger before, when Gianne’s soldiers had come for us that first time at her palace, what seemed like a hundred years ago.

  With a wedding ring on my finger, love in my heart, and a baby growing inside me, I wasn’t even sure I still felt like that girl—the one who’d left Earth with Lazar, traveling on the Asterope toward the alien land of Vysanthe, which she’d only heard of and had never seen. She had been so naïve and vulnerable, nothing like the young woman I was now. Maybe I wasn’t the same person, just as Lauren and Angie weren’t. Change is inevitable, right?

  Scrutinizing Lazar a little more closely, I decided I should probably try to be a bit nicer to him. It was evident that he had no love for Ezra and Aurelius, or their evil plans, and he never seemed to like the people he ended up working for. He was always in the wrong
place at the wrong time, trusting in the wrong people, perpetually destined to be disappointed.

  For a moment, I wondered whether the blood replicator meant there was a chance that my child might not be killed. If they could take a few big samples and run it through the machine, then surely that meant they didn’t need to keep my baby. Even if they needed to take a few samples, to speed up the replication, it wouldn’t necessarily mean death. I peered at Lazar, trying to gather the courage to ask, but the thought of being told no was enough to silence me. I couldn’t raise my hopes, only to have them dashed.

  Besides, the child would be considered an abomination—even now, unborn, it was already considered unnatural and disturbing. To the rebels, it was a necessary evil, nothing more. Ezra would ensure that it was killed as soon as it had stopped being useful, of that I was certain. My child couldn’t be allowed to live any more than Navan or I would be allowed to, when the moment came. At least there was a bittersweet sorrow in the knowledge that we would all be going out of this world together.

  “You say you’re sorry, but I’m guessing you won’t do anything to stop this,” Navan said quietly. I could tell he was feeling the same as me—he didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help grasping at optimism. There was always the slimmest chance that Lazar would have a change of heart, helping to free us instead of fighting against us.

  “I won’t, Navan. This is bigger than you or me, or even a child,” he replied with a weary sigh. “I understand your pain, but you will see that it is worth your suffering, one of these days, when peace reigns across our planet and fear is a thing of the past. Think of all the children you will save, by enduring this selfless, difficult task.”

  “If that’s all you have to say on the matter, Uncle, you can go.” I’d never heard the word “uncle” said with such venom. I could see that it stung Lazar, but he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from achieving his goal of Vysanthean peace, no matter how impossible it was. He really was living on cloud cuckoo-land.