Subversion, Chapter One

Below you'll find the first chapter of my YA (or NA, depending on how you stretch definitions) Fantasy novel, Subversion. 

CHAPTER ONE

The day the godhunters came for me, I graduated from high school.

My entire family took me out to eat after the ceremony, and our rabbi came along too. My parents sat her at the opposite end of the table from my grandfather, and everyone pretended we didn't notice his marked disapproval of a woman being indecently rabbi-ish around him. As with most family gatherings, a little determination to turn a blind eye went a long way.

We didn't trail out of the restaurant until nearly ten o'clock. After I hugged my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandfather, I asked my dad, "Are you coming to our house tonight?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. The plant's going to go into an outage soon."

He'd told me about it before, but I hadn't wanted to remember. "Right. Sorry. Well, goodnight."

"Night, Hannah." He leaned to kiss my cheek and then drove away in his sensible sedan.

"Want me to ride with you instead of Mom?" my younger brother Ari asked, shoving his hair back out of his face.

If he rode back with me, he'd make me listen to country music and roll the windows down even though the temperature had dropped to the twenties. "Nah, but thanks. I'll see you back home."

"'Kay." With a desultory wave, he got into the minivan with our mother.

No sooner had they left the restaurant than I realized I had been stupid. My car wasn't parked in the lot, which had been full when we arrived, but down the road... directly under a broken street light. Great. And what if it took its time starting? Plus I would have to wait for the boiler to heat regardless.

"I know self-defense," I told myself. Saying the words out loud made me giggle. Even though they were true, I wasn't really good enough to do more than surprise an attacker into letting me run away.

This was silly. The restaurant was in a nice neighborhood and I was only parked a block and a half away. I dug my keys out of my purse before I left the comforting spill of light from the restaurant windows, then headed in the right direction. I kept my head up and tried to look as confident as I could while I strode down the sidewalk. Despite my silent pep talk to myself, I breathed a sigh of relief when I could finally put the key into the driver's side door.

A sudden sting in the side of my neck made me slap my hand against the pain.

My keys fell to the concrete, and I thought, Oh, crap, now I'm going to have to fish in the gutter for them, which was ludicrous, because I had just pulled a feathered dart from my skin. I stared at it without comprehension and whispered, "What?" Maybe it was from the darts game in the restaurant's bar? What kind of jerk would throw it at me, though?

My vision blurred. My fingers went numb. The dart dropped from my grasp to join my keys.

"Somebody help," I tried to call, but my tongue had become thick and unwieldy in my mouth.

A man's voice spoke next to my ear. "Whoa, sweetheart, you okay?" I turned my head and saw only a pale blur where his face must have been.

"Is she all right?" a woman asked, a little farther away.

"Sure, she's fine. She's my niece. I just went to the bathroom and when I came out of the restaurant she was already here. Just turned eighteen so she doesn't know her own limits yet. Told you I needed to drive, Hannah." He chuckled and gave me a squeeze.

"I don't know this man," I told the woman, but the words tumbled from my lips in an incomprehensible slur. My knees gave way beneath me.

"Hey, hey!" The man clutched me to his side and bent, then straightened up with a jangle of keys. "All righty. Let's get you in the car."

I batted ineffectually at his hands, but he managed to fold me into the passenger seat and lock the door before he closed it. A second later, he sat behind the wheel. He flipped the switch to heat the boiler and then plugged something into the cigarette lighter. It looked like a phone, but I didn't see how it could work without a phone jack.

He spoke, but the words sounded as if they resonated through water. "I've got her."

I only closed my eyes for a heartbeat, but when I opened them again he was in the middle of a sentence. "…at the harbor of course. Did you get the other one?"

The voice on the other end of the line snapped, "Of course I did; give me a little credit."

"Still seems like a gigantic waste of a ton of fuel. One girl and one teras? And halfway around the…"

I drifted off again. Each blink seemed to reveal a new picture before my dulled eyes.

Blink.

Pulling away from the curb.

Blink.

On an overpass. A sign with one of the new provincial highway numbers brightened in the headlights, but I couldn't read it.

Blink.

Parking in a dark lot.

Blink.

Inside a cell.

The door clanged shut, and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.

#         

I opened my eyes, whimpering at the pain in my head, and looked around, seeing I was on a bed just as the floor beneath it tilted. I fell off the mattress with a gasp.

The impact had me gulping against nausea. I noticed a metal toilet attached to the wall just in time to fling myself at it and vomit. When the convulsions finally lessened, I blinked back tears, flushed, and rose to my feet, trembling, to look around.

The walls were stainless steel. The floor was stainless steel. The frame of my bed and the toilet were stainless steel, too. Everything in the room had been designed to keep terata from using their powers.

"What the hell?" Fear made my head worse. I grabbed around my neck, then breathed a sigh of relief. My watch was still there, still ticking, though the movement of its second hand had become sluggish. If the godhunters had caught me, surely they would have taken my tech show. Who else could have snatched me off the street, though?

The floor tilted again, and I stumbled to the side. A seagull, sitting in a circular window set high over my head, squawked, extending its wings to keep its balance. Without wings to help me, I smacked into the wall and just as quickly flinched away from the instant worsening of the nausea. For the first time, I grasped the fact that my feet were bare. Still shaking from head to toe, I retreated to the bed and curled up on the mattress. Almost instantly, the churning in my stomach faded.

Now that I wasn't fighting illness, I could take in more details. Bars boxed in the tiny space I'd been allotted, about two by three meters. This was obviously a boat, and judging by the motion beneath me, we were at sea, though not too far from land yet since we still had the gulls around us.

Panic set in, robbing my breath. I wanted to cry, but I was too afraid. I fought mentally to find an alternative to the worst scenario, the one most likely to be true. But the man had said, "One girl and one teras." Surely if they were looking to make a profit they would have to sell more than just two people, no matter how much terata were worth. What if they were just going far enough from the shore to be in international waters so they could question me out of our country's jurisdiction? But if that were the case, then what could they think I knew? Was I the girl or the teras?

Fear was rapidly gaining the best of me, and with it, the conviction that my death was inevitable. Sometimes, if non-government godhunters discovered their target was of no value after capture, they would dump their prisoner overboard. If I were about to die, shouldn't I be saying Shema? I'd never been certain if God would hear my prayer, given the givens, even though I'd become a bat mitzvah regardless. Now seemed as good a time as any to hope he'd forgive my heritage, assuming he was real, especially with every moment taking me farther from home.

I rested my forehead on my updrawn knees and began, "Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One." Just hearing the words made me feel both better and worse: the first Hebrew I'd ever learned, taught by my grandfather.

A weak voice interrupted me. "I don't think the gods are interested in saving terata anymore."

I started so hard that I fell from the bed again with a shriek. The cell next to mine—the only other one in the room—was occupied. I must have been really out of it not to notice before. Unlike my section, its overhead light had either burned out or been turned off, and it had no window.

I scrambled back onto my mattress, then peered into the shadows. Now that I knew where to look, I saw a boy, about my own age, chained to the wall with cuffs so big they covered his wrists and extended halfway to his elbows. His light brown skin made it hard to tell, but I thought he looked wan.

"Then again," he continued, "you're wearing a tech show. So maybe they'll ignore you for a different reason."

My hand went back automatically to the watch pendant. Daring the steel contact, I rose and padded over to the bars that separated us. I could tell he must be tall when he stood up, but at the moment he sat on a threadbare mattress on the floor, wearing a designer t-shirt and jeans that probably cost more than all my pairs of pants put together. His black, wavy hair fell in an untidy tangle across his forehead, extending nearly to his shoulders. Like me, he wore no shoes or socks. He would have been pretty hot if it weren't for the dark circles under his long-lashed eyes.

Saliva pooled in my mouth, but I fought off the steel-sickness. One girl and one teras. "They've been a lot rougher with you than me. Why?"

He gave me a derisive look. "I wonder."

I couldn't hide my shiver. Guilt struck me, hard and fast, but he narrowed his eyes with fury before I could apologize. "Don't look so scared. I'm in more danger from you than the other way around, trust me."

Ashamed, I stared at the floor, then shuffled back to sit on my bed again. "Sorry," I said after a second. Even knowing what I did, it was hard to remember that all terata weren't murderous freaks, after a lifetime of hearing otherwise from everyone but my parents.

Another second of silence, and then, "It's okay. I get it. I don't hurt people, though."

I cocked my head and examined him more closely.

"Why are you staring?" He scowled.

I started at the reminder of my rudeness. "No good reason. I was wondering why they're keeping you in a cell of your own instead of waiting for one of the big ships."

He shook his head, the irritation fading from his face. "I don't know. They haven't come back since they dumped me here, except when they brought you."

"You must be starving." My stomach wasn't feeling too hot, but I'd be hungry soon.

"Not really." His manacles shifted, rattling the chains, as he extended his wrists. "Steel makes me feel sick, even when it's not touching my skin."

Me too, I almost blurted, but caught the words back. He didn't seem to realize I wasn't fully human, which meant maybe our captors didn't know either, especially since they hadn't restrained me. And—now that my brain had kicked back into gear, a horrible suspicion struck me—what if he were planted here? Some terata worked for the godhunters, giving them information in exchange for their lives. If this guy had been recruited just to trick me into giving away my true nature…

Instead of what I'd meant to say, I offered, "Godhunters suck."

The boy snorted. "Godhunters. So damn conceited. They haven't caught a real god since Hera. Guess it doesn't sound as good to call yourself monster jailers or whatever the hell."

Grabbing the mattress from its place, I dragged it over to the bars between our cells and settled down. "Guess not. But you're not a monster. What are you?"

"None of your business."

Now I just felt stupid. "Okay. Is it all right if I ask what your name is?"

He took his time deciding, lying down on his back and staring at the ceiling for so long I nearly gave up. "Nikhil Gavle. You can call me Nik. Everybody does except my family."

For some reason, the concession made a lump appear in my throat. I was in pretty bad shape if a supernatural creature could bring me to tears with a begrudging introduction.

Turning his head on the mattress, Nik faced me, eyes dulled with pain. "What's your name?"

I wanted to repay him for his honesty with some of my own, but the memory of the man who'd kidnapped me stalled the confession. He'd said my adoptive name. "Hannah. Hannah Toledano."

"You probably want to wind up your tech, Hannah. If it stops, they might get nervous. These guys are on edge, from what I saw."

"Right." Obediently, I turned the tiny knob till it grew too tight to rotate again. My fingers shook so badly that I had a hard time keeping hold of it. Dad's voice echoed in my head: "How often does she have to do that now, Esther?"

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here." He didn't give me a hard time about my tone, for once, but waited with raised eyebrows. "Three or four times a day. Sometimes more." Never less.

He sighed. "I was just wondering because of the kitchen clock."

I followed his gaze. The clock on the counter had flipped all its numbers until they read 00:00. "It does that all the time."

He didn't bother responding to that piece of misdirection. "Have you tried wearing steel?"

Tears pooled in my eyes, hot and humiliating. "Yes. It made me feel sick. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"I only want to help you stay safe, mija," he said, concern weighing down his features.

"I know. Sorry. I'm… I gotta go, okay? I'll see you tonight." Before he could say anything else, I ran upstairs, leaving my plate on the table in my hurry to escape.

I cast my gaze around the room. A camera pointed directly at our cells, little red light glowing. If they observed me winding the watch every six hours, would they grow suspicious? Or did they already know… no. They couldn't know any part of the truth, or they wouldn't have me on a ship, of all places.

The outer door opened, and both Nik and I sprang to our feet. Two men in black uniforms that looked like military fatigues entered first, holding guns but not pointing them at us. They stood on either side of the door, and a man and woman, both white, entered. These two wore civilian business clothes. The woman was tiny, only about five feet even, but her blue gaze was frighteningly sharp. She shook her dark red hair back and moved ahead of her companion, who stood at least a foot above her. He was almost entirely bald, but what little steel-gray hair he had left had been clipped close.

Eyeing me with impartial thoroughness, the woman remarked, "She seems fine."

"Are you in charge?" Fear clogged my breath and made my voice disappear into an exhale.

The man in the suit acted as if I hadn't spoken. "She should be. Just one tranq dart and she was out."

I tried again. "Can I please call my parents? Or… or radio them or whatever?" I didn't think boats had phones, but I wasn't sure.

This time, the woman replied. "Which set of parents do you mean?"

I couldn't stop myself from flinching. A cold smile curved the woman's bow-shaped mouth.

Her colleague lifted an eyebrow. "Have we heard back from HQ yet?"

"If we had, I wouldn't discuss it in front of these two."

His cheeks flushed a little at the rebuke. "It's not like it'll matter."

"Not for him, no. But we don't know what'll happen with this one." She stepped closer to my cell, heels clicking against the metal beneath them. Her lack of expression frightened me more than the guns. "For now, we assume she lives."

My mind reeled as I tried to keep up. She knew I wasn't my parents' child—but didn't realize what I really was? "Where are you taking us? Are you government or freelancers?"

She turned to the soldiers without answering the questions. "I want a guard outside this door at all times. No contact except at meals, and then only if two of you come in at once. The male is dangerous."

I glanced at Nik in time to see his jaw tighten, along with his fists. He said nothing.

"D—" the man began, but she cut him off.

"No names!"

He snapped his mouth shut, flushing even darker.

"Go down to the galley and make sure you watch them make her meal. You can never tell when one of the theolatres have wormed their way in."

"What about him?"

She snorted as she walked out of the room. "Why bother?"

The soldiers followed the other two out, and the door closed with a bang followed by the snick of the lock sliding home.

I was afraid to look at Nik's face, but forced myself to do so anyway. Stupid, maybe, to feel concern over someone who posed a possible danger to myself. I couldn't help it.

"Nik." He didn't move. "Nik. Hey. You look really sick. Sit down." When he still didn't respond, I reached through the bars and gently pushed his arm. "It's okay. C'mon, it's okay. Sit down."

He obeyed, but his gaze remained fixed on the door.

"Listen, don't be scared. I'm pretty sure they're government, and that means they can't kill you without a trial. The worst they can do is lock you up in Derby." Morbid fascination had forced me to find out these things on my own behalf.

At last, he spoke, but the words came out hollow and dull with resignation. "You heard them. 'Why bother.' I'm already dead; they just haven't gotten around to making it official yet."

He spoke the truth. Just because they had to go through the motions of due process didn't mean any judge was going to care about what evidence might be presented. He was already guilty of being an enemy of humanity, by virtue of not being one of us.

One of them.

"We've got a long way to go." I hoped my voice sounded more encouraging to him than it did to me. "A really long way. A lot can happen between now and England, regardless of which route they choose. Godhunters tend to go missing at sea."

"Such a bunch of hypocrites." His tone gained strength with irritation. "I heard them giving drink offerings to Poseidon before they set out. I'm surprised they didn't drown a horse or two."

That was bad news. I mulled it over for a second. "Do you think he'll listen?"

"Who knows? I don't think he gives a rat's ass about wine, and he might still be pissed off about Zeus. Or, I don't know, he might be glad that they've cleared the field for him."

"It doesn't matter now." He looked shrunken and sad, too small for his bones, slumped on his mattress. Comfort seemed out of reach, but I tried. "I'll share whatever food they give me with you."

Once again, he was silent for so long that I nearly stopped listening for a reply. The seagull returned to the window, so I stared at it for a while.

Nik finally spoke. "You should keep it all for yourself. You might still get out of here alive, and if you do, you'll need your strength."

It took me a second to understand the sudden flash of heat across my face and chest, but then I identified it: rage. I was furious that this boy thought he could make me leave him to his fate when we were both in the same boat. Literally.

Rather than yell at him to stop being so fatalistic, I took a few deep breaths. When I was sure my voice wouldn't give away my emotions, I asked, "Do you know why they're so scared of you?"

"No." He moved, restless, spreading his hands so the cuffs wouldn't brush his legs. "I can't do anything to them without music. As long as I don't have a violin, I'm powerless anyway. I mean, I guess I'm a little stronger than people who are all the way human or whatever, and I'm a kickass swimmer, but none of that would give me any sort of advantage now."

"A violin? Really? That doesn't sound very terata-ish."

With a weak laugh, he said, "Necks are from Sweden, so maybe that's why they use them. It probably was a lyre or something back in the day. I don't even know."

The door opened again, and the same two soldiers from before re-entered, one of them carrying a tray of food while the other pointed his gun directly at Nik. Both of them were covered in tech, from their wristwatches to their bullet-proof vests, which had some sort of circuitry glowing beneath the black fabric. I had never seen anything like it. The amount of protection didn't seem to put them at ease. Both were wide-eyed and clearly fearful, so much so that I worried they would accidentally shoot if I made any move at all.

The one holding the tray reached pulled out a keyring on an extendable cord from his belt, balancing the food with one hand as he unlocked my cell door. I took care not to stare as he set it down on the floor and then retreated. He locked the cell door before leaving the room once more.

Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans, along with a large tin cup of water. The food itself seemed fine, but I couldn't be sure it wasn't drugged. Given the amount of time we had ahead of us, though, I decided I couldn't afford to not eat, even if it meant my brain didn't work right. After conscientiously splitting each item into halves, I ate the portion I'd allotted to myself and then said, "Here, have the rest."

Nikhil didn't move. That sudden rage coiled tight in my chest again. He was trying to make me abandon him.

"If you don't eat it, I'm throwing it at that seagull, so you might as well take it and stop this stupid pouting."

He shot up to his feet, quivering with indignation. "I'm not pouting! What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is seeing you sitting there starving. I don't care if you're not hungry. There's no sense in killing yourself and doing their job for them. Eat the damn food."

He glared. For a second I wondered if he would try to hit me, he looked so furious. He settled down with a huff of indignation, though, and, reaching through the bars, picked up the spoon they'd given me. Within a few minutes, he'd eaten every bite of the mashed potatoes and green beans. I looked everywhere but at him during the process, trying not to make him feel self-conscious.

He tried to hand the spoon back to me, but I protested. "Hey, eat the meatloaf too."

"I'm not eating beef."

I almost insisted, but one look at his face told me I wouldn't win that battle. Maybe I could get him to eat first, next time, so I wouldn't accidentally take more than my share.

Once the tray was clean, I pushed it to the corner nearest the door and lay down, trying to find a comfortable position and failing. The constant slight pitch of the deck beneath me was starting to feel soothing rather than sickening, though. Maybe I'd be able to adjust.

The thought struck a chord of helplessness and renewed fear that vibrated through my body. Even with the engines, assuming they stayed on, this trip would take weeks, at least. I missed my family with a sudden savage ache. They must know I was missing by now. Had the people who'd taken me staged an accident to make it look like I was dead, or had they just abandoned my car somewhere and let whoever found it think what they would?

Tears started to trickle from the corners of my eyes. I turned my face into the mattress to hide them from Nik.

"Hey."

Still facing away, I said, "Yeah?"

"Thanks for the food."

"You're welcome. Thanks for eating it."

The chains clanked. "It's probably going to be all right, you know. For you, I mean. They act like they need you for something."

I might have been willing to offer encouragement earlier, but I felt too much despair to accept it in return at the moment. "Yeah, but what happens when they decide they don't need me anymore?"

Nik sighed. "I don't know. It's scary."

I had a feeling that deciphering their strategy would mean gathering too much information for them to allow me to live. It was the best course of action that had occurred to me so far, though, so I said, "Maybe I can figure out what it is they want from me, and play their game long enough to get away. If I can be smart enough."

"You've seemed pretty smart so far," he answered. "You're still alive, anyway. It could be worse."

The tears still flowed, hot and fast, dampening the fabric of the sheet and turning my face clammy in the sea air. "Yeah. It could be worse."

Copyright 2015 by Jacqueline Krane. All rights reserved. For further information please contact using the information in the side widget.