Wastelands: A Broken World

CHAPTER 9: A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

The Grey's expression soured, a noticeable twinge of his mouth that made it look as if he was biting on the skin inside of his cheeks, just as Tom used to do whenever something was bothering him.

'Where is he?' I said again, my voice harder.

'He's fine,' the Grey said. 'He's with Lena. Who is he to you?'

'What?' I stared at him incredulously. 'What business is that of yours?'

'I am your...' The Grey looked almost indignant, but stopped abruptly, breaking off, his eyes clouding with confusion. 'I just wondered... you seem... close. I need to know. It's important. It could change everything.'

'What in the Hell are you even talking about?' I said.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't lay here listening to this thing while Jace was God knows where. He needed me. We needed to get out of here.

I rolled onto my side again, feeling every inch of bruised flesh where my body had hit the marbled steps. I didn't think anything was broken, but damn if this didn't hurt like I'd been kicked a hundred times.

The Grey didn't move from his position, but kept watching me, his head tilted to one side just as he had when I'd fallen, studying me with an odd curiosity.

I cast my eyes over my surroundings. We were in what looked like a storeroom. Shelves stocked with a wide variety of tins and packets of food lined the wall from ceiling to floor, behind where the alien was crouched. In one corner stood a stack of vacuum-packed water bottles. One pack had been torn open and a single bottle half-full of water sat by Tom's side, together with a neat pile of small boxes of medication. Ibuprofen. Paracetamol. Codeine. In the other corner, candles of different shapes and sizes flickered lazily, some of them in tealight holders, others fused to the hard floor with the wax that had melted down from the top. By the side of them lay a box of large matches, a few used burnt ones gathered together.

I stared at a door to the right, shifting my head slightly so not to raise it off the floor which I knew was going to send the waves of nausea surging through me again.

'Where's Jace?' I said again. 'Through there?'

'I told you,' Tom replied, an exhaustion in his tone that bordered on irritation. 'He's with Lena. He's fine. Uninjured. Alive.'

'I want to see him. Call him in here.'

'No.'

The Grey's voice was firm. Cold. I hated his coldness and couldn't understand why it bothered me so much. He wasn't Tom, so what did I expect? He was one of them. An unfeeling monster only here to feed on our planet and on us.

'No?' My voice shot up an octave. 'No? How do I know you haven't killed him?'

'Because I'm telling the truth.'

He said it almost as if I was stupid for even thinking he might be lying.

I sneered at him. 'Yeah, because of course, you things are such noble creatures, aren't you? Well, forgive me for not accepting everything that comes out of the mouth. You know, the same one that belonged to my husband before you murdered him.'

The Grey winced, although I could see no reason for his discomfort. Why did he care whether he had killed Tom or not? They never cared about any life they chose to take for themselves.

'Jace is alive,' he said. 'But I can't let you see him yet. We need to talk.'

'Talk? You think I want to talk with you? You think I have anything I want to say to you? I just want out of here. I want to go back to my people.'