The Book Eaters(10)
Cai nodded dully. His shoulders were thin beneath her fingers, and the bones of his spine pressed into her arm. Starvation diets would do that to a lad.
His hunger was growing as he aged, and this was the third month in a row he’d needed more than one meal within a span of thirty days. Really, he needed to feed much more than that, but Devon couldn’t bear to hunt every week, and logistically it was difficult. She walked the thin line between destroying as few lives as possible, and forcing her son to live in perpetual hunger. As it was, most of every month he was too weak to leave his room.
How the specifics of hunger and feeding actually worked, Devon did not know. There could not be that many calories in a few mouthfuls of brain matter, yet without feeding, the madness would set in, whittling away at his fragile psyche. Eventually, his weight would also drop, toxins flooding his system, organs slowly failing. Driven always by need and necessity to consume, per the Collector’s biological design.
Cai pulled away, evidently fed up with her hug.
She let him go. “I saw dragons on the streets while I was walking back. We’ll have to leave soon.”
He pouted at the console, saying nothing. Mario had died on a mushroom while they were distracted.
“Sorry. I know how you hate traveling.”
“Where is it this time?” He sounded so listless.
“That’s my good news of the evening. I’m meeting the Ravenscar contact.” She waved the phone. This meeting with Chris first, grab the contact details he offered, then catch the bus out. Tight timing, but doable. “If this goes well, and they can sell me their cure, we might be going to Ireland very soon.” Finally. At long last.
His shrug was sullen. “Can I eat before we go? I’m really hungry.” Inside his mouth, that long tongue uncurled and re-curled.
“If I see someone suitable,” she said, heart aching at his reaction. He’d lost so much hope over the past few months. She shouldn’t expect him to hold out for disappointment yet again. “I’ll do my best. But I won’t have time to stalk anyone properly.”
“I’m not fussed.” He leaned across and turned the telly on, flicking idly through the channels before settling on an episode of Red Dwarf.
Devon sat for a while, watching despite herself. Lister, Cat, and Rimmer were riding horses, embroiled in some kind of Wild Western scenario. Studio laughter crackled at appropriate moments.
“I thought this was a sci-fi show.” Devon didn’t catch much television, although she’d eaten a few TV Guides on occasion. It was worth absorbing a modicum of pop culture, if she wanted any kind of shot at fitting in with society.
“They’re stuck in an artificial simulation,” Cai said, eyes on the screen. “Inside Kryten’s head. He’s the robot guy.”
Devon smiled. “Didn’t know you were a fan.”
“Oh yes,” he said, with an intonation that perfectly mirrored that of the vicar, and a hint of genuine excitement. “When Red Dwarf first came out, there was nothing else like it on the telly. Groundbreaking show.”
Her smile died, annoyed with herself for walking into such an obvious emotional trap. Red Dwarf had first aired fourteen years ago. Long before her son had been conceived or born. The vicar, though, would have been around to see it.
A sour feeling brewed in her belly. One thing at a time, she told herself. Focus on what you can control.
“Hey.” She touched his shoulder. “Can you text something for me?” The eternal frustration of not being able to write, even electronically.
“Another text? Do I have to?”
“Do you want to find the Ravenscars or not?” she said, waspish, then regretted her sharp tone. He was tired and hungry and exhausted, same as her. She said, more gently, “I know you don’t remember what it was like to be on Redemption, but everything will be better when we get that drug again.”
“That’s what you always say,” he said, aggrieved. “None of these people ever know anything.”
“This one is a dealer, in illegal chemical compounds, who used to do business with the Ravenscar Family,” Devon reminded him. She’d explained before; the feedings sometimes confused his memories. “We’ve been tracking him down since Doncaster, remember? He says he can put me in contact with the Ravenscar twins.”
“Okay, okay.” He plucked the phone out of her hands. Under her direction, he tapped out Yes, let’s meet. I’ll bring cash and hit Send.
“Thank you.” She went to brush Cai’s forehead with a kiss; he flinched away. “I’m going to go out this morning and grab you that skin cream, and also our bus tickets. Just in case we have to bail later.”
“What about your vigil?” he said. “It’s nearly Christmas.”
A hollow pain formed in her chest. “I’ll hold the vigil if I can. But I have a lot to do first, like getting some more sleep. Too much stalking this week.”
“More like too much vodka,” he retorted, but he was grinning, and ducked good-naturedly when she swatted at him with a pillow. “I think you need a shower first, ’cause you smell like booze.”
“Thanks, kid. Kinda reek yourself, you know.”
He stuck his tongue out at her. A momentous bit of effort given it was tubular and eight inches long.
Devon laughed, glad to see something of a child still lingered in him. She threw the pillow at his head and went to take an icy shower.