The Book Eaters(94)

“Years?” In their months of training, he’d implied that it would only take a few weeks. “Are you really going to leave me out here for years?”

“It shouldn’t take you that long. One year, at most.”

That didn’t reassure her at all.

“Co si? dzieje?” Cai whispered from the seat next to her. “Gdzie jeste?my?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she told him, for the third time since they’d got in the car.

His lower lip quivered, and she sighed. Cai had lived off the knights’ dwindling Redemption supplies for eight months, his mind still that of an infant. There would be no more drugs now. Not till Devon found the Ravenscars. To make him travel ready, her son had been fed a human stranger, procured at Ramsey’s request.

“Remember the rules,” Ramsey said over one shoulder, as if he hadn’t already given her a sheet of those rules to eat. “Call in every fourteen days, even if you have nothing to report. If you’re more than twenty-four hours late to report, we detonate that device.” He steered one-handed through an orange light, gesturing at the messenger bag heaped in Devon’s lap. “Call sooner if you find the Ravenscars, or the plan changes. Your knight-issued phone and charger are in there—keep them safe. No contact with other Families, or human law enforcement. If you do attempt to speak to either, know that we’ll withdraw all support and, again, I’ll trigger Cai’s explosive.”

“Aren’t you a model uncle.” She supposed he’d learned well from Aike.

“Thanks, I try. Remember, if you see knights in the city, that’s your cue to move to a new location. Any questions?”

“Aye, I’ve got a sodding question. My son doesn’t speak English anymore. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Ramsey rolled his eyes. “Eat a Polish book, idiot. It’s not exactly a difficult barrier for us.”

“It’s not about the language. He thinks he’s another person!”

“That’s very common.” The Volkswagen turned sharply into the station, wheels bumping over potholes. “Welcome to the life of a mind eater who doesn’t have Redemption. Consider yourself lucky that he doesn’t think he’s Matley.”

“Lucky,” she echoed darkly. “Sure.”

“If it bothers you, then stop being so bloody squeamish, and find him a fresh feed once I drop you off,” he said, irritable. “I recommend you give him small children, when you can. He’s less likely to get overwhelmed, and it’ll keep the accumulation of memories at bay a little longer. And, they’re easier to catch, too.”

Jesus, she thought, and felt ill. She wondered if Ramsey had purposefully given Cai an awkward feed, so that she’d be forced to hunt someone new. It wouldn’t be out of character.

Her brother parked in a temporary space, switching the engine off. “Don’t fuck up. You’ll hear from me soon enough.”

Devon unclipped her seat belt, popped the door, and stood slowly.

The world overwhelmed. Cars clustered like barnacles. The air reeked of car fumes and sweat. People streamed disparately to their various destinations in a choppy tangle. Lives and bodies remote from her own existence, yet so close and tangible.

In all of her life she’d never seen more than a handful of humans, mostly from a distance. Now they were everywhere, meaty and clunky and loud, stinking of the animals and plants they ate. So many people.

Cai clambered out, his hand slipping into hers, clinging to her side; she gave him a cautious squeeze. Perhaps he found this new environment as confusing and dirty as she did.

“Get going,” Ramsey said, irritable and barely audible from within the Volkswagen. “I can’t stay in this bay very long.”

She gulped a lungful of pollution-tainted air. “I don’t know how to live out here.”

“Don’t be bloody stupid. You’ve had months of training, you’ll be fine.” Ramsey leaned over, yanked the door shut, and started reversing. The last bastion of Family familiarity in retreat, however unpleasant that bastion had been.

In seconds, he was gone and they were alone: boy and woman on a patch of black asphalt, each inhuman and lost. Traffic roared to one side, trains lugged on the other. Every breath tasted of pollution.

Nothing Devon had read, eaten, or experienced had prepared her for any of this. Not even Ramsey’s training, which had been little more than lectures and printed sheets of paper to while away the hours as his men had sought traces of the Ravenscars. Facts and details didn’t comprise reality, and his instructions had left her no more prepared for this environment than her fairy tales had left her prepared for marriage.

“Boj? si?, Devon,” Cai said, whimpering. He knew her name, at least.

“Don’t you remember any English?” she asked, wishing for the millionth time she’d not let the knights take him out of her sight. “How about German? I’ve eaten some German fairy tales. Sprichst du Deutsch?”

“To nie jest moje cia?o,” he said, large dark eyes welling up. “Powiedz mi, dlaczego mam to cia?o?”

So much for German, then. If only her fairy tale selection had been bigger and included a bit of Eastern European literature.

“It’ll be reet,” Devon lied, and brushed his tears away with a thumb. An aunt had said that on the day of her first wedding, and that had been a lie, too. “We’re going to take a trip. A fun journey.”