Chapter Seven

 

Four months later…

Lake woke to the warmest autumn eyes of her husband. The sunlight poured in through her bedroom window, sun motes danced through dark hair that stuck straight up. His smile creased the lines around his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was raspy from sleep and the recent love making.

“It's time to get up.” He smiled as he whispered the words.

She shook her head. It was warm with Hudson's body on top of hers, in her bed, safe from everything else. “No, not yet,” she begged.

“Get up, Little Dove.” His face was so serene, so full of love. She could stay here forever. Outside of her bed was cold. Dark. Hard. Here, inside with her husband, she could be happy forever. “I missed you so much. Where have you been?”

He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Get up, Little Dove. Get up now!”

Lake woke with a start, but instead of waking up to a warm cocoa gaze, the eyes that bore into her from above were cold and black.

A dark figure sat on the corner of her bed. The banked fire across her room cast an eerie glow on his pale skin and blood-red lips.

Syon.

Her hand went protectively around her stomach. It had been four months since her captor had left. Now he was back, Hudson hadn't come, and her time had run out.

During the last four months, she had tried to plan an escape. She'd waited for the opportune moment when the guards were lax, and she’d been well enough to make a run for it. Her pregnancy during the early months had been tough, keeping her from holding down almost anything most days. It soon became obvious that her only hope rested with Hudson. In the months that followed, her hope—or disillusion—grew stronger. She had believed he’d come for her. He'd promised. Now, it was hard to fight the cold fear that flooded like a black river across a muddy bank.

“I don't understand. Haven't I given you everything?” Syon’s voice had a soft, sing-song quality to it that struck fear into her heart. “Haven't I provided you with everything you needed? Treated you well?”

The fire sparked in an array of light as a log was thrown in the hearth. For the first time, Lake noticed Syon hadn’t come alone. Two burly men stood and another shrunken form lurked in the shadows. “I just can't understand why the microbiotics haven't been made yet?”

Lake scooted farther back and turned toward the man on her bed. Watch the man, not his weapons. The extra light gave detail to his rough, brown robes and thinning hair on top. Lake pulled her covers up under her chin, longing for any measure of protection. She hadn't manufactured the microbiotics. Her loyalty to the Rebellion and hope in Hudson had run too deep. Now, she'd wished she'd made store houses of the stuff.

Syon's gaze roved over her form. Her swollen belly impossible to hide. “So you’re pregnant.” It wasn’t a question.

The mention of her child infused her with the courage to speak. “He won't be a burden, I promise.”

“Oh, I already know that won’t be a problem.” His lips pressed into a downturned arch and for the first time, Lake realized why Syon's appearance was so off-putting. His face had all the normal features, nose, eyes, mouth, but they’d been put together slightly wrong. Eyes a touch too close. Nose a bit too angular and off center. Lips too thin and feminine for a man. Despite the ugliness, there was intelligence behind those eyes, and a cold calculation not unlike a spider sensing prey trapped in its web.

Funny, since it was Lake's heart that fluttered like she’d been caught.

He sighed as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. His spidery hands came up and fingered her hair.

Everything in her wanted to pull away, but she couldn't afford to be the martyred rebel again. It surprised her that the desire to survive and protect her unborn child was stronger than even her hatred for all things Elder. So she stayed still and allowed him to fondle her hair.

“It's so peculiar looking. Not blonde, really. More of an absence of any color. I wonder if your child will have the same? I have concern for you, really. I'm not the monster you believe. Here…” He gestured to the huddled form in the corner. “I brought someone for you.”

An old woman shuffled forward. Her mousey hair was pulled up into a small bun. Her slight shoulders thin even under the bulk of the dark robe.

“She is a midwife. The women call her Mother. You can call her anything you want. She's here to help you with the birth.”

He looked at the old lady and nodded. She came up and placed her hands on Lake's rounded belly. Lake stiffened, but otherwise made no move. The woman's veiny hands were warm as she pressed lightly against Lake's unborn child. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. Brown eyes opened and found Syon's. “It's a girl.”

His gasp was audible, and from the expression of rapture on his face, Lake found a whole deeper level of fear.

Syon looked at Lake. “I'm sorry.” Then shook his head. “For a while now, I've followed the decline in female infant mortality. I'll make sure to be here for the birth.”

The woman shuffled away, and then placed one end of a long metal rod into the fire.

“That does it then. You need to be claimed. You see, I have a problem. Even I can't have an available woman living under my roof. Shortage in females and all, you understand?” He closed his eyes as if searching for peace of mind. “I'm expected to make a group of unruly boys into men in less time than it takes for the women to create them, and yet, I’m still subject to their petty rules. What do they want? Miracles? Well, I suppose Dark Planet needs its fresh troops. All for the greater good, correct?”

The baby constricted in a hard ball beneath her hand, as if sensing Lake's distress.

He smiled at her. “Well, really what did you expect? I couldn't let you go, but I see your worry. Let me reassure you.”

He nodded to the two men across the room. They were by her side in a flash. In one move, they had her out of bed and her nightgown ripped off. Each man held her arm as she struggled, but it was of no use.

Syon walked behind her. She could feel his fingers tracing Hudson's name tattooed on her back. “I see your late husband spared no expense. The craftsmanship of the Mark is excellent. Not many masters in the field left. It must've been hard for them to stare at all those naked women and not be able to touch any of them. Women, women everywhere, but never enough for a poor, old Marker. For me, that would never have been a problem.”

His hand came around and twisted her sensitive nipple.

She gasped.

“These large breasts and grotesquely swollen belly are disgusting to me. I prefer…it doesn't matter, but I want you to know you’re safe from me in that regard. I'll never be that kind of husband to you.”

Lake looked up at one of the men detaining her. He didn't seem to be of the same mind as her soon-to-be husband. His stare lingered on her breasts. His nostrils flared, mouth parted. Lake broke her gaze and focused ahead, trying to find courage from somewhere deep inside.

But animalistic fear quivered through her legs, and her knees would’ve buckled if not for her captors.

“Too bad this work of art on your back will have to be crossed out. But that's the custom.” A loud hiss sounded from behind her. Black fingers of panic clawed at her brain. It took every ounce of control she'd learned as a Rebel to swallow her screams. Screaming wouldn't help. She knew Syon would just enjoy it all the more.

“Since husbands come and go, I like to have a little more permanence to my brands. Leave a little something of me behind.”

There was a grating sound of metal on wood.

“Lake, as I welcome you into the family, you have to understand we all have jobs to do.”

He was close, voice sickly-soft, sending her muscles into constriction.

“I make boys into men, and you make microbiotics. So, Lake, if you survive, let this be a reminder to you…we all need to perform.”

A burn so hot it went cold sunk deep into her skin. Her body convulsed as vomit spewed across the room.

The last thing she remembered was the most visceral and inhuman-like sound she’d ever heard from deep within her own chest.