Murmured words were exchanged over my head. I’d never felt so drained. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t seem to remember how.
Red silk fluttered across my vision. A warm wet cloth wiped my face. I heard the sound of water pouring and tried to turn my head to look. Pain spiked behind my eyes, and I groaned.
“Hush now,” a soft voice said, “you’re—”
But everything faded away again.
“I didn’t want to,” I whispered through chapped lips and chattering teeth. I had no idea what I was saying. Was this a dream?
“I know,” a male voice said gently.
Fear sliced through me, and I managed to focus on a face framed in wavy brown hair. He smiled a little, but sorrow lingered in his gentle eyes.
“It’s ok, you’re safe,” he murmured.
I furrowed my brow, staring at him. My brain waded through thick mud as I struggled to remember his name. Trey. His name was Trey. Gods, I felt like death. Was I dying? A fresh wave of chills rattled through me, and my breath caught in panic.
“What’s wrong with me?” I managed to say through my chattering teeth.
“You have a high fever,” Trey said and his mouth twisted in a worried frown.
His face swam in my vision for a second. “I don’t get sick.”
“Ever?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Never.” I grimaced. “It feels awful.”
A grin crossed his face. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”
I licked my dry lips. Gods, I was so thirsty. As if he’d heard my thoughts, he grabbed a small wooden bowl of water. He slid one hand under my head and lifted it just enough so I could drink from the bowl that he brought to my lips.
“Maybe this has somethin’ to do with your powers then,” Trey muttered thoughtfully. “Mac said you healed until you passed out.”
Hojo’s screams filled my head along with Madame’s cruel smile and my breath caught. My eyes welled up and overflowed. Trey glanced back at me as he set the bowl down and alarm flashed across his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I tortured him,” I sobbed.
“No, Bones.” Trey’s hand wrapped around one of mine. His eyes met mine. “You healed him. Madame tortured him.”
“I can’t…I can’t do it again. Please…please don’t make me do it again.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, soft and pained. “This is my fault.”
“Why can’t I just do good?” I choked out through the sobs. “I don’t want to hurt people. I always hurt people. I’m never gonna do enough to make…make me good.”
“Bones, you are good—”
“I’m not!” I interrupted. “I can’t…I can’t do enough. It’s too much—”
Pain stabbed behind my eyes, and I squeezed them shut. My head swam as though I was spinning in circles.
A clattering noise. Voices.
“Is he dead?” I tried to ask, but I couldn’t tell if I spoke or not. I needed to know, but I couldn’t remember who—
Someone’s hand rested on my forehead, and they gave a muttered curse. “She’s still burning up.”
Something ice-cold pressed against my face and I tried to jerk away, but it followed me.
“It’s cold,” I mumbled, my teeth chattering as I tried to raise my hand to push it away.
“I know,” a voice said as a hand captured my wrist and pulled it back down, “but we gotta bring your fever down.”
“I don’t get sick,” I tried to say, but the room spun faster and faster.
“It’s alright, Bones,” the voice said, “just try to sleep.”
“Clarity, I’m telling you, I could! I could get you out.”
“Trey, stop,” a soft, feminine voice spoke. “I can take care of myself.”
“Clarity, you nearly died.” Trey’s voice sharpened. “I can’t—”
“She’s waking up.”
I cracked my eyes open. Red silks draped across the window, swaying in the breeze. Trey’s face appeared, his eyes wide and concerned.
“Bones?”
I parted my lips and they cracked.
“Water?” I croaked.
Another face appeared, and I stared at a beautiful girl about my age dressed in a skimpy red silk slip. She wore her curly black hair done up on top of her head in a pretty, delicate style. She held a bowl of water to my lips, and I gulped it. I’d never been so weak before. I tried to hold the bowl of water steady, but my hands shook so much water started sloshing over the sides. The girl, Clarity I guessed, covered my hands with hers, helping me hold it still.
“Easy,” she said in a sweet, gentle voice. “Don’t drink it too fast.”
After I drank, I collapsed back onto the silken pillow, exhausted. Memories flashed through my mind, and it took all my control to keep my emotions in check. Madame had tortured that man. Just to see what I could do, how far she could push me. And I’d done everything she’d asked. I thought if I could escape Juck, I’d be free of that evil—
“Bones?” Trey’s hands wrapped around one of mine.
I jerked away from his touch. He let go, guilt flashing across his face.
“Bones. It’s ok. You’re safe.”
A raspy sarcastic laugh crawled out of my throat like a wheeze. Safe? Safe didn’t exist for me.
“You’re safe,” Trey said again, and I had to fight the urge to scream at him.
“Get out,” I rasped, still refusing to meet his gaze.
He stood quietly for a moment. “I’m so sorry,” he finally said, soft and pained, and the tone of his voice almost triggered a memory, but nothing came.
I glanced down at my hands to avoid looking into those deep brown wells of pleading emotion. I expected to see the blood and gore and vomit still staining my hands, but they’d been wiped clean. I wore a skimpy shirt with a plunging neckline that highlighted the brand on my chest in a way that made my skin crawl. My fingers twitched with the urge to cover the awful mark, and I twisted them together to keep from revealing that weakness.
“Bones?”
“Trey.” Clarity came up behind him, touching his shoulder. “I think you should go.”
“I’m not just leaving her here—”
“Just go wait outside, ok? We’ll be down before the bell.”
They stared at each other for a moment, conversing with only their eyes. Finally, Trey sighed and strode out of the room. Clarity approached, the side of the thin mattress dipping as she perched on the edge of the bed.
“That was a horrible thing Madame made you do,” she said.
“Is he dead?” I mumbled.
She hesitated a moment, and I knew the answer before she gave it. “Yes.”
I finally looked up. Her brown eyes looked like Trey’s, but her skin was darker, more bronzed than tan. Up close I could see the healing bruises on her too-thin face and arms. I could guess where we were. I’d been in enough brothels to recognize this as one. I struggled to sit up, relieved when she didn’t move to help me. I leaned back against the cool rough wall, my eyes drifting around her room without actually seeing it.
I couldn’t get the sound of Hojo’s screams out of my head. Juck had been endlessly cruel and tortured countless people, including me, but he’d never used me to torture anyone else. I closed my eyes, furious at myself for not seeing this possibility. Yes, he’d called me his secret weapon, but I’d never thought of myself as an actual weapon before. I’d never had my healing twisted and abused like that before.
One of the first things Juck ever told me was that if people knew what I could do they would hurt me and use me. My stomach churned. I fucking hated it when he was right.
Clarity cleared her throat delicately, and I came back to the red silk room with a pained start.
“Trey and Mac brought you here last night. You were unconscious. I cleaned you up as best I could.”
I watched her eyes flicker to where the “J” burned into my chest, and my fingers twitched again with the urge to cover it up.
“I am not a healer,” she continued. “You were not injured that I could see, but you were burning up with a fever. I wasn’t sure what to do, but Trey and I stayed with you all night. We tried to cool you down with cold washcloths, and your fever finally broke this morning around dawn.”
She paused and then reached out and placed a gentle hand over mine. “Are you ok?”
No. I wanted to say. No, I was not ok.
You gotta be stronger. You hear? Be stronger. Wolf’s voice echoed in my head.
“I’ll be fine,” I lied, pulling my hand free.
Her eyes looked sad as though she could see everything I wasn’t saying. “My name is Clarity. I don’t blame you for not trusting us, but there are good people here.” She paused. “Mac and Trey are good people.”
I couldn’t resist the sneer that crossed my face, but I stayed silent. After a moment of studying my face, she sighed.
“How do you feel then?” she asked, her voice brisker. “Does anything hurt?”
I paused. My entire body ached like I’d received a beating. That warm kernel of power in my chest felt small and weak. My hands still shook, and nausea turned my stomach, but I wasn’t about to tell her any of that.
“I’ll be fine,” I repeated.
Clarity’s eyes narrowed on my face, and I had to look away. Her eyes looked so similar to Trey’s.
“Trey said you’re to report to the clinic as soon as you’re able. Would you like a bath before you go?”
A bath? I peered up at her in surprise, and she smiled.
“One of my johns gifted it to me. We don’t have hot water, but you can get yourself clean.”
“That’d be nice,” I said.
I got to my feet and the room spun, but I managed to follow her into an adjoining room I hadn’t noticed before. A large tub stood in the room on what looked like clawed feet. A crude pipe stuck out of the floor with a single spigot attached to it. She started the water and then pointed at a chipped ceramic tray beside the tub.
“There’s soap here. Mist is our soapmaker and she’s very talented. Mine is peppermint scented. There’s a towel on the hook. Your clothes are here.” She gestured at a drying rack in the corner, and I noticed, surprised, that my pants and flannel were both clean. “I couldn’t salvage your shirt,” she apologized. “But you can have the one you’re wearing.” She hesitated for a moment, studying me as I leaned on the door for support. “Do you need help?”
“I can do it,” I said stiffly, hoping I told the truth.
“Ok,” she said, but her brow furrowed. “I’ll just be in my room. If you need something, just yell.”
I managed to get myself undressed and into the tub. The ice-cold water soothed my aching body. I didn’t mind the cold. I’d spent a decent amount of time at an oasis as Juck traded with warlords. I taught myself how to swim in the cold, clear waters and tried to pretend those precious calm moments weren’t paid for in other people’s blood.
The soap smelled amazing. I scrubbed my hair and entire body twice, wincing at the disgusting color the water turned. I worked quickly, unsure of how much time I had. When I climbed out, I felt better just being clean. I wrapped myself in the towel and hesitantly looked at my reflection in the small round mirror hanging on the wall. My face was thinner than I expected, and I grimaced at myself. My normal tan from the desert sun had faded to a sickly pale, all my freckles standing out against my skin. The angry red of the gash in my temple caught my attention, and I examined the thick scab before finally meeting my own gaze. My green eyes stared back at me, looking so damn empty.
I looked away from my eyes and down at the stitched-up gash on my shoulder. Trey’s neat stitches were still in place and thank the gods it showed no sign of infection. I steeled myself and dropped the towel lower to reveal the brand on my chest.
It’d been over two weeks, but the sight of it still made my eyes burn with tears. My fingers traced the thick, reddened skin and a traitorous tear slid down my cheek. I tried to block them out, but I couldn’t stop the horrible memories of being pinned to the ground, screaming and begging as Juck approached with the glowing red metal fencing twisted into a rough “J” shape. I would never forget the sound and the smell of the hot metal burning into my skin. Afterward, Juck had been overly attentive and gentle, like he wanted to earn back my forgiveness.
Up until I repeatedly stabbed a knife in his chest anyway.
I turned away from the mirror, swiping the tears from my face.
You can’t change what’s past, so move on, Wolf growled in my head.
My palms looked a lot better, only a few of the deeper slices remained scabbed, the rest nearly gone. The bruises on my arms and legs faded to an ugly yellow.
I pulled on my clothes, including Clarity’s revealing shirt, but I put my flannel over top and buttoned it up to my chin. The worn shirt had a big gash in it from where the roofing had cut through me, but I could mend it. I finger-combed my wet hair and left it down to dry. The thick dark brown waves had grown long, reaching past my collarbone. It looked so shiny. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been able to fully wash my hair.
“Bones?”
I jumped at Clarity’s voice.
“You doin’ ok?”
I opened the door and left the bathing room instead of answering. She smiled at me, scanning my clean appearance.
“Here, I found you some new socks.” She held out a pair of handmade knitted socks.
“What do I owe you?” I asked without taking them. Whatever she wanted in return for all of this, I just hoped I could pay it.
She looked surprised. “Nothing.”
I narrowed my eyes, confused. “What?”
“You don’t owe me anything, Bones,” she said. “I was glad to help. Especially since you saved Trey’s life.”
I shifted, trying to make sense of it. Did she think she owed me since I saved Trey? Were we even now? I tried hard to avoid owing people anything.
“Ok.” I took the socks.
“You think you can make it to the clinic ok?” she asked as I pulled on the socks and my worn boots.
I wasn’t sure how far I’d have to go or what awaited me there, but I nodded. I knew I didn’t have a choice. No matter how nicely phrased, I never got an actual choice.
Clarity led me down the rickety stairs. I had to lean on the railing, but she took slow steps, most likely for my benefit. We passed numerous scantily dressed people. Most of them stared at me with bold curiosity. A few even smiled or winked, but behind their schooled expressions, their eyes looked about as empty as mine.
The main floor of the brothel dripped in garish luxury. Painted gold trinkets covered the walls and dusty fake plants filled the room. A few worn and stained plush rugs covered the creaky wood floor. Candles dripped wax onto every surface. More half-naked people lounged on faded couches.
“We don’t open for another hour,” Clarity murmured. “I’d let you stay longer, but I need to start getting ready.”
“It’s fine.”
Clarity led the way outside where Trey leaned against the building, frowning down at his feet. His head jerked up when he heard us approach and he straightened, his eyes widening at the sight of me. My face warmed under his scrutiny, but then Clarity turned and startled me by grasping both my hands in hers.
“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me,” she said, her voice low and serious.
I met her gaze and regretted it at the sight of the same gentleness I’d seen in Trey. She squeezed my hands and then let go. She turned to Trey and threw her arms around him in a tight hug that he returned. When she pulled away, she gave him a sweet smile.
“See you later, Trey. Glad you’re back.”
Trey’s answering smile looked soft and sad. Clarity didn’t linger, turning and hurrying back into the brothel. I glanced at Trey, curiosity pricking at me despite my best efforts. Were they lovers? He watched Clarity vanish and sighed as the door shut behind her before meeting my gaze.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I repeated the lie shortly.
“You look nice.”
I looked away and didn’t respond. In the early morning light, the hold bustled with activity. A group of people, including several children who couldn’t have been older than eight, passed by wielding shovels and crude axes. A few chickens darted through the dirt, chasing bugs and squawking. We were surrounded by ramshackle structures, and most of the people looked tired, hungry, and dirty. All the brothels I’d seen had been in the poor districts and that seemed to be true here too.
“Bones—” Trey started, but I cut him off.
“Where’s the clinic?” I asked, swinging my gaze back to him.
He studied me and didn’t respond.
“Trey,” I snapped irritably. I was still weak and tired, and the air had warmed enough to make me sweat under my flannel. I didn’t want to stand here any longer than I had to.
“It’s on the other side of the hold,” he said finally. “It’s a long walk. You sure you can make it?”
I tried to choke down my annoyance. “I said I’ll be fine.”
Trey didn’t look convinced, but thankfully he just led the way. I trailed behind him. It wasn’t long before the whispers started, and I dropped my eyes to the heels of Trey’s boots. I tried not to hear what they said, but I heard “magic” thrown out more than once. Word had spread fast. I wasn’t used to so many people knowing what I could do. I’d spent the last twelve years trying to be invisible, and now all this attention on me felt borderline painful.
This was the largest hold I’d ever seen, and we hadn’t walked far before my legs started feeling dangerously shaky. I forced myself to keep pace with Trey, stubbornly refusing to admit how difficult I found this trek. Sweat trickled down my back as my breathing grew heavier. Still, I kept my jaw clenched shut. Trey’s silhouette in front of me seemed to sway. I could do this. I was fine. I just—
“Bones!”
I cracked my eyes open, confused to see Trey leaning over me.
“Hey, it’s ok. You just passed out.”
I ignored Trey’s offered hand and hauled myself up to sit from where I’d been lying in the dirt. Several people had stopped to stare, and I felt their gazes on me like unwanted hands.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to push myself up to my feet.
Trey grabbed my elbow, helping me up, but he didn’t let go after I stood. I tried to jerk my arm free, but his grip tightened.
“Bones, you just passed out.”
I hated the concern on his face.
“I’m fine.” I tried to yank my arm free again.
“I want to help. Will you let me help you?” he asked softer.
“I’ve had enough of your help,” I snarled and this time when I jerked away, he let go.
I started trudging forward again, hoping I went the right way. I still felt sick and dizzy, but I kept going. My throat ached with thirst, and I wished I would have drunk more of the water Clarity had offered.
“Why didn’t you just take me to the clinic last night?” I muttered.
Trey didn’t answer for a moment, and I almost turned to make sure he followed. “We figured you’d feel more comfortable if Clarity got you cleaned up. Rather than me and Mac.”
I didn’t know what made me more uncomfortable, knowing I’d been vulnerable in their presence or knowing I believed they hadn’t taken advantage.
Don’t trust ’em, Wolf snarled. You know better.
I stumbled, and Trey caught my elbow again.
“I’m fi—” I started to mumble, but then I twisted and retched, barely missing his boots.
Trey held me up and snapped an order at someone. After I finished retching up the small bit of water and bile in my stomach, he ducked his shoulder under my arm and half-carried me over to a spot of shade. He sat me down and crouched in front of me, pressing his palm against my forehead.
“Shit, you’re burning up again,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Bones, but we gotta take this off,” he added, his fingers hesitating on the top button of my flannel.
“No.” I gripped his wrist with my shaking hand.
“It’s really not that noticeable, you know,” Trey tried, his tone light.
“Don’t say that,” I mumbled, trying to focus as the world spun around me. “He’ll make it bigger.”
Trey’s face darkened. “He’s dead if he tries,” he said in a voice quiet and hard as steel.
Red flashed across my vision. I panted through my teeth, my fingers slippery with blood. Juck’s empty eyes stared at me as I pulled the knife out of his chest. The sickening squelch made my stomach turn.
“He’s already dead,” I said. “He’s not tryin’ anything anymore.”
Trey pulled my arms out of the thick sleeves. I blinked, wondering when he’d gotten all the buttons undone.
“Bones?”
I opened my eyes. When did I close them? Trey stood over me, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Can you get on the horse?”
I squinted up at him, confused. Sure enough, behind him a horse snorted out a breath and tossed its head.
“You get on, and I’ll pass her up to you,” someone said.
I watched Trey pull himself easily up onto the horse’s back, impressed with the graceful movement. Then strong hands seized my upper arms, pulling me to my feet, and I panicked, flailing.
“If you give me a bloody lip again, I will drop you on your skinny ass.”
The hands turned me around and when I met Griz’s eyes, a stupid part of me relaxed. Despite his gruff, annoyed tone, Griz crouched and gently swept an arm under my knees and lifted me up.
Somehow the two of them got me on the horse. I twisted a handful of its mane in my hands and clung to it as my head spun. The horse swung its head back, huffing curiously at my pants. Trey said something to Griz, but the words sounded jumbled. Then his arms closed around me, urging the horse forward. I tipped backward with the movement, thudding into Trey’s chest. He wrapped one arm around my waist, holding me against him, and the warmth of his solid body behind me felt nice. My head rolled to the side, coming to a rest on his chin. I shouldn't be doing this, I knew, but I couldn't remember why. Maybe Wolf would be mad?
I promised myself I’d figure it out later as my eyes drifted shut.
“That’s not what I fucking asked, Trey. Did you know?” A clipped, angry voice.
“Mac, listen godsdamnit. She tried to hide it. I barely got her to let me patch up her shoulder ’cause she didn’t want us to see it.”
I opened my eyes. I was lying on a mattress. A single electric bulb dangled from rickety rafters. My head throbbed, but adrenaline started shooting through me like a drug. I closed my eyes again before anyone noticed.
“You shoulda told me,” Mac growled.
“Mac, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what? You didn’t think it was important to tell me Juck fuckin’ branded her like an animal?”
“It wasn’t my story to tell.” Trey sounded angry. “I thought you of all people would understand that.”
The silence crackled with emotion.
“He branded her?” someone else finally asked.
“Burned a big ‘J’ right into her chest,” Griz growled.
“I doubt that’s all he did,” Trey said darkly.
“Fuckin bastard.”
“I think he’s dead.”
“Good.”
“You met him once, right?”
“Yeah me and Griz.”
I couldn’t tell who was speaking anymore, but I didn’t dare open my eyes or move.
“Hated him from the moment I laid eyes on him. We didn’t see her, though.”
“Yeah, well, he woulda kept her hidden I bet.”
“Didn’t the Reapers deal in slaves?”
“Mostly.” I recognized Mac’s voice. “The slavers hired them to deliver people purchased by warlords. But they also scavenged and bartered anything worth something and you could hire them to do just about anything so long as you were willing to pay for it.”
“Was it the Reapers who tracked down that woman who ran away from the warlord near Salt?”
“You mean hunted her down and tortured her before turning her over half-dead? Yeah. That was them.”
I had to clamp down on the memories that suddenly surged through my mind. The sound of the woman’s screams, me breaking down and begging Juck to stop, the beating I received for daring to question his decisions.
“What did Madame say?”
“That she’s our responsibility.”
“Oh great,” someone said sarcastically.
I cracked my eyes open just enough so I could see who was talking, hating that I couldn’t keep track.
“Another fucking test?” Griz frowned.
“It’s my fault.” Pain filled Trey’s voice.
“Trey, don’t,” Mac said. “She’s just pissed we actually delivered.”
“What she did last night—” Trey started.
“I know,” Mac cut him off.
“Mac, I can’t—” Trey tried again.
“I know,” Mac repeated even firmer, but he didn’t sound angry.
“Gods, won’t this be fun.” Sam crossed his arms, frowning.
“Is she gonna die?” a young voice asked. “What’ll Madame do to us if she dies?”
“Nah, Jax, she’s not gonna die. I’m sure she just needs rest,” Trey said.
“Lana’s gonna lose her shit,” Griz muttered.
“We need to set up a rotation,” Mac said. “Trey, you—”
“I got it,” Trey interrupted. “You can—”
I tried to be quiet as I shifted, my arm tingling from my position, but the floor underneath my mattress creaked loudly and all five of them stared at me.
“Welcome back,” Trey said.
I pushed myself up with shaky arms, feeling far too vulnerable lying down. My head still pounded, but the rest of me did feel better. I scanned their faces, my stomach dropping as I noticed their eyes flicking to my chest. I glanced down, and my panic swelled at the sight of my shirt’s low neckline displaying the brand on my chest.
“How you feeling?” Trey strode over and crouched next to the mattress. “And if you say you’ll be fine one more time, I’m gonna give you a narc.”
My heart leapt into my throat at the mention of the heavy drugs. I knew I didn’t manage to contain the terror when Trey’s eyes narrowed on my face, studying my expression.
“My head hurts,” I said fast before he could ask any questions.
“Can I?” He reached out toward my forehead, and despite feeling uncomfortable I nodded. He pressed a large warm hand to my forehead and then let out a relieved sigh. “Fever’s gone. You want some water?”
“Where’s my flannel?” I whispered.
“Right here.” He reached behind me, plucking my flannel shirt from the floor and handing it to me. “I’ll get you some water.”
I pulled my shirt on as fast as I could and buttoned it up to my chin without looking at the silent group standing at the table watching me. My skin crawled at the attention. When Trey came back with a chipped ceramic mug of water, I took it gratefully.
My gaze shot up when Mac moved forward to stand behind Trey, his arms crossed over his chest. I couldn’t help glancing down to his stomach, the memory of the giant gash in his gut and the fear in his eyes racing through my mind.
“We gotta talk,” Mac said.
“Come on, Jax.” Griz steered the young boy outside with Sam following, leaving me alone with Trey and Mac.
Trey twisted to look up at Mac, but he didn’t look confused, just resigned. I took a large gulp of water and tried to hide my anxiety.
“Madame would like to offer you a job here as healer for the Vault,” Mac said, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
I narrowed my eyes. “And if I decline?”
Something like discomfort flashed across his stoic face. “That’s not an option.”
I wasn’t expecting anything else, but the heavy wave of hopeless dread washed over me again.
“You can stay here at the clinic,” Mac continued after it became clear I wasn’t gonna ask anything else. “There’s a loft.” He gestured up at a rickety ladder I hadn’t noticed before. “Upstairs can be your lodging. You can have whatever’s here left from the previous healer. Madame had a stash of narcs.” He motioned toward a dingy safe that had been recently placed in the room judging by the absence of dust on it. “Trey and I have the key, so you can ask us to open the safe when you need one. Madame wants you under guard to make sure you’re…cooperative.”
I made a scornful noise under my breath and those sharp eyes narrowed on me.
“You’ve been officially added to my crew,” he said bitterly, letting me know how he felt about that decision, “and yes, I expect you to be cooperative.”
I bristled but managed to keep my mouth shut.
“You will replace Exo. You’ll be under our protection and answer directly to me or Trey, but you will follow my rules. I don’t tolerate any of my crew causing harm to each other or putting each other’s safety in jeopardy.”
I resisted the urge to look at the bite mark on Trey's arm.
“Madame will have—” he hesitated for the briefest moment, “—special projects for you from time to time. But if you follow orders, you can make a real place here.”
After last night I knew what sort of “special projects” I’d be expected to do. I couldn’t torture anyone like that again. I couldn’t.
You’ll do what you have to to survive, Wolf growled.
Angry tears burned my throat. A small part of me had hoped this would be different, and I hated myself for it. They may have treated me better, but nothing had really changed. I’d exchanged Juck for Madame, the Reapers for Mac’s crew. With Juck I’d been forced to watch people I could save die, and here I’d be forced to heal people who’d probably prefer to die than experience endless torture. Gods, I would never be able to atone for anything. Why couldn’t I just heal people without hurting them?
I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but my temper got the best of me.
“So that’s what you two did, then?” I asked in an impudent tone I knew would not end well for me. “Followed orders? Just torture a few people here and there?”
Trey recoiled, but Mac’s expression turned dark.
“Watch your mouth, Bones,” Mac snarled.
He sounded so much like Wolf that I saw red. “Or what?” I snarled right back. “You’ll tell Madame that I’m uncooperative?”
“Bones, we’re trying to help you—” Trey tried to interject.
“I don’t want your fucking help!” I leapt to my feet, my voice raising. “I never wanted it! I don’t want to be a part of your fucking crew. I didn’t ask for any of this!”
I raised my arm, preparing to hurl the empty ceramic mug at his head, but Mac darted between us and seized my arm. The cup shattered on the floor by our feet, and I gasped as Mac jerked me closer, his flinty eyes glittering.
“We are not trying to help you, Trey is trying to help you. I didn’t ask for this either, but it’s done, and I sure as hell am not gonna let you endanger any more of my crew with your attitude. You wanna be uncooperative? Fine by me. I’ll give you up to Madame. She loves sending people to the whipping post.”
“Madame or you?” I hissed, trying to wrench my arm free.
I thought I saw the hit I expected coming and flinched, but Trey grabbed his shoulder and yanked him away, whispering to him. Mac shrugged him off, still glaring at me, but he stayed back.
“Rations are handed out at dawn and dusk at the bells. You don’t go anywhere without a guard, and if you even think about trying to get through the wall, Madame will make you wish you were dead. And then you’ll have to answer to me.” He gave me a final glare before he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.
In the silence, Trey let out a long sigh.
“I’ll be outside if you need anything,” he said before following Mac out the door.
I clenched my jaw hard to keep from screaming in frustration as angry tears pricked at my eyes. I wished I’d let Trey bleed out on that rooftop. I wished I’d let Mac bleed out in Madame’s dungeon. Mostly I just wished Lana had shot me.
Survive, Wolf snarled.
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to get my raging emotions back under control. It didn't work much, so I cleaned up the shattered mug at my feet and started stomping around the small clinic, taking stock of what supplies I had. Judging by how much dust and cobwebs covered everything, the clinic had been empty for a while. The few mismatched cabinets in the kitchen contained a random assortment of medical supplies like IV tubing, scissors, a worn stethoscope, tourniquets, needles, and neatly folded bandages. An ornate hutch held various tiny bottles labeled in spidery handwriting and a few ancient bottles of pills with faded print. The steel sink in the corner actually worked, with cold clear water gushing out when I turned the knob. A wood-burning stove stood in the other corner, and large pots to heat up water hung on the wall. A faded leather chair sat near the cabinet. It had a footrest and a headrest and as I stepped on the lever by the floor, I discovered it moved up and down too. I also found a notebook with notes about patients and procedures and recipes for various ointments and tinctures. Whoever had been the healer before me had put in a lot of work to keep the clinic neat and organized.
I eyed the small safe. I’d occasionally had narcs to use on the Reapers, but they were a luxury and a liability. Nine times out of ten, they were stolen and used recreationally unless Juck kept them locked up in his tent. I tried lifting the safe. It didn’t budge. At least somebody would have a hard time getting it out of the clinic.
Three small windows in the loft let in some sunlight. I couldn't see anything but the sky, but I liked the natural light. I tried flipping the light switch near the door, peering up at the single-bulb head hanging from the ceiling. Nothing happened, but I knew the hold had power because there'd been lights on in the watchtower. I climbed up the loft ladder to find a less dirty square where the mattress must have been, a small dresser, empty except for a few spiders, and a wooden chair.
I stood in the middle of the loft, a lump in my throat. This could have been something special. I had my own clinic. I could do good here, but would it even count with all my “special projects?” I remembered the awe I felt the first time I healed, my childish excitement that I could ease suffering. It seemed so simple then, but instead I’d been forced to hide my power my whole life. Now I finally didn’t have to hide, but I was…I was torturing people.
If my brother could see what I’d become, he would be horrified.
I shoved that rogue thought back into the dark depths of my mind where it belonged. All I could do was keep going, even as the thought filled me with a bone-weary exhaustion. I had to keep going. I had to keep trying to make up for all the blood on my hands, it was the only option, and it was my burden to bear. I would find a way out of here. In the meantime, I just had to play along.
I scared the shit out of Griz when I threw open the door, sweeping a cloud of dust outside. He peered inside coughing as I dumped out my bucket of dirty water, noting my progress at cleaning everything.
“Lookin’ good,” he said before returning to his chair, leaning it back to balance on two legs with a rifle resting on his knees.
I stared at the gun, my stomach turning. I wasn’t sure if he had it to keep me cooperative or to keep other people away.
“You need anything?” he asked, and I noticed he was watching me study his gun.
“No,” I snapped, stomping back inside to tackle the loft.