I was working on banishing all the spiderwebs in the loft when the door opened with a crash.
“Bones!” Griz called.
Adrenaline spiked through my body, and I clambered down the ladder. Griz stood in the middle of the clinic with a man holding a young boy in his arms. The boy’s features were sunken and pale, and his chest terribly still.
“He’s been sick,” the man said, his voice panicked. “Fever. But now he won’t wake up.”
I moved before he even finished speaking, taking the boy from his arms and laying him gently on the exam chair. I struggled to find his pulse; it was so faint. He was burning up, his small body shutting down. I glanced at Griz, unsure of the rules.
“Can I use my power?” I asked, hoping I sounded calm and not near tears.
Griz looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “Yes—”
Relief surged through me, and I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I laid my hands on the little boy’s shoulders and concentrated. That kernel of warmth ached like a sore muscle, but it responded as I directed it into the child’s small body. I heard the man gasp as color flooded back into the little boy’s face. The warmth flowing through me eased and then vanished, and the boy took a great shuddering breath and opened his eyes.
“Dad?” he asked.
The man gathered him up in his arms in a tight embrace. I had to turn away, emotion threatening to undo me. The man thanked me, his voice shaking.
“Bring ’em sooner next time,” I said, turning back around once I knew I wouldn’t do something stupid like cry.
The man looked startled by my cold response, but he just nodded and promised he would before leaving with his child in his arms. I wiped the counter clean.
“Why’d you ask if you could use your power?” Griz asked, his voice curious. “Did Madame say something?”
I turned my back to him and started to rinse out the rag. “No.”
“So why’d you ask?”
“I wasn’t…I wasn’t sure if it was allowed.”
“What do you mean allowed?”
“Juck wouldn’t let me use it on anyone but him,” I muttered.
I didn’t turn around so I couldn’t see his expression, but he sounded angry when he growled, “That fucker.”
I stayed facing the sink, bracing myself on the cool metal. As the adrenaline faded, the confusing swarm of relief and anger overwhelmed me. I’d been terrified I’d be forced to watch that boy die in front of me, knowing I could save him. Like I had time and time again. The fury at Mac and his crew for dragging me here remained, but I also couldn’t deny the grateful tears pricking behind my eyelids.
“So you were just Juck’s personal healer?” Griz asked.
“No. I was the healer for everyone,” I muttered.
In the long pause, I waited for the question that came next.
“So what’d you do for the rest of ’em if you couldn’t use your powers?” Griz finally asked.
Shame burned hot in my face. “As much as I could, like a regular healer, but mostly I just watched ’em die.”
“Did they know you had powers?”
“No,” I said, then amended, “not until a few weeks ago, anyway.”
When Juck had brought me back to his gang and introduced me as the new healer, the startled outrage on everyone’s faces wasn’t unexpected. I did expect him to give them an explanation, but instead, he just walked away, pulling me with him. The angry murmurs followed us, and I didn't understand why he wasn't telling them that I wasn't just a kid, that I had healing powers. I was trying to gather the courage to ask when he dragged me into his tent and told me I could only use my healing powers on him.
“You’re my lil’ Angel,” he had said softly, stroking my hair. “Don’t tell anybody else what you can do. If they knew, they’d hurt you an’ use you up, but I’ll protect you, alright, Angel?”
He seemed kind at that moment, and I peered up at him, wondering if my earlier assessment of him had been wrong. He smiled as I met his eyes, but the coldness there made my skin prickle.
His hand stroking my hair seized a fistful, holding my head still in a painful grip that made me gasp. “You don’t touch anyone ‘less I say so. You hear me?”
I heard him loud and clear.
I wasn’t sure why I kept talking, but I did. “One of Juck’s men brought me any medical textbooks he could find, and I read them over and over until I memorized them. The rest I learned from experience.” I took a deep breath and rubbed the dampness out of my eyes. “I need some supplies. Soap for starters. Some alcohol for sterilizing—”
I turned around as I listed, and faltered when I realized Trey stood next to Griz. I wasn’t sure how much he heard. I looked away and forced myself to continue like I didn’t care.
“Blankets, a flashlight if you have ’em, some cots, and a change of clothes.”
Griz nodded but then glanced at Trey. I followed his gaze, feeling my stomach drop at the unease on Trey's face.
“Griz can work on getting those supplies,” Trey said quietly. “But Madame wants to talk to you.”
The hair on the back of my neck rose and I fought the urge to shudder. I tried to keep my face blank, but I inwardly panicked. I couldn’t torture someone again. Gods, I couldn’t.
Trey held something out to me. “Here. Found you a different shirt.”
I took it, unfolding it to see a simple sleeveless black shirt with a high neckline. I turned my back to them and unbuttoned my flannel shirt, the cool air a relief on my sweaty skin, and pulled the new shirt over top of Clarity’s thin tank top. It covered the brand on my chest perfectly. I didn’t thank him as I turned back and followed him outside, but gratitude clogged my throat. I didn’t want anyone to see the brand, but I especially didn’t want Madame to see it. The less ammo she had against me the better.
“She just wants to ask you some questions this time,” Trey said as we walked like he wanted to reassure me.
I didn’t reply, focusing on steeling myself.
You can survive this, Wolf ordered in my head. Do what you gotta do to survive.
Madame sat at a table, her fingers drumming on the surface. On her left sat a woman with a shaved head. Beside that woman sat Sax, the man who’d dragged Hojo out for Madame to play with last night. On Madame’s right sat an older man with an ugly scar on his cheek. It looked like some creature had taken a large bite out of the side of his face. Next to the older man sat Mac. I avoided his gaze.
“Take a seat, Bones,” Madame commanded. “We have some questions for you.”
Trey strode up to the table and pulled out a wooden chair across from Madame. Reluctantly, I followed and sat. Trey stood behind my chair, hands clasped behind his back. I tried to ignore the panicky feeling of being trapped.
“Hello, Bones,” the older man started, his voice warm. “I’m Nemo and over there is Zana. We’re a part of Madame’s council. Zana oversees the guards and law enforcement, and I oversee agriculture and manufacturing.”
Based on the look on Madame’s face, she either disliked Nemo or Zana or both. It surprised me to hear she had a council, especially after she’d met us at the gate with armed men like a warlord. She didn’t seem like the type to share power.
“So you were Juck’s healer.”
It wasn’t really a question, but I answered him anyway, “Yes.”
“What happened to The Reapers?” Madame asked.
I swallowed hard. “There was a rebellion.”
“No shit,” Madame said. “I want to know why.”
I hesitated, squeezing my hands together in my lap under the table. “Most of the Reapers didn’t know about my powers. Juck only let me heal himself and the couple men who knew. One of his men was trying to stage a coup, so he told the Reapers about my powers, and they turned on Juck.”
“Vulture tried to take over, didn’t he?” Madame pressed and I had to force myself not to react that she knew his name.
“Yes.”
Madame eyed me with that sharp gaze, and I fought the urge to shrink. “Were you fucking him?”
I tried to keep calm, but my palms were sweaty and my face hot.
“No,” I lied.
She raised an eyebrow, not falling for it. “Were you fucking Juck?”
I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. I tried to answer while at the same time trying to shove down a flood of horrible memories clawing their way up my throat.
“No.” I finally got out, using all my energy to keep my expression blank.
“Is he dead?” Madame asked.
“Yes,” I said, unable to keep a bitter sort of satisfaction out of my voice.
“What about Vulture?”
Vulture stared at me from where he lay sprawled on the floor, bleeding heavily.
“Bones—” he wheezed.
I dropped the bloody knife and it fell into the sand with a soft thud.
“Angel, you did it.” Vulture grinned despite the bullet wound in his shoulder. “You killed the bastard.”
I backed away, gulping in panicked gasps.
“Angel?” Vulture pulled himself up, his face twisted in pain. “It’s ok, baby, you did it. He—”
I backed farther away toward the tent door and I saw the moment he realized I was leaving him there. I wasn’t expecting the hurt on his face to look so raw and real, but it hardened into hatred.
I turned and ran from the tent into the dim light of evening. His furious yell followed me, but the screams and cries of the injured and dying swallowed the noise.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He was badly injured.”
Madame tilted her head, her eyes sharp, and I dropped my eyes back down to the table.
“You didn’t heal him?”
“No.”
In the silence, they all considered me, the healer who left an injured man to die. I could feel the shame crawling up my neck, my stomach turning at the memory of my hands gripping the bloody handle of the knife in Juck’s chest.
“How long were you in the Reapers?” Zana asked.
I chanced glancing at her. I would guess her age to be somewhere around thirty. Her nose was pierced with a crude silver ring, and her muscled arms were covered in tattoos. The front of her uniform had multiple sheaths of knives, and I didn't doubt she knew how to use them. Something about her reminded me of a few of the female Reapers, hardened and dangerous. I met her gaze to see her raise an eyebrow at me, and I quickly dropped my eyes again.
“My whole life.” This lie fell more easily off my tongue. “I was born there.”
“Parents?” Madame asked.
“Dead.” Another lie.
“Siblings?”
“No.” I didn’t dare look at any of them, willing my lie to be steady and convincing.
“So why did Wrangler have you locked up in his safe?” Madame pressed.
I hesitated again, my stomach twisting. I didn’t have to lie about this. “I don’t know. They knew who I was. I guess…I guess one of the Reapers must’ve talked.”
“Do we know who was coming to collect?” the old man asked Madame.
Madame frowned. “No.”
“Wrangler doesn’t know who took her,” Mac spoke up for the first time, his voice flat. “They didn’t know Exo. They’ll figure it out eventually, but we have some time.”
“Wrangler knows better than to make a move against me.” Madame smiled, sending a shiver down my spine.
I tried not to panic as my mind whirled. Someone had been looking for me. It could've been a Reaper. Gods, I prayed it was a Reaper. I'd even prefer it to be Vulture coming for revenge. I couldn't begin to entertain the idea of it being someone else. Not without totally falling apart. Under the table, my hands twitched anxiously.
“If Vulture is alive, he’d be looking for me,” I said, unable to keep my voice from shaking.
“The Reapers are broken,” Zana inserted with a sneer, “even if it is Vulture, they’ve got maybe a dozen people left in one piece. I doubt he’d be a real threat.”
Nemo watched me. I tried to school my expression into something neutral.
“There’s always the possibility a Reaper used their knowledge of Bones’ powers to join a different gang,” he said. “The Voiceless were in the area. So were the Crows.”
A shudder went down my spine. The Voiceless were a fanatic religious group who devoted themselves to the gods. The seven leaders had their lips stitched crudely shut with thick black thread so they could only speak to the gods or some shit. I’d had nightmares about their faces after first seeing them. They portrayed themselves as the saviors of the world, but I’d seen firsthand the horrible things they did to people in the name of the gods.
The Crows were a rival gang to the Reapers. Their leader, a woman named Seven, had hated Juck. If one of the Reapers had joined the Crows, Seven would be delighted to track me down and take me for herself just to spite Juck’s ghost. Neither option would be good, but the Voiceless would definitely be worse.
“Are there more powered people?” Madame asked.
“Not that I’ve seen.” Just be calm. Breathe.
“Was Juck looking for more?” she pushed.
“Yes.”
“Is that why he was so far North?” Nemo asked.
“Yes,” I said again.
Only me and Vulture knew the real reason Juck had been traveling farther and farther. He’d been chasing stories of miracles and unexplainable things, but that’s all they’d ever turned out to be, just stories.
“You were born with this power?” Zana asked.
“As far as I know,” I said.
“How did you figure it out?” Nemo sounded genuinely interested, but my stomach plummeted.
“I found an injured dog and when I picked it up, its wounds healed.” My voice shook, and I hoped no one noticed.
“Fascinating,” Nemo murmured.
A short silence fell where I prayed no one would ask any more questions about my past.
“I assume Mac gave you all the details about your new job?” Madame asked as though I had any say in this.
I nodded.
“Good. Mac, have your informant keep an eye out for who comes looking,” Madame added. “I want to stay ahead of this, you hear me?”
“Yes ma’am,” Mac said.
"I want a round-the-clock guard on her," Madame added, staring at me. "We don't want our precious treasure to get lost."
I swallowed hard and stared at the table, but that must have been our dismissal because Trey grabbed my arm and pulled me up and out of the chair. Mac followed and the three of us left the room. Even in the hot sun, I still shivered. I let Trey tow me along by the arm, focused on trying to keep all the dark, awful things I kept pushed deep down in my memories from clawing their way out. Before I knew it, we arrived at the clinic. Trey released my arm and moved to whisper to Mac. I stood where he left me at the metal exam table, staring down at it without seeing it.
It couldn’t have been him.
It couldn’t.
I hadn’t heard a whisper of him in a long time now. I was sure I’d shaken him off.
“Bones.”
A sharp voice startled me, and I looked up to see Mac glaring at me. “Is there someone else looking for you?”
All the blood rushed out of my face. “I don’t know.”
Mac stalked around the table toward me, and I tried to hold my ground, but as he approached, I couldn't help taking a step back.
“I meant what I said before,” he said in a dangerous voice. “I’m not risking any more of my people for you. So if I find out you’re lying…”
His threat trailed off, but an icy numbness filled me.
“You’ll what?” I asked, but my voice had none of its earlier bite. “Burn another letter into my skin?”
Horror flashed through his eyes. “No,” he said harshly. “I’m not Juck.”
I glanced away, staring at one of the windows in the loft. My throat ached trying to hold back the tears that begged for release. I couldn’t figure out why they all kept acting so shocked at Juck’s cruelty. As far as I’d seen, Juck acted the same as most people with any little bit of power. Madame sure as hell wasn’t any different.
“Bones,” Trey said, “it’s not gonna be like that—”
“Get out,” I interrupted, making my voice as harsh as possible. I did not want to cry in front of them, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold myself together.
Trey took a step toward me, but Mac grabbed his arm, halting him.
“Griz is outside if you need anything,” Mac said, and then they left.
I climbed up to the loft and folded myself into the darkest corner. I wrapped my arms around my legs and let go of everything fighting to escape, crying as silently as possible until my head pounded.
Survive, Wolf growled.
Why? I wanted to scream at him. What is the godsdammed point?