I stared at Mac, trying to process what he’d just said.
“In the dungeon?” I asked.
He nodded, his eyes stormy with anger. I couldn’t stand for longer than ten minutes, but I knew Madame wouldn't give a shit.
“Ok.” I gingerly stood, leaving my blanket and the shirt I’d been mending. I wore the long brown skirt Sky had found for me, and I had to admit Raven had been right. It made using the outhouse much easier.
“The dungeon?” Sky repeated in a tiny voice.
I glanced at her, shame souring my stomach at the fear and surprise on her face. As far as I could tell, most people were unaware of what exactly Madame did in the dungeon. Madame had never told me to keep it quiet, but maybe she knew my role in what she did wasn’t something I would ever voluntarily share.
“You gonna be able to walk all the way there?” Mac asked. “I can go get a horse, but it’ll make us more late.” His expression stayed even, but I could hear the worry in his voice.
"I dunno," I said and then paused, startled at my honest answer. “I’ll be fine.”
That muscle in his jaw ticked. “Let’s go then.”
I made it almost halfway before I had to stop, leaning on a tree with stabbing pains shooting up and down my back. My puffs of breath made clouds in the cold air, and the wind made my eyes water, stinging against my skin. Mac swore under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair.
“I can sit on the floor when I get there if I have to,” I said, dazed by the pain. “I just gotta get there.”
“She’s doin’ this on purpose,” Mac said in a low voice. “She knows you’re not healed enough.”
“I figured,” I muttered.
“I don’t know how to help without hurting you.”
I looked up at him. He fidgeted where he stood, his eyes darting between me and the Watchtower. I’d never seen him look so anxious, and it forced me to swallow my pride.
“I’m gonna hurt no matter what. Might as well just get me there.”
“Do you think you could climb on my back?”
“Like a kid?” I hoped I understood him right.
He nodded, turning his back to me and crouching.
I hiked up my skirt, leaned onto him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. It hurt, putting strain on my back. He reached back to loop his arms under my thighs and carefully stood, which hurt worse. I had a sudden memory of Wolf carrying me like this and my eyes burned.
“You ok?” Mac asked.
“Yeah.”
He started moving quickly, and I clenched my jaw shut. Each step sent a stabbing pain through my back, but I refused to make any noise. The walk seemed to take forever, but finally, the watchtower loomed ahead of us. Seeing our destination didn't bring any relief though, and as Mac set me on my feet outside the door, I considered clinging to his neck and begging him to get me out of there.
Instead, I forced myself to take slow painful steps down the stairs to where screams already echoed off the walls.
When we entered the room, I stopped short in the doorway. Mist sat in the chair again, looking gaunt and sobbing. Her blonde hair hung around her face in greasy clumps and blood dripped onto the hay, but she wasn’t the only person there. Hawk, the leader of the other Safeguard crew, stood in chains attached to a hook on the wall.
Madame had her long grey dreads in a knot on top of her head as she cut into Mist’s arm. Hawk strained against his chains, his jaw clenched, and a vein pulsing in his forehead. His wide eyes swung to us, and the flicker of hope that lit in his eyes at the sight of me made me want to die.
“Took your sweet time, Bones,” Madame stated, those cold eyes flicking to me.
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to apologize. Her eyes narrowed on me, but then Hawk yanking on his chains distracted her.
“You know you don’t have to watch this,” Madame crooned to Hawk, gesturing at Mist with her bloody knife. “All I need is a name.”
“I’m so…so sorry, Hawk,” Mist sobbed.
I fought the urge to be sick. Was Madame torturing Mist in front of Hawk to try and get him to talk? I'd only had a few interactions with Hawk, but he'd seemed nice enough. Now his bloody face looked anguished. He'd been roughed up, but Mist looked terrible.
“Bones, clean her up,” Madame ordered.
Hawk met my eyes, looking expectant, but I dropped mine to the floor. He didn't know my role here wasn't actually to heal but to prolong the torture session until Madame got bored.
I moved forward and placed my hands on Mist’s bleeding arm. As I healed her, I made the mistake of meeting her gaze. I expected to see hate and fury directed at me, but her hazel eyes only held deep pain and sorrow and a horrible kind of understanding. My eyes welled, tears spilling down my cheeks.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought toward her as I healed her arm.
When I stepped back and Madame stepped forward, her sugary scent wafting over me, the realization dawned across Hawk’s handsome face. His eyes flashed to me, anger and betrayal shining there. I’d expected that look, but it still hurt. I dropped my eyes, feeling so helpless.
“Who did you report to Hawk?” Madame asked.
“Fuck you!” Hawk hissed.
Madame placed her knife against Mist’s chest, just under her shoulder, and slowly pressed. As the sharp knife pierced Mist’s skin, blood began to trickle down her chest. The trickle became a stream as the knife went further in. Madame did it so slowly it must have been agonizing, but Mist just squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through clenched teeth. Madame stopped when the knife was buried almost to the hilt, and then she began to turn it.
A scream ripped out of Mist and Hawk screamed with her. All the blood drained from my face at the sound. My knees buckled and the ground raced up to meet me. Next thing I knew I lay on my side in the bloody straw with Mac crouched next to me.
—“tapped out, Madame,” Mac was saying, his voice even, but I could see the anger in the tight lines of his jaw. “If you want Mist to live, you’ll have to let Bones heal some more.”
Madame said something, but it sounded garbled. I closed my eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning.
“Bones.” Mac shook me. “Can you heal Mist one more time?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, hoping I could.
He half lifted me to my feet, and the pain in my back made me nauseous. Hawk glared at me, tears on his face. Madame had pulled her knife from Mist’s shoulder. Mist’s eyes were closed, her face deathly pale. I knew from just a glance that if I didn’t heal her, she’d be dead in a few minutes.
I placed my shaking hands on the wound and tried my best to focus. My healing power flowed with a sharp pain, a warning of an approaching burnout, and my stomach dropped in panic. Mac stood at my side, and it wasn't long before I depended on him for support. His hands tightened on my hips, holding me upright. My healing power slowed to a thin thread, but I kept going, watching with blurry vision as the wound slowly closed. When it did, I could have cried from relief. Madame spoke—maybe to me—but I used all my remaining energy to keep myself upright. Mac half carried, half dragged me out of the room. He hesitated at the stairs, then swore.
“I’m so sorry, Bones,” he said, then scooped me up into his arms. I couldn’t help the cry that escaped my lips, pain stabbing through my back and—
"It's alright, darlin'." A low, comforting voice.
A cool cloth moved across my forehead.
“I can’t,” I whimpered. “I can’t do it anymore.”
“I know. I know, Bones,” that voice murmured.
“Please don’t—” I choked on a sob. I didn’t know what I was saying. This felt like a dream.
“You want me to go?”
I squinted, bringing Trey’s blurry face into focus. I lay on my stomach on the hard metal table again, chills shaking me and making pain lance across my back with the movement. Panic surged through me like I’d just grabbed an electric fence.
“No,” I gasped, trying to reach for him. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”
"Ok. It's ok. I'm right here." His warm hand gripped mine and squeezed. "I'm not goin' anywhere, darlin'."
“Fuck, some of these stitches ripped,” someone said.
“You sure we can’t—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
"Well, you better get ready to fucking hold her down."
I didn’t understand what they meant, but the next thing I knew, my back burned in agony, and I screamed until darkness swallowed me again.
“—she doing?”
“She’s still unconscious.”
“This has to stop.” The words were whispered like a secret.
In the silence, I struggled to pry my eyes open. I lay on my stomach on my mattress again, my body aching.
“I brought some broth. I know she drinks it often.”
“Thank you,” Griz said. “She’ll really appreciate that.”
“Tell her….tell her I’m sorry.”
“I’ll do that.”
I heard the door open and close. I tried to lick my lips to get some moisture into them. A head popped into my vision, startling me.
“Griz, she’s awake!” Apple called. Then she glanced back at me, her little hand resting over mine. “Hi, Bones, how you feeling?”
Griz appeared beside Apple, relief clear in his dark eyes. “There you are.”
“Water?” I croaked.
Apple grabbed something next to her, holding up a large jug of water with a clear tube sticking out of it. She placed the tube at my lips. “Here. Drink,” she ordered.
I obeyed, the cool water like a balm on my dry throat.
“What happened?” I mumbled after I drank my fill.
"You passed out while Mac was carrying you back," Griz explained. "When he got you home, your back was bleeding, so we had to check the stitches. Some of ’em were torn, so we sewed you back up. You had a burnout fever on top of all that. You were unconscious for almost two days."
I closed my eyes, trying to process all that. I had vague recollections of crying and pain and a warm hand squeezing mine.
“How you feelin’?” Griz asked.
“Like shit,” I muttered without opening my eyes.
“Did you just answer honestly?”
The surprise in Griz’s voice made me drag my eyes open again.
He smirked, but his eyes were worried. “I can’t tell if that means you’re dying or if you’re just actually starting to trust me.”
I rolled my eyes or tried to.
“Should I tell the others?” Apple asked, and I blinked in surprise at her hand resting on his thick arm without fear.
“Yeah, peanut. Go tell ’em.” He smiled.
“I’ll be back, Bones,” she promised as she bounded to the door.
Griz pulled up a chair to the side of my mattress and— Wait. A chair? How was he eye level with me? I reached over the edge of the mattress. Normally I’d immediately touch the floor, but now my fingers touched only air.
“We made you a bed frame with some cinder blocks,” Griz said, noticing my hand. “Makes it a lot easier to take care of your back when you’re up a little higher.”
Something clenched in my chest, but I wasn’t sure whether it was gratitude for the gift or guilt that they were taking care of me.
“You got lots of visitors,” Griz added. “Seems most people are takin’ your side.”
Anxiety swirled in my stomach. “Side?”
“They think Madame was wrong,” he said, his eyes studying me.
My heart started beating faster, clearing the cobwebs in my head a little.
“They think she needs to be stopped.”
“Don’t tell me that,” I whispered.
“I’m just repeatin’ what they said.”
“I can’t…I can’t know. I don’t…Madame will—” I broke off, my lips trembling. Didn’t they know they’d end up in that fucking chair in Madame’s dungeon if they said shit like that? And then Madame would force me to help her torture them and I couldn’t—
“Ok.” Griz covered my shaking hand with his steady one. “It’s ok. I won’t tell you.” He still sounded calm but something like disappointment flashed across his face.
I wanted to beg him to tell people to just keep their fucking heads down, but the words caught in my throat.
Don’t get involved, Wolf growled. Just get out of there.
After a few days, it became clear I was involved no matter how I felt about it. People kept dropping by the clinic, bringing little gifts or food. They would whisper to me or Mac's crew that Madame needed to be stopped, that she'd gone too far. Everyone seemed to share knowing glances and nods, and panic built in my chest. A wildfire could take off from a single spark, and I was helplessly watching it happen.
The wounds on my back healed, pulling tight on my back as the muscles tried to knit themselves back together. I would have horrible scars, Madame’s mark as she promised, but I tried not to dwell on that.
“I think you’re healing faster than most people,” Griz said one day as he changed the dressing on my back. “Do you always heal fast?”
It sure as hell didn’t feel fast. “I dunno. I don’t get sick.”
“What about injuries?”
I tried to think back to my major injuries. When I broke my arm the first time, it had healed pretty quick, but I figured my young age played into that. I’d had cuts I had to stitch closed myself, but I hadn’t paid much attention to how fast they healed. I’d always been able to get up and work after a beating, but I hadn’t had any other choice. The brand on my chest had healed in a month, but I didn’t know if that was abnormal. The wound on my shoulder Trey had stitched up had healed quickly and normally a giant head wound wouldn’t scab over by itself, but mine had.
“Maybe?” I admitted.
He made a thoughtful humming sound.
“Why?”
“I’m just wondering if maybe you do heal yourself. It’s just slower than other people. Maybe that’s why you reached burnout so fast when you healed Mist. Cause your powers have been workin’ nonstop trying to heal your back.”
I lay there thinking that over, uneasy for some reason. No, not uneasy, guilty. Not being able to heal myself seemed like balance for all the things I’d done. Every death stained my soul, and my own suffering felt like retribution.
Maybe if you stopped trying to be a godsdamn martyr, you’d see that.
I shoved all those thoughts away. I hated how often Mac’s words floated through my mind. I hated how often they taunted me at night when I tried to sleep.
“You ok?” Griz asked.
I forced my tense muscles to relax and the shrieking pain in my back dulled. “I’m fine.”
I woke up one morning to find a new small table sitting beside my bed. On the table lay the little knife Trey had given me. I’d assumed it’d been lost after I left it buried in Brimstone’s shoulder. Warmth and sorrow flooded me. All my feelings for Trey were still there, like an entire fucking garden of dreams I could see, but not touch. I would just have to find a way to live with them.
“You’re a river. You don’t break, you bend.”
Sometimes I had a flash of brown eyes holding me steady as pain lanced through me in my memories. I wondered if I'd dreamed about Trey while unconscious like I'd summoned him to comfort me. Sometimes I could swear I could hear his voice calling me "darlin'."
In reality, Trey stayed away, and even though I needed him to do that, it still hurt. I kept looking for him by the door, kept thinking about the kiss we’d shared, kept missing him. I tried to withdraw from the others, but it was harder to push Raven and Griz away since they’d moved in, and I relied on them so much just to move and perform basic tasks. Mostly I just got quieter and quieter, curled up in my quilt. Griz and Raven continued to try and include me in conversation, Griz looking worried and Raven looking angry. I hated the hurt in their eyes, and I hated how much I hated it. I didn’t understand why it was so hard to push them all away. Surely I hadn’t dropped my guard that much?
I warned you. Wolf was a constant presence in my head these days.
Get better. Get out. I reminded myself daily. Get better. Get out.
“Boney, someone’s here to see you,” Raven shouted as she pushed the door open.
I turned, my movements still stiff as I tried to avoid using most of my back muscles, to see Clarity walk in the door behind Raven. My heart dropped at how pale and thin and ill she looked. I hadn't seen her since I healed her from the sickness. I moved across the room, guilt choking me that I hadn’t checked up on her, and she finally looked up and met my eyes.
“I’m ok,” she said, like she could read my frantic thoughts. “I’m not sick.” She seemed to force a smile. “I just wanted to visit you.”
I stopped in front of her, narrowing my eyes to a suspicious glare. I tried to take her arm and let my magic check for itself, but she shifted away like she didn’t want me to touch her. I pulled my hand back. I knew we weren’t exactly friends but she’d let me heal her before.
“I promise,” she said. “I’m not sick.”
“You look like shit,” I said, perhaps more harshly than necessary.
To my surprise she smiled slightly, glancing at Raven. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Ray.”
Raven glared at her, but something soft in her eyes made me pause. I’d never seen Raven look at anyone like that.
“Ray?” I couldn’t help asking.
Raven’s icy blue eyes snapped to mine. “Only Clarity gets to call me that. Anyone else tries and they end up bleeding.”
“How are you feeling?” Clarity asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, looking warily from Raven to study Clarity again.
Her cheekbones stood out from her thin face and her normally warm brown skin looked like a dull ashy grey. Even her eyes looked sunken.
“Why do you—”
“How come you’re not talking to Trey?” she interrupted me, a gleam of determination lighting in her hollow eyes.
I forced all my turbulent emotions to the very back of my mind and willed my face to be blank. “Clarity—”
“Don’t bother, Clare,” Raven said, glaring at me. “She’s a stubborn bitch.”
I narrowed my eyes at Raven, my temper rising. Whatever goodwill we’d managed to achieve after my whipping had been slowly evaporating as the days went by.
“I’m allowed to have my own personal business.”
“Bones, he cares about you so much.”
Clarity’s soft and pained voice speared me through the heart. I turned away and went back to disinfecting medical tools.
“Told you,” Raven said, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from snapping at her.
“He told me about the narc.” Clarity sounded like she’d moved a few steps closer, but I didn’t turn around. “Maybe if you just…explain what happens—”
“I don’t owe any of you an explanation.” I interrupted, trying to blink away tears.
“No, but we’re friends.” Clarity stood at my elbow, but I refused to look at her. “Friends talk to each other when they’re hurting.”
Maybe I hadn’t had many friends in my life, but I felt more like a deadly virus than a friend. I knew getting close to people got them killed, but I couldn’t seem to stop fucking doing it. I blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay. If I could just—
Clarity laid her hand on my arm, and my healing magic jolted. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped and Clarity jerked her hand back as though I’d burned her. Her eyes widened and we stared at each other for a moment, then she turned and fled out of the clinic.
“The fuck did you do?” Raven snarled, but she darted after Clarity before I could answer.
Not that I had an answer to give her. I rubbed my arm, trying to erase the sensation of spiders crawling across my skin. I had no idea what just happened, but my magic had never done anything like that before.
Three weeks after my whipping, I stumbled on a plan to escape.
I started going for walks as soon as I could, forcing myself to go longer every day as I tried to get my strength up. On one of those morning walks I noticed the loggers removing the wheels from the hauling wagons and replacing them with long skids to go over the snow. Through eavesdropping, I learned they planned to leave at dawn. The sickness had used up more of the hold's supply of lumber than expected, so the loggers were being sent back out to gather more. I watched them cover all their tools in the sleighs with heavy tarps to keep the snow off, creating a perfect place to hide.
I knew I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. My back still ached sharply, but the open wounds had closed, and it no longer required a bandage or dressing. It would just be pain, and I could push through pain.
I'd been collecting a little bag of supplies that I stashed inside my mattress. I'd cut a small slice in the bottom and while it wasn't comfortable to lay on, no one noticed. Not that I had many visitors. Clarity didn't return and Raven went back to silently glaring at me. Sometimes that sensation of spiders would crawl across my skin again and my powers would flare in response, but then it would vanish. I had no idea what it meant, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. My plan had to be perfect. If Madame caught me—
I shuddered. Madame could not catch me.
That night I stood in the middle of the clinic and allowed myself a moment of grief. It swept over me with a surprising intensity. The kids slept in their beds upstairs and the fire crackled in the wood stove. If I could choose, Mac’s crew would be the kind of people I’d want for a family. My eyes prickled as my heart ached. This could have been something so good.
I clung to a delusional sort of hope that Madame wouldn’t punish anyone too severely for my escape. I hated being forced to choose between the chance that Madame punished Mac’s crew and the chance that the powered person murdered the entire hold.
I had to believe that Trey would be ok. I had to—
Mac opened the door. The dark expression on his face gave me a second of panic that he knew my plan, but then he spoke.
“Madame wants you.”
My stomach twisted.
I followed him through the dark, quiet hold, our boots crunching in the snow. Mac didn’t speak to me, and I couldn’t tell what that meant. My dread rose as we entered the watch tower and went straight down to the dungeon. I hadn’t seen Madame since I’d passed out down here weeks ago.
Inside the torture room, stood Madame, five of her lackeys, and Zana, the third member of the council. I glanced at the chair and my heart stuttered in shock at the sight of Nemo restrained in it. He'd been stripped of his shirt and blood dripped down his bruised face, but there was a defiant fire in his expression as he held Madame's gaze. I glanced back at Mac, but as usual, I couldn't read his expressionless face.
“Hello, Bones.” Madame smiled that unhinged smile. “We caught a big fish today.”
I looked at Nemo again. His torso was tanned from the sun like he often worked outside without a shirt. He had strange tattoos across one arm and his lean body was more muscular than I’d guessed. Blood matted in his greying hair. He turned his head toward me, making eye contact. He frowned at me, but then Madame spoke, and he turned his attention back to her.
“The question is, how big?” She tapped her knife on the palm of her hand. “Have we finally reached the top of this ridiculous little rebellion, Nemo?”
Nemo didn’t answer.
“Oh good.” Madame’s smile made me feel sick. “I was hoping you’d do this the hard way.”
I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat as she sliced open his chest from his collarbone down to his navel. He screamed hoarsely like he'd been screaming for a while. I healed him with shaking hands when she gestured at me with the bloody knife, trying to breathe through my mouth to avoid the sickly-sweet scent mixed with blood.
“Who is the leader?” Madame asked him once I finished.
He didn’t answer, and she grinned as she lifted her knife again. Panic gripped me as I realized this might be a long night.
Sure enough, Madame carved him up for hours. Eventually, she seemed to get bored and had her men start beating him. I healed him again and again, my ears ringing with the sounds of Nemo's screams. My jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
You’re getting out of here. You’re getting out of here, I repeated in my head over and over.
It had to be close to dawn by the time she stopped. Nemo never said a word, but by the end he slumped in the chair, gasping in ragged breaths and half-conscious.
“Get him out of here,” Madame said. “We’ll do this again tomorrow.”
The men started unbuckling Nemo to drag him back to his cell. I didn’t wait to be dismissed. I didn’t care if it pissed her off. I turned on my heel and strode out the door, avoiding Mac’s gaze as I passed him. She didn’t yell after me, but I heard her voice demanding that Mac stay. As soon as I got out of the watchtower, I started to run.
When I reached the clinic, I slipped in as quietly as I could and changed out of my bloody clothes, throwing on my warmest gear. Then I reached into my mattress and pulled out my small stash of supplies, shoving it into a pack I'd swiped from a house visit. Last but not least I folded up the quilt I'd grown so attached to and shoved it inside. I hadn't been able to figure out how to steal a bedroll, so the quilt would have to do. I hesitated a moment, but then grabbed the little wooden dandelion and packed it too.
As soon as I had everything, I slipped back out the door. Thank the gods, the sun hadn't risen yet, but it would any second. The loggers had packed up the sleighs last night. I'd been sure to walk past to see so I knew exactly where I needed to go. The horses nickered at me as I entered the stable, and Violet poked her head over the stall door. A lump rose in my throat, but I just darted to the sleigh that waited to be hitched up to the horses and slid under the heavy tarp. I crawled across the sleigh bed, edging past the sharp tools. Finally, I reached the wooden panel at the front, curled into the smallest ball I could, and waited, trying to ignore the dull pain in my back.
Only two minutes later, the tarp shifted and someone started crawling in just like I had. I reached down to my boot, sliding my knife out. My entire self recoiled in horror at the idea of using it, but I could not let this chance get away from me. My fist clenched on the knife handle, but then the person got closer and I let out all my breath in a shaky rush.
Trey reached me, dressed in his warmest gear with a leather pack completely with a bedroll strapped underneath it. He met my furious and shocked gaze with a calm expression.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed.
“Goin’ with you,” he said.
I gaped at him. “What?”
His eyes were so solemn. “I’m goin’ with you, Bones.”
“You can’t—” I started to growl, but then we both heard footsteps approaching and I went silent.
The loggers grumbled to each other as they got the horses out and hitched them up. I stared at Trey, my brain spinning. When the sleigh jerked forward, I slid sideways, bumping right up against him with the movement. He reached out and caught my arm, but then he didn't let go. I glared at him as hard as I could, but he just studied my expression with a small smile creeping over his face.
“It’s ok,” he mouthed.
We heard the loggers greeting the guards at the watchtower and both tensed, but then the gate groaned open. The sleigh started moving again and I let out a tiny shaky breath. We’d made it through the gate. From what I’d gathered, the loggers were traveling to a spot about three days away. I planned on slipping out and disappearing when they stopped for the first night, but until then I had to wait.
It’s ok? Honestly, what the fuck was Trey thinking? What about Clarity? What about the kids at the clinic? What about Mac and the rest of the crew? Why would he leave all of them? He couldn’t come with me. He couldn’t be anywhere near me. The whole point of this escape was to get as far away from Trey and everyone else at the Vault as possible.
Even worse, a selfish part of me wanted to cry with relief that I didn’t have to leave him behind.