Surrender: Saving Setora Book 6

by Dark, Raven

  The aggressive stage, I guessed. The stage where Mother and I were.

  Hawk squatted and set his hands on the table. “Doctor, if this is a virus that’s causing the women to experience these episodes, how does that explain the similarities in their dreams and these possession states? Both Dalathine and Setora have mentioned a man named Julian, someone who talks through them.”

  Exactly. How would the great doctor explain Julian?

  “And not just Dalathine and Setora, but another Violet we know,” Doc interjected, looking at me.

  Serena.

  Doctor Olan sighed, looking as if whatever he was about to explain would take patience. “Violets, as you may know—or perhaps not; most don’t—have a part of their brain that resonates closer to social awareness than individuality.”

  His words were met with confused looks from everyone, including me.

  “My apologies, let me simplify.” He paused then, bringing his hands together. When he did, I noticed a brand on the back of his right hand, a snake coiled around a healer’s bowl. I saw Doc studying it as Olan talked.

  “You might say Violets have a hive mind, similar to bees or ants. They can literally share information—or in this case, thoughts and emotions—to another of their kind. Such information can run from rudimentary mundane events, like their daily life, to something from the distant past. They can also share dreams. It is extremely fascinating, the brain of a Violet.

  “This Julian manifestation is exactly that—a manifestation. As A-V One is a foreign being inside them, naturally someone, somewhere, gave the virus a face. In this case, interestingly enough, the face of a man.” He paused again, then looked to Hawk. “Captain, this other Violet you mentioned. Is she related to these two slaves here?” He motioned to me and Mother.

  “No. She was the First Slave to a prominent Lord who recently passed away.”

  “Oh? Was it Lord Falnar’s woman, by chance?”

  Hawk turned his head to look at Sheriff, then back to the specialist. “Yes, Doctor.”

  Doctor Olan smiled and nodded. “That explains it then. I was called in to examine Serena, oh about six months ago. She suffers not only from the virus, apparently, but also brain damage inflicted by her prior owners. Very sad story, actually. I believe, gentlemen, that we may have found the source of these dream manifestations. Serena was the first victim I treated that we in the Reach knew of who have come down with A-V One.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor,” Doc said. “Are you saying that, because Serena was the first victim of this virus, she is the one that put the idea of a Julian out there into the hive mind? That it originated from her thoughts?”

  Doctor Olan clapped his hands, making me jump. “Precisely.”

  “But there are other things.” Sheriff nodded to me. “During these states when this—manifestation, as you called it—took over, Setora became stronger.”

  “Ridiculously strong,” Steel added when Olan glanced at him.

  “The same thing happened to D,” Mayhem said.

  “That makes perfect sense.” Doctor Olan put his hands together again. “In our research, we’ve discovered that during these moments when this Julian manifestation takes over, they experience a sudden burst of exceptional strength. I’m sure your Doc can tell you, the A-V One virus is not the only infection that causes this. There was a sickness in the Old World that flooded the body with a steroid-like chemical which caused the infected individual to experience a surge of great strength, similar to what happens when one receives a boost of adrenaline. In the A-V One virus, this is the same chemical that causes the violent outbursts.”

  “So this burst of super strength is kind of like what happens when a mother lifts a carriage off a child pinned under it,” Doc said.

  “Yes. That’s it exactly, only this stems from the virus, not from protectiveness or fear.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sheriff said. “When Julian was talking through Setora, she said some things she couldn’t have possibly known. She knew the name of our old General’s father. No one in this hive mind would have known that.”

  Doctor Olan shrugged. “I cannot tell you exactly how she knew, but a hive mind makes sharing all kinds of information possible. Those linked to the hive mind could retrieve information from hundreds of years ago within seconds, recalling knowledge at will, as long as one person within the hive knows the information. Even things that are false, as we see here with this Julian creation.”

  Hawk sighed. “I suppose if Julian is a manifestation of the virus itself, then that explains the woman Setora saw in her dreams.” He glanced at me, then at Olan, quickly describing what I’d told Hawk and the others about the warrior.

  When he was done, Doctor Olan turned to D. “Did you see the same woman in your dreams as well, Dalathine?”

  “No. Never.”

  Doctor Olan’s expression looked perplexed. He put his chin to his chest as if in thought. “Interesting. This is the first time I’ve heard about a woman showing up in dreams like this. It would not be farfetched if Setora created a second individual—someone who could effectively ‘kill’ Julian, to end the virus.”

  He took off his spectacles and cleaned them on a handkerchief from the pocket of his white smock. Then he smiled, looking self-satisfied with his discovery.

  “I’ll have to run some tests on both Dalathine and Setora in order to determine the correct dosage of Antivion to give them. But now I want to run some additional ones on Setora, as it’s possible that her body has already began to develop its own antibodies to fight the virus. Ones which have manifested as this warrior she describes. I’m eager to see what I’ll find out. As soon as I have results, I’d like to start them both on the medication. I’ll begin the tests tomorrow. I should be able to administer the first dose by early evening at the latest.”

  The men asked more questions, and Sharland Olan happily provided answers. What he didn’t know, he graciously admitted his ignorance to, but always with another answer that led to more questions from both MCs. Once in a while, his assistant added in a detail or two, the only time Greeger spoke.

  With half an ear, I listened, but my thoughts were far away, my head still throbbing, my shoulder joint burning as if a hot coal was stuck inside it. I spent the remaining time with my eyes shut, leaning on Sheriff’s shoulder.

  Serena, lovely in spirit but broken in mind, was the creator of this Julian figure, an anomaly in that it was a male Violet, something that didn’t exist in our world. And when others suffered the effects of the virus, because of the connection we shared mentally, we also shared Serena’s creation. And if the last thing that Doctor Olan had said was true, then that meant the warrior woman who’d rescued me from Julian wasn’t real. She was a manifestation of my body fighting off the virus.

  That meant Doc had been right all along.

  I didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to believe. But if this were true, if it had all been a massive shared manifestation, then I couldn’t help feeling like a fool.

  Once Doctor Olan gave Doc and Stitch all the necessary information on the antiviral medication, the men agreed to let the specialist try the Antivion on me and Mother starting tomorrow. The two doctors asked him exhaustive questions, most of which I barely understood.

  Before I knew it, Steel was taking me by the hand toward the tables near the bar. I looked around and noticed that our small group had grown smaller, that the light in the room from the windows grew longer. Doctor Olan was nowhere to be seen, nor his assistant. Neither was Sheriff, Mayhem, or my mother.

  Concerned, I turned to Steel after we sat down. “Where is everyone? Is the meeting over?”

  “Maker’s tits, Petal, are you okay? They left over thirty minutes ago.” Convinced I was fine, I assumed, he went on. “Lunch is way past time, and I’m starving. Figured we’d get some food before dinner.” He grabbed a bread basket from the middle of the table and took a small loaf, pulling the bread into giant chunks that quickly dis
appeared into his mouth.

  Turning, I saw Pretty Boy, T-Man, and Horse at the bar.

  “Do you want me to get Doc? Take you back to my room?” Steel asked, his mouth full, cheeks puffed out.

  I giggled. “Master, you remind me of a—”

  “Setora, how are you feeling?” From behind me, Mother touched my shoulder. “Mayhem told me all of what happened. Let me look at you.”

  Turning my head made me wince as I looked up at her. Healthy color blushed her cheeks, and she looked more rested.

  She tsked when I started to stand and sat down next to me. “No, don’t get up, love. I wanted to check on you, since I didn’t get a chance at the meeting. And to tell you that Doctor Olan gave me a tonic. I told Mayhem that I want you to have some, too. You look like you’ve been in a battle with a woolyhog!”

  Steel snorted, then started coughing.

  I giggled in spite of my concern. “Master, are you okay?” I couldn’t help thinking it was his own fault for stuffing so much food into his mouth.

  He waved a big hand at us, then grabbed his mug and drank. “Fine. Fuck, that sucked.”

  Mother’s lips quirked in amusement. Then she looked back at me, her face immediately becoming serious. “Will you let Doctor Olan give you the tonic?”

  “What is it for? Is it that Antivion he mentioned?” My doubt must have seeped into my tone, because Steel reached out and grabbed my free hand.

  “You don’t think the specialist’s right? That it’s a virus?” His gaze went to someone behind me. I really hoped it wasn’t the doctor in question.

  “Setora, how are you doing?” Doc came around and took a seat across from Mother, setting his medical kit down on the floor.

  A relieved sigh escaped me. Why didn’t I want it to be Doctor Olan?

  “I’m tired, my head is pounding, and my shoulder is killing me, sir.”

  Doc nodded. “I’m sure; you’re not superhuman, Setora. I ordered you a light meal, and once it’s ready we’ll take you to a room where you can rest. We’ll have someone stand guard, of course, but I won’t sedate you for now.”

  “Doc,” Mother started, hesitant. “When Doctor Olan examined me a few minutes ago, he gave me a tonic. I’d like Setora to take it, if you’re agreeable to it. It’s not a sedative, more an infusion of minerals and vitamins, he said, but I feel better than I have since before this whole mess started.”

  I assessed her. She did look better. Her posture was straighter, her eyes clearer, and her movements more sure, less sluggish.

  I glanced at Doc, hopeful. He frowned, looking me over in that medical way he sometimes did.

  “I don’t see it hurting anything. You do look more alert, D. I’m glad something is helping you.” He stood up. “I’ll speak with him after that food’s ready, Setora.”

  As he walked back to the bar, I saw Reaper and Savage engaged in an arm-wrestling competition over at another table. Seeing them made me think of Cherry. I felt something close to desperation in my need to talk to her. It felt like it had been years since I’d spoken with her, especially alone. We hadn’t had much time together since Crash’s death, since Delta. So much had changed for both of us, but that wasn’t the only reason why.

  Pretty Boy had mentioned that she was leaving the Grotto, that she’d be heading to Devil’s Breath with T-Man, Sinister, and the rest of Sinister’s men. By the way Sheriff had glared at him, I got the feeling Pretty Boy had let it slip—that I wasn’t supposed to know yet.

  When I pressed Sheriff, he’d told me Cherry had volunteered to join the one-time Brothers of Brimstone. He’d said she was hurting and needed to be away from anything that reminded her of Crash. As much as it hurt to think of her absence from my life in the Grotto, I understood her reasons. Being reminded of Crash at every turn wasn’t going to help her get over the pain of losing him.

  But Maker, I was going to miss her.

  A short time later, Mother, Steel, and Doc escorted me to a room in the same wing of the Hold where my Four stayed. I headed immediately to the bed. Mother helped me in, pulling the covers over me, my one good arm out, pillows propping me up. Doc laid a tray on my lap. My light meal consisted of a bowl of soup, a mug of wine, and some toasted bread, all of which made me realize how hungry I was. At least that part of me felt back to normal.

  Doc explained that he’d wanted to give me something for the pain in my shoulder and head once my stomach was full. He also wanted to try a medication that Doctor Olan had suggested, an antiseizure medication that Doc had considered giving me days ago, before Julian had started taking over.

  While I ate, Pretty Boy unpacked the few belongings my men had brought from the Grotto, hanging up my fancier wardrobe in the small closet by the door. Once I was done eating, I took the pain pills and the antiseizure medication, drinking both down with sweetened tea.

  Doc sat by my side and checked my vitals, asking me the usual questions. When he was about to get up to leave, I grabbed his hand.

  “Setora? What is it?” His brows rose, indicating his surprise at my boldness in touching him, I thought, since that was something I rarely did.

  “What do you think of what this specialist said? That Mother and I and the other Violets are suffering from a virus?”

  He frowned, looking thoughtful, but said nothing at first.

  “Please, sir. I want to know your thoughts on it.”

  He let out a huff of breath and put his kit on the floor, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, not looking at me. “Honestly, I don’t know. The man knows his shit, I’ll give him that. Clearly, he has more information on your specific Violet makeup than I do. Not a lot of people know the workings of Violets, and fewer get the opportunity to examine them, test their blood, observe them. But a virus…” He met my eyes. “I don’t know, Setora. But Sheriff and I think he’s worth listening to. After dinner, I’m going to pick his brain some more.”

  “Doc, that symbol on his hand. I saw you looking at it. What does it mean?”

  “You caught that, huh?” When I nodded, he smiled. “It’s a brand. It’s the insignia of those who belong to the Reach.”

  A brand. I winced at the memory of the brand Damien’s maids had burned into my ankle before I’d been put on the auction block.

  “It signifies his membership and certifies his credentials as one of the doctors that work with them,” Doc continued. “Anyone who doubts his membership need only look at that symbol and know he belongs to the Reach.”

  I nodded. Much as I hated to admit it, it was comforting that someone belonging to an organization like that had to know what he was talking about. On the other hand, Julian was so real to me that it was difficult to let go of the notion of him as a real person.

  Just then, Sheriff opened the door to the bedroom, followed by Doctor Olan. Doc removed my tray and handed it to Pretty Boy.

  “What do you expect me to do with this?” Pretty Boy looked so out of place holding a dinner tray that the sight chased away all the anxiety I’d been feeling.

  “Well, I figured since you’re such a great servant for Setora already, you could go take that down to the kitchens.” Doc’s eyes teased as he waved a hand, shooing my blond master away.

  “Funny, Doc. Fine. Steel, you’re coming with me then. I don’t want any of Mayhem’s men getting the wrong idea about how men in the Legion are with their women, no matter how beautiful they are.” He gave me a wicked grin and winked at me before heading out of the room with Steel.

  Doc shook his head. “Them two, I swear.” He made room for Sheriff and Dr. Olan to have a look at me.

  “How are you feeling, sweetheart? You looked like you were about to fade out when we were in the clubhouse.” Sheriff held my hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “Tired, Master. But the food has helped a bit.” My eyes sought Doctor Olan’s, waiting for him to hurry up and do whatever he came here to do. All I wanted was to be alone, wrapped in the comforting arms of one of my masters and rest. As sleepy as I was,
I had no desire to go back into my dreams, but I also didn’t want any company.

  “I’ve heard that you had a bad night last night, Setora.” Doctor Olan came closer to the side of the bed, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. “May I?” His hand gestured to the space beside me.

  I looked to Sheriff, who nodded.

  “Yes, doctor.”

  Olan took my wrist in his cool hands, ones only slightly larger than my own. Checking my pulse, he examined my nails, then took out a small, metal stick, the end of which glowed with white light. He shined the beam into my eyes, studying them closely.

  With a click, he returned the light back to his pocket, then stood up. “I have given General Mayhem’s Violet a tonic, something that will strengthen her immune system. Violets,” he said, turning to Doc and Sheriff now, “not only have differing physical attributes, but also certain aspects of their biology that work differently. Their metabolism, the…rate at which they burn energy, is much higher than yours and mine, gentlemen. Regardless of the presence of this virus, if you wish to keep her strong and healthy, your Violet will need a certain regimen of minerals and vitamins that are usually found lacking in a normal diet. I trust you have the financial means to provide these additions to her nutrition, General Sheriff?”

  At his nod, Doctor Olan continued, ignoring my Master’s stunned look.

  I inwardly rolled my eyes. What was going on in Sheriff’s head? Was it relief that he had something tangible to work with, learning more about my needs? Or was he being made more aware of my differences, my freakish nature? With what he’d just heard, would he look at me differently now?

  Ignoring my worrying thoughts, I begrudgingly focused on Olan instead. I might not have liked him, but I had to remember my place.

  “Doctor Olan, sir. Thank you for what you’re doing. For me and for my mother.”

  “Of course, child.” He patted my arm. “Well, I shall leave you to rest, Setora. Doc, General, I will leave my tonic here for when she awakens. Give her two spoonfuls about thirty minutes before her next meal.” Turning to me, Olan lowered his chin a tad, a warm smile on his face. “Rest well, Setora. We will speak more after.”