The Breeders Series: The Complete Box Set

by Katie French

  The dim little kitchen smells of fish and something charred when I enter. I wrinkle my nose up at the smell but don’t let it stop me. I’ve been in this little kitchen a few times with Bell. Most of the nannies eat on the floors where they work, after the girls have their food and the babies have been put down for naps. The retired nannies that live on this floor take turns cooking small meals for each other in this tiny kitchen. It has an old-fashioned stove, dented and worn, with four gas burners on top; a sink with a disposal; a small refrigerator; and some battered wooden cupboards. I pull open cupboards quickly, scanning for something that will help me accomplish my task. I find a bottle of cooking oil and bring it out. Setting it on the counter, I stare at it.

  What am I doing? This is crazy.

  I shake my head, not allowing myself to chicken out. I’ve been too indecisive; that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. I uncap the bottle and dribble some oil on my cheek. It runs down my neck in a cool, slick river.

  With a trembling hand, I turn on the gas burner. Blue flame leaps to life.

  “What are you doing?” says a voice in the doorway. Nanny Flora, the frail old woman I found on the floor a month ago, stares at me from the open doorframe. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

  She can’t stop me. I won’t be Houghtson’s wife.

  I lean my cheek toward the stove.

  “Stop!” Nanny Flora cries.

  The flame is hot on my skin. I just want to singe it, maybe blacken it a little, just enough to repel Houghtson. But oh, it hurts too much! I’m about to pull away when there’s a whoosh. Suddenly, my whole face and neck are burning.

  I pull back from the stove, but the heat and pain come with me. My face is on fire! I slap at the flames in total panic. Oh God, the burning. The burning!

  Nanny Flora runs in. She grabs my arm and drags me. I’m screaming, thrashing. I can’t take the pain. I smell burning hair and know it’s my own.

  Nanny Flora throws a wet cloth on my face.

  Flames sizzle and smoke fills the air. Overhead, an alarm begins blaring and sprinklers turn on, dousing me even further.

  The fire’s out. It’s out. It’s out.

  Flora pulls the blanket away.

  What have I done?

  I look at my hands. Big blisters cover my palms. I know they should hurt, that all of me should hurt, but it doesn’t. Not yet. Trembling, shaking, I turn to Flora. “Am I…am I going to be okay?”

  When Flora looks at me, I can tell I won’t be alright.

  “Oh my dear, your face. Your pretty, pretty face.”

  Chapter 9

  Janine

  The pain wakes me. The burning on my hands, face, and neck is so brutal I can barely draw breath. The skin under my bandages is so very angry. I’ve ruined it. I’ve ruined me.

  I was so stupid.

  I’m in the infirmary in a bed. My hands are two huge cotton swabs at my sides. I can’t see my face, but I can feel the tightness of the bandages. Beneath my skin, it feels like a sea of lava eating my flesh.

  Tears fill my eyes, and I look around for help. I find Bell asleep in a chair beside my bed.

  “Bell,” I say, but the right side of my mouth hurts too much to speak more. Bell opens her eyes.

  “You’re awake,” she says, her face full of pity.

  I blink. It’s all I can manage.

  Bell reaches for my hand, remembers, and touches my arm instead. She leans close and whispers. “I’ve been slipping you something for the pain. Houghtson demanded we give you no drugs, that motherless bastard.”

  “Does he…hate me?” I say through the pain.

  Bell’s face tightens. “He threw a chair through a sixth-floor window.”

  I close my eyes, imagining his rage. “He doesn’t want me then?”

  Bell sighs. “Is that why you did this? The running theory was suicide, but I didn’t believe it. You wouldn’t give up on us.”

  I blink again. Bell nods.

  “Time will tell what Houghtson will do, but you’ve given us all a scare, and I’ll thank you not to do it again. You could’ve lost the baby.”

  “I didn’t,” I say. “Right?”

  Bell strokes my arm. “The baby’s fine. Wish I could say the same for you.”

  I frown and then wince. It’s hard to keep my face still, and every time I move, fresh pain pules through my whole head. “Stupid.”

  “It was,” Bell says. She looks at me with sad eyes. “I wish you’d talked to me first.”

  “You would’ve stopped me.”

  Bell shrugs. “Maybe not. Beauty is dangerous. I would’ve gone about it another way though, precious.”

  I turn my eyes to the barred window. Suddenly, I’m very tired.

  Bell hands me a cup of water with a straw. “One thing’s for sure,” she says, her mouth quirking into a smile. “No one around here has balls as big as you.”

  It takes forever for my face to heal. Days of pain. Days of wishing I’d just die and be done with it. Days of Nanny Bell giving me pills that are hard to swallow and rubbing awful salve on my wounds. Days of Sabrina sending desperate notes wishing me well, wishing I’d hurry, wishing she could’ve stopped me that night I ran to the elevators. I don’t answer back.

  I don’t answer because the pain is too big. It takes over my brain. It holds my body hostage with its constant demanding throbs. I can’t do anything other than wish it will stop. Pray it will stop. Cry and demand it stop. None of it helps.

  But time does help. And time somehow ticks by until my hands can be unbandaged. The pinkish skin underneath is tender and new, but nothing serious. My face is another story. Nanny Bell has told me it will never look the same. She’s offered me a mirror, which I refused. She’s told me the outer part of my ear is gone. Just those words sent me into a fit of weeping that lasted hours.

  Somehow I heal, though I keep my face bandaged. Eventually, I’m able to eat and talk without agony. I can sit up and look out the window. I can sleep without waking in fitful bouts.

  One afternoon I’m slowly working through a cross-stitch pattern when my door blows open. I jump and turn, sending an ache down my burned neck. It’s Houghtson. And he looks furious.

  I scramble back, tumbling out of the bed and bumping against the far wall. Houghtson storms in, his narrow eyes following me. He looks skinnier and more worn than before. Small sun blisters have formed on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. What is a doctor doing with sun blisters? I think he’ll strike me or grab me, but instead, he watches me tremble as another man in black with a white collar shuffles in.

  It’s a priest. I’ve only seen them on TV, never in real life, but I’d heard a few still had small congregations in the city. What is a priest doing—?

  “She’s the one you want to marry?” The priest looks horrified.

  Houghtson watches me fiercely. “Yes.”

  The priest looks between us. “I…I don’t know.”

  Houghtson’s body is a rigid line. He looks like he wants to hit me. I think he might if the priest leaves. “She’s to be my wife. Right, Jan?”

  When I don’t answer, he stomps toward me. “Right?”

  The priest clears his throat. “This really is…unorthodox. She’s not even healed. Why not give the girl some time—?”

  “No!” Houghtson yells, startling us both. “She agreed to the marriage. I’ve waited long enough. The nurses say she’s mostly healed.”

  “She still has bandages on her face,” the priest says.

  “She doesn’t need them anymore.” Houghtson reaches out and pulls the bandages off.

  The priest gasps and turns away. Houghtson stares, anger pulsing from his eyes. “This is what you offer me?” he whispers. “This is how you repay me?”

  I put my hands up to block my face, but he pulls them down. He grabs my wrist and drags me to the mirror across the room. “Look at yourself. Look!”

  When I keep my eyes down, he shakes me. I lift my eyes to the mirror.


  For a moment, my brain can’t process what it’s seeing. That cannot be me. One half of my face looks normal. The other half looks…unhuman. The skin on my cheek and neck is a red, raw, pitted mess. My ear is mostly…gone. It’s horrible. I turn my face down, a sob stuck in my throat.

  “You thought I wouldn’t want you,” Houghtson whispers. “And you were right. If I hadn’t paid my life savings to Bashees already, I wouldn’t want you. But it’s too late now. I tried to trade you to Rukus, but he can’t use a freak. So you’re mine. And you’ll spend your whole life making up for the damage you did to my wife.” He shoves me away. I stumble and cling to the wall.

  The priest gasps. “I’m sorry, but I want no part of this.” He storms off.

  Houghtson watches him with burning eyes. “I don’t need you! Bashees can marry us.” he shouts after the priest. Then he turns to me, so angry. “I’ll be back.”

  The door slams behind him, and I crumple to the floor.

  When Nanny Bell visits me that night, I’ve calmed myself down. She hands me a small bouquets of wild flowers that must be from Robbie. When I don’t take them, she sets them on the windowsill.

  “Pouting?” she asks. “You know how I feel about—”

  “Houghtson came in today. He brought a priest, but he wouldn’t marry us because I’m too ugly. He went to get Bashees to do it.”

  Bell’s mouth drops open. “He what?”

  “You heard me,” I say to the wall.

  Bell is quiet for a moment. “God, he’s persistent.”

  “He’s already spent his life savings on me. He said I’ll spend the rest of my life paying him back.”

  Bell clucks her tongue. “That lowlife, dirt-eating, cow pie. I heard he owes huge debts in town. Has a major gambling problem, that one. Now he has to pay back what he owes, but he spent it on you. Bashees was more’n happy to take it. Helps him with his tight budget, the ass.”

  I sniff and say nothing.

  Bell begins to pace and wring her hands. I stare at the wall, angry. I’m angry at Houghtson, at this hospital, at Bell for not saving me. I’m angry at myself for being so stupid to think that ruining my face would solve my problems. It’s only made my situation much, much worse.

  “I’ll be back,” Bell says.

  “Where are you going?” I say, but she’s gone.

  A hand on my arm drags me out of sleep. “Wha—?”

  A hand clamps over my mouth. “It’s me,” Bell says. She’s dressed in all black. Her gray-brown hair circles her head like a wreath. “Get up.”

  I sit up, trying to calm my heart. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Precisely,” she says, setting heavy boots down on the floor below my feet. She hands me clothes, scratchy and smelling of outside. “Put these on as fast as you can.”

  I look at the clothes. “Janitor’s coveralls?”

  Bell nods as she helps me strip. “We’ve got ten minutes. Hannah helped me drug the night watch. Robbie got us a ride out.”

  My head’s spinning. “What are you saying?” I look up at the camera, but it’s gone, a mess of dangling wires in its place.

  “I’m saying move it. We got no time.” Bell pulls me up and tugs me to the door. She shoves a hat on my head and tucks my hair into it. “If we see anyone, keep your head down. If we get separated, head to the garage. Robbie’s waiting.”

  “Robbie?” I can’t think. I can’t process any of this. “Is he coming? Are you?”

  “I’m coming,” Bell says. “You’re a tough chickie, but you’re still recovering and could use a hand looking after you and that little one. I grew up outside. I’m sure it’s different now, but some of what I know will come in handy.”

  I squeeze her hand. “Thank you.”

  She puts a finger to her lips and leads me out the door.

  Walking down the dark hallway is terrifying. Every room we pass, every hallway we slink by, makes my body freeze with trepidation. I stick close to Bell and try to keep breathing.

  Bell skips the elevator and leads us to the stairs. When I see the number five painted on the concrete wall of the stairwell, my legs feel weak. I haven’t moved more than a few feet in weeks. Bell lets me lean on her, but by the time we’ve gone three floors, I can barely stand.

  “Two more, puddin’,” Bell says, tugging my hand when I collapse in a heap on the stairs.

  I look up at her strong face and pull myself up. “At least we’re going down.”

  We make it to the first floor, but I’m breathing too heavily to go on. We wait until my breath doesn’t sound like an asthmatic’s. Then we step out onto the first floor.

  The black-and-white checkered hallways are dead silent. Bell looks both ways and then heads toward the garage. The last time I was on this floor, I asked Robbie for the favor that gave me the baby swelling in my stomach. I haven’t seen him since. And now he’s offering to help me again. How I have so many kind people around me is amazing. It gives me faith in this world.

  But my thoughts are snapped away as Bell shuffles to a stop. Her body goes rigid.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Quiet.” She stays frozen.

  I freeze.

  Seconds pass in awful slowness. I strain my ears to hear. Is someone coming? There’s a thud from deep down the hallway. I grab Bell’s arm.

  A door shuts. Footsteps echo on the tile. Heavy. Male.

  Bell snaps to life, tugging my arm. “Run.”

  We tear down the hallway. The footsteps tear after us. I look over my shoulder, but it’s too dark to see. Who’s coming? It doesn’t matter. If they catch us, we’re dead.

  “This way!” Bell says, tugging. We tear around a corner. The heavy doors that lead to the garage appear. Bell shoves me toward them. “Go!”

  I grab her arm. “Not without you!”

  She tugs away from me. “Just go.”

  The garage door opens. Robbie’s head peeks in. “You’re here. I was beginning to—”

  “Take her,” Bell says, shoving me. Her hands scramble at her pocket. She pulls out a tiny gun.

  “Where’d you get that?” I ask, horrified. If she’s caught with a gun, she’ll be executed.

  She fiddles with the weapon and nods frantically at Robbie. “Take her. Go!”

  Robbie looks confused. “I thought you were coming.”

  “So did I.” Bell aims the gun at the dark hallway. The footsteps thud so near.

  Robbie hears them. He looks between Bell and me. Even in my terror, instinct makes me turn my burned face away. “Come on.” He takes my hand.

  “Get your hands off my wife.”

  Bell grits her teeth and aims.

  The barrel of a much larger gun appears first, and then Dr. Houghtson. He aims at Bell. “I’ll shoot you, Bell. I don’t care if you’re Bashees’ pet. After I got a good look at her face…” He looks at me and shivers. “I’ve got someone in town who’s willing to pay off my debts if I hand her over.”

  “And if you don’t, they’ll cut your goddamned balls off,” Bell says, still aiming. “You think I give two shits?”

  I stare at the large, silver weapon in Houghtson’s hand. Bell’s gun looks so small in comparison. Please, please, please don’t let him shoot her.

  Houghtson gives her a sly smile. “When’s the last time you shot a gun, Nanny?”

  Bell’s expression doesn’t change. “Don’t need to practice pulling a trigger. Pretty sure I still remember how.”

  “Hand the girl over, and I’ll let you and the janitor go.”

  Robbie’s hand tightens on my arm. “No.”

  Houghtson’s eyes flick to Robbie. “Was it you and her? It was, wasn’t it? Do you know what happens to people who steal from me?”

  “Leave Robbie alone,” I say, my limbs trembling with anger and fear. “He had nothing to do with this.”

  But Houghtson’s gaze travels up and down Robbie’s frame. “This is who you chose over me? This townie with shit under his fingernails?”
He turns the gun on Robbie.

  “No!” I scream.

  Two gunshots bang from opposite directions. Bell and Houghtson. I scream.

  Beside me, Robbie falls.

  “Robbie!” I turn to him. He’s lying on his back. A trickle of blood is spreading on the tile.

  Movement. I look up. Houghtson aims at Auntie, but she already has her gun on him. She fires again.

  This time, the bullet strikes true. Houghtson lurches back as if jerked from behind by an invisible string. He staggers as a bright red splotch widens on his chest. He falls.

  I stare at Houghtson. At Robbie. My ears are ringing. I can’t think. I can’t move. Are they dead? Am I?

  Bell grabs my wrist. “Move!”

  An alarm begins to blat.

  I look down at Robbie. “We can’t leave him!”

  Bell looks at the bleeding boy. “We can’t save him. He’ll die if we take him with us. Here, he might have a chance.”

  I drop to my knees beside my friend. The puddle of blood under his back is so much wider than it was before. “Robbie,” I say, gently shaking him. “Wake up.”

  Long eyelashes flutter. Robbie looks into my face and smiles. “You’re not hurt?”

  Silent tears drip from my face to his. “But you are. We need to get you out of here.”

  “I’ll…slow you down.” His face tightens with pain.

  “What can I do for you?” My hands flutter over the wound in his shoulder. So much blood.

  Robbie doesn’t answer. The alarm blats.

  Bell tugs on me. “We need to go!”

  A hand tightens on my wrist. Robbie opens his eyes. “Go, Jan. Please.”

  I shake my head, but Bell drags me away. “I’m sorry, Robbie,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”

  Bell shoves me down the stairs and into the waiting truck. We peel out to the sound of alarms and my sobs.

  Chapter 10

  Janine