Powerless: Aeos Book One

by Sarah Anne Fields

  Half an hour later, Detrick was pushing open the door to Timberworks. There was no rule against him visiting their shop, after all. “Hi, Miss Wicklow. Is Conner in the workshop?”

  She nodded, smiled weakly, and gestured toward the back door.

  “Conner?” Detrick called as he stepped out back.

  Conner came rushing out of the workshop, closing the door behind him. “Detrick. Long time, no see.”

  “Good one. Hey, is your mom okay? She seemed a little down.”

  Conner hesitated. “We’ve…we’ve gotten a thirty-day notice that our shop’s being shut down. So, we’re trying to sell off what we have—at prices that don’t even make us any money, and then…that’s it, I guess.”

  “Wow, that’s awful. I’m really sorry, Conner.” Those bastards. Detrick had a good idea of who might be behind this. “What will you guys do?”

  “Haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  They sat in uncomfortable silence.

  “Did you…need something?” Conner asked.

  “Just to talk. Or hang out. You know. Whatever.”

  “I’m a little busy at the moment, actually. Give me half an hour?”

  “Sure. I’ll be back.”

  Detrick wandered aimlessly around town to kill time. He saw that much of the rubble from the Temple had been cleared away, and the fallen Pillar had been replaced with a cheap concrete one. A sign at its base read:

  Until a new Pillar of Codes is constructed, please refer to this stand-in. Praise Lilith.

  This whole thing with Conner’s shop being shut down…it seemed awfully convenient, considering the circumstances. Detrick couldn’t help but wonder if this was Victoria’s way of getting back at the Wicklows for how she felt Conner was affecting him. If that was the case, then Detrick swore he’d… Oh, who was he kidding? Victoria was untouchable.

  Conner came jogging into the square and spotted Detrick near the Pillar. “Hey!” he called out. Detrick turned around and saw him. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” He grabbed Detrick’s hand and led him back to the workshop. “Okay, close your eyes.”

  Detrick looked at Conner suspiciously. “You gonna have me killed or something?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Just close your eyes.”

  Detrick did so.

  “I’ve been working on this for months, but I’m no master craftsman, so don’t laugh.”

  Detrick heard Conner flip a tarp off of something and then heard the heavy clunk of it being set on the table.

  “Okay, open your eyes.”

  As soon as Detrick did so, he saw what Conner had been so giddy to show him. A fox, carved from solid mahogany, its chest and the tip of its tail a dazzling gold. It was impeccably carved. It stood proudly, its tail outstretched at a slight angle, its left paw raised as though at attention. “Conner…this is incredible,” Detrick said, approaching it to admire it more closely. “You made this?”

  “I did. Sorry I was so secretive about him. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “You certainly accomplished that.”

  “He’s yours, you know.”

  “What? No way. I can’t take this.”

  Conner came closer to Detrick, resting a hand on the fox’s tail. “I made him for you, silly. I think that means you have to.”

  Still awestruck at the fox, Detrick cocked his head to one side. “Why did you make this for me?” It wasn’t just that he wanted to know the reason for the fox, but the deeper meaning behind it. Surely one didn’t simply decide one day to carve this beautiful creature out of such an elegant wood? To accent its fur with gold paint? To spend hours upon hours slaving over tools for the sake of a friend?

  “You mean…you don’t know?” Conner stared deep into Detrick’s eyes, and Detrick inhaled sharply. Grabbing his hand once more, he said, “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

  * * *

  The early summer air was comfortably warm, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Wildflowers dotted the forest floor, and ribbons of sunlight hung from the pine trees. Detrick and Conner emerged out the far side of the forest to the beach. The sea was calm, with the tiny waves struggling to break on the shore.

  Conner turned toward Detrick. “So, first order of business—we need to talk about last night.”

  Detrick dreaded the thought of discussing it at all. It made him feel ill to think about talking to Conner about his feelings, or the handful of times they’d almost kissed. He turned away, but Conner grabbed him by the shoulders.

  “Tell me what that was last night. Tell me what happened at the campsite before the fox showed up. Tell me what you’re really thinking, Detrick. Please. Something is happening between us, and we need to figure out exactly what it is.”

  Detrick removed Conner’s hands and took a step back, towards the water. “Conner, it’s not that simple. I can’t just explain it. I don’t know what it was, alright? It was a fluke. Yeah, that’s all it was. A fluke.” His head was still filled with all the scolding from earlier in the day. He felt like Victoria was watching him in this moment. She’d apparently found out about his escapade at night church last night, so who was to say that someone hadn’t followed them to the beach to spy on them?

  Conner shook his head. “Okay. If you won’t say it, I will.” He inhaled sharply. “I need to confess something to you.”

  Detrick couldn’t breathe. What was Conner going to say? What could he possibly—

  “I’m falling hard for you, Detrick. I tried to deny it for a long time, tried to convince myself that I was crazy or that it was some kind of…of…food poisoning, or something, but…” He laughed to himself and then brought his hands up to Detrick’s face, holding it in his hands. “But then I realized it was real. That despite all our stupid arguments, despite my attitude problem and this secret you’re hiding from me, I realized I love you.” He brushed Detrick’s hair away from where the wind had swept it into his face. “And I know you must feel it, too.” He searched Detrick’s eyes. “Right?”

  Detrick was floored. With considerable effort, he managed to choke out a response. “Maybe. I—I don’t know.” Those magical words he’d never imagined he’d hear had been spoken. Conner loved him back. But now the mysterious tension from last night had returned to block him from reciprocating.

  Conner smiled. “You don’t have to say anything right now if you don’t want to. I know it’s a lot to take in. Take all the time you need.” He leaned up on his toes and softly planted a kiss on Detrick’s cheek. It was like a drug that caused instant addiction, and Detrick knew he’d never be sated.

  “Thank you, Conner,” Detrick said. The two embraced. “Thank you for not rushing me. I just have some things I need to work through.”

  “It’s alright.”

  They parted.

  “I should be getting home. I still need to help Dad in the orchards some more. I sort of left at a bad time.”

  Walking back through the forest, they playfully shoved each other back and forth, with each shove becoming slightly more forceful, though no harm was meant. One final push landed Conner against a tree, with Detrick quickly upon him. Both struggled to catch their breath. Their eyes were darting all over each other’s faces, only inches apart.

  “You look like shit,” Conner teased. He pulled a leaf from Detrick’s hair, and Detrick chuckled and playfully scrunched his nose.

  “Is that all I look like?” he asked. He brought his hands to rest on Conner’s shoulders, and Conner put his hands on Detrick’s waist. Conner smelled like pine. It was intoxicating. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss this man.

  There was a sheepish grin on Conner’s face, and for once he looked completely vulnerable. The sight caused Detrick’s stomach to jump into his throat. If Detrick acted on his feelings right now, he knew Conner would welcome it openly. That thought seduced him so much. All it would take was one simple move…so what was stopping him?

  “You really want to know what I think?” Conner asked. “I
think there’s something you want to do right now, but you’re too afraid of what might happen, so you’re holding back. I don’t fully understand what you’re going through, Detrick. I wish I did. I wish there were no secrets between us. And do you want to know what else I wish?”

  “What’s that?” Detrick had sapped Conner’s vulnerability.

  “I wish you wouldn’t hold back.”

  Detrick could only stammer incoherently. He brought his gaze to rest on the tree behind Conner.

  Conner brushed Detrick’s face with his hand.

  Enveloped with shame, Detrick rested his head on Conner’s shoulder and squeezed his arms around him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered mournfully. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  The two embraced each other in the silent forest that surrounded them. Conner’s arms were stealing away all of Detrick’s suffering. The settling chill in the evening air couldn’t permeate him as he stood cradled by the one person who truly knew him. No one else in this world understood Detrick the way Conner did. No one else in this world could unravel the tangle of a million thoughts from a single facial expression.

  Detrick knew that if he was ever ready to take that next step, he wouldn’t be rejected. And even if he wasn’t ready yet, simply knowing was good enough for now. With that, Detrick released Conner from his grasp.

  The two held hands as they continued to walk through the forest.

  CHAPTER 21

  NO MORE SECRETS

  “C

  onner’s been arrested again, son,” Detrick’s dad said, pointing to a small paragraph in the newspaper.

  It was nearly a week later, and Detrick had just woken up and entered the kitchen looking for breakfast. Immediately Detrick was swept with fear at what sort of punishment Conner’s third offense would land him. It was rumored to be a death sentence, but (aside from crimes against Lilith) he couldn’t recall a time when it had come to that.

  “Says here he threatened the CLA on one of the paladins for closing their shop.”

  “Oh, come on, Conner!” Detrick exclaimed. He slapped a hand over his face and sighed heavily before turning around and heading back to his room. He let his trepidation get the better of him but hoped that somehow Conner would be okay. It was all he could do not to go insane thinking of the possibilities.

  He tried to busy himself with the pile of work Victoria had sent him but, unable to concentrate, he decided to head outside. There was a dead tree in the corner of their lot that was overdue for an uprooting, so he set to work on that. The aroma of the trees did little to calm his nerves.

  As the afternoon grew weary, and the first stars began to appear, Detrick stood beneath one of the larger trees, overwhelmed by his thoughts. He leaned his head against the rough bark. The sharp edges of it dug into his forehead, and his eyes brimmed with tears at the realization that however much this bark was hurting him, it was nothing compared to whatever Conner was enduring in that moment.

  If he were some sort of higher-ranking official, perhaps there would be something he could do to ease Conner’s sentence. Or maybe, at the very least, he’d be able to inquire about what Conner’s punishment was. But he was a young Loyalist in poor standing with his Grand Magistrate…he was nobody.

  He made it a point to sit outside his house every evening until Conner (hopefully) returned. He knew that if Conner ever did come back, there would be no point in arguing.

  On the sixth night, when dusk was all around him, blurring the lines of the shadows, Detrick heard distant footsteps. He rose from his seat below the living room window and could faintly see Conner’s outline approaching. Oh, praise Lilith above, he was alive; his love was alive. “Hey,” he said cautiously. He wasn’t sure if Conner would lash out at him or just ignore him completely.

  Conner said nothing, didn’t even bring his gaze up from the road, but instead lifted his shirt and turned around. His back was crisscrossed with fresh whip scars. Detrick felt like crying. If there was no chance of it hurting Conner so much, Detrick would have pulled the man into him, held him until all of his pain went away.

  “Oh, Conner. Let’s get you inside.” He took up his hand and led him into the house, then quickly into his bedroom so as to not alert his parents, who were asleep in their room. He carefully lifted Conner’s shirt over his head, folded it, and placed it on a chair. “Lie down on your stomach, and I’ll be right back with vinegar and water for your back. Are you hungry or thirsty?”

  “No,” Conner quietly replied. He laid down on the bed and folded his arms under the pillow.

  Detrick returned shortly with a bowl of warm vinegar-and-water mix. He wrung out a cloth and very carefully applied it to Conner’s back, dabbing down the raw wounds. Conner flinched over and over at the stinging.

  “Did you get to see your dad at least?” Detrick asked.

  “No. I wish. They dropped me off past Weston this time. Figures.”

  “I’m sorry,” Detrick replied. “This needs to be the last time this happens, Conner. It’s killing you. And it’s killing me too.”

  Conner frowned. “I didn’t ask for this, Detrick,” he said defensively.

  “Actually—” Detrick stopped himself before he said something he’d regret.

  “I’m honestly surprised it wasn’t something worse. I figured they’d kill me or lock me in a cell or something. Hell, even the dog was worse than this.” Conner laughed quietly to himself.

  “Even so. You shouldn’t be adding to your list of arrests. Despite how you feel about your shop being shut down.”

  “I don’t have a choice anymore. I decided on the walk back that I’m going to track down what’s left of the CLA. And I’m going to join them. Fuck the Union,” he said between sniffles.

  Detrick frowned. “I’m going to get a fresh towel.” He returned shortly but stopped dead in the doorway. He knew what he had to do. To protect Conner. To strengthen their relationship. He glanced behind himself to make sure his parents weren’t in earshot, and then shut the door. “My parents and I…we’re sworn servants of the Union. We’re in the Loyalist Assembly.”

  Conner sat up with a jolt, though not without difficulty. He looked as if he wanted to rip Detrick’s head off, but it quickly subsided. “I pretty much knew,” he said, shrugging. “But I’m so glad you told me. It means a lot. Be honest with me, Det. It’s not your choice, is it? None of it is…”

  Detrick sat down next to Conner and stared at the floor. “No…it’s not.” He motioned for Conner to lean forward and continued dressing his wounds. He explained his family’s assignment with James Morley and hoped that his confession would be enough to keep Conner from going off to look for the CLA and getting arrested again.

  With Conner’s wounds thoroughly cleaned, Detrick let Conner have his bed, and he fashioned a bed of his own on the floor.

  “How is this going to affect us?” Detrick asked from the floor.

  “Us?”

  “Yeah. It’s just…given everything that’s happened between us, I’d say this affects wherever it’d go in the future.”

  “Well,” Conner said, “when it comes down to it…I suppose you’ll have to make a choice.”

  Detrick’s heart sank. “I suppose I will.”

  * * *

  Though Detrick had fallen asleep, Conner was still wide awake…and he was fuming. The Union had tortured him physically, had ripped his father from his family, and now it turned out they outright owned Detrick…his dear Detrick. Would they stop at nothing until they’d destroyed him completely? Fuck the Union, indeed.

  But there was one thought, away in the back of his mind, that never left him alone. It watched him as he contemplated all those other things, moving closer and closer to the forefront of his mind—a quiet assault: his wounds, no matter how much they stung, couldn’t possibly be the Union’s best work. Why was he so special in that a third offense still meant life for himself, when it was supposed to mean death for others?

  A deep pit began to form in
his stomach.

  Were they finished with him?

  * * *

  “Conner, hand me that screwdriver,” Gavin said, standing on top of the counter in Timberworks.

  Conner brought it to him and watched as his brother unscrewed the last shelf of many. They had twenty-one days until their shop had to be cleared out and they’d have to be moved out of the house upstairs. Gwenith had broken down before they’d gotten started, so she was resting upstairs in the house. Conner and Gavin had decided to get the majority of the work done without her; she’d been through enough already with the closure of the shop.

  Conner had been wrestling with how difficult it was not to say anything to his family about his dad. He’d promised that he’d stay quiet, and he’d oblige in order to protect his dad’s life. Yet he couldn’t help feeling the weight of it on his shoulders every time he was around Gavin or his mom. Didn’t they deserve to know? They were as much his family as Conner was. Why should he, alone, have the privilege of being reunited with his father?

  Gavin hopped down off the counter and tossed the shelf into a pile of what was destined to become scrap. Much of their inventory would probably have to be given away for free. It sat in haphazardly constructed piles around the floor…the most depressing bowls, vases, decorations, and tables Conner had ever seen. As for their workshop out back, they’d be gifting all the equipment and wood back to their supplier.

  “Mom says Aunt Ruby might be able to take us in,” Conner said, taking in the bare walls around him.

  “Yeah, about that,” Gavin said, wiping his forehead. “I don’t think I’ll be going to Pine Ridge.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Mirina and I are getting married.”

  Conner held out his arms. “That’s awesome, Gavin! I had no idea.”

  “Kinda happened while you were gone,” he said, shrugging.

  “Oh. Right,” Conner replied, scratching the back of his head. He hadn’t talked in detail to his family about what happened, as they hadn’t been around when he’d been arrested. But they knew, all the same. “So, you’ll stay here…and what? Move into their house above the Inn?”