Wilt

by Rae, Nikki

  “This is very important, Doe,” he as he slowly creaked open the box, balancing it on his knees in such a way that I couldn’t see its contents. I looked him in the eye the way he always wanted, ready to receive my next set of instructions and nothing further.

  I heard a delicate tinkling sound as he lifted the largest collar I had ever seen from the box. For the longest moment, all I could do was stare so I could take it all in. The diameter seemed too small for my throat; it was—as far as I could tell—made out of real gold, and it was thick and wide enough to keep my head slightly elevated for as long as I wore it. Diamonds dangled from it, glittering along the dim interior with scattered light from the shielded windows. It didn’t even look like a collar, really. More like an altered crown.

  “It’s…” I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t exactly think it was beautiful, but it wasn’t ugly by any stretch.

  “Absurd? Gaudy? Ridiculous?” He gave me a small grin before glancing over the ornament. “No, none of those are enough to describe this…thing.”

  He was attempting to take my mind off things, stop me from connecting the collar to the next logical step: wearing it. I wanted to be brave and laugh for him, but I could only lick my dry lips to prevent myself from biting them.

  Then it slammed into me: This wasn’t my Owner’s collar; it didn’t belong to him.

  My Master was elegant, understated, quiet about who he was. He didn’t need me to wear an ornate brand around my neck to prove that I was his, that I would obey anything he asked of me.

  The realization must have shown on my face, for he stuck a small key into a hidden lock on the object, he said, “Yes, Master Jäger’s collar.”

  I expected it to upset me, but I waited until I had more information before I let myself succumb to my nerves.

  He shifted in his seat so he was partially facing me, opening the collar and moving the hair away from my neck. My involuntary flinch was almost imperceptible as he shut it around my throat.

  “You aren’t yet his,” he whispered in my ear as if to remind me. Then he sat back, seeming to admire me. “You know, on you it looks…”

  I hoped he wouldn’t say beautiful. He couldn’t think that. Another man’s mark on me couldn’t mean anything close to that.

  “Well,” he said, giving up and pulling the small amount of my hair that had gotten trapped underneath the collar free. “This is a symbol,” he said, running a finger along my jaw and then the collar. “Although it doesn’t mean anything like the markings on your back or if I were to collar you myself, it is a symbol all the same.”

  It made sense now why the dress was this particular style: The front covered up all our mistakes so no one would harp on them and my exposed back displayed his work of art. His mark of Ownership that would no doubt fade, and with each disappearing stroke, we would grow farther and farther apart.

  “Remember that, Doe.” His voice brought me back to the present moment, and then his hands left me and sat facing forward yet again. “I wanted you to wear this for the first time with me. You wear every collar for me, don’t you, Doe?”

  I swallowed, looking between them. Marius stared out the window like he could see something while my Owner watched me. “Yes, sir,” I said quietly.

  After a while, the collar clasp was released and I could breathe again as he removed it, placing it back into the box. From under his seat, he pulled out the collar with the chimera symbol on it I’d worn only a few nights earlier, but it seemed decades away now.

  “Every collar you wear is this collar,” he said. “You endure for me. You’re patient for me.”

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered, knowing that was what he wanted.

  The silver was much more comfortable around my neck; my shield was back in place.

  The car slowed to a stop not longer after and alarm filled my veins.

  “It’s all right, Miss Doe,” Marius said before my Owner could quell the fear rising to the surface. “Just need to make a stop. Won’t be a moment.” He gave me a tiny smile before stepping out of the car, opening and closing the door so quickly I couldn’t see more than the light from outside as it intruded the interior of the car.

  My heart leaped into my mouth and I was convinced that despite having an empty stomach, I would vomit. My Owner saw my widened eyes and smiled softly, sadly. “No, it’s not yet,” he whispered.

  Though the oxygen I breathed seemed to expand my lungs, a new fear emerged and made them feel like weights in my chest. “M-may I ask—”

  “I’ve already told you not yet, Doe,” he interrupted.

  I nodded, but it was still difficult to get my racing pulse to even out. For that one moment of absolute terror, I believed I was about to be transferred.

  “Where is he going?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He pulled me closer so my shoulder was pressed into his leg and his hands were in my hair, smoothing stray strands. “He’ll be back.”

  We were silent again.

  “I want you to know something,” he whispered and I looked up at him. “I won’t leave you.”

  He’d said this before, and each time I believed it less. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Please, Elliot.”

  My thigh felt cold as his hand lifted my chin so he could look at me. “I mean what I say.” His eyes burned, searching mine.

  Tears threatened my eyes. “Please,” I said, on the verge of begging.

  His gaze softened a fraction. “Please what, Fawn?” His voice was gentle, eager to understand.

  I cleared my throat; it had suddenly become difficult to talk. “Don’t give me hope.” My voice cracked.

  He stroked my hair. “I love you, Fawn.”

  Though quiet, it felt like he’d slammed my head against floor.

  I wasn’t crying, despite how bad I wanted to, yet he treated me as though I was sobbing, saying gentle words and kissing my forehead.

  This was worse than hope.

  “I don’t think it means much coming from me,” he added, “but I don’t feel this way often. Whether it’s love, I don’t know. But I want you to remember I said it—that I meant it. That everything I’ve done and will do is to keep you safe.” He swallowed hard before repeating, more pronounced now, “He. Can’t. Keep. You.”

  He’d chosen to ignore my plea and if Mr. B hadn’t returned at that exact moment, I would have given the cracking sensation in my chest more thought.

  My Owner still held my head so I couldn’t look as he opened and closed the door again, only feeling the cold breeze to indicate he’d sat back down in his seat.

  It was a short while before the car started to move.

  Mr. B didn’t have anything with him, so that ruled out him picking something up. However, that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t a reason for this departure.

  “What time is it, Marius?” Master Lyon asked after a long time.

  He glanced down at a silver pocket watch he pulled from his pants. “Five,” he said. “We still have a few more hours.”

  Five. The position Master Lyon had me in the night before. I already viewed that memory as if it had occurred to someone else. If I was going to do this, I had to learn my Owner’s skill of not getting lost in him. I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to think about if he meant we had a few hours more to ourselves before we carried on to Wolf Manor or if we were already on our way there.

  Master Lyon reached across me, making a motion with his hand as if Mr. B was giving him something. Reaching into his breast pocket, he took out a small black pouch. Master Lyon took it. That ruled out the theory that he hadn’t gotten out of the car to retrieve something.

  “Move closer to Marius, Doe,” he said as he unzipped the pouch, revealing a row of needles and two small vials. I immediately recoiled, and my body reacted without thought, struggling to put distance between these men and me while one filled a syringe and the other engulfed me in his arms, pulling me onto the seat between them and rendering me immobile.

  “I
know this isn’t something you’d like to do willingly,” Master Lyon said evenly, unfazed as he slid across the seat so he was right next to me. “But I need you to be brave and calm. Give me your arm, Doe.”

  Instinctively, I held it closer to my body. He was trying to drug me. I’d been through the experience enough times to know when it was about to happen.

  “Doe.” There was warning in his voice, but I didn’t care. I didn’t move and I was thankful Mr. B didn’t either—he didn’t seem to want to help my Owner more than he already was.

  “Why?” I asked, feeling his fingers around my wrist and then let go at my question. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” I was breathing heavily again, the car too small and these men too close. “I’m doing everything you want,” I said, verging on rambling and fighting the urge to list all I’d already done.

  “This isn’t a punishment, Doe.” Master Lyon’s voice was soft. “I don’t want to do this either.” He grabbed my wrist again.

  This time, I didn’t have the strength to stop him. Even if I did, it would change nothing. I had to stop thinking about each choice I made ever being able to alter his. I needed to start looking at each decision as what would be less painful; the one that would make my existence marginally easier.

  I took a deep breath as I felt him wrap something around my arm and a second later, I felt the needle pierce my skin. It seemed to stay there a long time, his free hand loosening the band around my arm. He lingered there until he pulled the needle out, rubbing gentle circles near the pinpoint of an opening he’d created. Mr. B released me, but whatever he’d given me had already begun to take effect and while my body had inched upward, my head slunk back onto Mr. B’s shoulder.

  I watched with glazed over eyes as Master Lyon capped the needle and replaced it in its pouch, handing it back to Mr. B so he could return it to his breast pocket.

  As he wrapped his fingers around mine, my vision alternated between filmy and tunneled. I found myself blinking more than usual to see clearly, and even that was becoming more difficult by the minute.

  “Master Jäger has requested each girl comes to the manor drugged,” he whispered, bending my arm at the elbow as a tiny amount of blood stained my skin. “Don’t wipe this away,” he said. “We need proof.”

  I half-giggled against Mr. B’s neck, unaware of what I found funny. He smelled of clean laundry and mint, and some other crisp, comforting scent I couldn’t place. I found myself moving closer, relaxing in the pleasant artificial warmth the drug provided.

  “Others?” was all my hazy mind would allow past my lips.

  I felt Master Lyon’s hand in my hair, swiping it off the back of my clammy neck. “Close your eyes, Doe,” he said. “It won’t be as strong in a little while.”

  I wanted to protest, but Mr. B wrapped a reassuring arm around my waist. He looked out the window as if there was something to be seen beyond the darkness, so that was what I did too.

  Twelve

  The Safehouse had been bombed. That was how they’d caught me the first time. I had been there a few months, learned of the real world, and was ready to embark upon a normal life with a new family far away from all of this as soon as my burns were healed. While the flesh was fast to mend into scars, the skin was tight and unforgiving. It was painful to stand for long periods and I worked daily to build up strength. Three days before I would travel to another Safehouse in America where they could build my identity as a Mainworld-er, a brick crashed through the window. It was the distraction they needed for Compound guards to deliver tear gas. The older ones helped the children to safety while the slower, injured ones like me were captured and brought back into the tangled roots of the Order.

  That was what this felt like. Maybe my Owner thought telling me he loved me would bring me back to that place where I wasn’t a slave, where I wasn’t destined to be punished or beaten or used or neglected. That ultimate shock from one extreme to another threw me into the dirt as I waited for the worms and the wolves.

  I’d mistaken someone else’s sobbing for my own. A halting, timid cry that came from the chest. It was the sound of someone trying not to draw attention to themselves, but to me they might as well have been screaming. My eyes shot open and the first thing I saw were the wooden slats of what I’d come to recognize was a bunk bed. My mind was still hazy, but I could see more clearly now. I could still feel the drug working its way through my system—even more so when I gathered enough strength to sit upright in the limited space.

  My head spun and my limbs felt tied to the bed, which made me jump if only to confirm they weren’t. The room was dark, only a few bulbs hanging from the ceiling. It smelled of dust; of things forgotten. I still wore all of my clothes down to the heels and collar. I was on top of a twin size mattress covered in frilly pink satin better suited for a girl ten years younger than me.

  The sobbing came from above me, and my hands lingered on any surface I could find for balance. I noticed when I stood that us two—this stranger and I—weren’t alone. Beyond a sheer veil of even more pink fabric, I could see the rest of the room was lined up with identical beds arranged in rows, drugged girls in each one. Horrified, I counted ten girls of varying ages, all younger than me but none under the age of thirteen.

  My sides ached and I had to lean over, afraid I’d vomit. How many girls were here? Where were we? Had my Owner left me here without saying goodbye?

  “What are you doing?” a small voice whispered from the top bunk. This was followed by a sniffle and gulp as the girl stifled the tears she’d meant to keep private.

  As my eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light and I regained balance, I could make out her features. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, but her swollen red eyes made her seem even younger.

  She had freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks and her hair was so light it almost looked translucent.

  “What time is it?” I asked, surprised at how hoarse I sounded.

  “Master told me to keep an eye on you,” she said, already suspicious of me. It was as if I’d done something to betray her, and maybe I had. Most girls were still blindly devoted to their Owners even after they knew the truth. Believing a lie was less painful than facing the reality that they were victims as well as on the wrong side. Being blind was easier for some than opening their eyes to what was really around them.

  “Master Jäger?” I tried my best to appear like I was just like her; that I was a well behaved girl too and wanted to uphold the Order’s traditions and beliefs.

  Her face scrunched up. “He is not my Master.”

  I hoped the drugs didn’t hinder my ability to hide a relieved sigh.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I only assumed since—”

  “My Master would never treat me like this.”

  I stared at her, trying to figure out how much she knew if anything at all.

  “Sorry,” she added. “William doesn’t want me to call him that. I know I’m not supposed to believe he’s my Owner, but he-he saved me.” She sniffled and gulped. Now she seemed older than when I’d first taken her in.

  My knees buckled without warning and I was on the flood, cold cement sinking through the fabric of my dress.

  The girl sat up. “We’re lucky they gave us drugs,” she said, and it was only now I recognized how slow her speech was. “It makes everything a million times easier.”

  My mouth was incredibly dry and my tongue tasted bitter. “Wait,” I said pathetically. “Why are you here? Why are they all here?” I nodded to the room of sleeping girls.

  She swung her bare legs over the edge of her bunk and snorted. Her white glittery heels sparkled under our lone bulb and matched her knee-length dress.

  “They belong to other Owners.” She shrugged.

  My head spun and I was thankful I was already on the ground. “You’re being…transferred too? All of you?” The drugs made it easier for the question to flow out of my mouth.

  She shook her head then glanced at me as if I’d
asked the most ridiculous question. “Of course not,” she said. “You’re the only one being transferred—at least permanently.” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and then cleaned it off with the edge of her blanket. “I’m collateral, as William told me.”

  Unable to put words together so they made sense any longer, I could only stare up at her in question.

  She seemed to understand. “I don’t know much more than you,” she said, “but what I’ve gathered is that your Owner, mine, and maybe a few others were forced here under threat of being exposed to the Order. They all made their own deals with Master Jäger. Mine was that I would belong to that disgusting man for the time you and your Owner cost him.” She broke down in tears again and part of me wanted to join her.

  Had Master Lyon known about all of this? Was I just the biggest piece of the plan for him and his colleagues to avoid exposure? Had girls like this one been here, waiting while I healed from my selfish attempt at escaping? What would have happened if I’d succeeded?

  There was no possible correct way to feel about this information.

  I wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

  “Gosh.” I heard he carefully climb down from the bed and shuffle over to me, plopping onto her behind so she wouldn’t have to risk falling. “Your Owner didn’t tell you about any of this, did he?” For the first time since I’d met her, she sounded concerned for something other than herself. I couldn’t fault her for it. The Order had created her; girls either broke early on or they quickly learned that looking after themselves and themselves alone was the only way to stay safe.

  “No,” I croaked. I was sure he had his reasons, but I didn’t particularly care what they were.

  “Sorry for overwhelming you. It’s going to be okay,” she said cheerfully; it made me sad that she believed it. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Jäger didn’t let something like betrayal—to him or the Order—go. Now that he knew who she was and how her Owner was involved in the resistance against them, chances were this wouldn’t be the end of his revenge.