Forged Absolution (Fates of the Bound Book 4)

by Wren Weston

  That’s bullshit.

  “I don’t think it is. If I wanted to, I could have those feelings for someone else. We were only together for a few weeks. We’ve been broken up for longer than that. I’m over him.”

  No, you aren’t.

  “I’m over the illusion. He’s over me and moved on. I intend on doing the same.”

  You’re wrong. He isn’t over you. If he were, he wouldn’t be giving me a death glare every time I look at you.

  “I think he’s just annoyed that you’re playing with his discarded toy. All that bullshit about workborn monogamy and—”

  As a plume of anger stirred in her chest, she realized that her feelings for Tristan had begun to shift away from love. “You know what, Dixon? I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, not ever again. I’d rather hear why we’re not going back to the oracle’s compound.”

  He shrugged.

  “If you want a break from all this, you deserve a break. Whatever guilt trip he pulled on you earlier, tell him to shove it straight up his—”

  He saved me from that place. I owe him.

  “Did he bring that up?”

  No. He’d never say anything like that.

  “He thinks you’re choosing someone else instead of him. It always goes back to that. At some point, you’ve got to make him realize that you’re choosing yourself, not another person. You have a right to your own life. If you want to join up with Tristan, fine. If you don’t, that should be fine too. Otherwise, he’s putting you in a cage, whether he means to or not. He acts just like a damn matron sometimes.”

  Dixon popped the lid on her lunch.

  Lila slammed it back down. “Oh, no. We’re not done. I also want to hear about your night with Blair, especially what happened after breakfast.”

  Dixon stared at his sweet and sour pork. You only ordered that to screw with Tristan’s head. You made your point. I ordered this so we could trade. I know you like it.

  “Thanks, but you’re not getting out of this so easily.” She said, smacking him in the arm. “I want details. Lots of details.”

  Lila made loud kissy noises, then giggled harder and harder as Dixon blushed crimson.

  The bedroom door opened, and Tristan stepped inside. “It’s just me.”

  Tristan stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of wine glasses. His eyes washed over Dixon’s cheeks. “Do you want any wine?”

  Both Lila and Dixon shook their heads.

  Tristan gave Dixon one last look, grabbed a bottle of wine, then returned to his bedroom.

  “So?” Lila prodded, a little giggle escaping. “Start with last night. What happened?”

  Dixon swapped their meals then returned to his scribbling. Nothing much. She’d ask a question. While I wrote out an answer, she’d work. It was sort of nice, actually. I didn’t have anyone staring at me while I wrote.

  Lila realized she’d been staring while he wrote.

  She looked away.

  He grabbed her chin and turned it back. It’s okay. I don’t mind when you and Tristan do it. You’re not impatient. You’re interested.

  “So you just talked?”

  Mostly. We looked at a few stars, too. I suppose she thought she’d stump me, but I knew enough of them for her to be impressed. She talked about her work. Perhaps that impressed her more than anything else. No one listens to her when she talks, at least about things she wants to talk about.

  “And?”

  Dixon looked away.

  “You totally kissed her!”

  He blushed and fiddled with his notepad.

  “You really like her, don’t you?”

  Dixon forked a bite of chicken and didn’t answer.

  “Send her a message, then. She should be awake by now, and women like that, especially women as pragmatic as Blair. I don’t think she kisses guys that often.”

  So she kisses women?

  Lila slapped his shoulder, and Dixon erupted into laughter. He pulled out his palm, though, and began crafting a message.

  After dinner, the group reconvened. They pored over the files until nearly midnight, when Tristan and Katia finally finished their sections and excused themselves for bed.

  “You should go too,” Lila said to Dixon as she tossed her hood onto the coffee table. “You didn’t even sleep last night.”

  Come too. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.

  “I gave myself most of the files, and I’m only two-thirds through. Go to bed, Dixon, you’re exhausted.”

  I could say the same about you. There’s not a time limit on this, Lila.

  “We don’t know that.”

  Dixon made her a pot of tea, then finally went to bed.

  Light snores soon came through the open door. It contrasted greatly with the noises from the other bedroom.

  Tristan and Katia had opted for a bit of fun.

  Lila’s gaze fell upon the locker in the back of the room. She could find plenty of Sangre inside to occupy her mind. I didn’t matter if she had a few glasses, did it? After all, she had no plans to keep the baby. She’d tell Helen as much at her appointment.

  Lila tapped her fingernails against the armrest, lost in thought, then returned to the files.

  Hours later, long after Katia and Tristan had finally settled down for sleep, she stood up and stretched her legs. Wandering into the kitchen, she put the kettle back on for some hot chocolate. The sun would rise soon. She’d gotten used to watching it at the cottage, striding out onto the dock regardless of the weather, the cold breezes playing with her hair.

  Toxic’s computer emitted a feeble beep.

  Lila turned off the burner and dashed to the computer, watching as her programs decoded each file and placed it in a folder. It quickly filled up with several years’ worth of messages.

  Two or three years’ worth, to be exact.

  Lila opened the files as her program finished, but all she found was more gibberish.

  She plopped into her chair and scrolled deeper through the text. The more she read, the more she saw pockets of understanding. A word in Spanish. A word in French.

  Italian, maybe? The algorithm had worked, but writer had not been writing in English. Her programs had used a hundred different dictionaries to make language comparisons while decoding, and a small subset of a few thousand others to cover the rest.

  Why in the world hadn’t she been looking for Italian?

  “This is why I trust computers,” Lila muttered to herself, opening a translation program. She copied the first file and let it work, but the result didn’t make much sense.

  Taking out her palm, she sent a brief message to the oracle. I might have found something. Do you know anyone who speaks Italian?

  Lila didn’t wait for a response.

  Instead of venturing into Dixon’s room for some much-needed sleep, she took a shower and grabbed her car keys.

  She had a doctor’s appointment to get to.

  Chapter 15

  Lila sat on the exam table in the dusty orange room, her sock feet swinging back and forth, the paper crumpling underneath her thighs. She shivered in the flimsy gown she’d been given. The heat had just turned on in the women’s clinic, all to warm the space in time for the first doctors, nurses, and admins to arrive. Posters filled the room, covered with anatomy Lila did not care to think about. Stainless steel utensils plinked against a tray as Dr. Helen Randolph dropped them one by one, prepping for her paternity test.

  A needle sat upon a tray.

  Lila squeezed her thighs together and looked away.

  Helen turned to face her, dressed in fresh dusty orange scrubs to match the walls, her gray hair slipping from her bun. “I’ll need to take your vitals first.”

  “You should have taken them before I saw the needle.”

  “It�
�s going in your arm.”

  Lila relaxed immediately.

  “You have a grad student at Grace Medical to thank for it.” The doctor turned on her tablet. A personal tablet, as the clinic’s logo was absent from the back. “It’s her test that can give you results so early and so easily. Four weeks. It’s a record. I suppose in ten years, someone will cut that down to three.”

  “Why the gown, then?”

  “I’m giving you a physical. You were nothing but a giant bruise last time I saw you. How are your ribs? Are they still bothering you?”

  “Not much.”

  “Any problems over the last month?”

  Lila bit her lip. Should she mention the heart trouble she’d had earlier in the week?

  Perhaps not. It had only been a bit of stomach trouble when it came right down to it, probably brought on by not eating much at the cottage then stuffing her face once she’d come back to New Bristol.

  “No, I’ve been fine. I even ran most days.”

  “With bruised ribs?”

  “I liked the pain.”

  “You’re nuts. You know that?” She moved Lila’s gown and peeked at her ribs, pushing and prodding.

  Lila barely felt it. In truth, the doctor’s cold fingers bothered her more.

  “You’re a fast healer, madam. It’s good to see.” Helen replaced Lila’s gown and touched her cheek. “What happened here?”

  “I had an argument with some furniture.”

  “It won, I see.”

  “Yeah, what a bench.”

  Helen took Lila’s vitals, recording the results on her tablet. The needle came next. Helen injected it into her arm, filling several vials with blood. “There’s a small bit of your baby’s DNA in this already. Did you know?”

  Lila shook her head. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

  “You don’t have to know. It is what it is.” Helen marked the vials with a few sticky labels. “Do you have a sample from the father?”

  “No. What do I need?”

  “Sleep. Whether or not you’re keeping the baby, you still need to rest.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  Helen handed her an empty vial. “A cheek swab is the best method, taken at least an hour after he’s had food or drink. Barring that, a hair sample, so long as there are follicles still attached. Gum might suffice. Blood would also work.”

  “What about his half-brother?” she asked, her mind spinning over the prospect of finding such samples at the shop.

  “It’s better than nothing, but it won’t be as precise. Contact me when you have the sample. I’ll wait until Rosemary is working in the lab. She’s discreet.”

  “Thanks.” Lila hopped off the table. She snatched up her clothes in the corner of the room, dropping them onto the exam table with a splat. “I’ll pay you back for the tests.”

  “I know you will. I’ve known you a long time, and I know you’re good for it. I’m not adding this to your medical record, by the way. The data from these appointments will remain in my personal files at home, your name unattached.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  Helen paused at the door. “I see lots of women come through the clinic, madam. I know what you’re doing and why.”

  “Perhaps you could tell me, then.”

  Helen smiled gently. “I’ll see you in a month for your next exam, whether you have the DNA or not. Unless you wish to see me earlier, of course.”

  The doctor left her alone after that, disappearing to the lab so that Lila could put on her clothes and escape the building unseen. Lila slid her coat around her shoulders and tugged her hoodie low over her eyes, staring at her feet as she jogged downstairs and slipped through the hospital’s back door.

  She trudged across the parking lot toward her car, tucked away in the back corner, far away from the cameras. If she’d been as successful as she hoped, then no one had seen her enter or exit the hospital.

  After threading through traffic, she reached the parking garage two blocks from the shop, sunrise still an hour away. She parked on the second floor and hopped out, shivering as she locked her door and trudged past the shadows in the concrete garage.

  A cat meowed a few cars away.

  Lila’s keys jangled in her hand.

  She’d only taken a few steps before she landed upon the ground with an oof, her cheek raking against the rough concrete, her palm clattering to the ground. The fall became a slam as someone picked up her body, smacking her forehead into the concrete, rattling her brain.

  She smelled gasoline.

  The cat hissed and yowled. His brown paws blurred under the cars, dodging oil puddles, splashing through a puddle in his haste to run away.

  While she lay stunned upon the ground, her attacker yanked her arms behind her roughly, trapping her hands with a plastic zip tie. It cut into her wrists, and her fingers throbbed. By the time she realized what had happened, she couldn’t move.

  “What do you want?” Lila asked, shaking her head free of fluff.

  A tearing sound cut through the air. Duct tape pressed against her mouth, and she sucked in a deep breath through her nose.

  Her assailant pulled back her neck, took out a knife, and settled it against her skin, just like Reaper. The figure said nothing, pressing just hard enough for her to feel the cold blade, but not hard enough to break the skin.

  She breathed in and out heavily, unable to do a thing to defend herself. It was worse than Reaper, worse than the Italian mercs, worse than La Roux and her assassin.

  All at once, her attacker dropped the knife. It plinked on the concrete like one of Helen’s instruments. The figure shoved her head down, putting pressure on her neck, and dug into her pocket for her keys. Then the thief unlocked her car and began to rip out the rugs and panels inside.

  After a few moments, the back door opened with a creak.

  Lila angled her hands to her pocket, trying to reach the dropped knife or her palm. Dixon would come if she sent him a message.

  A steel-toed boot stepped on her upper arm. The thief pinned it to the ground, threatening to break it.

  She screamed under the tape, a muffled, impotent cry for help.

  “Shhh!” the figure hissed.

  Lila closed her mouth, her arm throbbing now, pinched under the boot. The plastic tie dug into her wrists, worse now that the boot’s force pried her hands apart.

  Was that blood dripping down her forearm?

  Her attacker knelt beside her, knees popping in the quiet. Thin fingers grabbed his forgotten knife and her palm. The device lit up as the stranger touched the screen. Lila did not dare to turn around and catch the assailant’s face. The risk wasn’t worth it.

  No one could break into her palm, anyway. If the code wasn’t entered correctly, the palm would wipe.

  The thief only had two tries to get it right.

  Oh gods, what if her attacker tortured her for the code?

  She was going to die in a parking garage in East New Bristol. Beaten up like an animal, with her hands tied behind her back.

  Clothes rustled as her attacker stood up and moved back to the car, opening the back door.

  Rugs landed with a splat beside her, kicking dust and dirt into her eyes.

  The figure moved on.

  More rugs hit the ground beside her, along with moldings, a map, and insurance information from the glove compartment. A soda can bounced against the concrete. Two armrests hit the ground next, followed by the car’s radio. It broke apart and clattered on the ground after a quick inspection.

  Lila turned her head, watching her attacker search.

  Was this theft? Was it a carjacking? Was it something else?

  She had to get out. She’d be damned if she’d be raped or killed.

  She might not be able to fight, but she could run.
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  Curling her knees, she rolled into the fetal position. The next time her attacker dug deep inside her car, she flipped onto her knees and hopped to her feet.

  Then she ran.

  Hard.

  Struggling to maintain her balance, she sprinted with her hands tied behind her back, ignoring the curses behind her, the pumping boots, the heavy breathing, the click of a gun. She darted down the garage’s first-floor ramp as fast as she could, breathing as quickly as possible through her nose, trying not to cry. If she cried, her nose would stuff up and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Not with duct tape covering her mouth.

  A black car turned at the street corner, its lights flashing across their faces like a searchlight.

  Lila ran harder, squeezing her eyes shut as the light swiveled across the garage’s exit, relying on her memory and the feel of the concrete under her boots to tell her where she’d gone.

  She didn’t open her eyes until the headlights had passed.

  Unlike her attacker, the car had not blinded her.

  Another stream of curses rang out behind her.

  A gunshot followed. A real shot, not a tranq. It rang against the concrete, turning a chunk to dust near her head. Another hit landed behind her as she ran down the next street.

  Thank the gods the thief had fired. Tristan’s people would investigate the noise.

  Lila sprinted faster, knowing exactly where they would come from.

  Like clockwork, half the night guard turned the corner, sprinting toward her with their tranq guns aiming at her neck. She called out through the tape, her shouts muffled.

  The tranqs swung to the figure behind her.

  Lila spun, squinting at the shadow.

  A mask covered her pursuer’s face.

  The figure stopped and judged the situation.

  Before anyone could shoot, her assailant turned and fled.

  Chapter 16

  Softly squealing brakes and a gently rocking truck woke her. Purplecoats marched by the truck, staccatoed chuckles piercing the morning air. Teenagers trudged toward the library, kicking up mud as they began another day. Half a dozen white-robed women gathered in front of the admin building, waiting for an SUV to drive them to the temple, their slippers crinkling on the gravel path underfoot. When the vehicle parked, the group hopped in.