“For what?”
“To…mate with you.”
“Oh.” She looked down and pulled her shift further down her thighs.
“Have you mated with other humans yet? Do you have offspring?”
“What? No.”
“You’re of the correct age.”
“I’ve been working in the restaurants for a few years.”
“And if you go back to the Confinement, you will find a suitable mate.”
“I don’t know. I guess I could.”
“If someone were to buy you, they would have to procure a mate for you, then,” Draven mused. Or get her bred from someone else’s livestock so that she could reproduce, and then he’d have a sapling around, and they weren’t even good to drink from. They were completely pointless, a waste of resources. Or he could sell the offspring and get her bred again, but not until the sapling had enough years to live away from the mother. The whole thing seemed quite complicated. No wonder he’d never looked into it. He could continue going to the restaurants or the Confinement and keep life simple.
“I don’t want a mate. I don’t want to have…offspring.”
“Why not?” he asked, surprised at her directness again.
“Then I have to worry about the baby, and if it was okay, and if someone was mistreating it, and listen to it screaming when one of you bit it. And someone could buy it and I’d never see it again, or someone could buy me without it, and someone else would have to take care of it.”
“You have thought this over.”
He thought humans didn’t bond that way. Everyone always said they didn’t get attached to their offspring. They didn’t have emotions like Superiors anymore—they had been bred for docility and stupidity, to be simple brutes who wouldn’t try to escape or cause problems as they had in Draven’s time as a sap. They had instincts now, like animals. They had been animals, only they evolved. Just like he had evolved from a sap.
“It’s okay in the restaurants, but in the Confinement, it happens all the time,” Cali said.
“But you don’t get bothered as much at the Confinement.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I could have a job during the day instead of at night. I could have friends and see my family again, if any of them are still there. I could find a husband.”
“Wife,” he said, remembering the archaic word Byron had used. From before he had evolved. Sapiens still practiced that ritual, it seemed. “You would be a wife.”
“Yeah,” Cali said, looking at him strangely. “I mean, someone could split us up any time, but I could, if I wanted, get married.”
“Are you allowed to do this, then?”
“Of course. No one cares if I do or not.”
“Why would you do this, become a wife?”
“To be with someone. To have someone. I don’t know. It’s risky, and I don’t want to do it. My mother never did, either.”
“It’s strange to talk to a sapien like this. I’ve never talked to one of you so much. It’s almost like you’re a…person.” He paused, not sure if he heard a noise outside. From inside the bedroom, he couldn’t say. “Tell me, little sap. Do you know what caramel is?”
“Yeah, it’s, um…a kind of…” Her eyes had a faraway look, dreamy, and she smiled a bit. “It’s a buttery, sweet kind of treat,” she said slowly. “I had one, once, when I was very small. Someone gave me one, when she bought my sister and I was crying.”
“I keep thinking that you remind me of that.”
“Of caramel?”
“Yes. I do not know why. Perhaps I had it once, as well. Perhaps your sap reminds me of it. Or perhaps it’s your color. Your eyes.”
“Oh…I’m not sure.”
“Your hair is that color as well. You know, my dog was just this exact color,” Draven said, picking up a lock of her hair absently. He didn’t know how people treated their saps, where they kept them, if they talked to them. But he didn’t imagine this was the normal thing to do. He found her fascinating, though, in her ability to reason and comprehend and communicate. She didn’t seem very animal-like, aside from the tiny cries she made when he took her by surprise.
“Are you in need of more food?”
“I’d eat some, if you have any. I can get it myself.”
“I do not. I’ll go down to the store.”
“You will?”
“How else would you get food?”
“I don’t know…”
He shook his head. Perhaps she wasn’t so smart after all. He snagged his keys, then turned back and grabbed his sunglasses. Just in case. He returned long before he needed them. The sky was barely bluing in the east like the beginning of a bruise. Draven brought the food into his apartment and found Cali wiping the table with a wet cloth.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Cleaning up a little.”
“Why?”
“I guess I’m used to doing that during the day.”
“That is what you do when we’re sleeping?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. In the restaurants, that’s what they usually have us do.”
He had never really thought about what saps did all day. Back in his time, they had worked, but now they didn’t have so much to do. He knew that they stayed awake, but he had an idea that they didn’t do anything. Just as he was pondering this, a knock sounded at the door. He grabbed Cali and lifted her, crossed the room in seconds, and shoved her through the bedroom door. She made a cry of protest. He cursed her and closed the door.
After straightening his shirt, he shoved the bag of human food in a small space under the counter and opened the door. “Hello, Lira.”
“Hi, Draven. I came by earlier and knocked. How come you didn’t answer the door? I saw your car outside. I know you were home.”
He gave her a little smirk. “I didn’t imagine I’d see you again so soon.”
She looked around, taking in everything. Her nostrils flared. “The sap is still here.” She glared at him.
He closed the door behind her. “Quiet,” he whispered, barely audible. “I took her back. She was not well.”
“I smell it. I heard it make a noise before you opened the door.”
“She’s not here. Just her smell.”
Lira glanced into the trash can and wrinkled her nose. “This is human food waste.”
“You were here last night. I fed her, and took her back.”
Lira was quiet again. “I can smell it still here. What are you doing with it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, giving in. Women always pushed and bullied until they got their way. Easier to give in before the fight. “I might have drawn from her. Just once. Or twice.”
Lira studied him and he wondered if he should have kept quiet. He didn’t know Lira too well, really. They were neighbors who occasionally kept company, that was all.
After a thoughtful moment Lira smiled. “Can I eat from it?”
Draven had an almost irrepressible urge to say no. The thought of someone else drawing from Cali bothered him. He wanted her all to himself. But Lira was looking at him, expectant, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Something about it, about doing something forbidden with her, made her more interesting.
He smiled back at her, only a little, and they stood smiling at each other for a moment. He’d rather she left him in peace, but she wasn’t that sort. “Alright,” he said slowly. “She’s in the bedroom.”
They opened the door to find Cali sitting on the edge of the bed. Lira turned to Draven. “It’s on your bed.”
“I know. It’s alright. I like the smell of her.”
Lira wrinkled her nose. “Maybe at the table, but not in the bed.”
“I do not mind. Would you like to try it?”
Lira bit her lip and smiled, still uncertain. He took her hand. “Come. Not much, though. She is still weak. But you can take a ration. I just did so I don’t want to overdraw her again.”
“You’re not going to do it with me?”
Cali watched this exchange with a placid look on her face. She had been drawn from many times a night for years. Surely she wouldn’t think it strange if he shared her. And she didn’t appear scared by his offer to the neighbor. She had barely been touched since he brought her back to his apartment. He didn’t know how long it took saps to heal, but he recalled it being a slow process. Still, perhaps the day and night of sleep had given her strength.
“Cali. I have not hurt you and this woman won’t either. You can trust me. Don’t be scared. We’re not going to hurt you,” Draven said as he approached. She seemed reasonable, but sometimes saps were unpredictable, like when she’d pulled his hair. That had hurt, too. He could heal a wound with his tongue, but he couldn’t keep his hair from hurting when pulled. It didn’t seem very evolved.
“She worked in a restaurant. She’s quite calm,” he told Lira. “Do not take from this arm. Her vein is collapsing. Here, on this one.” They knelt on the floor beside the bed to draw from Cali.
He put his lips around Cali’s wrist and pierced her vein carefully at the same time as Lira. He let the small trickle of warmth flow slowly along his tongue and down his throat. The rapid pulse of her heartbeat fluttered against his lips. Lira’s cheek was almost touching his, and her fingers massaged up and down his thigh. He pulled away from Cali after only a minute, distracted by Lira’s caresses. After another minute he nudged her. “Come, it is time to go to bed.”
Lira stopped, closed the marks efficiently and turned to Draven. She smiled, delighted in her small act of lawlessness. Her teeth were outlined in red. Draven grabbed her with a suddenness that was almost violent and brought his mouth to hers, sucking at the taste of Cali in her mouth. Lira responded to his unusually passionate advance. But he pulled away after a minute. He had Cali’s hand gripped in his and she was squeezing back. “Get out,” he said, pointing to the door. “We will sleep. I will take you back later.”
“I don’t—,” Cali began, but he cut her off.
“Go. Do whatever you want, just stay inside.”
She looked down at him with her caramel eyes and then stood and walked out. He closed the door and turned back to Lira with singular intention. She had barely gotten to her feet from where they had knelt beside the bed when he fell on her, knocking her backwards onto the bed in his haste.
Chapter Sixteen
Cali stood in the living area of the Man with Soft Hair and looked around for a few minutes. He had been gone the night before, but she had slept off her weakness most of the time, too tired and sick for curiosity.
She used the facilities and went back to the kitchen. She could remember being in a Superior’s house, once, a very long time ago. She had been bought and sold that same night. She shuddered at the memory of going to the blood bank right after. This house was very different from the one she vaguely remembered. That one had been big and open and had lots of windows, and she had gone there in a car that wound around a hill many times before reaching the top. This man’s home was small and many others lived close to him in other rooms, under and above and beside him. He was surrounded by Superiors. That meant she was surrounded by Superiors, too.
She glanced at the door. Would more come? Would he let them suck on her arms until she passed out again? Yesterday she had felt awfully calm and peaceful in the dark space of his bedroom. Today she didn’t feel as secure.
His home was poorly lit, with only one window in the side of the kitchen that looked out on the side of the next building, identical to this one. Like most Superiors, the man who lived here slept during the daytime and fed at night. He had left for most of the night, and she guessed he was working at whatever he did. She didn’t know his name. It wasn’t important.
When she had first worked at the restaurants, she had tried to learn the names of the Superiors who came in. She had even thought at first she could remember everyone who bit her. But that proved impossible. After a few months in the restaurants she’d heard too many names to count. So she remembered only her regulars, and since they didn’t introduce themselves anyway, she gave them names based on identifying traits. That worked out pretty well, although she had to amend the names sometimes when they got too long. She used to call the Man with Soft Hair something else, the way she remembered him—The Snarky Man Who Bit Her For the First Time. But that was too long to say every time. At least all he wanted was to bite her.
Sometimes Superiors liked her for whatever reason they preferred any human. She had been lucky that no Superior had found her to their liking for any reason besides nourishment. She knew it happened, especially in the restaurants. And now with the one she worked at, it was only a matter of time. She had thought when she woke that this Superior had bought her, and she distrusted his reasons as much as any of them. It would be nice to find a home with one of them, but once one bought her, he could do whatever he wanted with her. Most humans were happy to take that chance, since many got treated good and had their own space and, eventually, a family in the new home. But not all humans got so lucky.
Cali was wary of being bought, although she didn’t think it could be much worse than the restaurant that now owned her. The Confinement was safer. If only she could find a way to get back there.
She shook herself from her musings and turned away from the window. She glanced around, looking for the bag of food the Superior had brought her. It wasn’t anywhere in sight, so she went back to his living area. She sat down, tired from just a few minutes of walking around. She knew she had to go back tonight, and she might die before too long. Gathering any strength she could before she went back seemed like a good idea.
If only she could stay here, even. Her captor hadn’t fed too much, although she didn’t know if it was just because he didn’t want her to die on his hands. He had obviously never owned a human. She didn’t know exactly what he wanted from her. For all she knew he had some horrible things planned before he took her back. But she somewhat doubted it. He looked pretty harmless with his soft hair and warm eyes. Like most Superiors, he didn’t seem all that superior to her. He only thought he was, like all Superiors, with his snarky smiles and talking to her like she couldn’t understand the most basic things.
The best, most superior thing about his home was the small bookcase with three shelves filled with books. She ran her hands over the spines of them, some shiny and smooth, some creased and broken in multiple sections, some rough and textured. One of them had ridges on the thick spine, along with intricate gold patterns. She marveled at it. She had never seen anything so incredible.
She glanced at the bedroom door, but her captor hadn’t come out yet. He was probably sleeping, anyway. Cali turned back to the books. She took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her shift, glanced back at the bedroom door, then poked a finger into the small space above the book, hooked it in the soft leather binding, and pulled. The book slid out and the one next to it relaxed into the empty space.
She stood holding the wonderful thing, just looking at it and feeling the weight of it, the thickness and density of it, the feel of the leather in her hands, the thrill of it. She opened the book and touched the heavy pages, filled with the tiniest lines of symbols in rows and columns on every page. Well, not every page. A few at the beginning had little or nothing at all on them—a shocking wastefulness. Paper. She wanted to say the wondrous word aloud. She’d heard of it, but she had never touched it, or even seen it.
She’d never even seen a real-life book, but she’d heard stories. Probably only legends, but that didn’t make her awe any less when she found the thing she’d heard of—the thing that could teach a human how to live without Superiors. Now she held one of the sacred things in her hands. She looked at the print, wondered how long it took to learn this, to learn the millions and millions of symbols covering the pages. She wondered what on earth could be said that required so much paper and so many symbols. Was it really so hard to live out there? But then, a Superior wo
uldn’t have a book on human survival. What could they want to know? They already knew everything.
She wondered how it was possible to know so much. She thought everything she knew in the whole world would fit in less than one page of symbols. She wondered if all Superiors had read this, if all of them were really this smart. Maybe they were Superior after all, and she just didn’t usually see the ways that they were.
She was about to close the book when a page rose up by itself. Something stiff had pushed it open. She flipped the page and took out the little square of hard white paper. When she turned it over, she found a picture. She’d seen lots of pictures, of course, on the sides of buildings and on all the cars. But why would anyone need a picture on paper, especially one inside a book where no one could see it? It didn’t even have the little symbols to read on the side without a picture—just a blank white paper. What was the purpose? It was about the length of her finger in each direction, and on the front, the Man with Soft Hair and someone who looked almost the same as him had their faces side by side. They both had sad, serious eyes. The man she didn’t know didn’t have good hair, though.
Cali didn’t understand what the picture meant, what it was for. It wasn’t a picture of anything someone could buy. Just two faces. She held it for a minute, then glanced at the bedroom door. She had this crazy impulse to take it. Maybe she could show it to someone at the restaurant and ask. Some of those girls knew a lot, had gone home with Superiors before. Cali paused another moment, then lifted her shift and pushed the picture down the front of her underpants. She checked the Superior’s bedroom door again. Her heart was beating so hard.
The Superiors Page 9
