The Captive (Sacrisvita Book 6)

by Dylan Steel

  Gritting her teeth, she backed up again and glared at the bricks in front of her. She wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  As she raced toward the wall again, she tried to focus on stepping up the wall, getting her feet high enough to propel her upper body closer to the edge. Adrenaline pounded through her veins. If she could just get her fingertips over the rim, she might be able to hoist herself on top of the Transfer and look around. She might be able to see over the walls and get a better idea of where she was. She might—

  “Uuugh.”

  She grunted as her body slammed against the wall. Her hands stretched out, fingers flexing desperately in an attempt to latch on to any part of its surface. For a moment, she felt frozen in time, suspended in the air against the course bricks as she stared at the top of the Transfer. It was so close again but still not nearly close enough.

  The moment of frozen suspension quickly passed. Sage felt as if the entire front half of her body was being scrubbed with gravel as she slid back down the wall. Her feet landed on the ground unevenly, and she teetered backward. She eyed the wall bitterly.

  Great, she thought. I just need to grow a bit more for this to work. Oh, and jump a lot higher. That shouldn’t be too hard.

  She rolled her eyes. This wasn’t working. She needed a new plan.

  Still staring at the wall, her gaze fell on two red streaks smeared across several bricks, starting a few rows from the top and fading as they traveled downward. She looked down at her palms. Chunks of skin were missing, and her hands were now raw, bleeding.

  She groaned. That explained why the stinging hadn’t stopped. Now she’d definitely have to make up a story about falling.

  “Rox,” she cursed under her breath.

  Gingerly, she tried to wipe her hands off on her shirt. She flinched. The pain was getting worse now that she was paying attention.

  A loud whirring sound began humming from behind the wall. Sage leaned forward and wrinkled her forehead in confusion for a moment before realizing what she was hearing. The Transfer was moving. Sam was coming to get her.

  Sudden desperation gripped her. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to give up the small illusion of freedom she’d been granted. She began running to the back of the roof, putting as much distance between herself and the Transfer as she could.

  She cringed as she realized that she needed to make her explanation for her hands convincing. There wasn’t a moment to lose. She crouched down low on the roof and placed her hands against its rough surface. Steeling herself, she sucked in a sharp breath and slid her hands forward quickly, rubbing two streaks of blood across the ground. Her mouth opened wide in a silent scream.

  She collapsed, rolling onto her side and curling into a ball. There was no effort needed to fake tears—real ones were already flowing from the pain.

  “Sage?” Sam’s voice echoed back from the roof’s walls as he stepped around the side of the Transfer. The calmness in his voice was disheartening—he clearly knew there was no way off the roof and that he would find her easily.

  “Over… here…” she gasped between sobs.

  “Sage!” His footsteps pounded across the gravel as he closed the distance between them.

  Hearing concern in his voice was oddly comforting.

  “What happened?” He stooped down to examine her.

  She looked up at his masked face, now blurry behind her tears.

  “I-I was running… and I… I fell… and…” A hiccupped sob escaped, cutting her lie short. At least the tears were real.

  Sam’s eyes narrowed into slits behind his mask. He scooped Sage up in his arms wordlessly and quickly made his way back to the Transfer.

  Resting her head against his shoulder, Sage peered up at him, searching the edges of his mask for a glimpse of the man beneath it. Unfortunately, it was fitted almost too well to his face, and all she could make out was a strong jawline lined with a bit of stubble. He tipped his head toward her, obscuring what little bit of his face she’d been able to see.

  “You need to be more careful,” he said gruffly.

  She nodded and looked away, clenching her teeth. The pain wasn’t subsiding like she’d expected. Glancing down at her palms, she let out a small gasp. Her hands looked terrible—much worse than they had before. Bits of gravel stuck to them, mingling between blood and torn flesh. Her stomach turned. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Sam stepped into the Transfer, shifting her weight to one arm so that he could put his palm on the scanner. He grunted and pulled his hand back awkwardly, adjusting his hold once more as they plummeted downward.

  “S-sorry, S-Sam.” Sage’s teeth were chattering.

  “Don’t talk.”

  The Transfer door slid open, revealing the familiar hallway. He reached her room remarkably fast and didn’t hesitate to set her down on the bed. Sage was vaguely aware of running water and of the fact that the door to her room was still ajar, but after looking at her hands, she was too queasy to make a run for it.

  Returning quickly with a foamy wet rag, Sam reached for her hands. They were trembling.

  He hesitated. “This is going to sting.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, closing her eyes. Her lie hadn’t exactly gone the way she’d expected. On the plus side, Sam hadn’t once questioned her story.

  The door to her room was still cracked open, but this wasn’t the day to try to make her escape. She had to plan carefully, to be ready. Even with the new allowance of fresh air, there were still too many unknowns, and right now, she was more injured than she’d meant to be. At the moment, she would be at a bigger disadvantage than usual if she tried to fight Sam. She could only hope that they would continue expanding her freedom, allowing her a greater range until she could figure out where she was and why she was there.

  And how to leave.

  3. BLOOD

  Sage absentmindedly picked at the off-white, fraying edges of the bandage covering her hand.

  “I still don’t get how you got that answer,” she said, tapping the databook as she frowned at Sam.

  Leaning over, he spoke evenly. “There.” He pointed, dragging his finger across the screen. “If you move that to the other side and substitute—”

  “Never mind, I get it!” Sage squealed excitedly. She jabbed at the screen hurriedly and then lifted it up for him to examine her work. “Right?”

  Sam nodded. She thought she could hear his lips part into a smile behind his mask, but it was impossible to know for sure.

  “Good job, Sage.”

  “Thanks Sam.” She beamed. The assignments were finally starting to make more sense. She wasn’t sure how, but it seemed like Sam knew just the right way to explain everything—much better than her previous instructors, at least.

  She snorted in an attempt to suppress a laugh. Sam as an instructor. What an odd sight that would be. Instructors didn’t wear masks.

  “What’s so funny?” He tilted his head at her.

  “Nothing,” she replied quickly, smashing her lips together to stop herself from grinning.

  He studied her face for a moment and then stood. “I think you understand this lesson well enough. Any other questions?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good.” He nodded. “You’ll be moving on to the next section tomorrow then.” Pausing, he then added, “And you’ll be going back to the roof tomorrow as well.”

  Sage looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t so much as mentioned another trip outside—not since she’d injured herself a couple weeks ago. Her legs and knees were almost completely better, though they were still flecked with small scabs. But as they’d taken the brunt of the trauma, the palms of her hands were taking longer to heal, still smarting any time they touched anything too quickly.

  “I didn’t think I was going to be allowed back up there again,” she mumbled, running a finger over her taped palm.

  Sam stiffened. “Fresh air is good for you,” he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

  Her eyebrow
shot up. “This wasn’t your idea, was it,” she said, not really asking.

  His only reply was silence.

  “Look, Sam, I know you’re not the only one here.”

  Again, silence.

  She sighed in frustration. “Are you ever going to tell me why I’m here?” Her arms jerked around the room in a wide gesture.

  “That’s unimportant.”

  Finally, a reply. Just not the one she wanted.

  He spoke again. “But you should be more careful this time.”

  “Way to change the subject,” she grumbled.

  “Your injuries were extensive for a fall,” he continued.

  Something about his tone caused Sage to freeze.

  “Yeah, well, it hurt a lot,” she said bitterly, trying to remain calm. “Thanks for noticing.”

  He glanced at her hands but said nothing. The sound of his breathing shifted almost imperceptibly, like he’d opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it, but with the mask covering his face, there was no way for Sage to tell if that was true.

  She didn’t have a chance to wonder for long. It became apparent that the conversation was over as Sam moved toward the door.

  He stopped with his fingers on the handle, looking back over his shoulder.

  “By the way, I noticed something the other day… You wouldn’t happen to know why there was dried blood on the outside wall of the Transfer, would you? Did you happen to see it when you were up there?”

  Sage’s mouth dropped open. No sound came out as she unsuccessfully scrambled to come up with a plausible explanation—or a flat-out denial. That might work—if she could manage to make herself say anything at all. She cursed herself silently as the words refused to come.

  He didn’t wait long enough for a response.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  The door swung closed.

  She blinked. He knows. Why is he letting me go back up there if he knows what I did?

  4. TOO FAR

  It was fortunate a breeze managed to whip its way across the roof—the tall walls normally blocked most of the air flow, and summer afternoons were brutally hot without the reprieve. Not that Sage minded very much. Being outside the confines of her small room more than made up for the discomfort.

  Running her fingers along the wall, she relished the warmth, the roughness of the bricks beneath her touch. It was a tangible reminder of the slight freedom she enjoyed each afternoon. One she couldn’t take for granted.

  She looked down at her hands. Her palms were no longer covered in bandages, but the skin was still pink and tender. She berated herself for the hundredth time. If she hadn’t tried so hard to scale the Transfer wall, she wouldn’t have needed to cover up her actions. A cover-up which, as it turned out, wasn’t very effective after all.

  Although she couldn’t be sure exactly when Sam realized what she’d tried to do, she knew the result: his constant, watchful eye whenever she was allowed on the roof now. He’d stayed with her every day for the last three weeks, silently observing everything she did.

  An annoyed sigh accidentally escaped her lips. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes darted over to where Sam was standing. She exhaled slowly in relief. No reaction. He was too far away to have heard her.

  Same as always, his arms were crossed as he faced her, leaning a shoulder against the Transfer’s brick wall. He reached his thumb up and scratched the underside of his jaw just below his mask, never once taking his eyes off of the place where Sage was standing.

  Sage’s brows knitted together, almost sympathetically. It had to be sweltering under that mask. Considering it didn’t look like she’d ever be leaving this place, she wasn’t sure why he still wore it, but she doubted she could convince him to take it off. Besides, she reasoned, he might be hiding a truly horrible face under it, and she was better off not seeing it if that was the case.

  She giggled at the thought and turned her face to the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun’s rays against her skin. That was about all she could do under Sam’s watchful eye: enjoy the sunshine and shoot down all the escape plans she could come up with. Refreshing as the time outside her room was, it was no substitute for true freedom.

  Amidst the scenarios of running away from this still-unknown place, different visions flashed across her mind, tugging up old memories she’d thought she’d buried long ago with her parents. Wild strawberries, a partially dried up creek, a large crooked tree in the woods.

  Her lip quivered as she looked down at the ground. If only she’d have been able to make it to the meeting tree that day, maybe her parents would still be—

  No. She shook her head. They were gone before she found them in the city. There was nothing she could have done to change that.

  As much as she relished the fresh air, her mood was spoiled by memories of a life that had long since been taken from her—not to mention the fact that a large, unmoving man silently stood guard over her. She sighed. There had to be a way to make his presence more tolerable.

  “Sam?” she called across the roof. “Could you come over here?”

  He cocked his head at her, studying her cautiously for a moment before obliging.

  “What is it, Sage?”

  A mischievous grin spread over her face. She stuck out her hand. “Sage Indarra. Pleased to meet you. And you are?”

  Sam sighed in exasperation. “You know I’m not going to tell you my name, Sage.”

  They’d done this dance many times. Sage didn’t care. She still hoped she could catch him off guard and learn something—anything about him or this place.

  Her arm shot forward quickly, grasping his hand in her own and pumping it up and down vigorously. His arm hung limply between them. She ignored his lack of enthusiasm and continued—after all, it wasn’t an outright command to stop talking.

  “Sam, you say? That’s a lovely name.” She flashed him a smile as she answered for him. “Although, to be completely honest, it sounds like a name a twelve-year-old girl came up with.”

  She could’ve sworn she heard a soft snort come from behind the mask. Encouraged, she posed another question, one she hadn’t tried before.

  “Were you named by your parents or by Eprah?”

  “Actually, I was named by a twelve-year-old girl,” he admitted jokingly.

  Sage could’ve sworn she heard a grin behind his words. That was good. Maybe she could get him to lower his guard even more.

  “So you’re telling me your parents were twelve when they had you? Fascinating,” she said, stroking her chin seriously. “Are you the oldest, then? Please tell me your parents didn’t start any younger than that!”

  His snort was more obvious this time. Sage forced herself to suppress the triumphant grin.

  “That’s good, then. So you are the oldest,” she said.

  “I didn’t say that.” His protest came quickly.

  “It’s alright. Most people are, after all. It’s because of the pairings, you know. I know plenty of people who wouldn’t want to be stuck in their pairing past one kid.”

  Sam stiffened slightly. Sage silently scolded herself. Something she’d said had managed to put him back on alert. What was it? Maybe if she kept talking, she’d be able to figure out why he was upset.

  “One of my friends got stuck with the worst pairing,” she continued. “Well, actually, a couple, I guess. One girl wound up with this guy who was completely awful. She actually kicked his butt in the Bokja Tournament before they were paired.” She grimaced inwardly as she thought about Lita’s graduation assignments and how terrible they’d been. Not only had she gotten stuck paired with a boy she couldn’t stand, she’d been given one of the worst work assignments in Eprah.

  Sage paused, waiting for Sam to respond. He didn’t. If anything, he was now standing even taller than before. Not a good sign.

  “Her name was Lita,” she added pointedly.

  “Why are you bringing this up, Sage? What do you think you’re going to accom
plish with this?” Sam stared out at her from behind the mask.

  She ignored him. “And another friend of mine, she wound up being paired with a benefactor. You know what benefactors are, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I do,” he said throatily.

  Irritation was beginning to taint his voice. A spark of hope flickered inside her. He was getting emotional. Maybe she could finally get him to slip up.

  “I think that one was worse,” she continued, setting her jaw stubbornly. Her nose twitched. “He killed her because she did something he didn’t like.” Her voice rose to match the anger that was bubbling to the surface at the memories of her friends. She was doing a terrible job keeping her emotions in check right now, probably because she’d been cooped up on her own for so long.

  “What about you? How did your pairing go? You know, when you graduated. Or was it too long ago to remember?”

  “Enough of this, Sage.” He spoke in a low tone of warning.

  She could see that she’d already pushed him beyond what she should have. But at this point, she knew she had nothing left to lose, and she was angry. Angry at Eprah for allowing good people—her friends—to be taken away. Angry at Sam for never answering her questions. Angry for being locked in this place without a glimmer of hope that there might be an end.

  “Did you graduate from the Institution at all? Or are you a benefactor’s kid? Were your parents paired or in love—or both?”

  “Sage.” The warning came out as a growl.

  “Are your parents dead? Mine are.” She spat out the words and narrowed her eyes at him. “Am I still going to get paired someday? Are you working for Eprah? Is this where you were assigned after you graduated? To guard kids? Why do they want me? What good am I to them? Why are you abducting people?”

  “Enough!” he thundered.

  “Am I ever leaving this place, Sam? What is this place? Where am I? Who’s in—OW!”

  Sam’s hand landed on her shoulder. Sage felt her knees buckle under the weight of it as she was guided forward roughly.