But the firesetting gift had become a part of him.
Months of using his gift with Jere’s protection and encouragement had weakened his ability to hide it. The psychic connection with the vet was fuzzy, like looking through a dirty window, but he could feel his temperature heating up and he could feel her confusion. As she probed his energy to assess his health, the fire inside of him grew more intense and he began to struggle. He had to get away; no injury was worth revealing this gift.
Without a plan, he launched at the vet, thrashing and screaming, not caring that he was acting like an animal. His speed gift gave him an advantage, allowing him to pull free from the grasp of the vet techs and out of the reach of the vet. He felt her trying to strengthen her psychic hold on him by initiating a paralyzing mind-bind, but her skills were weak and Wren had far more psychic ability than she expected. He jerked away and tried to run, only to find himself in a room full of cages. He had no idea where he was going or what to do when he was out; his only goal was to escape.
The goal was quickly defeated as a strong, harsh blast of cold water sprayed him and the cages, knocking him aside and slamming him against the back wall. Wren gasped and gagged as the water bruised him and choked him, and it took him a minute to cover his face with his arms, crying out in pain as the movement jarred the injury that he had gotten on the speed train. A part of him was relieved that the cold water quelled the firesetting gift.
Once he was subdued, the torrent of water stopped, and the vet glared at him angrily. She strode over and grabbed his leg, not initiating a connection with him again, but threatening to. “Try that again and I’ll put you down.”
Wren went still, fully aware that a healer of any sort could end life as quickly as they could save it. As a slave, he knew the vet was well within her rights not just to make the threat, but also to enforce it. Jere could sue her, but it wouldn’t bring Wren back from the dead. Wren would be lucky to escape without being beaten.
“Get some restraints,” the vet ordered. “Sharp ones. I want him completely subdued for the rest of his stay. He’s got some cracked ribs and cuts, but he’s stable. Put him in a holding kennel and let him suffer every time he takes a breath.”
“Yes, Dr. Barrett.” The tech complied with a smile.
Wren waited, passive and quiet, until she returned. The vet kept her hand around Wren’s leg, holding him with the threat of her power as the tech opened the door to a cage.
“Give me your hands,” she ordered, and when Wren complied, she jerked one closer and slapped a restraint around it.
As the tech tightened the restraint, Wren whimpered, but stayed still. The restraints were lined with sharp spikes; any movement cut into his skin. Once they were fastened to both of his hands, the tech took one and handed the other through the bars of the cage to the vet. As Wren was pulled back, he felt the sharp metal stabbing into his wrists, overshadowed by pain in his ribs that left him breathless and whimpering. They ignored his cries and secured his arms to either side of the cage, making it impossible to move or escape. Once he was secured, they slammed the door, forcing him to curl his legs up, and latched it from the outside. They moved on to the next patient without a word.
The cage was small, obviously not made for humans, and Wren wondered if the clinic was overcrowded or if he was just here for punishment. A few moments passed and the pain in his body became tolerable as he realized that other slaves were housed in similar conditions. Below him was an unconscious slave, stuffed inside in a position nearly as uncomfortable as the one Wren was forced into. The clinic was packed, noisy, and the stench of bodily fluids was everywhere. As Wren glanced around, he realized that many of the slaves had been forced to relieve themselves inside of the cages, or as far outside of them as they could manage. He never thought he would be reduced to this again.
As he sat there, crouched over miserably, he tried to feel the mind connection with Jere. It was weak but still present. Wren was relieved to realize that Jere was not only alive, but that he hadn’t been taken too far away. The mind connection didn’t work well over long distances. With any luck, Jere was in the same town, maybe one or two towns away at most. Once he was healed and regained consciousness, he would come for Wren.
Wren waited for hours, aching, wet, and scared. He tried to sleep and make time go by faster. He startled when he felt the psychic jerk of the mind connection between him and Jere go dark.
Without thought, Wren turned and heaved, throwing up in the corner of the cage. Sudden breaking of a mind connection was always unpleasant, but Wren was more horrified by thinking about why it was broken. The logical part of his mind knew it was likely related to the healing process that some stranger was performing on Jere, but there was another explanation that was far more threatening.
If Jere were dead, the mind connection would be dark forever.
He didn’t know what would happen to him if Jere were dead, and he didn’t want to find out.
Chapter 2
Retrieval
Jere awoke to a pounding headache and a sense of confusion.
“Where the hell am I?” he mumbled, looking around. He quickly realized he was in some sort of hospital or clinic, the white walls and smell of antiseptic familiar to his senses.
As he realized where he was, his next concern was the emptiness he felt inside his head. For years, he had been accompanied by Wren, joining him in his thoughts, his emotions, and his psychic abilities. Now that he was left alone, he had only his own fear to focus on.
Jere jumped to his feet, unnerved by the realization that he had been healed, that someone had used the very gift on him that he used every day on others. The last memory he had was being on the speed train with Wren, and then everything was blank. He was thankful to whoever had healed him; if he had been knocked unconscious, he was sure something had gone wrong. He had no idea what that something would have been. More importantly, he had no idea where Wren was, or if he was even alive. The mind connection might have broken due to whatever injuries he sustained, or it might have been broken for a far worse reason.
He spied a slave carrying some medical supplies. “Where am I?” he demanded, frantic. “Where is my slave? Is he here?”
The slave pulled away from him, frightened. “I’m not sure, sir. I’m sorry... can I get the doctor for you?”
Jere scowled. He didn’t want to take his rage out on this slave, but was furious and worried about Wren. “Find me my clothes!” he snapped instead.
“Yes, sir,” the slave agreed, setting down the tray of supplies and pulling out a bag with Jere’s clothes in it. “They’ve got blood on them, sir.”
Jere didn’t respond, he just grabbed them and started changing. He had to find Wren, and he wasn’t about to do it wearing nothing but a hospital gown.
The slave slipped out of the room while Jere was changing, a move Jere couldn’t really fault him for. He stormed around the clinic area until he found a doctor. “Where is my slave?” he asked, no more polite than he had been with the slave.
“Any property that survived the accident would have been taken to see Dr. Karmin Barrett at the local veterinary clinic,” the doctor informed him. “I can get you directions if you’d like.”
Jere felt his anger growing. “What in the hell is he doing at a goddamned vet’s office? And what... wait, what accident?”
The doctor shook his head. “Your speed train derailed. You suffered significant head trauma; it’s no wonder you don’t remember it. I don’t know about your slave. I wasn’t on the train. I just got a bunch of wounded passengers dragged to my door and you were one of them. You’ve been completely healed, but your energy might be a little depleted. You should take it easy for a few days—”
“I’ll settle my account and take those directions, please,” Jere cut him off. “I’m sorry. I’m a little agitated.”
The doctor didn’t respond; he just gave Jere the bill, the directions, and a form to free the clinic of any liability that might
occur. Within minutes, Jere was making his way through the unfamiliar streets, intent on finding the veterinary clinic where he hoped he would find Wren. The alternative was too horrific to think about.
Fortunately, the clinic wasn’t far. Jere longed for a speed gift, or even one of the terrifying, polluting cars that were popular before The Fall. Human-drawn carts and bicycles were becoming popular in the cities, but in rural areas, communities were close enough that most people just walked—or ran. Jere was out of breath by the time he arrived, exhausted from his already poor health and anxious to find Wren. He didn’t bother checking in at the reception area, he just pushed through the doors that led to the back room. Jere searched through the psychic energy he could feel, relieved when he felt Wren’s presence. It was strong and steady, if terrified. Jere wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that he was alive or furious that someone had scared him. He followed Wren’s presence until he arrived in a back room, ignoring the protests of the veterinary staff who tried to block him.
When he pushed through the door, he was struck with the overwhelming stench of bodily fluids. Both animal and human, the odor reached Jere’s nose quickly and he tried not to gag. He covered his nose with his bloodstained shirt and pushed forward, relieved when he finally saw Wren.
His partner was alive, but he was caged and chained like an animal, locked inside of a cage barely large enough for an animal. He was injured. Jere didn’t need to use his healing gift to notice it, Wren was covered with blood, whimpering in pain and trembling with fear. Jere wasn’t usually a violent man, but he had to hold himself back from grabbing every free person in the building and stopping their hearts.
Jere whirled on the vet tech who was trying to pull him out of the holding room. “Get him out of there now!”
“Sir, he should probably be treated by the vet,” the tech suggested. “He’s been restrained for his own safety. He’s quite volatile and badly injured—”
“That didn’t seem to matter until I showed up with money, did it?” Jere snapped. “I’m a fucking healer. A human healer, not some inadequate animal healer. Get him out of there!”
“Let me just grab the paperwork.”
Jere didn’t bother to follow, he just grabbed the first chair he saw and turned toward the row of cages, intent on battering them apart.
“Jere!” Wren hissed, growing pale at Jere’s fury. “They’re animal cages. There’s a latch at the top—don’t go breaking things!”
Jere paused, his rage calmed somewhat by hearing Wren’s voice. He set the chair down and made his way over to the cages. He opened the door quickly, then glanced at the restraints encircling Wren’s wrists. Little drops of blood were dripping from them, and he felt the rage returning. He knew Wren hadn’t been any sort of threat, and even if he was, there was no need for this sort of treatment. There was no need for his lover to be in a vet clinic in the first place.
“Just get them off, please,” Wren requested, looking desperately into Jere’s eyes. “I want to go home.”
Jere nodded, reaching in and examining the restraints. The buckle needed to go tighter before it would come off, and he knew it would hurt Wren. He calmed himself slightly and placed his hand on Wren’s cheek.
“Let me make it stop hurting,” he said quietly. “And I can fix the mind connection while I’m at it.”
Wren nodded, giving him a weak smile.
In seconds, Jere had pushed his way past Wren’s psychic defenses. The old connection lit up in response, bringing them back together instantly. Jere was flooded with the panic and terror that Wren felt, and he tried not to let too many of his own emotions spill over. Wren would know that Jere wasn’t angry with him, but that much rage would be intimidating for anyone. As Jere worked to dull Wren’s pain, he felt Wren turn his head slightly. The kiss that Wren placed on his hand steadied him as it always did. Jere would heal Wren properly, but he was already feeling dizzy and weak from his injuries. Blocking the pain as much as possible, he pulled the buckles to release the restraints. Jere was pleased when his lover was free and in his arms again. He eased Wren out of the cage, glancing over the injuries that he had sustained. He felt renewed anger when he realized that none of those injuries had been treated, not even with a simple painkiller.
“I take it you’re the boy’s master?” a voice asked behind them.
Jere turned, one arm still wrapped tightly around Wren, the other out and ready to harm. The woman speaking—whom Jere assumed was the vet—didn’t even flinch.
“Yes, and we’ll be leaving,” Jere informed her curtly. “I don’t want to be in this place another minute. What you did to my property? It should be criminal!”
“He’s the one who resisted treatment,” the vet informed him. “Said his master was a healer and wouldn’t let anyone else work on him. Put up a hell of a fight when I tried.”
“Bullshit. You tortured him.”
“I assessed his health,” the vet replied. “At the risk of danger to myself. For a slave with a speed gift, he has quite a strong psychic presence. He was able to break away from the healing connection with ease. Fortunately, we were still able to keep him safe while you were away.”
“You can’t even clean the shit off your floors,” Jere replied, utterly disgusted. He had worked in emergency departments before, real ones where they treated humans like humans. These sorts of conditions would never have been tolerated. “I wouldn’t bring a dog here to be put to sleep.”
“All the same, we still have a fee for boarding and stabilizing your property,” the vet informed him, shoving a statement into his hand. “And we need you to sign a release indicating that we didn’t provide services because of your request.”
Jere glared at her, ready to fight until he felt Wren squeezing his hand.
“Please, Jere. It’s not worth it. Just take me home.” The psychic connection they shared allowed them to have private conversations despite being around other people.
Jere nodded, signing the release and digging some money out of his pocket. The offending pile of shit was still lying on the floor, and before he had a chance to think about it, Jere threw the money and the release form down on top of it, grinding it in with his heel.
He turned, pulling Wren along with him. As they left, Jere felt a little pang of guilt as one of the vet’s slaves was ordered to retrieve and wash the money.
He kept a tight hold on Wren as they walked away from the vet clinic.
“Was that really necessary?” Wren asked.
“Probably not,” Jere admitted. “I was just so fucking angry. How dare they put you in a place like that! In a cage with those fucking things on you!”
“I’m fine, Jere,” Wren reassured him. “I’m just glad you’re okay. The last I saw you, you were unconscious, bleeding out from that head wound. I’m glad someone got you healed.”
“Didn’t spare you the courtesy,” Jere muttered, furious. “How dare they take you to a fucking vet clinic!”
“It’s protocol in most places,” Wren reminded him. “Not all healers will see slaves, and I’m sure the medical clinic was busy. A lot of people were hurt.”
Jere was silent. He hated this place, hated any place that had slaves. He had done everything he could to protect Wren and it still wasn’t enough. He spotted a sign for an hourly hotel and pulled Wren along with him.
“Let’s get you healed and rest a little,” he suggested. “Then I’ll figure out when the next speed train can take us home.”
Wren just nodded. Jere paid for the room, ignoring the concerned look on the attendant’s face just as he had ignored the people they passed on the street. With the amount of blood on them both, they made quite a scene. Once they reached their room, he pulled Wren into his arms properly, holding him tight.
“Let’s sit,” Jere suggested. “I can heal you.”
Wren sat, but held Jere back at arm’s length. “You need to take care of yourself first,” he insisted. “Get something to eat, drink some water. You’
re pale and shaking.”
“You’re in pain!” Jere protested. “You should have been healed hours ago!”
Wren nodded. “Yes, and we’ll both have bigger problems if you push yourself too far. I want to go home, Jere, not sit here and wait for you to regain consciousness again.”
Jere flushed, embarrassed. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he felt responsible for what had happened to Wren. “Okay,” he agreed.
Reluctantly, Jere left Wren in the rented room and made his way to the business next door, buying some sandwiches and water and bringing them back to the room. When he returned, Wren was showering with his clothes on, washing himself and the clothing at rapid speed. Jere sat and started eating dutifully; he had no appetite, but he needed the energy to heal Wren. As he watched, Wren finished showering, stripped off the clothes, and warmed them between his hands. Jere watched in amazement as steam came off the garments; in seconds, they were dry. Wren turned around with a tired smile on his face.
“Want me to do yours, too?” he asked.
Jere shook his head. “Save your energy,” he advised. “I’m a doctor; I’m used to having blood on me.”
Wren nodded, dropping down on the bed. “I wasn’t hurt too badly,” he said quietly. “I could probably wait until we get home....”
It was painfully obvious that Wren was lying. The slightest movements made him wince, and he was breathing as shallowly as possible. There was no way Jere was letting his lover suffer from those injuries until they went home. “I’ll finish eating and then I’ll at least start on healing you. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but it will be a start. You’ll be out of pain, and you won’t risk bleeding all over your freshly cleaned clothes.”
Wren nodded, leaning against Jere. They were quiet as Jere finished eating and ran his hands over Wren’s body, figuring out where he was injured and what to heal first. Jere barely noticed when he entered into Wren’s mind; they were close enough that it was as familiar as his own by now. He focused first on stopping the pain; Wren’s collarbone had been severely bruised and a few of his ribs had been cracked. He felt Wren breathe a little easier once he blocked the pain, then he started to mend the bones, knowing it would take far too much energy to heal them completely. As it was, he could set them, start the healing, and finish when they got home. Wren lay pliant next to him, and when Jere couldn’t push himself any further, he stopped, keeping his hands on Wren’s body.
Inherent Cost Page 2
