Calico Descending

by Keri Lake

  I can’t take my eyes off Valdys, and the sight of what I surmise as apathy toward my punishment unravels something dark in my gut. “Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so stupid,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

  Another hard crack comes down against my spine, rattling my teeth, and through tears, I catch the curling of Valdys’s fingers around the arm of the chair.

  “I didn’t make him kill Dean. He enjoyed killing him,” I spit out.

  A strike, so hot it feels cold, licks my flesh, and I grind my teeth, eyes screwing shut to tears, as I wait for the shock to numb it.

  When I open my eyes again, I see Valdys shift in his chair.

  “Valdys is trained to kill when necessary. That’s like saying I enjoy punishing you.”

  My gaze slides toward the doctor, and if my eyes could shoot forth the venom coursing through me right now, he’d be a dead man. “Don’t you?”

  “Of course, not.” With a sigh, he twirls his fingers and shakes his head.

  The Legion officer who’s doled out my beating for the last hour takes hold of my arms, and I flinch on contact, watching him remove my bindings. Too weak to move, I let my arms fall to either side of me, as I remain draped over the wooden barrel, feeling the blood pulse back into my fingertips.

  Doctor Ericsson shuffles toward Valdys, and even sitting, the beast stands taller than him. “Perhaps you’d like to carry your female to the infirmary so they can see to her wounds.”

  His female. The thought of that makes my stomach sicker than the flogging I suffered on his behalf.

  Setting his palms against his thighs, Valdys pushes to his feet, prompting the four Legion guards to jolt up, as well.

  Looming over the doctor, he turns toward me only briefly, before he strides past him. Out of the room, with the Legion officers following after him.

  While I lie on my side, Roz strokes my hair and whispers a song, as she curls up beside me, keeping a gap between my bloodied back and her body. I know the song well. It’s one my mother sometimes sang, from the days before the Dredge when music was everywhere. Momma once told me people listened to music in their cars, and on small devices she called cellphones, which they carried around, and I imagine the air filled with all kinds of music, drifting on currents like petals caught up in the wind.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you.” Roz rests her head against the back of my neck, and more tears spill down my cheeks. It was Roz who wheeled me out of recovery after the nurses sealed the deeper wounds in my back. It hurts to breathe, stretching my cuts every time I inhale.

  I close my eyes, and all I see is Valdys, sitting across from me. In one strike, he could’ve taken out every one of those Legion officers, as easily as tin cups lined along the countertop. Instead, he sat impassive.

  Unaffected.

  Unmovable.

  It takes two days for the pain to subside enough that I can get out of bed on my own. Two days of thinking. Two days of crying. Two days of wishing I would fall into deep sleep and never wake. I sit across from Doctor Ericsson, leaning slightly forward, so as not to rub my back against the chair.

  He slides an object toward me, across his desk, and I stare down at a ring of multi-colored beads. “A gift from your sister.”

  I frown at that, hesitating at first to accept it from him.

  He jerks his head toward the bracelet. “Go on, then. Put it on.”

  Careful not to disrupt my wounds, I reach forward and lift the bracelet from his desk, sliding it onto my wrist alongside the other.

  “Mistress Elspeth told her about your punishment. She thought a gift from your sister might brighten your spirits a little.”

  I don’t bother to look at Medusa beside me, because I know it’s a lie. Bryani probably has no idea I was whipped, and if she does, she certainly wouldn’t accept the reasoning for it. I still can’t, but I thank her for the bracelet, anyway.

  “Can I see her? My sister?”

  “Of course not. She’s very busy caring for patients.”

  She’s fourteen. I doubt her involvement in their care is anything more than cleaning up after them and offering the occasional sponge bath. “Just a minute, or two. Nothing more.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. And besides, we can’t go adding other variables right now. You’ve already compromised the experiment with the soldier. Or have you forgotten already?”

  “No. Maybe just a video, then? Of her?”

  His gaze skates to Medusa and back to me. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I want you to work harder on Valdys. His display of aggression was tragic, but it’s progress. He’s showing signs of jealousy, which is very promising for you.”

  “Promising for me? How is any of this promising for me?”

  “Need I remind you? The more he becomes attached, the less likely you’ll be punished.”

  Tears fill my eyes as a weak laugh spills past my lips. “He won’t become attached. Why would he? You’ve destroyed him! You’ve destroyed whatever small bit of humanity was left in him! Did you not see the video? How easily and remorselessly he murdered that soldier?”

  “For you!”

  “He didn’t do it for me! He did it because he was trained to enjoy killing! By you!”

  A cold, hard smack smarts my cheek, and I set my hand to the tingling flesh there.

  “Watch your tone, girl,” Medusa snaps.

  “Your sister is a very agreeable young woman. She works hard. Doesn’t complain. Has a number of friends with whom she’s become very close.” His description of Bryani brings more tears to my eyes, and my heart aches with how much I miss her. “I would hate to see something happen to such a fine worker.”

  The implications embedded in his words slices through my conscience, as I stare back at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying obedience follows a delicate chain. To reach Valdys, perhaps we need to ensure your loyalty first.”

  “Please don’t hurt her.”

  “Promise me you’ll try harder with Valdys. That you’ll make more of an effort.”

  Lowering my gaze in defeat, I nod. “I will. I swear it.”

  Chapter 17

  Four years ago

  * * *

  “Hey.” The voice draws my attention to where Bryani stands, holding out a bowl for me.

  I dip the ladle into the beans and water, filling it more than the last one I dished out, and spoon it into her bowl. “Hi.”

  “I lost a tooth today.” She smiles and tips her head to the side, showing me the gap where one of her last baby teeth should be. “Pulled it out myself, and Doctor Wyatt gave me a piece of candy. Peppermint.”

  “That’s great.” It’s hard to push a smile out while my eyes are examining her, noticing the lack of bruises and cuts, but the prominence of her bones. I’m certain I look a mess in her eyes, even if the meat I’ve been offered with my soup keeps the sharp curves of my bones from poking through.

  A nudge from the girl beside her kicks her to the side a step, and she moves on to grab a spoon. “I miss you.”

  Ladling soup into the next bowl, I feel the first sting of tears at the rims of my eyes and clear my throat. “I miss you, too.”

  It’s the most I’ve interacted with my sister in weeks. As I become more and more consumed by this place, she grows busier, more distant. Her visits to the Commissary have shifted beyond my lunchbreak and into my working hours. Where once upon a time, she was my closest confidante, my whole world, now we’re nothing more than passing strangers. Aside from these small encounters, where she offers random bits of her life here, I no longer know much, at all, about her. If she cries at night the way I do. If she thinks about our mother as frequently as I do. If anything from before still matters to her.

  The sound of approaching footsteps breaks my musings, and I look up to see two soldiers at either side of Neela.

  The girls in the food line part, giving them space, and it’s then I notice tears in Neela’s eyes.

&
nbsp; “This subject was found hiding food in her bed!” The guard’s voice thunders through the Commissary, and the chatter dies down around us. He points a finger toward me, and I feel a grip on my shoulder.

  Tight knots of dread twisting in my gut, I turn just enough to see the kitchen leader standing behind me.

  “Is this who supplied you with the bread?” Head tipped toward Neela, the guard bends forward, practically in her face in one of their intimidating moves.

  My chest turns cold, hands sweaty, and my pulse rate struggles to keep up with my nervous breathing.

  Neela shakes her head, to my surprise. We’ve grown to be friends, but perhaps I didn’t quite gather to what extent she values our friendship. “No, Sir.”

  “I find it a little convenient that the two of you share the same barracks. Sleep in close proximity of each other.”

  “I swear it wasn’t her.”

  “Then, how exactly did you manage to get your hands on the bread?”

  “I took it.”

  “Is this true?” His question prompts me to lift my gaze, and when I do, his eyes are drilling into me, tearing up my conscience in small bits.

  A quick glance at Neela, and I catch a subtle nod, so slight, I question if she meant it for me. Still, my gaze flicks from her to the blade he slides out of a holster at his side, and whatever courage there might be left in me fizzles away, at the visual of him pressing that blade down into my fingers and slicing them away from my knuckles.

  I slide my gaze to the left, where Bryani stands at the end of the line holding her bowl, her eyes wide with horror. I can’t let her see them do this to me. Whatever she’s done to keep this place from touching her, ruining her, will be shadowed by the sight of them removing my fingers as a warning to others. With the weight of shame bearing down on me, I nod back toward the soldier.

  “Very well.” He yanks Neela forward and flattens her hand onto the counter in front of me.

  Oh, God, no.

  Screams echo over the hums and gasps, and I can’t bring myself to look at Neela, as she cries and wriggles in the soldier’s grasp.

  “Please! I won’t do it again! I beg you! Please!” Her pleas are the cries from hell that beat against my skull, and I will myself to close my eyes, to shut them out, as he lines the blade across her flattened fingers.

  But I can’t.

  “Wait!” Before I can stop myself, I reach out and grab his arm. “Please.” Deep breaths can’t bat away the dizzying calm that settles over me, as if my body is acting on its own, without any direction from my head. “She didn’t steal it. I did.”

  Its only reflex that encourages me to look him in the eye, and when I do, something evil shadows his stare. He gives a nod toward the kitchen leader, but it’s another soldier standing behind me who takes hold of my arm, splaying my fingers across the table beside Neela’s. Through panicked breaths, I look up to her and back down at our fingers that, in seconds, will be severed from our hands. “No, please,” I whine, knowing my protests are futile. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you to be merciful, please.”

  Hot liquids splash against my uniform, and the soldier’s grip loosens.

  “Leave her alone!” Bryani cries out, and she jumps up onto the counter. In an act of sheer lunacy, she charges toward us and jumps onto the guard’s back.

  A roar of shouts follow, and chunks of bread fly through the air, toward the guards, as the other girls in the Commissary launch an attack.

  I spin around to see my sister, clinging to the soldier’s back, as he spins and claws at her arms.

  She bites his ear, and he bellows, reaching back to grab hold of her face. She must bite his hand, because he jerks it forward, before launching it back, smacking her in the head.

  I lunge toward him, taking hold of his arm before he can hit her again, and the movement knocks him off balance. He tumbles toward the floor, and on impact, Bryani releases him. I steal the opportunity to stomp my foot into his groin, and on a shriek, he cups himself, rolling over to his side.

  Smiling down at my sister, I reach to help her up to her feet.

  She smiles back.

  A crack echoes through the Commissary, and at first, I don’t know where it comes from. I glance around, noticing the girls who cling to the other soldier, tormenting him with their clawing and kicking. Other girls go still, as if they heard it, too.

  Another crack, and my gaze snaps toward Bryani, whose hand slips out of mine. She falls backward onto the white tiles, where a shadow of red has begun to crawl from beneath her body. It grows bigger and bigger, spreading farther out from her.

  A force strikes the back of my head, so hard it sends a painful fizz up into my sinuses, and my vision blanches to a pale white. Pain cracks against my cheek, and I realize I’m lying on the floor. The room spins around me, but I manage to set my sights on Bryani, who lies beside me. When I reach out for her, my arm slides across a pool of wetness, and I take her hand. Tears fill her eyes, so wide with fear, and I can’t tell if it’s the white haze from before, but her face seems to be paler, more gaunt.

  “Cali?” Blue lips tremble as she lies clutching my hand. “I feel cold. So cold.”

  The corners of my vision are closing in on me, shrinking the scene before me to streaks of reds, whites, and blues.

  “Bryani?” I feel her hand slip out of mine, and I blink hard, catching a glimpse of soldiers dragging her across the kitchen floor. “Bryani!” Clawing at the tiles, I force myself toward her, following the path of blood left behind. “Bryani, wait!”

  Her feet disappear around the corner, into the corridor.

  Through tears, I hoist myself forward again. “Bryani!”

  They never come back when they’re dragged away.

  Chapter 18

  Present day

  * * *

  I stare off toward the corner of the room, where the nothingness hides in the shadows. Not the nothingness. The massive pain in my ass. Literally.

  Lips tight to cap my frustration, I lower my gaze to my hands, resting atop my crossed legs. For the last twenty minutes, we’ve sat in silence, and every minute that passes is a threat to my sister.

  Bastard hasn’t even apologized for the punishment I took on his behalf.

  Any second now, Medusa’s going to come crashing through that door and escort me down to a disappointed Doctor Ericsson. All because this beastly jerk won’t play along.

  “I know you can talk behind that mask. Everyone says your mouths are sewn shut, but I know that’s bullshit. So talk.”

  His silence follows, stoking the ire already burning inside of me.

  Further proof that the man didn’t kill Dean for me. He didn’t kill him out of jealousy. He saw an opportunity to act out, and he seized it.

  But to test that theory, I’ll need to prod him a little. “I don’t know why they didn’t just assign me to Titus.” Tipping my head back, I rest my crown against the wall, eyes skating to the side, watching for any sign of attack. “He was so much more … welcoming. And he talked. And he was gentle.”

  The sound of shifting is a sure bet my words are getting to him. Whether it’s their meaning pissing him off, or just the sound of my voice irritating him, I can’t tell, but I keep on with it. “I loved when he stroked my hair and touched me.”

  An object flies out of the shadows, and something wet smacks my face, before slipping to the floor. I touch the spot, my fingers running over soft bits that smell like an overripe fig. Lifting the object from the floor confirms it, and I grit my teeth, throwing it back into the shadows. “Why are you such an asshole?”

  I push up to my feet, the anger coursing through me in a rush of pure adrenaline. “I took a beating for you! I couldn’t lie on my back for two days! For you! And for what? Because you decided to rip the head off the asshole who assaulted me? He assaulted me! I didn’t ask for that!” The words spill out of my mouth on a furious string of long-expired patience, and I point my finger at him. “You’re supposed to b
e my Champion! My protector! You’ve been nothing but cruel and heartless!”

  In the pause, I try to catch my breath, but my temper is far too gone to quit. “And because of you, my sister will be punished! She’ll be hurt, and there’s nothing I can do to save her from that pain!” Tears wobble my voice, adding more frustration to my already-fuming rage. “She’s sweet! And she’s innocent! And she doesn’t fucking deserve to be punished for a bastard like you!”

  My body chokes up with the sob that tears through my chest, and I fall to my knees, ready to accept the consequences of lashing out at him that way. Prepared for Medusa to drag me out of the room. For Legion to come marching in with guns. Or for Valdys to slam me against the wall and choke every bit of air out of me.

  Nothing happens, though. Seconds tick by, and the only sound in the room is my sniveling. I think of Bryani, strapped to that barrel, forced to look me in the eye as every crack of the whip mars her innocent flesh. My fidgeting hands blur behind another shield of tears, and I blink them loose.

  “How old is she?” The deep, rich baritone voice hits the back of my jaw like the first drop of honey on my tongue.

  An ache zaps my forehead, when I frown hard at the shadows. “Too young for you.”

  “I wasn’t asking for me.”

  Wiping the moisture from my cheeks, I roll my shoulders back, my pride battling the intrigue of his voice. I hesitate to answer at first, wanting to feed him a taste of his own bastardry. To let him experience the humiliation of being ignored. Instead, I answer, “Fourteen.”

  “And you?”

  Something flutters in my chest when he asks about me. “Eighteen.” Clearing my throat, I sit back onto the concrete and cross my legs. “How old are you?”

  “I don’t remember anymore.”