Nabvan

by Celeste Raye

Blade said, “Listen, I’m not going to just leave here until I know that you are safe.”

  She stared at him. He was an outlaw, a wanted man. His papers were as false as his smile. That smile that had melted her heart, and her panties. Dammit! Why had she believed that Jack was dead? Why had she gone to bed with Blade even if she had thought Jack was dead? That she could fall into bed so easily with someone else, even, and especially, while thinking that Jack must be dead, confused her.

  She spoke as brightly as possible even though her heart felt as flat as a griddle cake. “I will be fine. You do not need to wait for me. He is here, and he will make sure that I am okay from here on out.”

  Blade slid the hovercraft neatly to a curb several buildings down from the one in which Jack’s father lived. “I will just wait right here.”

  She stared at him, not able to figure out exactly what it was that he thought he was going to accomplish here. Jack would never have sold her. Blade had probably told her that just so she would go to bed with him! The rotten jerk!

  More confusion hit. Blade was a wanted man. Just being on the surface of Newport was dangerous for him. He was running a huge risk by bringing her all the way home, and he was taking an even greater risk by setting down on the surface and then escorting her all the way to her house.

  Why?

  Why would he do that and risk so much? He didn’t really even know her, and it was obvious that he didn’t really want to get himself caught and killed by the Federation, which considered him a traitor and a criminal.

  Her fingers fumbled with the latch for the door and swung upward. Blade had parked a mere inch and a half off the ground, and she found it readily enough, but once her feet were there on the familiar sidewalk, her legs felt like they were about to give way and would not support her.

  She spoke in a trembling voice, “I am all right. Please go. You risked way too much bringing me here. I would not have you risk anything more.”

  Blade said, in a wholly implacable tone, “I will wait.”

  Irritated now and more confused than ever, she shut the hovercraft door and started toward the house. The small building that she and Jack shared was down the driveway and through the gate. The gate’s workings felt unfamiliar to her fingers even though she had unlatched that very gate at least a hundred times before.

  Her fingers didn’t seem to want to work, and dread and joy battled within her stomach and heart. How was she going to face him after what she had done?

  She would never tell him.

  It would cause a rift that was unfair. It was not her fault that she had been kidnapped any more than it was Jack’s fault that she had been kidnapped. Whatever had happened during that kidnapping had happened. They would put it behind them and never speak of it again.

  Her feet took her up the sloping driveway behind the gate and then across the small path that led to the little building. The lights were off in the building, but on in the main house, she could see the lights shining past the drawn blinds. Her legs wobbled again, and she lifted a hand to knock at the door of the building. She stopped with her hand halfway to the door and with her heart pounding so fast that she could hear its rhythm within her ears.

  Since when did she knock on the door of the home in which she lived?

  Home?

  Suddenly everything felt both surreal and far too clear. Every little bit of that building came flying at her. Every detail was outlined in a sharp manner that made her unable to look away. It wasn’t a well-constructed building, and it was tiny and miserable. The windows were narrow and small in the air inside was always stuffy. She had only one single shelf for her meager belongings. She had had more things at one time but moving in with Jack and into that building meant giving away or selling most of the things that she had acquired while living in the large bedroom of her childhood home.

  The building needed a good coat of lime-rock paint, and there was a crack along its foundation snaking upward toward the door. She knew that when it got colder, the draft that came through there would be bitter.

  What on earth is wrong with me? Why am I looking at the things that I love the most as if they are no longer good enough for me? Shaking her head in consternation and to clear it, she reached for the doorknob to turn it, only to find it locked. She stepped back, her eyes fastened on the doorknob. Her pulse picked up speed and raced. She swallowed hard and lifted her hand once more to knock. That time her knuckles came down on the door with a solid rap that made her jerk and startle.

  The door to the building did not open. She stood there staring at it, confused and frightened.

  All of the things that Blade had said came up again, burning into her brain—which felt feverish.

  “Tara?”

  Her heart leaped into her throat. Her head turned toward the right, and she saw him standing there near the back door of the main house. He came toward her, his voice creaking and breaking as he said, “Tara? Is it really you?”

  She stared at him, suddenly possessed by an urge to flee as fast as she could. He looked just the same as he always did. He was of ordinary height and ordinary weight. His face was so plain that if she had seen it in a crowd and didn’t know it, she would not even have remarked upon it. His hair, a light brown and very stick-straight thing, was already thinning away from his high forehead. There was another thinning spot in the back of his skull as well, a tiny circle that she knew would widen eventually but had loved anyway.

  His brown eyes held shock. He staggered backward, one hand going up to the door frame. His voice broke a bit as he said, “Tara! What are you doing here? I mean… What… Where did you go?”

  Something about his words unsettled her. Her feet shuffled on the stones of the walkway. Her hands came up and her arms crossed across her chest. A sense of defensiveness filled her. “I don’t know exactly. I woke up in a hellhole, a literal hellhole. Then this man came and rescued me and brought me home. I don’t know where it was, only that it was awful.”

  Jack’s eyes darted over her shoulder toward the empty expanse of the yard. She knew every inch of that yard. There was a single tree standing at the back eastern corner, its branches currently denuded by the fall weather. The fence was a little saggy and a little crooked, and there were exactly forty-seven steps between their small abode and the larger one shared by his parents. Yet somehow it felt like a place she had never been before.

  He said, “I can’t believe it! How… I was so worried about you! You say a man rescued you? Is he here?”

  I don’t know, but I hope not. That thought darted through her mind, and she immediately clamped down on it in case her face betrayed her. Something was wrong; she could sense it. Jack stepped back, holding the door open. His hands jerked, and his eyes kept running up and down her face and figure. He reached for her, and when his hands landed on her upper arms, they felt clammy and sweaty. She flinched back a little but stayed steady.

  Jack fumbled keys out of his pocket and reached for a hasp on the door of the building. She stared at it, disquiet sliding against her numbed brain and body.

  Why had he locked the building?

  It was never locked!

  He reached inside and turned on the lights then his hand drew her inside. His fingers felt too hard, too determined and she wanted to tear herself out of his grip, try to get back out the door but she could not seem to do so.

  Jack said, “Tara, you should lie down. You’ve had a trying time.”

  The question came before she had time to think over speaking the words. “You came right back. If I went missing, if you were so worried about me, why not try to find me? Why not stay there until you did find me?”

  He sighed, and one hand ran through his flat brown hair. “I did look for you. I tried to stay, but it is so expensive there. They charge for air, for pity’s sake! Air!”

  “I know. I was scared we wouldn’t have enough credits to pay for all the things they charged for. That’s why I didn’t use the cleaning chamber alone; you joined
me so we could save the extra credit.” God. They had. They had both squeezed into that tiny chamber and tried to cleanse themselves in there.

  Jack stepped backward, his face—that plain and ordinary face she had thought so sweet and dear and wonderful—crinkled into hard lines. “Tara, you have obviously been through far too much, and your mind has snapped in response. You can’t…you can’t believe that I would ever do these things!”

  “You did do them.” He had. She knew it now. “You insisted I close my eyes before the food came so I could be surprised. I remember it all now. We got there, and I was worried because everything incurred credits, and you said that we had to be so careful because we could enjoy the place cheaply if we just tried to have a wonderful vacation despite our not having many credits between us, but then you ordered that very expensive dinner. You did, and I didn’t understand why. It was weird, and it should have been my hint that something was wrong, very wrong.”

  Jack said, “You are not yourself, and who can blame you? You have had quite the ordeal. Listen, it’s me. Of course I was worried about you. I love you. You are my fiancée.”

  Her next words were brittle with fury and the certainty that had clawed its way into her and would not let go. “You sold me.”

  Jack’s mouth fell open. His feet shuffled again, and his hands came up in the air. They fluttered like birds released from a cage but had no idea of how to fly then dropped to his sides. He shook his head. “You’re wrong. I would never do something like that.”

  Her mouth was soured by rage and understanding. “You did. You sold me. How could you do that to me? I didn’t want to believe it; I truly didn’t. I wanted to believe that it was a mistake and that you not answering when I called was somehow… But you didn’t answer.”

  Jack’s face contorted with rage. “I don’t know what it is you are accusing me of exactly but I assure you I had no part in whatever happened to you. For all I knew you ran off! In fact, I was pretty sure that was exactly what you had done! I saw how you were looking at the rich men there and when you went missing, I did report it! I did, but deep down I figured you had decided you just did not want me anymore and made off with some male who could give you a fancy life!”

  Her tone was even despite everything. “How can you not understand what I am accusing you of? I stated it quite clearly. And you know what? I don’t think I am the first woman you have done this to. Where is your former fiancée Jack? The one who just walked off and left Newport City behind her without a single word? Did she get a one-way trip to a pleasure planet too? You sorry woman-selling piece of garbage!”

  He rushed her. It was so unlike him, he was so meek and so mild and so unabashedly tender that his running toward her with his fists raised took her by surprise and kept her rooted in place. She realized that he was about to strike her moments before his fists fell toward her face and body.

  Those balled up fists fell but never hit her. His arm was twisted up and backwards. Jack keened out a thin cry of pain but before he could scream for help, he was on the floor, face down with Blade atop him and seated on his back. A knife pressed to Jack’s neck and Tara pedaled backward, one hand still raised to try to protect herself from a blow that had been halted, and by Blade.

  Blade, who just kept rescuing her.

  Blade spoke in a voice both low and deadly. “What happened to the former fiancée? Tell her and tell her now.”

  Jack let out a small, weak cry. The knife pressed closer into his neck, so close that thin drops of blood ran down that shining length and Tara’s hands flew to her mouth. She wanted to stop this, but part of her understood that there was no stopping it. That whatever was about to happen was going to happen no matter what she said.

  Blade spoke again, “Open your mouth and tell her the truth, man. Do it now. Name names. Give me all the details.”

  Jack began to sob, but there was rage rather than sorrow or shame in those sounds. He hissed out, “She’s worthless! Just like the rest! Nobody will even miss her. Her parents passed away months ago, and she’s a boring little record-keeper. She’s a low-credit earner with nobody to recommend her. She should be grateful I gave her the life I gave her before I decided to use her for my own ends!”

  Maybe he was just saying those things because of the knife pressed to his throat. Tara opened her mouth to say those things but before she could, Blade said, “I know your face. I have seen you before. Tell her all of it. All of it, and I mean all of it.”

  She found her voice. “He doesn’t have to. I see it all now. We never told anyone we were together. He said it was because he was in a higher position than me and that might be frowned upon. We only went out late at night when things were cheaper, and when very few people were around who might recall we were there. He set this up, didn’t he? He set me up to fall in love with him and to give him the credits I earned, and then he sold me.”

  Jack writhed and kicked. Blade said, “Oh no you don’t.” He looked at Tara and said, “When was the last time you saw his parents?”

  She blinked because the question was so odd. Her eyes went to the windows, and she stared at them blankly. “We don’t disturb his parents. They… They don’t like to be disturbed. We must be very quiet at all times. We must never go into the house.”

  Blade hoisted Jack to his feet. He said, “Follow me.”

  Tara followed him as he toted the struggling Jack out of the building that she had called home and to the back door of the abode in which his parents lived. To her horror, Blade drew his foot back and kicked open the back door with a loud crash and bang. A small sound escaped her mouth as the only protest that she could form.

  Blade hauled Jack across the threshold, and she followed him inside. She stared about herself with true confusion. The room they stood in was dusty and in need of a good cleaning. It was a small back room that would be pleasant in warmer months. Its long walls full of windows overlooked the nicer section of the yard and the floor, while roughly planked, was covered by several nice rugs. Slightly ragged but decent furniture obviously intended for use in this room sat about in pleasant little groupings.

  Blade walked forward, his booted foot coming up again to kick the next door open. Again she followed. Jack protested and moaned and whimpered as the knife that Blade held to his neck went deeper still, releasing more blood that ran down Jack’s neck in a slim scarlet runner.

  That room was the kitchen. It was perfectly ordered and not at all dusty. She stared around at it, remembering how often Jack would come into the house and leave her outside in that building. He would say that his parents wished to speak with him and that it was important. That they would not approve too awfully much of her being in their home because of her station in life. That one day they would accept her, but that day was not now.

  How had she ever allowed him to make her feel so less than? Why had she put up with that? Why had she not questioned why he was allowed in the house, but she was not?

  It was obvious that the kitchen had been used recently. Standing there in that kitchen, she understood something else, something that she did not want to know.

  Jack’s parents were not there. They had not been there in a very long time. There was a very good reason why Jack did not want her in that house.

  Blade dragged Jack through room after room after room. All the walls were blank but for a few family portraits of a smiling, younger Jack and his parents. But if his parents were there was no sign of them. She knew they weren’t there. He had even lied about that!

  She was confused as to why they were in that house, and her bafflement grew when Blade kicked a rug to one side in the hallway to reveal a pull-up door.

  Jack immediately flinched backward. As he did so, the knife went slightly deeper, and that time the blood that spilled was a thick and long stream. He shrieked, but Blade slapped a hand across Jack’s mouth to stifle it. Tara began to shake all over.

  “Don’t kill him,” she whispered miserably. “Please don’t. I can’t…” M
urder. She had no intention of being a witness to murder if she could help it.

  Jack whimpered out, “You cannot do this to me!”

  Blade said, “Oh, but I can. Open it.”

  Tara shook her head. “No. Whatever’s down there, just leave it. Please. For pity’s sake, I cannot bear this.”

  Jack seized the handle of the knife and twisted it away from his neck. He ran for his life, his feet pelting along the hall floor. He didn’t get very far. Blade tossed the knife as easily as if he had been blowing a feather off his palm. It found its mark, hitting Jack directly in the back of his neck. He went down. Tara’s feet took her backward and she crashed into a wall then slid down it, whimpering and with her feet kicking out in front of her like a puppet loosened from all of its strings.

  Blade looked at her. His eyes were unreadable, and his face held an intractable expression. “He is not dead. Only paralyzed. It severed the cord between his neck and his body. He’s a murderer, and I am sure you are not the only woman that he has sold. Don’t pity him. He does not deserve your pity.”

  She sat there, her bottom stinging from its sudden meeting of the floor and with her eyes both dry and itchy from tears that wanted to come but wouldn’t. She said, “Can we just leave him here and go?”

  Blade shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We have to go down there. He may have another woman hidden down there. Or his parents may be chained to a wall or something. Tara, he’s clearly taken the house, which is illegal. This is a Federation home, and if his folks are dead, then he has to leave it. We need to find out if they’re alive, and if they are, we need to help them.”

  Could he possibly be holding his folks prisoner? Tara managed to hook her elbows up against the surface of the wall behind her and lever herself into a standing position. Queasiness rolled through her stomach, and she said, “Why are you doing this? You said yourself that you had far too much to do and it’s far too dangerous for you to help me. Why are you doing this?”

  Blade regarded her steadily. “I’m a bad man. I’m the worst. I’m an assassin, and I will do a lot of things for money. But I have never agreed with slavery, and I most certainly have never agreed with women being kidnapped and sold simply to fill the coffers of some man who has ambitions to be someone better than he is but not the willpower or the way to get those things on his own. Slavers make me want to murder them.”