by L. S. O'Dea
“I did. They rushed back to town as soon as they heard about what was happening to you. Got here fast too and had no trouble finding you. Pays to have money.” Indy headed for the door. “Let me get you something to eat.”
“Money? We don’t have any money. What are you talking about?”
“The Almighty. Your sister’s boyfriend. Davies is his name, I think. They were staying with him on his boat, hiding out like I told them to do but Davies found out about your...punishment and they wouldn’t stay away. Davies was able to locate where you were taken afterwards. Probably paid someone pretty well for that information.” Indy shrugged. “Anyway, your mom and sister have been here ever since. Early this morning, your mom convinced Kim to go home and make sure everything was okay with your Guards and Grunts but she’ll be back soon I’m sure.”
He groaned. “That’s just perfect. I’ll never get them to leave.”
“You should be glad they care enough to be here.”
“I am. It’s just that, I have things I have to take care of and they can’t find out.” He leaned on his side. “Any word on Trinity? Have they caught her yet?” It’d been days since she’d betrayed him, but she couldn’t have gotten far. It’d been late when she’d left and she’d taken that Producer with her. She had to have left a trail even he could follow on his weak days. They should’ve caught her by now and if they did, he wanted her here with him.
The Guard glanced at the door as if he wanted to bolt. Whatever Indy had to say it wasn’t good. He stopped breathing. If they’d killed her or even hurt her, he’d tear them apart. She belonged to him. He was the only one who was allowed to cause her pain.
“They haven’t caught her or the Producer. They found their tracks and...there was a lot of blood. Something happened, but they aren’t sure what.”
“Was it her blood?” He stifled a groan as he forced himself to sit up.
“They have no idea.” Indy ducked out the door.
“Fools.” He flopped down on the bed, wincing at the pain in his back. Blood meant nothing. She could’ve killed something or it could be the Producer’s. He refused to believe she’d been hurt. Life wouldn’t be that cruel. He’d accepted his punishment. He deserved his reward.
A few moments later Indy returned and placed a tray full of food on the table next to the bed.
“I need to get into the woods. I have to find her.” He ignored the food. He didn’t have time to eat. Every moment he stayed gave her more time to escape.
“You won’t be any good in the forest for a week or so and you know it.”
Indy was right but he couldn’t sit around doing nothing. “Get me pen and paper. I need to send a message to Jason.”
Indy gave him a curious look but turned to leave.
“Also, bring a map of the forest. I need to make plans.” Just because he couldn’t go into the woods himself, didn’t mean he couldn’t send his army. He leaned against the headboard and winced, stuffing a pillow behind his back. Everything hurt more since his shot.
His soldiers may not be able to find Trinity, but with his help, they’d find members of the AC. He’d capture Hugh’s soldiers and then he’d offer Hugh a deal—Trinity for the lives of the others. It was perfect. There was no way Hugh would turn her over. It didn’t matter how many soldiers’ lives were at stake. He didn’t blame Hugh but the soldiers would. No one creature should be more valuable than the war. Hugh would prove he was no different than every other Almighty, putting his wants above everyone else’s and the soldiers would revolt. The best part was, as soon as Trinity found out, she’d surrender. She wouldn’t allow anyone to suffer for her. He’d end the war and get his prize.
Indy came back into the room, tossing a map and pen and paper on the bed. “What message are you sending our benevolent leader?”
“He promised me an army.”
“What? When? How many?”
He ignored the first two questions. He wasn’t ready to talk about his night with Jason and the young House Servants. “As many as I want.” He picked up the pen and paper. “I need the names of Guards, good soldiers, who’ll be loyal to me and only me.” He couldn’t risk anyone telling Jason about the AC soldiers he was going to capture because he needed them as bargaining chips. “And I need the names of any Guards you know, inside or outside of the Protective Services, who know the woods. We need Hunting Guards.”
“Hunting Guards don’t do well in the Protective Services. They tend to wander away.”
“I don’t care. We need them. We need Guards who know the ins and outs of this forest. We’ll borrow some from local hunters if we have to.”
“Okay. I know a few in the service and they might know others.”
Indy started rattling off names as Jethro wrote. By the time they were done he had over sixty names on the paper and another twenty on a maybe list. He grabbed another paper and wrote a quick message to Jason, explaining that although he wasn’t ready to go into the forest, he’d lead from his house because he was eager to gain his prize. It was true, but it’d also appeal to Jason’s depravity.
When he was done, he handed the envelope to Indy and took a bite of the now cold sausage. Suddenly, he was starving.
“I know you’ll be weak for a while, but what exactly does that shot do?” Indy leaned against the wall.
“Not positive.” He stuffed more food in his mouth and shrugged. “I started taking them after my surgery. I thought it kept me walking but I’m not so sure anymore.”
“Then why take them? I hate to say this, but I don’t trust that professor.”
He stopped eating. “I don’t either. Not completely. Not anymore.”
“Stop taking the shots. I heard your conversation through the door, but I don’t think the professor truly believes you’ll lose the ability to walk. I think there’s something else going on.”
“I can’t take that chance. It isn’t only walking that I won’t be able to do any longer.”
“What else? From what you’ve said, taking the shot makes you weak. You can’t see in the dark, you’re tired—”
“My injury damaged my spinal cord.” His gaze locked with Indy’s. “I lost all feeling below the waist. All feeling and all movement.”
It took a second but finally, Indy’s face paled. “Holy shit! I wouldn’t take that chance either. I mean even the Guards who are altered can still mate, they just can’t reproduce.”
“Exactly,” he said. “I won’t risk that.”
“Don’t blame you.” Indy looked down at his feet. “I hate to bring this up. I mean, you’ve been good to me and everything.”
“What?” He stuffed another sausage into his mouth. The Guard was uneasy for some reason. His eyes fell on the bedding on the floor. Indy must’ve slept in here to protect him. He looked at the Guard. “You can ask me anything. You’re the only one I trust.”
“What’s the deal with Tee?” Indy’s face flushed a bit, but his eyes never wavered from Jethro. “I mean, I know you’re into House Servants and the stunt Trinity pulled on you was bad, but Tee is just a kid.”
“She’s not here for that.” He held up his hands. “I swear. I’m not into anyone that young.”
“Thank Araldo.” Indy grinned. “I’d hate to have to leave you. You’re the best master I’ve had.”
The term grated on him. Indy was his friend not his belonging.
“You may want to talk to her about this”—Indy waved his hand—“situation.”
“Why? Does she think...Shit.” There was no telling what Jason had told her when he’d delivered her to the house.
“She told me she was here to take care of all your needs. Emphasis on all and that she couldn’t take care of my needs unless she had your permission.”
“You asked her?”
“No! She’s a kid. She just said it. Out of the blue. I mean, we brought you home and she was here. After we tended to your wounds, Rex left. Tee and I went into the kitchen to get something to eat and she blurted thi
s stuff out.”
“Females do find you attractive.” He shot the flustered Guard a warning look.
“I swear. I didn’t do a thing to her. I didn’t even flirt.”
“Keep it that way.” He pushed the tray of food away. “The poor kid probably thinks I mean to whore her out to my friends. I need to explain some things to her.”
“Where’d she come from?”
He didn’t want to give Jason’s name, but he also didn’t want secrets between him and Indy. The Guard was the only friend he had. “This can go no further. If this gets out, I’m dead.”
“I still belong to the Council. I’m only on loan to you. Don’t tell me anything I can be forced to reveal.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you as soon as you belong to me.”
Indy’s eyes widened with hope.
“I’ll figure out some way to get them to give you to me or I’ll buy you from them.”
“Thank you.” Indy’s voice cracked and he glanced away.
“Until then, know that she was being used as...as you suspected. I came across her and made a deal to free her. She now belongs to me and I need to make it very clear to her that no one can force her to do anything she doesn’t want to. No one.” He smirked. “Well, I do expect her to clean and cook, but nothing with her body.”
“You have your work cut out for you. She isn’t a very good cook and she’s kind of lazy.”
“Of course she is. Why would I expect anything else? I seem to only like irreverent and disobedient Servants and Guards.”
“But, I take you to get drunk and meet females.”
He laughed. “That you do. Go get Tee.”
Indy chuckled as he left the room.
He stared at the empty doorway. Soon, he’d have a Guard to look after along with the Servant. How could he focus on capturing Trinity when he had to make sure that Tee was safe? He’d be gone on campaign for weeks on end. Jason could come snooping around. He’d have to talk to his mom and Kim. Tee would need to stay with them while he was away. Actually, she needed to stay with his mother forever. Once he brought Trinity here, he didn’t want Tee anywhere near this place. Right now, he was Tee’s hero and he didn’t like the idea of tarnishing that.
CHAPTER 14: HUGH
THE TRACKING PINPOINTER was built. Parson had just left to start work which meant Hugh had an hour before he needed to be in the lab. It was time to find and remove the tracking device.
His hand shook as he moved the bucket full of water near his pallet. This wasn’t going to be fun. He snatched a bottle of vodka from Parson’s stash and sat on the floor. He stripped off his shirt and turned on the pinpointer, praying the tracking device would be somewhere he could reach because if not he was going to have to convince Parson to help him. That wouldn’t be an easy sell. The other Almighty might flip out and insist he leave or Parson would expect payment which meant he’d have to finish the prototype. He didn’t want to do that. Anything Conguise wanted had to be bad for the other classes. On top of all that, Meesus had something on Parson and he didn’t trust the other Almighty not to offer this information as trade.
He started on his arms, scanning first one and then the other. Nothing. A wave of relief washed through him but he squashed it down. He had to quit hoping he wouldn’t find it. It was in him somewhere.
He lowered the device over his shoulder and down his back where Meesus had scratched him. He was sure that was where she’d implanted the device but that didn’t mean it’d stayed there. They were known to drift through the body until eventually attaching to something. The more active the person was after implantation, the more the device migrated, and saying he’d been active after his night with Meesus was an understatement.
There was no beep, so he scanned again and then checked the other side. The pinpointer was silent. He ran it over his back once more to be sure and then exhaled in relief, glad he wouldn’t have to talk to Parson about this.
He moved on to his torso. Nothing. The tracking device was functional or he wouldn’t have seen it on the map and he was as sure as he could be that the pinpointer worked. He hadn’t been able to test it, so he wasn’t positive, but the device wasn’t complicated to build. He still had his lower half to check and if there was nothing there he’d have to figure out a way to test the pinpointer.
He put his shirt back on and took off his pants. He skimmed the device down his right leg and stilled at the beep. His heart raced, mixed with excitement over his success and panic over what came next. He took a swig of the vodka before putting the bottle on the floor. He ran the pinpointer over his leg again, slower this time until he heard the beep. The tracking device was several inches below his hip. Thank Araldo it was on the outside of his leg because he wasn’t sure he had the fortitude to dig around near his groin with a knife. He grabbed a pen off the table and marked his leg, using the pinpointer to triple check the location. He tossed the pen aside and tucked a blanket under his hip. He picked up his knife, holding it over his thigh as he poured the vodka, covering the knife and his skin. He lowered the knife and stopped, his hand trembling. Too bad Jackson wasn’t here. The Guard would find this humorously ironic.
He took another gulp of the vodka and leaned his head against the wall, waiting for his senses to dull. As warmth from the alcohol seeped through him, he stuffed a towel in his mouth, biting down. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring and his heart racing as he jabbed the knife into his leg. The pain was sharp and fast, zipping through him like fire in dry brush.
“Son-of-a...” He let go of the knife, using both hands to push the towel tighter against his face to stifle the rest of his scream. His vision blurred. He could not pass out. He inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to clear his head, but the pain continued to slam into him. He pulled the towel from his mouth and took another gulp of the liquor and another. His breathing steadied as the pain subsided into a dull throb.
The knife protruded from his leg, the blade deep inside him. Blood trickled down his thigh. There’d be more when he removed the knife. He took another swallow of vodka and stuffed the towel back into his mouth. As soon as he touched that knife, the pain was going to be white hot again. Sweat soaked his shirt. He had to get this done. Everyone he loved was in danger if he didn’t. His hand trembled above the knife. He breathed heavily through his nose, preparing for the pain. Jackson and the other Guards had gone through this, he could too. He grabbed the knife and yanked it backward, slicing through his skin. His head hit the wall as a wave of sweet darkness swept over him. He wanted to give in and let the blackness take him away, but he couldn’t. He had to think of something else. When he won this war, he’d execute Jason and the Council. He’d find justice for the poor creatures in Conguise’s lab. The pain was like the thrum of his heart, steady and constant. Blackness crept toward him, surrounding him and then he saw her eyes, glowing green in the dark. She had the most gorgeous eyes he’d ever seen—so expressive, so honest and she was his. She may not realize it yet, but they were meant to be together. He’d do this for her. She’d be strong enough to stay awake. She was the strongest person he knew.
He opened his eyes and leaned forward, picking up the pinpointer. He had to be sure the skin around the device was cut. If he pulled out the knife, he didn’t think he’d be able to stab himself again. He moved the pinpointer over his leg careful not to bump the knife. The device beeped. He dropped it and grabbed the knife, yanking it from his body. He slammed his head backward as he bit down on the towel, muffling his scream. He knocked his head against the wall again and again, anything to distract him from the waves of agony tearing through his leg. He grabbed another towel and jammed it over the wound as he slid down the wall into a fetal position, his body shaking. As the pain subsided to a throbbing beat, he forced himself to sit up. The room spun and nausea threatened. He closed his eyes, fighting for control.
When he was breathing somewhat normally, he opened his eyes. The towel on his leg was soaked in blood. There was no way he’d
cut an artery, no way. He pressed the cloth harder against his thigh as sweat poured down his face. His heart slammed in his chest and his mind pleaded with him, coming up with every excuse to stop, but he couldn’t. He tossed the towel aside. It was stupid to staunch the blood now. He still had to dig out the device. He took another swallow of vodka. The bottle was almost empty. Parson was going to be pissed. Finally, an upside to all of this.
He leaned his head against the wall again and focused on the gray chipped paint. He didn’t think he’d manage to stay conscious if he watched himself dig through his own flesh. He stuck his fingers inside the cut, gasping. It felt as if red hot pokers were jabbing into his leg. He breathed through his nose, short and steady pants to keep oxygen coming to his brain. Stay awake. It’ll be over soon. He moved his fingers, searching. Just a little more. All he had to do was find this piece of shit and he’d be done. His fingers grew sticky with blood and his stomach churned, threatening to revolt. He closed his eyes, panting to stave off the nausea. Every twitch of his fingers sent shards of lightning through his body. The device had to be there. Then he felt it, or something. He prayed it was the tracking device. If not, he’d hack off his leg. It had to be less painful. He touched it again. He was pretty sure it wasn’t bone. He hooked it between his thumb and fingernail and pulled. He shoved his other arm into his mouth, biting down to stop his scream.
As the pain lessened he dropped his arm, breathing in great gasps of air. He kept his eyes closed as the nausea and darkness continued to wage war inside him. As soon as he was sure he wouldn’t pass out, he opened his eyes. His hand was covered in blood and there was tissue under his fingernail. He dropped whatever he’d dug out of his leg into his other hand. It was small like a piece of rice. He picked up the towel and cleaned off the object to make sure he hadn’t chipped off a piece of his bone. No, this was the device. He closed his hand around it and then picked up the locator. He had to make sure it was completely gone. He scanned his leg again and there was no sound. He wanted to drop to his side and pass out but he had to stop the bleeding. He pressed some rags onto his leg, holding the tracking device between the fingers of his other hand. He’d invented this little piece of shit. He started to throw it across the room but stopped. He was sure The Victor was monitoring his movements but even if he wasn’t, Meesus was cautious. She’d check on him periodically, if not daily. It’d be better if she didn’t find out he’d removed it until he was ready to tell her. He slid it into his shoe and began tending his wound.
