by Tanya Holmes
“Scrubber?”
“Yeah, Scrubber. I’m one. We answer to the Elders. It’s the Yoreck version of the CIA. You know, spies. Assassins. Mind Wipers. Hackers…. Anyway, her mind was gone when he got done with her.”
“Are you saying the story about the Nazis killing her was a lie?”
“Oh, no, that was true,” he told me. “After the wipe, instead of taking her home, the Scrubber dumped her on a sidewalk. She was dazed, totally batshit. That’s why she wandered into the street. It’s how the jeep got her—a Nazi jeep. They shot her…the SS did. Like a dog.” Bitterness hardened his lips. “But see, Braeden likes to remind me that had we not done a wipe, the Elders would have ended her anyway.” He darted a glance at me and pumped his brows up and down. “Protocol.”
“Why didn’t you stop Braeden from telling her?”
“I would’ve if he hadn’t tricked me into the void.”
“The what?”
“It’s a place in here.” He pressed a finger to his temple. “When we were fractured, I’d go there sometimes. To be alone. To sleep. It’s where he thought I’d gone yesterday when he took me over.” He nodded to himself. “I trusted him back then and he betrayed me. Manipulated me, so I wasn’t about to be fooled again.”
So this was why Xavier eavesdropped yesterday. Betrayal. It’s what Braeden had alluded to during our Freud conversation.
“Anyway, hours before Hannah died, Braeden and I had a huge fight. Afterward, he talked me into taking a nap in the void, saying we needed the alone time. Frankly, I was sick of hearing his fucking voice. I couldn’t wait to get away from him. That’s when he went behind my back and met with Hannah. Her screaming woke me up.”
“But, Xavier, he had to have been thinking about and planning this. How could you not have known?”
“We were completely fractured, so we could keep secrets from each other.”
“You didn’t share memories?” I asked.
“Only if we chose to.”
“Even when you came together to be Ian?”
“Especially when we were Ian. I stopped trusting Braeden. He was too manipulative and calculating. Always scheming. But even if he wasn’t, only Whole Yorecks share memories. Healthy unified Yorecks. That’s when you know you’ve got a true One, because they’re thinking as One. But we weren’t, which is why ours was a perfect case of the left hand being clueless about the right. That’s why Ian was so conflicted.”
The question that had gnawed at me since we began this conversation found its way out. “What exactly did Braeden say that frightened Hannah so much?”
“It’s not what he said. It’s what he did.”
“What?” He didn’t answer. “Xavier? Can you do it? Can you show me?”
“Yeah, but I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Just…just leave it alone, D.”
“What are you afraid of? That I’ll react like her?” I scooted closer and took his hands in mine. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not going anywhere.” Seeing his veiled fear, I said, “I swear I’ll never run away from you again. Now show me.”
CHAPTER 23
XAVIER’S SAFEHOUSE/BUNKER
FREDERICK, MARYLAND
Denieve
____________________________
Twenty minutes yawned by before he did anything. Twenty minutes of me trying to convince him that I was sincere. That I wouldn’t run. Hannah’s rejection really did a number on him. When I finally gained his trust, the change in him, in his physical form, was subtle at first, but in the end, astonishing.
A slight drooping of the eyes graduated to full blown bags as a highway of lines stretched across his face. Liver spots dotted his cheeks and forehead. Same thing with his throat—skin that was once tight and youthful, turned saggy and translucent. His hair went from jet black, to dark brown, to steel gray, and finally, to snow white.
When it was over, he looked to be a man in his late eighties: old, shriveled, ashen, and sickly.
This elderly face was what young Hannah saw. It’s what made her run away in horror.
“A week before Braeden did this,” Xavier said, his voice now muted and rusty with age, “we queried the Elders about getting Hannah and her family out.” He cleared his throat, but the wear and tear on his voice remained. “They said we could only take her, and we’d have to go into Asylum within the next two weeks.”
It didn’t escape my notice that he kept his eyes averted. “And her family? Would she ever see them again?”
His answer was immediate. “No. That’s how Asylum works. You lose everything.”
Luke’s ‘death’ had given me my first taste of the cold reality of Yoreck life. “So what did you decide?”
“Nothing. We were at an impasse. If we left in two weeks, Braeden would have to drop what he’d set in motion with the Underground. They were planning a major assault on the SS. But they were outmanned. Outgunned. Outmatched. I told him our best option was to ignore the Elders and get Hannah and her family out while we still could—before all hell broke loose. At least one family would be saved. I figured we’d marry Hannah and take Asylum.” He sighed. “And that’s when Braeden played dirty.”
“How?”
Gray eyes that were once clear and bright appeared cloudy and flat as he lifted his gaze to stare off somewhere. “With me in the void, he met her at our secret place—a room we rented. He pretended to be Ian.”
“Pretended?”
“Yeah. He knew how to fake it. We both did. It’s how we hid our splintering from the public.”
They’d had to be good actors given their stark differences in temperament. “How easy was it to fake it?”
“Very. I mean, we didn’t share memories, but we’d been around each other for centuries. We knew each other backward and forward. Other than the few times we slipped with Hannah, it was almost impossible to detect. We got so good at it that no one could truly say who was driving the car. Including Angela.” He shrugged. “Anyway, after Braeden morphed into…” He pointed at his face. “…this, Hannah bolted for the door screaming, calling Ian an abomination. She was hysterical. So Braeden had to freeze her, the same thing he did to you that day with Samuel.”
“I don’t understand. If he didn’t love her why risk it? Why show her anything?”
“Because he wanted her gone.” Xavier stared down at the back of his wrinkled hands. “Once he morphed, he told her this was the face he’d have to wear for the next fifteen years—for Asylum. But it was a fucking lie. He didn’t know shit. We hadn’t even gotten orders yet.”
This sounded nothing like the Braeden I knew and loved. “Didn’t he care that she’d be Protocoled?”
“No. Like I said before, he only cared about one thing. Killing Nazis.” Xavier shook his head in disgust. “And you know what he had the nerve to say after he had her Protocoled?” He sat up straight and made Braeden’s voice: “‘I am what I do.’ Like what the fuck does that even mean?”
This just keeps getting worse. Braeden had said the same thing to me about his work a while back.
“How old was Hannah?” I asked.
“Twenty.”
At that age, I doubt I could’ve handled something like this. But one thing still had me curious. “How many times had you been in love before?”
His gaze continued to wander. This wasn’t a subject he was comfortable with either. He took forever to respond.
“Zero,” he said.
Hmmm. Another fat puzzle piece slipped into place. This was what had broken Xavier’s spirit. He’d been rejected in the worst possible way—cursed and abandoned for what he was, for what his race was—by the most important person in his life. Hannah. His first love.
“What made you fall for her?” I asked.
He chewed on the question. “Well. For someone so young, she was extraordinary. We loved the same books. Same music. I swear she had the voice of an angel. We even sang together in a local group. Samuel used to sneak in
to the pub sometimes to hear us.” A smile spread across his lips at the memory, but it faded as he focused on me. “And she was intelligent, witty, a real spitfire.” Then he looked away. “She was a lot like you.”
Blushing at his compliment, I chose my next words with care. “Is she the reason you abandoned your humanity?”
His nonresponse was answer enough. So this was it. This was why he did it—because he didn’t want to feel anymore. Now the hot tub incident made perfect sense. Perceived rejection of any kind was a trigger for him.
“How old are you, Xavier?”
Shrugging, he said, “Shit. I lost count.” He stared at the ceiling and did some mental math. “About four-seventy and some change.”
“And in all that time Ian never found anyone?”
“To love? No.” Xavier plowed an unsteady hand through his white hair. “We walled our emotions, but it didn’t always work. I mean, sometimes I’d like someone and Braeden didn’t. Or vice versa, leaving Ian torn. So we tried to train ourselves not to get attached to people.”
Well, that explained a lot. “How much of your heart did you give him?”
“The whole enchilada,” he said, his tone bitter. Obviously this memory was still raw for him. “Considering what he did, I figured he needed it more than me. But losing it made me hate Hannah. And mortals. I didn’t like how weak love made me. In the end, I was glad to be rid of it.”
“Do you still feel that way?”
“Some days yes. Others, not so much.”
“Well, I’ll be honest. I can’t imagine abandoning such a crucial part of myself. Is what I read in the book true? The thing about the Alpha being the one to decide who gets what?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you force your heart on Braeden or did he take it willingly?”
“Willingly? Not quite,” he said, his tone cryptic. “Yeah, I forced it on him. If I could’ve shoved it down his fucking throat I would’ve.” His mouth tightened. “For better or for worse, it changed us both. So I think it’s safe to say I created Braeden just as much as he created me. He wouldn’t be so damn ‘caring’ and ‘thoughtful’ had I not done what I did.” Xavier looked me in the face. “He’s the darkest Frost. Not me. He’s the one who needed a heart. So I gave him one.”
My jaw dropped. Braeden…dark?
“I know,” he said with a sharp nod. “It’s a total mindfuck, but it’s the truth. Braeden’s always been remote and analytical. The cold mask he wore when you first met him—that’s what he was like before the split. He had no respect for me, my talents, or my interests. He thought I was an idiot.” He grinned. “Still does. But back then I had the brunt of our heart, and it drove him nuts. ‘An annoyance,’ he’d called it. That’s why I gave it to him as a final ‘fuck you.’ I wanted it to be his burden. I wanted him to feel what I felt. I vowed to make his life as miserable as he’d made mine. And I haven’t broken that vow in seventy-plus years.” He chuckled. “He says I’m his secret self, but I’m just a cracked reflection of who he used to be.”
Cracked? Maybe. But not beyond repair. “Has your lack of humanity helped you understand him?”
“Totally,” he said with a wink. “I’ve got the dick thing down pat. Hell, I think I’m a lot better at it. Don’t you?”
Hard to imagine the roles were ever reversed. “Why didn’t Braeden tell me all this?”
“It’s not something he’s proud of. Braeden’s a brain person. Highly intelligent and analytical, but socially challenged. And he always will be. It’s just his nature. Back then he was obsessed with the war. The strategy. The intrigue. Everything else was a distraction. People. Relationships. Hannah. And he was real logical about it. I mean, he figured what was one death when we could help save hundreds?” Silence claimed him as his hard expression softened. “But he came to his senses after Hannah’s murder. That’s why he risked our life to get Samuel out. Braeden was the driving force behind that escape.”
“I would’ve thought you’d both be working together by then.”
“Nope.” He leaned back and stretched. “I checked out after Hannah. Spent most of my time in the void. I only surfaced at night to help the boy sleep when we were on the run. I used to sing to him.”
“Since you removed yourself from the situation, why didn’t you just stay in the void and let Braeden sing to him?”
“No way.” The words burst from his mouth. “Doesn’t work like that. We share feelings, but not physical talents. Those are unique to each Half. Braeden can’t sing his way out of a wet paper bag, but as far as playing guitar, he puts Van Halen and Hendrix to shame. Hell, he’s had centuries of practice. Me? I’m all thumbs.” He shrugged. “So back then, with us being fractured, coordinating these talents was just impossible.”
The more he talked, the more questions came to mind. “So what happened to trigger Ian’s split? Braeden said the fracture started when he hit puberty. Was there a corresponding event?”
Xavier sighed. “It’s been so long, I don’t even remember. But I liken it to the breakdown in a marriage. Neither partner can pinpoint the exact day and time their relationship went tits up. It’s a culmination of things that got them there. Well, it was the same for us. We didn’t want to divide. I mean, why would we? Division is an automatic death sentence. So we held on for four centuries, but Hannah was our breaking point.”
Which made me wonder if another breaking point was in their future. This Joining procedure still had me on edge. Considering all the unknowns, keeping a positive attitude was hard. The more I thought about it, the more my misgivings grew. “If you and Braeden didn’t get along before, what’s so different now?”
“Remember what he said about yielding?”
I nodded.
“Now think back to the story of Yoreck and the Tree. Ever wonder how the four faces got along before The Great Fall, despite their contrary natures? Well, the Eagle yielded its pride to the Man when frailty was needed. And the Man knew when to yield to the Ox for his strength and endurance. But when the Ox’s obstinacy got in the way, it yielded to the Lion’s cunning and determination. They had a common goal. A common purpose. They did this because they were thinking as One. There were no egos.”
“Right, so how are you and Braeden going to achieve that?”
It might have looked like I was giving him the third degree, but I needed reassurance.
Xavier took a deep breath and frowned. “You’re worried. I can see it in your eyes. But understand that when we were joined, he wanted no part of my heart. It annoyed him. That was the source of our fracture. Like I said, Braeden was always a logic-based brain worshipper. Anything having to do with feelings didn’t resonate, but me saddling him with that heart for seventy-plus years—it worked on him. Changed him. Enough that he finally admitted he was wrong. About Hannah. About all of it.”
Shaking his head, he added, “Look, it may sound petty, but all I ever wanted was an apology—for him to admit what he did, but he refused. Until now. People don’t realize how powerful ‘I’m sorry’ is, especially coming from one so proud. I have problems saying sorry myself, but when he said it, it meant a lot. That’s why I think the Join will work this time. I know how it feels to be without a heart. I’ve lived it. And he knows the value of one because he’s lived it too. Now we’ll yield because we’ve walked in each other’s shoes. Make no mistake. I still think he’s an asshole, but overall? He’s a different man now. A better man.”
“And what are you?”
“Somebody who wonders what it’ll be like to have my heart again. I haven’t wondered for decades.”
“That leads me to my next question,” I said. “Given what you gave up, how do you still have an interest in poetry? What use is it for you now if you can’t feel like you did before?”
He looked thoughtful. “Because it reminds me of the man I used to be.”
“Which was?”
“An artist, a singer, and a poet with passion,” he said without shame. “Don’t get me
wrong, it was liberating not giving a shit anymore—about Hannah, Samuel…people in general. It made decision-making a lot easier. I was a better assassin, a better warrior. Ruthless. Driven. Without the burden of a conscience. But I needed some kind of balance, so whenever things got too dark, I flipped open a book to let some light in.”
Wow. He’d just given me a window into his heart—a heart he claimed didn’t exist. “Tell me something, Xavier. Why are you doing this? The Join, I mean. I hope it’s not only for me and the baby.”
This stretch of silence was even longer than the last. “They’ll toss him in Detainment if we don’t Join,” he finally said. “I’m not about to let that happen.” His tone was purposeful. Determined. Matter-of-fact.
“Why do you care?”
“Because.” He shrugged. “If they take him away from me, I won’t be able to fuck with him anymore.”
I stifled a laugh, but two words stood out, two very telling words. He’d said from me. As if Braeden belonged to him. “You do care.”
Xavier turned my way with mischief in his eyes. “Think what you like,” he said nonchalantly. “Fact is, he has something I need, and vice versa.”
“And what is that?”
“Nope. Not going there.” A sigh blew out of him. “I’m over this touchy-feely shit. I’m changing the subject.”
“Can I ask one last question?”
He answered with another sigh.
“What happens when you both get what you need?”
Xavier looked at me like I was stupid. “Isn’t it obvious? You get Ian. But the bigger question is, will you want him?” He gestured at himself. “Hannah didn’t.”
“But that was different. She was young. I doubt anyone her age could grasp—”
“Asylum is a wild card, D. They call all the shots. Assign new identities, new countries. And no, you’re not exempt.” He nodded at my rounded eyes. “That’s right, the life you had, the people you knew? History. Just like Braeden’s place. They burned it to the ground. Nothing’s left but ash—my books, Braeden’s research. Gone.”
