by Mara, Devi
Farran crossed his arms. He leaned casually against the cell wall, as he gave the handler a shark smile. Visibly shaking, the human dropped the sound and dark shields. His eyes went comically wide when he saw Farran.
"Oh shit!"
Farran watched him grip the restraints like a lifeline. He slowly opened the cell door as if he were going to his death. Farran stayed perfectly still, just watching the human approach him. When he came within reach, he took a large step forward and wrapped his hand around his neck.
The man let out a surprised squawk. It changed to an alarmed gurgle when Farran lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the cell wall. His heels kicked against the stone, as his hands frantically scrambled against Farran's grip.
"Hey!"
Farran saw the other handler leap forward, his hand on the stunner at his hip. He turned his head to glare at him. The man froze, his eyes moved back and forth between Farran and the struggling human. Farran saw the moment the handler relented. He dropped his head and walked backwards until he passed the threshold of Farran's cell.
The short nails clawing his skin lost their strength and he turned back to see the human's eyes flutter closed. His heartbeat stuttered against the palm of his hand. One more moment and he would be gone, his life snuffed out. The fragility of the creature in his hands brought a surge of disgust. He curled his lip, but let the handler slip from his grasp.
"I need a medic here!"
Farran stood back and let the other handler rush to the side of his fallen companion. He watched the human feel for a pulse. A relieved smile broke across the man's face. It fell away the moment he looked up. Farran gave him a cold smile.
"I suggest you get that out of my presence before I finish what I started."
A small group of handlers crept through the cell doorway. Farran gave them a quick glance and turned his back to them. He heard a few quiet mutters and the sound of a body being moved. It wasn't until a new set of footsteps stopped inside his cell, that he turned around.
"That's the third this year," Handler Keane stated from the doorway.
"And it's only February. It may be one of those years." Farran turned to face him, his eyes narrowing on the smug human.
"I very much doubt that." Keane glanced around the cell. "Nice place you've got here."
Farran growled. "It would look better without you in it."
Keane hummed, as if considering his words. "Unfortunately for you, I'm on morning shift today." His smile did not reach his beady eyes.
"To what do I owe this unwelcome intrusion? It was my understanding, Handler Williams was scheduled for today."
"It is always interesting to me how you lot always seem to get that information."
Farran watched Keane hold up the standard issue chains. He moved toward the human slowly.
"By all means, take your time. After all, you've got nothing but time." Keane snapped the restraints around his wrists, sneering at his low growl.
"And your life is nothing but a sad series of days and weeks trapped underground," Farran bit out. He leaned forward. "And after you are dust in the ground, I will still be here."
Keane did not blink. "I wouldn't brag about that if I were you."
Farran watched him walk from the cell. He looked down at the chains, heavier than the ones Sarah used.
"It's my understanding that Handler Williams was rescheduled at his own request. Something about a late night meeting with Handler Mackenzie."
Farran jerked his eyes up to glare at Keane. The man smirked. He did not flinch, as Farran stalked toward him.
"You aren't upset, are you?" Keane's tone made it obvious he was toying with him.
"You humans disgust me." Farran stepped around him.
"The feeling is mutual, I assure you."
Farran sneered, but did not stop. He strode over to the group of Dems that waited beside the door. Tradis' gaze met his, before narrowing on Keane. The other Dems shifted around him. He could feel the tension in the air, his inaction against the human causing confusion and anxiety. He shook his head slightly, just enough to gain his second's attention.
"All in good time."
His low tone went unnoticed by the surrounding handlers, but he saw the smiles on the faces of his people. The tension bled from the group and they marched behind the handlers with an air of docility that was very seldom seen. When the walls and ceiling opened up into the cavernous space of the great hall, Farran moved toward the table in the corner.
He smirked at the massive stones that still lay in a pile in the corner. The crimson splashes were absent, replaced by the strong smell of bleach. He sank down on the bench that faced the room, barely noticing when two Dems joined him. They remained silent while he watched the handlers move about the room.
"Keane is planning to change the terms of The Contract," he said under his breath.
"He has said this?" Tradis asked.
Farran shook his head. "I can see every thought in his tiny, human mind." He sneered. "His black heart wants for power as we want for freedom."
"He would exchange one for the other?" Motlin whispered.
Farran met his gaze. "I very much doubt that is his intention." He scanned the room until he located the subject of their discussion. "No, whatever his goal, it does not include our freedom."
"But you have something in mind," Tradis stated.
Farran turned his head to look at him. "Very astute."
"The human girl. Your handler."
Farran gave him a sharp smile. "Among other things." At Tradis' questioning look, he explained. "Why have the power failures come closer together?"
"Our energy is wearing down the human grid set up to support it," Motlin answered.
Tradis glanced at him and nodded. "You said from the beginning the amount of power needed for The Corridor was unsupportable."
Motlin glanced around. "When the others stated their plans for us, I knew the banishment they proposed could not be permanent. Could the flaw be intentional?"
Farran bared his teeth. "I would not rule anything out."
"The place of Mayor of the city is hardly the kind of omnipotence I would expect to appease Keane," Tradis said.
Farran shook his head. "It is a gateway to what he truly craves." He leaned forward. "The mayor is the speaker for the city. The only human who is contacted by the others."
"You think he wants to bargain for better contract terms?"
Farran frowned at Tradis' question. Finally, he shook his head. "I think he intends to break the contract."
...
Sarah pulled her hood up to hide her face, before she reached for the door handle. The warm smell of old paper immediately enveloped her. She reached back to hold the door at the last moment, gently letting it settle into place without the loud bang. She peeked from beneath her hood at the nearly empty room.
Wooden tables filled most of the space. Here and there, stacks of books broke up the long lines. Row upon row of bookshelves filled the shadows at the back of the building. She stepped further into the room and wiped her boots on the tattered rug under her feet. Her eyes moved around the room.
"Can I help you?"
She jerked at the sharp tone, lowering her head. "I'm looking for a reference book," she whispered. "Something on the history of the city." She slowly raised her eyes to the counter on her right.
"What time period?" The woman leaned forward to try and peek under her hood.
Sarah turned her head. "The founding." She bit her lip, as she saw the woman's eyes narrow.
"What is your interest, young lady?"
She swallowed hard. "Just curiosity, Ma'am."
The woman sniffed. "You know what they say about that."
She paused for a long moment, as if waiting for her to turn and leave. Sarah kept her head down, but did not move.
"Very well, then," the woman muttered. "Come with me."
Sarah raised her head to watch her come out from behind the tall counter and walk toward the shelves.
She let out the breath she was holding.
"I don't have all day."
Sarah hurried to follow her. The woman lead her down one long aisle, before turning and scowling at her.
"What part of the founding interests you? The first mayor? The city council?"
Sarah swallowed hard. She wiped her palms on the front of her coat.
"Well?" the librarian demanded impatiently.
"The Dems," she forced out of her dry throat.
For a long minute, the woman did not move. Then, she glanced around, as if expecting someone to overhear them in the empty library.
"Why do you want to know about them?" Barely disguised disgust dripped from her words, and Sarah met her gaze.
"Because I work in The Corridor." She paused and cleared her throat. "I thought it might help me deal with him if I understood why he was being held there."
"Him?" The woman took a step away from her. "Don't you mean 'it'?"
Sarah frowned. "I said what I meant." Her eyes widened at her words, but she did not take them back.
"You're getting involved in things that don't concern you, girl." The woman sent her a dark look before she turned away. "But if you're dead set on stirring up trouble, everything you need is right here."
Sarah skimmed the books on the shelf. "Thank you."
The woman scoffed and stalked back down the aisle the way they had come. Sarah watched her until she turned the corner, before she looked back at the shelf.
"The Evil of the Dems?" she read out loud to herself.
She shook her head and ran her finger along the spines. She mouthed the titles to herself, scowling at the titles she passed. Her finger paused on a brown book jacket. She squinted to make out the ink, but it blurred into the dark cloth. She gripped it by the edge of the spine and pulled it off the shelf. A cloud of dust spilled from between the pages of the book, tickling her throat, as she tucked it under her arm.
She coughed hard, blinking and rubbing at her watering eyes. When her lungs stopped seizing, she looked around. The aisle was still empty. She let out a quiet sigh and walked toward the reading tables at the back of the library. Another cloud of dust rose from the book when she set it down.
In the brighter light of the reading area, the black ink stood from the brown, cotton cover like a glossy shadow. She dropped into a chair, wincing at the loud squeak, and pulled the book toward her. There was no barcode on the spine.
"The Corridor: Who Are The Dems?" she read aloud.
Her heart beat loud in her ears and she looked around, again. For a moment, she felt the weight of a gaze, but as her eyes searched the room the feeling faded. She carefully lifted the front cover. The title page projected the title and publishing date.
"1898," she muttered to herself.
She lightly touched the page with her fingertips. It was strange. The pages were worn from numerous readings, but there was no library sticker. Almost as if it had been taken from a personal collection and shoved in with the library books.
Her hand paused at the bottom of the page. In small, block letters, her family name stared up at her. She shook her head, confusion buzzing in her mind. She closed the book to look at the cover.
"Who are the Dems," she murmured.
Chapter Seven
A Crimson Pearl
She pulled the strap of her bag over her head, watching the elevator doors. She glanced over her shoulder at the quiet houses. Her gaze quickly swept the deserted street, as the feeling of being watched crawled over her skin. She shook her head at herself. The elevator doors slid open silently, spilling light onto the slush at her feet. She sent one more look over her shoulder, and stepped onto the bright elevator.
The doors closed out the world and she slumped against the side wall. The metal box slowly lowered her into the earth. The control panel flashed the depth, as the elevator dropped so smoothly it was impossible to feel the movement. The small space seemed to shrink, as she descended. She chewed her bottom lip, her eyes falling closed as she felt for the tingle under her skin.
"Sarah?"
Her eyes popped open and she jerked away from the wall. Luke stood just outside the elevator, his hand jammed against the door to keep them from falling closed. He frowned.
"Are you okay?"
Her eyes widened and she nodded. "Just tired," she said hurriedly. She cleared her throat. Her eyes went past him to the empty entry room to The Corridor.
"I just wanted to walk you in."
She jerked her eyes back to him and stood up straighter. She shivered, as the tingle turned to an itch.
"Thank you," she murmured. She stepped off the elevator, forced to turn sideways to keep from brushing him. She felt him watching her and dropped her gaze. "How long have you been here?" she asked to break the silence.
"Just a few hours." He laughed, following her toward the entrance hallway. "Luckily, I wasn't on morning shift today."
She glanced at him and pressed her hand against the scanner. Her hand stretched uncomfortably, but she ignored it. "Oh?"
She turned her head in time to see him nod. The door slid open to admit her. She gripped her bag tightly and stepped through. She took a deep breath. The hallway was empty. Her eyes moved from the door to the sign for the locker rooms. Luke's voice jolted her out of her thoughts.
"Farran crushed Handler Smith's windpipe."
Sarah jerked around to look at him. "What? Why?"
Luke glanced away and sighed. "Who knows why the Dems to the things they do. It's in their nature, I suppose."
Sarah frowned, but did not reply. She watched him shove his hands in his pockets.
"Do you need to go to the locker room?" he asked her suddenly.
She nodded.
His eyes dropped to look at her bag. "I'll wait for you outside the Main Hall, okay?" He waited until she nodded, to move away.
Sarah watched him until he passed through the next scanner. She sighed and walked through the door to the locker room. It slid closed behind her with a sigh. She went directly to the door for the unused women's changing rooms.
The door opened and she stepped into the unfamiliar space. A thin layer of dust covered every surface. Her eyes scanned the wall of lockers and she gripped her bag tighter. She chose a locker at random, barely glancing at the number before she pulled it open.
The reference book was tucked in her bag amongst a pair of socks, mittens, and a thicker scarf. She licked her lips nervously, glancing toward the door. Nothing moved in the main locker room, her breaths the only sound in the perfect silence. She set the bundle in the bottom of the locker and shrugged off her coat to cover it. She stared at it for a long minute, guilt burning in her stomach. She shook her head.
"I'm going to return it when I'm done. It's not stealing," she murmured to herself.
She flinched at the unsure tone of her voice. The itch under her skin faded back to a slight tingle and she blinked, realizing she had been staring. She swallowed hard and reached out to close the locker door. The metal seemed colder against the dampness of her palms. She wiped her hands on her suit and walked away.
She forced herself not to look back at the door to the locker room, as she walked down the hall toward Luke. He sent her a bright smile. She tried to return it, dropping her gaze when he started to speak.
"Alright, today is a little different than usual. Once every two weeks, we let the Dems socialize until their handlers arrive."
Sarah frowned in confusion.
"Farran is in the Main Hall."
Her eyes widened at his words and she felt a knot tighten in her stomach.
As if he saw her panic, Luke lightly grasped her forearm. "It will be fine, Sarah. If you need anything, I won't be far away."
He let go to press his hand to the scanner for the Main Hall. Sarah watched him with wide eyes. He sent her what she thought was supposed to be a reassuring smile and walked through the door. She felt every muscle in her body tense. She forced herself to press a hand to the scanner,
and tried to still the shaking of her arm. Far too soon, the door slid open to admit her.
"Ah, Handler Mackenzie," a familiar voice greeted.
She looked up from the floor to see Handler Keane standing a few yards from the door. Luke stood at his side, looking uncomfortable. She looked back at Keane in time to see a look pass between the two men. He waved Luke off and walked toward her.
"It's my understanding you are getting along well with Handler Williams," he said, stopping close enough to make her want to step back.
She nodded. Her gaze flicked from him to the crowded room. Several Dems watched them with interest.
Keane glanced over his shoulder. "An unfortunate occurrence," he said loudly.
Sarah's eyes dropped to the floor. "What is, sir?"
She looked up when he laughed. She watched him gesture to the crowd of Dems and handlers behind him.
"If I had my way, they would sit in those cells and rot."
Sarah fought not to frown at the amusement in his tone. His smile slowly faded, as he looked at her. "Did you enjoy dinner with Williams?" he asked suddenly.
Sarah fought not to look at the crowd. She could feel the attention of the Dems. She gave Keane a jerky nod.
He laughed. "No need to be embarrassed. There is no rule against fraternization between handlers."
Sarah peeked up at him, before quickly looking away.
"We haven't had a woman down here for a while," he said conversationally.
"Oh?" she forced past the lump in her throat.
"You're only the fourth. Did anyone tell you that?"
She shook her head, glancing up when she caught movement behind Keane. Her eyes snapped to him when he stepped closer to her.
"I encourage a life outside of here. Maybe, I'll call in my favor."
Something in his tone made her want to back away from him. She gave him a quick nod. Her shoulders slumped when he finally turned away. She watched him walk into the crowd and disappear amongst the large bodies of the Dems. His thin frame was immediately replaced by the unmistakable form of Farran.
She watched him stalk toward her. Panic welled up inside her as he approached. The other Dems averted their eyes, turning their backs to her. She took a step back. Her eyes moved from his tense posture to his balled fists and widened. His eyes locked on hers and she froze.
