"Five years and thirteen days," she said. Counting the days had become a regular thing for her.
Bronson raised the eyebrows. "Since the battle at Eagle Center?"
Deryn nodded.
"I'd heard you went missing shortly after, but I hadn't realized you'd never been found. Were you being held prisoner, or something? Did Ruby help you escape?"
"Not exactly," she said, stroking Dakota's face. "I'm not going to tell you anything, Bronson, so you can stop asking." She paused. "Is that your real name?"
"It's my real surname."
"What's your first name?"
Bronson grunted. "Something I detest."
"So does that mean you won't tell me?" asked Deryn, looking up and giving him sad, puppy-dog eyes.
He grunted again. "You won't start calling me it, will you?"
"Not if you don't want me to."
A third grunt, followed by a gulp. "It's Baldric."
Deryn let a chuckle slip out but quickly threw her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. That's ... well, it's very lovely." She chuckled again.
"There! You see? That's why I never tell anyone!"
"No, no! Ignore me. Baldric is a very nice name." Another chuckle. "And I do enjoy the irony since you have such an abundant head of hair."
"Thank you," said Bronson, running a hand through his thick, chestnut locks.
Even though romance was the furthest thing from Deryn's mind, she was also not blind. Bronson was nice to look at. He had that hair, obviously. It looked so soft and she was tempted to reach out and touch it, and it was accompanied by olive skin and striking deep-blue eyes. Not to mention that smile. It could make any heart melt. But she had a sinking feeling that she was not his type.
"So what's his story?" asked Bronson, looking at the photo in Deryn's hands and pointing at Laramie in the background. "He play for my team?"
That confirmed it. Definitely not his type. "Not that I know of," she said honestly. "I've never known Laramie to have a girlfriend but I always saw him as more androgynous than anything."
Bronson cocked an eyebrow. "Come again?"
Deryn smiled. "It just means that he's more interested in exploring than relationships. With a girl or boy."
"Not once I'm through with him." He laughed.
Deryn looked coyly at her fidgety hands. Bronson couldn't help but notice.
"Don't tell me you spend all your time with Ruby and you're shy when it comes to sex? How the hell does that work?"
She blushed. "Not well."
"That man really has no shame. Most nights we can hear him and his latest conquest all the way down in our apartment."
Deryn crinkled her nose. "You can?"
"Why the hell do you think we always keep the music so loud? Two floors and all windows closed means nothing when that guy's going at it." Bronson snorted. "Tell me he at least puts one of those noise shield things up between your rooms when he brings someone over?"
Deryn narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "He says that the bastard president checks his wristband activity every morning, so he can't do anything that looks suspicious."
"Oh, what a load of crap!"
Her eyes shot up. "You mean, he doesn't check?"
"No. Of course he does," said Bronson defensively. "But Ruby's his favorite. Any lie he feeds him, he'll eat right up."
"Did Ruby tell you he's his favorite?"
"No. He'd never brag about something like that. But he's in charge."
"In charge," she repeated.
"Of the other Guardians," said Bronson. "Ruby's the one who barks out orders. And, every time President Save-none-of-us has a gathering the whole city is required to attend, Ruby is always standing just behind him. Him and that bitch daughter of his. Elvira . I can't tell you how many times Ruby's sent her on what are supposed to be suicide missions, only to have her come back unscathed. I wouldn't be surprised if she's sold her fucking soul to the devil for eternal life or something, considering all of the crap she's survived without a scratch."
Deryn stared at him, unblinking.
"He's really never told you any of this?"
She shook her head.
"You and Ruby don't know each other very well, do you?"
"We don't know each other at all."
"So what have the two of you been doing here for the past two weeks? Staring at each other without a word passing between you or something?"
Deryn pursed her lips in thought. Huh. What did they talk about? Their conversations were certainly never about him. Every time she tried to get something out of him, he would turn it back on her.
"Can we change the subject?" she asked, putting the wanted poster down on the coffee table. "So were you just teasing me with your pasta talk earlier, or do you really know how to make it?"
"Spaghetti, Fettuccini Alfredo, Pesto, you name it, I can make it," said Bronson with a smile.
Deryn smiled back. "Pesto sounds perfect."
~
Xander sat on a white, stone bench in the middle of his father's backyard, staring blankly at an unmarked grave in front of him. The cold air stung his wet cheeks, only adding to the horrible ambiance that haunted this place. After the battle at Eagle Center, he couldn't move out of this house fast enough, and had only been back a handful of times since. And only to see her. His mother. Buried without a tombstone out of fear that the president would decimate her remains for disobeying his orders. Telling her son not to fight, but to leave out of fear for his life. He had been a terrible guard back then.
Xander had actually been chosen to work in the Government Lab after turning eighteen, but his father wanted him to be a soldier so that's what he became.
He had dug the grave for his mother with his bare hands, after his father had ordered him to come back here with her body. Before he dragged Deryn away, dooming her to the horrible life of slavery that almost destroyed her. But she was strong. Xander knew she was. That was why she was doing so much better than others who had suffered the same fate. Sure, she had her moments of insanity, but those were to be expected. You could not endure years of torture and come out untouched.
Eyes still on the disturbed dirt that covered his mother's shallow grave, Xander mindlessly took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.
"Xander," a voice called from behind him.
Without turning around, Xander blew the smoke out through his lips and slowly said, "Hello, Father."
"What are you doing here? The wave did not alert me of your arrival."
"Probably because he hasn't seen me. Your wave is a he ?"
"What? Why in Saevus's name does that matter?"
"Just answer the question," said Xander, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Yes, he is," said Atticus, stepping closer. He took a good look at his son. "Take that dreadful thing out of your mouth! What if the president found out you were smoking?"
"How would he find out?" asked Xander. He gave a small smile as he took another drag. "Are you going to tell on me?"
"Of course not!" shouted Atticus, turning red in the face. "Do not think that just because you're his current favorite you are exempt from the rules. It won't last forever, Xander. You cannot afford to make any mistakes."
"You mean like you?" said Xander, finally turning to his father with narrowed eyes. "I'm not stupid. I know better than to repeat your mistakes."
Atticus's face softened as he stared back at his son. "Xander, I -"
"Leave me, Father. I only came here to visit Mom and I would like some time alone with her, if you don't mind."
Atticus gave him a shallow nod and moved to leave. "Will you be staying?"
"With the damn curfew it seems like I don't have much of a choice.”
"So does that mean they haven't found Deryn Le -" Atticus stopped and sighed. "That toxic slave yet?"
"You remember her name?" asked Xander curiously.
Atticus said nothing.
"No, they haven't." But he had. "I don't know why we're
wasting our time. She's probably halfway back to her father by now, if not there already."
"It would be impossible for her to travel like that. Someone must be helping her."
"Someone with a death wish." Xander had to laugh.
"If I had to venture a guess, I'd say she hasn't gotten any farther than Middle City. You should have your Guardians search every home."
"Who fucking cares?" He took another drag of his cigarette. "The whole point of keeping her was to lure her father out and, in five years, he's never come looking for her. Not once."
"He's sent others."
"Failures. Every last one of them. If we want to lure him out she's not the answer. We're wasting our time."
"Xander, I surely hope you haven't spoken like this to the pres -"
"Of course I haven't!" shouted Xander. "But it's the truth! Now, leave me."
Atticus left without another word.
Xander sat there mindlessly, staring at his mother's grave for a long while, only standing when the first drops of rain landed on his forehead.
He dropped his cigarette that had burned out and walked over to her, putting his hands in his pockets as he tried hard to remember her face.
"Mom, I've done something foolish. Something that will probably cost me my life. I don't ..." Xander gulped. "I don't want your death to have been in vain. You lost your life to save mine and, now, I'm doing the same for someone else. Please, don't hate me for it. I'm just so sick of this life. A life I know you never wanted for me."
He wiped his wet eyes, a mixture of cold rain and hot tears.
"You once told me a secret. I was very small and you told me that you dreamed of going outside, feeling a real breeze, maybe even seeing the ocean, and I wanted to see it, too. But you never got the chance to make that dream a reality because of the fear that's been instilled in us since birth. And father ... he's not like you and me. He believes every lie the president tells him. And, who knows, maybe sea air truly is the most toxic of all, but I still want to feel it. Someday."
He took a deep breath.
"I won't be like him, living in fear. That's why I must do this. Even if I die. I'm tired of being afraid."
Xander took a step closer and kneeled down, lifting a rock he had placed where her heart would be. He gulped back tears and dug his fingers into the dirt, moving them around until he felt metal, gripping his find and pulling it free.
It was an Element. A very old one, but an Element, nonetheless. He had found it on his mother's body after her passing and hidden it here for no reason really, other than he had no use for it at the time. But he always knew he wanted to hold onto it. In case one day he might need it. He had completely forgotten about it until he'd told Deryn how Elements now worked the other day, and after seeing her helpless against Dougal he knew she needed something more powerful than a knife.
In these current times it was next to impossible to find an Element that didn't have to be registered, let alone activated without a prick of its owners' blood. This very well might have been the last one out there.
"Thanks for keeping this safe for me, Mom. The person I'm giving it to will put it to good use. I'm sorry I haven't fought harder for the world you always wanted. I would change a lot of things if I could."
The light drizzle steadily sped up to a heavy downpour. Xander looked up and watched as a streak of lightning lit up the artificial sky, accompanied by a loud roar of false thunder.
"I don't know when I'll be able to visit again, but I love you. I look forward to the day I can take you to the ocean."
Xander kissed his hand and touched it to the earth.
"Soon. I will avenge you soon."
He stood up, put the Element away in his hidden inside coat pocket and slowly walked towards the backdoor of his childhood home. His father's wave met him there with some dry clothes in hand.
"I have already made up your old room for you, Young Master," said the wave, putting the clothes down and using a towel to help Xander dry off.
"Thank you," said Xander, definitely aware that the wave was, in fact, a 'he'. "Tell me something. Has a young woman ever stayed here? Perhaps in the basement, or a closet of some sort?"
"No woman has stayed here in many years, Young Master."
"How many years?"
"Ezra, my son is quite capable of drying himself. Please, continue with your other duties," said Atticus, walking into the room.
"Yes, Master." The wave hurried off.
As soon as he was gone, Atticus looked at his son and asked, "What were you asking him?"
"Nothing," answered Xander, walking towards the living room. "I'm pulling out the good brandy."
After a few drinks, Xander excused himself to his room, only to sneak off to the basement on his way there. He had a horrible feeling he simply couldn't shake. Deryn acted strangely at the mere mention of his father. Of course, she had every right to hate him. It was his final decision that forced her into slavery. But it seemed like it was more than that. The way she looked at Xander when he woke her from her nightmares, fear and hatred pouring out of her as she stared into the eyes that could have very well belonged to someone else. While Xander looked more like his mother, he had his father's eyes.
Xander descended the stairs and turned on the light. He began walking around the dreary space.
He didn't know what he was looking for. Just some small sign that she had been here, but there was nothing. If there was ever any part of Deryn in this basement it was long gone. He had kept pretty good track of her over the years, but not always. There were times, especially in the beginning, when he had absolutely no idea where she was. But, from what he understood, his father had never owned a sex slave. Just like him. Because the Rubys never just took women. They made them theirs. As it should be.
With a heavy sigh, Xander headed back to the stairs and turned off the light. He opened the door and left the basement behind, just missing the scratches low on the wall beside the doorframe. A young girl's desperate attempt to keep track of her days imprisoned there. Back when time still mattered to her. And when she still had hope that one day she would be saved.
Chapter Fourteen
Xander left the next morning at the first signs of light and began his journey home. He didn't even bother to say goodbye to his father.
The S.U.R.G.E.'s and patrolling guards let him back into Middle City without so much as a second glance. One of the few benefits of being the president's right-hand man. Anyone else would have been checked and then punished for trying to sneak in an unregistered weapon.
Xander had his hover-bike locked up near the gate and used it to ride home.
He reached his building and used the clicker on his bike's handle to open the garage. He took over two spots, since his hover-bike was the only vehicle ever in there. The building only had two other residents and neither of them made enough money to afford such luxuries.
After stepping off of his bike, he walked back out to the street and took a moment outside by himself. He rarely got those anymore. Not since before Deryn entered his life. Even when he tried to escape for a moment of peace on the balcony she always followed him. He understood she was lonely, but it was starting to get frustrating.
After a few breaths, the rain began to pour down again. Xander ran inside and up the stairs to the fifth floor. As he approached his front door, he could hear some strange sounds coming from inside. A flash of panic ran through his head. He hurried to unlock the door and burst into his apartment.
Both Deryn's and Bronson's heads shot up to look at him. They were in the kitchen and he appeared to be teaching her how to make an omelet. She had a spatula in hand and both were smiling, the faint remnants of a laugh still vibrating on her lips. It was the first genuine laugh he had seen since she got here. And Bronson was the one to make it happen. Now, why did that irk him?
"Hey, Ruby! You're home early," said Bronson.
"Uhuh." Xander eyed the two of them suspiciously. "It was not a leisur
ely visit."
"Should we make you an omelet then? Deryn's getting pretty good. Course, she burnt the first three."
Xander was not blind to the way Deryn smiled at the sound of her name.
"No, that won't be necessary," he said, kicking off his shoes and putting his coat in the closet. "I'm tired and want my own fucking bed."
Xander walked to his room. Noticing Deryn's bedroom door was open, he peeked inside and saw that her bed was untouched. She did make it every morning, but never first thing. He grunted, opened his own door and slammed it behind him.
"He's always so bright and cheery in the morning," said Bronson, completely unfazed by Xander's rude demeanor.
"Leon, get in here!" called Xander's unpleasant voice from his room.
"The prince is beckoning you. Better hurry." Bronson laughed as Deryn handed him the spatula.
She groaned before walking over to Xander's door and opening it cautiously. "You called?" she said, only poking in her head.
"All the way in, Leon. And shut the door behind you."
Deryn did as he instructed, but still hung near her only exit as a precaution. "Is everything alright?" She crossed her arms and waited.
"What the fuck was that?"
"What was what?" she asked, holding his fiery gaze with her own.
"That! That !" Xander pointed at the door. "Whatever that was I just walked in on!"
Deryn crinkled her brow and said, "What? You mean my omelet?"
"Don't play fucking dumb! You know what I'm talking about!"
She crinkled her brow further. "Bronson?"
"Obviously!"
"I don't know what you mean," she said. "He was just teaching me how to make an omelet. Is that so terrible?"
Xander's nostrils flared. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm himself. "Look, I know you've made this decision for the two of us to trust him, but that doesn't mean you should let your guard down."
"I haven't." Deryn uncrossed her arms and pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. It was always so cold in his room. "You're the one who asked him to stay here, remember?"
"Yes, but I don't recall telling you to get so chummy with him."
Broken Wings (Cruel and Beautiful World, Book One 1) Page 12
