An hour later, with Annie’s persistent help, he’d gotten the house put together enough that they could receive visitors. Even if, in this case, the visitor wasn’t exactly a visitor. He wasn’t even sure what to think about what was happening.
Annie hadn’t left. He suspected she wanted a glimpse of the Conditioned person and was too polite to say so. Right now he couldn’t be sure, but he thought she might be making lemonade. A knock on the door sounded. Neither he nor Annie moved.
“I’ll be honest, Ben, I never thought to really see or meet one in person.”
He hadn’t either, and he had good reasons for not wanting to meet them. But there was a first time for everything. He walked forward and opened the door.
In front of him stood a tall, redheaded woman. She was exactly his height, which made her about five feet, ten inches tall. Her eyes were blue with dark, almost black smudges of exhaustion underneath. She wore an orange jumpsuit that resembled the clothes he saw prisoners wear on the side of the road when they worked cleaning up the ditches. She was in both wrist and ankle cuffs.
He sucked in his breath, because all he could think was how lovely she was. Her hair was like a sunset and her blue eyes, as exhausted as they were, reminded him of the Gulf of Mexico in the summer, where he took the girls on vacation. Internally, he tried to jar his thoughts from the direction they’d taken. She was Conditioned. She couldn’t be lovely. Or shouldn’t be.
“Benedicte Lavelle?” From behind her, a man stepped forward.
He was clearly the guard. Dressed in a blue-and-gray jumpsuit—their uniform—with the word Crescent on the pocket to indicate which Institution he’d come from, he had a sidearm visible on his left hip. If Ben had to guess, he’d have bet he was armed elsewhere, too.
“Ben.”
The guard looked down at his paper. “It says Benedicte
Lavelle.”
“Yes, but I go by Ben.”
The guard nodded. “Oh. I see.” He shrugged. “We got a call that we’re supposed to bring Seven-Two-Four here.”
Ben stepped back so they could enter the house. He heard Annie suck in her breath at the sight, but he didn’t turn to look at her. She’d be embarrassed if she knew he’d noticed.
Not sure what to do, he pointed at the woman’s cuffs. “Is she dangerous?”
“Nah.” The guard shook his head. “This one is as gentle as a puppy. This is protocol, that’s all. Come here, girlie.”
The woman moved at the guard’s bidding, and he took off her cuffs. In all his life, Ben didn’t think he’d ever seen someone stand so silently or so still as the Conditioned woman now in his kitchen.
“You must really be someone to have gotten her here. She’s scheduled for removal. Almost nothing stops that.”
Ben’s gaze flew to the woman’s face again. Nothing. She had no reaction to hearing she was going to be killed as soon as she returned home. A headache formed between Ben’s eyes.
“I’m not important.”
“Well.”
Now the guard didn’t seem to know what to say. They stood in silence. Ben wasn’t going to speak first. There was no way he was going to tell this person how he’d managed to get the woman there. His brother might be a crook, but he was his crook, and Ben didn’t betray family.
“There are some rules. I’m going to tell you what they are, and then you’ll sign girlie out.”
Ben held out his hand to take the contract from the guard. He was a lawyer. In this respect, he felt right at home.
“It’s real easy. You have to feed her once a day. You have to give her somewhere to sleep. The kitchen floor with a blanket will be fine. Nothing fancy. She’s not used to fancy, and she won’t know what to do with it. You have to give her someplace to use the bathroom. You can’t touch her sexually. Madame Joan will inspect her when she gets back, and if she’s been abused, there will be a fine to pay.” The guard looked down at the list to see if he’d forgotten anything. “When you’re done with her, call the number here. And—oh—if anything goes terribly wrong, you’re being watched by the Fury, so don’t worry—someone will show up to help.”
He had no choice but to push that thought from his mind. The Fury was the stuff of nightmares.
“But you won’t have a problem with this one. Like I said, gentle as a puppy and good at what she does.”
Ben signed the contract before he passed it back to the guard. He felt a little bit sick to his stomach. Why was he doing this? Why was he deliberately sticking himself in this situation? He turned to regard the place where his grandfather clock had once stood. That was why.
“What’s her name?” Maybe he should have asked her, but he wasn’t sure what the protocol was.
“Madame Joan doesn’t give them names. She blames that treatment for what happened at Safe Dawn. We don’t have any incidents at Crescent like that. Don’t make them human and they don’t get ideas. She’s Seven-Two-Four.”
With that, the guard turned on his heel and left the way he had come in. Ben looked at Annie. She was pale as she leaned against his kitchen counter, not uttering a word.
She was obviously not going to be any help. He had a woman in his house—a Conditioned woman who didn’t have a name—because he had a ghost problem.
How the hell had any of this happened?
Two
Seven had never been in a house like this one before. Usually the places she got sent to were large mansions where very, very rich people lived. Or wanted to live. Or, in the case of her most recent trip, wanted to sell for a very large profit. She looked up at the wall. There were pictures of two little girls hung all over it.
They weren’t identical twins, but they were definitely sisters who looked a great deal alike. Still, they might have been twins, because they seemed to be about the same age. They had the same long, black hair and high cheekbones. Their noses were different, though. Seven squinted to try to get a better look but couldn’t make out exactly how they appeared. She needed glasses, badly. But she wasn’t going to get them this close to termination, no matter what her profit margin was.
Her guard left, and the click of the door closing behind him caught her attention, pulling her back into the here and now. The room fell silent as the two other occupants regarded her. She wasn’t sure how long they were going to make her stand there, not moving, but she would find a way to endure the time. Speaking first was out of the question, since she didn’t crave a beating at the moment.
“My God, Ben, she’s a baby.” The older woman took two steps forward. “I thought Eugene said she was scheduled to be put down.”
Ben must have been the handsome man with the kind eyes. Seven made a mental note of that. Not that she would ever be addressing Ben as “Ben.” If she spoke to him first, for some reason, she would call him “sir.” Still, it was nice to know.
“Um…” Ben obviously didn’t know how to answer the older woman. Seven could have, if she’d had any inclination to do so. She could have told her that Madame ended the lives of Conditioned inmates whenever she saw fit. There wasn’t a particular age for execution. Why would the woman think there was?
Ben took a step toward her. “You’re Seven-Two-Four, that is correct?”
Seven cleared her throat. “In the past, sir, some people have found it simpler to call me ‘Seven.’ Since we are not around any other Conditioned here, it is not likely to get confusing if you choose to shorten the numbers.”
“Seven.” Ben exhaled a loud breath. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, thank you.” He could tell her she could move, or show her where she should put herself until he wanted her services. But get her something? No, she was just fine.
He motioned toward the sofa. “Would you like to sit down?”
She would have kissed him in gratitude if it wouldn’t have gotten her shot.
“Yes, thank you.”
Seven tried to walk normally toward the living room without her legs giving out beneath her. She nearly stumbled b
ut caught herself before, she hoped, anyone noticed. Finally, she positioned herself on the floor next to the couch. This would be the point, she knew, when they would tell her about their paranormal issues and she would figure out how to solve them.
This was to be her last case, which was a gift to begin with. Her last assignment had gone so badly that she had almost gotten physically ill thinking it would be the last thing she would do before she died. If there was any Heaven for people like her—and everyone told her there was not—she didn’t want to have to make a case for herself with God after failing so terribly down on Earth.
Ben moved forward. “Why are you on the floor? Please, feel free to sit on the couch.”
“Thank you, but Madame prefers us not to use luxuries whenever possible. It is not our lot in life to be comfortable.”
She wasn’t sure what the look that passed between Ben and the other woman, whose name she still didn’t know, was about. Like with most things that went on outside the walls of Crescent, she found herself confused by the way people related to each other. It didn’t bother her to be out of the loop. She’d gone through most of her life that way, and now that her days were ending, it mattered even less.
After a moment, they sat down on opposite ends of the brown couch. Hoping they wouldn’t notice, she reached out to touch the material. It was soft, not hard like most of the couches she’d secretly felt in people’s homes.
“Well, I’m sure you have lots to discuss.”
The woman who had just sat stood back up again. Seven scratched her head.
Had she done something to make the other woman leave?
“Ben, don’t worry. I’ll see myself out.”
Seven didn’t want to strain to see the woman leave, so she focused instead on the shuffling of her feet as she moved away. The door opened and closed, leaving Seven alone with her quiet employer.
“So… I’m Ben Lavelle.” He drummed his fingers on his gray pants. “Look, I understand that Madame doesn’t like you to use luxuries or whatever, but in this house, furniture isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity. Could you do me a favor and at least sit on a chair?”
No one had ever asked her to do that before. She stood up on unsteady legs and took a seat on the opposite side of the couch from Ben, in the seat the woman had vacated.
Ben nodded. “Thank you. That’s better.”
The couch felt like a dream beneath her, and she wanted to sigh in relief. Her aching body had been crying out for a moment of comfort.
“How old are you, Seven?”
She rubbed her head. Personal questions were the worst. Despite her abilities, she hated feeling like a freak. The only reason people wanted to know anything about her was so they could talk about her afterward to their friends or gawk at her. Madame had told them it wasn’t their job to be concerned with what normal, non-Conditioned people did. Her role in life was simply to serve, and pray for redemption in the end.
“I’m not sure how old I am.”
That was the truth. They didn’t exactly celebrate birthdays. Even her file, which she had once managed to convince a guard to read to her, stated that she’d come to them when she’d been around two years old. That was vague enough to be completely unhelpful.
“I see.” He nodded, and she wondered if he actually did understand.
She dared to look him straight in the eyes. He wasn’t purely Caucasian; she could see that. Crescent was filled with people of all races and colors. If she had to guess, she would say that somewhere in his background there had been an Asian ancestor.
She’d seen it a few times on a globe. It was a world away from where she was.
Maybe, if she got to go to Heaven, she’d get to look down and see Asia.
The strangest urge to reach out and stroke the side of his face with her hand nearly overtook her.
Ben spoke. “You’re so quiet, and I’m not certain exactly what I’m supposed to do with you.”
“We’re not supposed to speak to Madame’s clients unless we are spoken to.”
Discomfort made her want to stand, so she braced her legs instead. Inside her shoes, where no one could see, she moved her big toe. It had always been her little rebellion. She was expected to stay completely still, and no one had to know she disobeyed.
“Surely no one is here to watch us. You can talk to me. Tell me what I’m supposed to be doing with you. This has all happened so fast. I’m not prepared.”
Seven had heard about these instances before. Clients were paid to trick the Conditioned to break the rules. She narrowed her eyes. Was that what was happening? Why would Madame bother? Seven’s termination date had come up.
Why waste the time?
“Are you testing me?” She stood up from the couch, which she never should have sat down on in the first place. Would Madame make her termination harder? Was there a way to do that?
He rose as well. “What?”
“I’m not going to break any rules. I’m not.”
Ben nodded his head. “Okay.”
He paused, and she had no idea what to do, so after a moment, she sat down on the floor. It wasn’t nearly as luxurious as the couch, but it was more familiar.
“Was I asking you to break some rules?” He moved forward until he stood right in front of her. Slowly, he lowered himself until he was sitting across from her on the ground.
She looked up until they made eye contact. Silent, as she’d learned to be over the years, she stared into his eyes, wishing she held some of the freakish abilities her friends had. Mind-reading would have been a real helpful ability right now. Still, she didn’t see any deception in his eyes. Ben’s dark depths spoke only of confusion and kindness.
Seven sighed, looking down at her hands. “There are things I’m not supposed to do. Things that, if I were to do them, would be… bad.”
Bad was not the most articulate word she’d ever used, but it was the only one she could come up with at the moment. One of the things she wasn’t supposed to talk about was what went on at Crescent. Bad would have to suffice.
“How would anyone find out you did them?”
He loosened his tie as if it were choking him. She wanted to reach up and rub his shoulders until he unclenched his teeth.
“You would tell them. Or the Fury would.”
“Unless you do something to endanger me or someone else when you’re with me, I’m not going to tell anyone anything. I’m a lawyer. I’m really good at keeping people’s secrets.” He lowered his head to match the lowering of his voice. “And the Fury is not in my house. I’m not one hundred percent certain they’re real.”
Before she could stop herself, she reached out and took his hand. He didn’t pull away or gasp, which was good. A lot of people wouldn’t want to be touched by the Conditioned.
“The Fury is quite real, sir. Everything you think you’ve heard, it’s probably happened.”
He squeezed her fingers. “You would know better than I would. Either way, they’re not here in this house.”
“The Fury is everywhere.”
Ben shook his head. “They’re not here.”
He was wrong, but you didn’t argue with the client. She believed that he wasn’t going to report on her, but he had no idea how capable the Fury was of being anywhere and everywhere they wanted to be. If they set their eyes on her, she was a dead duck. The likelihood was they’d leave her alone—she was already marked for death—but she still had to be careful.
Ben spoke again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to treat you. Perhaps others have time to prepare for this kind of thing, but I didn’t. I only asked to get some help this morning and they sent you right over. I’m a little in over my head.”
“I see.” And she finally did. She let go of his hand and stood up. “Why don’t you show me where your ghost problem is?”
He rose to his feet. “It’s many places.”
She raised an eyebrow. It was, apparently, a strong energy. That was fine.
She had dealt with them before. There wasn’t much she hadn’t seen since she’d opened her eyes sometime in her second year and seen things that others didn’t think were there. She was the most sought-after Conditioned for what she did—that was what Madame had told her. She was the best at a skill that went against nature, that was a slight against God. The only thing she could do was try to help as many people as possible and hope it was enough to earn her redemption for her sin.
“Show me.”
He scratched his head. “I can show you the many places in this house where we’ve had incidents, but I can’t take you to the other places, because they’re in other people’s homes.”
Had she heard him correctly? “Are you saying that there are ghosts in many different homes, and that I’m taking care of all of them?”
Her head spun. She was in no rush to get back to Crescent and her death sentence, but she wasn’t sure she had the resources to handle such a large case.
Seven felt exhausted, that was all there was to it.
“We assume it’s the same ghost.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she could crawl into a hole. “Why would you assume that?”
“We’d never had these kinds of problems before, and then we all started having them. It seemed logical.”
Seven shook her head. “No.”
It really shouldn’t have surprised her. Outside the others with her particular problem, people didn’t know that much about ghosts. Or energies, which was what they really were. Why should they? From what she gathered, people either pictured floating white sheets or something out of a horror movie. In her life, it wasn’t anything like that.
“What do you suppose it is, then?” Ben’s gaze pleaded with her for answers.
He’d clearly been through a lot.
She sighed. “I’m just guessing, since I haven’t seen anything yet and Madame doesn’t like us to speculate. If we don’t know, she prefers we say so.”
“Madame has a lot to say, doesn’t she?”
Seven wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was he being sarcastic? What would be the point of that?
Illicit Connections (Illicit Minds Book 2) Page 2
