Dragon Bone

by J. D. Cavalida

  "Oh?" Gabriel sounded curious, though he still didn't come out to face him. "Don't you want to go visit your sister or something?"

  "Yeah, I do, but there's—there's a photo. In my room. Of me and—him. I want to give it to Diva. For now, I mean, for safekeeping." He picked at his sleeves. "I don't want to see it there. At least not yet."

  "Hm. Okay. Give me a sec."

  "Uh, what're you doing in there?"

  "Painting. Come in."

  Not sure if he'd heard right, Vel parted the curtain hesitantly. The room contained two big mattresses and little else, but it looked far from empty—the walls were completely covered by a painting of four tigers caught mid-leap, eyes bright and teeth bared. Gabriel was crouched in one corner, dabbing on fresh paint where the old coat had peeled to reveal bare cement. "Wow," Vel said. "If you can do this, why are you still a—" He caught himself just in time, just noticing Keri curled up under a blanket, seemingly fast asleep, but he knew all about the elaborate things children did to eavesdrop.

  Gabriel laughed quietly, setting down his brush and palette. "Man, you kids are so optimistic. Don't worry, she's out. Because sex pays better and quicker. I haven't got time to spend days on something if I can earn the same in an hour with a client." He wiped his hands clean on a rag, procured a jacket from under the piled blankets and shrugged it on. "Let's go."

  Vel was surprised that it was pitch-dark when he stepped outside. It was strange to be unable to see the stars in the night sky, covered by the city's smog. Parked behind the house was a rusty army motorcycle, glinting the tiniest amount in the shadows. "What's the time?"

  "Four in the morning. You slept for sixteen hours, which is pretty damn amazing. I was considering resuscitating you, but I didn't want you to think I was fantasising about your brother again. Hop on."

  Vel sat on the bike behind Gabriel and put on the helmet that the man handed him. "I said that?"

  "Yep." He started the engine, the loud roar cutting jarringly through the silence. Vel clutched at Gabriel's sides awkwardly as the vehicle surged forward, speeding around sharp corners, headlight illuminating the dim streets. He tightened his hold when they emerged into wider roads and the icy wind made it too uncomfortable to sit apart.

  Vel didn't speak until they were nearing HQ and the sky was deep indigo, scattered with stars again. He watched the snow-capped mountains ahead inch closer. Everything was quiet apart from the constant thud of wind in his ears. He leaned closer to the warm body in front of him and murmured, "Gabriel, what happened to Damien? Please tell me."

  Gabriel didn't react, but after a while he took a hand off the handlebars and patted Vel's cold fingers. It felt like an apology, and Vel sighed into the air, frustrated.

  They disembarked at the entrance of the base and left the bike there for the patrolling soldiers to watch over. Vel hurried through without talking to them. Gabriel went towards the main gate. "I need to pop inside to check something real quick, okay? Wait here when you're done."

  "Whatever," Vel mumbled, crossing his arms.

  "Thanks. Won't take long." Gabriel jogged away into the pre-dawn gloom. Vel glanced at the dark barracks, at his apartment building. He sighed again and headed over. He opened his door carefully, spying David's brown hair in the other bed. The guy didn't stir, snoring quietly, and Vel envied the easy sleep he must be getting. He grabbed the photo off the bedside cupboard and exited the room.

  Outside, he paced around pointlessly, watching every breath he took puff out before him in a brief white cloud. The sky turned a brighter shade of blue very gradually.

  The gate opened again and Gabriel came out, but he was accompanied by Lieutenant Snow, who seemed slightly panicked. The sight was unusual. Vel didn't know what to think upon seeing him— from what little he'd gathered, he was at least somewhat responsible for what happened. He didn't want to hear the details yet. Snow was still just Elstrin's unbeatable instructor, a quiet, mysterious man, and whether or not that was still true, Vel clung on to the image. Like he was clinging on to the many small things around him that gave the illusion that everything was still normal and okay. Nothing had changed. He would live through today like it was just every other day.

  They looked like they were in the middle of an argument as they strode towards Vel. "I'm telling him," Gabriel snapped.

  "You can't, Gabriel—"

  "He has a right to know. He has every right. You've kept it from him long enough. It doesn't even fucking matter if he knows or not anymore."

  "It does—"

  "Even if it does, then!" Gabriel retorted, shaking off Snow's hand when the lieutenant made to grab his shoulder. "You wouldn't understand. It means the same, in the end."

  Gabriel finally stopped in front of Vel, but before he could say another word, Snow got between them. "Gabriel, don't."

  "Your brother was—"

  "Don't—"

  "What?" Vel interrupted, instantly alert, confusion morphing quickly into wariness. "What about him?"

  "The ghosts!" Snow said frantically, pushing at Gabriel's chest, and the man finally paused. "I can't stop you from telling him, Gabriel, but please—not here. They don't like hearing about it, it distresses them. Please."

  Nobody moved for a moment. Abruptly, the tension drained from Gabriel. His shoulders

  slumped, eyes slipping closed briefly. His words were heavy with regret and none of the anger from just five seconds ago. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Snow. I completely forgot."

  Snow let out a relieved breath. "It's all right."

  "I'm so sorry." Gabriel ran a hand down his face and sighed. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes. I… I think I'll go back inside."

  "All right." He gazed at Snow for a while. "I'll come back later, yeah?"

  Snow nodded once and departed without a word. He didn't even glance back at Vel. When he disappeared through the gate, Gabriel swore quietly.

  "Um… what did he mean?" Vel asked hesitantly. "Ghosts?"

  Gabriel just shook his head. "I'm a fucking idiot sometimes."

  "Okay, well, I don't really care anyway. What's this about my brother?"

  "I'll tell you how he died."

  Vel's eyes went wide. His knees felt weak for a moment, and he wasn't sure if it was relief or worry. "Now?"

  "No. Not now, not here. It's not… not a good place to talk about it. The entire HQ isn't a good place."

  "Then—where? Why?"

  Gabriel pursed his lips, still staring at the gate. "You got that photo?"

  "Yeah."

  "Then let's go."

  x

  Training had resumed, and Elstrin did his best on the field, having noticed right away how

  irritated the lieutenants got if a cadet got distracted. The low error threshold he was allowed made it difficult to think too deeply about what Snow had said yesterday, which he supposed was the point. He hadn't seen Snow at all since his short speech in the outer hall, but as the day wore on, he glimpsed him a few times by the gate, passing messages to Stag or the guards. Elstrin never got the chance to even look over for more than a couple seconds before his lieutenant barked at him to get back to the obstacle courses he was trying to conquer.

  Their mealtimes and breaks were strictly supervised, soldiers leading them to and from the cafeteria. None of them were allowed to wander off anywhere else. Elstrin thought the new arrangement felt uncomfortably like a prison. It was made even more dismal by the silence that Vel's absence brought on, and the knowledge that Andrew's spot at their table would forever remain empty.

  The day was unproductive and boring, as they usually were whenever he wasn't training with Snow or hanging out with his friends. After dinner, Elstrin and Kana were amongst the first to line up to go back to the barracks, both of them annoyed and tired. The only thing Elstrin looked forward to was finally settling down in bed with Kana so they could at least share their puzzlement over the insane events that had happened in the last two days. Maybe just talking about it would help them under
stand how or why HQ seemed to be made up of one secret atop another.

  When the rest of the cadets finished eating and formed up behind them, they were led around the empty field. Elstrin looked at the gate out of habit and was surprised to see Snow there again, addressing a group of four soldiers in full uniform. Even more surprisingly, Snow caught sight of him and nodded. "Good evening, Elstrin," he said without much enthusiasm. He seemed very weary, eyes shadowed under the cold field lights.

  "What did you mean, Rem's resting in Mernot?" Elstrin said, uttering the first of many questions plaguing his mind.

  Of course, the lieutenant leading the group only heard his louder question and not Snow's quiet greeting. "Get back in line, cadet," he snapped.

  "Why can't he just stay here and—"

  "That's it, I'm suspending your weapon privileges for a week, White," the lieutenant said.

  Like I fucking care, Elstrin was about to retort, but Snow waved a hand vaguely.

  "It's fine, Lieutenant Stone. I talked to him first. He'll join the back of the line." Snow waited until the cadets continued on before speaking again. "How was training?"

  "Crap. Ropes and swords all day long. Plus my friend is dead and I want to know what the bloody hell is going on."

  "What I said yesterday was all I was allowed to disclose. You know I can't answer you."

  "Come on, I can keep a secret," Elstrin argued, hurt that Snow would think otherwise. "I know all this is probably life-or-death important."

  "Hence why you shouldn't pry into it."

  "But—"

  Snow sighed, and if Elstrin hadn't been so frustrated and distracted, he would've noticed how Snow's breath never misted up the air before him. "I'm tired, Elstrin, and the day is far still from over for me. Come back and nag me tomorrow; your time's up. Get back in line."

  Chapter 23

  A brothel. Gabriel had brought him to a brothel.

  They sat in the empty waiting room without talking, and Vel resisted the urge to fidget. Gabriel seemed entirely indifferent to the situation, studying the line where the wall and floor met like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Occasionally, his finger twitched. He didn't react to the sounds outside, while Vel listened tensely to the lewd, barely-muffled noises of activity in the neighbouring rooms and wished he was somewhere else. This was the easiest way, though. Gabriel had said it would be safe to talk about it here, and Vel trusted him.

  He opened his dry mouth to speak, unable to stand the silence any longer, and was interrupted by

  a particularly loud moan from right next door. Female, and high-pitched and fake, and it set his hair on end. Buried memories of strange dim rooms and alien smells sent an involuntary shiver through him. The voice was nothing like his sister's, but it was still a girl's. That was enough to give him brief snatches of those few hard months years ago, after Damien had left and they'd struggled to readjust, reality not quite lining up with their calculations despite all the savings they had painstakingly gathered beforehand. Things had went downhill at an alarming rate—before they could become desperate, Diva had taken him out one evening to one of these rooms and explained in an awkward, stumbling whisper what exactly she did to earn money. And Vel had stayed the night there in the brothel, afraid to sleep surrounded by those fake giggles and rowdy laughter, confused by the people all coming and going at all hours of the night. Diva had returned in the early morning in a bathrobe that wasn't hers, silently handed him the lunch money he'd never asked about before, and told him there wasn't enough for the whole family.

  A couple of months were all. But they weren't pleasant months, not by the slightest. Vel remembered little of them, only a vague, crushing sense of reluctance and uncertainty, fear and embarrassment, the wish for the morning to arrive and for hot showers and soap. And, once or twice, intense excitement that he could now categorise as pleasure. He'd slept little in the three nights every week he was at the brothel, and on his four days off he was dazed and withdrawn, avoiding almost every adult he met. What he did there, he recalled nothing at all, except he was absolutely sure nobody ever fucked him, not in the fullest sense. At the end of every session a physician would come in and check his body for signs of trauma. Vel thought he detested that most of all. He didn't know. He'd blocked it out as well.

  And then things levelled out—Vel had earned a surprising amount, almost as much as Diva despite (or probably because of) his youth—and Damien sent his first envelope, a thick package containing a very lengthy letter and a sheath of banknotes, bets he'd scored from fellow cadets over the weeks. To the boys in the army it was pocket change, but to them it was a fortune. Diva had gently, tearfully thanked Vel for everything, apologised, kissed him on the forehead and told him it was all over now. That night he remembered vividly—the night it finally stopped. Vel had stood there fighting back tears, wanting to say many things but keeping his mouth shut until Diva left to begin her evening shift, and then he had crawled into bed and cried himself to sleep. He even remembered the nightmares he had, of his brother and sister dying horrible, bloody deaths, too far away for him to help, too far away to even hear him scream their names. He'd woken up exactly eight times, lonely and empty and wishing for his siblings, until Diva came home again and comforted him.

  She had smelled like the room he was in now, that early dawn when she touched his clammy forehead and told him to sleep because everything was okay. The knowledge of what she did haunted him for a long while, nearly as much as his own ordeal disturbed him. They had never breathed a word of Vel's brief stint to Damien. Even their mother didn't know. It remained their hushed secret, even now when there was nobody in their family left to tell.

  Vel wondered how many of the girls and boys were in here in secret. How many of them were silently suffering, for themselves or for others. Alone, like Diva was. He wanted to barge into each room and urge them all to tell someone, anyone, because it was horrible. Being alone was horrible. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he was quite certain he'd be sick by the third room. Sitting still and listening was bad enough—to actually look and watch it happening… no. He couldn't. It was something he'd never mastered, something he still ran away from. Trauma, though he didn't like to use the word. It sounded weak. And he wasn't weak, because not even a week ago the man he loved had died and he was still here breathing. Weak people, he wagered, would've run themselves off a cliff by now.

  Gabriel startled him by reaching over and taking his hand, the movement so natural and casual

  that it seemed like he did it every day. Maybe he did. He squeezed slightly, fingers warm and calm. Turning away from his study of the wall, he gazed at Vel evenly. His voice was steady and so normal. "What were you saying?"

  Vel froze for a moment, mind blank, muddled by the oppressive air of the place. "Huh?" was all he could manage.

  "You were going to say something, then that girl faked an orgasm and you looked like someone slipped bad drugs in your lunch."

  "Oh. I—I don't know." His hands twitched back automatically and Gabriel started to move away. Suddenly desperate, Vel seized his arm. "How long will it take? I—don't like this place."

  "Just a bit longer," Gabriel promised, his pale eyes searching Vel's face. Then he patted Vel's knee and sat back, apparently at ease. "They'll tell us when the room's free."

  "By free, do you mean—like, right after someone's done with it?"

  "Yep."

  "O-oh." Vel shivered again. He couldn't help it. His stomach was queasy, intestines churning.

  Gabriel was silent, but he scooted closer and put an arm around Vel. Their differences in height made it an easy arrangement, and Vel leaned into it, trying to relax. After a while he closed his eyes and pretended it was Damien. The thought made his heart ache, but at least it helped quell some of his nausea. He wanted his brother here with him. Damien would know what to do and say.

  "How'd you know she works here?" Vel murmured, just to break the silence again. "Even I didn't kn
ow."

  "I'm a whore too, kid. I hear things."

  "But you don't do the—the whole brothel thing, right?"

  "Nah. Can't afford that kind of luxury. It draws too much attention."

  "This is… a luxury?" he said disbelievingly.

  Gabriel shrugged his other shoulder. "Running water, temperature control, electricity, clean-ish laundry, free condoms… yeah, I'd say so. Certainly beats some back alley with broken bottles all over the ground. I hate those."

  Vel tried not to imagine it. "Why do you do it?"

  "I told you. It pays well."

  "Yeah, but—why? Why would anyone even consider—"

  "It's fun," Gabriel said nonchalantly. "Some people have no choice, but I'm not easily tricked into doing stuff I don't want to do. I have a high sex drive and no expectations and expensive assets, so here I am."