Grave

by L H Whitlock

  Leaping to the side, she snagged the pan’s handle and smacked Dexter’s face with it, using the element of surprise to her immense benefit. The iron burned her palm, but she ignored it and smacked Dexter again as he fell to the floor howling in pain.

  “Fuck!” Deon screamed in frustration. He turned and kicked a man in his balls. “Now’s not the time to grow some stones, Nora! Just give them the Tints!”

  “No!” Nora yelled back and hit the downed Dexter again. “I’m so tired of all this rape bullshit. I am not a toy! I’m a person you son of a bitch!”

  A chair cracked over another man’s back as Lit-ta joined the fight. A man growled and fell to the ground, wood from the chair flying through the air, a piece grazing Nora’s cheek. She brought a hand up to her throbbing flesh but found no blood when she pulled her hand away.

  While Nora was preoccupied, Dexter grabbed her foot and tugged her down. She fell with a yelp, catching her fall with her forearms. Dexter easily flipped her over and crawled on top of her. Through the darkness, she caught a glimpse of his white teeth between his stretched lips. The skin on his cheek looked bubbled from the heat of the pan.

  The first punch hit her hard. Coppery, wet liquid filled her mouth, and she cried out and squirmed beneath the larger man. In the distance, what seemed far, far away, she heard the cries of Deon and Lit-ta as they got the shit beat out of them, she assumed.

  Why had she been so brave?

  Dexter raised his hands again, but stopped and grabbed her by the collar instead and hefted her to her feet. The room swirled as she regained her bearings and she saw Deon being restrained by two men as he screamed at Griff, who was dragging Lit-ta by her ankles down the hallway. Lit-ta screamed for Deon and clawed at the wooden floor, a sound Nora would never forget.

  Nora only caught glimpses of Lit-ta as they passed the window and moonlight shone in through gaps around the curtains.

  “No!” Nora yelled. “Leave her alone. You’re not here for her; you’re here for the Tints. I’ll tell you where they are!”

  “You should have thought about that before bashing my face with that fucking pan,” Dexter said with a sneer. “We have a rule here. An eye for an eye. He fisted his hand in her hair and pushed her down toward the counter.

  It wasn’t until Nora felt the heat of the cooktop that she realized what he was about to do. She tried to stop herself against the counter, but Dexter caught both her wrists in his hand and pulled them out of the way. He pushed lower and lower, her strength no match for the larger man. He jeered at her, and the men who filled her quaint living room waited for Dexter to get his revenge before searching for her coin.

  A black cloak whisked into the room with unnatural speed. Grave grabbed the man closest to the door and tossed him outside like he were nothing but a rodent.

  The men moved all at once, rushing Grave. Nora yelled out a warning, but Grave met the men halfway. Her attackers were flung around the room like children’s toys, crashing into the walls, the cabinets, up turning the sofa. One of the men tried to crash her last remaining chair over the top of Grave, but the hooded hero easily caught it and flung the man onto the other end of the sofa and off the side.

  “Shit!” Dexter growled and put more pressure on the back of her head. She fought back with renewed hope. Her face heated with the closeness of the stove but she thrashed violently, making it hard for Dexter to keep hold of her.

  Grave looked over at her and flicked his wrist. Dexter howled, and his grip on her vanished as he stumbled along the length of the counter, falling once the slab of stone no longer existed to balance him.

  Nora looked at Dexter in shock and noticed a piece of metal lodged into his shoulder. Her body trembled at the thought of Grave throwing that so close to her, although his aiming had been precise and quick like missing his target wasn’t even a factor for him.

  “Nora!” Graves’s voice boomed through the small house. Deon was fighting off the last of his attackers, but Grave closed the space in two large steps and threw the attacker to the floor.

  “Grave!” Nora called back. “Lit-ta! Please! Get Lit-ta! He has her in the back room.” Before she had even finished the sentence, Grave was already halfway down the hallway, his cloak flying behind him.

  With Grave’s absence, the few remaining men who he hadn’t literally tossed around made a run for it, Dexter included. He didn’t bother with any last words or threats as Nora would have expected from a man like him.

  Her knees wobbled, and she gripped the counter to steady herself. The screams of Griff, the sounds of fists pounding flesh, and Lit-ta’s cries floated through the air in a detached kind of way, like it was all happening in a different world.

  Grave marched back up the hallway, dragging Griff by his collar, the man’s feet scrambled beneath him in an attempt to stay on his feet. Grave slammed him against the wall next to the door and leaned in close until their faces nearly touched.

  “If you ever, and I do mean ever, bother Lit-ta again I will skin you, then rip off your hands, your feet, and your dick and leave your raw, bloodied meat out for the wulgors. You hear me?” He shook the man as though he weighed no more than a child. “You’re lucky we have rules, or I wouldn’t be just telling you.”

  Nora’s breath caught at the genuine calmness of Grave’s voice while he said things which the man would never do. Would he? Griff whimpered, and his head wobbled in an attempt to nod.

  Grave stared at him for a moment, then dropped him. Griff landed hard on his ass and shuffled out the door before he was even fully to his feet. Grave looked out the door for several moments then pulled out a communicator from his pocket.

  He pressed a button, and Rikar’s voice came filtering through. “Hey, what’s happening, had any luck with—”

  “Griff, Dexter and several others attacked Nora, Lit-ta, and Deon. Vanquish all of them before I kill them myself.”

  “They’ll be gone tonight,” Rikar said, and the line went silent.

  Grave stared outside for several moments longer before turning back to the trio.

  Nora ran to hug Lit-ta, who had stumbled out of the room with Deon’s help. Nora didn’t want to ask how far Griff had gotten. Time had seemed slow and fast all at once, and she couldn’t fathom what Griff had accomplished and what he would have done with more time. All she could think about was how grateful she was that Lit-ta was alive.

  Nora wrapped her arms around her shaking friend in hopes that she could help steady her.

  “I’m okay,” Lit-ta said in a wobbly voice, and her teeth began to clatter.

  “You’re shaking,” Nora smoothed her hand over the other woman’s arm.

  “It’s okay. He only hit me and tried to take off my clothes. I don’t know why I’m shaking so badly.”

  “You’re in shock. Your body is reacting to adrenaline,” Grave said. “Deon, take her home, get a bath going, and stay with her for the night.”

  Deon nodded and collected Lit-ta into his arms, guiding her out the door. Grave watched them leave, then turned back to Nora.

  They stared at each other through the dark room for several moments. Nora could barely make out the outline of his cloaked form. How often had she seen him like this? Resembling more a shadow than a man? But maybe that’s how he intended it.

  Her own body was beginning to ache from Dexter’s rough treatment.

  “Are you harmed?” Grave asked, his voice like gravel yet with a hint of softness creeping in if she listened hard enough.

  “Um,” Nora said, trying to control the shaking in her voice. “He–he just hit me a few times. But I think I’m okay.”

  Grave paused for a moment, and she could almost feel his indecision. Then he kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot and flipped the lights.

  Nora squinted and turned away from the sudden brightness. When she blinked her eyes open, Grave had already closed the curtains, flipped the sofa back to its upright position, and was in the kitchen scavenging through the drawers.
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  “What are you looking for?” Nora asked.

  “I’m looking for your herbs and oils. You mentioned the last time that you brought some from Yunnika. It will be better than what I can get tonight, and your face is starting to swell. If we apply ointment right away, you’ll be much better off in the morning.”

  Nora brought a hand up to her hot flesh. It felt swollen and sensitive, but she didn’t feel any stickiness to indicate blood.

  “I’ll be okay. You’ve done so much already; I don’t want to be a burden.” She tugged on the ends of her shirt and had to keep herself from feeling her stomach. Had her baby been harmed when she fell? She wished she could go and get an ultrasound and see for herself, but she had a lot to think about before revealing the life growing inside of her to anyone else.”

  “I’ll tend to your wounds then leave you be. You need a warm bath and a long sleep.” He had an assortment of oils and herbs out and was pouring them into a bowl, mixing them together with his fingers rather than a mortar. The technique suited his gruffness, and a smile tugged at her mouth.

  “Please stay for the night.” Her face flushed. “I mean… I would rather not be alone tonight.”

  “You won’t be alone. I’ll keep close surveillance on your home and make sure no one comes close. You have my word.”

  Nora stared at his hooded form, at the jagged lines that ended around his mouth, at his squared, angular jaw. She studied the only flesh she could see, other than his hands, and mashed the words together in her mind that she wanted to say, trying out different orders and different deliveries, but none of them seemed quite right.

  Finally, she released an anxious breath and looked at her feet. Maybe she was meek. She couldn’t even look at the man when she revealed what she truly felt because she was too embarrassed.

  “I want you to stay with me tonight. In person. Please.” She couldn’t offer up any other explanation but justified it to herself that she was scared, and she was, but she was also looking for an excuse to have someone close within these lonely walls.

  14

  Grave looked up from the herbs he was preparing. His heart nearly wrenched out of his chest as he stared at Nora, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with uncertainty, as though he would deny her request.

  Unbeknownst to her, he couldn’t deny her anything when she asked in that soft, vulnerable voice. Her dark purple hair cascaded over her shoulders in a tangled mess from her struggles, and the pale skin of her cheek where Dexter had punched her was red and already turning purple.

  She looked away, and Grave’s stomach rolled with the thought that she looked away because she was afraid, or found him disgusting as the light hit the lower portion of his face, highlighting the deep scars he worked so hard to conceal.

  “I can stay,” Grave said and mixed the last ingredient into the small bowl. He watched in confusion as Nora’s shoulders dropped with what he perceived as a sigh of relief. She plopped down on the sofa, her eyes closed and head tilted back.

  “Are you doing okay?” Grave moved across the room, wincing as his footsteps landed heavily on the wooden floors. He tried his best not to be such an imposing form, but he felt like a giant trying to fit inside a tin can.

  Nora looked at him and smiled. “I’m fine, just a bit shaken. I can’t believe all those men came for my money. I didn’t even think of it.”

  Rage tore through Grave, and he wanted to reprimand her, but from the look of her small, shaking form, she already knew the danger she had put herself in.

  Instead, he sat on the sofa, his weight tipping Nora toward him, but she didn’t adjust or move away as he anticipated. In fact, she readjusted and angled herself so she was facing him, close enough that he could reach her face.

  He focused on her swollen cheek and dipped his finger in the cool serum he had created. If applied in time it would cut the swelling and bruising down and limit healing to only a day or so. He lifted his finger to her face and smoothed the cream on. She winced as he touched the tender skin and he smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone with as much care and grace a man with his past could muster.

  She relaxed into him, and Grave took the opportunity to admire her skin beneath his fingers. The closeness of her breath and the scent that wrapped around him. Though she was so much smaller than he, she didn’t shy away, and a part of him deep within wanted to know why.

  “They came because they knew you had the money. Tints get noticed around here fast. It’s very dangerous to show any sort of wealth.”

  Nora dropped her head, and Grave caught her chin with two fingers, bringing her eyes back up to him. He knew his hood masked his face, but he almost wished she could see his full expression and know he wasn’t angry. That was just his voice; his voice betrayed him and nearly always sounded like grinding rocks.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of. This place is not for someone like you, and they took advantage of that.”

  Nora’s eyes watered, and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to stop the tears, but a few trickled down her cheek, falling upon Grave’s fingers. He watched them trickle down the calloused digits and wrap around the other side. His immediate reaction was to withdraw; he hardly knew how to handle a woman in pain, but he forced himself to be steadfast.

  “I know I’m weak and timid and shy. I wish I had never gotten on that shuttle.”

  Anger twisted in Grave’s chest, threatening to take him to a darker place, but he focused on the light in front of him, on Nora’s beauty.

  “I don’t,” he murmured, his soft rasp settling between them like an intimate revelation.

  Nora opened her mouth to respond, but Grave wasn’t ready for her rejection. He wanted to live in this moment a bit longer, so he continued talking. “Building that greenhouse was not meek, and coming to a place like this, escaping whatever situation you were in was not meek. You’re not a hardened criminal like the rest of us, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Nora studied him for a moment and Grave dipped his finger into the salve again, rubbing the cream into her face, taking extra care to cover the entire surface, not just the area of the bruising. More for himself than for her benefit. He found the action incredibly intimate and a part of him he had forgotten about awakened with a fiery roar.

  If Nora knew his scheme, she didn’t out him but allowed him this simple pleasure.

  “Is it true…? Did you…? Deon and Lit-ta said some things…” Nora chewed on her pink lip as she gathered the courage to ask him the question. “Did you kill thousands of men?”

  His immediate, raw response was anger. Fury that Nora had listened to those lies and thought they held truth. But he remembered Rikar’s suggestion, to let her in and give her a chance. To give himself a chance. Maybe it was about time he shared his story, or at least a censored bit, to someone other than his fellow gladiators.

  “I heard what they said.” Grave couldn’t keep the anger from his voice, but Nora didn’t let that tug her away.

  “They only said what they heard. A lot of things are said about you.”

  Grave chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “That is true.”

  Silence passed between them for several moments and Grave collected the last of the salve to smooth over her face. He traced the slopes of her nose, caressed her temples and brushed a thumb lightly over her lips. Soft velvet teased the pads of his fingers and his cock pulsed, an uncomfortable feeling for him and he had to remind himself that she didn’t know how he was affected by this, nor was she looking at his crotch. Another reason he thanked his cloak for its coverage.

  Grave smiled and wondered what that looked like on his scared face. “I’ll spare you repeating the dreadful stories, but yes, I have killed men. Not in the thousands, only a few hundred.”

  Nora’s eyes widened, and he scolded himself. Great start.

  He gathered Nora’s hands in his own, and both of them stared at the joining.

  “Before coming here, I was a warrior, altered by the s
cientists at Huftor to be the perfect killing machine. I was imprisoned for twenty-eight years and forced to fight in gladiator-style arena battles for sport. It was kill or be killed, and I’m a warrior. I don’t succumb, and I don’t give up. And the minute I found an opening, a few of the other gladiators and I made a break for it. We landed here. It was our history of imprisonment that made us create this place.”

  Nora licked her lips as she appeared to be processing the information. “I… Grave that must have been horrible.”

  Grave gave a slight nod. “It was. And I’m thankful to be free. My master—” he sneered the word “—was always reading from that book of his. What he called the scroll. But it was so far from the real book. He plastered our minds with stories of glory, of how we were abominations meant to entertain those of significance. It was not until I broke free that I found the real book and learned that so many altered it for their benefit. I don’t even know if the damn thing I read was the true translation or not. That’s why I got so aggressive about Hayme. It was not right of me to belittle you, to throw all that at you. You’ve been through enough already.”

  Nora violently shook her head. “No! Please don’t apologize for that. There were always rumors and talk of Hayme having alternative motives and the book being a lie. But we were reprimanded if it got out that we were questioning the word, so we didn’t fuss about it too much. I–I don’t know what to think about all this yet, but I’m thankful that you confirmed Hayme has alternative motives. I’m learning that so many of the things he did are…so wrong and so evil.”

  Grave nodded. “Yes, those stupid concoctions he creates saying that God shows him the answers if you de-petal a flower and drop it in a bowl of wine and tar.” Grave laughed, the sound gruff and unpracticed to his ears.