I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
Numb—Linkin' Park
Julianne winces as the leather belt snaps against her back again, stifling a whimper. The sounds only make Basta happier and she has no intention of giving him what he wants. "Don't be brave, Julianne," he says, laughing darkly. "It's only going to get worse." It's going to get worse no matter how she reacts, so she bites down on the sheets and endures.
She focuses her gaze on a crack in the wall next to the bed, letting her imagination take her away. What was that song Mo used to sing to her? The slow one about love and travels that he said Mom sang when she worked in the garden? Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle, see the pyramids along the Nile. Just remember darlin', all the while, you belong to me—
A sharp slap brings Julianne back to the present, her back starting to go numb. Basta throws the belt to the side and steps close to the bed, bringing out his knife.
"Time for the fun part." He rolls Julianne onto her side, gripping her chin in one hand to keep her from moving. A blur of movement beyond him draws her attention, spotting Dustfinger as he picks something up from a table. Her lips curve up in a weak smile as he inches closer, raising his weapon. Is that a freaking cereal bowl? "What are you grinning about?" He brings the bowl down hard behind Basta's ear, sending Basta collapsing to the floor.
"Are you alright," Dustfinger asks in a whisper, helping her to sit up. She winces as the wounds on her back protest to the movement.
"I've been better," Julianne grunts.
"My God, what has he done to you?" He removes his coat and wraps it around her shoulders before searching the room for spare clothing she can wear. Her dress had been shredded when Basta grew impatient with the zipper. She glares down at the bastard, grabbing the discarded bowl and bringing it down against his cheek.
Dustfinger comes back with a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pants, both black. He helps her into them, supporting her when she stands to pull the pants up. They hang loose on her hips and the shirt is practically a nightgown, but it's better than walking around in her birthday suit.
"Now," Dustfinger says," let's go rescue your family."
It takes longer than either of them wants to admit to reach the tumbledown building that's housing Julianne's family, her sore back making the slightest movement almost impossible. Dustfinger sends her apologetic looks as they walk, knowing him turning the Folcharts over had led to this. Julianne is mostly over it by now, knowing that Dustfinger is just doing everything to get back to his family. She would probably do the same thing in his shoes. Ten minutes later finds them outside the door of Mo's cell, Dustfinger fiddling with the lock and cursing his burned fingers.
"You want me to give it a shot," Julianne asks. She's sitting on the ground, shoulder leaning against the damp wall. He gives a distracted shake of his head, barely sparing her a look. A couple of curses later, Dustfinger has the lock off and the two of them sneak inside. On the floor are piles of rotting straw, the walls are cement with names scratched into the surface, one of those being Meggie's. In the middle of the room are the trio they've come to rescue. Dustfinger closes the door behind them so that no one gets suspicious.
"I told you I could get it."
"Mo!" Julianne moves as quickly as she can, falling into her dad's arms. She grimaces, pulling back slightly and adjusting Mo's arms so they don't press against the lashes. The numbness is definitely fading, and feeling is rushing to fill its place. The pain causes her stomach to turn and the room to spin for a second. Elinor walks over to inspect Julianne, hands gentle where they grasp her chin and turn her head side to side.
"I hear tell that you've done it again, Silvertongue. I also heard that the poor boy hasn't said a word."
"What do you want," Elinor snaps.
"Leave him be," Mo tells her before looking back to Dustfinger. "How are your hands?" Dustfinger shrugs, holding out his hands for Mo to see. They're still a bright red, like a bad sunburn that hurts at the slightest touch. Julianne knows his hands must hurt terribly, but he's too stubborn to do much other than soak them in cool water. Glaring up at him, Elinor finally lets Julianne go and faces Dustfinger with her hands on her hips.
"What are you doing here?" Dustfinger pulls keys out of his coat pocket and tosses them at her feet by way of answer.
"What do you think," he grumbles, annoyed. "Stealing keys from Basta isn't easy and a word of thanks might be appreciated." Julianne raises an eyebrow at him, and he rolls his eyes in return. "Don't give me that look, you don't know how awkward it is to reach into that man's pocket, unconscious or not."
"You knocked Basta unconscious," Mo asks.
"With a cereal bowl," Julianne confirms. Dustfinger shoots her a look and she shrugs, regretting the motion a second later. Mo supports her when her knees buckle, shooting Dustfinger a worried look.
"I didn't get there fast enough," he explains. "He was hitting her with a belt when I was able to get inside. I suggest we get out of here before Basta wakes up and tries to finish what he started."
"Fine, but we're bringing someone else along with us," Mo says stubbornly. Dustfinger rolls his eyes skyward, biting his lip to keep from saying something he might regret later. Mo's expression brooks no arguments, it's one Julianne became intimately familiar with as a child. "It won't take long. The boy is right next door to us, Basta said so." The boy? Is he talking about that kid he read out of the Arabian Nights? The guilt in his eyes answers her question well enough. He won't leave this godforsaken village if he can't bring the kid with them. "No lock has ever been an obstacle for your clever fingers."
"Clever fingers that are burned." Dustfinger holds up his hands to prove his point. "I barely got the lock on your door to cooperate, ask your daughter." Mo and Julianne send him another look that adults master when they spend any time around stubborn children, I can argue a lot longer than you can. He lets out a frustrated growl, throwing his hands in the air. "That soft heart of yours will be the death of us," he hisses.
"I'm too tired to care about your dramatics." The group follows Dustfinger outside to a door with a five painted on it, Dustfinger knocking on the flimsy wood. A faint rustling is heard from the other side, as though someone's trying to get as far as they can away from the door.
"At least you weren't lied to. All prisoners that are to be killed are locked in the crypts under the church. Basta turns white as a sheet when he has to go down there ever since I convinced him that a White Woman haunts it." He chuckles until he sees Julianne's unamused expression. "It'd be easier to make the Adderhead laugh than you lot." The lock falls into Dustfinger's hands and he turns to Julianne with a smug look, bowing. "After you."
"Meggie will go in, he'll be less scared of her." Mo gives Meggie a gentle push forward. She inches forward into the pitch-black room, trying her best to be brave like one of the heroines in her stories. It's a good thing Mo is standing in the doorway because the boy comes shooting out and might have given them away had Mo not caught him. "Easy now, kid. We're going to help you get away from here, but you have to listen to what we say." Can he even speak English?
"Devils," the boy mumbles in a shaky voice," all of you!" Meggie walks out of the room, rubbing her knee and glaring at the boy.
"The real devils captured us and brought us here," she says irritably. "We can lock you right back in that room if you want to meet them."
"Hurry up," Dustfinger hisses. There's a man in the church's bell tower with a gun, and Julianne has no doubt that the man will shoot them if he spots them. "If the boy won't come, we might as well leave him to his fate, but the rest of you need to take your shoes off. You'll make too much noise otherwise."
Julianne looks down at her feet, wondering how she's supposed to bend over and unlace her borrowed boots. Dustfinger notices her gaze and bends down, unlacing the boots and helping her out of them. He leads them through dark alleys and back ways that most people would steer away from, going so fast that Julianne has trouble keeping up. The streets slope dangerously, and she would have fallen more than once if not for Dustfinger's tight grip on her arm.
They stop in the parking lot at the outskirt of the village, Dustfinger holding a finger up to his lips in a gesture of silence. The parking lot is illuminated by two street lamps, the light barely reaching a wire fence to their left where children might have played once. According to Dustfinger, Capricorn uses it for ceremonies now.
"Put your shoes back on." He helps Julianne with hers again, making sure the laces are tight enough that the shoes won't fall off her feet while they're running. "Your station wagon is over there. I'll be right back." He tosses Elinor the keys and disappears. Julianne looks around for him until she's forced into the car by Meggie, nerves and her back getting the better of her. The pain is almost past her tolerance now and she'll start crying soon if she can't find something to numb it.
"Where's that matchstick-eater gotten to now," Elinor grumbles. They wait an agonizingly long time for Dustfinger, the temptation to leave him here in all of their minds when the man in question climbs in beside Julianne, closing a switchblade. "Wasn't it you who told us to hurry? And what exactly were you doing with that knife?"
"I was slitting their tires so we'd have more of a head start."
"That's Basta's," Meggie whispers with wide eyes.
"Not anymore." Elinor starts the engine and begins to drive, speeding up after a shotgun blast is heard. Julianne lets out a scream of both pain and fear, Dustfinger pulling her down with a hand on the back of hers and Meggie's heads. The boy curls up on the floorboard, probably safer than any of them.
"Damn it all, didn't you see that man when you were sneaking around?"
"Obviously not! Now keep driving! No, not that way, woman, the other way!" Julianne squeezes her eyes shut, blocking out all the shouting and panic. Just breathe, dammit. In and out, slowly, deep breaths. And then it's all over and the night is calm once more.
"Are the kids alright? Meggie? Juli?"
"They're fine, keep driving." Dustfinger's hand is warm on her neck, massaging the tense muscles there. "Juli, would it be alright if I had a look at your back?" She nods, wincing when he pulls up the back of the borrowed shirt. Dried blood makes it stick in places, an uncomfortable feeling as the shirt's pealed away. He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, so obviously it looks as bad as it feels. "Little bird, I am so sorry this happened to you."
"Oh my God," Mo breathes, his guilty, horrified expression mirroring Dustfinger's. "Juli, I—" He cuts himself off, rubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head. "None of this should be happening."
"Okay, let's change the subject," Julianne says, turning her gaze to the terrified boy curled into a ball at her feet. "What's your name?" The boy turns his gaze to her, brown eyes wide and tear-filled. "It's alright, you can tell me. None of us will hurt you." She uses the same gentle tone from late nights when Meggie was a baby, the softness of it getting the boy to stop mumbling.
"Farid," he answers. "I am not saying anything else. If you talk in a dream you never find your way back." If you die in your dream, you die for real. She shivers at the quote, wishing she had never thought of it.
One look out the back window has her wishing she'd just kept her head down. Two lights shine in the distance, like the eyes of some terrible beast. Basta is on his way to reclaim his prisoners.