Connie sat on the bed on the other side of the room while Natasha lay on the other bed. It looked like she had fallen asleep, but she wasn't sure. She didn't know exactly what to do, how to put her at ease. After what she'd been through… it would take a long time to recover. At least she was safe now. And she knew her friend was safe too! Connie would be able to tell Nika her friend had been rescued! She almost called her, but it was kind of late now.
Which reminded her. It was past supper time. They'd only had hors d'oeuvres. She could order room service… Natasha was probably hungry, too. It might help her feel better when she woke up.
Connie ordered steak and potatoes and ice cream and cheesecake. She wanted the best possible for Natasha from now on.
The food arrived soon, but Natasha didn't wake up so Connie set it aside in the kitchenette, keeping the cover on. She sat in the chair in the corner, scrolling on her phone, although she hardly paid attention to it. Scenes from the night kept replaying in her mind. How they would have gone through much worse if they weren't rescued. Just the utter dehumanization of being displayed like that… And that young man who'd been sold to that creep…what he'd been saying about him… made her blood run cold. She hoped it wasn't too late. That they could rescue the slaves from him and from the other clients.
Natasha stirred, groaning. Connie resisted the urge to jump up and help her; she didn't want to startle her. Natasha hugged her baby close then scanned the room warily. When her eyes landed on Connie, she gasped and huddled down among the covers.
"It's okay," said Connie quietly.
"Is this—real?" said Natasha. "We're free?"
Connie nodded. "You can leave whenever you want. But we'll help you if you want us to. We can take you back to Rakima to see Nika."
"So that wasn't a dream either! I…" She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheeks. "I don't know how I can ever repay you…"
"I don't want you to feel like you owe me! How's Dima doing?"
"I hope they didn't overdose him."
"What do you mean?"
"They… drug the babies. When they want to keep them quiet."
"That's—horrible."
"Anything to get a good price," she said in a resigned way.
"Is there anything I can do?"
Natasha sat up, shrugged. "I don't know. Usually feeding him helps. If I'm not drugged too… I… I was so scared for him." She hung her head, her red hair curtaining her eyes. She shivered, then gathered the baby into her arms, rocking him gently. Ruffled his red hair. Connie helped her to the chair and then gave her some privacy as she fed him, going into the bathroom to take out her hairdo and wash off her makeup. To get as far away from that auction as possible. She hoped the beautiful dress wasn't tainted by it…. She'd have to give it a baptism of flame. Repurpose it for good. Anything associated with Jason would purge it of any wrong connotations. After all, it had helped her rescue a young woman and her baby…. It was, ultimately, a good thing, even though she'd had to associate with a bad thing. But that was the only way to rescue kids. Dive deep into the darkness and wrest them from it. Maybe you could rescue a few without descending into the depths with them…. But not all of them. Risk everything for them. Even—the worst.
She only wished she were capable of being an agent like Jason, so he didn't have to risk his life, his freedom.
God wouldn't let the worst actually happen, would he? After all Jason had already gone through?
Enough suffering. For all these kids too.
Why? Why let this happen to them! She leaned her elbows on the bathroom counter, her head in her hands, tears burning down her cheeks. She knew it was because of evil people… God hadn't caused their suffering. But at the same time, he could easily pull them free… cut the evil men down. She supposed it was up to God's people to do his work… and more should be doing it, not turning their eyes away because it was an ugly truth. But there were only a few against the vast army of evil. She felt totally inadequate to it, and always would be. Even Jason would be… and though he wasn't a has-been like he sometimes seemed to think he was, it was true he could never go back to his old self.
God wanted these kids rescued…. If not, he wasn't the good God she knew. So he would help them. Be with them and uphold them and beat back the darkness before them.
Tentatively, she stepped back out into the bedroom. Natasha held Dima close to her chest as he made soft contented noises. Connie was about to dart back inside but Natasha said, "I think he'll be okay."
"That's wonderful!"
"They don't even need to drug him. He's such a good baby. When he cries, it doesn't last long. I think… growing up in that… he learned to be quiet. If babies weren't quiet enough… Sometimes…." She paled, looked away.
Connie didn't even want to think about what she'd implied, but the horror settled in her stomach all the same. Little babies…their lives snuffed out before they began…. It felt like her heart was being squeezed ruthlessly. She knew loss of a child… but these women had had their little ones stolen, crushed by the ones who had hurt them. She could hardly imagine such pain. She hoped they received some sort of comfort…. And hoped desperately they'd be rescued before another baby was taken from them.
So many to be rescued still. They'd barely scratched the surface. Her heart sank, as she knew they could never hope to possibly rescue them all.
There had to be some sort of organization that went up against the traffickers…. And there were some out there. But still just tiny lights in the darkness. One rescued was enough. But there would always be more…
At least we rescued Natasha and Dima. She had to take comfort in that. Though her mind couldn't help but race toward Jason, wondering how he was doing….
"Would you like some food?" Connie asked.
"Oh…yes. That would be good for him. I'm so afraid of him being malnourished, because they didn't give us much to eat. I'm happy to give him any nutrients I can, even if I end up without them. He's the one that needs to grow." She tapped his nose with her finger, smiling. He smiled back. "Oh, do you see?"
Connie crept a little closer. "He's adorable!"
"Would you…like to hold him?"
"I don't want to take him away from you."
"I'll just get some food and take him back."
"Okay." Natasha stood and slid the baby into Connie's arms. Connie tensed in spite of herself, scared the baby might not take to her. But he cooed and waved his arms.
Connie bounced him gently and he smiled and laughed. Natasha helped herself to a plate of food and sat back down in the chair. "He's very friendly little one. Growing up where he did…I'm glad it didn't…darken his soul. It would've…" Natasha sighed. "To be away from that… you have no idea what a gift this is." She plowed her fork into the steak and stuffed a morsel into her mouth. Then leaned back, her eyes closed. "Mm…. I can't wait till I can feed Dima some real food… and he'll get to taste things like this, instead of that mystery stew we had every day…."
Connie took some steak and potatoes and sat in the chair beside Natasha. "I have some more good news. Nika and her baby have been adopted! They're going to stay at a place in the country."
"That's amazing! This is…" She swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. "I never imagined we'd get a home."
"Nika will be going there soon, so a place will probably open up at the women's shelter."
Natasha looked a little chagrined. "I was hoping…well. That I'd get to stay with her."
"Maybe you can, for a little while. And you can visit! And… maybe soon…someone will adopt you too."
"I don't know if I can even think of that right now. It's enough to imagine Nika there… I hope that Dima can get to know her baby. Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
"It's a boy. She just found out."
"They can play together… grow up together…. Never know a life of pain. I don't hold out much hope for myself…. I wouldn't have kept on living if it weren't for him. Now I can see him grow up in peace.
"This steak is amazing. I never ate something so good." She picked up the cheesecake wedge and bit into it then her eyes lit up. "Oh! No—this is the best thing I ever ate."
Connie tried the cheesecake herself, and had to admit, it was delicious. Satisfaction embraced her warmly that she'd given something so good to Natasha for her first meal in freedom.
It hit her that perhaps she could adopt Natasha and Dima. She didn't want to tell Natasha yet; this was already a lot to take in.
But then she remembered. Natasha wanted Dima to grow up with Nika's baby, and Nika was staying in Muldavia. Connie's heart sank. But she wanted what was best for Natasha.
What if we aren't able to adopt? she thought. What if there's a roadblock each time? Then… it must not be God's will. There are so many kids who need someone, though! There are enough for us… But we want what's best for them. I'm not doing this for me. I have to remember that. Now that…I've accepted I want a baby… I have to remember it's not about me, but about them. Maybe it's not best for them that we adopt them. Even though I want it so much.
What if we never have any kids? A knife sliced through her heart. After going through all this soul-searching to reach the point of wanting kids again… and not to have them…
We'll just have to content ourselves with helping kids….
But she couldn't smother the ache in her heart.
She threw her energy into helping Natasha, and the ache dulled a bit, although looking at the little baby made longing spread through her.
When Jason reached the lobby, he saw that the conference room was cordoned off and police officers stood guard at the door. Behind the door, he heard muffled shouts and scuffles. Part of him longed to be there too. But a police officer directed him to a smaller meeting room and asked him some questions, confirming who he was and his role. It was mostly a friendly interrogation, but Jason couldn't help but feel the walls close in on him. Perhaps they'd drag him off and the interrogation would start in earnest…
But no, not everyone was a sadistic torturer. Although, earlier today seemed to disprove that theory…. Just because someone was a police officer didn't mean they'd act civilly.
Jason berated himself again, although he knew it wasn't entirely his fault. But not being able to help it made it worse. He couldn't even control his reactions. Surreptitiously, from under the table, he flipped his hands over, scanned the bandages. He hadn't even realized he'd been hurting himself before. What else might he do—what other mistakes might he make just because…something triggered his fear. Even when it wasn't rational. Like at the castle. It wasn't like some of the castle guests would suddenly decide to start torturing him with the ancient torture instruments. But he'd felt the walls closing in on him and he could hardly breathe… Only with Connie's help had he not had a full-blown panic attack.
I'm not going to ever be able to go back to how I used to be. Regret and shame burned through him. Tonight—it was more understandable that I feel pressure, because I was surrounded by enemies. But still, I can't just collapse like that. I can't afford to. But I can't help it…can't hold it back. It's only Connie's presence which calms me enough so I can keep going…. And I can't have her near me when it gets really dangerous. So—I'll have to stay in the background. That's what I've been telling myself all along. I'm not cut out for this anymore. It's for the best anyway, now that I'm starting a family, now that I'm not living for myself anymore….
But he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss. For the agent he used to be. For the thrill. The embrace of danger without the fear slicing him apart with every heartbeat.
I've got to just stay in the background. That's where I belong now… with the one I love. Not risk getting taken from her…. Leaving her alone.
But then… if worse came to worst…. If something happened and I had no choice… if I had to protect her, could I? Or would I collapse into a quivering wreck and let her fend for myself—or protect me at the expense of herself…
"So do you have anything else to add?" said the police officer, a blond young man with keen hazel eyes.
Jason snapped back to the present. "I think… that's it."
"Then we'll let you go. But we'll call if we need to ask you anything else."
"Sounds good."
The policeman ushered him out of the meeting room and Jason took a deep breath, hoping his relief wasn't too overt. He was about to go back to his room when the policeman, who had been talking on his radio, came up to Jason again and laid a hand on his arm. Jason was proud of himself for not flinching.
"Could you come with us, sir?"
"What is it?" No—he doesn't want to drag me to a cell.
"The lieutenant would like you to identify someone. And see if you know if anyone's missing, since the party was anonymous and people don't seem to know each other."
"Of course." Jason's heart beat hard as he walked back into the conference room. In the far left corner near the stage, police officers had herded people into a group and handcuffed them. They were in fancy dress and some still had masks on. As he strode closer, he saw that one of them was Ali.
"Do you know this man?" said the tall lieutenant, gesturing to Ali.
Jason was tempted to say he didn't, but that would be counterproductive at this point. "He's the one who got us in. He's working with us."
"Check my credentials," said Ali.
"We have," said the lieutenant. "That doesn't mean anything—most of these people are 'respected'. It's this man vouching for you that matters." He eyed Ali for a moment then gestured to a police officer to guide him out. Ali brushed off his pristine suit and looked indignant.
"Can you blame us?" said the lieutenant. "When we got here, you were in the possession of a slave and were in the process of buying another one."
"To free them."
"We bought some too," said Jason. "Just in case you weren't able to arrive."
It was the lieutenant's turn to look indignant. "We always follow through. That's our code."
"I've seen police delayed before…"
"Were they the Zelise police?"
Jason nodded.
"There you go then. We may not have much crime here, but that's because of our efforts. And we don't take bribes, no matter how outlandish the price."
"That's good to know."
"So, do you see anyone missing? We're trying to determine whether we have all the buyers and sellers here."
Jason looked the crowd over; he began to wish he still wore his mask, with how hostile their gazes were. If they were let go, they were the type of people who had the power to track him down and get revenge because he tipped off the police. "I didn't talk to many of them… Except…" He looked closer. There was someone missing.
"What is it?"
"There was a large man, brown hair, bear mask. He called himself Bob. I don't see him."
"Anyone else?"
Jason shook his head. "Not that I can tell." He hadn't been paying as much attention to the crowd as he should have. Hopefully all the other perpetrators were rounded up.
The lieutenant, who introduced himself as Evrim Demir, directed Jason over to the group of ex-slaves on the other side of the conference room. Many of them looked confused and scared; some looked cautiously hopeful. Conspicuously, the blond young man Bob had bought was missing. Jason's heart fell. He looked around to see if any others were missing.
"I'm pretty sure just one is gone," said Jason.
"Do you know who bought him?"
"Bob."
"You wouldn't happen to know his last name, would you?"
Jason shook his head.
"I didn't think so. Any other identifying characteristics?"
"He had an American accent."
Demir jotted it down on his iPad. "Anything else?"
"Well, he often buys slaves at these auctions. He… 'wears them out'. I'm not sure if it means he kills them afterwards… or just discards them."
"We could keep on the lookout for any unexplained murders. Though if he takes them to the States that could be hard to track."
"I have connections in law enforcement. I could help out."
Demir tilted his head. "You are well-connected, aren't you. We're beginning to get a picture of who you are… it seems you're a hero of Muldavia. Also a secret agent with shadowy connections to many diverse ops. You sure get around."
"I enjoy traveling."
"Yes, I suppose you have to, in this job." He tapped the iPad with his stylus. "Okay, you're free to go. We'll ask you if we need anything further. Thank you."
"Thanks for following through."
"As I said, we take our job seriously. Just because we're a resort town—well. I don't have to defend myself to you. Perhaps this raid will convince the higher-ups they really do need us. Rich people can be just as nefarious… and money draws evil."
"That's been my experience too."
Demir gave a short nod, the respect of a mutual lawman gleaming in his eyes.
"Can I help out with the victims?"
"We've got it under control."
"What'll happen to them?"
"First, they'll go to the hospital, then they'll be cared for by state-of-the-art psychiatrists. They're in good hands."
Jason nodded, reluctantly leaving the crowd of bewildered young people behind. He had two to focus on. Perhaps bring Natasha to the hospital… although that would be her choice. He didn't want to seem like he was forcing her to do anything.
Ali jaunted up to him. "I got caught up in their net." He laughed breathlessly. "Thanks for bailing me out."
"Don't mention it."
"Seriously, coming to my defense like that—you're my hero." He squeezed Jason's arm lightly. Jason pulled away, more annoyed than anything. Perhaps it was just a more hands-on way of relating to people… but within the context, it seemed suspicious. At least his attentions seemed more directed toward Jason… and Jason wasn't going to give them any notice. If he kept harassing Connie, on the other hand….
"I have a clue that might help," said Ali as they stepped into the elevator.
"What is it."
"Since Bob's American, he's probably staying in a hotel. Most likely it's this hotel, since it's the best in Valhad, thus in Muldavia. And it's convenient. Unless he knows of the raid, he's probably still here. Maybe even if he knows of it, for he might not think they'd search his room."
"That's true," Jason admitted. "But it'll be hard to find his room in time."
"Why not just ask the manager?"
"You said he won't reveal who the rooms belong to."
"He might if we say we're law enforcement."
"We're not."
"Close enough. Besides, we're the ones who told the police to come here. It's worth a shot."
Jason nodded. It would be the best shortcut. He might have to get the police to back him up, but the more quickly they discovered the room, the better.
They took the elevator to the lobby. Ali demanded to see the manager, who appeared, looking rather frazzled. His brown hair was disheveled and his tie was askew. "What can I help you with?"
"I need to find a room number," said Ali.
The manager narrowed his eyes. "I can't give out room numbers."
"It's more urgent this time."
"I don't care how urgent it is. There's a major law enforcement operation in my hotel and I need to deal with this crisis."
"We're the reason it's here." Ali leaned on the counter.
"What do you mean?"
"We called the police."
"So you're the source of all this! The hotel may never recover."
"Yes, you'll be lucky not to be indicted. Letting this happen under your very nose. Ignorant at best, complicit at worst."
The manager paled. "I…didn't know anything about this."
"Sure you didn't. You're innocent, certainly aren't taking bribes under the table."
"I resent the implication—"
"I can make this all go away. I can make it look like you're innocent. Even if you aren't. I can help you divorce your hotel from the taint of association. But first, I need a room number."
"That's it?"
"And any other assistance you can provide. Trust me, it'll be a lot less trouble than you'll get if you're implicated."
"O—of course. Not that I admit to any wrongdoing—I am innocent of this."
"Of course you are."
"I just—cannot have the hotel's reputation suffer."
"I understand."
The manager checked the computer, his hands shaking. He peered around the edge of the monitor, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "It's—ah, this is so against the manual – room 505."
"Thank you." Ali patted his forearm. "You've been a big help."
Jason strode toward the elevator, Ali beside him. "Maybe we should get police assistance."
"Nah, we can handle it. You're an agent—you've done this solo hundreds of times. Me—I'm an aspiring agent. As you can see, my status comes in handy in ops like this. When I'm playing myself, anyway."
"You could've done that when asking for my former room."
"Then I didn't have something to blackmail him with. At least, it wasn't worth coming up with an excuse; all of these rooms are equally amazing. Sometimes a change of scenery is more…stimulating."
As they stepped into the elevator, Jason's heart thudded hard against his chest. At least Bob wasn't an agent—probably. But this was a direct confrontation. He had to be ready. He had to be up to this. No hesitation. A young man's freedom was at stake.
Jason couldn't afford to falter; he couldn't afford to let past trauma freeze him up. He had to push past it in order to save someone. If he couldn't do this—he really had lost his edge. This was what he had trained for, in essence—to help people. And this was the core of what he wanted to do. Not as an agent per se… but someone who used his skills for good. Unhindered by agency directives or politics.
Perhaps what I'd like to do from now on. If my PTSD hasn't ruined me… Trauma does make me empathize more with the victims. But if I can't really help them—it'd be better not to have it. Empathy means less than actually snatching them out of the fire. Without freezing with fear myself, without fumbling my weapons…. Forgetting my training and losing my reflexes….
Please, God, let me still have enough of my agent self left to do some good… for this young man, at least.
He didn't want to think of what Bob could have been able to do to him already. The unabashed hedonistic perversion, the entitlement of thinking you deserved to own someone…he couldn't imagine being like that and never wanted to empathize with that point of view in the least.
As the elevator opened on the fifth floor, Jason reached for the gun beneath his jacket. Small and compact, it fit snugly in his palm, the cold metal like a familiar handshake. He also acknowledged the knife in his pocket, but hopefully wouldn't need it.
Room 505—just a few steps down the hall. Just as he was about to reach it, a door opened and a woman in a bathrobe and curlers stepped out. Jason slid the gun back into his pocket, hoping she hadn't seen it. She looked at them in surprise, then shuffled down the hall.
Jason waited until she was further down; he didn't want her to get mixed up in this. Then he motioned for Ali to stay back. Ali nodded, a slight smile tugging his lips. Ideally, he wouldn't be here; he was just another variable. An untrained civilian usually wasn't an asset. However, Ali had proven useful. It was just that, despite his vague allusions to life on the streets, Jason didn't know how well he'd do in a conflict. And then there was the high probability of him being an actual enemy….
Jason shed the distraction of uncertainty and knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" said a muffled voice.
"Room service," said Jason.
"You must be mistaken," said Bob. "I didn't order room service."
"We've got a special surprise for you."
Ali's smirk flashed into a grin and he clapped a hand over his mouth.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment."
"It concerns your recent…acquisition."
"Oh! Your wonders never cease. You are surpassing your VIP game." He chortled. A rustling sound. A soft whimper, so quiet Jason wasn't sure if he'd heard it. But it hadn't come from Bob. His stomach flipped over, and the disgust switched into anger, racing down his veins, adrenaline roaring through his mind, dulling any dread.
He palmed the gun in his pocket as the shuffling sound of heavy footsteps grew closer. The door swung open. Bob stood there, one arm leaning on the door, a bathrobe barely concealing his bulk. His hair was damp as if he'd just taken a shower.
"Oh—hey, it's you. They made you the delivery boy, did they?"
Jason nodded. "May we come in?"
"Of course." Bob looked back and forth down the hallway surreptitiously. He swept out his arm, ushering them in.
The shadowy entryway opened up onto a broad bedroom, lavish with rich furnishings and accessories. But Jason barely registered what it looked like, beyond the contrast between the beauty of the room and the figure bound to the golden bars at the foot of the bed. The blond young man from the auction was bound to the bedpost. Because his arm was chained tightly lower to the ground, he had to kneel. He still wore the holey jeans from the auction, but his torso was bare and there were red marks and bruises blossoming over his chest, back, and arms. Some of them looked like whip welts, wide bands as if from a belt. His face was flushed and his lip was bleeding. There was a heartbreakingly resigned look in his eyes, along with deep shadows of pain and fear. His whole body shook as if with anticipation of another blow.
Anger burned through Jason, blazing through any trepidation. His finger curled around the trigger in his pocket, as his thumb pressed back the safety.
Perhaps not let anger take over…
But if it suppresses any fear…
It's not like this man could do much to me.
He is larger. But larger is slower.
My reflexes aren't what they used to be…. And there are always variables— no matter how trained an agent is –
"As you can see," said Bob, "I've just started on him. He'll only get more beautiful the more broken he is. I like to take it slow, savor the breaking. First I get them primed, then demand more participation." He thrust his fingers into the young man's curls, tugged his head back then grabbed his chin. The boy's breath caught; he swallowed, his eyes downcast. Bob rubbed his cheek with his thumb; the boy turned away and Bob yanked his head back. The young man gasped in pain. "As you can see, he needs a bit of taming. So—what's the surprise?" His eyes dropped to Jason's pocket.
"Everyone gets one of these," said Jason. "As a token of our…appreciation."
"Really? So I'm not special." Bob pouted. "Ah, well. I'm special in that I get this boy exclusively. Want to stay for some fun? It might be nice to have some observers… I might even share." He rubbed the boy's face, then caressed his neck and shoulder.
"What did you do to him so far?"
"Just started the whipping." He gestured to the belt, curled on the floor next to the bed like a viper. "No doubt as to where his place is. I'd like to whip that pretty face raw, but I don't want to disfigure him too much."
Bob nudged the young man's lower lip with his thumb and he turned away again, his body wearily sagging toward the ground.
"Oh, no you don't," said Bob and slapped him hard across the face.
The slap resounded in Jason's mind, thrashing him back to the cabin, at the mercy of Gray. Humiliating him, crushing him. He crumpled beneath its onslaught, torture ripping through his heart, shredding it until it collapsed.
"So, is it you that has the surprise—or him?" He gestured to Ali, who was hanging back, smirking inscrutably.
"I've got it," said Jason, snapping back to the present.
I'm not going to let this happen. Not letting past trauma risk this boy's freedom. Don't you dare forfeit him for something so worthless.
His grip tightened on the gun and its hard steel shot strength into him.
"Well, I haven't got all day." Bob picked up the belt, looped it in his hands.
Fear shot across the young man's eyes. He hunched over, pressing against the bed.
Rage seized Jason's heart and he let go of the gun and slammed a fist into Bob's face.
A satisfying smack. Pain from the impact crashed across Jason's knuckles. Bob fell back against the footboard, shock written on his face. He struggled to get up, outrage replacing the shock, but Jason wouldn't let him. Instead he rammed a fist into his cheek, snapping his head against the golden pole.
"What in the—" said Bob but Jason didn't let any more vile words escape his lips. He slammed a fist into his nose. Bob slumped against the footboard, his shaking hand raising to his nose, which was bleeding and looked suspiciously askew.
"Wh- what did you do to me? You want him for yourself, don't you! I paid good money for this slave and won't let him go just because some thug—"
Jason grabbed his shirt, cutting off the blathering. "Listen. He doesn't belong to anyone. I thank God I found him before you were able to—go any further."
Realization dawned on Bob's face. "Oh—so you're one of those. A do-gooder. Think you're better than us. Well you're no better, you're worse, you're a hypocrite."
"You can't even imagine someone might not be as perverted as you." He flung Bob to the floor, hurling him away from his victim. He hit with a clunk and a gasp as air knocked out of him. "You don't deserve to live after what you've done to this man." He drew out his gun, calmly leveled it at Bob. In the background, Jason was vaguely aware of Ali grinning as if he'd won the lottery.
Bob lifted his arms in front of his face. "Hey—I've got money. If that's what you want. All you could want—I'll give it to you. I've got jewelry—treasures beyond imagining. If you don't care for slaves—there's a lot more I have to offer."
"I don't want your filthy money." Jason pressed the gun to Bob's forehead and he froze in terror. Satisfaction ran through Jason he'd provided this man a vague semblance of what he'd done to others.
"Or perhaps I'll just leave you in pain, disfigured for life." He pressed the gun to Bob's hand, feeling an urge to pull the trigger. To actually carry out his threat, carry out real justice.
"Get off on pain, do you?" said Bob, grimacing.
Jason pressed the gun harder. Give him a scar like the ones I have. Rip through flesh and bone. Do to him what he'd done—no, not he, but what Gray had done to him.
We're the same, if I do this.
No, we're not. Not even close.
Still, to hurt beyond self-defense, defense of others, merely for anger—was wrong. At least, hurting him severely was going too far.
Jason pulled back his gun, relieved he'd dragged himself back from the brink. Not entirely sure how much of it had been an act, for Bob's benefit, and how much of it was genuine.
The anger that had driven it, though—that was real. As real as the pulse pounding against his throat.
"You're not worth it."
Bob started to struggle to his knees, but Jason jerked the gun. "No sudden moves. Ali, will you unchain the boy?"
"Where's the key?" said Ali.
"You heard him," said Jason.
"I—it's—" stuttered Bob.
"Where."
"It's in the bathroom! In my wallet."
Ali headed into the bathroom and came back with a key glittering in his hand. He knelt and unchained the young man, who cringed away from him. The cuffs jangled to the floor, but the young man clutched the bedpost, his eyes terrified.
"Hey, it's all right," said Ali, laying a hand on his shoulder.
He flinched, curling up close to the bed as if expecting a blow.
"Don't touch him," said Jason, annoyed he had to explain it.
"Oh, sorry," said Ali, drawing back, giving him space.
Jason, keeping the gun trained on Bob, crept closer to the young man. "I won't hurt you. You're safe now."
The young man looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"You don't have to do anything. I'm just… going to take these cuffs, okay?"
The boy nodded, looking uncertain, and Jason carefully dragged the cuffs and chain away. Then he forced Bob to kneel, his face against the wall, his broken nose pressed against it. Jason thought he should perhaps feel a small amount of empathy but didn't. Someone this twisted didn't deserve it.
He cuffed the criminal and locked him to the other bed. Then he shut him out of his mind and focused on the victim. Ali sat on the bed while Jason crouched at the other side of the footboard, facing away with as unthreatening a posture as possible.
"What's your name?" Jason asked softly.
"I'm…" He paused, as if he had to think to remember. "Viktor."
"I'm Jason. I'm…sorry we didn't get to you sooner." He winced at the thought of the whip welts, which he could only see in a blur to the side.
"It was…." Viktor closed his eyes. "It's been….much worse. I could tell…he was going to be the worst of them all. I knew I'd die here. And now—" He shook his head, looking incredulous. He slid his hand down from the bedpost. Gingerly touched near the raw area on his wrist from the handcuff then looked at his hands, as if marveling that they were free. Then he gathered them close to his chest as if to stifle their trembling. Leaned his head down, curls shadowing his eyes. He looked up again, tears glistening on his cheeks, clinging to his eyelashes, and sat back against the bedpost.
"I could… help you up to the bed," said Jason.
Viktor shook his head, fear slashing across his eyes. "No—please. I belong on the floor. Besides…. A bed is where…" He shuddered.
Jason hated that he'd reminded Viktor of the worst. He should be more sensitive to this—but then, he hadn't experienced it, so to him a bed was a refuge. He had to let Viktor know his worth. Begin the path to thinking of himself as other than a slave.
"Viktor—you belong anywhere you feel comfortable. You're a free man."
"I hardly know what that means. I'm supposed to want it, but…all I remember wanting is… rest. A tender touch from them… I didn't deserve it, but it was all I could hope for. I'm still not sure if—" He looked away, as if ashamed of suspecting Jason.
Jason couldn't blame him in the least. "It'll be hard at first… you'll probably be taken to a hospital. If you'd like, I can go with you. I hope the police will be careful. Even if they aren't—their intentions are good."
Viktor shook his head. "They look the other way. They take bribes. The first house they—they even—Locke invited them and they…took turns…" Viktor's breaths quickened.
"Corrupt elements are everywhere," said Ali breezily. "Maybe we better get him out of here before they arrive."
"What about the others that were rescued?"
"Let's hope the police are uncorruptible. We can follow up later. Let's get him out of here first."
Jason nodded, hoping against hope the police weren't just recycling the others back into slavery. Even if they were on the good side, Viktor had been traumatized by police and wouldn't trust them. It would be worse for him to be taken by them. Better if Jason took him back to Rakima along with Natasha and her baby.
Jason held out his hand, hoping Viktor would take it. He wasn't about to force him to do anything. Viktor hesitated then grasped his hand. Jason pulled him to his feet and supported him with his arm as they hustled out of the door. He helped Viktor into the elevator, grateful that Ali wasn't helping him as it would probably be too much for the young man.
After the elevator reached their floor, Jason slid his arm away a little to let Viktor know he could walk on his own, but he clutched Jason's arm more tightly. Jason unlocked their room door with his key card.
When they stepped inside, Connie leaped to her feet, looking alarmed. Then her eyes lit up and she rushed over to him. Jason held up a hand to let her know to take it slowly.
"This is Viktor," said Jason.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Connie. This is Natasha and Dima." She gestured to Natasha, who was sitting in the chair near the curtained window, the baby asleep in her arms. Natasha held him protectively, her eyes wary.
"It's all right," said Jason. "He's a former slave too."
"Oh!" said Natasha. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. It's… good to see you. Don't worry—it's not a trick or a trap. These people only want what's best for you." She kissed Dima's forehead.
Viktor nodded, looking exhausted, perhaps too tired to speak. Jason helped him over to the chair at the other side of the room. He slumped gratefully onto the seat, though he clung to the arms as if afraid he'd slide to the ground. He leaned his head back against the wall and Jason stepped away.
"Connie, it was marvelous," said Ali. "You should've been there. Jason gave that man what he deserved. Then let him wallow in his humiliation like the coward he is."
"I may have gotten a little…carried away," said Jason, rubbing his bruised knuckles.
"Are you all right?" She took his wrist, examining his hand.
"It's nothing. I just—seeing what that man was doing firsthand… well. I let loose some of my anger."
"Good." She glanced at Viktor with concern. "How is he?"
"He… was whipped." Jason whispered so Viktor couldn't overhear.
"Oh." Her face suffused with sympathy.
"He said…police abused him in the past. So we got him out of there."
"We'll be safe here?"
"I… don't know. These police seem to be decent, but you never know."
"Should we leave?" She looked apprehensive.
"They need rest. I'll stay up, guard the door."
"You're already exhausted." She brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead.
"I'll manage."
"I'll get out of your hair," said Ali. "But call if there are any problems. I've got a few cards up my sleeve."
"I will," said Jason.
He laid a hand on Jason's shoulder; it felt heavy, somewhat possessive, and Jason resisted the urge to pull away. Now wasn't the time to antagonize him. It wasn't like it was anything close to assault. "It was a true pleasure to see the master in action. Truly." He bowed, his impossibly white teeth glinting, and then backed to the door and slid out. Jason locked the door. Then he sat on the bed closer to Viktor and drew the gun out of his pocket, resting it on his thigh.
Connie sauntered over to him. Brushed her fingers tenderly against his jaw. "I can stay up with you."
"No—get some rest. I'll feel better if you do," he added, knowing she'd want to sacrifice herself for his sake—when there was no real point to it. Except he loved her company, but not at the expense of her comfort. She wasn't as used to pulling all-nighters as he was.
She yawned and stretched. "Well… I suppose…."
"It'll be better if at least one of us is fresh in the morning."
She kissed his temple. "When we get back," she whispered, "I'll give you something to make up for this."
"Like what?" he asked mock-innocently.
"Oh… you'll have to wait and see." She sauntered into the bathroom and came back out in a pink nightgown. "You can pretty much order anything. I got something for Natasha too." She gestured to the tired girl, who was clad in a soft-looking T-shirt and pants.
"I'll get something for Viktor," he said.
"For you too?"
He nodded. "Something more comfortable—and practical. But he takes priority."
She sat down on the bed and then pulled the covers up over herself, lying back on the pillow. He longed to join her, but it was more important to stay on guard.
Jason ordered some clothes before they were asleep so he wouldn't wake them. The clothes came up half an hour later and he took them as quietly as possible.
No one else woke, but Viktor stirred in his chair. Jason wasn't sure if he could relax enough to sleep. The chair didn't look especially comfortable and Jason's heart broke to think how a place of comfort and safety had been turned to one of horror by his captors.
Jason laid the clothes on the corner of the bed closest to Viktor. When Viktor didn't make a move for the clothes, Jason whispered, "Those are for you."
Viktor's brow furrowed. He sat there for a moment before darting forward and snatching them, hugging them to his chest, his eyes wary.
It would probably take a long time to erase old patterns. Perhaps some would never be gone. Even with himself… pain had branded deep in his mind.
Jason settled into his guarding mindset, calming into a semblance of rest to conserve energy, yet setting a mental tripwire to alert himself if anything out of the ordinary happened. He left Viktor the space he needed to feel out his freedom. And his mind drifted.
To the gratifying sound of flesh giving way beneath Jason's fist. The thrill of being an agent. Along with the fulfillment of helping someone who needed it. No cause more worthy than this. Satisfaction burgeoned through him, along with a generous thread of hope.
That he could fight for good—and win.
A clunking sound. He gasped awake, his heart slamming against his chest. Recrimination pouring through him, kicking himself for falling asleep. He grabbed for his gun, which lay beside him on the bed. He sat up in the dark, his eyes adjusting, scanning for any threat.
The room was shadowed and still, Connie breathing deeply, Natasha and her baby sleeping peacefully in the other bed.
Viktor wasn't there.
He leaped to his feet, careful not to make a sound. Scared to death that Viktor had left or been somehow taken.
Then he saw the bathroom door was shut. Hints of moving shadows. Jason took a deep breath of relief. Viktor had probably just gotten comfortable enough to get dressed. Jason sat down on the bed, not wanting to startle him, berating himself for falling asleep.
I have lost my edge, who am I kidding. Pounding an out-of-shape pervert into the ground might feel good, and it might be helping (partly showing how much on Viktor's side we are) – but it doesn't exactly take an inordinate amount of skill…..
It's true I usually have caffeine for all-nighters.
It's also true I can do without caffeine if I have to. The old me could, anyway. Maybe I'm just rusty…..
He struggled to remember his techniques for staying awake. He didn't want to wake anyone and he didn't want to cause Viktor any distress by lurking in the dark. It was probably hard enough for him being with strangers, even if they assured him he was safe.
Concern for Viktor kept Jason wide awake this time. His concern grew when the young man didn't emerge from the bathroom after about an hour. But he probably just needed privacy. Might even sleep there. Jason was just beginning to believe it might be the case, thrilled the boy could actually get some rest, when a muffled sob emerged, heartrending in its anguish.
Jason leaped to his feet, about to go in, but intruding on him would probably terrify him. He'd just escaped slavery—he'd have a lot to work through. But he'd need help too…. Right now, it was probably best to let him know his time belonged to him.
However, perhaps he did need something. Perhaps his wounds needed tending to, or he was sick. An alarming thought hit Jason—perhaps he would try to kill himself.
He crept to the door. "Are you all right?" he whispered.
Silence, except for the humming of the air conditioning.
Jason waited by the door for about fifteen minutes and didn't hear any more sounds. He began to get concerned— What if he really has hurt himself! That takes precedence over triggering any panic.
"Are you all right? Can I come in?"
"Okay," said a soft, broken voice.
"Are you sure?"
"O-of course."
Jason hesitated, then opened the door. At first, Jason didn't see him, then he spotted him in the farthest corner near the shower, pressed against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes widened when he saw Jason. He hunched, if possible, even smaller. Jason didn't know someone his size could fit into such a small space.
"I'm sorry!"
"For what?" Jason looked around the room. Nothing was out of place. Quickly, Jason located the razor; it was still in its package on the sink.
"For crying."
"Hey—It's only natural to cry." Jason crouched down so he wouldn't be as threatening a figure and laid his gun next to the sink.
"I—I—" He sniffed. Tears spilled onto his cheeks, splotched with grief. "They would punish me for it. I learned to be quiet." His eyes darted from side to side, as if he expected them to crawl out of the wallpaper.
"I definitely won't punish you."
"But I might…wake the others."
"Don't worry about it. They'd understand."
He bit his lip. "I should be over it. I'm free. I should just—put it behind me."
Jason sat against the cupboard beneath the sink. "I wish it did, but it doesn't work that way." His heart rebelled vehemently, but he pushed against his tendency to protect himself and lifted his hands. Their centers were still bandaged, concealing the scars. He trembled, then peeled the bandages off, revealing the wounds, partly closed over from the morning. Resisting the urge to clutch his hands close to his heart, he held them out, let the light fall on them, illuminating the mangled ridges of skin and the new cuts sliced in a neat semicircle.
At first Viktor didn't even notice, he seemed so consumed by fear and shame. But then his eyes widened and he leaned forward slightly. "What—happened?"
"I…." Jason dredged the words from deep inside himself; they didn't want to emerge. "It was a nail, two of them, driven through my hand into a wall."
"Oh." Viktor winced, his eyes shadowed with empathy.
"If I think I'm over it, it comes back. The outward scars are… not as deep." He pressed a hand to his heart, then held it out again, resting on his knee. "Earlier today… almost yesterday. I saw—something that reminded me of what happened. Without even realizing it. My fists were clenched so tight that they—my fingernails cut into my skin. I couldn't stop myself. Even after—two years. It still affects me that much. And it's not even close to what you experienced."
"So… there isn't any hope for me?"
"No—just that it takes time. Time to heal. It isn't always like this. Many hours you'll forget. But trauma that deep… it won't go away overnight. It's okay if you feel afraid. You're not alone."
Viktor cautiously scanned Jason's face. "How did that happen?"
"Someone captured me. Tortured me for information."
"So you're an agent. That makes sense." Admiration crept into his eyes.
"Yes."
"I wasn't even…tortured… nothing like that. I don't deserve to feel so… undone by this."
"You were hurt, held against your will—that's the definition of trauma. And there was…." Jason didn't want to go further, injure him with his words.
Viktor looked away, shame sweeping across his face. "It was my fault. I let them— do things to me. I should've run away, before they had the chance…. Now. I'm not even a man anymore. Just. There's only one thing I know. Serving them no matter what they ask."
"No—please don't say that." Jason knelt, facing him, making sure he didn't look like he was blocking his exit. "It's not your fault. You didn't want any of this."
He leaned his head in his arm, hiding his face completely, the light glinting in his curls. "Getting caught was my fault, too." He took a deep breath. "I was in college. Studying at Rakima University. I got a scholarship, that's the only way I could go. I was so… so happy." His reminiscence tore with anguish. "One day I was going to class. I…parked far away so I didn't have to pay for parking. It was next to an alley. Some girl came running, asked me for help. I went with her—and the next thing I knew, some men jumped out of a van, hit me, dragged me inside. That's the last thing I remember until…" He shook his head, horror in his eyes.
"So you didn't go with them willingly."
"But I was so stupid—I believed her."
"Hey—I'm not so sure I wouldn't. They preyed on your kindness. The blame lies with them, not you."
Viktor's eyes sparked, as if he hadn't thought of it from that angle. "But… once I was there. I should've fought harder. I knew what they were going to do but I—" He stopped. "I should've killed myself. Rather than let them—"
"It's not a shameful thing to choose survival. It was—incredibly brave. You chose to face whatever horrors they had in store. For a chance to live."
Tears spilled onto his cheeks. He leaned his forehead in his hand. "But this—it's not living! To go through that—how many times I wished I was dead. But I wasn't strong enough to go through with it. Instead I gave in."
"It's their fault. They hurt you. They forced you. It wasn't willing. I get how you'd see it that way. But you didn't choose to be a slave."
"I did what they told me."
"Not right away."
He closed his eyes. "No. I—I did fight. But they—gave me drugs. So I barely knew what day it was. Tied me…" His breath hitched. "In the dark. For…a long time. I started to…do what they said. Just so they wouldn't…." His entire body trembled. "I gave in. Someone stronger would've…."
"It doesn't matter how strong you are. Everyone gives in eventually."
"You didn't." He looked at Jason with accusing admiration.
"That's because… I was rescued before it could happen. Torture, it—digs into your soul. If I'd been in the same place, I'd probably have done the same thing."
"No you wouldn't. You'd have fought them. Like you did here."
"I would've tried to fight. But…there are other ways of fighting. Sometimes, you just have to survive. You chose to live for a reason."
He nodded slowly.
"Even if…the worst happened. I would have tried to live so I could see Connie again."
Viktor looked at him, eyes filling with tears. "I… I wanted to see my sister again. I wanted to get back to her. But now…" Tears streamed down his cheeks. "She… she won't want to see me."
"She'll be overjoyed you're free, that she has you back."
"But I'm—She won't want me. She'll see me like the dirty used up thing I am. She'll kick me out. Beat me like I deserve."
"Did she… ever turn on you before?"
He shook his head. "We're twins. We always did things together. Only reason she wasn't with me was that…she was sick that day. The one thing I'm thankful for."
"So… if it had been her instead… what would you think? Would you hurt her? Would you hate her?"
"No—of course not! I'd take care of her."
"What makes you think it'd be any different for you?"
"Because…. It's different for men. We're supposed to be stronger."
"So it's your fault."
He nodded.
"There's always someone stronger. One man can't always beat one opponent, much less several at a time. Life isn't the movies. Especially if they have superior weapons."
"I stopped fighting. I…chose to…. Service them. In any way they asked."
"Because they'd hurt you otherwise."
"Yes…"
"That's no choice at all. You were trapped in an impossible situation. All the blame lies with them."
He shook his head. "I—"
"I know—it's hard. But you are innocent. You were the one being hurt."
Viktor shook his head. "I didn't…. I didn't want it but they wouldn't stop… I – I told them it hurt, but they—laughed and said that's how they like it…. I…. I knew there was nothing I could do so I just… I just lay there as they—" He flung himself against the shower door, his palm pressed to it as sobs wracked him. He slid downwards and crumpled into a heap, cries tearing from his throat.
Jason shuffled over carefully. Knelt beside him. Just letting him know he was there.
A moment later, a damp palm pressed to his, against the wounds and scars. But Jason didn't mind in the least.
Soon Viktor's breaths evened out. Jason slid his hand gently away and crept out of the bathroom, using all of his experience to be as quiet as possible, knowing how on edge you'd have to be as a slave, even as you slept. Thankfully, he didn't wake up, and Jason resumed his vigil.
The hours crawled by slowly. Jason didn't know if he could sleep if he tried now; his thoughts were with Viktor and the other slaves. He'd have to find out if the police would carry out their word. If not, he had a channel directly to the king.
Gray morning light crept through the curtains and soon sunlight gleamed over the mountain peaks. If nothing had happened by now, it probably wouldn't. He allowed himself to relax a little.
Then, a small squeal. The little baby, wriggling beside Natasha in the bed. Sleepily, she sat up, then looked around surreptitiously. Her eyes landed on Jason and she scrambled away; he backed up further. Then she seemed to remember where she was and sank back down in relief. She picked up her baby, turning her back to Jason; he turned to look out the window, giving her some privacy. The castle was silhouetted against the sun, its battlements gilded gold, then, as the sun rose, shadows fled its walls and tucked themselves into crevices.
Connie stirred and Jason's heart leaped, but she stayed asleep. However, a rustling sound came from in the bathroom. Then, the spray of a shower.
A few moments later, there was a 'thunk' and Jason jumped to his feet and raced to the bathroom. Inside, the shower was still on but Jason didn't hear any movements. He didn't want to intrude, especially when he was so vulnerable.
"Are you all right?"
No answer.
"Viktor?"
He stepped cautiously closer, then saw the young man was lying on the floor of the shower, not moving. Jason flung open the door, lifted him carefully out, laid him on the rug in front of the sink.
Jason took his pulse. He was still breathing. However, there was a small gash on his forehead, probably from when he fell. Jason pulled the first aid kit out from beneath the sink and cleaned and disinfected it, then pressed a bandage to it.
He must have fainted for some reason. Knowing he wouldn't want to wake up in such a state, Jason wrapped a towel around his waist. Then he went out into the bed room, dragged the covers off of the bed and laid them on the floor. "You don't mind, do you?"
She shook her head. "What happened?"
"He fainted."
She nodded, understanding in her eyes.
Jason lifted the young man in his arms then laid him down on the blankets and wrapped him in them, bringing his body temperature up.
"He might be dehydrated," said Natasha. "They… withhold water from the men during the shows. To show off their muscles."
"Oh." Jason's heart lurched at the cruelty. Then it was crucial he get some liquid in him. He grabbed a plastic cup from beside the sink and filled it with cold water then rushed back to Viktor's side. Held him up, one arm supporting his back, shaking him gently awake.
Viktor's eyes flickered open, though he still looked half-conscious. Jason lifted the cup to his lips, poured it in. Viktor licked but didn't swallow.
Jason patted his cheek gently. "Drink. You need this." He probably should go to a hospital. But Jason didn't want to leave him without a choice. Now—he didn't have a choice, he needed to drink or get IV fluids.
Jason tried again, slipping water into his mouth. It dribbled onto his chest. Viktor shook his head. "No…can't…."
"Yes—please drink. Or I'll have to take you to the hospital."
Viktor's eyes shot open. "No—please… I'll be good. I'll do what you want." He let Jason pour water into his mouth and he gulped and swallowed.
Jason hated feeling like he was force feeding him but gave him a few more sips before taking it away. He didn't want him to get sick by drinking too much at once either. He laid Viktor back against the covers.
Viktor huddled down into them, flinching as if expecting a blow. "I'm sorry, master. I won't do it again."
Horror speared Jason's heart at this. "I don't own you. No one does. You're free, remember?"
Viktor looked up, confused. Then realization flickered across his eyes. "Yeah I… What happened?"
"You fainted. You're probably dehydrated."
"Oh. But…how—" His face flushed as he looked down at the covers cocooning him.
"I had to. Couldn't leave you lying there. I'm sorry."
"No, it's—Thank you," he said breathlessly. He closed his eyes. "I…shouldn't have done it. But… I wanted to get the feel of them… off of my skin. It just…made it worse. Seeing what they owned. What they made theirs. All the things they did came flashing back and….that's the last thing I remember. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about. Do you…need anything? I can get you some food… a painkiller…"
His green eyes widened, as if astonished at being asked what he needed. "I… I don't know. I can't…."
"It's okay. I'll let you rest."
Jason picked up his clothes and went in the bathroom. Viktor's clothes were still stacked neatly on the right side of the sink. Jason hoped he'd feel well enough to travel this morning. He took a shower and got dressed. When he came out, Connie was awake, sitting up in bed. He kissed her good morning; she buried her hand in his hair and leaned her forehead against his for a moment.
Then she saw Viktor lying at the foot of the bed. "What happened?" she whispered.
"He fainted."
"We better order some breakfast!"
They ordered some sausage and egg biscuits and strawberry banana smoothies. Connie got dressed and when the food arrived, she carried it to Natasha. Jason knelt beside Viktor with a biscuit and a frosty glass. He looked at the food incredulously, as if seeing a mirage. Jason held it out to him.
"I can help you, if you want."
Fear flashed across his eyes. "No… I think I can…" He tried to sit up but couldn't. Jason helped him sit up against the foot of the bed. He took the food with trembling hands and lifted the biscuit, gazing at it with wonder. He took an experimental bite then devoured it. Jason sat back against the foot of the other bed and ate his breakfast. It was delicious. He could only imagine what it tasted to a man who must've been practically starved. At least, not given anything good.
Connie held the baby while Natasha ate breakfast and got dressed. That left only Viktor to get ready to leave. He would need rest, but Jason wanted to take him home, where he could truly rest and someone he loved could take care of him. He only hoped he could contact Viktor's sister….
Jason turned to him. "How are you feeling?"
His eyes were brighter, his cheeks less pale. "I think… I'm feeling better. That food helped. It tasted so good…." His eyes flickered with shadows. "We're still…in the same hotel, aren't we."
Jason nodded.
"It's…hard to believe something so good could come from here. But they… sometimes they fed me good food. I know it was rich and wonderful, but all I could taste was dust." His brow furrowed. "Freedom makes everything taste better."
"Everything you have from now on will taste of freedom." Jason's throat tightened.
"Can that man still…get to me? Is he still here?"
"The police have probably found and arrested him by now. I should make sure, though." Jason called the police and they confirmed they'd found Bob and taken him in. Jason sat back against the bed in relief.
Viktor looked satisfied but still troubled. Jason thought he knew what was bothering him. "We'll get out of here as soon as we can. Put this place behind us."
Hope spread over his face, though it was still traced with pain. "I…don't know if I can. Even after the food."
"I'll help you. If…you're okay with it."
"I… I hope I am."
"I can call your sister, if you want. What's her name?"
"Adela. Adela Zelezna."
"Where does she live?"
"Last time I knew, she lived in our apartment in Rakima. It's been two years. I'm…not sure where she is now…." Distress shadowed his eyes.
"I'll see if I can find her." Jason picked up his phone.
"Wait—"
"What is it?"
"I can't go to her like this. She'll know what's happened… she'll despise me…"
"No, she won't. She'll want to know you're safe."
"I… want to see her. I hope she's okay. Maybe they got her too and she's—" His voice rose in panic.
"I'll find her." Jason googled her name and sure enough, it came up with several pictures. Two of them were of young women, but Jason could easily guess which was his twin—she had curly blond hair, striking green eyes, high cheekbones. He showed the picture to Viktor and his eyes lit up.
He took the phone, cradled it in his hands. "It's Del! Oh, Del…" He hugged the phone to his chest, eyes closed. Then he handed the phone sheepishly to Jason.
"It says she's working at a temp agency. That was just last week."
"Then she's okay! She wasn't taken." He bit his lip, breathing hard. "But…is she still in college?"
"It doesn't look like it."
"Then she put her life on hold! I ruined her life…"
"No. They did. They stole two years of your life away. Now—they can't take anything else from you."
Viktor nodded quickly, as if to reassure himself. "I…don't know if I can go back to… if I can ever go to college again. I can't imagine… showing my face there after what happened. I do know Adela will love me no matter what. But others… besides. I don't know how to live in the real world anymore."
"Just take it one step at a time. Your sister will support you. You'll have other people to help, if you want it."
"I'll be a burden… I'll hold her back."
"I don't think she'll see it that way. Would you if it had happened the other way?"
He shook his head. "I'd help her. No matter what." He smiled a little. "That's what twins are for. That's what she'd always say to me… whenever something bad happened. We always had each other… I hate how I left her alone. I mean…how they kept me from her."
"Now—you don't have to be apart anymore."
Jason dialed Adela's number. She was shocked at first, then overjoyed and demanded to talk to her brother. Jason handed the phone to Viktor. At first he was speechless then he was unable to hold back his tears.
They agreed to meet in a few hours at her apartment. She said she'd take care of him, get him the help he needed. Jason called the women's shelter and they agreed to take in Natasha. Like Nika, she didn't have a family to go back to.
Viktor got up to get dressed in the bathroom, but on the way his steps faltered and he fell to his knees. Jason rushed over to him, not sure if he'd want to be touched.
"I…I think I need help."
Jason grasped his arm and carefully lifted him to his feet. He helped him to the bathroom where the pile of clean clothes waited. Viktor grasped the rim of the sink, looking in the mirror into his pale reflection, dark circles under his eyes, curls tumbling over his forehead.
Jason stepped toward the door but Viktor said, "Could you—stay?" His voice shook.
"Sure. What do you need?"
"Um… just… I'm not sure if I can…." He hung his head. "If I can…get dressed. By myself." He looked away, his lips trembling.
"I can help."
"I'll… I'll try to do it myself. Please, don't look." Shame suffused his voice.
"I won't."
"I mean you can if you have to but—"
"I understand."
Viktor nodded and took the clothes into the alcove by the shower. Jason faced the door. His mind wandered. Jason did want to bring something spectacular to Connie… if he couldn't transplant a castle, perhaps he could build her one. Or perhaps just build her a home… she probably wouldn't really want to give up her mother's house, though. Perhaps it was good enough to just fill their house with love. He couldn't help but hope that soon, their children would fill it with laughter…its bright music healing the remnants of lingering wounds.
A gasp behind him. "Are you all right?" Jason asked without turning around.
"I—I can't. I'm sorry. My hands won't cooperate."
Jason turned around to see he had pulled the jeans on but they hadn't been buttoned. Viktor held the shirt in one hand as he leaned against the wall, looking ashamed and scared.
"It's okay." Jason walked over to him slowly, careful not to startle him. Like helping a small child, he buttoned the jeans and then took the shirt, rolling it into a manageable circle. He lifted it over Viktor's head; he flinched as he lowered it. Jason stopped.
"No—it's okay. Please…put it on. I need to—to get out of here."
"I won't hurt you."
"You're not…like them. It's just…"
"Your body has memories."
He nodded.
Jason lowered the shirt over his curls, then unrolled it down over his shoulders, trying to avoid brushing his skin. At the same time, he couldn't help but notice raw patches of skin amid the more prominent bruises and whip burns. They were minor so Jason tried to ignore them, but Viktor noticed his glance as he slid his arms through the sleeves. His face flushed. "I—I tried to scrub off their touch… get clean for these new clothes. It didn't work."
"It might feel like…you've been tainted by what they did. But that has nothing to do with who you are."
Viktor looked at him with large, desperate eyes, a sliver of hope in their depths.
"I'll give you my number. Call if you need to talk… if you need help… anything."
"Thanks. You've already helped so much. I don't deserve—"
"Yes, you do." Jason gave him a smile, and Viktor tentatively smiled back.
Jason gave Viktor several aspirin. He hardly showed any pain but that was probably because he was used to hiding it.
They were almost ready to head out when there was a knock at the door. Viktor and Natasha froze, then rushed into the shadows of the kitchenette, Natasha holding the baby close.
"Who is it?" said Jason. Connie stood near him, holding a Castle Hotel-branded tote bag with their clothes from yesterday.
"It's me," said Ali.
Jason walked over to the door and opened it a crack. "What is it?"
"Can I come in?"
"Probably not the best idea. Adding another person will only startle them."
"Viktor saw me at the rescue."
"But Natasha didn't."
"It's not like this is top secret or anything. I just wanted to let you know what the police told me. I told them I'd be in contact in case they found anything of relevance. It seems that one of the traffickers spilled some important intel. One of the traffickers got away—his name is Karl Wolff. Ring any bells?"
"The man that Leon talked about was named Karl."
"Probably the same man. Fits the description. He is quite tall, about six foot four, so he stands out. Not the best for undercover. Still, he was savvy enough to escape when the others were rounded up, so… They also got some video captured on the security cameras. Do you want to see it?"
"Is it at the police station?"
"I'll send it to you, along with the full description."
"Thank you. How did you get all that?"
"Being a VIP has its perks." He smiled cryptically.
Jason wondered if it meant he'd bribed the police, or perhaps just used his influence as leverage.
"Is he the only one who escaped?"
"That we know of. This was a pretty successful operation."
"Do you know what happened with Bob?"
"Ah, yes. I made sure the police found him after we escaped. Didn't tell them of our role. His real name is Robert Lyle. Big deal in the States. This'll make the perfect scandal…. That is, if he's not able to hush them up."
"So…this could be all for nothing."
"I wouldn't say that. We rescued seventeen slaves last night."
Jason nodded. That was what counted. But if the perpetrators weren't brought to justice, more innocent people would be enslaved. "And the traffickers?"
"Lots of them aren't saying anything. There are about ten… it seems that there would've been more for an operation as large as this. And there are probably shadowy organizers that didn't show their faces."
"So they'll probably just continue like they always have."
"Well… you've disrupted their smooth operation. So they'll have to regroup. It might take some time."
"This has probably just driven them further underground, made them more cautious."
"These people are slippery. But hopefully we'll gain some information from the traffickers we caught."
"I just wish I could keep it from happening to any more people."
"It's frustrating. Especially when the stakes are so high. But if you keep up this marvelous performance—you'll make a significant dent in their operations. Maybe take them all down."
"As much as I'd like it though—it'll probably take a long time. And there are so many. If I could burn them all down right now, I would."
Ali pressed his hand to Jason's shoulder. "That's what I love about you, Jason. That inner fire. That drive to crush injustice. If I could, I'd love to be present for all your operations. But alas, I must go back to work. You'll call me next time, so I can tag along and witness your glory?"
"Well…."
"No guarantee I can peel myself away from work. But now that I've tasted it, I'm pretty sure it's my dream to be an amateur secret agent. Business may be my calling, but spying is my passion. Who says they can't go together? My influence can help in overt ops, and in covert ops—well, my expertise speaks for itself." He smiled in self-satisfaction.
"I'll call if I need your help." Which I won't… unless Ali won't be a distraction. And if I have time to watch him. I'm not sure…if treading so close to the fire is a good idea…
"Wonderful!" Ali clapped a hand against his back. His hand lingered, rubbing against his spine.
Jason froze. "Ali…" He was fed up with this behavior and getting past the point of being able to ignore it—he didn't want Ali to get any ideas.
"Don't mind me. Just savoring my proximity to such a magnificent being." He withdrew his hand. "But you're right, I need to get going. See you next time!" He waved.
Jason didn't wave back. He didn't want to antagonize him too much yet, but at the same time… he didn't want Ali to think he had any claim to him. There was only one that did.
He and Connie helped Viktor, Natasha and her baby out to the car. Jason was glad to see the luxurious hotel vanish in the rear view mirror.
Jason sat beside Connie, who had insisted on driving, since he hadn't slept all night and his hands hadn't healed yet. They had started to heal—and it wasn't like it was a serious injury. Still, not sleeping had probably not helped any. As they drove toward Rakima, Jason found himself nodding off. He wanted to stay awake in case Natasha or Viktor needed anything, but they seemed content to rest and look out the window, the baby sleeping in Natasha's arms.
The gentle hills soothed his mind, which drifted toward the gravity of his sun. Her beauty amazed him, blazing apart all conscious thought as he reveled in the golden and copper glints in her light brown hair, in the soft curve of her arm, her full enticing lips…. Soon he was enveloped in her arms and love burned through him as he gave her tender kisses and touches… he studied every curve…the beauty of her skin, the fire of her eyes… he traced her features gently, his passion building—
A siren slashed the dream apart. He jolted awake. Pleasure still rippling through him. His face heated; he hoped he hadn't been acting out his dream in any way. He looked at Connie, who looked back at him, eyes wide. "I think he wants us to pull over!"
Jason sat up straight and sighed. "We'd better do it, then." He looked behind him, past the startled faces of Viktor and Natasha. It wasn't a police car, but a brown sedan with a blinking blue and red light behind its windshield. Jason's heart flipped over. He didn't want to get in trouble with the police. What were the chances it could be someone nefarious?
Connie pulled to the side of the road. Jason lifted the gun out of his pocket and slid it beneath the seat, easy to get at but not easy for the cop to see. His knife he kept in his pocket; it looked like a normal jackknife from the outside. And it was, it just had other less legally sanctioned tools in it. And he kept it sharp.
"What do we do?" said Natasha. The baby was fussing in her arms. She jounced him, trying to ward off full-blown crying.
"It'll be okay," said Jason. "It's probably just something to do with the car."
Viktor took his seatbelt off and scrunched down between the seats, somehow fitting into a very small space.
"You haven't done anything wrong," said Jason. "Just act normal."
"It—could be…one of them," whispered Viktor. Jason realized he probably meant some of the police who had abused him.
"I'll protect you. It'll make them suspicious if you try to hide."
"It's okay," said Natasha. "Jason and Connie won't let us down."
Viktor nodded and crawled back onto the seat. His hands were clenched, knuckles white.
"Everything's in order, isn't it?" said Connie. "We didn't do anything wrong by accident?"
"I…don't think so. The rental place is top notch. I doubt they'd let things…."
The policeman sauntered up to them, leaned his hand on the top of the car. Connie rolled down her window. The man had ruffled brown hair and wore sunglasses which hid his eyes.
"Hi," said Connie. "I'm sorry if we did anything wrong. I don't know what it is, but… I hope it doesn't cost too much! We're from another country."
"I can see that," said the officer laconically. "Or hear it, rather. You're from America?"
She nodded. "We're just visiting. This is a rental."
"May I see your license and registration?"
She dug in her purse for her license and Jason slid the vehicle registration out of the glove compartment, along with the rental papers. The policeman took them and flipped through them, then handed them back. "Everything seems to be in order. The problem is, your vehicle license has expired."
"Oh no!" said Connie. "I didn't know that."
"We had no idea," said Jason.
"In the future, you should make sure the license is up to date before you drive."
"I thought the rental would take care of that."
"Never assume. You don't want to be pulled over again, do you?"
Connie shook her head.
"I'll let you off with a warning."
"Oh, thank you!"
"Just to be on the safe side, though, to dot all my i's, cross all my t's… I'd like to see each of your IDs."
"What for?"
The man peered into the back. "You can't be too careful. A lot of illegal activity around. Imagine how mortified I'd be if I stopped you on a traffic violation and didn't catch something much more serious! I'd look like a fool. In fact, I wouldn't belong on the force." He set his jaw, raised one eyebrow above the sunglasses.
"We…we're not doing anything illegal," said Connie, her voice strained.
"Then you'll give me your ID. Not you, you did already." He looked pointedly at Jason.
"Sure." Jason handed Connie his driver's license, which she relayed to the policeman.
He looked at it, frowning. "Hm. Not expired or anything. I'll have to run your names, too."
"Don't you need to do that in your car?" asked Jason.
He tapped his temple. "I've got a good memory. Photographic."
"Good for this line of work."
"You couldn't be more right." He handed the ID back. "Now theirs." He jerked his head toward the back.
"Well…that might be a problem," said Jason.
"Why would that be."
"We've just rescued them from slavery."
"You're kidding."
"Call your comrades in Valhad. There was just a big operation in the Castle Hotel."
"I'll have to check up on that. Still, that doesn't mean you had anything to do with it. For all I know, you're slavers who have kidnapped these kids. They look a little out of it. Perhaps you drugged them."
"They can tell you we're helping them."
"That won't mean anything. You could have coached them. I'm afraid I need proof. Step out of the car, please."
"Why don't you call the lieutenant in charge? What was his name—Demir. He'll tell you who I am."
"You could be an impostor. Step out of the car, please."
"What'll that accomplish?"
The man leaned his hand on his holster. "Step out of the car, or I'll consider it resisting arrest."
"It would make more sense to call them—"
The man whipped out his gun, aimed it at him. Connie pressed back against the seat.
Terror raced through Jason she could get hurt. "All right, all right. I'll get out."
"I'll have to search the car. In fact, I want all of you out. This situation is very suspicious. I'll have to call in backup. Separate these kids, get their unscripted story."
"We're not traffickers."
"Your word means nothing in this business."
"I know." Jason sighed.
"And bring any weapons you have. It'll go better for you if you conceal nothing."
Jason reached for the gun beneath the seat.
Natasha handed Connie a scrap of paper; she looked at it, covered by the palm of her hand. Connie floored the accelerator, the wheels screeching out onto the pavement, spraying gravel. The policeman whirled backwards in a flash of brown.
"Connie—what are you doing!" said Jason.
"He's—a trafficker," she said, breathless. She tossed the crumpled paper to Jason as she sped down the road along the desolate stretch of highway, the flat fields racing by in a blur.
Jason smoothed the paper. It's Karl the one who trapped Viktor, it read in a hurried scrawl. He turned to look at her. "How do you know?"
"He told me. He was too scared to move but then I let him write it on my hand. Good thing there was a pen back here." She brandished it, smiling shakily.
Viktor was ashen, slumped back against the seat.
"Hey, it's all right," said Jason. "You helped us escape."
His green eyes sparked with surprised gratification.
Jason chided himself for not seeing the signs. He'd been on alert, but not enough. But he couldn't exactly know who it was without Viktor's eyewitness testimony.
And Karl probably wouldn't give up that easily. Sure enough, as Jason kept watch in the rearview mirror, the brown sedan appeared, its lights flashing but without sirens. Connie sped up but soon the car was zooming side by side and Karl's sunglasses-shielded eyes gazed malevolently at them.
Connie sped faster, the needle edging up to 100, the muscles in her arms taut. Her jaw clenched, her eyes wide with fear. Jason wished he could take over but he couldn't exactly do it while she was driving and they couldn't risk stopping.
The sedan scraped the side of the car. Metal screeched. Connie screamed and pushed the car faster but the sedan just swerved in front of her and slowed down. She looked to see there were no cars coming and raced into the other lane. Zoomed faster—now almost past 120 on the speedometer. Jason thrilled at her bravery and skill—she was doing well despite her fear and inexperience.
He glanced back at Natasha and Viktor. Natasha was shushing her baby, who was crying loudly. Jason had hardly noticed he was so on edge. Viktor was plastered back against the seat, his body rigid with terror.
The sedan raced in front of them again and began to slow down. Just then, a semi-truck appeared, headed straight for them. Connie swerved back into the other lane, the wheels squealing, almost spinning out of control. She managed to keep driving but more slowly, her arms shaking. The sedan began following them again. Turned out into the other lane as soon as the semi passed then rammed into the side of their car.
Karl lifted his gun. Jerked it menacingly.
"What do I do?" said Connie, panicked.
"Pull over. He'll kill us if we don't." Jason glanced longingly at the city of Rakima, misty in the distance. Still not close enough.
Connie nodded and began to slow. "Then what do we do?"
"Call the police as soon as we're stopped. I'll keep him busy." Jason dragged the gun from beneath the seat. "Keep the doors locked."
Gravel rumbled beneath the wheels. Before the car stopped, Jason opened the car door and jumped out, grasping his gun.