Generation

by Ameraka

Just recovering from the events of A New Life, Connie and Jason are invited to an event that they think will be a new start. But soon they meet an old friend and are enticed into a world of intrigue and mystery while Whit is on a secret mission of his own. What will these events mean for the future of the Whittaker family? Warnings: violence, rape mention-human trafficking

70. Damage

The morning sun slanted through her window. Shreds of dreams still drifted through her mind. But she didn't dwell on them. She swept them away and slid out of bed.

Her heart ached, and gravity dragged at her. But she had to forge forward, never stop, not until she found him.

An idea quivered in the back of her mind—she could try to exchange herself. If she could pull it off, it would probably be worth more than anything else she could do.

I may not be as valuable as him, but I am younger… maybe they'd consider it…

But what if I'm pregnant? I couldn't exchange myself then! I couldn't leave a baby in their hands….

What can I do? Just trudge along, barely accomplishing anything…

She'd called David the second time yesterday, but he'd refused to talk to her, just like the previous time she'd called. She didn't blame him. He had to concentrate on recovery.

There are others I can talk to…

Viktor, perhaps…. Nika…

I hate to bother them. But Nika might not mind seeing me…. And Jason rescued Viktor, so he might want to help….

She opened the window and let the fresh air in, dispelling some of the darkness. She knew by now adding any slices of good in the corners of the day helped. Stopped her from feeling like she was freefalling.

Cicadas buzzed, reminding her how late in the summer it was. She picked up the makeshift calendar she'd made, which started on the day he'd been taken, August 23rd.

It was August 31st. Yesterday had marked a week since he'd been gone. An unfathomable gulf between them; a blank space where he was supposed to be.

She resisted thinking about what could be happening to him right now. What he could have already gone through.

And they were no closer to finding him.

The agents had found traces in the beginning, but they'd lost the trail. Now they were scattered all over the country, looking for any possible clues.

At least the Agency was going all out to find him. It seemed a little strange they'd go to such lengths, but perhaps Tasha had had something to do with it.

Or—perhaps they knew he still had Agency secrets locked in his head. Falling into enemy hands meant—

People with no morals digging into his mind by cutting into his body.

She turned from the images that threatened to crowd into her mind and took a shower.

Memories slammed into her—the day they'd taken a shower together. His face, in awe, gazing up at her, and she reached out to touch his jaw, cup it gently in her hand.

But he faded as soon as she touched him.

She fell to the floor, her hand pressed to the glass. Tears spilled down her cheeks, mingling with the shower droplets.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…" Her voice was faint, almost a whisper. "Please don't take my sunshine away." She collapsed, curling up in the shower, not caring the water was still running, splashing into her face and mouth. Her heart ached, as if a sick, throbbing fire was burning at the center of it. Spreading out and carving tendrils through her body. Soon she'd be an ashen wreck…. Perhaps the water would keep her alive….

She grasped her legs, slick with water, and hummed the second verse. At the words, "I dreamed I held you in my arms," a sob tore the words from her throat. Salt seeped into her mouth.

She reached out for him. Seeking him beyond the space that separated them. Following the strong bond that kept them close, no matter how far away he was. I have to be able to touch him somehow—

Dear God, please let me feel him—

The shower shut off as the water-saver kicked in, and she lay there shivering, the space between them still a vast barrier.

I don't care if it hurts… I want to be there with him…

Dear God, please….

As the cold crept over her, she realized that perhaps it was best she couldn't. Because she had to keep going. She had to look for him. If she found out he was in agony, she might not be able to function.

I can't just—lie here. I'm wasting precious time.

She scrambled to her feet.

I can't let myself collapse again.

I'm going to have to—try not to think about him. While looking for him.

She pulled on her clothes and dried her hair, then brushed it quickly. Not bothering with makeup, she put on her shoes and headed for breakfast.

As she passed Saul's door, which was just a few steps away from the breakfast room, she heard a frustrated word in Muldavian. Then a crash.

She knocked on the door. "Are you alright?"

"Um…maybe I need help."

She stepped into the room to find Saul, shirtless, on the edge of the bed, the lamp on the floor. The light bulb had shattered.

"Sorry," he said. "I was trying to get my bandages."

"That's okay," she said; as she got closer, she wondered that he was able to move at all. Cuts lined his skin, more under bandages. His shoulders were bandaged along with hints of cuts on his back as well.

She picked up the pieces of the lightbulb and slid them into the wastebasket beside the bedstand. Then she picked up the lamp and set it back.

"Thank you," he said. "With my arm and leg like this, I can barely do anything."

"Do you need help changing your bandages?"

"I couldn't ask you to do that." He ran his hand through his black curls.

"You're still in pretty bad shape."

"I told her I could do this… but maybe I do need some help…."

"I've helped Jason with his injuries."

Saul's horrific injuries echoed what Jason's had been. Any misgivings at potential flashbacks were subsumed by her sympathy for him. "Where are the bandages?" she asked.

"They rolled under the bed."

She knelt and sure enough, there was a roll of gauze and tape and a container of smaller bandages. When she sat beside him, he inched away a little. A blush suffused his cheeks. "Are you sure about this?"

"As long as you are."

He nodded tentatively.

She drew on her limited experience as she peeled the old bandages away and dropped them into the wastebasket. She was careful, but he gasped with pain nearly each time. She realized the full extent of what they'd done to him. Carved into his flesh deeply, some of the wounds still seeping blood. And some of the wounds were patterns and letters. Each in different styles—she realized they had been cut by different people. Dizziness flooded her; a vision of what they could be doing to Jason flirted with her mind. But she had to help him—it was, in a way, like helping Jason. In the future, she'd be able to tend to his wounds … he'd be here and she could help him. But she hoped he wouldn't be injured at all—which wasn't likely, she had to admit.

Turning to Saul's back, she saw even deeper cuts in his shoulder blades, where knives had twisted savagely. She was glad that he couldn't see her; she had to steady herself in order to keep going. The blatant evidence of pure evil overwhelmed any physical sick feeling she had.

After taking off each bandage, she spread an antibiotic cream on the wounds; it smoothed the jagged horror of the injuries. Finally she applied new, sparkling white bandages.

Breathing hard, he said, "Thank you."

"What about your gunshot wound?"

"Oh—I don't think you need to check that…."

"It's the worst, though. Is there anything special I need to do with it?"

He shook his head. "Just—new bandage. I…shouldn't have told Leila I had it covered, but I didn't want her to have to deal with it anymore…" His eyes simmered with a deeply haunted expression. He looked away, jaw tense.

"I wonder why she thought you could take care of it already."

"I…might have let on that someone else would help me… I don't really want to need help."

"There's no shame in needing it."

He looked at her sharply. Then he said, "It's a little below the knee."

She nodded, steeling herself enough to actually accomplish something meaningful for someone who was trying to help find Jason despite the severity of his injuries.

She knelt and rolled up the silk blue pant cuff, then gasped when she saw the rope burns at his ankle. More carvings on his leg. Tears sprang to her eyes. Such horror in such a short time. At least he'd escaped… at least he could start to heal. Although it would take a long time, and the scars in his mind would probably take longer.

The bandage was bound around his leg just below his knee. Carefully, she unwound it; he gasped sharply. "Are you alright?" she said.

He nodded, eyes shining with pain.

"Do you need painkillers?"

"After…"

She pulled off the large gauze pad which was sticking to the wound a little. He hissed through his teeth. "Almost done," she said. Quickly, she grabbed the new bandages and placed them over the bullet wound. Wrapped it around, trying not to hurt him any more than she had to.

His tan face was wracked with pain. She grasped the edge of the rolled up pant leg; he flinched violently, and she snatched her hands away.

"Sorry! Did that hurt?"

He shook his head, arm grasping the headboard, facing away from her. His whole body trembled.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"Just—some water," he said, his voice ragged.

She rushed into the bathroom, grabbed a paper cup and filled it with water. Then she came back and handed it to him.

He took it shakily and some of the water spilled. She grabbed the pill bottle and slid a pill into her hand and then traded it for the water. He slid it into his mouth, and she helped him drink; he smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Connie. I'm sorry for this… I…."

"They did horrifying things to you. I sort of knew, but just seeing it—"

His eyes caught hers furtively. "How…much do you know."

"Not much…"

"Did Jason tell you?"

She shook her head.

He looked immensely relieved. She realized he meant more than the injuries that she'd already seen. Perhaps he should know she knew about the rest. It wasn't right to keep something from him that was so personal. "I…know more…from Samar."

He leaned his head in his hand, eyes closed. "I never…" he said, almost whispering. "The worst…the one who…."

She sat down beside him, leaving him generous space. "None of it was your fault. It was all—them." Anger flared through her; she had to keep it in check not to alarm him.

"I just felt so—helpless. They tore my humanity from me. I was just—laid bare before them and they started making me theirs with the blood—I was choking on it—I was afraid they'd cut me apart… I wished I could hide from them, but they were cutting—" He laid his hand on his heart. "And I was so afraid they'd do even worse…. They'd take what I'd never give to them—and their hands were already claiming me—" His eyes darted to her. "Sorry. You don't want to hear this."

"It's okay," she said, although she had to fight not to see Jason lying there. It was her worst nightmare—what they might be doing to him—and they'd already done it to Saul. It wasn't unreasonable to expect the same.

And Jason had been with them for over a week.

"I didn't want Leila to know, but she sort of had to, to change the bandages." Shame filled his eyes. "She was good about it. She loves me and she's not disgusted by me. At the same time—I can't shake this feeling—I know it doesn't make sense—that I'm not worthy of her anymore. That—her touching me—is like her touching them. I'm part of them now… Jason told me it's all their fault and I know that but…. I feel so, so tainted… all I feel when I see my body is them—"

It hit her how close this was to her nightmare. How Jason hadn't felt worthy of her anymore. How much they'd violated him, imprinted something deep in his mind. Even if he was wrong that he was irrevocably damaged, it didn't take away what he felt. He'd already felt unworthy… and if…the worst happened—

I'd still love him. I'd carry him free.

"You're still yourself," she said. "That feeling will go away."

"I hope so."

"Leila will help you. Her love will burn all of what they did away." She had to hope this for herself and Jason.

"If…I can't let her touch me…."

"Just—focus on healing first."

He nodded, tears gleaming in his eyes.

"Should I call Leila?" she asked.

"She needs to keep looking for Jason. We can't leave him with—them. I'd better get up so I can… help in some way."

"I could help with the…rest of your injuries." She fled from the possibility she might have to deal with similar wounds when Jason returned.

He shook his head. "I could barely let Leila—"

"Is there anyone else who might…?"

"Well… I'd hate to ask this—if Tasha…"

"I'll ask."

She stepped out of the room, horrible images chasing her. Saul had only been with Yavesh a few hours. Could she possibly hope Jason had escaped the worst after being with them so long? So much time they'd had to hurt him— would they have let him alone this whole time? She had to hope, but she didn't think she could expect any sort of good outcome for him.

What Saul already had to deal with…. The shame and the scars… what shape will Jason be in… if I can't even touch him, how can I help him? If he feels so much shame he won't let me near him… if he's so traumatized my touch even hurts him…. and he's full of misery and torment, even after he's escaped—and he's still immersed in darkness…

If I could just—be with him somehow… Dear God, help him feel my love—please, let him feel that I'm with him, even if I'm far away… if it can help somehow… Please, please don't let them—

Almost collapsing, she grasped the doorframe to keep from sinking to the floor.

"Are you alright?" said Tasha. She was sitting at the breakfast table across from Sierra, who looked at Connie.

"Yeah… it's just—" I can't afford to collapse! I've got to—cut myself off from him—in order to find him—it was hard not to think of it, tending to such wounds— "Saul needs help."

"Oh!" Tasha stood, setting down her napkin. "What does he need help with?"

"He…needs his bandages changed. I did some, but…."

Tasha nodded. "I'll take care of the rest. He's probably most comfortable with me—because I was with him. I saw what happened… we were there for each other." She grabbed her cane from the chair beside her and strode out of the room, moving as fast as her injured leg would let her.

Sierra turned her chair to face Connie. "I wondered if there might be more to it than he implied."

"What do you mean?"

"Just how he reacted. I recognized…some of my own reactions, in a milder form. Just after I emerged from slavery, I was a wreck."

"You were…able to get past it." It struck her that Sierra, who had endured more than anyone she knew, was a beacon of hope. If a child could be trafficked for years and grow into a well-adjusted adult—although perhaps Sierra wasn't a typical example of "well-adjusted"….

Sierra's eyes strayed to the table for a moment, lingered absently on the remnants of egg on her plate. "I don't know if I ever got past it. It's like—a hollow space inside me, and that window into the past is full of pain. Nothing is more hollow and meaningless than pain." She looked at Connie with dark slivers of deep anguish in her eyes. Connie glimpsed an image of what Sierra must've been like as a girl—lost, alone, her eyes wells of hopelessness, a gaunt face with any hint of past joy drained from it. "But I did…move forward, if that's the right word. I avoided it for many years, while punishing harshly anyone who reminded me of those men. I thought I was healed—at least, the festering wounds were mostly scarred over. I was free. But it wasn't until recently, facing my past—that I've found healing I never realized I needed. A sort of…completion. Catharsis. I will never be whole, because of what they took from me." Anger burned in her eyes. "But at least I can help others who went through the same unspeakable misery. I can get them out—using skills I've honed. Nothing is more satisfying. Except maybe stabbing the hearts of the ones who tried to crush the innocent ones." Her smile was fierce with delight.

Connie was rather horrified by it; at the same time, some of the same hatred writhed through her. She wanted to make them feel—something. A version of the pain Jason was feeling.

It would make me too much like them. I probably couldn't do it, anyway. But they do need punishment that makes them actually think of how they—tried to tear apart my Jason.

"So…" Her voice trembled a little; she tried to get it under control. "It's best that you face it…not try to avoid it?"

"I mean, it is almost impossible to face it fully. Or to avoid it—at first. I think you do need some distance… at the same time, you can't let the wounds fester too much. Or you turn into me." She smiled, a hint of sadness in her expression. "It did help drive me. I didn't want to let them win. Didn't want what they did to consume all that I was. So I became the best—not because of them, but in spite of them. I grew and I found many beautiful things, and there were people to help me. I might not have survived without them. My rescuer and mentor, Lee Jun, who gave me my foundation. But I…haven't let myself get close to anyone since then. I thought I was fine with that, that's who I was… then—" Tears sparked to her eyes. She blinked them away; one rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with her fingers. "You see what you've done to me? I…haven't cried for years."

"I'm sorry—"

"It's not just you. It's Jason. It's all of you…. And it's a good thing. I've just got to make sure I don't let it unsettle me too much. Have to keep balance. That's what I didn't have before. I rescued Jason…but he rescued me. Mine is more of a debt. Even if I find him—I can never repay it."

"I…don't think he'd see it that way."

Sierra smiled. "You're right. I'm still thinking transactionally. But that's not what family is." She looked at Connie tentatively, her veneer of confidence melted away. "If…you'll accept me. As an honorary member… a corollary perhaps… on the periphery—just that much is—"

"Of course!" She reached toward Sierra, and Sierra hesitated, then grasped her hand. It was a light touch, as if she wasn't used to human contact that wasn't violent. Connie felt like hugging her but wasn't sure if that would be too much.

Sierra looked away, and when she looked back, all traces of tears had nearly vanished. She smiled softly. "I have to see that having emotions isn't compromising myself…. But I also have to have a certain amount of control, keep that inner strength that's kept me going. Can't fall apart now. That's why…. I hate to admit it, but I think I need to sleep."

"When's the last time you slept?"

"About forty hours ago."

"That's too long!"

"When your mind starts to dull, you cannot be at your best. I have to be at my best to find him."

"Did you find any clues?"

"Nothing definitive. I've got a whole bundle of details in my head, and I'll unravel them and look at them, then let them scramble up for a while and make new connections. Something has to stick eventually. Outsiders might think I have an ironclad method, but it's vague, messy intuition that really gets me places." She shook her head. "I don't know how Tasha does it. I've always been mystified by people who work best with structure and rules." She laughed. Then glanced at the door, becoming more solemn. "I hope Saul's all right. At least he has someone who understands. Tasha didn't say as much… but I sense she's also…experienced a violent assault."

Connie nodded. "She mentioned it before… when she told what happened with Gray."

Sierra's eyes glimmered with several conflicting emotions. Then she said, "I wonder if Saul would accept my help… after what he's been through, he needs all the support he can get. If I can let him know some of the paths to healing… It won't take him as long to recover—since it was over a relatively short time."

"What about—"

"Jason. I know. I can't stop thinking about him. I—get flashbacks, mixed up with what I imagine they could be doing—it'll take much longer for him to recover, even at this point."

"So…. You think he could be—"

"I wish I could sugarcoat it for you, but that wouldn't be fair. This only fuels my desire to find him. Each day I fail to…it's a heavier burden." She flipped over her wrists and absently rubbed the many crisscrossing scars. "He's in my dreams—and he's crying out to me—begging me to save him—and I can do nothing. Graphic images branded on my mind—and I'm trapped under their degradation—" She shook her head. "I might falter if I keep this up. It's hard to block it. As long as it pushes me forward rather than drags me down."

"Is there any chance they could've…spared him?"

"A chance that something interrupted them, something unexpected…. No way to know. That's why we've got to find a breakthrough."

"What if… we find him, but it's the worst—"

"Then I'll be there for you. I'll be at his side until he's able to function again. He'll heal because you're there, and that kind of love… can work miracles."

"He might not let me—"

"He will, in time. Just be patient. What those disgusting pieces of filth do—cannot win. Not against someone as good as he is." She stood. "Well—I'd better get some sleep. If you like, you can come out with me. You and Whit."

"We won't slow you down?"

"Depends on the mission. You never know if I'll have to run off on my own. I won't lead you into inordinate danger. And I need autonomy. But at first, we may be able to help each other." She flashed a smile, waved, and stepped out the door.

Connie sat down, weariness dragging at her. She looked despondently at the food; none of it looked appetizing. Finally she slid an egg and a piece of toast onto an empty plate and ate half-heartedly. The juice brightened her a little, and the food began to give her more energy, though she had barely tasted it.

She meandered through the hallways, following the sound of laughter. In the living room with the large fireplace, Whit sat beside the King on the couch, and Darya was on the other side of him. Marija, Stefan and their family were gathered on the other couches and chairs. On the rug by the fireplace, Luna sat beside James and Mina. Connie was glad to see Luna, because she'd stayed in her room most of the time since she'd been rescued. Lexi, Tanya, and the triplets played on the floor with little toy houses, barns, and farm animals. The king was speaking about the next session of Parliament, which was coming up in September.

That's a long way off, she thought—then she remembered September was tomorrow. Before long, it would be fall…. And she would be without him as the leaves turned—but they would be dull with his absence….

Whit turned. "Connie –Good morning!"

Everyone else greeted her in a chorus. Tanya waved with her horse, Brownie.

Darya, Roderick, and Whit shuffled down the couch to give her room and she sat down beside Whit. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"I'm…okay," she said. "How about you?"

"Holding up," he said. "I called some new contacts this morning."

Her heart lurched with desperate hope. "Have they found anything?"

He shook his head. "Nothing definite yet. Possible leads."

"Same here," said the king. "We search, we find leads… But no concrete clues yet."

"We're following threads that the other nobles give us," said Darya. "They have a lot of connections. Sometimes, they're a little shady. But that may help in this case."

Stefan Jr. leaned forward; now Connie could see him better beside his sister Zara. "We're following some of our contacts. Some of the…less than savory ones. Whispers in dark corners. People who have been stolen."

"We're thinking of leaving tomorrow," said Stefan Sr. on the other side of the room.

"You don't need to do that," said Roderick.

"We'll be able to follow leads better from the road. We dropped some of them after we found Luna, and the only way we'll be able to pick them up again is to be there physically. We're not going to stop until we find Jason."

"Thank you," said Connie.

"We would never do any less for someone who risked his life to save Luna. And…gave his freedom for her."

"I feel so helpless at this stage," said Roderick. "My power and resources… don't seem to mean much."

"You just have to make full use of them," said Darya. "Use your emergency powers if you have to."

"I vowed never to do that."

"There is unrest in the streets, and there will be more. Word has gotten out about the epidemic of kidnapping, and the people are angry."

"They're right. I shouldn't have been so blind to it. Now… I have to throw my full energy into fighting Yavesh. Not only serve my family, but my people. I cannot abandon them now."

"I'm glad you see reason."

"There will be elections for the interim successor, but only after this crisis has passed. I will do everything within my power—" His eyes flashed. "But I will not break the law, and I will not do anything that will harm our people. Now that my family is back, is whole…" He looked around at them with affection. "I won't go racing off on my own. But Jason—he is family too." He looked at Whit. "With my task force…decimated… I have to go through more official channels until I have…something comparable perhaps." He looked at Darya.

"I have an idea," she said, grasping his hand.

He looked at her expectantly.

"I'll have to tell you later."

Marija leaned over and touched Luna's shoulder gently. She froze, but then turned to face her mother. "Mama?"

"Would you like to stay here, or go with us? You could rest more, and you could spend more time with James."

Luna hunched down. "I… I don't want to leave you."

Marija smiled, tears in her eyes. "I don't want to be out of sight of you, either. I need my little girl."

Luna climbed to her feet and hugged Marija, then her father embraced them both. She squeezed between them on the loveseat.

James sat alone near the edge of the fireplace. He glanced at Luna, sorrow in his eyes, then looked away, as if he didn't want her to know what he was feeling.

Nikola, Luna's grandfather, tapped James' shoulder. "You could come with us, if you want."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

Nikola nodded, eyes twinkling.

James strode over to his parents. "Can I go with them?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Roderick.

"Why?"

"You're a high value target. We'd have to send bodyguards…."

"I'm part of their family! Even more so now—" He glanced at Luna. "I can't leave her. Not after…"

"She'll be safe with her family, and you'll see her again."

"If I'm not safe, how is she safe? Can you send some bodyguards with them?"

"That's not a bad idea."

"Well, if you send bodyguards with them, can I go?"

"Well…."

Darya turned to him. "I will not have my only son risking his life. You were foolish enough to go to meet with Yavesh; I won't be able to trust you not to do something equally foolish."

"But—"

"You endangered not only yourself, but national security. I will not have you out of the palace until you can prove you're responsible. And this will be after Yavesh is taken down."

"But Mama, that's like a prison—"

"A real prison is where Jason is. And he is feeling the untold horrors you would have felt had he not been so selfless." She glanced at Roderick, a note of admonishment in her gaze for him as well. "Now, we have to keep our heads to find him. We'll all do our part. But yours will have to be limited to the palace."

He looked like he was about to argue, but he hung his head. "Yes, Mama." He glanced at Luna, then sat back down on the base of the brick fireplace.

"When will you leave?" said the king.

"Tomorrow morning," said Stefan Sr. "We will get packed and then head out to follow the best lead we have."

"When will you be back?" asked James.

"There's no telling. Hopefully sooner than later."

"What about college?"

"We're thinking of skipping this semester," said Stefan Jr. "We want to spend time with Luna."

"We could do online classes," said Zara.

"Maybe that would be better no matter what. Now that we've seen the prejudice there."

"That's just a minority. There are so many lovely people."

"It just takes one or two. You've seen how our people are targeted."

"I want to be a teacher. You can't just learn that online." Her eyes caught Luna's. "But I do want to focus on being with our family now. I might just wait till next semester."

Stefan Jr. nodded. He looked at Connie. "I'm going to look for him as much as I can."

"Be careful."

He smiled roguishly. "I can take care of myself."

"As long as you don't go too far into danger," said Sofia, his grandmother, beside him.

"I know my limits. I also know my strengths."

"It'll be hard for the little girls to leave each other," said Marija softly, looking at them. "We may swing back occasionally."

"That would be great," said Roderick. "When all of this ends—we can be a family again."

"Perhaps…even closer than before." She rubbed Luna's hair gently.

Luna looked at her, startled, then looked down at her hands lying in her lap.

"It'll be a long road." Marija looked at the king and Darya, Connie and Whit. "It'll probably take some time…."

"We have to give her all the time and space she needs," said Stefan Sr. "We just have to let her take the path she feels is best for her."

James looked at him sharply, alarm in his eyes. He looked at Luna, but she didn't even look up, and he huddled down, staring at the floor.

"Look at this!" said Tanya, coming over to Connie, Avara beside her. Two mismatched horses were tied with string to a sleigh.

"That's cool!" said Connie.

They galloped through the air over to Whit.

"Where are they going?" he said.

"To the fair!"

They galloped around the room, Tanya holding her horse and the sleigh until they reached Mina, who was sitting by Aurora on the base of the fireplace.

"Can you fix it?" Tanya asked her sister.

"Okay." She took the horses and sleigh.

"Can you make it better?"

Mina laughed. "I think so." Mina expertly tied the string.

"Thank you," said Avara. "I wish I knew how to do that." She pursed her lips. "Even though I'm older. I wish I was pretty like you."

Mina smiled. "You're beautiful!"

"I wish I had hair like yours." She reached out and touched her black pigtail.

Mina touched her own hair, a little self-consciously. She reached toward Avara. "Such a pretty red color! Not many people have that."

"The middle isn't red—" said Tanya.

Avara flinched. Aurora rushed over to Arina and grabbed her hand, then they fled out of the room.

Connie ran after them and followed them up the winding stairs to the lookout tower. At the top, the round room had a red rug and round tables and shelves on the edge filled with books. Plants flourished between them, some vines growing higher on the stone walls. Windows looked out in all directions.

At first she didn't see the girls, then she saw them huddled in a corner on the beanbag chair by the snack cupboard.

They shuffled back when they saw her, and she dropped to her knees. "I won't hurt you," she said.

"We have to hide," said Aurora, her arm around her sisters. "Or they'll give us away again."

"They won't!"

Aurora rubbed her hair, gilded by the morning sun. "People want us because of our hair. But…" She looked back and forth. "It's not real. It's just blond. And we're plain without it, so…."

"You're not plain at all! Besides, that doesn't matter. The king and queen will still love you! No matter what."

"Th-they said they like our hair," said Aurora.

"That's not the only reason they like you!"

She buried her head in her arm. "The other people—they gave us away when our hair started to grow out…."

"The king and queen aren't like the others. They didn't want you for—what you look like. They wanted you because they care about you, and they want to give you all the best."

Aurora sniffed and looked up. "That's what they said… but…it seems too good to be true."

"They'll love you just as much when you're hair's blond. What someone looks like doesn't really matter."

"Everyone always cared about that."

"That's because—they were terrible—and did horrible things to you. But you don't have to worry about anyone—hurting you again, and you don't have to worry about anyone giving you away."

"Really?"

Connie nodded and Aurora ran over to her and embraced her. The other girls joined in, and she fell back against the beanbag chair, laughing, as tears streamed down her face.

I want all the best for you. She kissed their beautiful hair, loving these sweet girls, longing twisting in her heart to keep them.

But it's better for them here.

Besides… I can't adopt. Can't even think about it until Jason's back.

Maybe I should… find out… if I'm going to have a baby….

Later. I've got to get to work now.

She led the girls downstairs and Darya and Roderick met them and reassured them that their love was forever.

Connie headed over to Whit, who was talking with Mina. James had disappeared, and so had Luna and most of the rest of her family. Lexi and Tanya were playing in a more subdued game by the fireplace.

Connie sat by Whit again. He was telling Mina about the Imagination Station.

"That sounds amazing!" said Mina, clasping her hands. "I want to go there!"

"Maybe you can. Or…maybe I'll bring one to Muldavia."

"Really?"

"Muldavia does spark the imagination!"

"You could have adventures about our history?"

"Maybe you could tell me some good ones."

"Oh! I have a lot. My mama—" She hung her head. Slid her fingers through her thick black curls. "Sometimes I forget. Mama is gone." She glanced at Tanya. "Now I have to be her mom now. And Lexi's."

"You have a new mom, though."

She nodded. "I still have to take care of them."

"You're very responsible for your age. Just don't forget to be a kid sometimes. You're safe now… and you can play."

She nodded. "I guess I forget that too… Me and Aurora are alike that way." She glanced at where the triplets had gone. "Well…I couldn't protect Tanya because I was the one who got caught. At least it was me and not her."

"Those evil men should never have gotten close to you in the first place." He leaned his forehead in his hand. "Maybe I should drop everything and track traffickers full time. That kids are buried in this—somehow I never saw it fully, until I saw you, Mina, and other kids who were taken. I have to do something about it."

"I wish I could help find Jason."

"It's best you don't get in harms' way again."

Her eyes shadowed with deep anguish. "I… know what they do," she said, almost whispering. "Sometimes I think about Jason and—" She shook her head and pressed her hands over her eyes. Tears slid through her fingers.

Tears glistened in Whit's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mina."

"If only they could find him!" She crawled over to Whit and he held her gently in his arms as they cried.

Connie's heart ached. She felt like getting up and leaving but she didn't want to leave Whit. He had even more of a right to grief than she did.

To lose a son—she knew about this.

To lose a son to torture—she could only imagine. It was something she never wanted to find out how it felt.

Probably a lot like this… she admitted. I don't know if it'd hurt more, or just… different….

"Thank you," said Mina. She slid away and curled up at the far end of the couch. Looked into the distance, unseeing.

"I suppose…" said Whit. "We'd better figure out our plan for the day."

Connie nodded. Her heart felt like pressure was building to an unbearable level. But she had to ignore it and forge forward. "I don't know if Tasha and Saul will join us—"

Just then, Tasha and Saul hobbled into view, both walking with canes. "How are you doing?" said Connie.

"I'm…okay," said Saul. "Took me a while… probably couldn't at all without Tasha's help." He looked at her gratefully.

She smiled. "I think you could've."

"It's true I don't want to sit around wallowing in misery. I want to do something—even if I can't do much." His eyes shadowed with disappointment and a hint of shame.

"How about you, Tasha?" asked Whit.

"Oh, I'm fine."

"It wasn't long ago you were shot."

She shrugged. "All in a day's work. I'm healing well, nothing to complain about. I wish I could get out and look for Jason and Gray, but it'll probably a few days until I can."

"That still sounds a little soon…"

"I'm not sitting around here while they're lost."

"You'd better take it easy. It won't help them if you collapse."

"I'll at least see if I can join Robin's team. He'll probably have some role for me."

"We'll miss you in our meetings."

She smiled. "I'll miss them too."

They headed out to the veranda, where they'd been meeting for the past few days. It helped just to gather together, to coordinate their actions. Although they hadn't found anything concrete yet….

"Do you know if Sierra will join us?" asked Whit as he sat down.

"She's taking a nap," said Connie. "She's been up for like two days."

Tasha shook her head. "I could only wish to have such relentless drive. Even when I'm at optimum."

They each revealed what they'd discovered the day before. Whit planned to follow some of his new leads and hopefully they'd lead to concrete clues. He was also looking for Mai; some possible leads were in nearby countries like Czechia and Romania. He planned to call in a couple favors from contacts in those countries.

Tasha had organized everything she had found out during the weapons investigation and was following leads possibly connecting it to the human trafficking angle. If they could find more weapons cells, perhaps find more enforcers like Ali, it could be instrumental in finding Yavesh headquarters.

Tasha had also been looking for traffickers online and they'd all been coordinating that effort. Yesterday they'd spoken with Eugene, and he'd said he was close to catching an entire network of online traffickers.

Connie mentioned she'd called David again yesterday, but he still hadn't agreed to talk with her. She had a feeling that he might have some important information. At this point, she doubted she'd call him again, because he obviously didn't want to talk to her. She didn't blame him; he needed to focus on healing.

She had found out that Nika had written a description of Dr. Farlin and drawn a picture of him. She didn't have a cell phone; Natasha had told her she'd bring it today after she came back from visiting Nika at her new home. So Connie intended to go to the women's shelter. Perhaps some of the other girls had some information, although she didn't want to pressure them. She also mentioned calling Viktor, but he had been so traumatized, and it was so soon after, she wasn't sure if it was a good idea.

"Who's Viktor?" said Tasha. "I don't think I've heard you mention him."

"He's one of the people we rescued at the young adult auction," said Connie. "We 'bought' Natasha and her baby, then Jason went to find Viktor, because his owner had taken him away before the police raid. Jason got to him before he was taken somewhere else. But…he was being beaten." She shook her head, unable to say the word for what had actually been happening, trying to banish the flashbacks of Jason being hurt she always got whenever anyone mentioned whipping. "Jason rescued Viktor. Then on the way back we were chased by Karl and that's when…Jason got shot."

"That's another angle," said Tasha. "Interrogate Karl and Samar. I'll try to convince Robin I'm the best for the job."

"At least that's not too strenuous," said Whit.

"It is a good idea to transition, not jump right back into the hottest action."

Saul leaned his head in his hand. He took hard, shaky breaths.

"Are you alright?" said Connie.

"I—" He lowered his hand, trembling. Looked at her, eyes shining with tears. "I have to be stronger than this." He looked surprised at his words and smiled a little. But then anguish overtook his face. He looked at Tasha. "I could never, ever face Samar. Just her name is— I was back there in that room, and—"

"I don't know if I could face the men who tortured me in the warehouse, either. Besides… their focus was different with you. That was twisted, malicious behavior beyond anything I've ever seen. But…" Her eyes shadowed. "I…have experienced something…like it, in a way." She looked at him earnestly. "I haven't told you this, but—early in my career, I was in Iran. I was captured. They….one of the interrogators gave me…special attention." She winced.

Immense empathy spread over his face. "Oh, Tasha… I'm…. so sorry." He reached out a hand to her. She took it and smiled sadly.

"Tasha—" said Whit. "I had no idea." His voice was hoarse with horror.

"Well, it wasn't something I was keen to broadcast. I'd… 'recovered' by the time I met you." She looked back at Saul. "So… I don't blame you. I know—even now—I wouldn't be able to face the man who hurt me then. I wouldn't be effective at all in an interrogation of him. Too bad, because he should have faced….some kind of justice. He probably went on to torture many other people in Evin Prison…"

"I shouldn't be….falling apart this much though. I should be able to start to get past it—considering how it wasn't the worst that could've happened—what they were threatening. You know; you helped me this morning. How I couldn't let you…." He hung his head, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry about how difficult I was."

"Just because it wasn't the worst possible doesn't mean it shouldn't affect you. Sexual assault… it eats at you, in a way nothing else does. You feel shame… you feel like you deserve it… even though that's the furthest from the truth. It…wasn't the worst with me, either. So I shut it down. I ignored it. That was the worst thing I could've done. Because it mattered. You can't let it take over your life—but you do have to face it. No matter how painful it is. Because if you don't face it, it will take over your life. You won't even realize it, but it'll affect you. It'll twist into your heart and make you into something you don't want to be. They will have a hand in crushing you – when all you want is to escape them. And it'll escalate, even hurt others. I… resorted to drinking. My work suffered. Finally the Agency ordered me to go to therapy. And they helped me realize that it's not helpful to dwell on a hierarchy of suffering. Especially with something so traumatic. It affects a deep part of who you are—and they took something precious against your will. That is going to be very hard to get past… in a way, you can never go back. But you don't have to let them win. You can recover—to the point you stop thinking about them. It'll take a long time. But you can overcome this. You're not alone. You have Leila. She loves you—no matter what."

"What if I can't… be with her in the same way."

"That will take some time too. But your love for her isn't something that can be crushed by something twisted—something beautiful really has nothing to do with what they are."

Tears spilled onto his cheeks. "Tasha—" he whispered, voice trembling.

She smiled. "Don't mention it."

Connie's throat burned. She wondered why she was on the brink of crying, then realized. It wasn't just Tasha and Saul she was feeling for.

No matter what happens, they will not come between us. I won't let it.

Whit sensed her distress and held out his hand; she slid her chair over to him and she leaned against his shoulder, and he held her close.

Tasha encouraged Saul to rest, but he said he should at least do something. When he felt up to it he'd call his cousins to see if they had any leads and see if he could get in touch with his agency to catch up with the investigation. And of course talk to Leila and the kids.

As Whit and Connie prepared to leave, Sierra appeared, striding out into the foyer in a yellow shirt, black, yellow-streaked leggings, and high black boots. Her hair was braided, the blue streaks woven expertly, alternating with the black. She waved with a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses.

Sierra linked arms with Whit as they stepped out the door. "Just like old times, hm?"

Whit nodded, smiling a little. "It's a little different now."

"Yeah—now it's two of your family members missing." She glanced at Connie tentatively as they stepped out onto the sidewalk beyond the second pair of doors. "I…asked Connie if she'd let me be an honorary member of your family—she said yes. I hope you don't mind."

"I already think of you that way."

She smiled. "I just hope I can prove worthy of you. If I can find your family…maybe I won't feel like an impostor."

She slid into the driver's seat. Connie got into the back before Whit could.

"That wasn't much of a nap," said Whit as Sierra sped off toward the highway.

"I didn't sleep well. I mean, I slept—but I had nightmares. Day sleeping tends to do that, now more than usual. I'll try to get a good sleep tonight. I know I need it."

"Maybe I should drive."

She tapped the steering wheel. "Driving is second nature to me."

The car sped off about twenty miles over the speed limit and dipped in and out of lanes, sometimes perilously close to other cars. "Watch out!" Connie couldn't help saying as the car almost ran into the bumper of a trailer truck.

Sierra glanced back. "That was a little close." She didn't sound too concerned.

"This is how Sierra always drives," said Whit. "We haven't crashed yet." He looked at Sierra, smiling. "Of course, there's always a first time."

"At least I don't drive five miles under the speed limit. Were you always a slow driver, or do you use aging as an excuse?" She elbowed him.

Whit chuckled. "I'd trust you with my life—but maybe I'll drive next time. Forty hours without sleep is a bit long, even for you."

"I suppose I can give you a turn. But if you want to get somewhere fast—you'd better let me take over."

"Or Connie. Jason told me how well you drove during the car chase."

"Karl still caught us," said Connie.

"You were fast but didn't risk your passengers. That takes a clear head—and courage."

"Well, I was panicking, but Jason and Natasha and Viktor were with me, and I couldn't let them down."

"If you'd like to drive…"

"I'm actually not all that eager to drive after that."

"Just let me know if you change your mind. We're not planning on getting in any car chases."

"Okay."

Sierra pulled up at the women's shelter. To Connie's surprise, another car was parked in their usual space. A purple convertible.

She'd only seen one purple convertible lately…. Amber's car.

"Maybe we shouldn't bother them," said Connie.

"Won't hurt to check," said Sierra. "We can always leave."

It was true that Amber had been here before at the same time as they were; that's how they'd met. She didn't want to overwhelm the girls, especially since she was confronting them with a hard topic, but she at least could get the info from Natasha.

"I'd better just wait by the car," said Whit. "I doubt they'll be comfortable with a strange man."

"If they knew you," said Sierra, "they'd know not to be afraid. But you're right."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have come."

"Just your presence keeps me on track… keeps me from going off the rails and going on a rampage. There would be nothing left to interrogate if I didn't have some sort of mental limits. I occasionally need a reminder. You Whittakers are good for me." She looked at Connie.

"I'll just go see if Natasha's there," said Connie. She headed up the stairs and onto the porch.

Sonya answered the door. "Hi! We've been expecting you. I can't tell you how sorry I am to hear about Jason."

"Thank you."

"If there's anything I can do… Maybe I can talk to some of Jan's old comrades in the force."

"That would be great." She hadn't spoken to many police; it might be good to hear the perspective of those who dealt with the day-to-day on the ground.

Sonya ushered her through the house to the back door. The collie greeted her enthusiastically and she ruffled her fur. Kissed the top of her head.

At first Connie didn't see Natasha, then she spotted movement beyond the profusion of wild roses. Natasha was rocking her baby in the swing. Connie hesitated, but Sonya said, "She's excited to see you."

She strode down the stone path that wound through the lawn to a large section of garden in the far corner of the yard. The final stones were almost overgrown with vines, and a few plum and cherry trees almost hid the swing, their branches with nearly ripe fruit framing it.

Natasha looked up as she approached. "Hi," she whispered. "Just got him to sleep."

"I could come back—"

"No—once he's asleep, he'll sleep soundly for hours. Ami barking doesn't even wake him." She gestured to the swing and Connie sat down beside her. At her other side were a few pieces of notebook paper.

Little Dima looked completely peaceful. His red wisp of hair was like a bright flame.

"He's gotten bigger," said Connie.

"He's growing so fast! Before long he'll be walking…. He had such a good time out at the farm. It's like he was born to be there. After all he's been through in his first few months…." For a moment she didn't speak. She looked away and wiped tears from her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Natasha looked at Connie, her face rapt. "Something wonderful has happened! I would never have dreamed it. When— Ksenia and Raj saw how much Dima loved the farm, especially the mini horses, and how close Nika and I are…. They talked it over while I was there. And—they—agreed to adopt us!"

"That's awesome!"

"It's—I can't even think of it right now, or it might disappear. I was so happy just to be here, in this beautiful place… now— I can actually see Nika every day! And our babies can grow up together! We'll—be a family."

The word 'family' pierced Connie's heart. She did have a family—she had Whit. Jason was still alive, she could feel it. But she'd lost her baby. She'd lost Jason—and might not get him back.

She didn't begrudge Natasha her happy ending. If anyone deserved it, she did.

I just—want one of my own. Is that too much to ask?

"I'm so, so happy for you." Her voice caught.

"I'm sorry! I'm going on and on about this when… Jason is…." Tears gleamed in her eyes.

"He'd…want you to be happy too."

"I wouldn't wish that on anyone, especially someone who helped me." She grabbed the papers beside her; her baby stirred. She stilled, looked down; the baby snuggled closer and slept.

Natasha handed the papers to Connie. They had ripped punch holes where they'd been torn out of a notebook. The ink was slightly smudged in places where a rather detailed description was written. On the next page was a sketch of a man who looked rather young, although he was balding. Nika's skill at drawing wasn't at Ana's level, but it had well-defined features Connie thought she could recognize if she saw him.

"I'll send it to Dana."

"Who's Dana?"

"She's looking into the drug angle. She's a reporter, so she knows what she's doing."

"They… drugged us all the time…" She rubbed her arm, where there were faded needle marks, like Nika's. "Just living and breathing out here—I'm still getting used to it. Sometimes I think all this is a drug- induced dream….." Her eyes drifted into the distance.

"How is Nika settling in?"

"She's so excited about her baby. I'm actually going to move there in a few days. We're officially fosters, but we'll eventually be adopted. I feel like family already." She pursed her lips. "Have you heard from Viktor?"

Connie shook her head. "I was thinking of going to see him—"

"Oh, could you? I don't have his number."

"Jason got Adela's."

"We went through a lot together….. Could you find out how he's doing and let me know?"

"I can give you his number. If you want me to give him yours—"

She nodded. "He's like a brother to me. He was so good to me and my baby, even after…. what they did to him…. At least he's safe." Sorrow filled her eyes. "We're safe because of you both—now…. I wish I could do something more for him. But… Dima kind of takes all my focus. And… I don't think I could be an agent. Or do any of that, even if I could get training."

Just then, the door opened, and Ana stepped out, Amber behind her. Ana waved and wove her way down the path. She tentatively offered her arm, and Connie embraced her. Ana held her tight, her golden hair brushing her cheek.

Connie offered Ana the swing, but she sat down in the wicker chair opposite it. Amber sat down in the one beside her.

"Amber's been teaching me how to be an agent," said Ana.

"She's been doing very well," said Amber. "She has a strong intuitive sense. But I can only teach her so much."

"You've got a lot to teach me!"

"Most of it's book learning. I'm pretty new to this myself. This is my first human trafficking case…and I'm not even officially on it."

"You're not?" said Connie.

"I'm kind of ostracized for supporting Markov. They've gathered a whole different group. I am… unofficially doing some work on the side. The work they have me doing is so boring that I have a lot of free time. Markov sends me things… I might not risk it, except it is Jason we're talking about. I have to kind of act like I'm playing by the book, in case they let me back in… The new deputy director is pretty strict. Markov finds ways around his probation though."

"I just wish I could be an agent now," said Ana. "So I could actually help."

"Well… I don't think we can let you do that just yet. Unless…."

"Unless?"

"It couldn't be something dangerous. I'd have to be with you at all times."

"Really? I could go out?"

"I'd have to okay it with Markov. Sonya of course. You could shadow me for a day. My job is a bit boring at the moment, but we don't want too much excitement for you."

"Your under the radar work?"

Amber nodded. "I could pass on some of it to you."

"I'd love that!"

"I don't want to get you in trouble though… If they found out, I would take all the blame."

"I'll do anything I can to get him back. Even if it's…" Her eyes shone with eagerness. "Even going into danger."

"Maybe you could go see Viktor!" said Natasha. "Connie was going there. Well, if he agrees to it."

"It might help for someone to be there who knows what he's going through," said Amber. She looked at Connie. "If you don't mind us tagging along."

"I don't mind. But I'd better call to make sure." Connie walked into the grass under the trees. She searched for "Adela" and a flash hit her—when Jason had added the number to her phone. His fingers touching the numbers. His beautiful hands, every beloved nuance.

Her knees gave way. She caught herself against the cherry tree, bark digging into her fingertips. She felt like she was falling, even though she was standing still.

She leaned her head against the trunk, eyes closed. I've got to keep it together. Just—focus. Don't think about it. Just—one step in front of the other.

Still leaning against the tree, she dialed Adela's number.

"Hello?" said Adela.

"Hi, this is Connie."

"It's wonderful to hear from you! How are you doing?"

It struck her that Adela might not know what had happened. But she didn't think she could bring herself to tell her. Not yet. "I'm fine," she managed to say. "How are you and Viktor?"

"We're…surviving. I just got back from work. Viktor's still asleep. I let him rest as much as he needs. If you'd like to talk to him, you'll have to call back later."

"I was going to ask if he…was feeling well enough to tell us anything he knows about his traffickers. But maybe…we'd better wait."

"It's just…mostly day-to-day. Sometimes he's better…sometimes he spends all day in bed. The couch I mean—I put the couch in his room. He's…not comfortable with beds." Immense sorrow weighed down her voice. "I don't know if he'd be up to talking to anyone yet. Maybe I could…gently ask him things… give him space… and I can send you what he tells me."

"I want to do what's best for him."

"How is Jason?"

His name struck her heart. She slid down the smooth bark of the tree and sat against the trunk. Leaned her head on her knees, shaking.

"Connie?" came Adela's distant voice. "Are you okay?"

Pull yourself together! she told herself. You're barely helpful as it is—you don't want to be totally useless.

She put the phone back to her ear. "J-Jason—he's gone."

"What happened? Was it an accident-?" Distress tore her voice.

"No… he… was taken. By them."

A shaky breath. "Oh. Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so. Just… if you have any info…"

"Nothing—it's fine," said Adela's voice, a bit distant. Then she said, "It's Viktor. He just got up."

"Is it—Jason?" said Viktor's muffled voice. "I thought I saw something on the news—"

"Yavesh… they took him. I'm so sorry."

Silence.

"Would you like to talk to Connie? She wonders if she can come over, ask questions—"

She only heard a soft, murmuring answer.

Then Adela said, "He wants you to come. He wants to tell you what he knows. We can take it slow, in case… it's too hard for him."

They agreed to meet in about half an hour.

"Say hi to Viktor for me," said Natasha. "Let him know I'm thinking about him. He can call me whenever he wants. Maybe I can ask if he can visit the farm."

"I think he'd like that," said Connie.

They said goodbye to Natasha and little Dima and headed to the car. Connie introduced Sierra and Whit. Ana hung back a little at first, but when she learned that Whit was Jason's father, she came forward and hesitantly held out her hand. Whit took it gently. "It's good to meet you. Jason told me how brave you are."

She blushed. "I'm not brave. I'm still scared."

"Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's doing what you have to in spite of it."

"Well—I couldn't stand not doing anything… even if I can't do much." She swept back a strand of her golden hair, red-tinted in the sun.

"This is a beautiful car," said Sierra, sliding her finger over the slightly dusty surface of Amber's convertible. "I've never seen one like it."

"They're our closely guarded secret," said Amber. "Zha 2003 Katvesh." She tapped the hood affectionately. "Her name's Mshora."

"Back in the States I've got an orange Bug. Her name's Ren."

As Amber joined Ana, Sierra climbed in the back of their rental and fell asleep almost as soon as Whit pulled the car away from the curb. On the way, Connie called Dana, and gave her the info from Nika.

"Thanks, Connie," said Dana. "I'll get right on that. I've hit kind of a dead end…"

"That's how it seems to be going with everyone. We need a breakthrough."

"Hopefully this will be the one we need."

They drove through a rather run-down part of Rakima. Similar to where they had gone early in the investigation, visiting Lia and her mother. Thankfully not as bad as Zelise. The streets were clean but the buildings had crumbling bricks and there was graffiti on some of the walls, especially in the alleys.

Whit pulled up in front of one of the buildings. "Perhaps I shouldn't go in here, either."

"Viktor said he didn't mind," said Connie. "Besides… he wasn't scared of Jason."

Sierra climbed out, carrying her purse. "That was a nice little nap."

Amber's car pulled up behind them. They all headed inside; Whit pressed the button near the name "Zelezny" and Adela buzzed them inside.

They took the elevator to the seventh floor. The lights flickered a little as the elevator lurched upward. Connie's heart skipped a beat. Ana huddled close to Amber, her blue eyes looking upward nervously.

"Maybe we'll take the stairs when we go back down," said Whit.

"Good idea," said Sierra. The elevator stopped and Sierra strode out into the hallway. The carpet was a dull combination of green and mauve and was worn in the middle and frayed on the edges. The wood paneling was peeling from the doors; some had dark stains on them.

Connie followed Whit down the hallway and jumped when she heard a thump behind one of the doors. At door 716 Sierra knocked; a face appeared behind the peephole. "Who is it?" said an apprehensive voice.

"It's me," said Connie.

"Oh! Come on in." The door opened and as soon as they were inside, Adela shut the door and locked it with several locks.

"A bad neighborhood?" said Sierra.

"Sometimes. You never know."

Connie introduced them. Then Adela welcomed them into the tidy but rather shabby apartment. She gestured to the couch and the futon facing each other in front of the floor-to-ceiling window facing the neighboring building. A large potted plant stood in front of the window, soaking in the sunlight.

"Would you like something to eat? To drink?" said Adela as Amber and Ana sat down on the futon.

"I should be good," said Amber. She looked at Ana. "Would you like anything?"

Ana shook her head. She wrapped her arms around herself, not raising her eyes.

"Do you…have a glass of water?" said Connie. She hated to ask but she felt desperately thirsty for some reason.

"Sure."

"I'll take one too," said Sierra, sitting on the futon.

Adela headed into the kitchen, which was fully visible from the living room. There were a few papers and opened mail spread across the small round yellow table. A door in the hallway led to the bathroom and two other doors looked like they led to bedrooms. One was open, leading to a bed with a red bedspread and hanging lights. The other was shut.

Connie sat down facing Sierra; Whit sat beside her. Adela returned with their drinks in two coffee cups and sat down beside her.

"Viktor should be out any minute," said Adela. "He had to prepare for your visit. I haven't had visitors in…." She shook her head. "Since before. And since I've been working… and every spare moment trying to find him…"

"How long have you lived here?" said Sierra.

"Two years. I was going to college, but I had to quit. Couldn't keep going without him. And—only twins will understand this. I felt—I knew he was alive. I knew he was in horrible pain, and it kept me up so many nights. Some days I could hardly work…. I had to keep going for him. Now… I have to be there for him."

"Would you like to go back to college?"

"I would… but I don't think I can right now. And even with the grants I can't afford it. Not at Rakima University, anyway."

"What about Viktor? Was he studying?"

"He was studying philosophy but thinking of changing majors. I was studying math but thinking of going into physics or chemistry. I think it'd be good for Viktor to have a focus. I know he couldn't go back to college in person—he can barely bring himself to go outside. But if he could study online… perhaps eventually he could gain confidence to go back. Or at least…. I hope he… can get somewhere, eventually."

"He has your support now, but you're right, he needs a focus. First—it's probably best if he get therapy."

"I…don't think we can afford that either."

"There are programs for lower income people," said Amber. "They're not well-advertised, but they're good. I should know; I interned in one."

"You're a therapist?" said Adela.

Amber shook her head, her copper-gold curls shifting. "Diverted into the force. Now I've found the perfect intersection of the two. I can give you the info for the programs."

"I'd like that."

The door behind the futon creaked open. Viktor peered out. He darted back, then slowly opened the door and shuffled forward, glancing at them then looking down. His golden curls were ruffled in a scrambled disarray. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his gray T-shirt and black sweatpants hung off his thin frame. He slid his hand into his curls nervously as he sat down on the chair beside his sister.

"Hey," Adela said, laying a hand on his arm. "Are you still okay with this?"

He nodded. A flare of passion in his green eyes. He looked at Connie. "I have to help," he said in a raspy whisper. "If I can…. Even if…." The ghost of a smile lifted his lips. "It kills me." His eyes drifted to the window wistfully; she had a sense he didn't feel that was an entirely bad prospect.

Adela looked alarmed but then she said, "Would you like anything to eat?"

Viktor shook his head.

"Did you have breakfast?"

"I…wasn't hungry."

"Maybe you better have something."

"I'll wait till lunch."

Adela looked a little concerned but nodded. "Let me know what you want, and I'll make it." She looked at the others. "Would you like to stay for lunch?"

"We'd better get going after this," said Sierra.

"I'd better get this over with before I start thinking about it too much," said Viktor. "Now… I'm not sure where to start."

"Do you remember who kidnapped you?" asked Connie softly.

He nodded, closing his eyes. He raced through the description of them, then told how they had taken him and several others to a basement in Konterr. He tried to get out right away, but they punished him. Tied him in the "hole"—a dark unfinished space in the basement. He wasn't even sure how long. When they took him out, he was happy to see any human faces. They gave him food and clothes, but soon they started "training". He only implied what that meant but it wasn't hard to guess the kinds of things they made him do. When he fought, they hurt him. Then they drugged him, and he was thankful he didn't remember much after that.

"What kind of drugs were they?" asked Sierra.

"I'm…not sure. It was injections."

"Could be zyx."

"That was what… they used for Nika?" asked Ana tentatively.

Connie nodded. "It does sound kind of like the place where Nika was kept. That was Yavesh."

"Yavesh took Jason, right?" said Viktor.

"That's one thing we know for sure." Her heart twisted with pain.

"Then maybe, there is a connection… if I could help find Jason, it would all be worth it…." His green eyes sparked. "He helped me when I was falling apart right after…. He helped me find—hope." He looked surprised, as if he'd forgotten that he'd found it. "If I thought I could help, I'd go out looking for him. But… I couldn't handle it." Tears spilled onto his cheeks. Adela patted his arm gently.

He took a deep breath, seemingly fortified by her touch. "Because of the drugs, I hardly realized I was sold until I was on a transport. They'd sold each of us on an online auction to individual clients."

"That's… a bit different than what happened to Nika," said Ana. "The online auction is…like what happened to me—but that was more—" She closed her eyes, breathing hard.

Amber touched her hand. "It's all right. You're not there anymore."

Ana nodded and leaned forward. Gradually, her breathing slowed. She glanced around, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Sorry. Maybe I'd better…"

"You're doing amazing. Let me know if it's too much for you."

Ana nodded.

Viktor looked at her with concern. "I didn't know…" he hesitated, as if he didn't want to trigger another panic attack.

"It was two years ago. I've been getting better…. But… when I face it—sometimes it's like I'm there again."

Pain crossed Viktor's brow. "For me it's like, half the day—and I try to escape by sleeping…" He gave a soft laugh. "My sister got me that futon." He gestured to where Amber, Ana and Sierra were sitting. "I couldn't stand lying in a bed. But—even the futon was too much like a bed…"

"At least it's not the floor anymore," said Adela, sorrow in her eyes.

"It took me a little while to learn to sleep in a bed again, too," said Ana. "But usually it was something else—" She shook her head, closed her eyes. "I don't usually run into those other kinds of things, but cameras are… I can't let anyone take my picture."

"That's what happened at her birthday party," said Amber. "Someone didn't realize…."

"It's good to know what things are harmful," said Whit. "We want to avoid confronting you with them before you're ready."

"It's true you've got to face triggers slowly," said Amber. "Actually—doing this now is probably good for you. It helps to speak of it."

"I'd rather do this than therapy," said Viktor. "It's hard, but I just want to get it all over with—so—maybe it'll leave me alone." He took a deep breath and looked out the window. "The… next part was the worst. The man who bought me was Jeffrey Locke. He was actually from the United States, but he had a big mansion in Valhad. He… didn't get there the first few days so I was mostly left alone. They locked me in my own quarters upstairs, but they gave me really good food and—it was totally luxurious. I was sort of… caught off guard. When he got there—I didn't even have a chance to fight, he came to me right away—and—" He shuddered. "Next time, I fought but he was stronger and. I couldn't move for days after that. But that didn't stop him from—it was just. Endless pain. I couldn't fight anymore. That was when… he started being nice to me. I started… looking forward to his visits because at least sometimes he was nice—and he just—" He leaned head in his hand. His body jolted with tremors. "He—made me into a slave."

He leaned sideways onto the arm of the chair, his head buried in it. A faint sob was wrung from him, his face in anguish as tears spilled onto the chair.

Adela stepped over and gently rubbed his back. After a while, she said, "Maybe it's best if we stop for now."

Viktor shook his head. "Not much time," he said, his voice muffled. "Have to now or I might never—" He looked up, his cheeks damp from tears. "If there's a chance—they—haven't hurt him yet—maybe you can get to him in time." He looked at Connie, eyes brimming with desperate hope mingled with unfathomable pain.

His gaze pierced her heart and she longed for that kind of hope—but she couldn't think of it, or she would collapse right here—it was all she could do to detach what Viktor was saying from what could be happening to Jason—

She wrapped her arms around herself, huddling back against the couch. Whit offered his hand, and she took it, his strength thrumming into her.

"That wasn't even the worst," said Viktor. "He had… parties. Each time, I thought they'd rip me apart… Some of them were police. One day, I saw policemen arrive at his house, investigating screams the neighbors had heard. But Locke just grabbed a bunch of dollar bills and handed it to them; they went away and didn't come back."

"Can you describe the police officers?" said Sierra, leaning forward, a gleam in her eyes.

He nodded. He gave the descriptions.

"Not all of them went to the parties, but I… saw things. He made deals with people. Some of them in government."

"Which branches?" said Amber.

"Mostly bureaucrats. One was a senator though." He gave her description. "Most of the people were other businessmen and even nobility."

"Nobility!" said Amber. "It's true Von Warberg was a bad apple. But—I haven't heard much about the others… maybe there's a reason…." She pursed her lips.

"After a while," said Viktor, "Locke went back to the United States. He intended to return, but then for some reason he sold his property. That included… me. The same people bought me back and sold me to a noblewoman from Valhad."

Sierra narrowed her eyes. "Valhad again."

"What was her name?" said Whit.

"Alesya Morven."

"The Morvens," said Amber. "They just seemed like run-of-the-mill nobility. But—" she looked troubled. "Maybe that's more sinister than we've believed…. I'm not familiar with Alesya though."

"She lives in one of the mansions at the top of the city so you can see all around. The good thing about being there was that I could wander around the whole estate, because there was a fence. And she was gone a lot. Except—she did want me to serve her when she was there. I was… so conditioned by then I did everything she told me. But she still punished me sometimes. She would—tie me up and…" His breath caught. "I…was so far gone by then I thought… I deserved it. And then she cared for me after, and I was grateful—because she wasn't—Locke. And sometimes it was almost like—I hate to think of this—this is why I can't get away from feeling I deserve to be a slave. I…liked her. She'd give me so many good things—but then sometimes I'd do something she didn't like, and—I'd be back in the dungeon, and she'd—" He drew in a harsh breath, eyes burning with horror. Adela wrapped him in her arms, and he collapsed against her, trembling, gasping, holding her as if she were a rock in the center of a raging sea.

Ana was shaking, too. She huddled down, breathing hard.

The image struck Connie of the video of Ana on the trafficking site, her younger self being whipped. Such a small girl, wearing barely anything, blood streaming down her back—

She could hardly bear such a memory herself, and for Ana, who had gone through it—

Ana peeled away from Amber and stood. Shakily she crept over to Viktor. She laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched; she drew her hand away, startled.

Tentatively, he slid his hand toward her; she clasped it gently. Her blue eyes reflected the pain and the empathy in his. The complete understanding of knowing what the other felt, that no one else could comprehend.

Ana slipped her hand from his and gave him a smile. Then she sat back down beside Amber, a glow on her face that had replaced the abject fear.

Encouraged by his sister not to dwell on any more of it, Viktor swept through the rest; there wasn't much more to tell. Alesya had grown bored of his passive compliance and sought a new slave. She sold him to Karl, who thankfully didn't think he needed much conditioning. There was nothing kind or gentle about him, though. After a couple weeks, he brought him to the auction. "The rest you know," said Viktor.

Connie felt emotionally wrung out by his story; she couldn't bring herself to speak. She could only imagine what he felt.

He gave a few more descriptions, but it was clear it was taking a toll on him. Sierra insisted they had all they needed.

"If you'd like to add more," she said, "you could write it down. Actually, that's what helped me—after. That and my anime shows. And revenge, of course."

"You were enslaved too?" said Viktor.

As an answer, Sierra flipped over her arms, showing the masses of crisscrossing scars, gleaming in the light. Quickly, she flipped them back over and slid a strand of blue and black hair back from her face. "It was a long time ago. But I know how it can be almost as hard recovering as it is to live in the middle of that. Because you don't feel like you belong here anymore. You're out of sync, and it feels almost impossible to adjust. Feeling like you deserve it, even that sort of twisted attachment to your traffickers—I've felt it all. I was lucky that my rescuer also gave me a place to stay, emotional support…." She looked wistfully out the window. "If you can also find something to attach to—something that you can absorb and make you forget—that'll help too. Bridge the gap between being lost and recovery. And if you can find something to focus on— Now it might just be enough to survive. But if you can at least start thinking of some kind of goal… something you want to do in the future—" She looked at him expectantly.

"Well… I was going to college…."

"What did you want to do?"

"I was a philosophy major. I'm…not sure what I wanted to do with that. That's why I thought I would change majors. I was thinking maybe psychology, but… I'm not sure."

"Consider what you'd really like to do…. Do what fits you. What heals you. For me, it was becoming a freelance agent. I already had the foundation of martial arts. I knew how to be independent… I just learned on the job and found I had a talent. Start slowly—your sister mentioned online school."

"I might be able to do that… next semester… My scholarship money ran out, though."

"You should be able to qualify again," said Amber. "I've still got connections in the psychology department; I can give you some tips."

Viktor looked overwhelmed. "I… I'll have to think about it."

"If you need to talk to someone who knows what you're going through—here's my number." Sierra handed him a scrap of paper with a number written in magenta gel pen.

"Me too," said Ana. "I mean, if you want to talk about anything… if you want to know the things that have helped me… Natasha mentioned you could maybe come to see her when she moves to the new place."

His eyes sparked. "I'd love to."

"To get out of this place…" said Adela, longing in her eyes.

"Well, my place isn't in the country, but it's the next best thing," said Amber. "There's a large yard—it looks out onto the Zoz River… You could come stay with me. Just until you got on your feet."

"That does sound wonderful. Maybe…." She looked at Viktor. "If it's what you would like to do."

Viktor hesitated, then nodded.

"I'd pay rent, of course…."

"I wouldn't ask for rent," said Amber. "You have enough to deal with. And other expenses, I'm sure."

"Well… we'll have to think about it. I…know it'd be good for Viktor. I'm afraid this environment isn't helping."

"I…can't really go out here," said Viktor. "If I saw other people, it might make me… panic. This is so messed up." He shook his head, his golden curls shifting. "I don't want to be tied to them… but so often I'm still….still there. Sometimes I even…miss them." Disgust flashed across his face. "That's why—maybe I do deserve it. If it weren't for my sister—and not rejecting what Jason did for me—I might… go back. Because it feels like it's all I know. The past me feels like a totally different person. This me—is only fit to be a slave."

"Don't say that!" said Adela, despair in her voice.

Whit leaned forward. "You are not what they did to you," he said softly, his voice hoarse with conviction. "They did something—" he took in a deep breath, "completely evil—things normal people can't even imagine. You have so much to offer this world. You're smart, empathetic…. Most of all, you're created in the image of God. He wants all the best for you. He wants to wrap you in his arms and comfort you—fill your soul and let you know you're worth infinitely much to him."

Viktor's lips trembled. "I… used to believe in God…. I kind of lost him there…."

"His heart broke for you. Even if you didn't feel him, he was watching over you. He helped you find a way out… through…my son." He closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. "He can help you through this, too."

"I wish I could see Him… but I don't know…. I feel. So unworthy."

"That's not how God sees you. They're the ones who need to pay for this." His eyes flashed. "God will repay them for what they did to you. He wants you to break free from them—he wants you to let his love surround you—heal you."

"It's not easy."

"If I can help you in any way…. I know the king, for one. I can request something for you. If there are any barriers that shouldn't be there. Any programs that can help."

"I…will let you know. It's hard for me, thinking of things I need… One thing I thought of is…." He hesitated.

"What is it?" said Amber.

"Well… not for me. But I know… some of the other men were having trouble. I mean the ones from the auction. The police took them away, and they went to the hospital… but after that, they were kind of out on their own. They had to figure out what to do. I have my sister—but I can't imagine what it's like if…they don't have someone to help them. Natasha is at the women's shelter—with you, Ana. But… there… doesn't seem to be an equivalent for men." Sorrow struck his eyes.

"That is…quite an oversight," said Amber. "We really should have something like that… I didn't consider it before; I thought of women as the victims of human trafficking. But I've found out it happens to men a lot too, and they should get more support."

"That's something I can share with the king," said Whit. Realization dawned on his face. "Something I can do for men who need help. People like…" his lips quivered. "My Jason."

"I do have access to my family's empire…" said Amber. "I think they'd see this as a worthy cause. I would like to help women and girls as well."

"There…is a gap in programs in general," said Connie. "The volunteers mentioned there really isn't long-term help for trafficked people."

"Human trafficking is something that's flown under the radar," said Whit, "that's what the essence of it is, hiding in plain sight. But I have to—shine a light on it. If I can make a difference … use what I have to at least help some…"

"My Grandmama is connected with philanthropist circles," said Amber. "I know they'd love to connect to a project like this. Some of them are always asking what they can do for my 'poor country'…." She pursed her lips. "Let's see, there are the Savannah Mitchells, the Charlotte LeGrandes, the Baton Rouge Winters…."

"The Winters?" said Whit.

Amber nodded.

"Alvira?"

"Grandmama's dear friend!"

"I've known them for years."

"Now we can both work on them to convince them to take on this project. Not that it'll be hard to do, I bet…."

"Perhaps we can meet up, back in the States, after….."

She nodded solemnly.

Adela's phone vibrated. She stepped into her bedroom and closed the door, her voice audible but muffled. She gradually sounded more distressed. Then she stepped out into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, head in her hands. Her phone dropped to the island and slid unheeded to the carpet.

"What's wrong?" said Viktor. He stood unsteadily and picked up her phone.

"Just a moment. I…" She shook her head. Then glanced at him. "I'm so sorry. I lost my job."

"Dell—"

"I thought I had a couple months, but they don't need me anymore. So they let me go." She sniffed. "This job was so long I thought of it as almost permanent…. But…." She glanced at the others. Then she stood, brushing the wrinkles out of her shirt. She looked at Amber. "Maybe I will take you up on your offer. Until we can find something else…." She looked at her brother. "What do you think?"

Viktor nodded, a glimmer of eagerness in his eyes.

"Then it's settled. If we could just… work out the details?"

"Sounds wonderful," said Amber. She looked at Ana. "You don't mind staying a little longer?"

Ana shook her head. She looked at Viktor and smiled.

He looked startled, then smiled back.

On the way back down, Sierra took several stairs at a time. Connie took Whit's arm and went more slowly. With a few more levels left, Whit said, "I'm glad I found a way to help. I think there's a gap in our country—men who've gone through any kind of trauma get left by the wayside. But I can't really do anything until we find him. I was thinking—maybe I'll make a shelter in Jason's memory and—"

"Whit!"

"I know—I can't bury him before I do all I can to find him. But—listening to what Viktor said—I couldn't help imagining Jason. Tormented beyond all reason—and then, even when he gets out—it's twisting into his soul, making him see himself as just filth thrown away—and even worse, there's some kind of… connection with them… partly because he sees himself as worth nothing after feeling something like that, partly because of Stockholm syndrome…. The captor is the sole source of pain and kindness…. And he's back, but part of him—" His voice caught. "Part of him is still there and they took something from him and they took away – my son… My son…" He collapsed and it was all she could do to hold him up, to guide him to the landing… almost tilting down it herself.

She helped him against the wall, and he sat back, looking up, the sunray glinting light into his eyes, filtered to pale blue, their facets laden with excruciating pain. He leaned his head in his hands, lips moving, and she realized he was praying.

She wrapped her arm around him, and his body shook, wracked with sobs. Shock filtered through her; a few tears fell, but she felt stunned by the fact he was so broken.

But of course—Jason was his son. And he'd almost lost him so many times. After losing his oldest son. Now—his youngest son taken from him…

I hardly have the right to claim pain after how deeply he must feel it! I've only known Jason for a few years. Whit's known him his whole life, held for the first time in his arms…

Her heart ached as if a sword was twisting it, gradually wrenching it apart until it shattered.

My Jason, she cried silently, longing for him.

Why, God, why take him again. Why did you torture me with that nightmare and then make it come true. Why did you tear our baby from us, so I have nothing….

I have Whit.

I've got to be here for him… got to be strong for him….

He's been my rock so many times.

Now, I've got to be his.

She held him until he stirred, and she helped him to his feet. Gratefulness burned in his eyes.

They made their way down the last section of the stairway and then out onto the curb. Sierra waved from the passenger seat.

Connie offered to drive, and Whit settled in back. Sierra suggested they go to Valhad.

"Follow the money," said Sierra. "That's my mantra. If I'd known Valhad was the place where Muldavia's elite lived—as well as international customers, I'd have started there."

Connie drove to Valhad while Whit slept, and Sierra organized their basic approach. "We've got to make sure we don't discuss anything openly," she said. "We can't let on what our mission is. As far as they're concerned, we're just tourists."

"What can we do there?" Connie said. What can I do? she wondered.

"I may have to go off on my own. You've got connections there, if I understand correctly?"

"Sort of. Jason was the one who did the actual investigation."

"Are there any contacts you can trust?"

"Jason mentioned…Evrim Demir. He was the policeman who helped rescue the slaves the first time."

"It could've been just a ploy, a way to appease the legit agencies. What we could do is ask him for help finding Jason. Just by talking to him I can usually tell if someone's hiding something. I can take the lead. You can just observe and gauge his reactions."

"I'm not sure if I'm good at that…."

"I think you are. Besides, the only way to learn is to practice. And the best way to practice is when there's actual danger—you won't sense the same things otherwise. Are there any other things you can tell me about Valhad?"

"Well, there's the hotel where the auction was….. But after the police went there, there might not be much going on…"

"Unless the police are corrupt, and it's all a façade, a merry-go-round. The traffickers could go right back to business as usual. A lot of times that happens anyway; there's an investigation and then everything's 'cleared up' but there is no follow-up. And the pattern continues. The perpetrators know how to hide in plain sight. And there is—such a high demand." Abhorrence crossed her face. After a few moments she said, "I think we should meet with Evrim Demir. Even though you haven't met him, you have more connection with him than I do. Do you know of a good restaurant in town?"

"There's the castle restaurant…." A sharp pang hit her heart. She shut it off, but at the same time, longing lingered… she was filled with a desire to be close to him, even if it meant just close to a memory.

Her heart ached to touch him—he'd be next to her, somehow, if she went there—and he'd be real, and with her as if he'd never left.

It didn't make sense, but she chased that feeling. Even if it meant more potential pain.

"My treat," said Sierra. "If you wouldn't mind calling Demir…."

"Sure."

Sierra found Demir's number, then handed the phone to her. Thankfully the highway was pretty straight so she could concentrate on the call.

Demir sounded a little preoccupied, which made her feel awkward. But then she poured out her reason for calling, and his tone became understanding and solemn.

"It's a debt that can never be repaid," he said. "I had to background check him, but the more I dug into his past, the more impressed I became. He's the kind of man I would've wanted having my back on the force. Since the raid on the hotel, I've been relentlessly rooting out anyone connected to trafficking. If you'd like to compare notes—"

"Sure."

"I have been looking into his disappearance. However, I haven't found a clear path yet. That doesn't mean there isn't a connection somewhere—something we haven't seen, or something that'll emerge later. That's why it's good to collaborate—you might see a fresh detail you wouldn't have otherwise. Where would you like to meet?"

"The Castle Restaurant?"

"I'll be available in about an hour and a half."

"Tell him actually the Castle would be better then," said Sierra.

Not sure why, her heart aching because the Castle had a more intense memory, she said, "What about the castle?"

"Oh. Sure."

Sierra slid the phone from Connie's hand and hit speakerphone. "It's just that I want to be as inconspicuous as possible."

"Who is this?"

"Sierra Yu. I'm a freelance agent working with the Whittakers. Jason's father is also here."

"So it's a rather—informal investigation?"

"You could say that."

"That's a good thing in this case—we don't want to alert them."

"So you should probably forego your uniform. We'll find a nice little corner, pretend to be tourists. Who knows, perhaps we'll discover something at the castle."

"I've got people there, undercover. As well as around the rest of the town. We don't have much petty crime here, but there are larger cases. Most of our citizens are upstanding. But you never know who's harboring a shameful secret."

"We've got some info for you. We'll give it to you when we get there."

"I'll see you then."

"See you." Sierra looked at Connie. "You see? You're helping already."

Connie drove the car up the mountain road. Soon, the castle appeared in the distance, perched on the cliff at the edge of the plateau, the mountains etched against the blue late summer sky.