warning: some violence in this chapter and 'mild' noncon- kisses, touches, other implied; general nastiness of traffickers who feel entitled to anything
They brought him to Elena's room, but to his relief, she wasn't there. However, neither were Elliot, Nalika, or Kyr.
They prodded him into the bathroom to take a shower. He locked the door quickly as soon as they left. He wasn't under any illusions he'd be able to hide out here. If they didn't have a door lock override, Elena did.
Still, he took his time. Made the shower and his alone time last as long as possible.
A knock on the door startled him. He wrapped his waist in a towel tightly. Unlocked the door, despite the knot in his chest.
They burst inside. Wrested his arm back and slammed him against the shower door. Yanked his damp hair back.
Outrage slammed through him at being treated roughly for no reason. Along with a slither of fear.
"Okay, let's get him out," said Gleb, and they dragged him into Elena's bedroom.
His mind ran wild with the possibilities—things that had already happened, things that could happen.
Some clothes and other items lay on the bed.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," said Gleb laconically.
"I think I can dress myself."
"If you don't," said Kent, "we'll have to help you." He tapped the shockrod on his palm.
It wasn't like he didn't want to be dressed in the first place.
Jason gathered the items and walked back into the bathroom. To his relief, the guards didn't follow and continued chattering in the other room. He styled his hair the way he liked it, not taking too much time because it wasn't exactly a priority. He shaved, not caring that wasn't what Elena wanted. He had to admit, the lotion felt good; his skin wasn't exactly in the best shape. And to be given something to care for himself with… it was probably some sort of trap, or for something nefarious, but he pretended it wasn't and luxuriated in the sensation. Though normally he wasn't the biggest fan of peach scent. It was easier to feel like this unprecedented luxury was just for his sake when Elena wasn't present.
He picked up the folded clothes—suspiciously flimsy.
It wasn't a shirt—and not pants either, but pleated linen, reminiscent of Egyptian clothes. At least not as transparent as they usually looked in pictures… (why they considered those 'clothes' was beyond him).
There has to be some other option.
He stepped out into Elena's bedroom to the blue dresser. There had to be something better in there. He threw out the clothes he'd never wear willingly and picked out something that was at least bearable.
If Elena doesn't like it… well she'll just have to deal with it.
He pulled on stretchy black pants (as close to jeans as he could get) then sat on the bed to catch his breath. Slid his hand through his hair, ruffling it, not wanting to be too presentable for Elena.
The guards strode in and directed him to wear the original clothes. When he refused, they slammed their shockrods into his side, and he fell against the bed.
Sparks burst through his heart, and he lay back, hoping his heart wouldn't stop.
They can't keep doing this or it'll short me out too much to be of use to them…
Unable to do anything but struggle weakly, he was helpless as they pulled the pants off and wrapped the Egyptian thing on.
They dragged him off the bed and he stood shakily, propping himself up with one hand on the mattress. The guards regarded him, smirking.
It's not anything that really threatens me… just humiliating…. He turned his mind off enough to endure it while making sure they didn't try anything beyond what he would allow while conscious. Heat spread across his face as they smeared iridescent shimmer on his face, in his hair, down over his chest.
Finally, Kent snapped a golden cuff on his wrist.
Stamped with an E.
Helpless outrage roared through him… but he could do nothing.
I have to regain the upper hand somehow… at least not bow to everything they want… if only I could get ahold of one of those shockrods….
"Time for another shower," said Kent.
"What!"
The guards laughed.
"A different kind."
His mind was rather foggy as they prodded him through the doorway. He struggled to grasp some sort of plan of action, but there was no way to know what Elena had in store. He tried to tone down this feeling of just being a thing, prepped for someone else's whims…. It was hard to do when you were wearing almost nothing. As well as a golden cuff that branded you as a possession… the gold burned his skin, even though it was cool to the touch.
The door opened.
Glorious gardens. Reflecting pools lined with palm trees. Heat hit him as he stepped through the door. A golden palace was perched on a small hill; pyramids gleamed in the distance. The guards led him down a path between pools and up marble steps to a porch slung with vines and bursting with flowers. Past shadowy columns to a shaded courtyard with a resplendent view of the pyramids. In the center, several women lounged on couches, two men on waving large palm fronds, fanning them—Kas and Jesse, Elena's masseurs. Colorful birds flew overhead, chirping.
At the head of the group was a throne-like chair where Elena sat. She wore a long, golden dress; it was low-cut and clingy, but modest otherwise, plunging past her ankles. A golden circlet sparkled around her elaborately plaited hair. A grand Egyptian necklace was draped around her neck; jewels sparkled on her wrist.
The others were all dressed in Egyptian-style clothes, though not as regal as Elena's. Standing around the room were slaves in clothes similar to Jason's. On the other side of Elena stood Elliot, his hair, face, and chest shimmering with gold. He looked straight ahead, as if trying to shut all of this out.
As the guards stopped him beside her, Elena looked up at him. "Ah, Jason! The shower wouldn't be complete without you."
"Shower?"
She smiled. "My baby shower, a month late."
"How is – Evan?" He'd almost said Kyr. The aftershocks of the electric current still lingered, along with an afterimage, like a photo washed out to bluish yellow with water damage. His vision wavered a little, bordered with shivering iridescence. Echoing the internal damage, prisms splashed around the room, rotating, one flashing into his eye, making him see blue and green for a moment.
She waved a hand. "I let Nalika wander the gardens with him. Today is about relaxing— getting away from the baby for a while. Thankfully Michelle knows just the thing to get me feeling like a normal human being again." She gestured to the couch opposite her. Strewn across the long table of green marble between them were fruit of all kinds, hors d'oeuvres, drinks, and glitter in little cups— zyx.
Michelle smiled at Elena's acknowledgement. Her right hand was bandaged. A girl sat beside her who looked strikingly similar, with a nearly identical emerald dress and gold eyeshadow, along with a matching jeweled necklace. Behind them stood Zakhar, a golden collar on his neck.
Maylin sat one chair down from Elena; behind her chair stood Karim, head bowed, hands behind his back. The eight other guests, all women, he didn't recognize. He recognized a few other slaves, though he didn't know them well. All men she'd dragged up here for her 'entertainment'.
Elena dismissed the guards. As if the party really had been waiting for his arrival, glitter filtered down from the ceiling of purple cloths and vines, along with iridescent confetti and tiny packages in jewel tones. Elena caught a ruby one and unwrapped it to reveal a little wafer inside.
"What's this?" said Elena, lifting it onto her finger.
"Little cocktail," said Michelle. "I wouldn't advise it if you're still nursing."
"I stopped just today – I wanted to have a good time without limits. Nalika's doing most of the nursing anyway, since I went back to work. If she needs more, Evan can drink from a bottle."
Michelle slid to the chair opposite Maylin. Michelle's young companion grabbed a chain attached to Zakhar's collar and yanked on it; he followed her to Michelle's side.
"You've been through a terrible ordeal—but this'll help."
"It is already." She pressed the wafer to her tongue and closed her eyes. "You've outdone yourself."
Michelle smiled. "I do love gratifying my beautiful empress."
Elena smiled languorously. Slid her arm over to Jason and touched his bicep absently, then withdrew it before he could pull away.
"How is your hand?"
Michelle lifted it. "I can barely feel it. Loads of painkillers… I'm good!"
"What's next, Mama?" said the girl beside Michelle. Her daughter Talia, apparently. "Where's my present?"
"You'll see."
"Is it a slave?"
Michelle smiled. "Wait and see."
"Happy birthday," said Elena.
"Thanks," said Talia. "I'm glad mom finally let me come to a grown-up party!"
"I hope you enjoy it."
Talia flopped onto the chair facing her mother, her feet propped up on the opposite arm, as she jangled the chain in her hands.
"I've got a treat for you," said Michelle. "Literally."
Several men appeared out of the shadows as if they'd just materialized; they came from beyond the holographic façade of the palace, probably. They spread out around the room; two stopped by Elena. They wore fruit necklaces and loincloths were made of strips of dried meat and fruit.
Elena clapped her hands. Delicately she grasped little fruits from around a tall blond man's neck and ate them luxuriously, then she reached for a red-haired man and pulled him to her and kissed him. He didn't react; his eyes were lowered.
Jason's face heated. He knew what such degradation was like.
She reached for the man's waist.
Jason grabbed her arm.
He didn't know how long later, his vision wavered as he stared at the ceiling, blue sky peeking past it. Beneath him was the green couch by the other end of the table; indistinct voices warbled in the background.
Talia was standing at the foot of the couch, a lollipop in her mouth. She slid onto the couch's arm, not taking her eyes off of him. Curiosity tinged with something desperate shadowed her dark eyes.
She swung her legs over the edge, bracing her feet on either side of his legs. He tried to move, but he was plastered there by the weakness caused by the autoshock.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
Talia shrugged, swiveling the lollipop. Looked out at the palace where the 'entertainment' was continuing. It was blurry; he couldn't tell what was going on, and didn't want to.
He tried to move again, but his muscles spasmed and wouldn't obey. Panic hit him.
Talia bit her lollipop and crunched it as she dropped down to kneel beside him. She smoothed his hair back and slid her hand over his chest, palm coming away with a layer of gold dust. She inspected her palm, licked a track through the gold, and laughed. Lifted up his wrist.
"What's this?" She spun the golden cuff.
Pain shot through his wrist.
She pressed the cuff downward, almost cutting into his skin, and rotated his arm gently.
The skin on his wrist was raw—the electric shocks must have bitten into the metal.
The other side of the E had left an impression on his skin, as if he'd been branded.
He felt faint.
"I want a slave like you. Do you think Elena will give you to me?"
Jason shook his head, knowing at least that was out of the question.
Talia pouted. "Well, at least I get you for now. Where do you come from?"
He wasn't about to give her anything she wanted.
Talia regarded him for a moment, then kissed his chest.
She giggled. "No one else gets the Supreme's slaves!"
She angled toward his lips.
He grasped her wrist.
"Don't."
She looked surprised. "But you're a slave. I get to do whatever I want."
"It's—not right."
She looked puzzled, as if this was a new idea. "What do you mean?
"Forcing people to do things against their will—it's—a thing that should not be."
"But it's not really against your will. You like it."
Jason shook his head. "I don't like it."
Her lips quirked up. "You just pretend you don't—that's part of the fun." She laughed and plunged downward again.
He grasped her wrists and wrested her away from him. His muscles were still weak, but at least he was able to push her off, if only because she expected compliance.
She flopped onto the floor with a cry, then rubbed her knees. Her eyes flashed. "You hurt me!"
He scrambled up, grasping the back of the couch. "I didn't mean—"
She stood, stomped her foot. "Slaves can't do that!"
Jason forced himself to stand. "I can't let you touch me."
A look of realization dawned on her face. "Because you're Elena's." She crossed her arms.
Michelle tromped over to them. "What did you do to my daughter?"
Jason stood unsteadily. "Nothing."
"It's okay, Mom. He's just protecting his honor."
Michelle smiled wryly at him. She ruffled her daughter's thick curls. "It couldn't be too bad, or he'd have been shocked again." She tilted her head. "He is beautiful – it's hard not to touch. But Elena didn't give explicit permission."
"He'd be a marvelous birthday present."
"That's not in the cards."
"What about—temporary?"
"You've already had a taste."
"Barely!" She stomped her foot. "I want more."
"Touching him without permission—I don't know if Elena will grant you anything else now."
Talia pouted. "But you promised I'd get a slave!"
"You deserve one, but he's off-limits."
"I'm just as good as she is! That's the only one I want or—"
Michelle laid a hand on her shoulder. "If you don't calm down, I'll have to make you leave."
"That's not fair! You're so mean!"
Michelle frowned. "The only thing you don't question—the Supreme's authority. You're here because she wants you here; she can revoke it if you make too much trouble. It's her party."
"When's my party?"
"Tomorrow."
"When do I get a slave?"
"Soon, my love." She guided Talia back to the chair near Elena's throne.
Jason stayed where he was. He wished he could just fade into the background. If he could disappear behind the holo, perhaps he could sneak out… maybe the door wasn't locked…
"Jason!" called Elena. "If you're feeling up to it, please join us."
Her tone was commanding; he didn't want to be shocked again, so he stepped slowly around the group to the opposite side of Elena's throne from before. Elliot was standing on her left, his face pale, his body trembling. What had Elena done to him? He didn't want to know, but wanted to reach out to him, comfort him somehow….
Michelle grabbed the chain and yanked it, dragging Zakhar up with her. He looked subdued, but there was a certain strength radiating from him that hadn't been there before. Michelle ruffled his short black hair and tugged him just in front of Elena.
"He is a pretty thing, isn't he?" said Michelle. "He's a bit too broken for me now. And I don't have much of a canvas left, so I may discard him. If you'd like him…"
"I've got enough to handle with a baby and two slaves. For now, anyway. It's always nice to taste something different, though."
Elena laid a hand on Zakhar's head, feeling it as if getting a sense of his internal dimensions as well as external. She cupped his jaw and lifted it. He kept his eyes lowered, but the tautness of his jaw showed he was brimming with defiance. An intrigued look crossed Elena's face, revealing that she noticed it too.
She released him. "I have to admit, I have a soft spot for the mixed races and the national minorities… even though I haven't had many of them."
"He's all yours." Michelle lifted a knife from her belt and handed it to Elena. Turned him around, presenting his back to Elena.
The horrific scars made Jason's breath catch. There were more there now than when he'd tended to his wounds, as if she were treating him as a living canvas, not a human being.
Elena slid her hand over the scars.
He flinched.
She stood, her palm on his back, and traced the long edge of the wing carved over his shoulder.
He felt like he was plummeting through the floor, but somehow he was still standing there, in this surreal horror.
Elena slid the blade over Zakhar's back almost lovingly, the one place he didn't have many scars. Then twisted the knife a little, flicking out a fleck of blood.
"Stop," said Jason. Then realized his voice hadn't actually escaped his throat.
He tried to reach out—but his arm was trapped at his side.
He realized his body had been trained—his mind crushed into submission by the fear of too much damage.
I can't let this happen—
But it continued, and all he could do was turn away and let the subtle sounds scrape away at his mind.
Blood dripped from her knife; she handed it back to Michelle, who wiped it off on her skirt.
"Beautiful!" said Michelle. "Maybe I will keep him. Good for just the aesthetics if nothing else."
Michelle pulled Zakhar back to Talia, who jumped up to inspect his back, eagerness on her face.
"Now," said Michelle, "I think Maylin has something planned."
Maylin stood languorously and tugged Karim over to Elena.
Jason didn't know how he could take any more of this.
Is there anything I can do?
Offer myself.
Let myself be carved up—
He shrank away from such a thing, even as his heart admonished him. You talked a good game about sacrifice—was that all for show?
Pain I can handle. But if it's… something worse….
Maylin rubbed Karim's arm, looking at him with intense affection. "I am perhaps a bit too lenient with this one…. I don't want to break him down too much, because his strength is beautiful."
"He is stunning," said Elena.
"And then there's the added dimension. To hold all that longing—be able to give it a good twist on occasion—" She laughed; it was a bit off-kilter, and Jason got the impression, beneath her sleek graceful exterior, she was insane.
Elena laid a hand over Karim's heart; his gaze faltered a little, but he raised his head higher, looking straight ahead as she caressed his chest. "Would you mind if I took him home for a bit?"
May's eyes narrowed. "O-of course not."
"Don't worry, I won't take him permanently. But I've always had an eye for this little piece…. He might be worth taking for a few days here and there, just to break up the routine." She smiled wolfishly. Slid her hand down over his stomach.
Karim backed away when she fondled the top of the loincloth.
Elena lifted her hand. "Do you want me to bring Kara up here?"
Shock flashed through Karim's eyes.
"Women don't entertain me like men do—but I will make an exception. So you will do as I say."
He didn't answer.
"Won't you?"
"Yes—Supreme."
She smiled. "Don't worry, it won't be too hard." She directed him to bring her some fruit and chocolate. Then, she directed him to dance—a pantomime of passion and pathos. The energy he put into his performance burst with desperation—there was intense pain in his eyes that cut Jason's soul.
Finally, Elena gave Karim a kiss and let him go. His knees nearly gave way, as if he was collapsing internally with relief she hadn't asked more of him.
Michelle stepped out onto the floor. She waved her arm, and a golden pyramid appeared on the edge of the 'stage', echoing the pyramids in the background.
Serhii was bound to it, wrapped from head to foot in golden strips, like a strange imitation of a mummy, only the top of his head and eyes visible.
His blue eyes were burning, yet a shadow of damage darkened them, as if his human dignity had taken a blow.
Jason stepped forward, longing to help him.
His wrist burned, arresting any possible momentum.
The E impressed into his flesh seemed to cut deeper. He lifted his arm, wanting to slide the cuff carefully away from his raw skin, but not wanting to encounter the mark that branded him, bound him to Elena in a tangible way.
She could shock him at any moment, and thrash him to the ground, and he'd be helpless anyway…
Slow music trickled through the room. Michelle tugged off the tucked end of the strip and slowly unwound it, revealing a wider strip of cloth beneath it around Serhii's mouth. Gradually it slid off, then tangled above his waist, and she cut through it with her knife and tugged the rest of it off of him. Thankfully, there was a loincloth beneath. Still, it wasn't much; Jason felt anew how flimsy the cloth was, only a token nod to modesty—and Serhii was hanging there for all to see.
Michelle bowed as if it had been some majestic performance. "Isn't he marvelous?"
"Worthy of someone better than Zar," said Elena.
"I'm glad to be that person—temporarily. Still—he must be punished." She held her injured hand close to her chest. "But I thought you might like to be the one to punish him—your prerogative."
"I don't want you to forfeit your right. I'm sure whatever you do will jumpstart his Breaking exquisitely."
Michelle bowed enthusiastically. "Thank you, Supreme!" She slid the blade elaborately over him without breaking the skin. He flinched at first but then seemed to steel himself and bore the torment without moving.
Jason knew he could never have done the same. Admiration surged through him. Somehow, Serhii managed to keep a cloak of dignity around him despite the horror of the situation.
He will never be Broken. If he appears to—it's because it's part of the plan. I have to hold onto that hope….
I should at least be able to gather the strength to defend him—
Michelle dragged the knife down his wrist, pressed the tip lightly to his palm, then slammed it down and twisted—
"No!"
Jason wondered if the scream had torn from his throat, but he had collapsed to his knees, his scarred, half-ruined left hand cradled in his newly healed right.
Zakhar stood in front of Serhii, facing Michelle. "Don't hurt him."
Michelle tilted her head. "It's a little late for that." She glanced at the knife embedded in Serhii's palm, blood streaming from it, disappearing beneath the holographic floor.
"I'll take his place."
Michelle smiled. "There aren't many places left, dear." She traced a scar along his arm. "I thought you'd lost your fire... Mmm. Maybe I will take you up on your offer." She grasped the back of his neck and plunged forward into a kiss.
He didn't try to get away, but didn't participate, either.
"Please," said Serhii, muffled beneath the cloth. "It's me you want."
Michelle pulled back. "Who says I can't have both? Two beautiful men, willing to sacrifice for each other…" She narrowed her eyes. "That's an interesting dynamic. Maybe there's more to this relationship than meets the eye."
"We all would sacrifice for each other," said Zakhar, eyes blazing.
"And yet… you overcame your fear of me. I might explore this further…. Good thing I didn't discard you! In fact—this'll make it more interesting." She motioned to Talia. "Come here! I'd like to make it official." Talia ran up to her. Michelle handed her the chain around Zakhar's neck. "I'll give him to you."
"I don't want a hand-me-down. Besides, I basically have him anyway."
"I technically own him til you're grown up."
"That's not fair! I want him." She pressed her hand to Serhii's chest.
"I have to Break him. Then he'll be an agent."
"I can Break him."
"You can participate, how about that? But you need a lot of expertise to do it right."
"I will give you a brand-new slave for your birthday," said Elena.
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
She smiled benevolently. "Of course. So you'd better be good."
Talia stood. "I will!"
The vulnerability of being on the floor caught up with him, and Jason grasped Elena's vacant throne and pushed himself to his feet. His head whirled when he caught sight of the knife embedded in Serhii's palm. Flashbacks etched his mind, like dreams lingering late into waking hours. Phantom pangs twisted in his palm.
He hadn't been able to help the slaves onstage during the treasure hunt. Perhaps they really had broken something in him. He couldn't sacrifice for others anymore… too much had been taken from him…
Michelle handed Talia a blue jar.
"What's this?" said Talia.
Michelle smiled. "Now that you're thirteen, you're old enough to see what it does." She tugged the cloth off of Serhii's mouth. Fear flickered in his eyes. "Open your mouth."
He kept his mouth closed.
"Do you want me to give it to Zakhar instead?"
Slowly, he opened his mouth.
"Take a pinch, Talia. Drop it on his tongue and see what happens!"
Talia took out some blue powder and looked at it curiously, holding it up to the light.
Zakhar dashed the jar from her hand and it crashed to the floor.
Michelle jabbed her shockrod into his stomach and he collapsed beside the pyramid.
She and Talia began to gather the powder from the floor and put it back in the jar.
He didn't feel strong in any way, but somehow, he had the will again to move forward, his limbs threatening to collapse at any moment.
"Don't hurt him," said Jason.
Michelle and Talia looked up, almost identical startled looks on their faces. Blue powder covered their hands.
Michelle stood, looking him up and down, and laughed. "Don't you know what this does yet?" She glanced at Elena. "You sure know how to delay gratification. I could never." She reached toward Jason; he forced himself not to flinch away. "Maybe I'll give some to all of you at once—that'd be entertainment. With your permission, of course." She looked at Elena expectantly.
"I'd rather savor the nuances than be bombarded with sensations," said Elena.
Michelle looked a little affronted, as if it were an attack on her party-throwing skills.
"Back to the original plan, then."
"I am curious to see how he reacts. Unless—Jason, you're serious about taking his place."
"Don't," whispered Serhii. "I—can take it." His eyes burned with a depth of fear Jason had never seen in him.
It shook Jason to the core—but it made him more determined to do the right thing. He stepped forward. "I will."
"Very well. Michelle, please cut Serhii down."
Relief flooded him, though it was dampened by the dread coursing through his veins.
Michelle unceremoniously cut Serhii's bonds, and he fell with a cry. He cradled his wrist, his hand with the knife embedded in it shaking.
Michelle gestured toward the pyramid. "So you want him up there, or—"
"I have something different in mind. Come here, Jason."
Elena reached out to him as he approached; he stopped just short of her fingertips. She withdrew her hand gracefully. He felt himself looking deep into her eyes, as if he couldn't look away. "You have been in the shadows so far. I want you in the sunlight."
"What does that mean."
"Step onto the table."
His heart fell. He looked over at Serhii on the floor beside the pyramid. Zakhar, though shaking, had recovered from the shock enough to bind the edges of the wound with some golden strips of cloth, then tug the knife free.
Serhii screamed.
The knife clattered to the floor.
Talia snatched it up and inspected it curiously.
Zakhar bound his hand quickly and efficiently, though he looked deeply pale, his eyes bright and determined.
"If you would, Jason," said Elena.
Slowly, he stepped up onto the table.
The light beat down on him as if it were a stage spotlight. It felt as if their eyes were digging into each scar.
"Isn't he beautiful?" said Elena.
The women clapped enthusiastically; some cheered. Thankfully, Talia left Zakhar's side. She twirled the knife, the bloody blade glittering.
"Please turn so everyone can appreciate you."
After a moment, he turned mechanically, wishing he could disappear.
"You don't know how magnificent you are."
"I'm not—" The words stuck in his throat.
She laughed musically. "Your modesty is part of your charm. Still, a man that's confident, that owns his scars—that is even more attractive. I want you to own them, Jason."
If I ever were to do that…. it wouldn't be here.
"I think he needs some help. Don't you, girls?"
A filtering of applause.
"Everyone, you will find jars of paint under your chairs. Take them out, please."
Murmuring excitedly, the women lifted jars of paint.
"Now, I want you to each choose a scar and highlight it. Stay gentle—and stay above his waist."
Women gathered around him, closing in on him. He yearned to run—but he was planted there by fear and obligation.
He forced himself to keep from flinching, with mixed success, as they slid cool fingertips laden with paint over his scars.
The scar on his cheek. Maylin chose that. As she spread the paint, she searched his face as if trying to divine his thoughts.
"We could have… such fun together," she said in a soft voice. "Maybe later."
"I've seen what you've done to Karim."
She laughed softly. Stood back to look at her handiwork.
Several at once now. Some touching his back—the whip scars, the knife scar on his shoulder. The cuts and whip scars on his chest and stomach. Michelle spread green paint over the knife burn on his side.
He tried to step back but the others blocked his way. Many fingers slicked over his skin, as if he were being explored by a many-tentacled thing. Somehow, they managed to find the scars that held the most traumatic memories. Images flashed across his mind, but there were so many at once they were indistinct. And the cool sensation of the paint kept him in the present.
Talia chose the stab wound in his shoulder, which still felt barely healed. Contrary to the 'rules', she spread her blue paint down over his left arm where there were no scars. She lifted his wrist and inspected his hand, long green fingernails pressing into the nail scars. "What's this?" she said.
"From… nails."
"Wow." Her eyes widened. For a moment, he thought there was sympathy in them. Then she said, "I've got the most unique ones!"
"I found even more unique," said a tall blond woman on his other side. She lifted his wrist and slid back the cuff. He flinched as she touched the raw skin, then spread white paint over it; it pooled into the E, burning. He yanked his arm away.
"Endra—" said Elena. "You weren't to hurt him. Let's get him some water."
He felt himself being carried off the table and over to Elena. Michelle held his arm while Elena poured water over it, washing off the paint. It still burned, but not as intensely. Then, they carried him back to the table.
Everyone gazed up at him; his scars burned as if they were open wounds. He was acutely aware of the fact he was only wearing a flimsy piece of cloth—which wasn't as opaque as he'd like.
"You know what would be even more beautiful," said Endra.
Elena smiled. "I'm reserving the right to keep some of him to myself."
"Too bad."
"He's got some trauma from Zar," said Elena, as if that were a matter-of-fact thing you could discuss with anyone.
"I did hear he went a bit overboard with him."
"In fact—this is for his own benefit."
"Exposure therapy." Endra nodded as if it had just dawned on her.
"So you see that exposing his worst trauma would just connect this to something horrible. My prize needs to be handled carefully so we don't damage his psyche irreparably…. The more intricate the instrument, the more delicately we have to deal with it."
He tuned them out. So apparently this was supposed to be good for him?
Had it worked?
He couldn't tell—and didn't want to give them any sort of victory. For one thing, any benefit was insignificant compared to the trauma of seeing his friends hurt and humiliated. For another thing, everything here was traumatic and there was no real benefit because he had no power. They did these things because they wanted to possess him in some way…. They didn't really care about him. Everything was unequal. How could any good come out of being a slave?
Perhaps I should try to get something out of this… get past the pain… but they might give me new scars tomorrow. Perhaps I should just become numb to it… if that's possible.
But would I lose part of myself if I did? Would I stop caring? Pain beats you down… but if I descended into numbness, would I stop resisting?
He flexed his hand. The paint on the nail scars cracked a little.
He didn't like how the nerves had been damaged, how he'd lost some feeling.
He didn't want to do that, even if it meant bearing the pain… but then… it might be worth it to cauterize a few nerve endings, if that would build the ability to suppress some of his weaknesses…. Get stronger… move forward…
Being stronger, though, usually didn't mean numbness….
Accept my pain? Like they said?
The scars felt like they were oozing blood. And yet… perhaps I should ignore them for now. Perhaps they aren't as bad as I thought… because there are worse things.
The guests ate and drank, chattering lightheartedly, then gradually they filtered out, taking their slaves. Kas and Jesse helped support Zakhar and Serhii out the door.
Pyramids faded, then the room began to dissolve. The table shrank, so Jason had to wrest his attention from his thoughts to keep his balance while the table retreated into the floor.
Just a white room. The illusion of distance gone, it seemed much smaller now. A few dishes and remnants of food on the floor, splashes of paint… splatters of blood.
"We'll have to get the janitors in here," said Michelle. She was the only guest left, along with Elena. "How did you like your party?"
"Wonderful. Now I need to recover." She laughed. "It's not exactly a refuge back home." She laid a hand on Elliot's shoulder. He flinched, as if emerging from a deep reverie. "You will make sure our baby doesn't wake me, won't you? I'd like to sleep all night if I can."
"I'll take over for Nalika, like usual."
"Good." She looked at Michelle. "He really is a good father. I couldn't ask for better. I was thinking he was shrinking back into his nearly catatonic state…. But he really is there a lot of the time when the baby needs him. And raising a child takes a lot out of you… so I have to be lenient. We're in that phase of our relationship… not much time for anything else." She brushed his cheek lightly with the back of her fingers. His eyes flashed with hatred, which she didn't notice. "We've fallen into an easy rapport… beaten out some kind of routine. One of these days, though… we'll get back to who we were. It was almost like that the night just before Evan was born— even better, because Jason was there, too." She rubbed her stomach ruefully. "For now, I'm content to admire them. Jason's my priority." She tugged at the top of her dress. "Oof, this is getting… intolerable."
"I'll let you get your rest." Michelle smiled. "I'd be envious—if I didn't have my own beautiful ones to attend to." Michelle sashayed out of the room, leaving Jason and Elliot with Elena.
Elena laid a hand on Elliot's shoulder. "Ready to go home?"
He hesitated, then nodded. He looked around the white room with contempt.
"How about you, Jason?"
"What?" He was rooted to the floor; it felt as if many-fingered tentacles were still fluttering over his skin.
"Ready to come home?" She reached out a hand.
"I'd rather go back to the basement."
Her eyes flickered with disappointment, then she smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But one of these days, you'll choose something better for yourself. I will see you again soon." She turned toward the door.
Elliot caught his eyes, admiration and sympathy in them. Then, he followed her out.
Leaving Jason alone in the hollow room.