The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  Sighing, he concentrated on the sensation of her fingers wrapped around his. Handholding was probably more than enough for right now. Aaron smiled as they started down the stairway while mentally castigating himself for reacting so strongly to the simple act of holding hands. Saundra's hand clutched in his was a small embrace, a personal touching, and Aaron had not been embraced by another human being for more than a year.

  Well, except for the one hug from Jorrin, which counted, but not in the same way.

  When they reached the main floor, Saundra looked at him for one brief moment. After giving his fingers a quick squeeze, she led him out onto the street. Her eyes were distracted, her mind seemingly taken up by thoughts not entirely here. Part of the excited chill running through Aaron settled down and whimpered away. Clearly the sensations and thoughts running through his body and mind were not going through hers.

  Saundra's cab waited outside. Its customary team had been exchanged for a single horse, an indication that she did not expect to tax it by picking up fares. Saundra helped Aaron clamber onto the driver's seat and then pulled herself up beside him. She lifted the reins with both hands, gave them a flip, and called out a brief command. The taxi jerked momentarily and then moved steadily.

  "We will be there soon, Mister Turner."

  "Aaron."

  "Pardon me?" Saundra looked momentarily confused.

  "My name is Aaron. It isn't Mister Turner. Well--it is--but I want you to call me Aaron."

  She shook her head. "Oh, no, we don't know each other nearly that well. I'll hold your hand, and I'll kiss you. I'd even screw you if your so-called honor would allow it, but we are not on first name terms. I'm not that kind of girl."

  When they reached the outskirts of the city, Saundra slowed to look around. Aaron saw a few scattered buildings, mostly warehouses.

  "This seems a bit out of the way and rather deserted," he noted.

  "Wouldn't be a mystery if it was smack dab in the middle of everything," Saundra replied.

  She maneuvered her taxi down a side lane. After coming to a stop, she climbed down and led the horse to one of the hitching rails. Once Aaron scrambled down from the taxi, she took his hands in hers and looked him straight in his eyes.

  "This is a bit awkward."

  "What is?"

  "Us. Here. I don't know what to say or do. I'm not sure what you'll find offensive or forward or anything." She gave a little laugh, more at herself, Aaron knew, than at anything else. "I feel nervous. It's been a long time since I've been on a date and longer still since I've been on one with a man. I feel like a filly being led to the mating barn for the first time."

  Aaron studied her. Saundra did not look nervous. She did look as if she were trying to look nervous. He felt touched and somewhat flattered by her transparent attempt to settle him down. To some, her gesture could be seen as condescending, but he viewed it as a form of gentle care-taking.

  She gave him one more fake nervous smile. Their palms were wet where they touched, slick from fearful sweat. None came from her.

  "I suppose we could go see the Mystery," Aaron said.

  She shook her head hard enough to start her hair swaying. "That will take a while. Finding it is part of the mystery. No, we need to get something else out of the way first. Brace yourself."

  With a sudden move, she leaned forward, tangled her hands in his hair, and pressed her lips to his.

  Aaron was so startled by the suddenness of it that he jerked his head back slightly. His lips were open since he was about to speak. Because of this Saundra ended up kissing his teeth. She broke away with a small giggle and clenched his hair tighter.

  "That didn't go well," she observed. "You better try harder if you're going to make me swoon."

  "Not well at all," Aaron agreed.

  She giggled once more. "Willing to try again?"

  "Yes," Aaron said. "Yes, I am."

  This time went much better. Her lips pressed against his as she untangled her fingers from his hair. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him in tight, leaving him no choice but to wrap his own arms around her. The kiss was soft and sweet and far too short, but it left him with trembling knees and a very detailed impression of her body. Aaron's mind whirled and spun, and he ached to pull her to him again and to--.

  But no. That would be a direct violation of his vows. He could make love to her, but the lovemaking would shred the last remnants of his honor.

  Her lips turned in a slight unhappy frown. "Not so good, huh?"

  "It was more than good," Aaron disagreed. "I--I'm sorry. The problem isn't you. It's me. I'm drawn to you. I want you--but I want you only because you're a woman and because you're here, not because you're someone I want in my life. It's just--it's just that it has been too long. I think an old hag of a hundred and three would have an effect on me right now. The fact that you're young and beautiful just makes things harder."

  Her brief smile was not sad, but an invisible wall suddenly dropped between them, a wall of Aaron's making, one he had not intended and yet one he knew he had deliberately placed.

  "Young and beautiful and available would be reason enough for a good many men."

  "It isn't enough for me," Aaron said quietly. "I know myself to be a weak man. If things continue at this pace, my vows will crack under the strain. Maybe you should leave me here."

  "Planning on walking home, are you?"

  "No." Aaron allowed his eyes to shift off her. Nobody else was in sight, but there had to be occasional traffic on the main road. "I can hire a cab if you want to part ways."

  Her face firmed. "Yes, you could. Even so, I see no reason to waste this trip. There's a Mystery here. If nothing else, we can discover what it is before parting ways. I don't have the means to get invited in. You do, and you owe me a date."

  Something deep in Saundra's eyes had become hard. She had reached a decision, but Aaron could not tell what it was.

  "I do," Aaron admitted. The prospect of trying to be gay, of pretending to enjoy himself while in the company of a woman he had hurt, held no appeal. "Let's get this over with."

  "Oh, such enthusiasm," Saundra said. She gave an awkward shrug with one shoulder. Releasing a bitter laugh, she turned to lead the way down an alley. Aaron took a moment to watch her. The horse made a grunting noise, drawing his attention.

  Water spewed out in a thick stream as it relieved itself.

  "You got the right of it," Aaron told the beast, and then he headed off, following his broken date.

  * * *

  "These Turner Houses," Saundra said as they turned yet one more corner. "Why do you do it?"

  "Kids need a home. I've the means to give them one."

  She nodded. "I like kids. Given the chance, I'd love to have another one of my own."

  "So you have children?"

  "None living. I bore five, but they all died within minutes. I want another, but my doctor says my plumbing is all twisted up wrong because of some old injuries. She says there's so much scaring it's unlikely I'll ever conceive again."

  "Oh." He couldn't think of a response to that, saying instead, "I thought you said it had been a long time since you dated a man."

  She looked at him, and her eyes sparkled. "You're not the only one who can tell a few lies. I thought it might make you more comfortable. Besides, strictly speaking, it wasn't a lie. A lady doesn't have to go on a date to get preggers. All she has to do is talk a man into saying yes."

  She took his hand again, but there was no romance in this grabbing. Aaron was just going too slow for her tastes so she dragged him along.

  Aaron could not help himself. He had to ask. "Scarring?"

  "Internal." Saundra's face seemed awash in so many different emotions that Aaron could not interpret them. "I've been injured too many times in that area. I'll never have another baby without going through an expensive operation."

  Sorry he'd asked, Aaron certainly would not inquire as to how her injuries had come about.

  Roun
ding yet one more turn, he saw that they were in a dead end alley that owned one door. Standing before the door were four scantily clad women and a dwarf.

  "This Mystery doesn't seem all that popular" Aaron commented, feeling uncomfortable "Maybe we should go someplace else for our date."

  She flashed him a smile as they neared the guards. "Nope. I know it's not for everybody, but I want to find out what the Mystery is. Let me do the talking."

  She flashed a smile at the dwarf. "Mister Fillmore. Remember me? We spoke last year."

  The dwarf stepped forward and peered up into her face. "Why now, I believe I do. You wanted in real bad last year, but you forgot to bring a fellow with you. Still interested?"

  "Yes" Saundra answered. "We want to see The Mystery, and Mister Turner is willing to pay."

  Filmore's eyes became sharper. "Are you sure of that?" he asked Aaron.

  "I guess," Aaron answered, feeling even more nervous as the women started moving around them. He tried to keep his eyes averted because their clothing consisted of thin layers of sheer material that left little to the imagination when the layers shifted.

  "Are you willing to pay the price?" one woman asked. Her voice was a soft purr.

  "Within reason," Aaron answered.

  "Everything is with reason."

  The tallest woman lifted a flask of amber liquid from somewhere in her clothing. She poured a small amount into a tiny shot-sized glass another woman produced. "The Mystery starts with a sip."

  Aaron waved the glass away. "I'll skip that part."

  "Without the drink you aren't allowed inside."

  Saundra frowned. "Please Mister Turner. I've wanted to see this for a long time.

  Giving in, Aaron accepted the small cup and took a careful sip. The liquid tasted bitter and oily and anything but good. He wanted to spit it out, but the woman watched him intently.

  Hating every moment, Aaron tilted back his head and drained down the rest of the foul liquid. Through a great deal of damned good luck, he managed to miss most of the inside of his mouth entirely. The thick brew went straight back into his throat. Cloying and harsh, he fought back an urge to burst out coughing.

  "It's good," he finally managed to get out.

  "I told you yesterday that he was a tremendous liar," Saundra said flatly. She looked Aaron straight in the eye. "You really shouldn't have been so standoffish. I could have made your last day of freedom much more enjoyable."

  The other women stared at him now, and Filmore giggled. The shortest woman grabbed Aaron's arm and twisted it in a way that bent him around and dropped him to his knees. Aaron tried to pull loose, tried to use some of the old training Perkins had given him, but his body would not react correctly. He felt unbalanced, thick-headed. His knees hurt where they ground into the dirt.

  "He lives alone in a lower-middleclass apartment, Saundra said. "Doesn't have any close family, no real friends. He tells me his name is Turner and says he's connected to those orphanages, so he's probably the man we were paid for. If not, we'll dispose of him, and I'll go hunting again."

  One of the women made a disgusted noise. "If his name is Turner, then he's the right one. Not many would take that name on by choice."

  Aaron tried to jerk around, but a wrench on his arm and shoulder dropped him back down again. Spittle hit the ground near his feet.

  "Hell, even I wouldn't stoop so low as to wear those clothes," Filmore said. "Cheap crap."

  Aaron twisted his head around to look at Saundra. "Why?"

  Sparkles swirled around him, touching with little jolts of energy when they connected, pulling more energy away when they jerked free from his body. He no longer hurt. The hands grinding down on his arm and shoulder were the tiniest touches, barely registering on his conscious mind.

  "I told you I got screwed-up plumbing," Saundra said. "I'm saving money to pay a doctor to straighten it out. I contracted out special with the Mister to deliver you here." She gestured with one hand. "This is probably best for you anyway. You have to be one of the most delusional men I've ever met."

  He could transfer. All he had to do was close his eyes and form a proper image and then he would be--no!

  The images would not form. Aaron could not access that special part of his mind. Like with too much alcohol, the drug worked against his Talent.

  "Up you go, lover boy," somebody said. Aaron swayed on his feet, moving toward the doorway, helped along by the woman who still had a grip on him. He thought of struggling but could get no further than the thought. Something in the drugged drink prevented him from disobeying orders. Once at the door, he glanced back.

  "Miss Clarice," a woman said, "you did a fine job. You can expect a little something in your mail next week."

  "It damn well better be a lot of something, and it better come from the Mister's hand." Saundra's face filled with momentary resolve. Her features softened, and a small smile appeared on her lips. She stepped forward and gently patted Aaron on his cheek. "You know, I really wasn't sure if I would bring you here. Didn't make up my mind until you decided I wasn't good enough for you." Leaning forward, she kissed the tip of his nose. "Bye."

  The door opened, and Aaron was shoved through. He stumbled, was released, and dropped to his knees once more. Legs moved past him. Three women from outside stood before him. So did half a dozen others. Filmore was nowhere to be seen. Several men lay on the floor. One of them, the only one clothed, was bound and had a lightly bleeding gash on his cheek. The rest were rope-free, empty-eyed, and naked.

  Somebody grabbed Aaron by the hair and jerked his head up. He found himself staring into age-clouded eyes set into an ancient face. He could not tell if the person looking down was male or female.

  "Very well done, ladies," the old voice cracked. "Well done indeed. People, I think we need to give Charity, Faith, and Hope a round of applause."

  "I'd rather have permission to get out of these 'come fuck me' clothes," the shorter woman said.

  "But Faith, they fit you so well."

  "If you like them so much, old woman, you can wear them. I'm getting just a little tired of having people look at parts of me the Two Gods intended them not to see." She brushed irritably at her layers of thin clothing. "See, it won't even lay flat when there's no breeze."

  The bound man leered and released an appreciative whistle. Spinning around, the woman glared at him.

  "Good contours," the man said.

  "Shut up, foreign pig."

  "The effect would be the same if the layers lay flat," the old voice said, ignoring the interchange. "I expect two more deliveries before the wagon arrives. Turner is a special order so he won't be a part of the load. You better tie him up because that potion won't last long." She released her grip on Aaron's hair. The sudden weight of his unsupported head was too much for his neck to handle. His chin flopped to his chest.

  "I'll do it." The woman, whom Aaron fuzzily assumed to be Charity, grabbed him and flipped him around on his belly. It only took a few moments for his unresisting limbs to be bound. Rough hands grabbed at his ropes, dragging him across the dirt floor until he lay beside the other bound man. Hands felt around in his clothing, pulling out anything that looked useful. Fingers tugged at the cord around Aaron's neck and pulled it over his head. His pouch came into view, was quickly opened, and its contents poured out.

  "I advise you not to shout," Faith warned him. "There's nobody except our people outside to hear. If you do shout, we'll shove a rag into your mouth. You won't like that, and we don't want to do it. Sometimes we lose people that way. Will you behave?"

  Aaron nodded woodenly. He felt so weak his head barely moved, but Faith seemed satisfied. Aaron groaned when the other woman looked down at the object on her palm.

  "I don't know what this is," she said. "It's shaped something like a horseshoe, but not really. It sure isn't a weapon, and I doubt it's worth anything."

  Taking it from her, Faith studied the magnet intently. "Looks like a talisman to me." She slapped Aaron
several times in the face, forcing him to focus on her. "Are you from over the mountains? Is this your talisman? Is it your medicine?"

  Aaron tried to move, but he could no longer do so. His body felt frozen. His face didn't even sting from being slapped.

  "Better give it back to him," Faith said. "Some superstitious fools think their souls are tied up in their gewgaws. Most die if they're separated from the things." She looked at the old woman for permission. When the old woman nodded, Faith bent to stuff the magnet back into Aaron's pouch.

  A tingling started in his fingers and toes as the drug began releasing its hold.

  "Here you go." Faith slipped the cord over Aaron's neck, patted him on the head, and moved off.

  "Ya think ya feel like crap now," a male voice whispered in Aaron's ear, "ya just wait 'til that b' damned witch's brew of theirs wears off. Then ya going ta really feel like crap cause ya going ta figure out exactly how deep in it ya be."

  Aaron's hands and feet ached as sensation slowly crept up his arms and legs. He groaned with the hurt of waking flesh, and his head began clearing.

  "Fellow gots ta be a fool ta drink down anything some stranger gives him," the man whispered. "But don' feel bad. There's four more'n us fools here with ya."

  Aaron's lips felt thick and numb, but they moved when he asked them to. Whatever that potion was, it apparently wore off almost as quickly as it took effect.

  "Why?" he whispered.

  The man laughed bitterly while two women looked on. "Why? I'll tell ya why. Because there ain't enough o' us men. Ya just been took slave, son. These people, they don't play around. They gunna feed us potions that'll eat away at our brains 'til we're nothin' more'n living automatons. Then they'll feed us more stuff 'til we're pretty much constantly ready."

  "Ready for what?" Aaron mumbled.

  The old woman's face hovered into view. "Ready to please my paying customers, that's what you'll be ready for if our deal for you don't go through. If that happens, you've no need to worry. Your life might be over, but I promise that you'll have no less than thirty or forty children before we're through with you. Women who can't find themselves a man come to me when they want to breed. You'll make their dreams come true." She smiled evilly. "The way I hear it, you'll do really well. The man who hired your taking says you have three living children, two of them boys."