by L. S. O'Dea
“Let me go.” She struggled in his grasp.
“It’s for the best. You know that,” said Jackson, his face buried in her hair.
“No.” She pulled free, stumbling backward. “That’s a lie.”
This wasn’t some little spat. Jackson looked like he was having his heart ripped out and Kim didn’t look any better. This wasn’t amusing. He placed his hand on Trinity’s arm. “We should give them some privacy.”
“What? Why?”
“Couples fight. We don’t need to watch.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Kim turned toward him.
He had no idea what she was talking about, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Her anger had turned into sorrow and it was soul-deep.
“It’s all over the news. They know who was involved,” said Kim.
“Oh...” He glanced at Trinity. She’d already been a fugitive, but Jackson hadn’t. “Jackson, you shouldn’t—”
“It’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re free.” Kim wiped the tears from her cheeks and hugged him. “It’s good to see you, Hugh.”
His arms wrapped around her. Her hug felt good. It felt real, like she actually cared about him. Jackson’s hand landed on his shoulder and he took that as a hint to break the embrace. “It’s good to see you too.”
“I have a present for you.” Kim motioned to her Guards.
The one carrying the sack came forward and handed it to Hugh. It was heavy and stuffed full of clothes, blankets, shoes, and he wasn’t sure what else.
“Thank you.” The thoughtfulness almost took his breath away. He cleared his throat. “This is...I never thought,”—he glanced to include Trinity and Jackson—“never expected any of this and I am eternally thankful.” It didn’t matter that they’d freed him for their cause. They’d saved his life and for that he was grateful.
“Not enough to help us,” said Trinity under her breath.
Jackson elbowed her in the ribs and she squeaked, sending the Guard a dirty look.
“I’ll tell Mom.” Kim either didn’t hear Trinity or was ignoring her. “She packed it and told me to bring it to you.” Her eyes hardened as they landed on Jackson who’d moved closer to her. She shifted, blocking the Guard from the conversation. “Hopefully, the stuff fits. Mom sent several different sizes.” She studied Hugh. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Jail didn’t agree with me.”
“Still the same old Hugh.” She kissed his cheek. “I really am glad you’re safe.”
Jackson glared at him like it was his fault she’d kissed him.
“There are some of Jethro’s old clothes in here.” Kim took the bag from him, searching through it. “These should fit you now.” She glanced up smiling. “And when you fill out again, there are others.” She handed him a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt but continued to dig in the bag. She pulled out a rolled-up blanket. “Mom also sent this. She said that Dad had been so happy when you’d complimented him on his choice.” Her voice cracked. “It was his favorite.”
He didn’t recall complimenting Benedictine on anything, but he accepted the blanket and unwrapped a bottle of whiskey. It was a cheaper brand than he used to drink, but it had been good. “Thank you again.” He put it back in the sack. “How are you and your family doing?”
“Good. I mean, it’s hard, but...I know my dad wasn’t perfect, but he was good to us.” She glanced at Jackson and then down at her hands. “Jethro took it the hardest. He’s angry and he blames...” Her eyes darted to Trinity and then to him. “I think deep down he blames himself.”
“None of this was his fault.” Admitting all this didn’t get easier with time. “It was mine. I brought Conguise into your lives and he was the one who told your father about Gaar and Mirra.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Dad...did what he did and things got out of control.”
“Still...” Yes, Benedictine had brought some of it on himself when he’d tortured Mirra and Gaar, but the rest of the guilt sat stubbornly at his door.
“You were trying to save Trinity. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” said Kim.
That was true, but that didn’t make him blameless in what had happened and what might still happen. “How is your brother doing physically?” Has he sprouted claws or a tail, yet? He hadn’t mentioned his concerns about what the professor had injected into the boy to anyone. He prayed that they were unfounded.
“Good. Really good. He’s in college now and active in a lot of sports.”
“Oh? What kind?” Please don’t say swimming. Scar had needed to be in water at the end and the other creatures in the lab had looked like they’d belonged in the water too.
“All kinds. Track, soccer, fencing and swimming. He loves swimming.” Kim laughed. “He’s taken to the water like he was born to it.”
He swallowed around a lump in his throat. That was not good.
“Mom worries a little that something will happen and he’ll lose the use of his legs, but Conguise says that he’s doing great. Fabulous actually.”
“He still sees the professor? How often?” It’d been over four years since the surgery. Jethro shouldn’t have to see his doctor except for minor checkups.
“Not as much now that he’s in college, but when he’s home, he sees the professor a lot.” A slight frown marred Kim’s brow.
“And you don’t like that?” He didn’t, but he had no idea why Kim wouldn’t. She’d been Viola’s best friend and had spent a lot of time around the professor.
“No, I don’t.” Her eyes darted to Jackson and she flushed. “Conguise has archaic beliefs about the other classes and...Jethro is young and impressionable, especially to the professor’s opinions.”
“He’s not that young.” The boy had to be a man by now. “He’s what? Twenty-one.”
“Almost twenty-three, but you don’t understand. He’s grown close to Conguise. He waited a semester before starting college and he spent a lot of time with Conguise. At first, he went over there so the professor could monitor his progress after the surgery, but I think he kept going because they helped each other work through their losses.” She paled a bit. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. Don’t be sorry. You can say her name. Viola. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t and everyone knew it.
“That wasn’t your fault either,” said Kim.
He held up his hand and shook his head. He couldn’t discuss this. Not now. Maybe, not ever.
“Is Jethro home from college?” asked Trinity, flushing slightly.
“He came home last night.” Kim’s eyes softened as they looked at the other girl and there was a hint of pity on her face.
“Trinity, if Jethro listens to Conguise, you need to stay away from him. The professor has to hate you almost as much as me.” Perhaps more. The professor disliked the other classes, considered them lower beings. Conguise would blame everyone but himself for his daughter’s death.
“I wasn’t going to go see him. I’m not stupid. I don’t even care that he’s home. I was just asking.” Trinity’s face heated with embarrassment.
It was obvious that she was still enamored with the lad. He’d speak with her later and explain how dangerous that was but there was no reason to talk about it now and embarrass her further. He turned toward Kim. “Tell your mom thank you for the clothes. It was very thoughtful and unexpected.” He barely knew Martha Remore, having only met her a few times at society functions.
“She’s grateful to you for taking all the blame for what happened that night. Jethro”—her eyes fell on Trinity for a second—“and I told Mom everything.”
“It would’ve been stupid and foolish—”
“We know, we know. They can only kill you once.” Jackson smiled at him and Kim.
“Who invited you into this conversation?” Kim glared at the Guard. “Just go away.”
“Kim, don’t be like this. You don’t have to hate me.” Jackson looked as if he’d been kicked in the face.
“You’re not allowed to speak to me. Ever.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “If you had told me...we could’ve done something. Covered your absence or something but”—her voice cracked—“you didn’t even say goodbye.” She ran off toward the woods, her Guards following her.
Jackson took a step in her direction and stopped, his shoulders slumping. “This is for the best.”
“You’re an idiot.” Trinity trotted after Kim who’d stopped at the edge of camp.
CHAPTER 23: HUGH
“I WISH YOU HADN’T done this for me,” said Hugh. Love was too important to throw away. “Maybe with time—”
“No. It’s over. It has to be.” Jackson’s back was stiff and his face hard, but his eyes were defeated as he stared at Kim.
Millie had come out of her tent and was talking to the Almighty. Trinity hovered nearby, hesitant to approach the other two females.
Watching Kim cry wasn’t doing Jackson any good. “Can you show me where to put my stuff?” He shook the bag of clothes. “I now have stuff.”
The Guard grunted an acknowledgement as he headed back to the tent they’d used earlier. “Tim and Millie sleep there.” He nodded to a tent across camp from this one. “I’m to your left. Sue sleeps in the tent on your right—”
“Sue? Where is she? And Laddie. I need to see him.” In all the commotion he’d forgotten about the two Guards.
“She stayed at the other camp. Laddie couldn’t travel.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” He needed to talk to Laddie about Conguise’s rumored other laboratory and he wanted to make sure that the old Guard knew he hadn’t forgotten his promise to Scar.
“It’s a long trip. We couldn’t go alone. I’ll get a team together and we can leave in the morning.” Jackson’s eyes followed Kim as she went with Millie into her tent.
“Why can’t we leave now?”
“If we start early in the morning, move fast and don’t encounter any issues, we can make it to the other camp before nightfall.” Jackson stared at Millie’s door. “Leaving now puts us in the forest—”
“Your people are in the forest at dark all the time.”
“Not in that area.” Jackson turned toward him. “That’d put us near a swamp. One wrong turn or miscalculation and we could end up in the swamp and you don’t ever want to go there. We’ll leave at dawn.”
“How well do you know Kim’s companions?” The two Guards waited near the forest. They kept glancing at Trinity, who now lurked outside her mother’s tent.
“Not well. They must be new.”
“We should move camp after they leave.”
“Kim wouldn’t bring Guards here that she didn’t trust,” said Jackson.
“Guards can be bought.” Everyone could be bought. He’d learned that when friends he’d known most of his adult life had testified against him.
Jackson snorted. “Not as easily as Servants.”
“That may be, but we should move camp.” It wouldn’t help Jackson to stare after Kim all night. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
“I don’t want to help you put your clothes away,” grumbled Jackson as he followed Hugh inside the tent.
“Just like the good old days. Accompanied by Guards with attitude.”
“We’re the best kind.” Jackson dropped on a chair by the table.
“Let’s have a drink while we talk.” He pulled out the bottle of whiskey and tossed the sack on the bed.
“None for me,” said Jackson.
“None?” He sat across from the Guard and opened the bottle. “Really?” He took a swig and coughed, the alcohol burning a trail down his throat.
Jackson stared at the opening to the tent.
“It’ll take your mind off her.” He pushed the bottle toward the Guard.
“It’s not safe to drink out here,”—Jackson grabbed the bottle—“but right now, I don’t care.” He took a large gulp and then gasped for air. “This is awful.”
Hugh took the bottle and another swallow, relaxing as the whiskey warmed its way through him. “Each drink gets better.” He put the bottle on the table. He couldn’t afford to drink as much as he used to, at least not until he’d had his revenge, but a little wouldn’t hurt.
The Guard took a small sip, this time only coughing once. “I had to do it.” He wasn’t talking about the whiskey.
“Why? Were things not working out?”
“Things were great. Well...between us, they were great.”
“Nothing else matters. Don’t let anything get in the way of that.” He’d let his distrust get between him and Viola and it’d killed her.
“You don’t get it. Being with me was going to hurt her.”
“How’s that different from you hurting her now?” The words were cruel but true.
Jackson flinched. “It’s better this way. Jethro was getting suspicious. There were a few rumors from the Guards.” He took a large gulp. “If the Almightys found out about us, she’d suffer.”
“You’d suffer too.”
Jackson smiled. “No. I’d be killed.” His smile died. “Then who’d protect her?”
“We’ll change that. I promise.” No law should keep two adults who loved each other from being together.
“Yeah. Sure. Your scientific proof will change the world. No fighting. No war. No bloodshed, just a few words and numbers on papers will cause everyone to throw away the beliefs they were raised with, beliefs that’ve been around forever. Right.”
“More Almightys care about the other classes than you think. My mother...” He grabbed the bottle from the Guard and took a swallow. Nope. He had no mother. “Sarah was working toward the equal treatment of the other classes. I went to one of her fund raisers years ago and I was surprised by how many Almightys were there. Prominent Almightys.” He took another drink. It had to be his last. He didn’t want to get drunk. “That’s how this war will be won.” He leaned forward. “Believing that all Almightys are the enemy will cost you the war. You need them on your side and if I can show those who are already fighting for change that genetically we are basically the same...” He took another small drink and pushed the bottle across the table. “They’ll run with that fact and once those people get going...believe me, they’ll gather momentum.”
Jackson took another sip. “Damn. This stuff is good.”
Tim stepped into the tent. “You’re an idiot even for a Guard.” He joined them at the table, grabbing the bottle out of Jackson’s hand as he sat. “Thanks to you, this will be the only comfort I get tonight.” He took a drink and shivered.
“What are you talking about?” Jackson grabbed the bottle but Tim wouldn’t let go.
“I have a tent full of angry females,” said Tim.
“I had no choice and you know it.”
“You should’ve let her decide. Take some advice from a male who’s been in a relationship for a long time. Females do not like it when we make decisions for them, especially when it’s for their own good.” Tim took another gulp of the whiskey and handed the bottle to Jackson.
“I couldn’t leave it up to her. She wasn’t thinking straight. We were already fighting because she wanted to live here with me. Here!” Jackson chugged some of the whiskey and then burped. “The forest isn’t safe for an Almighty.”
Hugh took the bottle not commenting on the fact that he was an Almighty and they’d brought him here.
“And you can protect her better by standing in the woods and staring at her house?” asked Tim.
“I don’t—”
“Stop. Trinity has seen you there on several occasions,” said Tim.
Jackson flushed. “What was she doing there? Did you ask her that?”
“I did.” Tim took the bottle from Hugh. “She was there because she was following you.”
“Right.” Jackson snorted.
“You stand in the woods and stare at Kim’s house?” he asked. “That’s pathetic, my friend.”
“I know.” Jackson rested his head on the table. “
I can’t stay away from her.” He sat up. “But I will this time. It’s over. It has to be.” He reached for the bottle, but Tim took another drink.
“I’ve heard that before,” said Tim.
The Guard’s eyes narrowed. Jackson was hurt and angry and now drunk. There’d be a fight if someone didn’t change the topic.
“Okay. Enough about Kim,” said Hugh. “Why are you in trouble, Tim?”
“Me?” Tim’s eyes widened. “I’m not. At least I don’t think I am, but Millie will listen to Kim and I’ll get an earful of how stupid”—he pointed the bottle at Jackson—“he and all other males are.”
“Oh, come on.” Hugh grabbed the bottle and his eyes met Jackson’s. “I think our friend is hiding something.” He took a sip and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “I’ve known you a long time, Tim, and you’ve never been a drinker. I can believe that you’d hide out here while the females are male-bashing in your tent, but you wouldn’t be drinking, not this much.” He slid the bottle closer to the Servant. “There’s something else bothering you. Spill.”
Jackson snatched the bottle and took another swallow, almost falling off his chair. Tim grabbed the whiskey and the Guard’s arm just in time to keep Jackson on his seat.
Tim started to take another drink and stopped. “You’re right. Millie and Trinity had another fight today.” His eyes met Jackson’s. “A big one. Trinity basically told her mother that she wasn’t speaking to her again until Millie stopped pestering her about finding a mate.” He took another drink.
“That’s what mothers do. My mom...Sarah was constantly shoving young women in my path until...Viola.”
“Millie threatened to pick the mate for Trinity.” Tim took another large gulp of whiskey.
“What?” exclaimed Jackson and Hugh.
“When did that happen?” asked Jackson.
“Today. Millie’s been talking about it for a while but I’ve managed to keep her from saying it. Until today.”
“Trinity’s young. She’s what...” She’d told him her age but he couldn’t remember. He held up his fingers. She’d turned seventeen months before his trial.