Inherent Cost

by Alicia Cameron

  “Okay. You can start by writing me out a pass to go to the hardware store and get some supplies.”

  Kieran stared at him in open-mouthed horror at the suggestion, making Wren laugh even more. He took off, finding some paper and a pen, and wrote out his own pass, pushing it to her to sign. She took it reluctantly and signed her name where indicated.

  “I can’t believe I just did that. It’s like I’m a part of it, now! I’m... I’m a slaveowner!”

  Wren laughed, taking the pass and putting the pen away. “I’ll be sure to have them put it on your headstone if you die by the time I get back. It will read: ‘Kieran Stellan, proud slaveowner and abolitionist.’ Really confuse everyone.”

  That made her laugh. “I guess it’s not that bad. But I still don’t like it.”

  Wren shook his head. She and Jere really were both so reluctant to accept the privilege of slaveowning. A master like Jere was every slave’s fantasy. He had argued the point with Jere on numerous occasions, and all Jere could come up with to explain his feelings on the subject was that owning slaves was just “wrong,” and “terrible,” and all sorts of things like that. Wren supposed that having been a slave for years made him look at the issue from a more practical standpoint, accepting the benefits it offered in exchange for the few drawbacks. After all, if you were going to be in a slave state, it only made sense to want to be a slaveowner. It was just a fact of life.

  He made his way to the hardware store, quickly picking out the supplies he needed. He waited as the cashier took his time charging and recording the purchase, making plans for when he got home.

  Plans that were disrupted the moment he stepped outside of the store.

  “Well, if it isn’t the missing doctor’s little play toy,” a rough voice said.

  Before Wren could so much think of using his speed gift to escape, he found himself surrounded on all four sides. Someone with a mind gift levitated him off the ground, leaving him squirming and flailing in the air. As he struggled, he was moved behind the storefronts, into a back alley.

  “Please,” Wren said quietly, trying his best not to panic. “Let me go.”

  “We hear your master got mad that someone’s trying to keep the dirty lacklers out of his little clinic,” one of the attackers taunted. “Decided to just leave us all here to die. Do you remember last time Hojer didn’t have a doctor?”

  Wren remembered it quite well; he had been the one to kill his former master, starting a chain of events that brought Jere to him. He didn’t answer, though. He knew it would only make the situation worse.

  “What’s the matter, having a hard time now that your master’s not here? We thought we’d send him a little welcome home message.”

  Wren felt his temperature starting to rise, but forced it down, smashing it deep inside of himself like he had for so many years before Jere. They couldn’t find out; no matter what they did to him, he couldn’t let his secret out. He longed for Jere, for his mind connection, but there was none.

  Kieran would never demand something so invasive, not like a proper slaveowner would.

  Wren scanned the faces of his attackers. He knew a few of them; he had filed their paperwork at the clinic. “Please, just let me go home,” he repeated, trying to stay calm. “We can forget this ever happened. I can pay you. Nobody needs to know.”

  “We don’t want your fucking money. But we do want someone to know,” one of them replied. “Tell your fucking lackler-loving master just what can happen if he doesn’t stay in line. To you, to the little girl he keeps hidden in his house. He acts like you’re both some prized possessions, but everyone knows you’re just his whores. We want to remind him what you’re supposed to be used for.”

  “Don’t do this,” Wren begged. “My master will be furious.”

  “What are you going to do, report me to the police? Think they’ll believe your story, or do you think that they’ll believe that you were so lonely and sex-crazed after your master left town that you begged us all to take our turns with you?”

  Wren said nothing. He closed his eyes, focused on suppressing his fire gift, and waited for it to be over. He couldn’t fight them; to lay hands on a free man was asking for whipping or worse, and he couldn’t escape them. He could contact someone with his mind gift, but it was even more dangerous. He’d rather take whatever they would do to him than risk exposing his other gift. He steeled himself as he felt his body twisted and turned in the air, and he tried not to make a sound as he felt hands tugging at his clothes. He reminded himself that they weren’t planning on killing him; they were going to rape him, probably beat him up, and then send him back to his master. He had lived through far worse. He just hoped he would be in a condition to wait for his master.

  He wanted to be sick as he felt his shirt being peeled away, as hands made their way across his skin. The same spots that Jere could make feel so good made him feel dirty, violated.

  “Tell us you want it,” one of the attackers ordered. “Beg us to fuck you and we might stop when we’re finished.”

  Wren clenched his jaw tightly, refusing to participate. Jere would be home soon, and he would heal the injuries. His pride earned him a slap in the face.

  “Guess he wants it rough.”

  Wren felt hands at the button of his pants, ripping them open instead of bothering to unfasten them. He didn’t fight. He couldn’t. All he could do was focus on suppressing his gift.

  “Get him hard,” one of the attackers suggested, a cruel smile on his face. He jerked Wren’s pants down, just past his hips, trapping his legs. “The little whore’s come-stained clothes should let the doctor know just how much he enjoyed this. I say we hold on to them and mail them later, just to make sure he gets them.”

  Wren was surprised when his cock seemed to take on a life of its own. He felt his heart racing, his cock growing hard, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow. He looked from one assailant to the other, trying to figure it out, and then he realized that someone was using another mind gift on him. They were controlling his hormones, making his body respond even as every other part of him yearned to escape. The humiliation of losing control brought tears to his eyes.

  The conversation surrounding him was just as awful. “I’ll take his mouth, you’ll take his ass?”

  “Maybe we can all join in! Two in front, two in back. All slaves are good for, anyway.”

  Chapter 21

  Parents

  The morning after they arrived in Redmont, Jere and Isis made their way over to her parents’ house. Standing at the door, Jere felt every bit as nervous as Isis looked. In the same way they did when they took the speed train, they had fastened the collar around Isis’s neck and threaded the leash down her back, where it couldn’t be seen. Walking closely, it was impossible to tell whether Jere was holding it or not. In case of danger, it was easy for him to reach out and grab it the handle from her pocket, as though he had been holding it all along. If all went well, it would stay there, out of sight, covered by the thick turtleneck sweater that Isis wore, covering the collar as well.

  Jere raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. “You ready?”

  She nodded, looking scared but still eager. “I’m fucking terrified. They’ll like me, right?”

  “They’re your parents. And they’ve been looking for you for years. I’m sure they’ll love you.”

  Jere knocked. The exact dates of the visit were kept from the prospective families to keep them safe in case of interference.

  A small woman came to the door, an open expression on her face. “Hello, how may I help you?”

  Jere knew that only part of the nervousness he felt was runoff from Isis’s emotions. “My name is Jere. I believe the Lighthouse Organization has been in touch with you?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. She hurried them in. “I heard that there had been a match....”

  “They said that it would be best not to let you know too many details in advance,” Jere apologized. “We were just
supposed to show up and—”

  Jere let his words trail off as he realized that the woman wasn’t so much as looking at him. She had fixated on Isis, and tears had started to form in her eyes.

  “Mariah?” she said, finally.

  “Mommy?” Isis replied, her voice slipping higher into a childlike tone. “Holy shit, I didn’t believe I’d ever see you again.”

  Jere stood back, silent. Isis had never mentioned her birth name to him, the name she had before it was reassigned when she was taken as a slave. Isis stiffened in her mother’s grip, but didn’t pull away like she did from everyone else. Jere could tell that she grew uncomfortable the longer the embrace lasted, but before too long, the woman had stepped back to look at her daughter.

  “Mariah, I didn’t think we’d ever find you! We’ve looked for so many years....”

  The woman was sobbing now, clutching Isis’s hands, and Isis looked like she was doing all she could to hold back tears as well.

  “It’s all right, Mom. Everything’s fine. I’m okay.”

  “I just...” the woman smiled through her tears, then turned her head. “Nathan, Nathan, come here!”

  A man appeared in the hallway, as unassuming as his wife had been. “Aurellia, what—”

  He stopped speaking as he took in the sight in front of him.

  Isis was struggling to tolerate the hugs that her mother was forcing on her again, and doing a rather admirable job, but Jere could tell that she was at her limit. The man in front of them wasn’t small by any means, and he had a rather imposing presence. He strode over to his family with determination. He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, pulling her back a few inches, and unwittingly allowed Isis to retreat closer to Jere.

  “It’s her, Nathan!” the woman exclaimed, elated. “She’s come back to us after all this time!”

  “Is that really you, baby girl?” Nathan asked, stepping directly in front of Isis.

  “It’s me, Daddy,” Isis mumbled. “I made it.”

  He reached out and took her hands, pulling her closer to him. Jere could sense her anxiety.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said. “I never should have let them take you. Never. Your mother and I should have left the moment we heard they were coming, should have fought—should have done anything.”

  He tried to pull her closer and Isis squirmed away.

  “I never thought I’d get a chance to see my little girl again.” Nathan confessed, stepping closer.

  Isis glanced over, panic and confusion evident on her face and through the connection. “Jere,” she pleaded. She was scared, helpless to stand up against the people who loved her but didn’t know her well enough to avoid making her uncomfortable.

  Jere stepped between Isis and her father, putting a firm hand on Nathan’s chest and pushing him back. “She doesn’t like to be touched.”

  Nathan shoved him back, challenging. “She’s my goddamned daughter!”

  Jere didn’t fight back, but he stayed in front of Isis. “She is your daughter. She also doesn’t like to be touched. I would hope that you would respect this if you care about her as much as she’s told me you do.”

  Nathan glared at him, the expression eerily similar to the one Isis had given him so many times in the past. “That true, Mariah?” he asked, never taking his eyes off Jere.

  Isis started sobbing. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she mumbled, drawing close to Jere and pressing into his side.

  Jere pulled her close, letting her hide.

  Nathan was still glaring. “So you get to hug my daughter and I don’t?”

  “Isis and I have been through a lot,” Jere said quietly. “She trusts me.”

  “I’m her father! You buy her and trick her into trusting you and I’m supposed to believe that? What? Are you the only person who’s allowed to touch her? You sick fucking bastard!”

  “Nathan, stop!” Isis’s mother was grabbing his arm. “Stop, he brought her here! He’s her master, don’t upset him! He could hurt her—we might never see her again!”

  Nathan’s face went white at the implications. “Please, sir, I apologize—”

  “It’s okay,” Jere cut him off, horrified by the man’s desperate apologies. “Nobody is going to hurt your daughter. I don’t want that any more than you do. She’s just overwhelmed and scared. Please, calm down.”

  Nathan nodded, embarrassed. “Mariah, honey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  Isis pulled away from Jere a little bit, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  There was silence for a moment, and Isis broke it. “So, I guess I should introduce you. Mom, Dad, this is Jere. He’s my master, and he’s like the best fucking person in the world, and I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t found me. Jere... these are my parents.”

  Jere stepped forward, shaking hands awkwardly and exchanging greetings.

  “And, um... I go by Isis now,” Isis continued, looking more confident. “I have since I was taken.”

  “Mariah,” her mother pleaded.

  “Isis.” The look on her face was determined. “It’s who I am now. Who I’ve become. I’m not... I’m different than I was back then. It’s been a long time, and I’m different. That’s what I want to be called.”

  “It’s a pretty name,” Nathan tried. “Hard to see how they got it out of Mariah, but who knows how they pick those slave names anyway.”

  “I kind of picked it,” Isis explained. “It’s... a long story, but it’s my name. I like it. I’m so happy to see you.”

  Isis’s mother beamed at her for a moment. “Well, why don’t you sit down, maybe we could have tea, get to know each other? Mar—Isis, would you like a hot cocoa, honey? We have money for the real kind, these days, but you always liked the imitation kind when you were younger. You said it was sweeter. I know it’s silly, but I’ve always kept some around.”

  Isis smiled excitedly. Jere tried not to laugh. It was clear that Aurellia still thought of the teenager as a little girl. Isis was perfectly thrilled to soak up the affection.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, clearly trying to squeeze in as much mothering as possible. “I could make something. I don’t even know what you like, it’s been so long. Do you like the same things? You were so picky as a child.”

  Isis laughed. “I eat everything now. You learn not to be picky when you’re starving—uh, from a lot of travel. Yeah, the speed train food is pretty bad—how about if I help you make something?”

  Jere could feel the tension in the room. Her parents had to know the conditions slaves were subjected to. Isis had come to accept the facts of her enslavement, but her parents looked horrified at the possibility.

  “Don’t you dare tell them, Jere!” Isis warned through mindspeak. “They don’t need to know everything I’ve been through. Not yet. Or ever.”

  He nodded as she followed her mother out of the room, leaving him alone with her father.

  “It’s, ah, it’s nice to meet you, sir,” Jere managed, feeling out of place. “You have an amazing daughter.”

  “What the fuck did they do to her that she doesn’t like to be touched?” Nathan asked, unable to look Jere in the eye.

  Jere could see where Isis got her temper—not to mention her language. He tried to keep his own voice quiet. “Everything you could imagine and then some. Please keep your voice down; she doesn’t want this discussed, and I’ll respect her wishes enough to keep the details private. She doesn’t like to talk about it. But I’m sure you know the kinds of things that happen to slaves. I guarantee she wasn’t immune to any of it.”

  Nathan nodded, looking bitter. “And you?”

  “It stopped when she got to me. I wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “How long have you had her?” Nathan asked. “How long have you owned my daughter?”

  “Just over a year,” Jere answered. “She’s come a long way. She had it rough before I bought her, but she’s happier now.” />
  “As a slave?”

  “I treat her as well as I can.” Not only had he agreed with Isis that he wouldn’t discuss the details, he didn’t feel right discussing it without her there. It was her business, not his, and not her father’s.

  Isis and her mother returned quickly, some hastily prepared snacks between them. They sat, and Isis’s mother eyed up Jere critically.

  “So, Jere, Isis tells me you’re a doctor?”

  “I was recruited to work in Hojer a little over two years ago when my former mentor passed away.”

  “Jere hates it in Hojer,” Isis supplied. “Because it’s in a slave state.”

  “But you stay... because of the money? Slave states do have more funds, although interstate business is really where it’s at. It helps to just get out of this place every once and a while.”

  Jere shrugged. “I’ve adjusted somewhat to living in a slave state. But mostly I stay because my partner is there, and now because Isis is there. I’ve built a life in Hojer. I wouldn’t leave it—I wouldn’t leave them.”

  “You have a business partner?” Aurellia asked.

  “Jere’s in love with his other slave,” Isis grinned. “Wren’s the actual reason he stays in Hojer. I’m just extra baggage.”

  Nathan made a disapproving sound. “You bought a slave to fall in love with?”

  “I inherited him,” Jere explained. “The falling in love part was secondary.”

  “Do you all get along well?” Aurellia tried to keep the conversation light.

  “Wren and Jere are like older brothers,” Isis explained. “Older brothers who do gross sex things with each other, but I guess that’s okay. They love each other more than anything else ever, and they leave me alone, and I get to do pretty much whatever I want. I help at the clinic, and I’ve got things for drawing, oh, and I learned how to read, and Jere’s taught me how to do all sorts of medical things!”

  Jere relaxed as Isis took over the conversation. Her parents both seemed taken aback at her enthusiasm, but they were most shocked by her lack of comfort with them. She was less uncomfortable around her parents than most people, but they were still new. She clearly wasn’t about to get too far from Jere, and he didn’t mind. She might be their child, but he considered her as much a part of his family as his blood relatives. There was no way he would risk her getting hurt, even from such well-intentioned people.