He took a deep breath, burned the remaining fibers to embers in a hot, white blaze, and then called out, “I’m all right. Just burning my clothes. In the bathtub. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Kieran was silent for a moment, and Wren wondered if she was going to barge in on him. Wren had no plans for moving. Let her see the fire.
“Okay. Do what you need to.”
Wren glanced down at the pile of ashes and laughed.
He took a long, hot shower, keeping it warm long after the hot water ran out. He scrubbed at his skin until it didn’t feel violated anymore, until all the dirt and gravel that had dug into his hip when he was dropped to the ground had washed out. He heated the freezing cold water until it should have burned him, and smiled when it didn’t. Releasing the pent-up energy felt great, and he returned to the dining room clean and freshly dressed.
“Better?” Kieran asked.
“Yep,” Wren replied.
He made his way into the clinic, relieved to be in the familiar environment where he felt safe, comfortable, in control. While Jere was gone, Wren was keeping an eye on it. A few people still wandered in, and a few even pestered Wren for some traditional remedies, which he dispensed obligingly. In between, he and Kieran quickly became engaged in the tedious but strangely rewarding process of fixing up the room. Drywall plaster smoothed out the walls evenly, fresh paint hid any mistakes, and a thorough scrubbing of the rest of the walls and the carpet made the room look brand new.
“Do you think you’d ever want to go ahead and try to get to freedom?” Kieran asked as they worked.
Wren was startled by the question. It was so strange, so idealistic... “Maybe one day,” he said dismissively. “It’s just not realistic. I’d rather focus on things I know I can do, help get the clinic cleared for seeing slaves again, pass this audit, things like that. I think that’s the best I can do right now.”
Kieran looked disappointed. Wren was surprised that she had taken his statement so hard, but then, she did tend to get overly involved in the feelings of others, due to her gift. Wren just figured she could sense how bitter he was at knowing he was never going to have an opportunity like that.
Wren just didn’t realize how much he would miss Jere until he was gone.
Maybe for free people, things like this were okay, because there were no potentially terrible consequences if their partner didn’t come home after a vacation. They could move on, find someone new, maybe get some cats or one of the new hybrid animals that were being bred with the skills of mind-gifted individuals who could easily combine genes from multiple species. For a slave, none of that was true. For a slave whose partner also happened to be his master, it was even less true. If anything happened to Jere, Wren was certain that his entire life would collapse. If his trip to the damned hardware store was any indication, it would be a rapid, painful collapse. He would rather die than see that happen. Instead, he busied himself with cleaning, almost resenting how quickly he could do it with a speed gift.
“Wren, you’re going to worry yourself to death,” Kieran pointed out. “Not to mention kill me with chemical smells. Let’s play a drinking game.”
“Why are you trying to get me drunk?”
Kieran laughed. “Who said anything about getting you drunk? I want to get myself drunk. It’s a Hojer tradition for me. Before I left for school, or met you or Jere, pretty much every day when I woke up, I would get pass-out drunk so I would forget that I was still here.”
Wren liked the game, and the drinks helped. He had to admit that he felt better once he was occupied instead of just worrying himself into a frenzy.
“Do you think Isis will be able to see her parents again? I mean, after this trip.”
“Probably,” Kieran said enthusiastically. “And who knows, maybe one day, she’ll make it to a free state, and then she could see them or anyone else whenever she wanted.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice?” Wren was on his third drink, and such possibilities seemed not only possible, but wonderful. Reality was still intruding, though, so he knew it was just fantasy-talk.
“Hell, if she wasn’t so young, I’d push harder for her to do it now,” Kieran mentioned. “With our new program and the awesome success rates we’ve been having? You and Isis and Jere could be out of here in six, maybe, eight months? It’s a pity you guys weren’t interested in it, although you guys are always dreadfully safe. We’re working on getting our rates higher.”
“What?” It was so typical of Kieran to get all excited about some successful program that was being run in another state. “Where is this happening, and when’s it coming to Hojer?”
Kieran stopped, staring at him. “Oh,” she said, looking guilty. “Oh, shit.”
Wren stared back at her. “What do you mean, ‘oh shit’?”
Kieran winced before she continued speaking. “The eighty percent success rates we’ve had were out of Hojer. Our new project manager, the new steps we’ve taken, the new people we’ve hired on both ends to make sure things go smoothly...”
Wren considered it, not just what Kieran was saying in general, but what it could mean for him. “Eighty percent success rate?”
“Well, fifty to eighty. I... I thought Jere told you.”
Wren shook his head. “He didn’t mention a word of it to me or Isis.”
Kieran looked nervous. “Shit, Wren, I... I thought he had told you! That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought it would be better coming from him, you know, I can get overly pushy sometimes, about things I really care about. I thought if he had the opportunity to tell you, he could do it better, more objective and stuff, so—”
“That fucking asshole!” Wren snapped, throwing his cards to the floor. He didn’t want to play anymore. He didn’t want to do anything, except maybe find out every detail about this opportunity, and maybe take it, right now. “He knew, and he didn’t tell me? How long has he known?”
“I’m not sure—”
“How long has he known!” Wren snapped, feeling the temperature of the room start to rise. He couldn’t let that secret out, and he dug his nails into his palm to remind himself of that fact. When that didn’t help, he finished the rest of his drink. At least the flush on his face could be explained by the alcohol.
“A while,” Kieran admitted. “A couple months. I told him when I told him about finding Isis’s parents.”
Wren sat silent and fuming. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to wait until he comes through that door, and I’m just...” he held his hands up, making a choking motion. “That son of a bitch!”
Kieran sat there nervously, letting Wren rant and rave, growing angrier and less coherent with every sentence, and with every intermingled drink of alcohol. Finally, when he had gone quiet, she tried to be helpful. “I think he was maybe trying to protect you?”
Wren shook his head. “I don’t care why he did it. We’ve had this argument before. Him and his fucking decision-making. And lying to me. It’s ridiculous. Like I’m some sort of stupid slave who can’t be trusted to make my own decisions.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t his reason,” Kieran said. “You know Jere doesn’t think that.”
Wren poured himself another drink from the pitcher, adding some extra liquor to it.
Kieran recoiled from Wren’s outpour of emotion. “I take it you’re not up to playing the game anymore?”
“I’m playing the other game. The traditional one you told me about earlier.” The one where he drank until he passed out. It sounded silly earlier, self-destructive and childish. Now, it sounded like an excellent idea. If he wasn’t conscious, he couldn’t reveal his firesetting gift. More importantly, he couldn’t hurt so bad. More than when he was outside of the hardware store, he felt alone now.
“Oh.” Kieran silently finished her drink and poured another one in camaraderie.
“Don’t try to keep up. Speed gift. Faster metabolism,” Wren explained. Full sentences seemed like too much of a challenge. He
wanted to be angry and intoxicated. Speaking took far too much effort away from both of those things.
“Maybe he just hasn’t found the right time to tell you yet?” Kieran suggested. “He said he was going to. There’s been a lot going on.”
“If he was going to tell me, he would have done it all the other times he’s had a chance to,” Wren reminded her, furiously pounding his way through another drink. “He’s given me this weird look a few times and when I ask him why, and he says ‘nothing’ or gives me some excuse. Or starts kissing me or fucking me. I can’t believe I fell for that! I’ve used that excuse enough times to know how it works! I can’t believe I had to find it out from you!”
Kieran flinched.
“It’s not you. I’m sorry. It just sucks to have to hear it from someone you’re not in love with.”
Kieran nodded. “It’s a huge betrayal.”
“Fuck you, stop reading my emotions,” Wren mumbled, pouring yet another drink. “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to see me break down and have a fucking panic attack.”
“He won’t leave you,” Kieran said. “I think he’s scared he might lose you, so scared that he’d risk upsetting you this badly. If you get caught....”
“That twenty percent?” Wren asked, flippant. Twenty percent wasn’t a bad chance at all. “I’d go right now if I had the chance. Just tell me when and where, I’d be there. Speed gift, that makes it easier, right?”
“Yes, but it takes a lot of planning,” Kieran cautioned. “You should talk it over with Jere first.”
Wren finished his drink. “New game. Every time either one of us mentions his name, I drink until I don’t want to choke him anymore.” It was supposed to be an attempt to make light of the situation, but Wren only ended up feeling more hurt. He couldn’t even think of the man he loved without feeling betrayed and angry. The alcohol burned his throat, but it dulled the angry fire inside of him, at least for the night.
Chapter 23
Networking
“I am not wearing that thing!”
Jere ducked as a collar and leash flew through the air, nearly missing his head. “Isis, there is no way we can hide it for an entire networking event. It works when we’re walking somewhere because I can be close enough to you that it’s not noticeable, but I’ll need to be moving around, shaking hands, giving a speech—”
“How the hell are we supposed to explain it to my parents?”
Jere sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to that part either. “We’ll just tell them the truth. You’re a little volatile, and Arona’s certification agency is evil and biased.”
Isis continued to glare at him. “I never should have agreed to this.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Isis said nothing; she just dug through her bag of clothes, finding something with a lower neckline than what she had been using to hide the collar during the rest of the visit. “If I’m going to wear it, I’m going to show it off. And it can’t pull as much if there’s not clothes over it.”
Jere just nodded, grateful that she was cooperating. He had spent part of the morning planning out what he wanted to say, consulting their host to find out what similarities and differences there were between Redmont and Hojer. He had never been much for public speeches... actually, he had never been much for public anything, but the chance to put Arona’s leaders under as much pressure as he had been under during the past few weeks was too good to pass up.
They arrived at Isis’s parents’ house first; once she had given up her urge to flee back to Hojer, she had requested some time to talk with them. She was the picture of the perfect slave on the walk over, just a few inches away from Jere, the onerous leash loose between them.
Aurellia answered the door first, a smile on her face that quickly disappeared when she saw the leash and collar.
“What have you put on my daughter?”
Jere stepped inside, Isis following him quickly. “A little accessory required by Arona’s certification agency.”
Jere knew that the situation was unsettling, but he wasn’t prepared for the slap that followed. Isis’s mother seemed to share her daughter’s explosive temper, and only her husband’s quick move of grabbing her arms and pulling her back saved Jere from being pummeled further.
“You bastard!” Aurellia screamed at him. “How could you let someone do that to her? You see her as nothing but an animal!”
“Aurellia, stop!” Nathan begged, struggling to hold her back. “Please don’t upset him. Remember what he could do to her!”
Jere watched in shock, the slap stinging more than really hurting. He could understand why she would take it out on him. If the roles were reversed, Jere knew he would doubt someone in his position.
“Mom, it’s not Jere’s fault!” Isis protested. “It was because of me. I screwed up. I lost it at the certification and couldn’t behave.”
“They were biased,” Jere added.
“Because of the trouble I caused last fall,” Isis reminded him. She looked at her parents with determination. “Jere has done nothing but keep me safe, no matter what stupid shit I do. If he could, he’d burn the damn collar, but it’s the only thing allowing me to be in Redmont right now. It’s worth it.”
Aurellia and Nathan were silent for a moment. Jere could feel their eyes on him, on Isis, watching the way that she clung to him and defended him.
“I’m sorry,” Aurellia said quietly. “I never meant to offend, or to hurt you. I just got so angry seeing her like that. Don’t take it out on her.”
“I’m not going to hurt your daughter because you slapped me,” Jere muttered. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten hurt for the girl. This is why we wanted to come over before the event—we didn’t want to surprise you.”
“We’re glad you did,” Nathan agreed. “We actually have something to discuss with you.”
They moved into the living room, where Isis practically glued herself to Jere.
“We want our daughter to be safe with us. We’d like to make an offer to buy her.”
Jere felt Isis tense next to him, ready to bolt out the door. She looked at him desperately, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry. That won’t be possible.”
“We’re her parents,” Nathan argued. “She’s better off with us. We have more resources now. We can take care of her. She’ll never need to worry about anything, or work, or put herself in danger.”
“Baby, we want you home with us,” Aurellia tried. “It will be good here. We’ll have fun, I promise!”
“I want to stay with Jere,” Isis mumbled, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry.” Silently, Isis added for Jere’s sake, “You tell them. I can’t.”
Jere sighed. Isis hated to use mindspeak; if she was using it, things had to be pretty serious. “She could probably explain it better, but from what I could understand, she isn’t willing to try to fake a normal life. Being back with you reminds her of everything that she’s lost. She has a purpose back home, she gets to do pretty much whatever she wants without worrying about hurting anyone or letting anyone down. She is invaluable to my clinic, and she has a small group of people who know her and care about her.”
“She’s a child, she doesn’t know what she wants!” Aurellia protested.
“Yes I do,” Isis cut in. “I want to go home. With Jere.”
“But we care about her!” Aurellia changed tactics. “We love her! We’d do anything for her!”
Jere suddenly realized that Isis was more free as his slave than as a free child. “Then let her go back home without a fight. This is what she wants, and this is the best decision. She’d never be able to have a life with you. What’s she supposed to do, sit around the house all day? What about when you’re gone? Your business and travel needs take you from state to state, to free states, all over. Even if you start traveling alone, leaving one of you here with her, it puts a lot of stress on her. And she wouldn’t have anything of her own to be proud of.”
“We can shut our business down,” Nathan insisted. “We can keep her safe!”
“I’m sorry, but no, you can’t,” Jere countered. “You couldn’t keep her safe nine years ago, and you wouldn’t be able to keep her safe now.”
Isis started crying, and her parents both glared at him, but Jere stood his ground.
“And you would?” Nathan challenged.
“He has,” Isis added. “So many times. No matter what I fuck up, he fixes it.”
“I don’t plan to stop now, even if it means taking her away from you. You’re both registered on terrorist lists. I have decent standing in Hojer and I have enough social history that I’m not really questioned. And I care about her more than anyone else in this world, except the two of you. She’s safe with me.”
“Why are you helping her? What is she to you?” Aurellia asked, suspicious.
Jere was quiet for a moment, trying to come up with the right answer. He felt Isis watching him, scared and curious, and he could see the doubt on her parents’ faces. “She’s the little sister I never had. I love her—not like I love Wren, but she’s part of my family. I just want the best for her. Right now, that’s staying with me.”
Nathan glared at him. “I guess we’ll see if that’s the right choice.”
Jere nodded, certain that Nathan hated him for being right. “I’ve always done the best I could for her.” He hadn’t always succeeded in protecting his family; Wren and Isis had both experienced that firsthand.
“We can write letters,” Isis suggested, her voice still shaky. “And maybe we can visit again. I get to try the certification again next year, and if I do better, they won’t make me wear a collar. I can probably do it right, next time.”
“Honey, is this really what you want?” Aurellia asked, tears in her eyes.
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