It was dark and bloody work but Lathe didn’t care. He was feeling in a dark and bloody mood at the moment.
Lied to me…she lied to me. The litany went round and round in his head over and over—a broken recording that wouldn’t stop playing.
Just like Talsa—she never really cared. She put me through a fucking emotional grinder, wondering what the hell was wrong with me…asking myself why I wanted another male sexually…how I could fall in love with someone of my own sex. And all the time she was probably laughing at me! ‘Look at the big, stupid Kindred—I’ve got him twisted around my little finger. The idiot loves me even though he thinks I’m male!”
Deep down, Lathe knew this characterization of Ari wasn’t really fair. After all, it wasn’t like Ari had seduced him, the way Talsa had. In this case, he had approached Ari. Had gone running to save the boy—no, the girl—the minute he heard her voice begging not to be searched by the Horvath guards.
That’s right I did—I saved him—no, her, damnit, her—saved her from Mukluk and Tapper and every other damn threat in this whole fucking place. I came running when Wheezer told me she was going to the kitchens and Tapper was planning a little “welcoming committee.” I put my life on the line for her and she played me like a fish on a line. Gods, what an idiot I am!
The angry thoughts—mostly shame and hurt pride—continued to circle his brain relentlessly as he shoved first Fenrus and then Gorn through the meat grinder. There was really no other way to dispose of the bodies since someone was sure to notice if he started digging graves in the Rec Yard, Lathe thought dryly.
And though it was tempting to leave them lying around as a warning to others, he knew it was in his best interest to try and make Tapper and his closest henchmens’ deaths a mystery. The rest of his gang were intensely loyal to their leader and if they figured out that Lathe was behind his death, they would start coming for him and wouldn’t stop until Lathe was dead or all of them were.
Since he had no wish to take on fifty hardened criminals at once, Lathe disposed of the bodies and cleaned up the messy blood spatter around the grinder, making certain there were no shreds of fabric from the prison jumpsuits left in its teeth before he left the kitchen.
It was supper time soon but for obvious reasons he wouldn’t be eating. After that was the Mistresses meeting where he and Ari were supposed to serve. And after that, he had to deal with getting Ari safely back to his cell before the lashers came out.
But Lathe couldn’t think about any of that now. He was too angry…and too hurt. He went to his cell wondering what he would say if he found Ari there. But he needn’t have worried—she wasn’t there. His cell was empty—as empty as it had been before she’d come into his life, bringing her lies and deception and her big dark, pleading eyes and pretty face with her.
Lathe felt empty too. Hollowed out and cold as though someone had scooped out his insides and filled his body cavities with ice instead. He collapsed on his bunk with an arm over his eyes and tried not to think.
He would have to see Ari again eventually but for now, he just wanted to be alone.
Thirty-Six
Ari just wanted to be alone.
Her nerves felt shredded and in her mind’s eyes, she couldn’t stop seeing the gory deaths she’d witnessed in the kitchen. Her head ached and the tiny scratch Tapper had made with his knife, just below her left ear, stung and throbbed.
But it was her heart that hurt the worst.
She huddled in a corner of the sub-basement, just outside the entrance to the tunnel which led to the hole. It was the only place she could think of in all of BleakHall where it might be safe to cry.
Except in Lathe’s arms, whispered a little voice in her head. That made her remember the way he’d held her in the Rec Yard, shielding her body with his own so that no one would know she was grieving and think she was weak. The warm scent of his skin as he comforted her…his big hands stroking her hair and her trembling shoulders…the soft words he’d murmured in that deep, gentle voice of his as he soothed her…
No, stop it! she told herself savagely. Stop wishing for something you can never have. He hates you now! And can you blame him? You should have told him the truth when you had the chance. Now there’s no chance at all—none—that he’ll ever want you again.
Where was she going to go tonight? Where could she stay? Ari was almost certain she couldn’t go back to Lathe’s cell—could she? What would he do when he saw her? Probably tell her to take her things and get out. But get out where? Would she be moved in with the general population of the prison? Ari was certain if that happened her secret would be out inside of an hour and she would be dead an hour after that.
When Lathe was in Rage she’d been afraid the big Kindred might kill her himself for lying to him, but then he had expressed surprise that she would even think that. Well, right before telling her to get out of his sight, anyway, Ari thought dryly. But he had come running to her rescue—she still had no idea how he’d known about Tapper’s attack on her—and he had claimed her over and over again as he fought Tapper and his minions.
Ari is mine! She could still hear his deep, growling voice in her head and see the flashing red eyes, so terrifying in their fury. Would he really cast her aside so easily after killing for her and claiming her? Would he be willing to let her die even if he didn’t have an active hand in her death himself?
Ari simply didn’t know. She had known the big Kindred for less than a solar week—although it felt like much longer. Their relationship, if you could call it that, had moved with break-neck speed from fear and distrust to love and longing and back to fear and distrust again.
I should have told him, she thought miserably. I should have taken a chance and told him the whole truth last night.
But it was too late for regrets now. Too late to do anything but try to deal with the situation at hand.
And she had no idea how to do that.
I should go talk to Jak since I’m down here—I could do that much at least. Say goodbye and explain why I probably won’t be back.
But she couldn’t bear that—couldn’t tell her older brother whom she had just reunited with that she was probably going to be dead soon. And besides, she couldn’t explain to Jak how she felt about Lathe—about how she regretted fooling the big Kindred and lying to him and hurting him.
About how she loved him even though it was far too late to talk about love.
Ari cried herself out and sat in the dank subbasement through supper time, her head on her knees. She thought about just staying there indefinitely and not going back to the main part of the prison at all. Maybe snatching food at meal times and bringing it back down to her new lair. Although even the thought of ever eating anything again that came from the BleakHall kitchens turned her stomach. Still, she had to live…
It would have been a good plan if not for the lashers. Every once in a while she could hear them stirring in their sleep, the deep, rumbling growls that reminded her of Lathe drifting up through the dark tunnel. If she was still here when the cold air started blowing and they woke, she was dead meat—literally. And while she doubted if being torn apart by a lasher could be more painful than going through the meat grinder like Tapper had, she still didn’t relish the idea of such a death.
At last she got up and dragged herself to the long flight of steps leading up to the main part of the prison. She would have to go back—there was no other way. Maybe Lathe would let her sleep in the corner of his cell on the floor if she promised to stay out of his way. Maybe—
Suddenly a large form blocked out the light from the top of the stairway.
“Ari? Are you down here?” a deep, familiar voice called.
“Lathe?” She could scarcely believe it. Looking up, she tried to see his face but since the light was at his back, it was still in shadows.
“Ari, Goddess-damn it!” He came down the stairs three at a time and seized her by the shoulders. “Where in the Seven Hells have you been?” he
demanded.
“I…I was here,” Ari said in a small voice. “I thought…thought it would be better to stay out of your way.”
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His voice was hard and angry. “I thought one of Tapper’s men had gotten you. Or someone else maybe—the Goddess knows everyone in BleakHall seems to want to rape you or kill you.”
Ari pulled away from his hands.
“Including you? Now that you know what I am?”
“What? No!” Lathe ran a hand through his hair. “Of course not, damn it! I was just worried about you when you never came back to the cell.”
Ari felt her heart lift, just a little bit.
“You were worried about me? I thought you didn’t care what happened to me. You told me to go away.”
“I was angry.” Lathe blew out a breath. “I’m still angry. What you did to me—what you let me believe—” He shook his head again. “Goddess damn it, even now I can’t just leave you alone. What in the Seven Hells is wrong with me?”
Ari’s heart lifted a little more. He still cares, she thought. Even though he doesn’t want to. He still cares—at least a little.
“Does that mean I can still stay in your cell?” she asked in a small voice. “If I promise not to bother you?”
“Your very existence bothers me,” Lathe growled. “Having you in my cell or not doesn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference.” He sighed impatiently. “Look, I came to get you so you can change before the meeting of the Mistresses. We have to serve tonight, remember?”
“Oh, right,” Ari said blankly. To be honest, she had forgotten all about serving at the meeting. Her mind had been too filled with horror and misery and regret to remember something as mundane as playing the part of temporary body slave to some spoiled Yonnite Mistress.
“Here.” He thrust a clean jumpsuit at her. “I got you a change from the Laundry. Hurry and put it on. We’re wanted in the upper conference room in a few minutes.”
“All right.” Ari started to take off the torn jumpsuit and Lathe turned his back to give her privacy.
“Are you finished?” he demanded after a moment, his voice hard. “We have to go.”
“I’m ready.” Ari smoothed her hair as well as she could. Leaving the ragged, torn jumpsuit behind, she followed him up out of the subbasement.
Lathe led the way without looking back, up the long flights of stairs that took them to the cell blocks. But this time they kept climbing, past the trustee block and every other block holding prisoners until they came at last to a heavy, sealed double door with a security pad on the wall outside it.
The pad was glowing red but when Lathe crouched down and put the prison ID tag at the hollow of his throat on level with the pad, it lit up green after a moment and there was a hissing click as the door swung open.
“Come on,” he told Ari and led her into a part of the prison she had never seen before.
Lathe was angry with himself. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? He’d been determined to do exactly that as he lay in his cell after the killings in the kitchen. He’d stripped off his stained and spattered jumpsuit, washed himself as well as he could in the tiny sink, and told himself he wouldn’t think of Ari for even a moment.
But then an hour had passed…and then another and she still didn’t appear in the cell. Lathe found himself wondering where she was…if she was safe. Though he tried to block out the image, he couldn’t stop seeing her naked and vulnerable, lying on the cold, dirty kitchen floor with Tapper and his goons crouched over her, ready to violate her.
What if she’s in the same situation again? whispered a little voice in his head. What if one of the sociopaths in this fucking hellhole found out what she is, like Tapper did? What if she’s being raped and killed right now while you lie here on your bunk feeling sorry for yourself?
At last he hadn’t been able to stand it anymore. He had left his own cell and gone down to the main part of the prison, searching for Ari. His fear for her had mounted steadily when he didn’t find her in the library or the laundry or under the stairwell where Stubbins and the Spice Lords made their home.
Stubbins had been smoking one of his ubiquitous nico-sticks and he’d pulled Lathe aside, his grizzled face serious.
“Listen, Medic—just want you to know I didn’t have anything to do with Ari getting sent to the kitchen. That was Tubby and Ratty and they’ve been punished proper-like. So I’m hoping the boy isn’t much hurt and you’ll still be willing to treat the Spice Lords in the Infirmary.”
“Have you seen Ari?” Lathe demanded, blunt to the point of rudeness and ignoring everything else the other male said.
“Well, no…” Stubbins looked uncomfortable. “He’s probably somewhere licking his wounds—Tapper ain’t never easy on the newbies, I’m afraid. Uh…you can tell Ari he can keep the tools he has checked out for now and just give ‘em back in the morning.” He cleared his throat. “Have you seen Tapper, by the way? Some of his boys was looking for him.”
“I’m sure they’ll see him at supper,” Lathe said with a humorless laugh. “Excuse me—I have to find Ari.”
As he left, he had reflected that at least Tapper’s gang still had no idea what had happened to their leader. Still, the minute they put two and two together, he and Ari were going to be in some very hot water. Even though he had disposed of the bodies thoroughly, there was no way they wouldn’t deduce that Lathe had something to do with Tapper’s disappearance since they surely all knew about the crime boss’s plan to rape Ari.
Might have to speed up the nanites some more, he thought grimly. But if he wasn’t careful, he was going to trip the prison’s alarms for sure. His original plan had been to go out after lights out, since he knew the lashers wouldn’t bother him. Then he could disappear into the hole the nanites had dug, which led to the outer perimeter of the prison, and come out near the shuttle he had hidden there. But if he also had to contend with a bunch of Horvath guards tracking him, the plan was going to get a hell of a lot more complicated.
Of course you also didn’t plan to bring anyone with you when you left since there are no other Kindred here, whispered a little voice in his head. But now you’re going to bring Ari, aren’t you?
Gods damn it, yes, he realized—he was still going to bring her. Even though she had lied to him and put him through hell, questioning his whole sexual identity and everything about himself—even though she had used him and told him she loved him when he knew it wasn’t true, he was still going to take her.
If he could find her, that was.
He had been nearly in a panic after he left Stubbins but then he remembered that she’d said she was working on some wiring problems in the hole. And sure enough, as soon as he made his way down to the subbasement he had finally found her. At the sight of her, his heart had fisted in his chest with a mixture of anger and relief. She looked so small and fragile in the darkness, she might almost have been one of the shadows herself.
She’s all right! Oh, thank the Goddess, part of him thought. The little liar, added another part.
Conflicted much, Lathe? whispered a sardonic little voice in his head.
Hell yes, I’m conflicted, he thought angrily as he strode along, leading her up the endless flights of steps that led to the upper conference room where the BleakHall Board of Directors was going to meet. I don’t want to care about Ari anymore.
And yet somehow he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Trying to turn his mind to other things, Lathe focused on his surroundings. The part of the prison inside the security door—the wing the Yonnite Mistresses who owned BleakHall had built for themselves—bore absolutely no resemblance to the rest of the prison. So there was plenty to focus on.
Instead of blank, black metal, the walls were covered in muted but colorful Isoldan wall murals. Instead of dirty bare floors, plush Tizodeen moss in shades of blue and green and purple cushioned their footsteps. There was no sound of hoarse male voices cursing each other—ju
st the hushed strains of a relaxing melody played on the many-stringed zibathorn floating through com-link system. And the faint, sweet scent of exotic flowers drifted on the air currents, replacing the stench of unwashed male bodies, stale sweat and rotten protein paste that was the prevalent reek in the rest of BleakHall.
It was like walking directly from hell into paradise.
“Wow…” Ari looked around in obvious wonder. “It’s like a seven-star hotel in here! How often do these Yonnite Mistresses meet?”
“About once a year—sometimes more—from what I understand,” Lathe growled. “But they’re unwilling to forego their luxuries even for a single night. Which is where you and I come in. They can’t be without their body slaves so we have to fill in. Come on—in here.“
He had only been here once before to help with the cleaning—he was one of the few inmates the Horvaths trusted not to tear everything up or try to steal anything. But he remembered his way around. Now he pulled Ari into the food prep area where they would wait until the Mistresses arrived.
Again he was struck with the contrast between this kitchen and the one below. Instead of a holding tank for rats and a meat grinder and cooking vats, he saw sleek, state-of-the-art appliances. A broiling wave, a micro-heater, a convection cooker, and a vast cold storage cabinet that took up most of one wall were all featured.
Large trays filled with exotic foods—heaps of fresh fruit, platters of candied delicacies, even a dish of too-too fish which was served rare with a side of bitter butter—proved that the caterers had already come and gone. The Mistresses who owned and ran BleakHall were jealous of their privacy—allowing no one but body slaves, whom they considered to be beneath their notice—to witness their meetings.
But though they considered males beneath their notice, they were still extremely picky about the state of the males that served them—that Lathe knew. He straightened his own jumpsuit and turned to Ari to tell her to straighten hers. It was the first time he had allowed himself to really look at her in the light, since their confrontation in the kitchen and what he saw made his heart squeeze unwillingly in his chest again.
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