This Sin Called Hope (New Reality Series, Book Seven) by Anna Mayle

by Anna Mayle

  “Leave it to its business.”

  “But the plague…”

  “I’ve expected it to come again for hundreds of years. The swells will come when the disease reaches a certain point then recede until it gets bad again. Earth just got tired of being raped and abused. I can’t hold it against her.”

  “What disease?”

  “Humanity.”

  “How can you believe that?” Jacobi asked, obviously distressed. “Look at Cora, she saved you and she was so brave even though they terrified her.”

  “She is a child. Humans aren’t born tainted, at least not mentally. They pick it up as they grow.”

  “How tainted does that make you?”

  Enoch closed his eyes, “I’m not human.”

  “That isn’t what I asked,” the hacker pressed.

  “Very.” Enoch answered. “Very tainted, but in a different way.”

  In the beginning, Enoch had maintained the Network and its links to the Walls and larger settlements to keep a contact. A distant contact to the world he wasn’t able to be a part of because of his affliction. Humans hadn’t called them Angels yet. They had called them Plague Born. Standing on the shoulders of his parents, two of the many who had fought and failed to survive the transition between the Once World and the current one, he had built an existence and an empire in the Network and escaped there to embrace the world. Now, so long after his age of naiveté, he escaped there only to be alone. He kept the Network up through habit. Powered by the heat of an ailing Earth, he connected her disease to one another, sat back and waited for them to turn to dust. But he’d rehearsed his part to the point that it felt wrong not to, even though the heart he’d once embraced it with was gone.

  Like a program meeting its objective.

  Perhaps he’d been too long in the Network, or perhaps he had just been for too long. Human beings were finite creatures for a reason. The spark and color of life faded over centuries until only a vague recollection of them remained. He couldn’t remember which feelings accompanied the expressions on Jacobi’s face, on any faces. Enoch could calculate a response based on them, but he found he couldn’t imagine the feelings behind them. Intercourse still offered a small jolt, however even that had been fading as of late.

  Could humanity be misplaced?

  “Humans are such unique and individual creatures,” Jacobi continued. “They’re like a living patchwork of selves. Every one of them has such potential for good and growth.”

  “That is a pointless generalization coming from a privileged perspective.”

  “And your decision is completely unbiased?” the hacker challenged.

  Enoch sighed. “No decision is unbiased, some are just…more logical.”

  Jacobi nodded his agreement. “It’s logical to go north, try to figure out if the plague is back, to stop the purges. It’s logical to save people.”

  “People die.”

  “Some don’t have to die now.”

  “They’ll still die later. Trust me, Jacobi. What was once a thriving nation has become a mass graveyard and I’ve kept it most of my life. I watched it come to pass. I am the only being old enough to realize that man breathes in the dust from the bones of the dead with each inhalation. There used to be billions of humans. Now look at what remains.”

  Jacobi opened a window and took control of one of the security cameras. He turned it until it landed on the shallows. “That,” he pointed to Cora, splashing happily in the little pools.

  “Another orphan,” Enoch snorted.

  “The potential for more,” Jacobi corrected. “The chance for understanding, compassion, vision and brilliance. The chance for a better future.”

  “Jacobi, I am old. My mind is full of what was. I have no room left for what might be.”

  “Her mind isn’t though,” Jacobi motioned to the child again and smiled.

  Enoch wanted to shake the infuriating optimist before him. Instead he rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “What would you have me do?”

  “Just trust in a possibility. That life isn’t as hopeless as history leads us to believe. That just one human being might change the course of the world.”

  “You’re asking me to trust in miracles.”

  “I’m asking you to trust.”

  Jacobi knew it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Enoch obviously hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time, not even himself. But they had to start somewhere, right? “If you aren’t interested in helping people, why were you looking into the northern Walls?”

  Enoch shrugged, “It was something different, maybe not new, but not mundane.”

  “I’m something new.” Jacobi reminded him with a soft smile.

  The mechanic arched a brow and remained silent.

  “Let’s go north. I’ll get to help people. You’ll get to do something outside of your routine. It’s logical. And it’ll be fun.”

  Enoch’s brow rose a bit more.

  Jacobi tried to copy the brow thing but knew he’d probably failed.

  Enoch sighed, leaned back on his elbows against his desk, kicked out his feet and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “And while everything we just covered is all well and good, you still haven’t answered my question.”

  Lounging back like he was, Enoch’s every muscle stood in stark relief beneath clothing that suddenly appeared too tight. His eyes were instantly drawn to… Jacobi had to take a few deep breaths. “Sex,” he responded and covered his mouth. He was fairly certain he’d meant to say anything but that.

  Enoch laughed, a real boom of a laugh, resonating from his chest, deep enough to make Jacobi’s bones tremble. It was only one loud guffaw before the Angel caught himself and cut it off, but for a moment, it had been glorious.

  “The question was ‘what do you propose we do with the kid’,” Enoch reminded him. “You might want to rethink that answer.”

  Jacobi had lost control of his avatar somewhere down the line because he had never programed it to blush, but he very much felt his face heating up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Enoch’s face softened a bit and Jacobi realized those had been the same words he’d whispered over and over during…

  “I’d never… I mean that was the first… It shouldn’t have been like that.” He knew he wasn’t explaining it right and hoped Enoch would understand his stuttered explanation.

  The mechanic watched him carefully. “I might be reexamining the stalker idea.”

  “No! That’s not why I…well okay, you’re like the best pleasure bot ever designed but you’re not a bot, and that’s just…hot, that’s really…and I am not thinking about programing a you shaped ‘ahh’ bot now, and I did not just say that out loud. Damn my glitchy filter.”

  Enoch just watched him through his embarrassed babbling.

  “Okay, I might be a kind of stalker-ish person.” Jacobi admitted reluctantly, “But still no malicious intent!”

  “I do have to spend at least another hour here.” Enoch finally said blankly.

  Jacobi’s heart fell. “Ah, sorry, I can go. I have routes I can plan and data to decode and…”

  “‘Ahh’ bots to program?” Enoch filled in.

  “No!” He blushed even brighter.

  “I do not tend toward romanticism, but I occasionally do engage in consensual intercourse.”

  Jacobi’s interest perked up. “Yeah?”

  The strong man pushed off from his desk and stood straight, just watching him, waiting.

  “So, ah…when it doesn’t involve synchronized rape, how do these things start?”

  Enoch closed his eyes and the clothing his avatar wore blinked away. “Skin-to-skin contact is a good first step.”

  Jacobi stared at the chiseled lines of lean muscle, the tight abdomen and slim hips, strong thighs that met in a V to frame a long thick cock as hairless as the rest of the man standing proud and free. Even his balls looked perfect, and from what Jacobi could recall, Enoch hadn’t altered his avatar in the sl
ightest. This was him, and he was gorgeous, almost unreal. Jacobi could remember the feel of that skin, the muscles bunching and pushing against him. Tightness gripped his groin and belly. He was almost drawn forward by his own rigid shaft, a dousing rod seeking out what he needed to slake his sudden and all-consuming thirst.

  Enoch watched him moving closer with those strange, half glowing eyes. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just waited while Jacobi came to him, mind clouded with memories and the haze of need for more. Inches away from the other man, he reached out, ran an unsure hand over the curve of Enoch’s hip.

  “I don’t know what I want,” he admitted.

  “I do.” Enoch’s hands closed almost completely around his waist and he lifted Jacobi right up off the floor. One smooth turn and he found himself deposited solidly on Enoch’s desk. He slid forward on the polished surface and the mechanic ran one hand over his outer thigh, the other still curled around his waist, guiding the movement, bringing him solidly in contact with Enoch’s hot flesh. Underneath him, the desk melted away and he lay back onto a soft white bed, legs and arms splayed, breathing labored. He felt so wanton, needy. Opening his arms wide, he let his own clothing fade and gasped at the sudden touch of air on his engorged flesh.

  Enoch came over him slowly. He worked his way up Jacobi’s body inch by inch, slipped against him and up until he knelt fully atop Jacobi, groin to groin and face to face.

  And it wasn’t right. The other man was cool, confident, completely unfazed by the single most erotic moment Jacobi had ever known. He was looking for release, didn’t tend toward romanticism, Enoch had said so himself.

  And Jacobi, it appeared, was a romantic.

  That hard, heavy and oh so perfect weight settled over him and Jacobi gasped, arched up only a fraction of an inch, and quickly pulled away. “Wait.”

  Enoch stilled instantly and watched him, waiting.

  Jacobi swallowed hard…hard, oh skies he was so hard. But it wasn’t right. “You were just forced into this,” he said, looking for a reason why everything felt off.

  “I believe I propositioned you,” Enoch corrected him.

  “No, I meant the Angels…before…doesn’t it matter to you?” Jacobi was baffled.

  “When it was happening, it was unpleasant. Now it’s caused me pain and inconvenience. In so much as it annoyed me, it mattered. It’s over now.”

  Jacobi just stared at him. In his experience, trauma stuck to people.

  Enoch must have noticed his reticence. “The first few times, it damages you, scares you. Then it angers you. After a while you try to convince yourself that somehow it wasn’t real. After a longer while you get over it.”

  “I, ah, I don’t think I’m over it.”

  The mechanic hovered over him patiently. It could have been a bot or body beneath him. Anyone would have done. Jacobi wanted to be the only one, not anyone.

  He wriggled to push himself out from under the beautiful Angel and shook his head. “I…I am going to have to decline your—” His movement brought his still swollen member hard against Enoch’s belly and he melted a little.

  Enoch smirked. The look wasn’t kind, it was sexual. “My?”

  “Your generous offer,” Jacobi finished, panting in relief and disappointment alike when Enoch listened to him and sat up, allowing Jacobi to finally get free. He closed his eyes, breathed hard until he thought he might be in control again, and then took in some more breaths, just to be safe. When he thought he might be able to think clearly again, he opened his eyes, met Enoch’s confused gaze and announced, “I have decided to wait until you’re in love with me.”

  The look that comment earned him was enough to drown his libido in a fit of giggles. When he finally got control of himself, Enoch was gone.

  Chapter Six

  Outside of the Network, the pain returned in full force. He cursed and curled in on himself for a while there, suspended in the cool water. He could almost control his mind enough to shut it out. Almost wasn’t good enough. That agony, the price of his healing, was the pain of dying and being reborn with each breath…life without end.

  The cost was too much.

  He struggled out of the water, ripped the plug and mask away and lay on the rocky ground, eyes squeezed shut, breathing forced into a sharp cadence. Splashing to his right announced the girl’s presence as she padded through the shallows and to his side.

  “Does the Network hurt you?” she asked in a worried tone.

  Enoch wanted to answer her, but he didn’t dare move anymore yet, not even his lips.

  The splashes turned to pattering. He vaguely heard the com box come to life but the roaring in his ears drowned out the words. Pattering turned back to splashing and tiny hands took his. Something long and cool was settled into his palm.

  “Jacobi read your notes,” she promised, “My daddy was a fixer, but he never used one of these. Is this forbidden arts?”

  His syringe.

  Enoch swallowed hard. If they’d wanted to kill him, each one had had ample opportunity to try. He fought for the focus to remember what else had been sitting with the serum, if there was anything the two of them had mistaken for it. It would be ironic to fail in killing himself all those centuries only to die because of an accident.

  “Can you move?”

  He closed his fingers around the syringe and felt his way around to that sweet spot on the back of his neck. The needle piercing flesh barely registered over the wash of relief he began to feel almost instantly. The serum was like a rush of snow squelching the fire in his veins and leaving calm, clear waters behind. Finally his muscles unknotted and he sank fully relaxed onto the stone.

  “Angel?”

  “Enoch,” he corrected her. “You did a good job.”

  Her smile was a little unsure. “Was that forbidden arts? Daddy never did that.”

  Fixers could bandage, set bone, sew gashes and tell people how fast they were going to die. They used alcohol to anesthetize and cleanse, but that was the extent of their use. Since most sciences, definitely chemistry, had been deemed forbidden…“Medicine isn’t what it used to be,” he said simply. She’d done well. There was no need to insult her dead father’s profession.

  “Does the Network hurt?” she revisited her previous question.

  “No.” He pulled himself to his feet and replaced the plug and mask. “It’s the only place that doesn’t hurt, actually.”

  “What is it like?”

  Of course she would be curious. To a portless Wastrel, the Network must seem like magic. White or black would depend on the person, but magic one way or the other.

  Enoch had to think on that for a moment. He’d never had to put it to words before. Most of the people he talked to for any length of time were in the Network with him.

  “Have you ever imagined being completely in control of the world around you? Being able to make rain fall or sun shine, plants grow into forests, turn rocks to pillows and make broken things whole with a stroke of a key or a focused thought?”

  “No,” she whispered in awe, “but it sounds wonderful. Like a dream, but better.”

  Enoch nodded then frowned. She had tears in her eyes again.

  One little hand rose to her neck, to the place where a port would have nestled had she had one. “Can…can you bring people back there? After they go away?”

  “No,” he rasped. He should know. He’d tried often enough in the beginning. A knot lodged in his throat and he laid a steady hand on her heaving shoulder and pretended he didn’t hear her crying. His mother and father, first love, second, third, so many friends…until he’d decided to give up that human connection to escape from the heart ache that would follow.

  Now a hacker and an orphan had fallen into his life. He wasn’t entirely sure how to categorize them, or what to do with them. But he knew they couldn’t stay long.

  Those small thin arms wrapped tightly around his knees and Enoch knelt down, picked her up, and carried her to the pod-like hammock slung up
between two stalagmites a few feet from the lake. He sat in it with her curled on his lap until the sobs turned to hiccups and finally petered off into jagged breaths.

  “What do we do now?” she asked in a very small voice.

  “Sleep,” Enoch stroke her matted hair and stood, laying her carefully in the soft material, letting it partially enfold her. “We both need it, and in the morning we will deal with the morning.”

  “This is your bed,” she protested, but was already falling asleep.

  “I can sling another. There is no shortage of rocks down here. And thanks to you, we have a lot of materials from those Angels.” He paused, unsure if he needed to say something more, something to make her sleep better. Finally he decided on, “You did well,” stroked her head once again, and left her to her dreams. May they prove more pleasant than her reality.

  Sleep didn’t come easily to Enoch that night, each time he closed his eyes another face was there waiting. The greying wisps of his mother’s blond hair, curled up into a functional knot and framing kind, determined gray eyes. His father’s strong jaw, stronger arms, and horrible glasses with yellow bits of tape holding them together, looking down at him with a worried smile, they’d always had a strength and pain he hadn’t understood until they were long departed.

  Alex, a human with deep laugh lines and curling chestnut hair, his first kiss…his first everything, holding him in the darkness of an old plantation house they’d made their own. Until the Angel pack rode through one night and saw their fire. Damen, an Angel who had sung all the time, like he was made of songs and just couldn’t hold them all inside, who had sang up until their human captors had taken him into the woods and a loud crack had killed the music. Sena, the fiery fighter who wouldn’t let Enoch give up on life, who followed him around and beat the world back until finally they’d met in a flurry of desperate moments stolen from time. Sena, who had died for him. Died for the man who couldn’t die, while trying to pull him up from the place he’d been left hanging by the neck.