by Jane Abbott
Well, fuck Garrick.
Still rubbing my throat, I studied the list, torturing myself by wondering which of them had chosen Alex. Which of them had already used her body because Garrick had told them they could? How many of them? Who had been cruel and had any been gentle? I scanned the names, trying to picture her with the ones I knew, but trying not to also. And halfway down the page, I stopped trying.
There it was. And I cursed that I hadn’t noticed it the first time, when I’d faced off with the sentry at the entrance, before I’d written those words. Cursed that I hadn’t thought to recheck when I’d left, after I’d seen him in the passageway. Reed. EH2M5283. Just five lines up from where I’d left my stupid message. I leaned back against the cupboard, not relieved that I’d been right, but terrified because I hadn’t been wrong.
‘Oh, fuck me.’
‘Back so soon?’ Cobb said, then smirked when I dumped the bladders on the counter. ‘That’s a lot of water, Jem. You making up for lost time?’
‘Sixteen cups. Four hours. That’s the deal.’ But I didn’t need four hours. Four minutes was all it’d take to confirm what I suspected. The rest was just to buy Alex some time out from the rest of the Watch; pretty much everything I had, and all I could afford.
He studied me, taking in the bruises and the split skin where Garrick’s knuckles had punished. ‘I see you’ve had a taste of your own medicine. I do hope it hurts.’
‘Not so much. But nice to know you care.’
Scowling, he pulled out his own cup and a jug. ‘You don’t mind if I don’t trust you? Wouldn’t want Garrick thinking you’d short-changed him.’
He proceeded to measure out the water, sniffing every cup before pouring it into the jug, making sure it wasn’t tainted. When he’d finished, he handed back the bladders, and shrugged. ‘I’m betting neither of you will last the distance, but it’s your call. Room twenty-three.’
That number again, like a wraith, materialising to tease and taunt before vanishing.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked, peering at me with his colourless eyes. Between them, his thin nose had swollen, the bridge broken. My fist hadn’t improved his voice any, and his thick nasal twang irritated.
‘Nope.’ And it was true, because twenty-three wasn’t the magic number any more. Now it was twenty-four.
Cobb nodded at my cloak. ‘You hiding anything you shouldn’t under there?’
‘You wanna find out?’ I challenged.
I could see he was tempted, before he shook his head. I was kind of disappointed; I would have been happy to take another shot at him. Instead, I took the couple of gut casings he handed me, rolled sheaths knotted tight at one end. Every whorehouse supplied them, and you were stupid if you refused; there were no quick-fix remedies for disease, and a pregnant whore was no use to anyone. I wouldn’t need them, but I couldn’t very well say no. Pretence was everything.
Cobb gestured to the wall behind him. ‘Can I tempt you with any toys? Just to help you get started? Extra cost, of course.’
I shook my head. ‘Happy with what I’ve got,’ I told him.
‘Of course,’ he laughed. ‘I imagine you’re more the missionary type.’
‘You been fantasising about me, Cobb?’
‘Time’s a wasting, Watchman,’ he snapped. ‘Four hours, starting now.’ I watched him push a nail into a tall, thick stick of tallow and light the wick. Whether or not he’d positioned it accurately didn’t matter; when that nail dropped there was no doubt he’d come beating on the door. ‘And have a care, Jem. She’s a wild one.’
Good, I thought. I hope she’s given them hell.
I stopped outside the door, seeing the little digits nailed to it and, pulling the bolt, I pressed my head to the cool wood, almost reluctant to enter, dreading what I might find, knowing none of it would be good. Less than four days since my return to the compound and what I was doing could jeopardise everything. I wasn’t supposed to see Alex, wasn’t supposed to acknowledge her in any way, or care what was happening to her. That’s what we’d all agreed. Those were the rules. But only Alex could tell me what I needed to know, and time was running out, so fuck the rules. Again.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door, caught out by the darkness inside. There was a faint shuffle to my right, but before I could even turn, the chain lashed me high on the chest, the end of it catching my jaw, before being whipped away again. I staggered to one side, so stunned I had no time to prepare or call out, grunting when the links wrapped around my neck, the end pulling tight. Grabbing at it to stop choking, I lurched backwards, crushing her to the wall. Then again, slamming her so hard she cried out, releasing her hold, and I spun away, yanking on the chain and pulling her into me. But she wasn’t giving up, struggling and wriggling, kicking and flailing for all she was worth. Not just wild, but feral.
‘Alex, stop it! Stop. It’s me. Jem.’ But the words didn’t register and she sank her teeth into my arm. ‘Shit! Fuck! Alex, calm down. It’s me.’
I lifted her up, pinning her arms with mine, ignoring her curses and hisses while her feet kicked the air. Just held her there, and waited for her fury to subside. One of her feet caught the door, banging it shut, engulfing us in darkness and there was nothing except the sinewy feel of her, and my voice, so much calmer than I felt.
‘Shh, Alex. It’s okay. It’s okay, I got you. It’s all right. Shh.’
Her cries died to sobs and she suddenly went limp in my arms, her legs dangling. Scooping her up, I carried her over to the cot, feeling my way with my feet and feeding the chain back into the wall, so it no longer pulled on her neck. Where the hell was the lamp? Lowering her onto the mattress, I turned and edged along the wall trying to find it, striking the match with shaking hands, holding it to the blackened wick until it caught and smoked and the warm glow flickered, dispelling the dark to cornered shadows.
‘No! Put it out.’ She curled into a ball, away from me, wrapped in her own embrace, knees drawn up and head tucked low.
‘Alex?’ I moved back to the cot and crouched beside it, extending a hand to her shoulder, cursing when she flinched. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ I kept my hand pressed to her, not moving it, just letting her feel its weight, but her trembling grew worse and I realised she was crying.
‘Oh shit, Alex. What’ve they done to you?’
Keeping my hand still and steady, I checked her over but there were no cuts or welts, just a reddening bruise where I’d smashed her against the wall, and blood on the mattress, but none on her. At least not that I could see, and gently I pulled at her to get her to roll over and face me.
‘No,’ she groaned. ‘Put out the lamp. Please, Jem? Put it out.’ She struggled again, but I was firm.
‘Not until I’ve made sure you’re all right. It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.’
‘You shouldn’t be here. You – please, I don’t want you to see.’ Her voice rose, high with sudden anger. ‘Just leave!’
‘See what?’ I said, so afraid. ‘Alex, what have they done?’
Despite my assurances, I forced her over. She really struggled then, spitting and hitting out at me, but I was stronger. Pinning her wrists with one hand, I pushed her knees down, uncurling and exposing her, while she panted and squirmed and then I let go, dropping my hold, because what I saw was so, so sick, and all I could hear were her words on that first morning as she’d watched me clean my chest, her taunt, and the spiteful note in her voice.
Did it hurt when they made them?
What do you think?
I think, yes.
Well, now she knew. Because Alex had been marked. Just like me, but not at all. One large cross, from chest to groin, quartered her stomach, carving it up. Red and weeping, so deep and dark against her pale skin, and so cruel, I had to look away.
‘No!’ she cried, and belted my face. Then again, hard and sharp. ‘You wanted to see? Then see, Jem. Take a good look. I’m one of you now!’
She reared up, flailing me with tigh
t fists and I let her. Just crouched there with bowed head while she punched and pushed and screamed at me, ‘I hate you! Hate you, hate you. Hate. You!’
I let her because I didn’t hate her.
‘I hate you,’ she sobbed again and fell against me, spent and empty, with nothing to add. She’d pretty much said it all.
‘I’ll kill him,’ I said, breaking the silence. ‘I’ll fucking kill him!’
But she just hit me again. ‘That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?’
I caught her fist, and pulled back to look at her. ‘Yes,’ I admitted, without shame. ‘That’s what I do. It’s why I’m here, remember? To get rid of him.’ Only now there was even more reason.
She laughed then, cackled, and I grabbed her other hand, just in case. There was only so much punishment I was prepared to take.
‘It wasn’t him,’ she said. ‘Garrick –’
‘Then who?’ But I already knew. As soon as I asked the question, I knew.
‘I don’t know! A Watchman,’ she said, and then her eyes narrowed. ‘Just like you.’ Cruel words, more hateful than her fists.
‘What else did he do?’ I asked. She tried to pull her hands free but I tightened my grip. ‘Tell me, Alex. What else?’
‘Why, Jem?’ she sneered. ‘Because this isn’t enough for you? Are you asking if he fucked me? How many times, and how many others? Shall I give you the details? Do you want to know if I enjoyed it?’
I didn’t. Couldn’t even bear to think about it, but I had to know. And one tiny part of me was hoping he had. One part was hoping the whole Watch had taken her. Because if they hadn’t, then everything I’d thought to be true wasn’t any more.
‘Just answer the bloody question,’ I said, because I could be cruel too.
She glared at me, but I stared her down. ‘No, he didn’t do anything else,’ she said at last. ‘No one has.’
‘Not even Garrick?’
‘Are you deaf? I said no one.’
‘Shit,’ I sighed, relief and fear taking me by turns, messing with my heart and my mind.
Her mouth tightened. ‘Strange. I thought you’d be more pleased.’
‘Alex, you don’t understand. Garrick never sends anyone here without breaking them first. Ever.’
‘Maybe I’m not his sort,’ she snapped.
But remembering his threat when he’d sewn up my leg, as well as everything else I knew about him, I shook my head. ‘If you’ve got a pulse, you’re Garrick’s sort.’ And I wasn’t entirely convinced about needing a pulse either.
‘That’s not funny.’
No, it wasn’t. Not in the least. And seeing her so close to tears, I undid my cloak and stood to wrap it around her before gathering her up and sitting back on the cot. It felt good to hold her again, even in that room, on that filthy mattress. Felt good to touch her skin and draw on her warmth and her strength. And I needed that strength, because mine was exhausted. I was tired – just so fucking tired – and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and forget about everything except her. I’d bought her four hours for nothing, but every drop was worth it just to be there. Slowly she relaxed and I felt the tension ease out of her while I thought about what I knew. And what I didn’t.
‘When were you cut?’ I asked her. The wound was raw and angry and her exertions had opened it up again, but some of the edges had already started to crust.
‘I don’t know. After you left me. Someone brought me down here and – he came in, with that other one, and …’ Her voice died, and she let out a sob. ‘Oh God, Jem, he had this knife. So big and – I was so scared. I was prepared for Garrick, but not –’
‘Shh. I know. I’m sorry.’ I rocked her some more, hating that she’d been alone all this time, so afraid and in pain, and now scarred and maimed like me. And I kept rocking until I felt her relax again. ‘Tell me about Garrick. When you were with him, what did he say?’
Another small sob and a long silence, but I didn’t push. Just let her take the time she needed.
‘There was another room, another girl there, on a bed. She was tied, and she – she – I think she was unconscious. God, I hope she was. I thought he was going to –’ She paused again, and I felt her shudder. ‘But he didn’t. He just laughed and said it was my lucky day.’
‘What else?’ I urged.
I felt her tense and waited for the rest, but she just shook her head, rolling it on my chest. ‘Nothing. That was it.’
I soothed, letting it go but feeling the worry build. Because her story made no sense. Garrick often kept more than one prisoner at a time in that room. If Alex had been spared, it had fuck all to do with luck, or any kind of sudden remorse. Everything Garrick did, he did for a reason. No matter how cruel or how meaningless it might seem to others.
‘Alex, I need to ask you a question, and I need you to think real hard before you answer, okay?’ She tensed again, but nodded. ‘Back at the mine, right at the beginning, Ballard told me there was a plan to kill Garrick and that another Watchman was dead. A guy named Reed. Did he mention that to you?’
She took a while before answering, taking her time like I’d asked. ‘I knew about Garrick, yes. But I don’t think he ever mentioned the other one.’
‘So how did you find out about Garrick surviving? And how would Ballard have known about Reed? Who would’ve sent those messages?’
She gave a small shrug. ‘Probably Cade. Everyone sent news to him, and he’d send it on to where it needed to go. He said it was the only way to keep track of everything. Why?’ She sat up, holding the chain to ease the pressure on her neck. I wanted to break the fucking thing.
‘The man who did this,’ I said, pressing her belly lightly with my hand; she didn’t flinch. ‘It was Reed. He’s not dead. I thought I saw him here a couple of days ago. Then yesterday I found out for sure.’
‘So Garrick ordered this?’ she demanded, but she kept her voice low, and there was a hardness to it I hadn’t heard before.
I shook my head, still thinking. If he hadn’t touched her upstairs, he’d have left her alone here too. Garrick never bothered with the whores once they left his room. With a steady supply of fresh meat, he didn’t have to. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised this wasn’t his style – he’d never have given a woman the mark of the Watch.
‘No. I don’t think I was s’posed to see Reed,’ I said. ‘This was a good place for him to hide. I never come down here.’ Except Garrick had made sure I had and, when I’d screwed it up the first time, he’d come to my room and left me the evidence. Warning me, not once, but twice. Garrick had wanted me to know about Reed. But why?
‘Reed has to be working for someone else,’ I said, finally putting it out there. ‘Someone who wanted me to think he was dead.’ Perhaps wanting Ballard to think the same.
‘Who?’ Alex asked. When I didn’t say anything, she glared at me. ‘It’s not Cade, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Who else could it be? I know what I saw, and Reed is alive. So either Ballard lied to me, or Cade lied to Ballard. You tell me, which is more likely?’ It wasn’t like Ballard hadn’t lied before, or at least not always told the entire truth, but no matter which way I looked at it, I couldn’t see what he had to gain.
‘Neither! Cade would never do this to me. He’d never do it to anyone. Nor would Ballard.’
‘Someone ordered it, Alex.’
‘Not Cade. He’s my husband for God’s sake!’
‘I know what he is,’ I said, sharp and sour. ‘I don’t need you reminding me.’
‘Don’t you?’ she sneered. ‘My husband, Jem. A good man.’
Except she’d said the same thing about Ballard, right before he’d shot me full of darts. Alex had a real screwy concept of good.
‘That husband of yours is the only reason you’re here,’ I said. ‘I already know this whole thing was his idea.’
‘Who told you that?’ she whispered.
‘Well, it sure wasn’t Cade.’
>
‘You don’t understand. You just –’
‘For fuck’s sake, Alex. You’ve been down here four days already. No one’s bought you, or even tried to use you. Who has the most to gain from that?’ I asked.
‘Use me?’ she echoed, and I heard her scorn. ‘Is that why you came here, Jem? To use me?’
‘Don’t.’ Fingering the metal band around her neck, I jerked it hard, bringing her closer. ‘I didn’t need you chained to a wall the last time we fucked. Remember?’
She snarled and shot out a hand, but this time I was ready and blocked it easily.
‘Don’t, Alex!’ I warned. ‘I get that you’re angry and scared, but I’m not the enemy. Don’t hit me again. There’s a reason Reed marked you. There’s a reason Garrick left you alone. I’m just trying to figure it out.’
‘No! Listen to what you’re saying. I’ve known Cade for years. So have Ballard and Tate.’
‘Then how would Cade have known about Reed? Where did he get his information?’
‘Everywhere!’ A few beats and then she added, sullen and suspicious, ‘But deaths are always confirmed by the Tower. They keep the records.’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘They do. And who controls the Tower?’
‘The Council,’ she muttered.
‘And who sits on the Council?’ When she didn’t reply, I answered for her. ‘Cade’s father.’
‘No! Cade hasn’t got any influence over the Watch, or Garrick. None. My God, if he did, don’t you think he would’ve put a stop to all this by now?’
‘I dunno, Alex, you tell me. Coz right now, everything’s leading straight to your husband.’
‘You’re wrong, Jem. He’s never lied to me. Neither has Ballard. They’re –’