Pieces (Patchwork #1)

by T. Aleo

  Frustrated, I throw my hands up. “What in the world are we even testing today?”

  “A lot,” my father says then. I hadn’t even noticed him at the end of the hall. “Rebekah, there is no reason for both of us to have to come up here to get you.”

  My shoulders fall as I meet his perturbed gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m tired, Father. I didn’t get to bed until five.”

  “Well, stop working, then,” he suggests as his arm comes across my shoulders, bringing me into his side, kissing my temple.

  “I love my job,” I grumble and he smiles.

  “Yes, I know. Samuel told me you would deal with me about your schedule.”

  I roll my eyes at his amusement. “Not now. Later.”

  He laughs, and while I want to hate him, I can’t. I love him. Squeezing me into his side, he lets his laughter subside. “Be nice to JJ, please.”

  “Father, I am! He’s just always there. I get no privacy.”

  “For good reason,” JJ says from behind us.

  “See! He’s everywhere,” I complain, but they both just laugh.

  “He’s supposed to be, you know that. Now come on,” he says just as we reach his lab, and I cower on the inside. I swear I die a little every time I step foot in this place. I hate it. So much. Like any lab, it’s full of scary shit. Jars of body parts he finds interesting. Meanwhile, they freak me the fuck out. Beakers of fluids Father has concocted, probably to shoot me up with. And to top it off, the room is dimly lit.

  All it needs is some fog and eerie music, and we’re in a monster flick.

  As I head toward the table for the examination, all his medical equipment is laid out, taunting me, and I wince at the unknown of what is about to happen. “So, what are we doing?”

  “Checking incisions and your eyes, and then I have a new formula I want to test on you.”

  My heart drops. “Will it make me sick?”

  He shrugs. “I’m unsure.”

  Which is not reassuring at all! Last time he tried a new formula, I was sick for two weeks, puking my brains out, and guess what, still not immortal. Clearing my throat, I suggest, “How about we skip the formula until you know?”

  His lips curve as he taps my leg. “How will I know without testing it? Take your pants off.”

  I let out a long breath of annoyance as I shimmy out of my sweats, pushing them to my ankles as he turns on the light and starts to look at my incisions. “You’re healing wonderfully,” he comments as he rubs some of his healing salve into my skin. It’s cold and tingles as it does what it’s supposed to do. Which is speed up recovery. It’s almost instant for the immortals of my family, but for me, it cuts my healing time in half.

  “Okay, pull your pants up and sit up,” he says, and I do what I’m told, watching as he reaches for an ophthalmoscope to look at my eyes. They have been giving us a lot of problems lately. The set I have now is my third set, and it’s easy to say my father is getting annoyed with my body rejecting his work. “How is your sight?”

  I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Is the left eye worse?”

  I don’t want to admit it is, but I know he can see what I’m trying to hide. “Yes.”

  “Yes, it’s dying. Damn it,” he says, shining a light into my eyes and shaking his head. “Open your eyes wider.”

  I do as he asks, and then he drops a cool liquid into my eyes. Suddenly, I can’t feel myself blinking, but I sure as hell can see him coming at me with a syringe of purple liquid. Shrieking, I stop him before giving him a panicked look. “What in the hell are you doing?”

  “Something I’ve been working on. It’s to rejuvenate the dying tissue,” he says simply, pausing. “I took the blood from a vampire, mixed it with some healing agents, and it worked great on Jonas’s nose. I feel it will do the same with your eye.”

  I balk. “Father, eyes and noses are two very different things.”

  “Yes, but I believe this will work.”

  I’m hesitant, for obvious reasons. “So you’re gonna poke me in the eye with a needle?” I ask, my body shaking with nerves.

  “Yes, it won’t hurt. The drops numbed your eye.”

  “But I can see you!”

  “Please, Rebekah, be still.”

  Damn it. You’d think I’d be used to this, this torture, but still my heart races, my skin breaks out in a cold sweat. He must have suspected that because he looks back to JJ. “Come hold her arms down.”

  Within seconds, JJ is there, his thumb rubbing along my wrist as my father moves my eye open wide. I try desperately to keep my cool, not to freak out, but as I watch the needle come toward my eye, I can’t keep in my tears. They roll down the sides of my face as the needle slowly goes into my eye. I want to blink, I want to scream, but I stay as still as I can, praying that one day this stops.

  When he removes the needle, I suck in a big breath as he comes so close to my face my nose touches his cheek. Then he is pressing his finger to my eye, moving something around. Probably the healing formula. I feel nothing, thankfully, but just the thought of what he is doing has me shaking with nerves.

  “Good, very good,” he says, moving his ophthalmoscope back and forth, nodding his head. He then pulls back, tapping my shoulder. “We might need to get a new pair of eyes if this didn’t work.”

  I groan. “I don’t want to do another surgery.”

  “Do you want to be blind?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Then we will do another surgery,” he says matter-of-factly, and I don’t even try to argue with him. I’m tired. I’m over this, and I just want to go to bed.

  When he reaches for the greenish-black filled syringe, my brows come together. “What’s that?”

  “The new formula. I added vampire blood—”

  “Where the hell did you get all this vampire blood?” I finally ask. “And why do you feel this is something you need to mess with?”

  He shrugs. “I have blood from all the clans, and all but the shifters are immortal.”

  He says it like I should just understand, but I don’t. I’m scared. I hate this. Slowly my shoulders drop. This is so normal to him, while I’m sitting here, freaking the hell out. Shaking my head, I shrug. “Fine.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” he says before shooting me up with his formula. It burns and then cools before burning again. Closing my eyes, I swallow hard as the pain rushes through my body, tingling as it moves through my chest to my heart. When it reaches its destination, though, nothing happens. From what I understand, my heart is supposed to stop and start back up, but now with a hardness to it that can’t be penetrated. But I feel none of that.

  I feel the same.

  Opening my eyes, I meet my father’s expectant ones, and I shrug. “Is it supposed to be instant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it didn’t wo—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, though, I start to vomit violently. A bucket appears, and as I throw up my life, I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Well, this is freaking great.

  When I wake up, the sun is down, and thankfully, I don’t feel like I’m about to puke my soul out anymore. Sitting up slowly, I feel sluggish, but I’m not throwing up. I guess that’s a win, even though I feel exactly the same inside. The formula didn’t work, not that I thought it would anyway. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget seeing my father smash item after item as JJ carried me out of the lab. Father’s at his wits’ end, and I know it’s crazy, but I hope this makes him quit trying to save me.

  But I know he won’t.

  Coughing, I blink a few times, and I feel like something is in my eye. Getting up, I go to my mirror to find the whole right side of my face is swollen, my eye almost shut.

  Wow. I look amazing.

  Groaning, I poke at the raised flesh and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to go to work tonight. I doubt people expect me to look good, but even with the scars, I’m not ugly. I have nice line
s to my face. My eyes, even if they aren’t mine, are pretty. My lips are full, and I have a stubborn chin, as my father always says. I think I’m nice-looking, and Colin always told me I was gorgeous.

  Right now, though, I look like Igor.

  But I’m going to work. I won’t give my father the satisfaction of my not going. While I know he didn’t…or at least, I hope he didn’t…I can’t help but think he did this on purpose. To keep me home, locked away where no one can get me. It’s so stupid, and dammit, I go to work to feel normal—or my version of normal. So, I’ll be there. With sunglasses on, but I’ll be there.

  Plus, I want to see Killian.

  My tall, dark, and brooding new bartender I’ve been thinking about more than I should. I don’t know why, but that vampire has me in knots, and I’m ready to figure him out. See who he is. While JJ is loud and clear in my head about staying away from him, I can’t help it.

  He’s like the untouchable bad boy that I have to know.

  When a knock comes at my door, I let my head fall back.

  “Rebekah, are you awake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you still wanting to go down to the bastille before your shift?”

  I did, but then I didn’t. My face is jacked and I’m tired, but the guys look forward to seeing me. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”

  I get dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a blazer that buttons beneath my breasts. For the sexy factor, I don’t wear a shirt underneath, which provides a great view of my breasts and my belly. I leave my hair down, putting on as much makeup as the swelling allows before reaching for my dark black sunglasses. Satisfied with how I look, I slide my feet into some ballerina flats before heading out the door, where JJ is waiting for me.

  “Goodness, you swelled up very badly,” he says instantly, and I guess the glasses and makeup are a fail.

  “Thanks, JJ,” I say dryly as I start past him toward the bastille. It’s on the bottom floor of the house, and when I reach the trap door in the floor, I have to climb down a very suspect ladder to enter the long hallways of the space. Dropping to my feet, I’m glad I chose ballerina flats as they hit the ground hard before I look up to where JJ is peering down at me.

  “Call up if you need me.”

  “Of course.”

  “An hour at the most,” he says, lowering down my bag. Catching it, I nod.

  “I know.”

  Looking around the room, I shiver, wishing I had brought a jacket. Or at least worn a shirt. It’s cold down here. I’m not sure where the breeze comes from, but it’s freezing. It’s musty on this level of the house, and it smells, yet I feel at home down here. Walking toward the hall that holds our prisoners, I see water falling from the ceiling, and the soft singing from one of the cells makes me grin. Most people would call this a dungeon, but that word has always made me cringe. I insist we refer to it as a bastille since I feel the men down here are as unjustly held as those in France so long ago.

  Looking back at where the ladder is, I smile. I wish it were always as easy to shake JJ as it is when I come down here. The guys who are here hate him because he’s the reason they’re down here. Before he was my guard, he was the prosecutor for our family. He decided who died, who came to the bastille, or if they were even guilty. JJ put every single man down here, and because of that, they won’t speak to me when he is around. Since I enjoy my time with these men who have become my friends, I ask that he not come down. Thankfully, he agrees.

  Probably because he knows there is no way out down here.

  “Ah! Rebekah!” Mr. Grun says excitedly as Micha and Reggia both come to the bars of their cells to smile back at me.

  These men are the only ones who have survived, mostly because their parts are dying and Father doesn’t see the need for them. So they are down here waiting for death, and while it’s morbid and I hate that they’re dying, I couldn’t enjoy spending time with them more.

  “Hello, boys. How are you?” I ask, opening my bag and handing them all the treats I have collected for them all week. No one knows I do this, but I’m pretty sure JJ is on to me. I don’t care, though. I can’t let these men starve, and I love making them happy.

  Mr. Grun, a man the same age as my father and put together like my father, smiles sideways at me. He had chopped his wife’s head off and buried it in his yard when he discovered her in bed with another man. He then burned the man on a stake in the front yard. This is frowned upon, since all the man did was scream, not die, and it drew unnecessary attention. The Patchwork hates that. So JJ sentenced Mr. Grun to twenty years in the bastille. He’s been down here for ten so far, and he’s still kicking.

  Poor Micha was set up. Even I know this, but JJ had already sentenced him to ten years after finding him with money his brother had planted in his house. Micha used to work for my father, but when he fell in love with his brother’s girlfriend, things went south, and now he’s here. It was terrible, and like always, he asks, “Have you talked to your father, Rebekah?”

  I nod. “Yes, but it’s done, Micha. I can’t get you out. Only eight more years.”

  His eyes fill with tears. “I’ll be dead before then. My arms, they are weak. I need your father’s help.”

  “I’ll tell him,” I promise, and I will. While he hates that I come to him with their problems, I think it pleases him that I care. My brothers, they come down, throw food and leave, but I’ve gotten to know the prisoners. I’m their friend.

  “Rebekah, what happened to your face?” Reggia asks, and I smile. I went to school with Reggia; we were friends. I thought he was a good guy, but he started working with the shifters for a lot of money. Giving them information on my family, and when Father found out, he sentenced Reggia to death for treason, but I begged for him to be sent here instead.

  Sometimes I feel he’d rather have had death.

  “Father did something to my eye, and it swelled,” I say dismissively as I pull out my book. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “What happened to your eye?”

  I shrug, looking to Mr. Grun. “I’m not sure, my tissue is dying.”

  “Ah, not good,” Reggia says. “But your father will fix it.”

  “Yeah,” I agree with a nod. “Till then, I’ll look like Igor.”

  That has them laughing but shaking their heads. “Never, Rebekah, too beautiful for that,” Mr. Grun says, and I smile.

  “Thank you.” I blush a bit before laying my book on my knees. “Let’s get started. I slept late and have to leave soon.”

  Their groans of dismay make me smile, but even I wish I didn’t have to go so quickly. I’d much rather sit down here.

  With the people who completely understand me.

  “My God, Rebekah,” Oceanus gasps as he comes to me, taking my shoulders in his hands. “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

  I can see the pain in his eyes; they’re red as if he has been crying. It is almost an unreal thought. Oceanus, cry? Please. He isn’t that kind of man, but maybe, maybe for Taegan, for the love he lost, he would. Clearing my throat free of the emotion clouding it, I hold my hands up. “I’m fine. It was Father,” I say as if that’s a good explanation.

  His face is still twisted in confusion. “He hit you?” he asks, his voice rising, and I want to laugh. If he had, what would Oceanus do? Go after him? I pause. The look in his eyes actually has me considering it. Wow. That’s unexpected. Yet I shake my head.

  “No, not at all. He messed with my eye, and I think the stuff he injected it with made it swell.” Oceanus nods his head slowly before letting me go, but then I stop him, holding his wrist. “But are you okay?”

  His face doesn’t untwist. “Okay? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  I almost forgot that he doesn’t know I know, so I wave him off. “No reason, just making sure,” I say quickly before walking around him and toward the bar.

  I guess it’s his night to help JJ babysit because as I turn around the bar, he sits with JJ and shakes his hand before
dipping his head toward JJ’s to talk. Rolling my eyes, I hate how strong he’s being. I don’t know why it bothers me, maybe because the whole thing just sucks. I don’t think it’s fair, and I want more for him. Or better yet, I want more for myself. And now I know there is no hope for me.

  None.

  When Alena turns, her eyes widen as her mouth drops open. “My God, your face. What happened?”

  I wave her off as she reaches out, the coolness of her fingers actually welcome against my hot, swollen skin. I almost lean into her hand, but then I pull back, realizing I don’t want to seem weak. I really should work on my makeup skills—or get some bigger sunglasses. “Nothing, no big deal. Just playing around with the boys. I’m fine.”

  “Good lord, you need to be careful!”

  I smile. “I know, Mom. Sorry.”

  She laughs as she squeezes my shoulder before I walk around her, laughing along with her. I just want to start working, get this night over with. I really should have gone back to bed. We have the manpower, and they don’t need me. As I go to the sink, I watch as Killian passes drinks to the customers in front of him. I figure they would have been fine without me, but my stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

  Washing my hands, I look up into the mirror and I notice that, with the swelling, a nice dark purplish bruise is forming along my cheekbone.

  Lovely.

  Reaching up, I lift my glasses and see that my eye itself is dark red. Shit, what did he do to me? I can still see—it isn’t even blurry, but it looks horrible.

  I look like a monster.

  Touching along the even more swollen spot below my eye, I shake my head. As much as I don’t want anyone seeing me, I really don’t want Killian seeing me like this. I hate that I care. I don’t even know this dude and I’ve been banned from him, yet I want to look good. I want him to want me, which is completely stupid of me. My face being like this is really a godsend. Scare him away, and in return, bury this stupid attraction I have for him. I shouldn’t even feel like this.

  Disgusted with myself, I look back at my reflection and actually want to cry. There is no hiding my eye, even with my glasses on you can still see below them, so I push my sunglasses up onto my head to hold back my hair and reach for a towel for my hands.