Sasha used her handkerchief to dry the perspiration off her forehead and the back of her neck. “Well, in the sense that he lived in the same building, but it’s not like you ever treated him like you treated us or thought of him as…”
“Stop fidgeting.” Her mother scolded before she could finish the thought, trying to hold Sasha’s arm still.
“It’s too hot, mother.” Sasha folded up her program and started to use it to fan her face, turning in her seat to see if the windows were capable of being opened. As it turned out, they were already open on this side of the building, it just made no difference to the temperature inside the room. Despite the size of the space, there was a palpable claustrophobia in the crowded gym and Sasha just wanted to flee. “I can’t breathe in here. I feel like I’m about to burst into flames.”
“You’ll survive. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself in front of everyone. It’s frazzling my nerves.” Her mother continued glaring across the room at Thraex, who was casually leaning against a doorframe. “I think it’s entirely inappropriate the way he looks at you.”
Sasha pulled at the silk scarf tied around her neck, feeling like it was choking her. “He doesn’t look at me any ‘way,’ he’s…”
Susan cut her off by just staring at her, not bothering to even point out how idiotic that statement was. There was no arguing it, even for someone as smart as Sasha.
She knew exactly what her mother was talking about. She knew the way Thraex looked at her. And what it meant.
She just didn’t care.
Her family was breaking up, her grandfather was dead, her brother Baxter’s mind was gone, and she’d failed as big as anyone could ever fail. She carried the weight of all of it, trying her best to pretend that she didn’t feel it.
But she did. And her forced smile just made it all the worse.
Her life was a nightmare where nothing made sense, everyone was angry and disappointed with her all the time, and she couldn’t seem to do anything right.
She kept messing up and no one believed in her anymore.
But Thraex still looked at her like he always had. His shameless bedroom eyes still sparkled wickedly, like dark colorful opals whenever he looked at her.
And there was something so comforting about that.
He was looking at her that way right now, in fact.
It made Sasha blush, but she still gave him a shy little wave, which seemed to amuse him for some reason.
Her mother turned to flash her a disappointed glare.
Sasha began straightening her dress nervously, wishing that she’d worn a lighter fabric. Something that breathed and didn’t feel like she was wearing a suit of armor in an oven. “He’s… he’s not from here, he doesn’t understand.” She tried, looking for some excuse. Any excuse. “He can’t help it.” She folded her hands on her lap, feeling uncomfortable but trying to look like a pillar of the community. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“I’ve known that boy just as long as you have. He knows exactly what he’s doing.” Her mother declared. “His mind is sharp as flint, he just likes to hide it. Clever like a wild animal, that one.” She watched him for a moment. “That boy is trouble. Always out roaming the streets of Reichelt Park, getting into fights and staying out too late... Makin’ friends with the wrong sort…”
Sasha rolled her eyes at that exaggeration. “Oh, he does not.”
“Yes, he does.” Her mother insisted. “He’s always been trouble, I warned you all of that when we found him, and I told you to steer clear. No one seals a boy away for years in a locked cell without windows unless there’s a reason.”
“You’re suggesting that he deserved it?” Sasha turned to her in horrified amazement, the heat suddenly forgotten. “What could a little boy possibly do to deserve that?” She demanded.
“You do notice that he never says why he was singled out for that punishment, don’t you?” Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Which isn’t surprising, given…” She trailed off, stopping that thought before voicing it.
Sasha squinted at her mother, feeling like there was more to this than she’d been told. “You know something, don’t you?” She pressed. “Something about Thraex?”
“Leave it, Sasha.” Her mother insisted. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Is this why you and Magnolia burned all the pictures of his dimension you took, and hid the coordinates?”
“Taking him from that place was more for our protection than his.” She said cryptically. “And no one should ever go back.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means…” Her mother was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke it was with a bleakness which wasn’t there before. “It means there are ageless monsters rotting in the dimensional darkness, waiting to be awakened, Sasha.” She said, her voice low and sounding older than she’d ever heard it. “They will consume our world if you rouse them. Let them be.”
Sasha stared at her in amazement, feeling a cold shiver race up her spine despite the heat.
Her mother cleared her throat. “In any case, even you would have to admit that our lives seem to be getting worse every year he’s with us.”
“He’s a good man.” Sasha told her flatly, genuinely insulted on Thraex’s behalf and getting angry now. “He’s never done anything to us.”
“You can’t see a black hole. Just its effects.” Susan argued, absently looking through one of the programs which had been left on her seat. “Listen, I helped raise him, obviously I care what happens to him. I love that boy… in my own way. But I’m saying that you should stay clear of him. He’s dangerous.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, but there was a note of warning in her tone now. “We helped him, we give him a home, leave it at that. He will never be one of us and it would destroy our careers if you tried. If not worse. He can’t rise to our level and you shouldn’t sink to his. Just leave things where they are, please.”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed, not liking the way her mother talked about him. “He’s our responsibility, and he can reach any ‘level’ he wants.” She paused for a beat, trying to decide how far she was prepared to go with this looming argument. Then recognized that she was willing to go all-in to protect Thraex. “…And if you cared at all about him, you wouldn’t say things like that.” She added, voice hardening.
Her mother obviously thought she heard something in Sasha’s tone which gave her away. “I don’t like who you’re becoming, Sasha.” She warned. “I know you’ve always been ‘Unconventional Sasha,’ but you need to watch yourself and how you behave.” She lowered her voice, taking on a cautioning edge. “People are talking.”
“That’s what happens when you kill four of your friends.”
In her mother’s world, gossiping neighbors was the worst thing which could possibly happen to you.
“No, I mean they’re talking about your behavior. And that’s the kind of thing that can sink someone’s status in this community. Your reputation is your life.” Her mother absently nodded her head in greeting at some socialite she recognized in one of the other rows, still talking to Sasha. “You are only one more mistake from The Window Seat Tribe.”
“I’m already stuck here…”
“But at least this has the appearance of prestige, and it has some responsibility.”
Sasha looked down at her hands. “It doesn’t feel that way.”
“Well, it can get worse. Much worse. You don’t want this taken away too. Don’t give them a reason.” She turned the page in her program. “Use this as a springboard and convince everyone that you’re worthy of their trust again. Don’t get stuck here.” She focused on Sasha. “Westgates don’t fail, understand?”
“Yes.” Sasha nodded. “I understand.”
“Reichelt Park has always been a small town in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, you know that. People get to talking here, and once they start talking, it’s hard to get them to stop. And if they don�
�t stop, then you don’t work, and if you don’t work, you don’t eat.” Susan cleared her throat. “Your father and I aren’t going to be around forever, I’m just trying to protect you from a mistake. You’re far too old for childish infatuations.”
Her mother was not someone led by her emotions, so this wasn’t a surprising viewpoint. When in public, she didn’t even hold hands with Sasha’s father. She viewed all displays of affection as unseemly and not befitting a lady.
Even Susan Westgate’s wedding kiss had been a respectful peck on the cheek.
“It’s… it’s not an ‘infatuation,’ mother, don’t be ridiculous.” Sasha defended, voice sputtering. “I just care what happens to him, that’s all. He’s a good man.”
Across from them, Thraex sat down next to one of the younger Freedom Squad members, stretching his legs out and resting his feet on the seat in front of him.
He didn’t sit; he lounged. He didn’t walk; he prowled.
His every movement reminded you he was indisputably a man, and that if he desired, he could do anything he wanted to you. And you found yourself wanting him to demonstrate that.
He was dangerous and alluring. Thraex was some kind of perfect arrogant rebel, existing in the shadows at the edges of the boring and ordinary world which surrounded her.
Sasha had been in hundreds of different dimensions and she’d never encountered another man who was more wrong or erotic. Everyone in her life told her to stay clear of him, for any number of patently obvious reasons. But… she couldn’t.
For whatever reason, she just couldn’t.
He was terrible for her, but she wanted him anyway.
He was an ever-present temptation. Just waiting for her to have one moment of weakness…
“I want you to promise me that you won’t spend time with him anymore.” Her mother suddenly asked, turning in her seat to face her.
“He’s a student, I can’t…” Sasha began, feeling oddly panicked by that demand.
“Get someone else to guide him, Sasha.” She met her eyes, her expression dead serious. “Promise me that you won’t see him anymore. It’s not right.” Her voice took on a more urgent tone. “This multiverse is filled with monsters you’ll wish you hadn’t disturbed, Sasha. And I’m telling you, that boy is one of them. Please… please don’t even talk to him anymore.”
Sasha’s throat felt so dry she couldn’t speak, and she just stared at her mother like a deer in the headlights. “I…” She began, unsure of how the sentence would even end. “I…”
Thankfully, the presentation began, cutting off her unspoken reply before she’d been forced to think of one.
Chapter 5
“Yancy Westgate. Died 1917. Killed testin’ radioactive herbs he’d developed, which he thought could be a cure for blindness. Turns out… even if them herbs might-ah helped his eyes, they sure didn’t do the rest of him no damn good.”
– Thraex, Damn Fool Ways Westgates Ended Up Graveyard Dead: Vol. 1
Present Day
As it turned out, the reason why Thraex hadn’t wanted to tell her the specifics of this “job” was because it was absolute mind-numbing grunt work. It basically turned her family into night watchmen, rather than allowing them to display their scientific genius to the world.
It was yet another opportunity for him to show them how low the Westgates had sunk.
He just wanted to humiliate them.
But Sasha had no pride left in her, so she didn’t care.
She needed the money, so she’d do the job.
She stood on the chair in the office of the warehouse, using a small electric screwdriver to attach one of the Westgate’s “Vibra-Light Atomic Scanners” to the ceiling.
The device itself was little more than an HD security camera with a built-in motion sensor and a few other bells and whistles, but the Westgates had long ago found that if you added the word “atomic” in front of something, it made even the most generic things sound more exciting and futuristic. They used to do it all the time.
Thraex’s part of this mission seemed to be absently spinning in the office’s task chair, and occasionally trying to look up her calf length skirt.
“We’re getting paid to make sure this facility is secure, so we need to make certain that everything here works and will do the job we were hired to do.” He reminded her, eyes absently running up her legs. His lips curved into a lazy, arrogant smile as he watched her.
She swore she could feel his gaze on her skin, and she suddenly ached where her legs met. She tried to ignore it, clenching her thighs against the growing heat he’d caused in her body.
“I can assure you that although I’ve never personally installed a security system before, this one will function as designed.” She promised.
He made an uncertain sound, but didn’t press the issue. He absently organized the boxes their equipment had been packed in, making sure they were orderly. Despite the general disorder which characterized his own life, Thraex had always been meticulous about his job with the Westgates. He never liked a mess and he got things done right the first time.
He might have once looked unkempt, but he always flawlessly performed every task they asked of him.
...Even if it was something she had no business asking him to perform.
She absently looked out the window while the device powered up. From this height, she could see out over several blocks of the Reichelt Park district of the city.
On the corner, Joseph Maggio had run a bakery when she was a girl, which baked bread with a special laser he’d invented. It lit up the whole street, bathing the area in a deep reddish glow and the smell of baked goods.
Honestly, it was more about the show than the taste. Half the time, the bread ended up burnt. But that hadn’t mattered.
The bakery had closed years ago, replaced with a store that sold discount phones.
No matter how bright her memory of it… she’d never taste that bread again.
And that was sad.
Thraex was silent for a long moment, obviously thinking about something. “I’m sorry.” He finally said, his voice softer than she was used to hearing. To say nothing of him actually apologizing about something, which was an even rarer occurrence.
His words jolted her from her thoughts. “About?” There were so many different incidents she’d lived through where an apology from him was socially necessary, she wasn’t entirely sure which one this applied to.
He helped her down from her perch, his strong hands on the curve of her hips, lifting her off the chair and dropping her back onto her feet like she was weightless. “This.” He looked around. “I wish I had a more prestigious job lined up for you. Something… excitin’. But it’s the best I can do.”
She nodded, paradoxically both wishing he’d move his hands from her waist and simultaneously praying that he didn’t. They felt nice right there, but they were doing little to cool the tight heat between her legs which his gaze had started. Her body was always very, very aware of what Thraex was doing. “It’s… it’s a job.” She reminded him softly, looking down at the expanse of his chest and then meeting his eyes again. “I need the money.”
“I know you do.” He sighed and let her go, sinking into the chair behind the desk, like that was somehow a personal defeat. “You need the money so that you can flee town again, I hear you, Darlin’, I hear you.” He absently straightened his tie. “Story of my life: the lady is always tryin’ her best to run away.”
“Well… maybe find an employee who isn’t here because you threatened her family?” She suggested, arching an eyebrow. “That tends to impact what might be called ‘job loyalty.’”
He got to his feet again, moving with a casual elegant strength which was indisputably masculine. “I never threatened your family, chère.”
“Yes, you did.” She insisted. “You said you’d kick them out if I didn’t come work for you.”
“I said I’d kick them out of my house.” He reminded her. “So, from a cert
ain point of view, I’m doing y’all a favor right here by lettin’ you live with me. I’m goin’ out of my way. It’s not a threat to question that arrangement, it’s just simply sayin’ that if y’all don’t wanna be my friend no more, then I don’t need to try to be all friendly like either.”
“You’re being ludicrous right now; the Westgate Foundation building has been in my family for generations!” She protested. “It’s our building! Threatening to kick them out is a threat, by definition.”
“Ah, I see how it is.” He leaned back against the desk. “I’m just, what? Your caretaker? Minding the store for y’all while you get your little ducks all in a row?” He snorted. “’Fraid not, Darlin’. That building and everything in it are mine now, and they’ll stay mine. No matter where they go or who tries to run off with them.”
There was an unspoken implication that his broad claim on everything inside the Westgate Foundation’s walls included her.
She was not nearly as bothered by that idea as she would have assumed.
“I didn’t ‘run off.’” She defended, recognizing that that’s exactly what she had done. “I wanted to start a new life. Be… be happy. But it’s too late now.”
“Why? You dead?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
“Never can tell with a Westgate,” he held up a hand as though to fend off her criticism, “you folks are always gettin’ damn fool crazy ideas into your heads, and half the time you end up on the wrong side of the sod after. Might have made some-kind-ah machine that brings you back or allows you to communicate with them, or something, I don’t know. With your family, I don’t assume nothin’ is too stupid or genius to happen.”
“I’m very much alive.” She assured him.
“Then what are you worried about?” He snorted in dismissal. “Mistakes are too late to fix when you’re dead, Darlin’. Until then, you just haven’t gotten around to fixin’ them yet.” He tapped the papers on the desk. “Get a clipboard. That’s what I do. Helps to organize all the things I need to work on.”
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