by Penny Cavan
When I woke the next morning, I was momentarily stunned to find that I wasn’t alone. In the night, Harlow had curled up into my side, pinning me on my back. Her head rested on my bicep, her breath on my chest. One hand was under my shirt, curled up in the middle of my chest. I blinked at the ceiling. I must have made a sound because she adjusted herself against me, the hand on my chest sliding down my abdomen. My hand shot out to stop its downward motion, stopping it before she reached my pants. I would love nothing more, but I wanted her to be awake the first time she touched my cock. She made a slight sound of distress.
“Not this morning, Sweetheart,” I told her soothingly, leaving her hand to brush her hair out of her face. I knew that I should get up before she woke, but I never could have imagined waking like this and I didn’t want to leave the comfort of my bed yet. I smiled, closing my eyes and basking in the peace.
I don’t know if it was minutes or hours later when Harlow made a small sound and rolled onto her other side, letting me get up. I swung my feet to the floor, reluctantly leaving her sleeping there.
Chapter Thirteen
Harlow
I’d woken during the night to Midas groaning in a nightmare. I had wanted to be angry at him for thinking that he could stay in the same bed with me, but it was his bed. I’d slid closer to him, curling into his side and he had settled back into his dreams. I’d watched him sleepily for a moment, noting the freckles across the bridge of his nose. It was an endearing feature, and I found myself smiling. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to fall for this man. Despite that, I settled myself into his side, breathing deeply as I succumbed to sleep myself.
When I woke the next morning, he was already gone. The thick curtains had been pulled back from the window, but the sheer inner curtains let some light through. The beam was filled with small flecks of light that I watched dance. With a sigh, I climbed from the bed and pulled the blanket back up. I grabbed the blanket I’d wrapped myself in the night before and left the room, pulling the door shut behind me. Back in my own room, I took a leisurely bath in the extravagant bathroom before dressing. I was feeling gracious this morning, so I chose a pretty dress and sandals from Midas’s selections.
Ameliya was in the kitchen, and she quickly handed me a warmed muffin with butter and a glass of fresh juice before sending me out in the sunshine to enjoy my breakfast. I laughed, rolling my eyes, but I remembered a small table in a gazebo that would be a beautiful place to eat my breakfast. The meal was delicious and I returned the dishes to the kitchen before heading to my room to grab the paper she had given me the day before and heading to the library. I found Midas there, settled in at one of the big tables with books and maps spread out in front of him. Nigel was there as well.
“There you are, Harlow,” Midas said, looking up. “I was hoping you’d come this way soon.” His eyes dropped to my chest before he shook his head slightly.
“And why would that be?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“We’re hoping you can help us,” Nigel said, coming over and leading me gently to a chair. “I’ve been tracking the children who are ungifted to see if there’s any pattern in where they lived before being sent to school.” I scoffed.
“They aren’t sent to school,” I said blandly.
“Then what does happen to them?” Midas asked, staring at me. I considered for a moment. I could tell him the truth, or I could lie to him. If I told him the truth and he didn’t believe me, I wasn’t sure what would happen. If I lied to him, I had a feeling that he would know, and it would damage whatever trust was building between us. Was this what was considered a rock and a hard place?
“I’m not sure you’re ready to hear that,” I said softly, my eyes locked on his. He broke the eye contact first, and I let my eyes drop. I saw a picture of a smiling face that I knew. I picked it up, trying not to cry at her brown eyes and soft curls. Even in the picture, you could see a smudge of dirt on her shoulder and the mischief in her eyes. Those eyes that had stared at me so accusingly.
“Why don’t you tell us your story then,” Nigel said, settling in with a notebook and a pen, ready to take notes.
“My story?” I asked, looking away from the picture. I set it on the table in front of me, facedown. “Why would that be important?”
“Rumors say that you’re a Hollow. So, it would lead that you would be closely tied to these people,” he said, gesturing at the pictures. There are hundreds of them.
“Being a Hollow is dangerous,” I murmured.
“Harlow, you are safe here,” Midas said, “and you will always be safe here. You will be safe as long as I am breathing.”
“And if you aren’t?” I asked archly. He stared at me with an eyebrow raised. “I’m not questioning the size of your cock, Midas, but it’s an honest question. You want me to give you my secrets with only your word that it won’t be used against me. You want to take, but you don’t want to give. How is that an equal exchange?”
He stared into my eyes. “I told you yesterday that my touch kills,” he said, and pulled a glove off. With one hand he picked up a picture. I saw the face of a small boy, a crooked grin on his face. With one finger, Midas touched it, and veins of gold spread across the picture. They continued until the entire thing was a sheet of gold, the same dimensions of the picture. I had never seen gold so thin. He handed it to me. “You know my biggest secret.” I took the gold from him.
“I don’t remember my parents,” I said after a moment, staring at the golden picture. “Sometimes I think I can remember what my father smelled like, or my mother’s voice singing me a lullaby. I remember a baby crying as well, so maybe I had a sibling. Later, I put together that they died in a fire. Ivy told me that when she found me wandering the street, there were scorch marks in my dress. She didn’t take me in to raise me, but this child who constantly looked like she was crying, dirty and with a torn nightdress would be pitiful enough that the rich people would give me more money.” I looked over to see Nigel diligently taking notes. I couldn’t look at Midas.
“My first real memory is from when I was about six years old. Ivy was scared. Soldiers were marching through the district, rounding up the Hollows. It was then that I must have either realized or been told that she was one, because she hid. She took me with her but threatened to leave me if I made a sound. She wasn’t afraid to sacrifice me to save herself.
“She taught me to steal, and she taught me how to protect myself. The streets weren’t safe. When I was twelve, she took me to Meg, who taught me how to use my other skills to steal. Meg was the one who explained to me what a Hollow was, and that I was one. But she also became my best friend. When Ivy was captured and killed three years later, Meg was the one took me in. She helped me find my current lodgings.
“When I was seventeen, I found a Hollow boy in the pleasure district, hidden by his parents. I took him in, and that’s when Meg told me about the nomad groups outside the city boundaries. It’s a dangerous journey, but if I could get the boy to the nomads, they would care for him. We made it. He’s happy and healthy, and I’ve seen him many times over the years. He always greets me with a hug and has told me more than once that he plans to name his first daughter after me, for saving his life.” I laughed a little, smiling at the memory. “He is only fourteen, though, so right now my name is immortalized in a little grey cat.” Both men chuckled.
“At first, I just took the kids I found to the nomads, but about two years after I started, I was given a name and an address. It was a nicer area of the city, and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but my breaking and entering skills were becoming well known. I slipped into the house, hoping what I was looking for would be obvious, and that’s when I found a young boy waiting with his mother. She told me that his fifth birthday was only a few days away, but he had no magical talent. She told me that her father worked at the so-called school where the Hollow children were sent, and that not one child lived in those walls, and begged me to take him to the nomads. He was c
rying, but he came with me when his mother told me, and I got him safely out. I’ve spent the last seven years taking kids to the nomads while trying to discover the truth of what is happening. And what is happening is bad. I’ve taken a few children after they’ve been taken from their families, but the children are given something, and—” I stopped, unable and unwilling to give these men all my secrets. Midas stared at me, and I could see him weighing whether to believe me or not. Nigel stared at me in horror.
Chapter Fourteen
Midas
There was no doubt in my mind that she was telling the truth, as she saw it. She wasn’t telling all of the truth. It was clear her trust didn’t extend that far yet. It hurt me, how much she had been through in her life, and I could tell that there was a lot in her childhood that she had skimmed over. This was the second time I had heard Meg’s name though, and she seemed happier when she spoke of the other woman.
“Do you recognize any of these pictures?” Nigel said softly. I walked over to the window and listened while they talked quietly. There were thousands of pictures there, mostly children, going back for the last twenty-five years. I stared out at the gardens, thinking. I had a few options now, and each of them would invariably change my relationship and the relationship I wanted with Harlow. She was a Hollow, her own words condemning her. By law, I should turn her in, but there was no way that was going to happen. I had told her she would be safe with me and she would be. She would have been even if she was a murderer, although I was grateful that her activities didn’t cover that. How to deal with the information that she had given us.
I could cut her out of this hunt, except to convince her to return the research on the Medusa Serum. If I went that way, I risked her working on her own, and potentially getting into trouble with the High Council, hurt or even worse, killed.
I could involve her in the hunt for information, and use what she knew, but that could lead to the same result.
If she was hurt or killed, I would face the ends of the earth for revenge and to make the world safer for her. I had decided weeks ago that she would be mine, and the way she had nestled into my side in her sleep had cemented it.
I turned back to the table, and watched her, sorting pictures with Nigel. There were two piles in front of her, one several pictures higher than the other. I watched as she picked up the same picture she had earlier, seeing the heartbreak in her eyes as she set it on the shorter stack.
“I believe that you believe that you are telling the truth,” I said. She looked up at me. “I want to help you. But you have to work with me and promise that you will not risk your life or your safety.” She nodded. I wasn’t entirely sure that I believed her. I looked back to the garden. “First, Nigel, go back as far as you can and see if you can find the first to go missing.” I heard Nigel gathering his papers. He murmured to Harlow, and left, clicking the door shut behind him.
“Midas,” Harlow started, stepping towards me.
“No,” I said gently. “Let’s not discuss this now. Tomorrow will be soon enough for business.” I could still see the sadness in her eyes, and I wanted so much to replace that with something happier. “Work during the week, relax on the weekend,” I told her, repeating the mantra to myself. She raised one eyebrow quizzically.
“Nigel was working on the weekend,” she said.
“Nigel likes to get things done,” I said rolling my eyes. “He’s terrible that way. I have finally gotten him to promise that he will only work partial days on weekends, and I pay him for them. I also insist that he takes an entire week off once every three months.” It wasn’t perfect, but it made me feel better. I was pretty sure that he worked on those vacations too and lied to me. I studied Harlow. “What would you like to do today?”
She shrugged, sighing. “I don’t know what there is to do around here.” She lifted herself to sit on the edge of the table, kicking her feet slightly.
“I’ve wanted to study the markets in the pleasure district more,” I said, lighting on the idea that I’d been working on yesterday to pass the time. It wasn’t work, per se, but rather a loose idea. “They’re set up in such an interesting fashion. I’d love to have a guide.” I raised an eyebrow and tried not to smile when a grin broke out on her face.
“I might know a girl,” she said, eyeing me. “But you can’t go dressed like that.”
She’d had the car drop us several blocks from the pleasure district and we walked in. She said it was part of the charm of the area. We entered through the square arches, but I took a moment to examine them. They were painted latticework with vines growing up. The flowers gave it a decadent look, but the paint was starting to flake in several places to reveal the layers underneath. She laughed as she pulled me along, nodding to people along the way. Several did a double take, then whispered among themselves. She led me down a side alley, letting us enter the market from a different angle than I had before.
“Many years ago, the market stalls were all jumbled together,” she said as we walked among fruits and vegetables. They weren’t the best in produce, but each stall specialized in one or two items and there was little competition between stalls. I stopped at one and purchased two apples. I bit into mine, noting the slightly sour taste, and handed her the other. She tucked it into her bag. “Before I was born, it was suggested that different stalls group together, but the people weren’t sure that was the right idea. There are a few of the larger shops in the area that specialize in more than one item. They are in the center of the market, where the different sections come together. Now you can head directly for what you need or want, without having to wander through the whole market. Those further from the middle also tend to specialize, but it’s to cause less competition and to ensure everyone is making a needed profit to survive. Barely in some cases, but they survive.”
“A quick in and out, with no wasted time,” I said around my bite of apple.
“The market here is only open from nine until one, then the stalls empty back to their shops. Most people in the district are entertainers of some form, so they rest from one until three or so, then spend the next hour getting ready before many of the theaters and other entertainment houses open at four thirty.”
“So you could have wasted an entire morning shopping and still not get everything you needed before it was organized like this,” I said, understanding. She nodded. “I know there are four main sections. What are they?”
“The food market,” she said, gesturing around us. We’d walked far enough in that I could see stalls that, unlike those for produce, had stone as their base. I saw a woman pay a man, then he moved a wooden lid and reached into the stone section, pulling out a package wrapped in paper and six eggs. Of course, I thought. The stone would act as an insulator to keep meat and dairy products cool. It was rather brilliant. A simple solution to an age-old problem.
“How do they keep the meat cool in their homes?” I asked, nodding to the stone.
“They don’t worry about it,” she said, shrugging. “The meat is butchered in the morning, and the salting or smoking process is ready to go by the middle of the afternoon. Whatever isn’t sold is salted or smoked by the butcher, and then sold.” She pointed to the next stall over where a woman was haggling with a man for what looked like bacon. We wandered the food market for another ten minute or so, with Harlow occasionally stopping to talk to a person here or there, until we reached the center square of the market. Here were bigger stalls that sold different items. “Clothing and fabric are sold in the North market,” she said, gesturing to her right. “Food in the East. Household goods are to the west, and anything you might need as an entertainer from dance shoes to musical instruments to lessons are in the South market.” She grinned. “What would you like to see next?”
“Whatever you want to see,” I told her, taking her hand in my gloved one. I regretted the gloves, but I didn’t trust myself not to brush against someone out here. I could still feel the warmth of her hands through them, but it wasn’
t the same as feeling her skin. She thought for a moment, biting on her bottom lip.
“Would you like to meet Meg?” she asked.
Chapter Fifteen
Harlow
My heart was in my chest as I led Midas through the South Market towards Meg’s entertainment house. That was how I’d chosen to phrase it, but the Siren’s Lair was a brothel. Men who entered understood that they would be paying for their entertainment. I almost didn’t want to know what he thought of the place, especially since he knew that I was close to Meg. I didn’t want Meg to think that I had gotten too uppity for her. This could go wrong in so many ways.
I paused outside the door, taking a deep breath. Then I took another. The doors were open, allowing a breeze to travel through. Meg often did that when the weather was nice, like it was on a day like today. It was a bit chilly, but come high summer we would miss these cool breezes.