by L. S. O'Dea
“I haven’t seen Viola since. I assumed she would show up tonight with her father, but he arrived alone.”
“Where is Conguise?” He looked around.
“In the study.”
“Is he pissed?” he asked.
“No and that worries me too. He should be furious. He isn’t and he didn’t say a word to Dad about the Producer or Viola.”
“I don’t like this. Trin...you know who hasn’t arrived at my house.”
“What? I thought Jackson took her to you?”
“There was a problem. He swears that she’s safe.” Had Jackson fooled all of them?
“What kind of problem?”
“Do you think Conguise could have her?” He took a drink, studying her closely.
She took a half-step back. “What are you trying to say?”
He continued to stare at her.
“No. Jackson would not give her to Conguise,” she said adamantly.
“We don’t know where either female is,” he said. “And the professor is not angry. Something is not right.” He paused. “I need to speak with your brother.”
“Jethro? Why?” She wrinkled her brow in confusion.
He cocked an eyebrow. It really wasn’t any of her business but it was clear that she worried about her brother. “I don’t know. He asked to talk to me and I told him that I’d meet him.” He turned and walked away.
He stepped outside into the dark. Where were Tim and Jackson? Could they see him? It appeared that Jackson, at least, was telling the truth. Well, at least about the switch. Could the Guard have taken her to Conguise? But what would be the point? And where was Viola? Jethro stepped out of the shadows as steady on his feet as if he’d been using them for years.
“You’ve taken to walking well after such a long break. I would’ve thought that your muscles needed time to strengthen after so much disuse.”
Jethro looked down at his legs. “They’re holding up great.”
“I’m glad.” He meant it. The boy was innocent of his father’s deeds. Did Conguise tell Jethro what he was injecting into him? “Do you remember anything about the surgery?”
“No. I don’t even remember going there. The last thing I remember is eating some food that Dad brought to me in the barn, and then I was walking to my bed.”
“Why were you in the barn?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. How’s Trinity?”
“Trinity?” Did Jethro know her too? Was he one of the friends that Jackson had alluded to?
Confusion and then anger flashed across the boy’s face. “They lied. They turned her over.” Jethro started to storm past him.
“Wait.” He grabbed the boy’s arm. “What do you know?”
“I know everything.” Jethro pulled free and faced him.
The arrogance of youth. He smirked. “Said like a true boy.”
Jethro’s face grew more mottled with rage.
“Calm down and tell me exactly what you know.”
Jethro took a deep breath and explained about Viola taking Trinity’s place and Jackson’s plan to escort Trinity to him.
So, everyone had the same story. He was no longer sure if that was good or bad. “Okay. Here’s the truth that I know so far.” He paused to let it sink in that it may not be the truth. “Jackson was to bring me Trinity. We had a deal. He swears that she’s free and safe and that she’s on her way to me.” He left out the part about Mirra and Gaar. No reason to tell the boy that. “I have not seen her yet, but your sister and you confirm most of Jackson’s story.”
“Shouldn’t she have arrived by now? It’s not safe for her alone.”
Martha stepped out of the house. “There you are. Dinner is ready.” She smiled shyly at him. “Hi, Hugh. So glad you could make it.” She wrapped one arm through Jethro’s. She hesitated, blushed slightly and then slipped the other arm through his and led them back into the house.
Was she flirting with him? It wouldn’t be the first time that an older, married Almighty made a pass at him. He was flattered but not interested. He wanted Viola and he was willing to beg for her forgiveness. He slipped from Martha’s grasp as quickly as possible without seeming rude and took his seat toward the head of the table. He was near Benedictine and Conguise, as his station warranted. He looked at Conguise across from him.
Conguise nodded a greeting. He didn’t look as angry as he should, but he didn’t look happy either. Did he not realize that Viola was his captive? Was she sitting somewhere in a cold, dark cage?
A House Servant interrupted his thoughts with the first course. It was soup. He sighed and took a sip. It was delicious but the broth was meat based and he could only stomach a few bites. He ate some bread and drank the wine that was served with the dish.
“Soup not to your liking?” Benedictine pushed his empty bowl aside.
“Not very hungry tonight. I’ve been rather busy lately.” He stared at Conguise. “I heard you had an interesting evening. Something about problems with your power?” He didn’t know if that was common knowledge but he didn’t care. He wanted the professor to know that he was the one who broke in and freed Tim and the others.
“Yes, we had an outage last night.” Conguise continued eating.
That must not have been a secret. The next course was set in front of him. It was a salad. He could eat that. “Was there a break in or just a power failure?” he prodded.
“It was a break in.” Conguise looked at him a little closer but then began eating his salad.
“Nothing of value was taken from your lab, I hope.”
Conguise stopped eating and stared at him. “Who said the break in was at the lab?”
There, he did it. The seed was planted. He shrugged. “Just an assumption. That’s where most of your valuables are kept, right? Trade secrets and...experiments.” He couldn’t hold back a slight smirk.
Conguise glared, his eyes shooting fire. He opened his mouth to speak. Then stopped and continued with his salad. After a moment, he said, “Nothing of any real importance.”
The House Servants brought out the main course. It was a variety of cuts of meat. There was a rump roast cooked in its juices with fruit to sweeten it, grilled steaks marinated in a chile sauce, sausages, etc.
His stomach churned. This could have been his niece. This may still be his niece.
The Servants went from guest to guest letting them choose which pieces they wanted.
Benedictine picked a large steak and two sausages. “This smells delicious, Conguise. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Conguise beamed. “Nothing to it. I didn’t cook it myself. Not enough time with the”—he glared at Hugh—“robbery, but the recipes are mine. I am a bit of an amateur chef.” He sliced into the roast, blood running onto his plate. He stuffed a hunk in his mouth. “Delightful, if I do say so myself. Melts in your mouth like butter.”
Everyone around the table was shoving chunks of meat into their mouths and proclaiming over the taste and texture.
He stared at the small steak he’d chosen for himself. He cut into it with his knife. The inside was pink like flesh. Actually, it wasn’t like flesh, it was flesh. His stomach turned and he fought back the bile that was rising in his throat. He could not throw-up. Sweat began to trickle down his back and water accumulated in his mouth.
“I’m ready for more.” Jethro waved over the House Servant.
“Try the roast, Son,” said Benedictine.
Jethro nodded. The House Servant started to cut into the roast.
“A little more,” said Jethro.
The House Servant moved the knife back, slicing off a larger piece and laid it on Jethro’s plate.
“That’s my boy. Eat up.” Benedictine glanced at Hugh. “What’s the matter with you? You don’t look so well.”
He had to get out of there. He stood. “Excuse me.” He walked to the bathroom as quickly as he could without causing a bigger scene. He slammed the door and made it to the toilet right before he threw
up. The memories of the slaughterhouse warred with the images of the Almightys devouring the pink, bloody flesh caused him to vomit again and again. When he was finally done, he rested his head against his hands. How had his mother stood it all those years, eating meat at the parties so his father wouldn’t be upset? Eventually, she had refused to go. Was that when Tim had his first child, her first grandchild? He stood, wiping his mouth. He dumped water into the toilet, emptying the tank and rinsed his mouth with the herb mixture that was on the sink.
He left the bathroom and went to find a drink. There was no way he was going back into the dining room. He wandered down the hallway, pausing in front of the library. Raised voices spilled out from behind the closed door. It was Benedictine and someone else.
A female House Servant came up behind him. “High Hugh, your Guard needs to see you.”
He nodded and followed her to the front. Buddy was waiting outside for him.
“This way.” Buddy led him away from the house toward the woods. “What happened to you? You look like crap.”
He waved his hand, dismissing Buddy’s comment.
“Jackson snuck in a back way and got my attention,” said Buddy. “When they freed the Trackers they left the Guards alive.”
Stupid, but he could understand.
“However, the Trackers had a different idea. They killed the Guards...all but one, and she is here telling her tale.”
“That must be who Benedictine is arguing with in the library. What does she know?” he asked.
“Not sure. Jackson said that the Guards definitely saw him and Trinity. Other than that, he doesn’t know. He left them secured in the Guards’ building. The Trackers must have broken inside.”
“I need to find out what that Guard knows. Be ready to leave. If Benedictine tells Conguise that Trinity was loose, I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”
“I’ll let the others know,” said Buddy.
He went back inside, passing the dining room. Everyone but Benedictine was finishing dessert. He stopped in the hallway in front of the library and placed his ear to the door.
“You are mistaken,” shouted Benedictine.
He moved his head back a bit. If Benedictine were going to shout, he didn’t have to be that close.
“No, sir. I’m certain that it was the Producer you caught the other day,” said the Guard.
Something was slammed down. Benedictine’s hand on the desk, maybe?
“That can’t be. That Producer was delivered to Professor Conguise this morning.”
A slap rang out. Hugh winced. Hitting the Guards for delivering bad news didn’t do anyone any good.
“Sorry, sir,” muttered the Guard, her voice cracking.
Then there was another slap and another. He clenched his fists. He needed to know what the Guard knew but he couldn’t stand here and do nothing while Benedictine beat the Guard. He opened the door.
A Guard cowered in the center of the room, her arms covering her head. Benedictine lowered his hand and glared at him.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to get a drink.” Or beat you senseless. He touched his stomach. “I think my lunch was off.”
Benedictine stared at him. The Guard did not move.
“I can come back later.”
“Yes,” snapped Benedictine.
He held up his hands and backed out of the room. He paused in the doorway. “I think maybe, she should leave with me.”
“It is none of your concern,” snarled Benedictine. “Leave us.”
“I don’t think I will. Not without her.” He held Benedictine’s glare, challenging.
The Guard glanced at him, fear in her eyes. Hopefully, he hadn’t just made things worse for her.
“Your father said you were soft like your mother.” Benedictine smiled, but it was not friendly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He couldn’t stop a sneer from crossing his face.
“It wasn’t meant as one,” said Benedictine, but the Almighty’s anger had subsided. He turned toward the Guard. “Leave now, and don’t bother me again. Send in the Guard at the front.”
“Which one, sir?” she asked.
“I don’t know its name. He’s at the front door,” yelled Benedictine.
The Guard scurried from the room. Hugh followed, closing the door behind him.
He touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and darted away. No one should have to live with that kind of abuse. It should be illegal but those in power did not care about the other classes. He’d make sure that changed. He nodded at the other Guard as he passed. This must be the one who was at the front door. He turned the corner and as soon as the Guard was in the library with Benedictine he crept back to the door to listen.
“I need you to assemble a team and go to the Tracker and Handler camps.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Guard.
Footsteps approached the door. He darted to the nearest room and slipped inside.
“Wait,” said Benedictine. “Tell them to kill on sight.”
They were right outside the room. He glanced around for a liquor bottle to us as an excuse for his being in there. He was in a bedroom. A female’s bedroom. Probably, Kim’s. Great. If Benedictine caught him in here, he’d be getting married.
“Yes, sir.” The Guard’s footsteps sounded down the hallway.
Benedictine slammed his fist against the door where Hugh was hiding, causing him to jump back.
“Damn Guards,” muttered Benedictine. “Damn, Jackson. I should have killed him when I had the chance. Traitor. Always sniffing after my daughter.” He snorted. “Like she’d ever give him a second look.” His voice became less clear as he wandered down the hall.
Hugh sighed in relief. When everything was quiet, he stepped out of the room and ducked into the library. He poured himself a drink. So, Benedictine wasn’t going to tell Conguise. Interesting. If he had Trinity, he would be ecstatic. As it was, that was still a bone of contention. Where was she? Jackson hadn’t lied. Did Gaar and Mirra take her to the cabin? That was the original plan. He left the library and rejoined the party.
“Hugh, glad you could join us,” said Conguise. “Hope you’re feeling better.” He grinned.
“Yes, much. Thank you.” Something was off. The professor was never this happy.
“I was getting ready to give Jethro my surprise,” said Conguise.
Jethro, who had been lounging in a corner with a cute girl around his age, focused on Conguise.
“Professor, you’ve already given us so much,” said Benedictine, smiling but it was strained.
Hugh took a sip of his whiskey, fighting back a sneer. Whoever funded the Handler and Tracker camps would not be happy about losing all the specimens. Benedictine deserved whatever punishment he was given.
Martha clasped her husband’s hand, her eyes glistening.
Conguise brushed away the comments. “Nonsense. I have only done what my ability allowed.” He motioned for Jethro to come forward. “Now then, on to the gift.”
This didn’t feel right. The entire party was wrong. Conguise was never generous. He looked at Kim, who was standing across the room from him. She shrugged, her eyes still worried.
“As you all know,” said Conguise. “I performed the surgery that has given Jethro the use of his legs again.”
The crowd murmured its approval. A few clapped and some shouted, “Here, here.”
“It was a worthy cause for a worthy young Almighty.” Conguise smiled benevolently.
Jethro blushed and the young girl next to him clasped his arm, leaning against him.
“In our society we are fortunate to have many blessings. We generally have good health and are comfortable. Some could even state that we are wealthy. Of course, with great blessings comes even greater responsibility. Many of our youngsters don’t understand this. They do not respect the differences between the classes. Although most realize that we have obligations to the other classes, they
are losing the clarity that these are lower classes.”
Benedictine’s smile froze on his face.
Jethro’s jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed.
What was Conguise getting at? Whatever it was, the Remore men were not happy about it.
“There is a boundary between the classes that cannot be crossed,” continued Conguise.
A few in the crowd clapped and then stopped when the others didn’t follow.
“Conguise, do not overstep,” said Benedictine.
Hugh could hang his cape on the tension in the room. He held back a smile. This night was looking up.
“Overstep? My position as a leader of the Almightys commands that I act when I see our society on the edge of ruin.” Conguise stared pointedly at him and then Jethro and then back to Benedictine. “Jethro, there are truths that you need to know.”
“That is enough.” Benedictine brushed off his wife’s hold and marched across the room.
“But they are truths that you parents are responsible for telling,” said Conguise slyly.
Benedictine stopped. He was standing next to Jethro.
“As I said, I have another gift for Jethro.” Conguise clapped twice and the doors to the kitchen opened.
A House Servant entered in front of a roll cart that a Stocker pushed from the back. The Stocker squinted, looking around the room. There was a cloth draped over a lump on the cart.
“No,” Hugh said under his breath. Conguise wasn’t really going to do this here, was he? He pulled his eyes away from the lump on the cart. The professor smirked and his eyes gleamed in anticipation. His stomach churned. Was that lump Trinity? Had the professor gotten a hold of her somehow? He didn’t even know what she looked like.
Benedictine’s expression changed from suspicion to anger to sympathy as he looked first at the distance between him and the cart and then at his son. “Conguise, stop. This is not your place.” He wrapped his arms around Jethro, trying to pull the boy’s face into his chest.
Jethro jerked away.
“My gift to you is your Producer friend. Trinity, I think you called her. She was delicious, don’t you think?” Conguise’s chest puffed out in triumph.
Jethro’s face wrinkled in confusion as his eyes searched the room.