Chapter 3
Murmured words were exchanged over my head. I’d never felt so drained. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t seem to remember how.
Red silk fluttered across my vision. Someone wiped my face with a warm wet cloth. I heard the sound of water pouring and tried to look. Pain spiked behind my eyes, and I groaned.
“Hush now,” someone whispered, “you’re—”
Everything faded away again.
—
“I didn’t want to,” I whispered through chapped lips and chattering teeth. I had no idea what I was saying. Was this a dream?
“I know,” a male voice said gently.
Fear sliced through me, and I managed to focus on a face framed in wavy brown hair. Sorrow lingered in his gentle eyes.
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmured.
I furrowed my brow, struggling to remember his name. Trey. His name was Trey. Gods, I felt like death. Was I dying? A fresh wave of chills rattled through me, and my breath caught in panic.
“What’s wrong with me?” I managed to say.
“You have a high fever,” Trey said, his mouth twisted in a worried frown.
His face swam in my vision for a second. “I don’t get sick.”
His gaze flicked over me, assessing. “Ever?”
“Never.” I grimaced. “It feels awful.”
He snorted. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”
I licked my dry lips. Gods, I was so thirsty. As if he’d heard my thoughts, he slid one hand under my head, lifting enough so I could drink from the small wooden bowl that he brought to my lips.
“Maybe this has somethin’ to do with your powers, then,” Trey said. “Mac said you healed until you passed out.”
Hojo’s screams filled my head along with Madame’s cruel smile, and my eyes welled and overflowed. Trey set the bowl down, alarmed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I tortured him,” I sobbed.
“No, Bones.” Trey grabbed my hand. His eyes met mine. “You healed him. Madame tortured him.”
“I can’t…I can’t do it again. Please…please don’t make me do it again.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, soft and pained. “This is my fault.”
“Why can’t I just do good?” I choked out through the sobs. “I don’t want to hurt people. I always hurt people. I’m never gonna do enough to make…make me good.”
“Bones, you are good—”
“I’m not!” I interrupted. “I can’t…I can’t do enough. It’s too much—”
Pain stabbed behind my eyes, and I squeezed them shut. My head swam as though I was spinning in circles.
A clattering noise. Voices.
“Is he dead?” I tried to ask, but I couldn’t tell if I spoke or not. I needed to know, but I couldn’t remember who—
Someone’s hand rested on my forehead, and they muttered a curse. “She’s still burning up.”
Something ice-cold pressed against my face.
“It’s cold,” I mumbled, my teeth chattering as I tried to push it away.
“I know.” A hand pulled my wrist back down. “But we gotta lower your fever.”
The room spun faster and faster.
“It’s alright, Bones. Try to sleep.”
—
“Clarity, I’m telling you, I could! I could get you out.”
“Trey, stop,” a feminine voice said. “I can take care of myself.”
“Clarity, you nearly died,” Trey said. “I can’t—”
“She’s waking up.”
I cracked my eyes open. The red silks covering the window swayed in the breeze. Trey’s face appeared, eyes concerned. “Bones?”
I parted my lips and they cracked.
“Water?” I croaked.
Another face appeared, and I stared at a beautiful girl about my age dressed in a skimpy red silk slip.
She wore her curly black hair pinned up in a loose, delicate arrangement.
She held a bowl of water to my lips, and I gulped it.
I’d never been so weak before. I tried to hold the bowl steady, but my hands shook so much that water sloshed over the sides.
The girl—Clarity—covered my hands with hers to hold it still.
“Easy,” she said. “Don’t drink it too fast.”
Once the bowl was empty, I collapsed back onto the silken pillow, exhausted.
Memories flashed through my mind, and it took all my control to keep my emotions in check.
Madame had tortured that man to see what I could do, how far she could push me.
And I’d done everything she’d asked. I thought if I could escape Juck, I’d be free of that evil—
“Bones?” Trey brushed my hand, and I jolted away from his touch. He let go, guilt flashing across his face. “Bones. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
A raspy, sarcastic laugh emerged from my throat. Safe? Safe didn’t exist for me.
“You’re safe,” Trey repeated, and I had to fight the urge to scream at him.
“Get out,” I managed, still refusing to meet his gaze.
He stood quietly for a moment. “I’m so sorry,” he finally said, and the tone of his voice almost triggered a memory, but nothing came.
I glanced at my hands to avoid looking into those deep brown wells of kindness.
I expected to see the blood and gore and vomit still staining my skin, but they’d been wiped clean.
I wore a shirt with a plunging neckline that highlighted the brand on my chest in a way that made my skin crawl.
My fingers twitched with the urge to cover the awful mark, and I twisted them together to keep from revealing that weakness.
“Trey.” Clarity touched his shoulder. “I think you should go.”
“I’m not leaving her here—”
“Wait outside, okay? We’ll be down before the bell.”
They stared at each other for a moment, conversing with only their eyes. Finally, Trey sighed and strode out of the room. Clarity approached, the side of the thin mattress dipping as she perched on the edge of the bed.
“That was a horrible thing Madame made you do,” she said.
“Is he dead?” I mumbled.
She hesitated, and I knew the answer before she gave it. “Yes.”
I finally glanced up. Her brown eyes looked like Trey’s, but her skin was darker, more bronzed than tan.
Up close I could see the healing bruises on her too-thin face and arms. I could guess where we were.
I’d been in enough brothels to recognize one.
I struggled to sit up, relieved when she didn’t move to help me.
I leaned back against the cool, rough wall, my eyes drifting around her room without actually seeing it.
I couldn’t get the sound of Hojo’s screams out of my head.
Juck had been endlessly cruel and tortured countless people, including me, but he’d never used me to torture anyone else.
I closed my eyes, furious at myself for not seeing this possibility.
Yes, he’d called me his secret weapon, but I’d never thought of myself as an actual weapon before.
I’d never had my healing twisted and abused like that.
One of the first things Juck ever told me was that if people knew what I could do, they would hurt me and use me. My stomach roiled. I fucking hated it when he was right.
Clarity cleared her throat delicately, and I came back to the red silk room with a pained start.
“Trey and Mac brought you here last night. You were unconscious. I cleaned you up as best I could.”
I watched her eyes flicker to where the “J” burned into my chest, and my fingers twitched again with the urge to cover it up.
“I’m not a healer,” she continued. “You weren’t injured that I could see, but you were burning up with a fever. I wasn’t sure what to do, but Trey and I stayed with you all night. We tried to cool you down with cold washcloths, and your fever finally broke this morning around dawn.”
She paused, then reached out and placed a warm hand over mine. “Are you okay?”
No, I wanted to say. No, I am not okay.
You gotta be stronger. You hear? Be stronger. Wolf’s voice echoed in my head.
“I’ll be fine,” I lied, pulling away.
Her eyes looked sad, as though she could see everything I wasn’t saying. “My name is Clarity. I don’t blame you for not trusting us, but there are good people here.” She hesitated. “Mac and Trey are good people.”
I couldn’t resist the sneer that crossed my face, but I stayed silent. After a moment, she sighed.
“How do you feel, then?” she asked briskly. “Does anything hurt?”
My entire body ached like I’d received a beating. That warm kernel of power in my chest felt small and weak. My hands still shook, and nausea turned my stomach. But I wasn’t about to tell her any of that.
“Nothing hurts,” I lied.
Clarity’s gaze narrowed, and I had to look away. Her eyes looked so similar to Trey’s.
“Trey said you’re to report to the clinic as soon as you’re able. Would you like a bath before you go?”
I peered up at her in surprise, and she smiled.
“One of my johns gifted it to me. We don’t have hot water, but you can get yourself clean.”
“That’d be nice,” I said.
I got to my feet and the room spun, but I managed to follow her into an adjoining room I hadn’t noticed before.
A large tub stood in the room on what looked like clawed feet.
A crude pipe stuck out of the floor with a single spigot attached to it.
She started the water, then pointed at a chipped ceramic tray beside the tub.
“There’s soap here. Mist is our soapmaker, and she’s very talented.
Mine is peppermint scented. There’s a towel on the hook.
Your clothes are here.” She gestured at a drying rack in the corner, and I noticed, surprised, that my pants and flannel were both clean.
“I couldn’t salvage your shirt,” she said apologetically.
“But you can have the one you’re wearing.
” She paused as I leaned on the door for support. “Do you need help?”
“I can do it,” I said stiffly, hoping I was telling the truth.
“Okay,” she said, brow furrowed. “I’ll be in my room. If you need something, holler.”
Once she left, I managed to get myself undressed and into the tub.
The icy water soothed my aching body. I didn’t mind the cold.
I’d spent a decent amount of time at an oasis when Juck met with warlords to make his immunity deal.
They got a whole cache of rare old-world tech, like recon drones and EMP devices and heavy artillery, and he got the freedom to do whatever he wanted in their territories without fear of retaliation.