Chapter 4
I was working on banishing the spiderwebs when the door crashed open.
“Bones!” Griz called.
Adrenaline spiking, I clambered down the ladder. Griz stood next to a man who held a young boy in his arms. The boy’s features were sunken and pale, his chest terribly still.
“He’s been sick,” the man said, panicked. “Fever. But now he won’t wake up.”
I moved before he finished speaking, taking the boy from his arms and laying him gently on the exam chair. I struggled to find his pulse; it was so faint. He was burning up, his small body shutting down. I glanced at Griz, unsure of the rules.
“Can I use my power?” I asked with a wobble in my voice.
Griz looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “Yes—”
Relief surged through me, and I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I laid my hands on the little boy’s shoulders and concentrated.
That kernel of warmth ached like a sore muscle, but it responded as I directed it into the child’s small body.
I heard the man gasp as color flooded back into the little boy’s face.
The warmth flowing through me eased and then vanished, and the boy took a great shuddering breath.
“Dad?” he asked.
The man gathered him up in a tight embrace. I had to turn away, emotion threatening to undo me. The man thanked me, his voice shaking.
“Bring him sooner next time,” I said, turning back around once I knew I wouldn’t do something stupid like cry.
The man looked startled by my cold response, but he nodded and promised he would before leaving with his child in his arms. I wiped the counter clean.
“Why’d you ask if you could use your power?” Griz asked. “Did Madame say something?”
I turned my back to him and started to rinse out the rag. “No.”
“So why’d you ask?”
“I wasn’t…I wasn’t sure if it was allowed.”
“What do you mean allowed?”
“Juck wouldn’t let me use it on anyone but him,” I muttered.
I didn’t turn around so I couldn’t see his expression, but Griz sounded angry when he rumbled, “That fucker.”
I stayed facing the sink, bracing myself on the cool metal.
As the adrenaline faded, the confusing swarm of relief and anger overwhelmed me.
I’d been terrified I’d be forced to watch that boy die in front of me, knowing I could save him.
Like I had time and time again. The fury at Mac and his crew for dragging me here remained, but I also couldn’t deny the grateful tears pricking behind my eyelids.
“So you were solely Juck’s personal healer?” Griz asked.
“No. I was the healer for everyone,” I muttered.
In the long pause, I waited for the question that came next.
“So what’d you do for the rest of ’em if you couldn’t use your powers?” Griz finally asked.
Shame burned hot in my face. “As much as I could, like a regular healer, but mostly I watched ’em die.”
“Did they know you had powers?”
“No,” I said, then amended, “not until a few weeks ago, anyway.”
When Juck had brought me to his gang and introduced me as the new healer twelve years ago, the startled outrage on everyone’s faces wasn’t unexpected.
I did expect him to give them an explanation, but instead, he walked away, pulling me with him.
The angry murmurs followed us, and I didn’t understand why he wasn’t telling them that I wasn’t just a kid, that I had healing powers.
I was trying to gather the courage to ask when he dragged me into his tent and told me I could only use my healing powers on him.
“You’re my li’l angel,” he had said softly, stroking my hair. “Don’t tell anybody else what you can do. If they knew, they’d hurt you an’ use you up, but I’ll protect you, alright, angel?”
He seemed kind at that moment, and I peered up at him, wondering if my earlier assessment of him had been wrong. He smiled as I met his eyes, but the coldness there prickled my skin.
He stopped stroking my hair and seized a fistful, holding my head in a painful grip that made me gasp. “You don’t touch anyone ’less I say so. You hear me?”
I’d heard him loud and clear.
I wasn’t sure why I kept talking, but I did.
“One of Juck’s men brought me any medical textbooks he could find, and I read them over and over until I memorized them.
The rest I learned from experience.” I took a deep breath and rubbed the dampness out of my eyes.
“I need some supplies. Soap, for starters. Some alcohol for sterilizing—”
I turned around and faltered. Trey stood next to Griz. I wasn’t sure how much he’d heard. I looked away and forced myself to continue like I didn’t care.
“Blankets, a flashlight if you have ’em, some cots, and a change of clothes.”
Griz nodded, then glanced at Trey. My stomach dropped at the unease on his face.
“Griz can work on getting those supplies,” Trey said quietly. “But Madame wants to talk to you.”
The hair on the back of my neck rose and I fought the urge to shudder. I tried to keep my face blank, but I inwardly panicked. I couldn’t torture someone again. Gods, I couldn’t.
Trey held something out to me. “Here. Found you a different shirt.”
I unfolded it to see a simple sleeveless black shirt with a high neckline.
I turned my back, unbuttoned my flannel, and let it slide off my shoulders.
The soothing relief of cool air registered distantly as I pulled the new shirt over Clarity’s thin tank top.
The brand disappeared under the fabric, and my shoulders loosened a fraction.
It covered the brand on my chest perfectly.
I followed Trey outside, gratitude clogging my throat.
I didn’t want anyone to see the brand, but especially not Madame.
The less ammo she had against me the better.
“She only wants to ask you some questions this time,” Trey said as we walked, like he wanted to reassure me.
I didn’t reply, focusing on steeling myself.
You can survive this, Wolf ordered. Do what you gotta do to survive.
Madame sat at a table drumming her fingers on the surface.
Seated to her left was a woman with a shaved head, then Sax, the man who’d dragged Hojo out for Madame to play with last night.
On Madame’s right sat an older man with an ugly scar on his cheek, as if some creature had taken a large bite out of his face.
Next to the older man was Mac. I avoided his gaze.
“Take a seat, Bones,” Madame commanded. “We have some questions for you.”
Trey pulled out a wooden chair across from Madame. Reluctantly, I took it. He stood behind my chair, hands clasped at his back, and I tried to ignore the panicky feeling of being trapped.
“Hello, Bones,” the older man started warmly. “I’m Nemo, and over there is Zana. We’re a part of Madame’s council. Zana oversees the guards and law enforcement, and I oversee agriculture and manufacturing.”
Based on Madame’s expression, she either disliked Nemo or Zana or both. It surprised me to hear she had a council, especially after she’d met us at the watchtower with armed men like a warlord. She didn’t seem like the type to share power.
“So you were Juck’s healer,” Nemo said.
It wasn’t really a question, but I answered him anyway. “Yes.”
“What happened to the Reapers?” Madame asked.
My throat tightened. “There was a rebellion.”
“No shit,” Madame said. “I want to know why.”
I hesitated, squeezing my hands together under the table. “Most of the Reapers didn’t know about my powers. Juck only let me heal him and the couple of men who knew. One of his men was trying to stage a coup, so he told the Reapers about my powers, and they turned on Juck.”
“Vulture tried to take over, didn’t he?” Madame pressed, and I had to force myself not to react that she knew his name.
“Yes.”
Madame pierced me with that hawk-like gaze. “Were you fucking him?”
I tried to keep calm, but my palms were sweaty and my face hot.
“No,” I lied.
Her expression said she didn’t believe me, but she moved on. “Were you fucking Juck?”
I forgot to breathe, struggling to smother a flood of horrible memories clawing their way up my throat.
“No,” I finally got out, using all my energy to keep my expression blank.
“Is he dead?” Madame asked.
“Yes,” I said, unable to keep a bitter sort of satisfaction out of my voice.
“What about Vulture?”
Vulture stared at me from where he lay sprawled on the floor, bleeding heavily.
“Bones—” he wheezed.
I dropped the bloody knife, and it fell into the sand with a soft thud.
“Angel, you did it.” Vulture grinned despite the bullet wound in his shoulder. “You killed the bastard.”
I backed away, gulping in panicked gasps.
“Angel?” Vulture pulled himself up, his face twisted in pain. “It’s okay, baby, you did it. He—”
I backed farther away toward the tent door, and I saw the moment he realized I was leaving him there. I wasn’t expecting the hurt on his face to look so raw and real, but it hardened into hatred.
I turned and ran from the tent into the dim light of evening. His furious yell followed me, but the screams and cries of the injured and dying swallowed the noise.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He was badly injured.”
Madame tilted her head, her eyes sharp, and I dropped mine back down to the table.
“You didn’t heal him?”
“No.”
In the silence, they all considered me, the healer who left an injured man to die. I could feel the shame crawling up my neck, my stomach turning at the memory of my hands gripping the bloody handle of the knife in Juck’s chest.
“How long were you in the Reapers?” Zana asked.
I risked a glance at her. I would guess her age to be somewhere around thirty.
Her nose was pierced with a crude silver ring, and her muscled arms were covered in tattoos.
The front of her uniform had multiple sheaths of knives, and I didn’t doubt she knew how to use them.
Something about her reminded me of a few of the female Reapers, hardened and dangerous.
She raised an eyebrow at me, and I quickly dropped my eyes again.
“My whole life.” This lie fell more easily off my tongue. “I was born there.”
“Parents?” Madame asked.
“Dead.” Also false.
“Siblings?”