Bones, p.6
Bones, page 6
I opened my eyes. I was lying on a mattress. A single electric bulb dangled from rickety rafters. My head throbbed, but adrenaline started shooting through me like a drug. I closed my eyes again before anyone noticed.
“You shoulda told me,” Mac growled.
“Mac, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what? You didn’t think it was important to tell me Juck fuckin’ branded her like an animal?”
“It wasn’t my story to tell.” Trey sounded angry. “I thought you of all people would understand that.”
The silence crackled with emotion.
“He branded her?” someone else finally asked.
“Burned a big ‘J’ right into her chest,” Griz growled.
“I doubt that’s all he did,” Trey said darkly.
“Fuckin bastard.”
“I think he’s dead.”
“Good.”
“You met him once, right?”
“Yeah me and Griz.”
I couldn’t tell who was speaking anymore, but I didn’t dare open my eyes or move.
“Hated him from the moment I laid eyes on him. We didn’t see her, though.”
“Yeah, well, he woulda kept her hidden I bet.”
“Didn’t the Reapers deal in slaves?”
“Mostly.” I recognized Mac’s voice. “The slavers hired them to deliver people purchased by warlords. But they also scavenged and bartered anything worth something and you could hire them to do just about anything so long as you were willing to pay for it.”
“Was it the Reapers who tracked down that woman who ran away from the warlord near Salt?”
“You mean hunted her down and tortured her before turning her over half-dead? Yeah. That was them.”
I had to clamp down on the memories that suddenly surged through my mind. The sound of the woman’s screams, me breaking down and begging Juck to stop, the beating I received for daring to question his decisions.
“What did Madame say?”
“That she’s our responsibility.”
“Oh great,” someone said sarcastically.
I cracked my eyes open just enough so I could see who was talking, hating that I couldn’t keep track.
“Another fucking test?” Griz frowned.
“It’s my fault.” Pain filled Trey’s voice.
“Trey, don’t,” Mac said. “She’s just pissed we actually delivered.”
“What she did last night—” Trey started.
“I know,” Mac cut him off.
“Mac, I can’t—” Trey tried again.
“I know,” Mac repeated even firmer, but he didn’t sound angry.
“Gods, won’t this be fun.” Sam crossed his arms, frowning.
“Is she gonna die?” a young voice asked. “What’ll Madame do to us if she dies?”
“Nah, Jax, she’s not gonna die. I’m sure she just needs rest,” Trey said.
“Lana’s gonna lose her shit,” Griz muttered.
“We need to set up a rotation,” Mac said. “Trey, you—”
“I got it,” Trey interrupted. “You can—”
I tried to be quiet as I shifted, my arm tingling from my position, but the floor underneath my mattress creaked loudly and all five of them stared at me.
“Welcome back,” Trey said.
I pushed myself up with shaky arms, feeling far too vulnerable lying down. My head still pounded, but the rest of me did feel better. I scanned their faces, my stomach dropping as I noticed their eyes flicking to my chest. I glanced down, and my panic swelled at the sight of my shirt’s low neckline displaying the brand on my chest.
“How you feeling?” Trey strode over and crouched next to the mattress. “And if you say you’ll be fine one more time, I’m gonna give you a narc.”
My heart leapt into my throat at the mention of the heavy drugs. I knew I didn’t manage to contain the terror when Trey’s eyes narrowed on my face, studying my expression.
“My head hurts,” I said fast before he could ask any questions.
“Can I?” He reached out toward my forehead, and despite feeling uncomfortable I nodded. He pressed a large warm hand to my forehead and then let out a relieved sigh. “Fever’s gone. You want some water?”
“Where’s my flannel?” I whispered.
“Right here.” He reached behind me, plucking my flannel shirt from the floor and handing it to me. “I’ll get you some water.”
I pulled my shirt on as fast as I could and buttoned it up to my chin without looking at the silent group standing at the table watching me. My skin crawled at the attention. When Trey came back with a chipped ceramic mug of water, I took it gratefully.
My gaze shot up when Mac moved forward to stand behind Trey, his arms crossed over his chest. I couldn’t help glancing down to his stomach, the memory of the giant gash in his gut and the fear in his eyes racing through my mind.
“We gotta talk,” Mac said.
“Come on, Jax.” Griz steered the young boy outside with Sam following, leaving me alone with Trey and Mac.
Trey twisted to look up at Mac, but he didn’t look confused, just resigned. I took a large gulp of water and tried to hide my anxiety.
“Madame would like to offer you a job here as healer for the Vault,” Mac said, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
I narrowed my eyes. “And if I decline?”
Something like discomfort flashed across his stoic face. “That’s not an option.”
I wasn’t expecting anything else, but the heavy wave of hopeless dread washed over me again.
“You can stay here at the clinic,” Mac continued after it became clear I wasn’t gonna ask anything else. “There’s a loft.” He gestured up at a rickety ladder I hadn’t noticed before. “Upstairs can be your lodging. You can have whatever’s here left from the previous healer. Madame had a stash of narcs.” He motioned toward a dingy safe that had been recently placed in the room judging by the absence of dust on it. “Trey and I have the key, so you can ask us to open the safe when you need one. Madame wants you under guard to make sure you’re…cooperative.”
I made a scornful noise under my breath and those sharp eyes narrowed on me.
“You’ve been officially added to my crew,” he said bitterly, letting me know how he felt about that decision, “and yes, I expect you to be cooperative.”
I bristled but managed to keep my mouth shut.
“You will replace Exo. You’ll be under our protection and answer directly to me or Trey, but you will follow my rules. I don’t tolerate any of my crew causing harm to each other or putting each other’s safety in jeopardy.”
I resisted the urge to look at the bite mark on Trey's arm.
“Madame will have—” he hesitated for the briefest moment, “—special projects for you from time to time. But if you follow orders, you can make a real place here.”
After last night I knew what sort of “special projects” I’d be expected to do. I couldn’t torture anyone like that again. I couldn’t.
You’ll do what you have to to survive, Wolf growled.
Angry tears burned my throat. A small part of me had hoped this would be different, and I hated myself for it. They may have treated me better, but nothing had really changed. I’d exchanged Juck for Madame, the Reapers for Mac’s crew. With Juck I’d been forced to watch people I could save die, and here I’d be forced to heal people who’d probably prefer to die than experience endless torture. Gods, I would never be able to atone for anything. Why couldn’t I just heal people without hurting them?
I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but my temper got the best of me.
“So that’s what you two did, then?” I asked in an impudent tone I knew would not end well for me. “Followed orders? Just torture a few people here and there?”
Trey recoiled, but Mac’s expression turned dark.
“Watch your mouth, Bones,” Mac snarled.
He sounded so much like Wolf that I saw red. “Or what?” I snarled right back. “You’ll tell Madame that I’m uncooperative?”
“Bones, we’re trying to help you—” Trey tried to interject.
“I don’t want your fucking help!” I leapt to my feet, my voice raising. “I never wanted it! I don’t want to be a part of your fucking crew. I didn’t ask for any of this!”
I raised my arm, preparing to hurl the empty ceramic mug at his head, but Mac darted between us and seized my arm. The cup shattered on the floor by our feet, and I gasped as Mac jerked me closer, his flinty eyes glittering.
“We are not trying to help you, Trey is trying to help you. I didn’t ask for this either, but it’s done, and I sure as hell am not gonna let you endanger any more of my crew with your attitude. You wanna be uncooperative? Fine by me. I’ll give you up to Madame. She loves sending people to the whipping post.”
“Madame or you?” I hissed, trying to wrench my arm free.
I thought I saw the hit I expected coming and flinched, but Trey grabbed his shoulder and yanked him away, whispering to him. Mac shrugged him off, still glaring at me, but he stayed back.
“Rations are handed out at dawn and dusk at the bells. You don’t go anywhere without a guard, and if you even think about trying to get through the wall, Madame will make you wish you were dead. And then you’ll have to answer to me.” He gave me a final glare before he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.
In the silence, Trey let out a long sigh.
“I’ll be outside if you need anything,” he said before following Mac out the door.
I clenched my jaw hard to keep from screaming in frustration as angry tears pricked at my eyes. I wished I’d let Trey bleed out on that rooftop. I wished I’d let Mac bleed out in Madame’s dungeon. Mostly I just wished Lana had shot me.
Survive, Wolf snarled.
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to get my raging emotions back under control. It didn't work much, so I cleaned up the shattered mug at my feet and started stomping around the small clinic, taking stock of what supplies I had. Judging by how much dust and cobwebs covered everything, the clinic had been empty for a while. The few mismatched cabinets in the kitchen contained a random assortment of medical supplies like IV tubing, scissors, a worn stethoscope, tourniquets, needles, and neatly folded bandages. An ornate hutch held various tiny bottles labeled in spidery handwriting and a few ancient bottles of pills with faded print. The steel sink in the corner actually worked, with cold clear water gushing out when I turned the knob. A wood-burning stove stood in the other corner, and large pots to heat up water hung on the wall. A faded leather chair sat near the cabinet. It had a footrest and a headrest and as I stepped on the lever by the floor, I discovered it moved up and down too. I also found a notebook with notes about patients and procedures and recipes for various ointments and tinctures. Whoever had been the healer before me had put in a lot of work to keep the clinic neat and organized.
I eyed the small safe. I’d occasionally had narcs to use on the Reapers, but they were a luxury and a liability. Nine times out of ten, they were stolen and used recreationally unless Juck kept them locked up in his tent. I tried lifting the safe. It didn’t budge. At least somebody would have a hard time getting it out of the clinic.
Three small windows in the loft let in some sunlight. I couldn't see anything but the sky, but I liked the natural light. I tried flipping the light switch near the door, peering up at the single-bulb head hanging from the ceiling. Nothing happened, but I knew the hold had power because there'd been lights on in the watchtower. I climbed up the loft ladder to find a less dirty square where the mattress must have been, a small dresser, empty except for a few spiders, and a wooden chair.
I stood in the middle of the loft, a lump in my throat. This could have been something special. I had my own clinic. I could do good here, but would it even count with all my “special projects?” I remembered the awe I felt the first time I healed, my childish excitement that I could ease suffering. It seemed so simple then, but instead I’d been forced to hide my power my whole life. Now I finally didn’t have to hide, but I was…I was torturing people.
If my brother could see what I’d become, he would be horrified.
I shoved that rogue thought back into the dark depths of my mind where it belonged. All I could do was keep going, even as the thought filled me with a bone-weary exhaustion. I had to keep going. I had to keep trying to make up for all the blood on my hands, it was the only option, and it was my burden to bear. I would find a way out of here. In the meantime, I just had to play along.
I scared the shit out of Griz when I threw open the door, sweeping a cloud of dust outside. He peered inside coughing as I dumped out my bucket of dirty water, noting my progress at cleaning everything.
“Lookin’ good,” he said before returning to his chair, leaning it back to balance on two legs with a rifle resting on his knees.
I stared at the gun, my stomach turning. I wasn’t sure if he had it to keep me cooperative or to keep other people away.
“You need anything?” he asked, and I noticed he was watching me study his gun.
“No,” I snapped, stomping back inside to tackle the loft.
4
I was working on banishing all the spiderwebs in the loft when the door opened with a crash.
“Bones!” Griz called.
Adrenaline spiked through my body, and I clambered down the ladder. Griz stood in the middle of the clinic with a man holding a young boy in his arms. The boy’s features were sunken and pale, and his chest terribly still.
“He’s been sick,” the man said, his voice panicked. “Fever. But now he won’t wake up.”
I moved before he even 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, hoping I sounded calm and not near tears.
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 and opened his eyes.
“Dad?” he asked.
The man gathered him up in his arms in a tight embrace. I had to turn away, emotion threatening to undo me. The man thanked me, his voice shaking.
“Bring ’em 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 just 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, his voice curious. “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 he sounded angry when he growled, “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 just 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 just 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 back to his gang and introduced me as the new healer, the startled outrage on everyone’s faces wasn’t unexpected. I did expect him to give them an explanation, but instead, he just 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 lil’ 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 made my skin prickle.
His hand stroking my hair seized a fistful, holding my head still in a painful grip that made me gasp. “You don’t touch anyone ‘less I say so. You hear me?”
I 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 as I listed, and faltered when I realized Trey stood next to Griz. I wasn’t sure how much he 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 but then glanced at Trey. I followed his gaze, feeling my stomach drop at the unease on Trey's face.
