The brief view of the room had done nothing to calm Sabe. His muffled sobs had had as much effect on the cold, black eyes of the pale man as they had Mercato and his goons. It was clear from the overheard conversation and the large amount of blue powder on Mercato’s desk that the man was a drug dealer, and in the Depths, dealers were not known for their compassion.

The hood dropped back over his head, and Sabe forced himself not to panic, to keep breathing, reminding himself that it was just fabric and he wouldn’t suffocate. Though it might be easier if he did suffocate, because then he wouldn’t have to deal with everything Mercato promised was coming to him.

Cold water dripped from his hair, rolling down his neck and soaking into the thin fabric of the oversized white shirt. That was all they had allowed him to wear after hosing his naked body down with freezing water. Said it would be easier for what was coming to him. Sabe knew he was vulnerable, and he knew he was in a very bad position. There was little hope, but his mind still raced, trying to find any possible route of escape.

Mercato’s voice rose over the rush of blood in Sabe’s ears. “That kind of thing to your liking? We got others. I could have something arranged.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m not interested in others.” The man’s voice came from the center of the room, back at the chair across from Mercato’s desk. “What are you planning on doing to him?”

Mercato chucked, and Sabe felt his stomach clench with fear. “Why, you want to watch?”

“Just curious.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” said Mercato. By his tone, it was clear he thought the other man had a fetish, and he seemed eager to cash in on the new discovery. “Well, we were just discussing the plan before you arrived, actually. People who steal from me need to be taught a lesson. I shot the other two because they were standard Depths trash, half as decayed as they were alive. This one, however, he looks practically new. You saw his face. Someone would pay well to be the first to slice that up.”

Sabe felt cold inside, colder than the water dripping down his spine.

I’m never getting out of here alive, he thought.

“Sure,” the pale man agreed. “Though I don’t see how that sets an example.”

Mercato clicked his tongue. “News will spread-”

“And what?” he said arrogantly, “I bet you already have hungry young things begging at your door to be allowed the chance to trade a couple pounds of flesh for a warm room, a full belly, and enough dope to block out the pain. They find out they can rob you and get that same chance? Well, I just hope you have enough bloody mops.”

There was a sharp click of metal on the desk, like glasses being set down angrily. “Mr. Black, my retaliation against those who have wronged me is legendary. No one would dare oppose me.”

“Maybe not as legendary as you think, since a few kids thought they could steal from you just this morning.”

The robbery had been a mistake, poorly planned and poorly executed. Wently said it would be easy, quick in and quick out. After the customers and dancers went home, before the suits showed up to work, all the cash just sitting, waiting to be taken. Desperately hungry, Sabe and Joem thought it was a great idea, and wondered why no one robbed strip clubs more often.

His friends had already paid for their mistake. Sabe could still feel the splatter of their brains against his face.

The pale man was certainly not helping the situation by antagonizing Mercato and rubbing the theft in. Any hope Sabe had of a lenient punishment was evaporating.

“That’s why this one will learn,” Mercato growled. “I’ll test him out first, make sure he understands his position, then he can spend a few days in the backroom, where the staff and our special clientele can blow off a little steam.” With nonchalance that made Sabe want to vomit, Mercato added, “Then I’ll probably shoot him, too.”

“That would certainly make an impact,” replied the pale man. His voice was emotionless. Just completely heartless. Anyone who could listen to or discuss such vile acts had to be a twisted, wicked person.

“Yes, it certainly would,” said Mercato, pleased. Glass vials clinked rhythmically and neither man spoke. He was counting. Sabe couldn’t focus through the haze of panic in his mind to keep track, but he understood it was a lot.

“Good enough?” the pale man asked.

“As always, you’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Black. I’ll give you two-point-six million for this batch.” The number staggered Sabe. It was more than his mind could calculate.

“Merc, you disappoint me. Two-six? Last time it was four. Are you trying to hold out on me?”

“There was more product last time.”

“It was exactly the same, and you know it.”

“Fine. Three-five, but you’re not my only supplier. Don’t push your luck, Mr. Black.” There was a squeak of leather as Mercato settled back into his chair.

“Three-five, and you give me the boy.”

What?

“Oh, Mr. Black, you are funny today!” Mercato barked out several short, forced laughs. “I’m not going to give you the boy. He’ll earn me good money, even if he just ends up on the meat market.”

“An even three million for the drugs and the boy,” he countered, his voice hard.

Mercato considered the offer. “I give you three for the drugs, and you can have the first night with the boy. After I’m done with him, of course.”

“I don’t share.”

With a huff, Mercato said, “Of course you don’t. Fine, three, and you can have him first, through he can’t be damaged beyond marketability.”

“No, I want him all.”

“You want him all?” Mercato asked, astounded. “Just what are you planning on doing with him? I’ve got a reputation to uphold, after all.”

“That’s none of your concern, Merc.”

“Listen, Black Ander, I’m not some low life street thug you can bully. You’re not taking the boy, and that’s final.”

Sabe’s head spun. He didn’t know what was happening. Sure, he didn’t want to stay there, but he didn’t want to be purchased by some perverted drug dealer, either.

The pale man’s voice came softer, quieter. “You give me the boy, you keep the batch. Even trade.”

“Deal,” Mercato snapped without hesitation.

The guard’s rough hand grabbed Sabe’s arm and jerked him up. He was hauled, bare feet hardly touching the ground, over to the middle of the room and flung forward. He collided with something hard and unforgiving, thought it was a wall, but then an arm wrapped around him.

The pale man.

Oh, no.

On his feet, but practically petrified by fear, Sabe tried to run. His legs wouldn’t work. He started to fall, but the strong arm held him pressed against a solid, lean chest. He could hear the man’s heartbeat, and it had an odd, second-flutter, echoing his own frightened pulse.

“I’ll be going now,” he said, and Sabe felt the deep voice vibrate through his body.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you,” said Mercato, the man’s voice oozing with satisfaction.

The pale man walked from the room, guiding Sabe’s unwilling body forward. Sabe’s mind raced, trying to process what was happening, trying to find a way to save himself.

Before the door shut, Mercato’s booming laughter filled the room, and he shouted his rapturous decree to the guard.

“My lucky day! Imagine how scared people will be when they find out Mercy Mercato sends his rivals to the Black Ander!” The crime boss’s raucous laughter chased them down the hall and out of the club.

Frigid air hit the wet t-shirt just as Sabe’s bare feet touched the cold cement outside Mercato’s club. The sudden chill sent a shock through Sabe which finally allowed him to think clearly.

First, Sabe twisted, bringing his elbow into his new captor’s groin with as much force as he could muster. Then, he sprang forward, contorting out of the man’s grasp while he was still surprised by pain. He ripped the hood off, but there was nothing he could do about his bound hands. Fresh air filled his lungs, and he felt like he was breathing for the first time in hours.

Instinct took over, and Sabe ran.

Beyond the covered mouth of the alley was still the dim glow of daylight. Freedom and salvation waited him in that light. Bare feet pounded against the rough concrete, bringing him closer to his escape. There were a few people out there, walking by and looking up. He tried shouting, but was still muffled by the tight, makeshift gag. No one heard him. No one turned their gaze away from the thin blue line of the sky above.

He would just have to run until he found someone to help.

Light was half a heartbeat away when Sabe felt arms wrap around his waist and spin him backward. The force of the pale man’s body pinned him against the alley wall, trapping his bound arms between them. Long fingers tangled in Sabe’s hair, tugging and pulling at the back of his head.

Sabe whimpered at the pain, but no one could save him. Even if someone heard him, he was blocked from the sky-gazers’ sight by the pale man’s black hair and black clothes. They were just more shapeless shadows in a shadowed world.

“Hush, I’m sorry. I’ve almost got it,” the man said.

Expecting to see anger and pain, Sabe was surprised by the calm expression of the man leaning over him. His black eyes reflected the dim light in strange swirling patterns, and his lips were pressed in a thin, determined line.

There was another tug at Sabe’s hair which made him wince, then the tie loosened and the gag fell free. The pale man grabbed the sock from between Sabe’s lips and pulled the fabric out. Sabe’s tongue felt swollen and fuzzy, but it was such a relief to move his jaw again.

Immediately, Sabe screamed, “HELP!”

The pale man’s hand covered his mouth, clamping his jaw shut. “No, don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you.” He glanced over his shoulder to the street, but no one had heard Sabe’s short outcry. No one was coming to interfere.

The man’s strange black eyes turned toward Sabe again. There was an uneasy familiarity in that gaze, as if the two already knew each other. Sabe was certain he had never met that pale man before, and he dreaded being held captive by him. He was certainly a sick psychopath.

“My name is Alex. You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said.

Yeah, right, Alex, Sabe thought cynically. Every instinct in his body told him that, yes, he did need to be afraid of the pale man.

“I am not going to hurt you,” he repeated, as if that would somehow make it any more true. “It is too cold for you to stay out here long, and we need to get away from Mercato. I will take you some place safe, get you warm cloths, and feed you. After that, I only want to talk.”

Sabe seriously doubted the statement, but as Alex spoke, he felt the cold settle in his bones and the routine ache of hunger gnaw at his belly. He wouldn’t survive in the Depths long as he was. He may escape the clutches of one pervert and end up frozen by the side of the road awaiting another.

And the promise of food was very tempting.

“I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. Don’t scream.” The firm hand lowered from Sabe’s face.

He didn’t scream. His jaw ached and he moved it back and forth. His mouth was so dry. He desperately needed a drink.

“What’s your name?” asked the pale man.

“Sabe,” he replied.

“Sabine?” the man asked, his voice rising.

Sabe shook his head, watching the man’s face, trying to gauge his reactions for any sign of violence. “No, Sabe. Like, short for Sabeth.” He started to shiver, the cold alley wall almost freezing his wet shirt to his skin.

“Okay, Sabe. I’m going to take care of you. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” Alex stepped back from Sabe, standing like he expected him to run again.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was too cold now, and even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to run fast enough or far enough.

With a careful snap, Alex broke the binders around Sabe’s wrist. The skin had already bruised, and it was a relief to have them off. Then Alex picked Sabe up as if he were a child.

“No! Don’t carry me!” Sabe hit Alex’s chest. It was like hitting a brick wall.

The pale man frowned. “You are practically naked and have no shoes. You are not going to walk.”

Sabe strongly disagreed. “Put me down!”

“We can either do this my way, or I will knock you out and carry you anyway. Do you understand?” His voice was harsh, but contained no malice. It was like talking to stone.

There wasn’t much option there. Being captive was terrible. Being unconscious and captive was worse. Sullenly, he agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. No one could force him to look happy about it.

Alex tucked the fabric of the t-shirt under Sabe’s legs so that it provided some measure of modesty. Then he pulled the fabric of his black sweater around them, cocooning Sabe in his arms.

Sabe hated to admit it, but he was appreciative of the pale man’s warmth. Being held and carried reminded Sabe’s body that it was exhausted. He refused to sleep, though. He had to know where he was being taken.

People didn’t look at them strangely. Most people didn’t look at them at all. Everyone was so caught up in their own lives that they blocked out everything else. It was easier that way, Sabe knew. As he saw their faces, determinedly looking up, avoiding eye contact with anything that could remind them of the Depths around them, Sabe suspected, even if he called for help now, no one would hear him.

The smooth sway of the man’s footsteps was hypnotic. Sabe’s stressed body relaxed. He watched through a dreamlike haze as he was carried through the Depths. The thin line of blue sky could be seen above Alex, past his long black hair. The tops of the buildings seemed impossibly far away. Clear tubes connecting the different buildings were hardly noticeable, except when a higher-class citizen walked through. But so far away, the people just looked like fleas against the blue sky.

All natural light was gone by the time the pale man stopped in front of an access point to a building. He touched the biometric reader, and it beeped twice and turned green. The door opened and allowed them inside, slamming shut as soon as they were through.

Over two years had passed since Sabe had last been able to access the interior of a building. It felt smaller inside, and the air smelled stale. It was difficult to breath. He felt like he was being crushed in the pale man’s arms. Panic was rising in him, and he struggled to free himself once more.

“It’s alright, Sabe, we’re almost there,” said Alex, keeping the struggling body in his arms firmly under control.

“Put me down. Put me down now,” Sabe said frantically.

Surprisingly, Alex didn’t argue. He placed Sabe down beside him, then took the sweater off and wrapped it around Sabe’s body. “Better?”

Gripping the soft black fabric in tight fists, Sabe just focused on breathing in and out for a few moments. There was plenty of oxygen in the air, he reminded himself. He wasn’t going to suffocate. He yearned for wide open places and endless sky, but he couldn’t have that anymore. His options were alone on the streets, or inside one of the monoliths with a drug dealer. Neither were good options, but for the moment…

“I’m okay now. Sorry.”

“It’s not much further. Stay close,” said Alex.

Walking was difficult, but Alex’s steady guidance kept him moving forward. They reached the lift to take them to the first transport level. The poorly maintained track whined as it pulled the lift up, shrieking to a halt on the transport floor. They got out, and Alex led Sabe to a short-drift bank of lifts that would take them to the local floors. Besides a lady in a flowered suit waiting for a long-drift lift, the transport floor was empty.

The pale man registered his thumb on the lift screen again and pressed the icon for the sixth floor. The lift enclosed them and made a short jolt down before opening back up and releasing them at their destination.

The carpet was worn thin and stained. The walls were dirty. Crying could be heard through the thin walls of the residential level. But it was warm and dry, and Sabe felt somewhat envious of the people who lived there.

They turned down a short corridor with a single door at the end. There was a symbol followed by a three digit number on the door. It took Sabe a moment to recognize the numbers, but he finally read them. Six-four-seven. The symbol, however, he didn’t know.

“This door leads home. K647,” said Alex. “You’ll be safe here.”

The heavy door unlocked when the pale man placed his hand on the doorknob. It was probably another biometric scanner, Sabe noted. There wasn’t the usual green screen, so he assumed it was built into the doorknob itself. It was strange, and he worried that it might be something difficult to get past when the time came for him to escape.

Alex ushered Sabe inside after pushing open the door. Sabe felt a quick, fuzzy hum, then a pop, and lights flared on.

The apartment was different that Sabe had been expecting. The ceilings were high, and the main area contained a large living room and kitchen. Appliances and furniture were old fashioned, but clean. Fruit sat in a bowl on the kitchen island counter. Sabe expected them to be painted foam decorations, but when his finger touched one, the smooth skin of an apple greeted him. He jerked his hand back like he was afraid he was going to break it.

Alex closed and locked the heavy door behind them. He followed Sabe into the kitchen, watching him curiously. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Sabe admitted softly. He looked at the apple. How long had it been since he had any fruit?

“I’ll make some pasta for you. Go ahead and eat an apple while you wait.”

“I couldn’t possibly…” But his mouth was watering and his fingers held the fruit before he could stop himself.

He brought the hard apple to his lips, just holding in there, breathing in the sweet scent. It reminded him of crisp air, hot drinks, and the laughter of his adopted family. Before the memories could sour, Sabe bit into the fruit. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

While Sabe ate the apple, Alex rummaged through cupboards and the pantry, collecting packaged food and a large skillet. He laid them out in an array on the counter before turning the stove on and placing the skillet over the dancing flames. The shiny refrigerator was practically empty when Alex opened it. He sliced a chunk off the large slab of butter inside, then tossed it into the warm pan. It quickly began to melt.

Sabe watched with great interest while he chewed every bit of edible flesh from the apple. When Alex started tearing open packages and pouring the mushrooms and vegetables into the skillet, Sabe was nearly overcome with emotion. He hadn’t seen that much food in a long time. He and his friends had survived off shared nutrition blocks and broth from the soup kitchen for the past three months.

With the food heating, Alex got a glass and filled it with water from the filtered sink faucet. He sat it down before Sabe without a word, and returned to stir the contents of the skillet.

Suddenly, Sabe realized how thirsty he was. He sat the apple core down. It had been juicy, but he really needed water. The cool liquid touched his lips, soothed his tongue, and slid like ambrosia down his throat.

“Slow down,” Alex warned. “You’ll make yourself sick if you drink too fast.”

Though he knew there was sense in the request, Sabe couldn’t bring himself to listen. He tilted the glass up, gulping the remainder of the water. “Ah!” he gasped, feeling briefly refreshed.

Almost immediately after, he felt his stomach cramp with the sudden rush of cool water. Oops. He pressing his elbow into his side, willing it to go away. Though it hurt, if he’d had another glass of water, he would have drank it, too.

Alex just shook his head. He flipped the food in the pan so it cooked evenly. “Do you have any allergies, Sabe?”

“Someone once told me I was allergic to onions, but I’ve never eaten them, so I don’t know.” He felt stupid after saying it. They weren’t supposed to be getting to know each other. Alex was the enemy. He was holding Sabe prisoner. He was an evil drug dealer!

The bag of pre-cooked pasta was ripped open and added to the skillet. The spiral noodles were stirred among the vegetables and mushrooms, creating a colorful, delicious smelling meal.

Well, Sabe supposed he could spend a few minutes pretending to get to know Alex, at least while he ate.

“So… you’re a drug dealer, huh?” Sabe asked.

Alex snorted. “Yes, I am.”

“And, uh… you sell drugs to Mercato all the time?”

“A few times a year. Was it your idea to rob the business place of one of the Depth’s cruelest crime lords?” asked Alex. The question had a sharp edge to it. Apparently Alex didn’t like questions being directed at him.

Sabe slumped into the tall chair beside the kitchen island. “No. Wently thought it up, and it seemed smart at the time.”

“You haven’t lived on the streets long, have you?”

“For four years,” Sabe said defensively. “I’m not stupid, we were just desperate. I don’t remember the last time we ate real food.”

“So Wently was one of the two with you?”

“And Joem.”

Alex nodded, stirring the noodle mixture so nothing burned. “I’m sorry Mercato killed your friends.”

The words caught Sabe off guard. He hesitated a bit before whispering, “Thank you.”

“Food is done.” Alex flicked the stove off, and the fire went out in a quick puff. He got a bowl, just one, from the cupboard and poured the whole contents of the pan into it. He sat the hot food before Sabe and handed him chopsticks. “You eat this slow, or I’ll take it away from you.”

Sabe couldn’t promise anything of the sort. He leaned in and smelled the delicious meal. He wanted to pour it straight down his throat like he had the water. Instead he used the chopsticks to shovel the food into his cheeks.

When Sabe’s mouth was full and he could fit no more, Alex placed a plate over the top of the bowl, cutting off his supply of pasta. “I said, ‘Eat slow.’”

Sabe whined a complaint, then quickly chewed and swallowed most of the food in his mouth so that he could complain clearly. “But it’s delicious and I’m so hungry!” he said, food still stuffed into his cheek.

Alex sat on the stool beside him, hand still touching the plate over the bowl. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and for each honest answer you give, I’ll let you have another bite. Got it?”

“That’s not fair-”

The pale man pushed the covered bowl further from Sabe.

“Okay! No! I understand! I got it! Ask a question!”

“Thank you.” Alex moved the bowl back in place before Sabe. “First question. What is your name? Your full name.”

“It’s Sabeth. Sabeth De Moncreaux.”

The plate lifted, and Sabe’s chopstick shot in to the opening and grabbed as much pasta as possible. When he brought the food to his mouth, Alex covered the bowl again. Sabe chewed a bit, moving the food around in his mouth to swallow bits that had been there longer. He was alert, chopsticks poised, ready for the next question and any sign of movement from the plate.

“How old are you?” Alex asked.

“Nineteen. No, wait, twenty.” The plate lifted, and he repeated the rushed grab.

Alex watched him chew for a moment before he asked the next question. “How long have you lived in the Depths?”

He’d already told the man that. “Four years.” Still, the plate lifted and Sabe got another bite of food.

“Where did you live before that?”

Sabe stared at the bowl. He chewed what was in his mouth. He didn’t want to answer that question, but he really wanted more food. “New Orleando.” It was the city he had lived in, so it did answer the question, even if it wasn’t a full response.

The plate raised, and Sabe grabbed one of the mushrooms along with a couple swirls of pasta. He almost dropped it in his rush to bring it back to his mouth, but caught it with his other hand and popped it in anyway.

“Why did you run away from home?” the pale man asked.

“I didn’t run away,” Sabe said. The plate didn’t raise. His eyes flicked over to Alex, then back to the bowl, not wanting to miss the chance. “It’s true, I didn’t. I didn’t have a home left to run away from.”

Alex lifted the plate.

“What happened?” he asked, not covering the food again. Sabe took the first bite, then hesitated. He didn’t think it would make Alex happy if he stole another bite without answering the new question first.

“My family kicked me out.” He tentatively reached for more food, half expecting Alex to stop him, but he didn’t. He ate what he had picked up and waited for the next question.

“Why did your family kick you out?”

Sabe clicked the chopsticks together in the air a couple times. “We got in a fight,” he answered finally. He went to grab more food, but Alex moved his hand. He didn’t cover the food, but just waved a bit, halting Sabe’s motion.

“No, that’s not a good enough answer. Families fight. You need to explain why yours kicked you out.”

Sabe frowned. “They weren’t my real family. I was adopted by them, but Dad never really liked me.” He clicked the chopsticks together again. “He kicked me out because… Because he had caught me and Julia together in bed.”

Alex pulled his hand back and Sabe reached for more food. His stomach didn’t feel as empty now, and he didn’t feel the need to hoard the food in his cheeks. He chewed, not making eye contact with Alex. It was easier to talk about his past that way.

“Was Julia your adopted sister?”

“Yes.”

“So your adopted father caught you having sex with his daughter, and kicked you out?”

Sabe swallowed hard, the memories making his throat tight. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Did it have anything to do with you being a caenid?”

Alex might as well have hit Sabe. He dropped the chopsticks, and one clattered onto the floor. “How’d you know?” Sabe asked.

“You can pass as human, but anyone with half a brain can see that you’re not. You’re lucky that those men in Mercato’s club only share half a brain between them.” Alex stood and picked the chopstick from the floor. He brought it to the sink and rinsed it off while Sabe stared.

“Is that why you bought me? Are you going to sell me back?”

“I think you need to tell me the whole truth, and then we’ll see.” Alex handed him the clean chopstick. “If you can eat while you talk, without rushing, I won’t take the food away again.”

Sabe nodded solemnly. He had lost some of his appetite, but he was determined not to waste any food.

He began his story. “It was over four years ago…”

Comments