Page 26 of Avidian
I feel bad for them—for anyone forced to live like this—but I know better than to dwell on it. This is how it is in so many places, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Marco could help. The political families in charge could change everything for these gutter zones. But they don’t. They don’t care, and it’s a fucking travesty.
We turn up a narrow road that winds deeper into the forest, leaving the remnants of the forgotten town behind us. I know better than to ask where we’re going, but my unease is growingwith every mile. It’s fully night now, and beyond the trees and the snow, there’s nothing but darkness pressing against the SUV’s windows.
“We’re here,” Marco says finally.
I squint into the blackness but don’t see anything at first. Then he slows the SUV and turns down a barely visible snow-covered path. If it weren’t for the four-wheel drive, I doubt we’d make it. My heart starts to pound as the headlights cut through the trees, illuminating a clearing up ahead.
There’s a warehouse standing there, large and looming, its metal sides rusted and worn. It looks abandoned at first glance, but faint lights flicker inside. A few trucks are parked outside, along with one fancy SUV that looks out of place but similar to ours.
I don’t like the look of this.
“Let’s go,” Marco says, putting the vehicle in park and stepping out.
I fall into step at his side as we approach the building. Two men step out to meet us, their appearances fueling my growing unease. They’re scummy-looking with torn jeans and that “haven’t showered in days” air about them.
“He’s in the back room,” one of them says, curt and dismissive. As we walk past, both of their eyes rake over me in a way that makes me want to run and hide. I stare straight ahead, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
Once inside, it’s not much better than the outside. The air is cold and damp, and the walls are missing panels, exposing beams and insulation in some spots. The concrete floors are uneven and coated in a fine layer of dust that clings to my boots as we move. The faint buzz of flickering lights echoes down the long, empty hallway. I hear someone cry out in the distance and the hair on the back of my neck stands up, but I don’t stop.Oh God, what am I walking into?
Marco leads the way into what looks like a makeshift office, sparsely furnished and barely functional. A man in a suit sits at a small desk with a laptop in front of him. His clothes speak of wealth, but his features are rough—a long scar runs down his cheek, and his nose is large and crooked. Black and gray-peppered hair is cropped close to his head, but nothing about him feels polished, despite his attempt at refinement.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” the man says, standing and extending a hand toward Marco.
“Yes, I’m not used to driving in the snow,” Marco replies with a charming smile, shaking the man’s hand. “Didn’t take into consideration I’d need to drive slower.” His manner is easy, almost conversational, but I know better.
His attention shifts to me. His eyes sweep over me with open appraisal, and I force myself not to flinch. Marco steps closer, his hand moving to my back and gently pushing me forward a couple of steps.
“This is her,” Marco says smoothly, as if presenting some prized possession. “My obedient little demon I spoke to you about. You see, she’s not a fantasy after all.”
Disgusted but impassive, I’ve had years of practice hiding how much I loathe moments like this.
The man’s eyes linger in places that would make me uncomfortable if I wasn’t already so desensitized to this kind of behavior. “I can see why you like keeping her close. She is quite something to look at, isn’t she?”
I say nothing, standing still under his scrutinizing gaze. My pulse races beneath the calm facade I wear so well.This is a game,I remind myself. Play it smart. Watch. Listen. Don’t give them anything to use against you.
“Boris, there is another way,” Marco says. “Viktor’s tactics may work, but it’s not fun to have a caged beast when you can have an obedient dog.”
I guess I’m the dog in this analogy now.
Lovely.
I swallow my pride, forcing myself to focus. It’s all about survival. What are Viktor’s tactics? Marco’s words plant the question in my mind, unbidden. As much as I detest him, it almost sounds like he’s positioning himself as the lesser of two evils. Not good, but not as monstrous as Viktor. Still, I can’t bring myself to believe that Marco’s motives are anything but selfish.
Boris steps closer, his boots scraping against the dusty floor. Before I can react, his hand clamps around my chin, tilting my head to one side then the other, like I’m some piece of merchandise he’s inspecting. I’m repulsed by his touch, and every muscle in my body screams at me to jerk away. But I don’t. Marco expects me to behave, and I know better than to challenge him here.
“Yes,” Boris murmurs, scanning my face. “But is she the only one you’ve trained?” He releases my chin, turning to glance back at Marco, completely dismissing me now.
Marco leans casually against the edge of the desk, his demeanor relaxed as if this entire interaction is business as usual. “All of my Avids are like this,” he says, a faint smile curling his lips. “I give them a nice place to stay, and they understand the work. In turn, I get the respect I deserve.”
Respect? I almost laugh. Respect isn’t what he gets. What Marco gets is fear. I don’t stay in line because I admire him or appreciate the fancy cage he keeps me in. I obey because the alternative is far worse.
Boris looks me over again, but this time his eyes hold something darker, something calculating. “Interesting,” he says, simpering. “Perhaps I’ve underestimated your methods.”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” Marco replies.
He has pride in controlling me, and now he wants this man to see it, admire it. Marco is probably showing me off to seal whatever deal he’s brokering. Boris must be a buyer—or worse. The whole thing churns my stomach.
I don’t know what I expected before. Maybe I didn’t let myself think about it at all, but deep down I wanted to believe those of us with abilities who were discovered and sold off were treated somewhat like human beings. Maybe not well, but at least given a home. A bed. Something. Not kept in conditions too horrifying to imagine.
