Page 25 of Concluded
That was an excellent question, one that Dee had carefully avoided asking himself for his entire life.So instead of answering, he offered an inadequate and overused excuse.“None of this is my idea.I hardly even know what’s going on.”
Somehow Spanos managed a wry smile.His teeth were bloodstained.“Just following orders.”
Dee clenched his jaw and started to leave.He felt like a coward.Hewasa coward.That was the kind of person he was.Now he’d go find a bed in this goddamn place and blot out the world with some sleep.
Somehow, however, he found himself turning back, crossing the room, and looming over Spanos, who stared at him without visible hope.“My name is Damnation,” Dee said quietly.“I guess my parents never expected much out of me except trouble.And I guess they were right.But look what being the hero gets you.”He pointed at one of Spanos’s manacles.“Achilles, right?Big hero, but didn’t he die at the end?”
“I don’t believe in destiny.Or heroes.I believe in making the best decision you can and, if you fuck up, doing what you can to fix it.”Spanos made a strange sound that might have been a laugh.“I guess I should thank you two for allowing me that realization.”He turned his head away and closed his eyes.
After a few moments, Dee left, closing the door softly as if trying to avoid disturbing the room’s occupant.Then he wandered for what felt like freaking eons until stumbling into a room that contained a couch.Not a bed, and he had to curl up to fit, but it was softer than the floor.He tried to sleep.
The couch fabric, however, was a screaming green that he could almost feel through his skin, and there didn’t seem to be a way to turn off the bright overhead lights.Ashley’s home design skills clearly left something to be desired.
Dee lay there on his side, two phrases echoing in his skull.
What kind of person are you?
Do what you can to fix it.
CHAPTER11
Achilles floated in some strange place beyond hunger and fear and pain.Well, not beyond them exactly.They were still with him, but only as vague shadows.What he mostly felt was empty.
The only spring he and Orson had spent together, Orson had invited Achilles to his parents’ house for Easter dinner.Orson’s family was Protestant, while Achilles’ was Greek Orthodox, so the event had felt like a cultural expedition.Before the meal, Orson’s mother showed off the eggs she’d decorated for the occasion: chicken eggs she’d hollowed and then decorated with intricate designs in blue and white wax.
Now, Achilles was like those eggs.There was an image of a man on his outside, but nothing inside, and he was very, very fragile.
But he wasn’t yet dead.
Perhaps an hour or so after Martell left—it was impossible to accurately judge time—Ashley had tottered into the room smelling strongly of citrus and alcohol.She could barely stand upright and slurred her words when she greeted him, but being drunk didn’t stop her from making that gesture and sending Achilles into throes of agony.Two, three, four times, never quite letting him pass out, never quite allowing the pain to ebb completely away.She didn’t say anything while she did this, and when his vision was clear enough to make out her expression, it was entirely neutral.
Eventually, still without saying anything, she left.Alone and fettered, Achilles had cried for a while.And now he did… nothing much.He breathed, in and out.He blinked his eyes.Sometimes he licked his cracked lips or flexed his fingers.He wished he could scratch his damnably itchy nose.
“You didn’t come up with a plan,” he scolded himself, but without heat.When he’d been in that dark, formless place, he’d reviewed the little he’d known about his situation, and had sincerely tried hard to come up with a reasonable idea about what to do once he was plucked out of that place.But he’d drawn a blank.He’d never been great at strategizing, which was one reason why he was a follower rather than a leader.
Uncounted hours of captivity and several rounds of torture hadn’t brought him any closer to an idea.He had, however, unequivocally decided on one thing: he wouldn’t give in to Ashley.“I can take it,” he whispered to himself.Whatever she dished out.Maybe all those years of being attacked were coming in handy; they’d toughened him up.“Hooray for being the monsters’ chew toy.”
There was one other thing he could do now, aside from persisting.From what he understood, when Agent Clark and his empath had been in a similar situation, hope had been what defeated their captor.Ashley and her compatriots had cruelty, greed, and indifference on their side, but those could be countered with their opposites: empathy, generosity, and hope.While Achilles wasn’t optimistic about his own survival, he could at least strive to believe that the balance would soon shift in favor of his side.And as he’d been reminded by several people lately, sometimes even the smallest effort could make a huge difference.
“Ihavemade a difference.”True, he hadn’t saved the world.But there were some people and NHSs alive today because of him.“I’m glad I worked for the Bureau.Encounters with bear shifters and all.”
As the door to the room opened, he steeled himself for more pain.
But instead of Ashley, it was Martell who entered, carrying a clear plastic water bottle.His expression was unreadable as he walked over, and without a word he helped Achilles raise his head so he could drink without spilling.Getting some liquid into his body felt so wonderful that Achilles groaned, causing Martell to back away.“It’s just water,” Martell said defensively.
“You could do me a favor and poison me.”Achilles wasn’t joking.
“No.”Martell looked down at the floor.Although he was Achilles’ age, at the moment he looked much younger.He also looked as if he’d been running hands through his slightly frizzy dark hair, which was now in snarls.Oddly, Achilles almost felt sorry for him.
“I’m here because of choices I made,” Achilles said.“You, not so much, I think.”
Martell looked up quickly.“Yes!I never asked to have any goddamn supernatural powers.I didn’t seek you people out—you showed up at my door.”
“If you’re hoping I forgive you, I don’t.But you go ahead and tell yourself whatever it takes to face yourself in the mirror.”
“Could you?Face yourself, I mean?”
Achilles thought about this seriously because he had nothing better to do and it took his focus away from the dismal situation.“Yes.”
