Page 80 of Concluded
Dee kept his eyes closed and allowed his body to sway slightly with the motion of the car.
CHAPTER33
Achilles missed the warmth of Dee’s body.The trunk of the car was cold, and he couldn’t move even slightly in order to warm himself.His limbs, bound tightly for hours, screamed with pain, and his mouth was bone-dry from the gag.Old wounds made themselves known.And he was hungry, dammit.
Even though he’d known this was coming, even though he’d insisted on offering himself up, he couldn’t rein in the self-pity.There had been so few occasions in his life when someone had cared for him—in any sense of the word—and so many times when he’d been hurt.He wasn’t special.He couldn’t fly, or grant wishes, or change his shape, or run through the forest barefoot in the dark.He didn’t have extraordinary strength or speed or intelligence.He sure as hell wasn’t immortal.
He was just an ordinary human being doing his best to help a world that had done very little to help him.
Feeling sorry for himself wasn’t accomplishing anything either.You’re miserable enough as it is, he thought fiercely.Don’t make it worse.
He focused instead on his short time with Dee, who’d somehow managed to make Achillesfeelspecial: strong, brave, heroic.Who’d called himmaster, and—although there was some humor there—had meant it.Dee, who’d welcomed Achilles’ touch even when it was painful, perhaps understanding that sometimes it was the counterpoint that made pleasure even deeper.
Dee, who’d apparently just been reunited with his mother.
Achilles didn’t know exactly what to make of that unexpected occurrence, but he knew he didn’t like it.Hopefully that feeling was not due to simple envy or jealousy.He told himself that he trusted Dee to stick to the original plan and not lose sight of their goals.
But gods, he was so fuckingcold.
Cut it out.Save your energy.Keep the blood flowing.Keep your shit together.
He followed his own stern advice as well as he could, flexing his muscles and moving his limbs to the minor extent possible.He steadfastly pushed negative thoughts into a tiny pocket at the back of his mind, where they undoubtedly had lots of company from past terrible experiences.If he survived this, it might be a good idea to talk to a shrink before that pocket blew wide open.
Good.A plan for the future.That was the type of positive thinking they’d encouraged in his training—even if the plan did involve doing something he’d avoided for years.
He actually had seen a therapist once, shortly after Orson’s death and at the suggestion of a senior agent.But the visit hadn’t made him feel any better-adjusted; if anything, it made things worse by uncovering wounds.He’d complained about this to Agent Guerrero, and she’d rolled her eyes.“It’s not like taking out the garbage, Spanos.It’s not a one-and-done kind of thing.Our pasts are embroidered into our psyches, and it takes time and work to change the pattern.”
Back then, Achilles hadn’t been willing to make those investments.Now he pondered how much the course of his life might have changed if he had.He would have been better adjusted, probably.He might have been able to form friendships with people and maybe even romantic relationships.He might not have ended up naked—again—and tied up in a trunk, on his way to be tortured—again.Or killed.
But then, it’s possible he would have been mauled to death by a bear shifter.
Almost certainly, however, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with Dee, and that would have been a shame.Despite where that path had taken him, he was grateful for their time together.Dee Martell was a marvel, and not just because he was a djinn, although that was certainly one contributor.
A weird sort of peace settled over Achilles.He didn’t know what his future held, but he didn’t regret the recent decisions that had put him here.
The drive was interminable.He dozed lightly at times, and sometimes distracted himself by mentally reciting bits ofTheIliador reviewing some of his old Bureau lessons.
Until, finally, the car stopped.
Nothing happened for a while, and he began to wonder if he was simply going to be left there to rot.That would certainly be an anticlimactic way to go.But then the trunk opened, and while he was blinded by the bright light, someone forced a cloth bag over his head.Then several hands hoisted him up and dropped him—not at all gently—into a metal cart of some kind, which was rolled swiftly along a smooth surface.The bag muffled sounds, making it hard to assess whether he was indoors or out.
They didn’t go far.The cart came to a halt and he was dumped unceremoniously onto what felt like cool, smooth stone.Someone yanked off the bag, and Achilles squeezed his eyes shut against the light.
“Who are you?”
That was Dee’s voice coming from behind him.Achilles opened his eyes a bit and saw a tableau so starkly lit from above that it looked like a stage setting.He was indoors, in a cavernous room with high ceilings supported by steel beams; spotlights shone down from the supports.The wall opposite him was all glass, but since it was still dark outside, all he could see were reflections of the interior.He lay on a floor of white marble.Sleek furniture was grouped here and there, all of it white or glass or chrome, looking expensive but not very comfortable.
And standing a few yards in front of him were a man and a woman.
The woman had to be Dee’s mother; Achilles saw the resemblance immediately.She was nestled up against the man, embracing his left arm, and she looked very pleased with herself.
The man displayed no facial expression at all.He was white and fiftyish, with mousy brown hair that might have been a toupee or a dyed transplant.It was hard to tell from Achilles’ position on the ground, but he thought the man was fairly tall.He was pudgy too, although his clothing seemed tailored to camouflage that.He wore jeans, a gray T-shirt, a navy sport jacket, and black loafers.He had an earbud in one ear and a phone in his hand.
There were other people in the room—Achilles could hear them breathing—but they were behind him, perhaps flanking Dee.Who repeated his question, this time more loudly.“Whoareyou?”
“You’re in my house.Show some respect.”The man spoke like a parent chastising a teenager, which Achilles imagined must have rankled Dee.Especially since his mother was hanging all over the guy.
“Give me a reason why I should respect you.”
