Page 47 of Rarely Pure and Never Simple
"My uncle showed up. Out of nowhere. But he had the right documents. The right DNA. He was my uncle. They say a human locator is so rare, it's one in every five million births. Sometimes years and years between. There was some media fuss about it, apparently. It… attracted him."
"So once family showed up, no one else could move in, was that it?"
"Essentially. Legally complicated. My uncle—" He swallowed hard, and Blaze pulled him in closer. "My uncle didn't have a good understanding of variant talents. He didn't understand just how rare mine is. He thought—thought I was an object-oriented locator."
The growl rumbling in Blaze's chest surprised him. He darted a glance up and found Blaze scowling fiercely enough to start an intercontinental war. "He wanted to use you."
"Yes," Damien whispered.
"He was—what? A thief?"
"Yes."
"Fucking hell. But your gift doesn't work that way. So you couldn't find shit to steal for him. Only people. So he punished you."
Neural ants crawled over his skin. Aware that he was shivering, Damien tried to pull away. Blaze had already guessed so much. Panic rose in his throat at the thought of anyone, even Blaze, knowing so much about him. Still he went on, as if once begun, he had no way to stop.
"The house was old." His voice sounded distant and tinny, like audio from an ancient movie reel. "Dirt floor in the basement still. Root cellar down there. After the beating… the root cellar. No light. No air. Things lived in there. Crawling things."
The bright,white-hot pain as the broken antennae whipped across his thighs again; he tried to squirm away, but the heavy boot on his chest kept him pinned. "You'll do as you're told, you motherfucking little freak! Tell me you can't one more time! Go on! Say it again!"
When he dared say it, because it was true, because maybe Uncle Shane would believe him this time, the stinging blows moved to the tender skin of his stomach. He screamed and begged.
It never helped.
"Damien!"
Someone was shaking him, hard. Frantic gray-green eyes searched his face. Canyon. On the cave side of the Raptor. Blaze…
"It's all right," Damien whispered, his voice trembling from the howling storm of memory. "It's all right."
Blaze yanked him into a hard, desperate embrace. "I'm so sorry. Damn it, Damien. Don't let me ask all those questions if that's where it goes. Tell me to fuck off."
"Goes?" Damien struggled out of the crushing hold far enough to blink up at him, feeling stupid and disoriented.
"Yes! Fuck! You went ice white and blank. I thought… never mind what I thought. You didn't look like you saw where you were going. Just kinda meandering and whimpering." Blaze's frown pulled down a little more. "This happen a lot?"
"Not often. Not anymore."
"Okay. I got it. Okay." Blaze pulled him close again, cradling his head in one strong hand. "No closed-up underground places. No talking about BDP."
"BDP?"
"Before Dr. Parma."
Damien tried for a smile. It must have been convincing on some level, since the worry creases on Blaze's forehead eased. He leaned in, the steam of their breath mingling, and kissed Damien, lips touching down in a surprisingly sweet, tender caress.
"She's kind of like another mom, huh?"
"Teacher. Mentor. She's the only reason I'm not an illiterate lunatic."
Blaze nodded and kissed Damien's forehead. "Just a well-educated lunatic."
"Yes. That."
"If she's involved in this…"
Damien patted Blaze's chest. "I don't discount it. But if she is, I'm moving out into the Badlands and never speaking to another human again."
