Return (21 page)

“No,” I said, holding up my hands to placate
her. Her reaction struck me as genuine. “I apologize for being so
rude.”

“Rude, my ass,” she said with a hint of
amusement. “You were testing me.”

“Clumsily, I admit.”

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her
fingers over her belt buckle. “You think the Dollhouse is after
you?” she asked with obvious skepticism.

“Not exactly,” I confessed. “Not me.” I
stopped, debating exactly how much to say. It had all seemed so
clear when I’d planned it yesterday, but suddenly I was
floundering. “My friend…”

“The slave you mentioned? The one whose
ownership was in question?”

“That’s the one.”

“Are you telling me he’s a product of the
Dollhouse?”

“Yes. And I have reason to believe that
somebody is now paying them to let us go.”

She sat forward suddenly, leaning on her desk
to bring herself closer to me. “You’re telling me they’re
real?”

“Yes.” And then, because I could see that I’d
piqued her interest, I added, “I’ve been there.” She sat back in
shock, and I pressed on before she could ask any questions. “And I
can tell you how to get there.” I pulled the sheet of paper from my
pocket and slid it toward her. “Or at least, I can give you some
clues that might help you find it.”

She unfolded the sheet and peered through her
glasses to read it. “‘Starting from the Twisted Jackal Inn,
traveling by carriage. Go east, for approximately two minutes. Turn
left shortly after the blacksmith. Approximately three minutes
later, pass under a bridge.’” I remembered the sound of it, the way
the rain had stopped pelting the rooftop of the carriage for a few
seconds. “‘Past a temple with bells on the right. An open area a
bit past that, again on the right. Kids laughing. Maybe a school?
Turn right.’” She stopped to glance up at me. Amusement twinkled in
her eyes. “What kind of crazy directions are these?”

“The kind you get when you’re blindfolded.” Or
locked inside a carriage with the curtains drawn.

“You got all this without being able to
see?”

“I know it’s far from precise, but I figure
with this and somebody who knows the city…” She continued to scan
the paper, her lips moving a bit as she read. “There must be
somebody in Deliphine who would pay for this kind of
information.”

She tossed the paper onto her desk and leaned
back to scrutinize me. I noted a hint of admiration in her eyes.
“And you want what? For me to find a client for you? Or you want to
sell this to me directly?”

“Neither. Consider it a gift.”

“Why?”

“Because whoever you sell this information to
will be working against the Dollhouse.”

“And you hope to work with
them
?”

“No. I’m leaving Deliphine tonight. With any
luck, I’ll never be back.”

She shook her head in bemusement. “You’ve lost
me, kid. You’re telling me you’re going to hand me a weapon like
this and then walk away?”

“I do have one small request.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“As I said before, I have reason to believe
that somebody paid the Dollhouse to let us go. All I ask is that if
you hear anything about who might have done that, or why, you let
me know.”

“I can’t make any promises in that
regard.”

“I understand.”

She held up the directions I’d given her. “And
you’re willing to offer
this
in exchange for nothing but a
vague promise?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because somebody in this town must want the
Dollhouse found. Somebody must want them gone. And that’s the only
thing that matters to me — doing whatever I can, however small, to
bring those bastards down.”

“Huh.” She pondered for a minute, and
eventually her suspicion gave way to a broad smile. “I think the
exchange rate for that currency you’re carrying just got
better.”

***

I returned to my inn in good spirits. The day
was still young, the sun shining but not yet baking the trash and
filth of Deliphine into an unbearable stench. Or maybe I’d finally
grown used to smelling it.

No matter. By this time tomorrow, we’d be on
the yacht, bobbing on the ocean, being washed clean by the salty
sea breeze. We had only to buy a bit of fresh food on our way to
the boat and we’d be ready to go. But if I stuck to my original
plan of not leaving until after nightfall, that meant we had hours
to kill. I thought fleetingly of Ayo and the bed in my room. I
considered undressing him and spending those hours lost in him, but
I was hesitant. Logical or not, some part of me wanted to wait
until we were free of Deliphine’s stench and savagery before we got
too carried away. Besides, I had no idea how much energy he’d have
after the Dollhouse’s procedure. It would undoubtedly be kinder to
give him time to heal. I’d do my best to wait until he told me he
was ready.

I found him awake. He’d eaten the food I’d
brought up. The empty tray waited outside the door for the maid to
carry it away. Ayo sat by the window, his hands lying limp in his
lap, his gaze on something so far away, I doubted it was even in
Deliphine.

“How do you feel?” I asked. His color was
better, but there was still an air of fragility about him that
troubled me.

He answered my question with one of his own.
“How long have you been staying here?”

“Since the day after the Dollhouse took us
from Gideon’s house.”

“But when was that?”

“A little over a week ago.”

“A week?” He bit his lip, shaking his head.
“But… I thought that was the day before yesterday. They took me,
and then the next day you came back, and—” His voice cracked, and
he stopped speaking rather than talk through his tears.

“Maybe it’s better you don’t
remember.”

“No!” He wiped angrily at his cheeks. “It’s
not enough they steal my life? They have to steal my time
too?”

When he put it that way, he was right. It
seemed unfair. And yet, I would almost have traded a week’s worth
of lost memories for the week of worry and heartache I’d just
endured. “It’s over now.”

“Is it?”

The simple question brought me up short. It
sounded like an accusation. “What do you mean?”

He finally turned to face me, his red, swollen
eyes a testament to tears having been shed in my absence. He
reached up to touch the spot behind his ear. “It’s still there,
Misha.”

My heart missed a beat. I swallowed hard, my
mouth suddenly dry. “What is?” Although I was afraid I knew the
answer.

“The black spot.”

It was supposed to be gone. All of the
programming should have been gone, except that tiny, subtle block
that would stop him from taking his own life. Had he tried to do
that? Was that how he knew? “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It’s a lot smaller than before,
but it’s thicker.” He winced. “Heavier.”

Heavier?
But relief eclipsed my
confusion. He hadn’t tried to kill himself and stumbled onto the
revised neural block. “Maybe it’s only what’s left of the old
program? Like a shadow. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe,” he said, sounding unconvinced. He
chewed his lip more, debating something. Finally, he stood and
turned to face me, lifting his shirt to show me his chest. “But
there’s also this.”

Some piece of hope inside me died at the
sight. Where before there’d been two lines of spidery blue symbols
running down his chest, from just below his right nipple to his
waist, there were now three lines, the inner-most one still swollen
and red from the bite of the needle.

“Holy Goddess,” I swore quietly.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know, but maybe we can find out.” Or
maybe Gideon could. I was glad we still had most of the day ahead
of us. It meant I didn’t have to choose between finally leaving
Deliphine and the other task the Dollhouse had now imposed on
me.

Our possessions all fit into Ayo’s small bag,
although after adding the clothes Gideon had bought for us, it was
a bit bulkier than before. I paid the innkeeper and turned in my
room key before leading Ayo out, into the plaza. Our plan was to
buy whatever we still needed now, then leave everything on the boat
while we made one last trip to Gideon’s.

I bought some cheese and sausage, a loaf of
bread, a bundle of grapes, and a small bag of apples. As I held my
money out to the fruit vendor, he nodded toward Ayo, who was
standing on the opposite side of the man’s cart.

“You buying that too?”

For half a second, I thought he was referring
to Ayo himself, but then I realized Ayo was holding something in
his hand — a strangely shaped fruit with brown skin.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“A pear.” Ayo’s voice was soft, his tone
puzzling, as if naming it might cause it to disintegrate in his
hand.

“I thought pears were yellow.”

He shook his head without looking up. “Not
this kind.”

I sensed the vendor’s impatient gaze on me. I
almost imagined I could hear the ticking of the clock on the tower
three blocks away. And still, Ayo stared down at the fruit in his
hand, his expression somehow both reverent and afraid. Thrilled,
and yet horrified.

A pear.

And suddenly a memory burst to the top of my
consciousness, like a bubble breaking the surface of a simmering
pot of water.
Sometimes he buys me things. Mostly little
trinkets, but my favorite is when he brings me pears from
Deliphine. They’re the best gift.

And everything became clear. Until now, Ayo
had only shown anger toward Donato. He’d raged at me when I’d dared
to mourn. But now, for the first time, I saw the beginning of grief
in his eyes. I saw the set of his jaw as he fought to keep his
tears at bay. I knew the war that must be raging in his heart — his
desire to hang onto his bitterness and his hatred pitted against
the natural need to mourn the man who had known him best. The man
who had beaten him, and yet cared for him.

The man who had brought him pears from
Deliphine.

“Do you want to buy it?” I asked him. “We can
get as many as you want.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice
barely a whisper.

But he didn’t move to put it back. I had a
feeling he’d fight to the death if anybody dared take it from
him.

“We’ll take the pear too,” I told the confused
vendor.

And finally, I was able to lead Ayo — still
clutching the fruit in his hand — to the yacht.

By the time we left it again, heading back
into the city toward Gideon’s house, he’d recovered. He held my
hand as we walked, glancing around with open curiosity. I was
inexplicably nervous as I rang the bill at Gideon’s door for the
last time.

Rhianne answered, looking as voluptuous as
ever. Her smile seemed genuine as she let us inside. “He’s in his
office. He’s expecting you.”

Gideon rose from behind his desk as we entered
and crossed the room to shake my hand. “Misha. I heard they’d let
the boy go. I was hoping you’d stop by before you left.” He turned
to Ayo, eyeing him clinically. “How do you feel?”

Ayo shrank a bit under Gideon’s dark gaze.
“Fine, I guess.”

Gideon held a hand toward Ayo’s head. “Do you
mind if I take a look?”

“I guess not.”

Gideon stepped closer, tilting Ayo’s head to
the side to examine the vivid red scar behind Ayo’s ear. “It’s
remarkable how they can close the wound without sutures. It’s a
secret they refuse to share.”

“It seems to me they have a lot of those,” I
said.

“Yes.” Gideon released Ayo and stepped back to
sit on the edge of his desk. “It’s one of their
specialties.”

“I’ve been trying to make sense of the things
I’ve learned,” I told him. “I know Ayo was with Donato for four
years. I know how he looks.” I gestured at him. “Like he’s only a
boy, fourteen at the oldest — maybe closer to twelve — which would
make him seventeen or eighteen years old, but Adele says he’s
actually almost twenty. How is that possible? And how could they
make him to order at all on such short notice? It’s not as if
Donato told them what he wanted, then waited years for the finished
product.” I shook my head. “The math doesn’t add up.”

Gideon’s expression was sympathetic. “And it
probably never will. Nobody knows how they do the things they do,
Misha. All I can tell you is that yes, it’s unnatural. Probably
immoral. Borderline barbaric. And one more thing.” He leaned
forward a bit, pinning me with his gaze. “They are not to be
trusted, Misha. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“They wouldn’t have let us go if somebody
hadn’t paid them to do it.”

He nodded, clearly relieved that he didn’t
have to spell it out for me. “Exactly.”

“Do you have any idea who?”