Succession (8 page)

“Are you all right?” I ask. “Your visitor didn’t seem to make you very happy. I thought maybe he’d take you home, keep you out of here until your master comes back.”

Sascha shakes his head. “I’d never go with that bastard. He’s a sadistic asshole. You know what he does for business. In private, he tends more toward humiliation and suffering. He’s shown me his preferences before. But we need him. He has connections, and he has the rest of our data. He can try to get my master out of prison.”

“And you pay the price for his help.” I understand. I’ve been there before. I’m there right now, trying to commit every detail of what Sascha tells me to memory so I can pay off my own debts. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sascha says. “You’re doing enough for me in here. I appreciate it. I really don’t mind giving you head. You’re nice about it. And I know that you’re not abusing it or anything, so, please, enjoy me.”

I sigh. Sascha’s trying to make me feel better, but I feel guilty instead. Sascha might be keeping me alive, and he appreciates being forced to play the part of my whore? I’ve made my peace with killing as ordered, but I’ve never been the one to manipulate someone on my own time. I feel like as much of a monster as those pulling the strings from the outside.

“Sascha, I know it’s not the same…” I start, uncertain of how he’ll react. “But would you like me to return the favor?”

Sascha is quiet for a moment, probably confused. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, if he’ll be offended, if he’ll think that I’m playing him or just trying to get more action.

“Oh, I…” he stammers. “I mean, I’m flattered, and I’m sure I would enjoy it, but….”

“Sorry,” I say, once Sascha goes too long without speaking. I want to pull away, to hide from my own shame and inadequacy. Stick to mission. “I didn’t mean to presume. I just figured, even if you aren’t attracted to me, it’s dark, and I have been used for that quite a bit—”

“No!” Sascha cuts me off. “Sy, it’s not that. I just don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do, and besides, my master doesn’t really like to share me, either. I guess that’s something the two of you have in common.”

“Yeah,” I say, quiet. He’s nice enough not to reject me outright, but I realize what I must seem like to him. I’m a criminal, a lowlife. It’s been the same ever since I could remember, even before I was Demoted. Even if we weren’t separated by more than a decade, Sascha and I would never have been friends growing up. We wouldn’t even have lived in the same neighborhood. If he saw someone like me walking along his street at night, he would probably report me to the officials—even before I was Demoted. I’m using him. He’s confiding in me because I’m all he has, but he’d rather not associate with my type. I probably wouldn’t either, if I was in his position.

“Look, if circumstances were different, I’d love to fool around with you, but right now… let’s just keep it at this, okay? You don’t owe me anything. You’re giving me so much already.”

“All right,” I agree. I don’t believe him, but I don’t contradict him, either. We don’t talk after that, and he still presses tight against me as we sleep.

I’ve learned to do what I have to do to survive, but something about Sascha makes me wonder if I could do it better.

Lanza comes for me a few days later, his face a little sad. He’s always been a decent man, unlike many of the others. “Syrus, come with me. You have a visitor.”

I stand to follow him, and Sascha does as well. I realize the dilemma I’m causing by leaving him; he’s at risk of harassment. I give Lanza a pleading look, something I’d never do for myself, but I’ll do for Sascha.

Lanza frowns. “Sascha, you can spend a few hours in solitary to work on that attitude.”

Sascha understands, looking grateful even as he’s taken to the small, dark cell. I’ve been in there for weeks, after earning my favor from Marvin, and I feel a chill at the sight of it. The utter darkness and isolation make you hallucinate and panic after long enough, and you can barely sit, let alone lie down. He won’t be comfortable, but he’ll be safe.

I’m taken to one of the visiting rooms, where I’m greeted by one of my master’s associates. Conrad never liked me much, said I was too quiet and serious for his tastes. Alongside my master, he’s one of the leaders of the 27th Street Gang. I doubt I’m about to hear good news.

“Your master has forfeited his rights to you,” he informs me. “You won’t be in here long, boy. Anything useful?”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, what is it?” he demands.

If I had told him immediately, he would have slapped me for speaking out of turn. “A slave, sir. He belongs to Oliver Torenze’s business partner. I’ve been protecting him.”

Conrad looks surprised. “Cashiel Michaud’s boy?” he confirms. When I nod, he continues. “Not bad, Syrus. Looks like we might keep you around, after all. Mr. Argova will be pleased. Michaud has pissed off the whole world. Someone must be looking for information about what he’s doing. This could give the 27s a chance to move up. What do you have?”

I consider it. Sascha has told me quite a bit about the research he and his master have been doing, Torenze’s role, their eventual goal. I could buy myself some time with this, win favor, resume my old role with the organization.

But how long will it be before I’m right back where I am now, the same threat of death facing me? It seemed so worth it when I first saw Sascha, but it’s tiring. I’ve been doing this for too long. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.

“Nothing, sir,” I lie, my face blank. “He’s just a pretty pet. Doesn’t even understand what his master was arrested for.”

Conrad’s face drops, and he glares at me.

“I’ll try to get closer, sir,” I mention, still not entirely sure whether I want to lie down and die, or destroy Sascha’s life and die in a few years, anyway. “I’ll keep working.”

Conrad scowls. “We don’t have money to waste on your detention fees. Find out something useful about Michaud or his associates, and we’ll contact you once you’ve been auctioned.”

“Yes, sir.”

He doesn’t bother to say anything as he leaves, nor does he bother to explain the consequences should I fail at my task. He’ll find me and he’ll kill me. With my master still in prison, Conrad is next in line for disposal duties—the term they use to refer to killing slaves. Murder is too harsh of a word for something similar to taking out the garbage. A criminal’s slave isn’t a good loose end to leave running around in the world.

I’m quiet when I’m brought back, glad to have a few moments to think before Sascha joins me. He’s thrilled to see me, but he respects my mood, waiting until we’re in bed to talk to me. I tell him what happened, about the forfeit, about the auction, about the threats.

“Sy, I’m sorry.” He sounds like he truly means it. But he sounds scared when he asks the next question. “What does this mean for me and Cash? What sort of deal did you make?”

I shake my head. Just the fact that he assumes it about me hurts. “I didn’t tell them anything, Sascha.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Why not?”

“I like you,” I admit. “I think that what you’re doing, what your master is doing… it’s a good thing. It’s nice to be a part of something like that.”

“I thought you said you needed me as a bargaining chip to stay alive?” Sascha protests. “We can figure something out, you know, something to tell them, a deal—”

“If they wanted me dead, they would have done it today.” It’s only half a lie. They’re waiting to see if I come up with something better now that the stakes are raised. They’re hoping I can come up with something to please the Argova family. “They’re letting me get auctioned off. They probably don’t want to risk drawing attention to themselves by killing me yet. Too risky.”

“So you’ll just get sold?” Sascha asks, sounding horrified.

I laugh, bitter. “Maybe I’ll get lucky this time around. What do you think, is there a market for an oversized, thirty-something man with a history of violence and martial-arts training?”

Sascha cuddles close, clearly upset. “You’re not telling me everything.”

No, I’m not. But I like the fact that this is my decision. A final “fuck you” to the people who’ve had me doing their dirty work for so long. “Lanza said it could take up to three weeks to get clearance to sell me. I’m going to find someone to give you to before I go. I’ll find someone who won’t go out of their way to hurt you.”

Chapter 7
Assistance

My mother doesn’t return. I assume she wasn’t pleased with the results of our last visit, and I’m not particularly inclined to care. I assume she was bluffing, anyway.

Some government official comes by to notify me of the exact charges that I’m facing. There are a number of them, all adding up to treason against the government. Together, they carry execution penalties. They confirm what my mother said about my lawyer, and they offer me a public defendant like I’m some common criminal, too poor to pay for my own legal defense.

I seek out Argova again. I need someone to get me out of here, to get me back to Sascha, and if he’s telling the truth, he has someone better than a public defender for me.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer.” I’m not entirely sure what I’m getting myself into, but I need to take some sort of action. I can deal with the consequences later. What’s important now is to get out of here, get Sascha back, and then I can deal with everything else.

Argova smiles at me, like he knew all along that I would accept. “I have someone arranged by the end of the day. We’re very pleased that you’ve considered our offer.”

I wait for the demands, for the other shoe to drop. It’s what my mother always taught me to expect.

“I hear you have a pet in Leadview.”

I tense, waiting for the threat.

“We have an associate keeping him safe,” Argova informs me. “A courtesy, if you will.”

I don’t bother to hide my relief, because I know how obvious it is. He notices instantly.

“Is he important to your project, Mr. Michaud?”

How do I answer that? If Argova is interested in my project, admitting Sascha’s role in it could make him valuable enough to protect. But if his motives are darker, if anyone else finds out how big a role Sascha plays in my life, I could be setting us both up for danger.

“No,” I bluff. “It’s personal. He’s very loyal.”

Argova nods, but doesn’t comment on it. “All the same, he’s being kept safe.”

He leaves me then, startling me. I assume he’s going to make arrangements with the lawyer he mentioned, or with another “associate,” and I can’t help recalling the years of training my mother subjected me to. The person in power can leave whenever they want, with no need for niceties. I’ve been trained for so long to attend to these petty power plays that I can’t help wondering if his abrupt departure was intentional.

My thoughts are interrupted by another visitor. I’m surprised when I enter the interview room to find Oliver sitting across the table.

“Cashiel,” he says, a smile spreading across his face. “Nice to see you getting along so well in your new home.”

I glare at him. “Where have you been?” I demand. It’s not all I want to ask him, but it’s a start. He was supposed to have been here from the start. From the moment he heard what my mother was planning to do, he’s left me and Sascha out in the cold.

“I had some loose ends to tie up,” he says, giving me a sarcastic smile. “Besides, I was a little shocked by your reveal. Seems like something you would tell your partner in advance.”

I frown, about to point out that Sascha was the one to release it, and then I consider my mother’s advice. “I had to make a quick decision,” I mention instead.

Oliver laughs. “Cash, I know it was the boy. Just like I know a few other things about him. I went and saw him yesterday.”

I wait, trying not to seem too eager. Oliver is a master of torture; if he knows I want this, he’ll exploit it as best he can.

“He’s at the Leadview Detention Facility,” he informs me. I realize he doesn’t know that I’ve been updated about Sascha’s status already. “I had a good look at him while I was there, talked to him for a while. He seems to be doing just fine. A pretty face like that, I’d think he found himself a big, tough boyfriend to protect him… but then again, he did seem a little out of practice.”

If I’m interpreting Oliver’s taunts correctly, he fucked my slave. It’s not the first time, but after the first time, I told Sascha it would be the last. What bothers me the most is that Sascha probably thought he had to agree to it.

“Sharing is the foundation of strong friendships,” Oliver reminds me, as if we’re talking about a vacation house or a luxury hov-car. “Anyway, he was very, very interested in getting me to come here and help you out. Such a caring boy, that one. I was going to back out at first, say I had no idea what you were doing, wash my hands of the whole mess. But I don’t want to abandon such a good friend in a time of need. After all, you don’t have anyone left.”

I nod, pretending it’s true. He seems to have no idea that my mother has contacted me, or Argova. I’ve grown popular in prison.

“I heard your lawyer bailed on you,” Oliver mentions, a look of superiority on his face. “Seems you pick slaves better than lawyers. But I found you another one. She’ll be a perfect addition to our team.”