Hidden Faults (21 page)

“It’s fine,” I murmured. The lack of windows was a bit disturbing, but the room was well ventilated, and far more spacious and unthreatening than the cell—and I didn’t have to share with anyone. “Where are you?”

“Uh, next door.” He shuffled his foot rather bashfully. “Thought you might like to have someone close you could ask about stuff. If you don’t like it, I can move you—”

“No. I like it. I...everyone’s being so friendly and kind. I keep waiting for the axe to fall.”

“I keep telling you. There ain’t no axe.” He looked up, tilting his chin defiantly. “It’s what we do. This is our home, and you’re family now.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring, if you knew my family.”

“Yeah, I can guess. Mine weren’t—” He grimaced. “Don’t want to talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not.” I went and sat on the bed. The mattress felt soft and yielding. I wondered how old all of it was, and how on earth they’d got all this stuff up into this desolate region. “Dede said I should sleep.”

“Think you should, too.” He went over to the drawers, pulled out the top one and withdrew a toiletry bag. “Basic stuff in there, if you need anything else, just yell. Clothes, towels, everything, all in here. We got plenty of water and power, you can bathe or shower, whatever you like. Lap of luxury after prison, right?”

“It certainly is. How long did you know I was coming?”

He smiled rather proudly. “Months. Been planning it for ages.”

“Since I was imprisoned.”

“Um, kinda.”

“Kirvo, I need to know how you fit into all this.”

He shook his head. “Not now. You’re gonna be sick as shit for a week or more and you won’t remember much. You concentrate on getting that crap out of your body and then we can talk all you want. You gonna have a shower or something? You won’t feel like it tomorrow.”

I wasn’t happy at being put off, but he simply refused to be persuaded. I gave up. He had a point about it being the wrong time, I supposed.

“Shower.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you in peace—the shower doors lock, so don’t be frightened. No one’ll come in.”

That hadn’t even occurred to me, but something made it important to him. “The place is full of telekinetics. A shower lock won’t stop them.”

He glowered at me. “It’s the
principle
, ain’t it. I was trying to be nice, Jodi. Shit.” He ran his hands through his dark hair, apparently genuinely distressed.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just...thank you. I appreciate the concern.”

“Yeah...look, you do your stuff, and I’ll come back, help you get to sleep. Need to make sure you’re off nice and sound so you miss some of the withdrawal crap.”

“Thanks.”

He looked about to say something, then he shook his head and walked out. I’d been a bit of a bitch to him, but I didn’t like people hiding things from me. I couldn’t sense any ill will from him or any of the others. It was either a gigantic con or they really were who they said they were.

I grabbed the toiletries and headed to the door, then had to go back and collect things like towels and bathrobes, to which I hadn’t had access for months. The bathrobe was made from natural dyed material, very soft and warm, with a raised nap that I couldn’t help rubbing against my face. Several changes of clothing hung in the closet, and enough socks and underwear to keep anyone happy. Everything was good quality—though not new—and handmade, like the soap and other items in the toiletry kit. They lived well here, but not extravagantly.

As I opened the door to one of the shower rooms, Dede ‘spoke’.
Jodi, don’t lock the door. I know Kir’s got a thing about it, but you might pass out. And mind how hot you run the water. You don’t want to shock your system.

Got it. Why does he have a thing about it?

That’s his story to tell. I’m going to be monitoring you while you’re in there, just for safety.

Of course.
I couldn’t really get used to it, but it made sense.

The shower room, clean and neat and quite unlike the one in the prison, had underfloor heating—incredibly luxurious after the last few months. It was also perfectly private, which I appreciated. I undressed and then went to the sink to clean my teeth…and got a shock.

I hadn’t seen my own reflection since I’d entered prison, mirrors not being considered essential in any way. Now I could look my fill, and be horrified at the change in my appearance. I looked like a faded version of the Febkeinze beggars I used to see on the streets, all pale and thin and big eyed, my blonde hair nothing more than stubble. After each of our twice-weekly showers in prison, our heads and faces had been shaved, the same razor used for both jobs and with little concern for comfort either. Every time I’d ended up with grazes and cuts.

A shaver had been provided here too—electric, of course. I rubbed my face and found it prickly. I wanted to be clean, properly clean, and as civilised as I could appear. So I shaved, cleaned my teeth with care, and then took a long, extravagant shower, relishing warm water on my skin after so many hasty cold ablutions. I relished being able to touch my own skin without anyone watching me, or wanting me, or knowing that as soon as I finished, I’d have a ‘customer’ to hastily service before the guards threw us out for the next lot of prisoners. I found myself soaping the tattoos on my hands a bit too obsessively and decided it was time to get out. I had enough neuroses. I didn’t want a compulsive behaviour disorder on top of it.

The thoughtfully provided moisturiser, thick and sweet smelling, would feel as good on my cock as my face. For the first time in months, I almost had the urge to masturbate, but I didn’t really feel aroused, and besides, knowing Dede could listen in put me off a bit. But I
could
, if I wanted to. Knowing that was almost a miracle. My being here definitely was.

Though I didn’t normally sleep in the things, I put on a pair of pyjamas simply because I would be a patient for the next week or so. Then I tried this mental voice trick.

Kirvo?

Hey. You all done?

I’m clean and sweet and ready for a nice long nap. Do you need to come in?

No, but I’d like to.
He sounded rather shy—or wary.

Then come in.

I climbed into bed and sighed at the luxurious softness of it all. It reminded me of the bed in my grandmother’s house. I hadn’t thought of it—or her—in years. Which was a shame because I remembered her with a lot more fondness than I did my immediate family.

A tap on the door. “Come in, Kirvo.”

He’d changed into a thick sweater and old, comfortable pants, but he looked tense as if he expected me to insult him. “You, um, can call me Kir, if you like. We ain’t big on formal names around here.”

“Okay. How does it work?”

He sat rather nervously on the edge of the bed. “I kinda...press on the thing that makes you sleep. Don’t know what it’s called. I ain’t real smart.”

“You seem pretty smart to me, but maybe you didn’t get the chance for an education. When did they imprison you? How old were you?”

He traced a random pattern on his knee, not looking at me when he answered. “Seven. Not officially prison. ‘Juvenile detention’,” he added, sneering. “Don’t know why, cos I was shot full of naksen. Weren’t no different from the other kids, ‘cept they knew I was a para.”

“They made it hard on you?”

“Everyone made it hard on me. Got taken to the big prison when I was seventeen cos they said I was too much to handle. I wasn’t supposed to go until I was eighteen.”

Slight and young looking even now, though he’d said he was older than me. As ‘fresh meat’ he must have been piled on. “You had it rough. Sorry about what I was thinking before, about advantages. I didn’t know.”

“I know, I just...thought it was kinda ironic.” He looked at me from under his lashes. “I was there when you...uh...in the bar. I was talking to you when the fire started coming out of your hands. I saw them take you away. Couldn’t do nothing, couldn’t risk it. I shoulda helped but...I was afraid of them finding out about here.”

“You were there? I don’t remember.”

He tapped his head. “I, uh...you know. I had to, Jodi. But I swore I was gonna get you out and I did. Sorry it took so long.”

I could only stare at him in amazement. “How long were we talking?”

“A bit. You were upset about the thing at work.”

It seemed a lifetime ago, like my research. “Do you know anything about why my talent suddenly appeared?”

“I don’t know why you didn’t know, if that’s what you mean. I was as surprised as you were. I felt real bad about it. Wouldn’t give Jeyle no peace until she helped me find you, get you out.”

I reached out and patted his leg. “Then thank you. No, you couldn’t risk everyone here. I understand.”

He nodded, but he still looked rather upset. Took it to heart, obviously.

“When you’re up on your feet again, we’ll introduce you, show you around. Easier to do it slow. We’re not hiding shit from you, we just...don’t want you to freak out. It’s happened before. Ain’t pretty.”

“I understand. One thing—was it chance, meeting you in the bar?”

“I was there on business.”

He didn’t look at me as he spoke. I wasn’t entirely sure he’d told me the truth, but then if he could manipulate memories....

“People find it hard to trust you, don’t they? Because of the powers?”

“Yeah. Me and empaths. People hate us. Like you do.” He got up, his expression now closed in. “You ready?”

“
Kir, I don’t
hate
you.”

“No? With all them thoughts in your head about me manipulating you and tricking you and how you can’t believe a word I say?”

I gaped at him. “I’m trying to understand. And I do think you’re lying to me, although I don’t know why.”

He bit his lip. “Okay. Here’s what I’m gonna tell you now. The rest, you have to wait for. I met you in the bar. It wasn’t by chance. Your talent really surprised me, and I ran to protect everyone here. I did everything I could to get you out.”

“Not by chance?”

“No more, Jodi. I ain’t having this conversation when you’re about to be off your fucking head for a week. You can trust me. I’d never ever hurt you.” As he spoke, his fierce eyes bored into mine.

“I believe you,” I said.

“Good. Now lie back. I can hang around for a bit if you want to drop off natural, or I can knock you straight out, whichever.”

I winced. “Do you mind waiting?”

“Nope. Mind if I sit here? I can sit on the chair. Don’t need to be near you.”

“No. Please. Sit here. It’s a big bed.”

His face split into a smile, which suited him much better than sullenness. “They are, ain’t they? The beds are great here.”

“It all is. I really am grateful. I never expected to leave that prison alive.”

He nodded. “I know how it feels. I remember what it was like, thinking there was nothing but prison in the world. People forget...what it was like before.”

“You mentioned your family—”

“Don’t.” His face twisted. “You’re supposed to be going to sleep.”

“Then you get comfortable. You’re perched there like you expect me to knock you off. Sit up here, beside me.” I patted the other pillow. “I’m so tired, don’t think it’ll take long.”

“Lucky you. I can’t sleep in strange places real easy.” He walked around the other side of the bed and hopped up, stretching his long legs out alongside me. “Sure this ain’t bothering you?”

“That telepathy of yours good for anything other than being nosy?”

“You sure do have a mouth on you.” But he grinned. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up. Not gonna be much fun.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

I closed my eyes and snuggled down. He kept his hand on me, which was sort of nice. I didn’t know why but his presence, his touch, reassured me in a way I’d never experienced with another man, except for Timo, whom I would have once trusted with my very life. The memory of Timo caused me a sudden pang of loss and yearning. How could he have betrayed me like that, to have written me off, when we had once shared all our secrets?

Maybe he was scared. He’s got a family to protect same as me.

Kir, stay out of my head.

Sorry.
He squeezed my shoulder and got a little closer so his warm bulk lay right against my blanket-wrapped body.
But this’ll be easier on both of us if I....

I woke to pain in my back and head, and intense, exhausting shivering. For too many seconds I was sure I was back in prison. Someone touched my face.

“No, Ganwe, leave me—”

“
Not Ganwe. You’re not in prison.”
It’s me, Jodi. Kir.