No Light (14 page)

             
"Where were you when this attack took place," he demanded, after he sent several handlers to Corridor One.

             
"I was there, sir."

             
He snorted. "Then, how did this happen?"

             
She cringed at his tone. "I tried to get Farran-"

             
"The Dem," he yelled.

             
She flinched. "I tried to get the Dem to stop, but-"

             
"But, what?" he sneered. "He wouldn't listen to you? Did you even think to use your weapon?"

             
Sarah's eyes dropped to the stunner at her hip. She shook her head. "It happened so fast-"

             
"That is no excuse!"

             
"I know I should have-"

             
"Should have what? Done something other than stand around with your thumb up your ass? Hell yes, you should have!"

             
Sarah's eyes jerked to the Dems when several shifted.

             
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Mackenzie!"

             
Her eyes flew back to the man glaring at her.

             
"You know what? Get out of my sight." He gave her a disgusted look.

             
She froze. "What?"

             
"I said, get the hell out of here, Mackenzie! I don't want to see you back here until Monday. Consider yourself suspended." He turned away from her to watch the handlers carry Luke's body across the main hall.

             
"I'm so sor-" she started.

             
"I don't want to hear it, Mackenzie. You're out of here. Five days. No pay. Be happy it's not more."

             
She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and nodded. "Yes, sir." She turned to walk away.

             
"The Dem will be on lock down until you return."

             
She froze.

             
"You should be lucky it's not another ten year solitary."

             
She swallowed hard, her back still facing him. "Thank you, sir."

             
"Because we both know what happens to a handler without a shift, don't we?" he continued, as if she had not spoken.

             
She nodded silently, staring at the wall unseeing.

             
"I don't think those vouchers would go nearly far enough, do you? And it being winter, too..." he tsked.

             
She forced herself to walk to the door. Her hand shook when she pressed it to the scanner, but the door slid open.

             
"Think about what I said. You've got the time," Keane called, as the door closed behind her.

             
She shivered.

Chapter Eight

The Origin of Flame

              She sat in the center of her bed with her back to the headboard. Her fingers toyed with the loose threads of her quilt, as she looked around her bedroom. Four blank white walls looked back at her. As her eyes moved over the sparse furniture in the room, the argument downstairs continued.

             
"This is your fault, Mary! I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. And now, look what's happened. She's completely out of control."

             
"How dare you try to lay this on me! It's your damn brother's fault. I always said he was a bad influence. Him and that witch he married."

             
Sarah flinched. She slipped her hand under her pillow to touch the hidden book.

             
"Jean-Anne told me she's been snooping around the library. Some kind of nonsense about the Dems. Tell me she didn't get that shit from your side of the family," her mother continued.

             
Sarah heard a sharp smack.

             
"Now, see what you made me do?" her father yelled.

             
She pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at her bedroom door. The sound of broken sobs drifted up the stairwell and she clenched her fists tightly.

             
A moment later, something metal clanged against the ceramic kitchen sink. She jumped at the noise, pressing harder against the headboard.

             
"Clean this shit up!"

             
She tensed at the sound of heavy footsteps walking toward the front of the house. They continued past the stairs to the front door.

             
"There's gonna be some changes around here, Mary! I've had enough of this bullshit. That fuckin' girl, the neighbors talkin', my boy in the hospital-" The slam of the door cut off his rant.

             
Sarah held her breath, only relaxing when the sound of his truck's engine faded. She let out a shuddering sigh.

             
She quickly slide out of bed and tip-toed over to the chair beside her door. It let out a quiet squeak when she lifted it and she paused. The quiet noises continued in the kitchen. She wedged the back of the chair under the door knob and hurried back to her bed.

She reached under her pillow twice before she gathered up the courage to grasp the book. The warm scent of old paper immediately filled the air. She inhaled deeply, tempted to press her nose to the worn pages. She shook her head at herself and gently pulled open the front cover.

              "Arthur Mackenzie," she whispered to herself.

             
Her finger traced the vaguely familiar name, as she frowned in thought. She lifted the page to scan the Introduction. Writing on the back of the Title Page caught her eye.

             
"Property of George Mackenzie - 1826-1898."

             
Directly below his name was another name and birthdate.

             
"Henry Mackenzie - 1840-1900."

             
The list continued for six more lines before suddenly ending on her uncle's name.

             
"William Mackenzie - 1978-2022."

             
She frowned. Her eyes moved back and forth between the birth date and the hastily scribbled death date for her uncle. The handwriting looked like her father's. She pursed her lips in thought.

             
"If it's a family book..." her voice trailed off and she frowned in realization. "He just stuck it on the shelf with the others," she murmured to herself, unsure what emotion she felt the strongest.

             
She gripped the book tighter. The answer to so many questions lay in her lap. Her mind spun, as she went over her interactions with the Dems. Her eyes dropped to read the first sentence of the Introduction page.

             
"In the Dem society, respect reigns supreme."

             
Her eyes moved over the words several times. In a larger type than the rest of the page, they stood out from the rest of the words on the page. A sinking feeling began in her stomach. She shifted on the lumpy mattress.

             
"During my first year in The Corridor, I was attacked no less than five times. Always by the Dem in my charge. It was not until I observed the Dems during their semimonthly social time in the Main Hall, I realized my error. My many errors.

             
In this book, I have outlined all that I have learned of the Dems. I suggest a through reading of the material herein. The first chapter is a through study of the respect protocol of the Dem society. It may very well be the most important chapter of the entire book. For once you offend a Dem, their eidetic memory will remember the slight for time eternal."

             
Sarah let out her breath in a heavy sigh. She quickly flipped to the heading for chapter one and began to read.

             
"The attacks on my person during my first year in The Corridor were due to my lack of understanding on one particular subject. The Dems give apologies very sparingly. In sixty years, I have witnessed precisely one. A grievous lack of respect is the only acceptable reason for an apology. To apologize for anything less is seen as a sign of weakness and will induce great offense."

             
She stared at the paragraph until the words blurred together. Her mind repeated the same thought over and over in a loop. Her apologies offended him. In her mind's eye, she pictured Farran's face each time she said, "I'm sorry." The immediate flare of anger in his eyes suddenly made perfect sense. She dropped her face into her hands.

             
She swallowed hard and pressed down the anger she felt at herself. She raised her head and focused on the words in front of her with a surge of determination.

             
"In my eleventh month of service in The Corridor, I noticed the way the other Dems interacted with the Dem in my charge. The others always began the interaction with a bow of their head, only conversing after receiving a nod in return or a verbal allowance.

             
I was able to overhear a handful of conversations during my time of service. Each one initiated by the Dem of higher rank. I shared my conclusions with the Dem in my charge and my assumptions were correct. All interactions are instigated within a strict social hierarchy."

             
Sarah paused and reread the paragraph.

             
"The Dem in my charge," she murmured to herself. Her eyes widened.

             
She flipped through the next few pages, scanning each one until she found the Dem's name.

             
"As the general of his company, Farran is the highest ranking member of the Dems..."

             
Sarah quickly skimmed the rest of the paragraph and the one preceding it.

             
"...in two places, after he brushed past one of the Dems. I have come to understand that such physical contact is seen as a breech of respect. Express permission must be given to enter the personal space of another. This appears to be especially true for humans, as..."

             
Sarah stopped reading. She looked down at her hands where they gripped the edges of the book tightly. She slowly released her death grip on the fragile book cover.

             
"...I had never heard. When I inquired about the term, Farran became highly agitated. For a moment, I feared for my life. It was not until 1873, I overheard two Dems discussing marked humans, once again. I have since realized why the concept may be highly charged for the general of the Dems."

             
Sarah narrowed her eyes at the familiar term. She scanned the page for any other mention of the word, but there was nothing. She flipped to the second chapter heading and skimmed the first few pages. She shook her head and continued to the third chapter and finally the fourth, and last, chapter. Near the bottom on the second to last page, she froze. Her eyes jumped from one sentence to another, as her breath came faster with each piece of information.

             
"...marked early humans when they first began to interact with us. It was only after their banishment and subsequent imprisonment, that the practice stopped..."

             
"...called the Ator. From what I understand, the Dems are animated by an eternal energy. It is this energy which gives them their abilities and life span...

             
"...transferred from the Dem through a mark that appears as a bruise on the skin of the human. Once the initial bruising fades, the marked is able to heal from physical trauma..."

             
"...becomes the property of the Dem who marked them..."

             
She began to feel lightheaded. She leaned back and let her head thump against the headboard. She saw the words in her mind, as if they were printed on the back of her eyelids.

             
"Sarah!"

             
She jerked upright at her mother's voice. She cleared her throat, before she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The book stared up at her, drab and unassuming. She flipped it closed and tucked it back under her pillow, before she hurried to the door. Her mother's footsteps thumped up the stairs, as she quickly slid the chair out from under the door and opened it a crack.

             
"Why didn't you answer me?" Mary demanded, as she stopped in front of her door.

             
Sarah watched her mother's gaze move over her shoulder to scan the part of the bedroom she could see.

             
"I'm sorry," Sarah quickly apologized.

             
"Mmhmm." Mary's dull, green eyes slowly moved to meet hers.

             
"Did you need anything?"

             
Mary's eyes narrowed.

             
"Help with dinner?" Sarah tried again.

             
"You're acting funny."

             
Sarah looked down, scraping the toe of her boot against the worn floorboards.

             
"Your father-" her mother started, before she stopped herself.

             
Sarah peeked up at her. An uncomfortable look crossed her mother's face.

             
"I wanted to talk to you, Sarah." She licked her lips and pressed the door open all the way.

             
Sarah watched her gaze move around the room, as if she were looking for something. When her gaze landed on her, she gestured toward her bed. "Do you want to sit?"

             
After a moment of obvious indecision, the petite woman walked over to sit beside her pillow.

             
"What did you want to talk about?" Sarah asked quietly, perching at the foot of her bed.

             
"You know your father didn't get along well with your uncle." At her nod, her mother continued. "Bill was very..." she pursed her lips, as if trying to find a word that was not offensive.

             
"Eccentric?" Sarah asked.

             
Her mother frowned, but nodded. "Yes. He was very eccentric. He had...ideas. About the Dems." She shook her head. "It was very embarrassing for your father. And for me. We were always worried that he took such an interest in the two of you..."

             
Sarah nodded, as if she understood, and her mother continued.

             
"And then when John started spending so much time in his old house after he died..." she let out a strained laugh. "Well, you can imagine the concerns we had. Then, that horrible fire."

             
Sarah glanced at her, taking in her tense posture.

             
"And we still don't know who set the fire or why they would want to-" Mary broke off looked down at her lap.

             
"I'm worried about him, too," she whispered.

             
Her mother's head jerked up immediately. "Yes, well, that's a nice thing for you to say, but I think we both know you were always jealous of your brother. He was the favorite. We all knew it. Let's not play pretend."

             
Sarah looked away, before her mother got a chance to see how the words affected her. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling.

             
"He'll be right as rain in no time," her mother continued. "We just have to hope you don't mess up in the meantime." She cleared her throat and stood.