No Light (3 page)

             
Her eyes moved to the panel on the wall next to the cell. "Observation, sir."

             
"Do it, then." He stepped aside to give her a clear path.

             
"Yes, sir." She walked toward the cell. She had to do this. For herself. For her family. She forced herself not to move faster when she passed him, her muscles tense, and her body poised for flight. His gaze was a cold weight. Each step toward the cell was a struggle, until she stood just a handwidth from the barrier.

             
Her breath hit the shield on every exhale, a small crackle across the field of energy. The cell appeared pitch black through the Dark Screen. Her eyes strayed to the glass panel just to the right.

             
"Take off the DS, Handler Mackenzie."

             
Sarah twitched at the sound of the trainer's voice from just behind her. She looked over her shoulder. The class stood against the wall across from the cell. All of them stared at her expectantly. She looked at her trainer.

             
"Yes, sir." With courage she did not feel, she touched a glowing square at the bottom left of the panel and the cell flooded with light.

             
"Handler Mackenzie, start observing."

             
His words seemed distant and fuzzy. Most of her attention focused on the inside of the cell and the Dem who was less than two feet from her, staring with obvious irritation.

             
"I said, observe!"

             
Sarah flinched at Robinson's words. She watched the Dem's gaze move past her and darken. His mouth opened and he said something, but the Sound Screen was still engaged. She moved to turn it off.

             
"Leave it," her trainer ordered. "Do your observations. We don't have all day."

             
Sarah dropped her hand from the wall panel. "Yes, sir." She stepped back to stand in front of the cell bars.

             
The Dem's dark gaze moved over her classmates, before landing on her again. His eyes narrowed. She watched his lips move, as he came closer to the bars. She tensed.

             
"Mackenzie!"

             
She flinched. Again, the Dem's gaze flicked past her. She swallowed hard and forced herself to calm. "Dem is tall," she said softly. She heard a derisive snort from behind her.

             
"Everyone is tall compared to you, Handler Mackenzie. I want a better observation."

             
Sarah's gaze moved to the panel on the wall, where the Dem's vital statistics were listed. She narrowed her eyes to read the small print. "Dem is six feet, seven inches tall." Her eyes flicked to the imposing figure who had fastened his gaze on her, as if he could hear her.

             
"And?" her trainer questioned impatiently.

             
"Dem is of the mesomorph body type," she continued hurriedly. Her eyes skimmed the loose suit that could not hide the broadness of his shoulders. "Hair is dark blond, eyes are green." She looked away from the Dem's narrowed gaze.

             
"And?"

             
Sarah looked at the Dem, frantically searching for what she had missed. "And…" she looked at the panel on the wall. Suddenly, she realized what she had missed. "Dem is called Farran." She looked over her shoulder.

             
Her trainer nodded. "Do the second step of the technique," he told her, before turning to face the rest of the class. "I hope all of you have watched Handler Mackenzie. You will be expected to do the same."

             
"Yes, sir," the class chorused behind her.

             
"Handler Mackenzie."

             
"Yes, sir," she said quickly.

             
"I expect you to follow the schedule for the day." He gave the cell a quick glance and walked toward the door.

             
Sarah stared in confusion, as the class followed the trainer from the corridor. When the last of her classmates had passed through the doorway, she turned to face the cell. Her eyes swept over the Dem's face, avoiding his eyes. A straight nose, thin lips, and a strong jaw below high cheekbones. It was a pleasing face, she thought. Almost beautiful in its ruggedness, but as the lips twisted into a mocking smile, her eyes rose.

             
The Dem stared at her. His mouth moved slowly, forming words through the sharp smile. Sarah tipped her head in confusion. She watched him look toward where the panel was imbedded in the wall.

             
"Oh!" She hurried to the panel and tapped the glowing square at the bottom center of the screen. Immediately, the Sound Screen dropped. She stepped back to look into the cell. "Can you hear me?" She tucked her hands into her pockets.

             
The Dem leaned against the bars. He stared at her silently, pupils dilated until they nearly swallowed the green of his irises. He followed her every movement.

             
"Dem, can you hear me?" She took a step closer to him. When he stayed silent, she frowned. "Maybe, I did it wrong." She turned to look at the panel in confusion. "Maybe…" she pressed the only remaining square. The Containment Screen fell. "Can you hear me, Dem?"

             
Still, he did not answer.

             
She wondered at the look on his face. She took a step forward. "I am going to open the cell so you can hear me, Dem." She shook her head at herself. "Never mind. You can't hear me."

             
She glanced at the restraints on the bench. The panel held the schedule for the day, and it made it obvious she was already late. She bit her lip. After a quick look at the Dem, she walked over to retrieve the restraints.

             
They were lighter than they looked. Certainly not as heavy as an Earth metal. She draped them across her left arm and approached the panel. She saw the Dem from the corner of her eye. He had not moved from his position.

             
The panel purred almost the moment her hand touched the glass. A loud click made her jump. Her eyes quickly moved to the door of the cell and she let out a breath. The bolt had disengaged. She let out a nervous laugh.

             
"Dem, can you hear me?" She stepped to the door and gasped.

             
"Yes, human. I hear you." The Dem pulled open the door and reached for her. "Rule one. Do not disengage the locks when the prisoner is not restrained." His tone was full of dark amusement.

             
Sarah stared at him with wide eyes, too terrified to move. His fingers circled her arms. He jerked her forward and a choked gasp left her throat, as her toes skimmed the floor before it fell away. Her mind raced, but she forced herself still as he lifted her until they were eye to eye.

             
"Name?" he demanded.

             
"Sarah Mackenzie." She swallowed hard. She would be like the ones who had fallen, her remains something to be cleaned from the floor.

             
"Age?"

             
She tried not to tense when he brought his face to her neck and inhaled deeply.

             
"Twenty-two." The lie tried to stick in her throat.

             
He pulled back and gave her a dark look. "Try again."

             
"Eighteen," she whispered, tensing when his lips pulled back from his teeth in a shark smile.

             
"A lie, Sarah? How nice that you are not as innocent as you look." His smile faded. "Pick up the restraints. I have a schedule."

             
When he put her down, her knees wobbled, threatening to give out on her. He could grab her, shake her, kill her. She stared up at him, waiting for the violence to begin. Prepared to stand strong. He stepped back.

Chapter Two

The Loudest Silence

             
Sarah knelt to get the restraints. As she gathered them into her arms, she looked up at the Dem. His gaze fastened on her with a singular focus, the green of his eyes shifting to black. She imagined she saw something menacing move within the darkness. Something like the wolfish shapes in the shadows of the stairwell. She paused.

             
"Dem?" she questioned, not moving from her crouch.

             
"Farran." His eyes narrowed and he tipped his head to the side, still staring at her with his dark eyes.

             
Something about his expression reminded her of a predator watching prey.

             
She cleared her throat awkwardly. When he did not move toward her, she stood.

             
"Farran," she repeated slowly. She wondered at the barely there smile that passed across his face. "I need to put these on you."

             
His gaze dropped to the restraints in her hands. Again, something dark glittered in his eyes. It vanished quickly. "Of course." He stepped toward her and held out his arms.

             
"Thank you," she said softly, fastening her gaze on his wrists to avoid his eyes.

             
She quickly clamped the lightweight metal cuff on his left wrist. Her gaze flicked to his for a moment, taking in his blank face. She looked back down and closed the cuff around his right wrist. The scent of something spicy floated in the air between them, just a hint of fragrance, and she leaned forward in search of its origin. He shifted his weight and she froze.

             
"You are very jumpy," he said.

             
She looked up as far as his chest and mumbled, "I'm sorry." Her apology seemed to annoy him.

             
His head turned away from her. "Simply an observation."

             
"I'm sorry," she repeated, chancing a look at his face. She clamped her mouth shut when he sent her a dark look. "I have to put on your ankle restraints," she told him unnecessarily.

             
He did not reply. His gaze stayed focused on the bars of the cell, as she knelt to fasten a cuff on his left ankle. The cold of the air and the stone floor seeped through her suit. She shivered, forcing her hands not to shake. She could do this. She had to do this.               She felt the moment his eyes fell on her, a prickle of awareness on the back of her neck. She bit her lip and tried to ignore the uneasy tightening in her stomach. She fastened the cuff around his right ankle.

             
He shifted minutely, and she paused.

             
"Is it too tight? Are you uncomfortable?" When there was no reply, she tipped her head back to look at him. Her heart skipped a beat.

             
"Am I uncomfortable?" The question was whispered, filled with cold fury. His jaw visibly clenched.

             
She stood slowly and took a step back. "I'm sorry." She kept her gaze on him, unable to look away.

             
He took a step toward her, teasing the edge of her personal space. "You are sorry," he repeated back. He tipped his head in an almost curious manner.

             
Her mind screamed in alarm. She backed up until she felt the hard press of bars against her back. It was a small pain, but it focused her. She flinched when he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them.

             
He leaned forward. "Stop apologizing," he whispered fiercely, his breath warm on her face.

             
She gave him a quick nod. "I'm sor-" she broke off. For a moment, they stared at each other.

             
"Finish the restraints," he said quietly, still inches from her. "And do not speak."

             
She gave him a jerky nod. He stared at her a moment longer, before straightening. His gaze immediately moved to the bars of the cell. Sarah dropped to her knees to attach the connecting chain to the ankle restraints. When she stood, he was watching her again.

             
"Your uncle mentioned you a handful of times," he said thoughtfully.

             
She looked at him in surprise.

             
"Though, he said your brother was the first born." He tipped his head to peer down at her. "How odd that you are here."

             
Sarah opened her mouth, then quickly closed it. She draped the connecting chain over her arm and picked up the chest harness.

             
"I see you have inherited your grandfather’s auburn hair," he commented casually, a strange contrast to his earlier anger. He raised his arms away from his sides.

             
He knew so much about her, but she knew nothing about him. She stepped closer. He did not move, as she leaned in to wrap the chain around his waist, cheek brushing his suit. The spicy scent was far stronger with her face so close to him. She swallowed hard and stepped away as soon as the task was done.

             
"It is my understanding, your brother took after your father. Dark hair, dark eyes." He leaned forward. "Yet, you have green eyes. I must assume this came from your mother's line."

             
Sarah blinked at his sudden proximity. When his gaze dropped to the harness in her hands, she nodded. She draped the chain over his left shoulder. He turned away from her, as she crossed it across his back and fastened it to the right side of the waist chain.

             
"I have seen countless members of your family line," he said murmured.

             
She stayed silent, fastening the second chain to the back of the one at his waist. She rose onto her toes, and slipped the chain over his right shoulder. When he did not turn to face her, she walked around to stand in front of him. He looked down at her.

             
"You are the first female handler." Something about his tone made her look up at him.

             
She opened her mouth, and his eyes narrowed.

             
"It is very curious."

             
Sarah slid her gaze away from his strange expression. She quickly crossed the two chains across his chest and fastened them to the waist chain. The harness formed an "X" across his chest. In the center, a small panel held a hand print. She glanced up at him.

             
"Finish it."

             
She pressed her palm to the panel. His body jerked, as if every muscle had tensed at the same time. She felt a current flow from the panel, crackling along the metal. The chains around his chest snapped tight and gouged into his flesh. His wrist restraints shrank, nearly melding with his tan skin. A thin line of red appeared, as the edges cut into him. She tore her gaze away from the blood before it dripped to the floor.

             
The lines of fury slowly faded from his face and his eyes dropped to her. "You may speak."

             
She blinked at him. "You are on kitchen duty, today."

             
He raised an eyebrow. "I see." He looked down at his restraints, then the door. "I have to follow you."

             
Sarah swallowed, as the anger swirled in his eyes, again. "I'm sorry."

             
"Stop apologizing," he snarled.

             
She jerked back from the sudden fury. "Then, I don't know what to say."

             
His lips curved into a smile and it was more frightening than the glare. He shook his head slowly. "Lead the way."

             
His words carried a threat, she was sure. The thought of having him at her back made her stomach knot. She took a deep breath and turned her back to him. Nothing happened. She waited a full minute, not daring to breath or move. He was silent behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. He raised an eyebrow, still standing in the same place. She let out the breath she was holding and walked to the door.

             
The Kitchen. She chewed on her bottom lip. It was one of the doors in the Main Hall, but her single glance at the map was days ago. Fear and shame battled in her mind, as she forced the words out of her throat.

             
"I don't know where the kitchen is," she said quietly. She heard him stop behind her.

             
"Off the main hall." Irritation, but not amusement.

             
Sarah sighed and nodded. "Thank you."

             
He did not reply.

             
She started to glance at him, and then thought better of it. She stepped out of the cell. For such a large person, he moved gracefully, his footsteps silent. She thought of the Dem in the main hall, the fluid way all of them seemed to move. She glanced over her shoulder. Farran's eyes fastened on her. His movements were not the only thing that seemed predatory. She jerked her eyes away.

             
The scanner on the wall next to the doorway let out a soft purr, as it accepted her hand print. She stepped through the doorway, and immediately sighed at the warmer air. She turned to see Farran watching her. She ducked her head, sensing his attention was not a good thing. She felt it when he looked away.

             
She led the way down the narrow hallway. With the Dem behind her, the space seemed smaller. The back of her neck tingled from the weight of his gaze. She slouched, as if it would relieve the pressure. It only made him seem larger.

             
"The doorway is ninth on the left," he suddenly spoke. It made her jump.

             
She looked at him and nodded. "Thank you."

             
He did not reply.

             
She pressed her hand to the panel next to the door, almost used to the stretch of her fingers. She hurried into the main hall the moment the door opened, the larger space momentarily taking the edge off her tension. She paused and scanned the room. At least twenty doors lined the far wall. She felt the gaze of several dozen people, as she counted the doorways.

             
A soft sound from behind her broke her concentration. She looked at the table closest to her. Three Dems stared at her with obvious interest. She watched their gazes move past her to Farran, then back to her. The spark of curiosity increased.

             
"We are late." Farran's voice made her jump.

             
The watching Dems appeared very interested in the conversation. Her gaze touched on each one, never lingering long. The darkness moved in their eyes, something hungry and feral. She fought the urge to cringe away.

             
"Now," Farran hissed from behind her.

             
Sarah jerked and stepped forward. She avoided the curious Dems, weaving through the tables to the opposite side of the room. Run. The urge to obey her mind was almost overwhelming, but somehow she knew it would be the worst kind of mistake. She fixed her eyes on the door and kept her pace quick, but steady.

             
Farran was silent behind her, as all of the Dems in the room seemed to follow their progress. Their combined gazes were almost a weight. The ninth door held a small sign. Sarah glanced at it, and let out a relieved sigh. Kitchen. She pulled open the door and stepped inside, vaguely aware of Farran closing it behind them. Her heart pounded in her ears.

             
"I am not sure how long you will survive here," he said offhandedly.

             
She turned to look at him, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

             
He gave her a dark look. "I need to start my kitchen duty." He brushed past her.               She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her heartbeat settling to normal. He was her responsibility. Hers alone. After a moment, she followed him.

             
"You want to explain to me why you're late?" a voice yelled from somewhere out of sight.

             
She broke into a jog. She entered the store room in time to see the lead supervisor approach Farran. The Dem had almost a foot on the human, but Keane held an electroshock gun. He fired the weapon, and she tried not to wince. His lips curved into a cruel smile as Farran stilled, the metal darts puncturing him in the side. He slowly turned his head to look at the human.

             
Sarah's eyes widened at the expression of sudden fear on the supervisor's face, all of the bravado vanishing in an instant. As she approached, Farran took a step toward the human.

             
"Dem," she said quietly.