Shepherd (5 page)

He didn’t respond, though for long time, he didn’t move either.

She swallowed back hope as he finally turned and walked to the far side of the room. If she remained standing, she could see him, but her legs finally wearied enough that she dragged her blanket before the wall and curled against the rigid liquid crystal wall. The solitary view of tables and equipment was sufficient to hold back the overwhelming sense of desolation—now she knew someone was on the other side. Hand resting against the wall, she closed her eyes.

“Sugar.”

A dream. The rich, deep timbre of Clay’s voice brought a sigh to her lips and tickled along her skin.

“You can’t spend all your time in front of this screen.”

She jerked awake, finally aware of Clay shaking her shoulder. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I can’t hurt anyone here. I’m not a spy.” And she desperately didn’t want to be alone. She had never been alone until her incarceration by the Regents. Her father had demanded her presence constantly, if only to produce more weapons and tools for him to sell. Ivan embraced the same work ethic. Even at Ty’s mansion, she looked forward to bickering with his other wives. There was always someone around, vid screens to watch, background chatter, even music at her disposal, mindless distractions to block out the memories.

Discomfort and lack of attention didn’t bother her. Exile did. She’d had enough time alone with her own nightmares to last her a lifetime. “I could help you do something useful.”

He raised a brow. “Like what, construct a comm device or a weapon from some innocuous item in the next room, betray my plans, and destroy people I respect?”

She frowned, crossed her arms, and turned her face away. “I haven’t done anything to cause you to say that.”

His finger pulled her chin around. “You’re kidding me, right? It was
you
I found in the trailer, right? After you followed…the other man inside.”

“Vier. Go ahead and say his name. We both know that much.”

“You heard a lot more than his name, Esme.”

She swallowed hard and tilted her chin up higher. “If I can’t get out of here, then I’m no threat.”

“Good try. I’m not taking you for dumb, so don’t take me for it either.”

“You could chain me to the back of the room.”

“Always trying to inch closer. I let you in the room, and next thing you’ll want a chair and a console.”

“I’m very handy. You’d be surprised how helpful I could be.” She pursed her lips, irritated his refusal bothered her so much. Most people at least valued her expertise. It had been the only thing about her of interest to her father or Ivan.

“Fine.”

She whipped back to stare at Clay, not certain she’d heard him correctly.

“Don’t look so happy. You’re not going to like this. I need to search you for devices first.”

Okay, she could handle a pat down. From the look on his face, the procedure wasn’t going to be easy, but if she could finally leave this blasted room, she would endure it. “I’m sure I can withstand a search.”

“Sugar, you can’t stand the lights off. Do you have problems with tight spaces?”

The blood rushed from her face, and dizziness surged. Clay’s hands forced her head between her knees before she had a chance to pass out. All she could focus on was that he was going to lock her in another damn box.

“Slow down the breathing, Esme. You don’t have to leave this room. This was your idea, remember? You don’t have to go through with anything. You’re in control. Now breathe, slowly.”

Clutching his wrist, she inhaled and exhaled, not wanting him to release her. Despite the fear, more than anything, she wanted out of this room and some human contact. “I can do it.”

“I don’t think so.”

She lifted her head, still holding tight, and stared at him. “Tell me what I would have to do.”

“You stand in the cylinder—I barely fit if I squeeze. Once the door closes, there’s darkness and an infrared beam travels from your head to your feet and back. The entire sweep takes about two minutes. You can’t talk or move, though breathing won’t affect the scan.” He hadn’t held back on his description and now shook his head as if she’d already rejected the idea.

“Can you talk?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “To you in the cylinder?” He looked away in contemplation and then back. “Yes. There’s no effect on the scan from external vibrations, only from your body. Have you forgotten how you deal with the dark?”

“Teach me.” She gritted her teeth and gripped him harder as a look of exasperation swept across his features. “I’m serious. I’m not saying you can shove me in there today and I’ll be okay. But if I have a few opportunities to acclimate to the emptiness and you promise you’ll talk to me, I think I can do it.”

“I have other things to do than train you not to be afraid of the dark.”

“Like staring at those images you bring up all the time?”

“You’re not helping your case here.”

His growl made her move forward and latch on to his shirt. “Has it occurred to you that if I’m out there, maybe you’ll get more done, maybe you won’t be checking on me all the time? You’d have someone to bounce ideas off of too.”

His burst of laughter rumbled beneath her fingers. “If you know more than you do now, I can never let you go.” Then he leaned close enough for the warmth of his breath to brush her cheek. “You get that. I know you do.”

Somehow, the threat lost its power when she was close enough to see the different colors of gold, wheat, and brown in his eyelashes. “So now I’m trapped here, doing nothing? At least put me to work, for heaven’s sake. Before I lose my mind.”

“You have a strange sense of priorities.” He whipped the blindfold out of his pocket and dropped it in her lap. “Practice with this first.”

“I can’t do it alone.” Refusing to let him go, she held on to him.

“Fine. Stand up.” He snatched the blindfold, pulled her to her feet, and turned her away from him.

She glanced over her shoulder as he took a step back from her, warily estimating how far away he planned to go.

“I can’t be in the cylinder with you. If you do this, you have to handle it with just my voice. Now start by closing your eyes.”

Fisting her hands, she took a deep breath and turned away. She sensed him move closer, her instinct confirmed as his breath feathered past her cheek again. The air stirred as he reached around her but didn’t touch her. At the cloth’s contact with her cheek, she jumped.

“Relax, Sugar.” His arm pulled her against his chest. “We’ll start closer until you can do this without me.”

“I need your voice.”

“I’ll talk, Esme.” The light touch of his fingers looping the cloth at the side of her head brushed against her hair. “Do you feel safe enough?”

She nodded but burrowed back toward his shoulder. He shifted, putting a little more space between them.

“Pretend you’re just waking up; everything’s soft and comfortable.”

As his breath left her cheek, she dug her fingernails into her palms. She could do this. It wasn’t as if fear of the dark provided a useful skill set—no time like the present to get over it. “Clay.”

“Right here, I’m not leaving you.” However, he’d moved farther back, and she didn’t bother to hide her shiver, instead wrapping her arms around herself as she strained to listen for his movements. A shift in the air current brought the male musk of him to her, and she relaxed.

“The cylinder has plenty of oxygen. I’ll be on the outside monitoring the whole process. If for any reason, something goes wrong, I can have you out in two seconds, literally. I’ve timed the release mechanism and gotten a dummy out of the cylinder in one second. I figure flesh and blood requires more care.”

She stifled a laugh, which came out more panicked than she’d intended, but she could sense him moving away as he spoke.

“You’re certain I’ll hear you inside?”

“I’ll test it for you, Sugar. You’re doing great.”

Great except for the uncontrollable shakes.

Then the lights clicked off. She wasn’t sure if the click clued her in first or she acknowledged the darkness behind the blindfold. Either way, the scream erupted from her lungs at the trigger.

“Stop,” Clay commanded in her ear as his arms wrapped around her. “I’m here, you’re not alone. Don’t scream. Keep your eyes closed if it helps, but I’m right here. We’ll change strategy. Fight the dark with me beside you, and later—in another session—you can work up to doing it with only my voice.” He rubbed her arms. “That’s it, just listen to me. I’m not good with stories, so how about the disassembly and service of a K39 laser assault cannon? There are five replaceable parts…”

The only thing she focused on was his voice, his touch, and the scent of his skin. Her screams had stopped with his order. The shivers took longer, and damn, she wanted that light back on. Being held made it almost worth the terror.

“…then you clip in the crystal, lock the chamber, and energize to full capacity to the count of three. The sequence is important, because if the chamber isn’t locked, you’ll receive a backlash from the charge. Not fatal but unpleasant, and you’ll find yourself drooling on the floor.” He’d walked them both backward. She heard the click, and light flooded in a dark gray beneath the blindfold.

“You did well, Esme.”

“Your recounting of laser-weapon maintenance would have sent a baby to sleep.” Her voice came out a bit strangled, but at least she’d forced herself to speak.

With a chuckle, he released the loose knot of the fabric. “I’ll try to think of something more colorful for the tube.”

He pried her fingers from her tightly clenched fist, pressed the cloth into her palm, and curled her fingers back. “Keep it, get used to it, and maybe you can do this with me in the dark without the blindfold next time.”

Maybe?
She blinked like mad and stared at him with a nod. No maybe about it. The cloth had to go. She was getting past this and out of this room. No matter what it took. As long as he didn’t leave her alone, she didn’t need the cloth. She needed only him to survive the dark.

***

Esme had convinced herself she was past the hard part, having mastered the dark. The narrow tube suspended by thick metal cables from the ceiling and covered in crystal panels made her consider accepting failure. A waste of the last three days navigating her fears. Every two hours, she had confronted her terror, first with Clay’s help, then with only his voice. Yet the metal cylinder sent a new spike of immobilizing fear down her spine.

“Stare at it and it will consume you. Come here, Esme.” Clay held out a hand to help her across the ramp.

She glanced around the large circular chamber and then down at the seventy-foot drop below the ramp. He waited, palm open, seeming the more determined of the two of them to force her past this newest stalemate. He saved her name for the commands, as if giving a silent signal to let her opt out of orders to
Sugar.
But for
Esme
, he brooked no refusal.

“Run through the test with me for sound check, and if you don’t want to do this, you can return to the room. You’re in control.”

A prisoner in control. She wanted to laugh, but bit it back at the expression on his face. His concern, etched in tight muscles across his jawline, was obvious as he perched on the catwalk surrounding the scan tube and waited. With a nod, she grasped his fingers.

He pulled her next to him and motioned to the handholds, running from head height to ankle level around the circumference of the tube. Once she had a firm grip, he released her hand, planted his palm on the door panel of the pod, and pressed. The rectangle of metal popped out several inches. The entire platform had swayed when she joined Clay on the catwalk. It shifted again now as the door floated up six feet and halted.

Oh God, the inside was worse. A series of cylindrical bars lined the inside. A floor grate provided support for a person’s feet at the base.

“What is this place, and why those waffle floors?” She tried to keep it light, but her voice caught, and she gripped the handhold tighter. “You got this where?”

“A rubbish sale,” Clay said with a surprising grin. “The flooring here and in some of the other areas in the compound allows for circulation of cold or warmth, depending on what’s needed. You have the sound chip I gave you?”

She nodded and extracted a five-by-five-inch wafer from her pants pocket. Actually, his pants pocket. He’d made her change out of her clothes, giving her the only alternative in his locker, his drawstring pants and a T-shirt that dwarfed her.

“Place it on the floor.”

Her hand slid along the hold as she squatted and reached in to drop the wafer on the pod’s floor.

“Now come with me around the back.”

The catwalk provided two safe feet of width, but the view through the slats was unnerving. In an effort to focus elsewhere, she zeroed in on the chamber’s design. “The suspension wires isolate the scan from interference of the pod’s motion?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Very good.”

She glanced up at the cables. “You didn’t assemble this.”