Watershed (35 page)

I listened with horror as he talked, and I willed him to work faster, screwing my eyes tight, fighting the tears, fighting the pain, inside and out. His voice was so smooth, almost soothing, patting me down, killing me gently. I gagged on surging bile and I knew he heard, coz he pulled the final stitch so tight it almost tore out again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Then his voice hardened. ‘
I
made you what you are, shithead. Me. And don't you
ever
fucking forget it.'

I wouldn't. Not if I lived a thousand lifetimes. But I just nodded and said nothing.

Knotting and cutting the gut, he packed everything back into the box, then stood over me, blocking any escape.

‘But here's the thing,' he said. ‘I don't think you appreciate everything I've done for you. And I don't think you've ever thanked me, have you? Not properly.'

I looked up at him, incredulous and terrified. Was he serious? But his gaze bore into mine, unflinching, and I knew he was. Dead serious.

‘C'mon, Jem. Just say the words. Coz if you don't, I know plenty of ways to make you show your gratitude.' His gaze slid down then, slow and chilling.

‘Thank you,' I whispered, without hesitation, because I knew exactly what he meant. He'd done it with others and we'd all heard the stories. There was no way I was going to be added to that list. No fucking way. And definitely not with Alex in the next room.

‘Again, Jem. Louder this time. Say it like you mean it.'

‘Thank you, Garrick,' I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could manage. He slapped my thigh, real hard, and I almost screamed.

‘Good man,' he said, all happy again. ‘Those stitches should hold. I made sure they were real deep. Just don't do anything too strenuous for a couple of days. I need you in peak condition.'

I didn't dare ask why. Just stood and pulled up my trousers, glad to have my dick covered over again and out of sight. My thigh throbbed, the material rubbing at the stitches, but it was nothing compared to what might've been. Shouldering me roughly out of the way, he reclaimed his chair and I limped to the door.

‘Just a minute,' he said, and I froze before turning to face him again. He'd picked up the report and was scouring it thoroughly this time, wading knee-deep through the lies. He frowned as he scanned each page and my heart thudded, the blood roaring, filling the silence. If there was any fault, he'd find it for sure. But when he'd read the whole thing, turning the last page and looking up at me with a sudden grin, I breathed again.

‘Seems like you had some fun out there,' he said.

‘Oh yeah,' I drawled, tapping my leg. ‘It was a fucking blast.'

He laughed and I wished I still had that knife in my boot. Wished I could shut him up for good.

‘Can I go now?' I asked. And the laughter stopped.

‘Not yet. Got a job for you.' He leaned back in his chair and watched me, basking in my disappointment.

‘What is it?' I asked.

He jerked his head at the cubicle door. ‘I've finished with that one. You can take her down to Cobb.'

I stared at him and it took a few seconds to find my voice. ‘That's not my job.' And it wasn't. That was something he kept for the raws, breaking them gently.

‘Told you I'd find ways to keep you busy,' he growled. ‘Do it. Now!'

He threw me a key and I limped back to the half-open door and pushed it wide. I knew what to expect, had known what would happen to her, but it didn't make it any easier. I didn't want to see Alex broken and bruised and bleeding. I couldn't.

The bed was wide, bigger than any cot, and she lay prone, her legs stretched out and chained to each corner, her arms pulled forwards by a single tether attached to a ring in the wall above the bed. A blanket had been thrown over her carelessly, covering her top half, leaving the bottom exposed, and I almost choked when I saw the mess of blood and other fluids, her hips and thighs bruised, the flesh mottled where he'd gripped her tight.

‘For fuck's sake, hurry it up,' Garrick drawled behind me and I turned to see him lounging against the frame, watching. Swallowing my misery, I bent and unlocked the chains around her ankles, pulling them free, trying not to hurt her any more. She moaned and made an attempt to struggle but it was feeble, defeated, a token gesture only. I didn't try justifying my own contributions, didn't bother telling myself that Garrick was black and I was white. No point lying about it any more, to myself or anyone else. But it didn't ease my rage.

You sick fuck. You sick, sick fuck!
It was all I could think as I tugged her legs together and pulled down the blanket, hiding his handiwork. And then I sighed, unable to stop the sound and not even caring if he heard. Because the girl wasn't Alex. Her hair was longer, and fair, and my anguish gave way to relief, before confusion took over. Where the hell was Alex?

Removing the manacles from her wrists, I pulled the girl to her feet, holding her when she swayed, unsteady and groaning. Her face was bruised too, her nose swollen and broken, her lips split, and there were bite marks on her neck and breasts. She stared at the ground, as though not seeing the two of us might make the whole thing imaginary, the worst possible nightmare. Gathering up the blanket, I threw it around her, letting her clutch it with sore hands. Whatever clothes she'd had were gone and she'd have no use for them any more, but I was damned if I'd parade her down the tunnels naked. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of it.

Finally, because I couldn't stand not knowing, I glanced at Garrick. ‘So where is she? The one I brought you?' I asked, accusing him, like he hadn't appreciated my gift.

He smiled slowly and raised one eyebrow. ‘Where d'you think, Jem? Got a lot of men to keep happy.' He straightened and moved aside as I guided the girl past him. Then he shot out an arm, blocking the way, and tugged the blanket aside. ‘Besides, I'm not really much of a tit man. This is all I need.' And grabbing one of her breasts, he pinched the flesh, twisting it hard so the girl whimpered.

‘Shit, Garrick, leave her alone,' I challenged, and we both glared at each other. It was the first time since my training that I'd stood up to him, and I'd forgotten the thrill of the chill, that prickling across my scalp and the quick thud of my heart. And for the briefest moment I relished it, until I remembered what it had got me the last time.

But he was the first to back down, and dropping his hand he let us pass. ‘Tell Cobb he's got two days to get her right, then I want her put to work.'

Tell him yourself, arsehole.

‘And I'll be wanting that blanket back, Jem,' he called, before I slammed the door hard.

Cobb was a mean, shrivelled son of a bitch, pale-skinned and pale-eyed, like he'd been washed out in the Sea and hung up to fade and dry. The whorehouse had been running long before I'd joined – maybe even since the Watch began – with Cobb as its front man, chief of his own dirty little realm. Dark and dank and deep underground, the air sour with sex and pain, the place was a tangle of rooms and narrow cubicles, offering any kind of kink a Watchman could wish for. Or afford.

Two sentries guarded the entry, both young, both probably yearning for the day when they'd be allowed inside. If they ever made it that far. Pretty much ignoring me, they eyed the girl, and she clutched the blanket tighter, knowing her fate but fighting to the last.

‘Got a delivery from Garrick,' I said, and one of them nodded, whipping out some papers and a pen.

‘Your name and number?'

‘None of your fucking business,' I said. His officiousness faltered, while the other one continued to leer at the girl; it wasn't hard to see what he was thinking. ‘And what the fuck are you staring at?' My voice surly, my mood dark, and he'd better take heed. It was scary how quickly Garrick's mannerisms rubbed off.

‘I need you to sign in, sir,' the first sentry tried again. ‘It's the rules.'

I glared, before snatching the paper from him. Two columns, filled with names and tag numbers, some of them repeated. I wondered why they bothered keeping check and then realised the information was for Garrick, so he could see who came and went, and how often. Keeping tabs, always that step ahead. I scrawled on the next line and tossed the page back.

‘There. Happy now?'

He checked it over and looked up, bewildered. ‘Uh, no, that's not what –'

‘That's all you're gunna get.' I pushed past them, dragging the girl behind me, and stopped just inside, blinking to see in the dim light.

There's no mistaking a whorehouse. Whether underground or in the Citadel or any of the settlements, they were all the same. Maybe they always had been, even in those oh-so-civilised times before the Last Rains, before we finally admitted what we were and reverted to kind. Of course, Garrick was more straightforward than most, and he'd dubbed his little enterprise the fuckshop. But it wasn't much different from any of the others. Same sights, same sounds, and that same smell of the used and the spent. No matter which way you slice it, there's nothing pretty about sex. Not when it's on display and for sale. It might feel good, but it ain't pretty.

‘Jem, isn't it? Garrick said you'd be down.' Cobb's voice was as pale as he was, soft and sibilant and skin-crawling. He walked around the girl, taking in the battered face and the bitten neck, the pink trickle trailing to her feet, and shook his head. ‘I do wish he wouldn't be so rough. It makes my job so difficult.'

‘Yeah, you're making me fucking cry. Now, where do you want her?'

‘Oh no, Jem.' He smiled, all pretence gone. ‘I'll deal with her. You run along, and take this with you.' He tore the blanket from the girl and held it out to me.

So I punched him, smack in the face, and I don't know which of us was more surprised.

‘I'm going to report you for that,' he snarled, holding his nose, trying to stop the blood. I clenched my hand a few times, getting the sting out.

‘Yeah, you do that. Garrick said to tell you to rest her for two days. But I think I'm gunna tell him you had your hand up her before my back was even turned. How d'you think he'll like that?'

His eyes narrowed. ‘He knows I'd never do that.'

‘Really? Your word against his best Watchman?' I said, with more confidence than I felt, because even if I was right and Cobb had his filthy fingers in every hole, of the two of us I was the more expendable. I just hoped he didn't know it too.

‘Garrick trusts me,' whined Cobb.

‘Garrick doesn't trust anyone,' I told him. ‘Let's say you're right, and he doesn't believe me. But he won't forget, and one day he's gunna start thinking about it, and it'll gnaw away at him, get him wondering if maybe young Jem might've been right after all. Maybe Cobb is fiddling the books, as well as everything else down here. So he'll start checking up on you, paying you unexpected visits, waiting to catch you out. And he will catch you out, arsehole. He catches everyone out, eventually. Is that what you want?'

He scowled but said nothing, and I draped the blanket back over the bemused girl. I felt even more sorry for her then, because I hadn't helped her situation; she'd be the one to cop his fury.

‘Now, show me where,' I repeated, and he turned to lead me down the narrow passageway. We passed a few Watchmen, sweaty after their exertions; one nodded to me; another eyed the girl, a small grin playing on his face. If he'd licked his lips, his thoughts couldn't have been more obvious.

Small rooms, some with doors flung wide, ran either side, but the ones left open weren't empty. On each cot, tethered and naked, sat a girl or boy, man or woman, sometimes two or three together, slack-jawed and dull-eyed, untouched by the sun, all of them slaves waiting for the next round of abuse. I checked every one, pausing at each opening, not caring that Cobb saw, but there was no sign of Alex. Which could only mean one thing, and short of banging on every closed door and interrupting whatever was going on, there was no way of knowing which room she occupied. I tried not to think about what was happening behind those doors, tried not to hear the sounds, tried not to wonder
which Watchman was in there; who had already used Alex and who was still waiting to. I tried real, real hard.

Cobb stopped at the last door, and I guided the girl into the cubicle, pausing to grab his arm.

‘Garrick would've sent a woman down here, last night or this morning. Not too tall, short hair, greenish eyes. Where is she?'

He held up a hand. ‘Just the essentials, Watchman. Big tits or small?'

I raised my fist again and he shrank back. ‘Okay, okay. I know who you mean. She's kind of occupied at the moment.' He made a crude gesture with his hands, driving his point home.

‘Where?' I asked again, with more menace.

But he shook his head. ‘Nuh-uh. You want her? You pay, like all the rest.' He smiled again. ‘And you do want her, don't you?'