Falcon (Kindred #5) Page 3

  “You won’t let me treat you?”

  Yeah, he had it now. Why should she trust this stranger to stick her with a needle? Devon felt sick and crawled back up the bed, closing her eyes to try and quell her nausea. “You don’t trust me, and that gives me no reason to trust you. I won’t be a part of your sordid experiment. Prove to me you mean well and let me loose.”

  She couldn’t say any more, now it was up to him. All decisions were his now. He could do as she asked, or he could disprove his claims by forcing her to submit against her will. Whatever he did next would prove his morals.

  To his credit, he didn’t leap onto the bed and attack her, but he didn’t toss her a key for the front door either. After a few seconds of gaping, Doctor Wren went around the bed and bent to pick up a plastic medic case from the floor that she hadn’t previously seen.

  Turning over, she watched him leave in the same way Bess had. There wasn’t enough energy left in her reserves to let her move to check the door again, and she couldn’t handle having her hopes dashed again anyway.

  She would love a shower and a drink of fresh, cool water, but she couldn’t be sure they weren’t watching her, and until she had proof of their intentions Devon couldn’t accept any more of their aid.

  THREE

  “If she refuses treatment, there’s nothing I can do.”

  Devon could hear the voices, but they were faded and fuzzy. She’d been vaguely aware of them for maybe a minute or two, though her sense of time was off. She felt detached from her own body, like her mind was swimming somewhere else while her figure felt heavy and weak.

  Immobile in what she assumed was the bed she’d woken up in when she first arrived here, Devon could barely open her eyes, so she gave up trying. Her mouth was dry, and when she parted her lips, something plastic squeezed between them. It took her a moment to figure out that it was a straw.

  “Go on, dearie, drink,” came a female voice and on instinct Devon sucked the cool liquid that was being offered.

  “Don’t let her drink too fast,” a male said.

  Devon released the straw and opened her eyes enough to see Wren at the end of the bed. Bess was seated beside her. While she did see these images, it still felt as though she were watching the scene rather than existing in the same moment with them.

  “Look at her,” Bess said. “She’s burning up.” Bess reached over to shift a wet weight on Devon’s head that was neither hot nor cold. “You have to do something.”

  “If she refuses treatment, I can’t touch her.”

  Bess scoffed, losing patience. “Boy, don’t give me your ethics now, this poor girl needs help.”

  “It’s illegal,” he said. “It’s assault.”

  Another sound of impatience left Bess’ lips before she got up from the bed to join the doctor. “Don’t give me that,” she said. “Tell me it’s illegal? How did this girl get here? Of all the things you all do—”

  “I don’t break the law, I just… tag along.”

  Devon’s eyes closed because it was too much effort to keep them open, and her vision was blurred anyway. She tried her best to focus on sound instead, feeling that it was important to hold on to one point to steady her sanity. Although as the seconds ticked by, she felt more and more like she was sinking.

  “You’re going to help that girl. She needs it. Don’t you give me, ‘Do no harm’ and then watch her wither away. There’s something about mental competence, isn’t there? She’s delusional. She’s not in her right mind. If you get her better, she’ll thank you. You don’t have a choice.”

  They were talking about her, yet she was too foggy to contribute. “She’ll let me treat her if she meets him,” Wren said. “She said if we showed trust—”

  “He won’t come,” Bess said. “You know him better than to expect that. Most of the time it’s a struggle to get him to talk to us. He won’t come.”

  “Not even to prevent her death?”

  “He won’t come up here, he’ll never lay eyes on her again.”

  “I’m supposed to compromise my moral code by forcing treatment on a patient who doesn’t want it.”

  “She’s not a standard patient,” Bess said. “You get stubborn about all the wrong things, my boy. He is the way he is.”

  “Maybe I’m sick of giving him dispensation for that.”

  “Look at all he does for us,” Bess said. “Your issues with your cousin are your own. Would you let an innocent woman die just to prove a point to him?”

  Wren didn’t respond. Or maybe he did and Devon didn’t hear it. What she did hear was the word “cousin”, so they were related. The man who’d purchased her was the doctor’s cousin. Holding on to that one small revelation, something she probably wasn’t supposed to have heard.

  She opened her lips again, but whatever she meant to say was lost. The heaviness in her body began to consume her mind. Speckles of light became dark, dizziness made her head feel like it was spinning despite her never moving an inch.

  Whatever these people had done to her, whatever they planned to do, she was weak and powerless. This could be how they wanted her, but there was genuine worry in their voices. The trouble was, she didn’t know what reality was and what was a dream because nothing seemed tangible anymore, she barely remembered who she was, what she wanted from life. Her dreams and ambitions were gone; surviving had become her primary objective, and today it seemed she was going to fail in that accomplishment.

  The next spell of her life was nothing but mottled images, pieces of words and statements intermingled with images of everything and nothing. Devon’s awareness faded in and out. Sometimes she was lucid and remembered exactly what had happened to her. Other times, she struggled to remember her name. Sometimes Bess came with food that she refused, and whenever she was with-it enough, she refused all of Doctor Wren’s treatment.

  More time went by and the heaviness faded. One day, morning, noon, or night later, Devon lay in bed wrapped in the thick bedspread and began to speculate about what the lack of sound meant.

  All alone in this room, for the first time she felt that her fingers and toes were completely under her control. Seeking water, she found a bottle on the bedside. When she sat up, her body screamed, each joint ached, her muscles were stiff. But she had no idea how long she’d been confined in this room, because she’d been fading in and out of consciousness while she struggled to regain her health.

  She was sipping the water when the door opened and Bess came in. The beaming grin on the woman’s face was almost enough to make Devon smile. Except her throat still scratched and still ached, she wasn’t quite herself yet.

  “Good morning,” Bess said, full of joy as she came over to smooth the bedspread that was so large it still covered the bed despite being wrapped around Devon. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I think so,” Devon said, pushing her hair away before she leaned to the side to put the bottle back on the nightstand. Dragging her fingers through her greasy hair, she craved the comfort and refreshment of a shower but feared how she might handle life outside this bed. “What happened to me? I can’t remember exactly what…” Trying to put the pieces together was too difficult.

  “You had a fever,” Bess said. “It’s no surprise. We worried that you might have a parasite or an infection. Wren has chased it away now.”

  “A parasite? From where?”

  “You didn’t have one, Wren ran tests just to be sure. We have all types of state-of-the-art medical equipment here. You might not remember, but we have been looking after you.”

  “I told him not to treat me,” Devon said, only partially aware of the conversation she’d had with the doctor, though she did remember feeling unwell during it, feeling dizzy and struggling to stay upright. “How do I know you didn’t infect me with something?”

  “We’ve given you good food and clean water,” Bess said. “I doubt those you were staying with before were so kind.”

  That was the truth, and although she still wasn’t
at full strength, Devon could tell she was healthier. “Thank you,” she said, because it felt like the right thing to say. “For looking after me. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “No,” Bess said, folding her arms. “We didn’t have to do that. We don’t have to do any of this. I told you that you were safe here. We told you that you could trust us. I’ll bring you up some breakfast. I have already put fresh towels and toiletries into the bathroom. So whenever you’re ready, you can feel free to eat something and to bathe, although we wouldn’t advise you to do too much too quickly.

  “Did he come here?” Devon asked. “The man who purchased me?”

  “No,” Bess said. “You were told that you never have to worry about that.”

  Yet, part of her wanted to see this man. Maybe it was the mystery that allured her. Maybe she hoped that by looking into his face that everything would fall into place, that she would suddenly understand why these people would buy her like a pet, keep her locked up and do nothing but feed and care for her.

  They could’ve abused her while she was ill, but no intimate part of her body felt as though it had been violated.

  “I’ll get your breakfast,” Bess said. “Wren will come to see you too. We will have to keep an eye on you.”

  “There aren’t cameras in here, are there?” Devon asked, wondering how they always knew when she awoke. If she was going to shower, she didn’t want them to watch her struggle with something as simple as washing her body.

  “For a man so particular about his privacy, the owner of the house wouldn’t offer his guests anything less than his own standards.”

  More cryptic comments that increased her curiosity. “No one has explained why I’m locked up,” she said, pushing away the blankets that were constricting her. “Are you afraid I’ll escape? I’ve been too ill to leave this bed.”

  Bess paused before she replied, her smile faltered for just a second, but she quickly pasted it back on. “Information unlocks all secrets,” Bess said. “There are things in this house which can reveal more about who we are.”

  “And you need anonymity to do what you do,” she said. Devon didn’t like being locked up, but she could understand their need to protect themselves, at least until they knew who they had in their home.

  She could be a killer or a thief, and if they unlocked their home to her, she could hurt them. Except given her current state, that seemed like a ridiculous concern for them to have.

  “Everything will be explained to you,” Bess said. “For now, we just want you to be well. You sit there and get your bearings.” She retreated to the door. “I’ll come back with your breakfast, and then we’ll leave you alone for a while.”

  Devon could do with the chance to center herself. Bess did as she said and came back with some food, some toast, some coffee, some milk, some juice. They seemed determined to replenish her liquids and didn’t provide anything that would be too taxing on her stomach.

  She hadn’t eaten properly in a long time. Devon did exactly as Bess said and took her time to eat her breakfast, which filled her up after just a few bites, and she was almost ready to sleep again. Except, after delivering the breakfast tray, Bess had turned on the shower in preparation for her. The bellowing steam that poured out of the bathroom created such an enticing mist that she couldn’t resist.

  Luxuriating in the hot jets of water that came at her from every angle, Devon washed and conditioned her hair, twice. She exfoliated using all the products and accessories that Bess had laid out and took her time while shaving so as to smooth every spot.

  The experience of grooming took her a long time, and she was grateful for the built-in, tiled seat in the corner that allowed her to sit and catch her breath when she tired. After she was out, she combed her hair and donned the new nightgown that Bess had put onto the vanity for her.

  Having taken her time in the bathroom, she’d filled a vast portion of her day. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to be or anything better to do. Going through the motions of doing something so ordinary was a comfort.

  It was probably the normalcy of grooming that made her take advantage of every tool available to her. Usually, she’d have done these things every day. Having the free rein to do them again, and to take as long as she wanted in the bathroom, helped her to regain some of her identity.

  It was only when she exited the bathroom that she paused, because there was Wren, sitting on the bed.

  He leaped up and smiled. “Hello,” he declared. “How are you feeling today?”

  Suspicious of him and how long he might have been there waiting for her, she felt uneasy standing red-skinned and damp-haired in front of a man who had treated her, which meant he could have seen every part of her body and examined it in detail.

  “Much better,” she said because if he was the one responsible for ridding her of her illness, she should be grateful instead of hostile. “Thank you.”

  Wren went around the bed to the other side and picked up his first-aid box to hold it aloft. “Can I check you out?”

  Fighting him, after all he’d already seen, was a battle she didn’t have the energy for. Giving in, she tossed her damp towel and previous nightgown to the corner of the room.

  Devon went over to the bed to sit. “What do you want to do?” she asked.

  “Just a few routine checks,” he said and put the case on the end of the bed to open it. On the nightstand was a clipboard, and as he went through a basic check-up routine, he noted his findings.

  “How are your other wounds?” he asked, examining the bruising on her wrists.

  “The one on my hip itches a bit, but it’s ok.”

  “Can I see it?” he asked, and he didn’t seem as condescending this time.

  Leaning back, she gathered up the gown. Keeping her intimacy covered, she took the fabric up over the wound to allow him to take a closer look.

  He touched the edge and she flinched. Examining it closely, he then leaned back to retrieve something from his box. “Yes, there was a bit of an infection in it,” he said. “It’s cleared up for the most part and you’ve cleaned it already today, which is good. I’ll apply some antiseptic and dress it, and then we’ll give you some antibiotics, ok?”

  She nodded at his smile and let him do his work because he carried an air of professionalism now. Acting detached from her, yet caring, he was thorough but not overbearing. If she’d come across him in a normal doctor’s office or hospital, she’d probably be quite impressed.

  As it stood, she didn’t know exactly what to think about a man who was good at his caregiving job but chose to spend his free time at human slave auctions. “How do you hold down a job if you’re always here?” she asked.

  Her shower had made her feel more human, and bonding with her captors could be important. If she could cultivate a connection with them, they may be more inclined to let her go or at least may think twice before hurting her.

  “I’m not always here,” he said. “This isn’t my house. This house belongs to my colleague.”

  “Your cousin?” His attention leaped from her wound. “I heard you and Bess talking, just bits and pieces,” she said. “Your secret is safe.”

  Although it took him another moment, he did go back to his work. Examining the moldings and white walls, she tried to block out what he was doing. It wasn’t like there was anyone around here she could tell. Even if she wanted to scream his secrets out loud, no one would be able to hear her, no one except those who already knew them.

  When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything in response, she continued. “So where do you live?” she asked.

  It might seem as though this was a typical doctor-patient conversation and that couldn’t be further from the truth. But the more she could find out, the better her chances of finding some kind of weakness.

  “You ask a lot of questions,” he said.

  “Valid questions I think,” she said, sensing his barriers going up. “I don’t mean you and your friends an
y harm. Isn’t that what you keep saying to me? Isn’t that what’s meant to make me feel better? So shouldn’t it make you feel better too? What could I possibly do to hurt you even if I wanted to? You have all the power.”

  He finished taping the dressing onto her hip and sat up on the bed beside her, keeping a respectful distance. “I’ll give you some salve for the wounds on your wrist. Can I see the injury on your back?”

  His expectation created anxiety, and this moment was a crossroads in their relationship. She had to give trust in order to gain it, so she flipped onto her front and folded her arms under her head. Closing her eyes, Devon tried not to think about her ass being out there on show for him after she pulled up her gown.

  “How long have you been practicing medicine?” she asked, trying to hold onto the normality.

  “All my adult life,” he said, tracing his fingers down her vertebrae. “Have you had any pain in your joints or difficulty with movement today?”

  “I’ve been a bit stiff,” she said. “My shoulders ache, but I figured that’s what comes from being restrained in a confined space for so long.”

  “A massage might help,” he said, checking the bones and muscles in her shoulders, arms, and neck. “I don’t see redness or swelling. I’ve been keeping an eye on it. We’ll check your range of movement once I’ve finished with the wound on your back.” He went to work on it. “You’re lucky, they don’t appear to have beaten you as often as others. Not to diminish what you went through, it was horrific, but we have seen worse.”

  “I learned to keep my mouth shut,” she said. “And one of the guards said something on my last day there about not being allowed to mark my body. They sold me as unblemished, I guess that was important.”

  Although he’d managed to slash her hip and injure her back. Maybe that was standard breakage factored into the trade. Even if her body had been unmarked, her soul was certainly tarnished.

  “Were you sexually assaulted?” he asked, in that doctor voice of his.