No Light (10 page)

             
He had watched Azzan and Balendin circle her, her wide, frightened eyes searching the darkness, as the Dems tormented her. She continued to move in his direction, flinching each time one of the Dems came too close. The faint glow of the ator made his eyes narrow. He was moving before he made a conscious decision to aid her.

             
Azzan and Balendin leapt away from her the moment they noticed his ator. Alarmed, they turned to look at him in confusion. He bared his teeth, furious they would think to question him. Ignoring their bows of respect, he circled around Sarah to place his hand on her back. He looked up to see his Dems slinking away, before he bent to whisper in her ear.

             
Her obvious fear of the dark, both amused and irritated him. He watched in fascination, as the ator quickly vanished in his presence. The threat deemed passed, the blue fire faded into her pale skin. His chains jingled quietly when he moved around her.

He found himself bending closer, fascinated by the way she leaned toward him. He had given her no reason to believe he would not take advantage of her momentary blindness.
              Yet, she turned toward him, tipping her head back to gaze toward his face. Something about it, deepened his voice to a near purr. When she questioned about the blackout, he glanced around the room. He gave her a vague answer, narrowing his eyes at his second.

             
Tradis' head tipped up toward the ceiling. A moment later, Farran saw a tiny flicker of light in the dark fluorescents. He snarled, but dropped into the chair in front of the human. She began to question him immediately. He grit his teeth, watching the senior handlers. Handler Williams stared toward Farran's corner of the room, Motlin standing to his left.

             
Sarah's first touch jerked his attention away from the handler. He looked up at her in shock. When she continued to touch him, the shock faded to anger. Such blatant disregard for a superior, almost took his breath away. The fury built every second the human touched him. He tried to ignore the tingle that radiated out from the place where their skin met. Feeling himself shaking, he growled.

             
She refused to obey him, continuing to move her disgusting human skin against his. His face twisted into a silent snarl of frustration, the disgust he wanted to feel refusing to come forward. It made his fury toward her build.

             
She disobeyed him until he grabbed her wrist. It was difficult to speak past the rage, but he managed. When the lights flickered to life, he had to drop his gaze to hide his feelings from Handler Williams.

             
The scene faded from his mind, as he looked down at the unconscious female in his lap. The ator was receding, having done its job. He rolled her head to the side to see the bloody gash had vanished. He tried to ignore the, now familiar, bite of regret. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm loosely, feeling the size of her thin limb.

             
His thumb covered his fingertips, forming a complete cuff. He grimaced. She was petite, fragile. His gaze moved to her tiny hands splayed against his chest. The fingers would barely extend past the palm of his hand. He shook his head, remembering the flare of the ator when her head struck the wall. It had first infuriated him, and then caused the painful clenching in his stomach. He tore his eyes away from her, as her eyelids began to flutter.

Chapter Six

Drowning Song

             
It was the tickle under her skin that brought her to awareness. A moment later, the warmth pressed against her right side shifted. Her eyes popped open.

             
"Sarah." The Dem said her name as if it were a statement.

             
She slowly turned her head to the side, rough fabric skimming her cheek. Her eyes landed on his chest, before they rose to his face. He did not look at her, his gaze fixed straight ahead.              

             
She blinked up at him. As if he felt her gaze, his jaw clenched and he glanced at her. The usual anger was absent, his eyes a light jade green, but something nagged at her.

             
She frowned at a strange coppery taste in her mouth. A buzz started in the back of her mind, pulsing with each beat of her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut. Words, soft and foreign, joined the pulse.

             
"What is that?" She cringed at the roughness of her voice.

             
The voice became louder, the accent somehow familiar. She clasped her hands over her ears, struggling to stop the noise.

             
"It's so loud!" She looked up at Farran through watery eyes.

             
He appeared to study her. "What do you hear?"

             
The moment he spoke, the sound stopped. In the deafening silence, Sarah blinked in confusion.

             
"It's-" She frowned and shook her head. "I don't know. It's gone, now."

             
"Interesting."

             
He abruptly stood, shoving her from his lap onto the stone bench beside him. Sarah winced at the sharp landing. She looked up to see him pacing across the width of the cell, passing in front of the cell bars with two long strides.

             
"What's interesting?" she asked quietly.

             
He jerked his head to look at her. The foreign words blasted through her mind, rough and with an edge of irritation. She cried out at the sudden pain. When she looked up at him, the sound faded quickly.

             
"
That
is interesting."

             
Sarah started to open her mouth, when the door to the corridor opened.

             
"Sarah?" Luke's voice made her swing her gaze to Farran.

             
His head jerked toward the hall. She thought she heard a growl under the sound of Luke's footsteps.

             
"Handler Mackenzie?" Luke called, when she did not answer. His pace quickened and she saw Farran's back tense.

             
"I'm here," she answered, jumping down from the bench.

             
Farran did not look at her as she passed him, but she felt his anger like a burn against her skin. She stopped just outside the cell and forced a smile.

             
"I was worried I had missed you," Luke said, returning her smile. He pointedly avoided looking behind her.

             
Sarah felt Farran standing in the doorway of his cell. She knew without turning, his arms were crossed and he was scowling.

             
"What did you need, Luke?" She tensed at Farran’s low growl, but kept her gaze focused on the other handler.

             
"If you don't have plans-"

             
"Professional wisdom to impart? Or, maybe a warning? Tell me, human, how is your limp these days?"

             
Sarah's eyes widened at the viciousness of Farran's tone.               Luke's gaze darkened and he glanced over her left shoulder.

             
"I'm so sorry, Luke," Sarah blurted. She cringed at Farran's growl, but took a step toward the other handler. She peeked over her shoulder to see Farran's black gaze narrowed on Luke.

             
"No need to apologize," Luke said after a tense moment. He looked back at her and smiled tightly. "What else would a rabid dog act like than a rabid dog?"

             
Sarah felt the tiny hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Almost as if she could read his mind, she knew Farran was about to launch himself at the smaller man. In a burst of movement, she slammed her hand against the panel next to his cell. The security screens clamped down a split second after the Dem moved.

             
"Well done."

             
Sarah continued to stare at where Farran had disappeared behind the blackness. Luke's amusement made her clench her jaw, but she nodded.

             
"So, are you?"

             
Sarah looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

             
"Busy for dinner," Luke clarified.

             
"Oh..." Sarah bit her lip and glanced at the dark cell. "I guess not."

             
"Great. I know the perfect place." He turned away and started toward the door.

             
Sarah frowned.

...

              "I've never seen you in civilian clothes. It's always just standard issue grays," Luke joked, looking across the table at her.

             
Sarah smiled and draped her coat over the back of the chair.

             
"I always wear my spare suit from home, so I don't have to change before my shift."

             
"And take one of the others home for the next day." Luke nodded. "Very clever. May I?"

             
Sarah blinked in surprise when he grasped her chair and pulled it away from the table. A tingle of pleasure went through her at the uncommon gesture. She nodded quickly and sat.

             
"Thank you." She watched him circle around the table to hang his coat on the chair across from hers.

             
"My pleasure. I hope that wasn't too old-fashioned of me."

             
She shook her head. "No. It was fine. I've just never had anyone do that for me before," she admitted, smoothing the napkin in front of her.

             
"I can hardly believe that."

             
Sarah looked up at the warm tone, unsure at the heat that filled her cheeks. She dropped her head. "That's nice of you to say. Thank you for dinner, also."

             
"You're welcome. Though, I admit it isn't completely selfless on my part. I've been meaning to talk to you."

             
Sarah blinked at him.

             
"About the elections and Farran," he supplied.

             
She nodded. "There seemed to be some history between the two of you..."

             
"I guess you could put it like that. My first day in The Corridor, he broke my left leg in three places and fractured six ribs," Luke explained in a flat tone.

             
Sarah gasped. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea." She chewed her bottom lip.

             
"How could you? It was a long time ago." He shook his head. "I only told you because I want you to remember what you’re dealing with." He let out a loud sigh. "I know it is sometimes easy to think of the Dems as people, but they aren't."

             
Sarah jerked her gaze away from the tabletop to look at him.

             
"I know you missed most of training, and your circumstances are complicated, but that is a point that is really hammered home. They aren't from here, so they don't act like us and they don't think like us."

             
Sarah twitched when his hand found hers on the table. He clasped her fingers gently.

             
"I know it's easy to assign human emotions to them, because they look like us. I sometimes think that just makes it worse. You don't expect them to act like monsters."

             
Sarah swallowed hard, but met his intent gaze.

             
"And they are monsters, Sarah. Remember that." At her nod, he released her hand and sat back in his chair. "Are you ready to order?"

             
She licked her dry lips and nodded. She watched him signal the waiter, silently musing on his words. It made sense. The Dems were like predators, always watching and calculating. She could tell Luke believed what he said, but it felt wrong somehow. Incomplete.

             
As Luke ordered for them, she stared down at the neatly rolled napkin in front of her. Her fingers skimmed over the soft linen and pristine silverware.

             
"Has it been a while since you went out for dinner?" Luke asked suddenly.

             
She looked up to see him watching her. She shook her head and returned her gaze to the table.

             
"I stop at the cafe on the square a few nights a week."

             
"They have good burgers," he offered.

             
She smiled and nodded, as the waiter returned with their drinks. She stared at the crimson liquid in her wine glass until after he left.

             
"I wasn't sure if you were a wine drinker..." Luke coughed and cleared his throat, reaching for his drink.

             
"I've never had it."

             
"Oh. Well, it's pretty good. I chose something sweeter than I would usually have with dinner." He waved toward her glass.

             
She reached for it, then paused. Fiddling with the stem of the crystal, she bit her bottom lip. "I was wondering it you had heard anything about the people running against Keane."

             
Luke watched her lift the glass to her lips and take a sip, before he answered.

             
"I know of three others who are aiming for the mayor seat, but most of them don't have the stomach for it."

             
Sarah raised an eyebrow.

             
"You have to deal with the rest of the world," he explained, taking a large sip of his wine. "A lot of people who like to pretend we don't exist." He sighed.

             
"Out of sight, out of mind," Sarah murmured.

             
Luke nodded. "Yes. Exactly. Running The Corridor is necessary, but they would prefer not to get their hands dirty."

             
"That's why we only get local news channels..."

             
"And why we only have landlines. And why we only got internet five years ago. And why our hospital is behind on technology. The world acts like we all have an infectious disease."               At Sarah's flinch, he paused.

             
She smiled slightly at his apologetic look and shook her head. "It's fine. I've heard far worse from my parents." She sipped her wine, feeling his gaze on her. She glanced up. "So, can Keane fix any of that?"

             
He snorted. "Honestly, I have no idea. His stance is something of a mystery. He obviously-" Luke broke off as the waiter approached with their food.

             
After the plates were laid out and the wine glasses refilled, the waiter gave them a tight smile and walked away. Sarah watched him go. She scanned the other tables.

             
Every table contained a couple, many of whom were holding hands or leaning towards each other and engaged in intimate conversation. She frowned and glanced at Luke from the corner of her eye.

             
"He obviously has a deep-seated hatred for the Dem race," Luke finished, looking up from his plate.

             
"Doesn't everyone?" she asked softly.

             
He tipped his head. "Well, I think it's more of a passive dislike combined with distaste."

             
Sarah hummed in agreement. "So, what is this?"

             
"Flounder." He smiled widely at the surprised look she gave him.

             
"I've never had anything from outside our borders," she said in awe.

             
He laughed. "Well, we haven't always been land-locked. When I was really young, there was a company that shipped to the grocery store. Now, this is the only place that can get a contract." He filled his fork and took a large bite.