Episode 236: The Broken Man (Emily)

There would be just the two of them:

• Emily: daughter of Cecil, recent convert, assistant murderer; even if they had revived the kids, she had taken their lives too.
• Greg: tormented and tortured prisoner, father who gave himself for his sons’ freedom.

Next to Greg, Emily felt unworthy.

There would be the two of them, alone in her room, for as long as they were prisoners of the Realms United. No matter what she felt, no matter how much she loathed what she had put those boys though that night, it was them and she would have to find a way to stand beside him and become a team.

She was too nervous to do anything but sit on the edge of her bed. She twiddled her thumbs. She ate a chocolate. She waited for Cecil to find her, to tell her Greg was done being tortured.

There was a knock. Emily straightened her clothes and opened the door.

“Is he done?” she asked.

“He’s done.” Cecil stepped into the hall. Emily followed.

Cecil Royce. Her dad. She’d always thought her last name was Gibson, her middle name Royce. In fact, she was a Royce.

“I need you to help me get him down,” Cecil said.

Emily withheld any desire to puke. “Okay.”

“I’ve been formally transferred,” Cecil informed Emily. “The class is yours and Greg’s.”

Which made Emily the formal Leader of Bad Guys in the eyes of her class: Neron, Thackery, Brendan.

Their shoes made a rhythmic tapping in the void of the night hall. They were alone, cameras fixated on them. Tate hid within her.

“What do I need to know about the class objectives?” Emily asked.

“Neron is the new golden boy,” Cecil told her. “The rest of them, continue appearing to teach them.”

Cecil turned down a hallway. They were faced with a long wall, with various closed doors that almost blended in with the white paint. At the end of the hall was a brass door with a keypad affixed to it.

They walked toward the door while Cecil explained more of the teaching methods, of what would be expected of Neron.

They stopped at the door, and Cecil typed a number into it.

Emily waited.

The door opened. Guards stepped aside, to unveil Greg, naked. He was affixed to the wall, with thick metal clasps, by his wrists and ankles. He lifted his head. His face was scratched, the skin hanging in shreds in some places. One of his eyes swollen shut.

He lifted his head, his curly hair matted in sweat and blood.

Em’s heart sank. She was part of this now, even if she hated it. She wasn’t in that room to avenge Greg; she would collect him and take him to her room. She would teach him how to behave.

The plan was to leave, but not tonight.

“It’s you,” Greg breathed. His head fell, his body too weak to hold it.

Emily glanced at Cecil. He nodded.

She stepped toward Greg and began untangling him from the wall.

“You’ve been assigned as my partner,” Emily informed him. “I’ll show you to our room.”

Somehow, he managed to lift an eyebrow and grin at her. “Your partner?”

“Yes.” Cecil moved in front of him as she unclasped the last cuff. He fell into Cecil’s arms. Emily helped him stand. “Our class has six boys.”

“Three,” Cecil corrected.

“Six,” Emily restated. Three boys in the normal class: Neron, Thackery, and Brendan. Three boys she would not abandon: Cy, Oscar, and Max.

Emily and Cecil supported Greg as they led him down the hall, to Emily’s room.

Outside the door, Emily took Greg’s weight. He was able to walk now, with assistance. He was healing at an astounding pace.

“Thank you,” Emily said to Cecil. “I can take care of Greg now.”

Cecil nodded and left.

She led Greg to the bath. She turned the water on and plugged the drain once it was warm. She helped him into the bath.

Tate slipped onto the side of the bath beside Greg and began licking his face, healing Greg’s wounds with his magic.

“How are you?” Emily asked.

Greg lifted his head off the back of the tub and raised an eyebrow again. “Grateful and naked.”

Emily laughed. He was entirely naked and incredibly male.

“How are you?” Greg asked her.

“Determined and promoted.” She grinned at him. “And clothed.”

It was his turn to laugh. Held in the silence of reality, somehow, there was still something to laugh about.

“This is Tate,” Emily informed Greg. She ruffled her red fox’s fur.

“Hello, Tate.” Greg lifted his hand to rub Tate. He licked a cut that ran the length of Greg’s forearm, and the skin healed. It healed faster than even Tate was capable. Emily decided not to ask where he had become so strong.

In the silence, Greg rested back against the tub again.

She massaged his shoulders with soap. “Your sons have all been removed from the program. Our assignment is to teach two groups of three boys.”

“But my boys are safe?”

“Yes. They’re able to rest now.”

Greg met her eyes, then relaxed again. “Rest is good.”

“Tomorrow you’ll meet the boys. Tonight, you need a basic understanding of the rules: no escaping, no oversharing with the boys, no entering forbidden areas of the complex – which are marked.”

“Can I overshare with you?” Greg asked.

Emily smiled. “Yes.”

“Where are you from?”

“Sylem. You?”

“Babylon.”

A human, where magic wasn’t notable. “Where did you get your healing ability?”

“Aadya. She needed her children to be heirs.”

Emily nodded. That made sense, sort of.

` “I knew Asa well,” Emily said. “He was the star student, very skilled.”

Neron would be the star now.

“What was he like?”

“A little funny. He liked pushing buttons and testing limits. He was strategic, always on, and had a best friend, Thayer. Thayer is still here. He earned top of his class, we’re supposed to say.”

“Did you know the other two?”

“No. Guy was dating Cecil, though.”

“They’re together now, and safe,” Greg sighed.

“Would you like a towel? I assume clothes will be delivered tonight.”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

Greg took the towel and stepped out of the bath. Tate flopped after him and shook his fur off. Emily felt flush knowing her familiar had been intimate with Greg.

She was supposed to be intimate with Greg. Conceive, for the program.

She tried not to think of it. For now, it was enough that Greg hadn’t protested their shared living quarters.

“Did Tate help you heal?” Emily asked.

“Yes. I’ll try to dredge my little thief out of her hiding place,” he teased. He dropped the towel and walked to bed.

Unabashed.

“Little thief?” Emily asked. She focused on the ceiling, anything but Greg.

He slid into bed.

“A raccoon?” Emily asked.

He laughed. “Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Zojei. It’s a shortening of the word thief in another language.”

Emily laughed. “I’m noticing a trend,” she teased.

“What trend is that?”

That as soon as he entered the picture, children were free. That even if he wasn’t the person doing everything, change was coming. He was one of the catalysts for it.

“Thievery,” she answered, simply.

“I might have a knack for it.”

“We’ll make a good team them.” Emily got into bed beside him, above the sheet but beneath the blanket.

“Will we?” Greg turned toward her.

“I think so.”

His eyes almost twinkled, his skin glowed golden. “What was the last thing you stole?”

She whispered near him. “Debatable. Either your prolonged suffering or yours sons.”

He laughed. “The timing was pretty close there.”

Timing was everything. She hoped this would be her last good night of rest.

Greg moved his arm beneath her neck and pulled her closer to him. “I should sleep. Can you?”

“I can.”

She curled into his arms. At least she wasn’t alone.

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