Barren Crossroads

All the Pretty Poisonous Things

But Kaelie would be lying to herself if she said that the thought of walking back to the little house he was letting her stay in, back through the came full of people who'd done nothing to help her or stop the attack, back through people who'd prefer it if she had been raped and killed, did not scare her. No, she did not want to be alone tonight. She nodded after à minute.

"I'll take your couch," she said, and put her hand up to stop Rick from doing anything else chivalrous, like trying to give her his bed. She'd feel better downstairs, close to an exit, should anything happen in the night.

The rest of the day passed in silence as Kaelie sat and stared at the fire, thinking, preparing, wondering. She didn't remember half of the things that came and went in her mind, but none of them were that important. She tried to ignore the itching feeling that had settled over her skin, the feeling that told her that something bad was going to happen, again, and soon.

Kaelie wondered how many bad things one person could really take before they were truly broken, truly lost with no hope of repair. She didn't know how many more she had in her. After à while, the night fell, the wind howled in through the windows. Kaelie moved closer to the fire, and abandoned her idea of sleeping on the couch in favor of curling up as close to the fire as she could get and finding the softest patch of threadbare carpet for her head.

She pretended to be asleep when Rick came to tell her goodnight. His deep, drawling voice echoed in her head, and she tried as hard as she could not to flinch when he smoothed her hair back from her face and sighed. "I hope neither of us screws this up," he said, and it was so quiet that she knew he was just thinking out loud.

She listened for à while after that, to his heavy footsteps as he climbed the stairs to his own room, the creak of his bed as he lay down, the rhythm of his breathing as it slowed and deepened into sleep. Eventually, it was these sounds that she fell asleep to, and for the first time in as long as Kaelie could remember, she did not dream. Not even of Jace.

---

It had been à day, and Jace was back down in the cells. He had to "work" with Michael today, so that Ryan did not become suspicious that he was only trying to break Lilith. He only needed Lilith's skill in computers, mainly, but Michael's ability to strategize might be useful in Jace's plan to get the three of them out of this building. He made it down the worn stone steps and almost immediately as his feet hit the floor of the hall to his cell, Michael was yelling.

Jace sighed. "Don't touch her. Don't touch her. Have me, you can have me," he screamed, but his voice was hoarse from the yelling and the less than adequate amount of water he'd been given. "Jace, I know you can hear me. I don't know what he's done to you, but I'm begging you. Let her be. Let her go." Michael's voice sounded wet now, and he choked on a sob.

Jace was exhausted. And he was so tired of everyone thinking he was really going to hurt them all the time. He figured this had to be how Kaelie felt constantly, especially since the second he'd brought her back from whatever emotionless hell hole she'd been in before. Everyone had looked at her like she was an animal, nothing more than à rabid dog who was seconds away from ripping you to pieces. They'd stepped quietly around her, used special voices, placated her. He understood why she must have hated them all, just à bit. He was so exhausted.

He leaned back against the wall, and tapped the back of his head against it sharply, enough that the rough hewn rock stung at his flesh and it helped to clear his mind, just à little. Then he slid one of the plates of food he'd brought into Lilith's cell through the small hatch. He held Michael's plate in his hand, and used the other to open his cell door and step inside.

He barely kept hold of the food as Michael leapt at him, shoving him back against the wall, and cracking his fist across Jace's jaw. Michael may be weak from lack of food, lack of water, exhausted, but he was still à Hunter. And that still fucking hurt. Jace didn't move, and he didn't shout. He shut his eyes tight and fought the scream that wanted to rip from his throat, and waited for the starbursts behind his eyelids to flicker and fade.

He ducked as Michael swung again, he was à bit slower now and then Jace jabbed him in the throat with his elbow. "Dammit, Michael, fucking stop," he said. He tried to lower his voice and hoped Michael would still listen. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm trying to help. Please. Stop. Listen. You have to stop. They're watching. I have to make it look like I'm working you over. If it looks like I'm with you, or like you're going to kill me, they will kill you both. You know damn well I'd never fucking hurt Lilith."

He rushed the words out quickly and quietly, while Michael sputtered on his knees. After a moment, Michael rocked back, and sat. He held à hand out for the food and Jace passed it over. "Eat it, and quickly. We have à lot to discuss," he said in the louder voice, the one that was for Ryan's cameras.

Jace sat down on the floor against the wall and tried not to gag at the smell. There was nothing to be done about it. They would have to hold out until Jace could get them all out of here. Asking for it to be cleaned would be showing his father weakness. That would get Michael and Lilith killed. And as much as it made Jace sick inside, he was done making stupid decisions to save small dignities. Their lives mattered more at the moment.

After several minutes full of the sound of Michael chewing and ripping into his food, Jace spoke again. "I want you to tell me where Kaelie went, and why." Jace was so sick of repeating those words and pretending he didn't know.

"You already know I'm not going to," Michael said loudly, spitting à bite of food at him. Jace raised an eyebrow, and Michael shrugged, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible.

Loudly, "I thought you might say that. I know you could hear the work over I gave our dear, sweet Lilith yesterday. I made sure she couldn't fight me back. I learned à lot when Kaelie's goons were cutting me up. Namely, how much someone can take before they pass out, or bleed out, so that they feel every single slice, every tear of skin. I can do that, if you like. I'm kind of passed the point of worrying over some minor torture." Jace rubbed his hand over his hair and stared at Michael, willing him to just pay attention, just think it through.

Michael looked at him from under shaggy, overgrown sandy hair, a dark blonde beard covering most of his face, and he looked stricken. "I would never," Jace mouthed silently. Then, "What's it going to be Michael? I don't have à lot of- shall we say- enrichment activities around here. I've got nothing but time."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Michael said finally, and he sounded many decades older than the 24 he was.

Jace tilted his head. "You know what I want," he said. Then he muttered, "I am going to get you out. I need à couple days to figure out schematics, but prepare yourself. Lilith already knows. I am getting you out of here, somehow, and we are going after her. Nod at me if you understand."

Michael nodded. "I need you ready to fight. I need you to have à plan. You got Kaelie out before. Do it for yourself this time."

Michael spoke then. "She went after something Jordan told her to find. Don't ask me what it is, I don't know. I didn't ask, she didn't have time to tell me as we tried to make sure she got out without dear old daddy killing her. Or taking her other eye. Or did you forget that you used to care what happened to her? Or any of us?" It was biting, and icy, and Jace felt pain with each beat of his heart.

"Hmm," he said. "Well. I don't believe that's all, but I suppose that's good enough for now. Don't forget, I have your favorite girl right next door. Even if you pretend you don't want her. I'm sure she'd be plenty willing."

Jace was going to be sick. He stood, swallowing down the bile that burned at his throat. He walked back out, and up the stairs, and back to the laptop that he'd spent hours with the night before. Not much of it made sense, like even though a good portion of the files had been decrypted, they were still in some sort of code or short hand that Jace couldn't understand.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to spending another evening in his quarters, trying to figure out away to get out, and undermine his father. Taking down megalomaniacs was more exhausting than people make it out to be in books. He made it back to the room, pulled the laptop out of the small space between the door jamb and the wall he'd hidden it in and opened it back up.

He clicked around aimlessly, opening and closing files and barely skimming the top line. Something caught his eye after several minutes.

Jordan told me about the cure today.