Skin Trade Read online

  “You know I don’t have anything.”

  Clint ran a finger across the head of the axe again as he said, “I’m thinking we’ll take your right arm. Maybe your left too. And your legs. That should about square us up.”

  “No!” I shouted. “Leave him alone!”

  “Sammy!” Mr. Theo growled. “Hold your tongue.”

  I had to physically bite my tongue to keep from saying more on the matter.

  “Don’t worry, kid,” Clint said. “I’ll deal with you and the screamer next. Everyone gets their turn today.”

  “You leave them out of this,” Mr. Theo said.

  Clint raised his brows. “Fond of them, are you?”

  “No. But you deal with me, or you don’t deal at all.”

  “Too late for deals, Theo. Far too late.” Clint hefted the axe a few times from hand to hand as he drew closer to Mr. Theo, but before he could take a swing, one of his men caught his attention.

  “Sir,” the minion said softly.

  “What is it?” Clint asked.

  The man moved in and whispered into his leader’s ear. I have no idea what he said, but it must not have been what Clint wanted to hear, because he pulled back from the conversation with a tight frown.

  “Back off,” Clint said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  The man stammered, “B-b-but Dillon wants t-t-to speak to him personally, sir.”

  “I know what I’m doing!” Clint shouted and pushed the man away from him. Keeping a tight grip on the handle, he let the head of the axe drop to the ground, as if he’d lost interest in the thing but refused to let it go entirely. “If Dillon wanted to do the talking, then Dillon should’ve come out here himself. He sent me, so I’m in charge. You hear me?” He whipped about, screaming at all of the men and revenants in turn, pulling the axe behind him as he stomped about. “I’m in charge! Do you hear me?”

  “Yes!” they shouted as one.

  “Damn right, yes. Damn right.” Clint returned his attention to Mr. Theo. “Now, where were we?”

  He dragged the blade across the ground, the weight of the axe leaving a thin furrow in the mud behind him, a trough of agony to be seeded with his anger and fed by the blood of my mentor. Rain-soaked and ruined, Mr. Theo watched his death approaching without saying a word. Without flinching. Without apparent concern. Clint raised the blade between them, giving it a few good hefts before he lifted it on high, ready to split my mentor in twain. I tried to look away, but I was transfixed by that moment, the end of everything I had come to hold dear.

  “Wait,” Mr. Theo said.

  Clint paused, the axe above them, his head cocked in curiosity. “Ready to beg for your life?”

  “Beg? No. But I might be ready to make a deal.”

  Clint lowered the weapon as he laughed. “Make a deal? I told you it’s too late for that. You owe us too much. There isn’t anything you have that can pay back what-”

  “What if I do?” Mr. Theo said over him. “What if I told you I possess something worth far more than a million rev pelts?”

  “Then I would call you a liar.”

  Mr. Theo shrugged as best he could between his captors. “Call me what you like. But if you cut me to pieces, then you’ll never find the cure.”

  I covered my mouth, but not in time to catch my gasp before it hit the air.

  The surrounding men exchanged mutters of surprise.

  “A cure,” Clint said with a snort. “What do you mean, a cure?”

  “A cure,” Mr. Theo repeated. “For the infection.”

  “Makes sense that he would know one,” one of the men said.

  “Keep out of this!” Clint snapped. “What good would a cure do us? We like things fine the way they are.”

  “But if you had a cure, then you could control things and make them any way you want. You and your men would be the only ones immune. Just think about it a moment. I know you’re slow, Clint. But even you can sense the value of this.”

  Clint pursed his lips and cut his eyes at Mr. Theo. “All right. What is this cure of yours?”

  “Give me your word,” Mr. Theo said. “Swear that you’ll let me and the kid go and leave us be, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “Give it to me and I’ll set you free.”

  “Not until I have your word.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Why? You not got permission from the master to back your own word? Do I need to deal with Dillon himself?”

  This insult ignited something in Clint’s very being. He fumed, his nostrils flaring wide as he narrowed his gaze even further. At last, he gave the signal for his men to release Mr. Theo, who slumped to the mud with a grunt. My natural instinct was to rush to his side, but I held my ground as he closed his deal.

  “What is it?” Clint asked.

  “Do I have your word?” Mr. Theo asked.

  “Yes. You have my word. What’s the cure?”

  Mr. Theo motioned to poor Mortimer. “Ask him. He knows it.”

  Clinging to his bandaged ear, Mortimer started as if surprised at being dragged into this affair. “What? Now I have nothing to do with this whole-”

  “That true, city boy?” Clint asked. “You know a cure?”

  “Well …” Mortimer made various noises as he looked about nervously and fiddled with the wet bandage. “I don’t necessarily know … that is to say there is much work to be done … I’m not positive but … I may sort of know-”

  “Do you or not?” Clint asked.

  “Yes?” Mortimer said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

  Clint snapped his fingers at the man, at which the pair of brawny ruffians—who’d held Mr. Theo only moments before—advanced to scoop up the pitiful scientist.

  “See here!” Mortimer shouted as he struggled between the men. “You can’t just-”

  His complaints came to an abrupt end when one of the men gagged him. In the confusion, I scurried forward and began inspecting Mr. Theo’s wounds. He pushed my hands away, but I was insistent and refused to leave him.

  “We square now?” Mr. Theo asked between bloody coughs.

  “Do you think we are?” Clint asked. “Because I don’t think we are.”

  “I held up my end. He can make the cure for you.”

  “No you didn’t. You said you would give me the cure. Not a man who may or may not know how to make it. As far as I’m concerned, we are almost square. You still owe me just a little something.” Clint leaned in close to add, “A trifle. A token. What’s it gonna be?”

  “You know I don’t have anything else. Just go ahead and kill me.” Mr. Theo touched my foot. “Sammy, you get on now. We’re done here. I’ve taught you everything I know.”

  “I don’t think so,” Clint said. He reached down and snatched me up by the hair, pulling me upright and away from my mentor. “Since you’re so fond of this one, I think I’ll have him too.”

  “Let me go!” I yelled. “I swear I’ll kick your balls into your bladder if you don’t release me!”

  Clint’s men laughed heartily at this while Clint increased his pressure on me until it pained me to even breathe.

  “What’ll it be, Theo?” Clint asked. “This one a keeper?”

  Mr. Theo kept his eyes to the ground as he said something I did not expect, “No. Not worth the bother. Take the kid if it settles us.”

  “Sir!” I yelped.

  “Really?” Clint asked as he caught me in his arms. “You don’t care?”

  “No,” Mr. Theo said. “Ain’t nothing but trouble, the pair of them. Take both of ‘em if it makes us square.”

  “If you care so little about him, maybe I should just kill him here. Let you watch his blood flow. Or maybe let the revs have at him. Been a long time since they feasted on fresh game.”

  I felt the cool touch of metal at my throat. “Do it then, ‘cause I’d rather be a meal for those beasts than go anywhere with you.”

  “Looks like everyone gets their w
ish today,” Clint sneered.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mr. Theo said. “You’d get more good from the deal if you keep the kid alive.”

  “And what good would a scraggly little boy do me?”

  Mr. Theo looked me dead in the eyes with those frosted irises of his, and without blinking, he said, “That scraggly little boy is a scraggly little girl.”

  “Mr. Theo!” I shouted.

  Clint’s grip on me tightened. “I call bullshit on that.” His hand snaked down my waist as he roughly groped the space between my legs.

  I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, my face burning at the shame of such intimate and unwarranted contact.

  Finding what he wanted, or rather not finding what he expected, Clint snorted in surprise, his grip down below growing tighter. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle; she is a girl.”

  The onlookers burst into a row of excited chatter. Unflattering descriptions of various sexual depravities flew back and forth as they each laid a claim to a turn at my young body.

  “Shut up!” Clint shouted. “You know the rules. Dillon gets her first.” He raised his hand to his nose, inhaling my scent deeply before he grinned again. “Then I get what’s left. And after that, you might get a chance. If she lives long enough.”

  This pronouncement only served to encourage the men, who whooped and hollered and celebrated my oncoming ruin.

  “Theo, you sly dog,” Clint said. “You’ve been holding out on us. First working on your own private cure, and now we find you have a personal whore? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Are we settled now?” Mr. Theo said.

  “Mr. Theo!” I cried. “You can’t just let them take me. Sir! Don’t let them take me!”

  “Are we settled now?” he repeated, ignoring my words but never taking those cold eyes from mine.

  “I suppose so,” Clint said. “We’ll take your whore and the city boy as a down payment. But if that friend of yours doesn’t produce a cure, I’ll be back to take the rest of what you owe us out of your hide.” He motioned to his men as he flung me to the mud beside Mr. Theo. “Put the girl and the city slicker in the wagon, and get those revs in their cages. I want to make it back to Newton before the sun sets tomorrow. And if one of you so much as lays a hand on the girl, it’s the stockyard for all of ya!”

  “Yes, sir!” the men shouted, and hurried to fulfill their master’s demands.

  “Why, Mr. Theo?” I asked before they came for me.

  His blood-streaked face was unreadable. Not a single emotion, either fair or foul, touched his frost-coated eyes as he drew a ragged breath and said, “I told you, little girl, there ain’t no heroes out here. No heroes, darlin’.”

  “Mr. Theo!” I cried, over and over, as they snatched me up and hauled me from his side.

  He turned from my suffering, saying nothing more.

  And the rain fell, slow and steady, oblivious to the drama playing out beneath.

  ****

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  ****

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mortimer and I were unceremoniously dumped into the back of an enclosed wagon, the door slamming shut behind us with an ominous clang. Our enclosure was faintly lit by the iron-barred window set in the door. I scrambled to one darkened corner while the scientist spread out across the floor, bemoaning his fate.

  “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” he whined.

  “You aren’t the only one,” I said.

  “You said we could trust him!”

  “I did. I still do. I think he’ll come for us.”

  Mortimer laughed just as the wagon shifted into motion. “Come for us? He sold us to the highest bidder the first chance he got. Face the truth, child. The only person he is interested in is himself. You heard what he said, there are no heroes here.”

  No heroes, darlin’.

  What a cruel way to say goodbye.

  “You’re wrong,” I said. “He’ll come for us.” As I said it, I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince the scientist or myself.

  I had to face the truth of what had just happened. Mr. Theo used me, just like he used Mortimer. I thought I was special to him, and now I knew just how special. He’d saved me as a bargaining chip, and he spent me first chance he got. He wasn’t going to come for me. What was I expecting? Some fairy-tale rescue from my supposed dark knight? I knew better than to imagine such rubbish. Fairy tales were for children.

  I was a woman now.

  As if reading my mind, Mortimer asked, softly, “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?” I asked.

  “Are you really … um … of the female persuasion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh. Fancy that. I guess everyone has a secret to keep.”

  Mortimer fell quiet after that, and I was glad for his silence. I half-expected him to ply me for my life story, asking me for all the reasons why I left home and traveled out so far from safety. But no. Holding his wounded ear, he curled into a mud-soaked ball and began to snore. I took his lead and grabbed a few hours of downtime as well.

  We traveled almost nonstop for hours and hours, straight through the night and well into the next day. Mortimer slept most of the time, and when not asleep, he endlessly complained about the conditions of our travel accommodations, not to mention the lack of food and water. When the wagon finally stopped, we were hauled out into the blessed fresh air like so much livestock. Mortimer crawled from the wagon half-stooped, blinking and rubbing his eyes as they prodded him along. I slid out carefully, wary of the multitudes of groping hands offering me unneeded support.

  “Back off!” Clint shouted.

  The men did as ordered and left me to step down from the wagon alone.

  When I was able to get to my feet, I stared about the place in shock. When the men captured us and carried us away, I assumed we would end up at some rough-and-tumble encampment. A place filled with slapdash lean-tos and hastily pitched tents filled with grubby men sharing space with even grubbier animals. I expected bedlam. But what lay before me was nothing of the sort.

  I looked out over a genuine town.

  “Welcome to Newton,” Clint said.

  We stood at one end of a modest road—a main street if you will—just outside of a stable. The unhitched wagon goats followed their handler into the barn, I assumed for a good brush-down and well-earned rest. Down the stretch of the street, there lay business fronts and houses, all neatly arranged and well maintained. Behind us, there rested what looked like a church with an accompanying parochial house just off to one side, and at the other end, there lay a section walled off by a very tall wooden fence. Both ends of town were guarded by well-armed men. In fact, the entire place was encircled by an impressively tall fence, double layered much like the one at Boudreaux’s estate. (Whether or not it contained wandering revenants, I couldn’t be sure.)

  But the composition of the town wasn’t what shocked me.

  All about the place, there were people. Proper people. Not like the road-weary ruffians who stood back and laughed while their master beat mine senseless. Here I found busy folks going about their daily business as if it were the most natural thing in the world to live this far into the Badlands. I stared hard at the population of the small town, praying to find my likeness among their number. It slowly dawned upon me that I was the single female on the street.

  Everyone else was male.

  As we stood there, I gawking and Mortimer still rubbing at his sleep-heavy eyes, a low and steady moaning came to my ears. It was faint, but there, just under the hustle and bustle of the townsfolk. A familiar sound. The town all but hummed with the distant growl of revenants.

  Clint started barking orders to his men. “Unload the wagons and get the revs back in their pens. I want all of this off the street in fifteen minutes.”

  His men scrambled about, unloading God only knew what from the wagons around us. Old furniture, worn farming equipment, bits and bobs of what
looked like other people’s lives. I spied Mr. Theo’s wagon at the back of the line, and for a moment, my heart leapt. Was he here? Did they take him captive as well? I couldn’t see him anywhere. He was either long gone or long dead. Or maybe even undead.

  A large enclosed wagon, similar to the one in which we traveled, trundled past us down the road. Under the steady clack of the wagon wheels, I could just hear the snarls of the undead stored inside. The people of Newton parted, everyone moving aside and allowing the wagon to pass without delay. It headed off into the distance, toward the walled-in area at the far side of town and the guards waiting there.

  Clint turned to Mortimer and me, holding out two pairs of joined manacles. “You two, put your hands in front of you.”

  Mortimer stepped forward on command, allowing Clint to bind his hands. I held my ground. No one bossed me around. Not anymore. I was done taking orders from men. From anyone, for that matter.

  “Come on, girly,” Clint said as he shook the cuffs at me. “Don’t put up a fuss.”

  “Or else what?” I asked.

  “Or else I break your legs and drag you. Is that what you want?”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “For God’s sake,” Mortimer hissed. “Just follow his orders before he hurts you. I can’t bear to see any more bloodshed.”

  I caught the sight of the pale scientist holding his bandaged ear and realized the man was right. Clint was just crazy enough to break me in two before I reached his master’s doorstep. He might have hell to pay for doing so, but in the long run, he would probably get more pleasure from it than punishment. And—just maybe—he would enjoy it either way. Sporting a mile-wide pout, I grudgingly stepped forward, falling into line with Mortimer.

  “Good,” Clint said, and slapped a pair of manacles on me. “Keep your mouths shut and follow me. Got it?”

  We both nodded.

  Clint tugged on the chain and proceeded to lead us toward the church. Two men—those selfsame ones who’d held my mentor captive—fell in behind us, making sure we had no choice but to follow the leader. As we moved along, I felt eyes upon me and whispers skirting through the air. Gossip of the new arrivals spread like a wildfire among the inhabitants of the town, for it seemed everyone was stopping just to watch our parade toward the church. I’m not sure at whom they stared more, the new female or the man who carried the promise of a cure.