The women unclipped his chain from the ring in the floor and herded him out of the room, past the guard, who fell in behind them. Andraeon tried to look back down the hall but one of the women gave a brisk tug on the chain, as though he were nothing more than a misbehaving dog. He faced forward again and followed them into a large, steamy bathroom, where he was ordered to strip and get into the tub.
He didn’t bother to argue, just did as he was told. One of the women took his old clothes away while the other dumped a bucket of hot water over his head and started scrubbing him down so hard his skin turned pink and tingly. By the time she was finished he felt a little like he’d just been gone over with sandpaper, only to have her order him out of the tub so she could dry him off with towels. He was so numb he didn’t even feel embarrassed to be standing there naked and shivering while a complete stranger briskly towel-dried him.
The other woman brought back a pile of brightly-coloured clothing and they spent a few moments discussing what would look best on him. He saw that the guard was standing outside the bathroom, his attention on the hall, and briefly debated trying to escape; but the bathroom’s window was tightly shut and he was certain he couldn’t get past the guard. Instead he just let the women dress him, though he made no real effort to help them.
They dressed him in snug black pants and a loose, sleeveless tunic in the same deep blue of his eyes, then pulled calf-high boots onto his feet. Around his waist they draped a slim golden belt, and snapped more golden cuffs around his upper arms. He glanced at them quickly but they were decorated with small sapphires and emeralds, not inscribed with runes. His hair was combed neatly back and tied up, leaving him feeling oddly vulnerable with his neck and collar exposed. Finally one of the women snapped a thin golden chain onto the ring in his collar and handed the other end of it to the guard.
The guard took him back out into the hall and down to a pair of doors down at the end, where he knocked and waited for the door to be opened. The chain was handed over to the man who had originally brought Andraeon here, and he was led into a lushly carpeted room decorated with expensive portraits, vases, and sculptures. A woman sat in one of the huge armchairs by the fireplace—which was empty and grey in this heat—sipping from a glass of champagne. Her grey hair had been neatly arranged in curls around a face that would have been right at home in a kitchen full of children and grandchildren. Her clothing was simple but obviously expensive, and the hand she held the champagne glass in was broad and thick. Her eyes were the youngest thing about her, and showed what a lie her grandmotherly appearance was; there was no hint of compassion or empathy in their cold green depths.
A sharp yank on the collar brought him stumbling a few steps forward and he was pushed down on his knees on the thick rug in front of the armchair. The grandmotherly woman examined him over the top of her champagne glass, occasionally making a ‘hmm’ noise. He felt his cheeks turning red under her scrutiny and finally looked down at the rug, one hand creeping up to tug at the collar around his neck.
“He doesn’t seem very well-trained, Nevin,” the woman said after a few moments more of silence. “You know I don’t have the time.”
“Training can be worked on. What he is is much more important,” the man—Nevin, Andraeon thought, storing the name away—said.
“Which is?” The woman gave Nevin an impatient look. “You know your games piss me off. Don’t try to upsell him, just tell me.”
“He used to belong to The Collector. Does that tell you anything? The Collector’s apparently been passing him off as a construct but I’m pretty sure he’s not.”
The woman tilted her head. “You think he’s the alpha?”
“Why else would he be in the collection?” Nevin stroked Andraeon’s hair. “And he’s yours, for the right price.”
Andraeon tuned out the rest of the conversation, which was just haggling over price. He had no idea what the woman had meant when she called him the alpha. His memories of his time in the collection were fragmented and hazy, mostly focused on inconsequential things like what he’d eaten for breakfast. He wasn’t even entirely sure what The Collector looked like, or how he’d been taken into the collection; Jones’s sudden appearance was his first clear memory in a long time.
He tuned back in when the woman took the chain from Nevin with one hand and handed him a cheque with the other. A tug on the chain got him back on his feet and he followed the woman out of the room, wondering if he was only going from a bad situation into a worse one. He wanted Jones with him so badly it physically hurt, like being punched in the gut. He wished he even knew where Jones was, and if he was all right.
His thoughts on Jones, he obediently followed the woman out of the house and down the front walk towards a sleek black limo. She showed him into the back seat and looped his chain around a solid steel bar attached to the car’s roof. He stared at it for a moment, eyes wide, then looked at her when she snapped her fingers in his face.
“Do you have a name?” Her voice was pleasant but he still felt the skin on the back of his neck crawl at her question.
“D-Drae. My name’s Drae.”
She pursed her lips. “I suppose it will do. You can call me Miss Vivian. I only have a few simple rules for you to follow and we’ll get along just fine. Think you can manage that?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Something about her terrified him right down to his core, despite her pleasant grandmother’s face and curls. He found himself thinking about a wolf dressed in a nightdress and cap, and suddenly remembered being read a story as a child that centered around a wolf dressed in grandmother’s clothing. Distracted, he didn’t realize she was still talking to him until she casually reached out and slapped him across the face.
“Do pay attention, child,” she said when he looked at her, raising a hand to his stinging cheek. “We’ll both be much happier. When we reach the house, you’ll be handed over to my trainer, who will explain things further. You’ll adjust and I’m sure you’ll soon be happy there.”
He didn’t know how he did it but somehow he mustered up a smile from deep inside. It felt more like a grimace stretching his mouth awkwardly, but she smiled back and settled into her seat. They passed the rest of the ride in silence, until the limo pulled up in front of an enormous mansion and she ordered him out of the car. He obeyed, then stopped and stared up at the house, his mouth hanging slightly open. She had to prod him in the back to get him moving again and they stepped into the front foyer.
He caught glimpses of a marble floor and a great sweeping staircase dominating the entire front hall, then he was taken down a small side hallway and into a sparsely furnished room. A steel ring with a thick metal chain sat in the middle of the floor and he felt a sense of inevitability as it was clipped to the cuff around his ankle and the golden chain removed.
“We’ll move you to a better room once you’ve been properly trained,” Miss Vivian told him. “For now this is your new home. I’ll send someone to fetch you in an hour so take the time to settle in.” She looped the gold chain up and left the room, closing the door behind her. He clearly heard the sound of the lock being turned, then her footsteps receding away down the hall.
He went to the bed and sprawled across it on his belly, hiding his face in his arms. The cuffs dug into his skin but he didn’t have the energy to shift his position. After a few moments he dozed off, his last thought before sleep claimed him of Jones.
He knew he was dreaming when he opened his eyes and saw a small cottage in front of him. The first dishwater grey light of dawn lit the east side of it but there were no lights on inside yet. He walked towards it, passing a sleeping dog on the porch, and went right through the front door without opening it. The interior was somehow familiar and he walked confidently down the hallway, passing through another door into a small spare room.
Jones slept in the bed, the sheet bunched up around his waist. His shoulder and side had been neatly bandaged, though a few small flowers of blood had bloomed against the whiteness of the bandage around his shoulder. Andraeon sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke his cheek, wishing this was real and not just a dream.
He leaned in until his mouth was next to Jones’s ear and whispered, “Nevin took me and sold me to a woman called Miss Vivian. Jones, I need you. Find me.”
He brushed a kiss against the corner of Jones’s mouth, feeling something tugging him away already. He passed back through the cottage without moving his legs; an attempt to grab hold of something just resulted in his hand passing through it. He was tossed out into the backyard, then opened his eyes to the room in Miss Vivian’s house. Something was digging into his stomach and he pushed himself up enough to pull it out.
In his hand he held a blue-green world sphere.
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