~
Lysander
Unsure what to expect when meeting John in an unfamiliar psychiatrist’s office on the third floor of the rehab center, I did not expect to see him busy putting a silky red fabric over a desk lamp.
“That might be a fire hazard.”
"Sorry,” he said. “Just setting the mood."
“…for what, exactly?”
Between the red glow, an aroma of scents that smelled like a flower shop exploded in here, and a sensual soundtrack playing, he was definitely setting a mood but almost certainlynotthe one he intended.
“This is Dr. Gardener’s relaxation room. We might as well be comfortable while we look for clues.” John craned his neck to view all his efforts. “Though now that I’m looking around…”
With the low light and over-sized pillows creating a makeshift nest on the floor, the whole picture resembled a cheap brothel trying too hard to set a romantic mood, a comparison I was wise enough not to share.
"Guess I went overboard, huh?" he admitted with a sheepish laugh.
"No, not if this helps you.” Barely resisting a strong urge to sneeze, I added, “Could we go easier on the scent?"
"Right, shifter nose."
The low light was not quite enough to hide his reddening face from my eyes as he waved his hands and tried to undo some of the relaxation bomb he set off earlier. Dr Gardener wouldn’t use all this stuff at the same time. The wide variety of relaxation aids appealed to a broad selection of people who would pick one or two items. But John hadn’t been relaxed in a long time, so he tried everything at once, hoping something would be able to calm him.
We definitely needed to examine his time in captivity for anything useful. Ideally, we’d work up to this. But our options were limited. John had so little information of his own to share, and the Brokers obviously kept identifying details light in their records to avoid incrimination.
It seemed John wanted to steel himself and not hesitate this time. But I didn’t mind taking all the time he needed.
“We don’t need to do this today,” I said.
"Now that you guys know, a weight has lifted. I’ve spent enough time wondering on my own. I’m ready to find answers.” He told me all this directly, only looking away at the end. “And, I don’t know, I like Aaron well enough, but I haven’t been able to tell him any of this… it’s different with you.”
When he put it like that, of course we had to continue. This wouldn’t be easy for him, easy was impossible. But if he’d been waiting to unburden himself and share all this time and hadn’t been able to bond with anybody else enough to open up, I hated to keep him waiting any longer.
We avoided all the pillows and sat down in some chairs. John opened his mouth, winced at the violin music filling the room, and changed the track on the CD. He stopped at the bubbling of a babbling brook and lowered the volume. Turning back to me with a nod, he quickly vetoed the idea of speaking directly to me and instead began speaking to the box of tissues on the small table between our seats.
“We were in this old school building.” His hands clenched on his lap as he spoke. “In a huge basement where the school used to keep desks and large furniture and equipment. Lots of space but we were almost always kept in this… area fenced in by metal.” Cage, he found himself unable to say. “The windows were all blacked out except for one not covered as well, letting in cracks of natural light, so we always sat near it…” John shook his head, snapping out of the bad memories. “Sorry, guess this isn’t what we need.”
The words had come easier towards the end, until he stopped himself. He just needed the permission to continue.
“Anything you feel comfortable discussing isn’t irrelevant." He seemed ready to protest, so I added, "We also need to be familiar with the situation and people involved. We can’t solve a mystery without understanding the world it was created in.”
“O-okay, well. Let’s see… it wasn’t so bad really.”
I tried to keep my face neutral in spite of that blatant lie, but he realized how it sounded anyway.
“That sounds like I’m full of shit. It’s really not that far off. Yeah, the guards sucked. Thinking aboutwhythey snatched us and what cameafterthe pit we were stuck in sucked especially hard. Not being able to leave or having a choice in anything, well, there’s no words to describe thesheer suckittude.But with just us Especially Doomed people, it was okay. A little boring but bearable. Boring was good. Bearable was even better. And we entertained each other.”
His fingers drummed on his thighs. “This really is the perfect place to start because most days were the same. We sat there talking to each other. Or just sitting together. It was even easier for me. They attached collars to our necks as soon as we arrived. Mine could track me, but that’s it, since they were never able to figure me out and enchant the damn thing.”
John fidgeted as his fingers kept roaming the fabric of his gray sweatpants, perhaps wishing for a loose thread to unravel.
“To profit, these bastards can’t rely solely on tips or eyewitnesses to verify our specialness. They also need proof, but if our special abilities areactivated,we might be able to escape. That’s where the collars come in. The ‘experimenters’ poke and prod us until our gifts start waking up. Then they trap them with the collars. The enchanted collars stop us from fully manifesting and blocks our access to our powers. We’re easier to control that way and the buyer gets more power upon their purchase too, I think. Do you know if that’s true?"
"Yes. Shifters and certain other species have a natural energy buildup, but the collar creates an artificial reserve in many cases.”
“Ha, I knew it.” The grim satisfaction on his face gave me pause. Something had changed. “The buyer can’t yank out our power and steal it outright, so we gotta be there as a constant source of energy. The only reason they can use some of our power is because… because of the mates thing. Then we’re connected, our souls are linked. That gives them access to our power and the collar gives them control.”
