He hands it to me.
I almost take it from him, but then I pause. “What will you be doing during this plan?”
“Nothing. I’m supposed to wait for you at the employee depot. It’s where the syndicate members come in and out. Tolliver should be able to pull CJ out from there, and then they’ll summon me back.”
This plan has something missing. It would be nice to have more variables under our control.
I look at the empty guard uniform on the floor of the cave, the crumpled map next to it, and grin. “I have a better idea.”
Ezra follows my line of sight. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ezra locks me back in the cell before he leaves. A desperate sort of panic wells up in me as I watch him disappear into the darkness, like I might have just made a horrible mistake. Fortunately, CJ shows up about half an hour later, striding in like they own the place, eyes cold and mouth tight.
Unfortunately, they’re not alone.
I don’t recognize the woman they’re with. She resembles CJ, though, so probably some distant cousin. Early thirties, brown hair pulled up in a severe bun, deep frown lines. She’s wearing a pantsuit that looks like the ones I wear when I want to trick someone into taking me seriously.
“Here she is,” Pantsuit says. “Apparently, she’s been a bit of trouble, so she had to be isolated. She’s already been in today, but the more sessions, the easier to break their will.”
CJ swallows.
Pantsuit gives them a cruel, eager smile. “You must really hate her to come back just to get a chance at torturing her.”
CJ’s eyes meet mine, their expression blank. “You have no idea.”
Here’s the thing: CJ is just as much a con artist as I am. They just play a different role. I make people feel comfortable, relaxed, optimistic. They…unsettle people. And right now, they’re making me feel really unsettled.
Pantsuit opens the cell door and motions me out. CJ binds my wrists behind me with rope, but with our current company, I can’ttwist to see which knot they’re using. It doesn’t feel like the two half hitches.
It’s not hard to play my role as I’m led past cells and wailing souls, Pantsuit droning on at CJ, who isn’t even pretending to listen. I’m running on the adrenaline high of the job, reacting and adjusting as I need to, but the closer we get to the interrogation room, something cold seeps in. Panic coils in me.
If Pantsuit doesn’t leave, CJ might have to actually go through with it. Put me in that bone chair and tease my soul apart. There’s a weight on my chest, and I feel like I’m having trouble breathing, even though I don’t need to breathe here.
Okay, I may have downplayed the torture a little.
No, it didn’t hurt in the traditional sense, but it damaged something deeper. Like I was being unraveled or eroded orpruned. It injured me in a way I don’t know how to heal, each layer being scraped away to get to the core of me. It was worse than pain.
It was exposure.
But if the crew asks, it was “mild psychic discomfort.”
We stop in front of the interrogation room, its obsidian door blending in with the surrounding rock. I look at CJ. Their angry mask is in place. I try to send a little bit of emotion their way. Just enough that they know we should avoid this if we can. But it’s impossible to tell if they understand.
“Did they show you how to work the equipment?” Pantsuit asks.
CJ nods.
Pantsuit turns to go, and I briefly close my eyes, letting out the quietest sigh of relief. It can’t be that easy, can it? She’s just going to leave us here, and we can go on our merry way? No more torture? Straight to Credence’s cell and then on to freedom? I’m almost feeling optimistic.
Which is, of course, when she stops in her tracks.
“Do us a favor?” she asks CJ. “See if you can get any more information about her parents. Her brother wasn’t very helpful.”
My head whips up.
CJ’s mask slips. “Her brother’s here?”
Pantsuit nods.
