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I dug the fat, black marker and the small container that Julian had handed me before I left the house tonight out of the pocket of the robe. I rolled up the robe and placed it on the floor at Romero's feet.
I looked him in the eye and asked, "Are you ready for this?"
"No," he said quietly. "I most certainly am not. I always imagined I'd spend the rest of my life down here. I want you to know that if you can't get me out of here, that's okay, thank you for trying in the first place. I won't even hold it against you that you got my hopes up, just so long as you promise me, give me your word, that you'll take care of my boy and make sure he has a good life."
I would be promising him no such thing. He'd be leaving with me and he could make sure his own damn self.
"No can do, old man. You're coming with me and you can see your boy for yourself. I will take care of him and he's going to have a good life, but you're going to be there to witness it."
I held the marker up in front of him. "My man Julian made these babies for you. He's good at everything he does, so I'm sure they are going to work like champs."
He didn't respond. That was fine with me, I'd run out of things to talk about and I was shivering so hard my teeth were beginning to rattle.
I uncapped the marker and shoved the cap into my mouth, between my teeth. Because I didn't want to touch him, I didn't think it was right, I was careful to not brush up against him when I stepped up beside him. I stood on my tippy toes and stretched. I pressed the tip of the marker into the shackle around Romero's wrist, closed my eyes, and let my hand move how Julian had showed me.
I stepped down and back, moving around him and to his other side.
The shackle I'd just drawn on began to glow a dim orange color over the symbol I'd made. A loud clink sound and the shackle popped open. Unceremoniously, his arm fell limply down to his side. Romero stared down at it with his mouth gaping wide open.
I stood on my tippy toes once again and pressed the tip of the marker into the shackle around his left wrist. I closed my eyes and repeated my earlier movements, drawing the symbol Julian had showed me again. I opened my eyes and stepped back. The shackle made a popping noise and Romero's left arm came free, falling limply to his side.
He slouched back against the wall, watching me with an expectant look on his face.
Ignoring that look, I dropped to my knees on the floor before him. His words from the dream ran through my head, about me getting on my knees before him, and my face heated up in embarrassment. I told myself he hadn't known who I was when he'd said those things to me. Part of me knew it also wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't exactly a mentally stable guy and that wasn't something I could hold against him. I mean, I could, but given who he was, I wasn't going to.
Using the marker, I drew on both of the shackles surrounding his ankles and the locks sprung free. He stumbled slightly but caught himself with an unsteady arm against the wall. He could have easily fell forward and used me as a crutch. I appreciated he had not, and instead had used the wall.
Dropping the marker and small container to the floor by my feet, I stood with the bundled up robe in my hands. "Here," I said, as I held the robe out to him. I flicked it open and held it up. "Let me help you put this on so we can get out of here."
He held his arms out one after the other while I slipped the robe up his arms and up his shoulders. I pulled the front of it closed tight and wished there was some sort of clasp in the front so it would stay closed. I had seen more than enough of his nude body, thank you very much.
Both Quinton and Adrian were right, I thought snidely, I really was a prude.
Poor Romero probably didn't give a shit he was naked after all this time. He was beat black and blue and covered in cuts and blood. The man had bigger problems to worry about.
I reached up and pulled the hood up over his head, covering him up as much as I possibly could. I was careful to avoid actually touching his head and any of the bald spots on it from having his hair shorn. His body racked with shivers beneath the robe.
"It feels weird to have something rub up against my skin," he whispered, as his teeth began to chatter loudly. "And I'm so cold now. I haven't been cold this whole time, why am I all of a sudden feeling the cold?"
"I don't know," I muttered back the honest to goodness truth. This whole situation with him baffled me beyond belief. I still didn't quite understand the sheer magnitude of the Council's depravity, and I wasn't sure I ever wanted to.
I propped him up against the wall and bent down to retrieve the items I'd placed on the ground when I'd picked up the robe. The marker I stuffed back into one of the robe's pockets, in case we needed it on the way out of here.
I popped open the small container. I swiped my finger through the gray ash inside and smeared it across Romero's cheek, under his eye. He flinched, making me feel absolutely horrible, and I apologized softly under my breath. I repeated the same under his other eye, and this time he was ready for my touch and didn't flinch. I still felt bad because I knew he had to hold himself still while my touch hurt him.
He sucked in a sharp breath as he cursed softly. "What is that?" he asked. "It's been so long since I felt any kind of magic in a non-abusive way."
I shook my head in explanation, it was the only one he was going to get from me. I wasn't even going to attempt to explain the things Julian created. He was a legit madman and a genius all rolled into one. There was also the small fact I hadn't bothered to ask questions when he'd given it to me and instructed me on what to do with it. I had been far too anxious to bother with questions. I'd been all "yes, sir" and now here we were.
I popped the lid back on the container and stuffed it into the robe’s pocket the marker had been deposited into.
"Stay here," I ordered, like I thought he might actually go somewhere. I left him propped up against the wall. I grabbed the torch off the wall and pulled it out of the circular ring. I carried the torch back over to him and held it up high. "Are we ready to get out of here?"
Was I ready to get us out of here? I was definitely ready to go home, that was for sure. This was the worst night of my life so far, and that was saying a lot because I had been through some serious shit.
One corner of his mouth tipped up in a small smile, and that was the only answer I received from him, but it was answer enough. I'd asked a stupid question, of course he was ready to get the hell out of here. If I thought this was the worst night of my life, what the hell did that mean for him? He'd been down here for years and living out a nightmare.
I shrugged my arm through his and wrapped it around his back. His arm went around my shoulders, and we were ready to go.
