Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(84)

He didn’t remark on my dodging his question. “Viktor questioned her and then turned her over to the Mageri. Since she’s a Mage, she has to answer to them instead of the higher authority.”

“She was traumatized by him, you know.”

“Aye. She looked pretty traumatized swinging that shovel.”

“Don’t act like that’s the first time a woman has ever done that.” I essayed a smile.

“The girl has a mean swing.” He moved the sponge to my knees. “If he brainwashed her to the point of no return, there’s no hope. They’ll put her down. But who knows—they might have pity on the lass despite her being complicit in his crimes. Best-case scenario, they pull her core light and scrub her memories. Not just of Fletcher, but all of them. Shame.”

“Why? Forgetting would be the best gift.”

He squeezed the sponge. “Memories make us who we are, for better or worse. I don’t mean the frivolous moments, but the ones etched in our souls. If you don’t know where you’ve been, you won’t know who you are. Given all the minds I’ve tampered with, I understand how valuable that is. But no one leaves the Breed world remembering it, and there are too many years to erase. They’ll have to give her a clean slate. Most of those scrubbed end up in asylums.”

Steam rose from the tub. If Rachel’s fate was either death or full memory wipe, execution might be the kinder option. I’d rather die than have my memory wiped—to forget my father’s laugh or the feel of my mother’s hug would leave a hole in me the size of a cavern.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

His brows furrowed, and he dropped the sponge in the water. “Do you want to tell me what happened? You’re quiet and reflective. You can’t know how much that vexes me.”

“I was going to leave Keystone if you won the bid.”

“Don’t be telling me fibs. This is your home now.”

“Not if it means knowing I have a price tag. At first I didn’t care, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. I don’t expect you to understand, but Houdini did me a favor by selling me to someone else. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on what I want.”

Christian’s expression blackened. “Did you just say Houdini? The one who’s been writing Viktor those letters? Jaysus. He knew who you were all this time. It wasn’t a coincidence.”

I wiped my forehead. “Of course he knows who I am. He’s my maker.”

Christian launched to his feet, the stool tipping over. He turned away and gripped the sink, but the mirror was too fogged over for me to see his reflection.

I stretched my legs out, my arms folded beneath the water. It was hard to normalize when the cobwebs of a nightmare were still clinging to me. I remembered the mental anguish I suffered my first time around with Fletcher, but that girl was dead and buried. I still needed time to process everything, but I wouldn’t let it consume me like it had once before.

“Did you drink his blood?” he finally asked.

I opened my mouth but hesitated before giving my answer. “No.”

He peered at me over his shoulder. “It’s taboo for a youngling to form a relationship with his maker when they’re the opposite sex. It’s dangerous. Makers have a power over you.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

Christian turned. “Then exactly what was it like? Because I’m not hearing anger in your voice anymore when you speak of your maker.”

“It was my idea for you to lose the bid, but I didn’t know Fletcher was the buyer. It doesn’t matter anyway; Houdini was right. I’ve spent years running from my past when what I really needed was to face it. I’m not afraid of Fletcher anymore. And someday I’m going to make him afraid of me. He was the monster in my nightmares, and the more time that went by, the bigger and badder he got. You don’t know how that messes with a person. Now that I’ve seen him again, I realize he’s not as powerful as I once believed him to be. He plays psychological warfare, and he’s good at it. He knows how to find a person’s emotional triggers.” I stared down at the water. “That poor girl never had a chance.”

Christian approached the tub and sat back down on the stool. “What did he do to you?”

“You saw the marks.”

“What else did he do? You were despondent when I found you, Raven.”

I lowered my eyes. “He never forced himself on me, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. Not that it’s your business.”

“Not my business?” he said, voice rising. “Are you stark raving mad? I can’t make heads or tails of your remarks.”

“He juiced me, beat me, and sometimes pleasured himself while watching me bleed. That’s his thing, but not all the time. He usually can’t get it up or keep it up.”

Christian froze, his expression inscrutable. “First of all, we both know that juicing is a form of rape. I’m not a Mage, but stealing light is no different than drinking a Vampire’s blood against their will. I’m not good with soft words, but I don’t think less of you.” He reached out and touched my hand. “I still find you desirable.”

Horrified, I stood up and scampered out of the tub. Before he could turn around, I wrapped a robe around me. “Is this a game to you?”