I knocked three times on the door—our signal—and waited. And waited. Was she taking a awhile, or was my sense of time warped by panic? I counted to fifty before knocking again. My throat grew tight; thiswastoo long. She was expecting me.
I pulled my key out to unlock the door and hesitated. My eyes squeezed shut.Please be bolted.
The key slid in, and I turned it smoothly. Too smoothly. Unlocked. That wasn’t how I had left it. My vision flashed with images of returning from work to find our door wide open and our bedroom covered in blood. My hands shook, recalling how they’d ignited the evidence of our life together in a blind rage. The furniture she had selected so happily. The blankets that still smelled like our most recent lovemaking. The fur rug I had gotten her as a gift because she enjoyed the pelts in my carriage so much. It was all destroyed in the blaze of my devastation. Desperate to preserve our home for her return, I had addressed the rapidly spreading fire as quickly as I could. I had promised her I would build us a life together. I couldn’t let my rage destroy that.
The evidence of her struggle scarred our nest with excruciating freshness when I had entered our old bedroom. A freshness that might have made it possible to catch up to them, had I not wasted precious moments trying to rescue the little brick house. If I had let it burn to the ground and followed those tire tracks sooner, maybe there would have been more to go on. Instead, the trail ran cold.
The only record of my mate ever existing was the missing person report I filed on a female who, according to the government, never existed.
I blinked away the flashbacks, determined not to squander her retrieval by taking too long again. I scanned the downstairs first, grateful to find no evidence of a break-in or struggle. As my head rose over the top stairs, I noticed the open doorframe of our original bedroom. Odd. Had they broken into that room, thinking we were still sleeping in there? I looked closer. There were boot prints besides the knob. Small ones? And the door had been caved in from the hallway. Odd.
I turned to the bedroom, but averted my eyes quickly. All these years later, and I still couldn’t look at the evidence of my failure. The mere idea of seeing her blood splattered across the walls made me sick. This cursed room representedeverythingI hated about myself. I hadn’t been there to protect her, and my lost temper cost her valuable time that could have been spent on rescue efforts. Had she been conscious the entire trip to the facility, wondering where I was and when I would be coming for her? All the while, I’d been extinguishing the house. I should have let it burn.
I forced myself to take a hurried glimpse through the haunted remnants of my past. My suspicions were confirmed. There was no fight. Nothing had stirred in my absence. Faeryn must have seen the grisly ruin, a glimpse into the past, and lefton her own free will. It was the very thing I’d been working so hard to prevent.
I flung myself down the stairs and back into the streets. I would find her and explain everything. She was probably safe somewhere familiar and close. Even if she wasn’t, I wouldnotlet history repeat itself. I was no longer alone, I hadn’t lost my cool, and she’d only just left. It would work in my favor this time. We would be safely snuggled in our favorite tree by nightfall tomorrow. All I needed to do was find her.
Graysen
Last Summer
The pub was dead, only two patrons had stopped in over the last hour. I’d been late to opening in the first place, but now I regretted showing up at all. There were nodistractionswhen things were this slow. I was left alone with my thoughts. More than anything, I wanted to quit and sink into my misery. Maybe, if I was a shit enough employee, Theo would fire me and save me the internal conflict of submitting the resignation myself. Of course, he never did, and I couldn’t bring myself to cut off my source of income. I had a mortgage to pay. I may have failed Faeryn, but I’d keep the home she’d so enthusiastically began renovating, just in case she ever returned. It was the least I could do. It was theonlything I could do.
The two male voices in a nearby booth suddenly fell quiet—a surefire signal the conversation was about to get interesting. Desperate to get out of my own head, I headed to the counter closest to them and faked being busy with the kegs under the bartop. Eavesdropping was better than nothing. Theo, Stella, and I combined likely knew every secret our little town had to offer. Although none of us were prone to gossip, so our collective knowledge never created a fully informed person.
“I heard there was a breach,” the Pyran said quietly. “My wife was up all night trying to figure out the damage for her department.”
“No way,” the Mercurian dismissed. “I would know.”
“I don’t think this is the kind of thing they alert the finance team on,” the Pyran scoffed. “It sounds like a bunch of batteries scattered. They had to search the woods for them all night.”
I flinched upwards, my head knocking against the underside of the counter.“Batteries”.Mykie had told me the term was used to dehumanize people like Faeryn.I thought for a moment my own bias might be misconstruing their conversation in my head. I was hyper-fixated on my lost mate today, and was hearing what I wanted to hear. That there was a chance, however small, she was free from wherever the fuck they had taken her.
I overheard talk from time-to-time about Faeryn’s species or theE.A.R.T.H.program, but it was usually speculative and under the assumption the rumors weren’t true. In the few instances the informationdidcome from reputable sources, it was discussed vaguely. When that happened, I found a way to get that individual’s information and reported them to Mykie to take care of. Usually, they were already on her team’s radar and their days were numbered. One less diseased cell spreading the virus through our world.
“That’s not good. Tesilvis Forest is dangerous. If they don’t catch them quickly, all their batteries are going to be meals to the local fauna.”
My palms threatened to burn, but I forced them into tranquility despite the rage beneath the surface. I pulled my work notepad out of my pocket, clicked my pen quickly, and jotted down the strange word. T-E-S-I-L-V-I-S. Never heard of it. Mykie had an abundance of top-secret knowledge, including “off-grid” locations. There was a solid chance she would know.
“If they do escape it’s bad news for the program.” The Pyran seemed amused, clearly unbothered by their wife’s difficult workday, or the horror of their mission, althoughthatcomplicity was to be assumed. The nonchalant humor was visibly irritating the program accountant, whose stakes must have beenjusthigh enough to care without tipping their discretion into silence in public. The lowest-ranking staff in the program were always the talkers. It was the wealthy ones that got their hands dirty who recognized the importance of silence.
“Not really,” the Mercurian said flatly. “They’re too brainwashed to rejoin society. The scientists created a whole conditioning routine as an insurance policy. Drugs, subliminal messaging, full force amnesia. It makes them easy to catch when they get loose.”
“Gross.” He didn’t sound that bothered.
“The last battery to make it back to civilization was fucking crazy. She ran away from her family when they tried to jog her memory about her life. Said she needed to go back to Earth—something about a woman’s voice telling her to go. She made a whole scene in town, attracted a bunch of attention, and happily hopped in the car of a recruiter once they got there. Literally told her own family she was scared of them and ran off.
“And don’t even get me started on the suicide rate of the defectors. There’s a whole research team dedicated to fixingthatproblem. The batteries keep taking themselves out before they can even be collected. The higher-ups blame the drugs, but I think we all know it’s just a side effect of the situation. Shit, I’d do the same.”
“Imagine not being able to recognize your mate,” the Pyran mused. “I don’t think I could forget the female if I tried.”
“Those scientists are paid handsomely to make sure these batteries are sufficiently reprogrammed. You wouldn’tremember adamn thingother than what they want you to remember.” I could hear the proverbial eye roll. “You’d be screaming in the streets for rescue or offing yourself just like every other freaked-out defector.”
The world was spinning. I had always imagined reuniting with Faeryn would be beautiful. I would hold her in my arms and never let her go. I would inhale her scent, bury myself inside of her, and apologize for failing her every waking moment for the rest of my life. She would know how much I loved her because I wouldnevershut up about it. She would never leave my sight again. I would wait on her hand and foot for the rest of her days.
Was picking up where we left off not an option? I’d do whatever had to be done to avoid her recapture, there was no price I wouldn’t pay. The idea of her taking her own life when she learned the truth… anything but that.Anything. What was the alternative? If she couldn’t remember me… couldn’t rememberus, what then? I just don’t tell her anything? I’d know her entire history; the reason she was taken in the first place was becauseIinvited her to join my world and then failed to protect her from it. The burden of her past would rest entirely on me. I couldn’t rekindle our love knowing that, it wasn’t right. I wouldn’t have her forgiveness, and she wouldn’t know how I’d failed her.
“How often does this happen?”
