“He did something very bad . . . didn’t he?” she asked.
This young woman didn’t know the half of it. Simeon had had plans in motion for a very long time, plans that had been affected by this young man’s actions. “Yes, he did.”
“Has he been punished?” Mavis asked.
“Not yet,” Simeon said, slowly shaking his head.
“Will he be?”
“Perhaps.”
Simeon picked up a piece of wood from the stack next to him. A beetle, its shell glistening in the firelight, emerged from a knot in the wood, as if suspecting it was wise to leave. And it might have been, if only it had made the decision to act a little faster. He dropped the wood on the fire, watching the death throes of the insect.
“When I spoke with Gareth, I learned that he had developed special . . . talents.”
Simeon tore his gaze from the fire to look at the girl. She had moved even closer to him now, and the look in her eyes told him that she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“An incredible talent that allowed him to leave the island without anyone knowing,” he continued. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that . . . would you?”
Mavis shook her head quickly.
“No?” Simeon asked. “I was afraid of that.” He rubbed at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm, then I guess poor Gareth is a freak,” he said. “An aberration.”
“Aberration?” Mavis repeated, uncertainty in her tone.
“Something unlike all the others,” Simeon explained.
“Is . . . is that bad?” she asked. “To be an aberration?”
“In this case, my child, it is. You see, Gareth did something very bad, and to be sure that something like that doesn’t happen again we must—”
“What if there are more?” Mavis interrupted.
“What do you mean?”
“What if there are more . . . more aberrations? Would that keep Gareth safe?”
“More aberrations?”
From the ruins of the mining town stepped the other orphans. They were of all ages, some having been on this world no longer than a few years, while others were older—like Mavis and Gareth. Simeon suspected that they were the ones who should generate the most concern.
They walked through the rain toward Mavis. Then he saw their eyes grow cautious, and turned to find that his own demon servants had emerged from their hiding places.
“Who are they?” Mavis demanded, ready to flee if necessary.
He motioned for his servants to stay where they were. “Only those who help me with my day-to-day,” Simeon said.
Mavis turned, telling the others that it was all right with just a glance. He wondered if that might be her special gift, to be able to communicate with others of her ilk without making a sound.
She turned back to Simeon. “Gareth isn’t the only one,” she admitted, looking down at the ground.
“Then there are others like him?” Simeon asked. “With special gifts?”
She nodded quickly. “It’s the older kids,” she explained. “Though some of the younger ones can feel something coming.”
“What is your gift, Mavis?” Simeon asked.
The girl looked embarrassed, rocking from side to side as her fists clenched and unclenched within the long sleeves of her leather jacket.
“Don’t be shy,” he encouraged. “It’s all out in the open now.”
“It hurts,” she said. “It hurts when I use it.”
He continued to stare at her, his gaze demanding that she show him despite the discomfort.
Mavis closed her eyes. Almost immediately, the air around her began to shimmer. Then flames grew from her body, forming a pair of fiery wings that fanned the air, throwing intense amounts of heat. The rain hissed as it attempted to land upon her, creating roiling clouds of steam that billowed across the ground toward him.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Mavis tossed her head back, raised her arms and unleashed gouts of white- hot fire from her hands, fire that burned so intensely that it caused concrete to burn.
Yes, the situation was exactly as bad as he’d originally thought.
She settled down, her breath coming in labored gasps. Simeon noticed that the flesh of her hands had been charred black, but was already beginning to heal.
“Am I an aberration?” she asked, her chest heaving from the exertion.
He noticed that some of the older children in the background were now showing off as well; one floated above the ground on invisible wings, while another levitated stones, some far bigger than even Simeon.
He had seen enough. He stood up from the bucket upon which he sat, and stepped forward, exposing himself to the elements.
Mavis stared at him intensely, waiting for her answer.
“Hey, you didn’t answer,” she said. “Am I?”
He stood there in the rain, his demon followers coming to stand with him.
“Yes,” Simeon told her. “Yes, you are.”
The girl seemed to accept that, as she’d likely accepted every other indignity that had been heaped upon her since she’d been born into this cruel world.
“Will this help him?” she asked. “Will it help, now that Gareth’s not the only one?”
“Yes,” Simeon said, and she smiled briefly.
“For now,” he added, as he turned and walked away, leaving Mavis and the others to decide whether something good had occurred.
Or bad.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Remy glanced nervously toward the door and wondered how Malatesta was holding up.
He had a bad feeling. With the two of them separated, the potential for disaster was pretty damn high.
The woman, Morgan, emerged from the bathroom where she’d gone to freshen up. She had relieved herself of her black leather jumpsuit, and was dressed only in a lacey bra and panties.
“Hope you don’t mind that I changed,” she said with a sexy smirk. “That jumpsuit can be a bit warm.”
Remy took a sip from the glass of scotch she had poured for him, as she padded barefoot across the room.
“So,” she continued, sitting beside him on the leather couch, curling her bare legs beneath her. “I know pretty much all I need to about your friend, but what do you like, Remiel?”
Remy shifted to face the beautiful woman. He was reading something from her, but couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. There was something different about her.
“Tell me about my friend,” he said, waggling his eyebrows as he took another drink of his scotch.
“Oh, you’re like that,” she purred. “Well, let’s just say that the general likes his playtime rough,” Morgan told him.
“Really,” Remy said. “How rough?” He was goading her on, trying to make her think that this sort of thing was a turn-on for him.
“Very,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. “Very, very rough.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She nodded vigorously as she unfurled herself and crawled atop Remy. “Would you like to hurt me?”
Remy didn’t want this, but to reject her advances might destroy his opportunity for information.
She straddled his lap, facing him. “I asked you a question, Remiel,” she urged, as she removed her lacy
