Perfection

Before Rein complied, the officer next to him jabbed him with the metal prongs. “Careful.”

Slowly, Rein removed the bag from his shoulder and slid it across the ground.

“Micah.”

The younger man grabbed Rein’s pack. He looked up and stared at Rein with Ellyssa’s eyes—only cold and completely emotionless. The color of his hair, the alabaster skin, the flawless features—too perfect.

Everything connected.

Numbness washed over Rein. He took a step forward, then he was on the floor with a electroshock weapon inches from his face.

“Get up,” commanded the policeman, shoving Rein with the toe of his boot.

Pulling himself onto shaky legs, Rein looked at Woody. His friend tipped his head; he’d made the connection, too.

Gripping the bag, Micah closed his eyes.

“Your contact is very loyal,” Detective Petersen said, strolling in front of Davis’ chair, her gait confident, in charge. “Couldn’t get names or the location of where you stay. Nothing.”

Rein pursed his lips. She wouldn’t be getting anything from him, either.

“I wonder if you’ll be a little more cooperative.” She slipped behind Davis’ chair as he began to stir. “Of course, it can be done the easy way or the hard way.” Grabbing a handful of hair, she wrenched his head back. Davis’ eye popped open as he screamed.

“You’ll get nothing from us,” Woody said, through gritted teeth.

“That’s too bad,” the woman said, not looking like she felt that way at all.

Without warning, she gripped her baton and whacked Davis across his jaw. Blood splayed from his mouth as he went lax against the strap. Rein flinched. The detective didn’t.

“Captain,” she instructed.

The captain, looking a little peaked, grabbed a bucket, sitting on the floor next to him and tossed water on the unconscious ranger.

Davis sputtered as more blood poured from his mouth. “Please,” he begged, the word barely decipherable. A pleading eye rolled and locked on Rein.

Rein wanted to look away. He couldn’t bear to watch. But the horror kept his gaze glued to Davis.

Detective Petersen slowly blinked, cat-like, with a smirk on her face. She enjoyed this. Patting Davis’ head much like a dog, she said, “Shh. If you and your friends cooperate, you won’t have to feel any more pain.”

Davis whimpered in defeat that tore a canyon through Rein’s soul. He wished there was something he could do besides helplessly watching Davis be tormented.

“Would you like to tell me where the camp is?”

An anguished cry pulled from Davis. He knew as well as Rein that the community couldn’t be sacrificed. Tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood.

Straightening, the detective returned her attention to Rein and Woody. “Are you really willing to watch such a loyal friend be punished? No wonder you are all beneath us. How selfish.”

Tsking, she smacked Davis close to his temple. A crack sounded with the impact. His head swiveled to the side and back. Passed out or dead, Davis drooped forward, blood streaming from his head. The woman went behind the chair and unbuckled the strap. Like a ragdoll, Davis slid from the chair and crumpled to the ground.

As strong as a magnetic draw, Rein’s gaze stayed trained on the crimson pooling under Davis’ head. Rein had known the consequences of being captured, the danger, but to have it play out in front of him was beyond surreal. The woman’s viciousness, the way she enjoyed torturing her helpless captive. Even now, Rein saw the amusement flitting across the detective’s face.

She flicked her head up, indicating Rein. The policeman next to him grabbed his upper arm. “You’re next,” he sneered.

“No,” the picture of perfection said. His accent sounded just like Ellyssa’s when she’d first spoken to Rein.

Within the nightmare, Rein had forgotten about him. Xaver held Rein’s music box. His thumb stroked over the glass dome.

The detective whipped her head toward the young man, and she nailed him with a lazer-like glare. Apparently, she didn’t like having her fun interrupted. “What is it, Micah?”

Ignoring her, Micah stepped toward Rein, and stopped.

“Your name is Rein,” he stated.

Rein tried to hide the surprise at the mention of his name; he lacked the training of The Center’s children. His eyes widened as they moved from the music box Ellyssa had held a few days ago, to the azure eyes of the boy. Hadn’t Ellyssa mentioned a brother who could read things from touching them? His heart skipped a beat.

Micah watched him, his expression giving away nothing. After a moment, when Rein didn’t respond, he nodded, and the guard next to him gave a small zap. Against his control, every muscle clenched as the short burst of electricity traveled through his body and tunneled through to his feet. He fell to his knees.

Micah wound the key. Music floated in the air as he held it up. The little figures glided in a circle.

“Interesting,” he said, although his voice and face showed nothing of the sort. He looked from the box to Rein. “Very interesting.”

“What?” demanded the detective, moving to Micah’s side. “What do you see?”

“Platinum hair, sky-blue eyes, a flawless face. Beautiful.” Micah’s eyebrow arched. Finally, a subtle expression. “You know my sister?” he asked Rein.

Detective Petersen turned toward Rein. “You’ve met Ellyssa,” she accused, “and you still live?” Her voice lost all of its superiority, and she sounded baffled.

His face smooth again, Micah closed his eyes, his palm cupping the dome. “Ellyssa is different, though. Her eyes and face show emotions. And…” he said, landing his gaze on Rein, “it seems she has a…liking for our Renegade here. She let you touch her.”

“Where is she?” the detective asked, stepping closer.

Rein shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do not bother denying it,” Micah said. “I can see everything. The conversation. The looks you share. You are in a cave.”

“Which cave?” Angela extended her arm, holding the electroshock weapon firmly. “Talk.”

Before Rein could answer, a loud oomph sounded from Woody’s guard. The blond man leaned over, holding his stomach. Woody grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him in front of himself, like a shield, as two electrodes connected to long wires extended from Detective Petersen’s weapon and attached to the guard’s clothing. An instant later, the man flopped to the ground as tremors rocked his body. By the time Rein could comprehend what was happening, Woody had disappeared up the steps.

“After him,” yelled Detective Petersen.

Rein watched as his treasured music box fell to the ground and shattered; the broken figurines skidded across the earthen floor.

“No!” Rein threw himself at Micah as he charged toward the stairs after Woody. It was like hitting a brick wall.

Micah barely stumbled. He grabbed Rein by the back of the neck and hurled him across the room, sending him into the boxes of supplies.

Cans fell on Rein. He covered his head with his arms.

“Hurry,” Detective Petersen ordered the guards. She turned her attention to Rein.

Rein rolled over to his knees and attempted to stand, but a boot to the ribs knocked him back down. A current ripped through his muscles, leaving him helpless.

The last thing he saw was Detective Petersen’s grin.

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