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I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or
relieved.

“Stay with me,” I begged, but what I saw in
his eyes frightened me. They were wide and vacant, holding nothing
but pain and fear, as if the rest of his consciousness had
retreated. He began to struggle, pushing against me. Whether he was
scrambling for the door, or for the bedpost, or something else
entirely, I didn’t know. “Ayo, please.” But I knew he could hear
me.

“It hurts,” he cried, his voice ragged. “Oh
Goddess, it hurts.”

He shuddered, sobbing. His body shook — more
than just tremors now. I feared he was dangerously close to having
a seizure. His fingers dug painfully into my arms. His back arched
in the horrid approximation of an orgasm. His bound feet scrubbed
futilely against the floor. I was so busy trying to hold his body,
I lost track of his hands. He slammed both fists into his face. I
heard a sickening crack, and blood sprayed from his
nose.

“Ayo, stop!”

I struggled to grip his wrists without
dropping his quaking body on the floor. He screamed, a terrible,
gut-wrenching howl, blood gurgling in his throat, and I began to
cry in earnest. The next convulsion was so violent, I could barely
hold him. If the pain didn’t work…

I was vaguely aware of footsteps in the hall,
then Gideon struggling to open the door against the armchair in his
way. But my mind was occupied with holding Ayo, and with the horror
of his condition, the blood bathing his face, and I heard Jenko’s
voice, calm and reassuring.

It soothes him. Sometimes, after
Donato was through with him, it was the only way I could calm him
down.

I’d sworn never to do it, but it wasn’t as
distasteful as what I’d just tried, and if it worked, it would be
worth it.

“Ajerhi
.”

The response was immediate, if not quite as
thorough as I’d hoped. Ayo’s spasms slowed. His muscles were still
taut, his back still arched, his body stiff as a plank of wood in
my arms, but his grip on my arms eased. “Oh,” he sighed, barely
more than a soft exhale, and yet the sound spoke of relief. Another
tremor shook him, but less violently than before. “Oh.”

“Ajerhi
,” I said again, stronger this
time.

He moaned, but this time, it sounded more like
relief than pain. He convulsed one final time, and then his muscles
gave way, suddenly releasing their rigidity. He collapsed in on
himself, falling weak and pliant into my arms. He blinked up at me,
his eyes wide and confused. The flow of blood from his nose had
slowed already, but his cheeks were bathed in red. “Jenko?” he
whispered. “What did he do to me?”

“Shh,” I said, pulling him close. I kissed his
forehead and brushed his wild curls away from his face. “It’s
Misha.”

“Misha?” he asked hopefully. “You’re
here.”

“I’m here.”

“What happened to me?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “You just need to
sleep.”

“My head hurts, Misha.”

“I know.”

“Am I dying?”

“No,” I said, choking on my tears.

“My head—”

He began to reach for that traitorous spot
behind his ear, and I spoke on instinct, determined to stop him.
“
Ajerhi
,” I said, stroking his curls. “
Ajerhi
.” I
held him tight, whispering the word into his ear, feeling him relax
by degrees until finally, he had to obey. At last, he lay
peacefully sleeping in my arms.

“You’re running out of time,” Gideon said from
behind me, having finally wedged the chair out of the way. “Even
the sleep command won’t work for much longer.”

I was so tired. I couldn’t even bear to think
about it. I lifted Ayo’s limp body from the floor and put him on
the bed as gently as I could. I felt weak and worn out, barely able
to lift my own arms.

“Get some sleep, Misha,” Gideon
said.

“I can’t. If he wakes up—”

“He won’t.”

“But if he does—”

“I’ll send someone up to watch him. I promise,
we won’t let him leave.”

I fell onto the empty side of the bed, too
exhausted to fight. “What are we going to do?” I asked into my
pillow.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he
said.

But his tone said it all: we were out of
options.

***

My sleep was heavy and dreamless, but not
refreshing. I was relieved to find Ayo still in the room with me
when I finally woke. He was awake, staring listlessly out the
window. He’d cleaned the blood off his face, but two black eyes, a
new bend in his nose, and the swollen gash over his right eyebrow
served as a horrifying reminder of what he’d endured.

“Rhianne was here when I woke up, but I told
her she could go. I told her I could fight it better, now that I’m
not so tired.”

“You’re feeling better, then?”

“Yes.” It was only a whisper, but his voice
broke on the single syllable. His lip trembled, and his eyes filled
with tears. “I’m sorry, Misha. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

But my reassurance sounded weak, even to me. I
couldn’t remember ever feeling so helpless.

Gideon was our only hope.

We found him in the dining room, eating
breakfast alone. His eyes lingered on Ayo’s battered face. “Rhianne
told me you were awake. Are you hungry? I can have her make
something—”

“No, thank you.”

“I can set the boy’s nose too. It’ll be
painful, but it’s better than letting it heal like
this.”

“All we need right now are
answers.”

He pushed his plate away and put his elbows on
the table, steepling his long fingers in front of his chin. “I’ll
do my best.”

“Has the Dollhouse responded to your
petition?”

He hesitated for a moment, watching me, as if
weighing his options. But then he said softly, “They did, and the
answer isn’t what you hoped for.”

“You won’t operate?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The apology sounded sincere, but it did little
to temper my disappointment. “Then we’ll be on our way.”

“And where will you go?” he asked as I turned
to leave.

“That’s not your concern.”

“To the arch?”

I stopped short in the doorway, then turned
slowly to face him. He was still at his spot behind the table,
although standing now. “Excuse me?”

“That’s where the chip’s telling him to go,
isn’t it?”

I moved quickly in front of Ayo, suddenly
feeling the need to shield him from this man. I thought quickly,
trying to remember if Ayo or I had mentioned the arch in his
hearing. I didn’t think we had, but I couldn’t be sure. But what
were the other possibilities? That Jenko had somehow sent him word.
Or…

“You’re one of them.”

“No. I assure you, I’m merely a surgeon of the
Guild, nothing more. We don’t work with those monsters. But we have
certain agreements with them which I’m not allowed to violate. Not
unless I want to lose my license and my standing with the
Guild.”

Fear pricked at me, tingling in my armpits and
groin. I reached behind me to take Ayo’s hand without turning my
back on Gideon. “We’re leaving.”

“Misha, they’re coming. They’re on their way.
They’ll be here within the hour.”

“All the more reason we have to
leave.”

“They’ll find him. Or he’ll find them. You
know that. He’s been programmed to go back, and eventually he’ll do
it, or die trying. Last night was only the beginning. It’ll drive
him mad. I’ve seen it happen. Is that what you want?”

I didn’t answer, but I was no longer moving to
leave. He took that as encouragement to go on.

“As far as the Dollhouse is concerned, Ayo
belongs to them. And they
will
get him back. That’s the one
thing in this whole mess that’s certain. They won’t let him get
away.”

That much, I could believe. And after the
night we’d just had, watching Ayo banging his head against the
bedpost and break his own nose in an attempt to fight his program,
I had to accept the fact that we had no other options. I was filled
with a terrible, hopeless rage, but throwing my anger at him would
get me nowhere. “What would you have me do?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that since you
walked in the room.” He flopped down in his chair in exasperation.
“Are you ready to hear me out?”

I turned to Ayo. He watched me, gnawing
nervously on his bottom lip. The lurid bruises made him seem paler
than ever. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice hoarse. I
thought he might have been fighting tears. “But the hook is getting
worse.” He shuddered. “I can’t go through another night like that
one.”

In truth, neither could I. And if Gideon was
right, even the sleep command would quit working
eventually.

I led Ayo back to the table. I sat across from
Gideon, feeling utterly defeated. “I’m listening.”

Gideon nodded. “Good. Now, forgive me for
this.” He held a finger up to me, telling me to wait, then turned
to Ayo, who was sitting in the chair next to me. “
Vulnye
.”
It was the same word he’d said the night before to trigger Ayo’s
inert state, although this time, it wasn’t barked out, like an
order. It was a whisper. Almost a lullaby.

Ayo went limp, his hands in his
lap.

I bit back on my anger, trying to keep my
temper in check. Was he going to betray us already? “Let him
go.”

“What I have to say is for you
alone.”

“This is his life. He should have a
choice—”

“There is no choice, Misha. Not for him. You
know that.” He leaned forward on the table, bringing himself closer
to me. He jabbed his finger on the table as he spoke, as if to
drive his point home. “The Dollhouse is coming. They’re going to
take him. There’s nothing we can do to stop that.”

I gritted my teeth, clenching my jaw against
the hard truth. What had started as anger was quickly fermenting
into despair. “Will they kill him?”

“No.” He leaned back in his seat again,
looking almost relaxed now that I’d quit arguing with him. “As far
as they’re concerned, he’s a commodity. One which they created at
great cost. And the Dollhouse is, above all, a business. They’ll
exploit him until the very end.”

“Meaning, they’ll sell him to somebody
else.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes, a slave’s
greatest value comes later. Depending on who his owner was, the
information he carries in his head may be worth more than his
body.”

I closed my eyes, breathing deep, trying to
keep my rage at bay. It wouldn’t serve either of us now.

“They’ll take him,” Gideon went on. “And
they’ll take you too. They have no scruples. They won’t hesitate to
use you as thoroughly as they’ve used him.”

“Me? What good would I be to them?” And yet, I
knew the words were foolish, before they even left my mouth. I held
up a hand to stop Gideon from answering. “What would you have me
do?”

He nodded toward the door. “Go. I’ll tell them
you snuck out in the night.”

“I won’t betray him like that.”

“The boy never has to know. I can keep him in
this state until they come. He’ll be none the wiser. He’ll never
know a thing.”

“I won’t leave him.”

“Are you so anxious to wake up with a chip in
your head too? Because that could happen. And if it does, there’s
no justice to be had. There’s no court in the land who will
prosecute them. You’ll be completely at the mercy of the Dollhouse.
Is that really what you want? To become a pawn in their little
game?”

I shuddered at the thought. I instinctively
reached up to touch the spot behind my right ear. I glanced at Ayo,
still motionless in his chair, resting in his inert state, unaware
of anything going on around him.

I could leave, sure. And then what? The only
thing waiting for me in Davlova was poverty and crime. Ayo felt
like my one connection to purity and innocence. There was no way I
could go back to my life in Davlova without hating myself for it
every single day. It would mean I’d sacrificed Donato for
nothing.

I turned back to Gideon — a man I wanted to
hate, but who was watching me now with what might have been genuine
concern. “Thank you,” I said. “For your advice, and for your time.
But I won’t leave him.”

Gideon’s smile was sad. “I’d admire you for
your loyalty, if I didn’t think it was going to get you killed.” He
ducked his head. “I’ve dealt with them a few times in the past. Not
recently, but I still know them. I’ll do everything I can to
advocate for you, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough.”

“I understand.”

At that moment, a bell rang somewhere in the
house. The sound brought me to my feet. It raised the hair on my
arms and the back of my neck. Every instinct in my body told me to
run, or to fight, and yet I’d promised to do neither.