PHOENIX
Female Komodo dragons get pregnant without men.
It smells like rain in the kitchen. I lean over the sink, pushing the window open and glancing at Jackal. He watches me, unblinking with his warm molasses eyes, and I feel violated. With Jackal here I’m a visitor in my own kitchen, all gangly and gawky. I still picture my grandfather standing in the same spot Jackal is standing now, his silver hair thick and windblown from being outside. He always seemed larger than life, the smell of him filling up the room. He smelled like cut grass, coffee, and Vicks VapoRub. Jackal, both arms folded across his chest, is a giant in comparison to my grandfather. And he smells like...I don’t know…not Vicks. I sniff the air around him.
“Are you smelling me?” he asks.
“No...what? No.”
He smirks as I round the table and sit next to Gwen, putting space between us.
Jackal waves his hand between the two of us. “Okay. Start from the beginning.”
“Too much to tell,” I tell him and Gwen nods.
“Oh no. No, no. You’re not getting out of talking,” he says, pointing at me.
Gwen’s eyebrow quirks up just as Jewel comes into the room. Jackal goes completely still, eyes bugging when he sees her, and I look at Jewel to see her reaction. She smirks and stares him down.
“You two know each other?” I ask, dread filling my chest at the thought of him sleeping with her.
“Who do I ask for when I come back,” he says, monotone.
“Why would I tell you now,” she says, laughing. “See you around, End Man.” She does a pageant wave and backs out of the room.
He levels her back with a glare and turns to me. “You’re enough to deal with on your own; I don’t know if I can handle three of you together in the same room.”
“There are a few more,” I tell him.
“A few?” He looks at Gwen. “The news is reporting that you walked out of that prison with a hundred women.”
Gwen nods solemnly. “Jackal, they lock women away for trying to feed their families. That’s what they’re not telling the public. Women who are caught trading on the black market and those who are writing articles about the conditions in the lower end. Cardi was serving a ten-year sentence for buying a sewing machine so she could make cheaper dresses for factory workers rather than buying from the companies owned by the upper end!”
“Where did they all go, when they left with you?”
“Some went back to their families, who will hide them; others chose to try to cross the border themselves. We spread the more serious cases out and we’ll sneak them across slowly.”
“And the guards, they just let you out?”
“Some were bribed, others supported our cause.”
“Bribed by who?” Jackal asks.
“The Revolution.”
“I suppose that’s where you come in,” he says, looking at me.
“I provide some of the funding, yes,” I say. “What can’t be siphoned out of bank accounts is stolen.”
“You really are Robin Hood. That was no stretch.” He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, shaking his head.
“This is not just about the End Men anymore, Jackal. This is about all of the Regions,” Gwen says. “The power the upper end holds over the lower. The fact that they could just take my baby from me. I—I didn’t even have a trial…”
We both look at Gwen with horror and don’t know what to say. There are no words for what she’s been through.
“Jackal,” I say. “You have no choice in what you do,” I say it gently enough that he looks at me in surprise.
“I had a choice. I signed the contract.”
“And if you hadn’t signed it? The Society would have just...let you walk away?”
His face clouds over. Gwen and I exchange a glance. She walks over to where Jackal is standing and places a hand on his arm.
“Where’s Marcus, Jackal?”
He jumps at her touch like she’s shocked him. “No one knows.” He reaches around to the back of his head, one eye squeezed closed. “We’re not one big, happy family, if that’s what you think. If anything, the Society pits us against each other. Foley and I were the exceptions. So, no. I don’t know where Marcus is; he forgot to send his forwarding address.”
“How do they pit you against each other?” I ask.
There’s something vulnerable about him right at this moment, his mask is down. I step closer, narrowing my eyes, afraid that if I blink, he’ll return to normal.
“There are incentives...for live births, male children...orgies,” he says, looking at me.
I blush.
“So we choose a personality and we run with it. The End Men are just characters for your personal enjoyment,” he says.
“So you’re not the asshole I think you are?”
Jackal’s lips pucker as he looks at me, head cocked to the side.
“I’m exactly the asshole you think I am, just with a softer side.”
We’re staring at each other, and I can’t look away.
“Jackal…?” Gwen’s voice snaps me back to the present; Jackal clears his throat, shaking his head as if he’s coming out of a trance.
“Do you know anything...do you know if Folsom…?”
“No,” he says, his voice raspy. “He made contact a few weeks ago, through some—I don’t know—shady ass guy. He wanted me to find where they had you.”
Gwen’s eyes fill with tears. She looks away.
“Well, as it turns out, you didn’t need our help,” Jackal says. “Wish I could say I’m surprised, but there’s something about tiny, angry women on a mission…”
She manages half a smile, but her mind is far from this room.
“We need to get you to safety,” he says. “They’re looking everywhere for you. They see you as a danger to their way of life. I’m afraid they won’t stop until they find you.”
“First things first,” she says softly.
“What do you need from me?” he asks, looking at both of us.
“Stay off of the Society’s radar. It goes against everything in me, but I don’t really know where you stand with the End Men, Jackal.” She studies him and then looks at me, and I feel like she can see right through me. “I don’t even know if you want out…” Jackal doesn’t say anything, just stares back, jaw clenched. “I hate asking this of you, but I think you need to do exactly what they expect of you. At least until we can get everyone safely across,” she says.
I feel a chill and grab a blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders.
“How did you get mixed up in this shitshow?” he asks. “Did the rebellion find you?”
“I steal things. Might as well steal for a purpose.” I shrug. “And it’s called the Revolution.”
“Oh, pardon me. The Revolution,” he mocks. “Come on, little thief, stop trying to pretend you don’t have a heart.”
I’m thirsty, but I don’t move for the glass cabinet because he’ll think he’s rattled me.
“I like stealing as much as you like fucking.” I smirk. “We both contribute in our own way.”
He laughs, arms folded across his chest, eyes wrinkling in amusement.
“I care about the lower end,” I admit. “The End Men have never been my fight, but it seems it’s all tied together.”
“And now?” he asks. “Do you care about us now?”
“Still don’t.”
“That’s not the impression I got last night when you wanted to fuck me.”
“Okay, that’s where I disappear,” Gwen says, standing up. “Night to both of you…” She leaves the room looking like she wants to wash out her ears.
“Uncalled for,” I snap. “I was drunk.”
“I call it like I see it,” he says.
“Is that why you’re here tonight? To see what you could get away with?” I glare at him, dropping the blanket to the side because now I’m too hot for words.
He steps forward and pulls my waist flush against his. I can feel all of him, the hardness in his thighs, the solid chest, the other hardness pressing against my hip. He lowers his head until his lips brush against mine when he says, “I won’t be ‘getting away with’ anything when I fuck you. You’ll gladly let me in.” He leans back and looks into my eyes and my breath catches. His eyes wander down my body and I feel a trickle of sweat crawl down my temple. He catches it with his fingers and my eyes widen when he leisurely licks it off. “I’ve never had to exercise patience before, but you’re worth it. I’ll be right here, waiting, until you can’t function without me inside of you.” His tongue sneaks out and swipes across my lower lip. And then his lips follow so softly, it’s only the barest hint of a kiss.
My insides quiver and I step back. His eyes are feral, assessing mine. A devastating grin takes over his face and heat gathers between my legs. He grins, knowingly.
“I hate you,” I tell him.
I leave the room with his cackle echoing through the hall. It torments my dreams.