Wrap-up Hell. She'd landed in hell...
Razor winced inwardly. She hadn't got past the reception area of the créche and already her ears were aching from the racket the children were making.
Erin, the créche's co-ordinator and den-mother to the foundlings, frowned.
"Well I can't say I understand why you've been put here but that's the ruling so I guess we have to make the most of it."The results of the inquiry into Razor's handling of 'Jane', the rogue telepath, found that though the woman's brain-damage had been deliberately brought about there had been 'mitigating circumstances'. Razor was ordered to work a minimum of ten hours a week in the créche until further notice and was forbidden to have anything to do with any aspect of the pet industry cases. The telepath was not insensible to how lightly she'd gotten off. If this had been a public inquiry, carried out in the country's judicial system, the best she could've hoped for was to be neutralised and imprisoned.
de Winter, too, had had plenty to say about Razor's luck.
"It's fortunate we've not been able to trace any of 'Jane's relatives, isn't it?" the section head was bitingly sarcastic, "Because then we'd have the possibility of a civil action against the Agency which would only muddy the public's image of us a decent, safe organization. An image," she scowled, "that has taken a long time and a lot of effort to build. So, thank you very much, Razor, for single-handedly creating the potential to put us back twenty years!"
Razor stood silent and expressionless through the diatribe, refusing to admit the niggardly feeling she might just have possibly fucked up. She still couldn't find it within herself to regret what she'd done, save that she might've reacted too quickly - Jane hadn't suffered nearly enough.
Lenore had been furious with her, not so much for melting Jane's brain but for getting herself banned.
"You are our best, our strongest offensive 'path," her partner growled, "We need you to crack the shields of the psis we're pulling in."
Razor's mouth twisted; she hadn't considered that. Baxter continued:
"Mahican's good but he needs time to work when the subject is unwilling. You not being able to batter down their defences is going to add hours to the time it takes to interrogate them. Which means more time for the other bastards involved to get away!"
The telepath lowered her eyes.
"Sorry."
Lenore glared at her, then sighed.
"I can understand why you did it, but damn, Razor, it's made things awkward."Angel's reaction when she'd found out what had happened had been surprising.
*Did you hurt her?* the cat-girl's green eyes glittered.
*Yes.* Razor replied, remembering Jane's final, terrified moments of consciousness.
*Good.* Angel said with grim satisfaction, and then never mentioned it again.Erin sat Razor down in her small, colourful office.
"So. Ten hours a week, minimum. How do you want to do this? I assume your time here will need to fit in with your other duties?"
The 'path nodded.
"It would be more convenient for me to work off the time in large increments – four, five hour lots."
The brunette raised her eyebrows.
"I'll be frank, Razor, I don't think you'll be able to cope with that. I suggest you start with one or two hours at a time." She raised her hand, forestalling Razor's comment. "Yes, I know that means you'll have to be here more frequently, but better that than taking on too much too soon and creating problems for yourself." She smiled encouragingly at the less than ecstatic 'path. "And we can be flexible with the times you attend. You don't have to be here during the day. The children are supervised 24 hours, perhaps you could come in some evenings, or over night?"
Razor sat up imperceptibly straighter in the chair. Being here when the children were asleep? That sounded more promising – though it meant she'd be away from Angel...
"But anyway, you're here now. Let's introduce you 'round."Erin was swamped the moment she walked through the door, disappearing beneath a screeching horde of miniature barbarians... Or that was how it appeared to Razor. The 'path frowned at the trio of small children. Only three? She was sure there'd been more.
Erin grinned at her from where she was squatting, arms around her charges.
"This is Razor – she'll be popping in now and again to help us."
The children gazed up at the 'path, curious and unafraid. The tallest child – a girl, Razor assumed, it was wearing a dress – wrinkled her nose.
"Your name's funny."
"Ella," Erin tone was gently rebuking.
"Well it is!" the child protested, then faced with her carer's unflinching gaze, sighed and turned back to the 'path. "Hello, Razor. I'm Ella."
"Good girl!" Erin grinned and squashed the child to her in a suffocating cuddle, not that Ella seemed to mind given the way she was giggling.
"Hello." Razor cast about for something else to say. "What's your names?" she enquired of the two smaller children.
"Tomas!" the orange-haired boy jumped in, "an' this is my li'l sister, Margie." There was an element of protectiveness, Razor thought, in the way the boy put his arms about the shoulders of the much younger child, a child who – the 'path kept her expression neutral – had mucus dribbling out of her nose. Erin grinned and pulled a tissue out of the pocket of her jeans. She wiped the goo from Margie's face, then kissed her fondly on the forehead and sent the three of them back to their tutor.
"Tomas is about five, Margie's three, we think," she murmured to Razor, "One of our seekers found them with their mother in Box City – " Razor nodded, she knew the place, it was one of the areas in London where the homeless gathered. "We don't like taking children away from their parents but in this case their mother was almost grateful. She's an addict, she admits she can't care for them, not since their father died. Tomas is a latent telepath – Margie's a normal but we couldn't take him and leave her." Erin sighed. "Their mother's able to come and visit them anytime she likes but she hasn't yet and I don't think she will. Tomas and Margie have been with us for a couple of months, they've settled in well though we've not been able to get Margie to speak yet."
Razor frowned.
"Is there something wrong with her?"
"No," Erin smiled sadly, "Going by something Tomas said, their mother used to threaten them that 'the bad men' would take them away if they weren't quiet. The sad thing is I think she did it for their protection. If she had to leave them alone while she got her fix, or scrounged for food..." Erin shuddered. "There's some evil people out there and kids on their own are easy targets." The co-ordinator smiled again, visibly putting herself into a more cheerful frame of mind. "Come on, let's go and meet some of the staff."An hour later Razor was in the créche's kitchen cutting an entire shop's worth of fruit, it seemed, into bite-size chunks. Blessedly she'd been left on her own, all of the other staff were getting the children organised for the mid-morning break. The 'path had a headache and... she was forced to admit that Erin was right, there was no way she could cope with more than an hour at a time. Razor had found herself wrapped securely within Ox's talent once already today. There'd been a sudden, particularly shrill squeal from one of the younger children and she'd instinctively powered up to silence the little shit only to find she couldn't move, couldn't access her abilities.
"Don' do that." the blocker's smile was slow and pleasant. "Don' wanna frighten 'em."
Razor had taken a deep breath, consciously calmed herself, and that's when Erin had asked if she wouldn't mind helping to get the snacks ready...
The telepath cut into yet another bloody apple and grimaced. She was way out of her depth here, she knew it, the children knew it. One of them had even said as much.
"You don't wanna be here," fathomless black eyes narrowed in a dark face, "Have you been bad?"
Razor felt the prickle of psi-awareness coming from the girl.
"No. I don't want to be here." she'd replied calmly, "but I have to be and I'm trying to do the best I can."
"'kay..." the girl scrutinised her again and Razor tightened her shields against the inexpert probe.
"That's very rude."
The child's eyes widened and she glanced guiltily over her shoulder.
"Erin says I shouldna do that without asking."
"Erin's right." Razor all but snapped then stared, uncomfortable, as the girl burst into tears.
"What happened?" Ivanna, another of the carers, hurried over, not quite accusing the 'path with a glance. Razor hesitated; the child was in the wrong but how childish would she appear leaping in with an accusation?
"I tried to scan her, 'vanna," the girl sobbed into the woman's shoulder, "an' she told me off."
Ivanna frowned, cuddling the child.
"Did you ask first?"
There was no reply for several seconds then a very quiet, very reluctant 'no' was forthcoming.
"You know better than that, Debbie," the carer sighed, "and you know what you have to do now, don't you?"
The girl nodded then pushed away from the woman, facing Razor though she kept her eyes on the floor.
"Sorry."
"Apology accepted." the 'path said for wont of anything more appropriate.
Ivanna nodded then hugged Debbie and suggested she might like to help Erin with the babies. Once the girl had trailed away Ivanna turned back to Razor with an apologetic smile.
"She's learning – they all are."
"I understand." Razor replied gravely, wondering what on earth would possess someone to want to work with children..."All done then? Fantastic!" Erin grinned at the mountain of fruit the telepath had laboriously peeled and cut. "Help me dish it out then I think we can call it a day for you." the carer's eyes twinkled. "You've done remarkably well for a first-timer."
"Yes. I didn't kill anyone."
Erin laughed, much to Razor's surprise – she hadn't been making a joke...*Razor?*
*Yes, Angel?* The 'path was delighted to hear her lover's *voice* though no evidence of that happiness expressed itself in her features.
*How's it going?*
Razor heaved an aggrieved sigh.
*It hasn't been enjoyable, but I've finished for the day.*
*Good! Can I meet you for an early lunch? I thought we could take some food up to the park.*
*The park?* Razor frowned, that was perilously close to being seen in public, something Angel was still supposed to be uncomfortable with. *It's a fine day, there'll probably be a few people about.*
*I know, but Cloudie said there's some private spots along the paths.* the cat-girl paused. *And it sounds like such a pretty place, Cloudie loves it there.*
Razor growled to herself – Cloudie does, does she? She squashed down the surge of resentful jealousy with an impatient shake of her head.
*I'll pick up something from the café and meet you at work in about twenty minutes?*
*That'll be wonderful!*
Razor closed the connection and lapsed into thought. Angel was changing, growing stronger, more confident, less... dependent. She probably should be more pleased about that than she was...Timothy, a long-range 'path and Razor's surreptitious watcher was seated at the polished table, attentively regarding the Agency's top three administrators.
"How did she cope?" Anna clasped her hands neatly in front of her.
The youngish man smiled.
"It was rough but as she said, she didn't kill anyone."
There were chuckles from around the table.
"Ox was able to counter her?"
"Easily, yes."
"How did she take that?"
Timothy paused, considering.
"She wasn't pleased, but she wasn't angry either. More annoyed, I think, with herself for the lack of control."
Claudia eyed her companions.
"It's a promising start."
"I'm still not convinced this is a good idea," Anna grumbled, then turned her attention back to the waiting 'path. "We want to know the moment you sense her control slipping."
Timothy nodded and was dismissed from the meeting.
Wilma de Winter took his place at the table.
"I've been thinking about Felix Roysdon," she began.
"Yes?" Eric poured himself a glass of water, then offered the carafe to the section head. de Winter shook her head in polite refusal and carried on.
"If we want to keep the Pet industry investigation confidential we can't bring Roysdon to trial. It'll be too easy for the details to leak if he goes to court, plus he's still in very real danger from those we haven't managed to chase down yet."
"True." Eric tapped his fingers on the table.
"Do we actually have anything to charge him with anyway?" Anna added.
"He's being held for Unlawful Imprisonment, in theory," de Winter shrugged, "but we've established he was involved with the Zoo under duress."
Clare gave a delicate shudder.
"I don't know that I'd have been willing rock the boat with someone like Jane being held over me as a threat." There were nods of agreement: everyone there had *witnessed* edited highlights from Felix - and the rescued pets' - memories.
"Exactly." de Winter was grim. "Roysdon was in an untenable position, damned if he did, damned if he didn't."
"Suggestions?" Eric prompted.
"Witness protection, essentially: new ID, new life. It's the least we can do after the help he's given us. His turning over Richard Roysdon's records to us has cut months of the investigation. And..." de Winter half-smiled. "I believe Felix deserves another chance. He couldn't pluck up the courage to free the pets but he did what he could to help them, at risk to himself. We've got statements from nearly all of the victims to that effect."
Anna arched an eyebrow and smiled.
"I assume you've already got all the details worked out, Wilma?"
"Of course," the section head smirked, "when have I ever come to you less than fully prepared...?""'nother hour and we'll be there, Sam. Do you want to have a break somewhere?"
Felix twitched, belatedly remembering that 'Sam' was himself.
"No thanks, Toby," he smiled, "I just want to see the horses."
The olive-skinned driver laughed.
"It's a beautiful place, mate, you're gonna love it." he waggled his eyebrows, "Not afraid of a bit of hard work, are ya? Pammie's a regular dictator."
"Have you known her for long?" Felix... Sam liked the ex-pat Australian, he was very easy to talk to.
"Few years. She's de Winter's daughter from her last marriage."
"Thanks for the warning." Sam grinned. He'd worked closely with de Winter over the past few weeks and frankly the woman made him nervous. She was so efficient and no-nonsense he'd felt like a clumsy idiot sometimes.
Toby wound down his window and took a deep breath.
"Air's so clean out here makes you forget what the city's are like."
Sam nodded. He'd only been out of greater London twice in his life, on school excursions to the country. As the landscape flashed by, changing from overcrowded metropolitan to the sort of rural scenes England had been famous for, Sam remembered how excited he'd been to see open land. He was excited now, and nervous, but for the first time in far too long, unafraid.North York Moors National Park was one of the few natural 'beauty spots' remaining in the country. The people who lived and worked there had fought hard over the years to keep its heritage intact, stop the land being subdivided and eaten up in the push for new housing and industries. Their passion and dedication had paid off, the Park was a famed holiday destination and the revenue from tourism kept it afloat and safe from development.
Sam had glimpsed the horses in the fields they'd driven past on the way to the Sanctuary, but he'd had no real idea just how big some of them were - until Toby pulled the car into a muddy patch of ground in front of an old farmhouse, and there waiting for them was a blonde woman standing beside the biggest animal Sam had ever seen.
"Hey, Pammie."
"Toby."
They kissed each other on the cheek, exchanging friendly smiles.
"Remind me before you go I've got something for Wilma." the woman chuckled. "Jemma's painted a picture for her." She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "It's a horse under a tree, just in case she can't work it out."
"I'll be sure to pass that on." Toby grinned, then gestured to Sam.
"Here's the new boy – stout of heart, strong of limb, so I've been told."
Sam wasn't paying much attention to the conversation, gazing deeply as he was into the biggest, softest brown eyes he'd ever seen. The horse seemed to be looking right back at him, long silky grey ears pricked forward in interest...
"Hi, Sam, pleased to meet you." Pammie was grinning at him.
"Oh, hello." Sam shook the woman's outstretched hand.
"This is Molly." Pammie smiled fondly up at the huge grey horse. "She's a Percheron."
"She's beautiful," Sam breathed. "Can I touch her?"
"Sure." Pammie stepped away. "Stroke firmly down along her neck, under her mane. She likes that."
The mare's pelt was smooth and warm and Sam could sense her strength through his palm. He stroked down to her shoulder, leaning close, his eyes half-closed in sheer delight. Molly dwarfed him – her withers were in line with the top of his head – but there was nothing to fear from her. He glanced along her bulging sides, noticing the small movement under her skin.
"She's – " what was the term? " – in foal?"
"Yup." Pammie beamed. "Due any day now."
"Marvellous." Sam was grinning like a little kid.
"Help me get her back to her stable, then we'll have a drink, okay?"
"Sure." Sam took the lead rope without hesitation, thrilled when Molly amiably moved in the direction of his gentle tug.
"I think he'll be fine," Pammie chuckled in an undertone to Toby. "You get his gear inside then put the kettle on."
"Yes, m'am." Toby raised a sardonic eyebrow, "You're as big a bossy boots as your father."
Pammie laughed.
"Wilma taught me everything I know about command."
She left Toby to unpack the car then ambled off to show Sam the way to the stables...
© 2004 July 15th Lutra
Darkside
© 2004 WaveWrights