Miracle - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

The council had called a recess, but no one was leaving the Hall. I think they wanted to stick around just to taunt Ezra. I heard cries of "Traitor!" and "Demon!" coming from the back.
His guards had removed the halo from his head, and had taken the manacles off too. Even with everything I was facing, watching them let him go filled me with relief.
We'd been escorted right past one another, him to his family waiting at the front of the crowd, and me to the criminal box. He'd tried to reach for me, to talk to me, and the guard slapped him in the chest with his baton.
"Not one word, sinner. Rites aren't over yet, I'll gladly rip your tongue out myself."
But they couldn't stop me from thinking to him, now that the halo was off. I'm so sorry, Ezra, for everything. But I'm going to make it right! There's finally something I can do for you. Please, don't get into any more trouble because of me.
He gazed at me as if every muscle in his face had gone numb, even as his sister Ruth hugged him and tried to hide her tears. Ariel stood stiffly, and he and Ezra didn't look at each other. Now that they were standing together, I could see that Ariel was shorter. Of course, he'd have to be since he wasn't Reserved. Otherwise he couldn't have been out in the human world sixty-some-odd years ago, meeting with women like Mrs. Moss.
Since Absalom wasn't at the bench, I risked a glance at the Swan. Maybe not a great idea since we still had an unfortunate effect on one another, even in a room as full as this. But he inclined his head as our eyes met. I hoped he'd found the note I'd left in his guest room, and the bottle of blocker formula—he'd get more use of it than I would now. He was the reason Ezra had escaped castration, and that his execution had been stayed. He'd risked so much to do it, maybe more than anyone here would ever know. He'd earned that spray bottle and then some.
Ezra, make sure you take good care of our friend, okay?
Ezra's features contracted as he caught my meaning.
Maddy, too. She was going to be so mad at me when she found out. I was glad she wasn't here. I hoped she was in class all afternoon having fun with her friends, and that she hadn't watched any of this on television. I hoped no one had told her yet.
Even though part of me wished I could see her. Because man, was I scared. Ezra closed his eyes and stood there like all of the life had gone out of him. I tried sending him more encouraging thoughts, but he didn't move. Finally Ariel elbowed him in the side and muttered, and whatever it was he said, Ezra shifted, scowled, and stepped away.
It felt like a long time before the door behind the council bench opened, and the council members in their emerald green togas filed back to their seats. A hush fell over the room.
I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. The Swan had said punishments were carried out immediately. Would they do the flogging first, or the blinding? Were they going to do it here in the Hall in front of everyone? My palms were clammy.
"Thank you for your patience, everyone," Absalom said into his microphone. "As this is the first proxy case our people have seen in several centuries, we wanted to review the law carefully before proceeding.
"It was our first thought," he nodded down the row of council Seats, "to offer immediate execution in lieu of the other punishments, since extinction of the Mekas bloodline is no longer a factor. However, scripture dictates that a proxy must receive every consequence that was intended for the sinner in full; no more, and no less.
"This has proven a dilemma, as the Eljo is human and punishments cannot be applied the same way if they are to achieve the same ends. After considerable research and debate, we have settled upon these adjustments.
"The proxy will be taken to the Justice Center for flagellation. It has come to our attention," did he just narrow his eyes at Ezra? "...that the flogger is calibrated for Nephilim physiology, and for a human, the second-degree setting will most certainly cause third degree burns, or possibly cut through him."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Therefore, prior to applying the lashes, the council commands the Justice technician to recalibrate the laser, in order to inflict wounds no greater than those a Nephilim would sustain." He locked eyes with one of the guards standing next to me, and waited for him to nod acknowledgement before continuing.
"As for deprivation, we have concluded that it is moot. Ezrael Mekas was to be deprived of angelic abilities, rendering him equal in capacity to a human. As the proxy is human, this punishment cannot legally be commuted to another ability."
Then they wouldn't blind me? But only because as far as they were concerned, I was already living with the disability they'd planned for Ezra. Lucky me, I guess?
"Even though the Mekas lineage is no longer affected, the terms for the stay of execution must remain unchanged, as well as the requirement of restitution in captivity to Elioud Biogenesis.
"However, the restitution was intended to benefit our community until such time as execution is carried out. Since the proxy can only serve as a research subject, his physical health is at risk in a way Mekas' would not be.
"This is the consideration that has given us the most trouble." Absalom looked down the row of council Seats again, and a few of them looked disgruntled. "However, because I conserved my vote earlier I had two to cast on this matter, preventing a tie.
"Ezrael Mekas, step forward."
Wait. No, they'd said I could proxy! They couldn't take that back! Ezra stepped up to the podium, his features impossible to read, and my stomach filled with cramps of dread.
"All of us have deep reservations about releasing you. The disregard you have shown for the laws and safety of your people is highly problematic. How are we to be sure you will not betray us again?"
"He won't!" I called out. "He only did it for me, so—"
One of the guards whacked me on the head hard enough to make me whimper. Why did Nephilim have to be so damn strong? Ezra bristled and his fists clenched, like he was about to jump the guy.
Absalom frowned. Guess I wasn't allowed to talk either, now that I was sitting in the box of shame. "As a matter of fact, Eljo, most of us believe that as well. We think you may be our best insurance for keeping Ezrael in line."
Ezra and I exchanged glances. What does that mean?
"Over the years, this council has denied fourteen petitions to license Connor Hayes to Ezrael Mekas as a pet. We are now inclined to revive the most recent of these petitions, and grant it."
I think every person in the Hall had their jaw hanging. Me and Ezra most of all. And Ariel muttered under his breath, "You've got to be shitting me."
"The Eljo will become joint property of Elioud Biogenesis and Ezrael Mekas. As his legal sponsor, Mekas will have limited authority over the procedures the Eljo is subjected to. In the event that Mekas can demonstrate an unreasonable risk to the Eljo's health or safety, he may veto the Eljo's participation in that procedure."
Oh my God oh my God. I was trying to pay attention, but the only words that registered were legal sponsor. After all this, they were going to let Ezra have me? For real? I'd gladly take a hundred beatings for that to come true.
The crowd didn't seem to know what to think. Ariel looked furious. The Swan had covered his mouth with both hands, gazing at Absalom with adoration.
"Mekas will be accountable for the Eljo's conduct within the Nephilim community, ensuring he obeys our laws and submits to the institute's directions. He will have physical custody of the Eljo, and be responsible for his daily upkeep. When execution becomes appropriate, he will deliver the Eljo to the Justice Center.
"Should Mekas break Reservation or any other law, or should he decide to leave employment at the institute, he will forfeit his pet license and the Eljo will become exclusively the property of Elioud Biogenesis, to do with as they see fit."
Ariel flexed his fingers so that his knuckles cracked, and the popping sound echoed through the Hall. I wasn't sure who he was trying to intimidate, me or Ezra or the council.
"The license will become effective at midnight, after flagellation is finished. From that moment on, sinner, the Eljo's life will be in your hands."
Ezra looked over at me, his black eyes uneasy as a thunderstorm. I couldn't tell if he was happy with the prospect.
"Though the council is divided on this issue, it seems to me this is the best way to preserve the integrity of the proxy sentence, as well as ensure the ongoing safety of the Nephilim community. I hope," he fixed Ezra with a hard stare, "that you are going to prove me right."
Then Absalom turned to me, his eyes narrowing. "One last thing. Eljo, do you see that man in white, standing just there?" He pointed directly at the Swan.
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Do you know him?"
Crap, how was I supposed to answer? I wasn't going to let anyone else get in trouble for my sake. "Uh. No, sir."
"Are you sure? You've never seen him before?"
I met the Swan's blue eyes and bit my lip. What did he want me to say? "No, sir. It's just that..."
"That what?"
"I, um... He... makes me feel strange." Understatement. But at least the blush creeping up my neck was no lie. The Swan's lips pressed together with amusement, and Absalom snorted.
"Does he, now?" He continued to examine both of us for a moment before giving a sigh. "Very well, that is all. Guards, please escort the Eljo to the Justice Center. These rites are concluded."
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For the record? Laser flogging is indescribably painful.
The first lash, which only burned a few inches of skin on my upper shoulder, made me scream. And for the next ten minutes, I couldn't stop screaming. The fifteen second intervals between lashes were the worst part—it was just enough time for the initial shock to pass, and the blinding pain to set in, and the terrified anticipation of the next one to build, before it was happening again. And the agony of each burn kept intensifying as the minutes went by, because that's how skin damage works.
They put the burns on diagonally, from my upper right shoulder to my lower left hip. I was lying on my stomach on a hospital-type table, with my face strapped into a cushioned ring and my arms and legs belted down. They'd covered all of me, except my exposed back, with a heavy metallic blanket that I think was meant to prevent the laser from burning the wrong parts. The whole set-up was ironically neat and clinical. As if it was a medical procedure, and not torture. I was alone in the room, which had one-way mirrored glass for one wall so that people who enjoyed watching this sort of thing could stand out there and witness the show.
By the time they were half done, I think I was passing out in between the lashes. I was exhausted, the burns they'd already given me were excruciating, I couldn't seem to catch my breath from screaming, and my brain was outright refusing to participate anymore. I think in that moment I would have been relieved if they'd drowned me instead.
It was no wonder they'd refused to begin the flogging until I'd emptied my bowels into one of their way-too-tall prison toilets. I already had nothing in my stomach, so they hadn't had to induce vomiting, but if there had been anything at all in my system it would most certainly be on the floor right now. I'd thought that counting the lashes would help me get through them, but I got lost in the tidal waves of pain somewhere around number eighteen, and couldn't keep up. Eventually it just felt neverending. I'd entered hell, that's all I could think of. This was what hell was like.
At some point I guess they'd delivered the last one, because I blacked out and was permitted to stay there. I drifted in and out of a haze of misery, half lucid dreams that my back was on fire, that my body was skinless. At one point the flames took the shape of wriggling snakes, sinking fangs into my shoulders and spine. I was a blazing block of ice, achingly cold in my core, with my skin an inferno. I cried until my eyes were as molten hot as the rest of me, my body quivered and spasmed to the point I was so weak and tired I couldn't remember my own name.
That is, until Ezra's hoarse voice cut through everything else. "Connor?" I felt a soft touch on my forearm, another on the side of my head. I was trying to get my eyes open when he gasped and snarled.
"God Almighty, he's in so much pain! You haven't given him any codeine?"
"Against the rules," a disinterested man replied.
"Those rules are for Nephilim, you bastard. Connor doesn't have our healing abilities! You've left him like this for two hours? Are you a devil?! Dose him, now!"
"Can't. Codeine's a controlled substance."
"I'm a doctor, and his sponsor. I'll write a prescription."
"You're not a Justice Center medic."
"Find one, then!"
"They're all off until tomorrow. It's midnight. If you're so worried about the kid, traitor, maybe you shouldn't have let him take your punishment for you, huh?"
"I hope God smites your merciless seed with leprosy for fifteen generations. Get out of my way." The gentle hands came back, and this time I did get my eyelids open a little. Ezra was stroking my hair, his eyes bloodshot and glimmering with sadness. "I'm going to lift you up, Connor. I'll be careful, okay? Don't be afraid."
Is it over? I asked wearily.
"Yes. Yes, it's all over, and as soon as we get home I'm going to make the pain stop."
I'm going home with you?
"That's right."
I couldn't help but smile, and I curled my fingers around his. Then... I'm yours now.
He closed his eyes for a second and something worked in his throat. But he didn't reply, just kept hold of my hand and stood. I floated up off of the table, into his arms. I didn't have a shirt on, and even that small bit of movement set off a hundred cruel wildfires across my back. But I put my arms around his neck, and the bright lemony smell of him was so comforting I knew I could endure it.
We left the building, just the two of us. It was dark outside, and chilly. The air on my back was both painful and relieving, because the cold helped soothe the fiery burning. I kept my eyes closed, and I think Ezra was levitating us to wherever we were going, because other than the night breeze rushing around us there was no bumping or jostling.
I must have fallen asleep in his arms, because next thing I knew he was settling me onto my stomach in a soft bed. There was a pinprick in my upper arm, which made me whine in protest. When I squinted up at him, he was withdrawing a syringe.
"There," he said roughly, touching my hair. "It should feel better in a minute."
It did. The pain faded into blissful numbness, and I passed out.
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Hunger eventually woke me. I opened my eyes and found myself in a simple, small bedroom, with beige walls and cream-colored carpet. There wasn't much furniture other than the four-poster bed I was in, a nightstand next to it, and a tall dresser standing beside louvered closet doors. It was really warm in here, because a small electric heater sitting on top of the dresser was blowing hot air into the room. I pushed myself onto one elbow, feeling a funny shifting along my back.
I reached up and my fingers found the edge of a bandage. It had been taped to my shoulders, and behind my neck. But there was no pain. Other than my angrily growling stomach, everything felt tingly and kind of... nice. I didn't have an erection, and it was ridiculous how pleasant that discovery was.
I sat up a little more as the door opened. Ezra came hurrying in when he saw me awake. "You shouldn't be up yet. What's wrong, does it hurt?"
"I'm hungry."
His eyes widened. "Oh. Lie back down, I'll bring food."
"I feel fine," I said, frowning.
"That's the medicine. But you need to stay in bed so your blisters don't burst."
"Blisters?" I said wonderingly, turning my head. That was dumb, I wasn't going to be able to see myself.
"That's right. Be good and lie down."
"Why is it so hot in here?"
"Your body can't regulate its temperature yet. There's risk of hypothermia."
Jesus, how bad was it, then? And what kind of miracle drug was he giving me, that I couldn't feel injuries that serious?
"Wait a bit," he said, adjusting a setting on the heater. "I'll bring you a sandwich. Or would you rather have instant noodles? I know you like them."
I wasn't sure what made him think that. I guess he'd seen me eating them often. I got the feeling Ezra didn't understand what it was like to grow up poor. "Anything's fine," I told him.
He came back with peanut butter and jelly, which he had cut into bite-sized squares like he was feeding a toddler. I was going to tease him for it until he made it clear he wasn't going to let me sit up to eat. Then I had to appreciate his thoughtfulness, because the individual pieces were much easier to handle while lying on my stomach.
"What about when I have to go to the bathroom?" I asked, after finishing a sip of orange juice from a straw he held to my lips.
"I have a bedpan."
"Hell, no!" I exclaimed.
He looked genuinely surprised. "Why not?"
"I'm not shitting in a plastic dish." Especially not in front of you.
"You're wounded. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"Easy for you to say. I'm not doing it." I finished the last bite of sandwich and while my mouth was still stuffed asked, "Can I have another one?"
Three sandwiches and a plate of apple slices later, my belly was finally full. Ezra gave me a few pills in a cup and had me take them. Then he asked me to lie still while he changed my bandage.
It didn't sting when he peeled the tape up, which was pretty cool. I guess his magic pain meds could even take care of the minor stuff. Once the bandage was off and my back was exposed to the air, I could feel spots of cold here and there. Ezra used some kind of cotton swab held in long tweezers to spread ointment over those. When he dropped the used cotton onto a tray on the nightstand, I could see streaks of blood.
I guess he hadn't been exaggerating.
He dotted another substance in diagonal stripes across my back, a little at a time. None of it hurt, the only uncomfortable sensation was a gross squish every now and then. But when he was done he rolled out a length of gauze, trimmed it with scissors and laid it very gently over my back, taping it down. The dirty one that he set into the tray with the swabs had yellow and brown stains.
"You're feeling okay?" he asked.
"Hop inside my head and see for yourself."
He laid two fingers on my wrist, and his eyes went unfocused for a moment. I watched the black of his pupils constrict down so that the warmer shade of his irises took over. I took the opportunity to study him, because while his complexion wasn't gray he had deep shadows and creases under his eyes, like he wasn't feeling well. His eyelids were papery thin and veiny, like they were wearing out from too much use. Or maybe not enough use—when was the last time he'd slept? He made a satisfied sound, and then his pupils normalized and honed in on me. "Good."
"See? It doesn't feel like anything."
"I'm glad." Then shadows lengthened across his face and the muscles of his jaw tightened up. "Connor, I don't understand why you did this. You shouldn't have. I don't deserve—" He swallowed and took his fingers away. "I've sinned against you most of all."
"Why, because you made me?"
He drew an unsteady breath, like he'd been preparing for this. "My first day at Elioud Biogenesis, I misread your mother's lab results. By the time they caught it, she'd already received the infusion."
"Okay," I said.
"I was half assing it because I thought the task they'd given me was beneath someone of my intelligence. I was conceited, and stupid."
"Well, I wouldn't put it like—"
"Male Eljo are one of the worst torments my people have inflicted on humanity. Most kill themselves, if they're not torn to pieces by other humans first. My father had come up with the tech to make them one hundred percent preventable. It was the biggest breakthrough in the Bride program in centuries. Yet in ten seconds of arrogance, I fucked it up and made you."
I might have been offended, except that he was so upset he couldn't even look at me. His whole upper body was curled into itself, like he wished he could disappear. All I wanted to do was hug him.
"Everyone shrugged it off. Said nature would take care of it. I was forbidden from telling anyone outside the institute that it had happened. Father claimed he'd made dozens of male Eljo in his career, and they'd all resolved on their own."
If by 'resolved,' he was referring to what had happened to Timmy Riker...? Ariel was such an asshole.
"I couldn't abandon you. You were an innocent creature that I'd doomed to a terrible fate. The day you were born, I swore to protect you until I could undo what I'd done."
So all that work to find a cure hadn't been about his mother?
"But Connor," he still couldn't meet my eyes, "I'm no hero. This has always been my fault. I was prepared to pay for it, why did you—?"
"Because I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you," I cut in.
"If not for me, you'd never have been in danger!"
"No, I wouldn't have been born. There's no way Mom would have had Maddy and me if she wasn't getting that Elioud Biogenesis money. She would have aborted us. Or dumped us in the trash as soon as we came out of her."
"That's not true."
I was absolutely certain of it, but whatever. "Okay, let's assume for a second that I was born a normal kid, so you never had reason to think of me again. Do you remember Felix? What do you think he would have done to me, if you hadn't been there?"
I could see that hadn't occurred to him.
"What did you end up doing with him, anyway? He never came back after that night."
Ezra's eyes slid over to me, sideways. "I dropped him off somewhere else."
"Like, a police station?"
"No. Over the Red River."
I blinked, trying to decide if he was joking. I didn't get the feeling he was. After digesting that—and thinking how good it was that his people had never found out about it—I gave him a little grin. "And you say you're not a hero."
"I'm not." He was looking at the bandage on my back, his features strained.
"You're my hero," I responded firmly. "So how about we just say we're even now?"
"Even? You're going to be executed because of me."
"You were willing to die for me first," I pointed out. "How is that different?"
"Michael's balls, you really like to argue."
"I'm not arguing, I'm explaining why you're wrong."
He sighed and sat back. "I'm leaving. You should get more sleep."
"I'm tired of sleeping!"
"I can bring you a tablet to watch a movie, if you want."
"Do you have any books?"
"Not that you'd be interested in." He sounded apologetic.
"What kind are they?"
"Medical journals, mostly."
"That'd be fine."
He gave me an incredulous look, but when I insisted, he left the room and came back with a stack of paper-bound volumes with titles like Journal of Reproductive Biotechnology and Fertility, and Neo-Angelic Journal of Clinical Reproductive Sciences.
"I meant to put together a real library for you before you got here," he said, setting the books down next to me. "You like fantasy and science fiction, right?"
"And science." I picked up the journal on top, which had a gray cover and an image of Leonardo Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man on the front.
"Those are pretty advanced," Ezra said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dry stuff, I'm not sure you'll—"
"What's cortical granule exocytosis?"
"Uh... cortical granules fuse with the membrane of an oocyte after fertilization, and release their contents into the extracellular matrix. It, uh, prevents polyspermy." He was making a wry face, like he didn't know how to explain it in easy terms. But I didn't need him to.
"This says it's triggered by a sperm factor phospholipase."
"That's right. Alongside several other reactions."
"Cool. These dudes really used mouse eggs to test human sperm?"
"It's a common research methodology. Nephilim use it too."
I had the book tilted sideways so I could read it without lifting my head, but when I turned the page I had to twist into a different angle to see the left hand side. "This whole article is about mouse eggs," I declared after getting to the bottom of the page. "Somebody wrote an entire paper on how to thaw frozen ones so that they'll still react to sperm like they're supposed to." I turned my wrist again to read the right side. "How does that make for a good experiment? If it fails, wouldn't you have to spend a hell of a long time figuring out whether it was the egg or the sperm that didn't work?"
Ezra didn't answer, and I looked up to see him staring. "What?"
"You're going to hurt yourself." He nodded toward my weirdly angled wrist, then held out a hand. "You want me to read it to you?"
"Would you?" Honestly, I'd be happy to listen to him read junk mail if it meant he'd stay with me. This was even better. I handed the book over, then started wiggling sideways on the bed, toward the wall.
"Don't move around like that, your back..."
"I'm just making room. Sit here." I patted the mattress next to me. The bed was queen sized, so there was space for both of us.
"That's not safe."
"Sure it is. You're not going to hurt me just by sitting down." When he didn't move, I borrowed shamelessly from the Swan's repertoire and gave him the most entreating pout I could muster. "Please?"
He sat, gingerly at first, but I tugged at him until he'd drawn his legs up on the bed beside me, with a couple pillows behind him for support. When he seemed settled, I scooted in close and laid my head in his lap.
His thigh tensed under my cheek, but I flung an arm over his legs and snuggled into him. "There, that's perfect." I didn't even try to disguise my happiness. "Be my pillow for a while? I promise I'll lay nice and still."
I felt him take a breath behind my head. But he didn't argue, or push me away. I heard the pages of the book rustling. "Research question," he rumbled softly above me. "To what extent is the calcium cation activation potential of mouse oocytes affected by differing methods of vitrification warming?"
I closed my eyes with a blissful smile.