Secrets In Blood

CHAPTER 1

WHERE’S YOUR MOTHER? asked Gaar.

Trinity shook her head.  Leaving her mom at the encampment had been the hardest thing that she’d ever done, but she’d had no choice.  The Almightys had implanted tracking devices inside all adult Producers.  It would lead the Almightys right to them.  So, she’d left her mom behind to be slaughtered and eaten. 

She had to focus on something else or the tears would come.  She turned her head and stared at the carnage that had once been Troy.  Mirra must not be very hungry because she was digging through his carcass looking for the choice parts and tossing aside the rest. 

We need to leave.  The Almightys will send their Guards soon.  Something like this—Gaar pointed at the body—will not stay a secret for very long.

Neither would the four dead Producers inside the camp, but she wasn’t ready to talk about that either.  Those deaths were her fault.  If she hadn’t left or hadn’t come back, they’d all still be alive. 

Mirra, you need to go back the way we came and cover our scent.  When you get to the Finishing Camp, get rid of those bodies, he said.

Mirra free Nirankan and others, said Mirra.

Not yet.  Gaar’s voice was harsh, commanding.

The Tracker looked at him and snarled.  He stood straighter and bared his teeth.  Mirra slowly lowered her lips, a low growl rumbling through her chest.

Soon.  His voice was softer now.  Little One and I need to lead the Guards in the other direction.  Find us when you’re done and we’ll drop Little One off at the Finishing Camp.  Then, we’ll free the Trackers.  I promise.

Mirra hissed.

We have to keep Little One safe, right?  His black eyes gleamed.  If you bump into any Guards near the camp, kill them.

Mirra smiled, her teeth white in her bloody face, and darted off into the brush.  Trinity followed Gaar in the opposite direction.

She’s getting harder to control, she said. Maybe, you should give her the serum.

Can’t.  She needs to be strong.  This journey is not going to be easy.

All because of her.  Sure, she’d helped them locate others of their kind, but other-than-that she’d been nothing but trouble.  They now had a group of teenage Producers to lead through the forest and they were going to be hunted by the Almightys’ Guards, a lot of them.  With five dead Producers, Benedictine, the Almighty who ran their camp, would send out all of his Guards.  He wouldn’t let that much meat go to waste without someone paying for it.  Her lip curled.  That was all the Producers were to them, meat.  The Almightys and the Guards were her enemies and she needed to remember that.

CHAPTER 2

HIGH HUGH TRUENT STUMBLED out of his carriage at his mother’s house, brushing lint off the sleeve of his jacket.  He ran his hand through his thick, black hair.  He was as presentable as he was going to be.  He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the crisp morning air and clearing the cobwebs from his sleepy brain. 

Sue and Reese, secure the carriage and then meet us in the house, said Buddy, his eldest and most trusted Guard, to his other two Guards.

I can’t believe I had to leave my bed in the middle of the night in order to rein in Mother’s House Servant, he said as he strode toward the door, Buddy right behind him.

It’s dawn, sir, corrected Buddy.

He looked down his nose at Buddy.  The Guard was a good foot shorter than his five-foot eleven-inch frame, but whereas he was lean muscle Buddy was as solid as a concrete block, bred for protection not speed.  Buddy’s hair was grayer than black these days, especially his beard but the Guard was still an early riser.  He, on the other hand, was not a morning person.  To him dawn might as well be the middle of the night. 

They entered the house.  The foyer was large and mostly unadorned.  His mother had already given away many of her possessions to various charities, to Little Sarah’s dismay.  Mom was dying and Little Sarah had already been counting her riches but what she’d forgotten to count was their mother’s love of irritating her daughter.

If this is one of Little Sarah’s over exaggerations, I’ll strangle her.  He and his sister were not the best of friends.  They were too different.  He found it hard to believe that they’d grown up in the same household.  She even liked the ‘Little’ before her name.  He had especially hated that family tradition of naming the first born son and daughter after the parents and adding Little to their names.  He’d dropped the moniker in high school.  He’d considered doing it when he was eight, but at that age he’d still hoped that he could please his father.

Your sister was quite insistent that it was an emergency, said Buddy.

Save me from Little Sarah’s emergencies.  She thinks it’s an emergency when she runs out of butter, he muttered.

Your emergency is a stained jacket.

Tell me again, why I keep you around? he asked, glancing at the Guard out of the corner of his eye. 

To keep you humble.

He chuckled and slapped Buddy on the shoulder.  The old Guard always knew just what to say to brighten his mood.  That’s true, but what you’ll never understand is that with certain jackets a stain is an emergency.

Hugh, thank Araldo you’re here, said Little Sarah as she hurried across the foyer, her brown hair tied back in a neat bun and her slight frame almost lost in her long, flowing robe.  He’d never understand her.  Most Almightys only wore the robes for ceremonial occasions, but his sister dressed in them daily.  She grabbed his arm, leading him to the library.

It was nice to see that his mother had not gotten rid of the books yet.  This had been one of his favorite rooms, a place to while away the hours when hiding from his father.  She directed him to the desk where she had the tracking program up and running. 

See, see the dot.  That’s Tim.  She pointed to the screen. 

It says he’s upstairs.  He was going to kill her.  For this, he’d left the comfort and warmth of his bed and Viola.  A small smile played about his lips.  He couldn’t wait to go back home and wake her, slowly.

What?  No.  He is not here.  I looked everywhere for him and even asked Mother.  She said that he went out during the night.  He is not supposed to do that, especially that late.

Poor Tim.  The House Servant was going to live with Little Sarah when Mom passed.  That was going to be difficult.  Mom let Tim do whatever he wanted, whereas Little Sarah was strict with the other classes just like their father had been.

I’m telling you.  He was not here a few minutes ago, she said.

He sighed.  And why is that an emergency?  A wandering House Servant is not that uncommon.

They’re not supposed to be out alone, you know that.

Really?  You woke me for this?  I’m leaving.

It is illegal, she whispered.  What would happen to your career if Mother’s House Servant was up to something that he shouldn’t be?  They would not look kindly on you for that.  You, the rising star, the youngest ever to be bestowed with the title of ‘High.’

He scratched his chin.  She did have a point.  He’d developed the new tracking device so that Almightys did not have this issue.  House Servants, Guards, Stockers, and Grunts were not allowed to wander about, especially at night.  It was dangerous.  He gently pushed Little Sarah to the side and sat at the desk.  He keyed in a few codes and the screen changed.  There was a map and many small dots.

She peered over his shoulder.  How’d you do that? 

This couldn’t be right.  He verified that the dot he was looking at was Tim’s number.  Buddy, take a look at this.

The Guard walked over and stood behind him.  He whistled.  Our Tim has been busy.

Are all those dots Tim? she asked.  How can that be?

Go and check this out.  He tapped a section on the screen. 

On my way, said Buddy.  Do you want me to take—

Alone, he said.  And keep it quiet.  Hurry and report back to me.

I was right, wasn’t I? she asked, a hint of smugness in her tone.

He leaned back, staring at the screen.  He’d never hear the end of how she’d been right.  It went against years of sibling rivalry to admit it, but he was nothing if not fair.  Yes, you were...correct.  Tim has been up to no good.

I told you.  I told Mother, too.  As a matter of fact, I am going to go and speak—

No.  This stays between us for now.  I have to find out exactly what Tim has been up to.

Why not ask him?

He looked into her soft green eyes, so like their mother’s.  She was a pain but she was kind-hearted and more than a bit naïve.  He’ll lie.

Tim wouldn’t lie to us.

He closed his eyes for a second and prayed for patience.  If he doesn’t want us to find out what he’s been doing, he will.  Go and make me some breakfast.  He leaned forward to study the screen again.  And send Sue and Reese in here. 

She stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot.  She was fifteen years older than him and sometimes acted more like a mother than a sister. 

Please, he added to get her to leave.

She huffed and walked out the door.

He typed in the date from a month ago and studied the new dots on the screen.  Tim had been a steady visitor to the East Side Producer Camp, but had only traveled to the garage once.

There was a knock and his other two Guards stepped into the library.  Sue was built for speed and endurance like all hunting Guards and her long legs ate up the ground as she strode into the room.  Reese walked quickly to keep up with the older Guard, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, swinging with each step.  She was a cross between some type of hunting Guard and Araldo only knew what else.  She was short and thin.  Not much use for protection or hunting, but he was fond of her.

I need you to guard Tim, he said.  If possible, don’t let him know, but no matter what don’t let him out of this house. 

Yes, sir, absolutely, said Reese.

He smiled at his youngest Guard.  She’d only been with him a couple of years.  Her previous master had not wanted her.  At eleven-years old, she was a nice addition, adding some youth and frivolity to his team.  She was still a bit nervous, but in time, she’d learn to fully trust him.

Tim will not suspect that he’s being watched.  Sue placed her hand on Reese’s shoulder. 

He nodded.  Sue had also been with him for only a few years, but she was much older and more settled.  He’d found her one winter evening, starving and lame.  She’d been used for hunting but after long days on the trail and little food took its toll on her body, she was dumped.  She was a kind, gentle Guard whose gratitude and loyalty toward him knew no bounds.

The two turned to leave.

Oh, and watch my mother too.  If she thinks you’re guarding Tim or that he’s in any kind of trouble, she’ll do whatever she can to help him.

Sue frowned.

I know you like her, Sue.  I love her, but I don’t trust her.  If she starts sending you on errands, get me or better yet, Little Sarah.  My sister will keep her in line.

Sue nodded, still frowning and the two left the room. 

He turned back to the computer and typed in dates.  Let’s see where you’ve been going these past few months.

An hour later, he poured himself a drink and ran his hand through his hair.  It was going to be a long day.  Timothy had been sneaking into the Producer encampment for at least the past six months.  That was as long as he had data.  What was Tim doing there?  He snorted.  Well, he knew what he was doing.  House Servants were notoriously randy, but mating with a Producer was disgusting even for a House Servant.  Interclass relations were illegal but not uncommon.  Shit, even Almightys had flings with House Servants or Guards, but he’d never heard of any class dabbling with Producers.

Buddy stepped into the library, his face red from the cold.

What did you discover at the garage?  He needed to know exactly what Tim had been doing.

Luckily, no one was there but an elderly Guard and he was sleeping.  I searched the area and found that one of the carriages was overrun with burrowing wasps.

That’s suspicious, he said, but not impossible.  He’d heard of wasp infestation happening between the bi-annual spraying.

I also found a log book, said Buddy.  The garage was inspected last week.

So, Tim turned burrowing wasps loose on a carriage.  He took a small sip of whiskey.  This was serious.  Who’s carriage?

Benedictine Remore’s, answered Buddy.

He’s in charge of the Producer encampment on the east side, isn’t he?

Yes, said Buddy.

Take a look at the screen.  It’s the data from the last six months.  He pushed away from the desk.  The pieces were coming together but the picture was still not clear.  He needed more information. 

Buddy walked over to the desk.  Tim has been spending a lot of time in Benedictine’s encampment.

He stood and began to pace.  This doesn’t make sense.  Why would Tim risk everything for a Producer?

Buddy shrugged.  He’s an idiot?

Tim’s not an idiot.  He’s frustrating and annoying, but not stupid.  There is more to this.  He wouldn’t destroy an Almighty’s carriage over a fling with a Producer.  He stopped pacing and tapped his fingers on the desk.  I need you to go to the encampment and poke around.  According to the records, Tim has been visiting a hut where a Millie and Remy live.  Find out which one Tim has been seeing.  My money is on Millie since Tim is only there at night and he doesn’t seem the type to take up with a male.  Meet these Producers and if you can, find out how long Tim has been visiting.

Buddy nodded and turned to leave.

This could ruin me.  It’s bad enough to have a House Servant in the family who roams the streets at night, unaltered as the day he was born, but to have one who lies in wait and vandalizes Almighty property.  He ran his hand through his hair again.  Who’ll buy my tracking equipment when I can’t control my own Servants?

He’s not your Servant, said Buddy.

It doesn’t matter.  You know that.  He’s my mother’s and my father is dead.  So, as the only son he’s my problem.

As of right now, no one knows anything.  We’ll keep it that way, said Buddy.

He took a deep breath.  You’re right.  No need to panic.  He smirked and shook his head as he sat and pulled paper and pen from the desk.  Burrowing wasps.  That Tim is a real joker.  Those are nasty little creatures.  He scribbled a note and then looked at Buddy.  How did he even catch them?  It’s not like they sell them at the store.

I would have paid to see that.  I bet he has quite a few stings, said Buddy.

Before you go to the encampment, take my carriage to Benedictine with this letter.  He slid the paper into an envelope, sealed it and handed it to Buddy.  But first, take a couple of Grunts along and cart away the wasp infected carriage.

What do you want me to do with it? asked Buddy.

Burn it, of course.  If he destroyed the evidence, no one could find out what Tim had done.

The Grunts are going to love that job, said Buddy as he walked to the door and stopped.  What if Benedictine wants his old carriage?

Don’t worry.  It’s in the note.  It seems that one of our Grunts accidentally rammed his carriage.

Buddy raised his eyebrows.  Who was driving, may I ask?

Reese, he said, trying to suppress a smile.

She’s going to love that.  Buddy chuckled. 

Oh, before you leave, send Reese to buy me a new carriage.

CHAPTER 3

THE LATE MORNING SUN beat through the window, warming Hugh’s shoulders as he sat, tapping a pen on the desk.  Buddy should have been back by now.  Time was very important in this situation.  If Tim had done something else, he needed to get in front of it before it ruined his career, his life.

His mother burst into the library, her small, frail frame tense with anger.  Hugh Matthew Truent, what do you think you’re doing keeping my House Servant under guard? 

Little Sarah, Tim and Sue followed her into the room.

Lovely to see you too, Mom.  The time for confrontation was now.  He stood and held a chair for her.  Please, have a seat.

"It would be nice to see you, if you weren’t torturing my Tim," she said as she sat.

He rolled his eyes.  Her Tim.  It had always been that way.  Tim had been treated like a member of the family instead of a Servant, except when his father was home.  He’d quickly learned that lesson.  His father had been fast to dole out punishment for what he deemed behavior not becoming an Almighty.

Tim stood behind Mom’s chair.  As with most House Servants, his frame was still lean and fit even though he was in his forties.  His dark brown hair fell below his collar and had yet to be visited by gray.  He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, probably to cover the welts from the wasps.  There were only a few small, red marks on his hands.  He must have worn gloves while capturing the insects.

Hugh walked to the liquor cabinet, staring at Tim as he spoke.  Anyone care for a drink.  You’ll probably need it before we’re done.

Little Sarah harrumphed.  It isn’t even lunch yet.

Still prim and proper.  I thought life would have tarnished you up a bit, like it has to the rest of us.  He could only stand so much of his sister’s better-than-thou attitude. 

I don’t use alcohol as a crutch, said Little Sarah.  That’s something that only the males in our family do.

Are you comparing me to Father?  His voice was low with anger.  He strived every day to be as little like his father as possible.

Make mine a double, said Mom. 

Really, Mother, do you think you should?  Little Sarah straightened in her chair.

He grinned at Little Sarah as he poured a drink for their mother.  Mom was a source of great annoyance to his sister, always had been.

Yes, I do.  And don’t go on about my health.  I’m dying and rather quickly too, so a glass of whiskey is not going to make any difference.  Mom accepted the drink and took a sip.  I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.  So what if Tim visits a friend now and again.

Are you also aware of his other nighttime activities?  His mother probably knew everything about Tim’s life but he had to ask. 

What are you talking about?  Mom patted Tim’s hand.

Why doesn’t Tim tell us?  He took a long swallow of his drink. 

Tim remained silent, staring straight ahead.

He mentally counted to ten.  The House Servant’s ability to completely ignore him pricked his temper like nothing else.  That was probably why Tim did it so often.  Do you have anything that you wish to explain?  Give your side of the events. 

Tim still did not speak.

Okay.  If you won’t talk, I will.  He held up a finger.  First, I know that you’ve been visiting a hut in the East Side Producers’ encampment.  He held up another finger.  Second, I know that you’ve been visiting either a Producer called Millie or one called Remy.  I’ll know which one when Buddy returns.

Tim didn’t even blink.

Was it only an odd attraction between a Producer and a House Servant?  He held up another finger.  Third, I know that this has been going on for quite some time.  Months.

Tim glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

He suppressed a smile.  Tim didn’t realize that his body housed the latest in tracking software.  During initial testing he’d needed more subjects.  So, unknown to his mother, he’d installed the new system in her Servants as well as his own.  It had worked out more advantageous than he’d imagined.  He held up another finger.  Fourth, I know that you visited the Lake of Sins Parking Garage last night.

Tim stood a little straighter. 

That got his attention.  Coincidentally, a carriage there was found to have been overrun with burrowing wasps.

Little Sarah gasped.

That can happen naturally, said Mom.

He walked toward Tim.  The problem with working with those creatures is that they will burrow into anything even flesh.  He grabbed Tim’s wrist, pushing up his sleeve. 

The House Servant’s arm was covered with red, oozing welts.

I’m calling the doctor, said Mom.

Don’t.  I’m fine.  Tim pulled away, pushing his shirt down. 

I’m sure he had a good reason.  Mom’s chin jutted out stubbornly

He ran his hand through his hair.  She didn’t realize how serious this was.  Tim, I’d really like to hear your side.  You are—he stopped himself before saying family—a good Servant to Mom.  This offense is not minor.  It is punishable by law and all the power lies in the hands of the offended party.

I’ll replace the carriage, said Mom.  That should settle it.

There was no reason to tell her that he’d already done that.  For anyone else, perhaps, but the Almighty who owns the carriage is Benedictine Remore.

Mom’s lips pursed in concentration and then realization set in like a slap to the face.  No.  He’s vile.  Cruel and—

Vindictive.  He tipped his head.  Just my point.

I can handle Benedictine.  Mom sat a little straighter in her chair.

You’re right.  You have the friends and position to handle Benedictine but what about once you’re dead?  He walked back to the desk.  He was tired of this game.  He wanted answers. 

Hugh, don’t say that, said Little Sarah.

Well, she is dying.  She tells us that enough.  It shouldn’t bother her to hear it.  Right, Mother?

Mom’s eyes narrowed.

He may have pushed too hard.  His mom was sharp.  He’d better tread lightly if he wanted any information.  Benedictine will insist on taking Tim.

I won’t let him.  Mom grasped Tim’s hand. 

You may be able to stop him while you’re alive but after you pass, who will champion your Tim then?  Little Sarah?  He refilled his glass.

I will not, exclaimed Little Sarah.  I don’t want him coming to my house at all now.

I always knew you were a nitwit but I thought you’d do the right thing in the end.  Mom stared at Little Sarah, the hurt clear in her green eyes. 

Little Sarah opened her mouth to speak and then shut it.

I guess you need me.  Don’t you, Mother?  His sister had played her hand as if he’d coached her.  He fought back a smug smile.  People were so easy to manipulate that it was almost no fun at all. 

Mom took a deep breath and then turned to him.  Are you going to make me beg?

His mother had never begged for anything.  He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Please, you have to help Tim.  I’m begging you, she said, without an ounce of pleading in her tone.

He barked out a laugh.  You need to work on your delivery.

Mom cocked her eyebrow and managed, somehow, to look down her nose at him which was an amazing feat since she sat and he stood.  He uncrossed his arms.  That one look sent him flying back to his boyhood.  He’d do anything for her.  She’d always been there for him and he’d never been a failure in her eyes as he had been in his father’s. 

If he tells me the truth, I’ll do what I can.  He took another sip of his whiskey. 

That’s not enough, said Mom.

That’s the best I can offer without knowing what he’s done.  I may not be able to cover it up.

There was a knock.  Sue, who was stationed by the entry, sniffed once and opened the door.  It’s Buddy.

I need to speak with you in private, said Buddy as he walked into the room.

Sue wouldn’t say anything and since it was about Tim, Mom probably already knew.  The only one who might speak outside this room would be his sister.  She would tell her husband.  Little Sarah, leave us.

What?  She looked at him and then her mother.  I have every right—

Now!  By the look on Buddy’s face, this was important.  He didn’t have time to placate her. 

Little Sarah’s face fell.  She stood, her back ramrod straight and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

He frowned.  He’d apologize later.  Go on, Buddy.

A young female Producer escaped the encampment last night and there is the possibility that she was involved with the killing of five Producers, said Buddy.

Tim glanced at Buddy and then quickly looked back at the wall.

Please tell me she didn’t live with Millie and Remy, he said.

No.  I mean, yes, said Buddy.  Remy does not live there.  He only visits.  Millie and Trinity live in the hut.

So, not only did our little Timothy sneak out at night and destroy a carriage owned by an Almighty, but he also helped a Producer escape, a suspected murderous Producer.  He wanted to pull out his hair.  This was bad, all sorts of bad.  If Tim did help this Producer, the matter was out of his hands.  Thank Araldo that he’d sent Little Sarah out of the room, she and her family did not need to be involved in this.  Sue, tell my sister to go home.  I’ll contact her when I can.

Sue left the room.

Benedictine will be at the encampment shortly.  The Lead Producers are hoping the young female is hiding somewhere in camp, but so far no luck, said Buddy.

He took a deep, calming breath.  This was a mess.  He could not cover up the escape.  His only hope was to hide Tim’s involvement.  How old was this Producer?

Probably around thirteen or fourteen.  This was her List year, said Buddy.

Tim’s jaw was tense and his shoulders stiff.  For some reason speaking of the female was pissing him off.

Hmmm.  He tapped his finger against his lips again.  "So, Tim, are you visiting both the mother and the daughter or only one of them?"  Tim didn’t seem the type to be involved with someone that much younger, but it could happen.

Tim was a taut as a bowstring.  A few more pokes and he would fire. 

Thirteen.  Is she sweet?  Her skin must be smooth and firm, her body supple.  He winked at the House Servant.

In a flash, Tim sprang, striking out with his claws and managing a slice across Hugh’s cheek before Buddy knocked the Servant across the room.  The two tangled and fought, snarling and grunting.  Tim was fast but the Guard outweighed him.

He touched his face and winced.  Damn, that hurt.  They should all be declawed.

Stop it, stop it, screamed Mom.  Hugh, do something.

Buddy was winning.  There was no reason to interfere.  Let Tim take a beating first.  When he didn’t move, she approached the fray. 

Mom, stop.  One glancing blow from either of them could cripple her. 

She ignored him.

Stand down, Buddy, he said.  Now!

Buddy backed away from the floored Tim, limping a little.  The House Servant stood and cracked his neck from side to side.  Both of them had bruises and cuts on their faces and hands.  Poor Buddy would feel this fight tomorrow.  He should have stopped it right away.  However, by the almost frantic expression on his mom’s face, it was time to push forward, not retreat.

Tim will tell me everything, or I’ll let Buddy kill him. 

Please, Tim.  Please, tell him.  Mom lovingly touched the Servant’s bruised face and started to cry.

Tim helped her back to her chair and knelt beside her.  Stop crying.  Please stop.  I never wanted you to get hurt.

I know.  She sobbed harder.

I’ll tell him everything about last night as long as he promises not to do anything that could harm Millie.

Hugh?  She looked up at him through her tears.

Fine.  He shouldn’t agree without more information, but he’d do anything to keep his mother from crying. 

Tim stood.  Millie has been my mate for years. 

Go on.  That was surprising.  He hadn’t realized that House Servants had it in their nature to be faithful to one mate, but it still didn’t explain about the escaped Producer. 

Trinity escaped into the forest.  She is...was supposed to return last night.  One of the Lead Producers found out she was missing and was going to report her.  I destroyed the carriage to buy her time to come back home.

She went into the forest on her own?  Why?  Wasn’t she frightened?  There really wasn’t anything dangerous in the woods.  Shit, besides Gaar and Mirra, the last Handler and Tracker, there wasn’t anything bigger than a fox, but it was a closely guarded lie perpetuated by the Almightys to keep the other classes in line.  Only the upper echelons of the Almightys were informed of the Necessary Truths.  He’d been told after he’d been bestowed with the title of ‘High.’  If the other classes were starting to disbelieve this lie, then they had bigger issues on their hands than a missing Producer.

There was a...situation between her and a couple of teenagers.  She’s never really fit in with the others.  Tim’s faced reddened and he shot a quick glance at Mom.

I need to know everything, or I won’t help.  They were hiding something. 

Mom nodded at Tim.

She’s going to be on the Harvest List.  She left to find out where the teenagers are taken when they are removed from camp.  Tim looked at him expectantly.

If Tim didn’t know what Producers were used for, he wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.  It was odd that his mother hadn’t.  He tried to catch her eye but she remained focused on Tim.

How do you know she’s going to be on the List?  The announcements aren’t made for another couple of weeks.

She’s not like the others.  Tim glanced at Mom again.

I still don’t understand.  Why did you risk everything to buy this Trinity some time?  Didn’t you realize how much trouble you’d get in for damaging an Almighty’s property?  He ran his hand through his hair.  Is this Millie’s first offspring?  He’d heard that Producers often got very attached to their first born.

Go on, Tim, coaxed Mom.

Tim sighed.  No.  Her last.  We will not have any more children.

We?  He couldn’t have heard correctly. 

Trinity is my daughter.

No.  That’s impossible.  He started to smile.  Tim had to be joking. 

You think you know everything, but you don’t, said Tim, smiling wearily.  "High Hugh, the genius.  The prodigy.  Well, there is a lot in this world that you know nothing about."

Tim was messing with him.  Those from different classes can mate but they cannot produce viable offspring.  He began to pace.  It’s a proven fact.  You’re mistaken. 

I’m not mistaken, said Tim.

How do you know that this Millie didn’t lie to you?  Poor besotted Tim.  Millie must have passed off another Producer’s offspring as his. 

She wouldn’t do that.  I am her only mate.  The children are mine. 

Children?  There are more?

Were.  Some were taken and others died years ago when the Terrible Sickness swept through the encampment.

Mom squeezed Tim’s hand.

What about Remy? asked Buddy.  He is her assigned mate.  I’m sure that they...

Tim stepped toward Buddy, but Mom kept a hold of his hand. 

She does not mate with Remy.  He is...

Mom visibly tightened her hold.

This does not leave the room, said Tim.

Hugh nodded slightly.  Whatever it was, Mom was concerned.

Remy is...well...not attracted to females, said Tim.

Ahhh.  Those types existed in all the classes, most of the time it was overlooked, although in a Producer it would be a death sentence.  Still, he needed proof of the offspring’s parentage.  If this is true, I need to see...your daughter.

I don’t know where she is, said Tim.  She was supposed to come back.  He looked to Buddy.  You said that there were deaths at the camp?

Five Producers all slaughtered, said the Guard.

Do you know who? asked Tim.

Buddy glanced at Hugh before answering.  Three Lead Producers.  Hector, Hap and Troy.

Tim’s face paled.  Troy was the Lead Producer who was going to sound the alarm.  I overheard him talking to the hairless Guard yesterday morning when I was leaving the camp.  He knew Trinity was gone and was going to tell Benedictine.

Who else was killed? asked Hugh.  This was not looking good for Trinity. 

Two young Producers.  Clarabelle and Randy.

No, said Tim.  Trinity wouldn’t do something like this.  She’s incapable of hurting anyone.  She has the kindest, gentlest heart.  He looked at Mom.  She’s always caring for injured creatures, rabbits, birds.

We need to find her.  Buddy, tell Reese to bring the carriage to the front of the house and then escort Tim to his room to pack a few belongings.

Buddy left.

He’s not leaving, said Mom.

Yes, he is.  Tim is going to be my guest while I attempt to find his daughter and save his mate.

What do you mean? asked Tim, suspiciously.

Benedictine is not going to be happy when he finds out there was an escape and killings at the camp.  He will punish those involved and the first suspect will be Trinity.  Since she isn’t around, Millie and Remy will answer for her.  It was amazing how little Tim and his mother understood their world.

I’m still not leaving.  There was a new hardness to Tim’s features.

Buddy and Sue came back into the library.

You didn’t expect to make it out of this alive, did you?  He snorted.  You did.  You thought that you and Millie could help an escapee and end up unharmed.  Incredible.  Tim had no idea what Benedictine was capable of doing, what his family had done in the past.

Tim glared at him but remained silent.

Well, guess what?  This is your lucky day.  I need you both alive and I can manipulate Benedictine.

Go with him, Tim, prodded Mom.

I’ll send the carriage back for you, Mother.  You can stay with me too, but right now, we have to hurry.  I need to get Tim secured at my place.  He held up his hand to stop both Tim and his mother from speaking.  It’s not safe for him here and, frankly, I don’t trust him not to sneak out. 

Mom glanced at Tim, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

He was right, they were planning an escape.  Tim was probably hoping to find Trinity himself.  If I don’t hurry, Millie will not survive.

What about Trinity? asked Tim.

He paused.  He’d rather have the offspring, but he didn’t have spare Guards to send looking for her.  I hope that I can find her, but right now, Millie is my first priority.  I know where she is and she is definitely in danger.  So, hurry and pack your things.  We need to move.

Tim kissed Mom on the cheek.  "I’ll see you