Paul Smith’s face was beaded with sweat when he returned. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid this particular set will be going up for auction this afternoon.”
“What’s his value?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
Jackson smiled at him, “Of course you’re not. Go back. Tell them I’ll double what he’s expected to bring in. Jackson Carmillan, just in case you didn’t know the name.” He didn’t hold out his hand for the introduction.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”
Jackson turned back to the cage. “C363M657.” The wolf tensed. “That’s a fucking mouthful. If you don’t have a name, think one up, otherwise I’m calling you Fido.”
Nothing. Not a twitch of the lips to show humor or anger. No tensing. No relaxing. Jackson sighed and turned his back on the cage. He hated this goddamned place.
Paul returned with shaking hands. “I’m sorry, sir. This batch is required to go to auction. This block will be up at 3, if you’d like to wait I can show you to our vip area.”
Ha. No. “No, thank you.” There was a rattle from the cage behind him. “I’ll wait right here and follow him to the auction block. I would prefer a chair brought to me here.”
“As you wish.”
Paul left and returned with a wooden folding chair. “Thank you.” Jackson settled in and watched Paul walk away. The chair was uncomfortable, the sun was only growing hotter, and Jackson was bored.
“These guys think I don’t know what happens when people are required to go to auction,” he muttered to the wolves behind him. “I’d go wait in the ‘vip area’ only for money to change hands in private and you to disappear.” Jackson laughed and tapped his knuckles against the cage. “Too bad I know how these guys work. C36M657.” The wolf tensed again. “It’s fine. You can speak.”
Nothing.
“Yeah, I guess they’re strict about that shit here.”
Nothing. Jackson stopped pushing for a reaction. He leaned back in his chair and let the sun bake his skin. The amount of people walking by was slowly increasing and he received several dirty looks for his chair being in the way. He just stared at them until they continued on. It went fine, until half an hour before the auction when a shadow fell across him.
Jackson sighed in annoyance and lifted his head from where he’d let it rest back against one of the iron bars. “Can I help you?” He asked the man standing before him.
The man straightened the sleeve of his suit. His hair was swept back and styled with something that made his hair look greasy. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. “Jackson Carmillan?”
“That’s me.”
The man smiled, showing off a set of perfect, too-white teeth. “Walk with me and let’s talk. I’ve heard you’re interested in C36M657?”
“I’ll be purchasing him in about,” he glanced at his watch, “24 minutes. And we can talk here just fine.”
The man hummed. “You won’t be able to purchase him. His starting bid is going to be much higher than any budget your daddy gave you for a new plaything.”
Jackson let out a low whistle. “Oh boy, you sure have me pegged.”
A scowl crossed the man’s lips for a fraction of a second, then his smile was back. “I can show you some other great options. Some who might be a better fit for what you’re looking for.”
“I’m looking for wolf C36M657. Can you show me him?”
The man’s smile tightened. “What are you looking for in a wolf?”
Jackson mentally applauded the man’s skill in keeping his voice smooth. “I definitely want a wolf skilled in fighting that has a second specialty as’ personal.’” When the man’s smile started to relax, Jackson continued, “Oh! And his ID number has to be C36M657. If I’m not mistaken, I’ve already found him.”
The man’s smile was cruel as he let out a short laugh. “He’ll kill you in seconds and belong to me anyway. So, sure. Go ahead and spend all of daddy’s money to out bid me and enjoy your purchase for the solid five minutes you own it.”
Jackson squinted at him and very deliberately cocked his head to the side. “Do you not know how the collars work? Are you sure you should be purchasing a wolf if you don’t even know how to control one?”
“You really think a simple shock will control one of those four?”
Jackson blinked at the man. He was completely thrown off by how this conversation was going. “Do… Uh, I hate to use this phrase, but do you not know who I am? I mean you said my name when you approached so I assumed you knew who you were talking to. Jackson Carmillan. Of Carmillan Collars. I think I have a better understanding of how the collars work than you do.”
The man sneered, “Of course I know who you are. Steve’s bratty son.”
“Great, then you’ll know that when I say I’ve decided on which wolf I’m buying, that means that I will be going home with my choice. You can either back off and go home or you can bid me up as much as you want, but it won’t change the outcome. I am leaving with him.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the wolf. “And you are not.”
The man stared at him with an ugly twist to his lips for several long moments then walked away without a word. Jackson waited until he was out of hearing range then snorted. “What an ass,” he said to the four behind him. There was no response. He realized then that one of the other three would probably go home with that man instead and fought the urge to apologize to them. If his dad heard about him apologizing to a wolf in public, then he’d never hear the end of it.
He checked his watch when he noticed several workers approaching the cage. The auction was about to begin.
Jackson signed in and grabbed a number. The four wolves were standing to the side of the stage. There was a man on either side of them, one holding a leash attached the collar, the other holding a small remote. Jackson found a seat near the front right as the first wolf was tugged forward by the leash.He held back a scowl when the wolf stumbled into the steps and nearly fell. The wolf had greasy hair that might have been blonde once, before the filth coated the strands. It wasn’t near as matted as C36M657’s though. If that was an attempt by the previous owner to make him look a little more presentable, sellable, then it missed the mark by a mile.“First up we have Werewolf number N17M115. A rare wolf from the Northern Mountains. Born in the wild, this fighter wolf has his instincts intact. Captured when he was 5, he was trained from a young age and has been fighting ever since hitting puberty. He has only ever lost one fight…” Jack
Jackson let the car idle for a moment as he dug through the middle console. Buried in the bottom and scratched to hell, he found his old pair of sunglasses. “Here. Put these on.”Wren squinted at what he held out, then carefully, he reached out and took them. His face relaxed as he slid the sunglasses on.“How long were you blindfolded?”Silence.All right. That’s fine. They’d brought in new wolves before who took a while to settle in. “Ok. Let’s just get you home so you can have a bath.” Wren tensed up at his words. “You have to look presentable before you meet my dad.”They drove home in silence. Wren was a tense statue beside him, not once did he turn his head to watch out the window. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t ask a single question about where they were going.Jackson felt a prickle of insecurity run down his spine at the utter stillness of his companion
Jackson was still in that position when his bedroom door opened. Without looking, he reached over and flipped the switch on the small box sitting on his bedside table. “It working?” “Yep,” Kia said. There was a tinkling of metal and glass. “So, how’d it go?” Jackson sat up and stared at Kia. She had her back turned to him and was slowly setting out dishes on his table. Her long hair was braided and twisted up into a bun. “Kia, I messed up.” She froze with a covered bowl halfway to the table. “What do you mean you messed up?” “Hurry up and finish.” She did then hopped on the bed with him. “What happened?” Her wide eyes were worried. Her lips tugged into a soft frown as he told her everything that had happened. “Jackson, you absolute dumbass. He’s been fighting since he was 8! Of course he’s not going to have the first clue on what he’s supposed to be doing!” “Ok, yeah sure… But Kia, that’s not the bad part. He can learn whatever
Jackson Carmillan of Carmillan Collars. The metal collar around his throat hadn’t felt so tight, so restrictive in a long time. I think I know how the collars work better than you do, the words echoed in Wren’s mind. Wren stayed on edge. He wasn’t going to trigger any anger in Jackson for as long as he could help it. Silence had always been his best friend. He couldn’t say the wrong thing if he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to guess the right choice if he just waited until the choice was made for him. He knew he stunk. He knew his hair had grown out to a better length but had become unmanageable in the process. The makeup caked on his face itched. He wanted to be clean, but he didn’t want the bath. His old owner was bad enough, a bucket of cold water tossed over him to clean off the blood after a fight and it was called a day, he didn’t want to know how the Carmillan heir treated his wolf. What his idea of a bath would be. Wren’s hair had been
Kia stacked their empty bowls back on the cart then migrated to the bed and the open laptop. Jackson dug through his bathroom drawers for a comb. It’d been awhile since his hair had been long enough to require a comb to tame it, but he knew he had one hidden somewhere.Wren sat in the wooden chair and didn’t move. Jackson wondered how his hair was taken care of before, though judging from the scars covering his face and the visible area of his arms, he’d take a guess that it wasn’t taken care of at all.Finding the comb, Jackson paused with a good bit of space between him and Wren. “Someone needs to comb the mats out of your hair. It’s your choice who does it; you, me, or Kia.”Wren didn’t say anything, but his shoulders tensed and his hands clenched into fists.“Choices might be difficult,” Kia spoke from where she was laying on the bed with his laptop open on her stomach. “I mean 24
Jackson flipped the switch on the bedside box as they left the room. “Come back in an hour with some lavender tea,” Jackson spoke clearly as soon as they stepped out into the hallway.“Yes, sir.” Kia blew him a kiss and laughed as she left.“Follow me.”Barely in his peripheral, Wren kept pace with him. Down the hallway, up another staircase. They stopped in front of a set of intricately carved double oak doors. Jackson ran a finger over the nose of a carving of a wolf and steeled himself before knocking.“Come in.”Jackson straightened up and opened the door. “Dad.”His dad was sitting behind his desk, bent over some paperwork. His glasses rested on the end of his nose. His dark hair was starting to gray around the edges. A shadow of stubble told Jackson enough about what kind of day he’d had, and he straightened his spine further.With a heavy sigh, his dad took
Wren almost cowered. The garden was so big. Flowers as far as he could see with small trails through them, some brick, some dirt. Every breath brought more information to him. Lavender, honeysuckle, lilies… Fresh, overturned soil. The pine trees in the distance. The sky was so high above. There were no walls to hide in. Nothing. Just space, and room… He focused on Jackson. Followed Jackson in the right position. Let his entire world shrink down to just Jackson.His panic diminished once they stepped into the gazebo. It was a small space. Enclosed. Safe.He loved being outside. He just needed a smaller amount of outside. But… Feeling that breeze. Listening to the leaves of the vines rustling. Slowly, his heart rate returned to normal and he risked looking up at Jackson.Jackson was completely turned away from him. Wren followed his line sight to see a little pond in the not too far distance. It’s surface was highlighted orange fro
Jackson opened the door across the hall from his room, then stepped aside and gestured for Wren to step in ahead of him. Wren hesitated, then stepped forward. The room was dark and smelled faintly of disuse. Jackson stepped in behind him and Wren forced himself not to whip around. He didn’t like people at his back.“Light is here,” Jackson said and the lights came on. Wren turned around at a normal, sedate pace, in direct odds to the pounding of his heart. Jackson had his hand on a panel at the door. “Bed, couch, bathroom.” Jackson pointed at each thing in turn. “Just come to my room when you wake up in the morning. Kia’s bringing breakfast up.”Wren stared over Jackson’s shoulder. The words Jackson said were all normal, easy words… They just didn’t make any sense. Why was he leaving Wren in this room? Where was his cage? The bars with the slot so food could be pushed in to him. The flat pillow and thin
Jackson dug their big knife out of the drawer. He crushed and minced the garlic and scraped it to the side of the cutting board. “Wren?”“Yeah?”“Check the chicken.”There was a rattle behind him. Jackson turned to the carrots and started peeling them. The peeler was apparently a little loose and cocked the side after just two swipes. “Chicken’s good. Want me to adjust that?”“Nah, I got it.” Jackson straightened the peeler clamped on the edge of the counter. He tightened the grip and switched back to peeling the carrots. “Has anyone texted yet?”“Kia and Belle said they might be a little late. Otherwise, no.”Jackson glanced over. Wren was leaning his hip against the counter. His hair was loose around his shoulders. The sun beamed through their kitchen window and lit him in a warm light. Jackson set the half-peeled carrot down and stepped forward.
Nine months since he’d lost his arm and he and Wren were homeowners. Jackson laughed as he caught sight of the white flakes swirling in the wind outside the kitchen window. He opened the cabinet doors in search of the cocoa. Wren was starting a fire in the fireplace. The first snow of the year was later than normal and nothing more than barely there flurries. “Wren,” Jackson called from the kitchen.“Yeah?”“It’s snowing.” Jackson found the container. He braced it between the counter and his hip and used his hand to pry off the top. He mixed the chocolate into the hot milk, squeezed the excess out of Wren’s tea bag, placed both cups on his tray and carefully carried it into the living room. “Our first kiss was in the snow.”The fire was just starting to catch on the logs. Wren settled on the couch next to him and reached for his steaming mug on the coffee table. He tossed his other arm across Jack
Six months of therapy and rehab and sympathetic looks and Jackson was sick of it. He was tired of living in the hotel. He was tired of nonstop people. Nonstop sound. Nonstop everything. For a moment, he considered asking Wren if Wren would want to move in with Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank. Then he realized what they could do. What they had the means to do.Wren stepped into their room. He was sweaty from the run with Zain. His dark hair stuck to the back of his neck despite the ponytail’s effort to keep it off. Jackson pushed his laptop to the side and rose up on his knees.Wren leaned forward for a kiss and Jackson pulled him in closer with his arm around Wren’s neck. Wren chuckled and gently disengaged. “What’s going on?”Jackson fell back and reached for his laptop again. He avoided eye contact as he pulled up the screen he had minimized. “I was just thinking that maybe it’s time we get a house? Just for the two of
Three months. His scar was still red and angry. Jackson’s therapist was great. Really. He knew any body image issues he might have were something he’d get over with enough time, but for now, staring at the angry red skin that marked where his arm should be… He felt a stupid mixture of embarassment, shame, and disgust. Jackson was pale. He’d always been pale. He’d never had an issue with it before, but now, the paleness of his skin made the scar look all the more alarming. The knock on the door startled him and he realized he’d been standing there for a little too long. “Just a second,” he called. The shirt was still a struggle to get on, but he was getting quicker every time. Jeans were a no go since he couldn’t button them one handed so he spent all of his time in sweatpants. Sweats were comfortable, but they were just another reminder of what he couldn’t do anymore. What he didn’t have anymore. The empty sleeve hung limp over his shoulder. Jackson turned hi
His dad was on his way to Jackson’s hospital room. Grandma Rose had reassured him countless times that if he changed his mind then she would personally escort him from the entire country. Jackson appreciated the thought, but he needed to talk to his dad. It had been a week since Jackson woke up. A week and Jackson was leaving the hospital in hopefully another day or two. He wanted to talk to his dad now, while he was still in such an impersonal place such as a hospital room.Jackson stared at the door. His dad should be arriving any minute. His dad had told Grandma Rose that he would be there at noon and it was currently 11:57. Wren sat next to him, on his left side, the side of his missing arm. He glanced at the clock. Then the door. Then the clock.When the knock came, he jumped and glanced at Wren. “Can you get it?” Jackson asked. Walking across the room in his hospital gown with one sleeve hanging limp would have put him in too vulnerable a positi
About two hours after your shooting, all of the collars in Oconee stopped working.Jackson didn’t understand. “That’s not possible. I know the coding in those collars backward and forward. There are countless fail-safes. For them to just, stop working…” Jackson shook his head. He was already feeling tired again, but he pushed through. “Do we know what caused it?”“There was a statement put out from that Carmillan Collars PR lady that they were looking into what caused the problem, but that was three days ago. There’s been no word since.”Three days. “What day is it?”“You were shot four days ago. You’ve been in and out of consciousness but every time was only for a few seconds and you were pretty confused,” Kia said. “You mentioned geese a couple of times.”Jackson’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “I think I was dreaming of
Jackson woke up confused. His brain was fuzzy and he couldn’t move. The ceiling was unfamiliar to him. It was white and speckled… like a quail egg. Jackson chuckled, but the laugh sounded wrong. He couldn’t stop though, because quails made him think of geese and geese made him think of Kia getting chased by the geese that lived in the pond.His chest heaved as he tried to stop laughing, then a sharp burst of pain stole the laughter from him. He gasped and closed his eyes.“Jackson!” That was Kia. Wasn’t she just chasing the geese? “Jackson! Wren, wake up.” There was a thump. Wren? Did she name the geese? Maybe he’d help her chase them…* * *Jackson opened his eyes to the quail egg ceiling. “Did you get the geese?” There was a weight across his legs that he hadn’t noticed until it was gone. He tried to turn his head, but his muscles didn’t want to work so he just closed
They mingled. Jackson shook countless hands. Laughed with people as he passed them by. The crowd bubbled around him and let him through easily. Kia held tight to one hand as she pulled him forward through the crowd. “Come on!”She shoved him up onto a truck bed, then pushed him higher so he was standing on the cab. A megaphone was shoved in his hand. He gripped it tight and stood up straight. In the most surreal moment of his life, the crowd in front of him stilled and grew silent without a word from him. Hundreds of people. Thousands of people? A lot of people, quiet and staring at him. Jackson lifted his chin and raised his hand in a wave.“Are you ready?”There was a murmur of assent through the crowd.“Please, march quietly. We ask that this be a time to reflect. A time to ask ourselves what else we can do for those oppressed in Oconee. If you’re religious, use this time to pray for our neighbors. If you’re no
Jackson couldn’t believe it. The sheer amount of people who had crammed their way into the small town near the border… He turned to Kia. “How did you do this?”Kia grinned. “The power of the internet… And your second interview was probably the main thing.”People in bright colors carrying signs of various messages milled about. The streets were packed. There were police officers out, some of them carried signs of their own.No More Collars. Freedom For All. No Rest Until We’re All Free.Jackson shook his head and stepped back from the window of his hotel room. “I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be the one speaking.”He heard the shower cut off. Kia leaned against him. “You’ve done so much more than this already, Jackson. Now you’re going to lead this march. You’re going to climb on that stage and you’re going to give that speech. Look out there