Page 15 of Hair, She Bears
“You’re right. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Mother arched an expectant eyebrow.
“I’m finished. That batch completes the final payment. My parents’ debt is clear.”
Mother threw her head down and stood. He walked to the shelves, his heavy footsteps echoed in the tower. His gaze slid across the vials. Selecting the nearest tray, he extracted one of the bottles.
“Do you know why my son was here today?” he asked, his back to Zenna.
“Because you asked him,” she replied. A glint near the curtain caught her eyes. Malik peered around the edge, his face a mixture of fury and concern. She waved him back.
Mother snorted and uncorked the vial. He tilted back his head, swallowed the contents of the vial, and shuddered, then tossed the bottle into the mortar. It clinked against the sides as it settled in the bottom. Mother spun around, his eyes glowed black.
“I am expanding the distribution of Votras Alute. Soon, it will be available in every town along the coast.” He grinned and snatched another bottle from the same rack.
“I don’t understand.” Zenna climbed to her feet, limped to the back of the sofa, and leaned against the shabby furnishing. “How will you produce it?”
“I have you.” He lifted the second vial in salute to her and swallowed the contents. The tremor that rippled through his body took him to his knees, and sweat lined his forehead, dripping down the sides of his face.
“I have paid my debt.” She wrapped her fingers around the back of the sofa and forced her voice to remain soft. Yelling at Mother only resulted in pain.
“Not by my calculation.”
“I have recorded every bottle I created.” Her chest squeezed the breath from her lungs. She felt as though she were drowning.
“I have no doubt.” Mother approached her, dragging his feet along the floor. “However, you failed to take into account the money I have spent to keep you alive.”
“You kidnapped me and held me captive.” She took a step backward.
“I gave you a place to stay and food to eat while you worked off your parents’ debt.” He grabbed her wrist and yanked her body against his. One hand stroked her hair. “You owe me.”
“How much?”
“Twenty years, shall we say ten thousand per year… two hundred thousand? Plus, whatever costs you incur while you are paying off that debt. It appears you’ll be my guest for the next twenty years.” He chuckled and combed his fingers through her hair. “And I have big plans for you.”
Revulsion rolled through her stomach. Her fist clenched, vibrating beside her hip. If she struck Mother, he would beat her unconscious. And if Malik interfered…
“I want to see my parents,” she replied, forcing her hand to relax one finger at a time.
“No.” He released her and weaved toward the window, and his thighs bumped against the bottom of the sill. Lifting one leg, he stuck it out the opening, and sat, straddling the frame. Precariously balanced, he glanced over at her.
“Please.” She took a step toward him, her hands clasped together. “I just want to tell them I’m alright.”
“They won’t remember you.” He turned, wrapped his hands around the windowsill, and leaned out, his body nearly parallel with the ground.
“I am their daughter.” Her fierce growl drew Mother’s attention, and he twisted toward her, a strange glow lit his eyes. He gestured for Zenna to move closer. She took one hesitant step forward.
“What did Malik say before he jumped from the window?”
“That he hoped you were watching.” She hovered just outside of his reach.
“Always looking for praise.” Mother shook his head and pulled his other leg through the window, both his feet swinging freely over the courtyard. Crossing his arms over his chest, he dove forward.
Zenna screamed and dashed to the window. She peered down into the courtyard, searching for Mother’s body. A soft moan drifted up from the ground, then laughter. It grew, the maniacal sound echoing in the tower.
“That’s a pity.” Malik’s deep voice drew a shiver down her back. She spun around, finding him at the top of the staircase. “I had hoped he wouldn’t survive the fall.”
“Aren’t you worried for him?” She waved her hand at the window. “He could die.”
