“Come meet him. Then call your committee. Maybe afterward you can talk to Damek. He’s been nattering on about some architectural trip that he’s leading . . .”
“Damek. You call him Damek?” Justine whispered.
“We come from the same place.” Alison shrugged. “Not family, mind you, but we have an old connection.”
Alison saw Chastity stiffen at the mention of Damek coming from the same place, but she did not ask the question she so obviously wanted to. She wouldn’t in front of outsiders.
“Come downstairs, Chas.” Alison held out her free hand. “You should meet Damek.”
Silently, Chastity accepted Alison’s hand. She squeezed it briefly, and then she opened the door to the basement. “I’m glad we’re able to work this out, Justine.”
“Of course.” The ARB chair sounded positively friendly now. She smiled as she started down the stairs.
AT THE FOOT of the stairs, Chastity stood silent as Alison introduced Justine to Damek Vaduva. She wasn’t prepared for the way he looked at her; the familiarity of his assessment made her blush like a far younger Bori. He didn’t speak to her, not yet. Instead he listened as Justine gushed at him, senseless words about his artistry, about how she had tried to get an appointment but was callously rebuffed.
“It’s almost unfortunate,” Chastity said quietly. She caught her sister’s gaze. “You didn’t tell me he was from home. I didn’t know there were any traditional builders here.”
“You can tell me to cease,” Alison reminded her. “You make the final decisions.”
Chastity folded her arms and looked from the builder to her sister. “Mr. Vaduva?”
“Damek,” he corrected. “To you, I am only Damek.” He caught and held Chastity’s gaze then as he added, “It is an honor to work in your nest.”
“Their nest?” Justine echoed. “Oh, the house. In English, it is house. A nest is what animals have.”
Damek motioned for Justine to come closer to him, but his gaze remained fixed on Chastity. “Do you wish me to do this work?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment when neither Bori nor builder moved, and then Damek turned to Justine. “Come here.” He pointed into the section of the wall that had been torn open. The drywall was gone, and a peculiar stone-and-wood structure was now alongside the original studs. The stone wall was already built almost knee-high.
“You see the beams. They are good beams. A structure must have the right support.”
Justine leaned forward and looked into the partially built wall. “I see.”
“No. You must come closer.” Damek stepped over the stone and stood in the opening. He laid one hand on the beam. “Inside is the support. This is where the strength comes from. In here.”
Then he stepped out and motioned for Justine to step into the opening. Obediently, she did.
“Look there . . . to the side.” Damek stepped closer, invading Justine’s space, and bodily blocking her exit from the partially built wall. He pointed. “Do you see the weakness of the beams? They need more support.”
Once Justine was looking away, Damek made a gesture at his side with one hand. Alison tugged on a rope, pulling a board from above Justine and releasing the sludgy mix Damek required. It poured over Justine, who shrieked as she lost her balance.
“You idiot!”
“Hold still.” Damek reached out with both hands, but instead of steadying her, he wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed.
Eyes widened in fear, she stared at him as she clawed at his arms.
Once she crumpled, Damek looked toward Chastity. “You must hold her up.”
With one hand, Chastity pushed Justine backward until her shoulder was flush against the exposed beam behind her. Damek took Chastity’s other hand and put it on Justine’s throat. “Squeeze if she wakes.”
Damek knelt at Chastity’s feet and continued building the wall. He hummed softly as he worked, and he paused only to look admiringly at Chastity—who pretended not to notice.
Justine was walled in up to her hips when Chastity finally allowed her to stir. “What are you doing?” She pushed against Chastity’s grip. “Stop.”
“Support matters,” Damek told her with a frown. “My buildings . . . they never fall. You say you want to understand. You are learning a secret now.”
“No.” Justine slapped at them with hands caked in the clay mixture and scratched Chastity’s arms. Her fingernails gouged Chastity’s forearms, leaving behind tiny red cuts atop the thin scars already there.
“I share this secret.” Damek frowned. “Many years ago people understood. Now? Things have changed.”
Chastity nodded and shoved Justine more firmly against the wall. The ARB chair struck Damek and clawed at him, scraping her now-broken fingernails on his face. She grabbed Chastity’s wrists, bruising them. Damek and Chastity ignored her.
“They have. It’s not that I can’t appreciate the benefits, but I worry. The littles are so young, and this world . . . It was different before. I worry—” Chastity stopped herself.
Damek paused. “I understand.”
As they stared at one another, Justine shrieked and struggled against the stone, brick, and spell-laden mortar that now encased her legs. “You people are sick. You can’t do this. People will notice. It’s—”
“People never notice. Sacrifice helps buildings,” Damek said.
“I won’t tell. I will sign your fence form and—”
“No,” Alison interrupted. “We needed someone with strong emotions. You are the right person for this job, Justine.”
There was a flash of sorrow in Chastity, but not so much that she would fail to do what must be done to keep her nest safe.
While Damek worked, he said, “People see that my buildings are good. They write the articles. Now, I build for people with money, and when it is important, I build some special things in the old ways.”
“No!” Justine tried futilely to dislodge the stones and bricks. “This isn’t happening.”
As Damek worked, the only sounds other than the grate of brick against brick or tool against stone were those of Justine’s mix of screams, objections, and pleas. Then, even those faded, and only the rhythmic scrape of tools remained.
Chastity watched the bricks as Damek built them up around the exhausted, yet still weeping ARB chairperson. Quietly, she spoke to Justine. “It is for the good of the community. You understand that, don’t you?”
Justine lifted her head and stared at Chastity. “You’re a monster.”
“Yes.” Chastity nodded. “Not so different from you. You wanted to protect your community from fences and divisiveness . . .” Her words drifted away for a moment as she realized that she felt strangely sad. “I understand now. We both are trying to protect what we believe in. I have to protect my nestmates. The littles need safety, stability, a home . . . and you are helping provide that for them. Our home will be safe from any damage now. It cannot be broken into. Even our windows will not break.”
“You’re insane,” Justine said wearily.
Only her head was still exposed.
“No.” Damek lifted a trowel of mortar and carefully spread it on her face. “My buildings are safer. You make this building strong. Your rage. Your sorrow. Your death. It is good. Strong feeling from you and for you.”
He lifted several more trowels of mortar, and Chastity scooped it from the trowel with her fingers and packed it around Justine’s face and smoothed it into her hair.
The littles had come into the room at some point and now sat nestled against Alison’s body in the middle of the floor. Raven was tucked under one arm, and Remus was curled on the other side.
“You wanted to make a difference, to be noticed, to be important. You have been. You will always be important to us now, Justine.” Gently, Chastity covered Justine’s eyes.