But how could she, with those men in her way? She needed access to the rest of the house. As she was puzzling this out, one of them gave a harsh shout, and a young woman entered through one of two doorways. Mae winced, more from surprise than anything else. The girl—who looked to be in her late teens or maybe early twenties—was dressed in a ragged dress and had some of the heaviest Cain scarring Mae had seen in Arcadia so far or ever, really. Cain rarely ran that strongly in the RUNA anymore, and in the rare cases it did, corrective surgeries were readily available to help tone down the worst of the defects. That, of course, wasn’t acceptable here.
The man who’d shouted for the girl set down his gun and approached her, coming to stand provocatively close. She kept her gaze fixed downward as he touched her cheek and said something Mae couldn’t hear that made the other man snicker. The standing man took the girl’s hand and led her from the room. Once they were gone, the remaining man peered back at the doorway they’d used for several moments and then, satisfied he was alone, pulled a flask from his pocket. He took a couple of long swigs and then fixed his attention on a newspaper. It was a paper one—a novelty to Mae—and he used both hands to hold it, forcing him to disarm.
If a distracted guard was the best she could hope for, Mae would make do. He was angled slightly away from the door, and after a quick analysis of the distance between him and her, Mae headed back outside to find a rock. She returned with one the size of her palm, paused for a moment to collect herself, and then struck. The man never saw her coming. She opened the door with almost no noise and moved faster than he could turn around. The rock slammed into the back of his head, with precisely enough force to incapacitate but not kill. She even managed to do it without drawing blood, though he’d certainly have a lump on his head later. Carefully, she eased him down so that his head rested on the table, the flask sitting beside him. It’d be lucky for her if his companion thought he’d passed out from drinking, but she wasn’t counting on it. Fortunately, she planned on leaving no other sign of her passing tonight. Maybe they’d figure out there’d been an intruder, but they’d have no other indications of her identity or that she’d disturbed the house’s women or contents.
With one exception. The array of weapons called to her, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, Mae scooped up a handgun. It was an older model, with only six shots, but it was fully loaded and would be effective if her attempts at subterfuge didn’t go so well tonight. Feeling more secure with a weapon in her hand, she strode toward the two doorways, only to hesitate once more.
One door led to what looked like a primitive kitchen, and here Mae found the other guard. His back was to her, and all his energy was going into the marked woman who stood bent over the counter with her long skirts hiked up. Mae’s lips curled in disgust, and the gun was heavy in her hand, the urge to aim at him overwhelming. Once again, she had to remind herself she was only here to observe, not take action.
At least the girl looked like she was of consenting age, though “consent” was probably a dubious term. Whether the girl was a lawful concubine or a ward being taken advantage of, Mae doubted she’d ever admit to doing something she didn’t want. It made Mae’s stomach curl.
This is the room she came from when called, Mae tried to tell herself. And she’s older than girls usually are in these salons. Most likely she is a concubine or a servant being used. There’s no reason to think those animals do this to all the girls here. They prize virgins in this country. Surely the others are left unmolested. That didn’t change Mae’s desire to save this girl, and it took a cold, logical voice in her head warning that she needed to use this distraction to finally move again.
The other doorway led to a narrow stairwell, and she tread lightly, trying to avoid squeaks. The stairs opened up to a hallway with five doors, three of which were closed. The two open ones turned out to be a bathroom and an office. Based on the outer dimensions of the house, she assumed the other three doors led to bedrooms, which—she realized belatedly—might be locked. It seemed like the kind of sadistic thing these guys might do.
But the first knob opened easily and quietly, and she stepped inside, pleased to find a nightlight dimly illuminating the space— probably so this salon’s keepers could do night checks. Four girls ranging from what looked like ages six to twelve slept soundly in narrow beds with threadbare covers. Despite their gaunt faces, the girls didn’t look like Arcadians. Mae saw no sign of Cain on any of them. Their features were regular and healthy. She also recognized the telltale signs of mixed heritage that characterized so many of her countrymen but wasn’t very common here.
These are Gemman girls, she realized. Stolen Gemman girls.
The second bedroom revealed more of the same, though one of the girls had a slightly darker complexion than the rest and fragile-looking hair indicative of mild Cain. Stolen from a province, Mae guessed. The third room held what looked like another provincial girl and two more Gemmans . . .
. . . one of whom was Mae’s niece.
There was no question she was the same girl from Emil’s picture. And even if Mae had never seen the picture, that family resemblance confirmed the rest. Blonde curls—nearly white in the poor light— framed a little face that was still lovely in spite of the malnourishment. A swell of emotion burst in Mae’s chest, fed by the implant’s need to increase her adrenaline and endorphins. The instinct to carry the girl away was so strong that Mae had to physically step back to stop herself from reaching out.
No action. Just information, she reminded herself.
And yet . . . even though she’d come here wanting to find her niece, Mae wasn’t prepared for the reality. It was one thing to come in saying she would only observe and another to obey that when faced with not only her niece, but these other girls who were victims from her own country. And after witnessing these rustic living conditions, not to mention the poor servant downstairs . . .
Mae closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing calm as her free hand touched the amber dagger in her belt. The dagger brought me here. Against all reason, it helped me find this place. Surely it has a plan for me to do . . . something.
What that something was, however, remained unknown for the moment. Mae was unprepared and would have to return with a concrete course of action later. Right now, she needed to leave. For all she knew, the man in the kitchen had finished and found his partner unconscious. His first action would be to immediately check on the girls he was shoddily guarding, and Mae had no avenues of escape up here. And so, with one last wistful look at her niece, Mae crept out of the slumbering room and back down the stairs.
Sounds from the kitchen told her things were wrapping up there, and the man she’d struck was still immobile. She left the same way she’d entered—keeping the gun with her. She could stash it in the tunnel back on Carl’s property.
The walk back to his house went much more quickly than her initial one. Her mind was so busy spinning with plans that she hardly noticed the time passing. Unfortunately, no matter how much she tried to puzzle it out, she didn’t know what to do. How could she save her niece? How could she save the others? The Gemman government had to know its girls were sometimes stolen. What would it do if she offered definitive proof of where some were being held? Would it do anything? Or would her leaders turn a blind eye in the name of political diplomacy?
Lucian, she thought. I should ask Lucian. And yet, no matter how captivated with her he might seem, Mae didn’t think his affections would go so far as to risk an international incident—especially since she’d never really returned his attention. It didn’t matter, she soon decided. Even if she had encouraged him, his attraction to a Nordic patrician wouldn’t trump his career goals. She would have to rely on her own actions. And the dagger.