Chapter Seven
It was well past dark and Kim wasn't home yet.
Raeden knew something was wrong. He felt it deep in his core. Kim was alive out there; he knew that too somehow. But Kim wasn't happy—he was afraid. He wondered how he could possibly know these things.
My imagination must be playing tricks on me.
He'd had a connection with Lyzel. He'd known her location at all times. He'd known her state of mind, always, even if they were too far apart to form a mind link solid enough for conversation. Their range for communication had been further than most other mod-pairs—about two miles.
But there was no explanation for this connection he seemed to have with Kim. It was impossible. Kim was mundane—he wasn't a mod with telepathic abilities. He couldn't broadcast his emotions, and Raeden's own telepathy didn't extend to anyone other than his bond-mate. The thoughts and emotions of normal people didn't seep into his consciousness. So whatever he was feeling must be his imagination.
Nevertheless, Kim was late. He always got home before dark and it was a full hour past sunset already. Raeden was on edge, gnashing his teeth. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help Kim, wherever Kim was. The only thing he could do was wait and worry—he couldn't even pace—and he hated it.
Twenty minutes later, he crawled over to the window and stared out into the night, watching the snow drift silently to the ground. It covered the filthy streets with a fresh blanket of white, camouflaging the detritus and covering the muck in the gutters, hiding Zonei's wretchedness under a layer of sparkling beauty. But Raeden didn't notice that.
Kim was getting closer. He felt it strongly and wondered why his mind insisted on taunting him with these impressions. But he wasn't terribly surprised a few minutes later when he spotted Kim coming down the street. The very large man lumbering beside him, however, was unexpected. And Kim was struggling to carry something bulky and heavy.
Raeden furrowed his brow.
What the fuck?
In all the time he'd known Kim, he'd never brought anyone home. He didn't even seem to have any friends. He spoke of coworkers now and then, but he didn't socialize with them. He never went anywhere except to the grocery store, he never did anything except sit in his unit and read, and he certainly never brought people home.
Well, he did bring me home, but we see how well that turned out. He would surely never bring home another charity case. So who the fuck is that man and what the hell is Kim carrying?
Raeden was to find out soon enough. He watched Kim struggle up the few steps to the apartment complex door and then he and the man disappeared from sight. Raeden shuffled back to the futon on his knees, arranging himself on the edge expectantly, wishing he could stand.
He had a bad feeling about the man who accompanied Kim. Something about his demeanor, even from a distance, did not sit right. Raeden didn't trust him one whit.
Raeden smelled the man long before he walked in the front door. He reeked of sweat and nasty smoke, and by the time the front door opened, the scent was almost overpowering.
As Kim entered the room, Raeden felt, or maybe saw, some of the tension ease from his body. The fat man followed him in and Raeden surprised himself by letting out a low growl from deep in the back of this throat.
He didn't personally feel threatened. Even injured and in his human form, the man was no match for him. But he did feel that he was a danger to Kim and that got his hackles up. His skin tingled. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that he was feeling the beginning stages of a morf.
Kim grunted with effort as he set an odd machine down carefully on the floor near Raeden's feet. "Hey, Raeden, this is Dr. Marcus," he said breathlessly. "He's agreed to treat your hands and feet with electroregen."
Raeden whipped his head up to look at the man sharply. He didn't look much like a doctor.
The fat man was staring at him in undisguised shock. Raeden was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and sweats, even though the temperature in the room only thirteen degrees Celsius. He had gotten warm worrying about Kim and had taken his sweater off. Marcus had clearly noticed the scale markings that tattooed his arms.
"You're a mod!" he said in a strangled voice. Not taking his eyes off Raeden, he started to back away. "You didn't say anything about treating a mod." Raeden could smell his fear. "The deal is off."
By now he was at the door and he hesitated with his hand on the knob. "Bring me my machine. And you owe me, just for hauling my ass all the way out here."
If the situation had been different, Raeden might have laughed at the expression on Kim's face. He was clearly outraged.
"No! We had a deal!" Kim burst out. "You've come all the way over here. You need to treat him. He's not dangerous. He can't even walk."
The fat man squinted his piggy eyes at Raeden doubtfully. "He's a mod," he stated again.
"He's just a big teddy bear," Kim argued. He was standing next to Raeden who was sitting on the edge of the futon, and now he leaned over and wrapped his arms around Raeden in a hug.
Raeden didn't take his eyes off the doctor, but Kim's arms were warm around his chest and his scent, stronger than usual because of his efforts carrying the heavy machine, enveloped him. A wave of emotion washed over him. He felt unexpectedly protective of the young man, and this stranger in his home felt like a threat. Unbidden, another low growl came out of the back of his throat.
"You're not helping," Kim hissed in his ear before taking a step away from him. He turned to the doctor. "Would you like some tea?" he asked. Without waiting for a response he went to the credenza and busied himself with tea preparations.
"You're insane," the fat man said, but his fear had diminished considerably. Raeden could no longer hear his heart having palpitations.
"How are we paying for this?" Raeden addressed his question to Kim.
Without turning to look at him, Kim answered. "You're paying for it as soon as you're better and can get an intel. Meanwhile, I'll make payments to Doctor Marcus with each paycheck." His voice quavered a little and Raeden looked at him sharply. There was more here than Kim was telling him.
"Why would he accept a payment plan?" Raeden asked.
"Because he's charging exorbitant prices," Kim replied.
Raeden refrained from scowling at the doctor. He didn't want to scare away his best hope of regaining his mobility. Although once he could walk, he'd have no excuse to stay with Kim. The thought of being alone again almost had him refusing treatment. He had gotten better since he'd been living with Kim. He wasn't well by any stretch of the imagination, but the young Asian had somehow managed to piece together a few tattered bits of his soul and was holding them in place with duct tape and baling wire.
Kim turned to look at him and the hope that was shining in his eyes was too much. Raeden couldn't crush that. Kim had so little to hope for.
"How much?" Raeden growled.
Kim started and he and doctor exchanged a glance that was less than savory. Something was definitely going on here.
"Eighty thousand per session," the doctor replied. "And you'll need more than one." Apparently the doctor had decided to treat him after all.
But then Marcus continued, "Although, I'm not even sure it's possible to treat a mod. The sessions are extremely painful. I brought an anesthetic to knock you out, but I doubt it'll work on you."
"It would if you gave me a double-dose," Raeden replied. His heart was suddenly beating faster, and saliva started pooling in his mouth at the thought of getting some drugs into his system. He had given up on talking Kim out of anything stronger than aspirin weeks ago.
"I didn't bring a double-dose," the doctor replied. He nodded toward Kim with a scowl. "He didn't tell me I'd be treating a mutant."
The fat man stepped away from the door and came toward Raeden, moving slowly and cautiously as if he were approaching a wild beast. "Let's see what we're dealing with," he said.
Kim came over to help, gently unwrapping the bandages that protected Raeden's black fingers. The doctor pursed his lips and shook his head when he saw them. "Three sessions, at least," he said.
Kim knelt and removed the bandages from Raeden's ravaged feet. They still hurt like hell even though he couldn't feel large part of them at all.
The fat man's piggy eyes widened as he stared at Raeden's feet. "No amount of electroregen is going to fix those," he said. "It should help some, but you'll lose several of your toes for sure anyway. You should have them surgically removed so they don't infect."
Raeden was surprised at the surge of disappointment that washed over him at the doctor's words. He hadn't believed he was capable of caring anymore. He glanced at Kim and the distress on the young man's face was heartbreaking.
"It'll be okay," he said to Kim. Addressing the doctor, he followed with, "Just do what you can. If this electroregen makes it so I can walk again, I'll gladly pay you."
The doctor turned to Kim, who had returned to making tea now that the water was hot. "The agreement was that you'd pay in full for each session, whether or not it's successful," he said sharply.
"Yes," Kim hastened to agree. "It does work though, doesn't it?"
"Usually," the doctor nodded and, although Raeden didn't trust the fat man as far as he could throw him, he didn't get a sense that he was lying.
"We can do one session and see if it makes a difference," Raeden said.
Fifteen minutes later Raeden was lying on his stomach on the futon while the doctor positioned his hands over a large glass plate on the electroregen unit, which was sitting on the floor in front of him. Marcus pressed a button on the side of the contraption and a metal plate lowered over the top of Raeden's hands until it touched them and began to push them against the glass plate below. Raeden sucked in his breath in a hiss as pain shot through his fingers.
The doctor tapped the button again and the machine quit trying squash Raeden's hands in pancakes, but they were already painfully crushed.
"It's going to hurt like hell, but you need to keep your hands in there. If you jerk them out, you could break my machine, and that'll cost you a lot more than eighty thousand and a few bl—"
"Doctor!" Kim interjected suddenly.
The doctor broke off and glared at him. "What?"
"Uh ... how long does it last? I mean, how long do you need to zap them, or whatever?"
Kim was definitely hiding something. He had some sort of agreement with the doctor that he wasn't letting on about, but Raeden couldn't think through the fog in his head.
Why did I ever think drugs were fun?
