The window above the bed, behind the flaming curtain cracked. He jerked, looking up. The glass shattered. Rei flattened himself beneath the explosion. Cool air rushed into the space above his head. He gasped a breath and then screamed as the flames roared, burning high on fresh oxygen. He pulled off the bed, stretching his arm out to slide as much of his body away from the flames as he could.
This was the end. All his dreams. His struggles. His losses. His damnation. He dropped his head against his bound arm, his knees almost touching the floor, his body draped over the side of the bed. The heat wrapped around him.
A shadow passed over, a large body covered him, and hands grasped his bound limb.
“Brace yourself.”
Sudden blinding pain, his hand broke beneath the unhesitating force. Lubricated by blood, his shattered bones slid through the steel of the shackle. He fell to his knees. All air was gone. All sight erased. He was falling beneath this hell.
Arms wrapped around him from above and below. There was a wide chest beneath his face and fierce footsteps. Somewhere beyond there were shouts and cries. He broke inside the arms holding him against a quickly drumming heart.
The man carrying him knelt down in a dark place. Cold cement touched his bare legs. He sank to his side, touching a wet surface. His skin burned from the inside out. Rain kissed him.
Someone called.
The man touched his shoulder. “Stay. You’re safe here.”
Rei forced himself to turn his face to look up. An angel in a singed pale suit with long blond hair was just stepping away. Beyond him the roof of the neo-traditional Chinese manor roared with flames. Dark clouds rolled overhead, pouring out rain.
Rei dropped his face to his arm, unable to hold up his head. For a dark moment, he knew nothing. Footsteps moved back and forth and voices rose and fell. He burned beneath the rain, succored only by the ever deepening storm. It couldn’t take the heat out of his cheek or his side. His right hand lay on the stone, broken and bleeding, staining the pattern of the ornamental design in the surface of the garden stones.
The world quieted. Sounds of crackling wood and fire faded. Footsteps arrived.
“Is this one alive?”
Hands turned him over. Someone gasped. He blinked up at them. One of his current owner’s security.
“It’s the idol catamite,” the muscle reported. “Face is ruined.”
Rei’s owner approached. This one was Han and spoke with a rough Beijing accent. “Fucking waste.” He gripped Rei’s chin, turning his head this way and that. “That will never be the same again.” He grabbed Rei’s half-destroyed sleeves, looking at each of his hands, the broken one and the burned one. “This one is finished.”
The muscle dropped Rei to the ground. Rei caught himself on his forearms. He stared up at his owner. Between them was a gun, its barrel pointed at Rei’s face.
The muscle backed away.
“Tell them to get a body bag out here,” Rei’s owner said. “We’ve got to have this place clean before the authorities are crawling over us.”
Rei closed his eyes. It was always coming to this. Merchari catamites rarely survived for long.
“Stop.” Another voice, deep and commanding, approached. Rei turned his head. His angel in the pale suit with long blond hair was striding through the half-ruined garden. He’d lost his coat and his white shirt was torn open from throat to belt. Blood smeared across his chest.
“This one’s wasted. Face’s burned.”
“Not his brain.” The angel moved closer, stepping between Rei and the mouth of the gun. “Give him to me.”
“What for?”
“I don’t need a pretty face for my work,” the angel said.
“How much?”
“Oh, fuck off, Ming,” the angel snarled. “I’m saving you the trouble of getting rid of a body with a bullet.”
“Fine, since you want the waste so much. What’s it to you?”
“He’s got a fucking mouth for languages. Got a use for that.”
“Thought you didn’t do human property.”
