The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming

ever?”
    No, he supposed not. There were the bills, and not getting calls from Mike recently, and keeping his grades up, and getting permission to do research, and Mat’s mysterious bruises. “I guess not,” he admitted.
    “Soon you will know, Douglas, what it’s like to have no worries at all. You’ll never worry again. You’ll give of yourself, and be taken care of in return.”
    He’d been so eager these last few years to “grow up,” to do the taking care of instead of being taken care of like he had his whole life. But really, what was so great about that? About worrying about everything all the time? And who was even left to care for? Mike had his own family, didn’t need Dougie anymore. Pattie and Mom and Dad were dead. And Mat . . . well, Mat was gone, wasn’t he. Gone and never coming back, and Dougie deserved that, deserved all of it.
    But maybe, just maybe, he deserved love too. Nikolai had been right about so many things already; maybe he was right about this as well. Maybe being cared for was his destiny. And to be honest, right about now, it didn’t sound so bad. Not scary or sad or depressing or anything. Just . . . safe, maybe. The natural order. What he’d been born for, made for.
    Now if only he could figure out how to love his caretaker in return. Then, he thought, he might finally be happy.

    Nikolai hadn’t thought of his mother in a long time. He’d failed her, in the end—failed to anticipate her loss of purpose when his mentor had died, failed to staunch her despair, and worst of all, failed to predict the bloody mess she’d make of herself and his mentor’s en suite in time to save her life—and his memories of her were always tinged with sadness now, with a sense of preventable loss, with the chastisement of irresponsibility. He’d vowed never to make such mistakes again. Never to so disastrously misread another in his care. He owed them more than that.
    And it was precisely because of what he owed them that he’d been willing to face those memories once more to help Douglas find peace.
    Strange how this time the recrimination didn’t feel quite so powerful. As if Douglas had brought him some measure of peace in return.
    Perhaps they were more alike than he’d realized.
    He stroked the boy’s dozing head, combing fingers through downy-soft hair grown out past his ears, then reluctantly stood.
    After their breakfast, he’d given Douglas more painkillers and talked about nothing with him as he’d slowly and peacefully nodded off.
    If the cruelty he’d carried out yesterday was his least favorite part of the job, then this was his most favorite: gently guiding a newly willing and pliant boy to accept and understand the role he’d always been destined for. It was complicated, careful work, with harder tests ahead. And then, when Nikolai’s work was through and Douglas’s transformation was complete, would come the hardest part of all . . .
    But for now, Nikolai would enjoy these sweet first days and, as always, worry about the future when it came.
    Speaking of worrisome futures . . . Nikolai tiptoed out of Douglas’s room and then headed up the stairs to his office, where Roger had left a tea tray just how he liked it. He poured himself a cup and settled in to watch this morning’s “conversation” between Roger and Mathias. All exactly as he’d expected: Mathias in the throes of unbearable guilt, convinced he’d made a catastrophic mistake he was powerless to undo. Given how deeply his sense of self was wrapped up in the role of his brother’s protector, Nikolai knew there’d be no reaching him now—no fear of consequences, no motivation to behave. The animal would probably welcome any punishment he’d force Nikolai to inflict; he no doubt thought he deserved it. So rather than tempt the beast, Nikolai was having Roger care for him instead, doing what Roger did so well and worming his way beneath Mathias’s skin. The man seemed to have a certain sympathy for Roger anyway. Best to use it to his advantage.
    Was it selfish and irresponsible to hand off Mathias to Roger while Nikolai tended to Douglas, the brother without a buyer? Perhaps. Some would argue most certainly. But any attempt to work with Mathias would only end in violence now, and Nikolai suspected not even the serum would make him pliant. But Roger could slip through cracks Mathias didn’t even realize he had. And Roger was Nikolai’s right hand. Nikolai could use him to accomplish what he