Collared Souls

Prologue

Prologue

Nick Ruger was three the day the slave village tutors brought him to the house of an elder. He stood quietly, eyes cast to the floor, among a group of men and women who, along with strangers who’d come for the day, looked him over. He wasn’t Nick Ruger then, but simply Nick, one of the slave children being raised and trained in this village.

“He doesn’t seem like so much,” one of the strangers said.

Tutor Linn flicked Nick’s shoulder blades with the back of a hand, gave him a hard poke with the ends of his fingers, and shoved Nick forward a few steps. Nick stumbled away from Tutor Linn and into the middle of the room. Despite the late spring day, and even though it was before noon, the heat and humidity were steadily climbing, but Nick shivered. The spot where Tutor Linn’s fingers had dug in stung like a burn on Nick’s skin he had so much hatred for the man.

More than that, Nick feared this tutor.

“This is him? He saw something leave that poor child before she died?” A woman, one of the strangers, addressed Tutor Linn.

“In the minutes before and as she died,” one of the village elders corrected. Tutor Linn nodded.

Nick looked at the woman, using the cover of his floppy bangs to hide the fact he wasn’t staring at the floor between his feet. She was of average height, with light brown hair swept back over her shoulders, wearing a fitted jacket and trim pants. Nick thought her a pretty lady.

She cupped Nick’s chin and lifted his head so she could look into his eyes. “Tell me, child, in your own words.”

“Mrs. Clarke, is this really—?” the village elder began.

She cut him off with a wave of her free hand. Arching one eyebrow, she caught and kept Nick’s gaze, nodding permission to speak.

“Nancy fell sick for a few days,” Nick said. He looked at the woman but focused on a point on her chin, not looking her in the eye. “She said she didn’t remember parts of the day, but she wasn’t that sick. She would shake a lot. Then she got real still and fell down. No one could get her to get up. She wouldn’t breathe and a shape left her. It was bigger than her. I don’t know how it fit inside her.”

“And that’s the first time you ever saw it?” the lady asked.

Nick nodded. “But it stayed inside her the whole time she was sick.”

“How did you know?” The lady leaned down closer.

“She looked different. Her skin and the air around her were the wrong color.”

The woman pulled in a fast, harsh breath, straightened, stepped back a pace from Nick, and turned to the others.

“How old is this boy?”

“Three, Mrs. Clarke,” Tutor Linn said.

The lady, Mrs. Clarke, turned far enough to look at a couple of men standing behind her.

“Son of a b***h, three? Have you ever heard of something like this in such a young child?”

One of the men, appearing gruff, with a short beard but kind eyes that twinkled, crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, I have not.”

“Sign the paperwork, Mr. Ruger,” Mrs. Clarke said to yet another man, a bit taller and thicker than the first, with dark hair and cold, dark eyes.

“Look, I don’t know if this is what we—” the dark-haired man said.

“Mr. Ruger!” Mrs. Clarke snapped. “Please.”

“Just do it, John,” the man with the kind eyes said. “It’ll be best for everyone, for both of them.”

John huffed, strode forward, and snatched up some papers from the elder’s desk. He waggled the fingers of one hand until a pen touched his palm. He scrawled his signature in a few places, nearly tearing through the paper as he did so, then stepped away.

“There, happy? I don’t have to like it, though.”

“Stow it, John,” the other man said harshly. The twinkle left his eyes, replaced by hardness. He stepped forward, handing over a pouch to the elder.

“I believe this is the agreed-upon amount. I’ll be sending you materials for his training and education. I’ll sign the bill of sale.” The man nudged past John and took the pen from him. More papers were signed, folded, and put into envelopes, then sealed.

“He can’t leave here until he’s twenty-two, Cantor,” Tutor Linn said to the gruff man with the beard and kind eyes.

“You just make sure he’s here when we come back,” Cantor said, glaring at Tutor Linn, making Nick suddenly unsure of whom he feared more. Cantor turned away from Nick and Tutor Linn, looking at the other two. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

They filed through the door without further comment. Tutor Linn wrapped boney, strong fingers around Nick’s arm and pulled him from the room. Outside, the strangers were mounting horses. Three had been inside, but a fourth sat on a horse, a younger male, holding the reins of the three others. To Nick, the fourth person seemed so much older than himself, no longer boy and not yet man. He sat very tall in the horse’s saddle with a presence that commanded attention.

Nick immediately took notice of his fluffy blond hair and vibrant green eyes. He split his time between watching Nick and his traveling companions. When the others were mounted and turning away, preparing to ride from the village, the older boy hung back and turned in the saddle to look at Nick. He smiled softly and winked.

“Todd!” the man called John barked.

Todd rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his horse and nudging his heels to the animal’s side. The horse sprang into a quick trot, and Todd followed the rest from the village. Not, however, before Todd turned and looked at Nick one final time, waved, and winked again.

Nick would have to wait nineteen years for another of those winks.