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Raising Cain
She opened her eyes, her breath catching in her throat to see him suddenly in front of her. She’d been told he could help her solve her problem. She tried to smile as the silhouette loomed in front of her. The light from the distant street lights glinting off his four chains. One over each shoulder, one around each leg. She shivered in the silence. How did you address someone like him? How did you speak to someone who had become something of an urban legend? She swallowed nervously.

“I was told to find you, that you could help me.” She stammered. She could make out a hint of a smile. This man enjoyed fear, that was what made him famous. She waited a moment.

“There’s a man who’s been threatening my sister and I. he’s our landlord, he keeps demanding that we do things for him or he’ll evict us. Please, can you help us?” she pleaded. The man stood silently for a moment longer, and a cold chill ran up her spine as she felt him calculating her worth. His voice broke the silence, a low masculine voice, but strangely smooth and rich.

“There is a price, there is always a price. Do you understand this?” he asked. She bit her lip. She knew the legends; she knew the price he demanded. The chains he wore were symbolic of bonds he held with people, he wore a chain, and demanded that those he helped wear its match. They bonded the two people, until they had repaid their debt to him with some equivalent service. The four chains he had on were people who would never earn their way out of his debt. People who owed him their lives. He had other, thinner chains that were hidden by the darkness.

“Yes, I understand, and I accept your price and your bond.” These were the words she’d been told to say. The man in chains nodded and reached toward her with both hands. She saw a flash of silver in the lamplight and felt his hands delicately connect a thick silver band around her neck. Her fingers moved to her throat and she felt the cylindrical chain, heavy, dense, and stiff, but loose enough to be a chain and thin between her fingers. It was clearly jewelry, not a combat chain. She breathed a sigh of relief; that meant he didn’t anticipate her having to fight for him to win her freedom. She watched as he connected an identical chain on his own neck. She ran her fingers over the chain, around the full circuit, but could find no clasp. It was a continual circuit, she shivered, that much of the legend was true then.

“State your name, bondsman.” The legend said. The girl looked down.

“I am Rachel Gassault, and you are Cain Ferrus, bondsman.” She replied. The man reached out a hand and she heard the whisper of steel rings rubbing together. He laid one heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Go home Rachel. By sunrise, three days from today, your problems will be over.” He said. She nodded and turned to return the way she’d come. She looked over her shoulder and he was gone, vanished into the shadows without a sound.

When Rachel woke the next morning, she dressed and readied herself for school. Looking in the mirror she examined the chain she wore, it was polished silver, and seamless. Cold to the touch despite having been slept on all night, the chain was heavy and uncomfortable. She shook her head.

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable. It’s a chain, a bond of lives, a reminder that my life isn’t my own until he says it is.” She brushed her hair and tucked the chain into her shirt. The less people who saw it, the better. Down stairs she heard her father talking to someone. As she got closer to the stairs she heard the voice of her landlord. She stopped at the top of the steps and listened.

“So you didn’t see anyone last night?” the landlord was asking. His tone was nervous and irritated.

“No, I didn’t hear or see anyone, Rachel got in a little later than normal, but still well before curfew.” Her father said. She smiled mischievously, she’d actually been in a little after the legal curfew, but her father would never admit that to anyone outside the family. The landlord huffed Rachel heard his heavy footsteps going unevenly toward the door.

“Well, I should be on my way then. You have a good day Jim, don’t want to be late for work.” He said as he walked out the door. Rachel went down the stairs and saw her father sitting amusedly at the kitchen table.

“What was that all about?” she asked. Her father shook his head and handed her a piece of toast.

“Berry had a visitor last night. He swears it was some punk teenager and thought I might have seen the boy. He says that the visitor mentioned you.” her father said. Rachel tilted her head in mock confusion.

“That’s weird. What did this visitor do or say?” she asked. her father shrugged.

“Berry didn’t say, just said your name came up in the conversation. But I’ll say this. Berry’s got an awful lot of bandages on him this morning, big ones. He said he stumbled on the porch steps yesterday, but I’m not so sure.” He said. Rachel’s eyes widened, but she bit into her toast and tried to go on as though she knew nothing.

“Where were you last night, Rachel?” her father finally asked. She looked at him innocently.

“Just meeting a friend dad, he lives in the city, Jenny introduced us, but it took me a little longer getting home than I thought.” She explained. It was true, to an extent. Few would dare to call Cain Ferrus a friend, fewer still would be able to do so truthfully. But, regardless she had gone to meet them, and it was her friend Jenny who had made the arrangements for her. She hadn’t meant to be out after curfew, but after her meeting she needed time to calm her nerves before going home.

Her father took the bate and turned away with a sigh. Finishing his toast he stood up. “Well, Berry was right, I shouldn’t be late to work. I’ll see ya tonight” he said and walked out of the room. Rachel poured cereal in a bowl and proceeded to really start her breakfast.

When she got to school, she saw Jenny in the hall waiting for her. the older girl had brunet hair, in contrast to Rachel’s blond, Jenny ran up to her and leaned in, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“How did it go?” she pressed. Not waiting for the pleasantries, but diving right into the questions. Rachel shrugged.

“Not even going to say hello? Just ‘how did it go’ right off the bat? Jen you’re loosing it.” She said. Jenny slapped her on the shoulder.

“Oh don’t give me that, come on, what was he like?” she demanded. Rachel looked away, toying with her friend a little, then reached up and using one finger pulled a small portion of the chain out the neck of her shirt. Jenny squealed and Rachel dropped the chain back inside.

“Shush. I’d rather it didn’t spread that I went to Cain.” She snapped at her friend under her breath. Jenny nodded and looked away, clamping her mouth shut so as not to ask further questions. They walked down the hall and finally Rachel whispered “besides, I barely saw him, it was like in the stories, I saw the chains, and everything else was in shadow”

They walked into class and sat down. the teacher stood up using a crutch and hobbled across the room, he was missing a one leg from just above the knee down. he’d lost it in the last revolution, defending the capital against a rebel mob. He was a grizzled man, old beyond his years but as fierce as when he’d been in the marines. He limped into the center of the room and folded down his crutch so it functioned as a cane and allowed him to stand upright.

“Good morning citizens.” He barked at them. They muttered back a good morning and he nodded. “As you all know, our nation is founded in one thing, stability. Without stability, there is no security, without security there is no safety, and without safety, anyone could do anything to you. You’re all too young to remember, but during the last rebellion, national stability broke down. Rabble rousers protested the very leaders they’d voted into office. The leaders did what was best for the nation, best for everyone, to maintain stability, but these people saw only their personal selfish gains washing away. So they broke the peace. You know the code: safety through stability, stability through unity, unity through obedience. Those rebels chose to break the unity. When they didn’t want to obey the laws of the land they eliminated the unity of the nation. Stability collapsed, and men like me suffer the consequences of that temporary lapse in national safety.

“You might not know it, but I lost my leg to a device we used to call a baked cocktail. What the rebels would do, is they’d fill a glass bottle with oil or gasoline, or alcohol, then they’d strap a small jar of gunpowder to the top, wrap it in rags and light the rags on fire. They’d throw it. The glass would break, the oil would ignite and cover everything and burn it, then the gunpowder would explode, sending sharp bits of glass everywhere. One of them burned and chewed up my leg so bad the medics had to chop half of it off to save my life.

“I don’t mind losing my leg for this country, because thanks to the sacrifices of men like me, the rebellion was put down, and there hasn’t been another one for ten years now. Unity prevails. Unity survives. Unity keeps men and women alive and safe and shelters you from the dangers of terrorism, crime, and moral corruption. The government does it’s job of keeping you and I safe, and in return all we have to do is be obedient.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling, waiting while students took notes. Then his dry voice cracked out words they’d all heard since they were children.

“But sometimes obedience isn’t enough. There will always be fools who want chaos, dissenters who try to end our unity. That is why it is the moral duty of every person to follow the directives set forward by the government, and to report anyone they see not following the laws and the directives of the common good. it is your responsibility to turn in anyone who is working against the common order, regardless of who that person is.” He paused while they wrote.

When he looked back at his class he was speechless for the first time in years. A student had raised her hand in his class. The class turned as one to follow his gaze, and every eye in the room settled on Rachel as she meekly waited to be given permission to speak. When a question needed to be asked in other classes you raised your hand, but the rule was that there shouldn’t be anything to be questioned in civic duty class. Not when the children were this old. Rachel was a smart girl, perhaps smarter than she should be. Some of her teachers had suggested her for leadership roles in the school, but if she was questioning something in this, the most basic of courses, then perhaps they’d been wrong. The teacher cleared his throat then nodded to her. she took that for permission to speak.

“Sgt. Myers, I’m not sure I understand the device that was used by the rebels, I don’t see how something like that would be constructed, and how once constructed it would be so devastating as to deprive you of your leg.” The Sgt thought for a moment, clearly contemplating his authority to dispense the information that had been requested. Finally he turned to the board.

“Well, since Citizen Gassault has asked, and it is my duty to help you understand the horrors that come with chaos and the dissolving of our national unity, I will have to explain the device in greater detail.” He drew a bottle on the board, with an amount of liquid in it, indicated by badly drawn waves. He then drew a smaller bottle, facing the first, and filled in. he drew a swirl between them with a tail that trailed off toward the bottom of the board. “They would take two glass bottles, one larger than the other, and they would fill them, one with oil and the other with gunpowder” he pointed at the drawings. “Then they would stopper both with rags, tape them together like this and tie a rag around the tape. When thrown the larger bottle would smash, splashing burning oil everywhere, then a few seconds later, the fire would burn through to the powder and explode. The explosion sent glass fragments flying fast as bullets in all directions. A good thrower would land his cocktail in the middle of our troops and we’d take all the casualties.” The Sergeant explained. Rachel was busy taking notes and copying the drawing down into her notebook. When she finished she smiled sheepishly at the teacher.

“Thank you sir.” She said. The Sergeant nodded and smiled back to her.

“My pleasure young lady. It’s not often we get youths who can stomach the details of such horrors.” He said and looked around at the other students, many of whom were pale or looking ill. The bell rang, and Rachel fled the class. A few hours later she was at dinner with her older sister and father. Her sister’s name was Erica, another blond, but more timid. Erica had an intense fear of men, a leftover from being nine years old during the rebellion. Rachel had been five, and had few memories of those days anymore.

“What did you learn today?” her father asked Rachel as she at the spaghetti dinner he’d served. She blinked a few times then swallowed and carefully approached the subject.

“Well, Sgt. Myers taught us about Baked Cocktails, a weapon used by the rebels in the last revolution. It’s what destroyed his leg.” Her father looked at her in shock for a moment.

“He taught you about Baked cocktails did he? I suppose he told you what they did but nothing about what they were.” He said and she shook her head.

“No, at first that’s all he really told us, but then I asked him about it and he told us how they were made and how they worked.” She replied. Her father raised and eyebrow and her sister looked at her in shock.

“Rachel, unity through obedience. That information is illegal for a reason. You mustn’t be asking such questions; it will only lead to instability for the nation and trouble for our family.” Erica said. Rachel took the reproach with dignity and finished her dinner Then retreated to her room.

Walking in, she was surprised by the darkness. She flipped on the light and gasped again, then hurried into her room and closed the door behind her. “what are you doing here?” she demanded in a hushed tone. There, across the room a handsome figure in black sat on her bed. He had short dark hair and a scar running down his neck. His shoulders, legs, arms and neck were all adorned with dozens of chains and a strange metallic net hung over half his face, draped over it, but what lay below was visible through the mask regardless. He held a finger to his lips and the light dimmed, casting them both into almost complete shadow.

“That’s better” said the silk smooth voice of Cain Ferrus. The silhouette of the figure rose and crossed the room to the window, glancing out through the net of steel. “I’m waiting for my target to return home so I can keep my end of the bargain. The first day is done, day two is beginning. And at sunrise on day three my half of the bargain becomes complete.” He said. She shivered at his words.

“I see. How did you get in here?” she asked and sat on her bed in the dark. He looked strait at her and chuckled.

“Don’t be so surprised. When you come to understand the world as I do, very few things stand in your way. Or had you forgotten that I’m a sorcerer?” he asked. She looked away, more ashamed of his chide than she’d been at her sisters reprimand. After a few moments the light brightened, she looked around, and saw that Cain was gone, the window was still shut, there wasn’t any way out, yet he had clearly vacated the room somehow. Rachel sighed and went to turn off her light when she heard a shriek from down the street. She stopped mid step and her breath caught in her throat. Then suddenly she was in motion again, she turned off her light and dove toward her bed, burying herself in her covers she could hear his laughter in her mind, haunting and frightening, and strangely intriguing.

When Dawn came Rachel curled into a ball, refusing to come out of her bed. It was Saturday, and there would be no reason for her to get up today. She tossed and turned for hours, with the blanket pulled over her head. Outside her blanket the lights dimmed to near black and a shiver ran down her spine. It was around noon, but through the crack thin slit at the head of her bed she could see the infernal blackness that filled her room. She poked her head out from under her blanket and saw the chains shinning across the room.

“I came to tell you, everything is in order.” He said in that too smooth voice. She sat up silently, deathly afraid. He crossed the room and knelt on the edge of her bed. “you don’t need to fear me. We are bondsmen, bound by the chains. I would no more hurt you than I would hurt myself.” He said. She looked at his shadowy form and saw a faint glint off his chain mask. She reached out and hesitantly touched it, the metal was warm, almost comforting, she laid a hand on her own chain and found it had also warmed since his arrival. She looked up at him, the faint trace of a smile playing at her lips.

“I’ve been taught for years to fear you, and people like you.” she said timidly. He laughed at this and settled on the edge of her bed.

“People like me? What, sorcerers? Or do you perhaps mean people who don’t dress like your father, or maybe people who don’t go to school?” he asked. she sat gape mouthed at his verbal challenge.

“I’ve got a secret.” He said “you, are people like me.” He whispered. She gasped and blinked and found that he was gone, the light faded back in the window and she looked around at her empty room. She touched the chain at her neck and gasped again.
“Cold” she said. Then curled up in her bed.

That night, she sat up at midnight to the sound of a piercing scream from outside. She touched her chain and it was warm, and again a shiver went down her spine. He was out there, somewhere, solving her problem the way he chose to solve it.

The next day she went into school. Jenny met her at the door. “Did you hear what happened?” she asked. Rachel tipped her head, dazed and unsure what the older girl meant. “Our landlord, Berry, the one who was giving us all those problems, he was found dead this morning. He fell down the stairs at his house, took a few nasty blows to the head.” Jenny winced, imitating pain at the thought of the wounds. Rachel’s eyes softened. She walked down the hall a few steps then stopped, shock on her face, down the hall, she saw a boy looking at her, his dark hair and dark eyes an exact match to those that had haunted her for the last few days. His uniform fit him well, and he lacked the mask, but there was no doubt that it was Cain. Jenny shuffled her into class and after a few minutes the boy walked in and approached the teacher for permission to join the class. Sgt. Myers stood with the assistance of his crutch and hobbled to meet the boy.

“Ladies and gentleman, we have a new student transferring in. his name is Cain Steel. I’m sure you’ll all welcome him into our community and make him part of our unity.” The sergeant said. Cain bowed, a single thin chain slipping from the neck of his uniform, it matched Rachel’s. Her eyes were wide with shock and a bit of fear as Cain stood upright and approached the desk next to hers. He sat down and smiled at her, waving smugly.