9. KATIE
Chapter nine
KATIE
T he drive through the city was a blur, my mind reeling under some drug. Fuck, how did they get me so quickly?
I remembered the smear of lights against a hazy gray sky, the sun little more than a rosy glow on the horizon. But I did remember a city. An actual real-as-fuck city.
Were we in Seattle? It definitely wasn’t Portland or Tahoma. Could they have smuggled us across the border into Canada? How could such an expansive cult hide in plain sight?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, a migraine threatening at the edges of my scalp. I need to focus, make a plan.
The car I’m in bumps up a driveway, and if I squint through the tinted glass, I can see that it’s cobblestone. A fortress of blue-gray stone looms ahead of us, complete with two towers at either end. Banners hang limp, and as we pass under a guarded archway, I make out what looks like a very chubby black wolf with a crown on its head. Under the canine read the words: OMEGA CONSERVATORY, HALSAAVA CHAPTER.
Great. We’ve been kidnapped by cosplayers with tasers and drugs.
Rough hands haul me from the car, and I quickly scan the surroundings to make sure that my sisters are with me.
Maddie swears loudly. “Get your fucking hands off my twin!”
I swear she’s going to headbutt the guy in front of her, but he steps away from Molly Beth.
Norah leans weakly against one of the cars, and I wrap a supportive arm around her shoulders. The garage or wherever they’ve dropped us off is dimly lit, and I can’t see well enough to scope out possible exits. My thoughts and movements are clumsy, still trying to surface from the drugs.
“We’re going to be okay,” I say, hugging Norah to my chest, and feeling her slight tremble. She’s only eighteen. Seven years younger than me, barely out of high school. This shouldn’t be happening to her. To any of us.
“I want to go home,” she whispers.
“I promise I’ll figure it out.”
She shakes her head, opening her mouth to say something, but a new frogman appears, this time without the balaclava covering his face. He’s older, but still scowls.
“Come along, Omegas.”
That word again. These strange designations they use. None of this can be good. Before I can protest, two armed guards grab me by the elbows and pull me forward.
I am so tired of being touched. First the IV. Then Cal–Inspector Murphy assaulting me. Now these toads marching me around like a prisoner. Fuck them. I try to slap the guard on my left, but my movements are still awkward, languid and dull. I want to go back to sleep, to slip under the drug haze and cat nap in the sun.
“None of that now,” the older man orders.
“Never seen an Omega that threw punches before,” said one of the frogmen ahead of me. He’s on Molly Beth’s right. If I could just catch my steps, I could knock him over, freeing her. But for what? For her to go where? Molly Beth can’t even throw a punch.
“No, I don’t suppose you have. Most folk celebrate their perfume coming in.” He snorts derisively.
They march us through the hallways of the Conservatory so quickly that my foggy brain can’t memorize the path.
We are greeted at the doorway to what looks to be a circular hallway by a cheerful receptionist who introduces herself as Ansev, a fair skin woman in her late forties with rich dark hair and startling green eyes.
“This wing is unoccupied at present. The case managers thought keeping you all together would be best.” She smiles, revealing a deep dimple on her right cheek. Her outfit is simple: a fitted tunic top in a rich plum and gold, and black leggings with short ankle boots. No stiff suits, no clinical scrubs.
“All the security on these floors are Betas who have been personally vetted by the Royal Counsel of Peers.”
I nod, not wanting to pick a fight, but also knowing this was a lot of nonsense that I didn’t need. How could a cult recruit so many people and convince them to play along? Were there hallucinogens in the water? Maybe fanned through the vents? But that couldn’t explain how they didn’t cause a scene with local authorities with the man outside the hospital.
“There are linens in the bath, and a change of clothes laid out for you in each of your rooms. We approximate the sizing.” She looked at Maddie, the tallest in our family by a good four inches, and scrunched her nose briefly. Mads only snorts at her like a disgruntled donkey.
“We’ll have a supper tray right out to you after you get cleaned up.” Ansev disappeared, the same light bounce in her step as when she arrived.
“They’re being nice to us,” Layla noted, coming up and wrapping an arm around Molly Beth’s shoulders.
“Stay vigilant.” I say. I want to stay in the hall and refuse to let them split us up, but the guards who’d marched us in didn’t seem inclined to leave. Reluctantly, I push open the door to the bedroom, a simple room of cream and yellow.
I shut the door, but slide off one of the slippers I’d put on at the hospital and wedge it so that the door doesn't close all the way. This way they can’t lock me in. I race immediately to the window at the far wall. Bolted shut.
I inspect the small bathroom, the little wardrobe, even crawl under the surprisingly large and plush Queen-sized bed.
No doors, no latches, and nothing that looks like camera equipment.
I listen at the door, but the hallway is quiet. I pull my slipper, letting the door click shut, testing the handle. I can open it- but there’s an inside lock too.
“Fuck it.”
God, I shouldn't have bothered with the shower, but after all the stress of the day…. I gave in. I know my sisters will too. I step into the spray, and immediately feel knots of tension relaxing inch by inch. They must have had some kind of calming oils set for the steam, because the modest bathroom smells like a pumpkin spice candle by the time I get out and wrap one of the oversized towels around myself.
They are trying awfully hard to get us to let our guards down.
The question is why? If they can drug us so efficiently, why go through all this trouble? I dress in the loose black trousers and oversized cream sweater that are set out, mulling over every possibility, and finger-comb my short hair until it’s free of tangles. None of this makes sense. The panic of knowing we are farther from our escape vehicle claws at the edges of my consciousness.
We are locked in. No phones, no weapons, no clues as to where we are or who we’re with.
We may be spoiled now, but we are definitely prisoners.