Chapter 2
Chapter two
Winona Bishop
The Apparition — Sleep Token
The fresh smell of pumpkin spice drifts as I walk past the kitchen. The cake came out of the oven an hour ago and is cooling on the counter. I bake when I’m lonely, anxious, overwhelmed, or on the verge of tears.
I don’t know why.
It’s not really my thing, but I’ve been doing this since I was a teen to distract myself, so I guess it’s my thing after all.
Drawing has always been my go-to when I need to unwind, but sometimes I can’t even bring myself to draw. So, I either bake or go to Grandma’s range and shoot some fake targets in her underground training room.
“Come on, Titan,” I call before my goofy Cane Corso dashes outside.
My foot hits something on my way out the entry door. I twist the key in the lock and drop my gaze to see a medium-sized box with a red ribbon atop it.
I didn’t order anything.
I watch Titan spin around himself, wagging his tail in happiness as if he had seen his favorite person.
Impossible.
I give the box an experimental kick.
Nothing shifts suspiciously.
I carefully bend down to tug at the lid, and my eyes widen at the horrifying sight before me.
Lungs.
Human lungs are sealed in a plastic bag. Beside it, a note with a message:
He will never breathe the same air as you ever again.
I stare at the dried blood around it, frozen for a moment before flicking my eyes up to scan the street from left to right and back.
My breathing quickens as I pull back the collar of my shirt to get some air, and my eyes widen in horror as the realization strikes me.
Someone did it for me.
My heart refuses to acknowledge what my head keeps preaching to me daily, with no end—he is d… gone.
At first, I thought the random gifts on my porch were Grandma’s wicked sense of humor because she joked about it before I even brought it to her attention. But… this has escalated quickly, and now we’re in a different league.
I slam the lid back on the box and lift it with me as I run to my car. Titan jumps in the back. I drop the box into the passenger seat and drive my key into the ignition to start it.
A blood-curdling scream erupts from the music player that has me gasping.
I shoot my hand up and turn it off.
The pulse in my neck beats violently as I back out of the driveway and drive up the street to Grandma’s mansion.
I wave to the guards at the entrance, and as soon as they open the electric gate, I round the C-shaped paved driveway in front of her extensive three-story mansion and put the car in park.
Titan bursts out, eager to stroll around the property and greet everyone.
The burbling sound of the fountain in the center follows me as I grab the box and dash up the porch steps straight inside. Bursting into her office at the center of the main floor, I pant, slamming the present from hell on her desk.
“Oh, please, come in,” she says playfully, gesturing with her hand. “Always making a dramatic entrance. You had a knack for it since you were a kid.” She nods to her guard to close the door behind me.
The room smells like old books, notes of vanilla, and strong coffee. Nostalgic.
“This is serious,” I urge in a stern tone.
She gives the box a quick glance. “Is it from your secret admirer?” she teases in a mischievous tone. To save time, I open the box, and she looks at it, quite impressed. Not the reaction I was hoping for, but the one I expected. “Now, that’s a present.”
“This is bad.”
Cocking her head slightly, she brings her finger to her thin crimson lips. “That’s romantic. Call it poetic, if you will.”
I seriously want to question her judgment right now, but it’s pointless. I know who she is, and that’s part of her world—the same one she tried to shield me from my entire life.
“I’ve seen worse. Besides, you’re the one who likes morbid tales.” She completely dismisses the situation. “Don’t let it ruffle your feathers, Darling.”
I may be startled by the look, but it’s not my first time seeing the body parts or organs of a dead person.
“This is concerning if it has to do with the Halloween Killers. What if it’s a sign? What if they’re coming after me? What if they’re already here?”
“That’s a lot of what-ifs. But what if you’re jumping to conclusions too fast?”
“Why are you so nonchalant about it?“ I lower my chin and arch my eyebrows at her. “This made it all the way to my front door despite having troops of guards all over the street.”
“I guess I have to fire someone,” she jokes, and that’s an occasion I don’t see too often, if ever.
“Really? Are you on something?”
“Oh, please, can’t I laugh with you? The world is getting too serious.”
Why so serious? The well-known quote instantly pops into my mind, and I almost laugh at how absurd it sounds.
“The guards don’t open boxes because they’re private. And if there’s a bomb, I highly doubt someone will ship it via mail. So, sometimes we get disturbing things like this. I’ve had my fair share, believe me.”
But who can do this if her identity and location are kept secret?
She knows something but is keeping it to herself, and spreading lies is her native language. It’s part of her job.
“I came here for the prison job.” I declare, dropping the box beside the foot of the desk.
She gives me a wary look. “Anything can happen out there.”
“Where do I sign?” I look into Grandma’s cobalt-blue eyes as I pick up a pen and skim it across the stack of papers she has already prepared on the desk.
These walls hold their breath when a new secret is whispered between them, just like when I was a kid. This room, this office, is the heart of her world.
My grandmother’s underground prison holds dangerous criminals from across the globe—all are locked in filthy dungeons just like their vile records. Her trained teams gather crucial information from these prisoners, potentially saving thousands of lives that are threatened nearly every day.
The prisoners are forced to fight in a game of survival for the chance to live another day. The truth is, they’ll never get out of there.
At first, I flinched at the idea, but then, on second thought, these criminals will butcher and destroy anything good, beautiful, innocent, and vibrant, just for the sake of it. So why kill them easily after everything they’ve done?
I had to join Grandma’s secret and influential organization—BLACKBIRD.
According to her, a dystopian future isn’t imminent, but it’s close enough that we should start preparing for when it happens. We need to brace for the worst because it’s only a matter of time.
I believe her.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” She tucks her copper-red hair behind her ears, shooting me her famous composed look that flashes murder when looked at closely. “Don’t make a rush decision. This may be a family business, but this is not the life I wanted for you.”
Too bad it was thrust upon me.
Being the granddaughter of Romina Bishop has been a major challenge throughout my life. She is one of the most powerful women in the world, operating top-secret facilities worldwide while maintaining her anonymity. Romina raised me single-handedly in my parents’ absence.
My parents are contract killers who travel all over the world, moving from one target to the next. I was destined to bear the family secret, whether I liked it or not.
“I’m aware,” I don’t blink for a second, determined to prove to her that I want this and am ready. “I need to get away as far as possible.” I need to become someone else, chase different things, and breathe different air.
I tasted the wholesome part of my life with my husband.
Now, I’m at the point where I survive because I don’t feel like I’m truly living.
I feel like I’m in a stranger’s body, trying to find answers, but I’m running out of time.
If I stay here, I will continue searching for him, but I will never find him because he’s gone.
After three years, a part of me still expects him to walk through the door, even though it’s impossible.
“You’ve never been on a mission before and will be all on your own.
Did you read the terms of the contract?” The hint of concern in her sharp tone is tangible.
I know how much she cares for me and will do anything to protect me.
That’s why she has to let me go, too. I can’t be her sheltered little girl anymore.
“I have.”
“We’ll go over a few things together.” She grabs the paper and starts reading parts of it aloud.
“You will go to an undisclosed location and protect an underground secret facility for three hundred and sixty-five days. There will be no human contact during that time. No reception. The necessary supplies and equipment will be provided to you at that location. You are not to leave your lookout tower unless there is an emergency such as a fire, supply shortage, extended power outage, or extreme danger that could result in death.”
“That’s very reassuring,” I smirk.
“Smartass.” She flips to the next page and slides it in front of me. “Fill out the form. Attach a health declaration, sign an NDA, and acknowledge you’ve read and accepted the risk form.”
I drop my gaze and fill out the blank sections.
Name: Winona Bishop.
Age: 29
Technically, I will be in a week.
Address: 4 Crane Street, Salem, Massachusetts.
Occupation: Former 911 dispatcher.
Allergies: Bees.
I spread my signature everywhere she points.
“You already have my health declaration, so are we done?”
“Yes, but one more thing.” She pulls open her desk drawer and drops the contract inside. “There’s the element of surprise. No one, except for my most trusted operators, knows the location of this facility. Don’t resist them when they show up. I’ll do my best to give you a heads-up.”
“Don’t.” The pen clinks against the other as I release it into the penholder. “I want the full experience.”