Chapter 7 The Entitlement of Man
Chapter Seven
The Entitlement of Man
The landing was smoother than Daisy expected. There was a slight bump, a roar of the engines, and then they were taxiing across another private tarmac beneath the clouds. Her stomach swooped at the thought of being transported to some unknown land without even providing proof of her identity.
Maybe they didn’t need her identity, because it was easier if she didn’t have one. Less to erase. Oh, God… What had she done?
“Fuck,” she whispered, wondering why these flaws in her plan were only occurring to her now.
The door opened and fresh air rushed in, carrying the balmy scent of salt and pine—nothing like home.
“Miss Burdan.” A flight attendant appeared at her elbow, one she didn’t recognize. “This way, please. Your car is waiting.”
Daisy quickly gathered her bag and walked toward the exit. The stairs seemed steeper going down, or maybe her legs were just more unsteady now that she was finally here. Wherever here might be.
“Where are we?” She turned and blushed, realizing the flight attendant hadn’t followed her off the plane.
At the bottom of the steps, another black car idled. A new driver with a similar blank expression waited for her to descend. He rounded the car and opened the rear door with a stiff nod. “Miss Burdan?”
“Y—yes.”
“This way.”
She stepped within the space of the open door, but hesitated before getting inside. “Where are we?”
“We’re at an airport and we need to get moving to your next destination. Please have a seat and buckle up.”
Her gaze drifted back to the plane and her breath caught at the sight of another woman appearing equally as apprehensive.
Daisy wanted to wave or rush to her and ask if she had information she didn’t.
But with one gentle press to her shoulder the driver managed to usher her into the car and shut the door.
Sound buffered in the silence of the car as she stared through the tinted glass at the woman descending the stairs.
Unlike Daisy’s modest blonde hair, this woman had dark waves that fell past her shoulders, almost black in the sunlight, like the wing of a raven.
But there was an edge about her, an evident hardness.
She looked nothing like the kind of woman one would expect to disembark from a private jet. But neither did Daisy.
Was this whole thing about transplanting women into worlds where they didn’t belong?
As the car pulled away and another took its spot, Daisy turned to kneel on the seat, staring out the back window as the brunette was ushered into the next vehicle.
A third female descended the steps. But now the car was too far away to make out the color of her hair or any defining characteristics.
How many women were on the plane?
And were they all going to the same place?
The privacy screen lowered. “Please put your seatbelt on, Miss Burdan. We’re on a tight schedule, and I don’t want to make unnecessary stops.”
Not wanting a repeat episode like when she was restrained on the plane, she quickly straightened in her seat and clicked the belt into place. The jet shrank into a forgotten speck as they pulled away.
She slumped back against the leather seat and watched the landscape unfold. It was different here, wherever here was. The air tasted cleaner. The trees were taller, darker, more densely packed. The road wound through hills and valleys, past cliffs that dropped away to glimpses of grey-green sea.
“What body of water is that?”
The driver’s gaze flashed to the mirror, briefly meeting her stare, only to look away.
Right.
After what felt like hours but was probably only thirty minutes, the car turned onto a private drive. The driver handed a slip of paper to a security guard, and a wrought iron gate swung open, topped with finials that caught the dying light like spearpoints.
The car tipped up a slight hill, and Daisy’s shoulders pressed against the leather seat. Beyond the privacy panel, the front windshield framed an enormous home. Her lips parted in disbelief as an enormous home came into view.
The mansion rose from manicured grounds like something from a film, the kind of place that existed only in dreams. Pale stone walls climbed three stories high, punctuated by windows that flashed gold in the setting sun.
Columns framed an entrance grand enough to welcome royalty.
Fountains whispered on either side of the drive, their spray catching rainbows in the fading light.
The car stopped under an awning protecting a carpet that traveled up the stairs to the front door. Topiaries carved into spiraling shapes lined the path.
This was wealth. Real wealth. The kind that built dynasties and bought governments and existed so far beyond her experience that it might as well have been another planet.
The driver opened her door. “This way, miss.”
She followed him up the wide steps, her footfalls silent on the carpet. The doors opened before they reached the top, and a woman dressed in a servant’s uniform nodded, then bowed her head.
Daisy was a lost mouse wandering into a cathedral. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Priceless art on the walls. Everything gleamed, everything sparkled, everything whispered of money and limitless power.
“Miss Burdan,” the woman said, now at her side. “Please follow me.”
Like a balloon cut from its string, Daisy turned and fluttered uncertainly. The driver had abandoned her at the door. “Where are we going?”
“Just this way,” the woman said, leading her around the corner.
More hallways. More art. More flowers. The house went on forever, a maze of wealth designed to disorient and overwhelm. Finally, they reached a door. The maid opened it and gestured inside toward two upholstered chairs.
“Please wait here. The doctor will be with you shortly.”
Daisy stepped through the door and turned. “Doctor?”
The woman shut the door, leaving Daisy alone in the small sitting room, which was still twice the size of her entire flat. A desk faced the chairs. Bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes lined the walls. But what caught her attention most was the painting.
It hung behind the desk, dominating the room. A pair of masculine eyes. Just eyes, enormous and unblinking, painted in shades of blue and grey, surrounded by clouds or fog, staring down at her from the canvas with an intensity that pressed into her like physical presence.
The eyes of man, she thought. Or maybe God.
Watching. Judging. Seeing everything.
A door opened behind her. Daisy turned and quickly dropped into a chair.
“Miss Burdan?” The white lab coat hardly disguised the man’s expensive clothes.
“Yes?”
“I’m Dr. Tannh?user.” His voice was cultured, but precise. “I’ll be conducting your medical examination.”
“Medical examination?”
“Standard procedure for all tributes. Nothing to be concerned about.” He sat on the edge of the desk rather than taking the leather chair behind it, and stretched his long legs out between them.
He was handsome, strikingly so, with thick black hair swept back from his flawless toffee skin, rich and warm, a sharp contrast to his penetrating eyes. Blue. Impossibly blue. The kind of blue that didn’t occur in nature.
She sucked in a silent breath, realizing whose eyes were in the painting.
Awkwardly, she fidgeted, failing to find a position that would hide her secondhand clothes and work-roughened hands.
“I’m sure you’re nervous.” He smiled in a way meant to put others at ease, but his eyes remained unchanged.
“I find these moments are better when we dive right into business.” He tossed a file onto the desk and selected another one from a tidy stack.
Opening it, he scanned the pages inside. “B-U-R-D-A-N?”
“Yes. Daisy Burdan.” On the file’s exterior tab, she read the number 1922.
He shut the file with a quick snap, as if he read everything he needed to see. “Please, follow me...Daisy.”
He moved quickly, leaving her several steps behind before she even made it to her feet. “Is this the blood screening?”
“Yes, among other things.” He turned into the next room.
Carpet turned to linoleum, and Daisy’s steps halted. Her heart jolted. Unbidden memories of her mother’s last visit to the hospital came hurtling back to her.
“Come in.”
She needed a second to acclimate herself. “Sorry. I’m not…” Deciding not to dump her personal trauma here, she forced her lips shut and crossed the threshold.
The exam room was clinical despite the mansion’s grandeur. White walls, bright lights, intimidating equipment. An examination table, draped with paper, stood at its center, fitted with stirrups at the foot.
Daisy’s stomach dropped.
“You can disrobe. Put this on, open in the front.” Dr. Tannh?user handed her a thin paper garment. “Drape the blanket over your lap.”
She glanced down at the gown, confused. “I thought this was just lab work.”
“With a full exam.” He smiled again. “We want to make sure you’re in tip-top shape for this weekend, don’t we?”
“Oh.” She glanced at the gown and back to the doctor, waiting for him to leave so she could change.
He didn’t.
Instead, he moved to the counter, arranging instruments and making a quick note in her file, his back half-turned to her.
“I...” She clutched the gown against her chest. “Are you...?”
“Miss Burdan,” he said with a look of impatience. “I’ve examined thousands of patients. Your body holds no mysteries for me. If you don’t mind—I have a schedule to keep.”
Her face burned as she fumbled to tear the plastic wrapper off the paper gown. She turned and toed out of her shoes, keeping her head down and making her body small.