44
“What a touching reunion, truly. Do not stop on my account,” a deep rumbling timbre echoes in the lithic entryway. The same arrogant tone I could place anywhere. One that belongs to a Grimshaw. Mortensen.
Vesper and I whirl our heads around. The air settles thick and heavy. Mortensen steps out from the obscured darkness into the foyer. Masked Elites emerge from the darkened halls. My entire body turns to stone. My veins turn cold. I harden my interior, swallowing the self-loathing.
Not now, Clara.
“You two are elusive. I never thought I would see you free from your keepers.”
He chuckles as he approaches. His hands dip into his pockets casually.
His words come off charismatic, but I'm not blind to his structural malevolence.
He's been constructed to be a powerful machine.
The man is incapable of feelings just like his son.
His arrogant over confidence attitude matches Kieran's to a tee.
Vesper and I remain silent. I glance to the staircase expecting Zain to barrel down and save the day, hoping we are not truly alone. Vesper shakes her head enough confirming Mortensen's suspicion. The less I speak the harder he has to work to piece me together.
I don't trust Mortensen, just like I no longer trust Kieran. Terror blossoms in my stomach. Vesper and I get to our feet. She clutches my arm like a lifeline.
“You are due back in the Void my dear, and you—” he snaps his gaze to Vesper.
“—Your father wanted to protect you from the Void, but you would fit in so well. Such an innocent beauty,” he purrs.
The words roll off his tongue in a silky cadence that is meant to entice, but all it does is create a pit in my stomach.
He steps closer. He reaches to touch her jet-black strands. She shrieks back as if burnt.
Vesper and I exchange glances. We both know I have no choice but to go back. “I'll go.” I announce. She clings harder, refusing to break free.
“No,” she whispers, pleading with me.
“I need this scholarship. I have no alternatives. I can get through it,” I assure her with a heavy breath, but my voice sounds anything but. I know it's over for me. Why drag her down with me?
A hearty laugh leaves his throat. “Oh no, my dear, you are both coming with me.”
He directs our attention across the room.
At the snap of his fingers two of the well-dressed Elites in twill suits emerge from the shadows on either side of us.
Cracked onyx masks cover three fourths of their faces, concealing their identity.
They flank on either side, ready to intervene at the drop of a hat.
Fighting would be futile, so I remain stoic.
Vesper on the other hand loses it with fresh tears.
She's not built for these situations. I rise to my feet and step forward, breaking my grip with Vesper to try and reason with Mortensen.
“Please, just take me. I will obey. I am willing as I told you. I didn't leave on my own accord the first time. You don't need her.”
A smirk grows on the corner of his lips like a predator.
“Oh, I'm well aware you were taken against your will. I planned it.”
His words are a slap to the face. “You were a wonderful temporary distraction to steer Kieran where I needed him, but Vesper has always been the end goal. You just happened to be a casualty. I’m pleased to say it worked out beautifully.” He strides forward.
Vesper looks gobsmacked. “Wha—” She rises slowly.
She takes a step back. “Let me explain along the way, please.”
he motions calmly toward the door behind us as if we have a choice.
His equanimitive, placid timbre sounds alarm bells.
His smooth talking does little to elevate my discomfort.
If anything, it has me on edge. The masked Elites at our sides move to crack open the front door.
Outside is eerily quiet and still. A sleek Rezvani Vengeance rolls forward along the driveway, replacing Kieran's Bugatti.
Another masked Elite emerges from the driver's seat.
He sails around and opens the door for Mortensen as if he's royalty.
He marches between us with authority. His two lackeys open the back door for us as we trail behind.
Running is not an option. Vesper looks to me as if I have the answers.
It's apparent she is as clueless as I am.
Her eyes swell with tears. She knows we are out of options.
I just need time to compose a plan. I'll do everything in my power to get her out of this mess.
Vesper's eyes are riddled with fear. I slide my hand along the cool leather seats grabbing her trembling digits.
I squeeze, signaling for her to stay strong.
I take slow measured breaths. If she sees me cracking, she'll surely crumble.
Zain has given her a newfound strength, but even that is no match for Mortensen.
She could never hack the Void. Why Mortensen wants her niggles my brain.
My throat is clogged with trepidation. Dread fills me, but I can't show weakness.
Not now. An impending panic attack from my anxiety is on the cusp of breaking me.
The masked Elites slide in beside us blocking our only means of escape. The car lurches forward kicking up gravel behind us. She squeezes my hand tighter.
Mortensen's muted eyes find mine in the rearview.
“You have many questions, I’m sure of it.”
he states. I'm not sure if he's directing his words to me or Vesper.
His eyes flash over to Vesper with a hateful resentment.
I skirt my gaze over to Vesper to find her eyes trained on her lap.
She's desperately trying to disassociate, but her worrisome expression is written plainly on her face.
I, on the other hand, have learned to mask those emotions during my darkest hours.
Sometimes it's easier said than done when I spiral into a mental health crisis.
Right now isn't the time for my depression and anxiety to rear their ugly heads.
Right now, weakness is not an option. Mortensen clears his throat when neither of us respond.
The car continues through the sleepy neighborhood.
The bumpy road jostles me against the masked Elite on my right side.
His thick twill overcoat smells of cigars and sex.
The streetlights pulse, illuminating the inside of the car every few seconds, flickering over his sinister smirk like a taunt.
“Why . . . ?” Vesper finally breaks the silence. Her eyes flutter up to meet his hardened expression. Mortensen's face squeezes into a tight scrunch in the rearview mirror. “You are impure.”
Vespers face fades. She's never been one to be embarrassed of her background.
What does he mean by purity? “Being adopted doesn't make me less than,” she says with shaky words, holding her ground.
She's never been outspoken. I'm proud of her resilience.
Within the last few months she's lost her father, found out he lied to her her whole life, and she found out Zain is her brother.
Despite it all, she's held her head high.
For the first time I can say we both have traumatic pasts.
Never have I felt prouder of my best friend.
Mortensen chuffs. He adjusts his cufflinks. “That is where you are incorrect.” His beady eyes drill into her through the mirror as if he knows something we do not. I clear my throat. My fingers run along the fabric of Kieran's sweats. “Why do you need me?” I dare ask. His eyes fall to me.
A cynical snarl leaves his throat. “Your worth is between your legs. Let's not waste it, shall we.”
His words leave a metallic taste in my mouth. His earlier venom haunts me. Do not breed with it. Impurity. Broken.
I remain silent. So does Vesper. The car ride is agonizingly long offering me my thoughts before the driver finally pulls into a driveway.
I recognize the feel of the tires along the gravel immediately.
My eyes track upward. A thick riven crenellated stone structure spires in the distance.
Thick ivy crawls up the building, hugging the crumbling stonework.
We screech to a halt. Our bodies slam forward against the leather seats.
I nip my lip, dying to have a fix just to block this next part out.
I know what's impending, but Vesper doesn't. My fists tighten to the point a few of my nails bust off. My bones ache. The only thought crossing through my mind is why didn't he blindfold us? Last time I was brought here, I was devoid of all my senses and made a ritualistic offering.
“Ladies.” The driver throws the car in park.
He shuffles around to open Mortensen's door.
The two lackeys exit, letting us out. I step one foot out onto the gravel.
Flashes of my last encounter pulse through my frontal lobe.
I gnash my teeth together. My body involuntary spasms.
Vesper is quiet behind me. I brace myself as the two Elites guide us inside, ready to parade us through the mass of hungry predators.
The steel doors swing open and I keep my head held high showing no weakness.
Vesper's soft cries behind me reach my ears even over the loud staccato of chatter and sexual cries of pain and ecstasy.
They drill into her like a hungry predator.
Just like before, we are led to the back with the older woman. She beams when she spots me again.
“I knew you would be back, darling,” she coos. Mortensen leaves us with her, though I know whatever he has planned is far from over.
The older woman snaps her fingers beckoning someone over from the shadows.
A younger woman emerges from the curtains.
The woman whisks Vesper away to the far corner without a word.
Her pleading eyes are the last thing I see before I, too, am taken to my own corner and shoved into the tufted stools just like before.
The older woman does a once over, raking her eyes over my body.
She slides a few pills along the chipped wooden vanity in front of me.
I exhale knowing fighting who I am is fruitless.
With shaky hands, I dry swallow the pills hoping the pain will fade soon enough.
My mind drifts back to Vesper. She's never done drugs, at least I don't think.
She's not cut out for this. Before I can formulate any escape plan, the older woman comes back with a black lace high waisted thong and matching bra in hand.
I wordlessly undress knowing they'll see the gauze patched along my stomach. I'm ashamed to have his name etched in my skin like a form of ownership. I step gingerly out of Kieran's clothes. The old woman pauses from the corner as my shirt drifts over my body, lingering on my stomach.
“Stop,” she commands. I still. She rushes back through the curtain toward the Void as I stand naked, cold, and devoid of any emotion. A few moments later Mortensen steps through the threshold with wide eyes, aghast. His face turns to pure revulsion.
“What is this?” I shuffle my feet along the cold dusty floor. I say nothing as I peel back the bandages, wincing as they stick along my sore, scabbed skin. I grit my teeth at Kieran being right about the ointment and gauze. How he knows and I wish I had listened.
“He marked your skin?” he says with measured appreciation.
His eyes skim my body as he circles me. With each ticking second his temperament changes from galvanization to lividity.
“I am at least pleased to see my methods have made him equally harsh, but—” he tsks.
“—you are now tainted. What to do with you,” he hums.
His brows rise. “I suppose you are still usable by our . . . select Elites,” he says slowly.
I refuse to meet his gaze, not wanting to know what that entails, though I think I already know.
He waves his hands frantically before passing through the curtain and back into the Void.
The older woman returns. She fusses with my hair and makeup, painting me like a doll.
The voices in my head scream at me to run, but I'm frozen staring back at the broken reflection in front of me.
The background noise drowns out and I know the pills are starting to take hold, suctioning to my cells.
I watch helplessly as she applies bright pink lipstick to my lips.
The bristles of the makeup brush dance along my cheek, tickling my skin.
She paints a heavy dark eyeshadow over my lids, hiding my drugged-out state.
As if these Elites give a shit about outward appearance.
They just want pleasure to dull their senses.
My eyelids grow heavy. I struggle to fight the feeling.
She pinches my cheeks. “You're such a beauty. You'll fit in so well,” she preens. Then the room goes dark.