3. Sawyer #2
“I don’t know what kind of women you’re looking for, but if I have to find one, get her here, and… do whatever else you want me to do, all in three weeks, she isn’t going to be a princess.”
Aurelius smiles. And I don’t know what it means, but I find my eyes dipping to his hands, as if he could be holding a knife. Only a maroon bracelet peeks from the gray of his cuffed sleeve.
“Well lucky for you, we’ve taken care of the first two tasks. She’s already here.”
Aurelius gestures to the unconscious woman sprawled out on the floor. I turn my head toward her, meaning sinking deep into my gut, feeling suspiciously like dread.
“Our primary use for you is not to simply bring us Seraphs. We want you to introduce them to our society’s practices in a positive light as well as teach them to submit themselves fully to our members.
You have three weeks to make our chosen Seraph ready for our people.
If you succeed, we’ll go by your timeline from then on. ”
I keep my head turned, eyes latched onto the girl so they don’t have to focus on Aurelius. Deep breaths pour in and out of my lungs, nostrils flaring with each exhale.
“You’ve seriously misunderstood who I am and what I’ve done,” I say, keeping my tone even.
Aurelius doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ve spent a wealth of time studying who you are and what you’ve done. There’s no misunderstanding.”
I want to laugh in his face.
They read the articles. They watched the interviews.
They don’t know me. They know what some people with badges and over-inflated egos have said.
“Well, you’ve certainly wasted no time figuring out what to do with me,” I say, tucking my hands in my pockets when they try to clench. Just how long did it take them to start foaming at the mouth after Wilcox reached out?
I should’ve known. They accepted our request too quickly, gave us no hoops to jump through. I should’ve known, but I’m not surprised.
Back turning to Aurelius and the two women, I wander over to the captive on the floor, my shadow looming over her slender, pale form. Very pale. Even shadowed, her long hair stands out as unusually fair. Maybe even white.
Crouching, I run my finger down a smooth lock, free of split ends or breakage, each strand well-cared for.
“Who is she?” I ask, slipping my hand beneath her cheek so I can turn her to face me. Her skin is warm against my chilled palm, despite the utter lack of color. The only indication of life is a whisper of breath my thumb collects as it slides along her bottom lip.
“I’d have to ask Thorne… He’s the one who picked her.”
“Where did he find her?”
A floorboard creaks beneath Aurelius’s weight as he nears. “New York City—as high a crime area as Thorne could find. We’re two hundred miles away. Don’t worry about anyone linking us to her disappearance.”
My eyes travel from her makeup-free face to the tan sweater hugging her chest. I run my hand down her arm, soft cashmere caressing the scars on my palm. She was home when they took her—dressed casually in quality clothes, face free of scars, blemishes, or paint.
High crime area my ass.
“Can you tell me anything about her? Does she have children? A husband? A career?”
I lift her left hand before I even finish, running my thumb over her bare ring finger, catching on bulky metal adorning her middle digit.
I work the ring past her knuckle and hold it up to study.
An emerald, square-cut jewel clung to a gold band.
Familiar somehow, but when I search my memory, I can’t place it.
I know for certain I’ve never seen this woman in my life.
When I look over my shoulder at Aurelius, he’s facing the two women. As if they have the answers. No one offers any.
“You don’t know a thing about this girl, do you?”
The blonde answers. “We thought we’d give you a blank slate, sir. We want you to feel challenged and confident in your abilities.”
My abilities … as a sorcerer?
Standing, I pocket the emerald ring. The room heats as though the candles have multiplied, flames reaching the ceiling, claiming the curves of my ears, the skin at my chest.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I say to the blonde, her cheeks pinkened as if she can feel the heat as well. I don’t look at Aurelius. If I do, I’m afraid my composure will break.
“Zephyr.”
“Could you excuse us, Zephyr?”
Her eyelids pinch like she’s insulted, but as Aurelius clears his throat, they snap open. She turns to him just as he waves Raven and her toward the door. There’s a beat that passes, a hitch of hesitation where I think she’ll tell him no.
Who is she? How high up must you be to reject the leader?
I don’t get to find out. She lifts her head and follows Raven out the door, leaving it open. I close it before turning back to Aurelius.
“I don’t know what kind of powers you think I have, but there is no possible way I can do what you’re asking.” I gesture behind me. “You might as well put that one back. She’ll never work.”
Hands clasping behind his back, he shuffles toward me. “May I ask why?”
Why?
I could scoff. It sits at the back of my throat while I remind myself of the millions of dollars at stake here.
“Respectfully… I was a billionaire who owned his own island. The women I brought over were mentally broken and drained. Prostitutes. Runaways. Domestic violence survivors. Drug-addicted mothers with no hope of getting their kids back. I took the desperate and vulnerable and made them princesses in a palace I built just for them. I gave them the best clothes, the best food, and frankly, the best lives beyond what they could’ve ever lived without me. ”
I sweep my hands while observing the room.
“Compare that to this… As far as I can tell, your people don’t believe in electricity.
This is a place I’m looking forward to calling home, but it isn’t an easy sell for someone craving a life of luxury.
That woman…” I crook my thumb at Sleeping Beauty.
“That’s a city girl wearing a cashmere sweater and no wedding ring.
That tells me she’s either from a wealthy family or she has her own successful career, and judging by where you found her, I’m going to lean toward the latter.
She wants more than caviar; she wants individuality.
You’re in short supply of that here, and I’m no miracle worker…
If you want to go hit up the insane asylum, then sure, I’ll see what I can do.
If not, I’m afraid I’ll be better off initiating as a Keeper.
I could always do what you’re asking on the side. ”
“On the side…” When Aurelius’s lips stretch, the lighting makes him look like a Disney villain. I half expect him to evil-laugh. “I’m sorry, Sawyer Hansley. I don’t think this is going to work out.”
He turns to the door. “Thorne!”
A lantern glows in the tiny space as the door opens, but I don’t turn to watch the meaty man enter. If I were here under the disguise of another alias, I might jump through this man’s hoops. I might bend over to appease him, maybe even apologize for the misunderstanding.
But I’m here as Sawyer Hansley now. I’m fully aware that this man wants me.
When Thorne grips my bicep, I rip away from him.
“If I’m going to do this, it’s going to require resources. I’ll need access to the cult’s money and the help of at least three men.”
When Thorne grabs me a second time, Aurelius gives him a look. He lets go and dutifully steps aside.
“I want to make something clear,” Aurelius says, his voice noticeably more strained.
“We are not savages. We produce our own electricity, have running water, and allow plenty of luxuries. What makes our society special isn’t wealth or glamor.
It’s the people’s lifelong commitment to doing what’s best for the community as a whole, and that often involves conservation.
Those who can’t understand that don’t belong here.
” He waves to the unconscious woman. “Including her, and including you.”
Conservation. I’d love to see where this guy sleeps and how much ‘conservation’ he practices.
I nod. “I understand.”
Aurelius takes a deep breath as if satisfied. “As for the manpower required, Thorne will assist you in whatever you need.”
Nothing about access to the money, of course. I had to try.
I turn to look at Tribal Tattoo. He stares at me with a sneer like he’s already tired of me being here. It’s unnerving how much hatred he puts off.
Blowing out a breath, I try to think through a plan of action, at least to buy some time until I can find what I’m after. It isn’t difficult. I wish it was difficult.
I am not the monster they think I am, but I do understand the human mind. There’s a piece of paper in a New York office that says I have an MBA from Cambridge, but life is what truly gave me my education, and it’s been thorough.
It isn’t hard for me to figure out what a person wants or how they’d react to certain stimuli. How their mind works, how to put them in a state that’s receptive to suggestion.
And sure, at times, I’ve used this to my advantage. I’m not a choir boy.
And sure, in theory, if a captive were in front of me, I could probably figure out how to calm their nervous system. Teach them to trust (at least trust me), teach them to hold still, teach them to survive.
And sure, an argument could be made that I do have some practice with this. A theatrical soul might call what I’ve done brainwashing, but I’d challenge them to consider if fantasy could be preferable to reality. If I could ‘brainwash’ myself, I probably would.
Say what you will about me, but these people? They’re out of their fucking minds.
I sell fantasy—not crazy.
“How long can you keep the girl asleep?” I ask Aurelius.
He lifts his shoulders. “For as long as you need.”
I turn toward the girl, her body twisted in a way that makes me think someone just dropped her there. Even in her sleep, she doesn’t look at peace, which is a shame. This was her last chance to find it.
I face forward. “Good… We have a lot of work to do.”