15. Ember #2
The room she’s selected is plain white with new grey carpet. A small window overlooks the garden and beyond. Typical British neighbourhood, nothing noteworthy about it. The kinda place people go to disappear into anonymous normalcy.
Gracie cowers in the farthest corner, her coat discarded and knees pulled up to her chest. I slide down the length of the wall next to her, crossing my legs.
“How’re you doing with all this?”
Chewing her lip, she shrugs. “It was inevitable, I guess.”
“You’re going to be safe here, and your sisters will be fine. You will have trustworthy agents stationed to protect you 24/7, and no one else knows your location.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ember.”
“I swore I’d protect you.”
“And I know what we’re up against.” Her retort is more drained than angry. “Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake coming home and endangering my family.”
Hearing her so downtrodden slices an invisible blade across my heart. It calls up images of the bloodied, dirt-streaked girl in the cage next to mine. Our futures felt hopeless then. Yet we survived.
“I’m going to catch him,” I vow, quiet but firm. “You’ll get the future you deserve, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Why are you fighting for me?” Tearful blue eyes pierce mine.
“Because I let you down once before, and I have no intention of doing it again. You never should’ve been sold.”
“Ember…”
“No,” I cut her off. “I couldn’t save you then, but I’ll damn well make sure you’re safe to live your life now.”
Tentatively bridging the cavern between us, Gracie captures my hand. Her nails are sore and chewed to the quick. Fingers interlocking, we hold each other’s hand tight, much like we used to between our cage bars.
“I need your help to do that,” I admit.
“How so?”
“I know how hard it is to talk about the past, believe me. But if you have any information, no matter how small… I need to know. Names, dates, locations. Anything.”
“Like the p-parties?” Her lower lip trembles.
“Yes, hun. Things like the parties.”
“H-He told me never to speak about his friends.” The fear in her whisper is palpable.
“That monster can’t hurt you anymore. I’m sure you’re afraid, terrified even. Talking about everything that happened makes it all feel real, right?”
Gracie nods, tongue held.
“I felt the same way,” I confess ruefully. “Honestly, I still do. It’s tough to open up. That’s why I want you to talk only to me. Tell me what you remember. No one else has to be involved.”
“Still scary.”
“Yeah, it is.” Contemplating, I decide to take a risk. “What if we did something while we talked?”
Her downcast gaze brightens with interest. “Like what?”
“I don’t know about you, but I like to hit things. Gets all that anger and fear out, you know? I could show you sometime, teach you a few moves. You could even learn to defend yourself.”
I have no idea if she’ll go for it, but after a second, Gracie slowly nods, a little smile playing across her mouth.
“I like the sound of that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I want to be able to defend myself when the time comes.” She skates her stare over me. “Who better to teach me?”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll come back to see you and give you lessons. In return, I’ll need everything you remember about where you were held and the people you saw.”
She blanches, the little colour she had in her cheeks draining away.
“Can you do that for me?” I ask gently.
“I’ll try, Ember. I swear.”
“I know you will. I’m proud of you, Gracie. I hope you know that.”
With tears sliding down her cheeks, she shuffles out of the corner to bundle me in a real hug. I cradle her bony form into my chest, running a hand over limp blonde locks that once shined bright. I hope they will again.
“W-What if I wrote a list of names now?” Stammering into my chest, her voice is muffled. “There were others held with me… Other missing girls. Their families should know.”
“If you’re up for it, that would be extremely helpful.”
“I think I can do it.”
With a final reassuring squeeze, I release her. “Thank you.”
“You’ll still come back and teach me?”
“Absolutely! A deal’s a deal.”
She plucks up a weak smile, sidling from the room to locate paper and a pen. I let the back of my head crash into the wall, taking advantage of the spare moment to gather my thoughts. The last day or so has been a whirlwind.
Between Gracie’s intel and the testimony Gunnar has agreed to provide as part of his plea deal, there has to be something we can use. A nugget of information. At least one solid lead. I’ll take anything that will give us an edge in this race against the clock.
When Gracie returns, she retakes her place to contemplate the folded paper in her hand. Not exactly a grocery list stuffed into her mum’s handbag. I’m sure the poor woman would be horrified by her daughter’s scribbled list of victims’ names.
“It’s all a bit blurred.” She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Is it like that for you too?”
“Sometimes, but the asshole therapist my job assigned does his best to dig around inside my brain.”
“That sounds like hell on earth.”
“You get used to it after a while.”
Eyebrows pinched, Gracie jots down a couple names. “I don’t have surnames.”
“Anything is helpful.”
“There was a woman… Someone in charge.”
“In charge?” My breath catches.
“Yes, but not in a bad way. She protected us a lot. Brought medicine, food, clean clothes. She was different from us somehow, untouchable even. Sometimes I saw her eating with our master.”
“How old was she?”
“Older, closer to his age, I think. In fact, I saw them together a lot. She belongs to him, maybe. More so than anyone else who was purchased or sold.”
Sounds like a madam of sorts. A lady of the house. Gael didn’t employ such a hierarchy, but it isn’t unheard of. Her significance to Madden is what has me intrigued.
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
“A little.” Gracie’s eyes ricochet around the room. “I could draw a picture? I used to be pretty good at sketching in school.”
“Please. What about a name?”
That seems to take a little more thought. Names and faces become blurred so easily. A lot of the women who came and went in the years I was held failed to stick in my mind, no matter how sick that admittance makes me.
“Something… like Angel.” She rubs her temples. “Angela?”
“Where was she from?”
“Here, like us. She still had a faint accent.”
Something unknown is sending swarms of prickles over my scalp. I can’t pinpoint what. Watching Gracie sketch a rough drawing, I try to fathom what significance another purchased woman would hold for someone as heinous as Nolan Madden.
“Here.” Gracie pushes the paper towards me.
“You did good to remember all this.”
“When will you come back so we can start training?”
“Soon, I promise.”
Folding the piece of paper, I rise to my feet. Gracie wraps me up in another hug. Letting go is hard. All I want is to tuck her away and shield her from all of this, but it’s not that simple.
“I don’t want you to leave,” she whimpers.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. There will be two trusted Sabre agents posted in the street night and day. You’ve got my mobile number and the rest of the team’s too. Any problems, you call me.”
“Thank you, Em. For everything.”
“Be brave. I know you can survive this.”
“I’ll try my best.”
When I leave the room to check on the guy’s progress, Gracie doesn’t follow. Walking away from her cracks my bleeding heart clean in two. I’m blinking back tears by the time I make it outside to find the others.
“You okay?” Warner slows to a stroll, box in hand.
“Yeah, all sorted. I need to come back to teach her to fight in exchange for her intel.”
“Hell. That’s a good deal.”
“I’ve got a list of names, some other victims being held with her. Including a woman… Someone in charge of the flock. Apparently, she’s a favourite of Madden’s and received special treatment.”
His baby blues widen into spheres. “Shit, that’s big. Let me finish up here then you can brief me.”
“I’ll wait in the van.”
He nods, ducking inside the house to deposit the remaining box and say goodbye. Blaine leans against the side of our vehicle, twisting an unlit joint between his long fingers. He tucks it away as I approach.
“I overheard. Who is the woman?”
“I don’t know.” I hand him the folded scrap of paper. “Could be nothing, but I have a likeness.”
He takes a peek at the new intel. Glancing around, I’m not paying much attention to his reaction. Not until his feet stumble and he almost drops the damn thing, his lips parting with fast, panting breaths.
“Woah, Blaine. What is it?”
“She drew this?” His eyes dart over the page, almost frenetic.
“Yes, just now. It’s not much to go on.”
“And the name… This is the woman?”
“What’s going on?” I steady him with a hand on the shoulder.
Seeing shades of disbelief and panic contort his usually calm mask almost unhinges me too. But that isn’t the most unnerving thing. It’s the emerging spark of light in his navy-flecked obsidians, singing a tale of hope I’m not sure I recognise.
“Blaine?”
Tongue darting out, he wets his lips. “Yeah.”
“Talk to me. What is it?”
“Do you remember when I told you about my mother?”
“Um… of course. She was returned to her masters decades ago, right? You searched for her and assumed she’d passed away after all these years.”
His neck must hurt from the ferocity of his nodding.
“I’m lost. What does she have to do with this?”
“My search, it was fruitless.” The words rush from Blaine, his fingers trembling on the page. “But it turned up two things—an old image and a name.”
The ground falls out from underneath my feet. Now I’m as unsteady as him. Throat undulating to a brisk sprint, Blaine’s voice cracks with raw, near-childlike heartbreak as he clutches the paper in a death grip.
“Her name was Angela.”