Branded

by Neva Bell

  When she sees I’ve calmed down, Willa returns to the desk and hums while she writes.

  “Did you tell my parents about Rory?” I ask a few minutes later.

  “No, we didn’t. We told your parents and Rory’s family the wolves killed him. No sense in causing unnecessary upset or a dispute in the coven.”

  I start to protest, then close my mouth. Willa is right. Rory’s family would be devastated, as would my own, if they knew the truth. They have enough to deal with, why add more pain?

  Anger rises inside of me when I think of Rory and what he did. “He’s the reason my sister is dead.”

  “Yes, he is one reason,” Willa agrees. “But let’s not forget the wolves carried out the act itself.”

  How could I forget?

  “I want them all dead,” I pronounce, malice in my voice.

  Willa’s pen comes to a halt. “Most of the wolves are good people. Only a small fraction of their population wishes us harm.” She looks over at me right as I yawn. “We don’t need to get into all of that now. You need more rest.”

  I’m about to tell her I’m fine, but that’s not true. I roll to my side and gaze out the windows. The lights, the sounds, the people. All completely oblivious to my pain and anguish. I close my eyes and nod off.

  I wake up to sunlight streaming in through the giant bay windows. I’m reminded of my first morning with Elliott, the two of us cuddled up together. How I ache for that now.

  My mind fills with thoughts of Elliott. Does he know what happened? Will Frank let him come see me? Will he even want to?

  I roll over expecting to see Willa, but Frank is now occupying the desk chair. He’s bent over a stack of papers, no doubt reading the report about yesterday’s events. I watch him for a few minutes as he reads the pages. His eyebrows furrow in certain sections. In others, he looks close to tears.

  “Hi,” I finally murmur.

  Frank looks surprised, oblivious to my spying on him. A happier me would rejoice in the irony.

  Frank puts his papers down and walks over to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like crap.”

  He sits beside me. “Me too.”

  “She’s dead,” I choke out.

  He takes a deep breath. “I know.”

  I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling. It has to be the most ornate ceiling I’ve ever seen. White tiles with beautiful, intricate patterns cut into them. Willa must be one rich witch.

  “When is the funeral?”

  He winces. “Tomorrow.”

  “How are my parents?”

  Frank sighs. “Not good Chloe. Not good. They’re worried sick about you.”

  “Can I call them today?”

  “Yes. They’ve been asking to speak with you.”

  I sit up and give Frank a good onceover. “You look like I feel.”

  He cracks a small smile. “Things have been hectic.”

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  “A little.”

  From the looks of it, very little.

  “Am I safe here?”

  Frank nods. “This is the safest place for you. This building is more secure than you can even fathom. Willa has all the latest technology. No one will ever get to you here.”

  I’m about to ask about the plans for my sister’s funeral, but Frank continues.

  “We should have brought you here in the first place.” Frank runs his hands through his super short hair. Must be a family habit. “We thought the wolves would never look for you at Leviston. We were wrong. So wrong.”

  I put my hand up to stop him, but Frank keeps talking. “We were lulled into a sense of security. We thought everything was fine. We got lazy. We should have been on top of it. None of this would have happened.”

  Frank’s about to break down. I don’t know what I’ll do if he cries in front of me.

  I reach out and touch Frank’s shoulder. “Hey. Don’t. None of this is your fault.”

  Frank has tears in his eyes. “I should have brought you here the first night I met you. You’d be safe and Chelsea would be alive.”

  I grab Frank under the chin and force him to look me in the eyes. I repeat what Willa said to me a few hours ago. “Listen to me. The wolves killed Chelsea. Not me. Not you. The wolves.”

  Frank gets himself together and walks back over to the desk. He shuffles through his papers. “We confirmed Rory is the one who hacked Chelsea’s account. We also spoke with Professor Steller and he advised us there are documents missing from his office. Likely the information Rory needed to take down the wards around campus.”

  Frank is back to business as usual, but I’m only half-listening. I’m not ready to get back into action. I want to hide away in this giant down comforter for the rest of my life. Let everyone else deal with this mess.

  Frank catches my attention when he says, “Video surveillance on campus shows there were two more wolves.”

  “Two more?”

  “Yes. They were in another vehicle two blocks away from the apartment building. As soon as the wall blew out, they bolted.”

  “Can you tell who they are?”

  Frank frowns. “We’re working on it.”

  “How? How are you working on it? Is there a werewolf database somewhere?”

  Frank shifts his weight. “We have our methods. We can talk about that later.”

  Frank is keeping something from me and I don’t like it. I’m about to tell him as much when a knock on the door interrupts us.

  “Come in,” Frank yells, thankful for the break in conversation.

  A woman in her late twenties walks in the door furthest to my left. She is carrying a stack of towels and a basket filled with shampoo, conditioner and soap.

  “Here’s everything you’ll need for a nice shower,” she says with a warm smile.

  There is nothing flashy about this woman, but she is pretty all the same. She dons a brunette pixie cut, and almond-shaped brown eyes dominate her face. She has a beautiful smile and full lips every woman would be envious of.

  After what I’ve been through, I’m skeptical of everyone. “Who are you?” I ask.

  “I’m Jessica. I work for Willa,” she explains. “If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”

  My stomach rumbles. “I haven’t eaten in a while. Would it be possible for me to get something to eat?”

  “Of course! We’re having lunch in half an hour if you’re interested. Willa ordered salmon.”

  I crinkle my nose. I’ve never been a seafood person.

  Jessica laughs. “We can make you anything you want. Just tell me what you’d like and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Can I have pizza?”

  She nods. “We can handle that.”

  I eye the toiletries Jessica brought up for me. “I need to take a shower first.”

  Frank grabs his paperwork and heads for the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  I call out to him before he leaves. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten where we left off.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  I throw back the comforter and stand up. “Do I have any clothes here?” I ask Jessica.

  “Yes.” She motions for me to follow her. “I’ll show you where they are.”

  Jessica walks toward the middle door and pushes it open, revealing a large closet.

  “Wow,” is all I can say when I step inside.

  It is painted a bright white with rows and rows of white shelving. Clothing racks are scattered throughout. A massive mirror stands in the back corner, its frame a chunky metallic silver. A cushy white chair sits in front of a vanity lit by four ornate light fixtures. One corner of the closet is filled with my clothes from Leviston. The rest of the closet, except for one other rack, is empty. The clothes on the second rack still have tags on them.

  “Whose clothes are those?” I ask.

  “When we found out you were coming, I bought you some things. I wasn’t sure what you were bringing with
you given how quickly you had to vacate your apartment.”

  All of the pieces of clothing Jessica bought for me are beautiful, and I’m guessing expensive too. The cotton on the sweaters is so soft I want to rub the sleeves on my cheek. Everything she picked is something I would buy for myself.

  “Your undergarments and pajamas are in here,” Jessica says, standing next to a built-in dresser.

  She pulls out the top drawer and I see a pair of pink underwear with the word “Saint” written across the back in white letters. I walk over and pick them up.

  Jessica smiles. “Those are cute.”

  “They’re not mine,” I whisper. “They’re Chelsea’s.”

  Jessica’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

  I put the underwear back into the dresser and sit down on the chair in front of the vanity. “Where are the rest of Chelsea’s things?”

  “At your parents’ house.” Jessica looks scared to death. She’s probably worried I’m about to break down. She may be right.

  “Nothing was thrown away?”

  “No. Everything went to your mom and dad’s except for your clothing and other essential items.”

  I sigh with relief. “Okay.” We sit quietly for a moment before I say, “I’m sorry Jessica. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  “Oh my gosh! Don’t apologize to me. You’ve been through hell.”

  I nod. “I really have.”

  The tears come again. Jessica rushes over and kneels in front of me. She gives me a tight hug.

  “You don’t know us yet, but we’re all here for you,” she whispers in a comforting voice.

  “Thank you,” I choke out.

  Jessica stands and hands me a tissue from the box sitting on the vanity.

  I wipe my tears and blow my nose. “I think I’ll take my shower now.”

  “Sure thing. In the meantime, I’ll order pizza.”

  The bathroom is even fancier than the closet. A huge soaker tub, a stall shower, double sinks with gold faucets, and tile flooring with golden brown hues. It’s the type of bathroom you see in a showcase home.

  If I wasn’t so damned depressed, I’d be psyched.

  I walk over to the double sinks. The countertop is beautiful – marble with golden flakes. When I look above the sinks, I want to see Chelsea’s name written in pretty pink script above “her” sink. Instead, all I see is ornate wallpaper with streams of gold flowing through it.

  I stand under the scalding hot water in the shower, trying to wash everything away. I sit down on the shower floor, curl myself into a ball, and let the hot water run down my back.

  When my fingertips are raisins, I turn off the water and grab a towel. The wall opposite the shower is one giant mirror. Despite the amount of sleep I’ve had, there are deep purple smudges under my eyes. My wet hair hangs lifeless over my shoulders. I look lost. Broken.

  I slip on the white bathrobe hanging from a hook in the bathroom and head for the closet. I search through the dresser until I find a t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. I grab one of my hoodies and pull it on over my head. I don’t bother to fix my hair or try to look presentable. Seems like too much work.

  I’m ready to go, but I’m not sure where I’m going. I open my bedroom door and peek my head out.

  “Ready for lunch?” a voice asks.

  I jump back, startled. I prepare myself for an attack, but stop short when I realize it’s just Frank. “Jesus Christ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  He frowns. “Sorry. I came back to take you to the dining room.”

  “I think I can figure it out,” I say in a huff, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. This is a big place. I’ll get you a map after we eat.”

  “A map?” I ask as we make our way down a long hallway with white carpet and white walls. Scattered along the walls are photographs of colorful and exotic flowers. We pass two doors on the left, and two doors on the right. Assuming they lead to bedrooms, I don’t bother to ask where these doors go.

  We turn the corner and I come to a stop when I see two silver elevators. I raise my eyebrow at Frank. “Elevators?”

  He hits the down button. “I told you this place is big.”

  Above the elevators are antique, brass floor indicators. The numbers go from one to twenty in roman numerals. I watch as the dial slowly moves from the number five to the number eighteen.

  “We’re on the eighteenth floor?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many of these floors does Willa occupy?”

  We step onto the elevator and Frank hits the “10” button. It glows a soft yellow when he pulls his hand away.

  “All of them.”

  My jaw drops open. “All of them?”

  “Yes,” Frank confirms. “See why you need a map?”

  “What does she need an entire building for?”

  A chime sounds when we reach the tenth floor and the silver doors open. I am once again met with opulence. I step out onto white marble flooring. The walls are, of course, a bright white. Two black leather couches rest on a shaggy white rug.

  How does Willa keep this place clean?

  Frank walks off to the right. “This is where we meet for meals.”

  I turn to see a massive piece of glass held up by black marble pillars. The rectangular table is surrounded by twenty chairs covered in grey fabric. Despite the number of seats, there are only five place settings. Frank chooses the chair next to the head of the table and motions for me to take the seat opposite him.

  Frank answers the question I asked him in the elevator. “This building is more than Willa’s office and home. We, I mean witches collectively, bought this building a hundred years ago to be our headquarters. This is our White House, Pentagon, and barracks all in one.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of this place?”

  “It’s top secret. Not many people know where it is.”

  Our conversation fades. I play with the edges of the cloth napkin in front of me. Frank and I are too lost in our own thoughts to make small talk. Our silence is broken by the chiming of the elevator.

  “Chloe!” Willa exclaims as she exits the elevator. “You’re joining us.”

  She squeezes my shoulders before taking the seat at the head of the table. Her gray hair is still pulled back in a tight bun, but she’s changed into a flowing black dress.

  She unfolds her cloth napkin onto her lap. “I think we’re having fish today.”

  I shake my head. “I’m having pizza.”

  Willa smiles. “Sounds delicious. Unfortunately, I’m watching my weight.”

  “You look good to me.”

  “Thanks. I’ve lost forty pounds over the last twelve months.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid to say I got lazy in my old age.”

  “Well, you look fantastic,” I say truthfully. I’m not sure how old Willa is, but from what I’ve heard, she may be in her eighties. But if I walked by her on the street, I would guess she’s in her sixties, early seventies tops.

  Willa clasps her hands together and sets them on the table. “There’s something I want to talk about before we eat. I took the liberty of calling in a grief counselor.”

  Frank nods. “Excellent idea Willa. I’m sure the guys will appreciate it.”

  “I figured as much. There were quite a few upset men coming in last night.”

  I continue to play with the edges of the napkin. I hadn’t thought about the members of the Guard who were on campus with us. They all liked Chelsea. Once again, I’m so focused on myself, I don’t think about anyone else’s needs.

  Willa reaches out and touches my forearm. “Chloe, he’s going to be in the library today and tomorrow if you want to see him.”

  “Okay.” It comes out as a whisper.

  “You don’t have to go. I just wanted you to know he’s available if you want to talk to someone. He was incredibly helpful to me when my daughter died.”

>   Willa told me she lost someone close to her, but I had no idea it was her daughter. In fact, I didn’t know Willa had a daughter. I assumed the Verhena wasn’t allowed to have a family.

  “What was her name?” I ask.

  “Vanessa.” Sorrow fills Willa’s eyes. “She had cancer. I tried every curing spell I could find, but even I couldn’t stop it.”

  I close my eyes, remembering all the spells I tried on Chelsea.

  “I’m so sorry Willa,” Franks says. “I had no idea. When did she pass?”

  “Fifteen years ago. She was thirty-five.”

  I open my eyes when Willa pats my arm. “My husband got me through the worst of it, but the counselor helped a lot. If you decide to meet with him, and you like him, he can come back for as many sessions as you want.”

  Willa is married?

  “Is your husband here?” I blurt out. I immediately regret my question, worried I’m overstepping my bounds.

  Willa shows no sign of being offended. “Henry passed two years ago.”

  “Oh jeez Willa. I’m sorry.”

  A door in the corner of the room swings open. A woman in her early to mid-fifties walks out holding a tray of food. Jessica is following close behind her with a pizza box.

  Jessica smiles as she plops the box down in front of me. “Here ya go. I didn’t know what kind of pizza you like, so I ordered cheese. I hope that’s okay.”

  I don’t tell Jessica I only want one slice. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  I open the lid and breathe in the wonderful aroma. New York style pizza is my favorite, but the thought of actually taking a bite makes me nauseous. I close the lid, worried I’ll get sick. Thankfully, no one notices.

  “Chloe, meet my mom Beth,” Jessica says. “She is Willa’s personal chef.”

  I look over at the woman who walked out of the kitchen with Jessica. She is Jessica’s spitting image, except for the years between them. Beth has kind eyes like her daughter and dons the same feminine smile.

  When I see what everyone else is having for lunch, I thank God I asked for pizza. A pale pink sliver of salmon rests upon a bed of seasoned green beans. The food looks like it belongs in a fancy restaurant. Too froufrou for me.

  Frank peers down at his plate, then gives me his puppy dog eyes. I open the box and hand him a slice of pizza. He folds the slice in half and is about to take a big bite. He pauses when Beth sits down beside him.