Elder
FUCK.
How much longer would it take to find those bastards? With every ticking minute, I couldn’t ignore images of Pim being tortured, Pim being sold, Pim being raped.
I trembled with a mix of fever, agony, and out of control rage at letting her down.
As minutes turned to hours, more and more pain layered, more and more guilt suffocated.
Goddammit, I can’t just sit here anymore.
I was doing everything I could—enlisting every hack, contacting every narc, but sitting still felt as if I didn’t care. As if knowing she was out there with strangers wasn’t the most urgent, heart-shattering problem I ever had to solve in my life.
Hoisting my broken ass from my chair, I slammed my laptop closed.
Fuck it.
I couldn’t stay here anymore. I had to be out there—storming the streets and physically hunting. Anything to keep my mind from spinning into deep, dark places.
Hobbling from my work-station, I flinched as my cell phone rang, chirping across my desk. The sounds of Calais couldn’t drown out the piercing ring as I snatched it and fumbled to answer.
The screen showed it was a patched intercom call from the bridge. Not what I wanted. I wanted a tip from a blocked number from a snitch on Calais streets. I wanted a criminal spilling an address for his reward.
My temper frayed, but I pressed the phone against my ear. “What is it, Jolfer? Be quick.”
If it had anything to do with docking issues or pier fees, I wasn’t fucking interested. I wasn’t moving from this wharf until I had Pim. End of story.
“Just received an interesting radio communication.”
“Interesting how?” My heart rate spiked at a thousand miles a second.
“A man named Mercer. Said he made a mistake and has something of yours. Gave an address.”
The world stood still.
I stopped breathing.
I stopped hurting.
“Hold on.”
Hopping back to my laptop, I wrenched open the lid and waited for the web browser to pop up. One-handedly, I typed in the name Mercer and pressed enter.
Immediately, images of the same bastard who’d mowed down the Chinmoku, myself, and my cello, stared arrogantly back. My eyes skimmed contradicting articles. Some claimed he was France’s golden boy with more charities and good will to his name than the goddamn Queen. Other whistle-blowers called him a ruthless psychopath. An abuser of slaves. The lowest form of scum.
A two-faced bastard.
Same as all the rest.
“The address?”
Jolfer cleared his throat. “A chateau in Blois.”
“How far away?”
“According to my calculations, four to five hours by car.”
Way too long.
“And by air?”
“About an hour and a half, give or take.”
Still too long. But my only option.
“Tell Martin to prep the helicopter.”
“Right-o.”
I hung up.
I didn’t know what sick game this bastard was playing or what fire-power would welcome me. I didn’t know how I’d overcome my injuries to deliver the vengeance he was owed, or what I’d do once I’d delivered it.
But I didn’t care.
I had an address.
Pimlico was at that address.
And I was taking war right to their motherfucking doorstep.
Chapter Eight
______________________________
Pimlico
I COULDN’T STAY still.
The short conversation Q had had with Jolfer wasn’t nearly enough. He’d said his name, that a mistake had been made, and reeled off an address, then almost hung up before I swooped from the couch and tugged his suit sleeve.
He’d looked at my fear and barked into the phone. “Is he alive?”
Jolfer’s voice had reached my ears the same time as Q’s. “Yes.”
Yes!
A single word that packed such a punch.
I toppled backward onto soft cushions, my skirts billowing around me.
Yes, he’s alive.
Yes, he’s coming.
Yes, I’m not alone.
Nothing else mattered after that.
After Q hung up, Tess somehow encouraged me off the couch and guided me upstairs, and life went on around me. But my mind stayed stuck on yes, yes, yes.
He’s alive!
I wished Q hadn’t hung up so fast. I wished he’d asked where the Phantom was, what sort of condition Elder was in, if the crew were unhurt from the Chinmoku’s attack, and why Selix hadn’t been there fighting beside us.
So many questions, but for now, all I knew was he was alive. He knew where I was.
I’ll see him soon.
Once again, that was both an incredible and terrifying thought.
Tess escorted me from the room, her gentle murmurings about having to feed her son and how I should shower and dress in preparation for Elder’s arrival flitting around my head but not fully grasped.
Climbing the stairs, she’d given me a quick history lesson (that wasn’t fully listened to) as if determined to put me at ease in this strange place. She repeated that Q saved women from slavery and brought them here to heal until they were happy to return to their families. How my bedroom and many others like it were stocked with everything a normal girl would recognise after being denied for so long—cosmetics, clothes, entertainment, safety. She hinted at the long, arduous journey of reminding them how to exist as someone instead of something.
I wanted to care enough to ask questions and be grateful for their kindness but knowing Elder was alive was infinitely better than thinking he was dead and that took precedence.
However, as Tess chatted my bleakness from before slowly crept over my happiness, shadowing it in doubt.
Was Elder alive?
Could Jolfer have lied?
It didn’t matter Q believed he hadn’t aimed correctly and missed Elder’s heart. I’d heard the shot, I’d seen a spray of blood, I’d watched him tumble overboard. Until I physically kissed him, touched him, heard his gorgeous voice, my heart stubbornly ignored truth’s sweet promise.
Probably because if anything happened, or if by some horror Elder died on his journey to claim me, or any other awfully unplanned mistake happened, then I didn’t want to shatter into a million pieces after floating in false happiness.
Nudging me toward the bathroom, Tess headed for the wardrobe full of clothing in multiple sizes that I’d discounted the moment I’d awoken. “I know they’re not high fashion or all that pretty, but at least you’ll be clean and warm.” Selecting a pair of jeans and a soft grey jumper, along with a white t-shirt for underneath and black cotton knickers, she held them up, roughly judging my size. “These will do, I think.”
Disappearing into the bathroom to deposit the items, she smiled on her way back out. “Shower then come back downstairs and we’ll eat.” Moving toward the exit, she pushed the door wide, blatantly showing that I wasn’t a prisoner, despite my earlier conclusions. “See? No locks. No gimmicks. I know after the life you’ve led, it’s hard to trust, but this isn’t a ploy or some sick act to get you to relax. Q and I are every bit as dedicated to helping sold women as you are to finding the man you love.”
Giving me a quick wave, she vanished down the corridor, leaving me with a silence that didn’t know if it should throb with despair or shimmer with happiness.
* * * * *
By the time I’d showered, dressed, and padded downstairs, my heart smoked from beating so hard.
With every minute that ticked past, I wondered if this was the minute Elder would arrive.
Or this one.
Or the next one.
How far away is he?
How much longer until all hell broke loose in this gorgeous family chateau?
Jolfer had given Q no word of travel time or arrival expectation. He hadn’t mentioned if they’d be travelling
tonight or a week from now. If Elder was badly injured, they might stay away for his safety before attending to mine—especially if he was unconscious to make the call to come for me.
God, I’m exhausted.
I couldn’t rest because I didn’t know what the future would unravel. I couldn’t make friends because I didn’t know if they should still be my enemies. Anarchy could happen in moments or a truce could form after days of living in Q’s house—all the while knowing that eventually Elder would want to hurt them.
Already, my insides clenched at the thought of more bloodshed. Good intentions had led to bad screw-ups. Was it right that pain must be the price, or could I somehow reason with Elder?
And if I could reason with him...did I have the right to take away the ending he would need to assure himself I was safe?
Ah, be quiet, Pim. You’re driving yourself mad.
Rubbing my temples, I crossed the foyer and entered the warm lounge where floor lamps glowed and a fire roared. Immediately, I searched the corners of the room for Q.
Did I owe him enough to warn him that Elder had a helicopter? Did I give him a heads-up that my lover had a temper and share the gristly story of what’d happened to the last men who hurt me—that they were now bloated and decomposing corpses in a house somewhere in Crete?
As much as I hated Q for shooting Elder, I didn’t want this family to suffer. Q didn’t deserve to die for his mistake, and his wife and son definitely didn’t deserve to be punished.
Running my fingers along the hem of my newly acquired grey jumper, I made a promise to intercept Elder when he arrived. I’d tell him as quickly as I could that it wasn’t what he thought and to listen to me.
I’d do my best to end this nightmare peacefully.
Then again, perhaps Elder was in a hospital somewhere and all my worry was for nothing. Selix or Jolfer might be the ones to take me home, and they would be more open to discussion.
Home...
Terrifying to think if Elder had died, the Phantom was no longer my home. I would’ve lost everything I’d come to love all in one night.
My morbid thoughts tormented me as I stole into the kitchen and unwillingly gate-crashed dinnertime with Tess’s son.
Q wasn’t around, but Tess sat on a barstool in front of the high chair holding her baby, pulling strange faces and making airplane noises while swooping a spoon with mashed orange goo into the boy’s mouth.
He gurgled as his toothless gums chomped on the spoon, most of it hitting his bib and only some providing nourishment for the uncoordinated child.
I gasped as a fissuring hunger ripped through me. Hunger, not for food, but for the mess sitting in the high chair and looking at his mother with utmost adoration. What would it feel like to be the moon and stars and everything in between to a creature you created?
I can’t be here.
I can’t watch this.
Backing up, I tripped over a damn dog toy, hissing between my teeth as pain ripped through my ankle.
Tess looked up. “Ah, did you have a good shower? You look nice. Not as grand as your ballgown but the grey suits you. Brings out the hazel in your eyes.” Scooping up more orange mash, she wiped the excess off the spoon onto the glass bowl she held. “Don’t run away. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”
Words? Had I once spoken words?
I was mute through and through, terrified of the opportunity to spend time with her infant. I didn’t know if I wanted to bolt away or snatch him.
She grinned, following my eyes as they locked onto the messy baby. “Abelino.”
The strange word wriggled through my emotional tangle. “Excuse me?”
She cupped her child’s cheek, smearing away orange goo. “His name is Abelino. Lino for short.”
“Oh.”
“It’s French. Long story.” She layered more dinner onto the spoon and managed to get it into her son’s mouth without too much of it smearing his face. “Do you—” She flinched. “Sorry, extremely insensitive question.” Flashing me a pained look, she murmured, “I’ve long since learned not to ask women who stay with us if they have children. I’m sorry I almost asked you. Not sure how I slipped.”
Lino babbled something, his tiny hands opening and closing as Tess guided more food his way. Staring at him but talking to me, she finished, “Sometimes, I think having Lino around does more harm than good when they’re healing.”
The thought of running away faded, thanks to Tess’s humanity and the uncertainty in her voice.
Moving closer, I dared ask something I already knew had no good answer. “Why?”
She flashed me a glance. “Well, if they’re old enough to have children before they were stolen, then they’ve missed out on potentially years of their upbringing. To their family, they were dead only to come back broken and possibly never able to be the mum they remembered.” She shrugged helplessly. “And if they didn’t have children before their abduction but do now.... Well, that means those infants were born of pain and torture to men who made their lives living hell.”
Swiping a tissue over Lino’s little lips, she sighed heavily. “Life is never easy.”
Silence fell for a time, our thoughts on the complications of lust and betrayal. Finally, I murmured, “But love...that is easy.” I twirled the spare fork in front of me on the kitchen bench. “Or at least...giving it is easy. Earning it can sometimes be incredibly hard.”
She nodded. “You’re right.”
I wanted to ask more of how she’d not only been sold to Q but fallen in love and married him, but a loud hum rapidly built to a buzzing crescendo outside.
What on earth...
“Uh-oh.” Tess checked Lino was tightly strapped into his booster seat then gave me a sharp look. “This man of yours...he doesn’t happen to have a helicopter, does he?”
My heart coughed as my head whipped to face the large glass doors leading to the garden. Night had fallen, and our reflection bounced back rather than manicured lawns and trimmed bushes.
A flash of light appeared, spotlighting the paddock in the distance.
The buzzing grew louder.
Oh, my God.
He’s here.
Tess wrapped arms around herself. “I’m assuming by your silence that’s the man you call Elder?” She marched to the patio doors. “Crap, I don’t know where Q is.” Looking at me over her shoulder, she scowled. “You’d better tell me...how bad is this going to be?”
Drifting forward, I slotted myself beside her, mimicking her stance and hugging myself.
How bad is this going to be?
I swallowed hard. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Oh, I do.” Tess rolled her eyes. “They’re men. They’re morons when it comes to defending honour and all that bullshit.” She huffed. “I wish Q wasn’t lurking around somewhere. If we could keep them apart, this would all go a lot smoother.”
I agreed with her even as my heart blew iridescent bubbles, filling my ribcage with happiness. I struggled to stay rational. Last time I’d seen Elder, he’d limped and looked worse for wear—and that was thanks to the Chinmoku before Q ever shot him.
I’m asking for a miracle if I expect him to be here, let alone walk without assistance.
Selix had probably banned him from coming.
Even as the thought appeared, my common sense discarded it. If Elder was awake, no one could tell him what to do—and therein lay the problem.
Slowly, the helicopter descended from sky to grass, its rotors diminishing in speed once on the ground. Almost immediately, the side fuselage slid open and Selix hopped out.
I needed to know the story of where he’d been while the Chinmoku attacked, but for now, my mind was on a single thread.
Elder...did he come, too?
My fingers pressed against the glass doors, doing my best to see past my reflection and the brightly lit lounge to focus on whether the helicopter had brought any other visitors.
No one.
No flicker of
legs or flash of hands.
My heart plummeted.
And then...he appeared.
A small grateful moan escaped.
Where Selix had leapt out, Elder gingerly climbed. Where Selix darted around, Elder painfully stalked. He was naturally graceful from his martial arts and exotic breeding, but tonight, he reminded me of the tin man from The Wizard of Oz badly in need of oil and rest.
I winced as he stumbled then doggedly continued across the lawn toward us.
I couldn’t stand here and not run to him. I couldn’t watch him hurt and not offer aid. Fumbling with the door handle, I flicked the lock and practically fell out of the French chateau.
“Wait!” Tess called. “We need to think this through!”
She was right. We did need to think this through. But I’d done far too much thinking and knew where my loyalties lay.
With him.
Tripping once in haste, I found my legs and bolted across the patio. The pretty flower beds and bird tables were nothing as I traded tiles for grass and added every inch of speed I could muster.
Elder’s head snapped up as I galloped toward him. His limp turned quicker, his right hand fisted by his side while his left stayed strapped to his chest. Something bulky wrapped around his ankle, preventing speed. More bandages and splints only made me run faster.
My lungs gasped and my legs burned, and when I was in touching distance, I slammed to a stop, breathing hard, eyes wide, lips parted.
I wanted to throw myself at him and delete the horrible distance. I wanted to kiss every inch of his bruised, beautiful face and finally convince my pessimism that he was alive and not a ghost.
But I swayed on the spot, unable to grab him for fear of adding yet more pain.
Up close, the lines around his gorgeous black eyes and furrows on his brow hinted at how much this excursion taxed him. A faint sheen of fever pinked his face, saying he wasn’t as invincible as he seemed.
His eyebrow rose, studying me with parted lips; his black hair tussled and wind swept from the still roaring helicopter blades.
Every emotion and reaction and spark and connection fizzed in the air between us—tangible, visible, almost alive with delicious taste.
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