She pulls the blanket off to expose her shoulder.
“I have a tracker in me. He’ll know where I am.”
I look up at Kay. A knife drops into his hand.
“I’m sorry.” I tell Megan, and she knows instantly what I mean as her body tenses.
“Do it,” she whispers and buries her head in my lap. I hold her close, wondering exactly what I’m getting myself into as Kay removes her tracker.
Megan
I can’t stop shivering, despite the fact it’s a warm night out. I’m only wrapped in the blanket Gawain gave me, and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I’m not used to anything covering my skin, and it feels wrong. I want to throw it off, but something tells me, maybe a memory from my previous life, that I should keep myself covered although I can’t remember why. After Gawain and his friend dug the sensor out of my arm, they both looked at me in confusion when I didn’t pass out. I’ve decided just to observe for the time being in case they now believe I’m even more of a freak than they thought previously.
I was led from the building that had been my entire world for the last two years and into a waiting truck. A motorbike sat next to the big vehicle, and Gawain explained to me it was his. Kay would be bringing it back while we traveled in the truck. It all went in one ear and out the other because I was too busy watching the sun rise. It was the first time I’d seen it in years. Memories of living in Sweden and being amazed by it resurfaced. There were times of the year when we got very little light, but in the summer, the sun would set for a few hours and then rise again shortly afterward. I remembered coming home from a night out in the sunlight.
I don’t know how long we drive because I’m too busy taking everything in…fascinated by all the new sights whizzing past the window of the truck. Eventually, we pull up to another large mansion, and my blood freezes.
“No,” I mumble and turn to Gawain who immediately has worry etched across his face.
“I promise this is my home. I have a state-of-the-art security system in it. Nobody’s getting in here unless they’re invited. It’s the safest place for you.” He pulls the truck to a halt outside the front door, and I look up at the glass and white washed mansion. It’s modern and looks purpose built. My previous accommodation was older in style: complete with creaky floorboards and solid oak doors.
“Will you lock me in a room?” I ask, genuinely worried that until M is captured I’ve possibly swapped one prison for another.
“No, you’ll be free to come and go around the house as you please. I have nothing to hide here. Explore every room if you want. Just let me know before you go into my bedroom, so I can clean all the dirty clothes off the floor.” Gawain slides out of the truck and chuckles. I find myself joining in with him as I watch him walk around the front of the vehicle. I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust him. He’s not attempted to hurt me in any way, so far, and does seem genuinely worried about my safety with M still being on the loose. He opens the door for me and holds his hands out.
“Let me carry you in. I’ve got pebbles on the driveway, and they’ll hurt your feet.” His expression is soft and welcoming. I look from his face down to the stones he’s talking about. It’s like a pebble beach…another memory enters my head of visiting such a beach when I was younger. I start to run toward the sea across the stones and instantly realize it will be much harder than on sand. I slide into Gawain’s arms, and he carries me into the house. The door is opened by a scan of his retina. That is a high level of security.
“Easier than trying to find a set of keys,” Gawain informs me when he sees me looking. “I’ll have them set it up with your retina tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I mumble as he lowers me to the floor in the opulent room we’ve now entered. A grand glass and metal staircase leads upstairs and forms a feature to the room that comprises of an open plan lounge and kitchen area with several doors leading off to other rooms, I presume.
“Take a seat.” Gawain gestures toward several black leather seats with silver side panels. Everything in the room is minimalistic and designed for a high-class finish. It’s stunning, clean, and crisp. The sort of place I once dreamed of owning when I was a child. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“I don’t know,” I respond not used to recognizing my own hunger or thirst. I’ve long since learned to ignore it.
“Sit down, and I’ll do you some toast, for now.”
“Ok, sir.” The ‘sir’ trips off my tongue before I realize I’ve said it. But Gawain doesn’t acknowledge it, even though I can see the tightening of the features on his face. He turns and goes into the kitchen. I pad along the white, silver flecked marble floor and lower myself into one of the black chairs. It molds to my form, and I feel my eyes start to shut. I’m exhausted with everything I’ve experienced over the last few hours.
Gawain returns a few minutes later with two slices of toast and a glass of milk. He places them in front of me and takes a seat opposite me while I pick up the first slice and take a bite.
“I’ve asked a doctor to come and examine you. He should be here in a minute.”
“He…?” I interrupt before he has a chance to finish.
“He’s our trusted doctor. We use him for all our medical needs. He won’t do anything you don’t agree to. I just want him to check you over.” Gawain leans forward in his chair, his strong forearms resting on his thighs.
“I don’t understand what you are, or who the ‘we’ are? Who was that man on the phone…?” I query. Gawain looks down, and his shoulders rise as he takes in a deep breath.
“I’m an assassin. I was sent to retrieve you and kill those holding you. The man on the phone is my uncle and also my boss. He runs an organization called the Cavalieri Della Morte. There are twelve of us, and we follow his orders.” He cracks his knuckles on the last few words.
All sorts of things start to run through my head. “You kill bad people.”
“Yes, we aren’t available for hire to anyone just because they have money. Our tasks are carefully allocated.”
“I’m glad you came for me.”
We both fall silent, and it’s only broken when a bell rings. I jump out of my seat and drop the blanket, knocking over the milk and sending the toast flying across the room.
“W-What’s that?” I stutter while Gawain picks the toast up and comes to my side.
“It’s ok, that’s the doorbell. It’ll be Kay or the doctor.”
“It’s loud.” My response is childish, and I feel like crying at how weak and confused I am.
“It is a bit. I’m a heavy sleeper, and when it was installed, my cleaner couldn’t get in because I slept through her ringing the doorbell. I set it louder afterward. I’ll turn it down.”
“No, you don’t have to.”
Gawain picks up the blanket and covers me over again. Thankfully, none of the milk went on it.
“I’ll answer the door, and then I’ll clear that up.”
“Ok.” I stand there frozen to the spot while he goes to the front door. Shortly after three people walk in: two men, one I recognize as Kay, the other I don’t know, and a woman who’s heavily pregnant.
“Hi.” The woman is greeted by Gawain with a kiss to her cheek. The three men then huddle together while the woman takes a bag from Kay and comes over to me. I want to take a step back, and she must sense it.
“Hello, I’m Evelyn, Kay’s fiancée.”
“Hi,” I squeak.
She holds the bag out to me, and I look down at it like it’s on fire and will burn me if I touch it.
“There are some clothes for you inside it. Gawain said he didn’t have much here. Just a negligee left by one of his past conquests.”
“Evelyn,” Gawain interrupts her with a hint of fury in his tone. “Megan doesn’t need to hear about that.”
Evelyn rolls her eyes at him and then pats him on the arm. There’s a playful nature to her expression. She is relaxed around these men. Kay comes over and wraps h
is arm around her waist.
“How’s the arm?” He asks me, and I look to where a temporary dressing was applied to my shoulder over the area where they dug the sensor out.
“Ok,” I reply.
The third man in the room steps forward and places a doctor’s bag on the table. He opens it and pulls out a few instruments. I can feel my heart quickening. Simple medical instruments, but they are sending me into a blind panic.
Evelyn comes to my side.
“He won’t hurt you. He just wants to check your vital statistics and take a blood sample to find out whether you need any medication. I’ve had it done before.”
I open my mouth to ask her the question on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn’t come. I can’t say the word. Evelyn senses my discomfort, and without me needing to say it, she answers, “No, I wasn’t raped.”
The blanket falls off my shoulder. Her eyes flick to the bite marks on my body, and I see recollection there. “Kay rescued me in time. Other things were forced upon me, but I survived, and I’m happy — looking forward to our baby being born in a few weeks.”
Tears form in my eyes, and my bottom lip quivers.
“I don’t know what to think at the moment. I’m so tired and confused.” A lone tear tumbles down my cheek. I look over to Gawain, and I can see the strain of keeping it together on his face. He’s tired as well and angry as hell that M got away.
“You’ll be like that for a long time. Just know we’re all here to help and protect you. They may be a little rough around the edges, but these are the good men…saints in my mind. Anything you need from me, just ask. Let the doctor check you over, and then we’ll get you showered and into some pajamas, so you can sleep for as long as you need to. A little bit of rest works wonders. Heaven knows I need it at the moment.”
I reach out and touch her belly.
“Sorry. I should have asked.”
“You can touch it whenever you want.” Evelyn places her hand over mine and gives it a squeeze.
“Are you scared? Concerned about the world you’re bringing a child into?”
She looks over to Kay, and the love between them is obvious.
“At first, I was terrified, but I know this baby will have a mother and father who will adore him or her. Plus eleven uncles who’ll make sure they’re protected, so no — I’m excited for the future.”
I love her optimism, but at the moment, I can’t share it. I can barely function as a human, and the thought of giving birth to a new life, scares the hell out of me. What I’ve been through has changed a once carefree girl into a shadow of her former self.
Evelyn wipes away my tears, and the doctor approaches with his stethoscope. I think nothing of throwing the blanket off my shoulders, so he can examine me more thoroughly. Kay turns away, but Gawain pulls out his phone, and as the doctor calls out a list of my injuries, he taps them into it.
“Seven fresh bite marks. Signs of past contusions to her right thigh, back, and left shoulder. I can count four burn scars from what looks like a poker, possibly one is a cigar burn?” The doctor looks at me to confirm, and I nod my head, shocked he’s got it right.
“Yes, the one on my leg is from a cigar. I didn’t get down on my knees quickly enough.”
The tapping of Gawain’s fingers as he types into his phone gets louder. His lips are pursed together, and his eyes are as dark as a thunderous day.
“The injury to her shoulder is from you and Kay, yes?” the doctor asks and lifts the makeshift bandage.
“Yes,” Kay replies without looking at me.
“Good knife skills, Kay. I’ll add a couple of stitches to it in a minute, if that’s ok?” the doctor asks, smiling warmly at me, and I nod my agreement.
“She has numerous scars from being whipped. They can all be improved with creams and time.” He pulls my misshapen arm out in front of me. He turns it over, and I flinch as a sharp pain shoots through me.
“I’m sorry.” The doctor instantly lowers my arm. “Did you get any medical help with the break?”
“No,” I respond as low growls erupt from the throats of the three men in the room, and Evelyn takes my other hand in hers.
“Did any bone come through the skin?” the doctor asks, and the room falls silent enough that you could hear a pin drop.
“No. I wrapped it up in a piece of sheet to try and keep it stable, but I didn’t have anything to splint it with.” The doctor looks at it again.
“You did a good job. There’s a weakness there now, so I don’t think the bone was replaced properly. When you’re a bit stronger, we should be able to operate and correct the bend, giving you full movement back.”
“I’d like that.” I pause as another memory hits me. I’m sitting at a large desk with pencils, rulers, and paper everywhere. I’m designing buildings.
“Megan?” Gawain leans closer, urging me to share what I’m remembering.
“I was an architect. I use this hand to draw my designs.”
“Then I’ll schedule the surgery for a couple of weeks, so we can make sure you’ll be back designing, as soon as possible,” the doctor reassures me, but his positivity makes me feel uncomfortable. I lower myself down into the chair I’m standing by and shut my eyes, wondering if I’ll ever be able to do something as normal as designing again. “First I’ll take a sample of blood and then stitch up where Kay removed the sensor. I think the best thing for you, now, is sleep. I’ll leave some sleeping tablets with Gawain, should you need them.” The doctor continues to speak, but I barely register anything happening around me after that. I become lost in my thoughts again, but this time instead of dreaming of dancing with a handsome stranger, I’m recalling the life I once had, which can never be again.
Gawain
I thought I’d be exhausted after the extraction detail, and I’d sleep soundly, but I’ve been lying here for a few hours tossing and turning, listening out for Megan. Her room is next door to mine, and I’ve left the doors to both rooms open in case she should need me. She took two of the sleeping pills the doctor gave her shortly after he left, and I haven’t heard anything from her since. I know it’s early evening now, and my mind is too busy figuring out how to find M and castrate him for sleep to come to me. So instead, I get up, dress in joggers and a t-shirt, and go in search of coffee and dinner. I’m going to need caffeine to get through the next few hours until, hopefully, I can finally get some sleep. I spoke to Arthur earlier, and he has some of the others searching for more information on our missing man. My instructions at present are to stay with Megan and help her recover as best as I can. Arthur’s pulling out all the stops to end this—it’s from him I learned all my determination.
I enter the kitchen, open a cupboard, and put some hot water on to start boiling. I’ve lived by myself for long enough that I’ve learned how to cook. It’s none of those high-class meals you get in posh restaurants, but I’m good at throwing a decent pasta meal together. I open the fridge and pull out some bacon, onions, garlic, parmesan, and eggs. I place them on the kitchen counter and grab a packet of pasta. Having filled a pan with salted water, I toss the pasta in to start cooking while I prepare the other ingredients. A light pattering of feet draws my attention to the stairs. Megan stands there in her baggy pajamas, rubbing her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I apologize, placing the knife down and walking over to her when she stumbles on wobbly legs and collapses into a chair. “You didn’t wake me. I’m feeling a bit weak.”
“You probably need food. I’m making pasta. Would you like some?”
She rubs her belly when it gurgles, proclaiming its need for sustenance.
“I haven’t had pasta since…” She goes quiet, and I know instantly it’s because it was before she was taken.
“Well you’ve never had my carbonara before. It’s spectacular!” I do a silly finger kissing thing, and a slight smile turns the corners of her full lips up, lighting up her face.
“How can I refuse such a g
lowing testament? I’ll just have a small bowl, though. I don’t think I’m ready to eat lots.”
“Not a problem.” I bow to her and stride purposefully back to the kitchen. In no time at all, we’re both sitting on the sofa, tucking into a meal. My bowl is almost three times the size of hers, but I’m in need of carbohydrates. I’ll work them all off in my home gym before I go to sleep.
“I’ll have to see if I can remember how to make Swedish meatballs for you.” Megan says as she twirls the pasta around her fork and pops some into her mouth.
I’ve heard before of a traumatic event causing amnesia. It’s the body’s way of protecting the good memories and not having them confused with the bad. Over time and with therapy, everything will come back to her, but she needs to work through the horrors she’s experienced first. To confirm this, I ask, “You don’t remember much before you were stolen?”
“Bits and pieces. I remember being taken. It’s more of a feeling than knowledge, at the moment.”
“Do you remember where you’re from in Sweden?”
“Stockholm. I lived in the city, but I wasn’t born there. It was outside in the country more. I can see my mother’s and father’s faces.”
“What did your father do?”
“He worked for the government in Sweden. He was nothing important just a finance officer, but it took him away from us a lot of the time.”
“And your mum?”
“She stayed at home and looked after me. When I went to school, she developed a cake making business. We didn’t need the money, but it kept her busy…plus I liked her cakes and got to eat lots of them.”
I let out a laugh.
Megan pauses with her fork over the bowl. She shuts her eyes and squeezes them tightly. “I don’t remember anything else.”
“Don’t push it. It’ll come. Arthur will look for your parents, and when it’s safe, we’ll get them out to see you.”
“Only when it’s safe.”
“Yes, I’m sure we can set up a call with them, in the meantime.” I finish my bowl of pasta and having placed the empty china down on the coffee table, I lean back in my chair and cross one leg over the other at the knee.
Redemption: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 4