by Kristie Cook
A moment of digging in the corner of the crumbling wall and I found the small box I was looking for. My lips curled. Out came a hidden root beer flavored dumdum, and I sighed with pleasure as I settled against the stone wall. It was then I looked at my phone messages. Most of them were from Conor. My breathing hitched. We had never talked much by telephone.
Dayton?
Are you okay?
Did you get my messages?
We need to talk.
I flipped through the texts he’d left, my heart heavy. I cared about Conor but I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Was he worried about me and the Abbey, or did he want to talk about the two of us? It was an issue I wouldn’t be able to avoid forever, but for now, I left it alone, my mind occupied with my aunt and her guest.
Pulling my notebook out, I began to write, constructing a story too complicated to say aloud. Stories healed me. They emptied me of stress. Afterwards, I felt drained. My eyelids fluttered against my cheeks. Ever since supper the night before, I had been incredibly fatigued.
I shook my head hard, but it didn’t help. A cold front made the day cool, but the heat from sitting in the sun and the reclined position made my head dip. I leaned it back against the wall. The world faded around me.
A cough woke me up.
Squinting, I cleared my eyes with my hand and started to stand. The sun had shifted as I slept, and my shadow moved with me, its long shape climbing the wall.
My hand had just closed over the stone when a small voice pleaded, “I’m really worried. Are you sure about this?”
Jumping, I sat back down hard, my eyes going to the clock on my phone. I’d dozed off much longer than I thought while sitting in the sun. Wonderful! Just what I needed. Freckles. Add one pissed off aunt if I was late for dinner, and I was screwed. Lemon juice could fade the freckles. There was no cure for Aunt Kyra.
Grass rustled, the stomping sound of feet passing just inches from my hiding spot. I froze.
“I’m just not sure about this is all!” the small voice added, noticeable trembles in her speech.
I straightened, all drowsiness gone. Amber. Rubbing feeling back into my burning rear, I leaned closer to the wall, intrigued. It wasn’t often my sister gave me a reason to eavesdrop.
“Do you doubt the Sect?” a male voice asked.
My eyes widened. What the … my knee came up against the wall hard, and I winced. Huh? And Lady Ky thought I was the troublemaker? I wanted to laugh. Amber and some guy? This was priceless. I was having all kinds of if only my aunt realized I wasn’t the only one with faults moments.
“Do you?” the male voice persisted. It sounded vaguely familiar.
Amber was fierce when she spoke. “I don’t. I just doubt him.”
I fought not to stand. She sounded drained and, even if appearances seemed otherwise, I did love my sister. A gut feeling made me keep my seat.
“None of us fully trust him, but it’s worth the risk,” the other voice continued.
I worried the bottom of my lip furiously. Whatever this was about, it didn’t sound good at all. Was Amber involved in something? She so wasn’t the type.
“Oh, Ian! I don’t know. You can see why this isn’t easy for me. You have to see that!” Amber pleaded.
I tensed. My sister wasn’t the emotional type, and the worry in her voice pierced me in the gut.
There was movement, silence, and then a male voice murmuring, “Amber, we fit, you and I. You were chosen for me for a reason. Leave Dayton to her destiny,”
My mental brakes went into overdrive and slammed to a screeching stop. What the hell? Getting on my knees, I peered over the wall.
And gagged.
“Is it her destiny?” Amber asked Ian James as he ran a familiar hand down her back.
Bile rose up in my throat. Ian James. Mr. James. Mr. Fucking James. I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. A copper taste filled my mouth, and I swallowed hard.
“It’s for the good of the world, Amber. This isn’t something any of us are taking lightly. I promise it has been considered, reconsidered, and considered again. You can’t change it. I can’t change it,” Mr. James insisted.
Amber may have missed the dangerous glint in his eye, but I was all too aware of it. Amber’s gaze moved to the ground. She was way too damn submissive! I had to get out of here! What was this crap? Sects, destiny … it was like waking up inside a bad B rated movie.
I snuck along the wall, ignoring the tearing pain from thorns scattered sporadically among the brush. My phone was crushed cruelly into my palm as I finally made it to the door, and I welcomed the cutting pain. Mr. James and my sister? This had to be a bad dream. I paused, my ears straining, before moving into the dim interior of the Abbey.
I’m worried
I texted Monroe quickly. The reply was instant.
What’s up?
I barely glanced at the screen.
I don’t know
Sliding down the wall of the Abbey, I played back the scene I had just witnessed and retched. Nausea engulfed me. The whole thing was seriously messed up. Mr. James and my sister? James’ voice rang through my head, “Chosen for me.” What did that mean? How involved were they? The stuff they were discussing made no sense.
“Dayton!” a voice called distantly.
My gaze flew to the back staircase. Diane.
“Dayton!” Diane called again.
I moved up the wall. The clock on my phone told me it was well past time for dinner and, even though I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, I also wasn’t ready to deal with Aunt Ky if I didn’t respond to the summons.
“Here!” I called.
Turning the corner at the top of the stairs, I ran straight into Diane.
She placed her hand against the wall and gasped. “Dayton! You shouldn’t come up on people like that!”
She paused, looking me over critically. I knew my cheeks were flushed from the sun, and I hoped it hid the sudden paleness underneath. It didn’t.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Day? You seem sort of unwell lately.”
Her voice was full of concern, and she brushed limp brown hair out of her eyes before placing a calloused hand on my shoulder. She generally wore scrubs to work in. As long as she didn’t wear jeans to the Abbey, Aunt Ky was pretty lenient with Diane’s choice of attire. Today, it was powder blue scrubs with smiling kittens scattered throughout. Visions of Alice’s mischievous Cheshire cat flashed unerringly through my head, and I coughed. I sure felt like I was in Alice in Wonderland. I just wasn’t sure where the rabbit hole was. Obviously I had sleepwalked into it.
“I’m fine,” I answered lightly, moving to brush her hand off my shoulder. She narrowed her eyes but didn’t dig any deeper. I was getting a lot of that from her lately.
Her disapproving gaze scanned my clothes. “Your aunt sent me to tell you it’s time for dinner.”
I glanced down briefly before looking defiantly into her eyes.
She shook her head and sighed. “It can’t be helped. Go before she sends up the Sisters,”
I complied automatically. If my dinner was with Mr. James, I refused to sit through it.
Smoothing down my hair and straightening my hoodie, I moved toward the dining room, my whole body tense and cold. I pushed open the door and paused. It was empty.
“Aunt Ky?”
I glanced down at my watch. 5:30. I was more than an hour late.
“She won’t be joining us tonight,” a deep, male voice said suddenly.
I jumped and scanned the room, my eyes frantic.
A chair scooted back, a dark figure standing slowly at the end of the table. I took a hesitant step forward. It wasn’t Mr. James.
“Are you the recruiter?” I asked as I skirted along the wall, moving just close enough to make out the man’s appearance.
The sight shocked me. Monroe had certainly pegged our mystery man. Only his attire differed. He was dark-haired and built, but his frame was covered in a black suit jacket ov
er a black tee. No tie. His pants were dark blue denim, and he wore a black belt fastened securely at the waist. His eyes were as dark as his hair, his face pale. And though he was very attractive, his gaze was not. It was hard and cold, making him look much older than the age I would have pegged him at.
“Are you the recruiter?” I repeated loudly.
The smile he gave me was forced. “Something like that.”
He moved to the side and held out a chair. I looked from him to the seat with an uncertainty I knew he could read.
“Sit, Dayton,” he commanded.
A strange feeling settled over me. It seemed foolish to argue. Stepping forward, I sat.
He returned to his own chair, and I got my first close look at him. He was definitely younger than I first perceived. His cheekbones were high, his mouth and eyes full. A scar ran from the corner of one eye to just along one cheek. It made me feel cold. Silence stretched and I shifted uncomfortably. He seemed content to watch me as he ate.
He waved a hand at my plate but I shook my head. I wasn’t hungry. Today was moving too fast for me, one strange thing after another. It had me feeling motion sick.
“What are you recruiting for?” I asked, my gaze scanning the length of the table.
The emptiness was disconcerting. The table was normally full of women, novices, and occasional employees. I shifted away from the man’s chair.
“For a special event I have coming up,” he answered vaguely.
I looked at him, my brows furrowed. He noticed the confusion.
“I’ve heard you may be perfect for the job. You seem suited. Your aunt has told me a lot about you. We have a lot in common."
The furrow in my brow deepened. “What do you mean?”
I reached for a glass of water in front of me, but my hand shook so badly, I dropped it. The man followed the movement with his eyes. What was wrong with me? I felt funny.
Reaching over to help right my glass, he murmured, “Nervous?”
I dropped my hand and moved away. Something didn’t seem right about his eyes.
“Why don’t I introduce myself?” He brought his right hand across the table. “I’m Damon Craig."
I stared at his hand too long before taking it in mine. It was hot and his grip was firm. He held it for an unsuitable amount of time, and I snatched my hand away. Something about him seemed familiar but not in a good way.
“I’m assuming you know who I am,” I said. My voice shook.
Damon chuckled. “And so I do."
I busied myself with cleaning the mess I’d made with the water. It was a shame, too. I really was thirsty. I was being ridiculous. He was a recruiter, not a killer.
Inhaling, I tried to smile, but the room closed in on me, the air becoming thick.
“Your aunt tells me you have a fascination with decadence,” Damon remarked out of nowhere.
I looked up sharply. What? “I’m sorry?”
Who the hell said words like decadence?
He reclined in his chair, his elbows resting on the arm rests, his fingers steepled. “I’m going to get right to the point, Dayton. You don’t know me and have no reason to trust me, but your aunt and I go a long way back. She’s aware of my reasons for being here. I want you,”
I watched him uneasily. Wanted me? For what? A long way back? He didn’t look a day over twenty at the most.
“I have a special assignment I need done and you are most definitely qualified for the job,” he continued, interrupting my jumbled barrage of thoughts.
“I don’t think I’m following, Mr. Craig,” I said. I was still reeling over his decadence comment. “What did you mean by decadence? What has my aunt told you about me?”
Damon seemed to move closer without having left his chair. My eyes widened.
“Sweets, satin sheets, foul language, a disdain for authority … most anything the Abbess doesn’t approve of. Does that sound like anyone you know?” Damon asked.
I froze, shocked. My body had gone cold as soon as he mentioned satin sheets. The feeling filtered through me so numbingly fast, I barely noticed that I had dropped my silverware and shoved away from the table. What was this?
“Who the hell are you?” I asked him. I couldn’t help but be affronted. He had no right! “Whatever you’re selling I don’t want it.”
Standing, I began to move away. A hand clamped down like iron on my wrist, the grip bruising. Fear slid up my spine.
“Your aunt seems to believe you are well qualified for the position I am looking to fill. The work may change you,” he insisted, his voice low. It sent shivers all the way down to my toes.
I attempted to move away. His grip tightened.
I tugged at my hand. “I’m really not interested.”
He moved closer, his eyes shining. “You are stubborn aren’t you?”
It wasn’t a question.
I tensed. “Is this some kind of reform school? Is that what my aunt is after?”
Damon’s grip finally loosened. Blood flowed down into my hand, and it tingled painfully. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. It opened the wound from earlier.
Damon gasped. “It will reform us both.”
The husky timbre of his voice made the hair stand up along my arms. This man scared me. How did my aunt know him? What were they planning?
I tried moving away again. Had I really been that bad? What did Aunt Ky want with him?
This time when his grip began to tighten, I shoved my elbow into his ribs. He didn’t flinch, but he did let go.
“That wasn’t very nice, Dayton,” he scolded.
I backed away from him, and moved toward the door. “Fuck you!”
The words echoed along the dining room walls.
He grinned. “Oh yes, Dayton, I think you will do quite nicely.”
His words followed me from the room. My heart beat erratically against my ribs and sweat gathered along my back and hairline.
“Happy birthday, Dayton. It was so good of your aunt to let me meet you first. It’s a shame you never asked what the job was,” he called out.
I turned and fled toward the stairs. I was crying by the time I made it to the top, and I noted it for what it was. Anger not sadness. It made me even angrier and I cried harder.
“What is wrong with you people!” I shouted, the words ringing through the upstairs living quarters. No one answered me. What was going on?
The sobs were coming heavily now. I just wanted to curl up on my bed, go to sleep, and start my day all over again. I cried out once more, but the only answer I received was my own echo.
Chapter 12
The first stone in the war has been thrown. He thinks he has the answers to Redemption. He will discover it comes at a much greater cost.
~Bezalial~
The floor. That’s where Amber found me, curled up against the wall at the top of the stairs. She didn’t say anything, just touched me lightly and inclined her head toward her room. I nodded and let her lead me gently by the elbow.
It’s amazing how long you can live at a place and still not feel at home. Amber didn’t seem to share my feelings and her room reflected it. A small desk, books, thick blue comforter, and warm lamp on the bedside table screamed peace. I wasn’t feeling the mojo.
“You okay?” Amber asked quietly.
I should have been angry at her but I wasn’t. This whole day was skewered. Life as I’d always known it seemed distorted. The man from downstairs had been my mad hatter. I suddenly understood how Alice felt in Wonderland. I hadn’t just sleepwalked into her rabbit hole, I’d stolen it.
I nodded at Amber, too afraid of the tears if I tried to speak.
She patted her bed. She didn’t say anything, just moved around gathering up books before spreading them out on her bed along with an assignment sheet. It all seemed so normal.
Amber sat at the head of the bed, and I sprawled at the end. Maybe that was Amber’s intention, to create a sense of normalcy in a sea of chaos. Whatever it was, I was let
ting it sink into my bones. I needed normal. But worries nagged me, and I knew, without a doubt, that Amber was aware of something I wasn’t. I felt afraid and alone, adrift and without anchor. I wanted to lay here and fall asleep, pretend this day had never happened. Erase the confusion. Something was happening around me, something I wasn’t aware of. I was living a day walking in the middle of something I obviously hadn’t been prepared for, that I was only catching snippets of as I moved through. It was like trying to piece together a quilt, and I wasn’t getting the pattern right. I needed answers.
I watched Amber for a while as she flipped through one of her textbooks, stopping here and there to scribble a note. The lamp next to her highlighted the gold in her hair, and I tried not to feel envious. She shone like the sun even in the dark. I was muted, a fire that burned low right before it was supposed to go out.
I looked away. “What’s going on, Amber?”
The pages in her textbook stilled. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, Dayton,” she replied.
It wasn’t the answer I was expecting, and my head shot up. If I wasn’t confused before, I was now. The puzzle pieces didn’t fit—the dream, Mr. James, the weird man, Amber’s odd behavior—out of it all, only the dream had ever been a part of my normal day. The rest, not so much. And what did my birthday have to do with anything?
I stared. “So?”
Amber set her book aside. “You don’t remember what my birthday was like a year ago?”
My forehead wrinkled. I had been so caught up in my own problems at the time; it was hard to remember though I did recall it being slightly odd. We didn’t celebrate birthdays at the Abbey, but that year, Aunt Ky had taken Amber out. Amber hadn’t been the same since. I’d assumed it had something to do with hormones.
“Not really,” I admitted.
Amber sighed. “There are some things about the Abbey you haven’t let yourself see, Dayton. You’ve always been good at avoiding the obvious.”
I felt affronted but didn’t argue. I think it hurt to hear her say it because I knew it was true. I did prefer fantasy over reality.