by Juniper Hart
As he expected, a low growl echoed from behind him, and he turned to face a salivating Rottweiler, licking his chops.
“Hello, there,” Ansel said brightly.
The dog bared his teeth, advancing slowly. Ansel did not move. He had no beef with the animal, and the canine was easy enough to sidestep.
You’ve met your match, boy, he thought, narrowing his eyes despite the smile still on his face. The dog seemed to understand his words, and he slightly backed away, though he was still poised to strike. Ansel resisted the urge to pet him.
After all, what he really wanted was Tony Valducci’s attention.
Again, the animal growled, followed by a sharp bark. Suddenly, Luca appeared in the yard, his gun drawn.
“How the hell did you get in here?” he demanded, hurrying toward Ansel. “Do you have a death wish?”
Ansel shook his head. “I just wanted to deliver a message to Mr. Valducci. Is he home?”
Luca narrowed his dark eyes. “Is it his money?”
“It’s better than his money!” Ansel cheerfully assured the guard. “He’ll love this!”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Is he home?” Ansel repeated.
Luca raised the gun.
“No,” he replied slowly. “But you can wait for him inside. Come with me.”
A series of sharp howls escaped the Rottweiler’s jowls, and Luca put a hand on his back to steady the animal.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” Ansel told the bodyguard apologetically. “Will you give him a message from me?”
Luca gazed at him uncomprehendingly. “What?”
Ansel began to transition, his body growing into the giant form of his dragon, his head remaining human as he began to talk, towering over Luca.
“Tell your boss that I do not take kindly to threats of any kind,” he snarled. “And if he feels the need to pursue this, his house will be the least of his concerns.”
Luca’s face contorted in horror, disbelief painting him immobile.
“It’s true! You’re the devil!” he gasped, backing away in terror as the dog began to howl with fright.
Ansel hoped that the man had the presence of mind to clear the property of anyone inside, but it wasn’t his problem any longer. No one threatened him and walked away unscathed, much less men who had no qualms about hurting innocent people.
I hope Valducci’s employees get danger pay, he thought coldly, his yellow eyes narrowing.
He fell back against his enormous green tail and dropped his jaw, exposing a silver array of gnashing choppers. The dog whimpered and bolted, leaving Luca to gape at Ansel in shock. Two short puffs of steam snorted through Ansel’s nostrils, and he locked gazes with Valducci’s bodyguard. Ansel’s eyes glowed amber as he completed his transition into his dragon form.
For a second, Ansel was certain the man was going to faint dead away on the pavement, but as he released the first stream of fire onto the ranch-style house, Luca turned to run.
“Fire!” he screamed as Ansel inhaled for another round. “Fire! Get out of the house!”
Ansel turned his head and sprayed another blast of heat toward the opposite side of the house before raising his massive form back into the air. Flapping away from the scene, he secretly hoped that he had not left any corpses in the house. After all, his quarrel was not with anyone but Valducci.
If there were casualties, though, it would be collateral damage.
It’s a risk you run when you work for a man like Valducci, Ansel thought, leaving the soot in his wake while he disappeared into the clouds.
As he made his way back to the Bellagio, Ansel knew he had likely opened the door to further retaliation, but it didn’t bother him. At least Valducci knew that he would not bow down to bullying. And if he still continued to press the issue—even though Ansel hoped it wouldn’t come to it—he would have to kill the coward.
I have killed for less, Ansel reasoned. He landed and shifted back before entering the hotel lobby. In three days, I will be back home, he thought. And this will just be another battle I won with my eyes closed.
Climbing into the elevator, he pushed the button to the 31st floor. Then he held the doors open, Carrie’s words reverberating in his head.
I’ll be at the hotel until Saturday, she had told him, if you’re looking for another round or two. Room 414.
Ansel hit the button for the fourth floor with the side of his fist.
I owe her an explanation, he thought, a small smile forming on his lips. And I wouldn’t mind going another round with her. I will reassure her that she has nothing to worry about, that I handled the issue with Valducci.
She would undoubtedly show her gratitude one way or another.
The elevators closed in front of him, leaving Ansel to happily anticipate the impending tryst with Carrie.
If he had not been so lost in thought, he might have noticed Tony Valducci sitting in the lobby, his face contorted in rage.
7
“Please,” she insisted. “I would like to be left alone.”
“Well,” he whispered, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. “We don’t always get what we want, do we, chérie?”
Nora jerked her shoulder away and glared at the brazen stranger at her side.
“I don’t know you,” she spat angrily. “Do not touch me.”
Shock filled her core as his hand grabbed her by the hair, tightening against the base of her skull.
“If you make one sound,” he growled, “I will shoot you with the gun in my pocket. Come with me and you will not get hurt.”
Nora swallowed her fear and allowed him to drag her toward the roadside where a van sat with its hazard lights flashing.
“I am meeting my husband!” she cried as he threw her in the back of the car.
The stranger chuckled dryly.
“Your husband is marrying another woman,” he purred. “He is not coming for you.”
“What did you say?” Nora whispered, terror flooding her body as she whirled on him. “You know Ansel?”
“I know everything about you, Nora,” the man replied smoothly. “And I know I will be a much better lover than Ansel could ever be. He doesn’t care about you—can’t you see that?”
Panic gripped her, and her wings sprouted from her back. She flew toward the door of the van before he could close it, but as she did, he reached into his trench coat pocket. Nora had no time to react as the man produced a needle and plunged it into her neck. She couldn’t react—she couldn’t even call out to Ansel.
As she gaped at the stranger in horror, her eyes growing heavy, her last thought before all went black was, Fly! Fly away!
Jerome stayed at her side for the next several days, doting on her as he had in the beginning. He rubbed her neck and shoulders, never raising his voice as they listened to classical music in the study, as he watched her play the piano.
When did I learn to play the piano? Before Jerome or after? Nora asked herself, one of the hundreds of questions that filled her mind and brought her closer to the brink of insanity. But the terror inside her only mounted as she thought of Adrienne, freezing and alone in the cellar, the images coinciding with her own memories of the time she had been held captive.
All the memories she had repressed… all the memories he had brainwashed her to forget were coming back to her. She did her best to hide her repulsion as bits and pieces flittered through her mind.
Nora had begged him not to kill her. She had promised to do anything he asked. She had thought that he planned to rape her, that he planned to torture her and then be done with her, and she had pleaded him not to. She remembered Jerome had been furious at her words.
“I will never take what you won’t give me willingly,” he had snarled at her. “I am not a monster.” Then he had smiled serenely. “In time, chérie, you will realize that you have always loved me, and you will want to spend your life with me. You will never remember anything other than the life you’ll hav
e with me.”
Nora had been broken down over time, her memory wiped at the hands of a madman. She did not remember the transition from the dark, dismal spot in which she had fought for survival to the quaint apartment in Bern. Somehow, along the way, she had forgotten who she was before the day on the Thames, before she had become Jerome’s companion.
And he had been right; she had freely and lovingly given herself to him.
How did I allow this to happen? Nora wondered as she floated through the days, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There was a vague recollection of another woman: a tall, red-haired girl with a blank expression on her face. And Nora could read the same look in her own eyes when she studied herself in the mirror. What had become of her? Where had she gone?
She tried not to think about it too much. Wherever she had gone, Nora was sure to follow. But when would that be? How long would it be before Jerome got rid of her as well, turning poor Adrienne into his next little doll?
At night, the only reason Nora slept was because she was being drugged again. She didn’t know if Jerome could see that her memories had resurfaced, but she couldn’t risk confronting him about them—it would only make matters worse.
The only thing that seemed to keep her sane were the dreams. Every night, the man whose face she could not see came to her, and she reached for him as if he were her lifeline.
He asked her things that made no sense.
“Where are you?”
“When are you coming back for me?”
“Why don’t you fly away?”
Each night, his presence came to her, his silhouette sharper with each new dream, yet Nora still could not see his face, nor could she remember his name.
He was the man I was crying about by the river the day that Jerome took me, she realized, but that told her little. Ansel. His name is Ansel… isn’t it?
In her waking hours, she seemed a zombie, there but also not there, fighting through her own psyche to regain some knowledge of who she had been a decade earlier.
Her name was Nora. She was from Britain. How could she go back home?
A week after Jerome had taken her to meet Adrienne, he announced that he had to leave on business.
“When I return,” Jerome told Nora, “we will have a romantic dinner alone. I will dismiss the staff, and it will just be you and I.”
A thousand inquires wanted to spring from Nora’s lips. What had happened to Adrienne? What was the occasion for their romantic dinner? Was he going to kill her?
She said nothing, nodding as she clamped her lips together.
“While I am gone, you must only work on your art,” he said, gripping her arms. “You will not leave the house. Am I clear?”
“Yes, chéri,” Nora whispered. “Of course. I already promised you I would not.”
Jerome nodded, his icy eyes narrowing. “And you will not speak English again. I did not even know you could.”
Nora swallowed quickly, bobbing her head vehemently.
“Nor did I,” she lied. “I must have learned it in school… in Nice.” She prayed that he found her words sincere, though she couldn’t bring herself to hold his gaze.
Jerome stared at her for a long moment. “I will be back in three days. I expect you to be prepared for our private encounter.”
Her fear turned to disgust, bile swimming in her stomach as she recognized the implication of his words. The thought of him touching her was suddenly appalling.
Nora smiled weakly and nodded.
“Oui, chéri,” she murmured. “I look forward to it.”
Jerome kissed her on the cheek and turned for the front door, where his suitcase waited for him.
“À bientôt,” he said, reaching for his jacket. Nora watched him go, forcing herself not to flee the foyer before he had left.
I have three days to find help, she thought, staring at his retreating back. Three days to rescue Adrienne and get out of this house. But how? Collette, Alex, and Marc will be watching my every move. They will report everything I do back to Jerome.
Jerome paused at the doorway, eyeing her speculatively. “Are you all right, mon amour? You seem pale.”
“I will miss you,” Nora choked. “Please, hurry home.”
He nodded slowly, studying her face. Nora tightened her hands into fists and then ran into his arms, embracing him as lovingly as she could bring herself to. He couldn’t be suspicious of her behavior or he might return sooner than she expected him to. She also couldn’t give the staff any reason to be suspicious of her, or they would call for him to return.
Nora deposited a warm kiss on his cheek and stepped back, looking up at him in what she hoped translated to admiration. She did not know how she managed to keep such a phony expression on her face when all she wanted to do was run screaming from the chalet ahead of him, yet she must have pulled it off. Jerome’s face seemed to soften, and he nodded shortly.
“À bientôt,” he said again, whirling to leave her alone in the front hall.
As the door closed, Nora felt her knees grow weak, but she willed herself to stand upright and turn around. She could already sense eyes watching her every move, and while she could not see Collette, Nora could tell she was nearby.
She had to find a way out of this prison without being detected.
The odds were terrible. She was being watched in a remote area of Switzerland. The only phones were in Collette’s room and Jerome’s locked office, a room to which only Collette had the key. If Jerome ever called to speak with her, Nora had to take the calls in his office with the housekeeper in earshot.
All other technology was forbidden from the chalet. There were no computers or cell phones. There was not even a television.
The insurmountable task made Nora lightheaded, but she forced herself up the stairs toward her suite. She perched on the edge of the settee in the sitting room and went over her options.
I am being held in a perfect prison, she thought. Even if I find the means to escape, how will I get anywhere without freezing to death in the snow? I might have a chance in the spring, but I do not have that long! If I am to escape, it must be within the next three days.
“Mademoiselle Nora?”
Nora cursed under her breath. Was the woman going to be at her side until Jerome came back?
“Oui, Collette?”
“I have brought you some breakfast,” the housekeeper declared, entering the room. She seemed to be searching Nora’s face for signs of defiance, but the brunette managed to keep her expression stoic.
“That is very kind, thank you,” she replied, nodding as the girl set a tray down at her side.
Collette could not know that I was kidnapped, Nora thought, slowly rising to take a piece of toast from the plate. She was hired to work here with Marc. They did not know Jerome before then. If I tell her the truth about who I am, maybe she will help me.
The idea filled her with sudden hope, and she eyed Collette as the woman filled a cup of tea and handed it to her. Nora nodded, taking a sip.
She could call the authorities for me, and they would find Adrienne, even if I do not know where the girl is being held specifically.
“Is there something you need, mademoiselle?” Collette asked, cocking her head to the side.
Nora nodded eagerly, setting the cup down in its saucer.
“Oui,” she said, excitement coursing through her body. “I need your…” Her sentence died in her throat as a familiar dizziness washed over her. She turned to look at the cup she had just drunk tea from.
“Yes, mademoiselle? What can I do?”
But the housekeeper’s voice flittered in and out of her consciousness as she fell back onto the sofa.
“Again?” she mumbled. “You… you drugged me again? Why do you continue to do this?”
“Mademoiselle, it is for your own good that you rest,” Collette told her reassuringly, casting a sympathetic glance at her. “Monsieur Charpentier has told us about your emotional state, and w
e only want you to recover well.”
Her words danced in and out of Nora’s ears, but their meaning hit her as if Jerome had slapped her himself.
No one from the staff would ever help her—he had brainwashed them, too. They all believed Nora was crazy, and they had thought so since they had first met her. Nothing she could say would change their minds, much less would it change Collette’s.
Jerome had poisoned the staff against her from the moment she had set a foot inside his house, anticipating that she might begin to remember everything he had tried to erase from her memory.
Nora’s lids began to fall. Somewhere above her head, she could hear Collette speaking, but she could no longer understand anything she was saying.
Perhaps they are all right and I am insane, Nora thought. I have not been kidnapped. I live a wonderful life with Jerome Charpentier, and soon we will have a daughter named Adrienne.
She was floating away, high above the clouds. The feeling was comfortably familiar, as if she had once resided far above the ground. Looking down at her body, her human frame was gone, and she had transformed into a mythical beast of sorts, a long, purple creature soaring away from Collette.
As Nora fell into unconsciousness again, something called out to her, loud and plaintive. It was the voice of the man whose face she could never see in her dreams.
“You can fly away, Nora!” he cried. “You can escape!”
“How? How can I fly away?” she called back aloud. “Who are you?”
From the sky above, she saw a look of confusion cross over Collette’s face, but Nora still continued to float upward.
I am flying! I am flying away!
“Nora, it is me, Ansel!” the voice told her. “I am coming for you. Tell me where you are!”
“Switzerland,” she mumbled. Then she spoke again, louder. “Lucerne! I am in Lucerne, Switzerland!”