Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1)

by Kristen Pike

  “Cecily!” Rowan called out, feeling the need to say something, anything, to the little girl. “Thank you.” She said when Cecily looked at her, but did not know what it was she should be thankful for.

  Cecily smiled. “I really do want you to be happy here.” She replied earnestly, causing Rowan to flinch slightly with guilt. Cecily didn’t seem to notice though and soon she was disappearing back down the black hallway.

  As soon as Rowan could no longer here Cecily’s footfalls, she dug in the straw for her makeshift knife, finding it by pricking her finger on the sharp end. She stuck the bleeding finger in her mouth with a scowl and scampered over to the far side of the cage closest to the exit. That side was the most hidden part of the cage, hard for anyone to see when they first walked into the room.

  Rowan sawed at the bars for hours. Her muscles aching and screaming in protest each time she hammered the bars, or tried sawing them. When she finally laid the knife down, unable to go on any longer so was despaired to find she had barley put a scratch in the dense metal.

  Rowan hid the knife back amongst the straw, careful to bury it deep so she or her sheep friend did not spear themselves in the night, and fell into a fitful sleep…

  Rowan found herself standing in an old library, with volumes of books surrounding her on all sides and a small table for two sitting in the middle of the room in a patch of sunlight from a nearby window. The floor was made of white marble and a pool of blood, now congealed and black sat off to the side, foreboding and wicked.

  “Rowan.” Elias said to her, appearing in the room in a cloud of mist and darkness. His arms were open wide and he looked so much like the brother from her memories that she ran into them, crying his name. After they had embraced for a while, Elias led her to the small table with two chairs and they sat. When Rowan told him all the horrible things she had heard about him, his expression grew somber.

  “I’ve done some terrible things Rowan, but not all; I could never do all of that.” He whispered, and Rowan desperately wanted to believe him. “What horrible things you must think of me.”

  “There’s something you should know Elias. About mother.” Please Rowan, Rowan heard her mother scream in her head and her eyes grew dark, the memory trying to wiggle its way into her thoughts. Rowan shook it back into the recesses of her mind where she tried to keep it tightly locked.

  “It’s okay Rowan. I know.” Elias responded, his voice a little sad but his face blank.

  “Why did you leave me Elias?” Rowan asked, looking down at the table.

  “Rowan,” Elias sighed, “I was so scared, and selfish, and I regretted it every day since then, but I was so ashamed…” He trailed off, a pained expression darting his face. “There’s so much I have to tell you, but there’s not enough time to tell it in. it’s hard to talk to you like this, when you’re so far away.”

  “I’m right here Elias.” Rowan told him, looking at her brother, his blue eyes catching her blue eyes and they stared at each other, a million words and sentences falling deafly to the floor where they lay in a cluttered heap, wishing to be spoken but neither sibling knowing how to force the words and sentences past their lips. “What is the carving Elias, what is the eye?” Rowan asked, before the silence that stretched before them grew so large it would not be crossable again.

  Elias shook his head, “What eye Rowan? Rowan wait! You’re slipping Rowan, we can’t talk much longer, it’s hard to hold onto, but please Rowan,” Elias began to blink, fading in and out of view, “have faith in me, I am still your brother. I’ll find you, I love you Row-“

  Elias’s eyes grew dark. His head began to spin and it morphed into a two-headed beast, one side Kastor, one side Coop. “Do I look like a monster?” The beast yelled at her, a forked tongue darting out and the air sizzled as if on fire. Rowan jumped from the table, her chair clattering backwards across the marble and tried to run, but found herself back in the caves turning down endless paths that went on for eternity. Forever running in circles… Forever running in circles… Forever running in circles…

  Rowan twisted in the straw, panting, as she bolted awake; the sheep made a noise and scooted away from her. Rowan blinked in the darkness but she was too tired and unconsciousness soon pulled her back under…

  They were laying in the grass, the sun beating down on them. The field seemed to stretch on as far as her eyes could see and dandelions stretched up in the millions, a yellow army of flowers. Rowan was standing in the field, an aching pain beginning to sprout behind her eyes. She could see herself, in the distance, laying with Jace, her head resting on his shoulder, her palm flat on his chest, feeling the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat. Jace’s arm was wrapped around her back and rested on her waist. He made circling motions with his fingertips on the back of her hand that rested on his chest. Rowan moved closer to the pair, feeling strange for intruding, though she was looking at herself.

  “I wish we could stay like this forever.” Jace sighed.

  The other Rowan blinked and fell over, clearly dead, Jace bolted upright, scooping dead Rowan into his arms. “Rowan!” Jace cried, “no, Rowan.” Tears streamed down his face and he rocked back and forth, cradling dead Rowan to his chest.

  The pain behind Rowan’s eyes grew deeper as she took another step forward, her heart breaking to see Jace grieving so intensely. “Jace, I’m ok.” Rowan said and Jace whirled around, startled, his eyes growing wide when he saw her. “I’m ok Jace, I mean I’m stuck in a prison with a sheep, but hey, I’m not dead.” Rowan said with a small smile.

  “I’m so sorry Rowan, I should have gone with you, I should have known it was a trap.” Jace said, coming to a stand and letting dead Rowan roll off him.

  Rowan frowned looking at her lifeless self, laying dead on the ground.

  “You’re blinking Rowan.” Jace said, grabbing one of her hands. Rowans head began pounding and she doubled over, grasping at the sides of her head to still the agonizing pain behind her eyes. The grass and flowers around her lurched, the world tilting and fading out, turning black.

  “Jace! No wait, Jace!” Rowan cried, the pain in her eyes so blinding tears sprang into her eyes, “Jace”….

  “Jace!” Rowan cried flinging herself upright in her straw bed. She breathed haggardly, air being torn in and out of her chest viciously. Rowan rubbed her eyes with her palms, surprised to find them wet. Is it so much to ask, for just one night’s sleep? She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and rested her chin on one knee. She stared out at the blackness that enveloped her and though sleep threatened to overtake her once more, she fought against it, not wanting to be subjected to any more nightmares.

  Rowan sat like that until Cecily arrived. Cecily brought with her a bowl of white mush, which Rowan gulped down, the food like ash in her mouth. It was just a little too hot and Rowan burned her throat, but she was famished and did not really care.

  “Sorry it’s not much.” Cecily said, shrugging a shoulder. She sat down in her usual manner, crossed legged, just out of reach of the cage. “Uncle hasn’t been able to get huntin’, and were running awful low on foods stuffs.” She explained, her eyes growing distant, as if calculating just how much food they had left.

  Rowan felt guilty suddenly though she knew she shouldn’t. It is not my problem how much food that damned man does or does not have. Maybe Kastor should not go around abducting people, then he wouldn’t be too scared to go outside and get food. Rowan did slow down her eating after that though, savoring the thick mush that really didn’t taste like anything.

  Cecily sat in silence while Rowan finished her breakfast, observing Rowan, with her eyes squinted. Rowan squirmed slightly not used to such scrutiny. “You’re really pretty.” Cecily stated as Rowan placed her empty bowl on the ground. Rowan frowned, her eyebrows low over her eyes and shook her head, looking at the floor. “It’s true, I mean right now you look like some animal pooped you out, and your hair could use some fixin, and under all them bruises… but I can t
ell; you’re beautiful.” Cecily smiled at her and it was so earnest, Rowan found herself starting to smile back.

  Rowan couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl. She could tell Cecily didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She had just been dealt a bad hand, was all. After all, you couldn’t help what family you were born into.

  Rowan considered compelling the child to let her go, but she knew even if she did get free, she would never make it back above ground, not in the state she was in now. She would likely be found, beaten, and tossed back in her cage. And probably watched a lot more closely after two escape attempts. No, it was best to bide her time, let herself heal, and then she would escape properly.

  “Uncle says that he’s gunna send a message to your brother real soon.” Cecily was saying and Rowan roused herself from her thoughts to focus on her. “He says that your brother will pay lots of money for you and then we can go live in a mansion and never have to worry about anything ever again.” Cecily sounded sad as she said this, not looking at Rowan and chewing her bottom lip.

  They sat in stillness for a while longer, Cecily running her hands through the dirt, making shapes and pictures then rubbing her hand over them and starting again. Rowan watched the tiny child with her fiery red hair and large green eyes, and felt a pang of loneliness.

  Even if the girl insisted on visiting her, it is not as if they could ever be true friends. Maybe if they had met in another life, but right now Cecily would always be just out of arms reach, with prison walls between them. The thought made Rowan unexpectedly despondent, mourning for something she didn’t understand.

  “I can bring you a brush, if you would like.” Cecily said, drawing what appeared to be a sun on the ground.

  “Okay.” Rowan said. She smiled at the little girl, who bounced brightly to her feet and dashed off in search of a brush.

  Rowan took the time alone to stretch out her sore muscles. She moved slowly, taking mental stock of her physical injuries. Her rib hurt the most, but aside from the various bruises speckled all across her body, and her relentless headache, she felt fine. Sure, she was a little tender in places, namely her back, but that was her own fault and she could not blame anyone else for that one but herself. All things considered though, she could have been a lot worse. Rowan counted herself lucky that she was not.

  Rowan lay on her back and pulled her shirt up to expose her ribs. She felt around the area and was surprised to learn that the swelling had gone down quite a bit and thought that perhaps her rib wasn’t broken, maybe just heavily bruised. Rowan began to feel hopeful. The faster I heal, the faster I can work on getting out of this dungeon.

  Rowan spotted Cecily making her way back into the room, a large bag slung over her shoulder, with her arms wrapped around a huge metal bucket. Cecily hunched over with exertion and when she reached Rowan, she plopped the bucket down as close to Rowan as she could, sloshing steaming water down her leg. Cecily panted, her chest heaving with each breath she sucked in.

  Cecily shook off the water, beaming down at Rowan, who had hastily sat up. “I brought you some stuff!” She exclaimed, tugging the bag off her arm. She sat on the ground and began pulling things from the bag, a proud smile plastered to her face. “Here’s some soap, and here’s the brush, it’s got this crack on the side so you gots to be careful with it okay?” She looked at Rowan, her eyebrows arched, making her eyes seem twice as large as they were. Rowan nodded. “Ok, great! And of course here’s a cloth so you can wash yourself off with. And I brought you some clothes. I hope they fit you okay, you’re a little bigger than I am, in certain areas,” Her eyes skimmed Rowans chest and she hurriedly looked back to her bag, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “And I brought you a blanket, I know it can get awful cold down here, it’s not much but –“

  “Thank you.” Rowan said gently, truly touched by the girl’s generosity. Cecily looked up at her, her face questioning for a moment, as if Rowan might be poking fun at her, but when Rowan smiled, she returned to her normally bubbly self.

  “Well I don’t have the key so I can’t get the water into you, so I hope this is okay...” She trailed off, coming to her feet and gesturing to the water pail sitting just outside the cage, the bucket pressed to the thick metal bars.

  “It’s fine.” Rowan assured her and Cecily began passing Rowan’s new treasures through the bars of the cage. When all was transferred, Cecily looked at the things lying on the ground in Rowan’s prison and nodded her head once as if to convince herself everything was satisfactory.

  “Well I’ll leave ya to it then.” Cecily said and smiled one last time before leaving Rowan in her normal, bouncing manner.

  Rowan stripped off the filthy shambles that passed for her clothes and tossed them outside the cage where they settled in a puff of dirt, blending in with the brown of the floor. She looked at them in disgust as she grabbed up the small square of cloth meant for washing. She dipped it into the warm water, the heat prickling her skin comfortably. She gently scrubbed the slime from her arms, being extra careful with her scabbed over burns.

  Rowan sighed, closing her eyes as she scoured her thighs, her knees, her shins and her feet. Dirty water turned the dirt to mud under her. She dunked the cloth back in the bucket, the water turning dark with filth. She rang the drenched cloth out over her hair, hot water running down her face, cutting lines through the grunge.

  She let her head fall back, her tangled excuse of hair tumbling down her back in a knotted line. Rowan soaked her black locks thoroughly, the weight of it pulling her head back further. Rowan twisted the soap in her hands, working out a good lather and ran it meticulously through her hair. The soap prickled her scalp slightly and Rowan felt herself sighing in contentment.

  As Rowan scrubbed herself, she imagined she was washing away all the events of the past year; there went her mother in the kitchen, with the knife… down a scented stream of water down her back. There were all the evil things she had been told Elias did and all the dead she had found and buried, turning to mud under her feet. There was her kidnapping, running down the length of her body, bubbles swirling on the thin line of water as it trickled into the ground.

  When Rowan was sure she was as clean as she could get she let the wash cloth fall into the bucket of water, nearly black, and it sunk to the bottom, heavy with dirt. She did her best to ring out her hair, water falling in torrents onto the ground. Before she had started washing she had placed the clothes Cecily had brought across the cage, on the pile of straw, so they wouldn’t get wet, and she crossed her prison now to get them.

  The clothes were warm and although they were a bit snug, conforming to her body and clinging to her curves they were comfortable, and more important, they were clean. The shirt was brown and long sleeved, made of a slightly rough material. Rowan cupped the ends of the sleeves in her palm, pulling the fabric over her knuckles. The shirt ended just above the hemline of the dull gray pants, showing a thin line of her midriff, which made Rowan blush, though no one was there to see her. Rowan tugged at the bottom of the shirt, but it kept springing up, refusing to fully cover her body. Proper young women do not show their stomach.

  Then again, proper women do not take an accompany of men and camp in the woods for months at a time in search of their deranged brother, or almost lie with someone they were not wed to. Or for that matter, proper young ladies weren’t taken hostage and held in an underground cage. But if Rowan wasn’t a proper young lady what was she? Just Rowan, she supposed.

  The pants were made with a soft cloth and lined with what Rowan figured was sheep’s wool. They were a little small, and when she moved around she could feel the to short fabric rubbing against her ankles. The sheep bah’d in approval at her and Rowan allowed herself to smile at the creature.

  Rowan made a face at the brush she had retrieved, knowing untangling her hair would likely bring a fair amount of pain. She started at the frayed ends, struggling to get the brush through her thick wavy hair. She moved the brush up as she cleared one knot, t
hen another, until at last she was able to glide the brush all the way down without a hitch.

  Rowan parted her hair down the middle and ran her fingers the length of her hair, surprised at how much it had grown since starting her journey. Her hair reached down to the small of her back and with the water weighing it down it reached almost all the way down her back, a few tendrils stretching to touching the top of her new pants.

  Rowan yawned deeply, suddenly exhausted and rubbed her eyes with her palms. She felt lighter, with all the dirt cleansed from her body, she wrapped herself in the thick off white blanket Cecily had brought and laid down in the straw. She did not want to fall asleep, she did not want to relive another nightmare, but her eyes were closing anyway and Rowan knew she could do nothing to stay awake and surrendered to the plague that had become her unconscious mind.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Jace kissed the hollow of her neck, her head tilted back, her hair pillowed out under her. “Jace.” Rowan murmured, her breath catching in her throat as his hands skimmed her thighs.

  His lips returned to hers, they felt warm and his tongue skimmed her lower lip, she moaned deep in her throat, abandoning all inhibitions. Her hands pressed against his back urging him closer. She felt cold, so cold, without his body pressing against hers. “Jace?” She asked as he pulled away. He looked down on her, his eyes luminescent in the dim room.

  “What do you want, Rowan?” He asked her gently, blinking slowly.

  “You,” she told him breathlessly, “I want you.” And his mouth crashed down on hers again, hungry and -

  “HEY!”

  Rowan stammered awake, looking around disgruntled. She blushed heavily, as though Cecily- who had entered the room carrying a hefty looking bag- could have delved into her sleeping mind and seen what had been going on there.

  “Who you dreaming about?” Cecily asked her, giggling. “Is it that man out there looking for you? Whoever he is, he seems to got you all bothered.” She laughed, causing Rowan to blush deeper and duck her head in shame. “Well, I’ve got to feed Horace. So I’m gunna have to tie you up.” She looked apologetic as she slung the bag from over her shoulder with a shrug, it landed with a thump on the ground, sending dirt flinging off in all directions. “Uncle says I have to or I can’t keep Horace. He doesn’t know I already come down here to see you, you know, other than to bring you food, but he might come check on me. He thinks you’ll kill me first chance you get and if he comes down here and you’re not tied up then he might just kill us both.” Cecily laughed at Rowan’s stunned expression. “I’m just teasing.” She said with a smile, than more seriously, “He’ll only kill you.” Than a second later, she laughed again, the sound falling flat as the rocks surrounding them gobbled up her joy as if trying to diminish it. “Is it okay, that you’re tied up, I just don’t want either of us in trouble?” Cecily asked, looking once again apologetic.