Exiled_Kenly's Story

by Sophie Davis

  James. His name made my heart ache. Was he okay? Had he tried to fight his captors as I’d done? Had he been successful? I hoped so. I prayed that he’d broken free and wasn’t currently doing something stupid. Like wandering around this mammoth house searching for me in some misguided act of chivalry. Knowing what both of our futures held, how intertwined our fates would become unless we did something to alter the outcome, I needed him as far away from here as possible. Otherwise, because of me, James would be tortured. I couldn’t allow that to happen.

  The click of heels on hardwood echoed by several sets of boots brought me back to the present. Pint stood and faced the door to the right. I followed her gaze almost reluctantly. Nerves had my stomach doing backflips and I had to clasp my hands together to stop the shaking.

  The first person through the door was Jaylen Monroe, followed closely by his sister.

  Libby Monroe. Libby, short for Elizabeth. I should have known.

  Behind Libby was an older man with the same golden coloring as the twins, except his hair was shot through with streaks of white. Bringing up the rear were two men dressed in fatigues. One was tall and wiry with a large nose and smattering of pimples. The other looked like he’d stepped right off the pages of one of the fashion magazines Alana was always flipping through. High, sharp cheekbones. Smooth, radiant skin. Silky blonde hair, not a piece out of place. And eyes the color of the sky on a perfect spring day. It was the sneer on his full lips that made him ugly, when by all other accounts he should have been beautiful.

  Between the two goons was James. Relief and trepidation washed over me in equal parts. He was okay. At least, okay as a captive could be. But why was he here? Was this when it began? Was this the start of the path to my Visions? Would it eventually lead to a room where I was forced to watch James being tortured on a wallscreen?

  How can I change it?

  “Hello, Kenly,” Libby said, her tone light and conversational, like we were old friends.

  Ignoring her, I focused on James. His hair was damp. I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep from crying, as the memory of the most degrading shower in history surfaced. I hated that he’d been subjected to the same humiliation. And hated even more that he knew it’d happened to me, as well. I’d planned to never tell anyone about that shower.

  James wore a shapeless gray smock, identical to mine. Someone had given him plastic shoes to cover his feet. They didn’t look particularly comfortable, but they were better than what I had—nothing. I searched his face for signs of abuse. Besides bloodshot eyes and a pissed off expression, he seemed okay. When our eyes met, he even managed a small, reassuring smile.

  With a curt nod to Pint and a quick flit of his eyes towards me, the older man settled into the remaining armchair without greeting or introductions. The twins flanked him. Libby perched on the arm next to him and crossed her long legs. Jaylen remained standing, posture stiff and expression vacant. As if no one was home behind his golden eyes. The guards led James around to the opposite side of the coffee table, positioning him directly in front of the fireplace and in my line of sight.

  Just when I realized that no one had bothered to close the door, it slammed shut on its own. Well, not entirely on its own. Someone had helped it along. By the smug smile on Libby Monroe’s irritatingly pretty face, I assumed she was the culprit.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Baker. I am Sir Nigel Henry Caldwell Monroe, the fourth Duke of Shrewsbury and London Isle. If it pleases you, you may call me Nigel.” The man’s clear, uppity British accent was laced with condescension, though I had a sneaking suspicion it was always there and wasn’t necessarily directed at me. Wearing black cargo pants and a thermal top, his voice didn’t quite match his attire. “Welcome to Andrew’s Rock.”

  Andrew’s Rock. Where had I heard that before?

  The alleyway. Where I’d stopped after running from Jaylen. Where Willa’s tracking led the group to find me. Riley had used the name when first addressing Jaylen—You’re quite a ways from Andrew’s Rock, aren’t you now, Monroe? And another time. The Vision again. The man, the same one speaking to me now, had said, Even the rats here at Andrew’s Rock live under better conditions than those locked up in our fine city’s prisons.”

  By the looks of things, Andrew’s Rock was a family home. At least, part of it was. This estate belonged to the Monroes.

  “Do you know who we are? What it is that we do?” Nigel Monroe asked, not waiting for me to reply nor wasting any time before getting down to business.

  I glanced at James, hoping for a sign, some indication of whether I should admit what I knew or play dumb. He gave me a barely perceptible nod.

  “You’re Poachers,” I said, interpreting James’s response as a signal to tell the truth.

  “Now, now, we don’t refer to our work in such a crude manner, my dear. We’re Purveyors, acquiring rare goods for the most discerning of buyers. Nevertheless, you do understand why you are here, then? That you will be sold at auction later today?”

  I could no longer even try to deny why I’d been kidnapped or what their plans for me might be. There was no more pretending—I’d heard the truth in surprising candor from the man in charge. Afraid that my voice might crack and betray my apprehension, I didn’t respond. I needed to appear strong, confident, and in control, just like the Duke.

  “As I understand it, only a thousand or so Created were fashioned, most of whom are already dead or in captivity,” Nigel continued, not bothered in the least by my silence. This was a man who loved hearing the sound of his own voice more than he enjoyed conversing. “You are a member of a very rare species indeed, Miss Baker. Which makes you exceedingly valuable. Many of my regular patrons are quite keen to acquire a Created, practically salivating to get their hands on one of your lot. I’d have no difficulty at all taking in a tidy sum for you. Nonetheless, I’d like to propose an opportunity. One that will keep you from the public sale and prove gainful to the both of us. Does that strike your fancy?”

  It was highly unlikely that anything he offered was going to benefit me. Just like the devil, people like the Duke only made self-serving deals. I also doubted that the aristocrat actually cared if his offer interested me. James had been brought here for a reason. Almost certainly, that was to ensure my acceptance. I was ninety-four percent sure of it. Maybe if I played my cards right, I could haggle for James’s release. As long as they let him go free, I was willing to endure whatever the Monroes threw my way.

  “It might…,” I said, carefully feigning indifference. “Depends what you’re offering.”

  “Kenly, no,” James protested.

  Ignoring him, I focused on the Duke. James hadn’t seen the future. He didn’t understand what was at stake, what I was trying to prevent. Avoiding that horrific scene of him in agonizing pain was worth anything to me. That this might be my only chance to alter the course that led to the events I’d witnessed in my Vision.

  “I am offering total freedom, in every conceivable manner, Miss Baker,” Nigel said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The eager body language belied his cool, bored tone. He hadn’t expected me to even consider his proposal and was clearly excited by the prospect of having a willing Created on board. “Employment. I would like for you to come work for me.”

  Taken by surprise, I couldn’t help my disbelieving snort.

  Work for him? Seriously?

  “As a Poacher?” I blurted out.

  “Purveyor,” he corrected. “Hear me out, Miss Baker. Surely you are aware that the Coexistence Treaty is on the verge of being overturned. Once that happens, you and all your kind will be in grave danger. My clientele include some of the most powerful individuals in the world—Heads of State, Prime Ministers, Sheiks, Monarchs, heirs to thrones, celebrities, billionaires…you get the picture. They have both the resources and the funds to protect the Chromes in their possession at such a time that the Treaty is declared null and void. The rest of your sort roaming about will be fair game, as you Ameri
cans say. As I am sure you are aware, bands of rogue citizens are already hunting your lot. It will only become more prevalent once laws declaring Chromes equal no longer exist.

  “So you see, working for me, you will actually be doing a service to your kind. They will be protected from those who wish them harm. My clientele values Chromes and provides well for them. Facilitating my organization with placements in suitable households will ensure the survival of your species.”

  Placing Chromes? Like finding families for lost puppies? Did he really expect me to buy that garbage?

  Stunned silent, I sat with my mouth agape, wondering how he could so rationally justify what he was doing.

  Across the room, James sneered.

  “Come off it, Monroe. You aren’t running a bloody orphanage here. You nick Chromes and sell them into slavery, bottom line. Give Kenly the respect she deserves and say it like it is.”

  The Duke’s gaze narrowed in irritation, but his voice was still calm and even when he spoke.

  “We all look at the world differently, Mr. Wellington. I believe in my organization and the charitable works we do. Many of the Chromes we have placed live much better, much more fulfilling lives in their new homes. Not only do they achieve a sense of purpose, they never have to wonder where the next meal is coming from, or how to afford flat rental fees, or even—”

  “They’re slaves!” James screamed.

  Pure, unadulterated hatred shone in his platinum eyes. For one brief second I thought he was going to break free from the guards and attack the Duke. I wanted to stand up and cheer. James was saying exactly what I was thinking, what I was unable to verbalize for fear of antagonizing the Duke. I wasn’t scared for myself. Okay, I was, but that wasn’t why I was holding back. I was afraid they’d punish James for any unruliness from me.

  Nigel Monroe clucked his tongue, making a tsk, tsk noise as he shook his head like an instructor who was disappointed in his star pupil. He nodded at his henchmen, and my fears were realized. The model-looking guard drilled his fist into James’s gut. James doubled over, groaning. I winced and clutched my own stomach best I could manage with bound hands, as if the blow had somehow hurt me too.

  The Duke turned his attention back to me.

  “Let me share a bit of our family’s history with you, Miss Baker. Andrew’s Rock has not always been our ancestral home. Prior to the Great Contamination, the Monroes were in livestock, you see. It wasn’t the most lucrative of professions, but a well-respected one all the same. My ancestors supplied beef to a number of notable restaurants, groceries, butchers, and even the Royal Family. But the Contamination ruined the grains we fed them and polluted the water they drank. Most of the animals were killed. And not just ours either—farmers all over the U.K. faced the same fate. Debts began to pile up and our family was soon on the verge of ruin.

  “My Great-Great Aunt Anabel was among the first generation of children born in post contamination era England. She was a beauty, much like my Libby.” He smiled up at his daughter, who preened under her father’s praise. “Also like my Libby, Anabel Monroe was a powerful Telepath. At eighteen, she caught the attention of young King Jenson, only twenty-two when he succeeded his mother to the throne.

  “He was known for his arrogance, his love of beautiful women, and his poor decision making. Many feared that King Jenson would be the ruin of our great nation. Were it a different time, he might have eventually matured to handle the position with grace and wisdom. Might have grown to be a great king. However, he took the throne when the whole world was in an upheaval. There was so much uncertainty in the world. Loads of tension over how to handle the Chromes. Of course, instead of delving in to those pressing issues, his unrequited love was first and foremost in his mind. Perhaps he needed the distraction, but he would not let go of the notion.

  “For her part, Anabel wanted nothing to do with the young king. She loved her quiet home in the countryside with her parents and wanted no part of life at court or world politics. But King Jenson was undaunted by her refusal and unaccustomed to being denied. He approached Andrew Monroe, Anabel’s father, and offered to clear the family’s debts in exchange for his daughter’s hand. Andrew was known for being a savvy business man and made the King a counteroffer. On the very day of Anabel Monroe’s coronation, not only did Andrew Monroe become a wealthy man once again, he also gained a dukedom and become Lord of this castle. Of course, he promptly renamed the island Andrew’s Rock.”

  The Duke sat back in his chair and smiled at me expectantly, as if his long-winded story somehow proved his point about the Poachers helping Talents find better lives. There was nothing in it that either interested me or changed my mind, though. All I got out of the story was that Anabel’s dad was a jerk who sold his daughter to the King for money, a title, and a new house.

  Apparently my silence and failure to be impressed didn’t sit well with the Monroes.

  “Anabel went from a poor farmer’s daughter to Queen!” Libby snapped, as if I were too dumb to grasp the moral of the story. “Her life was vastly improved, despite her reticence. Duke Andrew knew what was best for her, a life she would eventually embrace, even though it wasn’t what she desired.”

  For a moment I just stared at Libby, stunned that she was advocating life without free will.

  “So, what you’re saying is that you and your family know what’s best for the Talented? You’re all just saving us from making bad decisions?” I asked, disgusted.

  These people are seriously bat shit insane.

  “If helping your fellow Chromes find protection—” the Duke began.

  “Chromes will be safe on the Isle of Exile!” James cut him off. “We don’t need your protection. Kenly, don’t listen to him. The whole lot of them are completely mental.”

  This time the model-like guard needed no prompting from the Duke. He quickly withdrew the baton at his belt and whacked James in the back of the knees. James sagged against the pimple-faced guard, who shoved him towards the floor before planting one steel-toed boot in James’s ribs.

  “Stop it!” I screamed. “You’re hurting him!”

  I was on my feet and halfway around the coffee table before Pint caught hold of my arm and forced me back to the couch at gunpoint. Fuming, I sat back down and glared at Nigel Monroe and his children. Libby appeared fascinated by the drama, eyes fixed on the scene in front of her as if watching a particularly engaging stage play. Her brother, however, didn’t share her excitement. Staring pointedly at his overly polished loafers, Jaylen kept his head down.

  “That will do now, let us all calm down. Please aid Mr. Wellington to his feet,” the Duke said, lazily waving a hand at the guard before turning back to me. “The Isle is owned by, and therefore under the control of, UNITED. Being that you are Created, Miss Baker, I believe it is safe to say that you will be placed in containment the moment you step off the hoverplane. One assumes that this is not the fate you wish for yourself, now is it? As for natural born Chromes, the space is limited. To my knowledge, it will be a first come, first served situation. As I understand it, the Isle, inclusive of all of its islands, has a capacity equal to one-third of the world’s Chrome population. It seems this will leave an overwhelming majority of your lot to fend for themselves.”

  With every eye in the room on me, I didn’t want to admit that I knew next to nothing about the islands. Other than what they’d said and what I inferred, I was clueless. Although, somewhere in the back of my head, I knew I’d heard the term ‘Isle of Exile’ before. Clearing my mind, I allowed my brain to sift through memories, conversations, and dr—

  Oh no.

  With a sinking feeling, I remembered exactly where I’d heard the islands referenced—in a Vision. When Libby forced me to watch that horrible newscast. The reporter had said that Chromes were being attacked while waiting for boats to the Isle of Exile. I’d seen the brutal assaults with my own eyes.

  One moment I was weighing what the Duke said with what I’d seen, calculating the odd
s of safe passage. The next, an insistent pounding was reverberating between my ears. Pressure built steadily inside my head and I actually calculated the odds of my skull splitting open. It was high. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to block the pain.

  Maybe freedom is a fair exchange for protection. Chromes will die once the Treaty is overturned. Unless, of course, they have a protector, someone to watch over them. I will die unless the Monroes protect me. Thank goodness they will, I only have to agree to work for them. James and I can stay, together. Here at Andrew’s Rock, we’ll be safe from the mobs and free from containment.

  “Kenly, look at me! Please,” James called, his tone almost pleading.

  “Only you can make this decision, Kenly,” the Duke said.

  The Duke is a proper good man. Chromes aren’t treated as equals nowadays. Out in the streets, they’re subjected to humiliation, starvation, unemployment. The wonderful people who purchase Chromes give them better food, nicer clothes, and luxurious places to live. Every aspect is an improvement over the Chrome’s previous life. This is what’s best for my kind, to be protected and cared for as the assets we are.

  “Say I do agree,” I mumbled, unsure of myself. “That prevents my sale at tonight’s auction. But what about James?”

  “Kenly!” James begged. “Please don’t do this.”

  To my surprise, Libby answered, her golden eyes boring into mine.

  “All you have to do is answer a few questions with the absolute truth, and your boyfriend may remain here, as well,” Libby said, her tone warm and friendly. “Back in America, you were mates with a girl called Natalia Lyons, is that correct?”

  Hearing Talia’s name sent an odd sensation through me. It was neither the anger I’d grown accustomed to, nor the desire to see her that I’d felt earlier that night. Instead, I felt a nagging in the back of my mind, telling me that I was forgetting something or maybe overlooking a crucial piece of information.

  Think about it. Was I really free whilst working for TOXIC? I’d lacked a choice when joining TOXIC, being recruited as a young child. All young Chromes had been made to go there. Regardless, it had been the best option for me. Aren’t the Purveyors sort of the same? The Chromes who are acquired at auction probably feel the same way once they’ve spent time in their new homes and become acquainted with their protectors.