Binds

by Rebecca Espinoza

  The apartment is larger than I had thought. It takes up the entire floor of the building. Judging by the family portraits hanging in the hallway, the large industrial-looking kitchen, and the dining area we pass on our way to what Cass called the ops room, it would seem that it used to be a single family home. It’s now converted into some sort of outpost for whatever activities these kidnappers are participating in.

  After passing two men and a woman who appear to be standing guard over various areas of the place, I am starting to wonder if this isn’t some large organized crime operation that has abducted me. Cass and Jinx offer them head nods and what’s ups as we pass by. The guards give me a wary eye, as if they are expecting me to take on all of them at any moment. It’s unnerving how all of these people stare at me.

  We walk down a long hallway with double doors at the end and I can hear raised voices. Two men. Reece’s voice is one of them and they are heatedly arguing. The closer we get, I can tell that it’s me they are discussing.

  “I don’t give a shit how long you’ve been running things here,” Reece seethes. “You brought Cass and me into the fold. We didn’t ask to join you; you sought us out. We found Phee. I kept watch over her until I was able to get her out of there, and I was the one who snuck her out right under that pompous ass’s nose. Without Cass and me, you wouldn’t have dick right now, so the way I see it, we’re equal here. You’re not making all of the decisions when it comes to Ophelia.”

  Oh, my foot definitely has reservations with Reece’s balls later. I am livid. How dare he argue about me as if I am a child? Abducted or not, I’m not letting anyone make “decisions” regarding me at all. I’m almost getting giddy about what Donovan will do to this arrogant arse, almost, when my thoughts are interrupted by a soft chuckle that holds more authority than any of Reece’s previously vented words.

  “Ah, Reece, you delude yourself,” his mellifluous voice states airily. “I can see how tempting it might be to go back to your previous state, you know, before I found you. Yes, you and Cass living out of a car, and oh, yes, Ophelia Brand right along with you. You wouldn’t last five minutes out there and you know it. Between Mrs. Brand’s trace and her desire to get back to her husband, they would find you, and they would kill you. Cass is young enough that she would be shipped off to the nearest reformatory, and there is absolutely nothing you would be able to do to save her. But, don’t let me stop you. By all means, go ahead. Of course, you might want to ask Ophelia Brand what she would rather do, right, Mrs. Brand? You can come in now. Cass, Jinx, you too.”

  I hadn’t realized that we had all stopped walking at the same time and had been silently listening. The three of us exchange guilty glances, although I really don’t know what there is to be remorseful for, the bastards were talking about me. Something in this guy’s voice makes me feel we are all petulant children in need of a scolding. I don’t like it.

  We enter the room. It looks like it was once a media room, and I can imagine a family lounging around on the large overstuffed couches while watching a favorite movie on the big screen. There is a projector hung from the middle of the ceiling, and on one wall, a long desk covered in surveillance monitors and computer equipment. Jinx rushes over to the computers like they are long lost friends, takes a seat, and starts clicking away on a keyboard. Cass takes a seat near Reece, who is standing in front of the mystery guy. Reece looks to be breathing fire at him through his nose. Several other people are seated around the room, but none of them appear to be alarmed by the confrontation at the front. I’m guessing this is a common occurrence.

  I stomp up to Reece and slap him hard across the face. It’s effective in breaking his concentration from the other guy, but damn, his stubble scratched at my hand when I did it. He is now looking at me and giving me his trademark smirk. Damn the stubble, I might just slap him again.

  “Ahem.” Mystery Guy clears his throat, and I go to tell him to wait his turn, he’s in line for the next one. But wow, I am momentarily stunned. The guy is serious eye candy with his honey russet hair that just brushes his ears with a slight curl to it. His eyes have an unfathomable deepness to them that lends a slight sadness to his face. He is standing—I would guess around 6 foot 5 with a swimmer’s build of robust arms, shoulders, and chest that leads down to a tapered waist and strong thighs. He is striking…but these people freaking abducted me—who cares what they look like? But now that I think of it, what is up with that? Everyone in the vicinity is really good looking; I mean not one ugly face among them, even the guards we passed on the way were lookers.

  “Why is everyone so hot?” I don’t even know how those words have slipped out of my mouth, but I’ve said them, and directly to the hottest hottie of them all, Mystery Guy. (I’m assuming he must be Spencer). Now he is smiling at me with the most perfect set of blindingly white teeth I have ever seen. He’s also looking at me in a way that tells me he would love nothing more than to run a blunt skewer through my heart. His eyes, the color of deep polished sapphire, are filled with that much hate.

  “Mrs. Brand,” he says the name like a judge would to the guilty party in his courtroom right before handing down a sentence of execution. “I’m Spencer Donnelly. I would say it’s nice to finally meet you, but seeing as you are directly responsible for destroying millions of lives, I can’t say that it is. And don’t play dumb, Reece here tells me that you are ignorant of our kind, and therefore, are innocent of your crimes. I don’t buy it for a second. You know why we look the way we do, same as you, we are all Mages here.”

  “Okay, I’m done playing games,” I tell him, trying to fake courage that I don’t possess. “Mages? Oh… I get it now; you all must be into some kind of larping thing here. Jinx is Legolas, Cass is Sam Gamgee, Reece is Aragorn, and you must be Gandalf. But, here’s the thing, I’m not Galadriel and Donovan is much, much worse than Sauron. So it would be in your best interest, as well as everyone else’s here, if you just deposit me somewhere so he can collect me…because if the Ring Wraiths get called out, I can’t guarantee anyone here getting out alive.” I give as much seriousness to my warning as possible while still trying to hide the shaking of my legs.

  “Larping?” Cass interjects, as if that is the most important part of what I just said, instead of the part where I warned of everyone’s imminent demise. “What the heck is that?”

  Jinx, who I thought was in a technology-induced trance, pipes in, “LARP, Live Action Role Playing, duh.”

  “Yeah, like anyone who isn’t a complete dork would know that one. For the record though, I am not Sam Gamgee, I’m Arwen, okay?” She looks pleadingly at Reece, “I get to be Arwen, right?” Reece gives her an expression that is somewhere between incredulous and placating and nods.

  “Oh, and I’m the dork?” Jinx throws over his shoulder before returning his attention back to the computer monitor.

  “Enough,” Spencer states and the word slashes through the room like a knife, silencing everyone.

  Reece has come to stand at my side and Cass mimics his actions, flanking my other side. I don’t understand why these two seem to think we are on the same team here.

  “Spencer, I’m telling you the truth. She doesn’t know what we are, and she sure as hell doesn’t know what she is.” Reece gives me a look that is full of pity. “If she did, she would have been able to defend herself when Donovan did this.” He points to the scar on the side of my eyebrow that I normally cover with heavy makeup. “Or this.” Softly, but against my will, he quickly grabs my arm and shows Spencer the scar on my elbow where there are pins holding it together from the first time I tried to get away from my husband. I pull it back to me just as swiftly while shooting a glare Reece’s way.

  The frost in Spencer’s eyes has not melted at all. “Some people get off on that kind of stuff. Sick people, people like Mrs. Brand and her husband. You’ve seen the reformatories yourself. Don’t be fooled by a doe-eyed look, Reece.”

  “Reformatories? What are you talking about?” This d
ay is exhausting me. I’m wearing the same crumpled cocktail dress from last night, my hair is probably a rat’s nest, my head is aching again, and I am being accused of something that I’ve never even heard of. It’s obvious that these people aren’t going to be taking my warning seriously. They seem to think I am some kind of evil genius. Now, I just want to know what it is they think I have done.

  “You don’t know about the reformatories?” Cass asks, a note of bewilderment in her voice. “Where have you been over the last few years? Everyone knows about them, Ophelia.” She is looking at me now with trepidation. Well, there goes one of my supposed allies in this place; she’s even edged closer to Spencer.

  “You don’t understand the conditions they had her in.” Reece rapidly comes to my rescue. “It was like an animal’s cage in that house. She has been kept away from the outside world, all of the staff members were commons bound to keep their silence, and Donovan made sure that she was never taken anywhere near the Crumbles. She really doesn’t know.”

  “Fine, if you’re so sure she is innocent,” Spencer says, sauntering over to me and holding out his hand, “let me see for myself.”

  In a flash, Reece is in front of me, placing his body in the very narrow space between Spencer and myself. “I won’t let you rape her mind, Spencer. Haven’t you learned that you can’t just take that from someone? It has to be given willingly, and she doesn’t even know what it is that she would be giving.”

  Spencer’s cheek moves as he grinds his teeth together. “You get in my face again, Reece…”

  “And what,” Reece spits at him, “what will you do to me? You want to be dictator of this little faction, Spencer? You want to control everyone and everything just like Oberon? Start with this woman, and that’s the path you’re taking.”

  “Stop!” I jump around Reece and grab onto Spencer’s hand. If holding his hand will clear up this little misunderstanding for him, I will do it willingly. Reece is not my protector, and anyway, what is there to protect me from? My logic still holds, if this man had wanted to hurt me, he would have already.

  As soon as our hands are clasped, his eyes lock onto mine and I am no longer standing in this converted media/ops room. I am a toddler with my arms around my mother’s neck, soaking in the comfort of her smell. I am a child running through the store, accidentally knocking a trinket off of a shelf, breaking it, and hiding it so that my mother will never know. I am an adolescent and then a teenager, the bloom of my womanhood just starting as my mother takes me to buy my first bra. I am every age I have ever been and everything I have ever done and every thought I have ever had.

  Spencer is pushing into my psyche, digging into the very essence of what I am. Deeper and deeper he goes, until he has reached a part of myself that I didn’t even know existed. It’s there, at the bottom, stifled by innumerable chains stretched across its massive body. It is a beast, an animal I can’t identify, one not of our world, with enormous arms stretched tight with muscles, and a thick neck straining against its restraints. Horrific sadness and anger stares out of its onyx eyes and upon seeing us, it releases a despairing cry. It is a sound that does not match up with the appearance of this incredible beast, a sound that rips my heart in two.

  “What is this thing?” I say aloud as a single tear trails down my cheek.

  I look to Spencer, but he is staring at me, transfixed as if seeing me for the first time. We are back in the ops room but I notice no one but him, as if we are in the room alone.

  “What the hell did she do to you?” he asks in a whisper, an expression of horror-filled reverence in his eyes.

  In my life, I have allowed two people to get close to me. My mother and my husband. My mother was ripped from my life much too soon, but before that, I always shared with her most of my thoughts. We had a standing agreement that we would spend at least a half hour of each day discussing the events of it and what we thought of them. She knew me well, better than I knew myself most times, as she helped me make decisions and steered me in directions that always seemed to better me and help me learn from my choices. Donovan, before our marriage, was my sole confidant. Before our marriage and my eventual entombment within the Brand household, where I had to learn to fight for myself in every way possible just to survive, I was the epitome of an introvert. It worked for me. Growing up with a strange mother who happens to be your best friend can lend itself to ostracism from the cool crowd in school, and so I never learned the important nuances of fitting in. I didn’t grow up bullied. The other kids just left me alone and I was fine with that. My mother, our shop, our life together, it was enough for me.

  After her death, I met Donovan in one of my college courses and he seemed to be dropped perfectly into my life when I needed someone to fill the void. We used to spend our time cozied up together on either my small twin bed in the dorms or on his couch at his apartment, just talking the hours away. We talked about our hopes and dreams, the kind of lives we wanted to live after graduating, and eventually, we talked about how we wanted to be a part of each other’s future. Before Donovan went all psycho on me, I would say that he knew me and I thought I knew him, mind, heart, soul, and body.

  After what Spencer just did to me, I can say with absolute conviction that no one ever really knows anything about anyone. The information that he just gleaned from my life, my history, my most secret inner thoughts and the fine details that make up a life that no one ever notices, not even the one living it: he captured it all. Mom and Donovan didn’t know shit.

  As exposed and somewhat victimized as I feel at this moment, my worries about him knowing that I stole a Snickers bar from the 7-11 when I was twelve or what my favorite position in bed is, pale in comparison to the complete horror of whatever that monster is that lives inside of me, chained but still vicious, and the fact that I feel a deep, profound compassion for it.

  I start to sense the other occupants in the room and it stirs me from my contemplation. I am the first to avert my gaze from Spencer’s, immediately seeking out the floor. I wish I didn’t feel such shame at this moment; he is the one who violated me by stealing my mind. Yes, I gave him my hand, but I had no idea whatsoever of what was going to happen. How did he do that anyway? I feel like he took my ability to speak with my thoughts, but thankfully, he speaks again and not to me. I can continue to count the tiles on the floor and process my thoughts for another second or two.

  “Cass, get Ophelia some clothes. Put her in the grey room next to mine and get her what she needs to clean up, then take her to the kitchen and get her something to eat. Jinx, start working on clearing as much of her history as you can off of the illegal net. Everyone else, get back to your posts. Ophelia is our guest for the time being. I expect you to treat her as one.”

  The room starts to clear out, except for Jinx, who is now typing more furiously than ever, and Cass, who seems to be waiting for direction from Reece.

  “Wait a minute,” Reece says, “what are you going to do with her? Now that you’ve discerned your truth, you know what she needs. She needs our world to be explained to her, and she needs to be taught.” His voice sounds strangled, and I feel responsible for his grief. He knew what would happen when I grabbed Spencer’s hand, and he tried to save me from it. He is now the only person in this room who I have any trust in. I look to my would-be savior and can see his restraint. His whole body looks tense and I fear that if Spencer doesn’t give him the right answer to his questions, Reece won’t be able to hold back his fury any longer.

  “If she wants it, she will be taught,” Spencer replies, but he is not looking at Reece when he says it. I can feel his eyes on me, and there is no way that I am going to meet them. “Tomorrow. First thing before breakfast, I want her dressed and ready. I’m taking her to the Crumbles. She needs to know what is going on in the world. Donovan and Oberon have been doing more than stealing her power; they haven’t told her anything of their exploits with our children. She needs to know what she is getting into before she can decide whether
or not she will join us.”

  “Yeah, you could have learned that from the Intel I provided to you over the past two years. But, nope it wasn’t good enough; you had to take it from her, and now you say she gets to decide? You’re giving her a choice now?” A vein in Reece’s temple is sticking out. Cass comes to him and places her hand on his arm. The gesture seems to startle him out of his anger.

  “Yes,” Spencer breathes. “She gets her choice, just like every other person here, including you, Reece. If she wants to be a part of this, she alone gets to make that decision.”

  “She has no choice!” Reece expostulates. “Donovan probably has her face on 24/7 rotation with every state-run channel. There are probably countless flyers circulating with her info on them, and I bet he even has a price for her return on the illegal net.”

  “It’s up to five mill and exclusion from the reform policies of any future children for the Mage that helps lead Donovan to her whereabouts,” Jinx pipes in from the computer monitor. “I’m thinking of turning her in myself. I always wanted to have rug rats running around someday.”

  “Why don’t you just create one of those Sim babies,” Cass cuts in. “You won’t have to go through the trouble of finding someone who would actually be willing to have sex with you that way, Jinx.”

  “Shut up,” Reece and Spencer say in unison. If I wasn’t still reeling from the enormous bounty on my head, I might have laughed at the perfect comedic timing.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I whisper to myself.

  “What?” Reece asks. I feel the apathy coming off of him in waves. He had firsthand observations of my life with Donovan Brand. He knows how hopeless the situation is.

  “I said it doesn’t matter. He’s going to find me. I’ve been trying to tell you that this whole time. He always finds me, and he always makes me pay.”

  “It’s because you have a trace,” Spencer says as if I should know what that means. I remember that he now knows about the abuse at Donovan’s hands. It’s not just my secret to deal with anymore. My shame is complete.