We are still near the outskirts of the city, about ten minutes before we reach the suburbs, when he exits the freeway. We are now on a highway that runs through a nature preserve. The forest surrounding us is thick with foliage that has been growing for hundreds of years. After about ten minutes of driving on the winding road, Spencer turns off onto a muddy trail just wide enough to allow passage for the PT Cruiser. I can hear the sounds of branches scratching the hood as he speeds along, bumping and jarring us as we go.
“Do you see the need for the clunker now?” Spencer asks, as we take a sharp turn and emerge from the forest, stopping abruptly. “Along with the damage sustained in the explosion earlier, this road can really be hell on a paint job.”
I hold my tongue because the casual mention of the explosion and subsequent deaths of those construction workers reminds me again that even though Spencer may have a tiny, cold-blooded heart somewhere within his chest, it’s a murderous one. I’m willing to see the rest of what he is bringing me to see, but I can’t forget the kind of man he is. Not for a second.
Spencer is already opening his door and stepping out of the car, so I remove my seatbelt and follow. We are on a great precipice with a view that must have at one time been outstanding at sunrise. Today, there is an enormous structure blocking the picturesque background of hills with rolling acres of pine. The building reminds me of a cross between a factory straight out of a Dickens novel and a prison. A towering fence with barbed wire encircling the top runs the entire length of the building, and a faint hum in the air signifies that the enclosure would fry any creature wandering along that accidentally rubbed against it. At the far side of the building, there are five massive smoke stacks that are billowing out thick, sooty clouds.
This doesn’t look like a place where children live. There are no telltale signs of them to be found. No playground, no bright colored paint, no toys strewn about. In fact, the way that the fence hugs the perimeter of the building, there is no space for such things anyway.
“This is a reformatory?” It’s not at all what I had pictured. I thought it would be more like a military school or anything where children could actually exist. What I am looking at now, it’s not a place where children come to live; it’s a place where they come to…
“Yes. It’s one of many,” Spencer says. “More pop up every month. For, as much as they are fools for allowing pregnancy to happen, Mages are still bearing children every day. Many of them try to birth their babies at home with the care of other Mage midwives, but the children are always found out by the NWO, and they are always taken eventually. The heartbreak of our people is eternal.”
A chill has taken hold of my body that is not caused by the cold wind blowing around the overlook where we stand. A conviction sweeps through my thoughts, and I remember Spencer saying yesterday that Donovan and Oberon have stolen my power. I wonder if any of it was used to perform these atrocities. I feel the stirrings of a panic attack, but if I am responsible for any of this, I can’t feel it.
“So you see,” Spencer breaks into my thoughts. I’d been so busy condemning myself that I had forgotten he was standing next to me. “It’s imperative that these people are stopped by any means necessary.” He sounds like he is trying to convince me of it, but I don’t need any convincing. Just watching the smoke wafting out of this imposing structure and speculating about what may be happening inside is enough to persuade me that he is right. The ones responsible for it need to be stopped, but still, murder…
“The explosion earlier,” I whisper. “They were constructing another one of these places. Weren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Those men … do you think they knew? Could they have known what they were building and still agree to it?” I can’t believe they would. People are inherently good, sometimes selfish, sometimes closed off from each other, but good nonetheless. None of the men that Spencer eliminated from the earth knew what they were doing. I won’t believe that such evil exist; I can’t believe it.
“It doesn’t matter if they knew or not,” Spencer replies with a tone of voice that will accept no other opinion. “They were building it. We are at war. Sacrifices must sometimes be made so that others may live.”
His voice waivers a little at the end of the last statement and I get the feeling that he is trying to convince himself of this now, not just me. I don’t agree with it or accept it, but I know that I’ll have to live with it, for now. Until another option comes along, I’m stuck with this man. I take comfort in knowing that Reece and Cass are stuck with me, although thoughts of what part they played in today’s massacre are still churning through my mind.
“I don’t understand, though,” I counter. “Why not attack this place instead? If there are children here, why not save them instead of putting your efforts into these preemptive strikes?”
“We can’t get close enough to any reformatory to attack it. That’s why I had to bring you all the way up here to show it to you. There are warding Binds completely surrounding every one of them. At the beginning of all of this, we gathered as many Mages as would volunteer to come and tried to storm a reformatory to take our children back. As soon as the wards were crossed, the Mages who touched them were frozen in place, just as I froze you earlier today. Guards came swarming out of the building, outnumbering us and shot every one of our immobile people. The rest fled. Although we continue attempting to remove the Binds and gain access to the reformatories, we haven’t been successful. Until we gain access, there aren’t enough of us left to sacrifice by trying again … yet.”
The ‘yet’ is another portentous one. I feel it tied to me the same way I feel this whole day for what it truly is: one big sales pitch from Spencer Donnelly, traveling salesman extraordinaire. He believes in his cause, I get that, but I also get that he would do anything and stomp over anyone to further it. That mentality is how Chancellor Brand came into power in the first place. It was easy to get on board at that time. If this day has done anything, it’s strengthened my resolve to not make the same mistakes this time around.
“Come on,” Spencer says, grasping my elbow with a whisper soft touch to direct me back to the car. The feel of his fingertips makes my spine quiver and sensing the unease that rippled through my body, he releases me. “Let’s get back before rush hour traffic sets in. I was going to take you to pick up some clothes, but with the way we look from our earlier scuffle, I don’t think it would be wise to go into any stores right now. The NWO are always out in triple force after an attack and they were already doubled and on the hunt for you to begin with.”
We climb in the car and head off for the city. Just as we’re passing through the suburbs a thought pops into my mind.
“If all of the parents were killed and the children gathered into the reformatories to never be seen or heard from again, how did word get out of what happened?” I yawn as I ask. This day has been another one that has taken every last bit of energy from me. I wonder how many more of these days I have ahead.
“Simple,” Spencer answers with an air of arrogance, “some of them who were adept at illusion Binds got out by making the guards think that they were already dead. Well, that’s how I got out, anyway. Unfortunately, my wife and daughter weren’t so lucky.”
The ride home is a silent one. Spencer, ever the man of mystery, completely closes up after his shocking announcement. The cab of the car is so thick with tension that even Willie isn’t able to penetrate it.
Looking back now, it makes sense—the cold way that Spencer treated me on our first meeting and the way he seems to be disgusted by me at times. I must be a horrible reminder of everything he has lost. I just wonder what it is he saw when he took that look into my life. Are there hidden secrets of my time with the Brands that I am not conscious of? Even though I know it will probably hurt him all over again to reveal it, this is something I need to know, but I let it go, for now. Visiting those sites probably opened the wounds up for him again, and I’m not so callous as to
rub salt in them right now.
We enter downtown shortly after the lampposts begin to highlight the sun’s last golden rays as they battle the onslaught of night. As Spencer pulls the car into the parking garage and sidles into a spot, I simultaneously yawn and my stomach complains from not having anything to eat since my cereal at breakfast. As much as I wish that we would have stopped so I could have gotten something of my own to wear, getting something to eat, throwing on Cass’s Hello Kitties, and snuggling up in bed sounds like heaven to me right now.
Zombielike, I remove my seatbelt and slide out of the car. It’s dark in the garage and I don’t remember which direction the elevator is in, so I look around to reorient myself, but find myself not needing to. Spencer has already come around the car and is guiding me away by the small of my back.
As much as I dislike this man, most of the time, the soft pressure of his touch as we walk is nice. So nice, in fact, that I am finding myself unwittingly leaning into it more and more. As the elevator doors close, confining us together for the trip upstairs, my exhaustion takes over and I can’t help leaning my head against his arm to rest it for a moment.
“Whoa, Sleeping Beauty,” Spencer says as he pulls his hand away and props against the opposite wall from me. “You looked like you didn’t know where we were going, so I was just making sure you got to the elevator all right. No need to throw yourself at me for it … unless you really want to. If that is the case though, I can wait for a bedroom. No need to get down in the elevator.” He raises his eyebrows at me invitingly.
Okay, never mind about the ‘dislike most of the time’ statement. I hate this man, all of the time. Just when I am starting to see where he is coming from and feeling some sympathy for him, I am reminded that he is still a dick. Again.
I don’t dignify his statement with a reply. I stare at my nails and try to act as if I am alone, instead of seething with irritation at the man beside me.
Why does Spencer get to me so bad? Even Donovan, with his temper tantrums and power plays, never got under my skin like this. Sure, he scared the living shit out of me because I knew that with him I could end up broken and bruised if he was displeased with me. With Spencer, it’s like he is a splinter that is caught under a nail. He bothers the heck out of me and no matter how hard I try to ignore him, he will still be there with every movement I make, burrowing deeper and deeper into my skin and annoying me further. I can only take pleasure in the fact that I’ve noticed these looks on his face throughout the day that make me think I might just be a splinter under his nail as well.
The elevator dings, announcing our floor, but before the doors open, Spencer reaches over and hits the stop button, pausing my plan for rapid withdrawal from the too-small space. He leans into me with a menacing air and looks to be gathering his words when all of a sudden; the doors pop open, revealing Jinx and Reece behind him.
“See, I told you there was nothing wrong with the elevator,” Jinx calls back to Reece. “Spencer and Ophelia are just getting to know each other up in here.”
Oh crud, the way this must look. Spencer is right in my, no doubt, stoplight-red face and I just want to crawl out of the elevator and hide. Instead, I muster up every last ounce of dignity I have, try to match the intensity in his eyes, and ask, “Are we done here?”
He leans in even closer, his head now turned into my shoulder so closely that his mouth is actually touching my ear. “Just one more thing, Princess,” he utters low enough that only I can hear. I have to brace my legs against the sudden onslaught of sensation as his lips move over the shell of my ear. “My business is MY business. I’d appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself.” He withdraws but keeps his eyes locked on mine, as if waiting for confirmation.
Thankfully, I’m quick to get over my temporary befuddlement. “I’m not interested in that kind of thing with you, Spencer,” I reply coyly. I start to step away and through the doors, but turn my head back to say, “But if I was, I could wait for a bedroom. No need to get down in the elevator.”
With that, I glide past Jinx and Reece and hightail it out of there. I’ve barely cleared the next hallway by the time Reece catches up with me.
“Interesting day?” he asks as he puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in the direction of the kitchen. He looks nervous with worry in his eyes and a crease where his eyebrows meet in the center, like he’s waiting for me to rebuff him.
“I don’t know if I would call this day interesting, it was unquestionably an eye-opening one, though,” I answer truthfully. As we move closer to the kitchen, I’m noticing more and more people gathered around in the hall and doorways of rooms we pass.
Reece stiffens at my words, “…and why exactly would you think it was eye-opening? What all did Spencer tell you?”
“Don’t worry, Reece. I know about how you and Cass were involved with the explosion at that construction site. Spencer explained it to me, and although I wish it weren’t necessary, I get why you had to do it.” I turn my head to him and look in his warm shamrock eyes, trying to reassure him that I’m not judging him for what he had to do. “I’m sure you are carrying around enough guilt as it is, I mean all those men … just … gone. Please, don’t add worry about what I think on top of it.”
Immediately his arm relaxes around my shoulder again and the worry lines at his eyes are gone, replaced by his easy boyish grin. “Oh, good … yeah, the explosion. It is really hard dealing with that. It’s good that Spencer explained everything, but I wish you didn’t have to be involved, I mean, after everything you’ve already gone through with Donovan. I bet you’d rather be using your time to try to figure out your life now that you’re finally free of him, right? Not to escape, only to be dragged into some crazy, mixed up, good versus evil plot of Spencer’s.”
“I don’t know if any plot involving Spencer would be good versus evil, more like evil versus slightly less evil,” I respond. We’re entering the crowded kitchen when I recognize that I’ve come back to a celebration. People are toasting with champagne and talking animatedly about their success at getting rid of another reformatory. As much as I do understand why they would be happy about it—they’ve squashed Oberon’s ability to entrap more of their children—I’m still not comfortable with the merriment. Is it really okay to rejoice in another being’s demise? I don’t know, but I don’t want to be a part of it.
Reece notices my discomfort and edges me away from the kitchen entryway. “Come on, let’s get you changed, and then we’ll see about going out and getting you something to eat,” he says kindly to me.
“Oh, that would be great … only … besides those terrible PJs Cass let me borrow last night and the dirty clothes I’m wearing, I don’t have anything I could change into. Plus, Spencer said it would be dangerous for me to go anywhere right now. The NWO is probably out in full force, and they’ll be looking for me.”
“It’s all right, I probably have something you could wear,” Reece replies. “Where we are going is probably the last place Donovan or any of the NWO would be looking for you. Come on, it’s about time you start learning how to use Binds, don’t you think?”
He shoots me that crooked grin again and my excitement about finally learning Binds is enough to make me forget about Spencer’s warning and how worn-out I feel. He holds his arm out for me and I hook mine with his as we make our way to the corridor where Reece, Cass, and my rooms are located.
I pull my leg around and hop off of Reece’s silver Ducati crotch rocket, relieved to finally be off of it. Reece pulls his helmet off and smiles at me. “What, too fast for you?”
I glare at him. “If by too fast for me, you mean feeling like we were driving to my imminent doom, then that would be a yes.”
Reece gets off the bike, reaches into the backpack he’s wearing and produces a baseball cap, swapping it for the helmet in my hands. “Here, put this on scaredy cat,” he says. “And just so you know, I would never drive you to your imminent doom. Hopefully, I’ll be the guy driving y
ou away from it. Always.”
I push up the arms of the sweatshirt he lent me and throw the ball cap over my hair. “That’s sweet, but I really think I might be better off taking a cab back to the building.” I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk after that ride, my legs are still shaking uncontrollably. I look up at the big red bull’s-eye on the building before us. “I don’t know if this get up will work for a Target,” I say of my baggy sweats ensemble. “The grungy hobo look is really better suited for a Wal-Mart.”
Reece laughs. “You’re right. I’m not sure if they’ll let you in. They cater to a classier clientele here.” He reaches up and plucks the hat from my head. “You’re killing me, smalls. This is supposed to be a disguise. Put your hair through the hole in the back and twist it or something. The more grungy hobo you look, the better. No one would expect Ophelia Brand to be at a Target, in sweats.”
I fix my hair and we enter the store. I expect everyone to be looking at and recognizing me, but to my surprise, no one even gives me a second glance. We grab a cart and set off towards the women’s department. I feel a sense of jubilation at being able to get some clothes of my own.
“Don’t worry about paying for anything. Whatever you need, just grab it and I’ll buy it, okay?” Reece says.
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” I reply. “I still have the coin purse out of my clutch from the other night, and I always have a couple hundred dollars tucked away, you know, in case of emergency. So, I should be able to take care of it myself.”
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