The Rose Ransom (Girls Wearing Black: Book Three)

by Baum, Spencer

  “Yes, but there’s an art to it, you see. You’ve got to get just the right--”

  Jill was already pouring vodka into the shaker.

  “Okay, but, yes well, I suppose that looks good,” Walter said. “Now make sure you don’t go too heavy on the--”

  Jill splashed some vermouth into the mix and closed the lid.

  “Yes, that’ll be a bit dry, but...”

  Jill handed him the shaker, saying, “Mix it how you like it.”

  A big smile came over Walter’s face. “Well, I’m glad to see they’re still teaching the important skills at Thorndike. You’ll never get anywhere in life if you can’t make a good martini.”

  Walter shook his drink and poured it into a glass.

  “And what about you?” he said. “The same?”

  “No, Dad. I prefer gin.”

  Walter clapped his hands together once. “Then I have a treat for you!” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  As Jill expected he would, Walter went into the parlor to open the case where he kept his best gin locked up. As soon as he was gone, Jill grabbed a water bottle and emptied it into the martini shaker.

  “Here it is! You’re gonna love this!” Walter said as he bumbled back to the bar. He was holding a half-empty bottle of gin with a picture of a Viking on the label. “Got this in Norway,” he said. “It’s surprisingly sweet. This is gin for a sophisticated woman, such as yourself.”

  He handed the bottle to Jill as if he were giving her a trophy.

  “Thanks Dad,” she said, and poured some into the shaker.

  “Now, now, don’t be shy,” Walter said. “You’re a Wentworth, after all.”

  Jill tilted the bottle, filling the rest of the shaker with gin.

  “Vermouth?” Walter said.

  Jill shook her head and closed the top.

  “That’s my girl!” said Walter, patting her on the back.

  A quick shake, and Jill poured herself an exceptionally watered-down gin martini.

  “I know it’s hard for you. A girl with your smarts. And I remember what it was like to be young,” Walter said.

  They were in the parlor, Jill on the couch, Walter in his chair. It only took a few minutes for Walter to down half his martini. How many martinis would it take before he was ready to have an honest talk about his wife?

  “It’s a cruel trick that nature plays on us,” Walter continued. “When you’re seventeen you’re as strong and as vibrant as you’ll ever be. Your mind is sharp. So much sharper than it is when you’re my age.”

  Walter spoke slowly. His eyes were glazing over.

  “But you’re not so smart that you can just go out on your own, buck tradition, and back whoever the hell you want in the Coronation contest! Coronation is serious business. People dedicate their whole lives to it. Galen Renwick has been planning on this for his daughter for as long as I can remember.”

  “Nicky Bloom is winning, Dad. She’s ahead by more than five million dollars.”

  “But where is she now? Five million dollars ahead and hidden at the end of the hardest Rose Ransom anyone can remember!”

  Jill took a sip of her water and gin concoction. Seeing his daughter drink gin from his private stash immediately calmed Walter down. “How is it?” he asked.

  “It’s really good,” Jill said. “I appreciate you sharing it with me.”

  “Here, a toast,” Walter said, raising his martini glass. “To recognizing when we’ve fucked up and owning our mistakes.”

  Jill looked at her father. He was right on the line. Part of him was here, still lucid and aware of what was going on. But after a couple Bloody Mary’s on the plane and half a glass of vodka, another part of him was starting to slip away.

  “I can drink to that,” Jill said.

  They clinked their glasses together. Jill raised hers slowly to her lips. There was so little gin and so much water she figured she could chug it down and not feel anything. But she took a small sip, careful to act how she would if the glass was full of hard liquor.

  Walter, on the other hand, tossed the rest of his martini back in two big gulps.

  “Can I get you another?” Jill said.

  “Yes, please!”

  Jill kept Walter talking and the martinis flowing. By nine o’clock, he had downed four of them. Jill led him on a circular tour of all things Coronation. They talked about Kim. They talked about Nicky. They talked about the first two clues. They talked about Kim again.

  And in between, at every moment when their chat might have become contentious, Jill moved the conversation back to the liquor.

  Oh wow, Dad, this gin is the best I’ve ever had.

  Would you like a different vodka this time?

  Seriously Dad, it’s a sin to enjoy a drink this much.

  That was all it took. Walter couldn’t keep up. When the clock struck ten, he was too drunk to remember what they were talking about. All he knew was that he was happy.

  “It’s so good to talk like this,” he said. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. You and me, Jill. We don’t have to be enemies.”

  “So we’re good now, right?” Jill said.

  “You tell me,” said Walter, his speech slurring together.

  “I feel good. This was a nice talk.”

  Walter smiled. “Come here, Babyface,” he said, using a pet name Jill hadn’t heard since she was in second grade.

  In a moment that made her equal parts sad and repulsed, Jill went over to her father and let him give her a hug.

  “We should be like this every night,” Walter said. “When you and me are on the same…I mean, you and I. You and me? Us?”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Dad.”

  “It’s magical,” he said, sounding like he was choking up a little. “Magical.”

  Now or never, Jill.

  “Dad, I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes, anything,” Walter whispered. There was no mistaking it. Jill’s father was so moved by the moment he was beginning to cry.

  “It’s about Mom,” Jill said. “Do you think she’s happy?”

  Walter wiped tears from his cheeks, then he sat still for a minute.

  “Dad?”

  Walter reached for his empty glass and held it up for Jill. “One more,” he slurred.

  Jill took the glass. “Let’s talk about Mom first. Don’t you worry that all she ever does is sit in her room and work? Don’t you want more for your wife?”

  “Your mother,” Walter said, his head tipping sideways, “is living the life she’s meant to live.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “Dad?”

  His chin fell to his chest.

  “Dammit,” Jill whispered. She touched him on the shoulder. “Dad, wake up.”

  Walter’s head circled up and his eyes popped open. “Your mother doesn’t want to be happy,” he blurted out.

  “What? What does that mean?”

  Walter leaned forward, held out his hand, and then stabbed himself in the chest with his thumb.

  “It’s me,” he hissed. “Meeeeee…..”

  “What are you talking about Dad?”

  “It’s about my happiness,” he said. His body was slouching in his chair. A horrible look of sadness came over his face. “It’s always been about my happiness.”

  He was in another world now. He’d have no memory of this part tomorrow, and even if he did, he’d assume he’d dreamt it.

  “You bought Mom from Melissa Mayhew, didn’t you?” Jill said.

  Walter looked up at Jill with eyes so far gone she wondered if he could even see her.

  But then he nodded his head.

  “Tell me the command she used,” Jill said. “What were the words Melissa used to enslave Mom?”

  Walter put his hands to his face and began to sob so violently his whole body shook.

  “Dad?”

  “I always knew you’d find out,” he whispered. “You’re going to kill her aren’t you? Kil
l her and take her place in the company.”

  “What? No! Dad, I want you to tell me the command Melissa used to enslave Mom. It’s very important.”

  “Oh God! My own daughter a murderer, and it’s all my fault!”

  “Dad, I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m trying to help Mom. You can help too. Tell me the command. You know it, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know the command!” he shrieked. He tried to lean forward in his chair, but it was too much for him and he nearly fell over the armrest. Jill wrapped her arms around him and pulled him upright.

  “Stay with me, Dad,” she said. “You wrote down the command. Where did you put it?”

  Walter shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no,” he muttered.

  “Dad, a vampire enslaved my mother and I want you to tell me the words she used!”

  “A vampire did not enslave your mother!” Walter shouted. He was staring at Jill, breathing hard and shaking violently. “I did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Melissa programmed your mother so she would be a slave to her wedding vows. I wrote the vows, and on the day we got married, your mother looked in my eyes, and said the words that made her belong to me. When we kissed, the promise was sealed forever.”

  Chapter 34

  The basement was just as Jill had left it. Shards of broken DVD’s were everywhere, remains of a stomping fit Jill allowed herself when she found her father’s old porn collection.

  Jill snatched up the DVD she wanted from the bottom step.

  Holy Matrimony of Mr. and Mrs. Walter Wentworth.

  A minute later, her father snoring loudly in his chair, Jill was in her bedroom with the door closed, watching a video recording of her parents’ wedding.

  An outdoor garden at night. A glimmering pool with a waterfall coming down behind it. Tropical foliage all around, ferns and orchids and bright flowers hanging on a trellis that surrounded them both.

  They were so pretty. Jill never knew. Her parents were good-looking people when they were young.

  Carolyn, in a long wedding gown of satin and silk, very traditional, with a veil and long gloves. Jill could imagine Walter’s sisters putting together this look—everything about it was proper Virginia attire.

  And Walter, in a tightly-fitted tux. The man in this video was a younger, prettier version of the one Jill left sleeping in his chair downstairs, but he was undeniably Walter. His body was slender beneath his tux, but the softness that was to come was already visible somehow. The way he carried himself, arms and legs swinging about without any semblance of grace. A small chamber orchestra played the wedding march, and Walter’s movements were entirely out of rhythm with the music. He had a stunned look on his face. The moment was too big for him.

  He looked guilty.

  Oh Dad, did you have any idea how monstrous this was? Have you ever had a conscience?

  The wedding party was small. Walter’s two sisters on the bride’s side; two familiar faces on the groom’s.

  “Would you look at that?” Jill whispered, wishing desperately that Nicky was here to see this. Walter’s groomsmen were Merv Tremblay and Galen Renwick.

  It was Galen who lined up right next to Walter under the trellis. Galen Renwick, whom Jill had made into a sworn enemy of the family, was the best man at her father’s wedding.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

  Jill didn’t recognize the minister. She didn’t recognize the flower girl, the ring bearer, or most of the people in attendance. She didn’t know whose garden this was. Watching the recording charge forward, she became aware for the first time in her life that there were no wedding pictures hung in her house. How strange was that? A married couple with a teenage daughter and not a single wedding picture in the house?

  Did Walter fear that any reminder of the day might jeopardize Carolyn’s programming? Or was he so racked with guilt he didn’t want to think about it.

  Watching him recite his vows, Jill suspected the latter.

  “Carolyn, I promise to be worthy of your love. I promise to be the man you saw when you fell in love with me, and always strive to do what’s right for our marriage,” Walter said.

  His voice was quiet and shaky. He was looking Carolyn in the eye, but it was making him uncomfortable.

  “I promise a commitment to us, to be your partner in life, and to give fully of myself.”

  His face was flush as he spoke, and he was drenched in sweat.

  Did you know, Walter? Was there some part of you that knew what you were doing was unforgivable?

  “I will be patient and forgiving,” Walter went on, and Jill shook her head. How hard is it to be patient with someone who does whatever you ask?

  “I will be kind and understanding.”

  What you did to Mom was the exact opposite of kind.

  “Strong enough for both of us when necessary but secure enough to lean on your strength when I need it most.”

  The hatred Jill felt for this man had dissipated. Her conversation with him tonight, followed by this despicable look down memory lane, made her realize her father wasn’t worthy of her hatred. Pity, maybe, but not hatred.

  Hatred was an emotion she needed to reserve for people like Kim, people who were a genuine threat to her.

  Walter was no threat at all. He was a pathetic loser who had made a horrible choice in life and he knew it. This young version of Walter on the screen knew it as it was happening. Jill could see it in his eyes. He was so full of shame at what he was doing he might have stopped it then and there if he could. He looked like he wanted to run away screaming.

  But it was too late. Walter Wentworth’s future had already been written by the time he got to the altar. Galen Renwick was to his right; his sisters to his left. The wedding was a rite of passage, required before Walter could become a member of the power elite, and the fact that it was happening at night suggested that at least one immortal was in attendance. Probably Melissa.

  So Walter went through with it. He squashed whatever reservations were running through his mind and kept his cold feet locked in place.

  “Til death do us part,” he said.

  Now it was Carolyn’s turn. Jill leaned closer to the screen, terrified at what she was about to hear.

  “Walter, you are my light, my love, my teacher, and my one true friend,” she began.

  The words made Jill cry. They were spoken in a different voice than the one she knew. This wasn’t the Carolyn Wentworth who spent day and night in front of a computer. Not yet. This was a little girl who had no idea what was happening to her.

  “I promise to honor and cherish you always,” Carolyn said. She was smiling. Smiling as she spoke the words that imprisoned her mind! “I promise to see past your faults, and focus on your virtues.”

  She was so beautiful. A girl from nowhere, born on the Farm, raised to be food but set aside because she was special. She had a freakish mind capable of the most extraordinary creativity and logic, a gift that was meant for all of humanity. At this moment, that wondrous mind was being locked in a cage.

  “I will respect you,” Carolyn said. “I will stand by you. From this moment on, your happiness is my aim in life. Serving you is my purpose.”

  Jill was sobbing so hard she could hardly see. It was tragic what was happening on the screen. The loss of something so precious…so innocent.

  “I promise to listen carefully when you speak, to submit fully to our marriage, and to be yours for the rest of my life. ‘Til death do us part.”

  And then they kissed, and the promise was sealed.

  Jill was so lost in emotion she didn’t realize the door had opened behind her. She turned around not because she heard someone coming in, but because she sensed it. A chill came over the room, deadening the intense emotion she was feeling at the moment.

  She jumped up, a part of her expecting to see a vampire in the room with her.

  It was Tarin.

  “What are you doing here?” s
he cried. “And why the hell can’t you ring the doorbell like a normal person?”

  “You’re crying,” Tarin said. “Why?”

  Jill reached for the TV, her fingers fumbling to find the power switch.

  “No, no,” Tarin said, taking her hand. “I want to see this.”

  “It’s none of your business,” Jill said. “You should have had the decency to knock before you came in my room.”

  Tarin was holding both of her wrists now. She didn’t even try to struggle. He was so strong, and she didn’t care. A part of her was thankful to be restrained.

  “Your father is asleep downstairs,” Tarin said. “The garage door was unlocked. You understand why I need to sneak in like this.”

  It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. You understand. And she did.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you here,” Jill said, sniffling. “I’m just, having a moment.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Tarin said. What he did next was a complete surprise, but entirely welcome. He pulled her to his chest and put both arms around her back.

  She couldn’t help herself. His arms were so strong, so comforting, and she buried her face in his chest and began to bawl.

  Onscreen, the orchestra was playing. Walter and Carolyn were walking down the aisle together.

  “These are your parents,” Tarin said. “You are watching a video of their wedding?”

  “It’s personal,” Jill said. “I’m working through some stuff. That’s all.”

  “Tell me,” Tarin said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she murmured, her face pressed against him, her voice muted. Tarin put his hands on both sides of her face. They were so warm. She could practically feel the energy flowing through them, going from one hand to the other, passing through her mind on the way.

  It was the most soothing, comforting experience she had ever felt.

  Looking right in her eyes, Tarin spoke softly. “Tell me.”

  And she did. The whole truth about her parents, about the emails and documents and paper trail she found in the TPM database, about Melissa Mayhew’s backdoor business of selling slaves to wealthy humans, about the way her mom behaved, the failed attempt to deprogram her at Gordon’s, the need to find the exact wording of the command that enslaved her.