by P. M. Briede
I guess I could have not taken off across the field. I probably should have waited for Olivier but the direction she’d indicated Wesley had wandered off in told me where I’d probably find him. Without another thought, I headed out towards the woods. Ten minutes later, I could hear music drifting through the thickening trees. After a few more I’d found him, nestled in the crook of my tree, drinking from the bottle of wine I’d left there last night. The music I’d heard was sounding from the music app on his phone.
I leaned against the trunk of the tree and peered up at him. “Wesley, whatever are you doing up in my tree?” I giggled at our role reversal from the night before when he’d been the one to search me out in its sanctuary.
He looked down and arched an eyebrow at me. “Besides drinking your wine?” He waved the corkscrew in jest. He’d come better prepared this evening than I had on the one prior. “I needed to feel close to you, my love. What better place to do that than here?” When I didn’t respond he took a deep breath and continued. “I can see why you like it up here. I’ve never felt so connected to myself before. Once I got settled in, the silliness of everything I thought was important seemed to click into perspective with what truly is. Again I am so sorry for what I said.”
Understanding the depth of his meaning, I teased him. “And yet you couldn’t let go of your hedonistic society enough to keep your phone off.” He laughed at my joke. “But seriously, feel free to impose yourself on my wooden hospitality anytime you like.”
“Would it be too much of an imposition to beg your indulgence in joining me in your wooden refuge?” The implication of his request danced in his eyes. He knew what it would mean if I accepted and he was desperately hoping I would. As I considered his request, I heard a branch snap behind me. I jumped as the memory from the night before overtook my senses but I forcibly recalled we were close to the woods. Therefore it’s not odd for branches to snap.
When my attention returned to Wesley, I saw he was no longer looking down at me but savagely at something behind. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped.
Following his gaze, I turned to find Abigail bookended by Cleveland and Duke. It was impossible! They were in jail on life sentences! I could hear Wesley scrambling to get down. Even though he’d missed my attack and the trial Wesley knew who the men were from the night at the House of Blues. I was surprised he’d retained the presence of mind to not jump down. “I recommend you stay where you are, darling.” The way Abigail said my pet name for Wesley made me even more leery of her. But when she pulled out the gun and aimed it at him, my heart leapt into my throat. “Oh and put the phone down. Don’t want you texting for backup.”
“Abigail, we’re not worth it.” I stepped forward to beg. “Leave him be. You and I both know it’s me you’re after. I won’t put up a fight, if you’ll just put the gun down and walk away from Wesley.” Cleveland and Duke would hurt me but the fact that they’d obviously been biding their time hoping to catch me alone showed Celinda didn’t want me dead, not yet anyway. If that had been her primary goal, Abigail would have shot me in the back or the men would have killed me in May. I could survive a beating and rape if it meant it saving Wesley’s life.
“Charlotte, no!” But that was all Wesley had to offer. Everyone knew Abigail would shoot him if he moved. Hell, I wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t shoot him if he didn’t. Wesley must have made to do something because Abigail cocked the gun. Our lives were on the line and I was the only one in any position to bargain for them. The only chip I had was me.
Cleveland limped towards me with greed and venom heavy in his eyes. “Now there’s a good kitten,” he slurred. When he reached me, one of his hands groped my butt as the other gripped my neck. All my instincts to defend myself with everything Olivier had taught me kicked in and I rebelled against them. I stood there and took it. Even the heinous kiss Cleveland planted on my lips. The invasive way he shoved his tongue into my mouth foretold of what to expect in my future and my stomach immediately started doing somersaults.
“Get off her,” Wesley shouted above me. The wine bottle shattered at my feet.
Cleveland jumped back before looking up to glare at Wesley. With a sneer, he threatened Wesley. “Easy there tough guy. Cut my kitten and it’ll be the last thing you do. If anyone is going to relish inflicting pain on her, it’s going to be me.”
“You bastard. If you lay a hand on her…”
Cleveland kissed me again and pulled my body against his obvious excitement. There was nothing I could do that would bring this to a happy ending. Wesley and I were trapped. He was stuck in a tree, an unwilling witness to my molestation at its base. My only hope was to get the three intruders away from him and fight back later. That or Wesley would get to Olivier quickly enough for them to somehow rescue me. There was no good option though. I needed to remain smart about this.
The gun went off and I shoved Cleveland off of me. Because of his injured leg from when Olivier had thrown him off me in May, Cleveland immediately fell and I turned to see Wesley now sitting on the edge of the tree but still safe. “I told you to stay put! To think you two managed to convince me you were a worthy opponent to be wary of. But, Wesley, you are only an overgrown lapdog to her every whim. We,” Abigail waved the gun between them, “could have been something. A force to be reckoned with.” Good God! For the first time I thought Abigail might actually love Wesley. Given the hurt she wore by his rejection it certainly was a possibility. “Between the two of us we could have convinced my father to do anything. The world would have been at our fingertips once he was in the White House with you as his chief advisor.” Narrowing my eyes at her, when she said “father” I could tell she had no idea that Alexander wasn’t.
Everything that happened next happened so fast I barely registered it at the time. The gun fired again and Wesley fell. I took a step to run to him, terrified he’d been shot, but quickly found myself ensnared in the beefy arms of Duke. While my heart didn’t stop racing it did slide back down my throat to reside in my chest when I saw Wesley and Cleveland scuffling on the ground. With him confined to the tree no longer, it was time to fight back. Duke knew I’d step on his foot so any time he felt my weight shift he’d move his feet. After a few fake outs, when he shifted the last time I twisted my body and slid out of his hold before spinning to take his legs out from under him. Knowing he’d fall flat, when I got up to my feet I instantly delivered a swift kick to his ribs then his face.
With Duke immobilized my eyes darted between Wesley and Abigail. Wesley could have used my help but Abigail was the bigger threat. I charged her. We hit the ground before she had a chance to change her aim. The gun went off for a third time. The training with Olivier made me the stronger of the two of us, which turned out to be an unpleasant surprise for her. I straddled her hips and was able to keep her from aiming the gun at me or Wesley by the sheer strength in my arms. I could still hear them brawling behind me and I prayed Wesley could handle himself.
Just when I had wrestled the gun from Abigail’s hands I perceived the approach of another person. A quick glance confirmed Duke was still on the ground. Convinced it was Olivier, he had to have heard the gunfire; I refused to ease up on Abigail until Olivier was there to intercede. Footsteps ran towards us and I heard Wesley call out my name. “Thank God you’re here,” I said before a cloth was firmly placed over my mouth and nose. Then I was unceremoniously hauled off of Abigail. A sickly, sweet smell engulfed me and while I tried to keep myself from inhaling the chloroform the instant nausea I felt made that process difficult.
A haze crept into the center of my eyes and my strength left me. I was aware enough to see Wesley when I was turned towards him. The arms that held me so securely were thinner than my own and I was flummoxed they’d been able to lift me so easily. Who the hell did they belong to? I fought to hold my breath and therefore consciousness. It all fell apart when I heard the gun fire one last time. In the blink of an eye, Wesley and Cleveland stopped moving and I scre
amed thus putting a potentially lethal end to my own life. As I felt myself being dragged backwards, a red cloud erased Wesley from my vision.
Chapter 13
My eyes opened to popcorn ceiling tiles. So it hadn’t been a nightmare, it had been a reality. My head throbbed when I turned it to take in the rest of my surroundings. Yet, closing my eyes only intensified the nausea. The last memory was of Wesley, lying at the base of my tree in a pool of blood. Was I ever going to know if he was alive or not? There was an alarm beeping in the room. A man I didn’t recognize in white scrubs came in and injected something into the IV inserted into my wrist. I had enough time to realize I’d been given a sedative before sinking into darkness.
When I woke the next time, I was equally famished and nauseous. This time when the alarm sounded and the man entered, I jerked my arm away and refused to hold still. When I tried to speak the only thing I heard were feral howls. It took me a moment to grasp they were coming from me. Another man entered the room and rushed the bed. I was effectively pinned down by his hands at my shoulders while the first man used one arm to immobilize my legs. As the cool surge told me they’d been successful in injecting me again, I cried while succumbing to the sedation.
This vicious cycle repeated countless more times. I was never allowed enough time to ask a question or take in any more of my surroundings other than the ceiling tiles. I quit fighting after the complete failure of my first few attempts. All that happened now was the alarm would sound and both men would enter the room. Anytime I was able to form a thought it was only to acknowledge I was no longer starving but still very nauseous.
Slipping back into consciousness again, I kept my eyes closed. I laid in the bed, defeated, awaiting the only constant I had, the two men and their dreadful sedative. But time passed and the alarm never sounded. Afraid to open my eyes or move a muscle, I continued to lie there. With no way to keep time eventually the absurdity of hiding from my captors by keeping my eyes closed made me feel immensely foolish and crazy. There was no sound other than my breathing and I wondered if everything had been an awful, and extremely detailed, nightmare.
This time when I opened my eyes, no alarm sounded. No men entered my room. No sedative was injected into my arm. The ceiling was still unfamiliar, so I wasn’t at my home or anywhere recognizable. I moved just my eyes and could make out tops of a window and a door. The outline of the ceiling told me the room was small. Pushing my vision to the furthest edges, I could make out a railing on either side of me. I knew I was lying down so maybe I was in a hospital bed and therefore a hospital. Could it be that I hadn’t awaken months ago from the fire and I was just doing so now?
There was a knock before a female voice asked, “Are you awake, dear sister?” I knew this voice and I had no sisters. Deeper than any woman’s voice should be, it was Celinda. I guess that answers the question of whether I’d concocted an elaborate fantasy for myself while unconsciously recovering from the fire after the Governor’s Ball during Mardi Gras. Even I, a muse, couldn’t be that creative I guess. It had been a relieving thought for a few seconds.
She stepped into the room and closed the door. I tried to sit up and was shocked when I couldn’t. I wasn’t restrained but the muscles in my body wouldn’t respond to my mind’s commands. I couldn’t speak either. The only thing I could do was look around the room and be absolutely terrified. She sat next to me on the bed, which told me I wasn’t paralyzed since I could, in fact, feel her. So I’d either been drugged or she’d done some kind of mind trick while I’d been comatose.
“Ah, you do recognize me. Though you didn’t at your friend’s wedding.” What was she talking about? She hadn’t been at Paige’s wedding. Had she? “We haven’t been formally introduced but we do seem to have quite a few common acquaintances. I’m Celinda Banks, press secretary for Alexander, Olivier’s commanding officer, and Wesley’s puppet master.” She said them all as if she were completing a resume, like each was a title I should be envious over.
Still reeling from her statement about being at Paige’s wedding I kept trying to figure out who she’d been. “Since you’ll never see anyone ever again and those you do see will never believe you, I’ll answer some of the questions I know you have. I was there as Regina. You even spoke to me remember?” Holy shit! She’d separated me from Olivier when she’d sent me after Wesley. I’d bet she probably convinced Wesley to seek out the solitude. If she’d had access to him the night before in the guest-house, she may have even been responsible for his hostility after the ceremony. God! She was also searching out Olivier when I left. She had to have orchestrated the whole damn thing. Were any of them even alive?
I’d never wanted my enemies to see me break. So I was supremely angry with myself when the tears leaked out of my eyes. Worst case scenario, my friends and family were dead and I was embarking on a miserable existence in this white roomed hell that this she-devil had imprisoned me in! Best case, well, I honestly didn’t think it was even a possibility. “Don’t cry, sweet sister. All is not lost.” What the hell did that mean?! And why did she keep calling me sister?
“The war I’ve been working towards for millennia is finally close at hand.” She gave me a gentle pat on the leg. “When things go my way, and as long as you’re a good girl, I’ll keep you as my pet. You won’t live in luxury mind you, and I’ll hurt you at times for my own enjoyment, but at least you’ll live.” Celinda spoke so casually about my potentially heinous future, like I was some dog she planned to fight. I’d honestly rather die. Prepared to tune out whatever drivel she spewed out next, I almost missed the one thing that gave me hope.
“Olivier and Wesley will not get the same offer I’m afraid. Most likely they’ll be immediately exterminated, as pests should be. As it is now every exile employed by Hell is chomping at the bit to destroy them. But they still serve a purpose. Again, if you’re a good girl and you don’t give me any trouble, maybe I’ll let you watch them die.” She clapped her hands together. Her face lit up with a sudden idea. “They’ve been battling each other for you for so long, maybe, we could have them do it in an arena. The Romans really had their entertainment right, you know.” In any other situation her passive-aggressive threats would have chilled my blood. Yet having been nearly mentally debilitated by the thought that Olivier and Wesley were dead, this news actually fortified my resolve, giving me some strength back.
Celinda prattled on as if talking about an upcoming vacation instead of the murder of my family. “Don’t worry about everyone else you care about. As my gift to you, I’ll make sure they are killed instantly during the rebellion. It really is a gift, you know, and I’m being very generous by offering it. Their only other option would be to become slaves or pets to the exiles and, well, that’s really just something reserved for those who are special. Like you, dear sister.” Again with the sister, what was that all about?
“It’s actually quite amazing to see them together now. How Olivier rushed to Wesley’s side to heal the bullet wound from Abigail’s gun. Your redheaded friend, the one who got married, what’s her name?” Celinda asked like I could answer her. “Well, answer me girl!” she demanded in irritation, snapping her fingers. When she remembered I couldn’t, she laughed. “Once I’m certain we’ve broken you, I won’t force the neurotoxins on you anymore.” Yet another piece of information I don’t think she meant to let slip. She hadn’t incapacitated me. She’d needed modern medicine for that. “Anyway, your friend’s wedding ended with the arrest of Duke. Unfortunately we lost Cleveland. Wesley’s corkscrew and Abigail’s bullet put an end to him.” I should have been horrified about hearing of his death, but I felt justice had finally been served by it. “It was interesting watching them figure out what to do about Abby. The redhead wanted to arrest her too, but our boys knew it would be the end of your life. Abby told them everything, idiot, self-preserving girl that she is. She is a survivor that one, something she shares in common with you it seems.” Celinda paused to give me an appraising look. “They conc
octed a cover story to protect the Wyatt’s and therefore you. The campaign wouldn’t have survived her arrest and they all knew it.”
I grew anxious when Celinda stood over me with an examining expression. She’d already admitted quite a few things. First, my friends and family were alive and seemingly safe. Second, to get them to do as she expected, I needed to remain at least alive. Third, she had no problem keeping me alive and miserable for her own enjoyment. Fourth, calling me sister was an important clue to where I was. Surprised by how enlightening this conversation was, I wondered if Celinda was lonely like Olivier had been. I was a prisoner and she definitely thought me beneath her, yet most people didn’t chatter on about their future with beings that didn’t matter.
Before she left she paused at the door as if recalling something she’d forgotten to tell me. “You’d be proud of how they’re working together for your life, Charlotte. It’s so sad you lost your mind. Those men truly love you.” The door didn’t close as I’d anticipated. Instead, my nameless consociates entered the room to put me to sleep.
I went through my wretched routine another three times before seeing Celinda again. During this bout it occurred to me that I had no idea how much time was passing. Was it days? Hours? Weeks? Longer? I would have asked but I still had no command over my nerves or muscles. In this visit I learned the reason why Celinda had snuck into the wedding. She’d had suspicions that Wesley was slipping from her mind control after the convention but he’d actually done well at hiding that it had been because Olivier had freed him.
However, the weeks of the debates leading up to the wedding made Celinda think her hold hadn’t weakened but had actually been broken. Again she never suspected Olivier and even now it didn’t sound like she did. She attributed it again to me. The rush to return to Louisiana to help it heal after the Labor Day shooting had put Wesley in too much contact with me and not enough with Abigail for the trigger. Celinda had assumed Wesley had managed to convince me of the truth, which in order to do that meant that I also knew the truth about Olivier. Yet she could never get confirmation without observing us all together without us knowing. Most times in public we’d kept up our pretenses perfectly. It didn’t seem she knew anything about the burner phones or internet sites where we kept in touch. So Celinda locked Regina away because the wedding was the one event the Wyatt’s had been invited to and she hadn’t. That gave her the access to us she needed. I was already aware Wesley and I had done an abysmal job of maintaining distasteful tolerance there.