United Eden (17 page)

This was one of those moments I knew I could crack in the space of time from one second to the next. I was experiencing one of those primal, runaway train, barreling towards insanity moments and there would be no one or nothing to offer any comfort if I let myself go any further down this track.

Lifting my knees, I lowered my head to them, imagining Montana. The fields that rol ed on forever, the expansive sky overhead, the feel of the crisp air breaking across my skin, Wil iams hand in mine . . . I felt calm trickle its relief into my bloodstream, dul ing my senses just enough to regain control of them.

This was nothing but Johns way of trying to break me, showing me who was in control. This was nothing more than a smal room. A
very
smal room. A room couldnt break me, a room couldnt change me. I was the only one capable of doing that and I was stronger than losing it after two minutes in a box . . . in a smal room.

I lifted my wrists to my necklace, grabbing the sapphire hanging from the chain, a tangible reminder of Wil iams unfailing love. And in this cold, dank box, it was the hope I held onto.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NIGHTMARE INCARNATE

I knew the box was meant to disorient me, make me lose track of time, sense, and self, but it was almost twenty-four hours to the minute”having nothing else to do, I busied myself with counting the seconds, then the minutes, and last, the hours”when the door screeched open.

A burst of fresh air swirled around me as someone grabbed me and dragged me out of my new little home.

Stel a, a voice said impatiently.

Had to make sure she wasnt going to kil me before I touched her, she sneered back, that al too familiar hand circling around my arm.

Am I your guinea pig or something? the man asked, a voice I didnt recognize, as he forced me into a chair.

Yes, Stel a answered, no tone of apology present.

A strap was pul ed over my lap, cinched tight across it. This whole thing was starting to feel a bit too experimental for my comfort and the only thing I could think of was Hectors fear that John would use me to try to replicate my gift”or curse was more how I viewed it”to deal out death with a mere touch of the skin.

The bag was ripped off my head and my eyes blinked open. The first thing I noticed was the light swaying above me; it was one of those lights you saw in movies or documentaries depicting torture chambers. I never would have guessed a light had such power to begin the process of unraveling me al over again.

A movement in front of me caught my attention. I focused on the figure, knowing anything would be better than staring at the metal, circular, swinging lamp.

I was wrong.

It had been over half a year, but the nightmares had never dul ed in frequency or vividness and, seeing him now, observing me like I was a possession, reminded me why.

John, I said, giving it my best attempt at sounding unaffected. So nice to see you again. You look better than the last time I saw you. I smiled, mostly contrived, but part real as I remembered his crippled form breaking through the Council table after Id nearly kil ed al the Council members as they were trying to do the same to me.

Bryn, Bryn, Bryn, he mused, marching straight for me. How Ive missed you. His hand flew against my cheek, just as ice cold as before, although the sting he left behind was so icy it burnt.

Feeling a shift from fear to provocation, I laughed. Ive missed being your bitch-slapping bag, too. Feels like youre out of practice, I said, sucking in my freshly slapped cheek.

Troys right, you have managed to grow more spirited, more confrontational, John said, staring me straight on. Lets see what becomes of these newly heightened traits when you see what youre to blame for. Turning to the metal door behind him, John hol ered, Bring them in!

The door flung open before I was able to cripple with fear at who could be coming through that door. Despite the desire to protect them as much as I loved them, John saw my weak spot for those I loved and he wasnt above using this knowledge to get what he wanted.

One of Johns men walked in, carrying another man over his shoulders. A man wearing casual beach attire. . . and who wasnt moving. Johns man threw him down in front of me, face-up. I didnt know his name, but I recognized his face. Hed been one of Wil iams many personal guards that were rotated through, at least hed been that before. A person didnt need to confirm with a pulse that this man was dead.

You did this, John said, gazing over the sprawled out man like he was a pile of manure. And you did this, he said, as another body was heaped on top of the man.

I gasped, immediately wishing I hadnt, but how”even with my best efforts”could I remain calm in the midst of such unconscionable death?

This next man, another face of one of Wil iams guards, dressed in the same kind of attire that youd see tourists wearing at the Oregon Coast . . .

at Pacific City. I hated when these kinds of light bulbs went off. Johns blame of me being responsible for their deaths made sense now, specific sense.

Wil iam was not about to let the three of us girls go away alone without some kind of protection in place. We hadnt even known they were there, as invisible as ghosts theyd been, and now theyd joined them. It should have warmed my heart to know Wil iam cared so much for us, but warmth was something my heart was incapable of as I stared at two lifeless faces I was responsible for taking the life from.

And you also did this, John repeated, his eyes scalding on me, wanting to devour my every reaction.

The next figure flung to the pile was a young girl who had a beautiful face in that sweet, innocent kind of way.

Annabel e, I whispered, a sob pouring from my mouth as I took in her ashen, lifeless face, her eyes stil opened in their horrification at her last moments. The diamond choker was on her neck, no longer sparkling despite the flawless cuts of the stones. Why? The only thing I could bring to the surface.

John grinned with no less malice than Id ever seen. Guilty by association, he said, walking over a few arms and legs towards me. Grabbing my chin, he lifted it until I was looking into his startlingly calm eyes. I think my pets gotten enough fresh air for one day. She isnt looking so good. Time to put her back in her cage. His eyes wandered to my lips.

I actual y had a flash of hope that he would try to put his mouth on mine because I wouldnt hesitate to bite a chunk of them off. The mix of horror and rage pulsing through me hed instigated by piling innocent bodies in front of me brought out sheer animal instincts. Perhaps seeing this in my eyes, or knowing I was eager to take whatever piece of revenge I could from him, his lips stayed away.

He nodded to the men standing to the side of me who went into action unbuckling me, repositioning the bag over my head, and dragging me back into my prison.

Welcome home, Bryn, was the last thing I knew Id hear for awhile as the door sealed me away.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A MOST WELCOME GUEST

Two days, thirteen hours, twenty-four minutes, and a handful of seconds later, I wasnt sure if there was any going back from the crazy that had burrowed its way in after hearing nothing but silence, seeing nothing but black, smel ing nothing but the musty scent of the burlap bag over my face, and moving no more than an inch in this direction or an inch in that direction.

You would have thought Id been in solitary confinement for years the way my emotions would swing from panic to terror to fury to depressed”it was like living a never-ending bout of PMS to the tenth power. There couldnt have been a more effective means of torture, caging me like this, and I knew my tight accommodations had everything to do with John and his wanting to break me. Knowing this was the only thing that kept me from going that final step towards breaking”the anger over it kept me just north of crazy-land.

The first day Id kept my anger on the tip of my mind in order to make it easier to keep my gift buzzing on the surface of my skin because the next time someone grabbed me out of my box, that would be the last thing theyd do. However, it was exhausting to keep that kind of power focused and alive and Id gotten my first and only few hours of sleep since entering the child-sized cave three days ago after Id exhausted its power.

Id done my best to keep my mind from thoughts of Wil iam. You would have thought reminders of him would comfort me in this prison, but, instead, imagining that kind of light in this kind of darkness was nearly as agonizing as my confines. Every time wed been separated in the past, Id had the comfort of knowing we were each staring at the same night sky, but not now. The black void was so suffocating I could barely remember how the stars sparkled. So I focused on revenge and anger and what Id do the next time I came face to face with John Townsend without metal restraints, lap belts, and Stel as hand.

One second I was in the grips of the chil stale air swerving around me and in the next, a warm, comforting set of arms wound over me.

Have room for one more? a light voice whispered in my ear as his body contorted around me and the rooms parameters. Okay, this is not helping my phobia of dark, enclosed places. Im going to need a double dose of therapy this week, Patrick grunted as he struggled to bring his leg around.

The shock of the heat and feel of having something good around me overwhelmed any verbal response and, as if sensing it, Patrick tucked his chin over my shoulder and rocked me towards calm. Wil iam wanted me to pass on a message, but since hes a dirty-birdy and I wont repeat those filthy words . . .”I didnt need the light to imagine Patrick smile”to sum it up, PG style, he misses you, loves you, and cant wait to see you again.

Really
cant wait to see you again, especial y if it means post-Union.

The present situation wouldnt have been conducive to smiling save for one thing: Patrick. So, howve you been? he asked playful y.

The décors a little lacking and the room is smal er than the pictures made it look, but the after dinner mint on my pil ow every night makes up for al those lesser comforts, I answered dryly.

He chuckled. Let me get this thing off of you, he said, pul ing the mask off my face. It was just as dark without it, but the air moving over my face felt cooler and less sticky than it did after festering in a burlap bag.

When he moved to my wrists and I felt him ready to clip them, I stopped him. Dont. Theyl know someone was here if my bindings are cut.

Patrick stal ed, like he was fighting against every instinct not to free me, before sighing. Theyre animals. Im going to kil every last one of them Wil iam doesnt, he said, anger seeping through.

And Il finish those you two leave behind, I said, letting my head fal back onto his shoulder. But make sure to save me a few. Ive got a bad case of payback needing to be released.

Deal, he said, rewrapping his arms around me, drawing me tight into him because, wel , there wasnt any space to al ow for a personal bubble.

How in the world did you find me? I asked, wondering if this was nothing more than something my crazed mind was making up in its warped state. I assured myself that this had to be real because if and when I lost it, it would be Wil iam visiting me. And where in the world am I? How are Cora and Abigail and”

Slow your rol there, Bryn, Patrick said. Il answer any and every question you have but one at a time. I dont have the brain capacity of Wil iam.

Sorry, I offered, trying again. Where am I? I even said it slowly to show my cooperation.

Good ol Newburg, Oregon. Townsend Manor, to be exact, he answered.

The location surprised me, despite it being the most logical place John would bring me. The endless journey here had been an attempt to disorient me”it had worked”and, other than the Council chambers in the seeming bowels of the earth, I hadnt seen a single room in Townsend Manor that wasnt marbled or gold leafed to the point of offensive.

This box and the room that contained it didnt fit with Townsend Manor, but it did in a way . . . in a way that had to do with its sick and twisted owner.

How did you find me? I asked, trapping the next question that was on the tip of my tongue. Having no company for days had made me especial y accommodating, even when it came to Patrick.

I told you I would, he answered, like it was something as simple as simple could be, before adding, and after father was able to locate your approximate location I might have had a little help from a slight Latin male Morpher known as Norberto, Patrick answered, his head tilting into the wal as a chuckle rol ed out. Currently posing as a flaming hot Swedish maid, and let me tel you, the French kind have nothing on the Swedes.

Hes here? I asked. At Townsend Manor?

Patricks head nodded. After he got a taste of death-induced adrenaline running from Inheritors back in Nicaragua, he practical y came begging to me for another hit. Since Johns a little sensitive to imposters infiltrating his Al iance, a Morphers the only one that we could slip in here, so we took him off Wil iam guard dog detail and hoped he could sniff out some information regarding your precise whereabouts. Turns out, my man Norberto is a very gifted sniffer.

I sighed, feeling gratitude and guilt. If not for Norberto, I would stil be alone and lost, but I also knew he was risking his life”again”snooping out this kind of information and sending it back to the right people in our Al iance.

If he didnt know it by now, he would soon. Coming to Wil iams or my defense is a death wish.

Although hel be the last one we need to worry about
slipping
in after we take this whole Inheritor circus”including its ring leader”down, Patrick said, his body tensing against mine.

From what Wil iam said, it could be awhile before that happens. If it
ever
happens, I replied, knowing what that meant. Id stay trapped in this cel or Id be dead long before. There were moments in the box when I would have taken death over an extended stay curled into myself by the six wal s surrounding me. It seemed easier, but I had to keep reminding myself that the easy path and the right path are rarely the same.