Chasm, page 12
Fear had cut some of the venom I’d hoped my words would drip with. Whatever reaction I’d been hoping for from Alexander, I wasn’t prepared for the one I got. He turned and flowed slowly to my chair, then bent close to my ear.
My heart pounded in my chest. He was inches from me; I’d no doubt he could end my life with barely a flick of his wrist.
“And what if I were to tell you,” he said, his voice a seductive purr, “that I agree with you completely?”
I wasn’t just shaking, I was vibrating. “Prove it,” I said again, my voice rife with the fear that flooded me.
I was staring straight ahead, but in my peripheral vision, I saw Alexander lower his sunglasses. I swallowed and forced myself to turn my head and look into his eyes.
They were ice blue.
19
My insides quivered like the jelly they’d become. A non-Red who inspired fear in actual Reds. Who was this next to me? But that wasn’t the right question. The right question was even more bone chilling. It was a long minute before I could bring myself to ask it.
“Wh-what are you?”
The question hung in the air for the three longest seconds of my life.
“I think you already know that,” he said softly, those blue eyes looking into mine without an ounce of menace, making them all the more frightening.
I swallowed hard and he went back to sit across from me. With his sunglasses off I could put an age to him—mid-twenties was my guess. There was something about him—his aquiline nose, a charisma I hated myself for even noticing—that made him seem like a Greek statue come to life.
“You can’t be,” I said finally. “A real Daemon would never work with Reds.”
“Never?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He leaned forward, and, though no one was in earshot, pitched his voice low when he said, “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’”
“So, you want me to believe you’re some kind of double-agent?” I asked, letting my tone show exactly how slim of a chance that was.
“Is that so impossible to believe?” He said, arching an eyebrow.
I was about to call his bluff—say, “yeah, it pretty much is”—when the carafe that had been sitting on the table, rose seemingly of its own accord and poured a cup of coffee.
Alexander smiled and said, “You take it black, yes?” Which caused my goosebumps to grow goosebumps.
I made no move to take the steaming cup.
“Ember, I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure that no harm come to you or your companions in my attempts to meet you. I didn’t go to all that trouble only to poison you now.”
Attempts, plural. It was all the admission I needed that he’d been behind the awfulness that was my birthday. Maybe even the incident at the club a few months earlier.
“You had people—Reds—shooting at us,” I said, my jaw tight. “You can’t have been all that concerned about our well-being.”
“Yet none of the bullets hit you or your protectors,” he said. “And didn’t you find it the least bit strange that Jeanine was willing to spare the life of your beloved boyfriend rather than kill him on sight? Reds are not known for their compassion.”
The platinum blonde Richard had killed. I did my best not to shudder at the memory of staring down the barrel of her gun. What he said was true though: with that many Reds chasing us, it bordered on impossible that all of us escaped without serious injury. I’d been so grateful at the time, I hadn’t stopped to think it might be due to anything more than luck.
“So, this Jeanine, she was working for you?” I said.
“More like under my control,” he said, the smugness returning. “It was a shame to lose her—she was my most trusted soldier.”
“Sorry,” I said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“Don’t be,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You are correct in your assessment of Reds. But they do prove themselves useful.”
“And me? Why am I useful to you? If you’re a Daemon you can help the demons open the Gateway without me.”
“True,” he said. “Which should lead you to a conclusion that is better left unspoken.”
Whether true or not, he wanted me to believe he had no interest in opening the Gateway.
He pushed back his chair, and once again he stood.
“You seem to have a tongue-loosening effect on me,” he said, surprised by the admission. “It’s just as well I have a pressing matter to attend to; it would be unwise of me to divulge anything further without having established a trust between us. We will meet again for dinner—until then, please make yourself at home.”
He walked the length of the glittering pool and entered the villa, leaving any words I had, caught in my throat.
It was a few minutes before I could breathe, let alone move. When motor functioning returned, I reached for Taren’s necklace—I’d grown fond of sliding the charm back and forth on the chain while I thought—and for a moment was struck by the possibility that I would never see him again. Panic seized my heart and I clutched the rune, trying to forge a connection between us.
You have to find me, Taren. You have to find me. I need you.
No you don’t. You’ve got me.
I stiffened.
I will get you out of this, you just need to—
Son of a—
It was no wonder I was vulnerable to a mental takeover—I was exhausted and frightened—but I couldn’t allow it. Not now, not ever again.
I forced myself to sit, though fear kept my knee bobbing up and down. I used my hand to still it.
Focus, Ember. Find the light. Step into it.
Eventually, my breath evened out and my pulse slowed. And there was silence, save for my own internal voice saying over and over again, it’s alright, you’re OK. There wasn’t much conviction behind the words, but the monotony was soothing.
I needed time to think, and Alexander was giving it to me.
So, he was a Daemon, and not one who had a hard time levitating a feather, which had to mean he’d been trained by someone. Who?
He claimed not to be in league with Reds and yet commanded a near army of them.
Most importantly, he claimed he didn’t want me to open the Gateway. Was that true? If so, what did he want? And who was this new intruder in my head? It had to be the Root attached to the Gateway in Rome, didn’t it? Lesser demons weren’t powerful enough to reach across the boundary with anything more than violent babble. This had an intelligence, an agenda. To help me, It claimed. Just like the other Root Demon had helped me, I thought, shuddering.
If a Root wants me to trust It and not Alexander, does that mean I should trust Alexander? It was a ludicrous idea—trusting my kidnapper—but what else could it mean? Although maybe he and the Root were working both ends against the middle, figuring I’d trust one of them out of desperation, and it didn’t matter which one.
I put my head in my hands, my thoughts now barreling down tracks even I couldn’t follow.
I spent the rest of the morning alternately strolling the grounds of the villa and pausing to doze in the shade of a tree or the shadow of a trellis. It was a complete ruse, of course; I was neither strolling nor dozing. I was doing my best impression of Taren—seemingly uninterested, without a care in the world, while observing everything in my field of vision.
Whenever I got too close to the fence, Reds would make themselves known and I would force myself to smile and wave, as if to say, “No worries, I’m definitely not trying to escape.”
Male or female, their expressionless faces never changed so I had no idea if they bought it, but once I stepped back they would again recede into the shadows.
My study had borne fruit, though what good it would do I had no idea. I’d counted sixteen guards—twelve outside and four looking down at me from various windows. The fence stood eight feet tall, made of wrought iron, with dense shrubbery providing an even thicker barrier. I could scream, no doubt I would be heard, but I felt sure that would only result in the death of the unlucky neighbor who tried to help. I was part Daemon and no match for even one of these Reds, what hope did a human have against them?
By noon, with my stomach rumbling, I decided to go back to my room. The confinement was preferable to all of those eyes upon me. As I made my way upstairs, two guards followed several paces behind, and I forced myself not to alter my course to test whether they were following me. Of course they were.
Once inside the room, I turned to close the door and watched as the pair took positions on either side of it. I couldn’t stop myself from closing the door quickly and putting as much space between them and me as possible.
Atop a small table someone had placed a serving tray. Curious, I lifted the lid to reveal soup and a crusty roll. The moment the aroma hit my nostrils my mouth began to water and it was all I could do to set the lid back down and leave the tray untouched. It might be foolish; Alexander had said he wouldn’t poison me, but I couldn’t afford to take chances. I wondered how long I could go without eating.
I went to the bed I had refused to sleep in the night before and sat. Studying the grounds might have been the smart thing to do, but that wasn’t really why I’d done it. I had needed a distraction; needed to feel like I was doing something useful.
Now I began anew my struggle to understand what was happening, turning the puzzle over and over again in my mind. Every question led to five more, and I finally came to the conclusion that I simply needed more information. Alexander had promised to give me answers. Not that I trusted him to keep that promise, or that his answers would be true, but it was the only hope I had so I clung to it.
From time to time I felt the Voice trying to break through my defenses, each time getting stronger. Either that, or exhaustion was making me weaker. Either terrified me; I needed my wits about me now more than ever.
I laid across the duvet and closed my eyes. My mind still focused on keeping the intruder at bay, there was a small part able to drift, and soon my thoughts turned to Taren.
Two days earlier I’d been tortured because he hadn’t told me he loved me. It seemed so laughably unimportant now. I imagined him, crazy with worry, doing anything and everything to get me back. What did words mean compared with that? Compared with him sitting by my side, day and night while I recovered from the excruciating burns I’d sustained killing the Root Demon?
A Root, I thought bitterly. Because apparently Master Dogan was right and there were several, one of them trying to take up residence in my brain as I lay there.
Was it going to be like this at every Gateway, I wondered—me needing to be ever vigilant against both external and internal attacks? The thought frightened me, both for the fact that it might be true, and for the fact that it wasn’t looking good that I’d be getting to another Gateway.
20
I blinked groggily against the light. As my eyes adjusted, this new reality—of me being held captive in a French villa by a Daemon—came crashing back, and I sat up so quickly my head swam. It was hard to believe I’d fallen sleep, no matter how exhausted I’d been. I reminded myself that the only thing I’d consumed was water from the tap so it was pretty unlikely I’d been drugged. I turned to the clock on the bedside table and realized it had been more than a catnap; four hours had gone by.
I pulled myself from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom where I splashed cold water on my face and took a drink. I caught a whiff of myself as I did, and realized I wasn’t really proving anything by not showering. Yet, when I went to remove my clothing, I couldn’t. Who was to say I wasn’t under video surveillance? Completely creeped out, I opted to do the best I could with the sink and a washcloth.
Not long after I was done, there was a firm knock at the door followed by the male Red who had driven Monica and me the night before. Mitchell, she had called him.
“You will come with me,” he said, then turned, leaving me little choice but to follow.
To my surprise, Mitchell led me not to a dining room, but to a large study, where Alexander sat in front of a computer.
He smiled at our entry and motioned for Mitchell to leave.
“Did you have a pleasant day?” he said, as if that were a completely reasonable thing to ask under the circumstances.
“You promised me answers,” I said, ignoring his question. I refused to act like anything other than what I was—a prisoner.
“I did,” he said, “but I thought that before we sat down to dinner you might like to call your mother.”
I blinked, taken completely aback. “You’ll let me?”
“I thought it might bring you some comfort to speak with her. Of course,” he said, and I braced for the catch, “I must insist that you not reveal your current circumstances.”
That was it? It’s not like I even knew where I was beyond the south of France, which wasn’t likely to lead to rescue.
“Does she not know I’ve been…what’s happened?” I said, trying to be diplomatic.
“She does not,” he said. “Your Institute has kept her in the dark.”
That was probably for the best. There was nothing she could do to help and if anything was going to send her off the deep end, this was it.
“So, as long as I pretend everything is fine…”
“You may have a few minutes,” he said, “though of course I’ll need to be present.”
“Fine, whatever,” I said, anxious to make the call before he changed his mind.
While he made a few clicks of his mouse, I had a moment of panic: was this some kind of trap? A way to use my mother against me? But I dismissed the thought. The man clearly had the means to kidnap my mother, whether I Skyped her or not.
He motioned for me to come around to the other side of the computer, while he stepped just out of view of its camera.
I quickly entered my log-in details, my stomach twisting while I waited for the call to connect.
“Em!” I heard my mother’s voice a moment before her face popped up on the screen.
“Mom,” I said, choking back tears, “it’s so good to see you.”
“You too, baby,” she said. “Where are you now?”
“Traveling to Italy,” I said, figuring it the safest answer.
“Is it gorgeous?” she asked excitedly. “What have you seen?”
“I haven’t seen much of anything yet,” I said, trying to make my tone light. “You know how the Institute is: all work, no play.”
“Well, you tell them to ask Jack Nicholson how that turns out,” she said, only half kidding.
“I will,” I said, again blinking back tears. This could not be the last time I saw this wonderful, difficult, amazing woman.
“What is it, Em?” Her expression became concerned. “Is everything alright?”
Alexander shot me a warning look, but it wasn’t necessary. I’d already dismissed the idea of trying to get off some kind of warning about my situation. Even if Alexander let her live long enough to relay the information to Annys, I didn’t know anything that would aid in my rescue.
“Nothing, Mom. Can you believe I’m already homesick?” I said, doing my best to sell it. “I miss you.”
I must have done a good job because she replied, “I know, babe, I miss you too.”
Alexander made a motion with his hand and I knew it was time to wrap it up.
“Listen, I’ve gotta go,” I said. “But I love you, Mom. More than anything.”
“Love you too. Call me in the next day or two so I don’t worry,” she said.
“I will,” I said, realizing too late that I should have consulted Alexander before making such a promise. This might have been a one-time thing. He seemed unperturbed, though, other than wanting me to say goodbye.
“OK, bye, Mom,” I said.
She smiled and blew me a kiss which was too much to bear; I clicked the button to disconnect.
No longer able to hold it in, a sob escaped my lips, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to prevent any further outburst. I would not cry in front of this man.
“I had hoped that speaking with your mother would make you feel better,” he said gently.
I nodded, regaining my composure. Say what she would, even Gretchen wouldn’t deny that being able to hide behind a mask of appearing fine wasn’t going to come in handy in my current situation.
“It did,” I said, then forced myself to add, “thank you.”
I expected smugness in the face of my gratitude, but instead he said, “It’s the least I can do. I know this has been hard on you, and I know it’s my fault. I only hope you will come to see why it was so necessary.”
Fat chance, I thought, but remained silent and forced myself to give him a slight nod.
Alexander led me from the study and out onto the balcony I’d passed on my way to meet him that morning. He motioned for me to take a seat, and as he did the same, it seemed as if Alexander himself were as golden as the sun setting in the distance behind him. And his eyes... They reflected the light in a way that made it difficult to look away.
“The staff tells me you haven’t eaten yet,” he said with concern.
“The staff?” I tried to keep my tone neutral when I added, “Is that what you call that half-demon horde of yours?”
He chuckled. “Horde? I’ve seen a demon horde, and it’s considerably larger than the handful of Reds I have working for me.”
Where had he seen that?
Instead of asking, I shrugged and said, “Potato, po-TAH-to.”
He took my sarcasm in stride, simply saying, “Please, eat something.”
When I made no move to do so, he sighed. “Alright then, answer me this question, and I will answer one of yours. You may speak freely; mine are the only ears who will hear it. Why do you work for the Institute?”
“Because I believe in what they do,” I said, wondering if this was some kind of trick question. “Why don’t you? I doubt you’d want demons running loose, spoiling what is obviously a cushy life you’ve got going on.”
“True,” he said. “But the Institute isn’t exactly up to the task, now is it?”
