Binds (6 page)

“Larping?” Cass interjects, as if that is the most important part of what I just said, instead of the part where I warned of everyone’s imminent demise. “What the heck is that?”

Jinx, who I thought was in a technology-induced trance, pipes in, “LARP, Live Action Role Playing, duh.”

“Yeah, like anyone who isn’t a complete dork would know that one. For the record though, I am not Sam Gamgee, I’m Arwen, okay?” She looks pleadingly at Reece, “I get to be Arwen, right?” Reece gives her an expression that is somewhere between incredulous and placating and nods.

“Oh, and I’m the dork?” Jinx throws over his shoulder before returning his attention back to the computer monitor.

“Enough,” Spencer states and the word slashes through the room like a knife, silencing everyone.

Reece has come to stand at my side and Cass mimics his actions, flanking my other side. I don’t understand why these two seem to think we are on the same team here.

“Spencer, I’m telling you the truth. She doesn’t know what we are, and she sure as hell doesn’t know what she is.” Reece gives me a look that is full of pity. “If she did, she would have been able to defend herself when Donovan did this.” He points to the scar on the side of my eyebrow that I normally cover with heavy makeup. “Or this.” Softly, but against my will, he quickly grabs my arm and shows Spencer the scar on my elbow where there are pins holding it together from the first time I tried to get away from my husband. I pull it back to me just as swiftly while shooting a glare Reece’s way.

The frost in Spencer’s eyes has not melted at all. “Some people get off on that kind of stuff. Sick people, people like Mrs. Brand and her husband. You’ve seen the reformatories yourself. Don’t be fooled by a doe-eyed look, Reece.”

“Reformatories? What are you talking about?” This day is exhausting me. I’m wearing the same crumpled cocktail dress from last night, my hair is probably a rat’s nest, my head is aching again, and I am being accused of something that I’ve never even heard of. It’s obvious that these people aren’t going to be taking my warning seriously. They seem to think I am some kind of evil genius. Now, I just want to know what it is they think I have done.

“You don’t know about the reformatories?” Cass asks, a note of bewilderment in her voice. “Where have you been over the last few years? Everyone knows about them, Ophelia.” She is looking at me now with trepidation. Well, there goes one of my supposed allies in this place; she’s even edged closer to Spencer.

“You don’t understand the conditions they had her in.” Reece rapidly comes to my rescue. “It was like an animal’s cage in that house. She has been kept away from the outside world, all of the staff members were commons bound to keep their silence, and Donovan made sure that she was never taken anywhere near the Crumbles. She really doesn’t know.”

“Fine, if you’re so sure she is innocent,” Spencer says, sauntering over to me and holding out his hand, “let me see for myself.”

In a flash, Reece is in front of me, placing his body in the very narrow space between Spencer and myself. “I won’t let you rape her mind, Spencer. Haven’t you learned that you can’t just take that from someone? It has to be given willingly, and she doesn’t even know what it is that she would be giving.”

Spencer’s cheek moves as he grinds his teeth together. “You get in my face again, Reece…”

“And what,” Reece spits at him, “what will you do to me? You want to be dictator of this little faction, Spencer? You want to control everyone and everything just like Oberon? Start with this woman, and that’s the path you’re taking.”

“Stop!” I jump around Reece and grab onto Spencer’s hand. If holding his hand will clear up this little misunderstanding for him, I will do it willingly. Reece is not my protector, and anyway, what is there to protect me from? My logic still holds, if this man had wanted to hurt me, he would have already.

As soon as our hands are clasped, his eyes lock onto mine and I am no longer standing in this converted media/ops room. I am a toddler with my arms around my mother’s neck, soaking in the comfort of her smell. I am a child running through the store, accidentally knocking a trinket off of a shelf, breaking it, and hiding it so that my mother will never know. I am an adolescent and then a teenager, the bloom of my womanhood just starting as my mother takes me to buy my first bra. I am every age I have ever been and everything I have ever done and every thought I have ever had.

Spencer is pushing into my psyche, digging into the very essence of what I am. Deeper and deeper he goes, until he has reached a part of myself that I didn’t even know existed. It’s there, at the bottom, stifled by innumerable chains stretched across its massive body. It is a beast, an animal I can’t identify, one not of our world, with enormous arms stretched tight with muscles, and a thick neck straining against its restraints. Horrific sadness and anger stares out of its onyx eyes and upon seeing us, it releases a despairing cry. It is a sound that does not match up with the appearance of this incredible beast, a sound that rips my heart in two.

“What is this thing?” I say aloud as a single tear trails down my cheek.

I look to Spencer, but he is staring at me, transfixed as if seeing me for the first time. We are back in the ops room but I notice no one but him, as if we are in the room alone.

“What the hell did she do to you?” he asks in a whisper, an expression of horror-filled reverence in his eyes.

In my life, I have allowed two people to get close to me. My mother and my husband. My mother was ripped from my life much too soon, but before that, I always shared with her most of my thoughts. We had a standing agreement that we would spend at least a half hour of each day discussing the events of it and what we thought of them. She knew me well, better than I knew myself most times, as she helped me make decisions and steered me in directions that always seemed to better me and help me learn from my choices. Donovan, before our marriage, was my sole confidant. Before our marriage and my eventual entombment within the Brand household, where I had to learn to fight for myself in every way possible just to survive, I was the epitome of an introvert. It worked for me. Growing up with a strange mother who happens to be your best friend can lend itself to ostracism from the cool crowd in school, and so I never learned the important nuances of fitting in. I didn’t grow up bullied. The other kids just left me alone and I was fine with that. My mother, our shop, our life together, it was enough for me.

After her death, I met Donovan in one of my college courses and he seemed to be dropped perfectly into my life when I needed someone to fill the void. We used to spend our time cozied up together on either my small twin bed in the dorms or on his couch at his apartment, just talking the hours away. We talked about our hopes and dreams, the kind of lives we wanted to live after graduating, and eventually, we talked about how we wanted to be a part of each other’s future. Before Donovan went all psycho on me, I would say that he knew me and I thought I knew him, mind, heart, soul, and body.

After what Spencer just did to me, I can say with absolute conviction that no one ever really knows anything about anyone. The information that he just gleaned from my life, my history, my most secret inner thoughts and the fine details that make up a life that no one ever notices, not even the one living it: he captured it all. Mom and Donovan didn’t know shit.

As exposed and somewhat victimized as I feel at this moment, my worries about him knowing that I stole a Snickers bar from the 7-11 when I was twelve or what my favorite position in bed is, pale in comparison to the complete horror of whatever that monster is that lives inside of me, chained but still vicious, and the fact that I feel a deep, profound compassion for it.

I start to sense the other occupants in the room and it stirs me from my contemplation. I am the first to avert my gaze from Spencer’s, immediately seeking out the floor. I wish I didn’t feel such shame at this moment; he is the one who violated me by stealing my mind. Yes, I gave him my hand, but I had no idea whatsoever of what was going to happen. How did he do that anyway? I feel like he took my ability to speak with my thoughts, but thankfully, he speaks again and not to me. I can continue to count the tiles on the floor and process my thoughts for another second or two.

“Cass, get Ophelia some clothes. Put her in the grey room next to mine and get her what she needs to clean up, then take her to the kitchen and get her something to eat. Jinx, start working on clearing as much of her history as you can off of the illegal net. Everyone else, get back to your posts. Ophelia is our guest for the time being. I expect you to treat her as one.”

The room starts to clear out, except for Jinx, who is now typing more furiously than ever, and Cass, who seems to be waiting for direction from Reece.

“Wait a minute,” Reece says, “what are you going to do with her? Now that you’ve discerned your truth, you know what she needs. She needs our world to be explained to her, and she needs to be taught.” His voice sounds strangled, and I feel responsible for his grief. He knew what would happen when I grabbed Spencer’s hand, and he tried to save me from it. He is now the only person in this room who I have any trust in. I look to my would-be savior and can see his restraint. His whole body looks tense and I fear that if Spencer doesn’t give him the right answer to his questions, Reece won’t be able to hold back his fury any longer.

“If she wants it, she will be taught,” Spencer replies, but he is not looking at Reece when he says it. I can feel his eyes on me, and there is no way that I am going to meet them. “Tomorrow. First thing before breakfast, I want her dressed and ready. I’m taking her to the Crumbles. She needs to know what is going on in the world. Donovan and Oberon have been doing more than stealing her power; they haven’t told her anything of their exploits with our children. She needs to know what she is getting into before she can decide whether or not she will join us.”

“Yeah, you could have learned that from the Intel I provided to you over the past two years. But, nope it wasn’t good enough; you had to take it from her, and now you say she gets to decide? You’re giving her a choice now?” A vein in Reece’s temple is sticking out. Cass comes to him and places her hand on his arm. The gesture seems to startle him out of his anger.

“Yes,” Spencer breathes. “She gets her choice, just like every other person here, including you, Reece. If she wants to be a part of this, she alone gets to make that decision.”

“She has no choice!” Reece expostulates. “Donovan probably has her face on 24/7 rotation with every state-run channel. There are probably countless flyers circulating with her info on them, and I bet he even has a price for her return on the illegal net.”

“It’s up to five mill and exclusion from the reform policies of any future children for the Mage that helps lead Donovan to her whereabouts,” Jinx pipes in from the computer monitor. “I’m thinking of turning her in myself. I always wanted to have rug rats running around someday.”

“Why don’t you just create one of those Sim babies,” Cass cuts in. “You won’t have to go through the trouble of finding someone who would actually be willing to have sex with you that way, Jinx.”

“Shut up,” Reece and Spencer say in unison. If I wasn’t still reeling from the enormous bounty on my head, I might have laughed at the perfect comedic timing.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper to myself.

“What?” Reece asks. I feel the apathy coming off of him in waves. He had firsthand observations of my life with Donovan Brand. He knows how hopeless the situation is.

“I said it doesn’t matter. He’s going to find me. I’ve been trying to tell you that this whole time. He always finds me, and he always makes me pay.”

“It’s because you have a trace,” Spencer says as if I should know what that means. I remember that he now knows about the abuse at Donovan’s hands. It’s not just my secret to deal with anymore. My shame is complete.

When I don’t immediately reply because I am still not speaking to or wanting to make eye contact with this man ever again, he starts circling me. I don’t like his eyes on me and he is looking me up and down, studying my body as if I am a puzzle that needs to be solved. He comes to my back, and I can feel his breath on my bare shoulders. I’m cursing Elise again for choosing this dress for me with the fully exposed back as I feel Spencer’s fingers trace my shoulder blade with the tenderness of a child.

“Aha,” he says in my ear, “found it.” That breath on my neck sends a chill down my spine, and I know that he can see the goose bumps that have formed all over my body. I should be embarrassed at the reaction, but this man has seen me in every way possible, why should I be ashamed further?