The Swan and the Jackal (28 page)

“Cassia is harmless,” she says, crossing her arms covered by a knit blue sweater. “How can you say she’s dangerous after all this time? After what…,” she narrows her eyes, “…after what you’ve been through with her?” She’s referring somewhat to what she saw when she walked through the door tonight.

“Listen to me,” I say with authority. “I’ll tell you more when I find out tonight in my meeting with Izabel. Hopefully I’ll have a better understanding. But until then, I want you to be on your guard around Cassia at all times.”

“I will,” Greta says, dropping her hands to her sides and walking back around the counter. “But let me just say for the record—and you can kill me for saying it if you want—I trust her more than I trust you. Sir.” Her words were bitter, but heartfelt. She resents me for keeping Cassia a prisoner, for treating her like an animal—in her eyes—for even entertaining the thought that someone as sweet and caring as Cassia is, could be dangerous.

“Your opinion is noted,” I say and open the front door. “I’ll be watching the cameras, so don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t, sir.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fredrik

I pull into the parking lot of the coffee shop and find that Izabel is already here waiting for me fifteen minutes early. She’s not smiling when I approach her table in the far corner of the store. The only smile on her face is the lamentable kind when you’re about to give someone you love some devastating news.

I want to turn on my heels and walk right back out the door. Maybe if I don’t listen to what she has to say none of it will be true.

I sit down on the empty chair across from Izabel.

I say nothing.

Izabel takes a thick white envelope from her purse on the table and sets it in front of her covering it with her manicured fingers.

I despise that envelope. It’s about to ruin my life and I want to set it on fire.

Tearing my eyes away from it, I look only at Izabel.

“How has she been?” she asks.

“Actually, Cassia has been perfect,” I answer, as if that fact is going to negate everything she’s going to tell me. “No signs of her remembering that she’s Seraphina. I even let her out of the basement for the first time in a year. Took her out to eat and to the movies, you can believe that—Me. At the movies.” I didn’t realize how big my smile had gotten over the short time, but I couldn’t help myself as I recalled the past few days alone with Cassia.

Izabel looks sympathetic and the smile dissolves from my face.

“Fredrik, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

I lean back against my chair and interlock my fingers across my stomach.

Izabel keeps her hands on top of the envelope and I get the feeling she doesn’t want me to see what’s inside as much as I don’t.

“Was your childhood anything like mine?”

That takes me by surprise.

I’ve never told Izabel about my past. The only two people—that I know of—other than Seraphina who know anything about it at all are Victor Faust and our ex-employer, Vonnegut. They knew because it was their business to know before I was recruited by The Order. But even still they don’t know everything.

No one knew everything but Seraphina.

“Somewhat like yours, yes.” I look at the wall behind her head.

“Victor won’t tell me much about you,” she says gently, “because it isn’t my business unless you tell me yourself. I know this and I accept it. But I wanted to ask in case you felt close enough to me to tell me.”

“What does my past have to do with what’s in that envelope, Izabel?” I still won’t look at the envelope. I see it in my peripheral vision, but I can’t force myself to look at it directly.

“It’s just a question, Fredrik.”

“No, it’s more than that,” I say and then lower my voice so the barista behind the counter won’t hear. “But yes, I was a sex slave, just like you were. Only I was one for a much longer time. And I wasn’t anyone’s favorite.”

I didn’t mean for that last part to sound resentful or harsh, but by the offended look in Izabel’s eyes, I’m assuming it came out that way.

Sighing with regret, I shut my eyes briefly and place my folded hands on the table. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”

Izabel softens her expression and nods gently. “I know.”

“But I don’t know why any of this matters,” I cut in. “What does my past have to do with Seraphina?”

“It has nothing to do with Seraphina,” she says. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you no matter what. You and me, we’re alike in many ways and I know that I was alone for a very long time because of the life I was forced to live. I had no one. Except for the girls who lived in the compound with me, but my relationships with them were always short-lived. They were either sold, committed suicide, or were murdered. I had no one, Fredrik. And I know how it feels to be alone and in a horrific life not of my choosing.”

She leans forward, sliding the envelope to the center of the small table, but not yet ready to give it to me. Her eyes are sad and filled with understanding.

“Not just recently,” she goes on, “but since the night I met you in Los Angeles, I saw in you the same loneliness and torment that was in me before I found Victor. People like you and me, we think we’re hiding our pain and darkness from the rest of the world, but we forget that we can see it plainly in
each other
.”

I reach for the envelope, but she’s reluctant to move her hand away. Finally, she relents. I slide it over to me and keep my hand on top of it. But I’m not ready to read the contents.

“I appreciate the heart-to-heart, Izabel, but—”

“Fredrik, I’m afraid for you.”

“Why? Because of this?” I tap the envelope with the tip of my finger without looking down at it. “I can handle it. Whatever it is I’m about to find out, I can deal with it.”

“But I just want to say that Seraphina is
not
the only person in this world who has ever cared about you.”

My fingers crush around the edges of the envelope.

“Maybe not,” I say, “but she’s the only person who truly understood me.”

Izabel nods pensively. “Yeah, but she doesn’t have to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I laugh suddenly. “Are we going to have a love affair?” I joke, grinning at her.

Izabel smiles and rolls her eyes a little, but trades humor for determination quickly.

“I’m just saying that I’m here for you. I would do just about anything for you. I hope you believe that.”

Finally, I look down at the envelope, then carefully pull the flap out of the inside, opening it.

“James Woodard tracked the information down on Cassia Carrington,” Izabel says as I’m unfolding the thick sheets of paper and my heart is pounding violently inside my chest. “It wasn’t hard to find.”

Looking down into the text printed on the paper, I read with an open mind and a crushing heart:

June 25
^th

Patient: Cassia Ana Carrington

Age: 13

Primary Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder

--

The patient shows no signs of conscious deception. It is my professional opinion that Carrington genuinely believes that a young girl her age named Seraphina Bragado, is who murdered her parents and set their house on fire. Carrington has told me in great length and with complex detail the story of how she ‘met’ her second personality, Seraphina Bragado, and each time she tells the story, it is exactly the same as before. I’ve tried to confuse her with details, but she always corrects me. She believes one hundred percent that everything she is telling me is real.

Carrington as ‘Seraphina’ confessed to me that she killed Carrington’s parents because she was trying to save Carrington, to spare her from going through with her father the same that Seraphina went through with hers: brutal physical abuse, sexual molestation and rape. This is not uncommon for patients with DID, to create a personality that is emotionally and mentally stronger than themselves, who can do the things that the primary personality is too afraid or weak to do on their own. In Carrington’s case, Seraphina became the part of her who was brave enough to face the abuse of her father and deal with her mother looking the other way and not stepping in to help her.

August 1
^st

Patient: Cassia Ana Carrington

Age: 13

Primary Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder

--

Evidence has concluded that the fourteen-year-old boy, Phillip Johnson, who went missing from Carrington’s neighborhood six months before Carrington murdered her parents, that Carrington was responsible for his murder as well. Johnson’s body was found in the woods behind Carrington’s house, covered by tree branches and brush. ‘Seraphina’ is who told us where to find the boy. ‘Seraphina’ claimed that Johnson tried to kiss Carrington, and so to protect Carrington, Seraphina led him into the woods and stabbed him to death.

September 21
^st

Patient: Cassia Ana Carrington

Age: 14

Primary Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder

--

The patient has not reverted back to her true self for quite some time. She insists that she is Seraphina Bragado and I’m beginning to feel that this alter personality is slowly taking over. It concerns me how long this might last. The treatment to help Carrington cannot be successful if Carrington is not the personality that I’m treating.

October 29
^th

Patient: Cassia Ana Carrington

Age: 15

Primary Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder

--

Carrington came back this week, but it was a very brief encounter before ‘Seraphina’ took over again. But in that brief moment, I’ve finally found the patient’s trigger, or one of them, at least. Carrington does not like mirrors. Seraphina has no issue with looking into a mirror, but Carrington will go out of her way to avoid them. I believe that when Carrington looks into a mirror it isn’t her own reflection she sees staring back at her, but rather that of Seraphina’s. But I do not believe that looking into a mirror every time will change her personality and she will become Seraphina. After further testing, it is apparent that there is no real pattern to when Carrington becomes Seraphina, but only that sometimes seeing her reflection in a mirror can trigger the change.

April 20
^th

Patient: Cassia Ana Carrington

Age: 17

Primary Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder

--

Cassia Carrington hasn’t been herself in over a year. I’ve come to the conclusion that Carrington’s case is one of the worst I’ve ever seen when it comes to how long an alter personality remains the dominant. It’s as if Cassia no longer exists and Seraphina has taken over fully.

A side note: A small group of people—two men and one woman—came to the institution today to see Carrington. They claimed they were from a government organization, provided the proper identification—their names were even in the system listed as permitted visitors—and they spent three hours alone with her in an unobserved room. Cameras and voice recorders were prohibited. I asked ‘Seraphina’ after they had left what they discussed with her. She would not answer.

May 1
^st

Patient: Cassia Ana Carrington

Age: 17

Primary Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder

--

Carrington is no longer at the institution. She was transferred—under mysterious circumstances, in my opinion—to another institution in New York, but I was not given any more information on the transfer other than that. I have been ordered by my superior to drop Carrington’s case and remove her files from my possession.

I stare at the paper in my hand, letting the text blur out of focus. Then I let it drop from my fingers onto the table. I have no interest in reading the other ten or so pages.

“I’m sorry, Fredrik.”

“Don’t be sorry. I told you I can deal with this.”