Twisted (49 page)

Sloane heard his words, felt their fervor, and she knew her opportunity had arrived.

“May I share a secret with you in return?” she asked.

“Please do.”

“Ever since what happened to my hand, I’m terrified of knives. I can barely slice a tomato without starting to tremble. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t help it.” She leaned forward, as if sealing the bond between them. “When we get to Mount Olympus, I’m hoping that phobia will be gone.”

“It will,” Luke assured her. “There is no fear there.”

Sloane hesitated, then rushed on, as if what she was asking was a very difficult thing for her to do. “I have a request. If you could grant it, I’d be grateful beyond words.”

Only a flicker of wariness this time. “Go ahead.”

“The ceremonial ascension you described is beautiful. I wouldn’t change a single aspect of it. Unfortunately, it also means I have to face my greatest phobia. Would it be possible for you to sedate me enough so I don’t feel the pain of the blade? That would go a long way toward easing my fear.”

The wariness vanished. “Of course. Anything I can do to ease your way. Just ask, and it’s yours.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Sloane gave him a radiant smile. Then a thoughtful look came into her eyes. “It occurs to me that a tortured soul would not be worthy of Olympus. Also, Gaia deserves the most peaceful of transitions, something she won’t have with a group of terrified women gathered around her. Perhaps you should sedate all the lesser goddesses as well. It will ensure their cooperation, enhance Gaia’s ascension, and relieve the need for you to restrain them. The entire experience will be much smoother and more tranquil.”

Luke pursed his lips, thinking. “What you say makes sense. And it does nothing to violate the rites of passage. It’s a good idea. I’ll get the necessary medications ready tonight.”

“That’s wonderful. It’s a kindness I know all the goddesses will appreciate.” Sloane’s first victory was a hollow one. She’d ensured minimal pain for all the kidnapped women during this supposed ascension to eternity. But that ease of suffering would need to be implemented only if she failed in her efforts to save them, meaning they were all doomed to die.

It wasn’t victory enough.

“Delphi, your morality and decency are rare,” she said, moving toward her ultimate goal. “Not just toward us, but, most importantly, toward Gaia. I’m sure the idea of a son bathing his mother seems indecent to you. I fully understand that—and I agree. But I also understand that a woman’s spirits are greatly lifted when she’s clean and well groomed. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to give Gaia the bath you said she was begging for. Not only am I female, but I’m not a stranger. Gaia already knows me. She should get to know me even better if I’m to sit beside you at her feet when we reach Olympus. I’ll follow whatever instructions you give me.” Sloane went for the clincher, gesturing at the pistol tucked in Luke’s belt. “And if you want to aim that at me through the entire bathing ritual, I’ll understand. My only goal is to make Gaia comfortable.”

There was an expression of almost childlike bliss in Luke’s eyes. “What a loving, gracious offer. I’m sure Gaia will be delighted. What’s more, you and I can take a short detour once we’re upstairs so I can show you your room. I constructed it specifically for you. You’ll stay there from now until the ascension. It’s just down the hall from Gaia’s room, and it will be far more comfortable for you than this jail cell. You’ve more than proven your trustworthiness.” He extended his hand, helped Sloane climb off the mattress and onto her feet—then quickly broke off all physical contact. “Come. Let’s leave this place.”

Sloane accepted his assistance, at the same time making note of his reluctance to touch her. Her legs were wobbly, but her adrenaline was running high. She’d earned Luke’s trust. She was gaining admittance to Lillian’s room.

Now she had to get her hands on that cell phone.

I’m so very proud of Artemis.

I know what it cost her to relinquish her freedom and commit herself to paradise. She has no reason to believe in its existence, other than her faith in me.

I’m honored.

And I won’t disappoint her.

If I’d thought she’d even consider bathing Gaia, I would have returned to her that much sooner. Gaia’s pleas to be bathed had broken my heart. But I could no sooner remove my mother’s clothing and touch her body than I could turn my back on her request. So I was stuck in an untenable position.

Artemis had rescued me.

She was as superb as I’d surmised. The perfect Artemis. I’d chosen brilliantly.

Before we went to Gaia, I’d show her the palace I’d built for her.

I could think of no better way to show her how I feel.

Luke was right behind her. Sloane could feel his presence as they climbed the stairs. So she kept her demeanor upbeat, and her step as steady as she could. Her body still hadn’t shaken off all the drugs. But, on the whole, she was in pretty good shape.

The house—at least as much as she could glimpse of it—looked like an old stone mansion that had been unoccupied for God knew how long. It had that musty smell that accompanied a place that had been vacant for ages, and an eerie silence that accentuated the fact that most of the expansive space was unused. The basement, which was where Sloane had been and where the other woman presumably still were, was below ground level, which was why it felt like a tomb. The main floor was clean but sparsely furnished, and as Luke guided her toward the second flight of stairs, Sloane got a glimpse of the practically bare living and dining rooms. She also noticed that there were several other rooms located behind them. She wondered what was in those rooms, and then abruptly decided she didn’t want to know. Not unless they contained the incendiary device he’d assembled to burn this place to the ground.

When they reached the top of the second-floor landing, Luke stopped her.

“Gaia’s room is that way.” He pointed to the left, a short corridor that appeared to contain two bedrooms. Sloane’s best guess was that one of them was Lillian’s and the other was Luke’s. “Yours is directly across to the right.”

Of course it was. Luke would never allow those in his charge—be it loved one or prisoner—to be too far from his watchful eye.

He led her over there, halting in front of the room’s polished mahogany door.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this day,” he confessed as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Go in. See the opulent quarters I built for you.”

Sloane’s jaw dropped as she walked across the threshold. White marble floors. Lavish walls—decorated with murals of Artemis, her hounds, and her bow and quiver of arrows. Polished, ornate pieces of mahogany furniture that Sloane suspected were all antiques, probably worth a large sum. A four-poster bed, with a bedspread and canopy of lime-green silk, with matching pillow shams. And tall, hand-painted urns on either side of the bed.

“I don’t believe this,” she managed.

Taking her reaction to be one of stunned pleasure, Luke urged her to check out the bathroom. She indulged him, walking through the adjoining door, her jaw dropping even farther. Pale pink marble everywhere—floor to ceiling. In the center of the room, an antique alabaster tub. In a smaller inner room, a pale pink marble sink and commode, all with gold faucets. Two Ancient Greek sculptures graced either side of the tub.

Sloane was speechless. Luke had spent an astronomical amount of money, time, and effort on a room that was never going to be used. At best, Sloane would spend one, maybe two, nights here. Then, if Luke had his way, she’d be dead and living in the eternal splendor of Mount Olympus. While this earthly grandeur would be reduced to ashes.

Luke considered her chambers a masterpiece.

Sloane considered them an atrocity.

“You’re astounded,” he deduced with a broad grin.

“I’m speechless.” She reverted back to her masquerade. “You built all this for me?”

“Every bit of it.” Luke walked around, reverently touching each piece of furniture, each pottery accessory as if it were a priceless treasure. “I’ve spent days and days in here, not only building it, but imagining your reaction when you saw it. It became my retreat, the place I went to for solace. Even when the demons threatened to swallow me whole, I found some semblance of peace being here, being in your spiritual presence. Can you understand that?”

“Of course.” Sloane was on the verge of throwing up. Instead, she faced him, pasted an expression of utter awe on her face. “Thank you. I can’t begin to express my gratitude. I truly don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing. Just seeing you in here, watching your elation, is more than enough. Tonight, you’ll sleep between silk sheets. Knowing you’re lying in the luxury befitting you will make me rest easy.” He waved his arm toward the door. “Shall we go to Gaia?”

“Yes. Let’s.”

Lillian didn’t look quite as bad as Sloane had expected—although she had to agree with Luke’s assessment that his mother’s time on earth was nearly at an end.

Propped up in a large bed on a pile of feather pillows, Lillian seemed small and frail, but awake and coherent. Her coloring was sallow, and her breathing uneven. But at least she was breathing on her own, without the help of oxygen. The only apparatus at her bedside was an IV drip, presumably containing morphine, and a commode.

And one more essential item that nearly made Sloane weep with relief—her wheelchair. Assembled and ready for use, it was on the far side of the bed, away from the IV drip—
and
the view from the doorway.

This was Sloane’s luckiest break so far.

“Mother, we have a guest,” Luke announced.

Sloane noticed he didn’t call her Gaia. He obviously knew she’d be totally confused by that.

“A guest?” Lillian turned her head toward the door, and her pained expression brightened when she saw Sloane—although she did look somewhat baffled. “Sloane. What a lovely surprise. I had no idea you were coming. Did you drive all this way?”

Choosing her words with great care, Sloane replied, “Actually, Luke picked me up. He knew how much I wanted to visit with you, so he made the trip.”

Lillian beamed. “That’s my wonderful son.” Weakly, she raised one arm to gesture at a velvet-cushioned chair. “Luke, would you bring that over so Sloane can sit down and chat?”

Luke shot Sloane a helpless look.

“Actually, before we have our visit, I had another suggestion,” Sloane interceded quickly. “Luke mentioned to me that you’d like a bath. I’d be delighted to do the honors.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know how bad men are at figuring out which product is which. Half the time, they confuse hair and bath gel, or body wash and lotion. You end up with a creamed but unbathed body, or hair that’s conditioned but unwashed.”

Soft laughter eased the lines of pain around Lillian’s mouth. “You’re right. And Luke is overly respectful, on top of that. He deals with patients every day, but he can’t bathe his own mother. I guess I raised him with an over-abundance of good manners.”

“You can never have too many good manners. You’ve done an amazing job with Luke. He’s a truly fine man.”

“Thank you, my dear, for the compliment and the offer.” Lillian was eager to accept. It was written all over her face. “You’re very kind. And I’d so like to feel refreshed. Are you sure you don’t mind helping me with my bath?”

“Not a bit. It would make me feel useful. And we could chat at the same time.”

That did the trick. Lillian raised her head from the pillow, and gazed over at her son. “Some female companionship and a bath would be a double blessing.”

“Of course.” Luke looked so relieved, it was almost pitiful. “I’ll fill the tub with warm water, and bring it over with the soap, bath sponge, and towels.” He paused, smiling faintly. “And I’ll bring out all the bath and hair-care products so Sloane can choose the right ones.”

Once again, Sloane noted he used her real name, not Artemis’s. As over the edge as he was, he was still moving in and out of lucidity.

A few minutes later, the bath was set up and ready, and Luke was practically running out of the room.

“I’ll be just on the other side of the door.” He spoke to both of them, but his stare was fixed on Sloane.

She got the message. He trusted her, but he wasn’t taking any chances—not with Gaia.

“That’s fine,” she replied calmly. “We’ll let you know when we’re finished.”

Finally, finally, he was gone. The door was shut, but not completely. It was slightly ajar, presumably so “Delphi” could listen to every word that was said.

Sloane had anticipated that. She didn’t care what he heard, only what he saw.

She started the bath on the far side of the bed, where the wheelchair sat to Lillian’s right, knowing that the sooner she got to that cell phone, the better. She’d had Luke set up the tub in that very spot, and she now stooped over to dip in the sponge, soak it with water.

“Let’s see which soap you’d prefer,” she said aloud, sorting through the products with one hand, groping in the wheelchair’s seatback bag with the other. “We have lavender or vanilla. We also have a coconut-scented body wash.”

Bingo. Her fingers closed around her cell phone.

In one swift motion, she pulled it out, palming it until she brought it down to the floor, where the bed hid her and what she was doing. She flipped open the phone and slid it down the front of her chiton, hooking it over the front clasp of her bra, then snapping it shut like a clamshell.

Her phone was thin and small. The billowy chiton would keep it well hidden.

The next part of her mission was accomplished.

“Lavender is so relaxing,” Lillian was saying. “I think I’d like to use that.”

“I agree.” Sloane rose, the wet sponge and bar of lavender soap in her hands. “Lavender is known to soothe the senses and relax away stress.”

She undressed and bathed Lillian with the dignity and gentleness due the poor, dying woman. All the while, she chatted with her, filling Lillian in on current events, and updates on her favorite soap opera. Anything she could do to help Lillian die in peace made Sloane’s heart feel good. She’d lived a hard personal life, and Sloane was almost relieved that she would die without ever knowing how unbalanced her wonderful son really was.