by I. T. Lucas
Since Peter didn’t want to attract any more attention, both of them had spent the morning in classes and workshops, getting their brains rotted. Apparently, the method was to repeat the same thing so many times that eventually even the skeptics became believers.
It was as effective as compulsion, the main difference being that it took longer to accomplish the same result–loyal followers who forgot how to think for themselves.
Was that the method the Chinese used in their re-education camps?
Before the retreat, Eleanor had assumed that they tortured the poor sods who ended up in there until they broke and accepted the party’s propaganda as the only truth there was. But apparently, no torture was required. At least not the physical kind.
Even Peter, who should have known better, seemed to be leaning toward accepting parts of Safe Haven’s warped philosophy. It took a stubborn and jaded person like her to withstand the unrelenting onslaught and stick to her guns.
Or maybe it was her immunity to compulsion that was shielding her from the brainwashing? It was an interesting hypothesis, but there was no way to test it.
When lunch break finally arrived, Eleanor bolted out of her chair only to be stopped by Peter’s heavy hand on her shoulder. “Slow down, girl. I’m sure the buffet is not going to empty out of food if we walk there instead of running.”
“I want to check the laundry before getting lunch. If I have any chance of saving my nightgown, I’d better get there before they boil it with the rest of the linens, and it shrinks to a baby-doll size.”
The hallway was teeming with people heading for the dining hall, and she’d said it loudly enough for several to look her way.
“That would be an improvement.” Peter let go of her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist. “That thing is granny-sized.”
One of the guys walking in front of them snorted.
Peter was taking the act too far. They weren’t supposed to be a couple because that wasn’t cool according to Safe Haven’s philosophy, and them spending nearly all of their time together was suspicious enough.
She flicked his arm off. “I’m sure my next invitee won’t give a flying hoot about the size of my nightgown.”
“Are we going to share again?”
She shrugged. “I want to try a new combination. Perhaps I’ll invite a couple of ladies this time.”
She was supposed to be bi-sexual, and she hadn’t made any moves in that direction yet.
“Ouch.” Peter pretended to be offended.
The kitchen was where Eleanor had expected it to be, right behind the dining hall, and as they continued down the corridor, the cooking smells were replaced with the pine-scented detergent they used in the place.
As Peter pushed the double doors open, the guy sitting in a tattered swivel chair lifted his hand. “This area is restricted to members only. Are you lost?”
“I lost my nightgown.” Eleanor affected what she hoped was a seductive smile. “It was tangled in the sheets, and whoever changed the bedding must have brought it here. Is there a chance it hasn’t been laundered yet?”
The guy shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s impossible to sift through all the dirty laundry. If we find your nightgown, we will return it to you.” He lifted a notepad and scribbled something. “Marisol, right?”
“That’s me.” She pointed to her name tag.
“What color is your nightgown?”
“It’s white, and it’s long.”
While she kept the guy busy with details about the imaginary garment, Peter scanned the place to make sure that Gustav was the only one there.
“All clear.” He walked over to the guy’s desk and leaned against it.
“All clear what?” Gustav asked.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Peter looked into the guy’s eyes. “What’s my friend’s name?”
He was checking whether Gustav was susceptible to thralling.
Eleanor turned so he couldn’t read her name tag.
Frowning, Gustav lifted the notepad. “Marisol. I just wrote it down, and I’ve already forgotten. I must be getting old.”
“Don’t be silly.” Eleanor leaned against the desk next to Peter. “You are in your prime, Gustav.” She slanted a look at her teammate with an amused smile.
He’d accused her of having the finesse of a bulldozer, and she was determined to prove him wrong. “How long have you been a member of the community?” She imbued her tone with just a smidgen of compulsion.
“Since its inception.” Gustav straightened in his chair. “I’m one of Emmett’s first followers.”
“How exciting. You must have been here when they were building the place.”
“I was.”
“Then you must know where all the secret chambers are.” She leaned toward him. “The place where the inner circle meets.”
He smiled but didn’t answer because she hadn’t phrased it as a question.
“I’ve heard that Emmett lives in a small cottage, but I find it hard to believe that a man who makes so much money lives so modestly. Where does he really live?” This time she pushed harder.
Gustav snorted. “Modest my ass. The little shack is just a prop. The cottage and the entire area around it sit on top of an underground structure, and there is nothing modest about the place. The Ritz has nothing on it.”
“That’s where Emmett lives?”
Gustav nodded. “The entry is through the cottage, and only his closest friends know about it.”
“What about the women he brings in there?”
The guy smirked. “He gets them so drugged that they don’t remember where he took them.”
For some reason, Gustav wasn’t even trying to fight her compulsion or to understand why he was compelled to answer her truthfully. Evidently, the guy was incredibly susceptible to compulsion, and she wondered whether susceptibility increased with constant use.
“Why does he drug them? Are they unwilling?” she asked.
He snorted again. “They are willing, alright. The women fight over whose turn it is in his bed. The drugs help them relax and be more open to experimentation. He also doesn’t want them talking about what happens in there, or the decadent luxury he enjoys while the rest of us live like paupers.”
Eleanor frowned. “What kind of experimenting are you referring to?”
“Sexual, of course. Threesomes, foursomes, orgies.”
“Does he hurt them?” Peter asked, breaking the spell of Eleanor’s compulsion.
Gustav’s expression turning panicked, he ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have told you any of this. Emmett will have my head if he finds out that I opened my big mouth.”
“You messed up,” Eleanor hissed at Peter.
“I’ll fix it.” He crouched in front of the guy. “You didn’t tell us anything. You were just thinking it.”
His eyes glazing over, Gustav nodded. “I was just thinking it.”
“Does he hurt the women?” Eleanor repeated Peter’s question.
“I don’t think so. He only exhausts them with multiple orgasms.” The guy lifted a pair of worshipful eyes to her. “Emmett is a god.”
Eleanor hoped it was just a figure of speech, but anything was possible. Some cults elevated their leaders to a status of holiness. “You mean that he’s a sex god, right? Not a real god.”
He chuckled. “I worship the guy, but I know that he’s flesh and blood like the rest of us. His mind and his stamina, though, that’s divine.”
That sounded a lot like an immortal, and the venom’s effect could be mistaken for drugs. The main difference was that after a few hours, the euphoric effect dissipated, and what was left over was an incredible sense of well-being. The following day the women should have felt on top of the world and looked like they had spent a week in a spa instead of needing a day off to rest in bed.
Emmett was probably just drugging them. It couldn’t be a date rape drug, though, because they would have been unrespon
sive and wouldn’t have remembered the sex.
It was time for Peter to do his thing and enter the guy’s head. But before she passed him the baton, Eleanor had one more question. “Is the door leading to the underground just hidden, or is it locked as well?”
“It has a keypad lock, and a code is needed to get in, but no one aside from Emmett has it. Even I can’t get down there unless he invites me.”
12
Peter
Peter spent long minutes sifting through Gustav’s memories. Unlike the nurse, the guy’s mind was pretty straightforward, but his memories were not all that helpful.
It was like watching a long, boring porn film.
Apparently, Anastasia had been right about him. Gustav’s main goal in life was to have as much sex as possible with as many women as he could coax into issuing him an invitation, and not much else.
Emmett hadn’t included Gustav in his so-called orgies, but he had been with women in the underground facility while Emmett was with others in his bedroom. It seemed like the leader enjoyed having more than one woman in bed, but he wasn’t into sharing with other men or even having them in the same room.
“Well?” Eleanor asked as they left the laundry and headed to the dining hall.
“Gustav likes sex. That’s about ninety-five percent of what’s in his head.”
“What about the orgies?”
“He exaggerated. The basement has several bedrooms, and sometimes all of them are being used at the same time, but it’s not like one room full of people having sex in front of everyone else.”
Eleanor slanted him a smile. “Are you disappointed?”
“A little. But we still don’t know what’s the deal with that guy and what he does to those women.”
“Do we even care?” Eleanor lifted a tray off the stack and went to stand in line for the buffet. “I mean beyond satisfying our own curiosity.”
That was a good question.
It was tempting to just ignore the seemingly insignificant clues and go home, but in Peter’s experience, small discrepancies were sometimes just the visible tip of a massive iceberg hiding under the water.
Picking up a tray, he joined her at the line. “If we don’t get to the bottom of this, it will keep bothering us.”
After loading up their plates, they found a vacant table at the end of the dining hall.
“So, what’s the plan?” Eleanor unfurled a napkin and draped it over her thighs.
“I can’t maintain a shroud for more than half an hour.” Peter lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper that only Eleanor could hear. “I need to scope his private yard and see if there are any good places for me to hide.”
“And do what?” Eleanor asked in the same barely audible whisper. “Are you going to wait until a woman is brought in and follow her into the underground?”
“You have a better plan?”
“Regrettably, I don’t. Assuming that your plan works and you manage to get in, how are you going to get out? I’m sure Emmett will keep her busy for much longer than half an hour. Besides, if he is a compeller like we suspect he is, he might be immune to your shrouding and see you.”
“True, I didn’t think of that. But I still think I should at least take a look around and check the security measures. And if I’m lucky, I might see one of his victims leaving and follow her. Perhaps if caught right after he’s done with her, her mind would retain more of what happened in his bedroom.”
Shaking her head, Eleanor lifted her fork and speared a potato. “It’s probably a waste of effort, but if you want to give it a try, I won’t try to talk you out of it.”
“What else can we do?”
She paused with the potato halfway to her mouth. “I still hope that he’s going to invite me. I’m not supermodel material, but compared to the rest of the selection, I’m a catch.” She took a large bite of the thing, not even trying to pretend to be dainty.
Peter stifled a chuckle. “Your looks are not the problem. I bet you can look like a supermodel if you put a little effort into it.”
That seemed to please her. “You should have seen me at Kalugal and Jacki’s wedding. Amanda gave me a gorgeous gown and shoes to match, and Vivian did my hair and makeup. Greggory’s jaw dropped down to his chest when he saw me.”
“There you go. But I can’t imagine you pretending to like Emmett and getting all friendly with him. You are more the punch first and talk later kind of girl."
Eleanor winced. “I know, and I hate the idea of letting him touch me. But if we want to find out what he does to these women, it’s the only way. I just hope he invites me, and that he doesn’t see through my act right away. I’m not good at those kinds of games.”
13
Anastasia
Ana stretched out her legs and curled her toes into the soft blanket Leon had draped over her.
He was spoiling her, fussing around her, and catering to her every whim, even those she hadn’t known she had. This morning, he’d served her breakfast in bed, feeding her one bite at a time. Then he’d taken her on a leisurely stroll through the woods surrounding the cabin, and when they’d gotten back, he’d served her lunch.
When she’d fallen asleep on the couch, he’d covered her with a blanket and added more logs into the fireplace.
She felt like a lazy kitten, well-fed and well-loved. Or was it the other way around?
How would she ever go back to being alone?
“Hello, beautiful.” Leon sat on the couch next to her. “Did you have a nice nap?”
“Glorious.” Smiling, she scooted sideways to make room for him. “Let’s cuddle.”
“I wish we could, but we are about to receive guests.”
Ana tensed. “Who’s coming? And why?”
“Remember the clothes you wanted? My cousin is bringing them, and Bowen is driving her.”
“Your former partner? I thought that the butler was going to deliver them.” Ana pushed up against the armrest. “When are they going to be here?”
“In a few minutes.”
“Oh, my God.” She swung her legs over the side of the couch. “I need to brush my teeth and comb my hair. Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”
“You looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Well, you should have.” She cast him a reproachful glare before padding to the bedroom.
After brushing her teeth, Ana cleaned the smudged eyeliner from under her eyes, pulled a comb through her hair, and pushed her feet into her pink Uggs.
Stepping out of the bedroom, she was just in time to see Leon open the door and the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen walk in with a teenage girl in tow.
“Anastasia.” A bright smile illuminating her gorgeous face, the woman sauntered toward Ana and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. “Welcome to the family.” She took a step back but kept her hands on Ana’s shoulders, looking down at her. “You are going to look absolutely fabulous in the outfits I brought for you.”
“Hi.” The girl peeked from behind the woman. “I’m Lisa.”
“Oh, how silly of me.” The woman let go of Ana. “I didn’t introduce myself.” She offered Ana her hand. “I’m Amanda.”
There was a slight rounding to her belly, and Ana suspected that the cause was pregnancy and not a large meal. The woman was too gorgeous and too impeccably put together to allow herself to indulge at the expense of her perfect figure. Just in case she was wrong, though, Ana wasn’t going to ask.
“Nice to meet you.” Ana smiled. “Are you working with Mey and Jin on their clothing line?”
“They wish.” Still holding on to her hand, Amanda pulled her to the couch. “I took it upon myself to provide you with a proper wardrobe.” She turned to the door. “Where is Bowen with the bags?”
“Coming.” The guy walked in, holding at least ten shopping bags in each hand. “Did you leave anything behind in that boutique?”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Ju
st put everything down on the coffee table.”
He arched a brow. “There isn’t enough space. I’ll put them in the bedroom.”
“Fine.” Amanda turned to Ana, who was still in a state of shock. “I want to see you try on the little black dress I picked out for you. You’re going to love it.”
Apparently, what was in the bags was not the free samples Leon had talked about. Amanda had gone on a shopping spree.
“Please, let me pay you back.” Ana found her voice.
“No need, darling. I hope you don’t mind, but those are all last year’s items. My friend who owns a high-end boutique got stuck with them, and she was overjoyed to let me have it all at a bargain price. Her clientele wouldn’t take it off her hands even for free.”
Ana sincerely doubted any of that was true. “I certainly don’t mind last year’s fashion, but you have to let me pay for it. I don’t lack means.” She tried to push to her feet.
“I know that you don’t.” Amanda pulled her back. “When you no longer need the outfits, you can donate them to charity, which was what my friend would have done if I hadn’t saved her the trouble.”
It seemed that it was pointless to argue with the woman, and Ana decided to change the subject. “What happened to the samples from Mey and Jin?”
“They couldn’t part with any. Stella, their designer, only made one of each.”
Ana cast a sidelong glance at Leon. “Did you know that?”
“I had no clue. I just assumed that they had spare samples.”
She turned back to Amanda. “I’m so sorry that you went to all this trouble. I would have never agreed if I’d known that you would need to buy everything.”
“Nonsense, darling. It was my pleasure. And if you really want to repay the favor, you are going to try at least some of the outfits on and let me do your hair and makeup. Making people look fabulous is my favorite pastime.”
“Does anyone want anything to drink?” Leon asked.
“I would like coffee,” Amanda said. “How about you, Lisa? Do you drink coffee?”
