by Sadie Jacks
With the pain radiating through my body, I shut myself away in my brain, travelling a familiar path to a place where the pain couldn’t reach. Retreating to the fortress in my mind, I tied the beautiful healer to my bed. In my mind’s eye I watched as she tugged against the restraints, her pale eyes lighting with heat. Her thighs quivered as she wet her lower lip with a slow slide of her tongue.
A sharp jab to my abdomen brought me from my mental feast with a silent snarl. I blinked, bringing the room back into focus.
A blush rose to Kiema’s cheeks, as if she’d been privy to my thoughts. Some place deep inside me stilled at the thought. She wasn’t telepathic, was she?
“Is that agreeable to you, Ransom?” my father asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yes,” I replied, not really caring what the question was. If it didn’t suit me later, I simply wouldn’t do it.
The older Feuer woman gave me a coy smile as she clapped her hands together once. I’d have to be an idiot to miss the sly glances she shot my way.
Not happening, you dirty old bird.
She spoke to her daughter without turning towards the younger woman. It reminded me more of how a member of the family addressed the help or staff. Dismissive. Entitled. “Excellent. Kiema, you’re dismissed. Be ready for cabin transport by eight o’clock morning after next.”
I thought I saw a flash of something in the younger woman’s eyes.
Defiance or sarcasm?
But before I could make up my mind, she dipped her chin and turned to leave the room. I turned my head to keep her in view. I watched the way her hips moved. The fabric of her skirt pulled and slid over a finely shaped ass.
She appeared regal, untouchable. She had no wasted movement. She was simply moving from point A to point B, but I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t get the idea of that ass up in the air for me out of my mind.
I could hate her for that, too.
Finally, the door swung shut behind her. Released from her spell, I turned as someone approached.
“Right this way, sir,” one of the maids said. She didn’t look up, so all I saw was bland brown hair tucked into a neat knot at the base of her neck.
I followed the maid through the massive foyer.
The Feuers’ home was much the same as my parents’ house: wealth screamed ‘look at me, look at me’ with priceless garbage in, and on, every available surface. Everything was meant to be remarked on, coveted, gushed over, and never used or touched.
Pretty and useless didn’t appeal to me in any way, shape, or form. I didn’t bother taking the time to peruse the home. I wanted to get this ridiculous meeting done so I could apprise the team of the new changes to the plan.
“Ransom, come sit here,” Ferria said, patting the seat cushion of the chair next to hers. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. Even sick and weak as I was, some women would always be attracted to my family, to the power and influence the Kolefni name held. Although I was the one that was typically ignored for my younger brothers and sisters.
Sorry, lady. I’m not next in line.
“Of course, Mrs. Feuer.” I took my seat and settled in for a long meal.
“Tell me, how was it growing up being the oldest of seven children?”
“Loud.”
She trilled a flirtatious laugh that grated like a steel file on my already exposed nerves.
“You scoundrel.” She batted my arm.
I bared my teeth in what could loosely be interpreted as a smile.
The old bat sounded like she was from some kind of Victorian novel. But her gaze was as direct as a whore, no matter the era.
“My siblings are all very accomplished. Benefits of good health,” I bit off after catching my mother’s glare.
Get it together, man. You can’t afford to screw this up before it’s even begun.
“And you? What are you accomplished at?” she asked, looking up at me through her lashes.
I leaned toward her, beckoning her with a lift of my chin. I waited until I could whisper in her ear. “Fucking.”
Sitting back, I watched as the old woman fanned her face, a bright streak of color riding her cheeks.
“That and business,” I added flatly after her husband looked over at me with a glare.
Believe me, fucker, she’s all yours.
“Oh,” she swallowed loudly, casting a nervous eye at her husband. “What kind of business are you in?” she asked a little louder.
“This and that.” I took a drink from my wine glass. “I’ve teamed up with a couple of my friends. Nothing to rival either my father’s or your husband’s empire, but we do well enough.”
And we’re about to do even better.
“Ransom will finally be able to hold a section of the company,” Claude said, pulling my attention.
My lips twisted in rage. “Yes, finally.” I raised my glass in salute. “To being able to do my family duty. It’s only taken, what?” I tipped my head to the side as if in thought. “Twenty-eight years, right, Father?”
Silence descended.
“Well, it would be unreasonable and shortsighted to give a company the size and scope of his to a son that has an unknown malady,” Juan said. The darker skinned man looked at my father. “The younger generation just expects to be handed the things we’ve worked so hard for. Through our own sweat and hard work.”
I bit back the laughter. Neither of these assholes knew what it was to work for something. They’d inherited their fathers’ companies. Their ancestors’ fortunes.
The women nodded at each other as well. Resolved and righteous in their attitudes and beliefs.
“I’m sure Pops would have a different viewpoint, Father. Don’t you?” I chuckled at the look that crossed my father’s face. “And to you, Mr. Feuer, could your Kiema say the same about your father?”
“Firstly, it’s pronounced Kie-eema, not Keema. And, secondly, my daughter has no thoughts I haven’t given her. She knows her place and is happy to inhabit it,” Juan said. His voice was cold enough to frost the glass in my hand.
This has got to be the stupidest man living if he believed that. His wife—I could believe that in a second. But his daughter? That was one woman who not only had her own thoughts, but her own agendas. My blood began to pound at the idea. I’d like to be on her agenda for more than just healing.
“Then it appears I’m mistaken,” I said. If the idiot wanted to live in denial, who am I to stop him?
“If you can’t add to the conversation, perhaps you should just leave. The deal has already been negotiated and agreed upon. You’re no longer necessary.” My father nodded towards the door, a habitual look of heated disappointment on his face.
You’re no longer necessary. The four words I’d heard all my life. This would be the last time I’d have to hear them.
“Damn right. I’ll be ready for cabin transport tomorrow.” I downed my wine and sketched a bow to my mother and Ferria. “Ladies.”
**
I strode through the doors of the renovated warehouse that stood as our current operating base. Our research and development labs were housed across the street.
“We’re up on Xander’s floor,” Saint called over the sound system.
I grabbed a bottle of water. “On my way.” I entered the elevator at the back of the building, hit the button for the third floor. Broke the seal on my bottle. Tipping my head back, I emptied it without coming up for air once. I finished as the doors opened.
“There’s our fearless leader. What are we up against?” Asher asked. He was playing with some kind of machine, like always. His fingernails browned from grease, with a matching smear down his cheek. His butterscotch eyes alight with a child’s joy and an adolescent’s irreverence.
Xander spun around in his office chair. “I’ve got most of the info on the Feuer’s ready to go. Just give me the name of the Healer, and I’ll get that information plugged in and data mined.” His eyes were so dark brown they seemed almost black. Tiny reflections of a
ll his gadgetry sparkled in his eyes.
Other than personalities and eye color, the twins, Asher and Xander, were mirror images of each other. Tall, fair skinned, with dark chocolate brown hair.
“Kiema,” I gave them the appropriate pronunciation, “Feuer. I’m guessing mid- to late twenties. About five-six, curvy, long wavy black hair, light gray eyes.” Her image was burned into my brain.
Xander twirled around again, his fingers flashing over the keys on one of the many keyboards on his console.
“Their healer isn’t even in her thirties?” Atlas asked. He was still wearing his stethoscope. He looked up from a file in his hands. His bright green eyes a startling contrast to his almost white blond hair. “Do you think I could speak to her? Get her to submit to an examination?”
I laughed. Dr. Atlas was with us today. Not to be confused with the less geeky regular Atlas, Dr. Atlas was only interested in facts, reports, and exams.
“Don’t know, Dr. Atlas. I’ll see what I can do.”
The other man nodded before directing his attention back to the file in his hands.
“Did they go for the full ten days?” Saint asked, his voice low and calm. I turned to my right-hand man. I might be the front man for this ragtag operation, but Saint was the brains and calculator behind making all of my ideas work. “Yeah, we’ve got the full ten days. Are we good to go on this end?”
“As soon as your father hands you those documents, I’ve got the others ready to send out to the rest of the Kolefni board.” Saint nodded his dark head, his dark brown eyes steady. The smallest of us, his ability to fade into the background was surpassed only by Taryk, our chief of security.
“Good,” I said. I opened my mouth, but closed it immediately as another tremor wracked my body. I clenched my teeth against the pain.
Five pairs of eyes watched me. Atlas was ready to jump into action, his defibrillator never too far from hand. Taryk would have a thumb on the alarm to alert our infirmary across the street to prepare for an incoming patient.
Saint and Asher rose from their chairs, ready to help get me to that infirmary.
Xander paused in his research, black eyes showing his terror, anger, and fear. All of us had some degree of the same illness. None of us had answers. Now with the healing ritual set up with the Feuer’s healer, there was a tiniest glimmer of hope.
Honestly, and only to myself, I didn’t hold out too much for it though. We’d been down this road before. All of us had. And we were still fucking stuck on it.
The pain slowly subsided. My body relaxed. I didn’t know if I could take much more of this. It felt like I was being torn in two. But at the last minute, some unknown god called a halt to the pain.
Everyone went back to what they were doing.
“This healer bitch better have the goods,” Asher said, his voice low and tight.
We all turned to look at him. He broke the rule: Never talk about it. We still weren’t quite sure what ‘it’ was, but we never spoke of it. Unless we were drunk or out of our minds with pain.
Slowly, every single one of us agreed.
She either healed us or we died.
“When do you go?” Taryk asked. He rubbed a hand over his bald head. His light brown skin gleaming under the lights in the room. He’d scouted the area when we’d been told my application made it through the final round of cuts.
“Day after tomorrow. I’ll take the tech with me. We can keep in touch both internally and externally.”
“I’ve got mobile setup ready to go,” Xander called over his shoulder. His face was scrunched in concentration at one of his screens.
“Good. Let’s wait on that until I get a feel for the healer.” I went to the other end of the giant open room and got another bottle of water from Xander’s fridge.
“I tested communications with Saint and Asher,” Taryk said. “We’ll still be able to communicate mentally, but tech has a hard time with the distance: trees, mountains, water, and natural mineral deposits make signal difficult.”
“What about booster stations like we’re making for Upari?” I asked.
“Saint thought of that. R and D has three units we can use for field testing. We don’t have the same minerals as in Upari, but that should be a calibration issue for the lab after testing.” Taryk crossed his arms. “I’ve already set up the stations.” He waved me over to his side, pulled out his phone.
A topographical map was pulled up. He pointed to three different areas. “We’ve also been able to appropriate one of your father’s satellites.” Taryk smiled, the edges of it a little sharp.
I chuckled. “Good. It’s the fucking least he can do to support my ‘ability to join the company.’”
Asher snorted from his spot sitting on the counter. His smile as bright and hard as the steel wrench in his hand. “He’s gonna be so fucking pissed when you take that company away from him.”
“He should have been a better father, a better CEO, and a better human,” I said.
Saint nodded.
“We’ve got a bit of a problem, Ransom,” Xander called.
The rest of us dropped what we were doing and moved to his expanse of computers. “What?” I asked.
“There’s no record of Kiema Feuer.”
“I met her in person. Her parents called her by name. She’s got to be there. Keep running it, see what you can find.” I lifted my hand to clap a hand to his shoulder. Pulled back at the last minute. “Thanks, Xan.”
“Mmhmm.” He was lost back in the web of the internet.
I yawned. “I’m done, guys. Night.”
A trail of farewells and goodnights followed me out to the hallway. I stabbed the elevator button with my finger. Waited.
Tipping my head back all the way, I rolled my head on my neck, back and forth. My episodes were occurring more frequently. That last one with the Feuers made three for today. I wasn’t sure my body could keep this up.
I sure as hell knew my mind couldn’t. I think the pain would eventually drive me crazy. Crazy enough to seek a final solution.
“Gaia, let this work,” I said as I stepped into the elevator, headed for the seventh floor. My home awaited me.
Chapter 3 – Kiema
“Five minutes,” the guard called through the apartment’s speaker system.
“Fuck you,” I breathed. I leaned over the vanity and finished putting on my mascara. Mouth hanging open, one eye overly wide, tongue off to one side.
“Shit, shit, shit.” My eye watered after I stabbed it with the mascara wand. Back to square freaking one. I wiped off the crescent moon of black from under my eye, reapplied my base makeup, and tried again.
The sound of the door opening brought my back up the way it had for years. An overly loud, begrudging sigh reached my ears.
“I have more important things to do than traipse you around the building. Hurry up, Keema.” In my reflection, my lip curled as she purposefully butchered my name.
Gritting my teeth, I smoothed down my dress. Stepped into my shoes.
“Coming.” I didn’t bother raising my voice. I knew she could hear me.
I walked out of the bathroom and turned left. There she stood. Ms. Evaline Cartwright. My father’s sycophantic PA for most of my life, one of my jailers, and an award-winning bitch. I swear. I even made her a badge when I was younger.
She tapped her foot against the hardwood floor, arms crossed over her chest, derision and superiority oozing from her pores.
I grabbed my cup of coffee from the kitchen and moved toward her. Acting as if I was fumbling with the coffee cup lid, I moved into her personal space.
She stumbled back, hands raised in defense. “Kiema!”
That’s how to pronounce my name, bitch. I looked up, gave her a bland smile. “Yes, Ms. Cartwright?”
She glowered at me, straightened her shirt, and lifted her wrist to the lock on my door. A low beep signaled my daily freedom from my jail cell.
I walked a couple steps behind Ms. Cartwright to
the private elevator at the end of the hall. She stabbed the button. We waited in the familiar tense silence.
“Finally,” she murmured as the doors slid open.
I rolled my eyes behind her back.
She entered the code to take us to the accounting floor. After years of begging to do more than the rituals, I’d been given permission to work in the accounting department. Playing with the numbers of other people’s money, I at least got to pretend I was part of the world. That I wasn’t a stranger watching a play.
The doors opened, ushering us to the busy hive of the accounting floor. Ms. Cartwright marched me down the aisles like a warden welcoming a new inmate. Her cold demeanor stopped any attempt at conversation before someone else could even take a breath to greet me. Couldn’t have a repeat of the performance of me almost making friends.
Too soon, I arrived at my second jail cell: my office. Enclosed in glass on three sides, it was almost torture. I got to see the world, but never was I allowed to be part of it.
Ms. Cartwright lifted her wrist to the lock. Waited for the sensor to read the chip embedded in her skin. The lock released with a beep. She pushed the door open, performed the customary scan of the space, and practically pushed me through the doorway. Pulling the door closed behind herself, she lifted her wrist once more.
I was locked in.
Again.
Just like every other day of my life.
**
The next day, I sighed into the phone at my ear as I glanced at the clock on the far wall. A few minutes until eight. A few minutes until my last ritual. A few minutes until I escaped from this hell.
“Yes, Mother. I understand.”
“Do not do anything to upset this ritual, Kiema. Your father and I would be very displeased if the Kolefnis were dissatisfied.” Her voice was colder than a winter’s night.
