Poison Orchids: A darkly compelling psychological thriller

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Milk, no sugar,” I replied.

  Chi got to work with the kettle, all the time smiling, slowly putting me at ease despite my initial shakiness. After the first mouthful of soothing tea, and the first ten minutes where Chi told me more about the hospital and the ward I’d be working on, I began to relax, and the sweaty-palms sensation dissipated.

  “The main thing you need to know is that you’re the primary nurse for three patients,” he said, with a hint of an African accent in his voice. “Tracy, Emily, and Isabel.”

  Continue reading ‘ONE FOR SORROW’…

  ‘THE SIX’ excerpt

  By Anni Taylor

  A young mother unwittingly walks into bone-chilling danger.

  Desperate to rid herself of a crippling gambling addiction, she clings onto an offer of a secret program that promises not only to heal her but pay off all her gambling debts and more.

  EVIE

  The air smelled all wrong.

  I tried to drag myself from sleep but my eyes refused to open. My head felt leaden and my limbs were strangely restricted.

  Dank, coppery odours surrounded me. And the faint scents of seawater and cold sweat.

  I wasn’t at home. Because at home, the rooms reeked of cooking and crayons. The old rental house that I shared with Gray and our two small daughters always smelled of those things.

  This place was nothing like that.

  Where am I? What is—?

  Strong lights began flashing in front of my face.

  I jolted fully awake, my gaze darting downwards. Something was keeping me from stretching out fully.

  Chains. I’m chained to the floor.

  I’m sitting on cold stonework, my head against a hard wall.

  There are others—either side of me—sitting in chains, like me. One of them starts singing in a strained, haunted voice, her words shattering into a series of unintelligible whispers and stutters.

  The memory of the last few days crashed into my mind.

  Black terror ran in pinpricking waves along my back and arms. No. God. No . . . this was no dream or nightmare. This was real.

  I remembered why I’d been asleep. A few minutes ago—maybe more—I’d sworn out loud at one of my captors. He’d smacked me hard across the head. I must have passed out.

  I wish I’d stayed unconscious. And never woken.

  I’d travelled to this place voluntarily. Six days ago, I’d joined a program that was meant to heal me, make me better—along with twenty-seven others. It had taken two days, two flights and a boat trip to get to this monastery on a tiny Greek island.

  I’d thought I was safe here. I thought I could trust everyone.

  But I couldn’t trust everyone. A trap had been set. People had been waiting behind the walls of the monastery, watching our every move.

  A sudden round of choking gasps and cries echoed through the cavernous room.

  I jerked my head up to see what was making my fellow captives cry out.

  The lights were all on now—illuminating what had been kept in darkness before.

  Horror spiked ice-cold down my spine at the sight in front of me. A scream tore from my throat, raw and sharp and broken.

  Never in my darkest nightmares could I have imagined . . . this. A scene so terrifying I could barely comprehend it.

  I need escape, escape, escape . . .

  My thoughts sped backwards. All the way back to when I was a child. A desperate, flashing show reel of images, sounds, memories playing in my mind.

  I heard the words my father used to sing to me—when I’d had a bad dream and couldn’t sleep. Bob Marley’s Redemption Song. Dad would grab his guitar and sing that.

  I concentrated hard on Dad’s familiar, gravelly voice.

  But I couldn’t keep hold of it.

  The memories were already fading to black.

  ONE WEEK AGO

  “Mrs Evie Harlow? You made contact with the casino yesterday in terms of a gambling problem?” came the voice on the phone.

  Panic-stricken, I glanced across at Gray and our daughters, Willow and Lilly. They were laughing, rolling around on the floor of our living room and pretending to be sea lions. Two-year-old Lilly had invented that game.

  Normally, I’d join the game. There was nothing better than being with Gray and the girls like this. Just being together and having goofy fun would make my heart swell to bursting.

  Looking up, Gray grinned widely at me, making my heart glitch, his hair falling across his striking face. The next instant, my love for him dissolved into terror. I couldn’t let him know what I’d done. Gray had no idea that I’d become hooked on gambling. Let alone did he know that I’d fallen so deeply into debt that I’d made a desperate plea to the casino for help.

  I returned a quick smile and then rushed away to the sunroom. “Yes. Yes, I’m Evie,” I said into the phone.

  “My name is Brother Vito.” His accent sounded Mediterranean. “I run a program that is quite unique. For people suffering from addiction.”

  “I’m not”—I hushed my voice—“an addict.”

  There was no hesitation before he responded. “The first step towards healing is accepting that you have an illness, an addiction. From that point you can begin to move ahead.”

  I exhaled slowly. “I can’t join a program. I have children to look after.”

  “The treatment runs for just one week. Six days, actually. It consists of a set of challenges. One challenge each day. As an incentive towards your path of healing, we offer ten thousand dollars per completed challenge. In addition, we pay off all your debt.”

  Suddenly, I stopped being able to hear Gray and the girls in the next room. Everything was silent, in a vacuum. Brother Vito’s words replayed in my mind as I mentally added those figures up.

  All my debts paid off? A challenge each day over six days and ten thousand dollars each challenge? That was sixty thousand.

  My throat felt like cotton wool were stuffed inside it and my tongue felt swollen and useless. I forced myself to speak. “That’s incredibly generous. I can’t have heard that right.”

  “It is a very generous program. We’re a group of benevolent business people who help a select group of addiction sufferers each year.”

  Just one week? Could I do it? Yes, of course I could do it. I couldn’t turn this down.

  “Tell me, Evie,” he said, “what are you thinking?”

  Scarcely breathing, I started planning how I could manage it without letting Gray know. Maybe Marla could take the girls. My friend Marla used to be a nurse who worked in a children’s ward. She’d take excellent care of my girls. And she didn’t get along with Gray, which was a bonus because it meant she’d try hard to keep him from knowing anything.

  “I’m thinking ten different things at once,” I answered breathily. “Is it local? In Sydney?”

  Brother Vito gave a low chuckle. “I’m afraid it’s a long way from Australia. The program is being run at a monastery in Greece, on a small island.”

  “Greece? That’s out of the question for me. I can’t—”

  “Everything can be arranged.”

  “But I don’t even understand how the casino would have a program like this, all the way across the world.”

  “We’re not connected with the casino. This is a very select program.”

  “Are you a priest, Brother Vito?”

  “No. Not a priest. You can think of me as a mentor. There are four mentors. We mentors refer to ourselves as brothers and sisters, but we’re not religious. There are real monks at the monastery, naturally. They are the ones who designed the program. The mentors merely fund the program and oversee it.”

  “I—”

  “Evie, I understand your reluctance. I’ll leave you my number and let you think on it. The unfortunate thing is that you don’t have long to decide. There is just one place left on the program. Only twenty-eight people can join it at any one time. They come to us from all differ
ent countries—America, England, China . . . I’m afraid you have just a day to decide.”

  “One day?”

  “Yes. And one last but very important thing—t—he program must be kept in strict confidence. That means only you can know about it. There are many, many people out there who are desperate, but we cannot help them all. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Of course.” I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

  As I stood in the doorway watching Gray and the girls playing, a feeling of shame and dread washed through me. The debt that I was in was going to sink us.

  I had to fix this.

  A faint rain touched my bare shoulders. I stared through the night at the outline of a sprawling monastery. Far below, the ocean was an orchestra of giant drums and cymbals.

  I’m actually here. In Greece. On the island.

  I need to pinch myself.

  Who are you to get a chance like this, Evie? Make sure you don’t blow it. Grab it with both hands and get yourself better.

  Say it. You’re an addict.

  I’m an addict.

  Brother Vito smiled at me like an indulgent parent as he showed me up the worn stone steps to the entry. “What are you whispering about?”

  “Nothing. Just . . . this is all so hard to process.”

  “The monastery tends to have that effect on people. Try to see it as home for the next week, Evie. This will be your time to change everything you need to change.” Brother Vito was far more handsome than I’d imagined him to be, his blonde hair silvering around his olive-skinned, angular face.

  I nodded, swallowing. The last few days had been a whirlwind—trying to organise for Willow and Lilly to stay at Marla’s, and trying to make sure Gray didn’t suspect what was happening. I felt terrible not telling him. But I didn’t have time to think. I just had to act.

  I lugged my suitcase inside, lifting my face to the soaring ceiling. An enormous metal bird hung from a chain in the foyer, wings outstretched.

  Brother Vito followed my gaze. “The bird was made in the forge.”

  I blinked, too exhausted to check my reactions. “There’s a forge here?”

  “Oh, yes, the monastery was built in the twelfth century. All of the original features are very much in use. It’s very late—let’s continue.”

  I followed him through dark halls that whistled around corners, coppery scents lifting from the stonework like ghosts.

  “Let me take your luggage. You won’t be needing it,” he told me. “For the next week, you are to leave your former self completely behind. Everything will be provided.”

  “But I’ll need my—”

  “I assure you that you won’t.” His voice, with its thick Greek accent, was soothing but firm.

  A moment of panic bubbled to the surface. This monastery was strange enough without my personal things being taken from me. I calmed myself, reluctantly handing over my suitcase, reminding myself that whatever they asked us to do must form part of the treatment. It was true that I needed to tear away all my denials and pretence about myself.

  He stowed the bag away in a small room. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

  I stepped beside him into the pulsing darkness—the flicker of the wall lamps making shadows jump—avoiding the scolding eyes of the holy, centuries-old statues that lined the corridor.

  A robed, hooded figure passed in the gloom far in front of us—the odd way that he looked back over his shoulder at me sending a nauseating ripple down my spine.

  “The monks here are a silent order,” advised Brother Vito. “They designed the program, but they take no part in it. You’ll barely see them, apart from when they’re preparing the meals.”

  Good, it’s strange enough here without having to deal with shadowy monks as well.

  I followed him to an enormous hexagonal room, in which the scene before me seemed otherworldly. Fourteen women slept in the beds, their hair fanned out on the pillows. Metronomes ticked and echoed on wooden shelves high above each bed. An arched window framed the indigo darkness.

  “The men are in the room next door,” he said in hushed tones, handing me two items of folded clothing. “The rooms will be locked. You’ll be quite safe. Oh, and Evie”—he pulled out a small bottle from his pocket—“here’s a couple of sleeping pills to help you through your first night.”

  He waited while I changed my clothes in the ancient bathroom and returned to settle into bed. With a nod, he clicked the door shut.

  Darkness swept the room.

  Jetlag moved through me in heavy, syrupy waves. Curling up, I tried to make myself sleep, but I couldn’t seem to find the right spot in the bed. The ticking of the damned metronomes began to sound like a ceaseless march.

  I ran my fingertips over the charms of the bracelet my husband had given me just days ago. I was supposed to have handed over everything to Brother Vito, but I’d hidden this. It was just a cheap novelty bracelet, but it was a gift only Gray and I would understand—the charms were tiny replicas of items within an online game that we played together.

  I missed Gray already.

  It was winter in Australia, and he and I went to sleep wrapped up together every night. He’d always fall asleep before I did, snoring gently into my temple. Or sometimes, we’d try to sneak in quick sex. On cue, our youngest daughter—two-year-old Lilly—would wake. She’d head into her big sister’s room to cause a toddler brand of havoc. Willow would either protest loudly or giggle. The girls would end up in our bed, and we’d all eventually succumb to exhausted sleep like battle-weary soldiers.

  I was so far away from Gray and the girls now. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to make everything that was bad good again, and I couldn’t throw this away.

  A condition of the contract of this program was that I keep it confidential. There was no one I wanted to tell anyway. Because if I did, I’d also have to reveal secrets about myself: I’d have to admit that I’m a gambling addict and that I’ve racked up a debt so huge, I’ll never be able to repay it.

  There’s yet another thing I’ve been keeping from my husband: two months ago, I tried working as an escort. I didn’t get very far with it. But still, somehow, I got to that point.

  How did I let all this happen? Why wasn’t I smarter?

  As sleep continued to elude me, the self-accusations skewered my mind. It’d started with Lilly.

  From the time Lilly was a baby, she’d been sick—the trifecta of chest infections, ear infections and high temperatures. The doctors said her frequent illnesses were unlucky but normal. I was convinced it was our house. It was an old rental and the only house Gray and I could afford. Between the rising damp and the leaks and the dark rooms, it always smelled wet in winter. Cooking, crayons and mould—the constant smells of our home.

  We needed money to move house, and we didn’t have any money. So I’d decided I needed a job.

  I’d made a list of all the things I was good at:

  1. Cooking

  2. Warcraft

  3. Talking

  4. Poker

  5. Self-hate

  There didn’t seem to be many job openings for Warcraft gamers or self-haters, so that left the other three things on my list. I tried gaining a job as a kitchen hand at some local restaurants, but I couldn’t get hours that would slot in when the girls were at daycare or when Gray was at home at night. And Lilly was sick too often for me to hold down a normal job anyway. So that cut out cooking.

  I was down to two things on my list now.

  1. Cooking

  2. Warcraft

  3. Talking

  4. Poker

  5. Self-hate

  No one would pay me to talk. So I’d turned to the thing I swore I would never do again after my brother, Ben, died. Poker. It was Ben who taught me to play.

  I used to be good at poker. Ben’s friends used to complain whenever I played with them because I’d win. I started entering local poker competitions, sharpening up my rusty
skills.

  When I began winning competitions, I began dreaming big. What if I could win enough for a deposit on a house? Gray and I could have our own home. And he’d be proud of me. Telling Gray that I’d scored a job at a city restaurant, I headed to the big poker tournaments.

  But then I stepped from the casino poker rooms to the roulette table.

  That was my downfall.

  I quickly fell in over my head, into a pit of debt.

  But now I’d been given another chance.

  Just one week, and I’d be home again. If everything went to plan, Gray would never know where I really went or why.

  Continue reading ‘THE SIX’…