by Jesse Joren
I waited to see if the screen went dark. My lies were doing okay, it seemed.
"Holy shit. That's like something in the movies."
"Uh-huh," I agreed.
The kind where no one under seventeen is admitted.
"Well, don't let them screw you out of money on this deal," Natalie said. "I know for a fact that this company is paying gobs of money for your time. Gobs. Make sure they know that you know that too."
"Does anyone miss me, or are they just glad to see me gone for a while?"
"Stella brokered the whole thing, and you know how she is. Dollars trump everything. Phillip was pissed to come back from vacation and find you gone like that. I mean…pissed."
That was flattering, and Natalie was usually not one to exaggerate facts. I still found this hard to believe.
Phillip St. Claire was a founding partner of the firm that bore his name. He'd always been kind, but I was surprised he'd notice or care that a lowly receptionist was gone.
"They had it out in Stella's office," Natalie went on. "She couldn't even tell him where you were working. He said it sounded shady. She said he watched too many movies. I'd hate to have that bitch as my sister."
There was a reason Phillip had made it big in Atlanta: his instincts were razor sharp. My respect for him unexpectedly rose a notch.
"It's good to know that someone noticed I was gone," I said as lightly as I could. "I hope I'm done here a lot sooner than a year."
Then Natalie pinned me with a look right through the screen. Her interrogation face. I braced myself.
"But you're okay? Stella didn't force you into this? Phillip would bring you back tomorrow and screw the money."
If only this was as simple as everyone thought. Just a crappy assignment that could be ended with a phone call.
"I'm fine," I said, thinking of Hex bathing every inch of me. "I've adjusted now. It was just so sudden."
"Stella said they hired you for case research," Natalie said. "That sounds like bullshit to me. I never heard of something like that, unless it was preparing for something like a high-profile murder case."
Possibly my own. The jury, as they say, was still out.
"Nothing that exciting," I said, "but I don't have any kind of schedule. That's why I pinged you at work. I'm keeping some crazy hours."
"Stella said it was the firm of D'Amitri, Kinsella and Associates," she said, "but I researched them and there was no trace online. Someone needs to at least know what city you're in."
"You need to dump general practice and go into criminal prosecution," I joked.
"Stop dodging my questions. Where are you?"
Two paths appeared in my mind. On the first, I blurted out my possible location in the hopes of saying enough to be found before the screen went dark.
On the second, I played along. I said the right things and continued the lie that Hex had so convincingly planted in Stella's greedy mind.
"Eva? You there?" Natalie asked, and the screen suddenly dimmed.
It was no contest. I didn't want Natalie knowing too much, for her sake.
I feigned annoyance.
"You'd think a company with enough money to fund Stella's next few years of Botox would have a better connection," I said. "I'm working north of Miami."
Strictly speaking, it wasn't a lie. The screen brightened again.
Natalie eyed me in silence. She wasn't satisfied, but something warned her not to push. Phillip wasn't the only one with good instincts.
"So you're almost in the Bahamas," she said, letting it drop. "I knew you were holding out. I'm inviting myself for a visit after you get more settled."
"You might not like the facilities," I said. "It's not as posh as you think."
"As long as you don't make me use a gas station bathroom, I can deal."
She had a point. There were worse things than a nice clean squatty potty.
"You could wait until I invite you," I teased, feeling better in spite of the lies I was spinning.
"Right. If I wait, you'll never ask me there."
"Once I'm settled, I will," I promised.
I'd figure out how that was going to work later. Maybe I'd be set free by then.
Or permanently missing.
That thought was losing its power. My instincts told me that Hex wasn't going to harm me. It still left me wondering exactly why I was here.
"I'm holding you to that," she said, "so don't think I'm going to forget."
I braced myself for more questions, but Natalie moved on. She filled me in about what I'd missed since I left. As her familiar voice flowed around me, I relaxed. It was soothing to hear all these words that meant exactly what they said, no hidden currents.
A sudden female voice on Natalie's side made us both tense.
"Natalie, are you busy? I'm behind on this briefing and I could use… Oh. Are you talking to someone?"
"Just come right in, Stella. Don't bother knocking," Natalie said coolly. One of the many things I admired about her was how little shit she was prepared to accept.
"To who?" Stella asked.
I see you haven't changed, Stella. Still the same, bossy broad.
"To Eva. Since you shipped her off without giving us a chance to say good-bye."
I heard the click of deadly high heels, then Stella St. Clair thrust herself over Natalie's shoulder. She was slightly older than us, haughty, and beautiful. She was wearing more money on her back than the firm paid me in a couple of months.
She gave me that appraising look that always found me wanting.
"Hello there, Eva. Shouldn't you be making our client happy instead of wasting time talking on Skype?"
One thing about Stella. She never let kindness or good manners get in her way.
"I'm on a break, thanks," I said as neutrally as I could.
"You seem very casually dressed," she said with a little frown. "Remember that you're representing this firm, even on a low-priority little assignment like this one."
"I definitely remember," I said. "This is how everyone dresses. It's a very casual office."
"Then we certainly sent them the right person," she said with a thin smile.
Stella had a gift for making me and every other girl at the firm feel like shit. It was one of her natural skills. Only Natalie had the nerve to stand up to her.
Her attention turned to something else.
"Please ask our client to call me at his earliest convenience," she went on pompously. "It's very important."
"Yeah? About what?" Natalie interrupted. Her faint Michigan accent sounded stronger than usual. That could only mean one thing. She was pissed.
"I hardly think that's any of your business," Stella said.
"I hardly think it was any of your business to interrupt my private call," Natalie drawled. "You butt into my Skype, you get me as part of the conversation."
A thrill went through me. Talking to Natalie was worth the eighty miles. Seeing Stella put in her place just might be worth eighty more.
Stella flushed.
"I don't have time to argue. Just tell him to call me," she ordered before stomping off.
"Hey! You left the door open. Come back and close it," Natalie ordered.
An instant later there was the bang of a door almost coming off its hinges.
"Did you get a load of that?" Natalie laughed. "I've seen that look. She wants to screw your boss."
Hex was hearing all of this. A strange little frisson of jealousy went through me. Which was ridiculous.
If he turned his attention to Stella St. Claire, that might let me return to my life that much sooner, right? And if he banged her, he wasn't as smart as I thought.
The screen dimmed. My reward was almost spent.
"So you have to go, right?" Natalie said.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you just got antsy. You need to pee or something?"
Natalie was sharp. With so much at stake, I needed to be more careful not to give away something to
make her more suspicious.
"Yeah, I only get half an hour for lunch," I lied. "They keep me pretty busy."
"God, what slave-drivers. A half-hour? Are there at least some good-looking guys to make it bearable?"
Hex rose to my mind in all his rippling, sexy splendor. He wasn't good-looking. He was devastating, and I had the orgasms to prove it.
"I work pretty much just with my boss, but he's a toad," I said in a sugary tone.
"Great gig Stella signed you for down there. Half hour lunches, no hot guys, and Kermit for a boss."
"Kermit is a frog, not a toad," I reminded her.
"So fucking sue me. I know good attorneys."
Both of us laughed. Every ache and pain in my body was worth it. Natalie was my mojo. If she was here, she'd find a way to get free.
The screen darkened more this time. Even Natalie saw it now.
"Shit, do they make you put a quarter in the slot to get online? Skype me later this week, okay?"
"I'll do my best." It was the only promise I could make. "Love you, Nat."
She smiled, then the screen went dark. I wasn't sure if she'd ended the call or Hex had. Either way, tears rose to my eyes.
At the sink I drank a glass of water and composed myself before going to the bike. For once I went with something less than pure dread. Now it would be a good distraction.
Today's reward had been worth the work, more than food or clothes. Maybe more than baths.
Unless Hex is giving them. I'm sure you don't want to give those up.
Ignoring that, I climbed on and pedaled briskly. The screen lit up right on cue.
25 MILES
RIBBIT
Wow. That felt practically like a vacation. A new message appeared.
STELLA HAS THIRD NIPPLE
MEDICAL RECORDS
In spite of myself I laughed, but that stopped soon enough with another flashing message.
I HAVE TO BE AWAY
THREE DAYS
BOX IN BASEMENT
BE GOOD
I stopped pedaling to re-read the words, then again. There was no way to communicate back or protest.
"You can hear me!" I yelled. "You can't just leave me here like this, goddamnit!"
Roxy looked up from her favorite napping place right in the middle of the table. She flicked an ear and gave an irritated meow.
"Not you, furball," I muttered. Silence settled back over the cabin.
It might be a test, or a trap. Somehow I didn't think it was. What had happened? Was someone finally suspicious of my so-called assignment?
I'd been resentful of always feeling watched. Now I realized there were worse things.
Like being utterly alone.
CHAPTER NINE
The box was in the basement, as promised.
After finishing my ride, I'd gone downstairs with Roxy on my heels. The box was sitting by the spring house trap door.
"Not all of us get to go outside," I told her as she headed for her little pet door.
Hex had installed it the day after Roxy arrived, saying that was easier than having a litter box to clean. With each trip to the basement, I looked at her path to the outside and felt envious.
She glanced at me before she went out. I swear there was a grin on her face as she disappeared.
There was none of the fresh, delicious food that had been showing up. Instead the box was stuffed with freeze-dried concentrates and protein bars. There was a mesh bag of fresh peaches, another of apples. Two loaves of the dark rye breast I liked best, crunchy peanut butter, a jar of Manuka honey.
So he didn't mean for me to starve. If the food ran out, I had plenty of protein powder or Roxy's food supply over in the corner. I wasn't sure which was less appetizing.
The box also held two things much more precious than food.
One was a small travel clock. Finally I could tell the time. Today was June 30. Over two months at Walden now. The savvy appeals to Stella's less-than-better nature were allowing my life to slide past without anyone noticing.
The other item in the box was the battered pink iPod from my apartment. Now we were talking. Something to drown out the sound of my huffing and puffing on the bike.
My eyes left the box to rest on the crushed-white pattern on the window, left weeks ago by my unsuccessful attempts to break it. Neither of us had ever mentioned it.
I was stronger now. I could use this time alone to see about breaking it again. The idea was half-hearted at best. Why bang your head against a brick wall? Or in this case, your skillet against a shatterproof window?
Are you sure you even want to escape anymore?
The only thing I was sure of was that Hex had said nothing about exercise or lessons. I wasn't going near the bike.
Several hours later I fed myself and Roxy, then went upstairs for the night. I refused to touch the textbooks, but I took Grimm's Fairy Tales and a couple of peaches with me.
Flopping on the bed, I put the iPod buds in my ears. I set the shuffle to random. Roxy was on my chest, looking at me intently.
"Yeah, I know," I told her. "You decapitate mice and I poke things in my ears. Weird rituals, cat."
I clicked on the volume, listening in rapture as my first music in two months filled my ears. The melted-butter sounds of Ella Fitzgerald.
There's a somebody I'm longin' to see
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me…
For the next few hours I gorged myself on a banquet served at random. Nirvana. Bessie Smith. Hozier. Holst. Flo Rida. Ray Charles. Ariana Grande. Duran Duran. Ed Sheeran.
It sounded like a crazy slice of heaven, sweeter than the peaches I had for dessert. The lights began to dim and I glanced at the clock. Midnight on the dot. Hex had set the cabin lights, and there were never deviations.
"See," I said to Roxy as she stretched out to claim her full side of the bed. "We're doing just fine."
And in my confident new freedom of a first night alone, I almost believed it.
The next morning dawned strangely empty and flat. There was no schedule of exercise or lessons, no expected visit from Hex. I could do exactly as I pleased.
What I found myself doing was pacing. Several times I went to the basement to take a few half-hearted swings at the glass again with the skillet. There was much more strength in my body, but the window held.
And as I struck it, the blows were like punctuations of my thoughts.
How did this all of this end? Natalie was suspicious, and she knew me too well. I wondered if Hex himself even knew how this strange story was going to play out.
For several hours I stood at the windows in the living room, looking out at various angles. But I wasn't interested in the scenery. I was trying to catch a glimpse of myself in the glass.
There were no mirrors at Walden. For wo months I hadn't seen my own face, except as faint shadows in the windows. If I strained hard, I could see the ghostly outline of myself in the glass.
No question that I was still Eva, but all the lines were wavering and uncertain. Almost like I no longer knew who I was. That thought led me to something else that hadn't crossed my mind in a long while.
I put my foot on the windowsill and rolled down my sock. The line of the last cut on my ankle, the one Hex had stitched, was now faded to a deep-pink line, resting on the nest of other white and pale-pink scars.
My fingers traced them, a permanent part of me now. Before Walden, those stinging cuts had given me relief from all my pain. Since being here, the urge to see that blood had vanished. Not once had I even felt tempted.
Being engaged, Hex called it…and I was. Body, mind, and spirit. Whatever strange things it might be, Walden was also a queer sort of haven that was healing me.
My gaze fell on the bike, and then I grinned. Only yesterday I'd made a pact not to
go near it. But what if I had a really, really good reason?
A butter knife from the kitchen made a passable screwdriver. It took me over an hour and a couple of scrapes on my hands, but at the end, the bike lay in pieces and screws on the floor.
"Not so smart now, are you?" I said to the heap.
Then I had a moment of panic. What if Hex needed to send me a message? What if the bike was somehow the brain that controlled the cabin's workings?
If it was, I'd just given it a lobotomy. That made me laugh, but with a slight hysterical edge that I didn't like.
Hex had the power, in ways both large and small. He could do anything to me he liked, and no one would ever know. But in all this time, I'd never felt what was trying to surface now: pure fear.
Hex had told me about the code opening the doors so that I wouldn't be trapped here to die. He'd never tried to hurt me, though he'd had every chance.
Now I was alone and uncertain. What if this had been the plan all along. What if he just never came back?
CHAPTER TEN
The next two days passed with agonizing slowness. The scary what-if scenarios that I should have had weeks ago arrived all at once to haunt me.
What if he never came back?
What was he going to do with me if he did?
What if this was some elaborate plan leading up to ritual murder?
Too late to think of all that now, and none of those stood up to close examination. That still didn't stop the fantasies, each worse than the last.
For distraction, I tried to concentrate on the French books, then on the textbooks. I was too much on edge to sit for more than a few minutes at a time. Even the bike might have been a comfort now, but it was silent and dismantled.
Looking at its guts in the floor did give me an idea. One of the metal support bars was heavy and thick. I took it to the basement and had another go at the window. The nest of white shatter marks grew, but it didn't break.
Roxy seemed to absorb my anxiety. She slipped in and out of the pet door restlessly. When I took to climbing the stairs to burn off my energy, she was under my feet until I was sure she'd trip me and kill us both.
The dozens of trips up and down tired me later that evening. I had no appetite, but I fed Roxy and then went upstairs to flop across my bed.
