by Amy Patrick
“How did you get here, Olivia? Did you join this fan pod? Or were you kidnapped?”
The big eyes grew even rounder. “Everybody calls me Olly. And I wasn’t kidnapped… exactly. I wanted to be here. I just didn’t know it would be… you know… like this. I don’t like it here.”
“Yeah… me either.” I studied the girl’s serious face. “Earlier… before I left, you wanted me to let your parents know where you were. So… what? Did you run away?”
“Kind of. They knew I wanted to join a fan pod in Britain where I’m from. They wouldn’t let me.” Her face fell. “So, I did some searching online. I met a girl in a chatroom who said she knew how to get me into one. I went and met her at a shopping center—just to find out more, you know? The next thing I knew, I woke up here. I wasn’t even sure who Nicolo Buonaccorsi was. I’m into gymnastics, not football. I told that Dominique lady I wanted to go home.”
“What did she say?”
“She said I was homesick, that I’d feel better in a few days. But I don’t. It’s been weeks. The other girls seem to like it here. Or maybe they’re pretending, too. Maybe they’ve been waiting for someone like you to get here.”
I blinked rapidly. “Someone like me?”
“Yes. A leader. Someone to help us.”
I balked at her ridiculous statement, suddenly feeling hot. I unzipped the hoodie. “You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not a leader.”
Olly’s head cocked to one side, like a baffled puppy. “Yes you are. I watched you in the Olympic qualifier in London. It is you, isn’t it? Macy Moreno. You were the captain of the American gymnastics team.”
“I was on the team. I’m not anymore. I quit.”
“I know. I was very sad. Why did you quit?”
Wanting to change the subject, I asked her, “Why do you think the girls need help?”
“Because… we’re in prison. It’s a posh one, but it’s still prison. And they can’t help themselves. Something’s wrong with them. They’re confused. Can’t you feel it?”
So she thought the same thing I did about the others’ behavior and about our strange circumstances. It didn’t mean she was correct about all of it.
“Maybe. But I’m not sure what you think I can do about it. I already tried to leave, and here I am, eating a croissant at the dunce’s table. I can’t help anybody.”
“I think you can. I think you’re here for a reason.”
Ugh. She’d hit upon my number one most hated phrase—everything happens for a reason. I’d heard it to the point of nausea after my sister’s accident.
“The only reason I’m here, is that I was dumb enough to want to meet a cute soccer player and ended up getting duped into some kind of cult that lives in a castle. It’s just a coincidence that you happened to be at the gymnastics meet in London when I was there competing. Thousands of spectators were at that event.”
The girl shook her head adamantly. “No. I knew as soon as I saw you here. My mum says each one of us has a purpose in our lives—and when you find it, it’s your responsibility to see it through. I think this is yours. I think you’re going to help us.”
I stared at her resolute expression, the certainty in her eyes. She had no idea how wrong she was. Responsibility. What a joke. I couldn’t be responsible for a houseplant much less an entire roomful of apparently hypnotized girls. The last person I’d been responsible for had ended up… well, I just wasn’t who Olly thought I was.
“Don’t hold your breath, kiddo. Listen, you should probably go back to your own table. Your eggs are going to get cold. And you don’t want Dominique to notice you talking to me. I’m sort of in time-out.”
Her face fell in disappointment—something deeper, actually—disillusionment, maybe? And a familiar feeling settled over my heart like a damp, mildewing towel. With that expression on her face, she reminded me of Lily more than ever. I ripped my eyes from hers, and she walked quickly away from me, her face turned down toward the floor.
Scanning the room again, I did a quick headcount. Roughly eighty girls. Blank looks on most of their faces, no apparent clue there might be any danger here for them. And their families were probably just as clueless as to their whereabouts, if Olivia’s case was typical.
If I couldn’t get out of here, with my clear mind and athletic skills, it was unlikely any of them would even try. They’d stay here, helpless, and let… whatever was going to happen to them happen.
The thought turned my stomach. But what could I do about it? I was in a foreign country with no money, no passport. I’d be lucky if I could get out of this place myself. Speaking of that, I was going to try again, as soon as I got the chance, and this time, no one was going to stop me.
The how part continued to elude me, even though I’d stayed awake most of the night thinking about it. Climbing the wall again was probably out. Even if I survived the plunge into the sea below, how far would I have to swim in the frigid ocean waters before reaching someone who could help me?
There was the possibility of slipping out of the fan pod quarters like I had done before then making my way to the front door instead of the courtyard. Without knowing the way. Without being seen. Of course Dominique would no doubt be keeping a closer eye on me from now on.
Could I overpower her? Doubtful. She was really tall and freaking strong—I couldn’t believe how brutal her grip had been last night. My hands came up to rub my upper arms, which felt bruised where she’d grabbed me.
Unfortunately, potential escape plans weren’t the only thoughts that had disturbed my sleep. Nicolo’s deep brown eyes, and tempting mouth, and low, seductive laugh dominated my dreams. Which made me mad. How could I even be attracted to someone like him?
Before, when I’d seen him on TV, I’d assumed he was a cocky womanizer, a typical pro athlete. Now—now I knew what he really was. Wicked. He had to be. What kind of guy held girls prisoner in his home? What had Dominique said…
She is yours.
A shiver slid down my spine. What did he do with the girls in his fan pod? I didn’t plan to stick around long enough to find out.
My best shot was to sneak away. Maybe Olly and I could work together—she could create a distraction and give me a chance to disappear. Of course I’d let her parents know where she was. That much I could do. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten her last name. There were bound to be quite a few Olivia’s in the UK.
Darting my eyes around the dining hall, I searched for her. There she was. On the far side of the room. Not looking at me, for once. Later today when we were all together as a group again I’d find out her full name and hometown, making it sound like casual conversation.
The immense wooden door to the dining hall creaked open, and a tall, severely handsome man stepped through it. His dark blond hair was clipped short, revealing cheekbones like scalpel blades and a sharp, aristocratic nose to match.
He stood for a moment just inside the door, scanning the room with eyes so light blue they resembled glazed ice. He wore a dark suit with a snow white shirt and a silver tie. Designer, by the looks of it. The outfit probably cost more than my house back home.
Dominique rose from her chair and acknowledged him. “How may I help you, Dr. Schmitt?”
Dr. Schmitt. So this was the physician the girls had been seeing. He looked like he belonged in a weird, artsy cologne ad or a portrait gallery instead of an exam room. Stepping farther into the dining room, he gave the house manager a smile that might have been attractive if it wasn’t so chilling.
“Hello Dominique. I need a few volunteers this morning.” His crisp, clipped syllables were defined by a light German accent. “Just a blood draw—it won’t take long.”
“Of course,” she said and stepped back, waving an arm toward the roomful of girls as if inviting him to take his pick.
The doctor strolled slowly through the room, cataloguing the various girls seated up and down the tables.
Back home in Joplin, our family doctor was a short, balding man wit
h plentiful arm hair and a gentle, grandfatherly demeanor. Even our gymnastics team doctor, Dr. Amaral, had that typical “doctorly” air about her—calm, friendly, caring. This guy… well, I wouldn’t want to find myself wearing a johnny in the same room with him. He gave me the creeps.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one. As he drew near each table, the girls seated there swayed back from him almost involuntarily. It was like watching opposite ends of two magnets being pushed together, an invisible repellant force in action. Or one of those nature documentaries where a herd of antelope stops grazing and all raise their heads as one before the lion even appears.
Stopping behind a girl with curly black hair, he lay one long, elegant hand on her shoulder. “You—come with me.”
The girl’s face went beet red in an instant, and she shook it back and forth, clearly not interested in volunteering. Gliding a hand around her jaw, the doctor jerked her upper body around to face him, tilting her chin up so her eyes met his.
“You will come with me. Right now.”
The girl rose immediately. Her fork fell to the floor with a noisy, metallic rattle that was almost deafening in the suddenly silent room.
Watching the scene with a mixture of disbelief and horror, my heartbeat whirred in my ears, my skin growing warm. What was going on here?
Dr. Schmitt resumed his slow perusal of the girls, now with his new “volunteer” in tow. She stumbled along beside him. Her eyes, which had been wide with alarm a few minutes earlier, were blank.
As he approached Olly’s table, the blood rush in my eardrums increased. No. No. Keep walking.
He stopped. And reached for her.
I shot out of my chair so quickly the backs of my legs hit it and knocked it over. The bang of heavy wood on stone echoed around the dining hall, causing every head in the room to turn toward me.
A thin smile slid across the doctor’s face. “Ah. Do we have a volunteer? Someone who is perhaps not so squeamish of needles?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a word out, another voice boomed through the space. This one deep and smooth and heavy with Italian flair.
“Buongiorno. Good morning everyone.”
For a second there was absolute silence. Then screams of delight and devotion rose throughout the room.
“Nicolo!”
“It’s him. It’s really him!”
The girls’ voices combined with the simultaneous scraping of dozens of chair legs and stampeding footsteps created a cacophony of sound and motion. As if propelled by an invisible jet stream, the girls rushed toward Nicolo, their fear of becoming blood donors apparently banished instantaneously.
I tore my eyes away from the beautiful man who’d just entered the dining hall and searched for Olly’s small form. Spotting the back of her blonde head in the middle of the crowd of groupies, I let out a long breath. She’d wisely left her table and joined the exodus toward the side of the room farthest from the doctor. Maybe he’d forget about her altogether if I could manage to recapture his attention.
“Hello ladies. It is nice to see you all. Thank you for the warm greeting,” Nicolo purred. “Is everyone here I wonder?”
He turned his head one direction then another, his gaze finally landing on me and stopping abruptly. His eyes flared with recognition, and a wide there-you-are smile spread across his face, his teeth ultra-white against his tanned olive skin. He moved toward me purposefully, pushing through the crowd of admirers like the prow of a ship cutting through choppy water.
What is he doing?
I couldn’t talk to him right now. I didn’t have time for snappy banter and toe-curling grins. I couldn’t lose sight of Olly and give Dr. Creeper the chance to locate her again. I darted my eyes away from Nicolo’s approach and toward the last place I’d seen the doctor.
He was still there, still gripping the wrist of the dark-haired girl. Her eyes were trained on Nicolo, her face displaying pure infatuation. The doctor’s face was… well, he looked pissed.
But when Nicolo noticed my stare and followed my gaze over to Dr. Schmitt, the doctor’s angry expression morphed into a tight, squinty-eyed smile. He finally moved, stepping toward Nicolo, using an entirely different tone than he had used with us.
“Nicolo. It is so good to see you again. I trust you had a chance to rest and a good flight from Paris?”
The warmth melted from Nicolo’s face as he regarded the doctor. “Aksel. What brings you out of the lab and to the fan pod quarters this morning?”
“Just recruiting a few volunteers for a study. If you prefer, I can come back later… after you’ve made your own selections…” The older man glanced toward me. He’d obviously realized Nicolo was on his way to speak to me and regarded me with new interest, scanning up and down my insignificant height and smiling slyly. “There are a great many temptations here, in every shape and size.”
Nicolo’s eyes whipped back to mine. I met them with something close to desperation. Suddenly, I was frantic for him to stay. I didn’t want to go with the doctor. I definitely didn’t want little Olly to go with him. A lecherous, womanizing pretty boy suddenly seemed a thousand times more appealing than a trip to the creepy doctor’s exam room.
My pulse throbbed in my temples as my mind screamed at him.
Tell him “yes.” Send him away.
Unable to communicate my urgent plea aloud to Nicolo, all I could do was stand there helplessly, locking stares with him, and will him not to leave us, to somehow get the message that I did not want to be the doctor’s “selection.”
Finally, Nicolo broke eye contact with me and turned back to Dr. Schmitt. “Actually, I came here to find you, doctor. Someone mentioned seeing you come this way. You requested a meeting with me?”
The doctor blinked several times in surprise. “Er. Yes. But there is no hurry. I did not expect to be the first thing on your agenda upon your return to the castle. Please, just call for me at your convenience.”
The doctor’s words were ultra-polite, but his tone said, “I was in the middle of something, and you’re interrupting.”
Nicolo’s tone turned imperious. “This very moment is convenient for me. That is why I am here—at this moment. I have a full schedule as I will return to Paris soon.”
With obvious reluctance, Dr. Schmitt released his grip on the brunette girl’s arm and joined Nicolo. “Of course. Whatever you desire.”
Nicolo gave the man a tight-lipped smile. “Come then. Let us walk together, and you can tell me what is on your mind.”
He placed a hand on the man’s upper back and steered him toward the door. But before stepping through it, he glanced over his shoulder at me.
And winked.
5
Nic
I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but Macy’s body language and terrified expression did communicate one thing clearly—she wanted nothing to do with Dr. Schmitt. And based on his expression as he’d checked her over, he wanted entirely too much to do with her.
I escorted him swiftly from the dining area, sending a quick silent message to Dominique first. Have that one brought to my quarters—the short one—Macy.
She responded with bafflement that was clear, though our communication was mind-to-mind. Are you sure, Your Highness? She is… troublesome. There are so many others who are much more agreeable. And taller.
I chuckled to myself. I’d barely been able to wait until morning to come searching for Macy. Our lively conversation from last night—and the sight of her in the scraps of clothing she’d worn for her escape attempt—had swirled in my brain all night long. I hadn’t met anyone so amusing in a long time. When I’d finally realized she was in my own fan pod, well, let’s just say for the first time I could see my father’s point about their usefulness.
I can handle her. I assured the house manager. That’s the one I want.
Unable to hear the silent conversation, Dr. Schmitt slid a sideways glance to me. “Is something funny, Your Highness?”
I wasn’t quite clear on why my father considered it necessary to have a live-in healer. We did not suffer from human diseases, and injuries were uncommon. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone in my family had even been under the weather.
Even if he was only around to treat the human fan pod members—which seemed strange to me, considering how he felt about their race—it seemed like keeping an office space nearby on the island would have been adequate.
But two months ago, Dr. Schmitt had moved his practice into the castle, and two days ago he’d contacted me via email, requesting a meeting to discuss a matter “of utmost importance.” My first thought was that something must be wrong with Papà, but my father had assured me through a brief return message that was not the case.
“Things are progressing nicely, Your Highness. My research is yielding some promising results. We’ll be ready to move on to the next phase soon.”
“The next phase? Of what?”
He stopped walking. “Oh… your father has not discussed it with you yet. Well, I will leave that to him. You and I can speak later, after he’s brought you up to date.” He took a step back toward the fan pod quarters. “I’ll just return to my—”
I grabbed his upper arm, stopping him. “No, I’d like for you to take a look at my knee. I wrenched it last night, and it’s still bothering me this morning.”
He gave me a quizzical glance. “You have not healed yet? That is strange.”
The first part of my story was true—I’d felt my ACL tear toward the end of the match when I suddenly changed direction with my foot planted. Of course he was correct that it had healed almost immediately.
Considering his glamour, I’d probably chosen the wrong pretext to keep him out of the fan pod quarters. He had the ability to evaluate a person’s physical problems—and strengths—instantaneously. No doubt it was why he’d become a healer.
I was committed to the lie now, though. “I still feel something. I’m not sure what’s going on. Is your clinic available right now?”
