His animated façade melted to cold ambivalence. “Why not you? You are strong, youthful, unspoiled, smart and a very powerful Clear. Perhaps the most powerful one alive considering your ancestry.” He smiled again, if you can call it that. “Oh lighten up, Layla. Isn’t it every girls dream to be a double agent?”
“But what you offer is impossible. How can I leave everyone I love? I’ll be miserable and grieving…” I didn’t want him to see me cry, which made me cry more.
The sly grin returned. “You’ll grow accustomed over time. Expectations in life tend to eventually match what you are given. New people replace old ones and so forth.”
“Nothing can replace…you do bad things. You are asking me to compromise everything I believe in.”
In the moment death would be better than his offer.
“Perhaps, for the time. But belief systems can change too. Layla, I’m afraid we are out of time. I will give you three days. You will disappear with nothing but a letter telling everyone you are fine, but not to look for you or they will put your life in grave danger. Tell no one about tonight or your plans. You know the consequences. Have your bags packed Friday at midnight.”
The sobs shook my shoulders. “They know where you live. And no matter where you take me Stuart will be there. He will stop this, you.”
Jasper shrugged and acted bored. “We have a new, very robust security system. And if he follows, he dies. Goodnight, Layla. Choose wisely.”
He left out the window without a sound, scurrying down a ladder he erected for the occasion that I had never heard or sensed. Some Clear I was turning out to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Relief swept over me when I saw Stuart safe the next morning. I had already started thinking about what needed to be done. No one could know, and blocking my plans would require intense concentration until Friday.
How I now hated the very life I had just grown to love. But no lives could be lost on my account. I had to do it, I had to go.
“Everything alright love?” He frowned as if he knew I might try to lie.
This was going to be nearly impossible, and if I did manage to fool him, at least I could prove good acting skills.
I kissed him between his brows, smiling. “Oh, last night. I was just – restless and sleepy after you left, you know, a horrible combination, missing you the second you left.”
Despite my flirting, his eyes narrowed. “Hhmm. Okay, well I sensed you were very anxious.” He continued contemplating me after I broke my gaze, unable to look him in the eye and speak untruths.
“Don’t turn paranoid on me, Fairchild,” I teased.
This was a living hell I could not escape, and as much as I thought about my options, the less I seemed to have.
Class participation was purely mechanical and the few remaining days were spent staring out the window at the sheets of rain. There was no point. My goals were abolished with a sweep of Jasper’s hand. My Clear skills were to be exploited by Bane in order to keep those I cared about safe. In that regard I didn’t mind – the thought of losing anyone was too much to bear. I was completely trapped and fearful Bane watched my every move, and to some extent they were – the prior security patrol outside the Brown’s permanently replaced with Jasper’s Bane squad. Colin didn’t know, and I couldn’t say anything.
The plan for the remaining few days developed in my head. Thinking about what I was going to do was not an option. Writing a note would need to be done without absorbing any of the words, so instead of thinking about what to write and what to pack, I practiced emptying the thoughts from my head at will – similar to when I block people’s thoughts from intruding, only now with intention. I remembered our time in the Botanical Gardens while doing laundry, recited poems by Oscar Wilde while tossing clothes in a duffle bag.
Like burnt-out torches by a sick man’s bed
Gaunt cypress-trees stand round the sun-bleached stone;
Here doth the little night-owl make her throne,
And the slight lizard show his jeweled head.
And, where the chaliced poppies flame to red,
In the still chamber of you pyramid
Surely some Old-World Sphinx lurks darkly hid,
Grim warder of this pleasaunce of the dead.
Interesting choice with The Grave of Shelley.
I shook my head back and forth, trying to loosen up. Fearful thoughts would only raise alarm, placing lives in danger. There wasn’t time to feel sorry for myself, or wonder if I would see anyone again. Jasper’s arrangement had no expiration date. When Stuart was around the focus was kissing – the one activity that shut down my brain activity without effort, and perhaps the last days we would be together. The cold truth that I may never taste his lips again could not be dwelled on so I stayed in the moment, always in the moment. I became a calculating methodical robot like Mom, hating myself for the deception.
I faked a migraine after classes Friday. Without the luxury of emotions, there would be no good-byes, no closure. Nightfall approached with great anxiety that I tried to instantly squelch before it was picked up on two continents. The note was brief and written without even looking at the paper – I even hummed “do do do, da da da” by The Police.
Don’t look for me, it’s dangerous. I love you all.
On the bright side, if the whole eternity thing was real, maybe my time with the Bane could potentially be a drop in the bucket. It was probably in my best interest to start viewing time void of starts and stops. People tend to place timers on their lives – at this age I will do X, at this age, Y. Plans no longer had purpose. Study today for this test tomorrow. Plan here for there. Do this for that, always a cause and effect, an action and reaction. From now on it would be about here and now, otherwise insanity would consume me.
That was the best I could come up with.
After making excuses not to see Stuart, claiming to be ‘lying in a darkened room with a cool rag over my head’ I also skipped dinner, unsure eating was possible anyway, but also to avoid interaction. The Brown’s weren’t literal mind readers, but Sienna knew me well and Patrice had the uncanny mom instinct teenagers found utterly annoying.
After dinner I heard Sienna talking to Stuart on her phone through the door. She was speaking low but I could read their conversation fine. He was worried, she was reassuring. He suggested coming by anyway, she said I was resting and probably couldn’t move from the migraine. He asked Sienna to ‘keep an eye on me’ and she agreed to do just that. And when my heart started aching, physically aching from the pain of leaving them behind, I stopped it immediately, knowing a pity party would transmit disaster signals.
The midnight text to my personal cell read, ‘Car downstairs waiting.’
Super, now I’m texting with Bane.
I tucked my private cell to Mom deep in my duffle, hoping they wouldn’t find it. Without much thought given to an exit strategy, I contemplated whether I should leave out the window, the front door or the back door. The window would be tricky without Stuart’s help, and the front door may bring attention. If I headed to the back door and anyone heard me walk that direction, they would sleepily assume I was going to the kitchen.
Floors tend to creak more when you’re sneaking out but thankfully no one woke, and I walked away from the Brown’s toward the waiting car with enough angst to fill a small country.
Behind the dark tinted windows of the sedan my future waited to carry me to an ugly place. As I approached, I thought of something that had not previously occurred to me. Jasper’s story could be fabricated and I could be walking into a death trap. He said he wanted to use me, not kill me but seriously? Had I on some level actually believed those words?
What a bloody freaking bloody freaking idiot.
If this were the end, I would never know if Jasper’s Bane thugs had truly stayed away from Stuart et al. I would die with an empty, broken heart, and tons of regret. I doubt my soul would return again.
“Hi, Layla.”
Andre. He had sent Andre alone to get me. Well not exactly alone. There was a driver and some big burly bald dude in the front seat. But in the backseat, just Andre and me.
Just freaking brilliant, Layla.
“Andre,” I said coldly not meeting his eyes, “Long time no see.”
The smirk on his face like I was some sort of victory needed to be smacked off but I lacked motivation. I did look over my shoulder as we drove off in time to see Stuart leap through the air, through my window like a night shadow, my heart stopping forever knowing within seconds he would read the note and realize I was gone.
Layla! I heard him silently cry out, the agonizing sound of the final coffin nail.
I’m so sorry Fairchild. This is to protect everyone.
Who? Where are they taking you?
“That’s enough.” Andre commanded. “I have received…training since we last met, so quit bloody sending him messages or I will tell my father to have him destroyed.”
I really needed to perfect a poker face.
Andre searched my bag and me and confiscated my phones. He tied a blindfold around my eyes. And with that, the fragile thread connecting me to those who loved me was severed, my life resting in the hands of cold-blooded killers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When we arrived my blindfold was removed. The Branson estate was hidden, vast and ominous. After driving about twenty minutes, we seemed to be in a remote area surrounded by acres of land and no other homes.
The long driveway resembled a short road. We finally reached a wide iron gate surrounded by willow and birch trees serving as camouflage for the house beyond. The driver keyed in a code triggering the iron jail gate to open forward.
After driving what seemed like another mile we reached the house – if you call Batman’s Wayne Manor a house. I waited for the car to stop in front where other cars were parked. But the driver continued to the far left side, just before I caught sight of the looming gargoyles attached to each dormer.
Lovely. Welcome to Gothika.
The driveway continued dipping down until we reached a thick door flush to the wall and impermeable from the outside. Rising straight up after the driver triggered a mechanism on the steering wheel, we descended underground driving through a lit tunnel toward what I presumed to be the Bat Cave.
Andre had not spoken since his threat in the car, finally turning to me saying, “We are going to grow close, Layla.”
With death likely eminent, I fired back without hesitation, “No, we won’t and you sound like your father, Andre. Do you even have original thoughts in your head?” Probably not the brightest ideas since I wielded no power, but all I got was a hearty door slam in response, as well as a foot stomp when he got out of the car. He still behaved like a frustrated teenage boy, and not a full-blown Bane killer – not yet anyway.
The thick steel enforced walls symbolized a permanent fortress, inescapable and final. I would not leave on my terms.
I’ll find you, love. I swear it. Stuart sent.
I didn’t want the moment ruined by suspicious Bane, so I just tucked my chin further into my scarf, hiding a soft, small smile, letting his warm, comforting thoughts wash over me before following Andre through another door. There would be no response now, just to be safe, but I would find a way for us to communicate.
I had eternity to figure this out.
“Layla, welcome! So glad you made the right decision.” Jasper stood with mocking open arms, knowing there would be no actual embrace of greeting, smirking at his own theatrics. “Please consider this your home. It is late, so Beatrice will show you to your quarters and we will meet at 9:00 sharp in the morning. Someone will escort you downstairs, so please don’t try to leave your room until then.” He started to leave then turned back to face me. “You can’t leave anyway. You’ll be locked in, but that was me being courteous.”
The “quarters” as Jasper referred to as my room consisted of about a thousand square feet, not including the bathroom that was the size of a small apartment. If I weren’t a kidnap victim, this would be high living. But the room didn’t feel warm, or welcoming. Even with a fire in the fireplace, chills pricked every inch of my skin. Just because Dracula wasn’t going to drain your blood immediately didn’t make the surroundings more hospitable.
Reality sank to the depths of my stomach, settling in for a long haul. I loathed myself for not confiding in those who could protect me. I had my own Guardian with what seemed like endless abilities. I had Colin, Dad and Mom and everyone at StoneWall. Surely there would have been a way to hide everyone away until this was resolved? StoneWall must have a fortress for hiding, a witness protection program, WMD’s.
Really, was there a bigger idiot than me…anyone, anyone?
But instead of trusting, I had panicked and walked right into the trap almost without hesitation.
Risking my life and those I loved.
We could have all fought this together.
I was the most pitiful excuse for a martyr on the planet.
I collapsed face first on the enormous four-poster bed adorned with thick burgundy velvet drapes. A room fit for a princess, housing a slave – a slave to evil deeds with no retribution. I would become an accomplice to god knows what acts, eventually numb to my deeds, moving through life without conscience or regard for humanity.
Eternity was really going to suck.
As Jasper promised, there was a knock at 9:00 AM sharp. “Just a minute.” I shouted at whoever lurked on the other side. After sobbing the remainder of the night, sleep consumed me for about an hour before waking in enough time to shower and dress.
The staunch, stern Beatrice only nodded when I opened the door, pivoting on her heel in silent expectance that I would follow obediently. Her long straight blond hair was gathered in a tight ponytail unmoving down her back. Her black slacks and jacket contoured her slim figure as she walked with military discipline. There was no way to guess her age, but she appeared young outside of her rigid style. And of course a true Bane, she blocked me from her thoughts.
We walked for what seemed like a quarter mile up and down stairs before reaching the other side of the manor where I was led into a small conference room. Inside Jasper, Andre, and two others – a man and woman, sat around a circular table facing a telephone in the center of the room. “Good morning, Layla!” Jasper extended a false greeting. “Klaus, Genevieve, this is Layla, the talented Clear you’ve heard so much about.” Klaus and Genevieve only returned icy stares. They did not share Jasper’s enthusiasm about my arrival. Andre raised his eyebrows, and I wondered what I ever found attractive in him.
With everyone seated, Jasper dialed a number, waited for an answer, pressed the speaker phone button and began conversing with someone on the other end who responded with broken English delivered in a thick East European accent.
Jasper: Hello Franz. We are all gathered. Give us the update.
Franz: We have a meeting arranged. Two days. In Belfast. With the government on the brink of collapse, they were more than willing to consider…alternatives.
Jasper: Excellent work. We have a Clear working with us. Please use the secured email to send details. Thank you, Franz.
After pushing the button to disconnect, Jasper was all business. “Layla, you will travel with me and Genevieve on our private jet to Belfast. You will be introduced as my personal assistant and will simply retain everything the prime minister thinks during our meetings.”
I wasn’t sure I was hearing correctly. “The who?”
“The honorable Arthur McDowell. Prime minister of Ireland,” he said with a stone face. “I told you this work involved world leaders.” Then turning to Genevieve, “I am leaving you in charge of Layla’s personal safety and security during our travel, including discouraging any ideas she has to flee, understood?”
Genevieve nodded her sleek, short bleach blond hair. “Yes, Jasper.”
“Klaus, secure our own agents throughout the area. Andre, assist Klaus. Y
ou need to learn this aspect of the business,” Jasper commanded.
Andre protested. “But…”
Jasper cut him off. “The question was rhetorical Andre, not up for discussion.”
I think Andre was expecting to hang with me.
Jasper turned attention my direction. “Layla, we will rely on you heavily for information. You are the star of the show and will follow instructions. We have discussed consequences so no need to beat a dead, whatever. Your task is simple. Do what you do best. We’ll talk more.”
With nothing to loose, I asked, “Can I ask what you’re doing? What’s the goal of this…thing?”
Talk about soliciting jeers from the room. This was definitely not my crowd. But Jasper gave me a single nod. “Good question. No details except to say…Ireland is in dire need of…new leadership. Until Monday, ladies and gentlemen. Oh, Layla, Beatrice will instruct you about meal hours and so forth. Other than that, you’re free to spend time alone or together with my son.” He winked, and I fled to the adjacent bathroom to heave.
When I emerged clutching my stomach in agony, Andre flipped the television off. The room was clear except for the two of us. The scone I nibbled on twenty-four hours ago, my last food source, was long gone.
“C’mon. Let’s eat.” He said with dry disregard, standing to escort me.
I stood firm, not budging. “Andre – you…attacked me.”
His cold stare burrowed into me, shaking his head as if in denial. Then with a snarl of a smile said, “Yeah. Whatever.”
Unbelievable. “Andre! You. Attacked. Me.”
“Layla! Get. Over. It.” He mocked back.
“You – bastard.” I seethed into a hissing whisper.
But he didn’t answer. He was already walking away, leaving me alone to fend for myself, withdrawing his offer to walk me to the kitchen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
My stomach cramped from hunger and adrenaline. I stomped to the kitchen by following smells and found Beatrice fixing plates while the cooks scurried around stirring and chopping.
Vision Page 11
