"Calm down," Ace said, standing up, "I wasn' botherin' her. I was passin' by, heard her movin' around and I stopped in." He looked at Chloe. "I wasn' pesterin' you, was I?"
Chloe, feeling more flushed than ever with Strafford's eyes now directed back onto her, only shook her head a few quick times and responded with a soft, "No."
Ace looked pleased. "See? I wasn' being a pest," He said, walking around the bed and stopping before his brother. With one quick look at Chloe, he said, "Look, I'm sorry, bro. I'm a work in progress with the whole obedience thing. But right now, tell me to leave and on my honor, I will, no back talk." The boy made a fist and circled it around his heart and then lightly drubbed it against his chest one time.
Strafford looked unmoved by the mysterious gesture, though to Chloe, Ace had done it with so much sincerity. "Hector and Theseus are back," He said, seeming to dismiss Ace's disobedience for the time being, "Find them and have them meet me in the tower. I want updates on the state of things down there." Ace gave a quick nod and headed towards the door. "Oh," Strafford added, turning to face the teenager who had stopped and was waiting for his next words, "and tell Mystic tha' she's awake now. She'll handle the rest."
"Brilliant." Ace gave her a brief smile, then disappeared from the room, leaving her at the mercy of Strafford's misty gray eyes.
He stared at her for several long minutes, just taking her in. She felt like a specimen in a jar, his gaze was intense. She didn't know if she should speak or just stay quiet. It didn't seem to matter much as she was sure nothing she said would make him stop looking at her as if she had three eyes.
He knows I'm a freak, she thought.
I keep telling you you're not a freak, A voice giggled in her mind.
I talk to voices in my head, she replied, Of course, I'm a freak. And he knows it.
Strafford lingered by the doorway for a minute, then slowly moved towards her, all the while still chilling her with his severe stare. As he got closer, her nose tingled from the fragrance he brought with him. He smelled wonderful––very floral, like nature. But she didn't think he would appreciate being told that.
“Are you hungry?”
She was starving. But eat? Food? She wasn’t sure she could manage it right now. She shook her head.
He nodded once and held out his hand. "Give me your arm."
Her instinctual reaction was to curl her limbs in closer to her body. Strafford raised an eyebrow at her hesitation, as if he couldn't understand why someone like her would even have the guts to disobey him. "Give me your arm," He repeated in a deep, calm tone. "Now."
She didn't understand why his command didn't offend her. She had never been one for taking orders, least of all from people she didn't know. But somehow, she knew he meant her no harm, so she unfolded her arms and offered him the right one. She was surprised by his gentle touch. He pushed up the sleeve of her robe and held her arm like it was made of porcelain––one slip, and she would shatter into a million pieces. It was a nice surprise though. For some reason, she had expected to be manhandled.
Strafford ran his fingers across her skin, sending chills plummeting down her spine. He examined a few fading bruises she hadn't noticed with several soft touches.
"They're healin' faster than expected," He muttered, almost as though he were talking to himself. "Dr. Life will be glad to hear it." He caught her eye for a second before looking away as his fingers moved up to her shoulder.
She felt a rising sense of panic at hearing the word "doctor". "Who's Dr. Life?" She asked as Strafford pushed back the collar of her robe and examined her neck. A frightening thought crossed her mind, one that hadn't registered before. Was this a hospital? Even worse, could this be a psychiatric hospital? She looked around. A very, very, nice psychiatric hospital with fancy furniture and male supermodels as nurses? After years of fits, had her mother finally committed her? She had to have heard about the incident at school by now. If so, where was her mother? Shouldn't she be here?
"Who's Dr. Life?" She asked again.
Strafford stopped for a moment, looking at her as if she had just asked the dumbest question he had ever heard. "Life…is the doctor," and left it at that.
I already know that, she wanted to scream at him, but the comment lost all of its steam when he glanced up at her from under his lashes with those stupid beautiful gray eyes. The words deflated on her lips like tires.
"Do you think I could get some real clothes or something?" She tried to look away but couldn’t even manage that.
Strafford stood straight and gazed down at her, the lit sconce above her head giving his gray eyes a foggy glimmer. "Scared I might catch a glimpse of your pretty lil' yellow knickers, eh?" She sucked in a tiny breath. She wasn't stupid enough to think that had just been a lucky guess. He had seen them.
"No––uh––I mean––I didn't think––" Crap. How did he expect her to form any coherent sentences while he was looking at her like that? He was just too much to absorb all at once.
"Don't strain yourself. If I wanted to have a better look at you, I'd have it." He tugged on the belt holding the garment closed. "Jus' one good yank…" He leaned back, sneering at her. "But luckily for you, gingernuts aren' my type."
Gingernut? Who was he calling a 'gingernut'?
What in the world was a gingernut?
Strafford had already left her sitting stupid as he headed towards the locked sliding door. "Enough with the bloody prattle. They're probably here for you by now."
She forgot all about being called a "gingernut". "Who's here for me?" She could picture men in white uniforms on the other side, waiting to outfit her with a straight jacket. There was a knock. "Don't let them in!" She exclaimed, her throat going dry with fear.
Strafford frowned and ignored her request. There was a click and he slid the door to his left. As he stepped aside, in walked a funky young girl with short, silver banged hair and a pleasant smile. She was wearing green and silver striped tights, a black tutu, and a denim jacket over a green shirt. A large silver headband with a silver flower attached adorned her head, and on her feet, she wore sparkly silver ballet slippers. She was the strangest looking girl Chloe had ever seen. But maybe this was her new psychotherapist! Boy, her mother really knew how to pick them. Dr. Metzger reminded her of Peter Pan because of the fedora he always wore. Now her mother had hired Tinkerbell to replace him. Way to go, mom.
The girl curtsied low to Strafford, who quickly motioned for her to stop, then to Chloe. "Good day, Oracle," She greeted her in a sugary sweet voice, "My name is Mystic Mayhem. We're ready for you now."
The girl Strafford had mentioned to Ace. She doesn't look like a psychiatrist. And what kind of name is Mystic Mayhem? There was a stronger likelihood that she was a nurse––a nurse with a tutu and a voice that was way too honeyed to be trusted. Chloe had seen the movies. They usually sweet talked you and gained your trust before they strapped you to a bed and shoved pills down your throat. Maybe the name and wacky outfit were only ruses to make her feel more comfortable. Maybe they thought she was crazy enough to fall for it.
Unsure of what to do next, but sure that playing like a sitting duck wouldn't cut it, she made sure her "yellow knickers" were still covered as she climbed from the bed, slow and alert. "I'm ready." Maybe there were a few answers on the other side of that door. Or maybe not, but the odds were evenly stacked.
They're probably gonna lock you up, She thought to herself, You should take this opportunity to bolt. You were a state champion once. She eyed the unblocked exit only a few feet away from her.
"Don't bother," Strafford said, "I'll catch you."
She didn't doubt it for a second. She figured he must be the one they called when the other crazies in the hospital lost it or tried to make their getaway. He was strong enough, and oh yeah, he sure looked dangerous enough. It was his eyes––feral and gray. They were the eyes of a predator. A very powerful, very hot predator, one who was not threatened by her in the least. Yeah, she could run,
and he would catch her. Problem was, she could see nothing wrong with that.
He glanced down at the girl who called herself Mystic. "Don't keep him waitin' long," He said. His tone carried a warning.
The girl curtsied, and as she came up, Strafford lost some of the I'm-a-hard-ass vibe and planted a kiss on her forehead. They shared an affectionate look and Mystic blushed into a cherry. Woah. Chloe's jealousy was like a tourniquet around her heart, and she couldn't figure out where it had come from. She didn't know him, he didn't know her, so what the crap? But Strafford found a quick fix and without another word or look in her direction, he left, pulling the door closed behind him and trapping her inside once again.
She felt like such a dork for feeling like the oxygen had just been sucked out of the room and wondered when, and if, she would see that gorgeous face again.
"Right this way, Oracle," The girl chirped, breaking into her thoughts. She glared. Why did they keep calling her that––Oracle? It had to be a code word for "headcase". Maybe "maniac". They would probably have a good laugh about all this later.
The cold marble floor sent chilly shockwaves through Chloe's sore bare feet as she walked across the room. She held her breath. This was it. After she walked through that door, she would either find answers or be put into the dreaded jacket and forced to hug herself for the next……how long was she going to be locked away for? She wished her mother was there to tell her that her life hadn't truly sunk to its lowest point. She knew her mom cared about her enough to lie to her face. Where was Beth? How could she leave her here to face this alone?
Feeling an eerie flood of anxiety wash over her, Chloe stepped through the open door, and stumbled forward with surprise. She blinked twice to make sure her eyes were seeing clear.
She was now in a very big closet with racks and racks of clothes, and to her relief, none of the garments looked like straight jackets. All four walls each held three long racks of clothes of all types and in the middle of the room were several built shelves containing pair after pair of shoes. Hats galore hung from the ceiling above and the doors to a large, standing jewelry box were flung open. Chloe could see lovely necklaces, rings, bracelets and earrings. On taller shelves and hooks, were bags and purses and her eyes were drawn to a cool knapsack with a colorful parrot on it. She scratched her head in confusion. What kind of psychiatric hospital was this?
"It's all yours, Oracle," Mystic said, "But we'll get to explore it later. The others are waiting for us."
"What others?"
Mystic pushed open a pair of double doors…into a hair salon. Chloe hadn't spent much time in them, obviously, but she knew what they looked like. It was a pink room with even pinker drapes over arched windows that looked out over a huge picturesque garden with every type of flower imaginable. There were hair dryers that you sat under, sinks for hair washing, and stations for doing manicures, pedicures, and facials. In the center was a chair that reclined back, and little trays and stands with all kinds of beauty products were set up around it. Now she was more confused than ever. Mental hospitals didn't have walk-in closets stuffed with designer clothes or salons with exquisite views of gardens.
"She's here, my sisters!" Mystic exclaimed.
Three young girls, busy with various tasks throughout the salon, all turned their heads towards them. They were dressed like Mystic––in wacky clothes with lots of sparkles and colored hair. One white, one a blood red, and the third, apple green. When they saw Chloe, their faces brightened and they put down whatever they were doing and gathered around her. Giggling and awing, they played in her tangled locks, poked at her skin, examined her fingernails and yanked on her robe. Mystic had to make them back off.
"Girls, girls," She said in her sweet voice, "You're frightening her." Chloe assumed it was all over her face. "Sit down over here, Oracle. We should begin right away." She gestured towards the chair in the center of the room. Chloe didn't budge.
"Come in, Chloe. They won't hurt you." It was the boy Ace. Where had he come from so fast? He had even changed clothes. He now wore a white collared shirt with a black vest and barely-knotted black tie. He still had on jeans, but had traded his skate shoes in for a pair of black leather boat shoes. She had to admit, along with his eye tattoo, he looked pretty stylish. He grinned at her entrance and waved her forward.
She still didn't move. "What hospital is this?" The girls covered their mouths and giggled.
"This isn't a hospital," Ace said, "Wha' made you think tha'?" He motioned towards the chair. "Jus' sit down, will you? We don't have much time. Trust me, no one here is tryin' to hurt you."
"Quite the opposite," Mystic said with a smile as she took Chloe's hand and guided her into the chair. She was still not convinced by the girl's sweet demeanor. Nevertheless, she stiffly settled back in the chair, preparing herself for whatever was about to go down.
"Pink or red?"
Chloe blinked. "What?"
"Pink or red?" The red-haired girl asked again. She held up two nail polish bottles. "I'm Haley Havoc, by the way."
Haley Havoc? "Um, hi. I'll take black if you have it. I'm not a pink and red kind of girl." She heard Ace chuckle from his seat on a fancy chaise lounge in the corner of the room as if she'd said something funny. Haley only shrugged and began to rummage through drawer after drawer looking for her choice of color among the large collection of nail polish. Another of the girls, the one with the white hair, had begun to brush out her unruly mane, spraying something misty on it as she went and the other with the green hair was placing her feet in a golden tub of warm, soapy water. Mystic was holding up different shades of eyeshadow next to her face.
"What is this place?" She asked. "If it's not a mental hospital." And she still wasn't convinced that it wasn't one.
"Jus' know tha' you're safe here," Ace said with a nice smile.
"Will I be going home soon?" She pressed. "Where's my mom? Is she here somewhere?" The girls giggled.
"I would have to say no to tha' first question…I don't know to the second…and I definitely hope not to the third."
She went over those answers in her head. "Am I being held hostage?"
"Not in the way tha' you're thinkin'."
"What other way is there to think about it? Ow!" Her hair had just been yanked.
"Crystal Chaos!" Mystic exclaimed, "Be careful!"
"Sorry!" Crystal sprayed more mist and brushed softer.
"That's okay," Chloe mumbled, "I know it's a mess." She eyed Ace, back to business. "Am I allowed to leave?"
"No," was the no nonsense answer.
"Then I'm a hostage!"
"Not wha' I would call it."
"Well, what would you––" Mystic held up a light gold shadow next to her face and diverted her away from her thoughts.
"I think this one is perfect for you. It will look wonderful over your pretty blue eyes. Do you approve?"
Chloe shrugged. She couldn't care less about eyeshadow right now…or ever. "It's good enough, I guess."
"Great!" Mystic started looking through a box containing rows of lipstick, lifting up the little black tubes, looking at the bottom of them and putting them back if they weren't the color she was looking for. Every so often, she set one aside.
Haley was painting Chloe's fingernails black like she'd requested. The other girl was doing the same to her toes. She had no idea what was going on with her hair, but as usual, she didn't care. It could only get better from what it was. She just wished the girl would stop pulling on it so much.
She could admit that she'd let her guard down a bit. Probably a stupid thing to do, but these girls were only a harmless bunch of beauticians and manicurists with ridiculous names, not fighters. But Ace was another story. He was nice and all, but until Chloe knew his intentions, he was a threat.
"My brother leads us," Ace said, "The Quad, tha' is."
"What's the Quad?"
"The Quad, we, are a fraternity of guardians. Your guardians," Ace wore a proud smile, "We're your pro
tectors."
"My protectors? From what?"
"Everythin'."
She snorted. "I don't need protecting from anyone or anything. Thanks though."
Ace smiled and it was clear that he hadn't taken what she'd said seriously. "We all need protectin' from things like the Keres."
"Who are the Keres?"
"They're crazed maniacal demons whose entire purpose is to make sure you die as violent a death as possible."
That got her attention. "Demons? What are you talking about?"
"It was a Ker tha' got Summer," And it became clear he knew everything. "She was our sister."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Well, didn't that just soften her right up. "I'm––I'm really sorry." She meant it, even though she wasn't sure exactly what had happened anymore.
He shrugged, but he looked sad. "Death is an occupational hazard for us."
She did not want him to explain what he meant by that.
"His name is Nicolai," He continued, "We know it was him tha' was after you. Throwin' people off of high places has made him pretty famous. It's his favorite way to kill. He's wanted by the guard in like, four provinces."
Mystic stole her attention again by showing her a pinky gloss she had chosen instead of a lipstick. She also had a rosy blush and mascara––stuff Chloe never dreamed of wearing back home.
"How long have I been here?" She asked.
Ace was now standing beside her, watching the progress the girls were making. His foot tapped the ground to an impatient beat. "You've been here a couple of weeks now..."
"A couple of weeks?!"
"Tha's right. Even with Dr. Life workin' her magic, it still took a long time for you to wake up. Eleven days to be exact. But tha's not too bad really, they've been known to last longer."
Eleven days? Chloe felt faint. "What do you mean by that? Known what to last longer?"
"The komas…" He cocked his head at her. "Nicolai threw you off the cliff too, where we found you…Hmm, Dr. Life said tha' you might not remember..."
Prophecy of the Most Beautiful Page 5
