Illarion didn’t even know I was here and if he didn’t know, he wouldn’t know where to look for me.
I leaned against the wall, below the window and slid down. With my knees to my chest, I buried my face in my palms. As much as I wanted to curl into a ball and cry, it wouldn’t do anything for me right now. Now was the time to devise a plan of attack.
I needed facts; staff numbers, schedules, locations.
From what I could recall, piecing together the hazy details that were my last four weeks, he was dosing me daily, sometimes twice a day. Actually, the coward’s son was doing it.
My ears perked.
A hurried set of footsteps on the approach. I stood and backed myself against the wall closest to the window. Quickly glancing around, I took inventory. Damn. There was nothing I could use as a weapon. Shit. Quick assessment. I dropped to the floor and did a push-up. Nope. I still hadn’t regained all my strength, but if I needed to, I could fight.
The key turned, and I braced myself, instead of Ugly Shoes, I saw Daniel. He stepped inside, closed the door, and looked around the room.
‘Ms. Hart?’ he whispered.
He didn’t seem as cruel as his father, but my assessment was incomplete at this point. Watching him from my vantage point, he looked from corner to corner before holding his hands out.
‘I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk. Please, there isn’t much time,’ he spoke, again, this time I noticed that he was holding a parcel in his hand.
Silently, I crept from the corner and he turned in my direction. He had excellent hearing.
‘My father doesn’t know I’m up here,’ he motioned for me to follow him to the writing desk.
I eyed him suspiciously. He gave me the parcel, which I now saw was complete with newspapers and magazines.
Keeping a safe distance, I wrapped my arms around my middle. ‘Who are you?’
‘Daniel.’
‘Yeah, I got that.’
He winced. ‘You recognize my father from the Agency’s file notes.’
Glaring at him, I waited for a proper answer.
‘Simon Dalca.’
Well shit.
Daniel was right; he was mentioned, a lot. The Agency didn’t have a complete profile on him, but they did know that he was a Romanian nationalist responsible for many black-market dealings, such as the selling and buying of information pertaining to government uses of Sensitives. Where they were inserted, who was undercover and what they did, identities, locations and roles. Much if those notes included agents in the FBI, CIA, and DOD. Agents who’d been bought and paid off to some extent.
He was an expert at keeping private and on the surface, he was a well-respected man; his money and power made him so. People feared him.
Daniel sighed and dropped the pile of magazines on the desk.
His intel piqued my interest but I would be an idiot to trust the son of my nemesis. This could be one of Dalca’s tricks.
Daniel sighed and traced his finger over the twine binding the parcel together. ‘It’s not much, but my intention is that it will help you feel normal.’ He nodded at the magazines.
I looked at him intently, but I couldn’t get a read on him. My emotional radar was blocked off. Which begged the question - what had become of my abilities?
‘Why are you here?’
His eyes found mine. ‘I can’t stop the frequency of the doses, but I can start to alter the potency. I have to do it over a period of time.’
My previous reluctance to trust him did not disappear.
‘Why would you want to help me?’
He didn’t answer me, he didn’t even acknowledge the question. Instead, he stepped toward me and I stepped back.
‘You have to understand it will take time, I need to be careful.’
‘How much time?’ I kept my voice low, trying to gauge exactly what we were talking here.
‘Four months.’
‘One hundred and twenty days?’
‘I’m sorry, I just, if he catches us, he’ll kill us both.’
‘It’s better than nothing.’
‘Tomorrow, he’ll start to draw from you… even on the Serum, even with all the pain blockers, you’ll feel it. I’m telling you so you can brace yourself.’
‘Why are you helping me?’ I asked again.
Somehow, despite his seemingly kind nature, I couldn’t believe it was because he felt bad for me.
He pressed his palms against the desk.
‘Because I’ve seen so many before you suffer and die, because they weren’t strong enough.’
‘Strong enough for what? How many have there been?’
What the hell was this psycho doing?
‘Too many.’ He shook his head. ‘I, I lost count.’
‘What?’
He bowed his head. ‘I tried to lower the dose but they couldn’t hold out as long as I needed them to.’
My eyes filled with tears and then it made sense. Guilt. He’d carried the weight of all those deaths, on his shoulders.
‘You did what your father told you. You had no other choice.’
The pain in his eyes was sincere. He hated what was going on, but my outlook wasn’t so bleak anymore. I couldn’t get a read on him, but the sincerity I heard in his voice was real. And maybe, with him, I stood a chance.
He straightened up, towering over me; he was as tall as Illarion. Much taller than his father and for the first time, I really took notice of how he looked. His hair was short and tousled, just like Troy wore it. He was lean and athletic.
‘Tomorrow will be hard,’ he looked away and scratched the back of his neck. ‘But I’ll start to bring the dose down. Just keep that in the back of your mind. It will help to ground you, okay?’
When I didn’t reply, he turned to face me.
‘You with me?’
Snapping my mind back to him, I nodded.
‘Keep it in your mind. It’s important, no matter what happens, keep that spark of hope flickering.’
‘Wait, what are we talking here? One percent a day decrease?’
‘Point eight, to be precise… I can’t risk you going to zero percent without proper medical attention. It’ll be like going cold turkey on a cocktail of all the worst drugs combined. It could kill you.’
‘Okay, point eight percent a day.’
He nodded. ‘Try to get some rest.’
‘Thank you for the care package.’
He left and locked the door behind him. Slowly, I picked up the parcel, made my way over to the bed, and sat down on the ground beside it. Maybe he wasn’t like Dalca.
I flicked through the magazines and the newspapers. The dates spanned more than two months, December through to the end of February. I’d been out for more than two months. And I missed Christmas. Damn it.
I rubbed my face. I was in a coma for two months. And now, I would have to be here for at least four until the Serum was out of my system.
Six months of my life spent away from Illarion, practically dead to the world. God. How was he? I couldn’t settle the pain in my heart. The dull ache was still present even if nothing else was.
But he’d find me, when I got out of here, we’d find each other.
Finally, I brought my attention back to the pile and continued flicking through it; a small, handwritten set of notes fell out.
As soon as I saw the handwriting, my heart stopped. I’d recognize it anywhere. The elegant strokes on the paper were as elegant as the man himself.
Illarion had written to me. Why?
How did Daniel get these?
I opened the first one. It was dated in the top right-hand corner—a week after the warehouse.
Twenty-eighth of December.
I refused to say goodbye, I can’t accept that you’re gone. I write these, taking them to your post box, hoping that if I say all the things I should have, I’d feel better. I don’t.
I can’t feel you anymore, I felt your life slip away as I held you in my arms
. I felt the fire die inside you. How am I meant to cope with that? To have felt that?
I can’t let you go, Zvezda Moya.
I love you.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, stifling a sob. Oh my god, he thinks I’m dead. They’re not looking for me. No. God, no, that can’t be right. He would know, he would feel me, wouldn’t he? Tears wet my cheeks, almost like they were confirming what I refused to believe.
I wiped my eyes and carefully placed the note beside the pile of newspapers.
The next one was dated a week after the first.
Fourth of January
Aurel came back to the Agency, you’d have loved that. You probably would have punched him for being a hypocrite, but he said he needs the distraction. Being at his house reminds him too much of you. He loved you.
He cared for you probably a lot more than I would have liked.
You would have laughed at that, my jealousy. I just want to hear you laugh again.
But I don’t blame him. You’re easy to fall for, Ace. I did. Before I even met you. You’re infectious. Everything about you draws people in. I wish I had told you all of this when you were here.
I resigned, I couldn’t work there anymore.
We found out that Damon had been shielded by The Taker, somehow, he managed to hold the veil over him for more than a decade, so no one would have ever known or sensed anything was off. But you did. I remember the first time you met him. I should have taken action then. Damon came after you because the Taker, whoever he is, was controlling him.
I never got to tell you that.
I never got to tell you a lot of things. I’m sorry. For everything, Ace. This is my fault.
My stomach twisted in knots.
Everything inside me hurt. He carried so much guilt and I had no way to tell him, to show him that I was alive.
Tears coursed freely down my cheeks and there was no stopping them.
I looked down at the pile of letters, dozens of them were spilled across my lap. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t look at them; I couldn’t feel that pain right now.
Dropping the rest of them into the pile, I bundled them together, stashing them under my mattress.
Four months. One hundred and twenty days was what Daniel needed to get us the hell out of here. I could do it. I had to do it.
I pulled the covers off the bed and draped them over myself on the cold, hard floor. Finally, I let sleep take me, and I hoped I’d get some rest because tomorrow would suck, but it was the beginning of my countdown.
Chapter Two
I did not sleep well last night. Images of Illarion kept playing on my mind. My heart was aching for him. Grieving for the death I had and the consequent loss of my life with him.
He’d watched me die; he was suffering, blaming himself.
His face always came to me first, the way he looked when I forced him out of the warehouse, the way I felt him running, knowing that he would probably be too late and the way he screamed when Damon shot me. For the rest of my life that sound would haunt me.
Sighing, I pulled myself up off the floor and moved toward the wardrobe. Another horrendous dress to wear, another day to be a slave. I pulled out a dark blue, silky gown and didn’t bother with a shower. I wouldn’t be lucid enough to care about that, anyway.
Stopping at the dresser, I looked in the mirror. God, I looked like hell. I moved away from my reflection and snatched up an elastic. My hair was a lot longer now and I could do a lot more with it, so I pulled my hair forward and braided it to the side letting it hang over my left shoulder.
Satisfied that it was good enough, I left the confines of my extravagant prison and made my way downstairs.
Dalca was waiting, a smile wide on his lips. Quickly I put my game face on. I smiled from ear to ear and sauntered gracefully over toward him. This was just like being under cover. I can do this. I cringed inwardly as he took my hand and twirled me around. I felt his eyes on my body.
‘Beautiful.’ He sighed. ‘Come now, we have some work to do.’
I followed him, obediently.
He led us through a large set of stained glass doors, through to a room deeper within the mansion. I made a mental note of all the doors we’d walked through, the amount of time it took to clear each room and how much staff he had in each part of the house.
Astonishment rendered me speechless. This was insane. How did something like this exist in New York? My heart sunk unless we weren’t in New York anymore.
‘This is my private office. This is where we will greet our business guests.’ He motioned for me to enter; I heard the lock click into place before he joined me inside.
‘Please, sit.’
Obliging, I moved toward the chair and sat.
‘Now, before we have our first guest, my son has prepared another dose for you, and a quick bite to eat for breakfast.’
My heart hammered in my chest. I could feel the fear creeping up on me. But on the surface, I held it together. Everything was counting on me being able to hold my façade. This wouldn’t work if I crumbled now.
‘Yes, master.’ I nodded, with a smile.
He leaned back in the heavyset, leather chair and pressed his fingertips together as he studied my face.
Hold it together, Ace.
I was a trained spy. A damn good one at that and I knew how to play my cards.
Slowly, I turned my attention to the detailing around the room, the walls, the paintings and the other assortment of décor lining the space.
I studied the fireplace and paid extra attention to the flickering flames inside it. If I was going to sell this drugged-up thing, I was going to sell it good. I smiled to myself and kept my eyes on everything long enough to seem preoccupied, but quick enough to show that my attention wasn’t that of a lucid person.
Finally, he turned his gaze away, and the tension inside me settled.
‘You like it here,’ he said.
Slowly, I brought my eyes to him with a weak smile. ‘Oh yes, it’s the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen.’ I let my gaze drift away from him, slightly swaying in my seat.
‘It’s one of my homes; it can be yours too, if you choose.’
‘If I choose, master?’
He smiled. ‘I want you to stay with us. You and I will be working together for a long time, and I know a beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be alone.’
Oh God. I threw up a little.
‘I’d like that; it is a beautiful home.’
‘Good.’ He got to his feet as a tap at the door drew his attention.
This was a bad situation. I forced my eyes to remain ahead. On the one hand, I needed to play this part, not only my life was on the line. On the other hand, how could I pretend that I wanted this animal touching me? I was on the verge of a full-blown break down.
Hold yourself together, Ace.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. I could do this. It was just another job. All I had to do was focus on the end goal. Illarion—I was doing this to see him again.
‘Nice and quick now, Daniel, we have some work to do before our guests arrive.’
Daniel appeared at my side, kneeling. He took my arm in his and gently moved the silk sheath away from my skin. I didn’t dare look at him even though I felt his gaze on me.
Quickly, the needle pierced my skin and, just like before, my heart rate sped up as chills flushed my body forcing shallow, broken gasps to escape my lips, and then my mind went blank.
***
I looked up at my master and waited for him to speak.
‘Now, Ms. Hart, tell me about the first time you realized you had a gift.’
I thought back.
‘I was six. My mother was driving to get groceries. We were at a red light. A man made her get out of her car and he stole it. I was scared in the back seat; I remember thinking that I wished he would just go to the police and tell them what he did.’
‘And?’ he asked, gesturing for me to go on.
�
��He handed himself over to the police and confessed everything.’
‘Wonderful!’ He got to his feet. ‘What else can you remember?’
I thought back to a day, years later.
‘I was sixteen, my dad and I went to look at the Christmas lights in the neighbourhood. I changed my mind about going to a party at the last minute; something told me not to go. The next day I found out there was a gas leak, and everyone at the party died.’
‘You’ve been evolving from a young age, this is great news Acacia. It means that you’re going to be more powerful than any other Divine Sensitive before you. Maybe even me.’
He was a Divine Sensitive?
I looked up at my master. He had a smile on his face, but I didn’t understand how this was good news for me. ‘Come now, our first guest has arrived.’
I looked around, slowly, I didn’t hear anything.
‘Follow me.’
I got up and followed him through the doors and into another adjoining room.
There was a man tied to a chair, his face was blank, he wasn’t responsive at all. My master must not have liked him to do that. He would never do that to me.
‘Come now, Acacia, sit down, right there.’ He pointed to the chair right in front of the man.
As soon as I sat down, my master took my hands and placed them atop the man’s.
‘What do you feel?’
I concentrated.
‘Nothing.’
Slowly he knelt beside me and pressed one hand over mine and the other on my cheek.
‘Now?’
A sharp, piercing bolt of pain shot through my hand and into the man’s. He slightly jumped; his eyes widened and met mine. A flitting realization crossed my mind. He was afraid. Of me.
My master pulled his hand free.
‘Well done, Acacia. Now we know how powerful you are, let’s get to work.’
He stood up and walked around behind me. Slowly, he pressed one hand above my heart and the other on my forehead instructing me to do the same to the man.
‘Concentrate on the man before you, I want you to focus on everything inside him, you’re going to transfer it to me. Understand?’
King of Hart Page 2
