Ashes to New

by Masters, Ellie

  Chapter Ten

  DAWN BROKE WITH a violent fury, the air seething with gusts and driving rain. Thunderstorms had rolled in from the west, bringing enough power to rattle the windows and shake the foundation of the house.

  Elsbeth woke, clutching fine linen sheets to her naked form. Where the hell was she? Her pulse raced while the fog of her mind struggled to catch up.

  It didn’t take long for the memories to return. Where was Master John? The side of the bed he’d slept in held only rumpled sheets.

  Ah, there, on the pillow, was a note. She reached for it, dreading what she would find but feeling relieved to have awoken alone.

  My darling,

  The day is yours, as work has called me in. I won’t be back until late tonight, but I eagerly await your sweet embrace.

  The man was twisted in the head, and his words had her stomach roiling. Yanking the sheet off her body, she leaped from the bed. Lightning flashed outside the windows, followed by a rolling long peal of thunder.

  Forest!

  Had they left him downstairs?

  She raced through the upper floor, not caring to explore the one level in the house she’d never ventured in before. Always, she’d believed her time with Clark Preston would end, and she would be free. But she’d been horribly wrong. That realization flooded her with an unsavory wave of emotions.

  All this time, she’d thought she was merely passing the time until her eighteenth birthday arrived to free her from the confines of the foster care system. Little had she known how much of a prisoner she was. Master John had said she’d been his from the moment she arrived.

  When had this deal been struck?

  Her bare feet slapped against the tiles, and her tread was muffled by the long line of Persian rugs in the hall. Her fingers fluttered as she twisted the knob to Forest’s bedroom. Inside, the stillness in the air forced her pulse to jump. It hammered in her neck as she confirmed he wasn’t in his bed.

  She ran to the basement door. Her hands shaking, she slid the lock free of the latch on the door.

  Still lying in the same spot on the floor, Forest had curled into a fetal ball. He whimpered. As she approached, his body convulsed.

  “It’s only me,” she whispered.

  Forest stilled, but when she touched his shoulder, he flinched.

  “Don’t,” he cried out. “Please, don’t touch me.”

  His aversion to her touch was bothersome. All she wanted was to pull him into a hug and hold him, promising him everything would be okay. But would it?

  Time ticked by, the seconds devouring the silence, while she sat beside her best friend. Really, Forest meant more to her than that. He was the brother she’d lost. Bound by ties thicker than blood, they’d survived a crucible of anguish. She loved him so hard that her heart broke.

  “This is our fate,” he said. “We’re never leaving this place.”

  Oh, they were leaving. After five years, she and her Beanpole were going to leave this place and be ripped away from each other. Unless she did something to stop it.

  “I hate this.” He shifted away. “I hate them.”

  She reached out to stroke his hair, but pulled back, unsure of how he’d react. “I know. I hate it, too.”

  “I never thought this would be our path, but I can’t see a way to be free of it.”

  It was a living agony neither of them would ever be free from.

  “We’ve walked through hell.” He huffed a laugh, a pathetic and weak noise. “I always thought we’d find a way past it, but we’ve only traveled deeper. Why us?”

  “I don’t know.” And she didn’t.

  She didn’t know why fate had stolen her parents. She didn’t know why they’d taken her baby brother. She hated how she wished he’d died. Without the threat of her baby brother’s life, she would have escaped years ago. She hated not knowing if her brother was alive. She despised the knowledge that granted men, such as Clark Preston such power over her life.

  “Don’t we have a choice?” Defeat hung heavy in his tone. “I just want it all to stop. It hurts so much.”

  “You’ll heal.”

  They’d both heal.

  “I heard what Snowden said.” Forest heaved a deep sigh. “I’m going to be lost without you.”

  As she would be without him.

  How was she to respond?

  He’d always been her light when darkness shrouded her mind. To see him utterly broken rocked the foundation of her world as much or more than the storm outside tested the integrity of the house.

  “Then, we need to change our future,” she said, not knowing what that would mean. But she did. A brewing anger had settled in her gut, and it had been growing blacker with each passing moment.

  “How?”

  There was only one way, and Forest’s gentle mind would break with the knowledge.

  “I can’t fight them.” His sobs turned uncontrollable. His entire body shook with his misery. “I’m broken,” he said.

  “You’ll get better. You’re the strongest person I know.” And the weakest.

  They’d endured too much. The damage had been done.

  Beautifully broken. Emotionally ruined. That defined their existence.

  She needed to save him before he was lost forever.

  Together, somehow, they would come out of this stronger than they were now. To do that, required an unthinkable plan.

  “Come,” she said, ignoring his protests when she gripped his shoulders.

  Supporting much of his weight, she helped him to his room, and while she thought he’d be more comfortable soaking in her tub, Forest insisted on taking a shower alone. Unwilling to fight the issue even though she was right, Elsbeth helped him to his bathroom. She stood outside, but he managed well enough by himself. He wouldn’t let her close when he exited and ambled to his bed. And then, with a face full of fatigue and defeat, he collapsed on his bed.

  She left him, her mind in turmoil, and went to prepare for what needed to be done.

  Chapter Eleven

  LIKE FOREST, ELSBETH opted for a shower, letting the steam build until it fogged the mirror. A thick layer of suds did the trick, washing the filth down the drain. Wrapping the long length of her hair in a towel, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a white cotton blouse.

  She left her room and tiptoed to Forest’s bedroom. A quick peek confirmed Forest slumbered although his sleep appeared to be anything but peaceful.

  Ideas percolated in her head, and none of them were good. A decision had to be made, however, and she struggled with the implications. As she was faced with a future of slavery for her and the brutality Forest would face in a fighting ring, peace settled quickly beneath her determination.

  Now, all that was left to do was to wait out the interminable passage of time.

  Elsbeth grabbed her copy of Wuthering Heights and curled up on the couch in the great room. For a time, she became someone else and traveled a different path.

  Forest woke later in the afternoon, emerging from his room to search the kitchen for something to eat. He said nothing, his vacant stare fortifying her resolve.

  Her cell phone buzzed with a text a few minutes prior to five p.m. It was time. Clark Preston would be home. Master John wasn’t expected for several hours, giving her a window of opportunity.

  Her mind stilled in those few moments while she waited for Clark Preston to arrive. Acceptance brought a ray of hope, something she latched on to because she feared the next few hours. The Porsche rumbled outside, followed by the screeching of the garage door sliding on its rails.

  Elsbeth knelt on her rug and counted the eleven steps it took for him to cross the floor.

  She completed the greeting ritual, kissing the top of his shoe, lingering for a moment to rest her cheek against the polished leather. His sharp intake of breath made her smile. She’d surprised him.

  “Did you miss me, little one?” His voice softened with praise for her uncharacteristic display.

  “Yes,
sir.” She could have said more, but she didn’t want to raise his suspicions.

  He took the two steps to where Forest stood, his feet spread wide on a base much more solid than his state of mind. She’d tried to get him to talk to her throughout the day, but her Beanpole had remained distant and vacant.

  “I have something special planned for you tonight.” Clark Preston strode down the hall. “Come.”

  The order was no different than the thousands that had come before, yet this one felt needful and raw.

  Elsbeth rose, and with a glance at Forest, she followed Clark Preston down the hall and to the great room.

  Her position was at the edge of the carpet, Forest’s place was at the center of the room, and Clark Preston took a seat on the couch. She broke protocol and dared to approach. With her hands clasped before her and head bowed, she walked to stand before him. His eyes widened, surprise muted by the fever of lust brewing behind his stare. Capitalizing on his lust, she lowered to her knees, pressing her cheek against his thigh.

  It took less than a breath before his fingers slipped through her hair. He’d always been fascinated by her long hair.

  “Little one?”

  Lifting her head, she met the fierceness of his eyes and rose to straddle his lap. “Please, sir.”

  Her gentle gyrations fed his hunger, and his need stiffened behind the zipper of his trousers.

  His deep voice broke upon a soft laugh. “You’re going to miss me, aren’t you?”

  Her answer was to snuggle into his eager embrace. She wrapped her arms around him, slipping her fingers between the cushions to grab the hilt of the knife she’d planted between the seam of the cushions. The sound of Forest shifting gave her pause. She’d wanted to spare him this memory, but she had little choice.

  Pressing her lips against Clark Preston’s throat, she nibbled and sucked while his dick hardened beneath the training he’d instilled in her hips from the tender age of twelve.

  With the trail of her kisses angling down his jaw, her grip tightened, as did her resolve. She kissed him then, exciting the man who’d stolen her innocence. He grabbed her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples. She kissed him deeply, opening her mouth to allow him to take her as he pleased, and while his tongue speared her mouth, she dragged the sharpened blade against his throat.

  His startled shout was swallowed by a flood of blood. She lifted off his lap and watched him gurgle on his last breath, feeling nothing but relief.

  “Elsbeth?”

  Forest’s low tone demanded her attention, but she didn’t want to miss this moment. It was done. Years of abuse had been silenced with a single cut of flesh.

  “Elsbeth?” More insistent now, Forest wouldn’t be denied much longer.

  Clark Preston’s body crumpled. The blood congealed into a thick, sticky mess, dripping down his chest to pool in his lap. Turning her attention to the mess, she stared at her knees.

  Anticlimactic. That was the word that came to mind.

  He should have suffered more. His death had been far too swift and far too peaceful.

  “Elsbeth?” Forest’s whisper came from behind.

  She dropped the knife and crawled off the couch. His blood coated her inner thighs, and the coppery stench had her gagging.

  But they weren’t safe yet.

  “Call the cops, Bean.” Her voice came out monotone, holding much firmer than she’d expected. “They need to get here before Master John returns.”

  And, from his note, they would have a couple of hours at best, if that long.

  “The cops?”

  “Yes, call the damn cops.” She turned to face him. “They need to get here before John Snowden.”

  Comprehension dawned in Forest’s eyes. He gulped and then looked at the body. “Why?”

  Did she tell him what the men had planned for him? She should, and she would, but for now, she needed to get Clark Preston’s blood off her body.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE POLICE FOUND Elsbeth tucked in a corner of her shower. Water poured down. Steam filled the room. Blood still coated her legs. She’d had every intention of washing away Clark Preston’s residue, but her hands had been shaking too hard. Then, the tears had come. She had no real idea how long she’d been waiting. She didn’t really care.

  But she was waiting. There was only one outcome that could follow murder. She’d do it again in a heartbeat and without regret.

  All that mattered was Forest and the continued safety of her baby brother. They’d wanted to destroy Forest, pitting him in whatever fighting ring they’d mentioned. John Snowden was right. Forest wouldn’t have lasted a year. His gentle nature would have hastened his death.

  He wasn’t the only one she worried about. Her brother’s safety had hinged on the obedience she gave to Clark Preston. He’d held the constant threat of harm over her head if she dared to disobey. Where her brother had wound up, she didn’t know, but Clark Preston had. That fear had ruled her life even if she kept it tucked far away. She didn’t even remember what he looked like. He was an infant when the accident had happened. Now she would never know.

  Infants were much easier to adopt than traumatized girls. She hadn’t seen him since the accident, but she had been told he’d gone to a good home. When she thought of him, her imagination would bring forth the image of what he must look like with the passing years. He was always surrounded by faceless parents, who loved and adored him.

  Her future remained uncertain, but time continued its relentless march. The cops arrived.

  The cops brought in a female to talk her out of the shower. Elsbeth’s mind was numb. She moved on autopilot, lathering with soap, rinsing, washing her hair, and then drying everything off. The lady cop walked with her into the closet and picked out a shirt while Elsbeth tugged on a pair of jeans and toed on her shoes. The cotton blouse slid over her head and settled around her waist.

  Now what? She turned to the cop. “Are you going to arrest me?”

  John Snowden had planned to steal her future by turning her into his slave. Now, she’d handed over her freedom to the justice system—and willingly, too. She’d rather spend the rest of her life in jail than spend another moment under the power of men like Clark Preston and John Snowden.

  The woman put her hand on Elsbeth’s shoulder. “We need to ask a few questions.”

  “Forest didn’t—”

  “Shh.” The woman had warm brown eyes and black hair tied into a bun. The corners of her eyes dipped down, mirroring the sadness etched on her face. “Is there anything you need? A purse maybe?”

  The badge pinned to the woman’s chest identified her last name as Naples, but Elsbeth didn’t know how to address the cop. She didn’t think the woman was a detective, based upon nothing more than the woman’s age. Weren’t detectives older?

  Thoughts moved like molasses in her head, and a kind of buzzing filled her ears. Must be the early stages of shock.

  A purse? She had one but where? And why? Wouldn’t the cops simply take everything and put it in one of those plastic bag things?

  Elsbeth moved to her room, shadowed closely by Officer Naples. Her purse hung from the chair by her desk, but there wasn’t anything important in it, except for her school ID. She had no driver’s license and no money. Clark Preston might have allowed her and Forest to attend school—because the foster system frowned upon homeschooling of foster children—but he had drawn the line at the independence or freedom a driver’s license would have granted.

  Elsbeth picked up her purse and turned to the cop, seeking direction.

  A gentle gaze greeted Elsbeth.

  “Come.” The woman gestured. “Detective Grady wants to question you.”

  The cavernous house had always been a place of echoes, but now, the walls practically buzzed with activity. Dozens of cops filled the kitchen, the great room, and even trickled down the long hall leading to the front of the house. They worked with quick efficiency, collecting evidence.

  Elsbeth
scanned the sea of blue, seeking Forest. A group of men were clustered around the couch. One shot pictures of the crime scene while others stood, pointing, conversing, and taking notes. All that evidence would seal her fate.

  Officer Naples took her arm and steered her toward the front of the house. Elsbeth was guided to the formal dining room where the woman pulled out a chair and told her to have a seat. It was an order, not a request. Easy enough. Elsbeth had been taking orders for years.

  Across the way, Forest’s shock of blond hair was unmistakable against the men in their dark uniforms. He was taller than most of them. Her little Beanpole was growing up, but he was still skinny as a rail. It made him look smaller, more fragile, than he really was.

  What were they doing in the study?

  Forest was speaking with the men, his arms animated and his fingers pointing all around the room. A pair of cops stood behind Clark Preston’s desk, the glow of the monitor lighting their faces in a pale light. They had another photographer in that room. Why the man was snapping photos in there was beyond her. A couple of others were combing through files.

  Forest’s head lifted over the men. His gaze caught hers, and he dared a smile.

  A smile.

  His gentle nature remained. He lifted his hand but not to wave. The gesture was meant more as an acknowledgment.

  Forest took a step toward her, but the man he was talking to pressed a hand against Forest’s chest. A scowl formed on Forest’s face, and then resignation filled his eyes. She understood. The cops would be keeping them separate until they could ask their questions.

  She took in a deep breath and prepared for her interrogation.

  A thickset man wandered down the hall. He stepped into the dining room and paused to take in her shaking form. Elsbeth tilted her head to meet his expression. Bushy thick hair framed the stern lines of his face. Despite his fearsome appearance, she relaxed, thankful he wasn’t one of the many men Clark Preston had brought into the house.