Awakened (8 page)

There was no time to ask as my bladder shuddered around its contents. “Ana, bathroom?”
I asked urgently as I gently slid off of the bed, holding my full and cramping bladder.

She pointed to one of the two doors in the room.

I carefully but quickly made my way to it. Once inside, I quickly handled the call
of nature, only sparing a quick glance around at the marbled floor and modern elements.
Not wanting to spend too much time in the small space—Laurent was probably waiting
for me—I washed my hands and went back out.

Just as I had assumed, Ana was gone, replaced by a long-haired man that radiated menace.
He stared at me as if I were a problem in his life, and as I held his gaze, I started
to worry that the nice treatment that I’d received from Ana ended here, with this
man. I’d rather have the elf-like Ana over this towering ogre.

We continued to stare at each other. I wanted to speak, but what would I say? I scanned
the room for Ana before returning my gaze to his. Black eyes, long black hair, and
a hint of Asian descent in his eyes. His face was pale, and his frown deepened.

“Did you eat?” The question sounded as if it’d burned his tongue.

I swallowed the painfully large ball of stress and opened my mouth to speak as Ana
came back through the door. Relief that I was no longer alone with the giant swept
over me as she looked between the two of us and smiled. Surprisingly, the ogre’s gaze
softened as they landed on her, as did his tone. “Did she eat and drink, Anastaise?”

His voice still held the deep gravelly tone, and I noticed that he rolled his “R”
the way they did when they spoke English on
Telemundo
—odd, since I could have sworn that he was Asian.

Ana handed me a light cotton shawl. “Yes, Darke. Is he ready for her now?” She helped
me put on the shawl. Okay, this wasn’t Laurent, but I was sure that he was just as
dangerous.

Darke’s silence pulled her attention from me and to him. “Darke?” She questioned softly.

“No, he is with Leif at the moment,” Darke answered immediately, his voice tight,
they both exchanged a look.

I wasn’t quite sure what he felt, but Ana was obviously worried. Who was this “Leif”?
Ana finished helping me with the shawl and motioned for me to sit in a chair in front
of an antique mirror. I sat, forcing myself to relax as my back was turned to the
man called Darke.

Ana began to finger comb my hair, removing the tangles, and I reluctantly relaxed
to her touch, though I forced myself to stay alert.

“He will be okay,” Ana said.

I studied their faces in the mirror. Darke shuffled in the corner, and I turned to
see what he was doing, but Ana pulled my head back to its former position and continued
to detangle the mass of waves.

“I am not worried.” Darke growled sending a shiver up my spine.

Ana ignored the warning in his voice and continued, her voice soft and sure. “Yes,
you are, and if I sense it, you know that master can, as well.”

She shared a worried glance with Darke, then continued with untangling my hair. Darke
went silent, as if pensive.

“Leif’s punishment is warranted.” From his tone, I wasn’t sure even he believed his
own statement.

Darke moved to the fire placing him in my view, and I peeked at his face. The menacing
lines were gone from his sharp features. He looked handsome. The firelight licked
his face, casting shadows and light to play across his face.

Leif was someone close to him, but what was he being punished for? Darke moved from
my line of sight and headed back toward the door.

“Hmm…” Ana’s fingers expertly pulled stray strands of hair away from my face. “I wonder
sometimes if master is too heavy-handed with his warriors—but then again, as he says,
‘
C’est guerre
.’”

And once again, my ninth-grade French wasn’t enough to understand the foreign tongue—at
least, not the last word.
C’est
meant “this is”…

Ana picked up a soft-bristled brush and brushed my hair. Then she braided it, twisted
it up, and picked up a large decorative crystal butterfly comb.

I stared at the comb in the mirror. It was beautiful and somehow familiar. The butterfly’s
wings were encrusted with two colored crystals that sparkled in the fire’s glow, one
light blue and the other a shimmering green. The butterfly’s body looked to be solid
crystal, and its antennae were probably solid crystal, as well. Ana placed the heavy
comb in my hair and met my gaze in the mirror.

“It was yours long ago. Do you remember it?” Her honey eyes were bright with hope.

I didn’t, but the thought brought my mind to my pants and its pocket contents: the
necklace that Kale had given Hélène. Would I ever be alone long enough to search for
it?

“No. What do you mean, it was mine?”

“It was Hélène’s, not yours,” Darke corrected roughly from the shadows in the corner.
“I understand how this ‘possession’ works, even if others don’t.”

I ignored him, still enamored with the beautiful crystal comb.

“It was Hélène’s?” I wanted to pull it from my hair and inspect it closer. I looked
around me again. “Is this Hélène’s room?”

Darke laughed. Bitter and deep, the sound resonated from his chest and turned my stomach.

“What’s so funny?” I whispered to Ana, too afraid to address Darke.

She shook her head. “We aren’t in France. Hélène’s home was in France.”

I turned to face her. “Okay, then. Where we are?”

Ana turned to Darke. His face held a warning that she abided
.
She turned back to me. “It doesn’t matter. You are home, and that is that.”

She walked away.

They weren’t going to tell me where I was, and I would have no way of getting in touch
with Jace or Kale. My heart sunk, and I had to catch my breath. How was I supposed
to get away if I had no clue which way to run? Of course, if I had the chance, it
wouldn’t matter—I would still run but the stress of not even knowing what continent
I was on was overwhelming.

“Calm your heart!” Darke bellowed, as if that would help me calm down.

I felt tears sting my eyes, and I squeezed them tightly shut. Stopping the tears from
falling was hard, but not impossible. I took a deep breath and slowly released it,
praying it would help me calm down.

Ana suggested that Darke wait in the hall until it was time for me to go. “I would
hate for you to take her to Master upset. He would be angry with you, Darke.” She
shooed him out of the door.

She returned to me and took my hand. “Come.” She gently pulled me from the stool and
to the bed. “Rest until he is ready for you. You have had a hectic several hours;
you need to rest.”

I followed Ana’s instruction, I lay down and allowed my eyes to close. The fear that
I would be there forever seeped into my mind, bringing on fatigue that pulled me under.
I didn’t want to sleep, and I didn’t want to be there—two choices taken away from
me, beyond my control.

I drifted to sleep faster than I ever had before and had my first visiting memory
in weeks.

***

A young girl played in the field as her father softened the soil. Her voice rose as
she sang in French. Soft and sweet was her voice—so soft and sweet that her father
couldn’t help but join her in song.

Au revoir ma belle fille pure comme miel

pâlissez comme neige

Ma belle fille au revoir

Realizing what she was singing, her father stopped and frowned. “Agnes!”

She came running through the vivid green grass and stood before him. Her dark hair
drifted with the wind, and her green eyes sparkled with innocence so pure it shone
brighter than the sun. “Yes, Papa?” she answered in thick accented English.

He studied her. “Who taught you that song?”

Agnes’s brow wrinkled in concentration as she thought. “I’m not sure, Papa.” Her voice
rose as she spoke. “But isn’t it magnificent?”

She continued singing for her father. Her sweet voice wrapped around the words, almost
veiling the pain it sent down his spine. The song was a ritual song, one sang by a
father at his daughter’s funeral. He and Agnes had not attended such a funeral. Where
could she have heard the song?

Au revoir ma belle fille pure comme miel

pâlissez comme neige

Ma belle fille au revoir

“Agnes, let Papa teach you a new song. ‘Ma belle’ is not for you,” her father said
softly.

Agnes frowned but listened as her father sang her a new song. Her voice lifted, soft
and sweet, as she tried singing with him, repeating after him.

Agnes’s father frowned as she sang back to him. The haunting feeling of the previous
song hadn’t left his mind; he wondered who had taught his only daughter the song of
death, the one sung for dead daughters.

***

I woke with a start. The room was cool; the fire was nothing but dying embers that
cast a faint orange throughout the room.

I sat up slowly as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I pushed the memory of the girl
and her father away, allowing my mind to wander to Kale for the first time since I’d
been here. I didn’t care what it meant, and I wasn’t going to let the memories come
back and take the little bit of sanity that I had managed to hold since being abducted.

I threw my feet over the side of the bed and paused, waiting for Ana to rush the room
and try to brush my hair again or force me to eat. After a few minutes passed and
I was sure that she wasn’t coming—or that she was busy somewhere else for the moment—I
scooted off of the bed.

As soon as my feet made contact with the floor, a voice sounded from the shadows,
startling me so much that I barely suppressed a scream.

“Exactly where do you think you are going?” Darke’s husky voice floated around me,
messing with my senses. Where was he?

I focused on the tall dark spot leaning in the corner. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed
the towering shadow of a man when I’d first looked around—but then again, he was wearing
all black in the darkness. I stared at the figure for a while, forcing my eyes to
make out the slight slant to his eyes, the thin lips that always seemed to be downturned
in an eternal frown, and his long hair that he wore loose, letting it cascade down
his arms and chest.

“Will you not answer?” he asked.

My legs locked beneath me, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Though Darke’s voice wasn’t the grating bark it had been before, it still didn’t sound
friendly or inviting. At least Ana was cordial, even if it was probably an act. I
had seen the small flare of her anger when I’d refused to eat, and I didn’t want to
see it again.

Even though Darke seemed to dislike me, he didn’t act as if though he would hurt me.
I was important to Laurent, and if either Ana or Darke were to get too unfriendly
with me, there would probably be hell to pay. I needed to use that to my advantage
for as long as I could, because I was sure it wouldn’t last long.

Darke stared at me appraisingly with those black eyes that unnerved me, his head slightly
cocked to the side. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

He said more like a statement than a question. Either way he meant it, I’d ask a question
of my own. “Will you turn on a light?” It sounded more like a demand, so I added,
“Please.” I couldn’t stay in the dark with this man who was oddly named after the
very thing I wanted to escape.

When he didn’t move, I figured that he had ignored my request, and I looked around
for a light switch myself. When I couldn’t find one, I looked back to Darke’s corner
to find it empty. I rolled my eyes, only to be blinded by bright light as the lamp
above me flickered on.

“Better?” Darke purred, his voice low and dark, as if daring me to ask him for anything
else. I had taken being abducted better than the average person, and I was surrounded
by what I assumed were evil Chorý, since they were allied with Laurent and not the
Council. I still knew better than to push my luck with Darke.

“Thank you.” I nervously looked around, trying to distract myself from him. I marveled
at everything—from the Persian rug on the floor, to the intricate detailing of the
artwork above the fireplace—all while feeling Darke’s gaze on me. I couldn’t help
but wonder what I had done to him to make him dislike me so much. Darke, on the other
hand seemed full of questions. “Why have you not called out for help?”

I brought my gaze back to his.

“Why have you not wondered what he wants with you or even begged or threatened for
your release?” He still gazed at me as if he couldn’t quite understand me.

Which was weird. I wasn’t the six foot four, gloomy and menacing guard holding a nineteen-year-old
girl against her will for some evil egomaniac. What did he think I was, an idiot?
The answer was simple. “If I had done any of that, would you have let me go?”

Darke quirked a brow before answering.

“I’m sure you know the answer to that question.” He snorted. “But still, is that the
only reason why you are so calm, or are you configuring an escape plan—one which,
I can assure you, will not end in your favor?”

Darke crossed the room and planted himself in the corner where he had been when I
woke up. His black long trench coat, tight-fitting tee, jeans, and boots all suited
his black mood.

He looked warm, whereas I was getting cold. I climbed back on the bed and pulled my
feet under me as a shiver wracked my body. It was getting colder, with the fire gone,
and I wondered where Ana was.

Darke glanced at the fireplace and then at me. His gaze dared me not to ask, so I
didn’t. There was no escape plan as of yet. I didn’t even know where I was, but I
would use the fact that Laurent needed me alive—for now—to my advantage.

Darke crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You aren’t even afraid, are you?”

I didn’t want to admit that I was terrified and banking on Jace or Kale—heck, even
Alex—to find me. I, myself, didn’t understand why I was handling the situation so
well. Maybe I had just resigned myself to accepting the fact that, as long as I was
with Laurent, Mia, Alex, and his family were safe.