Her Bear In Mind (14 page)

As soon as it was nightfall, the truck started again. Another long, cold night. Another stop at sunrise in the middle of nowhere, this time surrounded by trees that reminded Sierra with a pang of home. Another bag of formula and peanut butter sandwiches.

“Where are you taking us?” she asked, and received no response.

But she already suspected where they were going.

Two more nights of driving. Two more days of sleeping in the cage. Every muscle in Sierra’s back had cramped painfully from not being able to stand.

And then on the fifth night, they arrived.

The drop cloth was pulled back, and it was Dorrian’s smiling face that greeted them this time.

“Welcome to New York.” He said.

*

The traveling cage had come to a stop in a sprawling hanger. The fluorescent lights glared off an impressive collection of sports cars and airplanes. The Leer jet painted with the Taylor Enterprises logo was parked next to a shiny red Ferrari 458 Spider. Motorcycles were lined up along one wall. Everything money could buy, with plenty of space left in the hanger for more.

The children were separated, boys from girls, and led away by armed guards. Two young women arrived to take the babies.

“Where are you taking them?” Sierra demanded.

Dorrian waived away her question. He held out his hand cordially to help her out of the cage. Sierra ignored it and clambered out on her own. Her back screamed in pain mixed with relief, as she stood upright for the first time in five days. She was unable to hold back a groan.

“Well, I’m certain you would like to freshen up after your travels.” Dorrian said.

Sierra resisted the urge to hit him.

“Jimmy will show you to your room.”

So bag guy had a name. Wordlessly, he led her away across the hanger and through the door on the other side.

From there, they went down a short hallway and into a gold and burgundy paneled elevator. The elevator even had that terrible canned jazz music. Jimmy flashed a security badge at the keypad and hit the button for the twelfth floor. They were on floor “H” for hanger. It would appear that this elevator would not go anywhere without a security badge.

After an awkward and quiet ride up, the doors opened.

They were in a hotel.

At least that’s what it used to be.

She was looking at a hotel hallway with plush, burgundy carpets and tasteful art on the walls. From the elevator, the hallway split in two directions with rows of rooms.

There were girls milling about in the halls, talking and laughing with one another. None of them were her kids. They were all older, maybe high school age. Sierra had a notion that perhaps the floors were divided by gender and age group. The girls stared at her.

There were two armed guards on the floor. Jimmy nodded to them as they passed.

They finally stopped at room 1222.

“This one’s yours.” Jimmy said, and held the door open.

Sierra stepped inside. Jimmy shut the door behind her and walked away without another word. Sierra waited a moment, then tried the door.

Locked.

Dorrian had bought a hotel, and then modified it so the doors locked from the outside.

So she will still in a cage, but at least she could stand up in this one.

The room was elegantly appointed. The sizeable bathroom had a Jacuzzi tub. There were lush linens on the king sized bed. There was a sitting area with an overlarge  flat screen television. Refrigerator, microwave, mini bar. What more could a girl want? Besides a door that opened.

Sierra went immediately to inspect the windows. They did not open, as she suspected. They also seemed to be tinted, shielding her from view. No hope of grabbing the attention of the people down below on the city street.

She paced the room, pondering her situation. There had to be a way out. She lay down on the big bed, trying to think.

But oh my god,
the bed
. Sinking into the soft mattress, for a moment she didn’t care that she was in a cage or that she would never see Joe again. After being dragged from her bed in the middle of the night, fighting tooth and nail to escape, and five days cramped in that cage trying to comfort inconsolable children, that bed felt like the most wonderful thing in the world. She let herself melt into it, and she slept.

She woke later to a timid knock on the door.

“Miss Christie?” a girl’s voice asked from the other side of the door.

Sierra sat up in bed as the door opened, and a petite  girl who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, stepped into the room. She had light blonde hair and freckles that reminded her of Molly. She was bearing a massage table.

“My name’s Gina. Mr. Taylor asked me to come work on your back,” she said shyly.

Sierra stared, dumfounded at the massage table for a moment before finding her voice.

“You can tell Mr. Taylor that I don’t need a damn thing from him.”

Gina shifted her weight awkwardly.

“Ummm…. You’re really turning down a massage? Seriously?” she asked.

Put in those terms, it did seem foolish somehow. Gina took her silence as acceptance and unfolded the table.

“Uh, Maybe you should take a bath while I set up?” Gina suggested.

She did need a bath. She must smell like death. There  didn’t seem to be a point in resisting at this juncture.

She shut herself in the bathroom and peeled off the filthy dress. She sat on the vanity watching the room fog up with stream as the tub filled with hot water. The sleep and the hot bath cleared her head, washing away all the chaos of the last few weeks and making room for a plan. Any plan. She couldn’t just stay in this ivory tower with Dorrian the rest of her life. There had to be a way out.

She stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped up in a towel. Gina had the table set up. There was soothing music playing and aromatherapy candles scattered around the room.

“You can go ahead and lie down,” Gina said.

Sierra stretched out on the table and Gina got to work. Her small hands deftly found every knot and pressed it into submission.

“How long have you lived here?” Sierra asked her.

Gina stiffened. She didn’t seem to be comfortable with conversation.

“Since I was five.” she said.

“And that’s when Dorrian kidnapped you?”

“Well…yes.”

Gina was quiet for a long time, focused on the tension in Sierra’s lower back.

“He’s not that bad, you know.” she said finally. “He takes good care of us. I have friends here and nice clothes and books. He gives us whatever we want.”

“But he took you from your parents.” Sierra protested. “Don’t you miss them?”

Again, Gina took a long time to answer her. She’d moved on to her impossibly knotted shoulders.

“I think I did at first. I still talk to them on Skype sometimes. But this is my home now. Dorrian takes very good care of us.”

“You said that.” Sierra said. “But does Dorrian let you leave?”

“Some kids have gone home. Now and again, they go home.”

“How do you know they went home?”

Gina didn’t answer. Sierra found herself thinking about the goldfish she had as a little girl. The one that her parents “sent to live with other goldfish” while she was at school. She had a sinking suspicion something similar happened to these kids who had “gone home.”

“You’re a shifter, right?” Sierra asked her. “What are you?”

“Me?” Gina seemed surprised by the question. “I’m a swan.”

THE FINAL
CHAPTER

Sierra was pacing her room again, desperate for a plan, when the phone rang. She walked to the nightstand and tentatively picked it up.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Good evening, Miss Christie,’  A professional male spoke on the other end of the phone. “Mr. Taylor asks that you join him for dinner at seven. He’ll send an escort up for you. Formal attire is requested. You should find something suitable to wear in your closet.”

Sierra hung up the phone and went to the closet. Sure enough, it was stocked with an array of beautiful designer clothes and shoes, all in her size. She wondered briefly if Dorrian’s assistants knew Joe’s assistants, and if there was some industry standard way they were all capable of figuring out her dress size.

She selected a slinky black silk Valentino dress and matching heels. The whole ensemble probably cost at least six grand. She wondered if this was all it took to make these kids so chock full of Stockholm Syndrome. Dorrian’s money no doubt bought a lot of good favor.

There was a knock on her door promptly at seven. Jimmy had returned. He escorted her down the hallway. She passed Gina in the hall, who smiled at her shyly and complimented her dress. They took the elevator down to the first floor, which opened to a grand marble lobby.

Off the lobby was a dining room, where Dorrian was waiting for her. He stood next to the table in a tailored suit, and held out her chair. Sierra sat stiffly.

A waiter appeared, a boy of maybe sixteen, and poured them their wine.

“Are you enjoying your accommodations?” Dorrian asked. “I hope you appreciated the massage. Gina is very good.”

Sierra sipped her wine and ignored the question.

“You employ an awful lot of child labor here,” she said, indicating their young waiter.

“Well, I try to make sure they’re ready for life outside of their home. They all learn job skills in addition to their standard education. Some of them even go on to work for my company. After college, of course.”

“And they just get over the fact that you ripped them away from their parents?”

“Yes.” Dorrian replied simply. “They do. The locks are just a precaution. They don’t want to leave. They have everything they want right here. All the toys their parents couldn’t afford. All the freedom they were never given at home.”

Sierra choked on a piece of garlic bread.

“Freedom? Are you kidding me?”

“Freedom is relative.” Dorrian replied. “The kids want to eat candy and stay up past their bed time. The teenagers want to drink and have sex with each other. I just give them what they want, until they no longer want to go home. Until this is their home.

“It will be yours too. You’ll come around. Sooner or later they all come around.”

Sierra was quite certain she was going to be sick.

“What about the kids that ‘go home’?” she asked.

Dorrian smiled pleasantly and dropped his voice to an undertone, so their waiter wouldn’t hear.

“Now and again, their parents back home will disobey my orders. The children pay the price for their parent’s foolishness. Just like you will, if Joe tries anything. However, I am fond of you, Sierra. It would be a terrible waste to have to rip your beautiful body apart.”

He took her hand as he said this, almost lovingly. Sierra pulled it away with revulsion.

“So what happens now?” Sierra asked, trying to sound braver than she felt. “You dress me up like a doll and force me to have dinner with you. Are you going to force me into your bed next?”

“You insult me.” Dorrian replied, and in spite of herself, Sierra felt relieved by the answer. “I have no intention of forcing you to do anything. You will come to me. You’ll hate me, and you’ll curse me, and you’ll miss your rough, simple man back home. And then one day, you’ll get lonely. And you’ll come to me. It’s inevitable.”

He paused to cut a piece of his steak.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve arranged to allow Joe a Skype visit with you next week. It wouldn’t do to have you tell him you’ve been mistreated.”

*

Sierra didn’t sleep much that night, or the next one. By day, she paced her room. Occasionally, the phone would ring. She’d ignore it. Someone knocked on the door once. She ignored that too. She took baths, and she ate the gourmet food that was sent up to her on silver trays, and she paced, while she tried to think of a way out of this mess.

It was early evening. Sierra calmly picked up the phone in her room. She was automatically connected with the same over pleasant voice that told her she was having dinner with Dorrian two days before.

“How may I help you, Miss Christie?” the voice asked cheerfully.

“I’d like another massage. Could you send Gina up?” she said.

“Ah. Well…I’m not certain Mr. Taylor would…” the man stammered.

“Then call Mr. Taylor, ask him, and send her up.” Sierra said.

She hung up the phone with a resounding clunk and waited. As expected, fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Gina let herself in.

“Hi, Miss Christie. You wanted another massage?” she said.

“Yes, please.” Sierra replied. “And call me Sierra.”

Gina got started on her massage. She eased the tension out of Sierra’s back as gentle music played in the background.

“So tell me about your home.” Sierra said.

“I don’t really remember it much. I was just a little kid.” Gina said, brushing off the question.

“Well, what do you remember?”

Gina was clearly uncomfortable with the question. Still, Sierra suspected she had been told to do whatever she asked. So, if she wanted Gina to talk about home, Gina was going to talk about home.

“We lived in Arkansas. In a boathouse.”

“You lived in a boathouse?”

“Yeah. There was this bright yellow slide on the back. My big brother used to wait at the bottom to catch me. He’d do this thing where he’d slide down and then shift right at the bottom, so he landed in the water as a swan. I was jealous. I wasn’t old enough to shift yet.”

“Is your brother locked up here too?”

“No. He used to live here, but he went home.”

Sierra felt her heart ache for this poor lost little girl.

“Tell me what it was like growing up with your parent.”

“Why? They were…” she faltered. “I don’t really remember that.”

“Try.” Sierra instructed her. “Did your dad ever pick you up and spin you around? Did your mom ever sing to you?”

Gina stopped massaging.

“Why are you asking me these things?”

Sierra sat up and faced her.

“I’d just like to know how your mother felt when they ripped you out of her arms and locked you away here.”

“You don’t understand.” Gina said. “I’m okay. I’m happy here.”

Gina’s voice shook. She didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Is your mom happy?”

Gina backed away. There were tears in her eyes, now.

“Why are you asking me these things?” she said again.

“What about your brother? Is he happy?” Sierra demanded

“I told you. My brother went home.”

Sierra stood up and moved towards her. Gina backed into the wall.

“Do you really believe that?” Sierra asked.

Gina was crying now.

“These kids,” Sierra said, “The ones that ‘go home’, have you ever seen them leave? Has anyone ever seen them leave? Or heard from them again? Has your big brother ever Skyped with you?”

Gina sobbed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” Gina cried. “They went home. My brother went home!”

“Come on, Gina! You are a smart girl! You know better than that. You know your brother didn’t go home.”

“No…” Gina insisted piteously. “No, he went home.”

Sierra took her by the shoulders.

“Gina, your brother is dead. Dorrian murdered him, because your parents wouldn’t follow his dictatorship. This isn’t your home, this is your prison. And you know it. I know you know it, Gina.”

Gina collapsed on to the floor.

“I know.” she said, and then proceeded to cry so hard she couldn’t form words anymore. Sierra knelt and wrapped her arms around the shaking girl. She held her until the crying went from sobs, to quiet cries, and, finally, to silence.

“Listen to me, Gina. I need you to be very brave. You don’t have to stay here with the man who  stole you from your parents and murdered your brother. You can get out. Maybe I can’t, but you can. I can help you. You can go back to your family.”

Gina raised her tear stained face to look up at her.

“How?” she asked.

Sierra stood up.

“You’re a bird, Gina.” Sierra said.

Sierra picked up the sofa and threw it as hard as she could into the window. The window shattered spectacularly as the couch fell to the pavement below with a crash.

“Fly.”

*

Sierra suspected this was not what this room had been intended for when the hotel was built.

She had been taken to what might have once been a boardroom. In a former life, this room had probably played host to dull meetings. Power Point Presentations. Assorted Danish and coffee.

Now where there once may have been a conference table, was an empty space with shackles hanging from the ceiling. On the wall where a projector screen would have gone, instead there hung an array of wicked instruments. Knives and nails and pokers. They had chained Sierra up and left her there, facing that wall, left to wonder what devices were going to be inflected on her.

She was certain this was supposed to scare her. By all accounts, she should have been scared. But instead, what Sierra felt was curiously calm.

She wasn’t getting out. She wasn’t going to see Joe again. She was trapped in this place and now, they were going to hurt her.

And that was okay. She could live with that. Because Gina had gotten out.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Gina had shifted into the most beautiful swan Sierra had ever seen. With a mighty flap of her wings, she had soared out through the broken window and into the night.

Sierra had watched until her fleeing form became just a speck on the horizon, and then vanished completely. She was a smart girl. She would make it.

Just as Gina disappeared from view, the door to her room had burst open. In had come Jimmy, along with two other armed guards.

They should have sent more.

Sierra had turned from the broken window and shifted. The guards, not expecting an attack, had been caught off guard. Jimmy managed to fire his gun into her shoulder before she closed the distance between them and ripped into his chest with her claws.

She barely noticed the pain at the time. She had moved on to the next one as he fired and missed her, and she crushed his head beneath one giant paw. The third guard had shifted, but though he was faster than her, his small feline body was no match for her powerful bear strength.

It had ultimately taken nine guards and a tranquilizer gun to subdue her.

The bullet was still in her shoulder now. It throbbed painfully. The injury was made worse by the way she was hanging from the ceiling by her arms. Blood dripped steadily down from the wound, leaving a trail across her naked body. She shivered and wondered if it was because the room was cold or because she had lost too much blood. She was starting to get dizzy.

The door opened and Dorrian walked in, wearing a crisp white button down shirt and slacks. His usual cool demeanor had been replaced with a blind fury.

“You killed three of my men!” he spat at her. “And you let one of my hostages fly out a window! What were you trying to accomplish?”

Sierra stared him down and did not answer.

Dorrian turned to the wall. He selected a mini blowtorch from the array of instruments at his disposal. He started the blowtorch and directed the flame at the bullet wound in her shoulder. Sierra screamed as her flesh burned and fused back together.

“There.” Dorrian said, and bizarrely he seemed to be regaining his composure as Sierra lost hers. “Now you won’t bleed out while I punish you.”

He hung the blowtorch back up on the wall. Sierra took several gasping breaths, trying her best to breathe through the pain.

“I never thought you would be so foolish. You are going to come to regret your actions, if you haven’t already.”

He pulled a small, bulb shaped device with a hand crank, off the wall.

“Do you know what this is? I haven’t had the opportunity to use one of these since the 16th century. It’s called a pear of anguish.”

He turned the hand crank. As he did, the “pear” split into three segments, opening wider and wider from the base like a blooming flower, with a spike on the end of each petal.