Chapter Twenty-One
I woke to sun and heat. It felt as if I'd slept for only a few moments but when my eyes opened, I squinted into bright sunlight. Water splashed cheerfully against the sides of the boat and I sat up to peer blearily out the window.
A small mountain range spread out against the horizon. Sea salt stung the insides of my nose as I inhaled deeply. The smell of cooking fish and island spices that floated through the open window was simultaneously exotic and achingly familiar.
The previous night rushed back to me on a wave of twisting emotions. The opposite side of the bed was empty and made-up. I frantically pulled back the thick comforter. The sheets were cold. Zach had been gone for at least an hour, maybe more.
I tumbled out of the bed and cool air met my bare legs. I looked down at myself. The borrowed jeans and t-shirt were gone to be replaced by a white sundress made of the lightest cotton. It was tight to the waist where it flowed into a flirty skirt.
Memory surfaced like a forgotten dream. Shadow hands slid the dress onto my unresisting body. Valentine's face swam in my vision, his twisted smile both an invitation and a threat. I shivered and forced the memory away.
My feelings weren't important right now. Valentine and I would have a talk about him sneaking into my bedroom like a thief in the night. Things were different now. I would make him see that.
The sneakers I'd kicked off the night before were nowhere to be found. I padded barefoot to the door and pressed my ear against the wood. The hallway was silent. I eased open the door and peered into the dark of the windowless hallway. There was no need for my furtiveness. Both of the other doors were open and the rooms beyond deserted.
It wasn't until that moment I realized the impossibility of this penetrating silence—the yacht's engine was quiet and the only voices existed solely in my head. I was alone.
I ran down the hallway and up the stairs, bursting onto the deck and into the sunlight. I expected to see an expanse of blue sea but my eyes met very solid land. The yacht moored to a small dock in a tiny inlet at the foot of a dirt path.
The trail wound gently up the side of the mountain. With every step, my imaginings of what awaited me at the top became more dire. Valentine liked to play games. I could only imagine what he would make of two deliciously human playmates.
A gated house slowly came into view as I hiked a shallow rise. Starting with a roof laid in iridescent tiles, an open villa made of pale stucco spread over several acres. Horses grazed in a small paddock on one side of the compound. The beauty of the surroundings only served to crystallize the fear I felt at facing whatever it was that Valentine had planned.
Tile felt smooth and cold beneath my bare feet when I entered the airy portico. I turned in a slow circle as the true expanse of the house spread out around me. Hallways snaked out from the center in several directions and a staircase spiraled up to the second floor. If Valentine wanted Zach and Sam to stay hidden, it would be impossible for to find them.
The house was silent. Even with the pressing heat, it felt like a tomb. Still and eerily quiet.
Valentine's voice washed over me like a cool bath, shocking and refreshing at once.
"Normally I ask guests to remove their shoes in my home. But, I see that might not be sufficient for you."
I looked down at my feet. I couldn't remember putting on brown socks. Embarrassed heat rose in my face and I could feel my cheeks redden as I realized that I wasn't wearing socks. Dirt from the trail caked both my feet in a layer so thick that it looked as if they were covered in a thick layer of fur.
"I couldn't find shoes." My voice was small and embarrassed.
"Indeed." His smile was knowing. "Forgive me for leaving you alone this morning. There was business requiring my attention."
The thought of him standing over me in the dark, hands and eyes sliding over my unresisting body, brought an unwelcome shiver. "It's fine." I hoped he couldn't hear the quaver in my voice.
"Marta," he called. "Show Helena to her room. She needs to freshen up."
My gaze turned instinctively, expecting to see a dark-skinned peasant from the village below that Valentine had bewitched to serve him. I was painfully, horribly mistaken.
Her eyes as they surveyed me lacked any spark of recognition. Not the slightest hint of emotion colored her expression. Under a modest cowl—bleached white like death pallor—was the dour face of Sister Mohan.
I heard the heavy thud of my chair striking the floor before I even realized I had stood. My hand shook as I gripped the table's edge. "What is this?"
Valentine moved smoothly up beside me. "A friend of yours, I understand."
Sister Mohan stared at me impassively.
Tears burned behind my eyes. I had so much wanted to believe that the Sisters were safe, that knowing me hadn't destroy them. "What have you done to her?"
"Nothing." He held a hand up to his chest, as if offended at being so besmirched. "She was just a wretched creature when I came upon her, begging on the streets for scraps."
"Sister Mohan!" I shouted in her face, without even a twitch as response. My voice broke. "Please."
"It's no use." Valentine circled behind Sister Mohan. They watched me with the same emotionless eyes. "The woman that you knew...Sister Mohan, was it? That woman no longer exists. She was Marta before she knew you, and so she shall be again."
It took all my strength to face them. I couldn't stop the trembles that raced down my body. "And Sister Maeve? She's here, too?"
"I'm not familiar. Marta was alone." His voice was casual, unconcerned.
The Sisters would never separate willingly. Did that mean Sister Maeve was lost, or hurt, or worse? I knew I might never find out.
"Why would you do this?" I sank back down in the chair, overwhelmed by the surge of warring emotions. Sister Mohan was safe, but under Valentine's control.
"For you." He came to stand behind me, fingers lightly stroking my hair. "I hoped it would make you happy, seeing a familiar face."
"But, why is she like this?" The sweeping movement of my hand took in her stiff posture and emotionless stare. "That isn't what I want."
"Marta is here to serve. Too much freedom might go to her head."
"And that's what you're going to do to me." My voice was cold, anger finally winning out over sadness and fear.
"Never you." His fingers traced my cheek, a touch so light that I might have imagined it. A shift of the wind and I felt his lips pressed above my temple. When he spoke, his words quivered against my skin. "I want you just the way you are."
I pulled away and stood, backing away from him. "She was going to show me to my room." My heart beat hard enough that I was sure he could hear it.
Valentine smiled slightly and nodded to Sister Mohan.
She turned away quickly and I had to move fast to follow her. By the time I caught up, we were halfway down the eastern hallway.
I grabbed her arm. "Sister Mohan."
A snarl changed her face into something unrecognizable, ugly and barely human. My hand dropped as if burned. Her expression fell back into emptiness before she continued down the hallway. Now, I knew.
Whatever it was that wore her face, this wasn't Sister Mohan. Not anymore.
I tried to make a mental map as we walked, but rooms passed by me in a blur. Cynthie's face appeared in an open doorway. I saw little more than her scowl before the door slammed shut.
Marta stopped so suddenly that I ran into her. Thin arms, corded with muscle, came up to catch me as I stumbled. The strength in her arms was unexpected. I looked up and our eyes met—hers were bright and hard, like sunlight caught in shards of glass.
"What happened to you?" I whispered.
She pulled away. "This room is yours." Her accent was sharp and heavy.
We had come to the end of side hallway. A single closed door was the only thing in sight. I was alone in my own end of the house.
She made no move to precede me, so I squared my shoulders and pushed open the door
.
A large suite spread out before me over several rooms. The back wall of the sitting room was made of glass and the view was amazing. This end of the house overlooked a cliff face. Impossibly blue ocean crashed against jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. A four-poster bed made up in dark satin dominated the bedroom beyond.
My school bag lay on the floor near the door. Someone must have brought it up from the yacht.
Marta followed me silently as I pulled open the frosted French doors that led to the bathroom. A whirlpool tub sat in the center, already filled with delicate trails of steam rising off the water.
"Towels are in the linen closet, here." She looked pointedly at the trail of footprints that followed me through the suite. "Clothing is in the armoire."
And she left me alone.
The quiet overwhelmed me. I went to the bathtub and ran my fingers through the water. The ringing silence served as a perfect backdrop to my frantic thoughts.
Zach and Sam were trapped here somewhere and I had no idea in what condition I would eventually find them. The urge to tear the house apart was overwhelming.
If Valentine didn't want them found then they wouldn't be. Keeping him happy might keep my friends alive.
I padded back into the bedroom and threw open the doors of the armoire. Fabrics in every color burst forth at the sudden increase in space. I pulled open the top drawer and it was stuffed with under-things: some pale and frothy, others daring and dark. I grabbed a handful and rifled through it. The tags were still on every piece and all of it was my size.
The thought of Valentine checking the size of my underwear was too disgusting for words. I prayed he left that duty to stone-faced Marta.
I chose a dress without looking at it too closely and tossed it on the bed.
Glass bottles lined a high shelf in the bathroom and I chose one at random. When I removed the stopper, the rich scent of freesia and sandalwood filled the room. I poured a good amount of the oil into the water and stirred it with one hand.
Heavy steam from the bath filled the air. I stripped off the white dress, streaked with sweat and grime, and let it fall to the floor. I made sure the door was securely locked before slipping into the tub.
My head slid completely under the water. I opened my eyes. Light and shadow danced on the ceiling, moving in impossible patterns. I pushed my hands up and out of the water. They danced and twisted as the water moved in waves over my face. I saw them from another world.
The sound of the door opening brought me out of the water. Hair fanned around my face and the soggy mess of it fell into my eyes, obscuring my vision. As I pushed it away, I prayed it was Marta offering fresh towels or turn down service for the bed.
Even before my vision cleared, I knew I would see Valentine standing in the open doorway. Still, I couldn't stop the thrill of shock that coursed through me at the sight of him. I hugged the side of the tub.
"That door was locked," I hissed.
"Was it? I hadn't noticed." His eyes slid over me and I pressed my body harder into the porcelain. "You are late for dinner."
"Should I go like this?" I regretted my insolence immediately.
Valentine's eyes narrowed and the heat in the room intensified. Heavy steam began to rise more quickly from the tub. His gaze never left mine as tiny bubbles of effervescence floated to the surface of the water. Invisible flames licked at my skin. I tried to move but my body stuck to the tub as if some invisible force pressed against my back. The heat intensified until it felt like the flesh would melt from my bones. Valentine was going to boil me alive.
I closed my eyes and screamed, or begged.
As quickly as it began, the burning stopped. My eyes opened to meet his cruel smile. The water remained still and only slightly warm as if I only imagined the searing heat.
"Take your time."
The moment he was gone, I scrambled out of the tub and collapsed in a heap on the floor. The cold tile was a welcome relief against my skin.
Realization bloomed in me slowly. Valentine would eventually destroy me. In that moment, gasping for breath on the floor, I knew what I had to do.