Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Kiema

"Five minutes," the guard called through the apartment's speaker system.

"Fuck you," I breathed. I leaned over the vanity and finished putting on my mascara. Mouth hanging open, one eye overly wide, tongue off to one side.

"Shit, shit, shit." My eye watered after I stabbed it with the mascara wand. Back to square freaking one. I wiped off the crescent moon of black from under my eye, reapplied my base makeup, and tried again.

The sound of the door opening brought my back up the way it had for years. An overly loud, begrudging sigh reached my ears.

"I have more important things to do than traipse you around the building. Hurry up, Keema." In my reflection, my lip curled as she purposefully butchered my name.

Gritting my teeth, I smoothed down my dress. Stepped into my shoes.

"Coming." I didn't bother raising my voice. I knew she could hear me.

I walked out of the bathroom and turned left. There she stood. Ms. Evaline Cartwright. My father's sycophantic PA for most of my life, one of my jailers, and an award-winning bitch. I swear. I even made her a badge when I was younger.

She tapped her foot against the hardwood floor, arms crossed over her chest, derision and superiority oozing from her pores.

I grabbed my cup of coffee from the kitchen and moved toward her. Acting as if I was fumbling with the coffee cup lid, I moved into her personal space.

She stumbled back, hands raised in defense. "Kiema!"

That's how to pronounce my name, bitch. I looked up, gave her a bland smile. "Yes, Ms. Cartwright?"

She glowered at me, straightened her shirt, and lifted her wrist to the lock on my door. A low beep signaled my daily freedom from my jail cell.

I walked a couple steps behind Ms. Cartwright to the private elevator at the end of the hall. She stabbed the button. We waited in the familiar tense silence.

"Finally," she murmured as the doors slid open.

I rolled my eyes behind her back.

She entered the code to take us to the accounting floor. After years of begging to do more than the rituals, I'd been given permission to work in the accounting department. Playing with the numbers of other people's money, I at least got to pretend I was part of the world. That I wasn't a stranger watching a play.

The doors opened, ushering us to the busy hive of the accounting floor. Ms. Cartwright marched me down the aisles like a warden welcoming a new inmate. Her cold demeanor stopped any attempt at conversation before someone else could even take a breath to greet me. Couldn't have a repeat of the performance of me almost making friends.

Too soon, I arrived at my second jail cell: my office. Enclosed in glass on three sides, it was almost torture. I got to see the world, but never was I allowed to be part of it.

Ms. Cartwright lifted her wrist to the lock. Waited for the sensor to read the chip embedded in her skin. The lock released with a beep. She pushed the door open, performed the customary scan of the space, and practically pushed me through the doorway. Pulling the door closed behind herself, she lifted her wrist once more.

I was locked in.

Again.

Just like every other day of my life.

The next day, I sighed into the phone at my ear as I glanced at the clock on the far wall. A few minutes until eight. A few minutes until my last ritual. A few minutes until I escaped from this hell.

"Yes, Mother. I understand."

"Do not do anything to upset this ritual, Kiema. Your father and I would be very displeased if the Kolefnis were dissatisfied." Her voice was colder than a winter's night.

I felt my heart stop and my blood freeze. The last time they had been displeased with meit had taken me nearly four months to recover physically. I still wasn't sure I was recovered emotionally or psychologically all these long years later.

"He'll be healed, and they will be forever in your debt, Mother. I promise."

"I expect nothing but glowing reports by the end of the eleventh day, Kiema. Anything goes wrong" she left the threat unfinished.

She hung up before I could say anything else.

It was times like this that my status in the lives of my parents washed over me. I was pampered, coddled even - at least materialistically - as long as I presented the picture they wanted. It wouldn't do for their Golden Goose - my mother's term for me - to look like a beggar.

Love and attention were not within their capacities, not for me anyways.

And if I failed to meet their expectations or keep up my end of whatever sordid bargain they'd struck with the Seeker families: severe and utter devastation. Animals were treated with more respect than I received during those times.

The doorbell rang precisely at eight the next morning, pulling me from my thoughts.

I was already waiting by the door. I was all packed and ready to end this travesty of a life.

I turned to survey my apartment. Cold, sterile, and provided by my parents, I wouldn't miss any part of it. Even if I get stuck living on the streets, it will be better than this gilded cage.

"Here's my last fuck you," I whispered to the room. I raised my middle finger to the bland prison. I didn't bother to hide the gesture from the camera up in the corner of the ceiling.

I turned as the door opened behind me. My favorite human stood just inside the door. He always reminded me of a short Santa Claus. His cheeks were rosier than usual today. He leaned forward to grab my bags.

"Thank you, Kemper. I've got my bags."

I couldn't have anyone else touching them. I'd repacked four times last night trying to get everything I would need for my new life smashed into two small suitcases.

The extra days allotted for the ritual allowed me to bring a second bag. Thank Gaia for small favors. I slid my smallest bag over the handle of one of the suitcases and turned, pulling all three bags behind me.

"Of course, Ms. Kiema." The driver set off in front of me.

The door shut and automatically locked behind me. But this time, the sound didn't crush my soul the way it usually did. This time the slam sounded like the jail's doors had been blown off. A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"You seem more excited than usual, Ms. Kiema," Kemper said once we were in the car, both of us getting settled in for the four-hour drive to the cabin.

Shit, shit, shit. I couldn't afford to get lazy this close to the end. I rallied my thoughts. "Just excited to see the sun for more than a couple hours, Kemper."

The aging driver nodded. "Today's a good day for it, too. It's not right. How your parents keep you locked away in your office or apartment." He shook his head. He was developing a bald patch in the middle of his pure white hair.

My heart tugged as I looked at the old man. The closest thing I'd ever had to a friend or confidant, Kemper helped fill the void of isolation.

But I can never forget that his allegiance lay with my parents.

"It's not so bad," I said, the same as I always did when he made the statements about my captivity. I don't even feel the need to vomit as I say the words anymore.

He harrumphed and shook his head. "Music?"

"Yes, please. Classical." I leaned my head back against the seat as the first strains of one of my favorite pieces filled the small space of the car.

Closing my eyes, I went over the plans I'd received last night. I was still a little leery of talking to a virtual stranger on the dark web, but everything else had gone well up to this point. And honestly the plans seemed fine. All except for the last couple of steps. Those I would need to see to believe. I was literally putting my life into a stranger's hands.

I almost laughed. That's exactly what my Seekers had to do if they wanted to be healed. To start fresh in a life they wanted. That I was required to do the same was fitting, somehow. I would get to be just like everyone else.

For the first time in my life.

Normal.

The long drive passed by in a flash. I stretched in my seat as Kemper steered the car through the patrolled entrance to the cabin.

Such a small word for the grandiosity of the home at the base of the mountains. With two stories and housing just over ten bedrooms and the same number of bathrooms, the cabin was big enough to accommodate a small community within its walls.

Cleared through for entry, I gathered my things and slid my sunglasses over my nose as the car rocked to a gentle stop.

Pushing the door open, I rose from the car and inhaled deeply. Raising my face to the warm afternoon sun, I felt the low hum of the magic of nature slide through my body.

Living in a concrete and glass prison stifled most of my magic. It's one of the biggest reasons why the rituals happened out here. The scents of nature filled my nose, and the pure air of the mountains filled my lungs.

"There's the Kiema I've been waiting to see. I've missed you," Kemper said from behind me.

I turned with a smile and bent to retrieve my bags from the trunk. "I've been waiting for the ritual. I feel like it took Mother and Father almost twice as long to set it up."

I'd begun to worry about it, actually. The plans depended on my being able to leave Feuer Tower. And that only happened once a year. The ritual.

"It did seem to take longer, but I hear there was quite the list of applicants this cycle. Just be glad your parents love you so much to only give you one per cycle."

I cursed my inability to lean down and kiss Kemper's rosy cheek. Of my entire life, I would miss him most. I barely noticed the old ache that tightened my chest.

"They do make sure I'll be around for a long time to come, Kemper. Have no fear of that."

He smiled at me, unaware of how my words could be taken. I wasn't going to be the one to enlighten the nice man about the monsters who employed him.

I took my bags up to the cabin. No one was allowed inside except me, my Seeker, and any mutually agreed upon third parties. When I turned back around at the front door, Kemper and the car had already gone.

Once again, I was glad my younger self had seen the light so clearly. It had probably been when I was twelve or thirteen that I'd seen the proverbial writing on the wall of what my parents were doing. What they had made of my life.

With a shrug, I headed into the massive home. Turning right just beyond the entryway, I stopped at a set of double doors. The keypad showed a steady red light.

I entered my code. The one place in my life where I got to decide when I was locked behind doors. The one place I could choose when to lock those doors.

I pushed open the right side door. A small seating area was just beyond the doors. Straight ahead was my master suite with an attached bathroom just to the right of the doors.

Done in brilliant blues and creams, it was the only place in the world that reflected my personal style. I'd demanded the funds to decorate the cabin in whatever way I saw fit to conduct the ritual. I loved this stupid set of three rooms more than I should.

The usual mix of emotions erupted in my chest as I stepped through the doorway and into my suite of rooms. The glorious feelings of freedom and anticipation rose and sparked like lightning.

And right on schedule, the freezing rain of fear smothered out my lightning. What if something happened? What if I was stuck in this awful life forever?

Anger rose like a fire. My parents were evil monsters who didn't even recognize me as human. Let alone their daughter. I wouldn't feel bad about protecting myself. No one else was going to take up the job.

Guilt and shame dragged me down like the tide. I had more than many others. There was nothing in my life, at least materially, that my parents wouldn't give me if I asked.

Falling face first onto the bed big enough to hold four adults comfortably, I allowed myself to shed some tears. This inner cleansing had become part of my ritual, too. I remained on the bed until the patrol at the grounds' entrance let me know that Ransom had arrived.

"Allow entry. Inform him of the rules of the cabin, please." I cut off whatever response might be made by hitting the mute button. That would be the last time I talked to anyone other than Ransom until we both left.

I pushed off the bed and made my way to the bathroom. Taking a quick shower, I let the hot water erase any lingering sign of my tears.

I walked out into the main living room just as Ransom was heading into his own room.

"Get your stuff put away, then come back out here. We've got some stuff to discuss," I called after him.

"You're the boss," he said over his shoulder.

"Damn right I am." I walked into the kitchen area.

Set up like a huge wheel, the living room, dining room, and kitchen acted as the center. Each hallway made up the spokes. All of the hallways had mini suites for guests. The pool, exercise room, game room, theater room and library were sprinkled throughout the different hallways.

A fireplace stood silent sentry in the middle of the back wall. A wall of windows and a clear glass door to the left of the fireplace invited a person to enjoy nature on the sprawling back deck. The intricately carved balustrade of the stairs to the second level on the right directed the eye to the double height ceiling of the living room.

I needed to remember to give Ransom a tour before we got too far along in the process of the ritual. From experience, I knew we were going to want some time away from each other during this process.

He stalked back out of his suite, his footsteps a harsh staccato against the hardwood floors. I winced. Apparently, the patrol guys hadn't told him to take his shoes off in the house.

I glared at his feet, and looking up into his dark blue eyes, told him the rulesagain

He raised a hand after a couple words.

My voice trailed off.

"You don't need to repeat everything the guards outside said. I heard it the first time. I'm still not going to play by your rules." He shot me a smug grin.

I crossed my arms as I snorted. "You'll play by my rules, or you'll go home and forfeit whatever it was you put up for application processing." I felt my belly curdle at the idea of going home to Mother and Father with a broken ritual contract.

The voice of my contact slid through my mind. "I can give you my personal promise of safety." I stiffened my spine. Ransom could choose what he wanted. I would be gone and free.

Ransom's face closed down.

I rocked back on my heels. I'd stood up to the worst this world had to offer. Ransom Kolefni would not be the one to cow me into breaking my own rules.

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