The Letting (17 page)

I sit on the edge of the bed with my feet dangling off the side. They are tingling and still fairly numb, but I need them to work. I am feeling an unending exhaustion I wish would just go away, but only time will help that. Now, I need to focus. I look at the clock on the wall and it reads four o’clock. That means I have two hours to guess what Farnsworth is up to.

Farnsworth tells me my girls are back at camp. In my heart, I don’t believe it, but if by some miracle they are, I know Phoenix delivered them, which means he is also at camp, waiting for me. Somehow, I have to get Farnsworth to allow me to go back to camp unaccompanied, or, at all. In my gut, I know darn well Farnsworth’s option of living with him or living at camp is a flat-out lie. He would never let me, one of the last remaining O’s, leave his sight, especially since my blood has been cleared. But why would he bother to lie? Why wouldn’t he just force me to stay? Why would he want me to choose to stay with him? What does he care? These are all questions I need to answer, but in the meantime, I need to find a way back to camp.

Soon a woman from Farnsworth’s entourage appears and helps me out of bed. I recognize her as the woman who was so nice to me on the day of the Letting, the one who patted my leg. I smile at her and she returns it with a terse, tense smile of her own. “Come now,” she coaxes, helping me to my feet. She holds my hand to help me up, but once I stand I tower so far over her it is rather comical. She looks up at me, smiling, and wraps an arm around my waist. It takes every ounce of her strength to help me down and into a wheelchair. Once I am seated, I hear her exhale. Helping me move was a huge effort for her. I know I am so much taller than she is, but it seems to me everyone in the Inferno is very weak.

She pushes my wheelchair out of the white building and into the blazing sun. Although I know Phoenix is probably at camp, I keep a watchful eye, just in case. She escorts me to a waiting vehicle that is longer than any truck I have ever seen. “It’s a limousine.” She speaks reassuringly. “He wants to be sure you see all of your options here.” I try to smile at her as she helps me into the backseat. A driver folds up my wheelchair and places it into the trunk of the car. She climbs in with me. “I’m Grace,” she offers, smiling as the vehicle pulls away.

We drive for at least an hour, and although I am exhausted, I cannot help staring out the window. I have never before seen anything like this. All types of vehicles pass us on many-lane roads. Stores line the streets and people are busy walking in and out, always carrying bags. My fascination turns to revulsion when I think of how any one of these people could have the blood of any of my girls, running through them. A family stands outside a toy store. A father and mother are holding their child’s hands, swinging her between them as she giggles along. I smile at them briefly; then I grow very, very sad, realizing this was never an option for any of my girls. All of them were taken from their mothers, and none of them has ever known their fathers. How ridiculously unfair this is. I sit back, brooding, sickened by the excesses of these ridiculous people. Then we turn a corner off the main road and the limousine finds a dirt path. Ironically, the path reminds me of camp. The dirt path continues for miles, and I am amazed at how the ride feels completely smooth. There are no potholes or craters here like there are at camp. The path opens up into a wide entrance and there, before me, is perhaps the largest house ever made. There are an unfathomable number of white columns along a massive front porch, and a red front door that is so shiny I’m certain I would be able to see my own reflection in it. The house looks like it’s made for a family of giants. My eyes gaze lazily across a sprawling great lawn, overlooking…something. “Is that?” I ask, pointing out the window.

“The ocean.” Grace smiles.

“The ocean,” I repeat.

I knew our world was made up of land masses and bodies of water, but I had never before seen the ocean. I barely wait for the car to stop before I push my door open and pull myself to standing. Carefully I walk forward, ignoring the light-headed feeling and the dizziness. I hear Grace call out behind me, telling me I must be in my wheelchair, but I just ignore her. The lure of the sea is pulling me forward. Slowly I hobble forth until my feet touch sand. I bend down to run my hands across it. I scoop some sand into my hand, and it glides through my fingers. This is nothing like the dirt beach we have at the waterfront at camp. This is…glorious. I stand. I’m a little wobbly, but I don’t let that stop me. Carefully, I put one foot in front of the other until I make it to the water’s edge. The noise coming off the ocean is deafening. The waves roll in and out and crash against the beach with such force, it looks like they’re trying to wash away the Inferno and once again make things right in the world.

Without thinking, I lean down and pull off my boots. I dig my toes into the sand and it feels warm and gritty. I take a step forward, then another, until I touch water. The cold shock of the ocean water sends a chill up my spine. It is painful and wonderful all at the same time, just like being with Phoenix. Then I reach up and pull my sweater over my head, exposing my tank top. I throw the sweater back onto the sand. The sun revitalizes my tired shoulders. I take another step and think about taking another and another. I wonder if I were to keep going would the ocean be my friend or would it swallow me whole? I step forward again, still contemplating, but I never have the chance to find out.

“Veronica.” It is Grace, standing behind me, holding my sweater. I turn back to the ocean, watching its beautiful, serene violence, wondering if I should just dive in. If I did go forward, and the ocean swallowed me whole, would that be the answer? Farnsworth would be out his personal donor, but then I’m certain he’d turn to the girls. He’d keep them locked up in a dungeon somewhere, waiting to Let them whenever he felt weak. My stomach aches with the thought, and I know this would be too easy an out for the likes of me. I need to spend more time on this earth, righting my wrongs. I can’t let the ocean swallow me up, and I can’t let Farnsworth, either. Deep down I’m relieved to have a reason to stay and fight. I don’t know if Phoenix and I can ever happen; I don’t know if he can forget what I’ve done, or if I can ever forgive myself, but the truth is, I want to be here to find out.

“Veronica?” Grace’s voice is soft and I can barely hear her over the roar of the ocean. I turn back to face her. “Let’s get you ready for dinner,” she says, smiling.

****

The room Farnsworth has assigned me is larger than the entire camp base. It’s decorated in red flowers and carved wood. There is a massive bed on one end of the room, with ornately carved bedposts and billowy netting cascading over the top, falling gracefully into a canopy. To me it looks like mosquito netting and I’m surprised they have that problem here, in paradise. In another corner, there is a tall dresser with large doors instead of drawers. That too, is made of carved wood. Everything is made from carved tree trunks and has bold red accents. There is so much excess that even at my height I feel overwhelmed. Grace walks to the large dresser and opens the doors to reveal several evening dresses. “This armoire has been filled for you,” she explains. I make a mental note of the word “armoire.” “See if there is something in here you would like to wear to dinner.”

“Can’t I wear my shorts and sweater?” I ask, surprised.

“No, dear.” She pulls open heavy red velvet window curtains, so I can see the ocean from my room. “You need to wear a dress. You’re in his palace in the New World. You need to dress appropriately.”

“Oh, okay.” I look back into the armoire. There is nothing in here I would ever want to wear. And there’s certainly nothing appropriate. What does a secret assassin dress like anyway? I pull out an emerald green gown. “This?” I ask Grace.

“I think it’s a lovely choice.” She nods her approval. Truthfully, I don’t care. I simply grabbed the green gown because it was the closest thing I could find to my army green fatigues. “Now why don’t you take a bath and we’ll get you to dinner?”

The bathroom alone is larger than any of the cabins at camp. It is long, with opulent fixtures and mirrors lining the walls. I step in and see two delicately crafted sinks with luxurious towels folded next to them. I walk a few feet farther in, sincerely hoping I can navigate my way to the bathtub. First, I see the shower, a giant stall framed in gold with two seats and a fresh array of soaps and shampoos. But, it’s what is next to the shower that grabs my attention: the bathtub. The bathtub that appears to be as large as my lake. I’m grateful I’m a strong swimmer. The tub is held up by golden claw feet and has already been drawn and filled with luxurious bubbles that look like they’re made of silk.

“I thought you may need to relax,” Grace offers. I jump, startled. I had no idea she was in the bathroom with me. She takes me on a mini-tour to show me a towel warmer and the separate room for the toilet. “And here is a dressing area.” She takes me to a separate wing of the bathroom. “Enjoy,” she adds before scurrying away. I waste no time stripping and jumping into the bath. I have no idea what’s in the water, but it smells heavenly. I lean back and I’m amazed to find I am able to stretch myself out in the tub. I sink down, submerging as much of me as I can, and feel the bubbles tickle my nose. It all feels way too good. Although I know I should feel guilty, I take a few minutes just to enjoy.

Five minutes into my bath, I am ready to go. I can’t lie here all night and I want to get to dinner so I can face Farnsworth’s ultimatum and get back to my girls and Phoenix. And right now, for some reason, I cannot get Lulu off my mind. I keep wondering how she is and where she is. I wonder if she’s scared, and if Gretchen is taking care of her. The longer I lie here, the more determined I am that I will make that trek back to camp tonight. One way or another. I pull myself out of the soapy water and towel off. I go to the dressing area and find my gown and shoes waiting for me. I slip into my dress that fits me perfectly, but as well as it fits, it is equally uncomfortable. The material cuts right across the top of my breasts and dips low in the back. It is fitted through my waist and hips, and hangs loosely near the ground. It flows when I walk. It is absolutely beautiful, but it’s so not me. Then I see a rectangular box about twelve inches long and open it to reveal a pair of matching green satin heels. This makes me smile. Not because of the thrill of wearing a pair of shoes like this, but because Farnsworth thinks I need heels. I slip the shoes on and stand tall. I wobble slightly; I have to be at least six-foot-four in these heels. With these on, I’m probably even taller than Phoenix. Grace walks in and smiles at me. “You look beautiful,” she declares.

“Really?” I ask, looking down at myself. It never occurred to me to look in a mirror.

“See for yourself.” She turns me to face a full length mirror in my dressing room. One look at myself and I burst out laughing. “What is it?” Grace is genuinely confused. I laugh until I can calm myself. Then I speak slowly, in between gulps of air.

“I look ridiculous.” I snort as the laughter comes back. I have to flop myself down in a chair to keep from falling over.

“Actually, Veronica, you look quite stunning,” Grace assures me.

“Well, thank you, Grace.” I am suddenly aware she may have picked out the gowns in my armoire. “It’s just that I’m not used to looking like this. I’m used to old ripped jeans and stained tank tops.”

“I understand.” She looks up at me, suddenly serious. For the first time I see her eyes are a beautiful shade of gray. Her lashes are long, and she blinks several times before she speaks. “But do you think you could get used to this?” she asks.

“Probably not.” I know she’s asking about so much more than the dress I am wearing.

“That’s what I thought.” She sighs and walks over to me. She places a hand on my arm and pats me. “He’s not well, you know. He pretends to be healthier than he is. He plans to Let you again. Soon. Maybe as soon as the day after tomorrow. Maybe even tomorrow. But you have an advantage. He’s in awe of you. He thinks you’re a superwoman who possesses super blood and he wants it. I just don’t know how fast even Superwoman can recuperate.” Her eyes water, and it looks as though this conversation is truly bothering her. “Please,” she whispers. “For all of our sakes, don’t tell him you know.”

“I won’t.” This time I take her hand and squeeze it. “Thank you, Grace.” She just nods. She is certainly the embodiment of her name.

“Could you sit please, Veronica?” Grace asks, and I do. Slowly she brushes through my long black hair. “So lovely,” she murmurs, and she begins to hum a song I have never heard before. As she brushes I close my eyes and suddenly I am seven years old, sitting in our kitchen with my mother brushing my hair. The feeling is so intense I lose myself.

“They’re not at camp, are they?” I ask. She keeps brushing but her humming has stopped abruptly. “My girls. If he’s that desperate, he has them here somewhere, doesn’t he?” Her humming starts up again as quickly as it stopped. She finishes brushing my hair and turns me to face her.

“Have you ever worn makeup?” she asks and I shake my head. “That’s what I thought.” She slicks something greasy on my lips. “There.” She takes a step back. “You look magnificent.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, frustrated that she won’t tell me what I desperately need to know.

She leans over me and looks me straight in the eyes. She places her hand gently on my chin and tilts my head upward. “Veronica, things may not be as complicated as you think they are. Above all, just remember who you are.” And then she is gone.

I look back into the mirror and stare at myself long and hard. “Remember who I am,” I repeat, closing my eyes. Just remember who I am. It would be so easy if I had a clue. There is a knock on my door and an escort with a wheelchair waits to take me to dinner. My first impulse is to refuse the chair, but then I remember Farnsworth may want to Let me tomorrow and think better of it. This way, if I go to dinner in the chair, he may decide I’m not ready to Let, yet.

****