Chapter 4 4

CORVIN HUMS UNDER HIS breath, a song I can't place, but it feels familiar all the same. My breaths puff out short and uneven, quickening with each passing second. If Aquillus wasn't standing a couple feet away, twirling a knife in his hand that keeps catching on the chandelier, cutting strobes of light across the small enclosure, it would be easy to forget he was here. I stare at my smudged reflection in the sealed elevator doors as we start moving upward. It's too opaque for me to make out anything more than an indistinct blob.

But when I cast my eyes downward, I can see the lower half of me clear as day, now that my eyes have somewhat adjusted to the light. Tears sting the corners of my eyes as I take in my dirt and blood-caked feet. My legs are hairier than they've ever been, stained with grime, only broken up by the pale rivulets streaming down my calves from where I've pissed myself. I don't want to think about what else I had to do in that cell. How anyone can stand to be near me right now boggles my mind, but Corvin hardly even seems fazed as he keeps me close, holding me up whengravity tries to pull me down. I imagine he's had his fair share of captives. I'm probably just one in a long line of many. My stench is probably as commonplace to him as a cup of morning coffee. I curl my toes in the thin carpet, seeking its warmth-its softness. It's been so fucking long since I felt either. "Crying will get you nowhere." I still, only now realizing I'm sniffing quite loudly. The tears are no longer bottled up in my eyes, but stream down my cheeks unchecked. I barely feel them through the layer of dirt embedded in my skin. "It'd be best if you stop." His words are spoken low and matter-of-fact, like whether or not I listen to him is neither here nor there. "Where are we?" I finally manage to whisper in a raspy, reedy voice I hardly recognize as my own. He doesn't respond. I glance up, but there's no indicator light like you would see in most elevators to tell me what floor we're passing through. I have no idea how many we're ascending, or how many there are in this godforsaken place. I barely even feel the thing moving. Perhaps it's some kind of compound. Like one of those fancy doomsday bunkers built out in the middle of nowhere. It would make the most sense, based on what I've seen so far. And the fact that no one's come to rescue me yet. Aquillus pushes off the wall, coming to stand in front of us just as the elevator car gives a slight jolt as it eases to a stop. There's a quiet ding, and then the door slides open, revealing a long, dark, opulent hallway that has my eyes widening, and my breath hitching with a gasp.

Okay, so definitely not a bunker. At least not like any kind I ever thought existed. My feet stutter over the carpet as Corvin pushes me forward, the toes of his shoes skidding against my bare heels, giving me no choice but to keep moving. I look around, taking it all in, grateful for the dim lighting as my feet hit the soft wood flooring. It's cold, but so smooth compared to the rough stone of the cell, that I can't even find it in me to care. Everything is made of wood, from the dark paneling on the walls to the floorboards peeking out from around the ivory and emerald runners padding my steps. From the ceiling, several feet away, hangs a giant, gold, crystallized chandelier. Candle-shaped bulbs curve up from each arm, casting the hallway in a soft, warm glow, not unlike the interior of the elevator. And along the walls, dust-crusted mirrors, ornately framed paintings, and rusttinted sconces decorate nearly every inch of space we pass. It's a mansion, and not just any old mansion, but like one of those nineteenth century Victorian style ones that feel too excessive to be lived in. Our steps are slow as we make our way down the long hallway. Up ahead, where it breaks off at a T, Aquillus takes us right. A glance this way and back reveals that these halls are nearly identical to the first one. And they break off into more T's. We pass by several double doors, all made from the same shade of wood as the walls, adorned with elegant gold handles. I don't know how many corners we turn before we finally come to a stop at one, so either they're intentionally trying to confuse me, or this place is actually a maze. Aquillus doesn't knock, just lets himself in, with Corvin and I tailing behind him.I squint when the room comes into focus, raising a hand to block out the natural light pouring in from the other side of the room. At first, I think we must be on some kind of balcony-it's that bright, whiting out my vision. Rather than wait for me to adjust, Corvin just mutters that word again- Davai-and starts forcibly walking me toward another set of doors off to the side. It's then that I register the huge, four-poster bed taking up nearly the entirety of the one wall, an expansive burgundy canopy draped over it. Not a balcony, I realize, blinking rapidly. But a massive bedroom with arched floor-to-ceiling windows taking up the entirety of the wall next to the bed, all interlaid with some kind of black lattice framework. Like something you'd see in a chapel. Burgundy drapes hang from either side, sweeping over the floor, matching the bed and the rug taking up the center of the room. Just before I'm dragged away, I manage to catch a glimpse out the windows of the endless, snow-capped forest beyond. The adjoining room-a bathroom-is darker, but not by much, lit up artificially by a chandelier not much smaller than the ones found in the hall. It hangs over the huge claw-foot tub, taking up the center of the room. Unlike the bedroom and surrounding hallways, this room is made of black and tan checkered tile and burgundy wallpaper etched with gold fleurs-delis that matches the feet and faucets on the tub. "Pah!" I flinch at the loud feminine voice that sounds from my left. Cringing, I turn my head, blinking a couple times at the short, older woman standing before me dressed like a maid.

And not some sexy little French maid costume you'd see in Halloween stores, or find at a strip club, but one of those long, black, high-necked dresses I imagine they wore during Victorian times. Even her gray-blonde hair has been pulled back in a low, stern bun, making her appear all the more proper. I'm beginning to sense a theme here... Her severe brow line furrows as she looks me up and down, hands planted on her wide hips. "She stinks!" Clucking her tongue, she takes a step forward, then another. She slowly circles me as Corvin steps back, inspecting me from head to toe, her face bunched with displeasure. She says a string of words in some language I don't recognize, before saying in broken English, "All skin and bones. You no feed her?" I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to look anywhere but at the sets of eyes watching me from various spots around the room. Ezio is here too, quietly lounging on a small window seat across the room. His back is to a tall, stained-glass window, and he's got a leg pulled to his chest, arm curved lazily over his knee. His mouth twitches when our eyes briefly meet, pulling at his scar. Cold seeps through the tile, sending a shiver up my spine. I wrap my arms around my middle, blinking a couple times as I try to get my body under control. Exhaustion is quickly setting in, the long walk up here having taken what little stored energy I had. More talking goes on around me, but I find it hard to keep up with. Even though they're speaking English this time, I just can't seem to snap out of my brain fog long enough to process what's being said.

Hands suddenly reach for my dress, snapping me to attention as they pull at one of my loose sleeves hanging off my shoulder. I whirl around, stumbling back a step when I find the woman standing not more than a couple inches away, her naturally stern face pulled into a deep frown. I didn't hear her draw closer. "You stink like rat," she tells me bluntly. Again, I feel my cheeks heat. "Let Griselda help you," Corvin says in a bored tone. "It's her or me, so take your pick." His steel-gray eyes watch me, daring me to fight him on this. "You're getting washed up, whether you want to or not. So you can either do this her way, or the hard way. Simple as that." I can't help but notice that while his accent comes out thick at times, depending on his tone, his English is surprisingly whole compared to the woman's. Like he's been speaking it for much, much longer, but never quite gave up where he came from. Again, I wonder where we are. I know it's winter here, so either I've been here for much longer than I'd like to think, or we're somewhere up north. Very north. That's if I'm even on the same continent. I go cold at the thought. "Tick-tock, Ptichka," Corvin taunts quietly, extracting a low snicker from Ezio. My eyes drift to him, then Aquillus who now has joined his brother. He leans up against the wall, fingers still playing aimlessly with the thin knife in his hand. My pulse pounds, growing louder as it fills up my ears. This time, when I turn to face Griselda, I'm trembling from head to toe. I search her gaze, notreally surprised when all I find is arched impatience. Swallowing thickly, I nod. "C-can I have some privacy?" I ask softly, dipping my gaze. "I can do it myself." Someone grunts out a short laugh. I don't have to look to see that it came from Corvin. "Nice try. Get on with it. We're running out of time." My brow knits at that. Does he just mean to clean me and take me back to the cell? "Corvin," I only vaguely hear Ezio whisper in a reproving tone just as I whip my head toward Corvin. "Please don't make me go back down there." Something calculating flickers in his stormy gaze as he narrows it back at me. "Get undressed." My eyes sting as I try again, "Pl-" Whatever patience he had left snaps as he strides forward. He grabs me by the arm, tugging me toward him, and starts ripping off the tattered fabric holding together what little modesty I have left. Under his breath, he mutters something I can't make out. Again, Ezio tries to interfere. I hear a shuffle of movement, and then his hesitant voice. "Cor, are you su-" Corvin barks out something in Russian, effectively shutting him up. I don't have to look to see that Ezio's sat back down, having given up. Chilly air blasts over my suddenly fully exposed chest, my nipples pebbling as they're put on full display. I cross my arms tightly, left now in nothing but my loose, soiled panties. "Aquillus. Knife." I tense as the quieter of the twins pushes off the wall, steps forward, and hands it to Corvin without protest.

In a very clinical, cold manner, Corvin crouches down and begins sawing the underwear from my body. I bite down on my lip when I feel a stinging sensation, only to realize it's not the blade cutting into me, but the fabric being peeled from my skin. He makes a harsh noise, almost like a gag, in the back of his throat, and I wish I was still brave enough to kick him. I can sense Ezio stewing with a mix of anger and uncertainty from his spot by the window, but he doesn't make any effort to try again to stop this. Corvin clearly calls the shots around here, and the others don't dare to disobey. Gritting my teeth, I try to block out what's happening and focus on something else. With Corvin no longer standing before me, I can now see the huge ornate mirror hung up on the wall just past him, overlooking the sink. At first, I don't quite realize what it is I'm seeing. Long, knotty hair that's nearly black. Gaunt face with too-big eyes, chapped lips, and streaks of grime. A jutting collarbone. More dirt... Blood. The girl-creature-blinks at the same time I do, and bile surges up my throat as I quickly look away. Hunching my shoulders, I curl forward, squeezing my eyes shut as I wrap my arms around myself, desperately trying to cover the important parts. But all I see behind my eyelids is that terrified, filthy, barely human girl staring back at me through the mirror, and I want to scream. Wake up, I chant inwardly, praying not for the first time that this is just one long, never-ending horrible nightmare. Wake up, wake up, wake up.

Corvin finally releases me and stands back up. I open my eyes, staring blankly at his chest as tears continue to bite at the back of my eyes. He kicks away my clothes, pinches my elbow, and guides me toward the massive tub. "In." I try to ignore all the eyes watching me as I shakily climb my way into the tub, my knees knocking against the sides. The water is hot, but not so hot it burns me. Still, it stuns my nerve-endings, eliciting a soft hiss from my lips as I sink first my legs, then my upper half, until I'm seated and surrounded by water up to my chest. My vision blurs, shame creeping hotly up the back of my neck. I wipe the back of my hand over my nose before pulling my knees to my chest, folding myself into a ball, and wrapping my arms tightly around calves. Water sloshes around the lipped edge of the tub, not unlike the tears welling, spilling over my lashes. I can't decide if I feel more vulnerable sitting here in a tub, naked, surrounded by three fully dressed men who clearly just want to make my life hell, and a woman who seems to be revolted by the sight of me... Or grateful for the warmth. For a chance to scrub off this filth. A hot tear slides down my cheek, one I actually feel this time. "Here," a voice says harshly. Sniffing, I glance up to find Corvin handing me a bar of soap. He quickly looks away, like he's just as repulsed by what he sees. Paying him little mind, I quickly take the soap and start lathering up my body, scrubbing the smooth bar over a bony arm. My fingers shake so bad, it takes everything in me not to drop it. Darting paranoid looks around the room, I watch as the twins join Corvin by the sink, blotting out the mirror. Corvin pulls Griselda off to the side, hisdark eyes flitting to mine with a silent warning as he speaks too quietly for my ears to pick up. His lips barely move, as if to keep me from reading them. That's if he's even speaking English. The woman nods several times, and I swear at one point, I hear her say, "Ja, Master Corvin." I make a face at that, just as a memory flicks through my mind of a different man. One who's older, with long white hair, a proud nose, and cornflower blue eyes. He wore black gloves and had a cane. Frowning, I try to make sense of what's going on here. If Corvin is Master, who the hell was that other man then, and why haven't I seen him since that night? I'd thought maybe these three worked for him, but maybe I had it all wrong. Ezio's got his head bent toward Aquillus, lips tipped up as he whispers something in his brother's ear. The quiet one smiles faintly, nodding, gaze downturned. I try not to bristle, knowing they're likely talking about me. Laughing at me. I scrub at my skin, wincing when I brush over some bruises I didn't know were there. I start to consider where they came from, what may have been done to me while I was drugged up and passed out. I'm pretty sure my body would tell me if it had been violated in that way, but then again, maybe not. And it's not like there's only one way you can violate a person. Shuddering at the thought, I slam a steel door against that line of thinking. Some things are better left a mystery. Out of sight, out of mind. Footsteps approach, and I flinch inwardly, crowding myself against the other side of the porcelain tub. Something metal glints in the corner of my eye as I squeeze the bar of soap in my hand.

I dart a wary look up at Corvin's face, but he remains as unreadable as ever as he crouches next to the tub. Suddenly my hair is being swept up behind me, and I stiffen. A quick glance across the room shows me Aquillus still standing there, watching us steadily, and Griselda disappearing into the bedroom. So that leaves Ezio. Something cold touches my neck, and it's then I realize what Corvin was holding. A collar. Thick and smooth and an inch wide. Metal, but surprisingly flexible as he wraps it around my straining neck. "Wh-wh-what..." I try to speak, legs kicking out in front of me before I can remember I'm naked and in a bathtub. I start to slide, choking myself for a second as the water sloshes up around me. Corvin tugs on the collar around my neck so he can close it, and I feel my throat try to bob with a swallow but unable to do so. Ezio mutters something, and then one of the hands gripping my thick, tangled hair grips my bicep, holding me above water. Some of the pressure eases up around my neck. I hear a soft click and then Ezio lets go of me, moving away, as my halfsoaked hair falls once more around my shoulders. Corvin hooks a chain to my collar, and then stands up, walking somewhere behind me. Whipping my head around, I track him with my eyes. My lip trembles as I watch him snap the other end to a hook jutting out from the wall. One I didn't notice before. "Seriously?" I rasp shakily, fisting the side of the tub with my free hand. Somehow, in my struggle, I've managed to keep hold of the bar of soap.

Wiping his hands on his pants, Corvin straightens and turns to me, giving me a cold look. "Griselda will help you get ready. Fighting her will do you no favors. Trust me." He gestures at the chain. "Your only option here is to be a good little girl and follow the rules. Understood?" Glaring at him, I force a slow nod. Ready for what? I want to ask, but know better than to press my luck. He gives a clipped nod in return, and then he's gone. Striding past me, he barks for his minions to follow. Just after they leave through another connecting door, this one opposite the one we came through, Griselda steps forward with a metal bucket of supplies. I can just make out scrubbing brushes and more bottles of soap poking out from the top. A small box pokes out, but it's impossible to make out what it is from here. She hums a song under her breath as she goes about setting things on the counter, one I only faintly recognize, but am too exhausted to try to figure out how I know it. "We get you nice and clean," she says after a moment, her voice only slightly softer than it was when the boys were here. "Then get some food in that belly. You feel better." "Please help me," I whisper. Her movements slow, then still completely. Knuckles clenching around a yellow sponge, she slowly turns to face me, chin lifting like she's trying to compose her demeanor, steeling herself for what's to come. My face threatens to break with a sob as I scoot forward in the tub. It's only at the last second that I remember I'm collared and leashed to a fucking post, the chain yanking me back when I run out slack.

"Th-they took me," I tell her, clutching my neck. My voice continues to falter, failing me. "They dr-drugged me-" She says something sharp, slashing a hand through the air, cutting off my words. I don't know what it is she said, but the implication is clear. Shut up. She approaches the tub, leans down, and pinches my chin, tilting my head back so far I feel the collar digging into the back of my neck, just under my hairline. "You here now," she says firmly, dark eyes searching my face. "Yes?" I frown, not understanding what she means. "Girl you were," she says slowly, like she's trying to find the right words. "She no more. She gone. Tot." Chills skitter across my neck, dread pooling in my gut. Somehow, I just know what her next word will be. "Dead." My heart slows, my breath hitching on a sob. Her gaze flickers over my face with some unreadable emotion. "Accept." And with that, she releases me, stands back, and starts rifling through the bucket. My heaving, wet cries are the only sound to be heard as I finally let myself fall apart.