I copied them, flipping over the card and reading:
Thank you for participating in the Ember Wellness Retreat. Please note, this invitation must be validated by a quick questionnaire along with further confidential testing to be conducted on site. Only thirty will be selected.
I sighed.
My chances of getting in were thirty percent and I wasn’t what people called lucky.
Ah, well.
Yawning, I shoved the invite into my jean shorts pocket and stretched. My light grey cable knit kept out most of the English summer chill but after a month in the tropics, I wasn’t exactly warm.
But at least I had nothing else to do, nowhere else to be. The beauty of having no responsibilities, no family, pets, friends, or lovers meant zero stress.
If I got in, great.
If I didn’t, fine.
I’d just mosey on back to London and find a hotel to—
“Well, count me out!” a cross Black woman grumbled. “I’m not interested anymore.”
“To appease your disappointment, you’ll all receive a gift bag with organic skin care and luxury items valued at over five hundred pounds,” the man said. “We’ve also arranged suites at the Waldorf tonight for all those who are unsuccessful.” He grinned, his eyes scanning the sea of women. “All you have to do is help us with some paperwork and then you’ll either be shuttled to the Waldorf or whisked inside Cinderkeep. Sound good?” The man beamed, putting it on a little thick, but...one by one, the women thawed and nodded.
And somehow, I found myself being jostled into an orderly queue, waiting patiently for my turn to answer their mysterious questions.
Chapter Two
“THANK YOU, MS SNOWDEN.” THE HANDSOME young man in a white shirt with very white teeth accepted the clipboard I’d just filled in with my information. We sat beneath a little awning, privacy screens on either side of us, while other women completed their own inquisition.
I yawned again, very ready for that nap.
Sleep was one of my favourite and highly coveted pastimes. I might swap my scenery often—traveling from over-water bungalows on tropical islands to congested foot traffic in smoggy cities—but my habits when I was there never changed.
My main objective was to rest. To avoid stress of any kind. To be as calm and as peaceful as possible. Such zen-like non-reactiveness came from good food, regular relaxation, and a whole heap of freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted at the time of my choosing.
“Are we done?” I asked with a polite smile, my fingers straying to the large crystal raindrop pendant around my neck. My mother had put it on me when I was ten—she’d been almost giddy with excitement, claiming they’d finally found the secret to wellbeing and made me promise never to take it off. I didn’t know what technology Snowflake Corp had stuffed into this piece of jewellery, but I’d kept my promise ever since.
The man grinned, pulling my factsheet off the clipboard and tucking it into a box with other women’s paperwork. “Almost.” Ducking beneath the table, he pulled up a large case that looked suspiciously medical. Unzipping it, he pulled out a small vial that looked like a perfume tester with a silver pad and the tiniest needle at the top.
“If you’ll just place your finger on the top of this please.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“It’s to ensure every meal, drink, scent, and treatment is especially keyed to your DNA.” He held my eyes, practically beaming with positivity.
“MyDNA?”
He just nodded.
Now, for any normal woman, perhaps DNA wasn’t such a big deal. After all, we all gave it away to those ancestry websites to learn if we had some long-lost Irish roots. However, I’d been created by two people who’d single-handedly changed the scientific world. They’d made advances in cryogenics, played God with immortality, and had patented cold fusion that could rival clean energy or be used as weapons of mass destruction. Not to mention the desalination plants, ice shipping, and freshwater rights they’d been systematically buying worldwide.
So yeah, DNA wasn’t something I was prepared to give.
Especially for a weekend.
Pushing to my feet, I grabbed my well-worn rucksack and slung it onto my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I’ve changed my mind.”
Turning to leave, I caught the eyes of the man who seemed to be in charge. Greying hair and a pristine black suit made him look almost royal, but the glint in his eyes was purely villainous.
