“Could you excuse us, Zephyr?”
Her eyelids pinch like she’s insulted, but as Aurelius clears his throat, they snap open. She turns to him just as he waves Raven and her toward the door. There’s a beat that passes, a hitch of hesitation where I think she’ll tell him no.
Who is she? How high up must you be to reject the leader?
I don’t get to find out. She lifts her head and follows Raven out the door, leaving it open. I close it before turning back to Aurelius.
“I don’t know what kind of powers you think I have, but there is no possible way I can do what you’re asking.” I gesture behind me. “You might as well put that one back. She’ll never work.”
Hands clasping behind his back, he shuffles toward me. “May I ask why?”
Why?
I could scoff. It sits at the back of my throat while I remind myself of the millions of dollars at stake here.
“Respectfully… I was a billionaire who owned his own island. The women I brought over were mentally broken and drained. Prostitutes. Runaways. Domestic violence survivors. Drug-addicted mothers with no hope of getting their kids back. I took the desperate and vulnerable and made them princesses in a palace I built just for them. I gave them the best clothes, the best food, and frankly, the best lives beyond what they could’ve ever lived without me.”
I sweep my hands while observing the room. “Compare that to this… As far as I can tell, your people don’t believe in electricity. This is a place I’m looking forward to calling home, but it isn’t an easy sell for someone craving a life of luxury. That woman…” I crook my thumb at Sleeping Beauty. “That’s a city girl wearing a cashmere sweater and no wedding ring. That tells me she’s either from a wealthy family or she has her own successful career, and judging by where you found her, I’m going to lean toward the latter. She wants more than caviar; she wants individuality. You’re in short supply of that here, and I’m no miracle worker… If you want to go hit up the insane asylum, then sure, I’ll see what I can do. If not, I’m afraid I’ll be better off initiating as a Keeper. I could always do what you’re asking on the side.”
“On the side…” When Aurelius’s lips stretch, the lighting makes him look like a Disney villain. I half expect him to evil-laugh. “I’m sorry, Sawyer Hansley. I don’t think this is going to work out.”
He turns to the door. “Thorne!”
A lantern glows in the tiny space as the door opens, but I don’t turn to watch the meaty man enter. If I were here under the disguise of another alias, I might jump through this man’s hoops. I might bend over to appease him, maybe even apologize for the misunderstanding.
But I’m here as Sawyer Hansley now. I’m fully aware that this man wants me.
When Thorne grips my bicep, I rip away from him.
“If I’m going to do this, it’s going to require resources. I’ll need access to the cult’s money and the help of at least three men.”
When Thorne grabs me a second time, Aurelius gives him a look. He lets go and dutifully steps aside.
“I want to make something clear,” Aurelius says, his voice noticeably more strained. “We are notsavages. We produce our own electricity, have running water, and allow plenty of luxuries. What makes our society special isn’t wealth or glamor. It’s the people’s lifelong commitment to doing what’s best for the community as a whole, and that often involves conservation. Those who can’t understand that don’t belong here.” He waves to the unconscious woman. “Including her, and including you.”
Conservation. I’d love to see where this guy sleeps and how much ‘conservation’ he practices.
I nod. “I understand.”
Aurelius takes a deep breath as if satisfied. “As for the manpower required, Thorne will assist you in whatever you need.”
Nothing about access to the money, of course. I had to try.
I turn to look at Tribal Tattoo. He stares at me with a sneer like he’s already tired of me being here. It’s unnerving how much hatred he puts off.
Blowing out a breath, I try to think through a plan of action, at least to buy some time until I can find what I’m after. It isn’t difficult. Iwishit was difficult.
I amnotthe monster they think I am, but I do understand the human mind. There’s a piece of paper in a New York office that says I have an MBA from Cambridge, but life is what truly gave me my education, and it’s been thorough.
It isn’t hard for me to figure out what a person wants or how they’d react to certain stimuli. How their mind works, how to put them in a state that’s receptive to suggestion.
And sure, at times, I’ve used this to my advantage. I’m not a choir boy.
And sure, in theory, if a captive were in front of me, I could probably figure out how to calm their nervous system. Teach them to trust (at least trustme), teach them to hold still, teach them tosurvive.
And sure, an argument could be made that I do havesomepractice with this. A theatrical soul might call what I’ve done brainwashing, but I’d challenge them to consider if fantasy could be preferable to reality. If I could ‘brainwash’ myself, I probably would.
Say what you will about me, but these people? They’re out of their fucking minds.
