"She's awake".
The words penetrated Charlotte's thoughts, before she even had the chance to realise she had fallen asleep. She found herself compelled into a sitting position, blinking furiously in an effort to discern her surroundings. Her mind was swimming, the forced drowsiness withdrawing slowly, as a sterile, white kitchen came into focus. She tried to look about, turn her head, raise her hands to her face in an effort to shield her eyes from the blinding light, but her body would not respond; it was not hers to respond.
Since leaving Daphne's house, her body had refused to answer to her own commands, some outside force controlling her every move. She had hardly hoped that now would be any different. Her mind too, was hardly her own anymore, as emotions that were certainly alien to her current circumstances had been pushed upon her. She knew it could only be the two men that she had first met at Daphne's. These manipulators controlled her, though for now at least control over her own thoughts and emotions still lay with her.
"Good morning, honey," a curvy woman said with a sickly smile, red lipstick plastered across her thin lips. Charlotte clambered to her feet, her body moving of its own accord, or somebody else's at least. The curvy woman's words were, for all intents and purposes, kind, but her tone was mocking, contrived. Charlotte glared at her, her breath shallow with anger. She couldn't speak, couldn't move, only breathe and blink.
"How was the flight?" the woman asked, growing bored of Charlotte and turning to the large, robust man who had taken Charlotte from Daphne's home. Charlotte had quickly come to realise that it was this man who had taken control of her movements; it was this man that held her in this weird state of paralysis. She had mentally dubbed him The Puppeteer, seeing as he could command her to do as he wished, as if she was his marionette.
"It was okay," he grunted, the bright light glistening off his bald head. "We had bad turbulence for a bit, but it passed". Charlotte took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a few seconds, trying to quieten her racing pulse.
"And did our new colleague behave?" the woman asked, reaffixing her attention on Charlotte once more. The woman's dark wiry hair stood out in an unruly fashion and sharply contrasted against her pale, dry skin. Her eyes were a milky brown with a certain deadness to them. She took Charlotte's face in her hands, squeezing her cheeks almost fondly, but for the coldness in her eyes.
"She didn't have much of a choice," The Puppeteer laughed, pouring himself a mug of coffee from the glass coffee pot. "I've had a hold on her since we got our hands on her".
"Has she put up much of a fight?" the woman asked, glancing at the man before turning her milky brown eyes back on Charlotte. She tilted Charlotte's head back and forth, examining her carefully.
"No – though I'm not sure she can with my hold on her," The Puppeteer said, with a loud slurp of coffee.
Their conversation was interrupted as Charlotte's other escort appeared through the door in front of Charlotte, his hazel eyes darting to her for a moment before fixing on his companions.
"Nicholls wants to see her," he breathed dismissively, helping himself to a mug of coffee. Charlotte regarded this ex-soldier of Kingston warily. He was devastatingly handsome, with soft wavy brown hair and carefully sculpted features, but nothing about his looks could disguise the unsettling menace of his alteration. This man, The Charmer, seemed to be able to twist her emotions, making her happy when she wasn't, tired when she wasn't, relaxed when she wasn't. The Puppeteer and The Charmer could manipulate her completely and it scared her more than anything she had met at Kingston.
"You should bring her up then," the woman sighed, pushing Charlotte's hair back from her face. "Only release her when he orders you to," she said with another sickly smile. "I'll mark her as one of us when Nicholls approves". Charlotte's stomach knotted, wondering what the woman could possible mean by those words.
"A word of warning honey," the woman said, fixing Charlotte with a hard stare. "Watch your tongue with Nicholls. Else we'll have to introduce you to Edwards, and you won't be wanting that".
"Mel, I doubt she'll avoid him even if she does know how to behave herself," The Puppeteer laughed, clanking his mug on the counter. The woman laughed too, a snorting, wheezing sort of laugh, stepping away from Charlotte. A strange sensation spread through Charlotte, as if ice cold water was running through her muscles and veins, her skin tingling with pins and needles. She stepped forward, her body moving without her permission as The Puppeteer, once again, took control of her movements.
"After you, princess," The Charmer winked at her, opening the door. Charlotte felt her face twist into a flattered smile, her muscles not hers to control. A dizzying sense of calm tried to push in on her, numbing her disgust. Charlotte's body continued marching forward, followed closely by the two manipulators.
Charlotte's legs carried her into a darkened, high-ceilinged hall and up a wide staircase, its railings almost black, the steps covered in a thick red carpet. The walls were panelled and little light filtered in through large stain-glass windows. She marched step after step up through the house, The Puppeteer and The Charmer close behind her.
"Now princess, you'd want to watch your mouth with Nicholls – Mel wasn't kidding," The Charmer sighed. "He may look meek, but he is vicious. And if he hands you over to Edwards you will be in for a world of pain. Just smile and be polite. Don't try anything stupid".
"You need to listen and obey here – we know you've got your own airs and graces now that you've been free for a bit, but you're not free anymore," The Puppeteer added. "Here, you will only be as happy as your behaviour allows".
"And if you don't behave, you don't survive, princess," The Charmer continued. "Edwards is the longest serving altered here - you'll understand why after a while. Most don't even last a month. It would be such a waste if you were to throw your service away". Charlotte took a steadying breath, aware that tears were gathering in her eyes - service meant life.
"Just agree to whatever he asks of you and then well... you'll be happy here," The Puppeteer nodded and Charlotte could hear the smirk in his voice, as if his warnings were some great joke. She wanted to stop moving, but he just kept her walking.
Charlotte was forced to a halt outside a large set of double doors, The Puppeteer and The Charmer stepping up on either side of her.
"Princess, make this easy," The Charmer said gently, grinning at her. "He only wants you to run, to fight – don't give him that satisfaction".
"Ross, you're ruining the fun," The Puppeteer laughed, knocking on the door.
The charmer raised his eyebrows and smirked. "She's too pretty to waste on Edwards," he winked, as he pulled the door handle and Charlotte's body moved forward once more without her permission.
A great sense of calm flooded her system, overpowering all her natural defence mechanisms, as she stepped into the centre of a large circular room, tiled with parquet flooring. The walls were panelled in red and black carved wood. It was a reception room of sorts, two large sofas set at its centre around a circular coffee table. There were six large mirrors set into the curving walls, reflecting everything and everybody gathered in the room. Large cabinets were set at spaced intervals, filled with all things weird and wonderful, a collector's paradise, but none of that interested Charlotte.
Instead her eyes were fixed on the two figures in the centre of the room. One she recognised to be Frank Nicholls, dressed in a pale grey suit, his thick-framed spectacles magnifying his mismatched eyes to comic proportions; at least they would have been comic if hadn't just bought Charlotte. Here they just seemed menacing, seeing more than they should.
The second person was only vaguely familiar to Charlotte, a ghost of a memory perhaps, but time and age had changed a face she felt she should have recognised. A shaggy mane of black curls hung around his pale face, accentuating his large black eyes, round and owl-like, rarely blinking. His face was round, as round as his large black eyes, his nose narrow and sharp. His body was bent up, twisted and unnatural, sitting in a pained position in a bright silver wheelchair.
A shiver of fear ran down her spine, but The Charmer quickly quashed it with another wave of calming force, taking over her own primal defences.
"Miss Owens, a pleasure, oh yes," Nicholls said, smiling with what seemed a pained effort. He lingered on the 's' too long, turning Charlotte's stomach. "I would like to welcome you to my home – your home now". Charlotte felt the urge to cry pushing up on her again, and she felt like begging The Charmer to help her hold her nerve, though he seemed to notice her own emotions pushing in on her, and once more a strange peace took hold of her.
Nicholls approached her, looking her up and down. "Leave her speak," he ordered, glancing back to The Puppeteer. Charlotte felt her facial muscles relax, control switching back to her own brain.
"Are you healthy?" he asked, his eyes searching her as if expecting to find some fault. Charlotte gritted her teeth, the urge to yell and curse at him overwhelming, yet what could she do, the warnings against Edwards coming back to her, a nagging reminder. She locked her eyes on the twisted owl-man in the chair and grimaced, knowing immediately that he was Edwards. He was watching her with a blank, wide-eyed stare.
"Yes, sir," she said, pushing her words from behind her teeth.
"Of strong mind?"
"Yes, sir," she repeated
"You remember your training clearly?"
"Yes, sir".
"And... are you willing to become part of my household?" he hissed, his tongue escaping from behind his teeth. Charlotte felt her stomach somersault, bile rising in her throat. Her alteration thrashed in her mind, but she restrained it, not stupid enough to let them know she had full control over it, not yet.
"If you wish, sir," she said, her tone tight. He gazed at her, his blue and green eyes unblinking as he leaned towards her, smelling her skin. Charlotte tried her best not to show her repulsion as he circled her.
"Yes I do, oh yes" he whispered, the words heavy on his tongue. "You will be a fine addition to our collection, very fine indeed". Charlotte winced as he caught her chin, tilting her face down, so he could see her eyes clearly, forcing her to look at him. "So rare, so beautiful, oh yes, oh yes". Charlotte closed her eyes, unable to look at him anymore. She knew if she had the use of her body, she would have hit him.
"Ross go fetch one of the others," Nicholls breathed, releasing Charlotte's face as she opened her eyes. She watched his mismatched eyes fix on one of the altered behind her.
She gazed passed Nicholls to Edwards, who was staring at her with his black eyes, blinking slowly, his bottom jaw jutting out. He looked ill, too ill to be altered, and yet Charlotte felt she knew him from the island. She felt she knew to fear him. He had to be altered.
Charlotte was aware of the door behind her opening and closing as Nicholls finally moved away from her, his face twisting into what she presumed was an effort at a smile.
"From the moment I heard about what you could do, Miss Owens, I have wanted you, oh very much, yes. You had to be mine, and mine alone. When I heard that girl scream in the games, her petrified pleas, her panic, it thrilled me – and you did it all with your mind – it was wonderful, yes, yes," he breathed, leaning against the back of the sofa and observing her, as he so callously recalled Charlotte's attack on Holly Childs. "And yet that was nothing, nothing compared to the game against the head boy," he drawled.
Charlotte could feel her grief taking over, now that The Charmer had vanished. The mere mention of James, her memories of that game, were enough to push her over the edge. Silent tears began to run down her cheeks as she wished herself away, wished herself back at Kingston, back with James, at Elmhirst's mercy, at Bennett's cruelty – she didn't care. She would be anywhere but here.
"I had no idea, none whatsoever, of the power you possessed," he breathed, emphasising the 's' sound and ignoring her distress. "Oh yes, you made us all believe that what we saw was a reality. You played us all for fools, feeding hallucinations with fear – genius, oh yes. I just had to have you. I could barely contain my excitement, yes, yes".
Charlotte gritted her teeth, trying to control her emotions. She did not want to appear weak.
"I had of course already procured a deal to possess you by that stage. Oh yes, Monsieur Desmarais was only too happy to ensure you found a suitable home". He paused for a moment, watching her gleefully, his eyes unblinking.
"After the game I couldn't keep my purchase secret anymore. I just had to tell somebody and Daphne Haskins was only too happy to listen to my enthusiasm, yes, yes. She was clearly enticed by how much I was willing to pay to obtain you. It obviously remained fresh in her mind, because no sooner had you arrived at her house than she called ready to set her own deal. Very lucky she did too – because I would not have handled myself in a very gentlemanly fashion had I found out that Elmhirst had misplaced you. And if I had found that it was that young Desmarais who had robbed me of my most desired possession, well... you can imagine, yes, yes," he smiled. "Though it has all ended well, oh yes," he said with another failed smile and a clap of his hands. "You are mine now and that is all that matters, oh yes".
Charlotte could not stem the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she tried to stare passed Nicholls and Edwards. She still couldn't believe that he had even found her, that Daphne could have betrayed her in such a callous way. She gritted her teeth, knowing this was not the time to feel sorry for herself, but she still found it difficult to regain control.
"Sir," The Charmer muttered, entering somewhat noisily through the door behind her. Charlotte was overwhelmed with a resounding sense of calm once more at his reappearance. "This one probably doesn't have long left". Charlotte heard the door close and the scuffling of feet across the parquet floor, as he came back into Charlotte's line of vision. "She was hit badly last weekend, blew a whole right through her gut. Did our best to patch her up, but she's spoiled I fear – minds a bit... unstable," he explained, wavering his hand to convey the girl's apparent instability. He dragged behind him a haggard looking woman in her mid-twenties, her eyes were closed, her face calm, but Charlotte couldn't help but wonder if it was not The Charmer's doing, overriding her natural responses.
"She will do," Nichols said dismissively waving his hand. "Leave her there and move back. I need to see Miss Owens' alteration – I need to be reminded of what I have bought".
Charlotte let her gaze fall from Nicholls to the girl, panic breaking through The Charmer's forced sense of calm. Charlotte swallowed uneasily, unable to tear her gaze from the girl she was expected to kill.
Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate it!! I hope you are enjoying it - and I'm not going to keep talking here, just please don't forget to vote (I really love to see your support) and comment if you get a chance! Would love to get feedback on Nicholls and Charlotte's knew home!