❝we are masters of unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out❞
ｗｉｎｓｔｏｎ ｃｈｕｒｃｈｉｌｌ
___
ＢＥＥＰ... beep... beep...!
This... is familiar.
Beep... beep... beep!
It has been months since I last fell into a coma, yet the memory still remains: the dull noise from the ECG monitor beeping rhythmically in sync with my heartbeat. The dull ache in my bones as my limbs try to regain back control. The dull voices that gradually become clearer as the fog over my mind lifts.
Once the dullness dissipates I am left with a sharp, acute pain. When I open my eyes, all I see is darkness.
This is not familiar.
Beep... beep... beep!
The beeping is a steady constant; a tether that keeps me grounded to reality as I try to find my bearings.
I am not in a hospital room. My location is lacking that distinct smell of disinfectant and death that I've grown accustomed to waking up to. It's a mix of dust and dampness with a hint of an earthy undertone, perhaps somewhere underground?
My second realisation comes when I try to move: I am not in a bed. I am strapped vertically to a platform tilted at a steep 60 degree angle with the floor. A tube runs through my arm and another through my neck, feeding into the machine beside me. I groan.
How did I end up here?
My reply comes the moment the voices cease. At the sound of footsteps, the room floods with light, revealing the face of my captor.
"You woke up earlier than expected." His voice is void of emotion. A shadow casts over his face, yet there is no brightness in his eyes, only a sad, empty expression swirling around in his once vibrant blue orbs.
Andrew.
I close my eyes shut and I remember; the ball, the drink... everything. I should've known better, I let my guard down and this is the consequence.
"You drugged me," I murmur. My voice is weak and crackly, barely above a whisper, yet I know, from the brief flicker of emotion on his face that he heard me.
Andrew looks away. He walks over to the machine connected me, focusing his attention on tapping on the adjoining screen. "You wouldn't have been very cooperative otherwise, would you?"
"Why?" I croak.
For a moment, Andrew looks confused by my question. "Why? Like you don't know."
"I don't."
Suddenly, he becomes angry. "Like hell you don't know! This is all your fault. You and your family! You took her away. They took her away! And then they tried to cover it up with you."
My head aches. "Who... Who is she? I don't understand."
"My mother, of course. It wasn't just your parents that died that night, you know. They discovered three bodies. Who do you think the third casualty was?"
The third casualty... It wasn't me?
Andrew lets out a high, cynical laugh. "You didn't know? Oh, this is great. Maybe now you'll understand how I've felt all these years, being made so clueless, being constantly lied to. For a long time, I didn't even know what happened to her. All I knew was that my mother was a reporter and she went missing. 'Missing'." He chuckles darkly, eyes seething with malice. "'Missing' because they didn't have a damn body they could give to us. Because they were too busy covering up the mistakes that your little mommy and daddy made."
"Andrew, I—"
"No. I'm done listening. You had plenty of opportunities to explain. So many times you could've told me. You wouldn't even trust me with your freaking name!" Andrew snaps. "Face it. Take responsibility. This is your fault. If not for your parents— if not for you, my mother would still be alive. That's why we—"
"Andrew. Who are you talking to?" A cold, somber voice interrupts. Richard Masters appears out of the darkness to give Andrew a sharp look.
Andrew quietens in an instant, turning to address his father. "It's Lucy—" he pauses, adding in a sneering manner, "or should I say, Emma. She's awake."
He spits my name out like it's poison, taking a step back to stand beside his father.
Richard Masters observes me with a cold, calculated gaze that contrasted the look of contempt his son gives me.
"You checked the vitals? Made note of them like they said?"
Andrew nods. "Yes Dad."
Mayor Masters takes another step towards me, analysing me with those cold, dark eyes of his. Under his gaze, I felt less than human. He looked at me like I was nothing more than a science experiment gone wrong, a mutation, a freak.
"You should learn to hold your tongue, son," he tells Andrew coolly, still regarding me. "You are not a pantomime villain. You do not reveal any plan without thought... especially with benefactors such as ours. All information is sensitive information. Understood?"
"Yes father," Andrew mutters. "Understood."
Mayor Masters raises his wrist, checking his watch. "The analysis is taking a while to complete. I promised to have a word with the committee chair before the end of the night. I trust I can leave you to comport yourself and watch over for fifteen minutes?"
Andrew nods, watching in silence as his father leaves. I twist my head round just in time to see him walk up a narrow flight of stairs.
It is just Andrew and I again and—
I hear a rustle in the corner. Was that...?
No.
I catch a glimpse of white hair.
Cole?
At first, relief runs through me... but then it is quickly replaced by dread. Cole shouldn't be here. If he isn't careful, he'll get caught then it'll be game over — for both of us. My heart begins to pound in my chest. I need to distract Andrew from noticing Cole somehow.
I pull against the straps that restrict me, hoping it would trigger something, sighing in frustration when it doesn't.
"There's no point in doing that," Andrew replies monotonously. "As long as you're connected to that machine your powers won't work, so there's no point bothering."
After another minute of struggling, I grudgingly give up, turning to look at Andrew, who looks on with an almost bored expression. What happened to him? How did all this happen? "How did you find out?"
The question escapes my lips before I have time to think about it. In the corner, I see Cole still, partially retreating back into the darkness. He presses a finger to his lips, urging me to not reveal his position.
"About what?" Andrew replies, a curious glint touches his eyes. "Your powers? Your real name? Why are you suddenly so interested?"
I lift my head up, looking at the ceiling. "I'm just trying to figure out why you're doing all this. You mentioned your mother... and how it's my fault... but what does this solve? Tying me up here, doing these... tests. This won't bring her back."
"You think I don't know that?!" Andrew answers back harshly. "What is this? A psych test? Are you trying to bait me? No. Do you feel sorry for me? I don't need your sympathy. I don't need your psychoanalysis. The only person here you should feel sorry for is yourself." Andrew draws nearer, his lips curling in a threatening snarl. "Want to know the real reason I'm doing all this? It's not the tests. Even since that day at the parade, I never cared about that. The reason is simple: revenge. I want you to suffer the way I did. More. I want you to—"
"Andrew! Stop this instant!" Richard Masters voice booms through the room. "Have you no self control! Do you think I brought you in here for solely personal vendettas?!" he barks. "It's obvious you can not be trusted on your own here."
Mayor Masters marches towards me angrily. I flinch when he raises his hand, but then I quickly realise it isn't aimed at me — it's at the machine's control board. He presses a series of keys and soon, the initial sluggishness I felt when I awoke returns.
"I will return to my meeting," Richard Masters cold voice floats through my jumbled thoughts. "You will go up and call them. Inform them of our progress. Tell them the formula is taking longer to extract than expected and..."
My eyes begin to droop, my head continues to throb. The rest of the mayor's sentence becomes an incoherent jumble, untranslatable by my weakening senses. I am seconds away from falling unconscious again when a hand gently cups my face, whispering:
"It's okay, I've got you now. Everything will be okay."
Cole.
He places his lips against mine in a quick peck before pulling away and getting to work. "Thank God you're okay. Let's get you out of here. Who knows how long they'll be."
He begins to tug against the wires, methodically taking out the straps tying me to the panel.
"Cole..." It takes almost all the energy left in me to speak. "You should... get out of here... Dangerous."
"I'm not leaving without you," he replies stubbornly. Cole feels around the back of my neck, pulling out the thin tube while murmuring soft apologies, as if believed this was somehow his fault.
"Not... your fault," I mutter.
"Stop talking, you're wasting your energy," he chides in response. "I can't—" he grunts, "I can't get this part out, I'll have to break it."
A chill breeze tingles at my skin as Cole conjures an icicle out of thin air. He jams it into the centre of the monitor's control panel, causing sparks to fly out and the final restraint around my waist to disengage. Having no control over my body, I fall forwards, landing in Cole's arms.
"See?" he whispers, stroking my hair. "It's okay. Everything's alright. We just need to find a way out of here."
Safe in Cole's arms, I feel his tense muscles finally start to relax. His lips rest on my head, hand checking me over for bruises and injuries. In his embrace, amidst his tender words, I start to relax too. I don't realise what a fatal mistake this is until it is too late.
The last thing I remember is a shadowy hand and a silver bat swinging towards us. There's no time to warn or to duck. A strike each to the back of the head and we're out.
❧
When I wake up, I feel simultaneously worse and better than before.
'Worse' because my headache has increased by tenfold and every cell in my body is screaming at me to rest. 'Better' because without the cocktail of drugs being pumped into my system, I can actually feel and sense things other than this pain.
I jerk my hand up to cup my forehead, but I am surprised to find that my arms feel heavier than usual, restricted. Looking down at my wrists, I realise they've been shackled to the wall.
Great.
As I gather my bearings, it also occurs to me that I'm still in the red evening gown from earlier on tonight. It's bottom is in ruins: hem frayed, covered in dirt and on the verge of ripping off.
I sigh. Maybe I should take this as a sign — nice things are obviously wasted on me.
My eyes slowly adjust to the dim lighting of the room, enabling me to see the machine Cole damaged during his rescue attempt. It continues to crackle and let out sparks, leading me to believe it couldn't have been broken that long ago. My gaze wanders, trying to take in more of my surroundings. At least now I know where we are:
This impromptu lab Andrew and his father set up must be in their basement. I've never been here before but I remember Andrew once telling me how the original plan of the house before they remodelled it was heavily inspired by medieval era architecture. They never got round to renovating the lower floors. That would explain the chains and the dungeon aesthetic...
Beside me, Cole begins to stir.
His hair is ruffled messily and his tie and tuxedo jacket are gone, leaving him in just a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves with its first two buttons undone.
He groans. "Where..."
"Andrew's basement," I inform him.
This seems to be enough explanation for him, a grim look overtakes his features.
Cole yanks against the chains. He flexes his wrist and I realise he's trying to use his powers to break free. It doesn't work.
He tries again.
"They must've drugged you too," I tell him. "My powers don't work either."
Cole sighs. Bowing his head forward as he slumps in defeat.
My eyebrows furrow when I notice a patch of red among his white strands.
"Are you bleeding?" I ask. They must have hit him harder than they hit me.
"What?" Cole's hand flies to the back of his head. "Oh." Flecks of dried blood stain his fingers. "Well, not anymore."
"You'll need to get it checked out. You might have a concussion."
"So might you," Cole responds. "It doesn't matter, I heal quickly anyway."
I want to protest but I find I'm no longer in the mood. About 65% of all DA students had some form of regenerative healing, Cole and I included. There's no point in arguing about it. What is most important now is getting out of here. Cole and I exchange a few ideas but they ultimately result in nothing — mostly because they all required us to use our abilities.
I sigh. "Andrew... he'll be back soon. So will his father."
Cold nods sombrely, saying nothing.
We fall into a spell of silence.
"I'm going to say it."
I turn to Cole, confused. "Say what."
"I told you so."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Really? You're doing this now?"
Cole shrugs. "Just saying, I did warn you that something like this would happen... multiple times."
"Well, you're here as well so it's not like you exactly took your own advice."
"That's because I—"
"Seems the two of you are awake."
A new voice thrown in the mix silences the both of us.
"My father wouldn't have been happy if he found I hit either of you too hard. Reputation to uphold and whatnot," Andrew says impassively, pulling up a chair and sitting directly in front of us.
Andrew's eyes are strangely fixated on Cole. "Hmm. So they didn't send you... I must have been mistaken."
"What do you mean by that?" I ask. "Who is 'they'?"
Andrew's eyes briefly flitter to mine. "I was offended at first. Angry that they didn't trust us to finish this off by ourselves. But I must have been wrong. Can't expect there to be variation even among freaks."
Cole growls. "Say that again and I'll—"
Andrew stands up, laughing sardonically. "And you'll what? I think you've forgotten here who's tied up and powerless and who's—"
The rest of Andrew's sentence comes out as a strangled yelp. His eyes roll backwards and he falls to the ground with a resounding thud.
"Man, he talks a lot," Cass, the perpetrator, murmurs as she looks down at Andrew's body. Her eyes flick up to our shocked faces. "Don't worry, he's not dead."
I shake my head in disbelief. This all felt like some never-ending twisted game of 'who's the best at sneaking up and knocking out people'.
Cass steps over Andrew's body, nudging the chair to the side to get a better look at us. "Well, I think it's obvious I'm the only one here who can survive without my powers."
She brings her purse over to her front and pulls out two short metallic objects with engravings on them. They looked a bit like sword handles. She swishes them once and they extend into full metre-long blades. Retractable swords. Of course Cass carries a pair of retractable swords on her.
"Hold still," she instructs. Then in an expert manner, she slices through the air above us.
Clang!
The chains immediately fall to the ground.
"Are swords usually that sharp?" I ask, holding out my wrists to Cass so she can break the final cuffs. "Thanks."
"It's a special alloy, and I can't be bothered to explain the rest," she replies, walking over and doing the same to Cole.
"Ah, thanks, Cass..." Cole mumbles.
Cass wags a finger in front of him. "Uh uh, don't 'thanks Cass' me. I can't believe you! You get a phone call and you just take off saying 'Emma's in trouble', giving me no information. What were you thinking? It's a good thing I was able to follow behind this douche to get down here."
"Sorry," we both apologise.
"Whatever. I don't think we can go back the same way I came. We'll have to get out someway else."
I rub my wrists, slowly rising from the ground. "The ceiling in here is quite high," I say, "so I think a part of it goes above ground. I think I saw a small window in the corner of the room over there."
"I felt a draft over there too," Cole adds, "it must lead to outside."
Cass nods. As we begin to walk in that direction, I watch her reach for her purse again and fish out a grappling gun. She's been carrying that around with her all night? No wonder it was so heavy.
"You brought that too?" Cole notes. "You were prepared for this. Did you know something like this was going to happen?"
"I had a feeling."
"You had a vision about this at the DA, didn't you," I realise. "That's why you came."
Cass avoids my gaze. "We need to get out of here first." She aims the grappling gun in the direction of the window, shattering the glass when the hook latches to the corner of it. She tugs at the cord, making sure it's taut and firm.
"How are we going to do this?" she asks. "I don't think this can take more than 300 pounds at a time."
"Here, hand it to me," Cole offers, studying the window. "I'll take you up first, then Emma. The gap looks too narrow for more than one person to get through at a time. You two can help pull me out after."
Cass and I nod in agreement and set about executing the plan.
We land in a field of grass not far from the entrance of the Masters Mansion. I can see the mile-long driveway from over here. Once we pull out Cole, we exchange looks, seemingly asking each other 'What now?'.
I look up at the starry sky. "What time is it?"
"You went missing around nine. About an hour and a half ago," Cass says. "It's just after 10 now."
"That's not too late," I muse. "With the limo dropping us, I told my aunt we'd be back around half nine."
"We can still make it back for ten thirty," Cole says. He takes my hand in his, rubbing it soothingly. "Will you be okay to fly on your own?"
"Emma can fly?" Cass interrupts. "Since when?"
"Yesterday," I say.
"That's reassuring."
"That's why you're flying with me," Cole explains, rolling his eyes at Cass. "Emma isn't able to control her core temperature yet anyway, so she'd burn you if you tried touching her while she flew."
Does that mean I've been hurting Cole every time we flew together? I look at him for answers. He effortlessly picks Cass up before glancing back at me. His eyes soften, seeming to say 'later'.
"You know Haven the best," Cole says. "Lead the way."
I nod tersely before taking off into the skies. Cole follows suit, yet his words stick with me. If anything tonight has taught me one thing: I know nothing about Haven. Nothing at all.
❧
Aunt Vic looks ready to take my head off when we arrive at the doorstep.
She wraps her arms around me the second we're inside, her embrace as strong and tight as a chokehold, almost as if she's torn between hugging me and strangling me to death.
"Where on earth have you kids been? Thank God you're okay. We've been worried sick," she says.
"I'm sorry," I mumble.
"I think we'll need a little bit more than an apology," Uncle Ted says. The disappointment in his eyes instantly makes me feel guilty. "You come back home over an hour late with your clothes in ruins—"
Aunt Victoria breaks away from our hug, hands squarely on my shoulders and eyes narrowed in suspicion as her gaze sweeps down my outfit. Her eyes narrow further when she looks at Cole and Cass. "He's right. What happened to you? What happened to all of you?"
"Didn't you see our calls?" Uncle Ted asks. My hand automatically reaches for the place I'd stored my phone in the side of my dress.
15 missed calls.
"It's not all Emma's fault," Cole says in my defence. "We wanted to come back earlier but something came up."
"Oh?" Aunt Victoria raises an eyebrow. Uncle Ted crosses his arms.
"It's Andrew..." I begin to confess until I see the look on Cass's face. She shakes her head at me. Hesitantly, I concede, saying instead, "His chauffeur arrived late to pick us up. It was a different person to the one who dropped us off so they got lost on the way and took us round a completely different direction. He took that farm-way that's been blocked since that accident last June and the car got stuck in a pothole. Cole offered to help push the car out, and forgot his jacket in the car. We were stuck without signal and the driver was still hopeless so we decided to walk the rest of the way back after helping the driver. We're sorry we made you worry."
Aunt Victoria and Uncle Ted are stunned into silence by my story.
"It's... okay, we understand," Aunt Victoria says. "It must have been a difficult night for you three."
"Would you like me to call the Masters?" Uncle Ted suggests, his forehead creased with worry. "That seems awfully irresponsible of him. Someone should complain about your driver."
"No. It's okay." I say firmly. "Andrew and his dad... they already did a lot inviting us tonight. Please don't bother them."
Uncle Ted seems taken aback by the severity of my plea, but he nods slowly in agreement. "Okay then... if you're sure."
Aunt Victoria wraps her arms around her waist. Her eyes drift to the clock. "It's about eleven now. You kids better head up soon," she says softly. "You've got a busy day ahead tomorrow as well."
We nod in unison. "Night, Aunt Vic, night Uncle Ted," I say, triggering a series of 'goodnight's all around as my aunt and uncle lead the way up the stairs.
We don't follow after them straightaway.
Cass's gaze flickers from the now empty stairwell to us. "We need to talk."
"Let's go to the kitchen," I say grimly.
Once we're all settled, Cass speaks up again. "Nice cover-up."
I don't look at her. "Thanks... but I hate lying to them. Why are we doing this again?"
"The less they know the better," Cass responds. "At least until we know who we can trust."
"What do you mean by that?" I say accusingly.
"Emma, what happened today, did you ever wonder how Andrew got to know so much about you? Did you ever tell him any of that?"
I consider this quietly for a moment. "No..." I admit. "I couldn't have told him... he knew more than me."
"Precisely," Cass replies. "And so where did he learn that? Who told him?"
Cole sits up straighter. "He kept mentioning this group. Kept referring to them as 'they'."
"The benefactors," I say. "That's what Andrew's father called them."
"But is that their real name or just a random code name?" Cass says.
We fall silent. No one knew the answer to that.
Shortly after, Cole says, "He seemed to recognise me. Though he said he mistook me for someone else."
"And the third casualty..." I add, "you don't think... could it really have been his mother? I don't know what to think. I should ask my uncle."
"And what if he doesn't know?" Cass counters. "You'll end up endangering both him and your aunt if someone finds out he's been snooping around. There's still so much we don't know to risk it— we don't even know why they chose to kidnap you in the first place."
My hand subconsciously reaches for the back of my neck, soothing the sore spot where a tube had been just an hour ago. "From what I heard, they were trying to run some tests... but I don't know which or why it was so important. I mean, Andrew said it was for revenge but..."
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling out. I couldn't let myself get emotional about this. Andrew doesn't deserve to get that type of reaction out of me.
"One thing we know for sure," Cole says, "is that they're getting their information from someone high up. Someone who's been around for long enough to know about Emma's parents, someone with connections who knows about us personally. Someone..."
"...like my mother?" Cass finishes quietly.
An uneasy silence stales the air.
"Don't pretend like you weren't both thinking the same thing," she says, letting out a shaky breath. "Who else other than her would have access to all these things?"
"No, Cass, Morgana wouldn't do this. She owns the entire school. If she's behind all this then..." my voice trails off. The thought alone as terrifying. "No. That's crazy."
"Is it?"
"We don't have any evidence," Cole says. "We can't be sure of anything..."
"We don't need to be sure, we just need to be wary."
"We're going back tomorrow, Cass — what do you mean by that?" My frustration levels begin to rise. "Go around treating everyone like the enemy?!"
"Emma." Cole reaches out to calm me down, yet not even his touch is enough to alleviate my worries.
"I mean..." Cass speaks slowly and clearly, raising her eyes up to meet mine. They gleam with fear and earnestness. "From now on, we trust no one."