Thank you so much for the kind reviews!
CHAPTER NINE
Exhaustion was not the right word, but it was the only word that came close to how Isabel felt; physically and emotionally exhausted, but tenfold.
She was laying on her bed, knees drawn to her chest and only in her chemise, having shed her uncomfortable dress. She longed for a sweater from home, over sized and cozy. It was more than that, though. She longed for the smell of home. The smell of secrets, coffee, and diluted white vinegar Moira used to clean the floorboards.
A nap would do her some good. A nap that would last for one hundred years. Would that be enough? If she slept for one hundred years, would the world have moved on and forgiven her crimes?
The silence that occupied the outpost was mournful. Gallant had returned from the intense scrubbing session that had left him raw and nearly skinless.
Stu had not.
Isabel didn't mean for Stu to get killed. If it hadn't been him, it would have been her. She tried to keep telling herself that. Though a hierarchy had been established in Outpost 3, the lack of structure in the outside world seeped in through the walls and permeated life within: kill or be killed. She had been in a situation like that before. Kill or be killed; she saved her own life.
It didn't make her feel any better.
The sharp click of a cane on the floor alerted Isabel to Venable's presence outside of her room. Refusing to be caught off guard this time, Isabel sat up just as the door opened.
"Moping, I see," Ms. Venable remarked, shutting the door behind her.
Isabel watched the door in dismay. She was trapped. Perhaps she wouldn't be so averse to being in a room alone with Ms. Venable if it wasn't for recent deadly events. And the look in Ms. Venable's eyes made her uneasy. "Mourning," she corrected, hating how her voice caught in her throat.
"I don't see why you should be mourning. He died, you lived. Surely you ought to be celebrating?" Ms. Venable could see Isabel's face pale in panic; a child caught lying to a parent. "I won't waste time beating around the bush. You did something to the Geiger counter. I can't quite figure out how, but you did."
There was a pause as Isabel contemplated her options. There weren't many. She couldn't exactly come out and tell the truth, could she? "You can't prove anything."
She scolded herself when she saw Ms. Venable's satisfied grin. "No need. You just did it for me." And with genuine curiosity, "How did you do it?"
"I didn't do anything." It was too late to use this excuse, Isabel knew that. But it fell out of her mouth and flopped on the floor anyway.
She braced herself for the slap, but that didn't make it any less painful. Her cheek smarted, and was then suddenly soothed as the hand that hurt her now caressed, Ms. Venable's palm cool and comforting.
"It's wonderful, having things go your way, isn't it? To be in control. I know the feeling well. I'm not embarrassed to say it gives me a tingle." She spoke slowly, choosing her words deliberately. "You have power," Ms. Venable murmured as she cupped Isabel's chin. There was no question about it. Whatever that power was, it was strong. Ms. Venable wouldn't believe in such impossibilities if it wasn't for her employers before the apocalypse: Jeff and Mutt, two idiots who snorted their body weight in cocaine daily. She had witnessed rather impossible things.
"You don't know what I have."
"So tell me."
"You wouldn't believe me if I did." Isabel knew she ought to pull away. But she was frozen, as if under a spell. Was it possible that Ms. Venable was using Concilium? No, no this didn't feel like that type of magic. A different kind of spell; a non-magical one. Perhaps that made Ms. Venable all the more dangerous.
Ms. Venable smirked, but it was more endearing than condescending. "And what's the worst that can happen if you tell me? I don't believe you, and we move on."
"Or you punish me for making up lies."
"Are you lying?"
"Doesn't matter. You'll punish me anyway."
"Only if you deserve it."
Isabel ought to be sick; disgusted with herself. This was all just to manipulate her, she knew that. She needed to stop letting Ms. Venable cloud her mind. She had more power. She should be the one in charge, really. Who was Ms. Venable? An intimidating woman who relished in others' misery.
And yet the way Ms. Venable had so deliberately said the word "tingle" before and even stole a glance at how the chemise fit so nicely, Isabel couldn't help but feel a strange fluttering within her. Isabel had magic, but Ms. Venable had words and authority.
Who truly had more power? Isabel didn't know, and not knowing scared her.
She could prove her power. She wouldn't have to do anything big. Hell, opening the door with telekinesis would be enough. Isabel wasn't well versed in telekinesis, but surely it wouldn't be all that difficult? She managed the more difficult Wonders out of the seven; Descensum was her specialty.
Did she want to prove herself? Isabel had to wonder… Her mother would want to her to do that. She wanted to laugh at the thought of Constance, but thought better of it.
Isabel stepped away from Ms. Venable. It wasn't a display of magic, but in that moment she was the powerful one.
"Maybe I'll tell you. But I decide when you get to know," Isabel said with finality.
Isabel walked out of her room, still only in her chemise, leaving Ms. Venable intrigued and at a loss.
How was Ms. Venable supposed to handle not getting her way? It wasn't something she was used to. Of course, she could fix it with a command. If she wanted, she could have Ms. Meade drag Isabel to the lowest level of the outpost, chain her up, and whip her until she bled and begged for mercy; until she confessed to whatever power she apparently had.
But there was fun in the mystery. Wilhelmina wasn't normally the one being teased and taunted. It wasn't a position she would take up full time. But let the young woman think she had the upper hand. Let her get comfortable. No one knew how long they would be in the outpost for; it would be nice to have some entertainment to fill the long days that bled into even longer nights. A little back-and-forth wouldn't hurt, as long as Wilhelmina got her way in the end, which she would.
Even Isabel was aware of that as she sat in the chair by the fireplace, trying to warm up from the chill that settled into her soul. She knew what game Ms. Venable was playing. Isabel had played it before. This wasn't new territory for her. It was just a matter of figuring out her strategy. The last time she went through this with Fiona Goode, she had been nothing more than a pawn. Now she was hoping to graduate to at least bishop or rook.
"Well at least someone is mourning," Mallory said as she found Isabel in the chair by the fireplace. Isabel was confused at first, and then realized that Mallory had mistaken her grim contemplation for mourning Stu's death. Mallory continued, "Everyone else's has moved on already."
"I guess there's not much anyone can do. Too much sadness will infect the place."
"The guy deserves at least twenty-four hours." Mallory didn't understand how everyone else could be so wrapped up in themselves that they easily moved on from the fact that someone was killed. Radiation poisoning or not, it was sick. "André is the only one still upset by it. And you."
Isabel gave a halfhearted smile. "Maybe I'm just too sensitive for my own good."
"Maybe." There was a pause as the two let the words dissipate, and then Mallory asked, "What are you reading now?" assuming that was why Isabel was in the study seeing as reading was all she did there.
Isabel looked down at her empty hands and lap. "Nothing at the moment. Just came in here to warm up." Her eyes shifted to the top shelf of one of the bookcases that lined the walls. "Maybe I'll grab something though. Something from the top."
"The top?" Mallory followed Isabel's gaze to the top shelf. "They look super old." Much older than the other books on the lower shelves.
"Who knows? Maybe I'll find a first edition Charles Dickens."
"Well, good luck with that. They're, like, impossible to reach and there isn't a ladder anywhere." As Mallory said these words, she could see the gears turning in Isabel's head, and that the lack of a ladder meant nothing. "You'll find a way though, won't you?"
Isabel shrugged. "It'll give me something to do."
"Have fun, I guess," Mallory said with a chuckle, turning to leave. "Oh, dinner will be a little later than usual. Don't know why, just what Venable said."
"Okay, thanks." Isabel gave another smile, a little more sincere than the one before.
Once Mallory was gone, Isabel looked back to the top shelf and held out her hand. A book slid out of its designated spot and floated down.