"I hate using this thing in public, why couldn't I use my crutches?"
"Because you keep trying to do too much and Grandma made me promise that you'd use it, it was the only way she would let you come with me. So stop complaining and try to enjoy the ride," John told her for the fifth time in an hour. He had stuck to the same explanation each time, conveniently blaming his Grandmother, but the truth was, he wasn't prepared to take any chances when it came to this meeting. Isla had said she was on her own, but he had learned not to trust anything anyone said, especially when it came to his wife's safety.
Selene was getting better by the day, wearing only a walking cast on her ankle and a support splint on her wrist. She had been relieved of her pelvic brace and had moved on to a support girdle at night to stop her moving too much, but otherwise, she was free to move around on her crutches during the day as long as she was careful, took it easy and didn't overdo it. Being Selene, she had overdone it on the first day and had been told off at length by both Grandma and, surprisingly, Gordon. Now she knew better and was behaving as best she could. But making a fast exit would definitely come under the umbrella of not behaving, so she was confined to a chair until further notice. He'd take her bitching at him over her getting hurt again any day.
The place Isla had chosen was, as Selene had referred to it, in the arse end of nowhere. A small truck stop type set up in the mountainous Quinto region of Switzerland, the area itself was beautiful but the services available left a lot to be desired. A classic one-stop for all affair with a dingy-looking motel to the side, a small shop that seemed to sell everything and anything, and the grubby-looking restaurant-cum-bar where they were supposed to meet. He didn't blame her for wanting to cut and run but they both knew there was no chance of that.
The automated doors of the restaurant shuddered open with an asthmatic wheeze and a blast of hot, greasy air hit him in the face. The place was noisy, full to bursting with people all talking at once in what sounded to his highly tuned ears, to be at least four different languages. She's smarter than we gave her credit for, he thought to himself. With this many people in such a touristy area, it was unlikely that they would stand out from the crowd, let alone be overheard.
Selene stretched her arm over her shoulder for his hand, gripping it tight the moment he caught it. Her hand felt cold and a little clammy in his, a sure sign that she was nowhere near as calm as she was pretending to be.
"You okay?" he asked her, squeezing her hand comfortingly as he linked their fingers. He wasn't going to lie, even to himself, but he was worried about her. When he had asked her to be honest with him during their car game he hadn't expected her to be so forthcoming. He had asked her the same question more times than he could count over the weeks since her accident, but today had been the first time that he had really believed her.
It was like she had given herself permission to let it all out and had stopped holding back for whatever reason, be it fear of upsetting him or her own need to ignore it and be strong. Everything had spilled out of her, to the point that his input had not been needed in the conversation. His job had been to sit back and listen.
Like a stream of consciousness, she had talked and talked, crying and laughing, sighing and raging, all at the same time. But he could tell it had been therapeutic for the both of them, she had gotten things off her chest that had obviously been bothering her and he liked to think he now had a better understanding as to how she was coping. He'd been feeling the distance between them as much as she had, but now they felt closer than they had been since the accident.
"What does she look like? Is she here?" Selene asked him, her eyes searching the crowd. "I can't see a bloody thing from down here."
John copied her action, his eyes scanning the assembled diners. From what he remembered she had been in her mid-twenties, with dark hair and the kind of large brown eyes and olive skin that were typical of her Maltese heritage. There had been nothing that had stood out to him as different or recognisable.
He looked a little closer at the tables and finally, as far to the back of the room as possible, her chair against the wall facing out to the crowd, he spotted a lone female. He had to look twice but, even though she had blonde hair, there was an air of fear and nervousness about her. She fiddled with her cup but didn't drink from it and looked to be tired enough to fall asleep right there and then.
"I think that might be her," he murmured to Selene, bending down to speak close to her ear in order to be heard over the noise but not loud enough to draw attention.
"Where?" Selene looked around but couldn't see anyone that matched the description he and Scott had given her.
"Over there," John said, straightening up, looking over the heads of the diners for anyone that looked even remotely like Nathaniel, or Christopher as he was now known. He couldn't see anyone matching his description and Selene, who had been doing the same thing, hadn't reacted in a negative way. It seemed that, as far as he could tell, Isla was indeed alone. Not that he was about to drop his guard just yet. But, for now, it seemed they had no choice but to approach.
He tightened his grip on her hand, letting her know without words that he was there and he wasn't going anywhere before he let go, gripping the handles of the wheelchair once again. It was hard to navigate through the tables even with the smaller, lighter chair, and he was infinitely grateful that Selene wasn't trying to steer her way through with hand controls. A competent hoverchair driver, she was not.
The woman sat up a little straighter as they approached, her eyes darting nervously. As they neared Selene couldn't help assessing her. Up close it was easy to see that her hair had been dyed the blonde colour with darker roots standing out at her scalp. But it hung limply around her pale face, looking lank and greasy like it needed a good wash. She had dark circles under her eyes and her face had the gaunt look that spoke of too little sleep and not enough food. She was sitting almost folded in on herself, her coat pulled closed and her shoulders hunched in defeat.
Selene knew without asking that this was the woman they had come to meet, she might not have seen her before, but she recognised the look in her eyes and the air of desperation that clung to her. She knew it because she was intimately familiar with it. She'd worn the same look herself.
"Isla?" Selene asked softly, not wanting to spook her. "You are her, right?"
The woman physically jumped, looking like a rabbit frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car, but she nodded. Barely there, but enough. Her eyes refused to focus on them, instead darting here and there, looking behind them as if she expected there to be others waiting in the shadows.
"I warn you now," John said, locking his eyes on the woman. "If this is in any way a set-up, if he is anywhere near here and makes any move towards my wife, if he even breathes in her direction, let alone says anything to her, I won't be responsible for my actions." His voice was calm but held a hint of deadly promise that Selene had only heard once before from him.
"John!" Selene snapped. "Don't be mean." Surely he could see that the poor woman was already terrified? Selene hadn't tried to use her gifts since her accident, the rule she'd had drummed into her as an apprentice had been to never work while unwell, physically or mentally. But now she took that risk. Opening her third eye chakra she snuck a quick peek at the woman's aura. It was tight to her body, which could be a sign of lying but was more likely to do with her fear. Humans, without even knowing it, used their aura's every day, it was a part of them, something they couldn't control and acted as a barrier. When you wanted to be left alone, your aura responded, putting out go-away vibes that even the most psychically blind could feel.
Isla gulped, her already pale face turning ashen as they watched. Her fingers dug into the palm of her hand but she tapped into a core of inner strength that Selene admired to shake her head. "I assure you, I mean no harm and, to the best of my knowledge and ability, he knows not where I am."
Isla's aura was a deep, dark red colour, indicating fear, anxiety and withheld emotions. She wasn't lying to them. She was scared, but in no way being dishonest that Selene could see.
John pushed a chair out of the way so Selene could fit her chair in. Ignoring the glare Selene was aiming his way, he moved another chair so that he could see as much as possible of the room before sitting down.
"Then why did you contact us?" he asked Isla, turning to face her. "What can we do for you?"
"You said in your letter that you needed our help," Selene butted in, wanting to reassure her that they weren't there to attack her or blame her for anything if they could help it.
"That day at the bistro," Isla started, not meeting their eyes as she fiddled with the handle of her cup, "you said you could help me. You said you could keep me safe. You spoke true?"
Selene elbowed John, giving him a squinty-eyed look that clearly told him to be nice. She didn't blame him for being so defensive, especially after her little truth spill in the car, but it was unlike him to sound so uncaring and cold. John was the voice of hope for hundreds of people, the person that answered their call for help and made sure they got it. He always stayed on the line until one of the boys got there or he went himself. He never left anyone without the help they needed. So why was she having to remind him now?
John shot her a look that told her he knew what he was doing and to let him handle it. She lifted one eyebrow in response but gave a brief nod of acceptance. If he wanted to play good cop, bad cop, they'd try it his way for now.
"I don't offer help unless I mean it," he answered, his tone impassive and his face unreadable.
Isla didn't look like she believed him, her eyes straying towards Selene for confirmation or maybe support.
Selene paused for a moment, then raised her hand, trying to catch the attention of the harassed-looking waitress.
John sat up a little straighter. "What are you doing?"
"What do you want to eat?" she asked Isla and John, ignoring his question. "Come on, we have to order something or they might make us leave."
Isla looked down at her almost empty coffee cup, her fingers white where they clutched the handle so tight. "I have my coffee."
Selene's eyes took in the wrinkled and lightly soiled clothes Isla wore. They were too big for her, hanging off her small frame. This woman hadn't eaten properly in weeks, maybe even months. And, if Selene knew Nathaniel as she thought she did, Isla wouldn't have had much weight she could stand to lose. Either she hadn't wanted to eat or she hadn't been able to afford to but, if the state of her clothes was any indication, Selene was leaning towards the latter.
"It's our treat," she said quietly. "So order as much as you'd like, believe me, I'm going to." She reached for the menu, ignoring how sticky it felt, and opened it. "This looks interesting, John, what's this?" She pointed to an item on the menu at random.
John, finally thawing a little towards Isla, leaned over to look. "Roasted flour soup."
"Oh, that…doesn't sound pleasant," she admitted. "What about this?"
"Tartiflette," he read aloud. "It says it has potatoes, bacon, chees-"
"It had me at cheese," she said firmly, closing the menu. "I'll try that."
John took the menu from her, reading through the choices quickly. "There are a lot of dishes here, it seems to be a mixed bag of traditional Swiss food as well as some Italian influences common to this region." He turned the page, reading everything before he made his decision. "The risotto ai funghi porcini sounds nice, I think I'll have that."
Selene made a disgusted face. "I heard fungi. No thanks."
"You don't have to eat it," John countered, offering the menu to Isla who had been sitting watching them with wide eyes.
"No, but I have to kiss you," Selene countered.
"As you're fond of saying, that sounds like a you problem," John quipped, waggling the menu to encourage Isla to take it.
She looked back and forth between them, as one would watch a tennis match then slowly, hesitantly, she took it, although she made no move to open it.
"I too would like the Tartiflette," she said quietly, holding the menu like a shield. "Thank you."
"And to drink?"
"I'd say a coke but you won't let me," Selene groused, "so I guess I'll just have water."
"Yes, you will. Isla?"
"Water, please."
John raised his hand, one finger slightly extended. "Scusi?"
The waitress bustled over, having ignored Selene's attempt completely. It was true what they said, once you were in a wheelchair you turned invisible.
"Che cosa volete ordinare?" she asked, managing to look both bored and frazzled at the same time.
"Salve, potremmo avere due Tartiflette e un risotto ai funghi porcini, per favore? Oh, e anche tre bicchieri d'acqua? Grazie," John said without missing a beat.
The waitress looked as surprised as Isla did to hear John speaking in flawless Italian but Selene, who had finally gotten used to John fitting in everywhere, took advantage of the distraction to study Isla properly, trying to see beyond the despair she radiated. She looked like she would have been quite pretty before Nathaniel had done a number on her the same way he had with her. She could see the nervousness in her movements, she kept self-consciously tucking her hair behind her ear and pulling her jacket closer like she was trying to melt into the chair she sat on. Unfortunately, Selene knew that feeling all too well.
"Nient'altro?" the waitress asked, tapping away on her tablet.
"No, grazie," John answered, giving her a little smile.
The waitress nodded and turned on her heel, hurrying through the diners to take their order to the kitchen.
"So," Selene said to Isla once the waitress was out of sight, "do you want to tell us what's going on?"
The moment Selene opened her mouth she saw Isla's body stiffen, effectively wiping out any of the relaxed calm she had intended their comfortable exchange to provide. Her eyes once again looked haunted, having seen things that no one should ever have to witness.
"You…" Isla looked first at John and then at Selene, gathering her thoughts and choosing her words carefully before she spoke again. "You really love her." It was a statement, not a question.
"I do."
"I didn't want to believe you at first," Isla said, his answer making her mind up.
"About what?" John asked, not wanting to sound accusatory but rather confused by the turn the conversation had taken.
"When you said to Christopher about your wife." She nodded at Selene, who had reached for John's hand again, instinctively seeking comfort. "I foolishly believed that he loved me. I believed him when he said that he was telling me things for my own good. He shouted at me and picked on things, to make me a better person. He was trying to improve me, to help me."
"He did that to me too," Selene said. "I was with him for three years and in those three years he turned me from a happy, confident person into a shell of myself."
John squeezed her hand, knowing how hard it must be for her to talk about it to someone that wasn't family.
"Nothing I did was right," Selene continued quietly. "I acted wrong, I wore the wrong clothes and I always said the wrong things. Basically, he acted like I was a total embarrassment to him any time he had to be seen with me. If we went out anywhere together I was on edge all night because I knew that as soon as we got home he would start laying into me."
Selene watched Isla closely, noticing the way her shoulders had relaxed, her jaw unclenching a little. Selene didn't know if it was just because the spotlight was off her or because she was beginning to realise that she wasn't alone in her experiences, but Selene was just grateful that her words seemed to be helping a little. The woman's aura had relaxed slightly as they had been talking, but Selene could see it closing in and turning a dull, muddy blue as they spoke. That colour indicated a fear of the future, narrow-mindedness, or suppressed communication, especially when darker around the throat chakra as was the case here. That showed Selene that there was a lot that Isla had held inside and refused to voice, be it from fear or pain.
Needing to keep the woman engaged and open to them, Selene continued to talk, sharing her experience.
"I got to the point where I wouldn't, or couldn't, try anything new or do anything for myself because I knew he would either stop me or convince me that I would fail." Selene watched the other woman closely but was acutely aware of John's thumb rhythmically stroking the back of her hand. He had seen first-hand how hard it still was for her to step out of her comfort zone and not only try new things but succeed at them when her own mind was her biggest enemy.
"The worst part is that I actually believed it. I believed him, so I didn't think I could do anything for myself either." She shrugged casually, even though the topic was anything but casual. It just made her feel better somehow to pretend like Nathaniel's cruelty hadn't mattered so much.
"He made me believe that I needed him to do everything for me and that I wouldn't be able to survive without him. That's what made me stay for as long as I did- John can you pass me my water bottle, please?" she asked, interrupting herself when it got a little too hard to keep talking. She could feel the old anxiety building in her chest, her throat chakra contracting trying to close up and she needed a moment to distract her body with something else.
"Of course." He rummaged in the bag on the back of her chair one-handed, refusing to let go of her hand to use both. He located the bottle and popped the top before he handed it to her.
"Thanks, babe." She sucked on the straw for a good minute before she felt centred enough to continue. The memories that had resurfaced that morning still sat front and centre in her mind, making it harder to talk about in the abstract way she usually did.
"When I left him," she started, her voice quiet in the noisy bar, "he stalked me for months. I would see him hanging around every corner. He'd borrow cars in which to follow me or make his friends do it and report back to him. He then took to calling at all times of the day and night and shouting abuse. I changed my number three times in as many months, as did my parents. In that time he approached me more than once to demand I come back, even physically assaulting my brother. That was the moment he went too far and our neighbour got the police involved, but it still took another six months of no contact, ignoring his calls and being careful not to be out alone, before he gave up completely."
"This is the first time I've been alone since working at the bistro," Isla said, speaking for the first time. "Christopher, he could be a very flattering man, he says I am beautiful, but that was until he have me. Then he change. When I see how bad he is, I want to leave, but he always know. He say I go nowhere without him, I could speak to no one. I did not know where to go or to who I should turn."
"He did the same to me," Selene confirmed. "He cut me off from my friends and my family, from anyone that could tell he was bad for me. He stopped me working so I had to rely on him for money and couldn't go anywhere without him."
"But you leave, you get away and so, you are here now," Isla pointed out.
"I did, I am, but so did you, and so are you." Selene extracted her hand from John's and slowly, not wanting to startle her, reached across the table to cover Isla's shaking hands with her own. The woman flinched at the contact, but didn't pull away. This close, and with contact, Selene could feel the woman's emotions clearer than ever.
"It took me a long time to even start feeling like my own person again," Selene continued while holding herself as still as possible, not wanting to startle Isla. "I won't say that I felt like my old self because that person was gone. He destroyed the person I was before I met him, so I created a new one. I had to build a new me, and I'm not going to lie, it was hard, so hard, but it was worth it, and it will be for you too."
"It will?" Isla's voice was small, almost a whisper but Selene was leaning close enough to hear her. Selene could feel the other woman's hands moving under her own, a clenching and unclenching that seemed to be unconscious. Her hands felt small and delicate, Selene could feel the bones under the paper thin skin. Isla seemed far too sweet and innocent to have done anything to deserve attracting the attention of such a man. Selene just hoped they could get through to her and she could survive it.
"It will, I promise. I might not be the person I was before but that's fine, I like the me I am now," Selene said, giving her hands a supportive squeeze, wishing she had some healing energy to spare. "Don't get me wrong, I still have times when I hear his voice in my head telling me that I'm not good enough, that I'll never be good enough, and I don't think that will ever go away."
Isla didn't say anything, so Selene continued, wanting to press her point home. "I still look in the mirror and see myself through his eyes, I just can't help it, especially at the moment while I'm like this. I see the wrong hair, the wrong clothes, I'm too fat, I'm ugly." She felt John's hand land on her knee and she had to bite back the tears that seemed to be ever-present at the moment. She hadn't told him that she'd been feeling that way as recently as that morning, she hadn't mentioned it as part of her breakdown, there were some things he needed to keep to herself for the time being.
"And how you deal with these thoughts?" Isla asked.
"I tell myself that those were just one person's opinion, a nasty person and a nasty opinion, that no longer matters. The only opinion that matters is my own," Selene told her firmly. John's finger doodled soothing little circles on her thigh and she couldn't help but smile a little. His opinion mattered to her too, but that wasn't what Isla needed to hear at that moment and honestly, it wasn't what she needed either. She needed to find herself again, the accident had been a big change in a small space of time, it was understandable that she was feeling rudderless and adrift. That would take time and, much as she was trying to convince Isla to be kind to herself, she needed to take her own advice.
"But it helps to see yourself through the eyes of someone that truly loves you for who you are," she continued, sliding a little glance in John's direction. "When someone thinks you're perfect it's hard to argue." Even as she said the words she realised that she hadn't been entirely fair to John. It was her own insecurities and issues caused by her past, not by anything that he had said or done.
"I shall never have that," Isla said, her tone sounding resigned and so damn sad that Selene had to hold back her tears. The last thing Isla needed was to feel bad that she had made someone cry, even if they were crying for her. She would never believe that it wasn't her fault.
Why did Nathaniel have to do so much damage? Why couldn't he just leave people alone without having to destroy every scrap of self confidence and belief they had? She knew the answer, and that was power. Power over them and a need to feel powerful himself. But that didn't mean she would ever accept or understand it. John and his family were the most powerful people she knew, but they had taken it in a different direction, one where kindness and a desire to do the right thing reigned over their own petty egos.
"I understand why you might think that," Selene tried to assure her. "I thought the same. I told myself that I never wanted another partner. I was resigned to being alone and was content with that. I never thought I'd trust anyone again. But, thankfully, things change."
"How do you know?" Isla asked, extracting her hands from Selene's. Her fingers went to the necklace she wore, looping around the chain. "I don't feel like I'll ever be happy again."
"You will, I promise you that. You've taken the first step, you've chosen yourself and your wellbeing over him and that is the hardest thing you've had to do, but also the most worth it."
"Only because of you," Isla said, finally lifting her head to look Selene in the eyes.
"Me? But why-" she cut off abruptly as the waitress wound her way through the tables with their food, not wanting to be the centre of any gossip within the staff.
The waitress didn't acknowledge that she had interrupted anything. She placed their meals down with barely a glance in their direction and then turned to John with a bored expression.
"Ecco il suo piatto." She pulled three bottles of water out of her large apron pocket and plonked those down beside their plates.
"Questo sembra delizioso," John told her. "Grazie."
She nodded, clearly having no time for conversation or niceties of any kind. Not that that was a bad thing considering the delicate topic they were discussing.
The arrival of their food had interrupted their flow so much that it took them a moment of simply staring at their plates before they made any move. It was Selene that moved first, unable to resist the lure of the cheese that smothered her meal. Sure, she knew she should be watching what she was eating, especially given how rotten she felt, but today was not that day. Today was a day of emotions and upset, which meant that comfort food was needed.
She picked up her fork and tentatively poked at the mass in her dish. It looked alright, although she was inherently suspicious of any food she couldn't pronounce. She leaned over for an exploratory sniff. It smelled quite pleasant, maybe a little more oniony than she would have liked but bearable. She lifted a bit of the cheese and peeked at the potatoes and sauce underneath. Really, how weird could cheese, bacon and potatoes actually be? She scooped up a forkful and took her first bite.
"Huh," she mumbled as she chewed. It wasn't bad, kinda reminding her of dauphinoise or a potato bake that her dad had sometimes made. She nodded to herself, she'd made the right choice, this was familiar enough to fit the bill of comfort food. It would do. "Not bad."
As if he had been waiting for permission, John picked up his own fork and started on his meal. Isla was a little slower but eventually, she too began to eat.
Selene covertly watched her as she ate, not to judge, but from pure curiosity. She had lovely manners, eating carefully, and regulating her bites, but Selene could tell that she would like nothing more than to be able to shovel the food in. It appeared that her initial assessment had been correct, Isla had not been eating much, if anything at all. John, as observant as ever, ate quietly, not interrupting in any way, even though she knew he must be bursting to ask the same question she was, what did Isla mean when she said that Selene had been the reason she had left?
As if reading their minds, Isla paused her eating to speak, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table. "I saw online the news of your accident."
"Yeah," Selene said, hastily swallowing her mouthful. "It sucked." What else was there to say?
John cleared his throat, then added, "We're looking into it." His tone had cooked again, taking on a frosty edge. If Isla had intended to start a casual conversation, she'd picked the wrong subject for him.
Isla shook her head, pushing her almost empty dish away. Any animation that she'd shown seemed to drain out of her. She pulled her jacket closed where it had fallen open, curling in on herself again. Her voice when she spoke was quiet, expressionless. "You will not find the culprit."
"What do you mean?" John demanded to know, his expression changing from mildly interested to hyperfocused in an instant. "What do you know about it?"
Selene, frozen with her fork paused halfway to her mouth, looked from John to Isla and back again. She didn't want to interrupt John if he was in interrogation mode, but she also didn't want him to push the woman if she was scared.
Isla unscrewed the lid of her water and took a long drink before she answered him. "I heard him, Christopher, talking on the telephone."
"Okay," John said, neither encouraging nor dismissing. He'd spent years learning how to let people open up to him in their own time. He didn't interrupt, he never attempted to guide them, he'd just let them talk.
Maybe that's been part of our problem, Selene mused to herself. I've not felt like talking so I haven't opened up but he's been so used to me talking about everything and anything he's not felt the need to press. Miscommunication at its finest. Not that she has time to ponder over it, not with Isla still speaking.
"He was talking to Him," Isla paused, biting her lip as she gathered her strength. "Talking about you."
John gestured to his chest. "About me?"
"About both of you," she confirmed. "The knowledge that you two were involved was particularly useful to him, especially as Christopher knows a lot about your wife."
If this information shocked John as much as it did Selene, he didn't let on. Instead, he focused on just one thing. "You referred to the caller as him. Who do you mean?"
"I do not know his name, no one does," Isla whispered, as if the mysterious 'him' might be listening. "He is a mystery, a ghost, that appears when you need him and also when you do not." She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as if the very idea of him chilled her to the bone. "He knows all, even things you do not know about yourself, and he uses that to his advantage. There is nothing he cannot do."
"He sounds like some kind of superhero vigilante," Selene joked, trying to dispel the tension that had closed in around them.
"No!" Isla snapped, her hand slapping the tabletop, startling them both. "No," she repeated, dropping her voice back to a quiet tone again. "He is not a good man. He is bad, very bad." She shuddered again, a full body trembling that made Selene itch to hug her. "He uses people, he gives them that which they need. He helps them out of trouble-"
"He makes them disappear," John interrupted, his brain quickly connecting the dots.
Isla nodded, but she kept her eyes downcast. "Yes, if needed."
"How?" Selene had to ask. John had told her that Nathaniel had managed to vanish so completely that even he hadn't been able to find him with all his technology. He hadn't had a clue until Penelope had managed to unearth the small, insignificant looking piece of paperwork that had given them their first lead.
"He has connections," Isla explained. "Connections in every country."
"What kind of connections?" John asked. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. How could this mysterious man have better connections than they did?
"He involves himself with only the most influential of people," Isla answered. "Or those who might be useful to him in some way. He never, how do you say it, gets his hands dirty?"
"Just how influential are we talking?" Selene asked, thoroughly confused by the whole conversation.
"Dignitaries, politicians, businessmen, even royalty. He has them, what is the expression… in his pocket?"
Unable to find words, so stunned was she by this revelation, Selene simply nodded. The implications of such a thing being possible were just too hard to imagine.
"He does not work for them," Isla said, pressing the point. "They work for him. Information is his currency. He barters and trades in secrets. Nothing and no one escapes him." She gulped down a little more water. "He never owes you, you will always owe him. He uses people as a cover, making them do the work for him, so much so that no one, anywhere, knows his face."
"And he has us in his sights?" John asked, formulating the thoughts and questions that Selene could not. "He's out to ruin us. Why?"
"I do not know," Isla admitted. "I wish I did." She really did look like she was sorry, so much so that Selene wouldn't have doubted her for a second, even without being able to see the truth in her aura. John, however, was clearly still reserving judgement.
"He has never come to the bistro, even though he owns it. Christopher, he never even met him in person, and I was never allowed in the room when they conversed." She fiddled with her knife, gripping the handle tight like she was fully prepared to use it as a weapon should the need arise. "I only hear this time because I come up to make sure Christopher was alright after your punch."
John's fingers flexed, curling into a fist as if he could still feel the impact, but he didn't look in the least bit sorry about it. "Carry on," he instructed.
"I heard them talking about you, both of you. I heard him assuring Christopher that you would not cause any trouble for him. He say he would make sure of it."
John reached across the table to take Selene's hand, their food now completely abandoned. They both knew exactly what making sure of it had entailed. Her crash had been no accident, and it seemed like Isla had suspected that too.
"You must believe me," Isla begged, tears swimming in her eyes that looked too big for her face. She reached blindly towards the napkin dispenser in the middle of the table and two two, dabbing at her eyes. "I was disturbed to hear such words, but I did not truly believe that anything would happen. Then I saw the news of your accident. I knew then that Christopher, and his sponsor, were truly dangerous. But then it was too late to warn you."
"You couldn't have known," Selene said sincerely, seeking to reassure the other woman. She had done nothing wrong, most likely she had acted in exactly the same way Selene had, holding her tongue to keep the peace. When you were in that situation your only real thought was of ensuring your own survival, she couldn't fault her for that.
"You did the right thing," John told her, reinforcing his wife's words. Selene's fingers had laced with his, holding onto his hand like he was the last solid thing in her world and he wasn't about to let her down now. "You got away, that's all that matters now."
"I left in the dead of night," Isla said, speaking as if to herself. She wasn't looking at them, instead, she was looking down at the ring on her finger that she was absently stroking. She spoke as if she couldn't stop even if she had wanted to, the words tumbling out in a therapeutic rush, just as Selene's had earlier.
"Christopher was in a drunken stupor. I took nothing with me but my passport, what small amount of money I had managed to save from scavenging tips, a change of clothes, a few trinkets that belonged to my mother and a digital photo album. Nothing that would not fit in this bag." She nudged the bag between her feet, the handle of which was looped around her leg for safekeeping. "I left behind anything that could be used to trace me. I left my phone, my computer, everything. I have not even used my bank account, I dare not."
"You did well," John praised. "I looked you up when we received your letter-"
"Which was very smart, by the way," Selene interrupted. "To use an actual paper letter, not email, that was so clever of you."
If Isla heard their praise she didn't acknowledge it, she just continued speaking as if they hadn't said a word. Selene could understand that, she too found any kind of praise hard to deal with.
"I remembered that you promised me, if I wanted to leave him, if I needed help, you would provide it. You promised to protect me." She lifted her head, making eye contact for the first time since she had begun her story. She wore a look of fear, a tightening of the skin around her eyes, a tension around her mouth, but also one of determination. Her chin had the same stubborn jut to it that Selene got when her mind had been made up. "I wish to make use of that offer."
"And you shall have it," John promised her. "We have people that can help, safe houses and lawyers that will work on your behalf. We can protect you, of that we promise. But, to do so, and to keep others safe, we have to find that man. We have to find Nathan-Christopher's sponsor," he said, correcting himself.
"We need to know everything," Selene agreed. "Anything you can remember, every little detail, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem, you have to tell us. We need to know it."
Isla's fingers, their nails long since bitten down to nubs, twisted the napkin she held tight in an effort to stop their trembling. But the moment her hands calmed her leg started to bounce, unable to keep still. If she had been alone she would have bolted by now. But she wasn't alone, and this wasn't just about her. She had to be brave. "I-I shall tell you all I know, it is not much, but what I have, it is yours."
"As is ours, we'll do everything we can to help you."
"Thank you."
"No," John said quietly, "Thank you. You've helped us more than you could ever know. You were incredibly brave to come here and make contact with us the way you did."
"This is the hardest part, you know that, right?" Selene asked her, laying her hand gently on her arm.
Isla's fingers continued to pleat the handkerchief she held, folding this way and that. Her eyes were downcast, showing the depths of despair she was drowning in, but she nodded firmly all the same. "I know."
"You still love him," Selene said. It wasn't even a question, although Isla's flinching was enough of an answer. "I can understand that, believe me. Love isn't always logical or easy. But the thing is, it's not always deserved either. Yet we're still slaves to it."
Isla laughed, a bitter sound that stabbed Selene right in the heart, making her clutch the woman's arm tighter, wanting to make sure she listened and understood. She'd been there, she'd lived in that same dark, depressing hole, but she'd managed to haul herself out of it with the support of the people around her. She didn't know if Isla even had any support or anyone, other than them, that she could turn to, but Selene wanted to make sure that she knew, even if she was on her own, that it would get better.
"You won't be enslaved forever, I promise you that." Selene ducked her head, catching Isla's eyes and holding them with her own. "I promise you it will get easier, you will feel better. And slowly, you'll heal, your heart will heal and become whole again. If you believe nothing else ever again, believe me, believe this. You will come out of this stronger than ever. Don't let him win, he's not worth it."
Isla sucked in a shuddering breath but when she exhaled it released in a steady stream. Her shoulders lowered, her thumb rubbed the ring on her finger one more time, then she straightened in her chair, physically pulling herself together before their eyes.
She nodded, just once, a quick, decisive jerk of her head. "Yes, I will believe you."
Selene turned to John. They didn't need words. He knew that it was time for them to go. If they stayed any longer there was a chance that Isla would change her mind and that could be dangerous for all of them.
"Do you need time to gather your things?" John asked Isla gently, not wanting it to sound like any kind of order.
Isla reached down to pick up the bag from between her feet. "This is all I have."
John nodded as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He counted out enough notes to cover the bill as well as a generous tip and tossed them onto the table.
Selene tucked her water bottle down the side of her chair and manoeuvred herself away from the table as best she could as he dealt with the payment. "Ready to go then?" she asked Isla.
"Yes, thank you."
John took hold of the chair's handles. "Come with us, we'll take care of you."
The small party of three made their way through the crowd towards the doors, keeping in tight formation. But Selene was the only one close enough to hear the small beep as John activated his comm and his whispered words, "Kayo, we need you."