"Good girl."
Edward straightens and backs away from me, smoothing back his perfectly gelled hair. Shoving the documents back into the drawers without any concern he snaps it shut and locks it.
"Now for the tour," he says with a smile. His fast changing moods between passive and aggressive is making my head spin. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen from his tight grip on my neck. "This way. Quick, quick."
He allows me only a moment to collect myself before urging me back out into the hallway. My head's still spinning and the world seems fuzzy.
"This is the first floor of my manor," he says."You're not allowed up here without my express permission. Nor are you allowed on any floors above this one. Severe punishment will apply if you step foot where you're not granted permission to."
I nod, unwilling to open my mouth in case my breakfast tumbles out. I follow his route back downstairs, gripping the staircase rail with all my might until my knuckles turn bone white.
"And this is the ground floor. You'll have breakfast, lunch, and dinner here. Eating times are at six, twelve, six. If you miss those times you don't eat, it's very simple. I like order here, as you will quickly find. You can also shower on this floor, and clean your laundry and uniform, which has already been laid out on your bed." He gives me a stern look. "All essentials come out of your pay, as do your food, board, laundry powder and anything you deem to use. So do not think you can waste a single item I see fit to give you or I'll have it removed. I'm not unwillingly to remove food privileges if you need punishment, so let's not bring it to that."
"Yes, Master," I manage to croak out.
"The kitchens," he continues, pointing in a general direction. "The eating hall is over there, women's showers are down that corridor, the laundry room is passed the showers and the entertainment room for staff is over there. The rest of this floor is off limits. Any questions so far?"
I have no idea where any of those rooms actually are but I'm sure I can find my way when I need them. "Where is my room and the bathrooms? What exactly is my job here?"
What rights did I just sign away?
His smile — with his too perfectly white teeth — turns nasty. "One question at a time. You have your own bathroom. It's connected to your room and that would be on the first level underneath this one."
"Underneath?"
"Underneath. Will that be a problem?"
I shake my head quickly. Hopefully the underneath levels are for servants and he'll never want to come down there to mingle with the lowly help.
"Good. Follow me."
He leads me down to an offside area, hidden away passed the main foyer, that has a single elevator in its wall. Compared to the rest of the rooms the elevator looks ancient. Dangerous. His thin finger punches at the closest button.
"Ladies first," he says, as the elevator doors ding open. I hop in and leave as much room as I can between us. He hovers a white card over a sensor and presses the button for level -1.
"You'll have one of these waiting for you in your room so you can use the elevator," he continues. "It's monitored of course, so we know exactly where you're going and when. We also monitor the weight of the passengers in the elevator and if there's a large weight discrepancy the elevator shuts down, so don't get any harebrained ideas."
Like what, getting pregnant? Eating too much at breakfast?
When the elevator stops and the doors reopen the first thing that hits is the freezing temperature followed quickly by the stench. The completely foul, almost unbreathable stink that fills the air. I gag, covering my mouth and nose entirely but it's no good, I can still smell it.
I breathe through my mouth but instead taste the pungent odour..
"I would say you get used to it, but that's a lie," Edward smirks. "This is the only exit on the whole floor and there's no stairs or fire escapes. My legal team would have a heart attack if they knew so don't go running your mouth off. I'll remind you that you've signed that luxury away."
I don't mind so much that there's only one exit. What's a more pressing concern right now is that an underground level will have no windows to open to get rid of this foulness in the air. I can't live in this. My entire first week's salary will have to go towards air fresheners.
Edward directs me through a series of, unsurprisingly, steel corridors, each one completely identical to the last, until I barely remember where I started. He talks a bit about what we're passing but mostly just to say 'this is off limits, Isabella'.
The entire level is somehow freezing despite the warmth only one level above, and there's clearly no heating system to warm it up.
I make a mental note to not walk around after showering, scared that my skin will stick to the metal flooring and rip with each step. There's also no overhead wires like there was above ground, only a few built-in lights that flicker ominously in my panicked mind.
"This is your room," Edward says when we stop again. "You have your toilet and sink connected adjacent but the showers are upstairs."
I peer inside. It's not as cold and sterile as I expected, judging by the rest of the rooms we passed. It's a very tiny space that's made up of a single bed, a small chestnut wardrobe, and a bathroom and sink in the connecting room. Best of all, there's a mini electric heater that sits in the corner, plugged in and ready to go.
The wallpaper is bright purple and the quilt on top of the bed is multicoloured. A crisp, black uniform lays on top of a white pillow.
"Thank you," I tell him sincerely. It's not much but it could've been a lot worse. I spot the access card at the foot of the bed and quickly stash it in my pocket. "I'll keep everything spotless."
He dismisses it with a wave of his elegant hand. "Don't waste too many of my resources keeping things clean. The uniform is black because it's too hard to get blood stains out of white."
"Blood?" I gasp.
The sight of blood makes me queasy and always riles up Jane. Blood means danger is around — it means others have been wounded by a predator, or worse, I'm wounded.
"Work smart and you won't get any on you. If the uniform doesn't fit ask one of the ladies for a sewing kit and fix it yourself. You don't need good grades to be able to stitch."
He shuts my room's door and swipes the lock with his card. "See? Nice and secure. Your card will unlock some doors on this level."
"Do any of the other workers have rooms around here, Master?"
"No. Their rooms are on the first floor as they are closer to their workspace that way. Your work is on this floor only. A few people may come and go during the week to work down here but they're not required to be here at all hours of the day and night."
Great. I'll be all alone in this cold, scary, smelly steel deathtrap then.
"Now, for our pièce de résistance," Edward says, shivering in what appears to be excitement. His pale face almost flushes with colour. "This way."
We pass through more identical corridors and two locked doors that look like they belong in a bank vault more than a mansion while Edward points out what's what.
"Equipment and storage there. Weapons storage through there. You won't have access to any of those rooms. That's far too high-level access for someone like you. You will have limited access to the veterinary clinic, however, which is through that hall to the right. You can't miss it."
"A veterinary clinic?" I think aloud.
I know I should be prepared, all the signs were there. Hell, I signed away on a million-page document containing the words confidential and Fera. Still, when Edward opens the heavy door we stop in front of I realise there's nothing that could have properly prepared me for the sight that lies inside.
Two extremely large cages line up against the back wall. Each one separated by barely a metre and inside them… inside are numerous, smaller cages, not three metres wide with men locked up inside. There's blood so old it's turned black, vomit, and other substances in most of the cages and even splattered up high on the outer walls. The horrid stench I've been smelling since I arrived on this level is most pungent here and now I realise why.
In a state of complete shock I take in their faces. Most turn away at the sight of us, but a few brave ones glare and grip their bars in fury. Oh my god.
"Our country's hope! Our very own ferals," Edward laughs, throwing his arms out, proud of the horrific sight that stands before him. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Feras," I whisper in mute horror. My throat is tight. I can't breathe. I can't think.
I'm in the Fera's den. This isn't possible, I can't be here. Oh my god, I can't be here!
Jane kicks up somewhere deep inside me. It's my fear response. I'm about to change into her right here and now if I can't get myself under control. Black spots dance in front of my eyes as I take in shallow, ragged breaths.
It's too much.
My knees buckle ever so slightly.
The old, dried blood on the walls, and the look of hopelessness on so many of the men's faces make it all too real.
This is where they're tortured, beaten, and trained to be our unique soldiers. Tested on like lab rats. The men I've been thinking about all my life are now feet away from me. Locked in cages. Glaring at me with the utmost hate or turned away with fear. Fear of me... a human as far as they know.
My doe kicks up again and I place my hand firmly against my stomach, like I can physically contain her breaking out. Now more than ever I need to get in control.
Focus on the anger instead, I tell myself. You're angry. You're not scared. Angry.
Bile rises in my throat and I almost choke on it trying to force it back down. If only Charlie can see me now. See how all my hard work at being average has paid off.
Edward looks at me expectantly.
"I asked you a question," he hisses.
"What?" I choke out. I can smell the puke on my breath.
"I said isn't it beautiful?" His voice is calm but it's the type of calm that precedes a vicious storm.
"Oh." My mouth is too dry, my stomach is clenching so heavily in on itself that I can't get enough oxygen into my lungs to speak in complete sentences. "Yes. Beautiful."
Flushing in shame at my agreement I face the other way, unable to meet any of their heated gazes any more. This is a nightmare. Worse than that because one can wake up from nightmares.
What do I do?
What do I do?
"Aren't you forgetting something?" The look in Edward's eyes is murderous and I just want him to leave so I can throw up in peace. "Hm, maid?"
That domineering bastard.
"It's beautiful, Master," I whisper. The cold walls echo each word clearly and I know the men around us can hear me perfectly. What they must think of me.
"We've got the younger, weaker or useless ones over there," Edward continues without pause, pointing to the cage on the left. "And the older ones, or the ones we think have some skill in combat, over there."
He forces me to walk to the cage on the far right, passing the weary teenagers and men who have nearly all turned their heads to watch. There's no space for privacy.
"Gentleman," he says, unlocking the cage and pushing me in hard. It's by far the most bloody and dirty one here. "Say hello to Miss Swan."
Their own individual cages are sectioned off, leaving plenty of walking room around their enclosure. Two line up on the left side of the large cage and two line up along the other.
"The older we get them, the more stubborn they are," Edward grumbles at their silence. "Sometimes you have to show them who's in control."
He hovers his finger over a button that's situated on a panel next to one of the male's door, satisfaction obvious on his face from the flinch the man inside gives.
"Hello, Miss Swan," the man inside mumbles reluctantly as he eyes Edward's finger.
"Too little, too late, creature. A small demonstration for the girl," Edward says slyly and pushes the button.
A heavy zap sounds out as the floor lights up with electrical pulses, shimmering bright white before fading away. The man inside grunts out in pain and collapses to the floor in a ball, twitching and shaking.
My eyes find the ground, unable to watch as the man writhes in pain, tossing and turning.
"You can train them just as you can any other dog," Edward laughs and I hear him press the button again. Bright white fills my vision and even when I close my eyes the harsh light pierces my eyelids. The man finally screams in pain before falling silent.
"Feel free to use it any time you're in here," he continues. "They look at you funny. Zap. Give you lip? Long zap. They get rough? Get a guard to come in and shoot them. I don't particularly care with the older ones. They killed their last two keepers without so much as leaving their bones for us to bury, so we're not taking any more chances. Just keep enough of them alive to give the public a good Hunt."
I swallow harshly determined not to look at the twitching man panting heavily on the ground. "They killed their keepers?"
"Too much testosterone in the air," Edward says with another long glance over my body. I don't dare glance down to see if the coldness has affected any other parts of me. "But since you're female, a rather nice one at that, maybe the animals will give in to another instinct rather than murder."
My eyes find the floor again.
"As for what you're to do; you'll be in here everyday to clean their rooms out and give them some puppy chow. Bags of our own leftovers will occasionally be dumped down into the chute you can find in the storage rooms." He gestures to the slot in the cage doors that look just big enough for a tray to pass through. "So you can feed them with that or let them starve. Also hose them down once a week at minimum and get rid of all the blood. The hose is in the locker over there. I'm sick of having this disgusting smell in my house. It means I can't come down to play."
It's a lose-lose situation then. Keep Edward away by leaving the men dirty, or clean them up and give them some dignity but have the Master around.
"Supplies for cleaning are in the locker next to your room I pointed out earlier," he continues. "If you think they need a visit to the vet then tell me and I might call her in, depending on my mood and how well you can persuade me. In general, just don't talk to them. Don't make the mistake of thinking they're like you or me, else you'll end up dead by either their hand or mine."
He takes me by the elbow and leads me out of the cage, locking it behind us.
"Be sure they're all in there before leaving this room. If they're small enough to fit through the bars in their feral form, they're small enough to be stomped on. Any questions for me?"
"No, Master," I whisper. He opens up the main vault-door exit and like a gentleman allows me to leave first. I rush ahead, eager to get out of the room of horrors.
Once we're outside and alone Edward turns and shoves me up against a cold wall. "One more thing, Isabella," he bites out. He's close enough that I can see the golden hues in his eyes. "You ever, and I mean ever, undermine my authority in front of those creatures, or anybody again and I will see you ruined. Out on the streets. Jobless. Or maybe I'll throw you in with one of the animals after a few weeks of starving them. Do you understand me?"
I nod quickly. Violently.
"Good." He lets me drop, running his hands inappropriately over my top to smooth down the wrinkles. "You can find your own way back to your rooms. Take the night to get used to being here. Work starts in the morning." He steps back. "It's nice to have you here, Isabella."
Somehow I manage to wait until he's completely left the corridor before I fall forward to my knees and throw up where I kneel.
I stand and stumble to the wall to steady myself, sweating and nauseous with black spots dancing in front of my eyes. Somehow I succeed in the grueling task of getting back to my room without puking further. Holding my stomach and fumbling with my access card to get through the steel doors and my own door, I finally make it.
A few more feet and I'm crashing to my knees at the edge of the bed. My head is spinning so I rest it between my legs, going down into a prayer position.
I can't be here.
What do I do?
I want my dad.
Resting on the cold floor, I draw my knees up to my chest and cry. I want to run but running away will look suspicious and now knowing what I know I wouldn't be surprised if Edward orders me killed if I try to run.
Maybe a fake disease?
Stop it.
I lift my head up and slap my thighs in anger.
Damn it, Bella, I think angrily. For once in your life you've got to be stronger than this. Get up, stop crying, and start helping these people.
Just like that, within a blink of an eye my anxiety lessens to a still large but manageable degree and I feel strong enough to stand. Nausea continues to turn my stomach inside out but it's bearable.
Edward and the others have no idea what I am. They'll never know. How can they? I'm completely safe, but the others like me aren't.
Now I'm in a position of power to help. Even if it's in the slightest of ways. Out of all the students across the country it's me who was picked to clean up their blood and cages.
I'm their golden ticket.
I can do something.
With that in mind I snatch up my uniform from the bed and change quickly in the bathroom. It fits well, not too baggy or tight, but considering the inappropriately low cut of the blouse and the skirt that sits a few inches too high for my taste, I'm guessing it's actually too big on me.
It takes only five minutes for me to find the cleaning supplies in their lockers, and grab everything I need. I decide to place extra supplies on a push trolley just in case it's not enough.
Heading back the way I came the first thing I do is clean up my own vomit with a grimace.
I push the trolley up against the main enclosure door, not going in just yet. Instead, I head the opposite way towards the veterinary clinic.
"Hello?" I call out softly after opening the large steel door with my access card. "Anybody home?"
Not a sound. As fast as I can I race around grabbing handfuls of things that look useful: rolls of bandages, ointments and salves, labelled pill bottles, two first aid kits, some strange looking tongs, and other small items I don't think will be too missed. They're all beginning to carry dust at this point, and judging by the look of the men in their cages it's hard to imagine any of them have visited the 'hospital' in quite a while. I'm hoping the people in charge have stopped counting and cataloging the stuff.
Juggling the items in my apron I gracefully make my way back to the cart and dump everything on the top. With a deep breath and on shaking legs I swipe the access card through the Fera's door and push it open.
Unlike my previous visit all eyes turn to watch me come in simultaneously, in complete, eerie silence. The door thunks heavily behind me making me jump a little in fright. The disgusting smell immediately drains the fear. It's too hard to be scared when assaulted with such repugnance.
"Hi," I whisper softly to no-one in particular. Just wanting to speak and let them know I'm not with Edward. That his beliefs are definitely not mine. "My name's Isabella. I prefer Bella but you can call me either. Or neither. You don't have to talk to me at all if you don't want to. I know if I was in your position I wouldn't."
More silence and heated looks. I stammer on. "Not that I would know what your position is like. Anyway, I was assigned here because of my career letter. Please trust me when I say I don't want to be here. Well, no, I want to be here to help of course. I just mean what's being done to you isn't right and I wouldn't willingly be a part of this. I'm on your side, I promise."
"You're a sympathiser, then?" One the older men rasps out.
I nod easily, glad to have a human term to use, although empathiser might be a better fit. "Yes, I'm a sympathiser. The biggest one you'll ever meet. Really."
"And the biggest idiot too if you'd admit it so freely in front of all the cameras and microphones," he says nodding to the corners of the room.
Gasping, I frantically look up to find the cameras as fear bolts through me. Sympathiser sentences are brutal and sometimes deadly. But I can't find a single camera and there are no loose wires in here.
"Thought so," the man says with a bitter laugh. "Your Master doesn't use any tech here in case footage of our deaths and tortures are leaked out or hacked into. Not great for the government's public image or morale if we don't have a fair shot at the Hunt. Do you honestly think you're the first to try that sympathiser crap with us? Try to gain our trust? Get the hell out of here."
"Lucas. Stop," a weak voice sounds out.
It's the man that was zapped with the electric floor. His large body is limp next to his door and his head rests against its bars. Ignoring the others I head straight for the man's cage and let myself in with my card.
He's too weak to do much else than stare. The others aren't though.
"Get away from him!"
"You filthy human, I swear we'll rip you apart the second you're close to one of us who can actually fight back."
A creak of groaning metal sounds out and I look around at them in dismay. "I'm not going to hurt him! I'm trying to help. See?" Holding up some of the medical supplies with one hand I don't move until they quiet down. Kneeling down next to the tanned man I push back some of his sweaty hair. Like everyone else's it's dirty and matted. Possibly lice infested as well.
"I'm Bella. What's your name?"
His eyelids droop slightly before he murmurs, "Sam."
"I'm here to help you, Sam. I hope you can trust me when I say that. Now, I don't know how to use any of these," I say looking down at the medical tools, "but I can start with cleaning you up and we'll go from there, okay?"
I dip a washcloth into a cold bucket of water and gently clean some of the dirt and blood off his face. He's very handsome, with what would be flawless tanned skin if it wasn't for all the criss-crossing scars scattered along his body. His deep brow and wide, square jaw remind me heavily of a certain group of people.
"You're not Quileute, are you?"
He grunts in affirmation and closes his eyes while I run the wash cloth gently over his brow. I run my fingers through his hair to push it back while I dab along his hairline.
"Bear?" I ask.
"What?"
"Are you a bear? From what I've heard and seen Quileute men usually become either bears or wolves."
One eye pops open as he assesses me. "Wolf."
It's well known that the Quileute peoples tend to produce men who can turn into either bears or wolves. Every other race or tribe of people have been different species of animals — from bugs to whales, but the Quileutes have always turned into one or the other.
I stop asking Sam questions so he can rest as it's clear he can only speak in one word sentences, and I finish cleaning up all I can see from his head all the way to his hips and down his legs. Anything he needs to clean underneath his waist and above his knees he can do himself.
Placing the majority of usable medical supplies into the corner of his room I say to the room, "If anyone needs wraps or ointment and I'm not here I've put a lot into Sam's area."
"You can say cage, and just how are we supposed to get it from there?" a voice pips up from the other side of the room.
"Seth," Sam huffs out with effort. "I'll throw it. Idiot."
"Don't argue," I tell Sam and lean down close next to him. "Let's get you up into your bed."
His bed isn't a bed at all, but rather a broken metal cot, flimsy pillow and a thin, torn sheet covered in old blood. Still, anything's better than the ground he's currently lying on and I can find some new sheets for him when he's settled in.
I grab under his arms and attempt with all my strength to lug him over but he doesn't budge one bit. Pushing and prodding doesn't move him an inch either; he must weigh well over a hundred kilos of solid muscle.
"I can't," I huff with effort. "I can't lift you up to get you to bed. You might have to sleep on the ground for now."
Sam's head lolls to the side and stares out of the cage towards the back of the room. "Get Jacob," he tells me weakly.
"Jacob?"
There's silence for a few seconds as I mull over the name, before a deep, masculine voice calls out from somewhere in the darkness. "Are you sure you trust her enough?"
"If she tells... can kill," Sam replies weakly. It's taking all his energy to speak and I shush him.
"No, no. No talks of killing me," I say, trying to talk with a bit of humour as to not show my fear. They wouldn't really kill me would they? Not when I'm trying to help. "Who's Jacob? How can I get him?"
"Back," Sam says, still looking out to the back of the room.
Standing on shaking legs I hop out of his cage — leaving the door wide open as Sam's obviously not going anywhere — and head towards the back. It's dark in this area, the light from the bulb near the door doesn't entirely light up this section of the room so it takes my eyes a few moments to adjust.
When they do though, the first thing I notice is that I was wrong about the number of cages. There's one more large one pressed up along the very back, hidden completely in the darkness. Inside I can barely make out the silhouette of a tall, large male body.
"Open the door," the masculine voice of the silhouette demands. His voice alone sends shivers through my body and I rush to find the panel on the door so I can swipe my access card along and open it. Dimly, I make out the handle for the steel cage door but it's an old-school one, with a keyhole and lock. I tug uselessly at the door but it's made of steel or iron and is completely solid and likely indestructible.
"I can't. I don't have the key."
"Then stand back."
I instantly obey and the silhouette becomes much larger as the man walks forward to stand right up against the bars. Two large hands grip them, holding a bar in each, and he simply pulls at them. The groaning sounds of steel and metal echo out as the man literally begins to pull each one out of his way, creating a hole barely large enough to walk out of.
As he manoeuvres out of his cage, through the heavy bars he pulled apart, he moves into the light with a single forceful step. I gasp and take another step back.
"What?" I stutter out in shock, glancing over the bent steel behind him. "That's impossible. How did you...? Who are you?"
His eyes run over my shocked face and releases a short bark of laughter. "Who am I? I'm Jacob Black, leader of this—" he gestures to the others, "—pack."