JENNIE
Considering that the last thing I remembered was being strapped down to a stiff hospital bed, I couldn't imagine how on earth I had wound up in mine. The feather-soft mattress beneath me, outfitted with plush cotton sheets, was heavenly compared to the scratchy straw-like material that covered the beds in the medical ward.
Was I dead?
Or better yet, had Harper—aiming for a nice raise—broken me out of the hospital, with those bloodthirsty doctors clawing at his back?
The thought made me snort, but I had a feeling that that wasn't it.
No …the reason I was here probably had everything to do with the stranger standing in my room. I could sense them there. Not a servant, I deduced, not quiet and meek—this intruder's scent proclaimed their presence as loudly as if they had shouted.
It was spicy and dark, slightly musty as well—as if they spent most of their time in a place that lacked fresh air. It almost reminded me of how my father had smelled during those last days, when the dusty books of his study had impregnated him with their scent.
"Who are you?" I asked, too drained to even bother opening my eyes. "Is this about money?"
If they were a burglar, they could have every last penny as far as I was concerned. Hell, even a criminal probably had better intentions for it than Rosé did.
To feed a hungry family? I wondered. World domination?
Either way, at least those family millions would finally leave the vault.
Seconds passed and I didn't receive an answer. Not even a threat.
Well, buddy, it's your lucky day, I thought without stopping to consider the reasons for the silence. I was simply too tired to play these games.
"The safe is down the hall to your right in a room marked 'staff only,'" I began. "Inside you'll find brooms, mops and a painting of fruit on the wall. Flick the switch underneath the frame and it will open. The combination is—" I bit my lip trying to remember. "The combination is the founding of our first company, so 1794. Inside is all the cash we carry on the property; at least a few grand."
I had never bothered to count it.
"The accounts are a bit trickier. It would take days for me to transfer all the money wirelessly, but if you call Handson, our accountant, and tell him 'I have Jennie Kim hostage and I'll kill her if you don't blah, blah, blah,' he'll probably be cooperative. He's a nervous little fellow so just promise him a percent or two and he'll do all the work."
Silence again.
Here I was, panting with the effort getting all that out had cost me, and I didn't even receive so much as a thank you in response. Though, on second thought, there was no sound of eager footsteps rushing off to squander away the fortune either.
I sighed as another thought began to take hold. "If you have to kill me for whatever reason, just please—" I wearily tapped the bridge of my nose with a finger. "One shot, right between the eyes. Make it clean."
Still nothing. Not even the cocking of a gun.
That does it! I wrenched my eyes open, prepared to demand they do something—only to have the words die right in my throat.
Leaning against my bay window, fingers pressed against the glass, was a person almost as pale as the gray daylight that ghosted her skin. I noticed instantly that her clothes were too perfectly tailored for the average burglar, and while I couldn't conjure a name, her broad shape was eerily familiar.
Her, a part of me whispered in recognition. Even with her back to me, I somehow had no trouble picturing a face graced with the chiseled features and silver eyes of that strange doctor from the hospital—only today she wore a plain sweater and a pair of dark pants rather than a lab coat.
"Good evening, Miss Kim," she called over her shoulder, as cordially as if she were an old friend who'd just popped over for a chat.
I bolted upright, automatically clutching the top sheet to my chest—a glance down revealed why: I had been stripped naked. Parts of me were even still visible through the delicate sheets and I hunched over, drawing my knees up to my chest.
Had she brought me here? Undressed me?
"Who are you?" I demanded, voice trembling. "How did you get in here? Where's Harper?"
"So nice to see that you're finally awake," was all she said.
Finally. I stiffened at her tone threading my fingers together over my chest.
"W-What do you mean?"
Her reply came from over her shoulder. "You've been out for three days."
Three days. The words spun around my brain, collided.
"What?"
The person shrugged. "Your reaction was stronger than most. Your body must have been in even worse shape than your doctors realized."
"Reaction? What are you talking about?"
"I read your chart, of course. It's customary for all potential cases."
"Potential …what?"
Was she there at Dr. Wallis' behest to convince me that I needed a therapy 'consultation'? Before I could fully consider the thought, something in her crisp, clinical tones triggered a memory that I supposed had been weighing in the back of my mind all along.
Life or Death.
"You!" I croaked, tightening my grip on my bed sheet. "You sent me that note."
The accusation didn't earn a single reaction. Not a frown, nor a flush of guilt. I might as well have said nothing at all. Apparently, gazing down at the estate's front lawn was a lot more interesting than placating me.
Too stunned to do anything else, I found myself following the line of her gaze through the window panes, surprised to find that it was already early in the evening. The sun was only a few hours from setting and shadows loomed around the edges of my bedroom, threatening to swallow it whole. I barely recognized the plain layout with its simple, bare-bones furniture and lavender walls.
Days trapped inside the hospital might as well have been an eternity.
"What a very funny joke," I stammered, gathering the nerve to sit up further when nearly a minute passed without an explanation. "Tease the terminally ill heiress. I bet your friends got a kick out of that."
Still nothing.
"Well," I said weakly, "I'm sure you all will be howling once I call the police—"
"You've made your choice."
She finally turned to face me, and just like the other day, her rare brand of beautifulness threw me off; a strong chin paired with a beautiful nose. She smiled and it should have been impossible for such a harmless expression to spark such a dangerous reaction inside my body. Suddenly there didn't seem to be enough air in the room. Lightheadedness alone probably would have dispelled my desire to reach for the panic button installed underneath the edge of my bedside stand.
As it was, my hand was already darting for it.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
My fingers stilled over the button. One little press and a hoard of private security guards would flood my room.
"Give me a good reason," I countered, hating the way my voice shook. The temperature in the room dropped within an instant. I couldn't stop shivering, and her eyes …
The intensity in them locked me in place, almost daring me to disobey.
"I'll give you twelve," she said coldly. "Twelve wives. Twelve lives. Twelve …well, you get the gist. It's difficult to be both menacing and rhyme at the same time so I truly suggest you take my word for it."
She smiled, fulfilling my unconscious wish, but the sight chilled me to the core of my being.
Twelve, I guessed, was the number of security guards under the estate's employ, and if my powers of deduction accounted for anything, then she had just threatened to kill them all.
Shadows cut over her gaze, making it seem fathomless, empty. A tense few seconds passed before a sudden cold sweat made my finger drift away from that button—for the moment. "Who are you?" I choked out. "Where is Harper?"
She frowned and raked a hand through her blond hair.
"Harper is out for a stroll—" I gulped; Harper wasn't the type for leisurely walks. Before I could argue that point, the stranger continued. "As for who I am? Well, that is a very general question, Jennie. You probably just want a name, so I'll give you one: Lisa."
"Lisa?" I echoed. "Like the city in Romania?"
"Lisa," she said. "Like the city in Romania. What? Don't like it?" She scratched beneath her chin. "What about Manoban? Lisa Manoban. It's a rather fine name if I do say so myself."
I couldn't tell if she was serious. Her accent made everything she said sound mocking. Though, at least the strange name would give the police something to call her in their trespassing report—but rather than reach for the panic button again, I found myself continuing the strange conversation despite every instinct warning me not to.
"Well, Lisa." I swallowed hard. "Why are you in my bedroom?"
She shrugged. "It seemed as good as any a place to conduct business."
That caught my interest. "Business?"
Was she a thief after all? Here to drain my family's accounts under the pretense of a medical house call?
I bit my lower lip, not liking the expression that crossed her face as she reached into the pocket of her pants and withdrew a neatly folded note.
"This business. You, my dear, have a contract to sign."
I waited for the punch line—obviously, this was another joke—but as the seconds passed, that stern expression never wavered.
She was serious.
My mouth fell open. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to form any meaningful words—but the shock didn't last long.
"Get out."
I clutched the sheet to my body as I stood, digging my toes into the plush carpet. The motion carried me away from the panic button, but hell, there had to be a servant—or someone—around to hear me scream. I sucked in air, only to have her laughter startle it back out again. The sound was electric and Lisa was the definition of a devil-may-care attitude as she inclined her head.
"How strange," she murmured. "Just the other day, you could barely support your own weight, and now look at you ..."
I glanced down before I could stop myself, and it wasn't long before I understood what she meant.
I was standing on my own. For the first time in months, I wasn't forced to hold onto something just to stay upright. Not only that, but my throat wasn't sore. I didn't feel dizzy. Breathing alone didn't exhaust me.
Alarmed, my gaze swung back up to her face. "What did you do to me?"
I was positive that she had done something, something dramatic enough to render me unconscious for three days.
An illegal drug?
An experimental treatment?
Rather than give me a definitive answer, Lisa merely flashed another disarming smile, but it was decisively colder than before.
"Have a seat, Jennie Kim," she told me, gesturing to my bed with a wave of her hand. "We have much to discuss."
I remained standing—though, I should have screamed, run, darted for that panic button. She was unarmed, and a grin alone shouldn't have seemed more threatening than any weapon—but there was something in her tone that rooted me to the spot. I had to know …
"About what?"
Lisa didn't respond right away. Instead, she offered something to me that I hadn't even realized was in her hand until right then.
At first glance, it could have been a leather binder, like the one a check might come in at a restaurant. However, when the surface caught the light, I noticed something sneering at me from the center of the cover: the golden emblem of a snake.
"Why don't you see for yourself?" she suggested, giving the object a shake.
It was a challenge. When I didn't move, she extended the book between us, a dangerous olive branch.
I knew then that I should have run despite her threat. Fingers shaking, I reached out and took the book instead. The moment I did, something cold raced down my spine like the caress of an invisible finger. I could have sworn I heard a voice whisper 'Don't' in my ear as I settled the light object on one palm and flipped it open.
Trapped between the leather cover was a fancy-looking document that reminded me of my parent's will. For a brief moment I wondered sarcastically if she had taken care of that dreaded chore for me. To bolster that hope, my name was written across the top in elegant black script. Only, below that, rather than 'To whom I bequeath' was a line reading, 'Duties of the contractor, hereinafter referred to as the debtor, shall include:'
A growing sense of dread coiled in my gut as my eyes swept over those scrawled words.
1. The debtor shall hereby fully submit to the will of the contract holder.
2. The debtor shall hereby perform any and all duties necessary to fulfill the contract.
3. The debtor shall hereby…
"What is this?" I wrenched my eyes back to Lisa's, unprepared for the emptiness I found in them.
"It's what you agreed to, Jennie." She wiggled two of her fingers with that white slip of paper tucked between them. "Read the fine print next time—" Her tone turned harsh. "Every choice comes with a price."
It wasn't until the waning light reflected off the paper in her hands that I remembered the note with those damn boxes.
Check for life.
Check for death.
Which one had I picked? Suddenly I couldn't remember.
"You're crazy." I slammed the binder shut and threw it at her feet for good measure. Once …twice, it bounced over the carpet before rebounding off the polished toe of her shoe. "Now get out, before I—"
"Before you what?" In a burst of cool air, she was in front of me. Her gaze locked onto my own as I stumbled back. Those grayish eyes were so dark they nearly touched on black. "Before you what, Jennie Kim?"
I couldn't breathe. A chill wafted from her, as if she'd just come from outside, and my body reacted by tightening in places that made me wish my bed sheets weren't so damn thin. It didn't help any that, a split-second later, her expression shifted into another chilling smile.
"You're a smart woman," she declared in a tone so deceptively soft I would have preferred that she shouted. "You know the law of give and take. We made a bargain—and I've already upheld my end of it."
She gestured to my body with a wave of her hand. Ta-da!
"I gave you life."
"L-Life?" I sputtered incredulously. "I'm terminal."
For a second, it didn't matter that she was a stranger nearly twice my size who had already threatened to kill a dozen people without batting an eyelash. I snorted; an act so unladylike that my mother would have dropped dead if she wasn't already tucked in her grave. "If you thought you could extort money from me, then sorry to break it to you, but—"
"Money?"
Lisa threw back her head and laughed. The odd reaction was so startling that I almost would have preferred that she'd punched me in the stomach.
"You poor, sweet girl," she murmured, shaking her head as the chuckle died off. "You think this is about your money?"
I didn't like the way she said that. I was used to being the only person who could act blasé about wealth—the Kim fortune was the only reason anyone ever took an interest in me, after all.
"Then what?" I demanded hoarsely. "What else could you want from me?"
Suddenly, her thumb shot out to trace my bottom lip. Beneath her touch, my teeth chattered. The bed sheet started to slip through my trembling fingers. Right before I lost my composure completely, her hand fell back to her side.
"A return on my investment," she said. "You owe me four days, Jennie, whether you've changed your mind or not. Though be relieved; others have paid far more for even less of a taste."
"A t-taste of what?"
Lisa just smiled. "Hungry?"
Ironically, I didn't smell it until then—a faint scent that tainted the air. I turned, scanning my room more closely, and it wasn't long before I discovered the source.
I don't know how I had missed it before. Someone had set up a small table near the foot of my bed—as well as raided my mother's china cabinet, apparently. The best selection was on display: the priceless silver and imported porcelain. Mother's prized crystal vase was even full to bursting with roses that I guessed had been cut right from the garden. The flowers cast a crisp, calming scent that contrasted with the fear racing through me.
"Well, Jennie?" From the corner of my eye, I saw Lisa incline her head in acknowledgement. "Ready to negotiate?"
I suppose I could have gone for the panic button or threatened to scream. I wound up doing neither—perhaps because a part of me wanted to believe that I was still sleeping. Even in this bizarre dream, I wouldn't let her think she had the upper hand.
"Of c-course," I croaked and took a step forward.
The room swayed alarmingly. It was a struggle just to clutch my bed sheet in place, though I tried not to show it. Instead, I tossed my hair casually over my shoulder and pointed to my wardrobe with what I hoped passed for an impassive expression.
"Can you grab me that robe?"
If my lack of threatening to go to the authorities impressed her, she didn't let on. That mouth just cracked into an amused smile, but she quietly did as I asked and returned to my side a moment later with a velvet dressing gown slung over her arm.
"Thank you," I stammered, unnerved by how close she was.
The memory of her touch lingered over my skin as she watched me drop my sheet and wrestle my arms into the sleeves of the robe. Once fully covered I didn't feel any less naked than I had before. From the way her gaze smoldered, I had a feeling that Lisa knew it—and relished in my discomfort.
"Have a seat, Jennie."
At her prompting I returned my gaze to the table, craning my neck to get a better look. The source of the enticing smell appeared to be bacon and eggs—but only one side of the table was set. Maybe she was watching her figure? Or perhaps bacon and eggs wouldn't be the only thing on the menu…
I attempted to take another step forward and nearly lost my balance. Already that unusual burst of energy seemed to be fading. Realizing this, Lisa reluctantly thrust one hand out in front of me.
"Here—"
"No thank you."
Ignoring her hand, I staggered the rest of the way to the table. Somehow I managed to collapse into the chair before my legs gave out.
"Well, Ms. Kim…"
Lisa was across from me in the blink of an eye, already seated. Her eyes gleamed, as if daring me to question how she had managed to move so quickly.
I didn't and after a moment's pause, she continued. "Shall we begin?"
"Begin what?" I attempted to hold her gaze and had to bite my lip just to keep the questions inside. I was bursting with them: why was she here? How had she gotten in—again?
Without bothering to explain herself, she reached across the table and lifted a knife. The dull edge gleamed as she casually swiped through a chunk of butter, heedless of the way I flinched.
"Toast, Jennie?"
When I didn't answer, she dragged the substance onto a slice anyway and placed it on the plate before me: a challenge.
The greasy smell of food was tempting—I couldn't lie—but starving seemed a better option any day than losing what little dignity I had left by giving in to her. So, I politely pushed the toast aside with the tips of my fingers while my stomach grumbled in defiance.
"Where's Harper?"
It was past the usual time when Harper would bring me the newspaper and ask if I wanted to go for a drive. I spared a half-hearted glance around my room, un-surprised when I didn't find a familiar, wizened figure lurking in the corners.
Lisa sighed and waved two fingers dramatically through the air. "Harper. He's here. He's there—" Suddenly her gaze honed in on mine and all trace of humor was gone. "He's alive if that's what you mean."
I shifted to hide my relief. She could have been lying, but she seemed too…oh, I don't know. Maybe another one of mother's words would fit.
Posh.
Lisa Manoban with those damn good looks and irritating manners was what my darling mother would describe as posh—sneering as she did so.
Posh were those gallant types who snuck into galas to chat up wealthy, little old ladies and charm the money right out of their ears. They were usually the bastard children of some obscure baron or business tycoon, but rather than the average 'cad' as mother put it, the 'posh' were honorable to a fault.
"How did you get in here?"
This question earned me an amused laugh. "I came in through the front door, Jennie, really—"
"Don't call me that," I spat before I could help it. "I'm Jen. Just Jen."
"Oh?" Her mouth formed the basis of a smile, but the expression never reached her eyes. "That's where you're wrong, Jennie." She wagged a finger from left to right. "Now is as good enough a time as any for a first lesson; nicknames are unprofessional."
I felt my eyebrow arch into the air.
"You sound like my mother."
Margaret Anna Jane Kim—who would rather be stoned to death than called Maggie—had been a stickler for decorum. She never called me Jen. Not once, even during a fleeting moment of affection.
It was always Jennie.
"I'm Jen," I insisted, though I stared at the violet wallpaper behind her head rather than meet her gaze. "I won't answer to anything else."
I couldn't see her reaction, but when she spoke again her tone was level.
"I think now would be the best time for us to negotiate our terms."
"Terms for what?" The words distracted me enough that I turned to face her, and instantly regretted it when she placed something on my side of the table.
A familiar golden snake hissed at me from a rectangle of black leather, and I wanted nothing more than to push it—and the entire table, for good measure—away from me.
Fingers shaking, I choked down the fear and delicately flicked the book open with the end of my thumb instead.
"What is this?" I asked, even though I knew damn well what it was: the contract with all those strange terms. The debtor shall do this. The debtor shall do that.
Only, I had no idea on earth just what I was in debt for.
Rather than throw the book at her—along with a polite insistence to go to hell—I bit my tongue. My father had been a master businessman, and if there was one piece of advice he had sorely repeated, it was never cut and run.
Never let them see that you're in over your head, sweet pea, he'd recite around bites of ham. You might as well hand them the company.
Lisa Manoban would never get my …company. So, biting my lip so hard I tasted copper, I started to read with what I hope passed for a casual expression. The more I read, the further my mask slipped. By the final line, my eyes were threatening to pop right out of my head.
"You can't be serious."
It was a slave agreement; that was the general consensus all the duties of the 'debtor' added up to. The signer of the contract, in this case me, basically agreed to submit themselves entirely to the 'will' of the contract holder.
I had an ominous hunch as to just who that was.
"You're insane."
"Oh I am," Lisa agreed without clarifying whether she was referring to the serious or the insane—or both. "But, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here."
She pushed back from the table and settled her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow resting on her knee.
"What do you remember from the other day?"
I felt my nose wrinkle as I tried to recall my time in the hospital. My mind was all fuzzy, but like a jar being shaken, a few lucid thoughts popped out after a moment.
Blood, a girl, a rose, and a stupid check-box.
"The little girl," I heard myself croak. "You sent her?"
Though, who else would? I knew that she had watched me that day, watched me watch her.
However, if I was expecting guilt, I was sorely disappointed. Lisa's expression resembled a cat's as it waited for a mouse to figure out that it was hopelessly trapped.
"You sent her."
It wasn't a question this time. Lisa had been the mysterious 'she' she had referred to. Not only that, but I suspected that she had been responsible for her drastic change in health as well. I pictured how her skin had glowed with health and the way her eyes had sparkled. The same way, I knew in my gut, mine did now.
"You changed her—"
"We made a bargain," she corrected, voice deceptively soft. "The same one I made with you."
"You had her sign that?" I jerked back in horror, nearly knocking the chair backwards. "A child?"
A revolting image popped into my head of the girl scribbling away her rights in crayon while Lisa sported that sinister, wolfish grin.
"Of course not, Jennie." For once, she actually sounded insulted. "My, you do have a flair for the dramatic…"
"You said you made a bargain—"
"I did. With her father. His terms are the same as yours." She gestured to the contract book.
"And what will you have him do?" My voice shook. It took everything I had just to keep from bolting for the door. Though, I wasn't sure if the force keeping me in my seat was bravery or shock, as I envisioned some poor man in a suit and tie scrubbing the stone floors of Lisa's lair—because someone like her most definitely had a lair.
Fortunately, the reality seemed far less morbid.
"He's a businessman," Lisa grunted, almost reluctantly, as if she didn't like discussing this with me. "One who just so happens to be in touch with several rather sought after accounts. He will keep me in touch with those accounts. Our transaction is simply a business one, you see."
"So this is about money," I argued, annoyed that she had beaten around the bush. "I've already given you the location of the safe—"
"This isn't about money, Jennie." Her tone was too hard, too serious, and I knew in the pit of my soul that she wasn't lying. "Money is paper. Cheap. I deal in something a little more …sacrosanct."
"Like what?"
I was curious despite my better judgment. How couldn't I be, when I had grown up being told that money was everything?
As my father liked to boast, "Money is God; the only thing worshiped by all." In the world my parents had raised me in, Lisa might as well have just committed sacrilege by claiming that she didn't want it.
"What could be more valuable than money?"
Ivory teeth flashed as Lisa replied.
"Your soul—not literally," she added as I flinched back. "Figuratively, Jennie; someone's will, mind and body. Control those and essentially …" She held her hand out flat and curled her fingers one by one as if trapping something invisible within them. "You have their soul."
I stared for what had to be a good few minutes before I finally found my voice again. "So you want my s-soul?"
"Your money would be just a stack of paper to me," she said, "but you … You are invaluable."
Despite everything I had to smother a snort.
Me, valuable?
It was the first time in my life that anyone had ever separated my worth from the Kim inheritance. Ironically, that same person wanted me to sell it to her. But for what purpose?
I blurted out another question, rather than pondering it. "Tell me what you gave me and that girl. Was it medicine?"
I wasn't completely naïve—she had to have done something. I was convinced that whatever it was must have been a drug or some type of treatment unavailable on the market.
I waited, but she never pulled out a vial or pills or a syringe. Without a word of explanation, Lisa merely extended her arm across the table instead. The finger of her free hand tapped a blue vein snaking through her wrist.
"Life," she said, eyes boring into mine, willing me to understand what she didn't put into words. "That is my commodity, Jennie."
I stared, watching the indigo lines running beneath her skin and couldn't help visualizing the liquid pumping through them—the same liquid that ran through my own veins, slowly killing me instead of sustaining.
Then it all clicked.
"Blood." Dear God. "You gave me your blood?" I pushed back farther from the table, trembling with horror at the thought of her injecting me with a contaminated syringe. For all I knew, she could have been more terminal than I was. "You are insane," I croaked. "You're psychotic."
"But, my dear—" Lisa withdrew something from her pocket and unceremoniously tossed whatever it was onto my lap. "You've already made your choice."
I glanced down to find a folded square of paper resting over my knee. I unfolded it nearly in a daze and was unsurprised to find that damn note with the check boxes.
Live had been my choice after all.
"This isn't a legal document," I said, balling the whole thing in my fist. "It was just some silly game."
"Oh, but you don't play games, Jennie Kim," Lisa insisted, so damn matter-of-factly that I couldn't help but wonder if she had been following me my whole life, watching from the shadows as I chose a good book over a game of hopscotch at recess. "You're much too serious for that, and you knew damn well what you were doing when you marked that paper."
She sounded so sure, so confident. You are this. You know that. With just one damn look she could have me second-guessing myself and everything I'd grown up believing; around her, the sky wasn't blue anymore; the grass wasn't green; Jennie wasn't brave.
She leaned closer before I could even find the sense of mind to dive for the panic button. Her gaze pierced mine, swirling with a range of emotions I couldn't decipher.
"What am I?" she asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
"P-Pardon me?"
"You heard me. What am I, Jennie?"
Irritated, I spouted off a list of adjectives. "Loud, brash, rude, boorish, malevolent—"
"No." A laugh edged her words, but there wasn't a trace of amusement in it. "Let me try again; what am I? I know you feel it; there is something ...different about me isn't there?"
My throat jerked around a gulp. I didn't like her being so close. Her eyes were midnight, daring me to voice out loud what was really running through my mind: evil, dark, something dangerous.
"Human," I settled on sarcastically, "and a rather annoying one at that."
"No."
Without warning, her hand struck the table with enough force to send the crystal vase jumping two inches into the air. It landed with a heavy thud, spraying water and blood-red petals all over the table cloth.
"You out of everyone …you know the truth," Lisa declared, eyes flashing. "It's lurking somewhere at the back of your skull, Jennie. I could sense it in your eyes that first day when you didn't fall for my gallant knight routine. You flinched back. Why?"
"You were a stranger," I stammered. "I-I—"
"Wrong again." Her voice took on a guttural edge. Nearly a …growl. "You sensed something. What? Think, Jennie, what did you feel? What did your gut tell you?"
It felt like she was shouting though she never raised her voice. White points flashed below the hood of her mouth. Sharp, triangular …
Fangs, my mind supplied. No, teeth. They had to be plain normal teeth.
"Instinct whispered a warning to you, Jennie, as I am sure it is warning you now. I want to hear you say it. What am I?"
She was right. A single word slipped from my throat before I could stop it. "M-Monster."
Seemingly satisfied with my answer, Lisa sat back and propped a hand beneath her chin.
"I prefer the term, 'shrewd', Jennie, but for now 'monster' will suffice."
I was shaking. Wrapped in my thick robe, in my nicely heated room, I couldn't stop. My teeth chattered but I clamped my jaw shut rather than give her the satisfaction of knowing just how badly she affected me.
"So, you gave me your blood," I rasped. "That means nothing other than the fact that you have a very sick sense of humor—"
"Does it?" she wondered.
I was unnerved by how calm she seemed, how collected. One might think that I had been the one to barge onto her private property and that she was merely humoring me.
"Is it magic or something?" I demanded next.
Seriously, this whole conversation was so strange. I had to curl my hands into fists just to keep from making 'spooky fingers' in the air for emphasis.
Lisa, however, did not seem to be in on the joke.
"You tell me." Her eyes were a flat, horrible shade of gray that sucked all life from the room. "How do you feel?"
Like I'm dying, I wanted to say, taking the brave, sarcastic route. The truth slipped out regardless.
"Better ..."
I didn't feel as weak as I had for months now, nor as lightheaded. I hated to admit it. It made me feel so very pathetic … But with her sitting across from me, I couldn't deny the truth.
"And do you know why that is?" she wondered.
"I guess because …" I swallowed hard. "You gave me your b-blood."
Or at least some new form of medical treatment—I was determined to believe that 'my blood' was a code word for something, though I had no idea what.
"Correction." She held up four slender fingers. "I gave you four days worth of my blood."
"Why? What's in it for you?"
At this point, that seemed to be the only reasonable question to ask, apart from inquiring as to which mental hospital she'd escaped from.
"Why?" Lisa shrugged, raking her fingers through her hair. "With your resources? You have the makings of a valuable asset."
The word choice didn't upset me as much as I thought it would. After all, I was used to being seen that way: Jennie Kim, not much by way of personality but at least she's loaded.
"For what? What do you want from me?"
Those gray eyes clouded over and suddenly she was harder to read than a hunk of stone.
"Whatever I see fit."
"So, if I want more …of your blood—" I grimaced. "I have to sign that damn contract without even knowing what it is that you want?"
"You already owe me for four days, Jennie."
My eyes darted back to the contract book and I recoiled, physically repelled by the sight of it.
"You're insane. I don't believe any of this—"
"Shall I give you a demonstration?" Lisa leaned forward in a fluid motion, hands braced flat against the table. "I'm sure there are plenty of ways we could test out your newfound energy …"
I paled, the nails of my free hand piercing the armrest of my chair.
"W-What on earth would make you think that I would even want your 'help' in the first place?"
Oblivious to my unease, Lisa politely cleared her throat and pointed to the paper still balled up within my fist.
"You've already made your choice. Why else would I be here?"
"What, this?" I glanced down at the questionnaire, haunted by that damn question. Live or die, Jennie? "It was a joke!"
I threw the stupid note, unconcerned as it landed in a steaming bowl of oatmeal. Then I stood and staggered over to the window, barely managing to catch myself against the glass.
My body was on fire, heart pounding so fiercely that my body trembled with the force of my pulse. I felt charged, like I could just punch something or maybe someone. I felt … exhilarated, I realized in horror.
It was a strange emotion considering that, these days, mine typically ranged from bored to exhausted.
I had never felt like this; excited, terrified, petrified and wholly alive.
I couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Lisa from the corner of my eye. She was watching me, eyes glinting as if she knew my every thought and then some.
Live or Die?
Choose wisely.
She didn't intimidate me—or so I tried to tell myself—and if she wanted to play this twisted game, then I would too. Without a word, I turned and headed toward my nightstand.
"What are you doing?"
She was beside me in an instant, hand on my shoulder, chilling me even through the thick velvet of my robe. I attempted to shrug her off, and when that didn't work I put all my energy into reaching for the knob of a small drawer.
"I'm getting a pen," I snarled back at her. "So that I can sign your damn contract."
Besides, I told myself, trying to ignore the way my fingers were shaking, the lawyers would rip that baseless piece of paper to shreds anyway. Any judge in the world would take my side and Lisa Manoban would be left without even a penny to smirk over.
I had nothing to lose.
Those gray eyes widening ever so slightly were the only sign of surprise. The next instant, Lisa was yanking me back towards the table.
"I have one," she told me, before shoving me down into my seat.
A second later a silver pen dangled from her fingers, as innocuous as a dagger. I took it and stared down at the contract book while Lisa flipped it open. My hand trembled as I pressed the tip of the pen to the parchment …only to hesitate at the last second.
The dotted line taunted me. What are you doing? It sneered. The bored little heiress so afraid to die you'd play into some sick little fantasy?
Fear was almost enough to make me back away, like every ounce of common sense warned me to.
But then I pictured Rosé and Mr. Tinkles.
It was easy to tell myself that the thought of dying without even being able to say goodbye was what finally made my fingers clench around the pen.
"Hold it like this," Lisa instructed.
A cool finger nudged my thumb until it struck a tiny golden emblem on the side of the shaft—a twisted serpent matching the one on the book.
I thought it might have been some strange form of decoration. At least until I attempted to sign my name; the moment I pressed down, a sharp pain shot through the pad of my finger, drawing a gasp even as my hand scribbled out a single letter J. The ink was bright red, suspiciously like …
Don't think about it, Jennie. Ignoring the color, I forced myself to continue forming the letters of my name. J-E-N-N …
By the time I signed the very last M, it was too late to have any second thoughts.
My entire body trembled as I set the pen aside and watched it roll into a bowl of fruit. My thumb throbbed, and I knew deep in my soul that I would never be able to forget the sight of my own blood smeared across that golden snake.
But there was no going back. I felt as though I'd fallen off some giant precipice, only I had yet to hit the bottom.
"Finally."
Lisa snatched the contract book from the table. With some sleight of hand it disappeared, most likely into her pocket. Then, she reclaimed the chair opposite from me, mouth split into another disarming grin.
"Now, we can begin."