The Pawn and The Puppet (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 1)

I rattle my brain for a memory I can share with Dessin today. I want to recall a safe memory, a memory that won’t give away too much about me before I know enough about him. I’m sitting back in my chair, counting off the eerie moments I have lived through over the years.

There’s the time my father tried to teach me chess, then broke down into a crying fit. The time Scarlett sang me to sleep when I stopped eating for three weeks after I saw my father’s house again for the first time since I left it to live with her. Or the time I caught her banging her forehead into the bathroom mirror. I got rid of all sharp objects in the house that day. So many lovely memories to choose from.

“It would help if I knew what kind of memories you want to hear.” I close my eyes, leaning against his bathtub as I fight the flood of unwanted recollections scraping at my sanity.

Dessin’s eyes narrow. “I want you to tell me one of the worst pains you’ve ever felt,” he prompts me with an iron hammer that plows through the baby steps I wanted to take.

“That’s awfully personal.”

“Lead by example. I assume you don’t want my professional resume. I’ll give you what you give me,” he says.

There is one memory—and it seems to be breaking out of its cage first.

“When I was fifteen, I had a bad accident. It was—well, it was enough to give me a three-month recovery time,” I say, hearing him breathe in deeply. “And once recovered, I went to live with my sister—Scarlett—and it was after a long night of excruciating nightmares… I tried to jump off a bridge near our house.”

Dessin straightens against the bathroom door. Alarmed and suddenly far from the calm and soothing demeanor he had before. “I did not know that…” he states.

Of course you didn’t. Why would you?

Something crossing his face tells me he is hiding something, as usual. “Why would you—what happened?”

I consider his question. I consider lying. I could explain how I sleepwalk, not realizing what I was doing. But I did realize it. I remember every moment.

“The nightmares I had were flashes of my father’s face as he struck me with a club. And that was bad, yes, terrible. But after all of that, I dreamed I was waiting in the forest, searching for something I lost. I was calling out for someone.”

I sound like a lunatic. But he leans in, locking his aim on me, clenching so tightly I can hear his teeth grinding together.

“A name I couldn’t put my finger on…” I continue, unsure if he is putting on a show of intimate interest for me. “And I felt true agony. A sadness and loneliness I have never felt before. Like a broken heart, perhaps. It was deeply rooted despair that had sunk its teeth into my heart, and I could no longer ignore it. I woke up and stayed awake for hours with this feeling in my chest and in the pit of my stomach. Whatever I lost, whatever I felt I could never get back, was entirely too much to live with. I thought I might have been finally mourning my father. But—now I know this is going to sound weird, so don’t judge me too harshly—the pain felt bigger than that. I was grieving, I think. But I don’t know that it was for my father.”

He lifts his chin, sighs slowly.

“I went to the bridge by my house. It was a cold night, with ice still hardened over the wooden panels. I knew that hitting the water with such a temperature would kill me. I just wanted that feeling to go away… Forever.”

I look at Dessin for a snide comment. Something to break the tension of this moment. Nothing. He watches me, still.

“Scarlett found me, grabbed my hand while I had one foot hovering over the drop. She pulled me slightly and said with purpose and promise, It’s just me and you now. I’m not going to leave you, Skylenna.

“I’ll never forget those words. That hole in my chest never went away, but it was dulled by her promise of us being together. Her promise of never leaving me.”

“But she did leave you.”

I look down. Does he know? Does he know how she died? No, he couldn’t possibly. How could he? I am quite literally the only person alive who knows how she departed this world. I don’t think that will ever change.

“Yes,” I answer. “Yes, she did.”

“And did you ever figure out what you had lost? Any idea?”

I clear my throat. “No. I decided on a couple ideas. Brain injury from the accident, or seeing my childhood home for the first time and realizing all I had lost.”

“But you don’t believe either of those… Do you?”

“I don’t know.”

He furrows his brow, nods slowly.

“Clue one. Let’s hear it,” I say.

He stands up, shifting his tray off to the side with his bare foot, reaching into the sink to wet a napkin. “Clue one,” he begins, bending down to one knee, shifting my hair away from my face to touch my cheeks with a cold, wet towel. I must look flushed.

“Go to the farthest building north of the city. It’s an abandoned building… It used to belong to one of Demechnef’s headquarters. Go to the last room, on the top floor. Take a look around. I’m curious to see what you find.”

I study him with a suspicious grimace. “You want me to poke my head inside an abandoned Demechnef building?” I mock. He blinks back, waiting for me to accept the fact that he means every word. “Okay,” I say between pauses, watching him comb his fingers through my wavy hair. “But what if it’s dangerous?”

“It might be,” he taunts with narrowing eyes. “But you’ll go anyway.”

I roll my eyes at his confidence, mostly because it’s spot on. I’ll go. Of course, I’ll go. If it gets me a step closer to understanding him, I will walk through a field of grenades.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

He blinks slowly, a deeply satisfied smile.

“Don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”