The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

My eyes flutter open before they reach the thirteenth door.

It’s a thrumming in my veins, a skip in my heartbeat, a buzzing sensation under my flesh that warns me a threat is closing in.

The giant door creaks and rattles from the opening locks, and Suseas steps inside, followed by Meridei. I watch them enter with lowered lids and a bored expression.

Suseas walks to me woodenly, with purpose and conviction. That lanky posture, those wrinkled, pursed lips. She wears her judgment for others like it’s a fashion statement.

She doesn’t give me the chance to sit up as the back of her hand whips across my cheek. Shock and a sharp sting zing across the left side of my face. Involuntary tears flood my eyes. And I have to restrain myself from smiling.

That’s one.

“Never in my career has anyone managed to humiliate me this way. Never.” Suseas’s face turns a bright-apple red. “You should have done everyone a favor out on your little forest adventure and died.”

I look up at her slowly, memorizing the details of her pinched face. Tracing the lines of the crow’s-feet around her eyes and lips. Imagining the many ways I’m going to make her bleed.

“But… I missed you, Suseas.” My pleasant, sweet tone doesn’t match the coldness in my eyes. I sit up slowly, never breaking the long contact of our glares. “Didn’t you miss me?”

She backhands me again, this time significantly harder. The impact rattles my teeth, and I can almost taste the cigarette ash on her knuckles. Amusement and a slow trickle of rage unfurl in my stomach.

“You’ll be singing a different tune when Meridei starts your treatments, Miss Ambrose.”

My eyes glide to Meridei. “Is that true?”

She half smirks. Nods twice.

I wet my lips, stretch my arms, and yawn. “What are we waiting for? Shall we begin?”

The two women exchange a look. It takes great discipline not to let the memories hanging around them like a smoky atmosphere invade my head. There will be time for that. Time to sift through their most intimate moments, understand them, collect private details, and eventually… exploit. I challenge myself to be patient. Dessin certainly was. He took his time with prey. He valued each moment he’d have to get ten steps ahead, and that’s exactly what I will do.

“I know one of your favorite treatments was being whipped,” Meridei says tauntingly. “I think we’ll start with that.”

Suseas nods her head with approval, lightly touching Meridei’s shoulder like a proud mother. I look at their navy-blue uniforms, pale skin, and tiny waists. My, oh my. Hard to believe that I used to live this way, only for a short while.

The orderlies retrieve me quickly, handling me like a dirty rag they have to dispose of. I’m shoved, jerked, called demeaning names, and thrown into the flogging room. The echoes of cries throughout the history of this area bang around my head. Women whining, begging for mercy. Men coughing on their moans. And… children. I shift away from that void and close off my senses so I can focus on what comes next.

Just like last time, I’m stripped of my gown, attached to the chains hanging from the ceiling, and reeled upward to dangle a couple of inches above the floor. And I can remember it so clearly, without letting the void pull me in. It’s the reminder of that wall. The one Dessin was shackled to. Made to watch my beating, listening to my whimpers. What did he say to them when he was at his wits’ end?

“Meridei!” I hear his voice crack through the room. It’s enough to make me flinch. My eyes dart around to search for him. And I know I should be used to it by now, but sadness pricks behind my eyes, and disappointment settles like spoiled food in my stomach.

If only he’d storm through that door right now. If only this nightmare were all in my head.

“Another move and I will rip that arm off with my teeth.” His voice rings through the room like a trumpet of death. It was Dessin’s threat to Meridei when she continued whipping me. The memory tickles the back of my mind.

I store his promise away in a safe place.

“I’ll admit. The last time I had you here, I was sure your lover was going to gut me—you know, find a way to break out of his shackles. I thought if he was capable of bringing me and many others to the brink of death with food poisoning, what would he do to me now? I went easy on you for that very reason.” She drums her fingers against her chin. “Isn’t that funny? He didn’t lay a finger on me. Must not have given a damn about you; otherwise, I would have gotten it when you two escaped the second time.”

Or, he had far more pressing issues to take care of.

I watch her without blinking. “Are you excited to do your worst?”

Meridei glances up at me, taking her time choosing the whip. For the first time, I notice how skinny her arms are. Bony, without an inch of fat or muscle. They would be easy to twist behind her back until I heard something crack.

“I’m positively levitating.”

“Good,” I say, letting my shoulders relax. “There’s no one here to hold you back.”

“No, there is not.” She makes a snapping sound with the leather of her whip, then winds back her arm and begins.

The first two strikes I have trouble ignoring. The urge to contract all of my muscles, wince, shriek, and gasp at the blinding, white-hot sting of pain is all-consuming.

But then I see him.

At first, it’s only a shadow near the door. Giant and ferocious. A poltergeist of darkness and brooding tension. But as the whip tears flesh, that shadow becomes a detailed beast. Black shiny fur with russet patches on his chest and paws.

And those big cinnamon eyes.

Hello, sweet boy.

DaiSzek huffs impatiently. A low, husky sound in the bed of his throat.

I stop feeling the agonizing pulse of her weapon that slices through my skin and up the length of my spine. My wrists simply slip out of their restraints. My feet hit the floor. And I walk away from her grunts of tormenting passion.

DaiSzek bows to me, offering his back for me to climb onto. A wave of relief washes over my scalp. Dessin was able to protect himself with alters that could withstand different forms of pain. My mind is able to walk away and go someplace else.

I swing my leg over his back and wrap my arms around his neck. He rises slowly, then shoots forward like a bird cutting through the clouds. He pays no respect to the wall as we dissolve right through it. And like last time, in the cage that Albatross kept me in, we blink from existence, reality draining from sight.

DaiSzek gallops through tall grass, breezing through a gorgeous plain of mountains, wisteria, tall evergreen trees, and lilac flowers by the dozens.

The sun is beaming down on us, mixing waves of heat with the blustering wind. His strides slow down as he drops me off near the center. I hop off, looking around the meadow, waiting to see his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the young boy calls behind me. Young Kane jogs through the tall grass with a gentle smile on his face.

But I can’t bring myself to smile back. It’s the first time after all of this that I can finally talk to him, and he can hear me. He can respond.

“A lot’s happened,” I murmur.

“I see.” He signals for me to sit down with him. “I bought you more lavender. For stress.” His small hand reaches out to hand me the bundle of herbs. I push down the knot of emotion lodging in my throat.

I breathe in the herbs. “You left me.” My words crumple at my feet. And I avoid his dark eyes, looking at the purple wisteria.

“Did I?”

I nod.

“I’m sorry, Skylittle,” he mutters.

I frown deeply. That nickname burrows into my heart.

“I haven’t—” My words get stuck, so I swallow and try again. “I haven’t been taking it well. In fact, I’ve been turning into something else. Something cold and dark.”

Kane picks at the grass, twisting it in his fingers.

“Being back at the asylum makes me feel closer to you somehow. Makes me understand you a little better, I think.” I shake my head. “But I’m so angry all the time. So mad. So hurt.”

Kane’s quiet for a minute. “How did I die?”

I look away. Christ, can I even talk about this with him without having another meltdown?

“It was my fault.” The sentence comes out heavy and wobbly in my throat.

“Skylenna…” He waits until I look at him. “How did I die?”

“You were—it was a sickle. You were—” I breathe out loudly, struggling to take in a steady breath. “It was a battle by the ocean—it happened so fast. We were—there were babies, and you—”

“I was stabbed,” he finishes for me.

It takes everything in me not to cry.

“And you saw it happen?”

My head moves an inch, his only indication that I mean to nod.

His throat bobs. “I wish you didn’t have to be there. I’ve only ever wanted to protect you, Skylittle.”

“I know.”

“Did you get to say goodbye?”

“Yes.” I don’t even remember what I said. I don’t want to remember. “You died—in my arms, Kane.”

He stares at me for a long moment. And there is so much he wants to say. So much he’s been waiting to tell me.

“Was I buried by my family?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm.”

“And Jack?”

My mouth parts. “What are you exactly? Here in Ambrose Oasis.”

“Your memories of me. All of them as a child. Everything I would have said and how I would have said it. All in the safe, sacred part of your mind.”

“A hallucination,” I clarify.

“I guess.”

I smooth the lines of my forehead. Being here is as close to heaven as I may ever get. Especially after I get through the asylum.

“I’ve seen a lot from our childhood. I saw how you took care of me and shielded me from the experiment. But—I don’t understand why you had to keep all of it a secret. It’s not like I wouldn’t have believed you. I mean, it probably would have taken some convincing… but you and Dessin went through huge lengths to keep me blind.”

Young Kane lifts his head. “Then you haven’t seen everything yet.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

“Have you been back to the day your father beat you? The day I ran miles to bring you to the infirmary?” The wind brushes over his soft brown hair. And the sun glints in his eyes, just right, making him look so young and yet so wise.

I shake my head.

“That’s the key,” he says quietly. “That’s why they kept their secrets.”

I search my brain for those memories. But nothing significant comes up. After I get out of the asylum, I’ll have to visit my father’s house again. Go into that living room and find the missing piece that will make all of this make sense.

“We didn’t know Scarlett was part of the experiment, y’know,” Kane adds, crossing his arms over his knees. “When your parents separated you… it was assumed that you were Vlademur’s only target. But he kept the information of what they were doing to Violet and Scarlett hidden. It’s why we didn’t check on her, protect her from the experiment too.”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“But we must!” Young Kane leans forward, trying to get my attention. “Vlademur was sick. He discovered my weakness when I rescued you from your father. That was his end goal. He knew he couldn’t build two successful subjects without a fail-safe. Think—how does he control two people that can defeat an army from the inside? How does he keep the two subjects from ruining him?”

I shrug.

“He finds their weakness and uses it against them to keep them in line. It’s why I had to leave, turn myself into the asylum. It’s why—” He stops and looks over his shoulder at DaiSzek coming back for me.

Meridei’s beating must be ending. I wince at the pain I’m going to experience when I come back to my body.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” I mutter.

He stands with me. “Go back to Jack’s house when you’re ready. You need to see how this all ends.”

My eyes peel open slowly, like the inside of my lids are coated in glue.

“How the fuck did you do that? Huh?” Meridei is slumped over in front of me. Her whip strewn out in front of her feet. A thin, oily layer of sweat covering her forehead, chest, and arms.

I blink several times before my vision clears.

“You didn’t even flinch.” She’s out of breath. Her right hand trembles.

How long has she been trying to get a reaction out of me?

I make a mistake when I look down at my body. Bright red, swollen, and decorated with shiny blisters and bruising welts. She beat me senseless.

The pain topples over me like a rogue wave. My nerve endings wake back up, and I’m lit on fire. It takes every last atom of control and willpower I have left not to start screaming. And something else. An urge to sink my claws into her mind. A violent need to use my new abilities to disrupt her thoughts, memories, and brain, only I can’t figure out how to do it.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” I ask in mild boredom.

She continues breathing heavily, glaring at me with defeated agitation.

“You have come a long way from that scared, overly sensitive conformist you once were, haven’t you?” Meridei struggles to stand up straighter. “I am going to relish in the challenge to break you. Because, though you may have been too stubborn to cry here, I hear a scalding bath is an absolute cruelty to someone who has just been whipped.”

I wouldn’t hold your breath. I am already broken.

“I look forward to it.” Though I sound perfectly calm, these are the only words I can muster through the searing pain gnawing on my flesh and bone from head to toe.

She grimaces at me before heading toward the door.

“Oh, and Meridei?” I call out, waiting for her to stop and turn. “When you go home tonight, don’t forget to tell your family that you love them.”

At first, I’m sure my words rendered her speechless. But then she laughs. Loudly. Like a crow in heat. It’s off-putting and unnatural.

The guards even make faces as they enter the room to take me down from my chains. And with that sight of her black bob haircut bouncing down the hallway, I think… Mercy.

That was me giving her mercy.

The porcelain bathtub steams excessively. In fact, the entire room is foggy from it. The slightest bit of heat singes my blisters and welts.

I don’t know how I’ll get through the scalding bath from hell.

But I do. It’s brutal and closely compared to being thrown into a volcano. And that night, I hardly got any sleep. Just lying on the burned, blistering areas was another form of torture. Each time I turned, I’d wake in a screaming fit. The sheets were like knives slowly carving up my flesh. And though the room was cold, it felt like I was still sitting in that bath. Still burning alone.

I wished that Dessin was there to make me laugh or threaten to burn the place down. I wished to smell his skin again, to feel the softness of his lips, or to see that look he got when he was preparing to outsmart someone in a fight.

Each day, Meridei finds new ways to hurt me. Whether it’s eating in front of me without keeping me fed, hosing me down with cold water at first light, or keeping me tied to a chair for hours on end.

But this morning, she has grown decidedly impatient.

I hiss as the orderlies shove me out of bed and drag me to my least favorite treatment.

The simulated drowning.

My eyes are barely open, my mouth dry and cottony. It’s difficult to process how fast things have escalated when my head is locked in the metal clamps and my hands are bound behind my back.

Meridei is grinning to herself.

“Good morning,” she purrs, beaming at the tub of cold water.

I grimace, not in the mood to play with her today. My knees burn against the tiled floor, sore and quivering under my weight. I decide immediately that I’ll have to escape to Ambrose Oasis right away. I’ve always feared this treatment more than the others. Maybe watching Chekiss go through this my first day was scarring long term. Either way, this week has left me brittle with thinning patience that might give out at any moment.

I take in a deep breath, waiting for Meridei to begin. But a beat of silence makes me look up, meeting her beady eyes.

“I never asked where the real Patient Thirteen is,” Meridei says coolly. “Did he—get bored with you?”

My teeth scrape against each other. I say nothing.

“Hmm, I thought so.” She fiddles with the handle on the control panel. “Did I ever tell you about the time we initiated your raggedy twin sister?”

The thought wisps through my mind quickly. The isolation tank. The way they forced me to endure a treatment. Had they done that to Scarlett too?

“She was like you in the way—she didn’t care for closed spaces. We didn’t have the isolation tank at the time. But we did have this tub.” The wicked intent in her tone is laid on thick. It’s that curve of her voice, the taunting pitch that crawls under my skin, making me itch to wrap my hands around her throat.

“She had an interesting trauma response. At first, it was like she had dissociated from it entirely. She let us lock her in the contraption without fighting back.” Meridei laughs quietly to herself. “But then when we started, it was like she reverted back to her childlike mindset. She begged and cried like a five-year-old.”

The muscles in my chest and back vibrate with lethal, blinding fury. How fucking dare they. These monstrous, insensitive human beings have never experienced half of the horror at such a young age that Scarlett went through. To put her through that after all she endured is nothing short of evil.

And it’s there again. That primal, paranormal urge to slip past her mental defenses and—corrupt her mind. I just don’t know how to do it.

The image of Scarlett in my place flashes through me, frigid and nauseating. Then, it’s as if the floor materializes from under my legs, my body turning to vapor, and I’m there. In that hallway with Scarlett and her tormentors.

I’m watching them trick her into the room, and there’s a ghost of a smile playing across her lips like she’s relieved to finally be accepted. It only takes her a few moments to put the pieces together. As she realizes what’s going on, her entire body goes limp. And those emerald-green eyes glaze over. I hear their laughter echoing off the tiled surfaces, evil, sinister, cruel joy rumbling from their chests at her expense.

The bottom half of Scarlett’s straight hair gets wet first. It takes her a moment to adjust, to focus on the water rising in the tub before she goes ballistic. And her expression—the frown that tugs at her full lips, the back-and-forth frenzy of her gaze as she realizes she’s been deceived—shatters my heart.

I choke on my exhale as my sister cries out like a child being beaten. I have to look away as they lock her head into place and begin lowering her to the water. But there’s a sloshing sound in my ears, and my sight turns blurry.

My hands instinctively cover my ears to block out the sounds of her gurgling, choking, and splashing. But it isn’t enough. The noise is within my own mind. I can’t escape it.

With one hand on my chest, I try to control my breathing. Am I having a panic attack? The air in my chest turns heavy. Uncomfortable. In, out, in, out. But the tightness only gets worse. And then it starts to burn.

I don’t know if this is my reaction to Scarlett’s memory, but panic bites into my bones. A response I can’t control. Blood rushes violently through my neck, pumping into my chest until I feel everything locking up.

I shut my eyes at the vision of Scarlett being dunked in the tub. It’s as if it’s happening to me too. Like merely being next to her while she suffers is bringing me the same awful sensations. I squirm to get away but remember that I, too, am stuck here.

My breath rattles in my chest like loose hardware, and I’m gasping uncontrollably. Get it together! It’s only a memory!

I need to get out of here, leave this memory, because—

I exit the void, regaining enough control to slip back into the present. And for a moment, I think I’m safe. I’m back. I’m calm. Until I open my eyes and realize I’m underwater. And the urge to take a breath swells inside me.

Did Meridei really start the treatment while I was stuck in another memory? I’m being drowned, and I don’t know how long she’s kept me under. My mouth is gaping open, desperate to find air to reel back into my lungs. But utter blackness smudges my vision, staining the outer edges of the tub and the glimmering blue water.

My core buckles first, convulsing inwardly as I let my survival instincts take over. How long have I been under? Why isn’t she bringing me back up?

Every muscle tightens, activates, and goes completely ballistic.

Pull me back up!

I think of Chekiss. Of all the moments he suffered in this tub. I can fight at least a fraction of the time he endured this madness.

How did you do this, Chekiss?

My face bunches together in agony. The tub clanks and jostles as I use all of my strength to break free. Only, this contraption isn’t forgiving. And I am out of air.

My limbs go numb first, then everything seems to float. My body, hollow and disconnected, rises like a bubble in a bathtub. The slow banging of my heartbeat turns sluggish and uncertain as if forgetting to beat on cue. And that’s it. I’m no longer in the water but looking down at myself, hair splayed across the tub, golden and wispy.

It’s unreal. A painting of another world I’m no longer a part of. I can gaze upon it, observe it from afar, but no longer interact.

I somehow turn for the door and leave. My legs don’t move, there aren’t any footsteps, yet I seem to sift through the air. Not float, not fly, but glide.

With everything I’ve seen lately, I’m not sure what to believe. Is this real? Did I… die?

I find the use of my legs, find that I’m more comfortable using them even though I no longer need to. And I start running down the hallway, dry and in a soft white dress, like the ones I used to wear as a child. My bare feet patter along the black-and-white tiles and the asylum is deserted, silent for the first time since I arrived, with a peaceful white glow around the edges of my sight.

It’s as though the world has fallen asleep. And I’m the only one still awake.

“Looking for someone?”

This—this isn’t a memory. It isn’t a hallucination of Ambrose Oasis. It isn’t a figment of my delusions. It isn’t a tangible memory that can’t interact with me. I don’t know how I know this, but I am certain. I’ve stepped out of my skin, out of my mind plagued with depression and trauma and irreversible damage.

And I’m fully aware that the voice behind me is real.

Deep, strong, warm, and familiar. It saturates the backs of my arms in goose bumps. It softens my face and loosens my jaw.

I turn around and instantly slap my hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut. I fall against the wall at my back.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, shaking my head without looking at him.

“Skylenna.” He’s closer now. So close. Real. Real. Real.

I can’t stop shaking. Can’t open my eyes out of fear that he’ll be gone again. He’ll vanish, and that coldness will sweep in once more and finish freezing my heart.

“Tell me you remember now,” he says calmly, that warm breath brushing over my face. “Tell me you remember me, baby.”

Somehow, I’m instantly enlightened that this isn’t Kane or Dessin or any of the other alters. It’s all of them fused together. Without a lifetime of trauma. In death, they are now one.

Tears rush to my eyes, spilling out the sides. My heart throbs and turns runny in my chest. My god, I thought I’d never feel his presence like this again.

“Tell me,” he urges.

I nod, peeling my eyes open to look at him. “I remember you.” My sun. My warmth. My childhood best friend. My knight to fend off the darkness. My avenger of those who meant me harm. My love. My home. I remember.

His eyes close slowly, and he smiles in pure bliss.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes. And I want to fall into his arms, stay there forever.

“Is this real?” I ask.

His eyes flutter open, and I gaze into the heat of those dark-mahogany depths. It’s watching the clouds part for the sun, waiting for the rays to beam down on me, sink into my skin, and fill my body with serotonin.

“You’re not done yet,” he insists. “Honey, it’s time to go back now.”

I shake my head furiously.

“Everything will be okay. But you have to go!”

“I’m not leaving you!” My voice rips through my throat in a shrill scream. “I’m nothing without you there! I’m cold and lost and so so alone!”

“Oh, my girl, you are everything now. Far more powerful than you can imagine.”

I can feel him slipping away, fading like a dream.

“Please,” I whine. “Don’t make me go back.”

“Skylenna, you know what you have to do. It was always you. The asylum is only the beginning and the start of your reign.”

With one blink, I’m on my back in a sodden heap on the cold tile floor, coughing up a fountain of water. My abdomen flexes and contracts as I heave, gagging up the inhaled tub.

Someone is over me, hands pressed to my chest, staring down with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“Thank our merciful Father,” he sighs, lifting his hands from my sternum. “I almost lost you.”

Old, withered skin. Glassy blue eyes. And a cross dangling from his black clothing.

I turn my head to the side, letting the water spill freely from my lungs until I can breathe easy again.

The priest pivots his head toward Meridei, glaring with his upper lip curling back.

“Meridei! You could have killed her!”

I glance at Meridei, still sitting in her chair, unflustered. She shrugs.

“Get this poor woman back to bed and make sure she’s fed!” he barks to an orderly, then looks down at me with regretful eyes. “I apologize, my dear. I’ll visit you after I have a word with this sinful child.”

I’m scooped up roughly by two orderlies, dripping water in a long stream as I’m hauled back to my room. I remember this hallway being lifeless, the asylum as silent as a cold, windless night in the forest. And he was here.

My chest aches, and I drop my head, remembering the way he looked. The way he was so desperate for me to remember him.

I’m thrown onto my bed in the thirteenth room. The door slams shut as the orderlies go to fetch me a meal. But, truth be told, I’m not hungry. I’m boiling with a purpose that can’t be described with words, a set of chaotic actions that would put my morality in question.

I know what I must do.

It should have been done a long time ago.

The sounds of Dessin’s groans fill the asylum, echoing in my head like a trumpet of war. Every treatment they have ever suffered blazes through my core. Every threat he’s ever made, every promise of immense pain, rings up my spine with determination.

The door opens, and the priest steps inside with a shameful shake of his head.

“I am so sorry, my dear. They do not know the potential that God has given you. They do not understand.”

I can hardly breathe as fire races through my lungs.

“I need you to give a message to Judas,” I say calmly.

The priest nods eagerly, pulling out a piece of parchment and pen. I accept it with wooden hands and begin to write.

Righteousness is the only way out. Under the word of God. Now we live with his mercy.

-Skylenna

I know that using the same code Judas once used to get a message to Dessin and me is the best way to ensure he heeds my warning. The first letter to each sentence.

R. U. N.