It had been two months now.
Odette could stand and walk around as she pleased. The wound on her shoulder had gotten much better; however, it would leave a scar she would never be able to erase for the rest of her life—just like the way Caius crashed into her world, permanently leaving her in a state of risk and panic even when she was with Gideon. They were still far away from home, in the residence of a strange man who was not normal in any aspect of his life.
"Toby."
"Yes, Odette?"
"Can I know where the kitchen is?"
The old butler looked over his shoulder. She sat on the corner couch in the library, reading a book that had caught her attention a few weeks ago. He had been assigned to be there as her security, but it felt more like he was her elder. He thought for a moment.
"There are three kitchens in this residence," he said, his mind presuming facts because he was curious as to why she asked. "You are not a servant or a guard, so there's no need for you to go to the kitchen yourself to get something done."
Odette looked up from the pages and smiled. "This world is way past the servant and master culture, don't you think?"
He chuckled and nodded. "Not in this house, young miss."
Her sigh broke the silence in the room. "This residence is cursed, you know." She looked around, sensing dimmed energy. There was no light despite the vast space and expensive materials. "I don't think it belongs to the current world. I don't think anyone has gotten the chance to live a normal life here."
"That's... quite an observation," Toby replied. He pondered—should he defend this place he had served for many years, or take a new perspective and learn more about it? He found himself confused.
"I believe I am out of words, Odette," he said finally. "That is a theory only God above could explain."
She smiled painfully. "Only He could break this cursed darkness that lives within this place."
Both of them knew who she meant.
It was sundown when she finally found the place. It was nearing dinner time, and Gideon would wake up from his daytime nap any moment now. The conversation with Toby reverberated through her mind as she began kneading the dough. Her eyes watered. She used to do this back home in the Philippines, and before that, her mother used to make the most delicious fish buns.
"It's time for all the servants to prepare dinner. You're by yourself, though."
She looked up; the voice was unfamiliar. At first, she thought it was Caius, but a man a few inches taller stood near the entrance. His eyes smiled—a long-faced man.
"You must be new here." His voice carried depth, and for some reason, she could tell he could sing well.
"I'm... not a servant or a maid." She nodded and stepped a few feet away as he walked toward the kitchen counter, where various baskets of vegetables, fruits, and platters of bowls and plates were stacked.
He rested his elbows upon the table and leaned forward, scanning, confused. "Why are you here then?"
This man looked younger than her. His hair was long and curled at the ends. His attire was mostly blue except for the black pants he wore. A tattoo ran over his neck—she could trace it faintly.
"I come here to relieve any tension I have." Her eyebrows furrowed. "Why am I telling you this?" She paused her cooking and looked at him. "Who are you?"
The stranger smiled and nodded, acknowledging her concern. "I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself first." Standing upright, he walked closer. "My name is Nathaniel," he said, stretching his hand formally. "I'm twenty-two years old, and I apologize for walking in and breaking your peace."
He was very easy to talk to, and to be frank, Odette had never seen anyone as relaxed as he was in this place. It was heart-relieving, yet for her, he was still a stranger.
"I am Odette." She blinked. "I'm not a servant. I was..." Abducted. Forcefully kept here. Injured. Left to do nothing. What should she pick?
He watched as she went silent, eyes deep in thought.
He knew what kind of person he was—never the one to notice small details. But something about this woman kneading dough all by herself at night, in the kitchen of one of the most feared men, intrigued him. Not to mention the bandaged shoulder.
Was she affected by the explosion?
"Hello?"
Nathaniel drew back to his senses. She was staring at him with caution and a hint of panic. He dispersed the flooding thoughts and leaned over, earning a few steps back from the woman.
"You were saying?"
Her round eyes looked away. It was interesting to watch.
"I am Odette. That's all you need to know." Her voice was strong—not like many other women whose voices made his head hurt. So much weakness shown in others was absent in her. It was deep, at times like a crashing wave—direct and clear. Yet, it carried a mild sense of healing, a voice made by God Himself to bring comfort to people.
"It's nice meeting you, Odette." Nathaniel felt the urge to draw closer and take a full look at her, but he knew this house did not need more freaks.
Odette nodded and watched as he gave her one last full smile before leaving. Slow strides, and she heard the door close. He was most probably someone who worked for Caius.
She went back to her work... returning to a world of loneliness and yearning to be set free.
Caius heard screams in the distance. His legs strode carefully down the hallway and into a room with dark blue walls and glass panels. They had caught one person from the East Wing as he tried to run away. Fortunately, justice served itself naturally—a boulder had fallen over his leg.
Handicapped and in chains, he was tortured senseless by James and Ethan—one buff and shorter, the other tall, missing one eye that was sealed shut with a scar.
"Did he say anything?" Caius sat in front of the man.
The two guards nodded. "He confessed that it was the East Wing," James added. "It was Isaac. I highly suspect him, sir."
The man who changed the entire atmosphere of the room tilted his head and thought deeply. "Why would you say so?"
"The circle of guards that work for him has one thing in common." Ethan grabbed the prisoner by his hair and yanked his head to the right. It revealed a bright red mark on his neck.
"And they say I am ruthless." Caius stared at the snake symbol wrapped around two bull horns burned into the man's skin. His thoughts faded when he heard spitting.
The man lunged at him, but the chains and the two guards pushed him back. Ethan landed a square punch on his face. When the prisoner regained balance, he cursed Caius. "You think our master would ever accept you?" His accent was heavier. "A young bastard of an animal."
Caius stood up.
"You were the one who raised hell on Constantine," the man hissed and screamed. "You cold-blooded murderer!"
At lightning speed, he was struck back—this time not by the guards. Caius held a gun by its barrel; the back of the weapon, heavily laced with iron, dripped with fresh blood from the man's jaw.
He raised his hand once more and landed a hard hit on the man's head. Again... and again... and again, until the side of the prisoner's head was covered in a river of dark blood. His eyes held menacing anger—visions of his father sneering at him, his mother's final cry, and red flashes of dead maids and chains screeched through his mind.
With one eye bulging shut, the man snickered and spat a lump of blood at him.
Eyes red with anger and murderous intent, Caius pulled out a sinister smile and grabbed the man by his hair. His eyes shrank, and a laugh echoed through the room. Ethan and James kept their heads low, fixed in position, knowing their master was losing his mind—as he usually did.
"I will do the same to your precious branch as well," Caius hissed, waving the man's head around, earning a shout of pain. "When I do, I'll start with you."
With one swift move, he brought the gun forward and shot the man in his leg. The crack of his kneecap breaking into pieces satisfied him.
Ethan and James did not look up as their master barked an order to extract everything from the prisoner and left the room.