DEPRAVITY : Embry Call

11

It is darker out than it ought to be for early May. The clouds appear black, blocking out the setting sun. The rain has slowed to a mist. I pull into the inn and find Embry waiting for me in the parking lot. It's difficult to see him in the low light. After parking the car, I get out. He tries to put his arm around my shoulder, but I duck out of his grip.

People cannot see us here.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer.

He leads us inside, and the concierge thankfully has his back turned. We head down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Embry leads us to the room.

It only occurs to me now that this is how women get human trafficked.

Inside the room, sits Jacob on the bed and two strangers. They both look younger than me, the older of the two being a pale blonde man, and his daughter with chin-length brown hair. She looks to be a teenager.

Embry shuts the door behind me, and I look back at the only way out of the room. It's closed now. This is inescapable. My head swings around to look at the people with me. The lighting in the room is low, shadows grow tall across the bed.

"This is Blythe," Jacob tells the others. "Blythe this is Carlisle and his daughter Alice."

I shake Carlisle's hand, which is icy cold. Maybe he was out in the rain earlier. His clothes are wet after all.

Alice looks at me and furrows her brow. She plants her hands on her hips and searches my face, "I don't think we will get along at all."

I am taken aback. She looks between Embry and me, looking at us over and over.

"You're the first one I haven't liked," she blinks, frowning. "I was so hoping to like you."

"Excuse me?" I ask.

Embry puts his hands on my shoulders, pulling me back in towards him.

Alice turns up her nose at me. It is small and dainty, unlike her personality, it seems.

"Carlisle and Alice should be able to help us out," Jacob tells me, glaring at Alice.

I nod, waiting for them to continue. I know nothing about these people, nor their intentions. How could they possibly help me?

"I have met many talented people over my life," Carlisle says. His smile is reassuring. "Alice is one of those people. Her talent is clairvoyance."

"I can see your future," Alice says. "I'll spare you the long of it, but I don't like what I see."

"Yeah, right," I scoff, but no one else jumps in.

My head pivots to look at Embry, who shrugs, "they are telling the truth."

This feels fake. This place smells like mothballs, and the bed looks itchy. No wonder Henry hated it here. I hate it here too. Carlisle and his off-putting daughter, who cannot possibly be his biological daughter, unsettle my stomach.

Not in the way it was unsettled earlier today.

"I suspect you have a similar gift," he points out.

I scoff, "I can't see the future."

"No, but you can sense when someone is going to die."