Chapter Seventeen: Part 2

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Later on in the evening Alice showed Maya around the shop. She noticed that the girl refused to get within touching distance of Altair and Gabriel, and stayed glued to Alice’s side the entire day. They continued to discuss the problem surrounding Ambrose and how to deal with it, but nothing was resolved.   Maya did seem shyly delighted with the store.

“I love your shop,” she said to Alice. “It’s so magical and beautiful.”

            “You can come downstairs and visit us here anytime during the day.  Maybe someday I’ll teach you how to run the till and you can work with us.” Judging by the girl’s timid demeanour, Alice doubted that would happen anytime soon.

            Maya nodded shyly.

            “You’re okay living with me for now? I know it’s not big, but it’s cozy. Eventually we could build another suite for you.

            The girl shook her head, looking suddenly panicked. “Please, I’d like to stay with you.”

            “Okay, no problem.” Alice felt a hot stab of anger at the terrified expression on Maya’s face. What had she been through, that the mere thought of leaving Alice’s side made her so afraid?

            “I don’t….know how to thank you,” Maya said quietly. “I’m not even sure why you’re doing all this for me.”

            “Maybe it’s time something good happened to you.” Azura came in from the backroom with a tray full of tea cups, steam curling over the rims. “Left side is Peppermint, right side is Earl Grey.”

            Maya sniffed her tears back happily and took a tea cup from the tray. “Thank you.”

            “I’ve kept the closed sign on for now,” Azura told Alice. “I figured we’d all want to hear Maya’s story without interruptions.”

            “Are you sure you’re okay to tell it, Maya?”

            She nodded. “Is there somewhere we can sit down? It’s a long story.”

            They retreated to the armchairs at the back, but Altair opted to have seat on the floor, his back leaning against Alice’s chair. This earned him a black look from Gabriel, which he ignored.

            “My mother…had drug problems.” Maya set her teacup carefully down on the rug beside her chair. “When I was about ten she became heavily indebted to Ambrose’s mentor, Sharook.  He was a very important man, a dangerous man. My mother was often afraid – sometimes she would come home at night beaten.”

            Alice saw Altair nod, his expression dark.

            “She was in debt for years, and it just grew worse as her dependency on him deepened. Eventually he realized there was no way she could pay him back. Sharook demanded that my mother…sleep with him.” Maya made a face into her teacup and swallowed hard. “She did for a while, but he was cruel, and one night my mother refused. By then I was thirteen. He said if she wouldn’t supply sex for him, or pay him back, then he would take me…I still remember my mother screaming as they took me away.”

            Maya paused, struggling internally, breathing deeply before continuing. “He was actually going to sell me, probably to some child slavery ring or something. But when Ambrose saw me he went….he went crazy.” Maya stopped, looking far away as she remembered.

“He fought with Sharook, wouldn’t let him sell me. He grew so enraged he…stabbed him.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “He killed his mentor, and then…he took me and we left on a plane. I had never flown before. I remember being terrified. He gave me pills. I didn’t know where I was when I woke up.  He took us to New York, slowly worked his way up from selling drugs to what he is now.  He added more women to the harem as he went, women that loved him, would do anything for him. I’m the only one of them that knows him for what he really is - drug pushing scum, not a glittering rock star. I’m the only one that saw him claw his way to the top.  All the others believe what he tells them. They are his favourite and he’ll take care of them…so many lies.” Her voice was bitter. “They don’t know him like I do. They haven’t seen him in his rages, in his fits of insanity. Sometimes, when he would take me to his bedchambers, it was like he would suddenly be in another world. He would forget who I was, and call me…Pandora. Sometimes he would go mad, ranting, saying it was all my fault. I never knew what he meant. He would either fly into a rage and strike me, or act as passionately as a lover, as if he cared about me deeply. I think so many years of living has driven him mad.”

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