Ghost Bird | ✔

Forty-Four

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Stepping out of the plane, I find myself in a familiar airport. The one that Cleopatra used when we left Charleston. I'm back in South Carolina. According to Silas, his team lives here. I just hope they haven't moved yet.

"Let's go!" Cecile orders. "Our stop is only an hour away."

Nodding mutely, I follow Cecile to a black van and climb in the back.

"Get your gear on and get your head straight," Cecile orders. "You're going to have to do what you don't want to and meet someone you won't expect."

I mutter curses under my breath as she leaves and do my best not to cry. I don't know how I am going to get out of this.

I take a deep breath to calm down. Closing my eyes, I begin to plan.

All I have to do is kill Cecile. Kill her and I go free. I get to find Silas' team and bring them to Silas and Gabriel. We get out and figure things out from there.

But how am I supposed to kill Cecile? Sure, I hate her, but I swore to never kill. A pain sears in my chest and I cry out, tears pricking my eyes.

That pain? It's realization. I won't be getting out of this mess without becoming a murderer. I can't be free without losing my humanity. What kind of freedom do I want? Will I ever truly be free?

I cover my mouth and choke back a sob. I don't want to be like Mother.

And who was she talking about? Who am I meeting? I don't know what is going on or what I am going to do and the unknown is already killing me.

I cross my arms and rest them on my knees as I sit there and curl into a ball. I shut my eyes and force myself to my feet. Standing, I make my way to the metal cases that line the walls of the van. Opening one up, I see an elegant Colt SCW. Pulling the gun out, I inspect it carefully. I put it back in and move on to the next case. The cases along this wall contain firearms. I slip on a holster with two nine millimeter pistols in it and then pull the strap of the SCW over my shoulder.

The cases along the next wall are filled with knives. I slide a combat knife through the belt that has the gun holsters. I line the inside of my leather jacket with throwing knives and a single stiletto knife.

The final wall holds odds and ends. I slip on a watch and clip a grenade to my belt. Digging through the cases, I find a pair of black fingerless gloves and pull them on, noting that they are weighted on the knuckles, similar to brass knuckles. Finally, I tuck a pair of earplugs into my pocket.

What? Guns are loud. If I have time to put in the earplugs, I definitely will.

I sit back down and continue to focus. It's challenging, keeping track of the van's movements, but if I am going to get out of here, I need to know where I am.

Bored, I decide to continue going through the cases of odds and ends. Grinning, I grab a Kevlar saw and slide it into my shoe. You never know when you'll need one. Next, I find a shim and stick it into my braid.

I grab a backpack and just stuff anything that might have a use in it. I stuff in boxes of ammunition and all the spare clips before tossing in a water bottle and some H2O packets. Reaching into another case, I place some paracord and fishing line in the bag. Finding some matches and a smoke bomb, I place those in the bag and zip it up. Finally, I slide on a pair of sunglasses.

Sitting down, I decide to call it good. Already, I feel like I have way too much stuff. However, it is better to be over-prepared than under-prepared. I have no clue what Cecile has planned for me. I have theories, but they are just that—theories.

Finally, the van stops and I jump out the back.

"This way!" Cecile calls, walking towards a large house.

I grip my gun and follow her, taking in everything. The house is huge, more of a mansion. There are no plants near it, no way to sneak up on the owners. There are several cameras surrounding the place, hidden and obvious. A huge fence tipped with razor sharp spikes encases the mansion.

Striding up to the gate, Cecile pushes a button and starts yelling angrily into the camera. Instantly, the gates open up. Wearing a satisfied smirk, Cecile strides through the gate. I adjust my grip on the gun and shove my emotions away the way that Cecile taught me. Now is not the time for feeling.

I follow Cecile up to the front door. As soon as we get to it, it opens up to reveal someone I never thought I'd see again.

Tears prick my eyes and the world spins around me. I clench my fists and bite my lip hard. I need to get a grip. I won't let them see they affect me. In fact, I don't think they even recognize me. The red bandana covers half of my face and I am grateful for it. At the same time, I want to rip it off and make them face me.

All that they have done to me... Now, I am stronger. I can show them.

No.

I am not a killer. Yet. I will not hurt another person. I will keep my humanity as long as possible. I adjust my grip and blink back the unshed tears.

"Come in," They say flatly, opening the door and leading the way into a lavish home. "Welcome to my humble abode."

I grit my teeth at their words, hating them and their voice and their words and everything about them.

They sit down and Cecile and I follow suit.

Sitting on the edge of the chair, I survey the interior as Cecile speaks first.

"Hello, Richard Sorenson."