Page 11 of Redemption

Megan

Ican’t stop shivering, despite the fact it’s a warm night out. I’m only wrapped in the blanket Gawain gave me, and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I’m not used to anything covering my skin, and it feels wrong. I want to throw it off, but something tells me, maybe a memory from my previous life, that I should keep myself covered although I can’t remember why. After Gawain and his friend dug the sensor out of my arm, they both looked at me in confusion when I didn’t pass out. I’ve decided just to observe for the time being in case they now believe I’m even more of a freak than they thought previously.

I was led from the building that had been my entire world for the last two years and into a waiting truck. A motorbike sat next to the big vehicle, and Gawain explained to me it was his. Kay would be bringing it back while we traveled in the truck. It all went in one ear and out the other because I was too busy watching the sun rise. It was the first time I’d seen it in years. Memories of living in Sweden and being amazed by it resurfaced. There were times of the year when we got very little light, but in the summer, the sun would set for a few hours and then rise again shortly afterward. I remembered coming home from a night out in the sunlight.

I don’t know how long we drive because I’m too busy taking everything in…fascinated by all the new sights whizzing past the window of the truck. Eventually, we pull up to another large mansion, and my blood freezes.

“No,” I mumble and turn to Gawain who immediately has worry etched across his face.

“I promise this is my home. I have a state-of-the-art security system in it. Nobody’s getting in here unless they’re invited. It’s the safest place for you.” He pulls the truck to a halt outside the front door, and I look up at the glass and white washed mansion. It’s modern and looks purpose built. My previous accommodation was older in style: complete with creaky floorboards and solid oak doors.

“Will you lock me in a room?” I ask, genuinely worried that until M is captured I’ve possibly swapped one prison for another.

“No, you’ll be free to come and go around the house as you please. I have nothing to hide here. Explore every room if you want. Just let me know before you go into my bedroom, so I can clean all the dirty clothes off the floor.” Gawain slides out of the truck and chuckles. I find myself joining in with him as I watch him walk around the front of the vehicle. I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust him. He’s not attempted to hurt me in any way, so far, and does seem genuinely worried about my safety with M still being on the loose. He opens the door for me and holds his hands out.

“Let me carry you in. I’ve got pebbles on the driveway, and they’ll hurt your feet.” His expression is soft and welcoming. I look from his face down to the stones he’s talking about. It’s like a pebble beach…another memory enters my head of visiting such a beach when I was younger. I start to run toward the sea across the stones and instantly realize it will be much harder than on sand. I slide into Gawain’s arms, and he carries me into the house. The door is opened by a scan of his retina. That is a high level of security.

“Easier than trying to find a set of keys,” Gawain informs me when he sees me looking. “I’ll have them set it up with your retina tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I mumble as he lowers me to the floor in the opulent room we’ve now entered. A grand glass and metal staircase leads upstairs and forms a feature to the room that comprises of an open plan lounge and kitchen area with several doors leading off to other rooms, I presume.

“Take a seat.” Gawain gestures toward several black leather seats with silver side panels. Everything in the room is minimalistic and designed for a high-class finish. It’s stunning, clean, and crisp. The sort of place I once dreamed of owning when I was a child. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“I don’t know,” I respond not used to recognizing my own hunger or thirst. I’ve long since learned to ignore it.

“Sit down, and I’ll do you some toast, for now.”

“Ok, sir.” The ‘sir’ trips off my tongue before I realize I’ve said it. But Gawain doesn’t acknowledge it, even though I can see the tightening of the features on his face. He turns and goes into the kitchen. I pad along the white, silver flecked marble floor and lower myself into one of the black chairs. It molds to my form, and I feel my eyes start to shut. I’m exhausted with everything I’ve experienced over the last few hours.

Gawain returns a few minutes later with two slices of toast and a glass of milk. He places them in front of me and takes a seat opposite me while I pick up the first slice and take a bite.

“I’ve asked a doctor to come and examine you. He should be here in a minute.”

“He…?” I interrupt before he has a chance to finish.

“He’s our trusted doctor. We use him for all our medical needs. He won’t do anything you don’t agree to. I just want him to check you over.” Gawain leans forward in his chair, his strong forearms resting on his thighs.

“I don’t understand what you are, or who the ‘we’ are? Who was that man on the phone…?” I query. Gawain looks down, and his shoulders rise as he takes in a deep breath.

“I’m an assassin. I was sent to retrieve you and kill those holding you. The man on the phone is my uncle and also my boss. He runs an organization called the Cavalieri Della Morte. There are twelve of us, and we follow his orders.” He cracks his knuckles on the last few words.

All sorts of things start to run through my head. “You kill bad people.”

“Yes, we aren’t available for hire to anyone just because they have money. Our tasks are carefully allocated.”

“I’m glad you came for me.”

We both fall silent, and it’s only broken when a bell rings. I jump out of my seat and drop the blanket, knocking over the milk and sending the toast flying across the room.

“W-What’s that?” I stutter while Gawain picks the toast up and comes to my side.

“It’s ok, that’s the doorbell. It’ll be Kay or the doctor.”

“It’s loud.” My response is childish, and I feel like crying at how weak and confused I am.

“It is a bit. I’m a heavy sleeper, and when it was installed, my cleaner couldn’t get in because I slept through her ringing the doorbell. I set it louder afterward. I’ll turn it down.”

“No, you don’t have to.”

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