Prophecy of the Most Beautiful (6 page)

She dropped down on the bed to think, curling her long legs under her.
What in the world was going on? Where am I? Who brought me here?
And as she sat there thinking, worried, and peeved about being left half naked in a strange place that she couldn't escape from, her last few memories of consciousness flew through her mind.

It was too real, it was too much to take. She could still feel the fear she had felt then, there on the cliff in Adel. She could feel her heart racing and hear the unevenness in each terrified breath. She watched it throw the girl who had tried to save her from the cliff. She could feel its fingers around her neck and see as clear as day its white face and evil black eyes. She felt his grip tighten around her throat, crushing her screams. She felt like they were being choked out of her even now as she grabbed her head in agony. And just as she started to rock back and forth and wish out loud for her medication, she heard a voice inside the room.

"Finally, she's awake."

She yelped and yanked the robe tighter around her as she flung herself back across the enormous bed. She stared at the boy that had just opened the beautiful door arched with rubies and no handle on the inside. His head was poking through the crack. The first thing she noticed was that he had a sun tattoo outlined around his right eye which stuck out against his wide, baby blues. His black hair was buzzed low like a soldier's, but he wore a warm smile on his cute, round olive face. He was young, no older than she was, but that didn't mean squat at the moment. Her guard was up, way up, and neither his charming smile nor baby blue eyes could make it come down. She felt her hands ball into fists on their own terms.

"Who are you? What do you want?" She demanded. She was taking no chances and wanted the upper hand by asking the questions first.

The boy seemed to think what she'd said was funny and laughed. He pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside the room. "I come in peace," He replied, stopping just inside the doorway. She must have looked unconvinced by his declaration because he said, "Trust me. You're as safe as you're ever gonna be."

He was foreign, from someplace across the Atlantic, but Chloe couldn't quite place his accent--English, maybe. He was an average height for an adolescent boy. His build was nice, like he worked out a lot, and his white t-shirt fit snugly around his teenaged brawn. The t-shirt was paired with crisp, denim jeans and a pair of classic black-and-gray checkered skate shoes she would have killed to own. She might not have been much into her day-to-day appearance lately, but she
was
a girl. She loved clothes.
Money
had always been the issue for her. She had always had to wear what could be afforded, but she'd never complained. Just dreamed.

The boy circled around to the other side of the bed, ignoring her nervous scuttle to keep as much bed between them as possible. "So you're the Oracle," He said. She knew she probably looked very confused as he ran his fingers over his chin. "When I first heard of you, I thought you were a bit young for this. But then again, I also heard the most prophetic Oracles have always been young. They'll expect a lot outta you, you know." He sat down on the farthest edge of the bed and propped his arm up on one knee. He continued to look at her in a curious way.

She hadn't understood a word he had said. "Who are you?" She asked, pulling at the robe's collar. "Where am I?"

"Apologies," He said, putting a fist over his heart and bowing his head with his apology, "I should've introduced myself right away. My name is Ace Remedy. It's an honor to meet you, Chloe."

Huh? What did he mean it was an
honor
to meet her? And what kind of last name was
Remedy
? It must have been English or something.

"How do you know my name?" The last person she had asked that question to had only been a hallucination. Could that be the case now?
Please be the case now.

Ace Remedy gave her a bright smile. "We all know your name here." He chuckled at what she was sure was a horrified expression on her face. "Keep it conscious. You'll understand everythin' soon." Ace gave her an assuring smile and for some reason it comforted her a bit. Nevertheless, she was still not convinced that everything was all well and dandy either.

Another deep accent interrupted the conversation. "Here's a question, will there ever come a day when I don't have to get pissed first, before you obey me, Ace?"

Their heads jerked towards the doorway.

Oh. Wow.

The room got hot, crazy hot. She had to resist fanning herself. Or letting her jaw drop. Or wiping her flushed brow. The only thing that stopped her was knowing how ridiculous she would look in the eyes of the devastatingly gorgeous young man that had just appeared in the doorway.

She couldn't remember a time when she had ever felt so woozy at the sight of a member of the opposite sex. Boys weren't exactly a favorite pastime of hers. In fact, she was content not to have them around her at all––not that any boy had liked her long enough for her to ever like them back…and not that the specimen she was gawking at now was anything
like
a
boy
. She couldn't quite describe the tingling feeling pricking her skin or explain the sporadic beating of her heart. She had never felt these things before. Adel, Georgia didn't produce guys like
him,
who, in all forms of the word, was nothing short of amazing.

Ace mistook her enamored expression for fear. "Don't worry," He said, "It's jus' my older brother, Strafford Law. Perfect timin', bro. She jus' woke up."

This
Strafford Law
stepped into the room.
Wow
, she thought to herself and swallowed.
Just…wow.

He was as tall as he had appeared to be at first glance and had a physique that made her veins pulse beneath her skin. Chloe had already concluded his face was gorgeous––but that was before the light hit it. Now he was just mesmerizing, a strong jaw and a perfect nose. He had thick, unkept, jet black hair and striking gray eyes. Adorning his firm young body was a gray tee covered by a trim black leather jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, crisp black jeans, and black leather high-top Converses. She could tell his right arm was tattooed with something but the jacket was hiding most of it. His bottom lip was pierced with a tiny hoop, and that only made him more attractive even though Chloe had always thought facial piercings were stupid. He didn't have any facial tattoos like his brother, but they would have only marred his perfect greek olive skin.

She was
sooooo
unworthy.

"I say, let the Oracle rest, then I find you sittin' on her bloody bed." Strafford crossed his arms. He glanced at her and it took everything she had not to bite a chunk of her lip off.

"Calm down," Ace said, standing up, "I wasn' botherin' her. I was passin' by, heard her movin' around and I stopped in." He looked at Chloe. "I wasn' pesterin' you, was I?"

Chloe, feeling more flushed than ever with Strafford's eyes now directed back onto her, only shook her head a few quick times and responded with a soft, "No."

Ace looked pleased. "See? I wasn' being a pest," He said, walking around the bed and stopping before his brother. With one quick look at Chloe, he said, "Look, I'm sorry, bro. I'm a work in progress with the whole obedience thing. But right now, tell me to leave and on my honor, I will, no back talk." The boy made a fist and circled it around his heart and then lightly drubbed it against his chest one time.

Strafford looked unmoved by the mysterious gesture, though to Chloe, Ace had done it with so much sincerity. "Hector and Theseus are back," He said, seeming to dismiss Ace's disobedience for the time being, "Find them and have them meet me in the tower. I want updates on the state of things down there." Ace gave a quick nod and headed towards the door. "Oh," Strafford added, turning to face the teenager who had stopped and was waiting for his next words, "and tell Mystic tha' she's awake now. She'll handle the rest."

"
Brilliant
." Ace gave her a brief smile, then disappeared from the room, leaving her at the mercy of Strafford's misty gray eyes.

He stared at her for several long minutes, just taking her in. She felt like a specimen in a jar, his gaze was
intense
. She didn't know if she should speak or just stay quiet. It didn't seem to matter much as she was sure nothing she said would make him stop looking at her as if she had three eyes.

He knows I'm a freak
, she thought.

I keep telling you you're not a freak
, A voice giggled in her mind.

I talk to voices in my head
, she replied,
Of course, I'm a freak. And he knows it
.

Strafford lingered by the doorway for a minute, then slowly moved towards her, all the while still chilling her with his severe stare. As he got closer, her nose tingled from the fragrance he brought with him. He smelled wonderful––very floral, like nature. But she didn't think he would appreciate being told that.

“Are you hungry?”

She was starving. But
eat? Food?
She wasn’t sure she could manage it right now. She shook her head.

He nodded once and held out his hand. "Give me your arm."

Her instinctual reaction was to curl her limbs in closer to her body. Strafford raised an eyebrow at her hesitation, as if he couldn't understand why someone like her would even have the guts to disobey him. "Give me your arm," He repeated in a deep, calm tone. "
Now
."

She didn't understand why his command didn't offend her. She had never been one for taking orders, least of all from people she didn't know. But somehow, she knew he meant her no harm, so she unfolded her arms and offered him the right one. She was surprised by his gentle touch. He pushed up the sleeve of her robe and held her arm like it was made of porcelain––one slip, and she would shatter into a million pieces. It was a nice surprise though. For some reason, she had expected to be manhandled.

Strafford ran his fingers across her skin, sending chills plummeting down her spine. He examined a few fading bruises she hadn't noticed with several soft touches.

"They're healin' faster than expected," He muttered, almost as though he were talking to himself. "Dr. Life will be glad to hear it." He caught her eye for a second before looking away as his fingers moved up to her shoulder.

She felt a rising sense of panic at hearing the word "doctor". "Who's Dr. Life?" She asked as Strafford pushed back the collar of her robe and examined her neck. A frightening thought crossed her mind, one that hadn't registered before. Was this a hospital? Even worse, could this be a
psychiatric
hospital? She looked around. A very, very, nice psychiatric hospital with fancy furniture and male supermodels as nurses? After years of fits, had her mother finally committed her? She had to have heard about the incident at school by now. If so, where was her mother? Shouldn't she be here?

"Who's Dr. Life?" She asked again.

Strafford stopped for a moment, looking at her as if she had just asked the dumbest question he had ever heard. "Life…is the doctor," and left it at that.

I already know that
, she wanted to scream at him, but the comment lost all of its steam when he glanced up at her from under his lashes with those stupid beautiful gray eyes. The words deflated on her lips like tires.

"Do you think I could get some
real
clothes or something?" She tried to look away but couldn’t even manage that.

Strafford stood straight and gazed down at her, the lit sconce above her head giving his gray eyes a foggy glimmer. "Scared I might catch a glimpse of your pretty lil' yellow knickers, eh?" She sucked in a tiny breath. She wasn't stupid enough to think that had just been a lucky guess. He had
seen
them.

"No––uh––I mean––I didn't think––"
Crap
. How did he expect her to form any coherent sentences while he was looking at her like that? He was just too much to absorb all at once.

"Don't strain yourself. If I wanted to have a better look at you, I'd have it." He tugged on the belt holding the garment closed. "Jus' one good yank…" He leaned back, sneering at her. "But luckily for
you
, gingernuts aren' my type."

Gingernut? Who was he calling a 'gingernut'?

What in the world was a gingernut?

Strafford had already left her sitting stupid as he headed towards the locked sliding door. "Enough with the bloody prattle. They're probably here for you by now."

She forgot all about being called a "gingernut". "Who's here for me?" She could picture men in white uniforms on the other side, waiting to outfit her with a straight jacket. There was a knock. "Don't let them in!" She exclaimed, her throat going dry with fear.

Strafford frowned and ignored her request. There was a click and he slid the door to his left. As he stepped aside, in walked a funky young girl with short, silver banged hair and a pleasant smile. She was wearing green and silver striped tights, a black tutu, and a denim jacket over a green shirt. A large silver headband with a silver flower attached adorned her head, and on her feet, she wore sparkly silver ballet slippers. She was the strangest looking girl Chloe had ever seen. But maybe this was her new psychotherapist! Boy, her mother really knew how to pick them. Dr. Metzger reminded her of Peter Pan because of the fedora he always wore. Now her mother had hired Tinkerbell to replace him. Way to go, mom.

The girl curtsied low to Strafford, who quickly motioned for her to stop, then to Chloe. "Good day, Oracle," She greeted her in a sugary sweet voice, "My name is Mystic Mayhem. We're ready for you now."

The girl Strafford had mentioned to Ace. She doesn't look like a psychiatrist
.
And what kind of name is Mystic Mayhem?
There was a stronger likelihood that she was a nurse––a nurse with a tutu and a voice that was
way
too honeyed to be trusted. Chloe had seen the movies. They usually sweet talked you and gained your trust before they strapped you to a bed and shoved pills down your throat. Maybe the name and wacky outfit were only ruses to make her feel more comfortable. Maybe they thought she was crazy enough to fall for it.