Surviving Doctor Vincent: The Good Doctor Trilogy Book 2 (17 page)

He closed the book and looked up at us. “Don’t forget, doors close at ten sharp, nobody enters or leaves after that time. They will open again at four AM.” He addressed Xavier, “There’s a member’s meeting at midnight in the great room. You can take her, but he’ll need to stay with the other guests.”

Xavier nodded.

The knot in my stomach formed with the man’s words. We couldn’t leave? Why would they force us to stay?

We paused in a hallway. “Elaine, you’re going to see things here that might make you uncomfortable. You don’t need to watch. We’ll shield you from anything you might find...unpleasant. You also may see some things you find exciting. Please tell me if you do. We might simply be here as observers, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t participate if you want to. People come here for pleasure, for release, to indulge. Sometimes the best way to understand something is to mimic the act. Stay close. Don’t wander off. This isn’t your standard swinger or BDSM club. Trust no one.” He grabbed my hand. “Come.” He opened two large double doors and closed them behind us.

Like I knew what the typical sex club was like. I wasn’t a prude, but before the doctors entered my world, my sex life was conventional at best. Multiple partners had not been a consideration, sex clubs weren’t even on the list, some of the activities we’d engaged in were never more than a passing thought, with no real consideration. Was he right? Could I handle what I would see? There was a difference between running across a site full of provocative photos and videos and watching the act happen in front of you. Sebastian wanted to know my limits. How could I tell him that I didn’t even know myself? My finite experiences were sure to be expanded by my association with these men.

The expansive room looked like something out of a European gothic design magazine, but the color palate, light grays, sprinkling of black, shades of white and off-white, gave the normally heavy style a lighter, more modern feel. The large space was a waiting room. Broad wingback chairs with carved wooden armrests and paisley patterned cushions, sat against the far wall. An oversized island of tufted black leather ottomans was the focal point.

Xavier led me by the hand to one of the chairs. “My queen should take her place on the throne while we wait. We are a bit early.”

Sebastian examined the beautiful and suggestive, but not erotic, oil paintings that hung from the walls in ornate black and silver frames.

The doors opened, and another couple entered. They paid us no attention as Xavier’s hands massaged my shoulders.

Sebastian lingered in front of one of the paintings. His gaze transfixed on the picture of a woman who was naked from behind. Her long, black, flowing hair ended at the curve of her wide hips, while her supple form loomed over the body of an angel.

I patted Xavier’s hand that rested on my shoulder, stood and walked to Sebastian’s side. The buzz from chatter grew as more people entered the room.

Gazing upon the artwork with him, I could now see that the woman in the painting held a knife. The angel laid prone, eyes closed, on an altar of carved stone. Intricate lettering circled the pedestal, but the inscription was in a language I didn’t know. The canvas held the same rich color palate as the painting of the angel in a cage I’d seen in the gallery in Paris, but this angel’s wings were unclipped. The signature at the bottom of the painting caught my eye. Lydia Dupont. Lydia? The same Lydia? The name on the other painting was different, but there was no doubt the works of art were created by the same person. Lydia was the artist behind the painting she’d gifted Xavier for his birthday? In this one, the angel was obviously a sacrifice. What was the significance?

Sebastian linked his fingers between mine and squeezed. He glanced down. The look he gave me affirmed that he saw the signature, too. When I twisted to look for Xavier, his hand was reaching for a champagne glass that rested atop a silver tray. The woman serving the drinks was nude except for delicate chains that hung from her shoulders in giant loops like a transparent dress. I checked to see if Xavier admired the woman’s form, but his focus was on the glass. He removed two and walked toward me, squashing the irrational jealousy that began to bubble inside.

He offered a glass to me. “Drink, the alcohol might help ease your nerves.”

“My king?” I spoke carefully to maintain my role.

“Yes, my queen.”

“Let me show you something.” I motioned toward the canvas.

He eyed the painting. His sharp intake of breath was audible. He leaned forward, scrutinizing the artwork. “Lydia’s secrets are endless—one surprise after another.”

I stroked his hand.

The room was abuzz with whispers. Each group kept to themselves. Finally, the host entered and with a key, locked the door behind him.

He called out in a loud, announcer voice, “Fine people of the manor, the door has been locked, the house is open for your enjoyment, you may join the members inside.”

I glanced around the room, assessing everyone’s status. Most bracelets were red. Outsiders invited to join. Xavier’s was the only black one, except for a tall woman with blonde hair. She sat in a corner chair surrounded by three men, all wearing white bracelets. She was in great physical shape, muscular and lean, but no amount of exercise could hide her age, even with her mask in place. She had to be in her late sixties, but as stunning as she was now, she would have been unimaginable in her younger years. Her chosen were in their early twenties at most. She sat with her long legs crossed, sipping champagne, gaze fixed on Xavier.

When she noticed me staring back, she smirked and refocused her attention back on Xavier. A wicked smile formed on her face and she shifted, uncrossing and the then re-crossing her other leg. The black stiletto heels with red soles hid the tail of the serpent tattoo that wound around her ankle and up her leg, ascending beyond the hem of her black dress. Long minutes later, she turned her attention from Xavier to me. I tried not to look away because darting my eyes would have been suspicious. At least not reacting gave me an alibi if questioned—‘Oh I was just staring off into space, I didn’t notice you.’ Her long fingers, accented with long red nails, gripped the hem of her dress and slid the fabric up her thigh, inch by inch, revealing more of the brilliant green and red striped snake. She continued until the satin threads bunched at her waist.

I continued to focus straight ahead, pretending not to notice her actions. If Xavier noticed he didn’t let on. I could hear the faint subtlety of Sebastian’s accent as he whispered to Xavier.

The woman uncrossed her legs again.

I almost gasped but fought the battle between shock and composure. She spread her legs. She was pantiless and unshaven. The body of the snake looped up and across her hair covered mound and continued between her legs until the body disappeared into her sex.

I took a long, shaky breath as her intense eyes bored holes through me. A patron crossed between us, and I took advantage of the moment and turned my back to her, moving closer to Xavier. I clutched his hand and squeezed. He smiled down at me and wrapped his arm around me. This was not the place to discuss what had just happened. I took a breath and told myself things like this were expected. This was where people came to be uninhibited. Where the shocking and unexpected went to play. This place unleashed a sense of vulnerability in me I wasn’t prepared for. My wristband might as well have read, ‘prey.’

Xavier started for the door, guiding me with him, apparently sensing my hesitancy. “You OK?”

I inhaled and on the exhale breathed, “Yes. I’m fine.” I paused, but quickly added, “My king.”

He turned and gripped my shoulders, searching my eyes for something. I forced a smile. “What happened?”

I swallowed. I didn’t want to lie to him, but it was too involved to explain. Plus, I needed his confidence now. The blasé ease with which he handled the bizarre allowed me to relax a little.

“Nothing, just nerves, my king.” The statement wasn’t a complete lie.

He kissed my forehead. “Come on.”

Xavier held my hand and Sebastian rested his palm on the small of my back.

The relief I started to feel from the men’s comfort was disrupted by a most disturbing sight. The snake woman waited in line to enter the main room only a few people in front of us. Her heels easily made her height comparable to Xavier, Sebastian or any one of her young male minions, but the back of her ankle caused me to stumble.

The back of the woman’s black dress reached the tops of her heels. The green of the snake’s tail continued into her shoe. But the exposed small amount of black, green and red gave me pause. The complete view of the snake and her mask had kept me from making the connection. I had seen this woman before.

Snake

Three years earlier

“E
laine, so nice to meet you. I’m Dr. England, please, have a seat.” She motioned to an oversize chair, upholstered with soft pastel hues, much like you’d expect to see in a living room, rather than an office.

She stood up from the desk that sat on the far side of a large, homey space with her notebook and pen in hand. Her sophisticated speech was upstaged by her commanding stature and perfect smile. Her hair, blonde and pulled back in a bun, showed off the angles of her face, but she tried to soften the lines with light pink lip-gloss and a shimmery blush that enhanced her radiance. I wondered if she’d been a model in another life.

“Thank you.” I took a seat in a cozy chair. I had never been to a therapist. Never really needed one. My father had been an excellent shoulder to cry on. My sister and I got each other through the hard times, like my mother’s death, so this was new territory. I wasn’t sure what she could do for me, but at the urging of Detective Kirk Mancini, the man who’d helped me bring my father to justice, I was here.

Kirk and I had nothing in common beyond my father’s case. Losing myself in someone, the only one who understood your plight, was easy. After that night in my apartment hallway, when the weight of everything my father had done came crashing down and consumed us, we’d agreed to never get caught up in each other again. A physical relationship would have complicated the case, and could not have led to anything healthy. Regardless, he was right. I needed to process the situation. He left Dr. England’s card on my counter the night we said goodbye.

She sat in the chair facing me and crossed her legs. Her robin’s egg blue pantsuit enhanced the color of her eyes as they raked over me, judging.

“Tell me a little about yourself. From our brief conversation on the phone, I know you’re here to talk about your father, but I want to know about you.”

I sat up and rubbed my hands on my slacks. “I’m an intern for Western Labs, working in their PR department, I’m single... I live on my own. There’s not much to tell.”

“Your job must require a lot of confidence. PR isn’t easy work, especially having to answer for an entity as large as Western. You must inspire people with your words.”

“I don’t know about inspire... But sticking to facts, that’s easy.”

“Have you ever been to a therapist before?”

“No. Never felt I needed one.”

She cocked her head to the side, seeming intrigued. “But you do now?”

I sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know what I need. I’m still in that place where everything I know doesn’t seem real.”

“Let’s talk about that. What doesn’t seem real?”

“My life. A couple of months ago, I was calling my father from every speaking engagement to tell him I’d arrived safely. He’d call me pumpkin and tell me how much he loved me. I knew I could always depend on him.”

“And...” She leaned forward and sat her pen on the notepad.

“And what? He’s a serial killer. I’m not certain that needs more explanation.”

She picked up the pen and scribbled something on the pad. “How does that make you feel?”

I raised an eyebrow, but quickly tried to hide my irritation. I wanted this to work, I really did. “I guess exactly how one might expect. Angry, hurt, insecure, all of the above. My head hasn’t stopped whirling to settle on one thing for long.”

“How did you feel when he confessed?”

My brow wrinkled. She had no trouble getting to the point. Maybe her ‘cut to the chase’ was a blessing since I was paying her by the hour. “Like my world had shattered. I held onto hope that I was wrong up until the moment they showed me the tapes of his confessions. He didn’t even try to hide what he had done.”

“But he refuses to tell them how many?”

I stared at my hands. “Yes.”

“Has he told you?”

I paused before answering. Was she getting caught up in his story like every other person in my life? When my friends no longer knew how to interact with me, they stopped. The one thing rarely ever considered was that victims of tragedy lose everything, especially when the perpetrator is someone as close as their father. In fact, I wasn’t even considered a victim in most people’s eyes; I was guilty by association. These were the kinds of things I would have loved to discuss with Dr. England, but she had jumped on the morbid curiosity bandwagon with the rest of the world.

“No, he hasn’t told me. Even if he did, what would his confession prove?”

She sat back and shot me that Barbie doll smile. “I’m just trying to understand what kind of relationship you had with your father.”

“Our relationship was normal. Piano lessons, dinner together, camping weekends, curfews, trips to and from college, everything you’d expect from the textbook father.”

“Do you ever feel guilty that you didn’t catch him sooner?”

This time my irritation couldn’t be caged. “I’m not sure what you mean. Why would I feel guilty? He’s a master manipulator. The authorities didn’t even suspect him. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and I wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

“What do you mean?”

I laughed, but not in humor. “I was booked to be in a different city. The night before, I got a call and was told my boss was sick. They said I was needed in Milwaukee instead. They gave me different travel information, and the next morning I was on my way to Wisconsin instead of Florida. I wasn’t very happy because I’d been looking forward to the Florida sunlight.”