12. Rachelle

12

RACHELLE

" Y ou are in control."

"Of course you are," a sultry, mocking voice intones.

The shadow behind my reflection in the mirror wavers.

"No one ever said you weren't."

Since I woke up in the hospital weeks ago, they assail me. Guide me.

Six voices. Seven specters.

Ghosts of the men and women I had killed. Ghosts of the former rulers of Sanctum Harbor.

And of course, the silent one. The one who makes me smash my fist into the mirror, spattering the wall and the sink with blood and glass.

"Fuck you, Damon."

Fuck you for taking what was mine. For holding out on me.

For making me play the pawn. He had to have known who I was. The herald. Their puppet. Their voice for the song and dance that was the Ball, social events.

Shaking off the dripping crimson into the sink, I take a breath, reveling in the agony.

Pain clears the haze, focuses me, quiets the noise.

"Now. Patch yourself up and get to work, tool," I mutter, snickering at my own private little joke.

Heading down to an old car that one of our agents provided, I drive off into the dark, leaving the small, dingy little apartment I keep in Severance behind. Hopefully, for the last time.

After the dam exploded in Sanctum, I knew I would be needed. That the time had come.

I kept up appearances for long enough, licked my wounds.

Hellena's trio of man-whores came to check on me prior to the catastrophe, so I had to wait. I had to make sure they thought I was still comatose. An easy enough ruse with the help of a nurse close to the cause.

It's astounding to me how many of them there are.

The people who know about the Seven. The Sinful. Who believe in the old ways and work constantly in secret to further the agenda of our leaders.

Truly amazing, the scope of that web. And it's all at my fingertips. At least the contacts from the four members I had eliminated.

Like a spider, I waited, taking the time in that bed to heal. Because despite the fact that the gunshot was not meant to kill me, it was also supposed to be a flesh wound. Something that I could use to draw Hellena back into the fold.

A traumatic event to bring us together.

Instead, it nearly killed me.

That's what I get for trusting Devonde. Good riddance.

Then to top things off, Hellena never showed up, never came to see me, the little bitch. After everything I did to raise her and keep her safe, she hid her head in the sand. Or just forgot about me.

Cast aside from one small betrayal.

It was a bit short-sighted of me in retrospect, to push her so hard, so soon.

The car swerves a bit as I flash back to that night, the Sinner's Ball. It marked the start of this unraveling. And I have been scraping up the pieces since.

No more.

I'm almost back to Sanctum when I see the signs of the flood. Cars leaving town in the dead of night. There are so many fewer of them now than when I first left the hospital.

Glistening pools of water alongside the road here and there.

Detritus that no one has the time or manpower to move. Eventually, I'll need to deal with the mundane. Get the town up and running again. No point in ruling if there are no subjects left to oversee.

At the edge of town, Ridgeline Road, I stop to look down over the city. Where there should be twinkling lights aplenty, I see only darkness.

Here and there, a house is dimly lit. Generators in the less devastated areas.

Back on the road, the first signs of dawn gray the horizon. It's bright enough to see by the time I reach the small cabin I stashed my most prized possession in.

It's an old ranger station.

Through a cattle gate, back and over a hill.

Out of sight and on property I acquired many years ago. Admittedly, with the hopes that another Seven hideout or treasure trove was hidden there. No such luck.

But it has proved useful for hiding things over the years.

"Angel? My dear. Where are you?"

I call to him as I step from the car, to keep from startling him.

That's the drawback to my little army. They're all fucking nuts.

And easily agitated.

"Here." His voice is low, shaky. Almost time for another dose of Devo.

From behind the building, he emerges, wearing only a ratty pair of pants and boots. Another side effect.

They seem to produce heat like a furnace.

Nocturnal tendencies and an aversion to daylight whenever possible.

"Come. Let me give you your medicine, darling."

"Yes, Matron." He follows close, glancing around a few times before heading inside.

Laying out the supplies I brought, I gesture for him to put them away, making him work for the reward of what he most desires.

Well, next to pleasing me.

A genius concoction. Devonde outdid himself.

It creates a bond with whoever administers it, making the victim extremely manipulable.

Honestly, if the Seven would have had access to it sooner, I imagine that Sanctum would be a martial state, a haven of mind-controlled soldiers.

At least one of those members would have done it.

Especially the old seat of Avarice who was taken out a few decades back, Gander Walternon. Bastard was a murderous, narcissistic maniac. And the nephew of a rogue Nazi who escaped Germany after WWII, from what I was able to dig up on him.

Not that most of them weren't mentally unstable in some way.

Sociopaths leading a secret organization back centuries, passed down and indoctrinated to their children and grandchildren.

Power, power, and more power.

It's a sure shot way of keeping order. Keep the mindless masses in line.

Keep them blind.

Well, now I have a way to truly control them.

They all come to the call of the Herald.

"And you come to our call, woman," Pride sneers from the corner.

Their voices are always louder when I haven't slept.

Always more vicious and unforgiving, too. Only by completing their demands can I rid myself of them for a time.

Sliding the needle out of Angel's arm, I settle him back against my legs in front of me, playing with his hair absently. He always was a useful tool.

So much more so now.

And he will be the ace in the hole when the time comes to bring Hellena to heel. Because she has finally returned. My messengers sent word to me in Severance.

Which means Marco Vice will be making a move soon, too. Or maybe this is his move.

Dangerous. Foolish of him to turn her.

But it all falls into the catch-all that is my plan. Let them play their games. Let her come back and try to heal this festering wound of a city.

It will be that much better when I take it back from them. For me.

Because it is my inheritance. My right.

Once every single mind lies under my control, I will put them to task finding what my brother hid from me, the true source of all of the Sinful's power and wealth.

That secret that I've been cursed with trying to find for twenty years.

I know she knows where it is.

Where Damon hid it. Who he hid it with.

Hellena is the key. And Evan, Angel, is the key to controlling Hellena.

And once I've used her to open the lock…