Page 16 of Unbound

“I can, and I might, Yvonne. But I’m not going to do it until I understand the situation better. Why don’t you join me? How long have you been here?”

She sits beside me, and I try not to recoil from the overpowering stench. It’s not her fault at all. “I’m not sure. What year is it?” I tell her and she shakes her head, then starts to cry. But it’s angry crying, the kind that spill out when emotions are just too much to handle. Her blue eyes are crusted with grime, the tears pouring from them clearing a murky path on her cheeks.

“In that case, eight years. Eight fucking years, these fucking assholes have kept me a fucking prisoner! Fuck!”

There are a whole lot of “fucks” going on there, but I let her get it out of her system. Sometimes it’s the only word that will do. I don’t want to know what kind of treatment she had in those eight years, what terrible things happened to her. I saw the way Vincenzo and his human second, Carlos, behaved, the pleasure they took in hurting others. I guess that her rage is holding her together, and I don’t want to take that from her.

“Look, Yvonne, I don’t know your story. But I do know that things have changed here. The old boss has gone, and the new one is … better.” It feels like “the love of my life” might be overdoing it.

She bares her teeth and snaps back, “Well, he couldn’t be any fucking worse, could he? All I did was my job.”

I hold my hands up placatingly. “All right. I believe you. So, I know the new boss. I can talk to him for you. Maybe arrange for you to speak to him or one of his men. If they’re not releasing you, they’ll have their reasons. I’ll make sure you find out what they are, and we can take it from there. I promise you, I’ll do what I can. How does that sound?”

She manages a nod, obviously still furious, but recognizing a decent deal when she hears one. I’m about to ask her a few more questions when there’s the sound of female laughter from the entrance. The garden is walled, guarded by huge doors and equally huge men. Men who are, I’d lay good odds, now currently paying no attention at all to their jobs and way too much to Donatella’s boobs. I smile, proved right when she sashays towards us, Freya at her side. Freya spends most of her time at the house in Brooklyn now, but she still likes to come back here every now and then. In its own fucked-up way, it’s the only home she’s ever known. Even though it’s the place her shitty parents sold her to feed their blood addictions, where she endured years of abuse, she still likes it.

She grins as she skips around the garden, looking so young. We think she’s in her mid-twenties, but nobody is really sure. She’s been at court for most of her life, and vampires aren’t so good at keeping track of human years. She definitely never had many birthday parties that’s for sure. She picks a strawberry and nibbles on it, giggling when she’s done.

“I won’t even get in trouble for that now, will I?” she asks, delighted. “No one will be nasty to me.”

“Damn right they won’t, Freya,” I tell her. “Or they’ll have me to answer to.”

“And Donna, and Luca, and Matteo, and Moonface? All my friends?”

“Yep. All your friends. Freya, this is Yvonne. She’s staying here a while.”

Freya nods, walks towards us. For a moment, I think she’s going to hug her but seems to realize that Yvonne is a long way off the hugging stage. One broken thing sensing another. “You used to live in the down below,” she says simply. “The bad place that was dark.”

Yvonne whimpers, then seems to gather herself. Sits up straight. “Yes. The bad place that was dark. It’s so bright out here; I’d forgotten what it was like. It hurt my eyes when I first came out. And I … I smell really bad, don’t I?”

Something about Freya’s innocence has unlocked her in a way I couldn’t. Donna joins us, and only the barest twitch of her pretty nose gives away the fact that Yvonne stinks to high heaven.

“Don’t worry about that,” I tell her. “We’ll get you cleaned up, find you some new clothes. Get a good meal inside you. Give you some privacy.”

She nods but bites her lip. Like she’s got too much emotion and needs to keep it inside. “Okay. All those things sound really, really nice.”

“Should I show you the place I used to go, where you can lock yourself in? Get all nice and clean without anybody scary being there?” Freya asks. “My friend Matteo’s room. He gave me his keys. He won’t mind if I take you. He’s real nice, and he’s not scary, and he has a huge tub and lots of bubbles.”

I bite back a laugh, imagining Matteo taking a bubble bath. He is not scary, but he sure as shit looks it. It’s not a bad plan. Matteo’s quarters will definitely be safe. It’s not a good idea for Yvonne to be wandering around a vampire compound, and his rooms will be secure. I have spare clothes here now, thanks to Luca, and I can drop some off for her later.

“Knock first,” I tell them. “In case he’s in there or sleeping.” The last thing Yvonne needs in her delicate state is to come face-to-face with a six-foot-seven-inch slab of broken-nosed vampire.

“He’s not,” Freya tells me, looking at me as though I’m an idiot. “He’s just outside, Rosa. With Peter Piper Pickled Pepper.”

“She means Pietro,” Donna translates. Of course.

“All righty then,” I say, slapping my thighs and standing up. Looks like relaxing-in-the-sunshine time is over. “Yvonne, stick with Freya for now, okay? Freya, do not try and take Yvonne out of here. Not yet. Luca and Aidan don’t want her to leave for a while.”

“Can’t she come to the supersonic, super-special safe house, in … Mystic Falls?”

She giggles mischievously. She’s been told repeatedly not to mention the house in Brooklyn, and she’d never do anything to deliberately reveal it, but she’s also not the most predictable of people. For now, I’m just glad she’s been watching a lot of The Vampire Diaries, which she views as a comedy compared to her own life among monsters.

“No, sweetie, she can’t. She needs to stay here for a bit, okay?”

Freya salutes me, and Yvonne gives me some side-eye. She’s still not sure if I’m friend or foe.

“Pietro has a bee in his bonnet,” Donna tells me as we walk towards the doors. “We all went back to Brooklyn, and as soon as he started looking at those phones, he got super agitated. Made us drive him all the way here straightaway. What did you do while we were gone?” She tilts her head to one side and gives me a look that suggests she knows exactly what I was doing. “Oh,” she says, smiling primly. “I see. More orgasms?”

“Yeah. You know how it is. But also, I … kind of set Luca’s room on fire. I really need to find out what the fuck’s going on with me. It could be dangerous.”