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  There was no need for prodding. I hadn’t washed in a week and I stank like a mosh pit. I peeled the dress and bathers off and, one foot at a time, stepped into the luxuriously warm bath. When I lay back, the water came up to my neck. A deep sigh escaped my lips.

  It wasn’t a private affair, but I didn’t really care. It felt so good to lose the bathers that had been chafing my skin raw, and to wash the salt from my stiff hair.

  After I’d dried off with a thick, fluffy white towel, the two women, without a word, led me back down the hallway and through the next door on the left.

  Inside the spacious room, a large, faded-red rug smothered most of the stone floor. It felt like velvet against my bare soles. Apart from the rug, a wall mirror and a small table laden with makeup and jewellery, the room was mostly bare. The oval-shaped mirror, decorated elaborately with a pearl-studded frame, reflected back to me my own image, and for a moment I stopped breathing.

  The girl in the mirror had wild, frightened eyes and wet hair stuck to her face. She looked so vulnerable, and I couldn’t help but reach out and touch fingertips with her.

  Without complaint I allowed the two women to dress me in a peach-coloured dress and, after vigorously attacking my long, wavy brown hair with a towel, to style it so that part of it was braided around my head like a crown. I stood patiently while they wove a string of pearls in and out of the braid.

  The motivation behind my compliance was the possibility that Marko, who seemed to have taken an instant dislike to me, would send me home after an evening in my company. I wasn’t sure which approach to take: behave appallingly to increase the animosity, or toss my heart on the table and plead for my freedom.

  Looking at myself in the mirror, post-makeover, my appearance surprised me. It wasn’t like I’d been magically transformed into a beauty queen or anything, but I looked okay.

  My lips appeared fuller, wearing the rose-coloured lipstick Sylvia had painted on with a brush, and my dark eyes deeper and wider, with black mascara lengthening my lashes. My skin, the one aspect of my appearance I’d always had going for me, glowed almost golden against the pallor of Sylvia’s and the maid’s milky-white complexions, making me feel even more alien than I already did. If only I was back home, getting ready for a night out with Lauren, gossiping about the boys we liked. Not that we would have spent my birthday together—I was clearly romanticising our relationship. But it gave me a nicer picture than my current reality.

  I sighed, gauging the entire look from head to toe, my hands automatically hovering over my cleavage. Normally, at home, I wore high-necked tops to cover myself up because, although I was okay with boys my own age looking there, it gave me the creeps when older men snuck a perve.

  ‘Marko is looking forward to getting to know you,’ said Sylvia, standing back to admire her handiwork.

  I doubted it. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if the letter and tonight’s dinner was all Sylvia’s idea. There was no denying the hostility he gave off when he first saw me.

  A slow shiver snaked down my spine as I recalled the frost in his eyes.

  But hostility was a good thing—I could only hope he wanted me gone as much as I wanted to be gone.

  For once I was glad I didn’t look like Lauren, who had a cute, doll-like face stuck on top of an equally Barbie-like body that few boys could resist.

  Boys like Aiden.

  I let out a shuddery sigh. Just thinking about him made my eyes prickle. Over three years had passed since he drowned, but the pain was still as fresh as if it had happened yesterday, more so in this strange place.

  If only I hadn’t told him how I felt—that I had thought of him as more than just a friend—he’d still be alive today. I shouldn’t have been so surprised when he’d confessed he was in love with Lauren, and told me that I was like a little sister to him. I shouldn’t have lashed out in a fit of jealousy and told him I hated him and that Lauren hated him—she didn’t—and that our friendship was over. We’d known each other since we were little; since my first trip to the shacks as a toddler. I shouldn’t have let a stupid crush get in the way of a friendship like ours.

  After sweeping my lashes with an extra coat of mascara, Sylvia drew back a fraction then frowned.

  ‘Oh, stop it with the wet eyes. There’s nothing to worry about. Marko’s a good boy. A bit moody and serious for a nineteen-year-old, but he has his charms. Nearly every woman in Marin is in love with him, so you should think yourself lucky,’ she sighed.

  ‘It may seem, at first, as though he doesn’t want anything to do with you, but don’t worry. Deep down, he understands his responsibility to Marin, and he also understands the great sacrifice that you have made.’ Her full red lips widened into a smile. ‘See? You both have something in common already.’

  My face burned with humiliation and outrage. A million words scrambled up my throat at once, but all I could manage was a choking sound.

  Sylvia winked at me, coyly, as if I were a blushing young bride with cold feet.

  ‘You’re nervous—how sweet.’ She took a step closer, her green eyes unblinking. ‘You probably have lots of questions you want to ask.’

  I drew my head right back. Her perfume was so spicy I wanted to gag.

  ‘If you think I’m about to sacrifice myself for a bunch of strangers then you are seriously—’

  ‘Don’t be melodramatic,’ she said, rolling her eyes and clicking her fingers. ‘Now. Questions. You may ask me a couple right now before dinner, to better acquaint yourself with our king and our city.’

  I swallowed and tried to concentrate on the most important questions.

  ‘Are we truly underwater, and, if so, how?’

  Sylvia smiled at me indulgently, as if I’d just asked the dumbest thing, and began dusting my shoulders and arms with shimmering powder.

  I felt like swatting her hand away, but resisted. The air of unpredictability surrounding Sylvia and her moods helped to restrain my impulses.

  ‘Marin is an underwater civilisation founded by my late grandfather, Frano Tollin, who was a deep-sea explorer. He came upon this beautiful city whilst out searching for the ever-elusive mermaid.’

  ‘Mermaids?’

  Sylvia cocked one eyebrow.

  ‘As I said, he was searching for the elusive mermaid, but instead discovered his very own utopia. He said he found a pod at the end of a travelling chute and, not knowing what it was, strapped himself in for a bit of fun, but ended up getting sucked from the ocean and spat out in an underwater city. Can you imagine? Marin was empty then, but full now, thanks to my grandfather. We have our own monarchy and exist separately from the rest of the world, apart from trade, of course.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘There are some things we simply cannot produce down here. Marko ventures to the land above, your world, once a month to trade. I’m amazed at how much you people are willing to pay for our pearls.’

  I shook my head. ‘I would’ve heard about it on the news.’

  Sylvia snorted. ‘My grandfather was an intelligent and powerful man, with lots of money behind him. He was also highly secretive and incredibly discreet. All who chose to join him down here knew that they’d be punished if they were to jeopardise his new world. He made them sign contracts—breakable only by death.’

  She smiled suddenly and winked at me. ‘You’d be surprised by how well-known some of Marin’s residents were—and still are—in your world; extremely famous people.’

  James Dean, Elvis and every other famous dead person I could think of, gathered inside my head all at once, like the posters you see in music stores where they’re all slumped in some booth at a fifties’ cafe. But I shook them free. This was all getting a little too crazy. The weirdest thing was, Sylvia wasn’t showing any of the tell-tale signs of lying, and I was normally pretty good at spotting lies, having Lauren, the expert, for a sister.

  ‘Any more questions?’ Sylvia asked, arching one immaculate eyebrow.

  I had loads more questions. But instead, I narr
owed them down to the most important.

  ‘What if I refuse to do this…thing? The thing you all want from me,’ I said, my cheeks burning up. ‘Will Marko send me home?’

  ‘Sharks,’ she said without blinking. ‘You’ll end up as their food, in the Colosseum.’

  The Colosseum? My reflection in the mirror turned almost as pale as Sylvia’s skin.

  A smirk twisted her full lips, as though she was enjoying my discomfort.

  ‘Well, it’s not really a Colosseum; that’s just a pet name my grandfather gave it. It’s a giant, arena-sized water tank with tiers of seats wrapped around it so that thousands of people can watch when someone is thrown to the sharks.’ She licked her lips and smiled, revealing her bright, toothpaste-advert teeth. ‘Nobody has been naughty for a long time, so the sharks are getting hungry.’

  I swallowed thickly. She had to be lying; a scare tactic, perhaps. But with each passing moment in these unfamiliar surroundings with all these strange people, and after eating all of those fish meals, I almost started believing that we were actually underwater. It was impossible, though; completely impossible.

  I focused on my reflection in the mirror. Over and over again, inside my head, I repeated: Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, until a loud bang on the door broke my mantra.

  ‘It’s time,’ Sylvia announced.

  My stomach churned and my mouth turned dry.

  The other woman stayed behind, stowing cosmetics into a large makeup case, while I followed Sylvia out into the narrow and never-ending hallway where Robbie stood waiting.

  He wore a black T-shirt that stretched tight across his chest, and fitted black jeans. A shark tooth hung from a leather strap around his neck and his hair was slightly damp. He smelled of shampoo and soap.

  When his dark eyes met mine, his face softened into a fleeting smile, the sort mourners had given me at my parents’ funeral. My eyes skipped to Sylvia, who was glaring pointedly at him.

  ‘Let’s not keep my baby brother waiting. Patience is not his virtue, and he’s broken enough crystal for the week already.’

  I shivered. Great. I was having dinner with a psycho brat.

  They escorted me down the corridor, past my room and onward. Several male and female guards nodded as we passed, their strong, toned bodies swathed in tight black uniforms, their boot daggers at the ready.

  It baffled me. I just couldn’t fathom that all these people had agreed to congregate at some warehouse or old building together and participate in this kooky farce. They had to belong to a cult; a very odd cult. It was the only explanation. The males stared at me with a funny sort of light in their eyes, as if I was something precious or even beautiful. It was the kind of attention normally lavished on my sister, not me. Maybe this place really was some kind of utopia—a parallel universe.

  We reached a large set of double iron doors, where Sylvia ordered me to wait, which was unnecessary seeing as I wasn’t exactly dying to get in there.

  My stomach churned.

  The centre of each door bore an emblem: a golden mermaid with wavy hair down to her tail, and a merman with an equally long beard, entwined in a kiss. Above them, a crystal moon and sun sent rays of light over them.

  Sweat coated my palms. I wanted to run, but reminded myself of my plans.

  There was a good chance Marko might dislike me so much—or even take enough pity on me—that he would send me home. After all, he had slipped me the Steinbeck book to read. Surely this meant that he had a beating heart.

  Robbie knocked twice and I held my breath until a very tired-sounding voice said, ‘Come in,’ after which I exhaled noisily.

  Sylvia rolled her eyes at me.

  My belly swirled in a sea of nerves. Sylvia’s earlier comment about the smashed crystal paralysed me, but someone—I was too busy freaking out to notice who— gently pressed the small of my back to usher me through the door.

  The temperature burst onto my skin like warm honey. I shivered, despite the heat, while my eyes darted around the room, which was sectioned off into two parts.

  To my left, the area was expansive: richly decorated with polished wooden furniture; an oval dining table and chairs with golden cushions.

  A large, lush golden carpet lay beneath the table and another smaller one was spread out in front of a ruby-red velvet chaise.

  Neat stacks of books rested on top of a dark wooden coffee table. I had to suppress the urge to flick through them.

  The incredibly high ceilings dripped with glowing star-and diamond-shaped crystals, suspended above me like a glittering shower of rain.

  Then there was the other half of the room—the dark side.

  ‘Come forward,’ said a smooth, low voice from the black shadows in the far corner of the room. I didn’t move an inch.

  ‘Do you want us to stay, Marko?’ enquired Sylvia casually. My eyes bulged at her and Robbie.

  Stay. Stay. Stay.

  But Robbie gave me his funeral eyes, which didn’t exactly help, and Sylvia merely smiled as though she thought I was being cute.

  ‘No, leave us,’ said Marko and I trembled so hard my teeth knocked together.

  Robbie and Sylvia let themselves out but, before the door closed, I caught Robbie’s dark eyes again, saw the hesitation in them. Maybe he knew something terrible about Marko.

  Yeah. He likes to smash crystal and kidnaps girls to save dwindling populations.

  I swallowed thickly when I heard the lock on the doors bolt shut behind me, and the fading footsteps. Were they only Sylvia’s? Had Robbie remained outside the door?

  Would anybody come if I screamed for help?

  CHAPTER NINE

  MY EYES ADJUSTED, and the silhouette of Marko emerged beneath the shadows of a large four-poster bed, much like the one in my room only bigger. The elegant figure of a piano rested to his left.

  ‘You’re not running, Miranda. I’m impressed by your bravery.’

  ‘The door’s locked.’

  He made a sound in his throat, like a stifled laugh.

  After a minute or so of excruciating silence, he suddenly leapt off the bed and approached me like a prowling lion. When he stopped, centimetres in front of me, I took several steps back.

  He shook his handsome head while he stared down at me, his grey-blue eyes sweeping from my face, down my body and back up.

  How could a monster like him look so…so good? It was just wrong.

  ‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’ he said grimly.

  I gasped. He wanted to do…the thing…now?

  My right hand curled into a tight fist, which I raised, ready to use in self-defence, but Marko regarded my fist as though it were a cute teddy bear.

  ‘I meant dinner, Miranda,’ he said, a wry smile on his lips.

  My palm throbbed. One of the deeper cuts had reopened when I’d made the fist. But it didn’t bother me. Marko only wanted dinner.

  He left me standing there like a stunned mullet and strutted his way across the stone floor, his long black boots clacking until they reached the carpet, on which the large, heavily laden dining table sat waiting. Crystal decanters of wine and water sparkled as though they contained liquid rubies and diamonds. A mound of golden bread rolls lay surrounded by a vast array of brightly coloured dishes— one of them piled high with whole, steaming lobsters, their shiny, reddish-orange shells gleaming.

  ‘Please.’ He held out a chair in a gentlemanly fashion, as if he were a waiter in a restaurant, and, after a moment’s hesitation, I allowed him to seat me as though I were a patron. I stiffened when he leaned over me, his subtle aftershave clouding my head, but he was merely dropping a crisp, white napkin across my lap.

  ‘You look…pleasant,’ he said, as though surprised, his eyes taking in my hair and dress before lingering on my face.

  Heat flushed my neck and cheeks, burning my skin. He must have noticed, because he had the decency to look away and let me recover.

  I reached for the water, bu
t he got to it first and poured me a glass, his long, elegant piano-fingers wrapping around the neck of the crystal carafe.

  Crystal. I wondered how long that piece would last.

  He sat down and raised a wine-filled goblet to his lips and took a long drink before sighing. ‘Look, Miranda,’ he said, fixing me with icy-blue eyes of contempt. ‘You look like you want to do this about as much as I do, which, quite frankly, is not at all.’

  ‘Yes.’ I gasped with relief. ‘I just want to go home, my grand—’

  Marko raised a hand before I could finish my sentence.

  ‘The problem is, this isn’t about what we want, as individuals, it’s about what’s required of us.’

  I swallowed thickly. ‘What exactly are you saying?’

  His eyes shifted down to his gold-trimmed plate. ‘Let’s eat first. We can discuss the…’ he paused a moment and cleared his throat, ‘arrangements afterwards.’

  I pushed my chair back.

  ‘I don’t want to eat.’ At that exact moment, my stomach chose to growl for at least ten seconds.

  Slowly, Marko’s lips curved into a half-smile.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ The frost in his eyes suddenly melted away to reveal a sparkle of amusement.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  My cheeks burned with humiliation as my belly roared again. In a bid to shut it up, I folded my arms across my stomach.

  ‘I don’t want to eat. I want to know where I am, geographically. And I want to know when I’ll be going home.’ My chest rose and fell in great breaths while I waited for his answer.

  ‘We’re inside a castle, within the city of Marin, which lies deep in the heart of the Pacific Ocean,’ he said tiredly, as though bored by our conversation already. ‘But there’s no point in me convincing you of the fact, because it will take you a while to believe it. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving and you owe your poor stomach a meal.’

  He reached across the table and snatched a bread roll out of the basket before ripping it in two and stuffing one half in his mouth. He groaned in satisfaction while he chewed and held the basket out in front of me.