“I think they were,” she said to Mike, whose eyes still smoldered with rage, but had softened just the slightest bit. He sighed, then walked over to a side table covered in glasses and decanters. He poured himself a glass of golden liquid, took a sip, and grimaced.
“Gods,” he groaned, slumping into the overstuffed couch in front of the fire. “Your brother used to pretend this swill was fine brandy, instead of the pisswater it is. Blast his black heart, but at least when your father was alive, the bastard had liquor worth stealing.”
“Fuck it, I could go for some pisswater right now,” Cora said, pouring herself a glass and joining him. It was worse than the moniker implied, but it burned, and that, hopefully, meant it was strong. Mike glared at her as she sat down, clearly contemplating taking another run at her, but thought better of it.
“So. You ‘aren’t Linnea’,” he said, as much question as it was statement.
“Nope!” Cora answered, raising her glass in toast. “Call me Cora, or don’t, I’m hoping I wake up soon and it doesn’t matter either way.”
She tossed back the rest of the ‘brandy’, only the well worn senses of a Hollywood starlet letting her keep a straight face against the taste and burn. Mike kept his eyes on her, warily, but as she watched him, the words
[AFFECTION: CAUTIOUSLY HOPEFUL]
swam into being beside his face.
“Oh, I’m also seeing things,” she added, offhand. Honestly, it seemed the more crazy Mike thought she was, the less he might equate her to the bitch Linnea had been. And that was good enough for Cora.
“Mmm,” Mike grunted, finishing his own glass and standing up to fetch another. Cora noticed him move for her own empty glass, then rather pointedly reconsider.
“Gah!” he shouted, nearly dropping the decanter as his eyes fell on Tania, still cowering nude in the corner of the room. He rushed over, whipping off his tailed jacket and throwing it over the huddled girl’s naked form. “Tania, dear girl, I completely forgot you were here. Are you alright? How long were you under the desk?”
Tania didn’t answer, just pulled his jacket tighter around her shoulders and continued to stare. When Mike refocused on Cora, the rage in his eyes had relit.
“Free,” he scoffed, like the word was bitter in his mouth. “Like someone who’s been through what Tania has been through can ever be free.”
Cora would be perfectly happy if she never found out the particulars of ‘what Tania has been through’. Even what she’d pieced together through implication was pretty goddamn reprehensible.
How… how can I make that right?
Something in her face caused Mike’s expression to soften. He didn’t look sorry, god forbid trusting, but something changed.
“I don’t think Linnea could have helped herself from laughing at that.”
What, REALLY? Holy fuck, this chick was a biiiiitch.
“Uh…”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you aren’t acting like yourself. Those blasted documents are ash, so there’s no going back.”
His eyes flashed with mania as he let out a laugh filled with a lot more stress than humor.
“And if those weren’t real, you’ll kill me for talking to you like this, or worse, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He covered his face with his hand, then wiped it up high enough to get his brandy to his mouth with the other.
“Let’s pretend they were. That I’m telling the truth, and not fucking with you. What… uh- what now?” she asked, feeling a little feeble as she did.
Mike stared at her, glare all venom and bewilderment. A weird, barking laugh shot out of his throat and he shot back the rest of his brandy. He rose and began pacing, a manic energy in every step.
“I should leave. We all should leave.” Another barking laugh, and his palm found his face once more. “but where would we go? Who would believe this? Best case scenario, vagrancy, then we are picked up for rebellion and end up slaves once more, worst case, vagrancy, and then the Night Shimmer twists us into a fate worse than death.”
“I’m not kicking anyone out—” Cora said, and Mike was on her in an instant, eyes burning as he slammed his hands against the couch on either side of her head.
“You think any of us want to spend another second in this house?” he roared, intensity growing with each word, spittle flying into her face. Maybe Mike expected her to be cowed, but that wasn’t the Casanova way.
She stood up, Mike scrabbling back out of the way, a hint of the fear she’d seen in Tania’s eyes entering his own.
“Listen, Mike,” she said, forcing calm, “I understand that this body has done terrible things to you all. I can only imagine what horrors this house holds for you. But like you said, the Linnea you know would have killed you by now. Please try to accept that I am different. I just want to survive. Things can be different here. I- I want to heal this place. I need your help for that.”
GOOD SPEECH, said the voice in her head, and Cora had to force herself to keep her eyes on Mike’s instead of glaring up at the heavens.
A million thoughts and emotions flashed through Mike’s eyes in the next moments. Rage, fear, uncertainty of all flavors, before settling on resignation. He sighed, and his eyes were clear when they rose to meet Cora’s once again.
“Fine,” he said. “Gods damn you if this is a trick, but fine. I’ll accept the insanity of all of this. If insanity means I die as a free man, then sanity was doing little good for me anyway.”
He grabbed one more tumbler of brandy, and sat back down on the couch.
“We’ll need… we’ll need to take stock,” he said, eyes taking on the unfocused patina of someone in deep thought. “If you truly remember nothing, then you won’t know how dire your family’s financial situation has become.”
NOT THAT DIRE
[TOTAL FUNDS: 23,840P(100,000P)]
Shut up, schizophrenia.
“I mean,” Cora said looking at her surroundings, “not that bad right? We have a mansion.”
She knew that wasn’t a true indicator though. There’d been plenty of people back in LA who had bought houses based on future success that never came, and ended up with a net worth so far in the negatives it looked like an inverse GDP.
“Yes, despite your brother’s best efforts, you’ve kept Luxholme, for what it's worth. You must have noticed that this place is deteriorating. The upkeep alone would have bankrupted Linnaeus before too long. He’d have sold, if anyone would buy.”
“Well how the fuck did we make money!?” Cora asked, a burst of exasperation breaking through her shock induced mental haze.
Mike’s eyes fixed hers, before flicking to Tania. The girl had stopped cowering, but remained in the corner, mostly looking confused.
“Fuck meeeee,” Cora groaned. “the answer to pretty much everything I ask is going to be Slavery isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” sighed Mike.
“Well…” Cora said, mind grasping at straws, “that usually means labor, right? Could we just keep doing the same stuff but, you know, pay our people?”
Mike looked confused.
“I’m not sure you understand, Linnea. Your family was renowned for slave training not slave ownership. The people themselves represent your merchandise.”
Cora felt her nails dig into her palms hard enough to draw blood. She shook herself. No point in getting mad about that now, she’d already burned the contracts. Merchandise no longer.
“Well, we still have 13 people in the house, right? We have to be able to do something!?”
Mike’s eyes took on a wistful sheen.
“Could always try prostitution?” he suggested, to Cora’s surprise.
“Really? I mean, nothing against sex work, but seems kinda fucked up to free these women then- oh, you meant me, didn’t you.”
Mike’s self satisfied smile said all that needed to be said on that matter.
“Deserved that, I suppose. Really though, do we have nothing?” she asked.
Mike sighed, wiping his hand down his face once more. His hand bumped his bowtie, and he yanked it loose in a fit.
“We… likely have some options,” he admitted. He looked around, as if finally coming back to himself. “There is one burning question, though, Linnea. Why?”
“Why?”
“Why free us? Even if what you say is true, you somehow aren’t yourself… What do you gain?” Mike asked, and Cora realized she had an answer
“Nothing, Mike,” she said with a sad smile. She let more and more heat enter that smile as she continued though, stoking a flame in her that had been building since she’d seen those papers. “I gain nothing. But if this is real, if I’m here now, and I have to survive, Mike… I’m probably not going to do that on my own, but I’m sure as fuck not going to do it with slaves.”
Mike stared at her, hard, only for a beat. Whatever he was looking for, deceit, uncertainty, fear, he didn’t find it. Despite himself, the corner of his moustache twitched upwards, and he gave her a sharp nod.
“I will go collect the- the unbroken among the house staff. We can get a better idea of our capabilities.”
He smirked at her, openly now, clearly pleased by a thought.
“Fair warning,” he explained cheerfully, “they might just kill you! So, make your peace, I suppose.”
The idea of that put a spring in his step as he left the room.
Cora groaned, putting the cool glass of brandy to her forehead, which felt like it was on fire with the tension and stress.
Okay. Okay, we’re well past the point you would have woken up, Casanova, and if this is a simulation, no-one's pulling you out.
A pair of small hands gripped her shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscle with surprising strength and skill. Cora’s groan this time was one of release, as a bit of pressure finally left. Then, she remembered this probably wasn’t her licensed massage therapist Britney.
She tensed, but stopped herself from springing up or swiping at Tania’s hands.
“Mistress…?” asked Tania’s small voice.
“Tania, please, you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m not your mistress. You never should have had a mistress, I—”
“I know that.” Tania stopped her, surprising Cora. The girl had been so passive, even the smallest degree of assertiveness carried deafening weight. Cora felt something cold and hard against the skin of her throat, then gasped as it pierced that skin, just the tiniest amount.
The… knife? left her neck, replaced with what felt like a handkerchief. A small hand cupped her chin, pulling her face up to look at Tania’s inverted above her.
“I believe you,” Tania beamed a beatific smile down at her, the kind expression tainted with more than a hit of mania. “I was going to kill you. But I wanted to kill Linnea, and you aren’t her.”
Her small, strong hand put pressure on the handkerchief, and Cora realized she was stopping the bleeding. Her other hand stroked absently along the bottom of Cora’s chin.
“I’m happy you aren’t her,” Tania cooed. She held Cora like that, light hazel eyes boring straight down into Cora’s soul, for far longer than was comfortable. Cora didn’t resist. First, it still seemed entirely possible Tania would reconsider and plunge the… huh, looks like a letter opener, into her throat, and second… well, Tania was entrancing.
Beautiful like a lovely ghost, peaceful like the grave, it was with a twinge of guilt that Cora registered that, while a little young, Tania would have been exactly her type back home.
Tania let her grip on Cora’s chin fall, hands dropping back to her shoulders, resuming her casual, skillful, massage. Slowly, Cora raised her hand to her neck, where she’d felt the wound. She traced where the mark should be, and found… nothing.
UPGRADES, PEOPLE, UPGRADES!