Part Five
It was starting to settle into evening while they took their coffee break. Jenny had gotten some exotic blends of coffee and the girls had learned that if they weren't specifically craving one of the things they'd already been introduced to, they should simply ask to be surprised, and would inevitably be introduced to a new thing they didn't know they already loved.
Dinner was just a few hours off, and Nicolette told them not to ruin their appetites by eating too much in advance, and both Piper and Fiona had rolled their eyes at her, assuring her that they would definitely be more than hungry enough to devour their share of dinner.
From their vantage point on the balcony, they could see Phil and his bodyguard Linda were dropping off Emily's friend, Maya, one of the final additions to the House of Rook. Fiona asked Piper if she wanted go down and introduce themselves to her, but Piper insisted they take the time to finish her story first.
"Maya's not going anywhere and we'd only be crowded her with too many faces and names all at once," Piper said. "Let her get situated in the house and spend some time talking with Emily. We'll get a chance to meet her at dinner. I want to tell you about this last part, simply to cleanse my palate from the horrible rest of it. If I leave it there, I'll only be grouchy throughout all of dinner."
"You're the storyteller, Piper," Fi said to her. "I'm just along for the ride. Where do you want to pick up? From the morning after leaving Covington's?"
* * * * *
So, yeah, like I said, my first two encounters before the imprinting process are mostly just scraps of memory, but nothing I can hold onto with any level of real detail. When I awoke the next morning, I felt sort of scrambled, but amazingly refreshed. It was the strangest thing, but I felt rejuvenated, like I'd gotten the best rest of my life. There was, like, a lingering level of bliss still hovering over my brain, almost... shit, almost like I was
high
. Like I'd been smoking pot. I don't do it very often, but the few times that I have, I've always felt massively relaxed, like all the stress just leaves my body.
It felt like that.
The room wasn't decorated at all, but I could tell I wasn't in Covington's house any more. I felt like I
should
be at least a little worried, but I wasn't, which I remember thinking was strange at the time. The haze and fog of the previous day was still too dense for me to even remember what the man I was imprinted to even
looked like,
much less what his name was.
I'd learn later that when we'd gotten back to the house a few days earlier, Niko and Ash had immediately taken me into the bathroom and hosed me down, washing me off and cleaning my hair before putting me to bed. They'd also gotten me dressed in a pair of Andy's boxers and one of his t-shirts, hoping that the scent of him nearby would put me a little more at ease.
My cellphone was plugged in, charging on top of the dresser, along with a note, addressed to me that I decided to look at after checking in on my phone. As it turned out, I'd actually been imprinting for over a day, and woken up around as early as I normally did, the sun just starting to crest over the hill I had a great view of from my bedroom window.
My gold medal was resting on the dresser right next to the phone. I guess that Covington didn't want to fuck with it for fear of getting the IOC on his ass, or maybe Alicia had gone out of her way to keep it safe for me. I'm not really sure how it got there safely, but there it was.
The group chat the volleyball team's had going for years had blown up in my absence. Several of my teammates had been paired up with men, although a handful were still waiting for ideal matches to show up. That meant that those who'd been through the process were detailing it all to others who hadn't yet had the chance to get imprinted. Most of the girls had been allowed to keep their phones with them while they were waiting in redistribution facilities scattered across the country. A couple of them had gone radio silent while they were getting treated, but all of them had come back into the conversation a few days later, once they were at their new home.
I knew
I
was in my new home, but I didn't know where or with whom that was.
My absence in the group chat hadn't gone unnoticed, and several of my friends were worried that something had gone wrong with the imprinting process, or that I had contracted DuoHalo in transit and had died somewhere along the way. There wasn't a lot I could tell my girls yet, but I could at least assure them I was alive.
My phone told me it was 5:45 am on November 4
th
, which meant it had been more than two weeks since I'd left Colorado on the plane, so I completely understood why my teammates were nervous. Several of them were on the East Coast now, so when I sent a message saying that I was alive and had just landed at my new home, I immediately got several responses. I also sent a message to my parents and my sister, letting them know I was okay, and that I would give them a call later in the day, once I'd gotten my bearings a bit more. I didn't want to tell them what I'd been through. Shit, I didn't even want to think about it. I wasn't ready to actually
talk
to anyone. That's why I was looking for anything else to focus on.
The envelope with my name on it sitting next to my phone kept calling my name. The handwriting on it was messy but still legible. I didn't know it at the time, but Andy had taken quite a while writing it by hand, making sure he didn't rush, that each letter was unmistakable, the meaning and the intent impossible to read as anything other than he had intended. He told me later that he felt like seeing hand-written words would give more credibility to his message. He was right - it made it all feel that much more personal. He'd also been in quite the fragile mental state when he wrote it, although I didn't know that at the time.
I turned on a light next to the bed, picked up the envelope, tore it open, and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper, and started to read. I've been carrying the letter with me everywhere I went since I read it, so let me just take it out and read it to you word for word, although if I'm honest, I probably know the entire thing by heart at this point.
Piper,
My name is Andy Rook, and for better or worse, you and I are now bonded together. I can only hope that you will find me acceptable as a partner.
In my efforts to try and rescue some of one of my current partner's friends from the horrible bastard named Arthur Covington the 4
th
, I heard that you were unwillingly in his care. He described you as "more trouble than she's worth," which to my ears means you are a hell of a woman. Covington's plan was to give you as a "booby prize" to whichever man came in last in his demented little game, a consolation gift for whomever he expected was going to wash out, but I could sense that he intended that more as a punishment for you rather than trying to place you with someone whom you would find happiness with.
Covington and I do not care for one another, so through some cajoling, I convinced him to add you to the prize pool of women who were being gambled for.
This part requires a bit of explanation, so let me try and do it simply - Covington and his friends have a regular card game, where they use women they are to be paired with as collateral to stake with for chips for the poker game.
Let me stress first and foremost that I find this sort of thing abhorrent, and wouldn't have willingly participated in such a game, but my partner Niko informed me that one of her friends was, along with her daughter, going to be sent to Covington, to be made members of his household. Before he would add them to his family, however, he was going to use them as a stake for his card game.