Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

We held each other the entire night, no words spoken but the still, silent night uttered so much.

“Miss Price?” A voice woke me. “Miss Price?” the voice asked louder.

My eyes barely opened and I took in my position, sprawled over a softly snoring Spencer. Brilliant.

I turned over and peered into the eyes of Dr. Ford and his nurse Cassandra. Just splendid, I thought. He was going to report this little incident to my father. I could see it in his face.

Cassandra was too distracted by the exposed chest of Spencer to give me her usual eye roll.

“Good morning, Dr. Ford.”

“Afternoon,” he corrected me.

I glanced at the clock and saw it was indeed three in the afternoon.

“You’re right on time,” I sarcastically spat at him.

“Miss Price,” he began, ignoring me, “would you prefer it if Cassandra and I left the room for you to dress?”

“Not necessary,” I told him.

Spencer woke and stretched beside me, causing Cassandra’s eyes to bulge from her round face.

pped my hand around the other to keep them from visibly trembling. I didn’t dare anger Reinhold’s already ice thin patience by asking him what the plea actually was. I turned to stare at Pembrook who stood beside me but he didn’t return the glance. I turned Reinhold’s way once more.

“Sophie Price,” he said with finality, making my stomach clench. My eyes closed tightly in preparation. “You are hereby sentenced to six months in Masego.” And with that, Reinhold slammed his gavel home, sending an icy shiver through my body.

I stood standing, mouth agape at the tabletop below me as the remaining people in the room stood when Reinhold exited.

And just like that, it was over.

When the room cleared, I turned to find my parents, but they had already begun to leave. My father barely acknowledged me with a nod. Casey loitered near the swinging doors and I turned his direction wondering what he could possibly want.

He leaned toward me. I could only blink where I stood. “Good luck, princess.”

He left chuckling under his breath.

Pembrook. “Pemmy, what—,” I coughed back the choking sensation that had taken up residence in my throat. “What is ‘Masego’?”

Pembrook sat in his chair and gathered all the seemingly unnecessary paperwork he’d strewn about the table before the short sentencing. He busied his hands and refused to acknowledge me with his eyes. “Masego is an orphanage in Uganda belonging to a very dear friend of mine I’ve had since primary. I expect you to work hard, Sophie. I expect you not to embarrass me. You leave in a week. The physician will be at your parents’ home tomorrow at three in the afternoon to administer the necessary inoculations. Be there, or suffer the court’s wrath. Also, here is a card your father has designated for you to purchase the necessities. Buy sturdy shorts, boots and things of this nature to weather the harsh Ugandan climate.” Finally, he looked up at me and took a deep breath. “I’m risking myself for you, Sophie. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. You need a hard dose of reality and Charles will be able to deliver that to you.”

“You think to change me, Pemmy?”

“You need to change and soon, or you will be beyond salvaging.”

“Nothing can prevent me from becoming what I already am,” I proclaimed, honest with myself for the very first time.

“True,” he said, setting his leather satchel on the table. “But people can change, my dear, and I know you’re capable of being better than this girl you’ve created for yourself. I never speak ill of your father if it can be helped, for obvious reasons, but you have been treated poorly by him and for some unfathomable reason I feel it my responsibility to fix it.

“I’ve known you since you were small and sweet and innocent, Sophie.” He breathed deeply and palmed the handles of his satchel. “I cannot undo the things you’ve done, but I’ll be damned if your future is as bleak as your past.”

Pembrook kissed my cheek lightly and took a few of the tears I’d unwittingly shed with him. He abandoned me there in that cold room. I was alone.

I didn’t know much more than I had that morning. The only slight additional awareness I owned was that in one week I would be on a plane to Uganda to see an old friend of Pemmy’s and to help out at his orphanage. Such a simple idea with such huge consequences.

I pinched the stupid card my father had left me between my thumb and forefinger, rubbing the new foiled number. I’d always considered them little plastic hugs instead of seeing them for what they truly were. To my father, they were obligations. And if my father did one thing, he always fulfilled his obligations.

CHAPTER FIVE