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MINA
Iwait until I’m back underground in mine and Brian’s dungeon room before I pull out the envelope. I slipped it under my sweater and into the waistband of my leggings when I took my tray back to the kitchen. No one will follow me down here. The girls are all terrified of the dungeon, even though the monster who runs it is out of the house at the moment. This small fact doesn’t seem to matter to them. It’s like they think he still has power from a distance or he’ll somehow know if they came down here.
Sometimes I want to shake them and say “He’s not a wizard!”, but I once feared Brian like they do now, and frankly, I’m probably the only human on the planet safe from him. He’s not a fluffy housebroken puppy. His feelings for me didn’t redeem him or turn him into a hero on a mission to save the world. He is what he is. And what he is, is dangerous. But not to me.
I shrug and flop down on the bed. Maybe they think he’s got the place wired up with cameras. Or maybe it’s bad memories or the stories of what happens down here. Or maybe it’s being alone with me they now fear. Whatever it is, I know once I’m underground, I’m safe from prying eyes.
I take a deep breath and turn on the lamp for extra light. The envelope is a thick, crisp, off-white linen. Like an eggshell. Elegant, expensive-looking. There’s no return address. Only my name written in Calligraphy on the outside, and the house’s PO Box.
This goes against house rules. No one is supposed to be addressing anyone by name when they send paper mail. Well no one’s real name, anyway. Everything that comes to the house is supposed to come to: The Locke Company, c/o Mr. Smith, Accounting Department. And that is ALL anyone is supposed to ever write if they must use the postal service.
The Locke Company is one of about fifteen shell companies the guys own to hide everything behind. I’m not sure what pretend legit businesses they have going for tax purposes—though some of the money is traded in obscure cryptocurrencies with multiple layers of security and encryption. I do know Lindsay’s psychiatry practice in the city is one of the businesses the guys hide behind.
I stare down at the writing: Mina Calloway, The Dungeon. Followed by the PO Box. I’m surprised the post office didn’t return it to the sender. A shiver travels down my spine. Who knows I’m here? Also… The Dungeon? In Brian’s book, addressing a letter like this to the house is a killing offense.
The postage stamp is a tree bloomed out with cherry blossoms. There’s no return address. My unease grows with each new detail, but when I turn the envelope over, I freeze as I find myself spiraling into a flashback. On the reverse side is a gold wax seal with the Japanese character for Love.
I only know the Japanese character for love because the girl Matsumoto kept before me had been made to paint the word out close to a thousand times on rice paper as gifts to Matsumoto. She was punished harshly whenever she got even a single line wrong. These were supposed to be expressions of her non-existent love for the monster who tormented her.
I learned what it meant because he made a point of telling me that my name, Mina, actually means Love. He must have thought capturing me was some sort of fate being played out between us.
So there it is. Cherry blossom stamp. Wax seal with the Japanese character for love. I take several long slow breaths. It’s what I have to do to stop myself from screaming. I’m afraid if I scream, I won’t stop.
I thought Matsumoto was dead. Brian assured me. And Brian doesn’t half-ass it with the killing. If Brian says somebody is dead, that fucker is worm food. He doesn’t make mistakes like this. But my mind can’t seem to conceive of any other explanation.
Finally I slip my fingers under the seal and open the envelope. Even though this letter comes from the worst monster I’ve ever encountered, I can’t bring myself to destroy the beautiful letter by ripping into it. Also, I want to delay the confirmation of my fears, even if only by a few moments.
When I open it, a second smaller envelope falls out onto the bed. I leave that aside for the moment to read the handwritten invitation.
You are formally invited to an Easter Hunt. You will find each clue inside a Faberge-style egg. You will collect the items, find the eggs and clues, and follow all instructions if you want Brian to live. He took something that belongs to me, and I want it back.
I understand you might be reluctant to give yourself to me in exchange for your lover’s freedom, but please be advised, the second envelope contains a tracker. My men now know where you are. Should you not come on your own, you’ll be extracted, and everyone in that house will die. It seems so similar to something that happened months ago in Japan, does it not?
Tell no one. Bring no one. His life depends on it.
The first clue can be found at the enclosed address. The egg is blue. Be there on The 3rd of April by noon.
Happy Hunting,
Cordially,
Matsumoto
April 3rd is tomorrow.He’s not leaving me a lot of time. I wonder how long the letter sat at the post office before Gabe went to collect it?
I read it three times. There’s another smaller envelope, with a tiny robin’s egg blue card inside with an address printed neatly. I’m familiar with the address. It’s a row of high-end boutique shops in the city.
Also inside the envelope is a small black square thing. I’m not sure if this is a tracking device or a bluff. I don’t know what tracking devices look like, and isn’t there a risk it could have been damaged during mailing? Does it work through layers of envelope? I’m embarrassed I have no idea how this stuff works. But it doesn’t matter because I don’t need Matsumoto to threaten everyone at the house. I’m coming for this motherfucker.
I can’t demand proof of life to ensure this guy even has Brian or that he isn’t already dead because I have no address. No phone number. No way to contact Matsumoto. My hand shakes as I fold the card and put it back inside the envelope.
My gut says this is real. And I think Brian probably is alive. I feel like the connection between us is so strong that if he died, I’d somehow know it. Another reason I think he’s alive is because Matsumoto is a sick piece of work. Since Brian rescued me from him—which he’d consider an insult—he’d want Brian alive to see him take me back. He’d get off on that kind of showmanship.
I know what Brian would want me to do. He’d want me to leave him to die. I know it’s the smart thing, the thing that could protect me. After all, maybe Brian can get away on his own. He hasn’t stayed alive as long as he has by accident.
If Matsumoto sent a letter to the PO box, and had to capture Brian out in the city somewhere, he probably doesn’t know the location of the pleasure house. At least not before the tracking device, which may or may not be a bluff.
And he could never make Brian talk. I’m convinced Brian could withstand any amount of torture and keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t value human life, except mine. I think sometimes he cares more about my survival and safety than his own. I know he’d go to any lengths to keep me, to protect me. So I know up front that if I take this bait—and it is bait—and Brian and I both happen to make it out alive, I will be punished.
