Page 1 of The Diávolos: Part Two
PROLOGUE
“Next,” the man calls out.
He holds a clipboard, his face buried in the page as he marks off a checklist.
A young girl approaches him. She nervously fiddles with the hem of her sullied white dress. Tears stain her dirt-crusted face, her heartbeat accelerating with every step she takes closer to the people who will ultimately decide her fate.
She glances back to the scared girls she’s spent hours, maybe days, clinging to. They don’t know each other, but their trip has brought them closer. She shoots them a frail yet encouraging look, an expression that means ‘I know how you feel.’
Shared life experiences can bring people together, bind them, but who knows what unique experience the others have had prior to this. The girl isn’t sure she wants to know. Having endured her own distress, she’s not confident she can handle any more.
The man doesn’t lift his head from the board and aims his question to the woman next to him. “What’s this one’s name?”
A subtle tremor runs through the little girl’s body, and the weight of her anxiety presses upon her shoulders, causing aslight hunch, as if she’s attempting to shield herself from what might happen.
The woman opens her folder and flicks through it, nodding as she gets on the correct page. “Iris. Last name’s Karras. Brown eyes. Five feet, two inches. Fourteen years old.”
The man tilts his head as he checks things off his list.
The woman continues, “Her mother was a mistress, the helper at an estate in Old Cebrene. She got pregnant with Iris and was sent away to carry out her pregnancy in secret, to prevent the man’s wife from finding out the truth. When the little girl was born, she was sent to Greece to live with her paternal grandparents.”
“What’s her mother’s location now?” the man asks, still not looking away from the clipboard.
Iris’s gaze flickers between the two adults, unable to settle, while fidgeting with her dress, seeking solace in the familiar anxious tick.
“Unknown, sir.”
“Father?”
“Deceased.”
He nods and finally glances over his clipboard. His eyes bore into the little girl’s soul. Despite her fear, she doesn’t falter or break his gaze. She doesn’t know how or why she was brought here, but she won’t cower now. Hearing them talk about her mother made her flinch. Her grandparents were always honest about what happened to hermamaandbaba. Even though the girl has never spoken to them in her fourteen years of existence, there’s a little gap in her heart, one that can only be filled by a parent’s love. But she’s learned to seal that hole with memories that never were, the ones told to her by heryayáandpapoús.
The man ponders for a few seconds, still holding Iris’s gaze, before inserting his pen through the metal clip. “There’ssomething different about this one. Keep her apart from the others.”
His assistant nods and ushers Iris through a door on the right side of the room. She hadn’t gotten the chance to look around when she first got out of the vehicle they rode to reach their destination, but now, she lets her eyes travel around the space. And if she’d noticed how creepy and eerie this place was when she arrived, she probably wouldn’t have been as composed.
They are underground. Iris can tell from the lack of windows and dampness in the air. When the van had pulled up to the property, it had gone downhill. Her eyes had been covered then, but now, as she is guided through dark and narrow hallways, she makes sure to memorize everything.
The woman in front of her walks at a fast and steady pace, but Iris’s legs are too short. A bead of sweat forms on her forehead as she jogs to keep up, scared to miss a turn. When they finally arrive in front of an elevator, it opens, and the elevator starts going up as soon as the doors shut.
Iris nervously glances around, thinking of ways to get out of this place, when she spots a camera in the top corner and immediately averts her gaze. Shit.Don’t draw attention to yourself, Ris. The lady doesn’t acknowledge her as she looks through her files and taps her pen on the binder.
The incessant clatter, although for only a brief amount of time, is enough to draw Iris’s hands to her ears. She wants to scream. She’s never felt this close to losing her mind. She’s been driven to the brink of her sanity on this journey, and it doesn’t seem to be ending soon. She misses her grandparents, her friends, and school. Iris never thought she’d miss the latter, but standing in this enclosed space with a stranger, in a strange place, is messing with her brain. If only she’d listened to heryayáthat godforsaken morning.
“Come straight home from school when you’re done with your tutoring session, Iris. It will be late, and your grandfather will not be able to pick you up. I know your need for adventure is strong but take the short way home. No detours.”
Against heryayá’s words, Iris didnottake the short way home. Instead, she’d wandered through the backwoods of the school and emerged on the other side of her neighborhood. The skies were clear, the slanting rays of the setting sun giving them a warm orange tinge. She could see the soft glow of the bright city lights on the horizon. It was her favorite pathway home.
As she’d made her way down the sidewalk, she’d felt a prickle at the back of her neck. She’d urged herself to keep walking, the speed of her steps increasing as she approached the intersection.Safety.There will be cars passing by. No danger.
Once she’d gotten to the corner of the street, a white van stopped next to her and, before she could even let out a scream, she was grabbed right off the footpath and thrown into the vehicle. A covering was shoved over her head and she couldn’t see a thing, but Iris could feel others around her. She could hear the terrified cries. She’d sat down and clung on to the collar of her white dress, her panic rising as the realization of what was happening seeped through her.
If only she’d listened to her grandmother.
Iris’s legs wobble as she follows the woman out of the elevator, lost in thought, and doesn’t notice on which floor they’ve stopped. But only a few steps later, she’s brought into a large classroom.What the heck? A school?It looks like a traditional classroom with a chalkboard, desks, and chairs.
The woman backs out the door and says, “Stay here until you’re told otherwise. There’s a bathroom at the back. And don’t even think of attempting to get out of here. Your classmate here already broke two chairs trying to escape. She should know better,” the woman admonishes, shaking her head. Withoutwaiting for a response, she shuts the door behind her, and the locks click.
