I didn’t have to turn my head in the direction of the voice to know who it belonged to. It was unusually soft for a man’s tone, and each syllable was pronounced with overexaggerated precision, betraying his faint Italian accent.
“Felice,” I said. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. My arms and legs were bound together by cable ties; they cut into my wrists and squeezed the bottom of my bare ankles uncomfortably. “Where am I?”
“Generally? You are in Lake Forest. Specifically? You are reclining on my couch.”
The leather squeaked as I heaved my clasped hands toward my bound legs and pulled them together, crunching into an upright position. I swiveled my body around, dropping my knees over the couch and placing my hands in my lap as a streak of white sunlight slashed across my vision, making my eyelids flutter.
I was almost level with an open bay window across the room. The sun was beginning to dip in the pink-tinged sky — I must have been out for a long time. I could tell I was at least one story up. Outside, there was an old wooden barn tucked behind a sprawling garden with vibrant flowers that faded into open fields. Tens of small wooden sheds dotted the grass in regimented lines.
“Beehives,” I realized aloud. I could just about make out the swarms of bees droning in the distance, and there were at least two more buzzing somewhere inside the room.
“Well noted, Persephone,” said Felice. He was sitting bolt upright in an armchair directly across from me, one impossibly long leg crossed over the other.
I rolled my eyes over him and frowned. Everything about him — from his silver slicked-back hair and his Mediterranean complexion to his expensive pin-striped suit — screamed creepy Mafia dude. And judging by the house so far, not to mention its location, he was rich.
“It’s Sophie,” I replied.
“Apparently it is. If only we had been aware of that sooner, it would have saved us quite the confusion. We would have known you from the outset.”
From what I could see we were the only ones in the room. Aside from the black leather couch on which I sat, there was nothing else but Felice and his bees. They were flying in wide circles around his head as though they were defending him, and I felt my skin prickle uncomfortably at the sight.
“I must say I’m surprised you haven’t screamed yet.” He settled an elbow on each armrest and brought his hands together in the middle so that each finger touched off its correspondent.
“Would there be a point in screaming?”
He shook his head. “We are far removed from civilization. It is just you and the bees, Persephone.”
I felt a vague semblance of fear somewhere deep inside, but my head was still fuzzy from whatever had put me to sleep. It was hard to arrange my emotions appropriately, and even more difficult not to say the wrong thing. I knew I had been kidnapped, but I couldn’t determine the correct response. I zeroed in on the pockmarks along Felice’s neck and face. They were shiny and red, and bubbling angrily in places.
“So this is where you live with all your bees? How romantic.” I knew I shouldn’t have said it, but my brain had disengaged from keeping my actions appropriate. “Pity they sting you so much.”
He raised his eyebrows, causing ripples along his forehead. “It is my personal choice not to wear a mesh veil when in the company of my bees. I feel it separates us needlessly; I prefer to be close to them, to feel them on my skin.” He flicked his gaze to the bee flying nearest his head and smiled like a proud parent. “It is an honor to be stung by such noble creatures. That they would lay down their lives for a fleeting moment of my attention is extraordinary. There is no creature more majestic than the honeybee.”
“If you say so,” I said, without registering what I meant. My brain was so cloudy, and the buzzing was making it worse.
“I do say so. The honeybee is already dying out and it is my contention that we must do our very best to protect nature’s noble children.”
Nature’s noble children? I could have knocked myself out again just to keep from dealing with the crazy in front of me. “What do you want with me?”
Felice pursed his lips. It made his chin look unnaturally sharp. He didn’t answer. He just stared at me, and I got the sense I had offended him by moving the topic away from his bees.
“Can you at least loosen these ties? They really hurt.” My wrists and ankles were red-raw and stinging.
He shook his head; it was almost imperceptible this time. “Not quite yet, Persephone.”
“My name is Sophie. I don’t call you Fabio.”
Felice threw back his head and laughed until his eyes began to water. “Of all the things you could be angry about,” he said, wiping them with the back of his hand. “You are a funny one.”
I didn’t feel humorous, I felt drugged. “I got your honey, by the way. Thanks so much.”
“I think we both know it was not meant for you, but for the sake of clarity, since I cannot fathom whether you are playing dumb or actually being dumb, I shall elucidate. The honey was intended for your uncle.”
“I don’t think he appreciated it.”
“Oh no?” Felice contorted his features into the most elaborate smile I had ever seen. It was as terrifying as it was disingenuous.
“He smashed it,” I said, setting my tone to serious. Whatever delirious desire I had to be a smart-ass was fading. I was coming to my senses again.
“It happens.” Felice waved his hand in the air dismissively. “I know you’re not supposed to tip off your victims, but I just can’t help my flair for theatrics. And I’ll have you know I prepare the honey myself and it is positively delicious, not that anyone ever bothers to try it.”