Chapter Nine
Not-So-Great-Escape
Countess Vronsky led me to a small kitchen table stacked with a bounty of scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, syrup, toast, and various jellies. Before allowing me to be seated, however, she assembled eleven men before me. Of course they were Countess Vronsky’s Slaves, an even dozen minus the misnamed Richard Luck.
I foolishly thought they were the Countess’s staff, but two oddities should have tipped me off. The most visually stunning quirk was that they were all made up—permanently, I would learn later—just as Percy had been. On a more subtle level that I sensed more than consciously observing, they all appeared extremely nervous.
Doctor Khachaturian hovered close to the men, looking innocuous, but her presence suggested an ominous undertone tha
