Pursued

by Evangeline Anderson

  Elise flushed and looked down hastily. She’d only been looking because his size reminded her of Merrick—not because she wanted to cause a scene. She studied her sticky plastic menu intently, trying to decide between pancakes and French toast. But the biker wouldn’t let it drop. Winking at his friends, he rose and sauntered over to their booth.

  “Hey, pretty lady. Lookin’ for a guy from the other side of the tracks for a change?”

  “I beg your pardon?” James looked up from his menu, which he had been holding distastefully with his fingertips.

  Elise bit her lip. Oh dear, this probably wasn’t going to end well. “I’m sorry I was staring at you,” she said, trying to keep things from turning ugly. “It’s just, well, you reminded me of someone.”

  “Hey, I can be anybody you want, sweet thing. If you know what I mean.” The biker with the black beard winked at her in what he clearly thought was a seductive way.

  “Thanks for your kind offer, but the lady is with me,” James said coolly, looking up at the huge biker.

  Blackbeard, as Elise was beginning to think of him, bristled at the scorn in her fiancé’s voice. “Well maybe she doesn’t wanna be with you, buddy. Maybe she’s lookin’ for a real man for a change.”

  James rose, frowning, and put down his menu with deliberate precision. “I assure you, friend, I am a real man and the lady is with me by her own choice. Now if you don’t mind, we’re about to enjoy brunch—although I use the word ‘enjoy’ in the most dubious sense considering our surroundings. But regardless of the circumstances, we would like to be left in peace.”

  “That’s a whole lotta words just to tell me to piss off.” Blackbeard smirked and then wiggled his bushy black eyebrows at Elise. “Come on, sweet thing—you don’t mean to tell me this guy is the best you can do.”

  “If you’re implying—” James began but just then another of the bikers came up and put a hand on his huge friend’s leather clad shoulder.

  “Hey, Hank, leave this guy alone.”

  “Why should I?” Blackbeard snarled.

  “’Cause I saw him on the news vids—that’s James Blaisdon. He donated money for the new skate park for the kids downtown.”

  “Oh yeah?” Blackbeard’s face cleared immediately and he grinned at James amiably. “That right? My nephew loves that place. Little bastard would rather ride a skateboard than a bike but I love ’im anyway.”

  James smiled his best public relations grin and held out a hand. “Glad to hear it. And good to meet you…?”

  “Hank. Hank Jones.” Blackbeard stuck out a ham-sized hand and James took it and pumped it with a smile.

  “Excellent. James Blaisdon, at your service.”

  “Damn, don’t he talk fancy!” the other biker crowed. “Just like one of them English movies about lords and ladies my old lady’s always watchin’.” He grinned at James who laughed.

  “You’d have to blame my Oxford education for my accent, I’m afraid. But I enjoy meeting new friends from the other side of the pond.”

  “Sorry I messed with you,” Blackbeard aka Hank Jones said. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

  “Don’t worry about it—I can take a joke as well as the next fellow.” James’ smile didn’t quite reach his dark blue eyes but the bikers didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you let me buy you and your friends a meal? Whatever you order, it’s on me.”

  “Really?” Blackbeard’s eyes widened. “Hell yeah, that’d be great!”

  “Excellent. Waitress?” James signaled for the waitress who had seated them. Since she and everyone else in the IHOP had been watching the exchange avidly, she came forward at once.

  “Yes, sir?” she asked, giving James a new look of respect.

  “See that my new friend Hank and his fellows have whatever they want off your excellent menu and put it on my bill,” James directed.

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The waitress nodded and the bikers at the other booth clapped and cheered.

  Money saves the day again, Elise thought and then mentally kicked herself for being so cynical. It wasn’t like her fiancé solved all his problems by throwing large amounts of cash at them. He was very charming too—at least, the bikers all seemed to be charmed. I used to be charmed by him too, Elise thought. What’s wrong with me today?

  James smiled again and shook hands with Hank and his friend before sitting down and facing Elise once more.

  “There. Disaster averted,” he muttered. “But next time, darling, could you please be a little more careful who you make eyes at? I was boxing champion at Oxford but I’d rather not have to brawl with those grubby fellows all at once if you don’t mind.”

  “I wasn’t making eyes at him,” Elise protested under her breath, surprised by the sudden attack.

  “Oh no? You said he reminded you of someone. Might it be that huge ugly fellow I saw beside you on the viewscreen?”

  Elise felt hot blood rushing to her cheeks. “Merrick isn’t ugly!”

  “Not ugly, hmm?” James raised an eyebrow. “Is it possible we’re talking about the same man? The one with mismatched eyes and a rather large, nasty scar that takes up one side of his face? Honestly, darling, I thought you’d been rescued by the Phantom of the Opera when I first saw him. All he needs is one of those white half-masks and a half decent baritone to play the part.”

  “That’s not funny,” Elise bit out. “Merrick saved my life when you didn’t even know I was missing!”

  “So…perhaps it’s gratitude that keeps you from seeing his rather obvious deformities,” James mused speculatively. “Or perhaps something else? A little Beauty and the Beast scenario being played out amongst the stars? I thought he seemed rather overprotective of you.”

  Elise felt herself go cold and then hot all over. “Just…just what exactly are you implying, James?” she asked in a shaking voice.

  She was aware that she sounded defensive but she couldn’t help herself. All her guilt over the emotional affair she’d had with the big Kindred suddenly came rushing back. Of course, she had intended to tell James everything. But now full disclosure seemed like a bad idea—a very bad idea indeed.

  James gave her a penetrating look. “Nothing,” he said at last in a low voice. “Just…try to keep your eyes on the menu from now on. All right?”

  “Fine.” Elise looked down at the brightly colored plastic menu, still seething. James wasn’t usually such an ass. Or maybe he was and she just hadn’t noticed before?

  Just then the waitress finished taking the bikers’ orders and came up to their table. She put two glasses of ice water on their table and pulled out her tablet and a pen. “What’ll it be?”

  “Coffee for me. Hot, black and in the cleanest mug you can find in this place.” James handed her the menu, tweezing it delicately between his thumb and fingertips. “That’s all I want. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” The waitress nodded and looked at Elise. “And for you, ma’am?”

  Elise stared at the menu blindly. Her stomach was still growling fiercely but now she was almost too angry and upset to eat. “I’ll have…”

  “Do make it something light, darling, won’t you?” James asked, obviously using his most appeasing tone. “I really can’t stay long—I have to make the flight to Japan this afternoon.”

  Elise gritted her teeth. Despite her hunger, she had planned on ordering something small and quick for exactly that reason. But now she felt the irrational urge to piss James off.

  “That one,” she said, stabbing her finger at a large, colorful picture in the center of the menu.

  “Really?” The waitress raised her obviously penciled-in eyebrows in surprise. “The lumberjack special?”

  Elise nodded firmly. “Yes, absolutely.”

  “Okay.” The waitress shrugged. “Don’t know where a tiny little thing like you is going to put it, though. You want bacon or sausage? And toast or hash browns?”

  “All of it,” Elise said.

&n
bsp; “All of it?” The waitress frowned.

  “Darling…” James gave her an annoyed look which she ignored.

  “All of it,” she repeated. “I want bacon and sausage and toast and hash browns.” She smiled at the waitress sweetly. “Please.”

  “Sure.” The waitress shrugged again and finished writing on her tablet. “Comin’ right up.” Elise handed her the menu and she left, humming faintly under her breath.

  James raised one impeccably groomed eyebrow at her. “Darling, was that really necessary?”

  Elise frowned. “I told you I was hungry, didn’t I?” In fact, her hunger was getting so intense she actually felt faint. “I hope she hurries up,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her stomach protectively. “I should have made it a rush order.” Her stomach gurgled loudly, as though to second the idea.

  “Elise!” James looked scandalized. “We’re in a public place, you know!”

  “I’m sorry.” Suddenly, as though someone had flipped an emotional switch inside her, Elise felt like she was about to cry. She got up quickly, upsetting the glasses of ice water the waitress had left in her hurry. James yelped as a rush of icy water poured over his side of the table directly onto his crotch.

  Elise thought about getting him napkins to try and clean it up and then thought better of it. She was certain she was going to cry now and she didn’t want James to see her lose control. Muttering, “Sorry,” again, she ran hastily down the aisle between the booths, barely registering the surprised looks of the other customers, and barged her way into the ladies room.

  Inside she found the only clean stall—the handicapped one—and huddled in the corner with her arms wrapped around herself, shaking. What’s wrong with me? she wondered miserably for what felt like the hundredth time that day. My emotions are all over the place! This isn’t me—I’m not this emotional, this fragile—even during my period I have more control than this. What the hell is going on?

  In fact, it was her non-emotional, professional attitude that had taken her so far at work. No matter how horrible the crime was or how despicable the criminal she was prosecuting, Elise was always able to put a barrier between herself and the ugliness. Her no-nonsense attitude was also what James valued about her—he liked her “level head” and often complimented her on her good sense.

  But now it seemed all her barriers were gone. All her emotions were stripped bare and she was losing control. And, as if to make her emotional pain worse, her body kept insisting that she was hungry…so hungry.

  I can’t keep this up. I have to eat or I’m going to faint. Staggering out of the bathroom, Elise caught herself on one of the dirty porcelain sinks and managed to turn on the tap. She splashed cool water in her face and then blotted her cheeks with coarse brown paper towels from the rusty metal dispenser mounted on the wall.

  Looking in the dingy mirror over the sink, Elise was dismayed to see a wild woman looking back. Her black hair, which she’d pinned neatly back into its customary bun, was coming unfastened to make a messy halo around her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were red and watery with unshed tears. All in all, she looked a mess.

  “Calm,” she muttered, blotting her eyes on the damp paper towels. “I have to be calm. I’m fine. Everything is fine and I’m going to be okay.” But was she? Elise wasn’t entirely sure.

  Her stomach growled again, reminding her of why she was here. Black dots were dancing in front of her eyes and she was beginning to feel sick she was so hungry. Have to eat. Everything will be better once I eat, she told herself. Please God, please let breakfast be on the table when I get out there. Please!

  Taking a deep breath, she smoothed back her hair and made a tremendous effort to get hold of herself. She wasn’t sure if she was having some kind of emotional breakdown or possibly some kind of post-traumatic episode from what she had endured on the Fathership. All she knew was that she must not let her fiancé see her in this state. She and James were close, and she loved him very much—well, most of the time—but she couldn’t let him see her so upset, so completely out of control. She had to hold it together, at least until he caught his plane to Japan. Then she could go back to her apartment in downtown Tampa and quietly lose her mind.

  I can do this, she told herself. I can make it through the next few hours. I can keep it together until I have time to myself. I know I can!

  With that thought firmly in mind, she straightened her back and walked out of the ladies room.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m approaching Earth. Tell me what to expect,” Merrick spoke into the console as he worked the controls of his little star-duster.

  “The hunger is part of stasis sickness,” Sylvan’s voice came back. “I’ll explain it more fully once I get you and Elise together because it affects you both. But the short rundown of symptoms is this: First the subject feels like she’s getting sick. She has nausea, a headache, and often a rapid heartbeat.”

  “Sounds fucking delightful,” Merrick growled, punching in landing coordinates. He was following the flight of the pilot who had taken Elise back down to Earth in the first place. And now that he was getting closer to the white and blue planet, he could feel something—a tugging sensation that had become familiar while Elise was still on the Mother Ship. She needs me, he thought. I can feel it. She’s sick and scared. He would be able to follow that tug straight to her—like a bright red arrow pointing the way.

  “It gets worse.” Sylvan’s voice, breaking into his thoughts, was grim. “Those feelings of illness are soon replaced with a physical hunger—the subject feels like she’s starving, even if she’s just eaten a large meal.”

  “Elise hasn’t eaten since last night,” Merrick objected. He cleared his throat. “We, uh, had a last meal together.”

  “Then she’ll be even hungrier.” Sylvan sounded like he was frowning. “She’ll probably try to eat but it won’t help her. And after the physical hunger, new symptoms kick in.”

  “New symptoms? It gets worse?”

  “Much worse,” Sylvan assured him. “The subject will have difficulty controlling her emotions. She’ll be upset and not know why. Of course, the extreme physical symptoms contribute to her emotional distress which only makes it worse.”

  “Poor kid.” Merrick felt a stab of sympathy despite himself. From what he knew of Elise, she placed great value on being in control of herself. Having her emotions go haywire was going to be hard as hell on her. The long, flat peninsula called Florida came into view and Merrick gunned his engines, giving them a final burst before initiating the landing sequence. “I’m landing now,” he told Sylvan. “Better wrap it up unless you want to bespeak me.”

  “I have to get ready for when you bring her back,” Sylvan said. “There are further symptoms but I don’t have time to tell you now. And I’m afraid if she’s gone past the stages of physical hunger and erratic emotions …well…”

  “Well, what?” Merrick demanded, his heart beating in his throat. He could hear the reluctance in Sylvan’s voice—the reluctance of any good medic to give bad news.

  “If she’s gone past those stages she may be too far gone for you to save,” Sylvan said, sounding regretful. “I’m sorry, Merrick, but that’s the truth.”

  “Goddess damn it!” Merrick swore. “There’s no time now but you’re going to explain this whole fucked up hunger thing in detail as soon as I bring her back.”

  Sylvan’s response was immediate. “Absolutely,” he promised. “Just remember to touch her, Merrick. Give her plenty of skin to skin contact—that should help ease her symptoms.”

  “I don’t understand that part—why?” Merrick asked as he killed the engines.

  “Because,” Sylvan’s voice was fainter now, as though the connection was fading. “It isn’t food she’s hungry for, Merrick. It’s you.”

  * * * * *

  To her immense relief, the giant breakfast she had ordered was on the table when Elise got back from her mini break-down in the bathroom. James had
pushed it all to her side while his own held only a chipped white ceramic mug filled with untouched black coffee.

  “Well?” He raised an eyebrow at her, indicating the plates and platters all filled with a ridiculous array of artery clogging breakfast food at its finest. There were scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, a stack of pancakes with a pat of butter melting on top, toast with jelly, hash browns and last but not least, that timeless Southern favorite—fluffy buttermilk biscuits drowning in a lake of sausage gravy.

  “Wow.” Elise’s stomach made another audible gurgle but this time she didn’t care. She sat down to the table and pulled the stack of pancakes forward. There was no time for syrup—no time to do anything but grab a fork and dig in.

  Despite James’ dubious looks, the food was really good. The pancakes were light and fluffy and the eggs were scrambled to perfection. The bacon was crisp, the coffee hot and the sausage gravy was salty and creamy at the same time. All in all, Elise thought it was the best meal she’d ever eaten. She’d gone to some extremely posh and expensive restaurants with James but none of them could touch the humble IHOP spread in front of her.

  But despite her pleasure in the food, she began to feel that something was still wrong…very wrong indeed. The feeling started in her pelvis or, to be more accurate, in her crotch. It began as a tingling sensation and then became a warmth that seemed to enflame her from the waist down.

  What is this? she thought, shifting uncomfortably. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was aroused somehow. But that didn’t happen to her—it was one of the things she’d managed to put in the vault and forget about. So what the hell was this weird new feeling?

  “Darling? Are you quite all right?” James leaned across the table, looking at her anxiously and Elise realized she’d stopped in mid-bite with a forkful of pancakes halfway to her mouth.

  “I…I think so,” she said slowly, putting down the fork. “I just feel…feel so funny all of a sudden.”