by Grey, Shanon
In the parking lot, Dorian spun around. He grabbed John by the arms, his grip fierce. “I had her. Or, she had me. A real connection.” He broke away, spun around, and marched back and forth, head up, searching the sky.
John watch Dorian’s demeanor shift, his shoulders lower, his head come back down. He ran his hands through his hair, as though he could clear his mind. “She’s killing me, man,” he said to no one in particular.
He spun on John. “If he touches one hair on her head…” he let his voice lower, “he’ll pray for death, and it won’t come soon enough.”
They were both thinking of Jasmine. There were no reassurances John could give Dorian.
“She’s strong. She might not know it yet.” Dorian was rambling. “I didn’t get to tell her about the change.”
John put his hand on Dorian’s shoulder, directed his gaze into Dorian’s now blue black eyes. “She’s smart, too. She’ll figure it out. She’s starting to communicate with you, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. But if anything happens to her, it’s my fault.”
“That’s bullshit. You had no idea. Our lives aren’t filled with intrigue for the most part. At least not until recently,” he amended.
They saw Jenn come through the doors. They met her at the bench and sat down. Deep lines etched her forehead. “I got to talk with her a little. She’s upset. More about the danger to Morgan, than what happened to her.” She shook her head. “She was trying to keep him away from Morgan.”
“What do you mean?” Dorian asked.
“Well, when she met him in Ruthorford, he was ‘Morgan this, Morgan that.’ Jealousy reared its head and she led him to believe that she has the same powers that Morgan has. He’s convinced that Morgan can illuminate veins of rare gems. Thinking Jasmine could do the same, he waited and followed Jasmine when she went on vacation. He wined and dined her. However, when she wouldn’t have anything to do with his plans, he drugged her. When she came to, she was shackled in the mine. He demanded she use her…” Jenn raised her fingers and made air quotes, “…powers.” Of course, nothing happened. She convinced him she needed the rug, hoping he’d get caught. Unfortunately, he returned with the rug and the stones. When she couldn’t perform, he beat the shit out of her. He threatened to go after Morgan. She…” Jenn lowered her head and took a breath, “she convinced him it had to be a sexual connection, hoping to distract him and also hoping that he would let her loose. She didn’t know how crazy he was. He never unshackled her. He raped her repeatedly. Every time it didn’t work, he’d beat her. Then, he would start all over again. The last thing she remembers was him telling her to ‘die bitch. I’m bringing back Morgan.’ That’s when he dislocated her shoulder.”
“How did he get the notion Morgan could find gems?”
“Apparently, he had been sneaking around for a while and saw something in the cottage. Stones glowing or something,” she said and looked at Dorian for insight.
He and John exchanged a glance, unsure what Jenn knew or what to tell her. Jenn interrupted their non-verbal communication, “I get the bit about the gargoyle creatures, but I didn’t know about the rocks.” When they both stared at her, she shrugged, “She’s my BFF, guys. We share—with a capital S.”
John wanted to hug her. This spry blonde had given Dorian a moment of mirth. Anything to lessen the hell that Dorian seemed determined to carry with him right now. John’s phone rang.
“Yeah.” He listened intently. “Thanks. We’re on our way.”
“That was Bask. He got a call. They’ve found Rob. Alone. His truck was in a ditch not far from the cabin. Looks like he’s had some sort of seizure. He’s pretty messed up. Bask has a plane waiting for us at a field just north of here.”
They started toward the truck, remembered Jenn, and turned back.
“Go on. I’m traveling with Jasmine. Call me when you know something.” She turned and disappeared into the hospital.
“Quite a woman,” Dorian said, as they sped out of the parking lot.
“My thoughts exactly,” John admitted.
Chapter Sixteen
The pastoral setting surrounding the small private hospital near Williamsburg where Bask had Rob transported did a good job of hiding its function and security. As a major financial contributor with a lot of influence on its board of directors, Abbott House made sure their patients were provided with the utmost deference to privacy and security.
The helicopter that Bask had arranged to carry John and Dorian from North Carolina set down on the pad with a minimum of disruption. Dorian and John hopped out and moved toward the back entrance.
“I had no idea,” Dorian commented, having viewed the building and grounds from the air.
John didn’t comment; being an employee of Abbott House, he was privy to many things Dorian had never been exposed to.
It was beginning to dawn on Dorian that his upbringing had been more sheltered than he realized. He found his irritation growing. He wished someone had given him an inkling as to the extent of Abbott House’s activities. Dorian wondered now just what his and Morgan’s part was in everything. When this ended—and that meant with a positive conclusion for Morgan—he intended to have a heart to heart with Bask. Regardless of his and Morgan’s relationship, he wasn’t going to allow either one of them to become puppets of the Abbott House.
A man in a sports jacket, with an ever so slight bulge at his side, stopped them as they entered the building and asked them for identification. He passed the cards over to woman behind a desk, who scanned the ID’s and handed them back.
“Rob Milineaux?” John tucked his ID back in his wallet.
The woman searched the database. “Room 228. Restricted visitors.”
“Yeah. We’re part of that restriction,” Dorian commented as they walked to the stairwell.
A doctor stepped into the hallway from Room 228 as Dorian and John approached. He turned to them. “May I help you?”
“We’re here to see Rob Milineaux,” John said.
Dorian stepped around the doctor.
“I’m afraid you can’t go in there.”
John showed his PI license and pulled the doctor away, firing question after question, while Dorian slipped quietly into the room.
If Dorian hadn’t met the man in Ruthorford, he’d never have recognized him. A frail, gaunt man lay under the sheet. Tubes ran from his arms, his mouth, and his nose. A grey pallor blended with dingy scrags of hair. Dark circles around his eyes gave a cavernous appearance. It was like looking at a corpse. Dorian would have sworn the man was dead except for the shallow rise and fall of the chest.
As Dorian approached the bed, his skin prickled. The closer he got the more intense the sensations became.
“Rob,” he said and watched the EEG monitor. No shift in the barely perceptible brain activity. He reached out and pinched the man’s arm. Nothing. His own discomfort from being so close was extreme. He backed away, still watching. Turning, he stepped back into the hall.
The doctor looked at him. “He’s been in a coma since they brought him in. They say he was having seizures, but I haven’t detected any.” His pager went off. He pulled it out. “If you’ll excuse me.” He walked down the hall.
Dorian kept his voice low. “I would swear there were Gulatega in there. If Morgan and I were together, we could confirm it.” An obvious sadness hooded his eyes. He took a breath and continued. “I’ve only dealt with two, maybe three, at the most. From what I’m sensing, there’s a lot more in that room.”
John nodded, pulled out his phone, and called Bask. “We have a situation,” he began. “Dorian thinks the Gulatega are surrounding Rob.” He paused. “Sure. I’ll let him know.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“He’ll bring in the Virginia couple to do a sweep and clean. Until they corral them, there’s no way to know how much permanent damage Rob’s sustained.”
“Jesus.” Dorian started down the hall. He stopped. “I’ll meet you outside. You go talk t
o security. Keep people away from that room. I need to think.” Without waiting for a reply, he pushed open the door to the stairwell and left.
Once outside, Dorian looked around. Now what? Rob was his chance to find Morgan. He had to think. He walked out toward the now vacant helipad. If the Gulatega got to him in Ruthorford, then he’s been going downhill ever since. He had to be pretty far gone when he came to get Morgan. He tried to visualize the cabin. The outside. Morgan’s strong. She would have put up a fight. Maybe she got away. No, he’d be able to feel her. He couldn’t feel her except for short bursts. She’s drugged.
His phone rang. It was Jenn. “Hey,” he said.
“We’re on our way to Safe Harbor. Jasmine’s doing well,” she said.
“Give her my love, okay?”
“Of course. Anything from Rob?”
“He’s in a coma.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Listen…” she paused. It was obvious what she was going to say was difficult. “I got a call from the Briscoes. I didn’t tell them anything. They know something’s wrong. You need to tell them.”
“I know.” This was something he’d hoped to avoid. “We’ll swing by there in a little while.”
“Thanks. Please call me when you find out something.” She sounded so sad, not the bubbly woman he’d met a short time ago.
John came toward him. “Everything here is taken care of.” He tossed Dorian a set of keys. “Bask had transportation waiting for us. I’m going to head over to look in on Kayla and Meadow.” He looked at his friend. “Give me a call when you’ve talked to the Briscoes.”
It didn’t look like he could put off that conversation any longer.
They walked toward the parking lot. Two SUVs sat side by side. Dorian wanted to have that heart to heart with Bask. A couple of thank yous would be added, he decided as he climbed into a black Explorer, after he read him the riot act for keeping him in the dark. One thing was certain: Bask was good with details. The SUV was fully loaded.
John handed him a piece of paper. “It’s the Briscoes’ address.”
“Thanks for everything,” Dorian said.
“Keep me in the loop. I mean it.”
Dorian nodded and punched the Briscoes’ address into the GPS. Thank God for technology.
****
The sudden motion of the hood being ripped off her head brought Morgan to consciousness. She squinted against the glare. Lights shined on her, making her hot. Someone moved to stand in the shadows.
“Rob?” Her voice cracked.
A deep laugh roared at her. “That pipsqueak, not bloody likely. For a physicist, he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box.”
She didn’t recognize the voice. It was a deeply accented baritone, the brogue thick. With so much static noise in the room, she found herself straining to make out the words. She had to concentrate to think. “The noise,” she tried her voice again. “Please.”
“Sorry. Serves my purpose to keep it on.”
“What do you want with me?”
“All in time, Lass… All in time.” She heard a door close.
Morgan looked around. She lay on a cot in a room not any bigger than twenty by twenty. The lights made it hard to tell. She tried to concentrate on Dorian, but the noise made that almost impossible. Painful. Cloth restraints bound her wrists. She couldn’t rise up, only twist around to get circulation moving in her limbs. Her head pounded. Waves of nausea came and went. Her mouth was dry. The drugs still coursed through her system. She tried, but couldn’t get a handle on her thoughts. Dorian. It felt distant, dilute. She gathered her thoughts and tried to concentrate. Just one single thought. Dorian!
****
With a strong arm holding his wife close to his side, Talbot let her cry against his chest while he kept an eye on Dorian. His anger boiled just below the surface. He knew releasing it on the man sitting across from him would not get his daughter back. He restrained himself and tried to speak calmly.
“You seem to care about her,” he stated.
“Yes, sir, I do. Very much.” More, he realized, than he’d thought possible. He knew he desired her. He’d expected that, with their compatibility, and everything Mel and Thom had told him. He didn’t want to, but it had happened as naturally as breathing. She was a part of him. Care wasn’t the right word. No, it was more than that. Love? Was he falling in love with Morgan? Or…had he already fallen in love?
The sound of her voice coursed through his body. He jumped up.
“Morgan,” he called.
Talbot and Becky both looked up at him. His face reddened. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. He sat back down and tried to figure out how best to explain his link to Morgan. “I seem to have a connection to Morgan. I think I’m hearing her call me. But I’m not sure.”
Becky tilted her head, studying him. She looked at Talbot then back at him. “Like when I put my hands in water and concentrate on her calling me and she does.”
“Yeah. Something like that.” Times a thousand. “But it’s brief. Like she can’t keep the contact. And her voice sounds fuzzy.” He said the latter more to himself than them.
“Maybe you need a conduit,” she suggested, “like the water.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. His shoulders slumped.
“You look exhausted.” She stood and walked over to him. “I’d like to make a suggestion, Dorian. Why don’t you get some rest?”
“I can’t…I have to find her.”
“And you will,” she took his arm and gently urged him up. “Believe me when I tell you I want you to find my daughter more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. But, you are exhausted and no good to anyone. I’m going to take you upstairs and let you lie down in her room. I’ll wake you in, say, half an hour.”
He resisted.
“You’re no good to her the way you are and she might need you to be in top form before this is over. Do it for her,” she said softly, encouraging him with her words. “Think of her as you drift off. Picture her in your mind. Now, get some rest.”
Dorian let her lead him upstairs. He was beyond exhausted. He couldn’t think anymore. Maybe if he closed his eyes for a few moments he would be better at grabbing the connection. At least here he would be close to her in some sense.
Becky took him into Morgan’s old bedroom and watched as he sat on the side of the bed. He looked at her.
She smiled. “A half hour. I’ll wake you.” She closed the door.
Talbot waited at the bottom of the stairs. “That went well.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Think it will work?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “If it doesn’t, he’ll have gotten some much needed rest. If it does, we might be closer to finding our baby girl.”
“You’re ability to mesmerize is truly a gift.”
“Let’s pray it works.” She patted his arm as she passed and went into the kitchen. He nodded as he followed her.
****
Dorian began to drift. His consciousness fought and lost. He went deeper into the fog. It was too thick to make out any definitive shapes. He knew she was here, somewhere. The fog swirled and thinned as he moved forward. He looked down. On a cot lay Morgan, her wrists bound. Her red tresses flowed out across the cot and cascaded over the edge. Auburn lashes feathered across dark shadows beneath her closed eyes. He reached out to touch her. His hand rammed into an invisible barrier. He knelt and tried to wake her but no sound came from his mouth. Her lids fluttered. Iridescent green orbs stared back at him. A faint smile formed on her lips. She studied his face. Her brow furrowed. He tried to talk again. Nothing. Instead, he thought the words. I’ll find you.
Her head moved minutely.
He wanted to look around but was afraid to take his eyes off her. Afraid she would disappear. Can you help me?”
She looked around her and squinted. She slowly shook her head.
Are you okay?
A small nod.
The fog thickened. Panick
ing, he tried to reach for her. Again, some sort of barrier impeded his movement. I love you. The words game out in a rush.
As the fog closed around her, he saw her smile.
He snapped awake and blinked. He was in her room. He concentrated. He couldn’t feel her. Damn. Had it been a dream?
He walked down the stairs as Becky came out of the kitchen. “Anything?” she asked.
“Yes, I…” he studied her for a moment. “You knew.”
She smiled. “Come into the kitchen; I made you a sandwich.”
She led him to the kitchen table, already set with a sandwich and iced tea.
“Thank you,” he said, remembering his manners. “You have been so kind. I appreciate the hospitality.”
“You’re welcome.” She patted his hand. “Hopefully, you’ll be back to enjoy it—maybe during the holidays.”
She sat down across from him. Talbot remained standing, leaning against the kitchen counter. Dorian studied the older man’s posture. It was one he knew well. He’d adopted that same stance on many occasions—one of guarded observation.
“Tell me what happened,” Becky encouraged, waiting until he’d had taken several bites of the club sandwich and downed half the iced tea.
Dorian could feel the cold liquid fall into his gut. He took another drink. “How did you know?”
“First, I’m Morgan’s mother.” She got up, refilled his glass and set it in front of him. “Morgan mentioned she’d had dreams of you.” She laughed when he blushed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t ask for details. Sometimes, dreams can be used to communicate. I just gave you a subtle suggestion and hoped for the best.”
Dorian looked at the woman with renewed respect. Had he really thought Morgan lived devoid of her talents? Maybe she hadn’t known she’d even used them. He found it sad that Morgan’s family had had to help Morgan with her burgeoning abilities without any of the assistance that could have been available to them. Of course, he didn’t know that assistance hadn’t been offered and rejected. He doubted it. Having met her parents, he knew they would do anything to help her.
“Unfortunately, all I can tell you is she seems to be okay, for the most part.” He left out the bound wrists, not knowing how accurate the vision was.