by Quinn Loftis
“Is that bad? What does that mean?” Glory asked.
“It means she has brain activity, which is good,” he answered.
“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming on?” Glory frowned.
“But,” the doctor said pointedly, “It doesn’t explain why she’s essentially in a coma. And there is nothing to do for her but wait. There have been studies done that show proof that people in a coma can hear what’s going on around them, so talking to her, playing her favorite music, or reading to her might help bring her out of it. I’m sorry.” He looked at Dair. “There really is nothing else we can do. Have they had a physical therapist come in to show you exercises to do while she’s in bed so her muscles don’t atrophy?”
Dair shook his head.
“Then I’ll make sure an order is written for one and have them here first thing in the morning. It’s essential to keep her physical body from being too stationary.”
Darla stood up and reached for the doctor’s hand. “Thank you so much. I know that Dair sort of forced you, but you have to understand, she almost died a month ago, and so we’re all a little in shock and very scared.”
The doctor nodded, and Dair could see true empathy in his eyes. “I do understand, and I am sorry there isn’t more that I can do.” He left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Without looking at anyone, or acknowledging that they were even there, Dair sat on the bed and then stretched out beside Serenity. He wrapped an arm around her stomach, pulling her close into his side. His head was above hers so he tucked it down until his face was buried in her hair and his mouth near her ear. The rest of the world faded away, and it was just him and his love.
“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?” Dair asked. “You were helping with a rummage sale. Everyone was mucking about, here and there, but you, you, Serenity, had it all together. Ever patient, ever kind, never once snapping at anyone for asking you the same question a hundred times.” Dair smiled as he saw her in his mind’s eye. She had been beautiful then, but now, there was no description that could do her justice, not in his eyes.
“I had to know you,” he continued. “I had to know this wonderful creature who gave without expecting anything in return and who smiled when it was the last thing she wanted to do. You captivated me. Your soul enveloped mine, shining all your light and goodness into my dark existence, and I was yours, hopelessly yours.” He closed his eyes and let his memory take him back to the night when he’d been in her room and spoken to her without revealing himself. He’d wanted so badly to touch her, to let her see him and touch him. Dair had never been touched by a human. Oh, he’d touched them because it helped when he was weaving dreams into their minds. But he’d never had a person touch him. For some reason, the idea of Serenity being the first person to willingly touch him had taken his breath away.
“What if I hadn’t taken the chance,” he said softly, his breath ruffling her hair. “How different would our lives have turned out if I hadn’t come to you that night or if you had chosen not to meet me? I would have missed out on you and all the wonderful things about you. You might not be alive, and the world would be a darker place without you.”
Dair didn’t want to imagine a world where Serenity didn’t exist. He didn’t want to think about how empty his existence would have continued to remain if they’d never come together.
“No matter what, Serenity, I will forever be grateful that you said yes.”
He began to hum because his emotions were such a mess he didn’t know what to say short of begging her to wake up. The words of the song he’d sung to her the night she’d been shot, when they’d been dancing, spilled from his lips, and they were still just as true.
“How long do you think he will lay there?” He heard Glory ask.
“For as long as it takes,” Darla answered.
Lucifer kicked a corpse that had been crawling across the floor. Things were not going as planned. Dair was supposed to kill those men in that prison. And he would have if that child had not shown up. And who was she to be encouraging anyone after what had happened to her? Why wasn’t she curled up in a ball crying about her innocence lost, blubbering and begging someone to save her? Why the hell were these people not dropping like the flies they were?
“Master.” He heard the demon behind him.
“Unless you have Brudair’s head on a spear, I don’t want to see your face.” When he heard the minion flee, he snarled. Did he have to do everything himself?
“There’s still the school,” he muttered. “The school is falling, and more and more children are going missing. There’s no way they can stop what has been put into motion. It is moving at a speed that would trample them if they got in the way.” Which, of course, he hoped they tried. Seeing that meddling angel and that resilient child crushed would be a welcome end to his week.
The only other thing going right was with his sweet, wilting Serenity. She was locked in her head, sinking into the nightmare that he had created. By the time he was done with her mind, it would be nothing but a puddle.
Chapter 15
If you dream you’re surrounded by fire, it means you have inner demons you need to battle.
The week seemed to crawl along. Emma had attended school each day, though she was sore and wanted to simply lay in bed. When Thursday rolled around, she had an extra disappointment added to the simple act of having to go to school. Callie was absent, which seemed to make the day longer and lonelier. As Emma dressed Friday morning, her mind was on Serenity, as it had been the past several days. Every time she’d gone to sleep, she’d tried to dream of Dair, to get back to him, so she could find out what was going on. But no matter how she tried, no dreams came. To her relief, Reginald Jones seemed to be hiding out. She wasn’t sure if that was Raphael’s doing, or some other reason, nor did she care, just so long as he stayed away.
“We should go,” she said suddenly. An urgency rushed through her and, though she couldn’t explain it, she knew she needed to get to the school.
“It’s early,” Raphael said. Even still he took her hand and opened the door to the closet.
It was early, much too early to be going to school. But it didn’t matter. They needed to get there. “I know, but I just feel like we need to hurry.”
She moved her short legs as quickly as she could, the feeling inside of her growing, pushing her to move even faster. Before she knew it, they were out on the sidewalk and they were running.
“Emma?” Raphael said, his brow drawn low on his forehead.
She didn’t answer, she only kicked her legs faster. When the school came into view, instead of feeling relieved, her chest filled with dread.
She pointed to the back of the school. “We need to go back there.” Raphael kept her hand in his as he continued to run alongside her. When they made it around to the back, they stopped abruptly. Mrs. Sunders was standing at a door that was labeled ‘broiler.’
“Mrs. Sunders?” Emma quietly, not wanting to startle her teacher.
She turned slowly to look at Emma. Her eyes were filled with confusion, as if she didn’t know how she’d ended up where she was.
“Emma?” Mrs. Sunders questioned.
“Yes, ma’am,” Emma answered. “Are you okay?”
“I…” Mrs. Sunders paused and looked back at the door. “I had a dream that I needed to come here. That I had to be here at this exact time.”
“Was I in your dream?” Emma asked.
Mrs. Sunders nodded then seemed to realize something. “Emma, are you alright? You haven’t been yourself this week and then with my dream, I just feel like something is off. Is everything okay at home?”
Emma glanced up at Raphael, and he gave her an encouraging nod.
“Who are you looking at?” her teacher asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you I had a guardian angel?”
Mrs. Sunders stared at her for several seconds before she finally nodded. “Yes, Emma Whitmore, I w
ould believe you.”
“That’s who is with me. He’s been helping me get through this week.”
“What happened?”
Emma took a deep breath. “I was attacked by the man I’m living with. I made Raphael, that’s my angel, promise not to say anything because I can’t leave. Not yet.”
“I am so sorry.” Mrs. Sunders knelt down and wrapped her arms around her. “Has it happened before?”
Emma shook her head. “I haven’t been living with him very long.”
“Why do you think you need to stay?”
Emma pulled back and looked Mrs. Sunders in the eyes. “Because I need to. I need to be right here, at this exact moment, with you.”
Just as Mrs. Sunders was standing back up, the door behind her opened and Principal Flannigan appeared in the doorway. The look on his face made it very clear that he did not like being caught coming out of the boiler room. Why did a school have a boiler room in the first place, Emma wondered. Fifty years ago, she might have understood, but now?
“Mr. Flannigan,” Mrs. Sunders said stiffly. Emma didn’t miss the way her teacher moved to stand in front of her, protecting her from the man she obviously perceived as a threat.
“What are you doing here so early, Mrs. Sunders? And what are you doing back here?” Flannigan asked.
“I could ask you the exact same thing,” she challenged.
Emma leaned around Mrs. Sunders so she could see Mr. Flannigan’s face. He stepped further out of the doorway, attempting to let it close behind him, but not before Raphael slipped through it, unseen to everyone but Emma. The girl felt something being pushed against her arm She looked down. It was a cell phone, Mrs. Sunders’ cell phone. The teacher was holding the phone behind her, surreptitiously trying to pass it to the girl.
Emma took the phone, being careful to keep it behind Mrs. Sunders and shielded from Mr. Flannigan’s view. She dialed 911, hoping the buttons wouldn’t make any noise. They didn’t. She didn’t hit send yet, but held her finger at the ready.
“I don’t answer to you,” Flannigan snarled, and his voice held an inhuman quality that caused Emma’s head to snap up.
“But you will be answering to the police,” Raphael’s voice emerged from the door just before he did. Judging by the looks on the faces of the principal and the teacher, Emma guessed they could now see the angel.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in there?” Flannigan’s face was turning an unnatural shade of red.
Raphael grabbed him by his arm, whipped him around, and pushed him against the building. Mr. Flannigan was spewing words that no eight-year-old should hear as he struggled against Raphael’s hold. It didn’t look as though the angel was exerting any effort at all to hold the principal.
“Mrs. Sunders,” Raphael said. “If you would please call the police and tell them they need to bring several medical vehicles. I could see five children down there, but there might be more.”
Emma handed the phone back to Mrs. Sunders and, without asking for permission or saying anything at all to either Raphael or the teacher, the girl ran into the building. The kids were no doubt scared out of their minds. Emma knew that feeling well. She also knew that these kids had been hurt by an adult, someone they saw as an authoritative figure. She didn’t know how eager they would be to come out to other adults, even if it was a teacher or a police officer.
After passing through the door, she came to a set of steps descending into a dim room. All she could see were two large, steel cylinders. When she reached the bottom, a very large room, apparently used for storage, opened before her. This basement might have been a boiler room at one time, but now it served as a graveyard for broken computers, carts, P.E. equipment, old desks, and, seemingly, abducted children as well.
“Hello?” she called out. “My name is Emma. I’ve come to let you know that Mr. Flannigan can’t hurt you anymore. The police and ambulance are coming to help all of you, but we have to know that you’re here in order to get you out.”
Movement to her right caught her attention. A boy, about her age or a year older, stuck his head out from behind one of the cylinders. His clothes were surprisingly clean, considering his circumstances.
“The angel said you’d be coming,” the boy said, with eyes that no longer held the innocence of a child his age.
“Raphael showed himself to you?” she asked. “His wings and everything?”
The boy nodded. “I told him no teachers, no adults, unless it was our parents.”
Emma knew the children would need medical attention before they were given back to their parents, and there was no way they could send a horde of fear-driven parents down there to find their children held captive in a basement. There would be a lynch mob to deal with before the kids could even get back above ground.
“How many are down here?” Emma asked him.
“Eight,” he answered and then pointed behind him. “There’s a small room back here. That’s where he keeps us.”
Emma took a step toward him and held up a hand. “Can I come see them and let them know help is coming?”
His eyes darkened as his face seemed to shut off all emotion. “Some of them aren’t doing too well. They … well … they … it was too much. Flannigan said they were broken. He told Mr. Brian—”
“Mr. Brian, the P.E. coach?” Emma interrupted.
He nodded. “That’s why I said no teachers. We can’t believe them.”
Emma nodded. “Okay, okay,” she said gently. “Show me where they are, and could you tell me your name?”
“I was Mathew,” he said as he motioned her to follow him.
“Was?”
“Before I was taken. Mathew was taken. He was the one they—” He stopped and swallowed several times. “I can’t be Mathew anymore.”
Emma thought for a minute as she stared at the boy who’d been taken from his family by terrible, evil men. Yet here he was being a strong leader. “Can I call you Jaser?” she asked.
He looked over his shoulder at her as he pushed on what looked like just a wall, but it turned out to be a cleverly concealed door. “Why Jaser?”
“It means fearless in Swahili,” she said with a small smile.
“Jaser,” he said the name again, as if he was testing it out. Then his brow furrowed. “How do you know something like that? You’re just a kid.”
“I know a lot of weird things. Finally, something I know is useful.”
“I like Jaser,” he said after a moment’s thought. Then he nodded as if he was settling the matter in his head. He continued into the room and Emma followed.
It took all of her self-control and her innate maturity, bolstered by the lessons taught to her by her mama, not to gasp or reach up and cover her mouth in horror. Instead, she kept her body relaxed and her face, hopefully, friendly.
There were five girls, all dressed in white sleeping gowns that women might have worn a century ago. The collar came all the way up to their necks, the sleeves covered their arms to the wrist, and they were long enough that the girls’ feet didn’t show. All of them had their hair pulled back into buns at the back of their heads. It was their faces that made Emma want to cry. They were done up in makeup, like a woman in one of those burlesque-type shows done on a stage. All of it was overdone to the point of being clownish, but obviously meant to be enticing. It was sick.
“If we wiped it off, it was worse for us,” one of the older girls, who looked to be around twelve, said. Emma must not have been hiding her emotions as well as she thought.
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She looked around the room and saw one other boy besides the one now known as Jaser. He was older than her but younger than the twelve-year-old girl. The look in his eyes made it clear he was one of the broken Jaser had been talking about.
“Is this everyone?” she asked.
Jaser shook his head. “There’s one more girl. She’s new. Only been here a day.” He stepped closer to Emma and lowered his voice
. “Flannigan, he liked her. He dropped her off and then came back later and took her. We heard screams. There’s rooms where he takes us, for the people that come with him to see us, before they—” He paused and clenched his teeth tightly together. “Before they buy us. There were more of us, but some have been sold.”
Emma started to put a hand on his shoulder but dropped it when she saw him flinch. “Who is the girl and where is she?”
“I think her name is Callie. He didn’t bring her back after the screaming stopped.”
Emma felt as if the ground had been pulled out from underneath her. The contents in her stomach threatened to come up, and she had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting. She didn’t want it to be her new friend, Callie. Jaser said he thought that was her name, so maybe it wasn’t her. Not that Emma would want it to be another girl, but she really, really didn’t want it to be Callie.
“Where are the rooms?”
“Go back out the door and past the big metal barrels and turn right. It will get darker as you walk. You need to start counting as soon as you pass over where the light ends and the shadow begins into the hall. Twenty-seven steps. The room will be on your right. The doorknob is down lower than a normal one.”
Emma looked back at the girls and then to Jaser. She was just about to tell him to call for Raphael if someone other than a police officer or paramedic came in when Raphael walked into the room.
He was in his angel form, but the light was toned down so that it was a very soft glow. She guessed that he knew if he had come as a normal human male, they wouldn’t have trusted him. But fly in as an angel, wings, glory, and peace rolling off you like pouring rain, and they didn’t doubt for a second he was exactly what he appeared to be and said he was. Faith like a child, something her mama said, slipped away as children grew up into adults and have to have answers to everything.
“I have to go find one more girl,” Emma told Raphael. She bit her lip, letting the sharp pain keep the tears at bay. “It might be Callie.”