by Monica Rossi
“Son, I know it looks bad, but let me explain,” Big Dog put his hand up, as if to stop the flow of accusations from coming any closer to him.
“I’m waiting,” Red sat down on the coffee table as if he had all the time in the world, but the killing edge was still on him and he knew that everyone in the room could feel it.
“This one wanted to fight,” Tinker came back in the room holding BillCo by the scruff of his neck, the old mans grey hair in disarray and a bloody gash decorated his eyebrow.
“Sit him beside that one,” he motioned to Trainz, “and let him watch the show. It’s going to be a good one. So you were saying?” He turned back to Big Dog.
“Look, we got kidnapped by the Hellhound’s and then they gave us over to some dude who threw us in here and told us not to leave.”
Red whistled, “Jesus, you must be doing something right if this is your cell. The other’s got storage units,” his voice became deadly, “including my daughter.”
“Ah Christ man, they took Morgan? Did you get her back?”
“I’ll pretend you don’t already know the answer to that. Yes, we got her back. While you and your two amigos over there were hiding out in this mini mansion, we shed blood to get her back. Her and Maria and Price.”
“I didn’t know I promise I didn’t know.”
“I don’t believe you, you lying sack of shit,” Red came up off the coffee table in an instant, his face close to Big Dog’s, “you did this, you betrayed us to the Hellhound’s. You plotted to have me murdered, you had my daughter locked up like an animal, and who the hell knows what balls you’ve had to lick to get here, but it doesn’t matter. You’re going to get to see the Reaper Moon to pay for these debts, and it’s going to be shinning for a long long time.”
“Watch out Red!”
Red turned his head toward Tinker’s voice, expecting to see Trainz or BillCo rushing him, but instead he got an insanely hard punch to the kidney from the other direction. He fell to the floor, unable to breath, but he rolled over in time to see who was attacking him and catch his foot before it landed a blow to the side.
Big, over muscled men in suits swarmed the room, five of them, all wearing a uniform of black pants and jacket with a white shirt, little cords coming from their ears. Who the fuck were these guys? The secret service? He sniffed the air. Humans. He wouldn’t have much trouble with these guys as long as the three traitors didn’t interfere. He readied his body to shift, feeling the energy building inside him until he was ready to burst.
But before he could complete the change the man who had punched him grabbed him and threw him into a wall. His focus lost, the change incomplete he laid there against the busted sheetrock wondering how the guy could be so strong.
“None of that shifty business now, just mind your manners and you won’t get hurt,” the large man said, not taking into account that Red probably already had a couple of broken ribs.
Red looked over to Tinker, hoping he was faring better, only to see him unconscious on the floor, three men talking over his prone body. The other one had pulled Big Dog to the side and was speaking to him quietly.
Two more men came through the door in the same uniform, pushing the prospects in front of them. Squint and Squirt looked terrified. Shit, they were only kids.
In a flash of movement he lunged from the wall directly at the man in front of him, intending to use his muscle and momentum to tear his head off of his body, but it felt like he was met with a brick wall.
The man grabbed him with annoyance and threw him back to the floor where he proceeded to rain vicious kicks all over his body. Red felt his leg break as it was stomped under an unforgiving shiny black shoe, he felt his shoulder crack, then his sternum. Thankfully the next kick was aimed at his head and he drifted into merciful unconsciousness.
Demon watched Sidney’s tail lights as they traveled down the winding old road. The lack of streetlights, white lines, or reflectors in the middle of the road made for almost perfect darkness. He made sure to stay far enough behind her so she wouldn’t hear his bike or notice his headlight while still keeping her mostly in sight. Having incredible night vision and hearing let him lag behind further than a human could, while still being able to keep track of her perfectly. She’d turned a few times and he had lost sight of her, but all he had to do was stop and turn off his bike for a moment and the sound of her Jeep roaring down the lonely road gave away which way she’d gone.
He didn’t feel bad about following her, he wasn’t some creepy dude with a peeping Tom fetish. He was just curious about what the witches might have to say about what had happened between them and he couldn’t be certain Sidney would share the information. So the obvious answer was to follow her and listen in on their conversation.
It was common knowledge that there were witches living in Three Rivers, other creatures too, but nobody paid them much attention. They didn’t cause problems and had actually helped out a time or two when the Dogs had a situation they couldn’t handle on their own. But where their meeting grounds were located wasn’t common knowledge. Demon didn’t know if they were actively keeping it a secret or if no one had thought to find out because there was no need to. Either way, after asking several of the guys if they knew where it was, he’d come up with nothing, so he’d decided that he’d have to speed through town and catch Sidney before she got away from him completely. Catching up with her in town had been a lot harder than keeping track of her on the old country roads. Thankfully she’d stopped to get coffee before she headed out and he’d spotted her Jeep at the little coffee shop on Main Street.
When he came to think of it, no one had ever known much about the witches. He knew that Bree was their leader, unless she’d died since he was a kid and someone had taken her place. He’d met her once when he’d been in the grocery store with his mother. He couldn’t have been more than five or six but he remembered her. She’d seemed older than anybody he’d ever seen before, but he’d been a kid so that could mean she’d been forty five. The thing that had made the meeting stand out in his mind had been how his mother had acted and what Bree had said to him.
His mother was always a laughing, she was just a genuinely happy person. And she was loud. But when Bree had walked up to her, on the canned soup aisle, she’d given her a quiet respect he’d never witnessed her give to anyone else. Bree had asked how the ‘boy’ was doing, that obviously meant Demon, and his mother had replied that he was doing well except that he seemed to have trouble fitting in. Then Bree had leaned down until she was eye level with him and said, “Don’t forget what you are, boy. Hold your head up, you’ll be needed and appreciated one day.”
Every time Red, or his father, looked at him like he was something lower than trash he’d remembered those words. A lot of good they’d done him.
Sidney turned off the paved road and onto an old dirt farm access road. He’d have to wait for her to get a ways down it before he followed. He turned his headlight off, because he really didn’t need it, but in pitch dark even the light from his brakes might be noticed.
He got to the dirt road, parked sideways, prepared to wait a few minutes. He heard her traveling over the ruts and bumps that were common on farm roads. At least she had a Jeep and wouldn’t get stuck. He’d have a hell of a time explaining why he was out there if he had to go help her push her car out of a muddy hole.
And she’d probably scream in his face that she didn’t need any help. She was a prickly one. But he wasn’t about to try to deny his attraction to her. Those curves, those full lips, those eyes that seemed like they wanted to bore right through him and snatch his soul. Nope. He wasn’t going to deny it at all. He also had to admit he liked watching her get angry. Those soul draining eyes would light up and she’d start blustering like, ‘Oh phooey, you’re such a mother-loving poop head.’ And Red, the stupid bastard, had thrown her away because she was a little bit witch. Just a little bit. Not even whole witch. Hell, Demon wasn’t going to discriminate. It seemed l
ike the perfect time to swoop in and help her put together the pieces that Red had left behind. Man, he could only imagine the shit that would fly through Red when he found out. It would serve him right though, and Demon wasn’t even stealing, just taking what had been dropped on the ground for anyone to take.
That was, if he could convince her that he was what she needed, at least for a night or two. She didn’t seem to be too keen on him at the moment. But that didn’t mean much. Feelings changed.
“Are you going to let her get so far ahead of you that you’ll never catch her?” Veronica’s voice cut the dark like saw through granite.
“Do you think you could mind your own business for just a little while?”
“I don’t have any business. Remember? I’m a fucking ghost.”
“I’m getting real tired of your shit Veronica.”
“Oh, you know my name? I thought you thought it was ‘Bitch’.”
“It should be. Your poor misguided parent’s just weren’t able to see into the future and know what an absolute cunt you’d be. I’m surprised your creepy ass boyfriend didn’t kill you sooner.”
“Well your parent’s obviously read the tea leaves, because… because you fucking suck.”
Demon shook his head, “Stick with screeching and shit, your comebacks blow.”
He cranked up his bike and headed down the dirt road, more to stop listening to Veronica than because he was worried about losing Sids. There weren’t too many places to go back here unless they’d hidden a city behind the cotton fields.
The farm house came into view and he saw Sidney’s Jeep parked in front. Good, she was already in the house, he’d find a place close enough to listen in and see what he could find out.
He found the perfect spot in an old oak tree with a branch hanging at just the right angle for him to be able to see into the window and hear what was going on.
“Calm down Sidney, Jesus you’d think the man had molested you,” the tall dark skinned man said, he put his arm across Sidney’s should and guided her to the table. Demon didn’t like that guy putting his hands on Sids. He saw how well toned the shirtless man was and decided he didn’t like that guy at all.
“Well it was almost like he did, except I did too,” Sids seemed flustered.
“You molested him too?” a dour faced black clad waif of a girl asked.
“Look at her blushin’, I bet she wanted to,” the man said, “Oh damn. I see him. No wonder she wants to molest him.” Demon’s whole body jerked to attention. How the hell had he spotted him?
“You get out of my mind Cord!” Sidney said, her voice shrill. He relaxed, the guy was a mind reader. That was good to know. Demon slammed the shields up around his thoughts. “I don’t want to molest him. I want to… I want to… “
“That’s some X rated stuff floating through your head right now,” Cord sat a glass of sweet tea in front of her, “You need to cool your ass down, drink this.”
“What is it?” she asked taking a sip of the red drink.
“Watermelon Sangria,” the goth pixie told her.
“I just used the last watermelon of the season to make it, and that shit is good, drink up,” Cord slid the glass closer to Sidney.
“So what do you guys think it was?” Sidney took a sip of the drink and winced.
“Fuck if I know, we’ve been here leafing through old ass dusty books trying to figure out what the hell happened at the lake.” Cord waved his hands at the stacks of yellowing books scattered around the table, “I ain’t got time for you to be throwing no new shit at me.”
The emo chick nodded. Demon wondered what had happened to Sids at the lake.
“Well can we wake up Bree and see what she thinks?”
“Bree is old as hell and you know she needs her beauty rest. Besides she gets angry when she’s woken up, and I don’t mess with an angry Bree tonight.”
“Bree? Angry?”
The girl nodded again, if Demon hadn’t already heard her speak, he’d wonder if she were mute.
“I just want to know what’s going on with me. I can’t handle any more trauma, surprises, or weird crap going on. I need a day to just relax and not think about anything.”
“So take one. Go to the spa, zone out at home in front of the TV, don’t answer your phone or reply to any emails. Just chill out.”
Demon had an idea. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked up the website for the veterinary clinic where she worked, he bet it had her cell number on there for emergencies. Sure enough, after a few taps on the screen, he found her number, tapping again to call it.
He watched Sidney slam her hands down on the table, say, “What now?” and go retrieve her purse from the other room.
“Hello?”
“Well hello,” Demon said.
She walked back into the kitchen and flopped back down, “What do you want Demon?”
“I just felt bad about how things ended tonight and thought maybe I could make it up to you,” he said.
He watched Cord start nodding his head vigorously and Fran mouthing the word ‘no’.
“How?”
“A picnic in the park tomorrow? I’ll bring the food,” he smirked, cute or not, the girl could burn water. “And we can try to figure out what happened tonight… Unless your witchy friends have already figured it out.”
She hesitated, that was a good sign. It meant she was thinking about it, “No, I’m just going to relax tomorrow.”
“Come on, a picnic is relaxing,” he cajoled.
“Not with you it isn’t.”
“I’ll be on my very best behavior, I promise.”
She hesitated again and he knew had her. “Ok, but if you start being a jackass I’m leaving.”
“Best behavior. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he crooned into the phone, “I’ll pick you up at one.”
“Fine,” she said and hung up the phone.
“It’s impossible for you not to be a jackass,” Veronica said from somewhere behind him.
He thought about it for a moment and nodded his head, “Yeah but she doesn’t know that.”
The feeling in his body began to come back before his vision did. He wished it hadn’t. He felt stretched and sore. Beside the pain he knew was caused from the beating he’d taken at the hands of the secret service dude, there was the pain in his wrists from being tied, in his arms from hanging from them, in his shoulders from being stretched at an odd angle and his neck from having been unconscious while his head hung forward. And his whole face was aflame, it felt like his sinuses were being ripped out, his nasal cavities were blocked and the back of his throat felt like it was full of cotton. Pretty good signs that he had a broken nose.
It would have been too much of a mercy for him to stay unconscious. He opened his eyes a slit, even that was painful, they must have worked on his face after he’d passed out. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten his ass handed to him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time he’d had a human do it and it was the second time he’d lost a fight and not healed from it. These guys must have supplied Big Dog with the herb that had kept him from healing after his fight with the Hellhounds. At least it felt like whatever they’d cracked in his chest had healed before they had a chance to give it to him.
He opened his eyes a little more, painfully blinking and letting his vision clear, expecting to see some kind of backwoods hellhole where he was hanging from a meat hook off the center beam of a barn.
His expectation was wrong. Hard florescent lights met his tender eyes, exposing the barren room as a sterile workspace, something he’d expect to see in a hospital. Not something used as a torture chamber slash dungeon.
The room had very little to look at, a stainless steel table, bare white concrete walls, a few outlets that almost blended in with the paint. He looked up to see what he was hanging from, the movement causing a cacophony of aches to flare in his body. It was some sort of machine on a long steel arm. A light like at t
he dentist’s maybe. He didn’t know, didn’t give a fuck, he just needed to get off of it and out of this little sterilized cell.
If he could. He looked down at his body, the bruises covering his battered torso. They’d left his jeans on so he couldn’t see his legs, but one seemed to be broken and dangling at a weird angle to the floor.
He tried to move it and the pain caused a white light to flare behind his eyes. It was definitely broken.
The door made a loud buzzing sound and a young man in his early twenties, if that, walked in wearing blue scrubs and a white lab coat and pushing a wheelchair. Following shortly behind was a suit.
This wasn’t one of the secret service suits, this one was obviously higher on the chain of command, his hair combed with neat precision, his suit clearly in a different class than they other guys, even the way he walked screamed, ‘I’m in charge here.’ Red hated him on site.
“So, Mr… Ryder,” the man sneered, “I hope you’ve been comfortable as our guest?”
Red didn’t comment. He knew that if he said the wrong thing it would go badly for him, and he wasn’t sure there was a right thing to say.
“Probably not, you look a little worse for the wear after your little skirmish with my security team. But I’m glad it happened, and you should be too. It gave you an opportunity to see what superior fighters we are. We’re faster, stronger, and if I dare say, smarter than shifters are even capable of being.”
The man seemed real pleased with his announcement. Red didn’t give two shits about what this man thought he was, all Red knew was that he was going to kill him.
“Ah, I’ve forgotten to introduce myself, I’m Frederick Hawthorn. I run this facility and several others across the nation for a group of, hm, interested investors. John, could you get Mr. Ryder down and into the wheelchair? He looks terribly uncomfortable hanging there, and I’m hoping to have a nice long conversation with him.”
The man walked up to him warily, he was probably a foot shorter and seventy five pounds lighter than Red, he was a tiny little guy. There was no way he’d be strong enough to get him down and into the wheelchair without them both falling and making every single bruised or broken thing on his body ache even worse. He closed his eyes and braced his one good leg against the floor with toes that barely reached, waiting for the pain to come when he and this little man collapsed.