by Angel Payne
Rayna scooted her legs into a crisscross. “You think I’m unraveling?”
Sally took a deep breath. “Not yet.”
“Great,” she snorted. “So I’ve still got half a sleeve left. Thanks for the assurance.”
The therapist got up, crossed to her, and crouched. “I think you have a need to understand things, Rayna. To understand yourself. And after you’ve done that, you need to fix it. Goes hand-in-hand with your need to care for people. None of it is bad, sweetie. It’s probably why you went into the medical field.” When Rayna huffed, Sal grabbed her hand. “Answer me something. If you guys get a patient who isn’t responding well to a medication, do you give them a sweet little ‘too bad, so sad, maybe we can help you next time’?”
“No!” She glared. “We try something else.”
“Even if the patient thinks you’re going to turn them into a Beyoncé-belting duck?”
“This isn’t the same and you know it.”
Sally folded her arms. “It isn’t?”
“Sal, an amputee with a shitty penicillin reaction isn’t the same as—”
“That guy’s nurse with a devastating one-night-stand reaction?”
She turned, refusing to let Sally see her grimace. Like that would prevent the woman from noticing anyway. Sally had made the remark to get her specifically to this reaction—this crossroads of confusion and defeat that gave her no other choice of what to feel next.
Total desperation.
“Okay, okay!” She tossed up her hands and sighed. “You win. I’ll try this nonsense.” She almost laughed at Sal’s fist pump. “I said I’ll try.”
Sally grinned. “That’s all I ask, sweetie.”
“I suppose you want to get this done now?”
Sally nodded eagerly but stopped herself. “Wait. You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
She chuckled. “Do the five huge iced teas from this afternoon’s cleaning binge count?”
Sally scrambled to her feet. “Only if you need to hit the little girls’ room before we start.”
A little over thirty minutes later, Rayna found herself parked in one of the big chairs again, now seated just a few feet away from Sally and feeling a dozen kinds of dork at once. The lights in the room were dimmed. Sally had turned off the soft jazz station she usually played, making the building eerily quiet. She’d already guided Rayna through the hypnotherapy version of foreplay—breathe deep, stare at the candle, feel your eyes getting heavy, breathe deep again, stare at the candle again, feel your eyes slowly closing…
Ugh. Enough was enough. It was clear this game wasn’t working. And didn’t Sal say she had a hunk waiting for her back at home with a paused movie and a warm dinner? And likely a foot rub, too. Yeah, game over. She’d tried this new planet, but sometimes you had to kill off the crewman in the red shirt and beam back to reality. Now they could both go home and—
She couldn’t move.
She thought about it. Hard. Told her body to get up and move for…wherever it was that wasn’t here. Her limbs were rooted to the chair. No, that wasn’t it. She was able to move. She could lift her hands and wiggle her toes, just didn’t want to. She was really relaxed. Peacefully focused. When Sally asked her if she was comfortable, her head bobbed in an easy nod. Heck yes, she was comfortable. Too much so.
She really needed to get out of here. And Sally, too. She had to go—
Where?
Where was it Sally had to go? She’d known a minute ago, hadn’t she? It didn’t seem important anymore. She was walking through a park on a beautiful spring day, just like Sally suggested to her. It had recently rained. She could smell the damp pines, the moist honeysuckle. A mild wind picked up her hair and rustled the pashmina around her neck. What an awesome day…
“Are you in the park now, Rayna?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Do you feel safe there?”
“Totally.”
“Perfect. Just keep walking and enjoy the day. What else do you see?”
“Mmmm.” She looked around. “Playground. It’s themed like a pirate ship. There are some kids on it.” She lifted her hand to wave at the children before quickly scooting to the left. “Yuck. Somebody didn’t clean up after their dog.”
Sally’s answering laugh came from far away, as if she’d stopped at the other side of the playground. But when she spoke, she was back within arm’s reach. “Is there anyone with you? Anyone who makes you feel more secure and relaxed?”
She smiled. “Yes. Ava.”
“She’s your friend?”
“My cousin. But yeah, she’s my bestie, too.” Just like that, Ava materialized next to her. Chocolate curls swinging. Indigo eyes dancing. A fashion plate even at twelve, with her self-painted T-shirt and red high-top sneakers. Rayna laughed and sobbed in the same breath. She hadn’t seen Ava in years, since her cousin moved to LA to work as a stylist on a TV show. To have her like this, flung back to one of the summers when they’d both been so free and happy, made her heart soar like one of the blue jays overhead.
“What are you two doing?”
She flipped her head, feeling thoroughly twelve and arrogant. “Just hangin’. The usual.” She giggled. “Talking about boys.”
“Of course you are.” There was a smile in Sal’s voice, adding to the sunny freedom of the day. As Rayna offered a stick of Juicy Fruit to her cousin, Sally directed, “Okay, you’re going to move on. You’re moving to a place where you’re not so comfortable. Maybe the two of you leave the park. Maybe Ava isn’t even with you anymore.”
The day got darker. Clouds skidded over the sun. She clutched Ava’s hand. “No. She’s still with me.” Wrong. The sun hadn’t been blocked by clouds. “Tunnel,” she muttered. “We’re still in the park and there’s a tunnel. We normally love it in here. It’s like our secret cave, but today”—her throat clenched—“it’s not.”
Their footsteps didn’t reverberate the way they normally did. “Who’s here?” she murmured. The air reeked of cigarette smoke and sweat. She wrinkled her nose.
“But what, Rayna?” There was a slight pause. “Come on, sweetie. Talk to me. Is someone in the cave with you and Ava?”
* * *
She thrashed her head back and forth. No! She didn’t want to see this, let alone experience it again. Summoning strength she didn’t feel, she jutted her chin. “Stay close, cuz. They’re just stupid boys. They’re not going to—”
“Rayna, watch out!”
The tang of terror filled her mouth. The horrible taste was worsened by the tobacco and grime on the fingers of the gang’s leader, who sneaked behind her as fast as the tall rat he resembled.
“Dibs on this slut, guys. I like redheads. The trendy tart looks like she’ll be double the fun for both of you.”
“Get your hands off me!”
“Rayna? Rayna!”
She couldn’t figure out who that was anymore. It sounded like Ava but resonated like Sally, too. What was real? What was going on?
The other two boys were closing in on Ava. The one who held her already gave a low chortle. She snarled and tried to get her teeth into the guy’s finger. Fail. He rearranged his grip, squeezing until her molars tore into her cheeks.
“Quiet, bitch. Don’t make me do this the hard way.”
“Mmmppff!”
The guy was stronger than his wiry frame let on. When she stomped her right foot atop his, he just laughed and kicked her in the heel with his steel-toed boot. The pain shot her up with more adrenaline. She poured it into the elbow she drove to his gut. Direct hit this time. He groaned and doubled over. She was free.
For fifteen seconds.
She went straight for the two shitbags who descended on Ava. She whirled one of them around and drove her nails into his cheek, praying she peeled his skin off his skull as she tore down. He howled, making his buddy look up and let Ava go.
“Run, Ava!” she screamed. “And don’t stop!”
Thank God her cousin obeyed. Now
she just had to deal with her own consequences, which came with furious speed.
“You stupid little snatch.” It was gritted by the guy with the red gashes down his face, leering as she got dropped to her back with leader boy’s steel-toed stompers. She grunted as she hit the dirt, the air punched from her lungs and balance ripped from her senses. The roof of the tunnel was a twisted canvas of dark oil and fresh moss, pigments that could’ve been pulled right out of the fear and agony in her spirit.
“No,” she whimpered. “Please don’t!”
Her hands were slammed back, locked beside her head by leader boy, who stood on her wrists. She choked, overwhelmed by the stench of mud and dog crap from the soles of those hideous boots. His chuckle dripped with derision as he unzipped his pants.
“You take her first, Taylor. Her blood for yours, yeah? In the meantime, she can look up at the next meat for her oven.”
Taylor laughed. A switchblade fwipped out of its holster. In two seconds, he slid the blade through her shirt and tore it off her torso.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Her rasp echoed in her head. Her sob sounded even worse. “Help me. Somebody please—”
There was a shriek, but it wasn’t hers. The switchblade clunked to the ground between her legs. Taylor was suddenly gone. No, not gone. Torn away. What the hell? Since her wrists were still pinned, she could only see what her upstretched neck would allow—which was Taylor getting flung against the wall.
Was she imagining this?
Taylor hit the rocks like a hurricane had blown him there. Impossible. Superman only existed in comic books, right? Not that leader boy gave her any time to rationalize that. He scooped up the switchblade and hauled her across the floor by her hair, but stopped after four steps.
“Stop where you are, asshole, or I’ll give this stupid squaw a scalping.”
Fear was an ice floe in her veins. The only operating parts of her body were her chattering teeth and her heaving lungs.
“Rayna! Sweetie, you have to tell me what’s happening!”
Sally was back. Oh, thank God! Maybe she could help. No, she couldn’t. Where was she? Far away. She was still so far away.
“Help me. Somebody has to help me. He’s going to—”
There was a massive lunge, like a bear rushing the tunnel.
“No! Don’t move! Can’t you see? He’ll—”
The shriek belonged to her this time. The pain was awful but didn’t touch the horror of feeling a chunk of her hair stripped from her head at the edge of a switchblade.
“Rayna!” Sal’s voice shook. “I’m going to bring you out of this now!”
“No!” She held out a hand, fingers spread. “Don’t!”
Why had she done that? She wanted to stay here? Trapped in the hands of a scumsucker who’d been ready to rape her a minute ago and was seconds from slicing into her scalp?
Her memory provided that answer the next second.
The hurricane that had flattened Taylor wasn’t done yet. And holy crap of all craps, that force of nature had taken human form. At least that’s what it looked like, as the guy went at her attacker with a snarl that was only half biological. She was certain the other half was meteorological. Raging. Roaring. Such a wild difference from the faded jeans, plain tennis shoes, and worn black hoodie he had on. Rayna shook her head in deeper disbelief when he made the gang leader drop the knife by twisting the bastard’s wrist until the bones cracked. The hoodlum doubled over, clutching his hand. The human hurricane planted his foot between the guy’s butt cheeks and shoved him until he joined his gang mate on the ground.
Wisely, the third thug had made himself very scarce.
“You know, Kier, you should be happy I’m in a nice mood today. The way you two dickwads are moaning on each other, I could take a movie and sell it for big bucks to Sissy Boy Video.”
Rayna was rooted to her spot. The voice in that body sounded like a teenager, but the muscles in that body—oh, God. Her twelve-year-old hormones got a jump to light speed as her gaze traveled up his formidable legs, traced over his proud back, took in the angles of his fisted arms, and finally followed the plateaus of his shoulders to his hooded head.
“I need to know who he is.”
Her murmur was a deceit. There was a scream beneath every syllable, which still didn’t explain the panic that hit when he turned. She ducked her head behind her knees. Her frantic breaths bounced off her thighs as she listened to the three strides he took back to her side. He crouched and skimmed long fingers over her shoulder, setting off tremors of hot and cold through her whole body. He was so big. So confident. So male.
And she was being a total nimrod. Jeez, she’d grown up surrounded by boys. Male was nothing new to her!
Wrong. So wrong. This male was different.
She let the emotions go ahead and invade. In a weird way, she savored them. The smallness. The gawkiness. The inability to move or speak. Things she’d never felt around a guy before.
“Rayna.” It was Sally again, calm but firm. “It’s time to come back. This is enough for your first—”
“Wait. Please wait.”
“Are you okay?”
His voice wasn’t a storm blast anymore. It was a dark but calm caress, like the wind after an October rain. Power leashed again.
There was a ripping sound. Those magical fingers moved over her head, dabbing at the gouge at the back of her head. That spot had always been sensitive. It burned now, matching the stinging heat behind her eyes.
“Hey, you’re safe now.”
She needed to tell him she believed him. The encroaching tears stopped her. She needed to thank him. She needed to—
“Are you hurt? Can you stand? I can carry you, if you need. I just want to help, okay? My name is Zeke. What’s yours?”
“Oh my God.”
The next second, sirens blared through the tunnel. Red and blue lights flashed into the gloom. Flashlight beams joined them, swords of illumination around Ava’s silhouette. Her cousin led the way for a handful of cops, now bellowing orders to each other.
“Ray! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Thanks to him. Oh God, Ava! He was amazing! He…” Her voice trailed when her cousin frowned. She spun, throat clutching when all she saw were the dents in the dirt from where he’d hunkered next to her.
“Rayna, you need to come back now.”
* * *
She opened her eyes at Sally’s firm command. Her vision was still hazy with tears.
“What is it?” Sally reached for her hand. “Can you tell me what you saw?”
For a long moment, she could only shake her head. Emotions rained on her brain, her heart. Shock. Joy. Confusion. Delirium. Absurdity. Clarity.
“No wonder,” she whispered.
“What?” Sally pressed.
“No wonder it’s different with Z. No wonder I’ve felt this way.”
Sally stroked the back of her hand. “Do you need to talk about it?”
She nodded. The action came slowly at first. But by the time she shoved out of the chair, determination powered the move. “Yeah. I do need to talk about it.” She grabbed her purse. “And I know with whom.”
Sally rose, as well. “Rayna, listen. I know you’re excited about this, but sometimes letting these revelations rest a while—”
“I think fifteen years is a pretty good while, Sal.” She beamed a full smile at the woman before pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for not giving up on the hypnosis. Now go home to your man.”
Sally’s answering look was pinched. “Though ‘home’ isn’t on your mind, is it?”
Her smile grew. “Not by a long shot.”
* * *
A little under an hour later, after some tenacious web searching, she stood in front of a building in the warehouse labyrinth beyond South Spokane Street. The structure’s few windows were shrouded by black drapes. The door was painted the same color. A faint but steady bass l
ine drifted into the night. The melody behind it was beautiful but did nothing to stop the nerves chasing each other down her spine.
No doubt about it. The determination that had gotten her here was disappearing as fast as the stars behind the night mist. If “here” was even the right here. She checked the address on her phone again, not that the warehouse had any corresponding number on it. Yet the GPS pin rested directly on top of the spot in which she stood.
In short, she was either walking into Bastille, one of Seattle’s naughtiest BDSM dungeons, or a kickin’ rave party with God-knew-what spiked in the punch bowls. In either case, she’d look like an alien and feel even weirder. Goodie.
She took a deep breath. An expression popped off her lips that she and Sage usually saved for patients with rolling blood veins.
“Suck it up, bang on the sucker, then plunge in, Sergeant.”
She knocked on the big steel door.
Her greeting was answered faster than she thought. Her breath hitched and her nerves tensed with the expectation of being greeted by an Igor or worse, raking her over with bulbous eyes and a lascivious grin.
No sign of Igor.
Not by a really, really long shot.
Her greeter was like a huge slab of granite, only carved more beautifully. The skull-close cut of his black hair magnetized her study right to his eyes, their color giving new meaning to the phrase piercing blue. And the grin? That was where the guy’s inner Igor showed itself. Lascivious only skimmed the look he slid over her.
“Well, hello there.”
“Hi.” Rayna cleared her throat and tried to smile. “I’m sorry to bother you—”
“Let’s make something clear, Little Red Riding Hood. You are no bother at all.”
The man knew how to pick imagery. He opened the door wider with a confidence that was one hundred percent Big Bad Wolf. Rayna stood where she was. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to remember the ending of that fairy tale. “I’m, ummm, looking for a place called Bastille.”