The woman strengthened her grip to the point of cutting air flow from Megan’s trachea, patiently waiting, her victim’s face gaining a reddish tint as she struggled. With more emphasis in her tone, with more unnatural persuasion, she repeated, “Open… your eyes.”
This time the words were steel pinballs ricocheting viciously against her eardrums and neurons, and as the echo of the command faded with each vibrating attack, the invasion did not ease, only morph into an angry buzzing inside her, as if thousands of enraged hornets were trapped under the hard shell of her cranium, relentlessly, rapidly seeking an opening. Megan’s entire face contorted, her lips quivering in syncopation with her fluttering eyelids. All the while the woman’s chokehold further weakened her will to fight. The instinctive need for air overpowered her, the hornets too formidable, and Megan’s eyelids finally obeyed.
The hand upon her throat released, and she gasped to feed her oxygen-deprived lungs. The fiery hornets ended their maddening concerto with a gradual fade-out. Yet Megan felt no reprieve, for her watery eyes were now locked into a stare with the woman’s. The same sensation that she remembered from the priest’s eyes returned; the power of the gorgon now revealed in the form of this menacing beauty that was Diana Palmer, and Megan could feel it begin to spread throughout her entire body. Once again she couldn’t move; once again she couldn’t blink. Only her jaw retained motor skills, though its movement was uncontrollable; like a fish out of water, her mouth open and shut in slow, rhythmic movements.
The sight of the woman’s dark, green eyes began to fade, and suddenly Megan felt as though she were staring at a large, four dimensional movie screen, as a scene evolved before her, taking her to another place, perhaps another time.
She was in a well-lit room, and beneath her knees she could feel the softness of thick cotton. As her mind adjusted to this strange transfer of space, she found herself staring down at a gruesome, horrible sight. Megan was kneeling on a queen-sized bed, and with large, muscular arms and clenched, masculine fists, she was mercilessly beating a living person. God help her, a young woman she recognized instantly. Beneath her, with arms tied behind her back, lay the struggling, naked body of her best friend. She watched and listened in horror as Ryleigh Darlington screamed and kicked helplessly beneath a body that was too large to be her own, though she occupied it all the same. Megan had no control of this body, no more than Ryleigh had control of the violent attack it was rendering upon her.
Megan felt her own eyes tear up quickly, while the eyes she was seeing through were alive with both rage and delight. She could feel the pelvis of the body she was trapped in pressing hard against her friend’s legs, and though much of the sensation was different, the ecstasy building inside was unmistakably understood. Megan was in the body of a large man, and she… he was raping Ryleigh while punching, slapping, pulling, even biting his victim. Her own voice began to force out cries of horror while her host’s laughed demonically. Megan suddenly felt the man’s ribs take a feeble but noticeable blow from her friend’s knee. Then she witnessed his arms doing something that made her own stomach churn. With incredible power, the man she was connected to grabbed his victim’s leg with one hand, pressed it down hard against the mattress, and pounded the inside of her knee with a series of violent blows until she heard an awful snapping noise, followed by ungodly screams of pain. Ignoring Ryleigh’s wailing pleas, he continued his sexual assault.
Megan wanted to plead on her friend’s behalf, but she could not speak, only scream herself. She was strapped to this man, in a rollercoaster’s seat with the safety bar already lowered in place, trapping her hips. And the coaster had already begun its ascent up the first hill; there was no getting off until the ride had ended, until the bar that kept her in place would automatically rise once the coaster had come to a complete stop. All she could do was watch and scream in terror.
She knew that she was not the one doing these terrible things, but she felt everything the man had felt, including the sickening climb toward the coming orgasm within as he repeatedly thrust himself into Ryleigh. Then, the awful climax. If she lacked a soul, she may have connected with the man’s sensation of delight and satisfaction; instead she forced back the urge to vomit.
The scene in her mind suddenly fell into a hazy blur, but then cleared again to a moment shortly thereafter, as she now watched Ben Weber being murdered by those same hands, then soon after, watched them toss a lit match onto her best friend. Immediately she was forced to witness an agony she would never be able to describe with words, watching Ryleigh convulse as monstrous flames consumed her body. And the terrible laughter of the man, whom she knew in her heart to be, echoed from her ears to the depths of her mind, and embedded itself there like a leech that would not be pulled loose.
The flames grew brighter. The mixture of tormented screaming and diabolical laughter more thunderous. Megan released screams of her own that matched those of her dying friend, as if she herself were set afire. The scene replayed before her with no end in the loop, until she was convinced that her mind would literally fry and her heart would implode from the incomparable pressure of a psychic nature, until at last she was once again looking into those vicious green eyes of Diana Palmer.
“My gift to you,” the woman said with a horrid grin. “Whenever you close your eyes, that’s all you’ll see. Until your dying breath, which I’m afraid will come very soon. But until then, you won’t be getting any sleep.” With her cold hand gripped around Megan’s throat, she threw her head downward, then stood erect above her. “Enjoy, love.”
She silently left the room, motioning for her three guards to follow, leaving the poor girl shirtless on the dirt floor, whimpering with what finally seemed, to Diana’s satisfaction, a broken spirit.
Chapter VI
Gettysburg College; that same afternoon. Rebecca Ortiz sat comfortably at the front desk of the Psychology Department’s main office within the Life Sciences building. The work study position of manning the office and answering phone calls was an easy gig now that the spring semester had ended. The first mini-mester of summer wouldn’t commence for another two weeks, but the number of enrolled students was by far a much lower count than those attending classes during the fall and spring. Her most challenging task most days was nothing more than keeping herself awake among the skeleton crew of faculty and administrators, most of whom she barely came in contact with during the day.
Glancing at her watch, Rebecca grimaced. Her shift wouldn’t end for another three hours and some change. She didn’t mind really; most of her sorority sisters had gone home for the break. The few that remained had taken other various summer jobs that hindered any major social plans, especially on a Wednesday night. She and the girls had mentioned a casual get-together for Friday; an uneventful girls’ night out, with no importance other than to kick back and kill time. For tonight, she decided on filling up on Chinese take-out while popping on Dirty Dancing in her DVD player. Until then, she would continue to file her nails, check her email, and possibly read another chapter or two of the romance novel she borrowed from the library. The work study position didn’t pay much toward her tuition, but she had no complaints due to the simplicity of her tasks.
Rebecca was about to open up her email account on the school desktop in front of her, when the soft sound of the glass office door and approaching footsteps prompted her to lift her eyes. The attractive man walking toward her was tall, wearing blue jeans, a white, long-sleeve tee shirt with a popular brand name logo on the front, and a bright, red Phillies baseball cap atop of a head of short, light-brown hair. Rebecca wasn’t a baseball fan, but she recognized the design instantly. Given the geographical location of the campus, many students donned apparel from both Philadelphia and Pittsburg sports teams. The man also carried what appeared to be a full book bag over one shoulder. She might have become curious by this as he was young, but did not look the age of a typical undergrad, but she was too distracted by his stunning blue eyes, his charming smile dis
playing perfectly aligned white teeth, and most interestingly, the transparent green vase with a dozen red roses in his hand.
“Can I help you?” Rebecca spoke with a perky voice. Hello, handsome! her mind spoke inside her head. She was hoping her slight, Puerto Rican drawl would appeal to him, and she was wishing she had chosen to wear a more seductive top. She had several shirts and blouses that were more skin-tight, purchased solely for the purpose of revealing the firmness of her breasts that she had been complimented on by many an inebriated frat boy. This morning however, she went for comfort. She now regretted her decision; this was no frat boy. A farm boy maybe, considering his thin, but muscularly athletic build and his lightly tan skin.
“I certainly hope so,” the man replied as he drew in close to the desk. “I’m looking for Professor Madsen. Is he in by any chance?”
Rebecca’s smile faded slightly. “Oh, no, he’s been gone for over a week now. Won’t be back until the fall.”
The man sighed. “I was afraid of that. I figured the semester was over already when I pulled into campus.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty dead around here this time of year,” Rebecca answered, drawing a piece of mint gum from her purse as discreetly as possible, “except for the mini-mester guys that is.” She unwrapped the gum and placed it into her mouth. “Gum?” she offered.
“No thanks,” the man said. “So I take it Madsen’s not one of the mini-mester guys then.”
“No,” she shrugged. “One of the perks of being tenured I guess.”
“I guess,” the man repeated. “What a shame. I was really hoping to catch him.” He started tapping his fingers in a rolling motion as if trying to think of what to do next.
Rebecca leaned forward. “Not to sound condescending,” she commented, “but you probably should’ve called first and saved yourself the trip.” She placed her elbows on the desk and rested her chin onto the backs of her interlocking fingers. “Not that I don’t mind the company,” she added with a smile and a flirtatious tone.
The man returned her smile. “Likewise, darlin’. The truth is, I wanted to surprise him.”
“I take it you’re not a student,” Rebecca asked, eyeing his book bag. “That’s a heavy load you’re carrying,” she added, quickly glancing down at his crotch as she spoke then returning her gaze to the bag. She knew she was laying it on thick, hoping she didn’t come off as too desperate, but most farm-boy types, she discovered, needed signals that were considered by her peers as blatantly obvious.
The man responded to her welcomingly, as he half-sat on the desk in front of her, keeping his body turned to face her, still with that charming smile and stunning eyes that captivated her. “No,” he answered with a short laugh, shrugging the bag slightly with his shoulder, “this is just my gear. I came on my bike.”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Nice. Harley?”
“Kawasaki,” he replied. “Ninja.”
“Very nice. So the speed gives you a thrill…”
“Well, speed is useful.” The man lowered his voice and leaned forward a bit. “Wild rides give me a thrill.”
Rebecca’s smile widened, but she could feel herself blushing, and she started to giggle nervously. “Wow, I haven’t even gotten your name!”
The man sat up straight. “Sorry, where are my manners?” He held out his hand. “Name’s Michael.”
“Rebe… um… Becky,” she responded, taking his hand.
“Becky,” Michael drew her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “A pleasure.”
“Ditto,” she said, still blushing.
The man released her hand. “Never thought I’d meet such a lovely young lady in a dreary office building like this.”
Rebecca returned to her chin-resting-on-hands position. “Work study job helps pay the tuition. I’m not picky. And you; I never thought I’d meet such a charming young man here to surprise a boring old professor like Madsen.” Charming and sexy, she thought.
Michael shrugged. “Well, I’m his nephew. My mom, his sister, was on the phone with him a few weeks ago. She told me a student of his had passed away.”
Rebecca’s smile left her. “Oh yeah. Jamie. She was murdered by her boyfriend.”
“Wow,” Michael replied with a serious voice. “That’s awful…”
“Yeah, the news was all over campus.”
“I’m so sorry. Did you know her?”
Rebecca shook her head. “I saw her in the building a lot. She was a psychology major. But I wasn’t friends with her or anything. I never talked to her other than saying ‘hello’ when I passed her by. Still, someone I saw all the time… now gone just like that. It’s terrible just to think about it. About how that could even happen.”
Michael nodded. “My mom told me Uncle Steve was pretty down about the whole thing.”
“Yeah,” Rebecca confirmed, “he seemed kinda messed up from it. He was her faculty advisor.”
There was a moment of silence between the two. Rebecca wasn’t sure what to say next. Not that she didn’t have respect for the dead, but it was a pity that the conversation, having turned to such a serious and gloomy subject, became such a buzzkill for the flirtation between them that she was enjoying, perhaps more than she should have been.
“Anyway,” Michael broke the silence, “that’s why I’m here.” He motioned the vase of roses in his hand. “I wanted to give him my condolences. Maybe try to have lunch with him. You know, cheer him up if I could.”
“Ohhh,” Rebecca offered a warm smile, “that’s so sweet of you! I’m sure he would have appreciated it.” She suddenly opened the top left drawer of the desk and pulled out a small, yellow note pad. “Tell you what. Professor Madsen sometimes calls to check his messages. I haven’t heard from him yet, but if I do, I’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.” She started jotting a quick note on the pad.
Michael’s smile also returned. “That’d be great. Thanks, Becky.”
She tried not to bat her eyes at him, but her smile grew as she gazed at his baby blues again. “My pleasure, Michael.”
He returned her gaze for a few seconds, then broke the silence again. “Well, I’d hate for these to go to waste,” he said as he placed the vase on the desk before her, “and I can’t think of anyone to give them to in Uncle Steve’s place other than his beautiful assistant.”
Rebecca started to blush again. “Oh my. Really… I couldn’t.”
“No please,” he insisted. “I know he’d approve. They look better with you anyway.”
The young woman sighed lovingly and took the vase. “Wow… thank you, Michael. They’re very lovely.
Smell them, she thought. But, strange as it may seem, she entertained the idea that the suggestion in her mind did not come from her own consciousness, but from an outside source. Regardless, she obeyed and leaned her head toward the roses, drawing in the sweet aroma. The scent was almost intoxicating, and she felt a small wave of euphoria overcome her gently.
With a slightly unclear mind, she found herself caught in a moment she concocted for herself, and she spoke softly with a sudden disregard for any prudence. “You know, I’m off at four. I usually don’t do this, but all this talk about Jamie has gotten me down a little. If you don’t have anything planned, I’m free, and could sure go for a wild ride.”
The man smiled playfully, and she suddenly blinked a few times to clear her head. “On your Kawasaki, I mean,” she added quickly.
“I’d like that, Becky,” he replied. “Unfortunately I have somewhere I have to be this evening.”
An obvious look of dissatisfaction covered Rebecca’s face. “I see,” she said with a forced smile.
“Believe me,” he continued, “I wouldn’t dare turn you down if it wasn’t important. Can I take a rain check? I hope to be back this way again soon.”
She tilted her head gently. “Okay,” she agreed in a tone that attempted to mask her disappointment. She then pulled the note pad off its stack and stuck it to the calendar on her desk
. Instantly, she wrote on another pad, and handed it to him. “My number,” she said with a smirk. “Make sure you call ahead next time.”
“Promise.” Michael accepted the paper and slid it into his back pocket. “I look forward to seeing you again, Becky.” He took her hand and kissed it again.
Rebecca didn’t respond. But she watched him as he left the office, until he was completely out of sight. The man’s arrival was indeed a pleasant interruption to her otherwise boring workday, but she still wished it would have ended better for her. She wasn’t used to being turned down. Most guys she knew would have killed for a night with her. She loved playing hard to get with them too; only truly having interest in the excessive attention she would receive. It was quite the ego boost. Funny that now, for once, she made it easy for someone by practically throwing herself on him, and he blew her off. She could only hope that he was sincere when he assured her he wanted a rain check, but she had been around the block enough times to know better than to wait for his call.
Still, she thought, he was so fine! Temporarily forgetting everything she had planned for the next few hours… days… years, she sighed again as she took another strong whiff of the beautiful roses, hoping to feel the same sense of sweet intoxication. When the wave hit her, she closed her eyes as she thoroughly embraced the high that filled her.
Within a few seconds, Rebecca opened her eyes again. The euphoric feeling that gave her a floating sensation suddenly turned to light-headedness, and a strange discomfort began to bubble inside her stomach. At first she thought it was merely butterflies from being completely enamored with the man she had just met, but she soon realized it to be more of an uneasy series of twinges, and her mind no longer visualized a wild ride with Michael. Instead she pictured being stuck in a giant barrel of rotting fish within an enclosed, wooden shed on a humid, windless summer afternoon.
The Paladin's Message Page 24