God of Destruction

by Alyssa Adamson

  “Are you hurt? Do you need me to fix anything?” he pleaded, looking her over, though the dark obstructed much of his view.

  She nodded. “My hip.”

  He lifted her gently off his lap, placing her on the floor. When his hands met her cold flesh he flinched and noticed for the first time that she was shirtless. “Where’s your—?” he began but caught himself. “Never mind.”

  “He tore it up.”

  Taran nodded, though he knew she couldn’t see him.

  “I thought he was going to kill me, but when I opened my eyes, he was tearing up my shirt…I gave him the picture; as far as he knows, there’s no reason to keep me alive anymore.”

  Taran squinted in an attempt to find whatever ailed her in her hip area, but when he began to prod, he found her skin slick with fresh blood. His pants were soaked with it after the night she’d spent sitting there, bleeding out without his knowledge.

  “Jesus Christ!” he yelled, finally finding the wound with his fingertips. “You should have told me about this when you came back!”

  Janie couldn’t help the look of confusion that passed over face. “Sorry.”

  “You’re lucky he didn’t pierce any organs, or I would’ve woken up with you dead in my lap!” he enthused, tearing a strip of cloth from the hem of his dress shirt to wrap around her.

  She hissed as the cloth stuck to her open slice, but didn’t fight him, even as he applied pressure to the raw flesh. “You’re so cold,” he said, handing his suit jacket to her. She donned it thankfully.

  “I’m always cold,” she countered, viciously clenching and unclenching her fists against the pain when he went back to work.

  “That’s deep,” he mocked, tying the ends of the cloth together to ward off the dust itching to infect her. “Janie, what did you mean about the pictures?”

  She sat up and against the wall beside him, leaning heavily against his shoulder. “I had one of the pictures on me. I gave it to him. I have two others stashed, but he doesn’t know about those. They’re gonna kill me, they don’t need me anymore.”

  Taran bit his tongue until he tasted blood. “You need to go to the hospital.”

  Janie snorted despite herself. “Ya, let me know when you see one.”

  Taran ground his teeth together, carefully thinking over his words before he whispered, “What I’m saying is, I’m getting you out of here.”

  “How do you plan to do that?” she asked.

  “We’ll have to run,” he explained, pulling himself to his feet. “We’ll run! I’ll fight them off while you get out and we can find a—”

  “Taran!” she interjected. “I can’t run, look at my leg!”

  Truth be told, he’d forgotten about that. “Right. Stand up.”

  Her glare was sweltering as she sat there, not bothering to dignify his demand with action. “I can’t stand either, dumbass.”

  “Then, I’ll…I’ll carry you! I’ll carry you…while I fight them off. Then, when we get to the door, I’ll let you down and you’ll crawl away while I cover the door. You’ve seen around the building more than I have, have you seen any way out?”

  “Ya, but my last attempt didn’t go so well. That’s kinda why I can’t walk.”

  Taran stared thoughtfully at the floor. “If you can point us in the direction of the way out, you won’t have to walk. You won’t last much longer here without medical attention.”

  She bit her lip. “I know.”

  “And when we’re out there, we’re gonna hang out after the hospital. We’re gonna go cliff diving, so I can break your arm, too. Then we can split some KFC chicken and live happily ever after. Y’know, normal stuff.”

  Rolling her eyes, Janie mumbled, “Normal stuff. We’re really gonna do this?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t know what they’ll do to you if it doesn’t work out. They haven’t taken you for that, yet.”

  “We have to risk it,” he swore.

  “I…I…” she pulled her damp hair away from her face, staring warily up into his face. “I’m gonna trust you on this, Taran.”

  He released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Good.”

  “So, when are we doing this?”

  He reached over and pulled her, bridal-style, into his grasp. She wrapped her arms securely around his neck in return, ready at a moment’s notice. “Now. You’re dying. Act like it.”

  “This is crazy, we need to plan this better, Taran!” she objected. “You’re gonna get us killed!”

  “Just do it!” he hissed.

  “Uhh…” she closed her eyes and let her head loll over his forearm.

  “Very good. Help! She’s bleeding out! Somebody help her!” he screamed, waiting for the door to open.

  Janie could foresee a tragic flaw his plan, but remained silent anyway. There was no reason for them to want her alive, anymore, so what did it matter if she was dying? She’d given them what they wanted.

  As far as they knew, anyway.

  Which was why she was incredibly surprised by the screech of the opening door.

  “What’s going on?” the man’s familiar voice snarled as he entered the room.

  “You cut her too deep! She’s bleeding out! She won’t wake up!” Taran insisted, pulling her closer to him as he neared them.

  “Where?”

  “Where all the blood’s coming from, shithead!” Taran screamed. Janie could feel his hand gently fold over her wound.

  “She’s breath—” he began.

  The sharp smack of Taran’s head colliding with the man’s silenced him.

  “Hold on tight,” Taran ordered, his voice thick as he recovered from the blow to his head. Janie could feel it when he ran headlong toward the exit and adjusted herself until she feared she had to be choking him with her death-grip. “Not that tight.”

  “Sorry.”

  She looked around as he barreled down the hallway, taking in the sights she’d seen only once before, when she’d failed in her original escape attempt. Just like before, she watched the door come into view once he reached the second floor landing. She pointed in its direction. “That’s it!”

  “Hey!” a voice called as someone’s hand closed around her ankle.

  It tore her from Taran’s arms just a few feet from the door.

  She toppled to the floor, rolling until his grip on her leg kept her from moving further.

  Taran stopped only when his body hit the door. “Janie!” he yelled, turning back as more men ran toward them.

  Janie clawed at the hand binding her but her bleeding hip hindered her. “Taran!” she cried, reaching for him.

  Her friend’s foot stomped on the windpipe of her captor, releasing his hold on her easily. “Janie, go! You have to go!” he yelled, shoving two men to the floor as they ran for her.

  “But what about y—”

  “Go! I’ll catch up,” he hastily replied.

  Janie rolled over, with much effort, and crawled toward the door, crying out as her leg protested to the hard ground. She reached up, gaining leverage with the push door handle, and, painstakingly, wobbled to her feet. After several failed attempts at standing on her good leg, her shoulder pushed the handle into place in the door.

  She fell out into the open.

  The world was beautiful, just like she remembered, but she couldn’t stop to admire it while she was still vulnerable. Looking around, she spotted an armed guard patrolling the grounds not fifty feet from where she knelt, but his eyes were diverted from her, focused on the woods at the edge of the yard. Without a plan from this point on, she realized that the woods were her only chance without Taran. There was nowhere else to hide.

  Taran would find her there.

  She crawled silently toward the line of trees separating her from freedom, marine-style, so she wouldn’t attract the attention of the guard.

  She was so slow.

  Her heart pounded in her head to the soundtrack of her fevered breaths as she pulled herse
lf across the short grass.

  “Stop!” a male voice called from where she assumed the guard was standing, watching her. She could do nothing but continue pulling herself toward the woods with a renewed determination.

  Taran separated his throat from the grasp of one of the men inside, throwing him away and into another man that ran toward him.

  He didn’t wait for any others to come his way. Throwing himself outside, he found the edge of the forest easily and nothing else. Janie must have gotten into the woods, he realized, she couldn’t be hiding anywhere else.

  He was impressed, he was worried she wouldn’t get far without him, but he’d obviously underestimated her. Hearing the door open behind him, he loped toward the trees, searching for Janie as he went.

  But, he didn’t find her.

  He went back to find her, where she must have been hiding low to the ground.

  He stopped to catch his breath, knowing they wouldn’t be pursuing him anymore. Janie would need to take a break to nurse her most recent injury soon, anyway, and he needed to find her to stop the bleeding. He bent over his knees.

  “That was…exciting?” he chuckled, more to himself than her, though he yelled to get her attention. “We need to find a hospital. Are you bleeding, again?” He looked around again by the very edge of the woods, hoping to see her lying there, holding her breath, waiting for his return. “Janie?”

  He was alone.

  “Janie!” he called.

  His useless scream received only its echo in response.

  Movement back in the yard caught his attention, and he turned behind a tree to investigate. His heart dropped.

  As he stood safely in the shadows, he watched his Janie writhe in the arms of an unfamiliar man as he walked toward the door of the building.

  He dropped her, and Taran briefly debated whether it would be wiser to go in after her or get help. When the guard reestablished a hold on Janie, this time on her hair as he pulled her, screaming his name, into the building, Taran’s options had run out. Now, whichever way he spun it, he could think of only one thing:

  He’d escaped the prison cell, but he’d left Janie behind.

  When the door slammed closed, he turned on his heel, running as fast as he could toward where he thought he would find civilization. He didn’t think he would have to do this alone, now it was all he thought.

  He was alone.

  Janie was alone.

  Janie could die without him there to help her; as if he’d been such a great help when he was there. He forced himself to run when he realized the only help for her now would be to get the authorities. If they hadn’t already been corrupted by Petrov and her goons.

  Janie wailed as she was pulled back to the room of her nightmares by her hair, now without a single person to buoy her when she was returned to the cell. She could only pray to whatever God would listen that Taran would come back for her. That hope was all that got her through the next hour, while her head was wrenched to and from the concrete trough. But, in all honesty, what else could she do?

  Don’t put me back in the tub. Don’t put me back in the tub. Don’t put me back in the tub.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Paris, France; June 29th, 2012

  Thinking back on their adventure to “help” James, Claire thought that there were a lot of things they should’ve done differently before they ran off to follow him. One of those things was to tie up Kierlan before they left.

  When the four of them had run from the hotel room, shoving past the others in the hallway that screamed back in French, they’d been unable to find James or the man he’d been following. And, as they left the hotel room for the second time in the previous half hour, they realized how careless they’d been.

  Alex led them through the lobby, Claire following with Kierlan’s gun, shaking but hidden, in her shirt. Scottie looked around the room for any sign of the escaped man, but, so far, they’d been unsuccessful.

  “He can’t have gotten far, we were only gone for ten minutes!” Alex complained, pushing open the glass doors.

  Scottie shielded his eyes to block out the intense sun streaming through the sudden cover of clouds closing in. “That doesn’t matter, if he’s not in the hotel than he could be anywhere in Paris by now.”

  Alex grunted in frustration. “How the hell are we gonna find him?”

  “Well,” Hayden noted, “your boyfriend fried his cell phone, Claire has his gun, and he’s gotta be a little slow since he was just electrocuted. He’s gotta know that no one on the street would believe him, so who would he have gone to?”

  Claire readjusted her hold on the gun, clutching it away from her body. “W…wait a minute, before…” she pointed up to the third floor, “When James t…took care of him, Kierlan said he was calling his office. He probably w…went there.”

  “But where is there?” Hayden demanded.

  “His accent wasn’t French,” Alex growled. “That office could be anywhere in Europe, maybe the world. There’s no way we’ll find it, Claire.”

  “And we’re right back where we started,” Hayden grumbled.

  Scottie rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “This is too weird. Why do you guys care? If this guy tells, all it means is he’s going away to the nuthouse for the rest of his life, it doesn’t affect us. We should just go home!”

  Alex shoved him. “We are not leaving without James, Scottie! So stop being an asshole and help us! James didn’t want this guy exposing him so we gotta find him before he tells. If you can’t pretend to be helpful, then shut up. Any advice?”

  Scottie narrowed his eyes. “Maybe we should split up.”

  Alex scowled back. “That would probably be best.”

  “Good. Me and Hayden’ll take this way,” he gestured behind him with his thumb. “You guys go that way. We’ll meet back here in an hour. Maybe he’ll be back by then.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled, pulling Claire down the sidewalk by her arm. “C’mon, Claire.”

  They went their separate ways for a long time, Claire and Alex keeping completely silent while their eyes scanned the crowds for a man in a holey, black t-shirt. Claire was the first to break the silence with her recurrent stammer. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

  Alex shrugged, “Maybe you are. Maybe we both are.”

  “I just…I can’t believe that all t…this time…” she began.

  “I know. But…you need to think about his reasons for lying,” Alex murmured. “His kind obviously has rules about human exposure, and, I’ll be the first to admit it, we never would have believed him.”

  Claire stopped walking, forcing Alex to halt as well. “You…You’re taking this awfully well, Alex.”

  “I’m just trying to understand this from James’s perspective before I judge him,” she explained. “And…I love him. I don’t want to make him the bad guy. There are too many real bad guys around for us to turn on him.”

  Claire nodded, though she didn’t know if she could be as forgiving. “I h…hope you’re right about him.” She took a step, eyes raised for their search once more.

  Then, she found him.

  Kierlan stood against the wall of a building across the street, arms crossed leisurely over his chest while he watched them smugly. Claire tried to say something, anything, while she pointed uselessly in his direction, but her stutter held her back while he disappeared behind the flash of a moving car. Blinking feverishly, as if it would make him reappear, she finally managed to yell. “Over there!”

  Startled by her outburst, Alex jumped, following Claire’s gesture with her eyes. “What? I don’t see anything!”

  “I…It was him. He’s across the s…street!”

  Alex squinted in the hope that she would see what Claire did, but she had no such luck. “Claire, I don’t…” she trailed off, watching her friend take off running through the traffic, gun held threateningly over her head. “Claire!” she shrieked.

  The sound of her voice was drowned out by the blare of
a horn and the screech of tires as the cars nearing Claire came to a screeching halt. Waving apologetically at the people exiting their cars, Alex went tearing after her, screaming her name.

  It wasn’t difficult for Alex to catch up when Claire’s asthma started acting up, but by then they’d already gathered a significant amount of attention. Women screamed when they saw the gun in Claire’s hand and everyone parted like the red sea when she came close. Alex made a grab for her shoulder, spinning her around to meet her eyes while they both breathed heavily. “What are you doing?” Alex demanded through deep gasps.

  “I—” Claire shouted.

  “You could’ve been killed! You could’ve killed someone else with that thing!” Alex interjected.

  “Alex—!”

  “Do you even know how to use that gun? If he’s here, he definitely knows we’re close, now!”

  “Can I talk, please—?” the blonde demanded.

  “You can’t attract so much attention, Claire! It’ll lead Natalia straight to us, or worse!”

  Claire felt tears pricking at her eyes, recognizing that her friend would never take her seriously while she was still the innocent one…the baby…the liability. Her speech impediment only made it worse when she wanted to voice her concerns. After all, everyone always felt the need to protect the poor, stuttering Claire Not-So-Strong. And she was through with being protected now that James had admitted to his true place in their lives.

  To protect the defenseless Claire Strong.

  Just like everyone else.

  “I…If we wanna find him, we’re gonna have to s…split up,” she deadpanned. “I’m going this way. You go that way…”

  “No, Claire,” Alex replied. “We have to stay together. What if we run into—?”

  “I don’t need you to baby sit me, Alex!” she growled, jerking away from Alex’s grip on her shoulders.

  Alex’s eyes widened. She’d never seen her friend like that. “I’m not here to baby sit you, Claire. But if we find that guy, he’s gonna go after you—”

  “Then I can take care of myself. Y…you’re not my mom and you’re not my protector. I…I’m sick of people treating me like the baby!” she shrieked. “Now take that side of the sidewalk. I…I s…saw him over here and we’re not helping a…anything by standing around.”