Possessed

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Possessed Page 13

by Stephanie Doyle


  A line of people made their way up the stairs from the recently arrived train. Cass lost his attention as he scanned the faces of the men and women, most of them in business casual wear, leaving the station. He studied each face individually and a few of the men stared back, obviously not appreciating his intense scrutiny.

  “You’re trying to find a needle in a haystack,” she pointed out.

  “But I’m trying,” he replied, even as his eyes remained on the passengers.

  Knowing she wasn’t going to get through to him, Cass turned to leave. Once again the clicking from the schedule board signaled another update. She heard an announcement for a departure to Florida via Washington and one for the arrival of the New York train-although the crush of people exiting from the track next to them was all the announcement Cass needed.

  Irritated that she hadn’t left when she should have, she was about to snap off a goodbye to Malcolm when a tingle at the base of her neck warned her that something was coming.

  Sha -a uh-h-h! Sha-a uh-h-h!

  The shout reverberated in her head, instantly knocking her to her knees. In seconds the room took shape in her head, and this time the monster was already in there with her. Shouting at her.

  Sha -a uh-h-h! Sha-a uh-h-h!

  She cowered at the beast’s feet, holding her hands over her ears to shut out the horrible sound of its yell. In the station, she was also on her knees with her hands over her ears, but the action was useless.

  “Cass!”

  The distant shout reached her, and she managed to look up. She could see that a group of people had formed a circle around her, no doubt wondering what was happening to her.

  In her mind the monster reached down, its face coming so close to hers she cringed in both fear and abhorrence. Then it raised a massive arm and brought its hoof crashing down into her face. She fell back at the impact and pain shot through her body. It was as if the blow had started a rippling effect and had broken all of her bones. It kicked her in the stomach and she curled herself into a ball to try and protect herself.

  “Cass, look at me. What’s happening? Cass!”

  Focusing on the actual face above her, rather than the one in her head, Cass opened her mouth and tried to speak over the waves of crippling pain. “Here,” she whispered to him, willing him to understand. “Close.”

  She watched his reaction as the words she had spoken sunk in and she could see he was torn. The fact that the monster was back meant that whoever had brought it must be nearby, but leaving her meant abandoning her with the beast inside her head.

  “Can you fight it?”

  Sha -a uh-h-h!

  Cass couldn’t make out what it was shouting, but it didn’t matter. Malcolm wanted her to fight it, but she didn’t know how. In her mind, she turned over, crawling on her hands and knees to somehow escape it, but it found her and smashed her face down hard onto the floor.

  Blood spurted out of Cass’s nose, and she could hear the crowd grasp in reaction.

  “What’s happening? Someone should call 911.”

  “No,” she shouted, but it was nothing more than a breath of air. Again, she turned to Malcolm. “Go. Close. Find him.”

  Malcolm stared at the woman on the ground, horrified at what he was seeing. He didn’t believe in this crap, he told himself, but the proof of her bloody nose and the bruise already forming around her eye was there for everyone to see.

  “Step back,” he told everyone. “She needs air. She’s…epileptic.”

  A few people nodded, and more than a few who had wanted to help seemed to back off, knowing that the situation wasn’t life threatening.

  An elderly woman came forward even as Malcolm stood. “Doesn’t she need something to bite on?”

  “No, she’ll be fine in a minute. Just give her space.” Matching his words with actions, Malcolm took several steps away from the crowd, his eyes searching for…what? How the hell would he recognize this person when he saw him? If there was even a person to recognize.

  He glanced at Cass and watched her back arch and her head whip sharply to the side as if she’d been slapped. Something was doing this to her and if it didn’t stop, he didn’t know what the hell would happen. She was barely bigger than a girl and surely not strong enough to take on this creature she’d described.

  Again Malcolm surveyed the area. Some people joined the group of gapers, others just stared at the crowd but kept on their way, and still others ignored the spectacle entirely. And one person stood behind a marble column near the entrance. Watching. His face was covered, but Malcolm could see a pair of jeans and part of his body that was covered in what looked to be an oversize sweatshirt.

  Malcolm took a few steps toward the person, trying to make it seem as if his only concern was leaving.

  “Hey, dude, you’re not just going to leave her, are you?” That from one of the spectators surrounding Cass.

  Malcolm ignored him and headed for the figure still by the door.

  “That’s cold!” someone shouted.

  But he kept moving. Suddenly the figure shifted out from behind the column and spotted Malcolm coming directly at him. The hood was pulled down over the face, but Malcolm could make out a thin, pointed chin and slim nose.

  The person turned and burst through the doors. Taking off at full speed, Malcolm gave chase. He shoved open the doors but stopped to try to get a sense of which way the person had fled. To his right, he heard a flurry of noise as a woman shouted.

  “Rude!”

  She’d been pushed to the side by someone moving fast. Malcolm turned in that direction and ran. Weaving through people making their way inside the station, he was finally clear of them and could see the hooded figure running a few yards up. Malcolm gave chase again but paused when he saw the person hail a cab even while running. The cab stopped and the person hopped inside. Malcolm could see the barest profile of a face through the window and then the cab was gone, turning the corner and merging into city traffic.

  He let out a heavy breath, then turned and ran back toward the station. When he flung open the door, he saw a significant number of people still hovering over Cass.

  Pushing his way through them, he could see that her convulsions had stopped. For a second, with her eyes closed and her body sprawled out on the ground, he feared that whatever had attacked her had killed her. He dropped to his knees beside her and lifted her hand in his. Her pulse was beating way too fast, but it was there.

  “Please, give me some room.”

  “I think something is wrong. She’s not moving. Maybe we should call 911.” This from the woman who had wanted to help before.

  “I’ve got her,” he said.

  “Dude, you took off.” It was the young man carrying a backpack who had shouted at him earlier.

  “I was getting a cab,” Malcolm lied. He didn’t have time for lengthy explanations. At this point a security guard had come over and joined the group. He reached for his walkie-talkie at his side, but Malcolm shook his head.

  “Really, it’s okay. She does this all the time. If you call an ambulance it will just be a hassle.”

  The security guard seemed to waver, but Malcolm didn’t hesitate. He bent down and scooped Cass into his arms. She stirred enough to realize who was holding her and for that he was relieved. He was going on his gut that she didn’t want the fuss of an ambulance, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t taking her straight to the emergency room if she couldn’t tell him she was okay.

  “Did you…?” she asked weakly.

  “No. He got away,” he whispered back. “Forget about that. Hold on to me.”

  “Can’t. Don’t want to touch you.”

  Malcolm wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an insult or not. It didn’t matter. “Look, you’re as light as a feather, but I still have to get you out of here and down to the garage. It will be easier if you help. Now put your arms around my neck and hold on.”

  Cass lifted her arms over his shoulders, then linked them behind his
neck. Malcolm hoisted her up higher in his arms and her head fell to rest on his shoulder.

  “Thank you, everyone, for…” Watching didn’t seem like the appropriate word, but truly that was all they had done. “Everything,” he finished lamely.

  The crowd split to let him move, and he made his way to the elevators that would lead to the lower level and his car. Once he reached it, he was able to fish out his keys with one hand while she clung to him. He disengaged the locks and placed her gently in the car.

  “I didn’t think you would want an ambulance, but I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No,” Cass said. “They’ll ask too many questions. I won’t be able to answer. Please.”

  “If you’re seriously hurt…”

  “It’s nothing. Bruises and aches.”

  He looked at her face and saw that while it was smattered with blood, her nose had actually stopped bleeding. “What the hell did that thing do to you?”

  “Just take me home.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. Not until he had some answers. But rather than argue, he simply circled the car, got in and left the parking lot.

  Cass had dozed off during the trip, so when she felt the car braking to a stop, she had no idea how far they had traveled. She could have been asleep for minutes or hours. It was hard to tell. All she knew was that now that she was awake, she hurt. Her right side hurt so badly, it made breathing difficult and she wondered if maybe she should have let Malcolm take her to an emergency room. But the idea of a bunch of doctors and nurses standing around her and asking her who beat her up was worse than the pain.

  They would suspect Malcolm, which she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate, and then they would want to call the police. It could get back to Dougie and that would be the last thing she needed.

  No, no doctors. There wasn’t much they did for bruised ribs anyway. At least she didn’t think so. When the car door beside her opened, she roused herself long enough to check out where she was. She was expecting to be parked on her street somewhere close to her apartment building.

  She wasn’t. She was in a garage by the look of it. “Where did you take me?”

  “Home.”

  Cass had enough energy left to raise an eyebrow at him. “You know I meant my home.”

  “I figured you did, but I wasn’t leaving you alone tonight and that futon you have doesn’t look all that comfortable for sleeping.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s quite comfortable.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll both be more comfortable here.” That said, he slid his hands underneath her and lifted her from the car seat with the ease of a man who had a great deal of upper body strength. Once again she settled against his broad chest and the impulse to rest her cheek on his shoulder was irresistible.

  Cass sighed a little at the cessation of pain. This felt so good, she decided, so good to let someone else carry the load. Then immediately, she struggled to lift her head. When had she ever let someone carry the load for her before?

  “I can walk.”

  “No need.” He pulled out his house keys with little effort despite his burden and opened the door that led to what appeared to be a great room. It had two long, brown leather sofas, two more recliners, a large flat-screen TV and a fireplace. Along one side of the wall was a bar and adjacent to that, a pool table.

  A perfect man’s retreat. Filled with comfort and toys.

  Malcolm was certainly the type to have things. Looking around the room at the trophies above the mantel, the baseball that was under glass on one of the end tables and the framed picture of what appeared to be a baseball team with lots of signatures all over it, she wondered if they made him happy. His things.

  He set her down on the nearest sofa, and she groaned a bit as the pressure of sitting up was too much.

  “Easy. Lie down. That’s it.” He helped her move into a reclining position and then propped her head up with a few throw pillows. He grabbed some others from the other couch and eased them under her knees.

  “I’ve had my ribs whacked a few times. This is usually the most comfortable position,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Stay here, I’m going to get some towels to clean up your face.”

  “Clean it up? That doesn’t sound good.” Cass reached for her face, but he pulled her hand away before she could touch herself.

  “You’ll only scare yourself. It’s a little blood.”

  “You hate blood.”

  He smiled. “I do. I can’t believe you remembered that in your condition.”

  “I can clean it myself.”

  “Sit tight. I hate it, but I’ve learned to deal with it.”

  “It slammed my face against the floor; it felt like my nose was broken.”

  “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” he said, studying her face. “I’ve had a few of those, too, so I know them when I see them.”

  “Whacked ribs and broken noses. People must not like you.”

  He laughed softly. “That’s probably true, but most of my injuries came from college football.”

  “And here I thought you were a baseball man.” She pointed to the ball on the table.

  “That too. I just could never pitch or hit worth a damn. I could, however, tackle. Unlucky for me as there’s very little tackling in baseball.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  There was a weird silence and then finally Malcolm turned away from her. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

  Cass didn’t bother to tell him that wouldn’t be a problem. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling above; she noticed the cathedral roof and the thick beams running across it and decided it must be one hell of a gas bill to heat this sucker in the winter. If this was just the game room, the house must surely be a mansion. Still, there was something about the spacing between the beams, the perfection of the angles and the solidness of the wood itself that suggested both an eye for detail as well a sense of intimacy. Then there was the massive fireplace, the centerpiece of the room. It appeared that each brick had been perfectly placed all the way up to the ceiling. So much more than a functional asset. It was a labor of love.

  When she heard the rustle of him returning to her, she asked, “Did you build this house?”

  “Yeah, I did. My dad started it, but then he passed and it was left to me to finish it.”

  “Nice work.”

  He stood over her and smiled down at her. “You’ve only seen the garage and this room.”

  “I know quality when I see it.” Then again, didn’t everyone? Wasn’t that the point of quality-to make it known when a person looked upon it?

  “Really? This from the woman with no furniture.”

  “Furniture is only important if you need it. I have everything I need.”

  “Really,” he murmured, but she thought she heard a question in it.

  “Really,” she repeated firmly. “And you have more than you need, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the money. I’m surprised you don’t have someone preparing you a home-cooked meal and waiting for you at the door to take your coat as soon as you come home.”

  “No housekeeper. I like my privacy. So if that was a ploy for dinner, you’re out of luck. There’s nothing heating on the stove.”

  “Not even a casserole?”

  “No, why?”

  “I figured there would be a bunch of casseroles in the kitchen.” Cass pointed to the cutout in the room that led to what appeared to be a massive kitchen on the other side.

  “I can state unequivocally that there are no casseroles in the kitchen.”

  “Huh.”

  Kneeling beside her, Malcolm dipped a towel into a bowl of water filled with ice. Delicately, he began to run the towel around her face until she felt like a child being wiped down by her mother after an especially messy meal.

  “If you get me a mirror, I can do it.”

  “Stop fussing. I’m almost done.”

 
“I’m not fussing,” she retorted. “I feel silly. There’s nothing wrong with my arms. Between carrying me in here and wiping my face, you’ve reduced me to a two-year-old.”

  “Let it go,” he said.

  She was about to open her mouth again when he pulled the towel away and dropped it in the bowl. Cass watched as the water immediately turned pink.

  “Gross.”

  “Yep. It’s why I hate it. The color. But with the blood gone I’ve got a better look at your nose. It’s definitely not broken. Here. Put this over your eye.” He had filled a soft washcloth with some of the ice cubes and laid it carefully over the bridge of her nose and her left eye, which was also throbbing.

  It was silly to be vain at a time like this, but her nose was her favorite part of her face. She couldn’t help but be grateful the monster hadn’t destroyed it.

  “What happened?” she wanted to know. “Did you see anybody?”

  “A person. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt low over his face. At least I think it was a him. I don’t know. I couldn’t see any hair. The build was slight, but I saw a chin and nose. Both were sort of thin, almost delicate like yours. And then I saw a profile when…” he trailed off, clearly focusing his attention on the memory.

  “What? What did you see?”

  Malcolm met her gaze, his brow furrowed with consternation. “You know I’m pretty sure what I saw…was a woman.”

  Chapter 12

  “You think it was a woman,” Cass repeated, trying to fit that piece into the puzzle. Hating the idea of having a conversation with him while lying down, she tried to sit up, but as soon as she did, her ribs protested.

  With a firm but gentle hand, he motioned for her to stay still and then placed the makeshift ice pack back over her face.

  “I know. Hard to believe.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, we’re both going to the same place, aren’t we? The hooded sweatshirt is linked to the monster. The monster is evil. Someone evil killed my sister. When I think of someone cutting someone else’s tongue out…” He stopped and took a moment to gather himself. “I just don’t think about that being a woman. It’s too gruesome. I don’t know.”

 

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