Vigilare

by James, Brooklyn

  “Come with me and find out,” he coaxes, his smile growing larger. “We’ve got work to do, DeLuca.”

  She pulls back against him, one more time, a gleam in her eye. “If I have one night...one night before I spend the rest of my life behind bars, I’m not spending it working, Gronkowski.”

  “Hmm,” he growls, clutching at his chest, music to his ears. Quickly, he leads her down the corridor to the exit.

  Chapter 19

  LATE EVENING. DETECTIVE Gronkowski’s home. After a long, lavish bubble bath, Gina saunters down the hallway, her hair wound on top of her head in a plush white bath towel, a matching robe snuggled around her frame.

  “Ah man, it’s the little things,” she says contentedly, joining Tony in the dining room.

  He smiles at her, his phone tucked under his ear. “I gotta run. Let me know if you hear anything,” he says into the phone before ending the call.

  “Would you relax?” Gina requests.

  “Gina, what if the jury comes back tomorrow with their verdict? We don’t have much time to figure out if Dr. Ryan and that Truly lady are involved in this.” He scans his contacts list. “I’m calling in every favor I have.” He starts dialing.

  Gina gently places her hand over his phone, taking it from him without protest. She powers it off, laying it on the table. “I see what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it. Really, I do.” She pulls the towel from her head, letting her hair down, running her fingers through it from root to tip.

  Tony’s expression softens with the image. “How can you be so calm about this, Gina?” he asks tentatively.

  “I don’t know that I’m calm, necessarily. I’m at peace, with whatever decision the jury makes. If I did what the evidence says I did, Vigilare or not, then I deserve whatever punishment I’m dealt. It’s that simple. We uphold the law every day, or at least, I used to.” Her eyebrows furrow as she processes that statement. “We arrest people when the evidence leads us to believe they’re guilty. Those people are tried before a court of law, and most times receive due justice.” She shrugs. “Now it’s my turn.” She smiles. “Besides, there’s nothing more I can do for myself than you’re already doing for me. Speaking of, just exactly what did you do, or promise Judge Carter for tonight,” she teases.

  Tony nods, sucking air through his teeth. “That one’s gonna cost me.”

  Gina giggles, ducking her chin to her chest.

  “You scared?”

  She looks up at him, her smile disappearing. “Yeah.” She circles the table slowly, her hand grazing its surface. “Scared of being locked up for the rest of my life. That could drive a person crazy, I think. Scared of who I am. What if I turn into her, it...that Vigilare thing in prison? If she has an inclination toward evil, can you even begin to imagine the slaughter if I’m surrounded by a bunch of criminals.” She stops, holding her hand up in the air in testimony. “Amongst whom, I am no better.”

  “You don’t have to go,” Tony suggests keenly. “We could get you out of here, out of the country, tonight.”

  Gina smiles at him, pleased, trailing her hand over his rugged jawline. “And get you fired and thrown in the clink for aiding and abetting. Or worse yet, a lashing with a rather large wet noodle from Judge Carter for breaking her confidence.” She drops her hand from his face, continuing to mindlessly circle the table. “It’ll all come out in the wash, Gronkowski. I think maybe my mother, or someone in my life, I don’t know, it all seems so foggy, told me ‘everything happens for a reason.’ You believe that?” She stops, across the table from him.

  He shakes his head, accompanied by a sigh. “I think we all have to believe that. What’s the alternative?” He shrugs. “Shit happens?”

  Gina chuckles. “That’s what I like about you. Your delicate way with words and your eloquent delivery.”

  Tony laughs, briefly.

  “You know what scares me more than going to prison?”

  Tony waits for her to answer.

  “Going to sleep at night.”

  He tilts his head as if to say, Huh?

  She begins circling the table again. “Those visions. The ones Emily Truly knows about,” she adds, skeptically. “They keep coming. Stronger. Over and over. I don’t know what the hell they mean, but I feel like I should.” Her hands flail in time with her words. “I don’t ever get the whole story. Just pieces, parts, clips. Like a freaking movie trailer. And Dr. Godfrey said my condition may be due to dissociation and traumatic experiences, and yada yada yada.” She stops, eyeing Tony intently. “You think those visions, was that me? My life? My past traumatic experience? If so, why can’t I recall? Why does it seem so foreign? Is my life, my past, really not what I think it is or know it to be at all?” She slaps her hand down on the table. “And this Vigilare thing. Why can’t I remember any of that? I hear people talking about it. You, and Aubrey. The things you saw, the things you say I did...as Vigilare. I feel like a freaking video game character. Like Ms. Pac-Man. Like someone takes over with a joystick, and apparently I go through the motions. It’s ludicrous, Tony. The whole damn thing. It’s crazy!” Unexpected tears form in her eyes, a combination of frustration, anger and hurt.

  Tony, experiencing his own frustration, wanting so desperately to help her, make it all better, taps his hand on the table, the wheels of his mind in motion. Apprehensively, he pulls his utility tool from its casing attached to his belt. Opening it up, he searches for the thinnest, shiny piece of steel in the set—a razor blade. “You trust me?” he asks aloud, the words surfacing in his own conscience.

  Gina looks at him, subconsciously biting the inside of her lip and shaking her head. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.”

  “You trust me?” he insists.

  “Yes,” she replies, frustrated. “I trust you. You’re not the problem.”

  “You are?”

  Nodding, she elaborates, “I don’t trust me, and if you do, you’re crazier than I thought. We’re not doing this.” She wraps her hands around the cinch on the waist of her housecoat, jerking at both ends, squeezing adamantly against her middle. “Absolutely not. No freaking way, Jose.”

  “Dr.Godfrey said you can learn to control this thing. I’ve already seen it, Gina.”

  “Dr. Godfrey also said it’s not just about bleeding. It’s about the environment. I have to be amped up somehow, or something like that. I’m too relaxed right now. It won’t work,” she dismisses. “It?” she sputters as an afterthought. “Did you refer to me as it?”

  “You,” Tony quickly corrects. “You...as it...ah, shit...you as Vigilare,” he continues fumbling over his words. “You know what I mean. I’ve already seen you, like that. What’s it...you,” he interjects, wincing uncomfortably. “What are you going to do? Scare me? Shit, Gina, if you didn’t give me a heart attack that night at Randall’s, I’m sure I’ll be fine tonight. At least I’ll be expecting it.” He runs his hands through his hair, his eyes wild with excitement.

  “You must be a masochist,” Gina scoffs, miming his body language, running her fingers through her own hair.

  “Maybe.” He winks, followed up with a grin.

  Gina shakes her head, waving her finger, a nervous giggle escaping her vocal chords. “I know what you’re doing here, Gronkowski, and it’s not working. Save that signature bullshit for someone who’s buying.” She plants her hands firmly on the table across from him, leaning her weight onto her arms, leveling her eyes with his. “Just because you smile and wink doesn’t make everything light and carefree. It’s not cute.” She smiles, briefly. “Okay, well maybe just a little bit. You’re a little cute.” She slaps her hand down on the table, snapping herself out of it. “But it’s not cute. Not in this context. Save the charm. You’re not getting your way. Not with this.” She turns, walking away from him.

  He grabs her by the arm, pulling her into him. Their bodies pressed together, their mouths inches apart, her eyes frantically search his. “Trust me?” he asks, his breath warm and intoxicati
ng.

  “Yes,” she whispers, unable to refuse him.

  He lifts her hand, inspecting its palm.

  She pulls her hand from him, using it to push the robe down over her right shoulder, exposing a small scar from the gunshot wound. “No need for a new scar, is there?” she asks timidly, her skin instantly cool with the thought, sends a shiver through her.

  Tony traces the scar with the tips of his fingers before laying his hand out flat, stroking it across her skin. Gina moans faintly with his touch, warm and soothing, causing her eyes to close and her lips to part.

  “Still can’t believe how small this scar is,” Tony admits, his voice low and sensual, somewhere between fear and desire. Her mouth, the fullness of it and the moisture collecting on her bottom lip, almost unbearable.

  “Faster healing,” she reinforces, slowly opening her eyes. “One of the perks, I guess.” She smiles faintly.

  Tony narrows his glance, asking for permission. She nods, her breathing becoming more pronounced, suddenly matching his. Tony raises the blade to her shoulder, steadying his hand under the labored rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes watch his focusing on her flesh, preparing to bear down with the thin, shiny piece of metal. He readjusts it in his hands several times, attempting to find the least painful position. He looks up at her, her eyes fixed on his. She nods, holding her breath, an attempt to hold still for him. He prepares holding the skin around the scar taut with one hand, while he makes contact with the tip of the scar, the razor blade in the other. Gina closes her eyes, waiting for the sensation, only to be interrupted by a Whisht!

  “I can’t do it,” he says, the blade tucked tightly back into the armor of the utility tool. He drops it to the floor, disappointment in his expression.

  “It’s okay,” Gina insists, her eyes darting back and forth between his. “I didn’t want you to do it. Must be pretty freaky, huh?” Shame replaces the wonder in her eyes.

  Tony cups her face in his unsteady hands, looking at her intently. “Farthest thing from it. It’s amazing, DeLuca. Fucking beautiful.” His hand slides down to her chest, covering the scar. “Just can’t tear your flesh open. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Is that all?” she inquires coyly, placing her hand over his. “You really wanna do this?”

  His forehead now resting against hers, his hand trailing from her face to the back of her neck. He gives her an affirmative squeeze, nodding his head. His eyes completely salacious, his mouth grows wet being so close to hers, just to taste her.

  “You trust me?” The tide’s now turned.

  “Yes,” he half whispers, half groans.

  “Kiss me,” she says, somewhere between a plea and a command.

  With the fervor inside him successfully knotted into a full-blown frenzy, his mouth crushes down on hers. She returns his momentum, stride for stride. Her hands wound in the collar of his shirt, his in the strands of her hair, their melding is equally craved, raw and satisfying. Breathing, sporadic and inconvenient at this point, each shows the other every trick they’ve got. Tony groans, resonant and prideful, from the depths of his chest, causing Gina to purr deep and low, in the back of her throat. His bottom lip between hers, she bears down, drawing blood, causing him to do the same to her in kind. She quickly follows up with a sweetly apologetic lick and suck.

  A different kind of groan escapes Tony this time, one of both pleasure and pain. His mouth curves into a smile. “Clever, baby.”

  “One of the richest blood supplies. The mouth.” She smiles back, the taste of the viscous substance finding its way to her taste buds. “Now what?”

  He shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He inspects her, specifically her eyes, waiting for the transformation. “You feel anything?”

  She ponders. “Aroused.”

  He grabs her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We gotta get you worked up, right? Dr. Godfrey’s orders.” He grins. “Get the blood flowing, your heart pumping.”

  She giggles, throwing her head back. “If I turn into that thing and don’t remember this, I’m going to be pissed.”

  “And if it results in death for me, all I have to say is, what a way to go.” He playfully throws her onto his bed, rapidly peeling his clothes off.

  She meets his enthusiasm, coming up onto her knees, hastily removing her robe. “Modest much?” she inquires, looking around at the walls and the ceiling nearly covered with mirrors.

  “One of the earliest sex toys known to man,” he confirms, kneeling as she is on the bed. She takes him in with open arms, he takes her mouth in his, their blood meshing and mingling with each caress of their lips. Her breathing and her heartbeat escalating, her body aches.

  “Tony,” she calls his name, clutching his body next to hers. “Something’s happening here. Oh, God.” The pulse in her head starts its incessant throbbing. “Can we skip the foreplay? Just get to it,” she requests adamantly through ragged breaths, praying she can remain cognizant, and that Tony will remain intact.

  “You gotta let me get you warmed up,” he contests.

  She takes his hand and strokes it between her thighs. “Warm enough for ya?”

  “Aw baby,” he growls with the contact of her hot, moist flesh.

  Her chest heaves up and down, she closes her eyes, grabbing her head between her hands, surely to explode. “Please, please, please...Tony,” she begs.

  He obliges, entering her slowly, studying her face. She moans, appeased with the release, stifling her body motionless. “Gina,” he coaxes.

  “I’m afraid to move,” she whispers.

  He grins, understanding her apprehension. “Open your eyes.”

  He strokes her deeper this time, causing her to gasp, flitting her eyes open. In between the fear and doubt, a dim sparkling emerald green cast exudes from her stare. Tony smiles, triumphantly. She darts her eyes away from him, the luminous green glow ricochets from mirror to mirror. She squeezes her eyes shut, hiding her head in his chest.

  “What the hell was that?” she pants.

  Tony chuckles, coaxing her head up. “Amazing, huh?”

  “Alarming,” she corrects, her eyes remain closed.

  “Gina, baby...you gotta see yourself.” He trails kisses up her neck. She nuzzles into him, moving against him rhythmically. “Relax, baby. I gotcha.” She meets his lips with her own, a little more powerful than she realizes, drawing blood again. Tony groans, pulling away slightly.

  “Shit!” she scolds. “Sorry. Let me see.” She inspects with her eyes, finally unaware of their appearance. Every action she makes is efficient and fast with great fluidity and finesse. Tony watches her, intrigued. “This isn’t going to work,” she sighs, wiping the blood from his lip, running her tongue across the metallic-tasting substance on her own. “I’m too scared of what I might do to enjoy it.”

  “Nothing bad is going to happen,” he pacifies, laying her down flat on the bed.

  Her body grows uncomfortable, her mind working through snapshots, visions. She closes her eyes, shaking her head, attempting to drive them out. Tony bends down to her, his voice soothing, coaxing her to open her eyes. As she does, her central focus is his neck, displaying a spider web tattoo.

  “Gina,” he says her name, only a distant murmur to her as the intense ringing inside her head fills her auditory sensors. Ga-gung...ga-gung...ga-gung, her heart surges. She breathes deeply, forcefully, providing every nerve and muscle fiber within her body with adequate oxygenation. She snarls, grabbing Tony by the neck with one hand, wrapping the other around his back.

  “Oh shit!” he stammers, knowing he has no defense, only to hold on.

  Her eyes dart to the mirror above, the concentrated power they exude to the reflective surface causes it to shatter all over them and the bed below.

  “Close your eyes!” Tony advises.

  With great momentum, she swings up from her supine position, taking Tony with her, directing her bod
y forward. Tony pushes against her, causing her to release even more exertion. She lurches from the bed to the back wall, completely airborne. His back crushes against the mirror lining the wall, crumbling it into sharp, jagged pieces.

  “Ugh!” he gasps, the air knocked from his lungs with the impact. He does what comes naturally to him, sweeping her leg and taking the tussle to the ground. The sparkling emerald green light fills the room, as they spin body over body, end over end, across the floor, grappling. “Goddammit, DeLuca, snap out of it, would ya? You’re giving me a hell of a rug burn,” he grunts between hold maneuvers.

  “Quit fighting me,” she says, annoyed, as if he should know that.

  “You’re in there? Gina?” he pants.

  “I think. Somewhere.” She finally gets him pinned onto his back, sitting upright astraddle of him.

  He puts his arms over his head, a gesture of defeat. His chest moves up and down erratically, his body glistening with moisture from exertion, certain his heart will leap out of his chest at any moment. She sits atop him, firm and calm, as if she exerted the bare minimum.

  “I have an overwhelming urge to choke you right now,” she says, looking down at him, her head cocked to the side curiously, her eyes studying him with intent.

  He grins. “How come you’re so calm?” he puffs between breaths.

  “I was just getting warmed up,” she says matter-of-factly with a straight face. Her hands remain at her side as she scans him egregiously. “I feel like I’m supposed to do something to you. But what?”

  He sits up underneath her. She leans back, defensively. He puts his hands up, palms out, shoulder level.

  “Maybe I should close my eyes,” she suggests.

  “Unh-uh,” he quickly nixes that idea, shaking his head. “We’re getting somewhere, De Luca...Gina...Vigilare.” He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Keep ’em open. God, your beautiful,” he exclaims, studying her, his hand aching for contact with her flesh. “Can I touch you?”

  “I might touch you back,” she warns, miming his hand positioning as if she is prepared to deliver whatever he does.