Keepers of the Cave

by Gerri Hill

  “No. I will, of course, inquire as to her health, but confront? No.” He moved to the door, intending to bid them goodnight when the now familiar shrill scream pierced the night. He jumped, his heart beating frightfully loud. He always jumped.

  “Jesus,” Paige gasped, holding a hand to her own chest. “That sounded close.”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat, now afraid to open the door. “I assume you’ve heard it before?”

  “Twice now,” CJ said. She tilted her head. “Are there any bears around here?”

  “Bears?”

  “Something was outside our house the other night,” Paige explained. “We went out. We found some tracks. Thought maybe they were bear.”

  “I haven’t heard anyone mention bears,” he said. “I don’t think that awful scream is from a bear, though. Do you?”

  “No,” Paige said and he noticed she’d moved closer to CJ. “Do you have any idea what it is?”

  “Some say a black panther, but I think that’s just a myth that’s been passed down. But it disturbs me,” he confessed. “So much so that I’ve researched it to death and can find no matching sounds. A mountain lion after he’s made a kill sounds similar, yet it is not the same. Regardless, I try not to ever be outside after dark.” He offered a small smile. “That must sound strange coming from an FBI agent.” They all jumped again, eyes darting around as the primal scream was heard once more.

  “No. Not strange at all,” CJ murmured.

  ***

  Ester Hogan stood at the opened window in her study, looking out into the dark, humid night, listening for him. Was he out hunting? Was he growing weary of tracking deer? She tilted her head, hearing his call, far off in the woods. Up near the school. She waited, wondering if he’d made a kill. The scream echoed again through the woods, sending chills across her body. She imagined him ripping the flesh as he devoured his kill.

  She turned from the window, the stress of the day coming back to her. Yes, Fiona was ill. She only hoped she could hang on another few weeks. The last time she’d tried this experiment, with Dovie Hogan, it had gone terribly wrong. But she had learned a lot in the last twenty years. She had perfected her potions, she was sure. She mistakenly tried to let Dovie deliver naturally. Oh, what a terrible scene that was. The baby had ripped her open, its sharp claws tearing at her. There was nothing she could do. The bleeding was too much. She still remembered the excruciating scream that came from Dovie when she saw her baby. Ester smiled now, thinking it probably drove Dovie mad in her final moments. It was just as well. Unfortunately, her baby did not survive. It wouldn’t have mattered. It was a male. But now Fiona was carrying a female. Oh, yes, he will be so pleased.

  Her dilemma, however, was Fiona. She didn’t know how she was going to explain her absence at the school. Her mother would be curious too as to Fiona’s fate but that was of no consequence. Her concern was keeping the school out of their business. Fiona’s untimely death could not be explained easily. Especially when there would be no body to produce. He would take Fiona and the baby into the caves with him. When Fiona had served her usefulness, he would...dispose of her. She sighed. She would miss Fiona. She had always been so faithful. But her lot in this life was cast a long time ago.

  A light tap on her door brought her out of her thoughts. She opened the door quietly, nodding for Belden to enter.

  “Gretchen delivered Fiona back at the school. There was no one around.”

  “The neighbors? The ones who found her?”

  “No. There were no lights on. They didn’t appear to be there.”

  “Strange, isn’t it? Did you check with Richard?”

  “Yes. They did not leave the compound.”

  She went back to her window, absently fingering the worn drapes that were still pushed open. “Well, perhaps they were visiting someone.” She stared at him. “The director?”

  “I didn’t want to take the chance of getting spotted, Mother Hogan. I left as soon as Fiona was settled,” he said.

  “Yes, that was the right thing to do.” She motioned to a chair. “Sit, Belden. Let’s talk.” She took her place behind the desk, the old chair creaking as she scooted forward. “What do you make of them?”

  “The neighbors?”

  “Yes, the ones who came into the café that day. They seemed awfully brave. Almost as if it was a test.”

  “The guard, the one they call CJ, is experienced. Gretchen says the other one, Paige, the gym teacher, appears to be inexperienced.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It must be her first job. Gretchen says it’s unorthodox.”

  “They seem very chummy with Fiona, don’t they? I know I told her to befriend them, to find out about them, but she has reported little back to me.” She folded her hands together. “It’s an odd time of year to bring in new ones, contracts being what they are,” she said. “Something tells me they are not what they seem.”

  “Do you want me to pay them a visit?”

  She smiled. “Not yet. But soon.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Fiona still felt weak, but she’d been able to make it through her classes without incident. Thankfully, none of the other teachers had commented, so she assumed they weren’t privy to what had happened. All but Paige. Paige had sought her out first thing, making sure she was up to teaching. Fiona smiled as she recalled Paige’s concern, but she’d tried to reassure her that she was fine. Paige wasn’t buying it, but what could she say?

  She shuffled into the kitchen. She was hungry but knew there wasn’t much to choose from. She opened the refrigerator, surprised at the large container on the shelf. She lifted the lid and her stomach growled in anticipation. One of Selma’s thick, meaty soups. She wondered if Gretchen had brought it, or perhaps Belden had snuck it in during the day. She didn’t care. She was nearly ravenous. She poured a large helping into a pot to warm, the smell enticing. Her appetite had increased in the last month but never to this state. She was salivating as she stabbed a piece of meat from the pot. She bit into it, surprised—and delighted—that it was still nearly raw. She took the pot off of the stove, not caring that it was not entirely heated. She grabbed a spoon, eating directly from the pot as if she was famished.

  She caught sight of her reflection in the shiny metal of the pot, her face that of a crazy woman as she shoveled in spoonful after spoonful, the broth dripping down her chin and onto the table. What’s happening to me? She tossed the spoon down, disgusted with herself. She stared at the bloody piece of meat she’d been gnawing, ripping through it as if she were an animal. The meat was so raw, there was blood running down her fingers. She stared into the soup pot, seeing nothing but blood.

  Her eyes widened and she barely made it to the trash can before she threw up, emptying her stomach of the soup she’d just consumed. She doubled over in pain, afraid she was going to pass out. She finally gripped the countertop, steadying herself until the wave of nausea passed. She shuffled to the sink, still holding the countertop. She turned the faucet on, watching the steady stream for a few seconds before rinsing her mouth out. She closed her eyes, then splashed water on her face several times, trying to wipe away the bloody scene from her mind.

  “What’s happening to me?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CJ tucked the box under her arm as she entered, nudging the door closed with her elbow.

  “What’s that?” Paige asked from the kitchen.

  “Not sure. Something from Ice,” she said, placing the box on the table. “Did you talk to Fiona?”

  “Just briefly,” Paige said. “She looked much better, but you could tell she was still weak. I wonder why she didn’t call in sick.” Paige grinned. “And yes, I’m having to stop myself from going over and checking on her.”

  CJ walked up behind her, sliding her arms around Paige’s slim waist. She felt Paige relax against her with a small sigh. Since they had become lovers, the tension between them had disappeared completely. And so had the stress of pretending
they hated this undercover assignment. “Leave her alone. You know what Avery said.” She kissed the side of Paige’s neck, then released her, curious as to what Ice had sent.

  “I know. I’ll wait and talk to her tomorrow.” Paige went back to slicing the tomato. “Do you mind leftovers? I made us a salad, but I wasn’t in the mood to cook.”

  “No problem,” she said as she cut into the box. She opened the lid, then moved the tissue paper aside. She stared in disbelief, blinking several times as she realized what she was looking at. “I’m going to kill him,” she murmured.

  “What is it?”

  She slammed the lid closed quickly. “Nothing.”

  Paige came closer, eyebrows raised. “Nothing?”

  She hesitated, then slid the box along the table toward her. Paige flipped the lid open, her eyes widening.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yeah. And I’m going to kill him,” she said, reaching for the box. Paige took her hand, stopping her.

  “Maybe we should...try it,” Paige suggested, meeting her eyes with an unabashed grin. “Hmmm?”

  CJ’s knees went weak as she envisioned doing just that. Jesus.

  Paige moved, brushing her body against CJ’s. “Is that a yes?” she asked, kissing CJ lightly.

  “God, yes,” CJ murmured immediately. “Yes. That is...if you’re sure,” she added as her hands slid up Paige’s body.

  Another kiss, then Paige stepped away, handing CJ the box. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom,” she said with a wink.

  CJ ran her hands through her hair, feeling them tremble. God. She opened the box again, staring inside. It wasn’t like she’d never used a dildo before. But with Paige? Damn, the woman never failed to surprise her.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, Paige was waiting. The sheet had slipped down to her waist, her nipples were hard in anticipation. CJ licked her lips, then tugged at the shorts she’d slipped on to hide the phallus that was strapped to her. She felt exposed, standing there in the light.

  Paige lifted the sheets, revealing her naked body to CJ’s greedy eyes. “Come here.”

  CJ nodded, going slowly to the bed, the dildo standing at attention inside her shorts. She felt nervous, and she wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. Paige let the sheet fall as she got on her knees, holding out a hand. CJ took it, surprised at the confidence Paige was displaying. She felt her arousal as their eyes met, Paige beckoning her to come closer.

  “Let’s take this off,” Paige suggested, pulling CJ’s T-shirt up and off. Her bra followed, leaving her naked from the waist up.

  Her worry over how Paige would receive this turned to excitement, and she pulled Paige to her, kissing her hard. She heard Paige gasp as their hips met and the bulge in her shorts pressed against Paige’s center. Paige lay back down, urging CJ to follow. CJ did, seeking her lips again. “Paige,” she whispered, “are you sure?”

  Paige smiled as her hands slipped inside the shorts, shoving them down. CJ kicked them away, then closed her eyes as she felt Paige’s hands on the skin of her thighs, moving higher.

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  CJ opened her eyes, meeting Paige’s gaze. “Then maybe we should—” But her words were cut off when Paige’s tongue slipped inside her mouth. “God, Paige,” she whispered when their kiss came to an end.

  Paige lay beneath her, open and inviting. CJ lowered herself, hearing Paige moan as she rubbed the phallus against her. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted her like this...desperately so. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”

  Paige smiled again. “I don’t imagine you’ll hurt me.” She slipped her hand between their bodies, and CJ felt her take the toy, guiding it to her opening.

  CJ moaned when she recognized what Paige was doing. She let herself go, relaxing as she pressed forward, feeling Paige’s hand fall away as she filled her. She shuddered as she realized she was inside of her, completely. Using her arms to support herself, she lowered her hips, her gaze on Paige’s face, where her pleasure was evident. Their eyes held and she stopped for a moment, not sure what Paige wanted. In answer, Paige’s hands went to her hips, cupping them, encouraging her. CJ nodded as she pulled out, then pushed back inside, deeper this time, her moans mingling with Paige’s as Paige arched against her.

  She lost herself in this timeless dance, filling Paige with each stroke, feeling her own wetness—her own arousal—as an afterthought. Her only concern right now was Paige and the frantic hands on her hips, urging her on. She bent lower, taking Paige’s mouth in another heated kiss, her breath coming fast with her exertion.

  “God, yes,” Paige hissed as CJ’s hips moved faster, the phallus slick with Paige’s wetness.

  CJ vaguely heard the creaking of the bed with each thrust of her hips, its rhythm matching the force of her drive. Paige was panting now, her head rolled to the side. CJ took Paige’s thigh, pulling it upward, giving herself more room. Her arms were trembling from her weight, but she continued. She slammed into her harder and harder, the base of the phallus hitting her clit with each stroke, making her painfully aware of her own aroused state.

  Paige’s fingers dug into her arms, her hips arching once more, meeting CJ’s last stroke fully, crying out as her orgasm took her. Her body went slack, her eyes fluttering open, then closed. CJ pulled out of her and rolled over as her arms gave out. She shoved the dildo away, her fingers going to her own wetness, seeking relief.

  “Let me,” Paige murmured as she turned, her fingers gliding over CJ’s clit. CJ arched and opened her legs, letting Paige stroke her. Far too soon her climax took her, her shuddered breath trapped against Paige’s neck as she held her.

  They both lay still, catching their breath. Her skin was damp with perspiration, as was Paige’s. She brushed the hair away from Paige’s face, meeting her eyes.

  “Fantastic,” Paige answered her unspoken question. She leaned up on an elbow, her fingers moving lazily across CJ’s breast. “Do you want me to return the favor?”

  CJ swallowed and shook her head. “No. No, I’m good.” Paige looked at her questioningly, and CJ couldn’t hold her gaze. Damn. “You must know by now that penetration is not really my thing. At least...not with that.”

  Paige nodded and CJ could see the questions forming.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  CJ turned away. “No.”

  She closed her eyes, but Paige’s touch never wavered, her fingers gliding softly across her skin.

  “Sweetheart, how old were you?”

  CJ bit her lip, embarrassed that Paige had guessed. She shouldn’t be surprised. She had hinted at it herself. She never told anyone about that time in her life. But she wanted to tell Paige. She felt a connection—a closeness—with Paige that she hadn’t with anyone else. Her biggest fear was whether Paige would judge her harshly or not.

  “I was ten when it started.” Paige gasped and her fingers stilled. CJ turned to look at her. “My sister was two years older than me,” she said. “She tried to stop him.”

  Paige stared into her eyes. “Ten? My God. What about...what about your mother? Was she there? Did she know?”

  CJ nodded. “She knew. I think she was thankful he was leaving her alone.” She leaned toward Paige, wiping at a tear that formed. “Don’t cry for me, Paige. It’s too late for that.”

  Paige cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “You know what I’m in the mood for? A bottle of wine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. In here. In bed. With you.” Paige touched her face lightly, rubbing a finger across her lips. “I want to know your story. I want to know what makes you who you are. Will you tell me?”

  “It’s not a pretty story,” CJ warned.

  “No. I wouldn’t think that it would be.” She paused. “If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll understand.”

  CJ very nearly said just that. That was a part of her life that she rarely thought about anymore. But Paige was right. It wa
s what made her who she was. Did she want to share that with Paige?

  “Okay. I’ll tell you my story.”

  Paige smiled reassuringly at her, then crawled from the bed, grabbing her discarded shorts and shirt and walking naked into the bathroom. CJ’s gaze followed her movements, taking in the soft curves and smooth skin with a contented sigh. Her whole adult life had been spent in solitude, bouncing from bed to bed, woman to woman. Meaningless. It was all she thought she could offer anyone. The desire to share more just wasn’t there.

  Why then was she finding herself loving this domestic bliss with Paige? She almost wished this assignment would drag on for a while longer. Once it was over, they would return to Houston...and their lives. Surprisingly, that wasn’t something she was ready to think about.

  When Paige left the bathroom, CJ took her turn. She found Paige back in the bed, leaning against the pillows. A T-shirt covered her this time, although—without a bra—CJ’s eyes were drawn to her breasts and the nipples were outlined perfectly. Paige smiled.

  “Easy, tiger.” She patted the bed beside her. “Come.”

  CJ arched an eyebrow. “Again?”

  Paige laughed, a laugh that had her eyes dancing in merriment. “How about we talk first?” she said, holding out a glass of wine for CJ.

  CJ nodded, the levity leaving as their eyes met. There was nothing cheerful about the story she was about to tell. She leaned back next to Paige, taking the glass and holding it lightly between her fingers. She’d never been a wine drinker. She never really gave wine much thought before. Paige, however, was well versed and knew which wine was appropriate for which occasion. Like now, sitting in bed, CJ about to tell her the horrors of her childhood. A dark red wine for the occasion. CJ wouldn’t even pretend to know what kind. She took a sip, then another. Paige waited quietly beside her.

  “My sister and I shared a bedroom,” she said. “Cathy was two years older than me.” She shrugged. “I never knew that he used to visit her during the night.” She gave a half-smile. “That’s the word we used. Visit. Anyway, his temper was legendary. My mother, well, she took her share of beatings. He’d come home late, smelling of bourbon, and complain that dinner wasn’t on the table.” CJ glanced at her. “Of course, we’d all eaten earlier, at the normal time. She always had a plate for him. Sometimes that was good enough. Most times. Other times, he’d throw the plate against the wall and smack her around a few times for not being a good wife. He’d make her cook something for him again.”