Necromanson (Beta) Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Henry leapt to his feet, the chair skittering away behind him. The chains around his limbs rattled and pulled tight as he backed away from the two dead men. “Take it easy, we’re just taking you back to your cell,” the older corpse said, producing a key to the lock that held Henry’s chains fixed to the table.

“Fat chance,” Henry said, scowling.

The dead men shared a glance, and the second one pulled a taser from his belt. “Don’t make this hard on yourself. You’re already in plenty of trouble,” he said, brandishing the taser.

“Fuck you, I know who you’re working for,” Henry said, staying as far on the other side of the table as he could. The dead men shared another glance, and the younger one bent his legs and leapt forward, pure desperation written on his face as he swung the taser forward.

Henry leaned back, raising his arms to catch the incoming taser, his eyes widening as the chains on his wrist drew taut, catching his hands inches away from stopping the crackling electricity flowing between the two steel prongs.

The prongs slammed home in Henry’s left shoulder, and the momentum of the heavy guard bowled Henry over as he convulsed, pulses of uncontrollable contractions spreading outward from his shoulder. His back was against the ground, and Henry’s arms were held up, still connected to the table above him, painfully cutting into his wrists as he curled in on himself.

Through tearing eyes, Henry saw the older guard move from beneath the table. The older guard reached behind him, his fingers pulling a syringe tucked behind his shirt. The old man pulled the cap off with a click, kneeling beside Henry’s shaking body.

“Sorry it had to go this way, kid,” the guard said, putting his weight on Henry’s head, exposing his neck. “But I have to choose between me and you.” Henry watched the needle descend out of sight from the corner of his eye, straining to throw their weight off of him as he shouted at a painful volume.

Henry felt a prick on his neck, and something cold spread under his skin, and his thrashing redoubled. “Is the car ready?” Henry heard the elder guard say as the world turned sideways.

Henry heard a click, and the racheting sound of the chain pulling free of the table, and suddenly the world sank, then it started gliding along around him. It took him a moment to realize that his skewed perspective was a result of his head flopping around as the two dead men carried him by his shoulders. Henry became aware that he couldn’t feel anything, and that he was about to die.

“you don..” Henry slurred as they dragged his limp, numb feet across the parking lot. “understand…” Henry desperately tried to enunciate the words. “You guys are all…ready dead.” One of the guards stepped into his field of vision, opening the rear door to a large white van with no windows. Rape vans, he had jokingly called them when he was younger.

Henry summoned herculean resolve as his head descended toward the black maw, telling every fiber of his being to move, struggle and thrash like he’d never done before. His shoulder twitched imperceptibly as they shoved him deeper in the van.

A feminine grunt of effort preceded a clunk, and the flutter of paper strewn through the air, then there was a scream, and the sound of a taser echoed through the parking lot, the blue electric arcs casting struggling shadows against the inside of the van, affording Henry a front row seat to the shadow theatre that would determine if he lived or died.

A woman screamed in pain and rage, followed shortly by a man. Scuffling sounds moved around the van, and Henry lost his show, until finally, and man’s voice cut through the silence. “No, you can’t. he’ll kill-“ the sentence was broken by a wet popping sound, followed by a shrill scream.

Seconds later, Athena leaned into the back of the van, looking down at Henry, who could only follow her movement with the eye that wasn’t pressed against the dusty vinyl upholstery. “Come on, Mr. Stein, we have to get you out of here,” she said, grabbing his arm and tugging, which amounted to shrugging his shoulder. How did she beat those guys? Henry thought to himself as she continued to tug and strain, trying to move him.

“Fuck it,” Athena said, ducking down and folding his legs behind him before slamming the rape van’s doors closed, encapsulating Henry in total darkness. Numb, blind and deaf, Henry felt as though he drifted through space for hours before he made out a jingling outside the van. Shortly the driver side opened, and Athena hopped into the van, pausing to raise the seat and check the mirrors before kicking their escape vehicle into gear.

Athena pulled out onto the street, and Henry glanced as far toward the driver’s seat as he could, barely making out her straightened black hair. “Ank ooo,” Henry said, his body floating on air.

Athena glaced over her shoulder at Henry, and he could just barely make out what seemed to be a bloody nose. “It’s my job,” she said with a shrug. “Although driving off into the night with a suspected killer is not.” Athena grunted. “Probably don’t even have a job, as of tonight.”

“’orry,” Henry slurred into the floor.

“Don’t be sorry,” Athena said, keeping her eyes on the road. “I hated that job. Whenever I saw some smug ass bend the truth, I wanted to beat their face in so badly that I froze up, nearly forgot to breathe. This whole fighting for my life thing feels great, and I’m finally involved in something important, not debating some asshole over a DUI.”

“I ‘eed” Henry said miserably, eyeing the spreading puddle beneath him.

“Oh, umm…” Athena said, her ears turning red. “That’s ok, it’s not my car.”

They drove on in silence as Henry thanked god that he was numb as well as paralyzed, because he was without a doubt basting in his own juices. As the ride went on for minutes that stretched to hours, Henry noticed the traffic dying down, amazed that he hadn’t seen telltale bue and red flashes of light against the rear windows.

“Where are we going?” Henry asked, feeling as though his numb body and the humiliation of his predicament had taken him to some state of zen. I am one with the scratchy vinyl carpeting wet with pee, it is me and I am it.

“We’re going somewhere they’re not gonna find us right away,” Athena said, turning her high-beams down so oncoming traffic wasn’t blinded. “So you can tell me that story you were so sure I wasn’t going to believe.”

An hour later the pavement turned to rough, bumpy dirt, and to Henry’s horror, he found himself tossed and rolled around in the back of the van until all of its contents had been evenly mixed. The van rolled to a stop at last, leaving Henry blessedly face-up, cautiously breathing through his mouth. Athena slid out of the drivers seat, the van making a little rocking motion as she hopped to the ground.

Henry heard gravel crunch as she walked around the back and threw the doors open. “Here,” she said, leaning forward, her hand extended. “Lemme help you…” Her voice cut off when she touched his shirt. Athena frowned and repositioned her hand trying to avoid getting her hands wet. After a few attempts, she stepped back, her nose wrinkling at the smell.

“On second thought, I’ll be right back,” she said, breaking into a run, leaving Henry alone in the van with nothing but his thoughts and the moonbeam illuminating the van trough the opened rear doors. Henry ruminated to himself. How had he been so sure that those men were dead? As he searched his memories, he couldn’t pinpoint anything but a twisting sensation in his gut and a certainty in his mind.

Am I just going crazy? Henry thought to himself. But if he was going crazy, how did he explain the behavior of the guards trying to kidnap him? And the guy who offed himself, what was up with that? Henry stared up at the ceiling of the van, pondering.

A raven cawed outside, drawing Henry’s attention out of his thoughts. The gravel outside announced Athena’s return. She appeared once again in the beam of light outside the van, looking positively terrifying with a brown-stained industrial apron wrapped around her waist and thick leather gloves on her hands.

“I can tell you’re serious about not getting piss on you,” Henry said, trying to raise an eyebrow.

“That’s good,” Athena said, bending over Henry. “If you’re starting to feel your sarcasm again, you should be able to help me move you.” Athena grabbed Henry’s arm, and between the two of them, managed to slide him to his feet and get him moving at a tottering walk toward a wooden two story home in the middle of the forest. At the top of three excrutiating steps, Athena deposited him on a rocking bench adorning the porch, then knelt down in front of him.

“Umm, It’s okay if,” Henry started, when Athena began to unzip his pants. With a swift yank that nearly tore him out of his seat, Athena pulled his pants and underwear down around his ankles, pulling each pant leg off individually afterward.

Henry sat there, bottomless, willing his hand to cover his junk. His hand raised into the air, shaking, for a moment before dropping back to the bench, exhausted. Athena stood and tugged Henry’s shirt over his head roughly, before taking off her apron, wrapping his clothes in it, and setting off, leaving him sprawled on the front porch of a stranger’s house, naked, in the middle of the night, unable to move.

Henry assessed the situation, turning his head as far as his weakened neck would allow. I suppose I’ve been in worse situations, He thought to himself. In fact, the whole thing reminded him of the time he came home covered in mud from head to toe, and his parents had sprayed him down with a hose before allowing him to come inside.

The time passed slowly, and Henry was left to ponder life choices as a cool breeze played across his naked flesh. Next time heavily armed guys break into the lobby of my condo, I’m gonna take my own advice, and just barricade the door, Henry thought to himself.

A hissing, sliding sound came from around the side of the house, and Henry tensed, his body priming for a hopeless fight or flight. Athena emerged from around the peeling paint of the corner of the house, dragging a hose behind her, drawing a chuckle out of Henry.

“”There’s only one way this ends, come out with your hands up.” Athena said, adopting a shooting pasture as she aimed the hose at Henry, the pistol-grip head held confidently in her delicate hands.

“You’ll never take me alive!” Henry howled. A flood of freezing water jetted across his skin, scouring his body clean. The sensation in his skin was just starting to come back, and Henry could only wonder how much of the stinging spray he could actually feel. Temperature was starting to flood back, just as Henry’s body went numb again.

“God that’s cold!” Henry shouted, weakly trying to block the stream of water with his shaking hand.

Athena, biting on her tongue in concentration, didn’t listen to him, instead making sure to go over a few of Henry’s less traveled places with a harsh stream of what felt like glacial water, making sure he was as clean as she could get him with a hose.

After an interminable amount of humiliating hosing, she stood back with a nod before throwing his arm over her shoulder again, helping him to his feet. The two of them walked into the house, where just inside lay a couch, covered in a blanket and facing a newly built fire.

“I’ve heard of interrogation techniques like this,” Henry said, weakly bundling the covers around him as he shivered. “I’ll tell you anything you want, just let me stay here.”

Athena smiled, sitting down on a second recliner across from him. With a breath, she began shrugging out of her blouse, and in the light of the fire, Henry noticed the massive brown stain covering the silk shirt. “What happened there?” Henry asked, his gaze reluctantly turning back to the fire as she slid the shirt off.

“The men who were shoving you into the van fought like their lives were on the line,” Athena said, pulling the blanket on her couch over herself, resting her arms across her stomach. “I knocked one out to start with, but the other guy…” Athena motioned to her badly bruised nose crusted with blood, and showed Henry the scrapes on her knuckles. “I took him down with the taser, but when it was obvious he couldn’t fight back…” Athena leaned back, as if considering her next words.

“His heart burst out of his chest,” she said, shuddering.

Ick, Henry thought. “Don’t blame yourself, they were already dead.” Henry said, staring into the fire. “And not in the poetic sense, like they were incurably ill or marked for death. Those men were actually dead, and convinced that they were not.”

“How do you know that?” Athena said, her focus sharpening on Henry.

“I don’t… know,” Henry said, his lips pursed in thought. “I’ve had a crazy night.” Henry straightened in the couch a bit to face Athena directly. “I think you should hear what happened.”

Athena nodded, her beautiful eyes focused on him, ready to believe anything he said. god, I could claim to have taken them all on single handedly. Henry thought fleetingly, before shaking his head, and telling the story, completely, and honestly.

****

Nicole Smith, or Nick, to her friends, had a crappy life. Her parents hated her, it seemed like the moment she stepped through the door, the shouting started. She knew her parents were breaking up, and it was because of her. Nick had seen her dad’s lover in his car, across the road from her as she rode with Tom and his friends.

Nick had tried to keep it under her hat, but one particularly bad shouting match with her mom had seen her bring it out and use the information like a weapon, clubbing her mother over the head with news of her father’s infidelity. Her mother had run away.

For the first time, Nick felt like she had won the fight, but then she just felt like the worst piece of shit, slinking away from her house, back to Tom’s. She sat there, hugging her knees and staring at her phone as it vibrated across the sink, each buzz rattling it one step closer to landing it in the garbage.

A knock came from outside the bathroom. “Nick? Are you still in there?” Tom’s voice came through the worn bathroom door. Nicks gaze fell on the door, covered in small scratches from when the dogs accidentally locked themselves inside the bathroom. The walls were covered in dust, and cobwebs floated in the corners of the ceiling. Underneath the grime, there were poorly covered crayon scribbles on the first two feet of the wall, from when Tom’s sister had been two.

A single clean pathway from the door to the toilet had been carved by the inadvertent cleaning of people’s socks. Nick cast her gaze on the mildew covered ceiling. Her home was immaculate, and yet Tom’s family was so much happier. Obviously the secret wasn’t diligent cleaning.

“Nick, can you come out and talk to me?” Tom said, his voice leaking into the room. Nicole sighed, unwrapping her arms around her knees and sliding her feet to the ground. Nicole stood and after taking a galvanizing breathe, opened the door separating her from the outside world.

Tom, a couple inches shorter than her, was a freckled boy in an oversized white T-shirt, a short mane of brown hair hung limply around his face. Tom wrung his hands with anxiety.

“Nick, You’re my friend…” Tom began hesitantly.

“I’m sensing a but approaching.” Nick said, crossing her arms.

“My mom and dad say you can’t stay anymore,” Tom said, his eyes downcast.

An icy stab of pain, anger and betrayal stabbed Nick down to her core. She shrugged. “Not surprising, I can’t stay here forever.” She said, turning to rescue her cell-phone from falling into the trash while hooking her arm under her backpack laden with extra clothes and a water bottle.

“Well,” Nick said, brushing past Tom on her way to the front door, desperately trying to leave before all her pain spilled out and flooded his happy, filthy home. “It was fun while it lasted.” Nick picked her way through the living room, careful not to step on anything breakable.

As Nick reached the door, Tom called out to her. “Nick, ummm…” Ask me to stay. Nicole’s heart pleaded, wanting to know that he wanted her to stay. “If you really can’t go home…” Tom said, fidgeting, seeming to be at war with himself. Finally he stepped forward, pulling a wad of twenties from his pocket.

“I’ve been working part time to save for a new computer.” Tom said, his eyes avoiding her gaze, missing her expression as she looked down at the money he offered. “But if you’re really going to do what you said, You’re going to need money. My dad says if you eat at Costco, this will last you a month.”

In Nick’s mind, the money took on a different meaning: Severence pay. ‘Thanks for the sex, now get the fuck out of my life.’ Her heart chipped a little more, as if some overzealous stonecarver was hammering the rough shape out with each harsh strike the world took at her.

Nick nodded coolly, wordlessly taking the money, turning and letting the screen door rattle to a close behind her, unwilling to let Tom see her face. Nick put her head down and trotted around Tom’s worn hand-me-down truck. “Wait!” Tom’s voice called out, and Nick sped up, squeezing the tears away from her eyes.

A tug on her backpack nearly sent her reeling, and Tom spun her around, enveloping Nick in a back-breaking hug. “Call me,” Tom said, with none of his usual timidity. “Call me if you’re safe, call me if you’re in trouble. Anytime, anywhere you are, I’ll come get you.” He said, staring into her eyes.

Nick nodded, and broke away from him, turning left along the road, heading to the outside of their little suburban bubble. Nick came to a T in the road. Right would lead her back to her parent’s house, back to the screaming and pain. Left would put her on a bus to anywhere she wanted to go. Objectively, anywhere where people aren’t constantly fighting would be better, she thought to herself as her feet turned to the left.

Nick pulled out the wad of twenties and started counting. “Guess I’m only worth four hundred bucks,” she said, stuffing all but one of them away in her sock. Nick pulled out her phone and began plotting a route to California by bus.

A few minutes later, as the afternoon began to stretch her shadow along the pavement, The bus arrived, driven by a humorless, skinny older woman. She silently made change for Nick’s first twenty, and then closed the door as Nick found a seat away from anyone else. Nick’s heart drummed in her chest as she watched the familiar landscapes of the last fifteen years begin to fade away, giving in to eerily unfamiliar scenery, lit by the dying sun as she escaped from her broken home.

By the time Nick made it to California, she was starving. Four hundred dollars had seemed like a lot of money, and she had been horrified to watch it slip away as fast as it had. Self-preservation instinct had kicked in, and she hoarded every cent, visiting a soup kitchen as often as she spent money at Costco.

Nick had a knack for finding safe places to sleep, curling up and disappearing for a doze in semi-public places, never out of earshot. Even with her scrimping, the money eventually ran out, and one day, Nick found herself staring into a restaurant, pangs of hunger worrying away at her insides.

A waiter walked by the window, pointedly ignoring her, and the shift in focus showed Nick her own reflection in the mirror. Nick’s cheeks had sunken in, and dark skin under her eyes nearly made her look like she had been beaten. Her hair hung down, greasy and clumped together, a sign that she hadn’t showered in weeks.

She didn’t like the way she looked, now. It was hard to name the feeling, but whenever she saw herself, it seemed to be a shining example of her inadequacy, staring her in the face, blaming her for everything. Nick turned away from the window, intent on moving on to the soup kitchen down the road. She’d long since pawned her phone for a few hot meals, but she knew by the height of the burning sun and the ache in her stomach that it was that time of day again.

Nick didn’t want to go there for a handful of reasons, chief among them, a social services leech who would attach to her elbow, and wouldn’t stop asking her questions about her name, her parents, where she was from. Nick could see it in his eyes, the over-friendly attitude, the pointed questions, and especially the way he treated her like a child.

The first time he had approached her, she had ignored him, shrugging him off and walking away as soon as she had eaten the modest meal. The second time, irritated by his oh-so-gentle voice and his ‘I was just like you’ bullshit, she looked him in the eye and told him that if she wanted to go home, there were a million ways she could have done so already.

His eyes lit up, and Nick realized she had made the mistake of engaging with him, just making his clinginess worse. He never got her name, Nick called herself Fort Wayne, or Wayne for short. After that, he didn’t give her a moment’s peace whenever she went to the kitchen, which was happening more and more often, Nick realized, looking down at her grimy pants and worn out shoes.

Nick glanced down the street, her stomach sinking at the thought of having to deal with the invasive questions. Reaching a decision, Nick turned and walked the other way, fishing a thin plastic water bottle out of her backpack. Swigging from the bottle, Nick was deciding whether to go dumpster diving or steal a can of soup at the supermarket when the man walking in front of her dropped his wallet.

Nick caught a blur of motion at the bottom of her vision, and spotted the brown leather wallet resting where it had landed, its owner sauntering on, unaware. Nick felt a sudden surge of heart-rending confliction. The contents of the wallet were surely more than Tom had given her, enough to keep her fed for months with one well-placed credit purchase.

Her mind spun, already calculating what to buy and where before the man noticed his missing card and shut it off. Nicole shook her head, and called out. “Excuse me,” she shouted, stooping down to pick up the leather wallet and jogging to catch up with him, waving her arms. “You dropped your wallet.” The man, of no particular height, turned and smiled.

Nick’s heart skipped a beat, not sure if it was fear or attraction. The man’s face was angular, with a well-defined jaw leading to a cleft chin, softened somewhat by a goatee. His eyes danced in amusement, seeming to pierce through her. he had an unruly mane of brown hair atop his head, an odd, faded scar on his forehead, and a disarming grin, putting her initial apprehension to rest.

“My, you’re a friend if ever there was one,” He said, his hand making contact with hers as he received the brown leather from Nick’s hand. A jolt of something seemed to bridge the gap between his hand and hers, and Nick found the world around the two of them fading away. He cocked his head to the side, his gaze taking in Nick’s sorry state. “Who’s got your back, sister?”

“I’ve got my back.” Nick said, swaying on her feet, sure she was about to faint from hunger.

“That ain’t right,” The man said, a tone of harsh reprimand coming from his mouth, washing across Nicks senses. “Only job people have is to watch out for each other.” The man glanced down at the wallet in his hand, and back up to her. “Something I think you know better than most your age.” Nick nodded, the wooziness making it hard to hear him.

“You look like a couple miles of bad road,” He said, sliding the wallet into his jeans. “Why don’t I get you something to eat, as thanks.” He extended his hand. “Charles Summers.”

Nick grasped his rough hand with her own, noting the thick bones that made her hand seem delicate by comparison. He gave her a firm grip that bordered on painful, then lead the way into the restaurant she had been loitering in front of earlier. Nick hesitantly followed him through the glass door as a wave of smells washed over her, twisting her stomach in knots as she started drooling.

The waiter met them at the entrance, and pointed them to a booth against the window. Charles ignored the politely extended hand and sat at a table in the middle of the restaurant, with his back to the door in a display of arrogant confidence. The waiter frowned for a moment before shrugging and bringing them menus.

“What’ll it be?” Charles said, his eyes scanning the menu. Nick likewise ran her gaze up and down the menu, searching for the cheapest meal she could find, but stopped herself short of ordering the kids meal.

“I’ll take the tomato soup.” She said, sliding the menu toward the edge of the table.

Charles stared at her for a moment. “No you’re not,” he said dismissively, and Nick felt her heart sink. “You’re having mashed potatoes and steak, salad, and ice cream.” He cocked his eyebrow, his piercing gaze shaking, as if he was dreaming. A hair-thin thread of worry began to worm its way through Nick’s stomach.

“Unless you like apple pie better than ice cream?” he asked.

“I..” Nick began, overwhelmed by the man across from her.

Charles slapped his forehead. “Oh yeah, ice cream on pie,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s been a while.”

“Don’t treat me like a kid!” Nick hissed, standing. “I get enough of that shit everywhere else!”

Every eye in the diner turned toward them, and Nick felt like shrinking in on herself. Charles didn’t seem to mind them at all, much less acknowledge their existence. His gaze stayed fixed on her eyes, probing.

Charles shrugged. “Makes no difference to me what age you look like. You did me a favor, now I’m doing you one. I got the money, so what the hell else am I gonna do with it but practice what I preach?” Nick stayed standing, trembling as her stomach boiled with hunger.

“I’m gonna treat you like you, age notwithstanding, and I’m gonna give you a choice.” Charles said, waving the waiter over to him. “There’s going to be steak and mashed potatoes on that side of the table, and whether you’re sitting here when it shows up is up to you. sound fair?”

Nick sat down, her shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” she said after the food arrived, her voice quaking in shame.

Charles’ brows furrowed as he cocked his head. “For what?” he asked, his tone confused.

“Making a scene,” She said, her face turning red.

“Ah,” Charles said, with a wink. “pick up your drink and plate, I’m gonna show you how it’s done.” Nick, confused, lifted her plate and pepsi off the table. Charles jumped up on the table, scattering food and condiments aside as he began singing.

“Love, love me do!” he shouted, a bit off key, “You know I love you!” Charles waited until every eye was on him. “So ple-e-ea-aase, love me do!”

Nick ducked her head, mortified to be seen next to him, but as she looked around, something miraculous happened. People were smiling, laughing, some even joined in, from the safety of their seats. In less than a minute, two waiters had wrestled Charles from the table, and seconds later, the two of them found themselves on the street again, although less hungry.

“And that’s how you make a scene.” Charles said, waving at a matronly woman wearing a turtleneck inside the window. “and get a free lunch.”

“But they’ll never let you in there again.” Nick said, in disbelief at his audacity.

“So?” Charles said with a shrug. “It’s a big world, lots of restaurants. Why do I have to give them the power by begging to be let in from the cold? Life’s too short to bow and scrape to every authority that comes along.” Nick followed along with him, her brows furrowed, deep in thought. Nick found herself thinking that she liked his way of looking at the world, that maybe she’d like to learn more about it.

Nick followed Charles unconsciously. It didn’t occur to her that she’d been fed, and she had no more business with him, he just led the way, stringing her along with conversation and laughter, until she found herself in front of a massive condominium.

“Well, this is where we part ways, Nick,” Charles said, turning to face her with an outstretched hand. Nick took it, expecting a shake, and was astonished when he knelt in front of her and kissed the back of her hand, sending a little thrill up her spine.

“You live here?” Nick asked, looking up at the looming building, and over at the hospital beside it. “Isn’t this where… all those people died?” Nick gawked at the size of the towering monument.

“Sure is,” he said, grunting as he rose to his feet, slapping a hand on one knee and pushing off of the ground. “About half slaughtered in the bathrooms and gym, and the tenants died when carbon dioxide leaked through the entire building and suffocated all of ‘em.”

Nick took a step back, goosebumps raising on her skin. “Then why are you alive? Actually, why do you still live here? That’s crazy!” she said, seeing Charles in a new light, as a man with a death wish.

“I’ve got all my affairs in order. Besides, I just moved in,” Charles said, before looking around and then leaning close, whispering conspiratorially. “They’re also paying people to live there.” Charles winked, grinning. “Free rent and five hundred bucks a month for the next two years, That’s how desperate they are.

Something snapped inside Nichole. A warm place to sleep, food to eat, money and time to find a job? It was amazing, it was too good to be true. A little voice in her mind quoted her cynical father ‘if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.’ Nichole felt the aching satisfaction in her stomach, looked down at her grimy clothes, and decided to throw away that niggling doubt.

“Is there… any way I can get paid to live there?” Charles pointedly looked Nick up and down as she fidgeted under his gaze. When the silence was becoming awkward with expectation, he spoke.

“No,” he said, causing her heart to sink. “At least, not looking like that.” Charles motioned for Nick to follow him. “they’re looking for outspoken poster boys and girls people can point to and say, ‘nothing wrong there.’” He said, bringing her into a beautiful marble lobby, with a fountain shooting glittering beads of water into the sky, scattering faint rainbows across the room.

Try as she might, Nick couldn’t find evidence of the brutal massacre that happened just over two weeks ago. Even now, whenever Nick walked by a sports bar, or TV display, she still saw the event mentioned in the news, along with the face of the man suspected to be the mastermind. He had a nose that was straight with a bit extra at the end rounding it out, short cut hair, and a large forehead. He was caught with a gun and half a million dollars in stolen cash fleeing from the scene.

Charles walked Nick past the front desk, where the doorman was watching T.V. on the big screen behind him, he looked back at Charles and Nick, waving them in without a word before turning his back to them, refocusing on the latest news.

The news story was about Henry Stein’s escape from custody, and his background in the military, showing a picture of the blue-eyed man stooped over with a shovel, ominously glaring at the camera, and another with him looking feverish and sweaty, with dark circles under his eyes, saluting the camera. A looping video was played again, showing two men carrying Henry to a van and begin shoving him inside before the video cut out and began again.

“I hope they catch that bastard.” Nick said with venom as they approached the elevator.

“Hmm?” Charles said, glancing back at the T.V. “Oh, that guy. Don’t worry about him. He’ll get what’s coming for him, just you wait.” Charles glanced back at her. “First you need a shower and a change of clothes.” Noting her uncomfortable glance at Charles, he chuckled.

“I have a neighbor next door, single lady, she owes me some favors, and she’d be thrilled to help you out with the shower and clothes. I’m going to crash in my place, come get me when you’re cleaned up.” Charles said as they waited for the elevator.

“Thank you,” Nick said, a smile breaking out onto her face.

“Don’t worry about it, I know you would have done something great, no matter where you are,” Charles said, as they stepped into the elevator. “In fact I consider myself lucky to have found you when I did, you’re a diamond in the rough.”

The elevator dinged on the fourth floor, and they stepped out, Charles sauntering in front of her with his hands in his pockets. A few doors later, he stopped in front of an open door, brazenly walking in. a bit apprehensive, Nick followed him in. Inside, a woman lay on the couch, breathing long, deep breaths, as if all her focus was on keeping her lungs moving. She wore a shirt many sizes too large for her, and the neck was nearly sliding down over her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

“Alice.” He said, his voice like stone. The woman’s eyes focused, first on the ceiling, then on the two of them.

“Oh, Charles, you’ve got a friend.” She said, a smile coming to her face as she rose from the couch sleepily.

“She wants a room, get her ready,” Charles said. The commanding tone he took with the woman who ‘owed him some favors’ unsettled Nick momentarily, before he turned to her with an endearing grin. “Listen to what she says, and you’ll be sure to get a place here.” Charles stepped in and gave Nick a hug, surprising her.

“I’m glad I could help you out,” he said, stepping away. “Now I gotta crash for an hour or two. Welcome to the family, Nichole.” He walked past her out the door, nodded to Alice, and opened the door across the hall. Nick’s eyes caught a glimpse of naked flesh beyond the door before Charles closed it behind him.

Nick blinked and shook her head, dismissing what she had thought she had seen as an optical illusion, a trick played on her by a leather couch in the light of a flickering T.V.

Alice rose to her feet with a yawn. “Okay, Nichole, Let’s take a look at what He has brought to us.” She stood in front of Nick and gently placed her hands on her cheeks, looking into her eyes, making Nick turn her eyes away from the too-personal contact.

“It’s okay,” Alice murmured. “Just look into my eyes, Nichole.” Nicks brows furrowed, but she complied, staring into the eyes of the woman pressing closer to her.

“How do you know my…” Nick’s words fled as she suddenly experienced the sensation of falling. Once again, the world shrank, a tighter focus than it had ever been, until all that remained was the woman’s brown eyes. Sensation faded away, and for a desperate moment, something inside her fluttered in panic, trying to escape the inexorable pull of her eyes.

The moment passed, and Nick felt her body relax as she drifted backwards down a long tunnel, the scene before her growing further and further away, until at last, the world went dark. Sensations washed over Nick like dreams, passing in and out of her consciousness. Hot, then cold. Rough cloth against her skin. Pleasure, then pain, each flowing away from her like waves on the shore, returning with new sensations, only to leave her adrift in darkness again.