It Takes a Thief – Part 25

Taylor is feeling very conflicted about Jason. Her professional life has crossed into her personal life and she’s not sure what to do.

Now here was this thief. A man she barely knew, a convicted felon, her primary—a man she couldn’t have under any circumstances—and she wanted him to make love to her. Was she out of her mind? Had she finally gone completely over the edge? If he continued to touch her like that, she’d melt. She knew she would.

“I really want to kiss you, Taylor. I have since the moment you walked up to my jail cell.”

“Jason, I….”

“I know you won’t. I know we can’t. But I had to tell you.”

“Jason ….”

“There you are!” Greg Kisler walked into the room with a plate and another soda. “I’ve been looking all over the place, but I got lost.” He laughed at his own incompetence. “You already ate?” He looked in frustration at her empty plate. “I found the box with your name on it, so I brought you some.”

“Thanks, Greg. I’m still hungry. And Jason might like some?” She offered the food to Jason as well.

“I could do with another slice. Thanks, both.” He took a piece after she served herself.

She offered some to Greg too, but he declined.

“Thanks. I ate before I came looking. It was a feeding frenzy. Free pizza and FBI agents equals mass hysteria. So, what are we discussing? You looked like you were having a deep conversation.”

“Training,” Taylor said abruptly, stuffing pizza in her mouth.

“Yeah. Looked like that,” Greg said slyly. “Not my business…. Well, it is, in a kind of round about way. Tay, you’re a good friend. Jason, dude, you’re awesome. There’s nothing I’d like more than to see you two crazy kids hit it off. But we know, all of us, just how suicidal that would be. I mean, career suicide, right?” He looked directly at Taylor. “I won’t let you do it to yourself, baby. Hell, you wouldn’t even go to bed with me! Not that I’m jealous…. Okay, maybe a little…. But I’m not on the wrong side of the law blanket, Tay.”

His boyish face and green eyes held deep concern. He really did care about Taylor, Jason realized. He might even be in love with her still. It was hard to tell, not having seen them together before. But Greg had let slip a vital clue—she had never been to bed with him.

Never? Sweet…. Jason wanted to smile, but didn’t.

“We do need to discuss training,” Greg continued, nodding his agreement. “What options have you talked about?”

“Ever thought of being a safe cracker?” Jason asked him with a smirk.
“Seriously? From time to time.”

“Jason thought it would be good to teach us to think like a thief while we train him to defend himself.”

“Not a bad plan, kid.” He punched Jason in the shoulder.

The younger man could have been offended by Greg’s attitude, considering there was so little difference in their ages, but he chose not to. There was no point getting bent out of shape over something that wasn’t meant to be insulting. For all he knew, he probably was younger than Taylor too. Not that it mattered. His first sexual experiences had been with older women. He tended to prefer them as a result.

“Stu was going to talk to his brother about the gun practice,” Taylor said.
“Yeah, he was talking to him when I left.” He looked at his watch. “Like thirty minutes ago.”

“It really took you that long to find us?”

“Got turned around. Then got distracted by the garage. Dammit, you’ve got cars in there that cost more than I’ll make in ten years—twenty! Super collection, bro.”

“Thanks. Fast cars, hot women….” He glanced at Taylor apologetically.

She giggled, rolling her eyes. “Men! You’re all alike! Get you a little power under your ass, you think you’re God.”

Jason and Greg burst out laughing, having to agree. There was no point in arguing with her, because she was right.

“Then I imagine he’ll have something to report soon,” Taylor replied. “Jason, what are you working on?”

“What to show you first. I’ve a variety of safes here. There’s also explosives, but not going into those.”

“Some of us handle those well,” Greg replied.

“And I venture to say I know them better, at least for my purposes. The tool collection has a practical application. I teach myself to disable unfamiliar equipment.”

“We can work on that tomorrow,” Taylor decided. “I think that later today we should start with martial arts. It’s a good, basic beginning. You ever had any training, Jason?”

“Wee bit here and there. I’m mostly a brawler, bare knuckle boxing kind of guy. Never had the chance to stay in one place long enough to get into a proper training program. Mostly what I picked up as I went along—the have to way.”

“Then our first order of business is getting you on the mat,” Greg said. “I think we can find you something to wear. You and Tim are close enough in height, You can borrow his spare gi.”

“Better not volunteer it without his permission,” Taylor said with a smirk. “You know how he gets.”

“We can always send one of the flunkies out to get what we need. Let’s go discuss this in the kitchen. The others were a little worried when you didn’t come back.”

They walked together to the kitchen. Jason was puzzled that Greg could possibly have gotten lost, but said nothing. More likely the man was either totally distracted by the cars or had been eaves dropping. Not that it mattered. Jason had nothing to hide that Greg hadn’t already figured out. He was attracted to Taylor, she to him, and it was awkward.

© Dellani Oakes

To purchase books by Dellani Oakes: Indian Summer, Lone Wolf and The Ninja Tattoo

It’s That Time of Year Again

It’s time for my yearly breast MRI and I’m not looking forward to it. After being diagnosed with breast cancer in December of 2009, I made the decision to have a lumpectomy. This was followed by 4 rounds of chemo and 6 weeks of radiation therapy. Not the most fun experience I’ve had in my life.

I decided to have the cancer DNA test run – thank God the insurance paid for it. I came back BRCA 2 positive. This puts me in a much higher risk category for recurring cancer – particularly breast and ovarian. As a result, I opted for a hysterectomy two years ago. Also, not the most fun I’ve had. I’m still thinking about having a mastectomy with reconstruction, but after the hysterectomy, I needed a break from surgery and hospitals.

So, here I go again, heading to the imaging center for an MRI. As I write this, I remember the feelings I experienced being told I had cancer. Horror, shock, fear — this crushing pressure in my chest like my lungs were going to explode. It’s like getting hit with an emotional truck.

I was lucky. My lump was very small – about 1 cm. By the time I had the biopsy, it was half that size. My surgeon was amazing and my oncologists kind and caring.  In fact, the radiation doctor bought two of my books.

I urge everyone, men and women alike, to have breast cancer check ups regularly, particularly if it runs in your family. Do the breast self-exam. It isn’t fool proof, but it’s a good starting point. If you don’t know how to do this, ask your doctor.

My lump was found by a routine screening done when I was entering an experimental drug testing program. They called me and said there was “something” on the films. “It’s probably nothing, but we want you to go for an MRI.” The MRI showed cancer.

Everything was a whirlwind after that. I saw oncologists and a surgeon and had my surgery less than two weeks after I was diagnosed. I began my chemo about six weeks later. Six weeks after that, I started radiation. It was a harrowing experience and one I hope and pray never to undergo again.

If you even suspect you have cancer, PLEASE see a doctor. Not wanting to know is your worst approach. If it’s cancer, it’s better to face it head on. Being diagnosed is not a death sentence for everyone. YOU CAN WIN! Ignoring the symptoms is  sure fire way to take a one way ticket to your death bed.

Don’t ignore it. Do something pro-active. See a doctor.

The Fine Handcrafted Trailer

The following is a short story that is a spin off of my sci-fi series. This story shows the main character, Wil VanLipsig, as a little boy, before life grew hard and he found his dreams and innocence shattered.

Wil walked through the seaside resort with his maternal grandmother. He was nine years old. For his birthday present, his father, Pyle had allowed her to take him to the capitol city of Aenias Drax. It had been an amazing trip, full of adventures and fun. His grandmother took him to all the historical landmarks, famous buildings, museums, art galleries and concerts she could find. Although the smaller towns were provincial and stayed, this was a bustling, lively metropolis.

To Wil it had been like heaven, the most beautiful place on earth! Tree lined sidewalks skirted canals that were clear and clean, sparkling in the sunlight. Small cafés were scattered everywhere, dotted with striped umbrellas of yellow, blue, pink and green. Flowers grew  in pots and window boxes. Splashes of color caught the eye, dragging it artistically to the focal point of every garden. Wil’s sense of smell was acute even then, and he was able to pick put the different scents of each flower.

Walking one day from one museum to the next, they came upon a small building that sat directly on the edge of the canal. No bridge crossed the water, and a large garden stretched for nearly three blocks west of the canal. Wil could not see the other side, it was so large. Consulting their map, they could see that nearly a quarter of a mile of garden lay between them and their goal. Wil was anxious to see the displays at the next museum, and did not want to walk around because it would take them so much longer to get there. There was a man standing by a gate in the garden fence. He was letting people through, smiling and tipping his hat.

Wil’s grandmother approached him. “May we get through your lovely garden? It’s a long walk around and the boy is tired.”

Smiling, the old man answered her. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, this is the exit. Only way to get in the garden is from the south entrance. You’ll have to go around.”

“Can we go through the building?” She pointed to her left with her white gloved hand.

“Well now, you can try,” the old man said with a shrug.

“Thank you, we shall,” she said and took Wil by the hand, leading him to the business doors.

It was a pretty building, all glass windows and white painted French doors. When she opened the door, a tiny brass bell tinkled.

A strange sight met their eyes. To Wil, everything he had seen in this city was unique and new, but this was peculiar even to him.

They stood in a small, cobble lined foyer. To their left was a set of large windows overlooking the canal. To their right was a beautiful, delicately tooled wooden bench whose scroll work was dusted with gold leaf. Behind it was the wall of an elderly looking, wooden building. Directly ahead of them was a small picket fence that sat upon a wall, making the entire edifice about four and a half feet tall. Two small, cement steps led up to the fence. An old man, similar to the one outside, sat on the other side, reading a newspaper. He was hunched over in his chair, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

He did not look up when they entered, just kept reading. As Wil and his grandmother approached the fence, his hand hit a lever and a short, yellow gate, like the kind at a railroad crossing, came down in front of them at the top of the steps.

Undaunted, his grandmother approached, opening her handbag. She extracted several bills and offered them to the man. He looked askance at her, shifted in his chair and flipped his newspaper.

“May we please come through?” Wil’s grandmother used her most sweet and charming voice. Her look was expressive of a willingness to comply.

“Nope! Got to come into the garden from the south. Ain’t coming through here.”

“But we don’t want to see the gardens. We’re passing through. The child is tired and anxious to see the art museum on Brach Street. Surely we could walk through your building to save steps?

“Nope!” He looked at her over his glasses. “What’s that you’re doing?”

He was glaring at her hand. She had rested it on one arm of the delicate, wooden bench to her right. As if she had been stung, she pulled her hand away.

“I’m terribly sorry. May we pass?”

“Nope! You look careless to me. You might scratch my fine, handcrafted trailer.”

He jerked his head to his left. They saw that the building to their right was indeed a small trailer that was lined with light gold wooden paneling. It already looked quite scratched. The other old man wandered in and out of the door, brushed against the wall, and passed into the garden on the other side. He seemed to be laughing. The doors opposite them opened. Tourists entered, turned left and passed into the garden, brushing past the back end of the trailer.

“I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life!” Wil’s grandmother was getting angry. Two bright spots of color rose in her cheeks as she stuffed her money away.

Wil, being only a child, wandered up the steps, slipped past the yellow guard gate and down the other side. He sat on a bench looking out the window at the canal. The old man hardly seemed to notice. Wil’s grandmother stood paralyzed with anger.

“You’ve just let my grandson past!”

“Yep. He’s small, he won’t scratch my fine, handcrafted trailer.”

“I won’t scratch it either! Now raise this ridiculous gate and let me take my grandson and leave!”

The old man scowled at her over his reading glasses. “Nope. Ain’t gonna let ya pass. You might scratch…”

“Your fine, handcrafted trailer! I got that part! If you won’t let me in, let my grandson out!”

“He can wait here while you walk around.”

“He can’t! He’s just a little child! This is a big city and I don’t know you! Now let him out!”

A young couple walked through the other door. Wil had the impression that the woman was beautiful, with blond hair. The man wore a bright red shirt. He didn’t really look at them, but gazed out the window. His grandmother continued to fuss at the old man. The young couple stopped and stared.

“Very well,” his grandmother sighed heavily. “You leave me no choice. Wil!”

He looked up at his grandmother. She wore her no-nonsense-will-be-tolerated face, the one she wore when she was about to do or say something extremely important. When she looked like that, he was to do exactly what she said, no questions. He faced her, solemn and quiet.

“Wilhelm, go over to the trailer. Take out your pocket knife and scratch the hell out of it!”

Startled, he did not react right away. Hand at his pocket, he stared at her a moment. Then instinct took over and he walked obediently to the wall of the trailer, grabbed his knife and extended his hand toward the wall before the old man had a chance to react.

“Now look here!” He rose, dropping his paper to the ground. “Stop that!” He grabbed Wil by the collar of his shirt, yanking his feet off the floor.

The young man stepped forward and grabbed the old man by his collar. He could not lift him off the floor, but he was enough taller he was able to make the old fellow stand on his toes.

“Here now, you can’t do that to a little kid! Let him go!”

Wil’s grandmother used the distraction to raise the gate and follow Wil over the wall to the other side. Deftly, she extracted her grandson’s collar from the startled old man. Thanking the young man for his assistance, she spun Wil toward the door and propelled him forward, crashing through like a bulldozer.

Over her shoulder she called loudly, “Your fine, handcrafted trailer is already scratched, you old coot! And by the way,” she turned to face him, still gripping Wil’s hand tightly. “It’s made in a factory in our town, and they don’t craft them by hand!”

Lifting Wil nearly off the ground, she stormed off toward the museum. They had walked only a few blocks when another café came into view. Wil’s grandmother made directly for it, and ordered a glass of lemonade and a plate of cookies for Wil.

“And I’ll have whiskey,” she told the waiter. “Neat.”

The waiter brought their order, she paid him and gave him a handsome tip to keep her drinks coming. “Wilhelm,” she told him in her no-nonsense-will-be-tolerated voice. “You are never to speak to another living soul about this as long as you live.” She did not mean the incident with the old man, rather the fact that she was drinking whiskey.

They had never gone anywhere near the large garden with the grumpy guard again, but it was such a vivid memory for Wil, it drove much of the rest he had seen that day completely out of his mind. However, from time to time when they were alone, Wil would crack a wicked grin at her, and say, “Grandma, do you remember the yellow gate?”

© 2011 Dellani Oakes

Tarnished – Conclusion

Has Kier’s plan worked? Is Hannah free?

The driver’s door to the other car was finally forced open. The passenger was already out, but Hannah couldn’t see who it was. They were getting the same treatment as Kier. The driver was yanked from the car and slammed against the back door. There was something very familiar about the stance.

“Bernie?”

The short, balding man glanced over his shoulder. “Hannah, thank God!”

“Turn and face it, buddy,” the cop said.

“That’s my fiance,” Hannah cried. “Bernie!” She tried to get around the front of the car.

“Hannah!” Kier bellowed. “Don’t listen.”

“But it’s Bernie!”

“Hannah, thank God you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick! Thank God I found you!”

“How would he know where to look, Hannah? He wouldn’t know about this Godforsaken place unless he already knew about it. He’s the Mater, Hannah. You have to believe me!” Kier called desperately at her. “For God’s sake, don’t let her near him! Hannah!”

Moonlight flashed on something in Bernie’s hand. Hannah screamed as the cold metal bit into her flesh. Everything happened at once as pain exploded in her side. She could hear Kier’s voice.

“Get these goddamn cuffs off me. Call an ambulance!”

“Catch him, he’s trying to get away! Halt, or I’ll shoot!”

The report of a weapon, a scream, a groan and all was silent. Sirens sounded in the distance. Hannah lay on the pavement, strong arms holding her, gentle fingers brushing her hair.

“I’m here, Hannah. I’ve got you. You’re all right now….”

~ * ~

She woke a long time later. Dim light limned the room in a faint blue-white glow. Rain pattered against the windows. Hannah was lying, propped up in a hospital bed. The call button was clipped to the pillow beside her head.

Thirsty, she tried to reach the water, but couldn’t quite. Someone moved in the dark, approaching the bed with care.

“Hannah?” It was Kier.

She tried to ask for water, but her throat was too dry. He poured her a glass, holding the straw to her lips. She sucked at it greedily, stopping to catch her breath. He took the cup away, setting it on the table.

“Kier,” she gasped.

“Shh, don’t try to talk. It’s over. You’re safe.”

“You saved me,” she said with a sob.

“Least I could do for the woman I love.” He kissed her brow.

“You love me? I love you.”

He kissed her tenderly, his lips lingering on hers.

“Bernie?”

“In the county lock up. Or he will be when he heals up some. Cop shot him in the ass when he was running away.”

Hannah laughed, holding his hand to her lips. “How appropriate. So, the bastard set me up?”

“Yes. He knew our shop was the only place to get the things he wanted for the wedding. He planted the idea of a Medieval wedding, and encouraged you to get the candles and incense. He planned this from the beginning, Hannah. From the moment he found out about your allergy.”

“Who are these people?”

“Who they are doesn’t matter. What they do—well, you know what they do. They find special people and torture them.”

“Why didn’t you ever try to get away?”

“I knew they’d come after me. The only way to stop them was to take down the Master. But I’d never met him. Not until they found you did he show himself.”

“But you knew it was Bernie? How?”

“Little things he did betrayed him. There was a nurse at the hospital watching him for me. Remember the woman who sat with you?”

“Yes! She was such a comfort.”

“She’s my real mother. She was just as trapped as me. Had either of us spoken up, the other’s life was forfeit. All this time, we’ve been prisoners, Hannah. You set us free.”

“No, we set each other free.”

Tarnished – Part 12

So far, the plan has worked. Hannah is free from her prison. They aren’t home free yet. The Master has arrived and is giving chase.

The SUV bounced and bumped over the rutted dirt track. Kier concentrated on what lay ahead, glad of the excuse to stop talking. How could he tell Hannah what his part in this had been? How could he tell her that even now, he was part of the torture? He was determined to set her free, but he must play his part authentically so that the others thought he still worked with them. It was a double role he wished he didn’t have to take. But Hannah wouldn’t believe him unless it played out this way.

Hannah couldn’t speak. Fear froze her voice in her throat. Clinging to the armrest, she pushed her foot uselessly against the floor as if slamming on the break. The vehicle jounced along at an alarming speed. She bitten her tongue and cheeks a dozen times already and could feel the blood in her mouth. The salty, copper flavored liquid trickled down her throat.

The road fell out from beneath them. The SUV tottered over the edge, slamming into the ground. The wheels spun a moment, losing their grip. The tread engaged once more and the car leaped ahead. Kier almost lost control, but held on by sheer force of will.

“We’re almost to the main road,” he said. “Only one car behind us.”

“Is it the Master?”

“I expect so. He’s persistent. We’ll have to face him soon, but somewhere I choose.”

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t say a word. Concentrating on his driving, he leaned over the steering wheel, peering into the night. He didn’t want to tell her that he honestly wasn’t sure what their destination was. He hadn’t had time to plan that far ahead. He’d concentrated on getting her away from the house. Everything else he was playing by ear.

The motor roared as they hit higher ground. Soon, the tires whined against asphalt and she knew they’d made it to the highway. It was dark and lonely on the long stretch of road. There were no other cars this late at night, no towns nearby. They were at the corner of No and Where, about a hundred miles past the point where Jesus lost his sandals. Hannah hoped Kier knew where he was going, because she had no clue.

Once it gained the highway, the car behind them sped up. It crept slowly up on their rear bumper, then eased around too pass. The other driver was trying to cut them off. With a terrifying maneuver that made Hannah want to vomit, Kier hit the brake, spinning the vehicle around. They skidded crazily until he put the car back in drive, heading back the way they’d come.

The other vehicle tried the same move and nearly overturned in the ditch. It took longer, but soon they were gaining again.

“We’re never going to get away!” Hannah cried, watching the car creep up on them.

“That’s the point,” Kier said, slowing down.

“What? What are you doing? You bastard! Did you do this to torture me some more? Make me think I had a chance? I’ll kill you!” She struggled to get her belt free.

“Don’t be a fool,” he said, tone harsh. “If I wanted to torture you more, I’d have kept promising to save you while I pleasured myself with your body. You do have a magnificent body, you know.”

“I’ll kill you! You used me, Kier!”

“Be still, Hannah. I have to concentrate.” He turned sharply left.

Ahead and on her left she saw a police station. The vivid blue and white sign was a welcome sight. Three police officers, apparently on break, were standing outside, smoking. Kier gunned the motor, honking his horn. They looked up, surprised, and ran for their cars.

Moments later, they were following the SUV as it headed out of town. Kier pulled the same move he’d done before, heading back toward the town and their pursuers.

“What are you doing? Are you insane?”

He shushed her, eyes glued to the road. The police cars were gaining. The Master’s car was up ahead. When Kier got even with it, he slammed on the breaks, cutting hard toward the other car. He hit the front fender with teeth shattering force. The police cars wove crazily around, avoiding Kier, the Master and one another as all five cars ground to a halt. The Master was effectively surrounded.

Four more police cars pulled up from the opposite direction. One officer after another got out of their cars, approaching Kier and the Master warily.

“Shut off the car,” one officer said into a loudspeaker. “Hands on the ceiling. I want ‘em where I can see ‘em.”

Kier and Hannah complied. They couldn’t see into the other car. The windows were too darkly tinted.

Their doors flew open. Armed police held them at gunpoint. Hannah was shaking so badly, she couldn’t get out of the car. Kier allowed himself to be pulled onto the pavement.

“Assume it,” the cop said, spinning him to face the side of the car.

Hannah could see a similar process taking place at the Master’s car.

“Ma’am, step out of the car.”

“I can’t. I’m going to faint. I’ve been kidnapped.”

“By this cocksucker?” The cop cuffing Kier slammed him into the car.

“No! No! He’s helping me escape. By them.” She pointed to the other car.

“You hear that, Luke. Lady says those folks kidnapped her.”

“I’ve been held at a big house in the country. I was locked in a room and drugged. They tortured me….” She burst into tears. “Kier saved me. Please, please let him go.”

“I gotta keep him cuffed, lady.”

“It’s okay, Hannah. Don’t worry about me.”

Tarnished – Part 11

Pretending to fall asleep, Hannah waits for Kier’s rescue her.

A few minutes later, two men came in the room. Neither of them was Kier. They put her on some sort of litter and carried her down a long hallway, downstairs and across an echoing room.

They entered a more confined space. Hannah guessed it was an elevator. This was confirmed when it started sinking.

“She’s a beauty, huh?” One man said. “Master’s a lucky man.”

“Yeah. One day, I’d like to be the one getting the pretty babes. But she’s asleep. How’s that fun?”

“Who cares, man? She’s gorgeous.” A finger touched her cheek, dropping down between her breasts.

Hannah had to stop herself from flinching. It was difficult to keep her face serene.

“Stop that!” There was a thud and the hand left her face.

“You didn’t have to hit me!”

“If they catch you touching her like that, you’re dead.”

“What’s gonna happen tonight?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Such a waste.”

“Yeah.”

The elevator ride ended. They carried Hannah into a cold, echoing chamber. She flinched slightly when they laid her on a cold stone table, but the men didn’t notice.

“See ya, beautiful,” the one who had touched her said.

“Don’t get attached,” the other commented. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

The elevator rumbled upward. Hannah didn’t know if she was alone, so she kept her eyes closed. Soft footsteps approached and she smelled Kier’s familiar scent.

“Hannah?”

Her eyes fluttered open. His handsome face, full of concern, hovered over hers.

“Time to go. They changed the schedule. He’s coming early. Hurry.”

He helped her up and put a pair of soft slippers on her bare feet. He led her to a stone spiral stair. Urging her ahead of him, he walked her quickly up the steps. At the top, he held his finger to his lips. He stepped ahead of her into another room. She followed when he beckoned to her and they ran to a huge garage. He selected a set of keys from the peg by the door and he loaded her into an SUV.

Once he got in, he opened the door with an electronic opener.

“Belt in. They’ll have heard that.”

Already, people were running into the garage. He gunned the motor and the SUV roared forward, knocking people aside. Hannah didn’t know if he’d killed them or not and didn’t care. Clinging to the door handle for dear life, she prayed they’d get away.

“They’ll follow us,” she cried as the people ran for other vehicles.

“They’ll try. “I spent the last hour disabling the cars. I didn’t get the Master’s. He hadn’t arrived when I came for you.”

“Can you tell me what this is all about?”

He shook his head, glancing in the rearview mirror. No signs yet of pursuit. He knew they’d give chase, but he’d slowed them down.

“Hard to explain, Hannah.”

“I mean, they have a purpose, right? They aren’t just a bunch of sickos? Your mother seemed to think it was for some greater purpose, some scientific discovery.”

“She’s not really my mother. That’s our cover at the shop. And they’re pretty much just sickos.”

“What about you? How are you involved?”

He wouldn’t answer, pain in his face.

“I’m another victim.”

“Why didn’t you get away?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t until I met you that I even considered it.”

“Do they do to you what they’ve done to me?”

“No. They leave me alone now. They think I’m one of them.”

“Did you do—any of that to me?”

“No. I wasn’t allowed. Only the Master and Madame Lobachevsky are allowed to touch the really special specimens.”

“Who’s Madame Lobachevsky?”

“The one who calls herself my mother.”

All this time, he’d been driving furiously down narrow back roads. From time to time, he glanced in the rearview mirror. So far, nothing, but it wouldn’t last.

“But who are they? What do they want with me?”

“They call themselves the Watchers. They supposedly watch to make sure that genetic freaks don’t make it into the population. They particularly like people with silver allergies. Who know why.”

“I’m allergic to the nickel in the silver.”

“No. You’re truly allergic to the silver. Those individuals are so incredibly rare, they’re thought not to exist. But they do. I’m one too.”

“But why?”

“Ever heard of werewolves?”

“Yes, of course, don’t be silly.”

“They believe that’s what we are.”

“She said something about witches.”

“Hang on, here they come!” He sped up.

Tarnished – Part 10

With Kier on her side, Hannah isn’t quite as afraid. They both know the Master is coming. Hannah will not survive long with him in charge.  Can Kier help her escape before it’s too late?

Kier took the medicine, putting it back in his pocket. Their fingers touched and for a moment, nothing intruded, not even her fear. Kier leaned forward, his lips seeking hers. Hannah moved toward him, letting him kiss her. Her skin tingled pleasantly where he touched her. The warmth of his hands made her feel alive.

His lips traveled from hers, down her neck, to her shoulder. His fingers roamed freely over her body knowingly, as if they’d made this journey before. Kier excited her more than any of her husbands had. He was handsome, daring, brave and he wanted to help her….

Voices in the hall caught their attention. Kier eyed the door. He listened a moment before opening it a crack. Without a word, he slipped out. The lock slid in place behind him. She was trapped once more.

~ * ~

Darkness came and with it a meal tray. Hannah didn’t want to eat, afraid the food was drugged, but she was hungry. As she feared, she grew sleepy after eating. She woke some time later, her body sore and violated. This time, she knew they’d been even more intrusive. She could feel the swelling inside her.

Weeping piteously, she huddled in the middle of the bed. She could hear voices downstairs, moving outside, disappearing into the night.

The door eased open and Kier entered. He didn’t put on a light, but made his way to the bed by feel and the light of the full moon.

“I’m so sorry, Hannah. I couldn’t stop them. I’ve brought the ointment.”

“They’re going to kill me, aren’t they? When they’re done with their sick rituals…. What did they do?”

He couldn’t face her, ashamed of any part he’d had in this business. “I don’t know. I couldn’t watch. Let me help you.”

He spread the ointment on her once more. She took some, putting it between her legs, hoping to ease the pain and swelling. The hot and cold tingling was more pronounced there, exciting her in spite of her pain and shame.

Kier’s lips sought hers in the dark. His hands explored her body, growing bolder and more familiar with each pass.

Hannah’s body tingled from the ointment, the sensations augmented. Kier’s lips tasted of vanilla. He smelled like fresh lavender and sunshine. Dizzy from her ordeal, disoriented by scent, she clung to his strong body.

She didn’t protest when he lifted the hem of her robe, his hands seeking her naked body. Somehow, it felt right to have him touch her. His kisses intensified as he raised the robe above her head. He kissed her everywhere, soft lips massaging the runes burned on her flesh. The pain was nothing, numbed by the ointment. He left a searing trail in his wake.

Before she realized it, he was naked too, his body cradling hers as he kissed her. Strong hands parted her thighs and he entered her, thrusting deep. They made love slowly, barely making a sound. The sensations he woke in her body were unlike any she’d ever felt before. No man had ever done for her what he did. As she hit her peak, he kissed her to muffle her cries of delight.

Spent and panting, they lay together in the middle of the huge bed. He kissed her once more, hurriedly.

“I must go,” he whispered. “I spent too much time here. I’ll be back. I’ll find some way to save you, Hannah. I promise.”

~ * ~

Hannah spent another day and a night trapped in the room. As before, Kier came to her late at night. He applied the ointment and they made love. He left hurriedly once more, promising he’d find a way to help her. She began to wonder if he really would, of if he was using her to sate his own lust.

Curled on her bed, she lay with her own despair. Her entire body ached from the abuse, but ached too for Kier’s. She wanted to escape so they could be together forever. It was a vain hope, but one she clung to.

The third night, Kier brought her supper. “Pretend to fall asleep,” he whispered. “I’ll dispose of the food so it looks as if you’ve eaten.” He spent just enough time in the room for her to pretend to eat, and left, carrying the tray.

She collapsed on the bed, hoping she was being convincing. The door opened a little while later. She heard people talking, their voices muffled. Rough hands tugged at her clothing, yanking it off. Someone washed her body with warm water and sweet smelling soap.

“The welts are better.” She recognized the voice of Kier’s mother. “That’s not possible. How can that be?”

“People heal,” another woman said. “Why does it matter? The faster she heals, the more we can work with her. She’s truly a fascinating specimen.”

“Indeed she is. The Master will be pleased with this one.”

“Yes. Oh, I’ve forgotten the brush. Would you get it for me? I’ll finish drying her.”

“I’ll be right back. Everything must be perfect.”

The door opened and closed. The woman shook her shoulder.

“I know you’re not asleep. Kier has a plan.”

Hannah opened her eyes. “What’s he going to do?”

“He didn’t say, but he’s getting you out of here tonight. They’ll come for you as soon as we’ve finished your hair. You’ll be taken to the holy chamber. Be ready to run when you get the signal.”

“What will it be?”

“Shh, she’s coming.”

Hannah closed her eyes, relaxing her features once more. The other woman took the brush from Kier’s mother.

“Thank you. I can’t believe I was so forgetful.”

“It happens. I had quite a time finding it. It had fallen behind your bed.”

“How very odd, I wonder how that came to happen. There, she looks beautiful. The Master will be very pleased with this one.”

They dressed Hannah in a clean robe. As they were leaving, the other woman squeezed Hannah’s shoulder comfortingly.

Tarnished – Part 9

In the clutches of an evil cult, Hannah has been tortured and victimized. Kier’s mother seems to be, if not the leader, then at the top of the hierarchy. She gives the orders and others follow without question, no matter how barbaric they may be. However, amide the pain and fear, Hannah finds an unlikely friend.

 “I knew when you first walked by our shop that you were the one.”

“How could you possibly know? And how can I have walked by a shop that doesn’t exist? The police said….”

“Not all is as it seems, Hannah Renee Watson of Paw Paw, West Virginia. Did you think no one would ever find out?”

“Why does it matter where I’m from?”

“Maybe Granny was right after all. Maybe you’re a changeling.”

“Granny was a crazy old sourpuss,” Hannah replied angrily. “Her opinion can hardly be considered credible. She died senile, huddled in her cabin in the woods.”

“And yet she was right about something,” the woman said, advancing into the room. “You’re sensitive to silver—like them. You’re evil!”

“Lots of people are allergic to metal. It’s probably not the silver at all, but the cheap metals mixed with it. I can’t wear nickle either. Loads of people are allergic to that!”

“No, with you, it’s silver. Do you think we don’t know? We’ve tried different things, even nickle. Nothing makes you burn and blister like silver.”

“Why are you doing this to me? What makes it right to do this to another person? What’s wrong with you?”

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!” The woman snapped, eyes flashing dangerously.

“You’re crazier than Granny,” Hannah said. “At least she only waved rowan berries at me and muttered prayers when I came in the room. You torture people and quote Bible verses to make it seem like you’re doing something right! This isn’t my fault! I didn’t ask for this!”

“Witch!”

“You’re an idiot,” Hannah said. “Delusional and an idiot. You sadistic hag! How do you justify your actions? Scientific research? What makes a person go so wrong?”

“The Master will see to you,” the woman said as she backed out of the room. “He’ll see to you personally.”

“The police will be looking for me. Bernie will have called them.”

“Bernie thinks you ran away. You told him you were leaving. You told him not to look for you. No one’s looking, Hannah Renee. No one cares.”

“Bernie cares! He loves me!”

“Hmph!” She slammed the door behind her, the lock outside sliding to.

Hannah threw herself on the bed, weeping. It was true, no one would come looking for her. Even Bernie. Dear, sweet, muddled, bumbling Bernie. He’d taken her at her word. He thought she’d run away.

The door opened again and someone slipped in, shutting it quietly.

“Hannah,” he whispered.

She looked around. It was Kier.

“You! What are you doing here? Keep away from me! You’re one of them!”

“Shh, keep your voice down, would you? I swear, I’m not. Okay—I sort of am, but this is wrong, Hannah. This torture. It’s wrong. The others, they participated because they wanted to. But kidnapping you, putting you through this. It’s not right.”

He crossed the room to the bed. Hannah recoiled from him.

“I swear. I don’t want to hurt you. I brought you something.” He pulled a tube of ointment from his pocket. “This will help the pain. I can help you with it.”

“I can manage, thank you,” she said stiffly. “Set it down over there.” She nodded toward the opposite side of the bed.

“Don’t be silly. You’ve got them all down your spine. Do you think I don’t know? You can’t possibly reach.” He opened the tube, squeezing a little on his finger. “Turn around.”

He slipped the knot at her neck and pulled the robe down from her shoulders. Hannah shivered. She was naked underneath the robe. Although she was afraid, Kier’s touch excited her. She shivered when his fingers brushed against her skin. The ointment smelled like mint and it tingled when it touched her, burning cold for a moment, then hot. Soon, the pain of her wounds eased, feeling almost normal. She took the tube of medicine from him. Turning away, she applied it other places.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Can you get me out of here?”

“I’ll try.”

“Please. Before the Master comes.”

“I’ll try, Hannah.”

“Tarnished” Part 8

Hannah’s life may be in danger. If someone’s trying to kill her, why?

People on the street walked by, ignoring her. No one even turned to look their direction.

“Help me!” She shoved at the man, her hands burning when they connect with his jacket.

The buttons. They were silver! He shoved her into the cab, slamming the door. Pounding on the roof, he sent the cab into the street, leering hungrily as it disappeared. He dug a cellphone out of his pocket.

“She’s on her way.”

“Are you sure about this, Anton?”

“Positive. She’s the most responsive subject we’ve ever had.”

“This is cruel, Anton. She’s innocent.”

“She’s a witch.”

“She’s a woman with an allergy, Anton. What you’re doing—it’s wrong.”

“Stop us then,” the older man said testily. “You’re so sure you’re right.”

The other man sighed heavily. “Why? Why must it be this way?”

“You know the law.”

The phone went dead.

Hannah struggled in the backseat, trying to get the door open. She banged on the windows, screaming with fear as the cab sped down the road. The driver seemed oblivious to her protests and the door wouldn’t budge. Before long, she noticed a sweet, cloying odor.

“What’s that…?” But she never finished her question. Slowly, she collapsed in the backseat and the cab continued out of the city.

~ * ~

She woke with a terrible headache. The cab had come to a stop. She looked out the window and saw blue skies and fall trees, little else. To her right, she saw an old fashioned gas station. An attendant stood beside the car, pumping gas.

Hannah pounded on the window, but he didn’t hear her. Her fists beat the window, sounding muffled. The attendant had his back to her and was wearing earphones. He heard nothing. Tired from the effort, she stopped pounding and tried the door. This wasn’t the cab, but a luxury sedan. She was still unable to get out.

The attendant turned around, putting the gas cap on. She tried to get his attention, waving and yelling. He glanced at her, smiling. She recognized him. He was one of the faces from her nightmare!

“NO!” She screamed. “No! No! This can’t be happening!”

She looked for her suitcase. Maybe she had something in it she could use to break the window. Her bag was missing. She tried to kick out the window, but all she succeeded in doing was bruising her feet. The attendant grinned at her. It was a cruel, heartless expression that made her blood run cold.

The driver came back to the car. He slid into the driver’s seat, not even looking at her. Hannah tried to ge this attention, but he wouldn’t turn around. Eventually, the sickly sweet odor touched her nostrils again and she fell asleep.

This time, when she woke, she was in a four poster bed in a barren stone room. Except for the bed, there was nothing. Her suitcase was nowhere to be seen. She was dressed in a soft white robe that clung to her aching body. She didn’t have to remove it to see the welts. She knew there were even more than before.

Weeping softly, she curled in a fetal position in the middle of the bed. There were no windows in the high ceilinged room. There was only a heavy wooden door with a silver doorknob just opposite the bed. As if on cue, the door opened and Kier’s mother stood there. The expression on her face was one of loathing. Hatred burned in her dark eyes.

“Tarnished” Part 7

Out of the hospital, Hannah is trying to resume her normal life. Unfortunately, something keeps getting in the way.

 Once dismissed from the hospital, Hannah and Bernie went back to his townhouse. Hannah had insisted upon separate dwellings, though he wanted her to move in. Against her protests, he called her landlord and a mover, and had her belongs packed.

“No protests, Hannah,” he insisted. “The big things go to storage, the rest comes here. You’ll be moving in after the wedding in any case. I want you where I can keep an eye on you, Hannah-banana.”

She was too tired to protest, so finally agreed. Bernie put her to bed and she fell into a troubled sleep. Visions of the woman and Kier kept floating through her dreams, doing a wicked dervish dance as others tortured her flesh.

Waking in a cold sweat, she sat up in bed. Bernie lay beside her, sound asleep. He stirred slightly as she moved around, but didn’t wake. Hannah got up and went to the bathroom.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw the red marks on her body looked worse instead of better. There were more of them and the pattern had changed.

Screaming, she tore off her clothing. The marks were fresh. It wasn’t her imagination, it couldn’t be.

Bernie sat up in bed, groggy and muddled. “Hannah? Hannah!” He stumbled to the bathroom to find her dressed only in her panties.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes grew round as he examined her body. “By God, Hannah. What’s happened?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I don’t know. Help me!”

“How could they do anything? I was right beside you all night!”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I don’t know!”

She ran to the bedroom, pulling open drawers and her closet. She flung clothing into a suitcase.

“What are you doing, Hannah?”

“Leaving.”

“You can’t leave. The wedding….”

“I’m—leaving! Don’t try to stop me, Bernie. This is unreal! How could this happen? Who the hell are these people?” She kept packing.

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter now. I’m going. This nightmare will end when I’m far away.”

“I’ll go with you.” He started pulling his clothing out of the dresser.

“No.”

“Hannah!”

“I said no, Bernie. I mean it. If you know where I am, then they can find out where I am. I’m going somewhere no one knows me. Somewhere safe.” She kept repeating that.

“Okay,” he said calmly, putting his things back in the dresser. “What do I tell people? I’m assuming the wedding is canceled?”

“Postponed until they find these lunatics.”

“But what do I tell our guests? I have to tell them something.”

“I don’t care, Bernie. Tell them I’m dead.”

“Oh, haha, funny, Hannah.”

She stopped packing, giving him a baleful look.

“You mean it? I tell people you’re dead? Your mother? Your sisters?”

“Tell them whatever you want. They were only coming because it’s the right thing to do. They don’t even like me. I’ll e-mail you when I’m safe. Don’t try to find me.”

She ran to the elevator. The doors opened revealing three other people. Hannah opted for the stairs. She trotted quickly down the four flights of stairs to the lobby. She asked the doorman to hail a cab for her. He did so. Opening the door for her, he smiled.

“See you later, Ms. Simpson?”

“How do you know me?”

“I know all about you, Hannah,” he said, the smile fading. “Get in the car.” His eyes took on a steely expression.

“Help!” Hannah screamed. “Help me! Please! Help!”