Darkness Unknown (2 page)

She filled a bowl with warm water, then carried it to the bedside table so she could wash away the dirt and blood to check his injuries. More for Chase's sake than her patient's modesty, she draped a clean towel over the center of his groin and set to work.

It was a relief to see that most of his wounds were already closing up and healing. A couple, though, were quite deep and caked with mud. Judging by the number of battle scars on his body, this wasn't the first time he'd been in this shape. What kind of life did he lead?

Shoving that thought onto the back burner, she began the delicate task of cleaning the filth out of the few deeper cuts. What on earth had he tangled with that would do such damage? It was almost as if he'd been in a knife fight, but it had to be a hell of a big blade to cause such damage.

When Chase finally returned with the first aid kit, his mouth was set in a straight line and his blue eyes darkened in disapproval. He placed the kit within easy reach before bending down to pick up the sodden jeans she'd tossed on the floor.

“Did you check his ID?”

“Not yet. I left that for you.”

Chase pulled out a trifold wallet and carried it over to the lamp to see better. When he pulled out a wad of money, a foil packet fell onto the table. Gwen pretended not to see it while her brother blushed and hastily stuffed it back in the wallet.

“Doesn't look like he was robbed.” He studied the driver's license. “His name is Jarvis Donahue, and he has a St. Louis address. How do you think he ended up in our woods?”

“We'll have to ask him when he wakes up.” She dried the last cut and carefully taped a gauze pad over it with surgical tape. “If he's like you, he'll sleep through the night while his body heals. Come morning, though, we should get some answers.”

Chase crowded closer to the bed. “He really is like me.” The boy's voice cracked, a sign of how intensely the discovery affected him.

“It would appear so. Do you want to be there when I question him?”

“Yes.” Then Chase shook his head. “No, you do it after I leave for work. You can tell me what he said when I get home.”

“But…” she started to argue, but changed her mind. As volatile as Chase's temper had been lately, there was no telling how he'd react to his problems being discussed with a total stranger.

Gwen stretched her weary back, then gave her brother a weary smile. “Let's get this mess cleaned
up and throw his wet things in the washer. I had to cut his shirt off, so he'll need something to wear in the morning. Can you toss one of your shirts downstairs when you go up to bed? You're pretty close in size.”

Chase nodded as he stooped to pick up the jeans and dirty towels and headed for the mudroom. “I'll set his shoes on the dryer, too.”

“Good idea. Oh, and one other thing. When you come back, bring that rope from the cabinet over the washer.”

Chase's head jerked around. “Rope? What are you going to do with that?”

“I'm going to tie him to the bed, once I've got him under the covers.”

Chase returned to study the stranger. “Why? If you're that worried, maybe we ought to call the sheriff.”

“That's part of it, but mainly I'm afraid he'll thrash around when he starts waking up. Last time you fractured your arm, you almost broke my jaw when I leaned over to check how you were doing. I'd guess he outweighs you by a good thirty pounds, with most of it muscle.”

Chase flushed with embarrassment. That hadn't been the only time he'd hurt her when he was in the throes of healing. He couldn't help himself; it was just the way things were for him. She'd learned to approach him with great care.

“Can you roll him to one side for me while I get rid of the shower curtain? Lying on that plastic won't be comfortable.”

Chase set down the wet clothes and towels and turned the stranger on his side while she tugged the curtain out from beneath him. Then they pulled the blankets up to cover him and put a pillow under his head.

“Thanks, Chase. If you'll start the washer, I'll put the clothes in the dryer later. Once you've done that and gotten me the rope, go on up to bed. I'm going to stay down here tonight.”

“I can take a shift. What if he gets loose?”

Gwen mustered a reassuring smile. “I'll bring the dogs in to sleep by my chair. They'll sound the alarm if he tries anything. I'll be fine.”

Chase didn't like it, but he left to do as she asked.

She checked her patient one more time. His skin was warmer to the touch, and his color had improved considerably since they'd brought him into the house. The unhealthy blue tone to his skin was gone, and his face had relaxed into peaceful sleep. She was pretty sure she'd made the right choice in bringing him home instead of turning him over to the authorities.

She could only imagine what the local emergency room doctors would have done when his cuts and bruises disappeared right before their eyes. He'd be lucky if he didn't end up the object
of some highly classified medical experiments. She shuddered at the thought.

After letting in the dogs, she restrained their guest with the rope. She felt a little guilty, but she wouldn't risk him hurting her or her brother. In the morning, she would untie him—
if
he gave her a believable explanation for how he'd come to be in that condition in her woods.

If she didn't like what he had to say, she would call the sheriff, although she'd have to come up with some excuse for not calling him in the first place. But she really, really hoped that this man had answers for all the questions she had about her younger brother.

She tugged a chair closer to the bed, then settled in for a long night.

 

Consciousness came burning back, jerking Jarvis out of the deep sleep his body demanded for healing. With it came the familiar surge of anger, coupled with a heightened awareness of being alive. His skin burned and hurt, as if it were too small to contain him any longer. Old habits had him twisting and turning to break free of his bonds; he hated being tied down, and hated the need for it even more.

But something was different. Waking up unable to move was hardly a new experience, but he was used to the cold chill of stainless steel under his
back, not soft, sun-dried sheets. He tried to move his sword arm, but couldn't budge it more than an inch or two. Same with his left.

His legs were bound, too—but with rope rather than the security straps and chains his Handlers used. What was going on? Keeping his eyes shut, he reached out with his other senses.

There were other heartbeats in the room, two of which weren't human. The good news was that they weren't Others. The third heartbeat was definitely human, and from the faint scent of floral perfume, it was most likely a woman's.

Where the hell was he, if he wasn't dead and he wasn't in the lab?

His last clear memory was the nightmare realization that he was about to die at the hands of a rogue mob of Others. Everything after that was a complete blank.

He opened one eye to assess his situation. A ceiling fan whirred softly overhead.

To the right was an old-fashioned oak dresser and a wall covered in floral striped wallpaper. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he slowly looked to his other side and hit pay dirt.

A woman lay sprawled in a chair in the corner. She couldn't possibly be comfortable with her neck bent like that, but it clearly hadn't interfered with her ability to sleep. Who was she?

He'd always been a sucker for redheads, es
pecially the ones with fair skin and a few freckles thrown in for extra interest. He grinned, willing to bet she hated each and every one of them.

He studied her face, liking what he saw. What color were her eyes? He was betting on green, or maybe a rich chocolate brown. Her hands looked strong and capable, and she wasn't wearing a wedding ring—although that didn't always mean anything. Not that it mattered. Once she cut him free, he'd leave, never to darken her doorway again. And that was a damn shame. He definitely wouldn't mind a romp in this bed with her.

Then he noted the rifle within easy reach of her chair. She'd been smart enough to tie him down, and he bet she knew how to use that gun. A bullet from a twenty-two wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt like hell. And if she hit a vital spot, it would definitely slow him down.

He shifted slightly, causing the bed to creak. Immediately there was the sound of claws scrabbling on a wooden floor, and two furry heads popped up over the edge of the bed. The dogs were well mannered enough not to jump up with him, but they whined and looked back at their owner as if trying to figure out what to do next.

The woman went from sound asleep to wide awake in a heartbeat. She jerked upright, her eyes wide and a little scared. Then she reached out to reassure her guardians.

“Down, boys. He doesn't need you in his face.” The animals immediately disappeared from view.

If she'd been pretty while asleep, she was stunning wide awake. And he'd been right the first time: her eyes were a bright green with flecks of gold in them. Right now they were focused on him with sharp intelligence.

“Good morning, Mr. Donahue.”

How the hell did she know his name? Then he spied his wallet on the small table next to the chair. She'd rifled through his things?

He let a little temper show in his words. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mrs….”

“Gwen. Gwen Mosely, and it's Miss.”

That pleased him far more than it should. “I would offer to shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment.”

When she made no move to untie him, he tried again. “I won't hurt you, Miss Mosely. If you'll just untie me, I'll leave and never bother you again.”

Preferably without answering any of the questions she was likely to start asking, ones he couldn't answer.

“My dogs found you last night, and my brother and I brought you up to the house.”

He could imagine what shape he'd been in when they found him. After a fierce fight, he'd managed to escape from the Others, but he hadn't expected to live through the night.

“Thank you.”

“You were a bloody mess.” Her eyes darkened. “I don't suppose you'll tell me how you came to be in that condition.”

“You suppose right.” With the toll healing took on his body, he simply didn't have the energy to think up a believable lie. “You don't want to know the details.”

“Well, yes, actually I do.” She leaned forward, as if to encourage him to start talking.

He went on the attack. “Why didn't you call the authorities? Or are you in the habit of taking in wounded strangers and tying them up?”

Her fair skin flushed. “I thought about calling Sheriff Cooper, but he would have insisted on calling an ambulance. I didn't think you'd want the local medical authorities to get their hands on you. A man with your particular abilities could end up as a lab rat somewhere.”

His stomach clenched. She was right—but her reaction to his ability to heal didn't make sense. Unless she knew more about Paladin physiology than any civilian had business knowing.

“I would have survived the experience.” Short of a head shot or amputation, he could survive almost anything, but she didn't know that. Or shouldn't.

“My mistake, then. Next time I find you cut to shreds and half-drowned, I'll save myself a lot of work and call nine-one-one.” She had a redhead's temper, all right.

He tried his most winning smile. “Did I forget to thank you? This is a far more pleasant wake-up than I expected to have.”

She wasn't buying it. “Save the charm for someone who might fall for it, Mr. Donahue.”

He couldn't help laughing. “Okay, but the gratitude was sincere. I really do appreciate what you did for me.” He tugged at his ropes again. “Now, can you cut me loose?”

She gave him a slow nod. “On one condition. You stay for breakfast and meet my brother.”

That seemed like a simple enough request, but was it? What difference did it make if he met her brother or not? Maybe he should find out.

“Deal.”

She smiled. “Good.” She began working on the ropes before she spoke again. “There's a bathroom down the hall on the right. I'll lay out towels and a toothbrush for you. Your clothes are clean—well, your jeans and socks are. I'm afraid your shirt was beyond salvaging. My brother is about your size, though, so you can wear one of his.”

So her brother was full-grown. If he was an adult, though, why would he let his sister stand guard rather than do it himself? They had no way of knowing whether Jarvis was a good guy or a bad guy, and he'd give her brother an earful on the subject.

He remained still until she finished untying him, not wanting to startle her with any sudden moves.
When she stepped away from the bed with her two dogs flanking her, he slowly sat up. Other than a few sore spots, he was well on his way to mending.

When he swung his legs over the side of the bed, she actually blushed and backed farther away. He grabbed the sheet to cover himself up. In the lab, he was used to waking up stark naked with a serious woody and thinking nothing of it. But from the way she kept her gaze strictly on his face, she wasn't used to strange men walking around her house in their underwear, aroused or otherwise.

“I, um, I'll go get your things.” She beat a hasty retreat.

Once she left the room, he picked up his cell phone from next to his wallet and called headquarters to check in. They sounded relieved to hear from him, but he didn't fool himself that they really cared. His permanent death might even come as a relief to some of the Regents, considering how often he was in their face over how they treated the local Paladins.

The good news was that the barrier had finally stabilized during the night. The mop-up campaign was nearly complete, and everyone had orders to stand down for the next couple of days.