INK: Abstraction (23 page)

I struggle and squirm
to get away. He leans into my ear. “Shay, now we can be
together. I’ve taken care of all the possible interference and
now it’s just us.”

Smelling him, feeling
him pressing up against me and finally hearing his voice galvanizes
me in fear, it’s not Eli. I kick backward, screaming out for
Eli. There’s no way anyone’s taking me again. He puts his
lips against my ear, soggy with saliva, and I feel sweat dripping off
of him. I struggle harder to free myself from his grip. I kick at his
legs and dig my fingernails deep into his arms. He’s not
budging and I’m not strong enough to get away from him.

“I love you Shay,
we can be together now. There’s no one that can come between us
now, it’s just us.” His breath is unnatural on me.

There’s no time
for me to try to calm myself or find a center, I need to find a way
out of this. Even if I have to die to get away from him it’s
what I’ll do. I play the mantra over and over again in my mind,
“Keep fighting.”

Unconsciously I keep
screaming an incoherent stream of expletives. Calling out for Eli,
Carl, Dad, Aiden or anyone who might be listening, I feel my strength
waning. I know that if I don’t do something big to get out of
this I’m not going to get away.

Concentrating or
focusing to draw on my inner power is impossible with his tongue
running down my neck and onto my chest. His hot, labored breath on my
skin draws bile into my throat and I feel the burn of it in my mouth.
He pulls the top of my shirt to the side, exposing my breast. The
bristle of his beard rubs along my wounds, making them feel like they
are opening up again, and I can feel his perspiration stinging as it
seeps into the cuts.

“Be with me,
Shay, we can be one, we can be together.” He grunts, trying to
hold me still while I buck wildly under his weight.

“No,” is
all I manage in a high pitched screech before I sink my teeth into
his forearm. He howls out in agony, but that only encourages me to
bite down harder and lock my jaw closed like a pit bull. His
continued screaming does nothing to produce an ounce of sympathy. He
digs his free hand into my neck to try to stop the flow of air but he
can’t get a grip on me.

With my mouth still
clamped onto his arm I let out a guttural roar and lock down as hard
as I can, tearing away a piece of his flesh and spitting it out. He
releases me and I launch myself out of the bed away from him. I wipe
the blood from my chin with my arm.

When I finally get a
good look at him I realize it’s that kid Bailey from the
signing, the kid that’s been stalking me. He’s writhing
in pain on the bed with blood dripping from his arm. “You
stupid bitch, you fucking bit me.”

“Where the fuck
is Eli? What did you do with Eli?” My voice quivers out of
control with anger that’s nearly blinding and I’m having
a hard time maintaining control. My peripheral vision threatens to
close in at the corners of my eyes, but I won’t let it. I won’t
let my anger get the better of me. An incredible power comes over me.
I eye the bedside table where I know Eli keeps a gun.

Bailey doesn’t
answer me, he just keeps screaming about his arm. I don’t give
two shits about his fucking arm, it won’t matter much longer.
“Bailey, what did you do with Eli?”

“Fuck you,
bitch,” he yells out.

“No Bailey, fuck
you.” I run to the drawer looking for the gun, but it isn’t
there. Fuck. I jump on him with all my weight to grab his throat and
bear down on the pressure points that stop the flow of air. His face
turns several shades of red and purple. Darkness is overcoming me,
moving me, giving me power. I lean in close to his ear and in an even
tone tell him, “I’m going to enjoy watching the last bit
of life seep from your eyes. If you had a soul I would gladly snuff
that out too. Now tell me, what the fuck did you do with Eli?”

The feeling of control
is making me feel light-headed; I lose my focus long enough for
Bailey to sucker punch me in the kidney, dropping me to the floor. He
scurries off the bed and out the door, holding his arm. I’m
left catching my breath from having the wind knocked out of me.

The reality of what
just happened sinks in like the bright red blood on the white
comforter. The terror of what just happened, of what I did, hits me
like a speeding train and I scoot back into the corner of the room
next to the bed. My entire body is shaking and I rock back and forth
just to try to calm myself.

Carl

The
amount of media people has dwindled considerably outside the gate of
Eli’s neighborhood. It might be okay for her to leave sometime
soon. Well, that’s if nothing else happens. If we can keep her
still and figure out how to get rid of the Specter, things will die
down completely.

There’s someone
on the ground outside Eli’s front steps. The door is wide open
and there’s a trail of blood leading from the house down the
driveway. Shit. I can’t feel anyone’s consciousness in
the house.

Eli’s sprawled
across the front steps. My first instinct is to check for a pulse.
Yes! “Eli! Eli! Wake up.” He stirs, moving slow. “Eli,
where’s Shay?”

Eli rubs his neck and
pushes out her name in a groggy voice. “Oh God, what happened?”
His eyes widen at the blood on the ground. I try to help him up, but
I can’t take the time I have to find her. I can’t hear or
feel her near me, but I have to find out if she’s here, if
she’s alive or if she’s gone. I drop Eli back on the
ground. “I need to find her.”

He shakes his head,
“Find her,” and waves me off. “Go.”

“Shay, Pitch,
Quag, Wes?” I run into the house hoping and praying that Shay’s
safe. My first thought is that she’s been taken again, that
Miranda may have gotten to her. The blood in the house isn’t
doing much to calm me. No one is answering. I go straight to the
bedroom.

I'm halted in the
doorway by her shocking appearance. I’m filled with relief and
terror at the scene. She’s balled up in the corner covered in
blood. The dark red smears across her mouth and chin give her an
animalistic look that is only enhanced by her wild eyes and tangled
hair. My steps toward her are slow and deliberate. In a low calm tone
with my hands out in front of me I call to her. “Darlin’?
It’s me Carl.”

She looks at me with no
recognition and her demeanor changes from frightened to on guard.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Are you okay?”

I concentrate on
creating a mental connection with her. I need to hear her thoughts so
I can get through. Shay inhales a long steady breath through her nose
and pushes it out her mouth. “I don’t need you in my
head. I can tell you what happened.” Her eyes are cold and
haunting when she speaks.

“Okay. You got
it. I just want to be sure you’re alright.” I proceed
cautiously.

“No, I’m
not alright; I may never be alright ever again.” Her lip
quivers as she speaks.

Shay’s eyes light
up when she looks past me. Eli stumbles in the room and falls to his
knees in front of her. With tired clumsy arms he tries to embrace her
for comfort, but he’s unable to find the coordination. She
pushes past his arms, putting them over her shoulder, and curls
herself into him, wrapping herself as far around him as she can
reach. She’s holding him.

“It’s okay
babe, I’m here,” she whispers close to his ear.

“I was so afraid
he took you,” Eli slurs.

“Shh, it’s
okay. No one will ever be able to take me again.” A fire
ignites from within her, reaching her eyes, punctuating each word
that she speaks. “Never again.”

“Are you hurt?”
I kneel beside them.

She shakes her head.
“No.”

“You should
really get cleaned up.” When she sees herself, she’ll be
horrified at the gore of it.

“I will in a
minute. I need to be sure he’s okay,” she says, stroking
Eli’s hair tenderly. “He has to be okay.” Her tone
is even and haunts me to the bone.

“We should
probably get him to the doctor, don’t you think?” There’s
no telling what he was injected with. If it’s dangerous there
could be lasting effects.

“I’m okay.”
Eli’s barely coherent.

“Possibly, but if
Bailey wanted him dead then he would be.” her tone carries the
same finesse as though she were ordering a soda.

“Bailey? Bailey
did this?” I was so wrapped up in what had happened I didn’t
consider the who. I’m really slipping. I’ve never
detected Bailey as being a threat and I’m shocked that he had
the balls to pull something like this off.

“Yes, it was
Bailey.” She looks up at me and stops stroking Eli. Her tone
becomes serious yet quiet. “The next time he comes after me,”
her eyes hood with a hint of delight, “I’ll cut his
fucking throat.”

“Shay, you can’t
talk that way. He’s—” She cuts me off.

“Harmless?”
She pulls her lips to the side, looking at me with consternation.
“He’s not harmless, he’s a predator.”

“We need to call
the police.” Eli points to his phone on the bedside table.

“No,” Shay
says quietly.

“Shay, you aren’t
thinking clearly. It’s important that we call the cops,”
I tell her.

“No.” Her
tone is elevated and it’s clear her word is final.

“If we don’t
call the police we can’t stop him.” Eli tries to reason
with her.

“The police
aren’t going to do anything. With the way things have been
going for me, they’ll arrest
me
for assault.”

She’s probably
right; I know Eli and Harry aren’t going to like this. Wes
stops short in the doorway, taking in the scene. Shay looks like
she’s had a night on the town feeding with zombies and there is
blood all over the white bed sheets. “Whoa.”

“Get Pitch and
Quag in here. I want you guys to clean this up.” This isn’t
the first time they’ve had to clean up a crime scene, but they
need to do a good job. We have to try to handle this before Harry
gets here.

“I found this by
the front door.” Wes holds up a syringe that he’s
gripping in his hand with a latex glove.

“Hold on to that,
I want to find out what was in it.”

“Sure thing, I’ll
bag it,” He says while walking away.

I turn back to Shay and
Eli, who seems to be recovering. I’m not as concerned with the
syringe, but I want to be sure. “We’re going to handle
this. We’ll also get some answers as to what he injected you
with. I still urge you to go see a doctor, but I know you’re
going to be Mr. Tough Guy, slam-your-dick-in-the-window, good to go.”

“I’m going
to be fine, getting better by the minute.” He tries to sit up,
but Shay’s not having it. She pulls his head back down on her
lap and shushes him.

“You stay put. I
want to be sure you’re okay.” She dots his head with a
kiss.

He tries not to cringe
at her bloody mouth on him. “What did you do?”

“I took a bite
out of crime. No one will ever make me a victim again.” She
continues to stroke his hair with a psychotic tone. This is not good;
if she goes sociopath from the PTSD we could be creating a real
menace with our training. Some real dark side kind of shit the world
needs less of.

Eli pulls away from
her. “Sweetybird, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been
there.”

“What were you
going to do? He obviously pulled one over on you. We all need to be
more careful.” She bears into me with a cold stare.

“Okay, I’ll
keep an eye on Eli. You go get cleaned up. Take a shower and the boys
will bag your clothes and get rid of them.” I help Eli stand
up.

Shay pulls her
nightshirt down as she stands. “Take care of him. Get him some
water and aspirin. He’s probably going to have a hell of a
headache.”

“Yes ma’am.”
Eli salutes her while she walks into the bathroom.

I help Eli into the
living room and set him on the couch. “What the hell happened,
man?”

“Honestly, I
don’t remember much of anything. The doorbell rang, and no one
was there, but there was a cell phone on the ground playing a movie
or something.” He grabs the bottle of water I offer him and
takes a long drink. “Then there was a sharp pain in my neck and
everything went black.”

“We
all
have to be more careful,” I warn. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
“McNab.”

“What’s
going on there? Do we know anything yet?” he asks.

“Yes we know that
we can add another threat to the list.” I inhale a breath. “We
had a close call this morning.”

“Is she okay?”
The worry in his tone is unnerving to me.

“She did fine,
but there’s cleanup.” I walk out onto the driveway away
from Eli’s disapproving look. “A lot of cleanup, level
six.”

“Carl, the scale
only goes to five. What happened?” he asks, bristling up to a
panic.

“That kid that's
been stalking her came after her, and she did some real damage.”
I think for a minute. “Well at least that’s what the
blood spatter patterns tell me.”

“Jesus.” I
can feel the concern rising in his voice. “And she really did
okay?”

“McNab, she’s
doing a damn good job on her own. She’s fine physically, but
I’m getting very concerned for her mental state. She’s
starting to get cold.”

“She’ll
come back ‘round,” he says with certainty. “She has
to.”

“Well, she made
the call that we don’t involve the cops and clean up on our
own.”

“How bad is it?”
he asks, not really wanting the answer.

“It’s
pretty bad. You remember Tijuana?”

“Schizophrenic
chupacabra?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I
inhale.

“Oh shit.”

“Wes and the boys
are getting it cleaned up.” It’s nice not have to be on
cleanup anymore.

“Okay, I want
that whole scene cleaner than baby Jesus’ rectum after a three
day enema and a baptism.” He’s regaining his composure.