Witch Hunt, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series) (17 page)

14

I sat handcuffed to a bench with a co
uple of women who had obviously been picked up for prostitution. It wasn’t their first time on this bench either, because instead of hanging their heads they winked and flirted with every officer that walked by. I, on the other hand, was mortified. How could I not be? I worked with most of these guys. Hell, I helped train the officer who cut the ziptie and handcuffed me to this damned wooden bench of shame.

Masarelli
came to get me after an hour or so. My ass was so numb that I was actually relieved to see him. He unlocked the cuff that was around the arm of the bench and clicked it around my free wrist. With a jerk on the cuffs, he led me down a hallway, a flight of stairs and down another hallway that led to the holding cells. He opened the cell door.

“Make yourself at home, Kincaide.
It’s where you belong after the stunt that you pulled tonight,” he said with satisfaction.

I wanted to tell him that he was an as
shole and I let myself get caught, but I didn’t bother.

He shoved me inside and took the han
dcuffs off. He was about to slam the cell door closed when something caught his eye.

“Looks like they missed some of your valuables.
Can’t let you have them in here,” he said, reaching for the silver chain around my neck.

Oh shit! He was going to take the am
ulet? I was barely keeping lachadiel out with the amulet on. If Masarelli took it now, then I wouldn’t be able to stop him from getting inside my head. I needed it.

I stepped back, but
Masarelli was expecting that. His arm flew out and he grabbed hold of the chain. I grabbed the necklace and took another step backward, even though I knew that he wouldn’t let go. The chain gave in to our tug of war with a snap. We both held on.

“
Masarelli, you don’t understand. Don’t take it. I need it,” I said, panicked.

“I don’t think that you’re in a position to tell me what to do, Maurin.
Bet you thought I wouldn’t see your little charm. Well I did, so good luck getting out of here without it,” he said with a smile.

“It’s not what you think. It’s not to help me escape. I’d set the alarms off if I tried to use magic to break out of here. You know that.” I tried to reason with him.

I should have known better.
He started to close the cell. My arm was now in a game of chicken with a heavy metal door. Neither of us flinched. The cell door slammed into my forearm. My fingers, no longer listening to my brain, released their grip on the chain. He put the amulet in his shirt pocket, giving it a little pat. He opened the door just enough for me to slide my arm out and then slammed it shut. I cradled my fractured arm to my chest while Masarelli walked away whistling some happy little tune.

The lights were on, but it was still dark in the cell.
I was completely alone down here. Just me and my thoughts weren’t going to make for good company. Was this part of your plan, Aidan?

I looked at the dingy little cot that they had in here.
Gross. I didn’t even want to know what all of those stains were from. I unfolded the blanket at the foot of the thin mattress and spread it out with my good arm. It didn’t help. The blanket looked like it would give me a rash. I was pretty sure that there were nicer cells than this. This one looked like it hadn’t been used, or cleaned, in half a century. I sat down on the blanket and tried not to catch anything.

Footsteps.
Someone was coming. Please be Masarelli. I owed him one. The sound of heels clicking on the concrete floor told me that I wasn’t going to be getting even with Masarelli anytime soon. A tall, lanky woman stopped in front of my cell. I’ve seen her here before. She was a shrink or something.

“I never thought that this was how our first session would go,” she said.

“Me neither, since I never made an appointment,” I told her.

“I’m Dr. Cartwright.
I’m a psychiatrist for the department,” she said, tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.

Her straight hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.
She wore black slacks and a gray v-neck sweater. No jewelry, very little make-up. She looked young, like she had just finished her residency.

“I’ve seen you around,” I said.

“I heard that you hurt your arm. My patients don’t usually require first aid, but I am at least qualified to wrap an Ace bandage. I can only give you over-the-counter pain meds without you actually being a patient, though,” she said, pulling the bandage from her pocket.

Yeah, I hurt my arm.
I decided to break my own arm by shutting it in the cell door. Was she kidding me right now?

“So they’re not worried I’m going to take off the bandage and try to hang myself with it?” I asked sarcastically.

“They seemed to be more concerned that you’d take off the bandage and try to strangle one of the officers with it. But we can’t deny you treatment. I’m the best you’re going to get until morning. Now, let me see that arm.” she said.

“There’s only one in particular that I’d like to strangle and he’s a detective,” I quipped.

There was no point in wrapping it. I’d heal it on my own. It would be fine in a little while. I didn’t feel like explaining all that to her. I just wanted her to go away, so I humored her and stuck my arm through the bars.

“Not a lot of bruising or swelling.
Can I see your other arm? Just for comparison?” she asked.

I stuck my other arm through without saying a word.

“No need for the bandage, I guess. It doesn’t look too bad. You don’t have allergies to acetaminophen do you?” Dr. Cartwright asked as she held out two pills.

I took the pills that she handed me.
Tylenol didn’t sound too bad right now. My arm hurt like hell where the fractures were mending. Not to mention that my head still hurt from taking a bean bag to the temple earlier.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got something to wash these down with hidden in your poc
ket?” I asked her.

She pointed to the sink in the corner.
Great. I’d probably get dysentery from drinking the water out of that.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Not really convincing, but you’re welcome all the same,” she said.

I went over to the sink and turned the cold water on.
When the water came out clear, I decided that it was safe enough to drink. I cupped my hand under the tap, let it fill with water, and washed down the two pills. I took another drink and then splashed some of the cold water on my face. There wasn’t anything to dry off with, so I had to use my shirt as a towel.

I turned around and the room spun with me.
I tried to find my center, but couldn’t. The floor - or maybe it was my legs - felt like Jello. I tried to ask Dr. Cartwright what she had given me, because it certainly wasn’t Tylenol, but she was already walking away. I wanted to call after her, but my tongue felt numb and thick. I couldn’t seem to form the words. I staggered over to the cot and flopped down.

I could hear her talking to someone on her way out.
“You won’t get any trouble out of her for the rest of the night. She should be out for a few hours,” she said to the other person in the hall.

I never heard the other person’s r
esponse. There was a thrumming in my ears and my eyes felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. A fog rolled into my mind and I couldn’t feel the crappy mattress underneath me anymore. I felt like I should be freaking out right now, but couldn’t remember why. Why didn’t I want to sleep again? Something was telling me to stay awake and not to fall asleep, but I was so tired. I couldn’t move my arms or legs. Gravity changed again and I went from floating to feeling heavy, as if I were sinking through the mattress. I didn’t have the strength to fight it off; I gave in to the black fog.

I let go and it was peaceful, for a li
ttle while, thanks to the drugs. After a few minutes in the blackness, I was able to forget about everything and everyone. There was nothing, I was nothing. Brick by mental brick, I watched my shields dismantle themselves. I didn’t care. I felt my subconscious, my energy, flowing up and over the rubble that was once a solid wall inside my mind. I was like a bathtub being drained and filled at the same time, except it was energy instead of water.

Still, there was a voice.
It was a voice so tiny that I almost didn’t hear it in the back of my mind, telling me to wake up. There it was again, louder this time. As if by listening to it I gave it more power. Suddenly, the voice was screaming at me to wake up. It was my voice, what was left of my mind, telling me to wake the fuck up.

“I tried to make it peaceful for you, Maurin, but you insist on fighting me.
So if it is pain you want, then pain you shall have,” lachadiel said.

I was starting to come around.
My body must have been metabolizing the drugs faster than that bitch doctor had expected. With each second that passed, more sensation returned. I could feel the connection with Oberon. It was weak, it was barely there, but I could still feel it.

Suddenly, every nerve ending in my body felt like it was on fire.
I couldn’t move my arms and legs yet, but I was aware of everything that was happening to me. The weight that was pushing me down through the mattress was lachadiel. He was here in the cell with me; he was on top of me. He was draining my energy and, through me, Oberon’s as well. That’s why the connection was so weak. Oberon had nothing left to give.

The fire inside my body increased until it finally erupted.
It felt as if all of my blood vessels had exploded. A scream broke free as my vocal chords found their purpose again. I reached for Oberon, but this time I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t feel him. The connection was gone. He was gone.

A new kind of pain, one I wasn’t fami
liar with, racked my body. My chest hurt - and not from the weight of lachadiel. My heart felt as if it would shatter into a million pieces. Something inside me died too. The part that was good, that laughed and loved, was gone. I was learning how to let someone love me with Oberon and lachadiel had taken that away from me.

I screamed again, but this time not from physical pain.
I had given fury a voice. I tried to buck lachadiel off of me. The more I fought, the more he pressed his weight onto me. My skin was hypersensitive, as if he could peel the flesh from my bones as he tightened his grip on my arms. I could move my arms and legs now, but I still didn’t have the strength to get him off of me. How long had he been draining me? Long enough for me to drain Oberon, killing him through our connection.

All I could do was scream; no real words would come out.
There were other voices now; there were people running and shouting. Masarelli and someone else – was it Aidan?

“I will finish this.
I will regain my full form and have my revenge on those that enslaved me. And it is your energy that will give me the power to do it. I tried with the witches, but it wasn’t enough. You, on the other hand, hold more energy than the three of them together. Like the blood flowing through your veins, your energy is constantly cycling through your body. It seems to be an endless supply,” lacahdiel said.

His voice was deeper and richer than the last time he had spoken to me.
He was filling out before me, his eyes were becoming less hollow, and his skin was slightly less transparent. He was getting stronger.

Aidan and
Masarelli were at the cell door and it sounded as if Masarelli had called in the cavalry. I could hear the officers running down the hallway, their boots pounding the cement floor.

lachadiel
leaned in close to my ear, whispering, “Your friends can’t guard you all of the time.”

He laughed.
Some of his weight lifted when he moved and I was able to free one arm. Without all of lacahdiel’s weight on my chest, I was finally able to take a deep breath. Air filled my lungs. The air I breathed was like wind blowing into an empty cave. I felt hollow inside. But somewhere deep down in the pit that my insides had become, something was stirring. I let the rage and anger fill the void that Oberon had left behind.

I grabbed
lachadiel’s left arm, trying to pry it from my right when an image of his true form flashed in my mind. Afrit. He was what the Inquisitors had been looking for? What the hell had they unleashed?

“I’m going to kill you,” I told him calmly.
And I meant it. I wouldn’t stop until he was dead.

The cell door was ripped from its hin
ges. Aidan rushed in through a cloud of dust and pieces of cinder block. He grabbed the Afrit, pulling him off me. I tumbled to the floor.

The
Afrit struck back at Aidan, throwing him into the wall. Bits of mortar and concrete went flying from the impact. Hopefully it wasn’t a weight-bearing wall. I pushed myself up and jumped on the Afrit’s back. I dug my heels in its ribs, locked my hands under its chin and leaned back with all my weight. My arm disagreed with this plan, the bones hadn’t fully mended yet, but I ignored the pain arcing through my arm and leaned back some more. I was going to rip the beast’s head clean off of its neck.