Chapter Five
It took one night excruciatingly long night in intensive care before the hospital staff would release Sabine. Thankfully, she had not been drugged or raped, but she had hypothermia and frostbite in a couple of places, and needed to be monitored before they would release her into Tyson's custody. That had taken a lot of finagling on his part. He finally went with the story that she would be taken to an undisclosed location and kept under police protection until she could remember the events that led to her discovery in the park.
Figgy was not completely on board with this plan. When Tyson first left the hospital the night before, he had called him and explained. Figgy told Tyson that he was out of his friggin' mind.
"Trust me, Figgy. It's her. I'm sure of it. Not a look-a-like. Not a reincarnation. It's really truly her."
"How can you be sure?"
"I checked with the nurse that was there for the initial examination. You know they check the Vics head to toe for injuries and identifying marks."
"Of course I know that! So what?"
"So, Sabine had two that make it a one hundred percent positive ID. The first is a letter "T" that she branded into her left thigh after I took her virginity."
Figgy made a sound on the other end of the phone that sounded both disgusted and exasperated.
"The second was four slashes, claw marks, across her gut. They were completely healed, and had been for a long time."
"That was how Lycos killed her."
"Yep. She bled out in my arms. I felt her last breath; her last heartbeat. Now, here she is. It's a miracle. A blessing from our Lord."
"Our Lord has ignored us for a long time, Tyson. She is more likely an omen." Figgy sounded remorseful. He was probably right. But Tyson was making the choice, right or wrong. He'd have his love back with him again at any cost.
He'd stopped that morning at a boutique in the city and bought her new clothes. He had no problem picking out her sizes because his hands remembered every inch of her. They knew that she would fit into a size six, but that her ample bottom half would require boy-cut briefs as opposed to bikini style panties. He bought those in a rainbow of lace and satin. And though there were no sizes for bras in the early 18th century, his memory told him that a 34B would fit just fine. He got several of those in colors to complement the panties. Clearly, his mind was on seeing her in lingerie and nothing else. He did, however, also buy her several outfits, shoes, boots, and a beautiful fur-lined swing coat in the favorite color they both shared: red.
Tyson arrived at the hospital and brought a small bag with just one change of clothes with him, the coat draped over his arm. He stepped into her room just as they were removing her IV and giving her discharge instructions. They'd given her clothes to wear from the lost and found, but she squealed when she saw the new ones he'd brought with him.
"Isn't he just my knight in shining armor?" she asked to her attending nurse.
"Must be." The woman looked at him with unhidden mistrust. "You take care of yourself, girl," she told her, and reluctantly walked out.
Sabine looked at Tyson with a girlish shimmer in her eye. "How could I have ever let you go? You must have treated me like a princess."
"I tried," he replied, remembering that it had taken him six years to come up with the money and goods that the Boudon's required in exchange for her freedom. Good house slaves weren't cheap. Those that could perform voodoo spells for their masters were almost priceless commodities. Their reluctance was replaced with new wealth and she joined him on his ship and in his piracy. She conducted herself as a true lady of privilege which she'd never had until then. Yet, during a raid, she became a vicious killer who would slice the throats of the doomed crew members with her kerambit, a rare blade from the Pacific Islands that was gifted to her by Tyson.
Her spells were also an asset to his crew. Her specialties were powders which when blown into the faces of captured captains, would have them spilling the routes and cargo of their allied ships with ease. Tyson was sure that she was a diluted descendant of a Spellcaster Daimon. No humans could have that sort of knowledge and power without the smallest bit of Angelic blood. That was one of the reasons she was perfect for him. That and the sex. She submitted to him, and only him, night after night, bowing her head while on her knees in their cabin, awaiting instructions for which carnal actions would please him at that moment.
Shaking his head to bring himself back to the present, Tyson reached out for Sabine after she'd unabashedly changed her clothes in front of him. "Ready to go, chouchou?"
She started towards him, arm outstretched, but stopped. "Chouchou? That sounds familiar. It sounds...right somehow."
"It's French-Creole. Like "darling". I always called you that."
"Oh. Are you French?"
"No, you are. Haitian actually."
She poked her lip out. "Huh. That's weird. I don't feel like I'm from another country. I'm not even sure if I speak French."
Tyson put his arm around her waist and pulled her along. "That is one of the many mysteries we need to solve about your...predicament. And we will, darling. There's time." He said the last part as if he didn't have to leave for Antarctica in five days.
They took the elevator and went through the main lobby to get outside. When they stepped out, Sabine pulled her coat together at the neck and shivered.
Tyson chucked as he guided her to his car. "Told you. You're used to a tropical climate."
"How cold is it? And is it always like this?"
"The wind chill has it at about ten degrees, pretty typical for Chicago in mid-December." He opened the passenger door to let her in. "You'll get about four or five months of fluctuating frigidity around here. Trust me, I hate it too."
"I was found naked in this?" she exclaimed. "No wonder the doctors were so worried. And parts of me still have no feeling, like my --- Oh, nevermind." she appeared embarrassed at what she was about to say.
Tyson closed her door and went around to his side. There was a mischievous smile on his face as he buckled up and turned the key in the ignition. He was thinking of all the ways he could warm up and bring back feeling to all of her various parts.
As he pulled out onto Huron, he used the car's Bluetooth to check all of the messages from the calls he'd been declining.
The first was from Bree: "Where the hell are you? I have exactly two hours to train before Cayden expects me back to report on those stupid, archaic, mumbo-jumbo records Rafe and I are translating."
So was the second one: "Call me back now before I send the teen to douse you with a thousand gallons of cold ass water."
"I'll do it too, Cop!" could be heard in the background. "I ain't afraid of no 5-0." He wasn't sure if either Bree or the Stiles girl were joking or not, but he had better things to do at the present time.
Sabine looked at him like a little girl. "Am I keeping you from something important?"
"Not at all. Those girls are in a special training program for high-risk youth. They are both a couple of loonies, but harmless...sort of...and can totally wait."
The next message was from Figgy. He hit skip as soon as he heard, "Tyson, I really want you to reconsider this situation with Sa---" No need for her to hear that.
The last was from Cayden: "Lieutenant," Tyson had no clue why the Luminosi leader referred to him so formally all of the time. "I'm calling to let you know that Cillian has made special arrangements for all Luminosi to be at their Moon Ceremony tomorrow night. It will be a formal affair so dress appropriately. Everyone has been training hard, but the final decision for the team will be announced and the wolves plan to bless them with their Full Moon ritualistic crap. So, just be there, okay."
"What was that all about?"
"New age cop lingo, chouchou." Tyson laughed nervously and hoped she bought it.
She did. "A formal affair sounds nice. Can I go?"
He pulled into his high-rise's parking garage. "I don't think so. I more than likely won't be going myself."
"Oh, that's a shame," she whispered. He had no clue why she was so disappointed.
Murder, Mayhem, Monsters, and Mistletoe Page 5
