Punishment

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Punishment Page 4

by ML Guida


  “I work at the hospital, three twelve-hour shifts a week, and here two eight-hour shifts.” She cocked her eyebrow. “You made quite an uproar at the hospital when you left. I thought you were going to leave quietly.”

  “I did. Not my problem Nurse Ratchet sent a posse after me.” A hunch seeped into his bones. “She the one you’re afraid of?”

  She moved a piece of hair out of her face. “I’m not afraid of her.”

  Her hand shook and her words were a little too forced. “Liar.”

  “Mr. Angel, you don’t know the first thing about me. You don’t know who I’m afraid of.”

  Her fire was back and her skin glowed, her cheeks red. She was a fiery cat woman, one he would love to pursue, feel her claws on his back as she screamed in passion, but how could he? Not without betraying Samantha and not without lying to Abigail about her sister.

  “Besides, what are you doing here?” She petted the cat. “Stalking me? Huh, Mr. Tibbs.”

  He blinked. “Who is Mr. Tibbs?”

  “The cat. So, why are you here again?”

  He laughed. Such a little vixen. “Apparently I work here.”

  “Excuse me? What do you mean…” She closed her eyes. “You’re Dale’s replacement?”

  “Dale? Who's Dale?”

  “A drug and alcohol treatment counselor. He was riding his bike and skidded on some mud on Nightmare Trail in Breckenridge and tumbled down the mountain. Pierced his lung and broke both of his legs. He’ll be out for at least three months.”

  “Sucks for him.”

  Disgust filled her diamond-shaped eyes. “Your compassion is overwhelming.” When she stopped petting Mr. Tibbs, the cat twitched its tail.

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me, Red.”

  “Will you quit calling me that? My name is—”

  He pinched her cheek. “Abigail.”

  She jerked away from him. “I suggest you keep your hands to yourself or your first day will be your last, Mr. Angel.”

  He held his hands up. “Sorry. Won’t happen again. So, who do I talk to about this job?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t even know who you’re meeting with?”

  “Nope. Ah, the agency just sent me over here.” Or more like a self-righteous, game-playing asshole.

  “Stay here.” She rose. He flashed his gaze over her luscious body, her blue jeans hugging her legs, and even her loose white blouse couldn’t hide those curves. A black belt slid around her hips with a radio strapped on the side. She tossed her thick, red hair behind her shoulder. “I’ll go get Hamilton. Don’t touch anything.”

  He rolled his eyes. What the hell would he touch? The last place he wanted to be was here, but if he didn’t show, he’d end up back in the hospital sharing a room with Dale.

  “So, you’re the new guy?”

  He turned around. The same seventeen or sixteen year old red-headed kid who had been staring out the window curled his lip and leaned against the desk, scrutinizing him.

  Blade shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You guess so? Either you are or are you’re not. It’s not a difficult question.”

  Blade blinked. “Smart alec little kid, aren’t you?”

  “Bite me, Sherlock.”

  The kid gave him a determined stare and tilted his chin. Unlike the two orderlies and the security guard, the kid showed no fear. “So, why are you here?”

  “Because my bitch sister put me in here.”

  “Why?”

  He nodded. “Why don’t you ask her? Here comes the cunt now.”

  Blade turned and froze. Abigail stood there with tears glistening in her emerald eyes. A middle age man with graying hair and icy, pewter eyes focused on the kid. The man waved his finger at the kid. “Brayden. You don’t talk to your sister that way.”

  Brayden glared. “Fine, then let me out of here.”

  Blade grabbed Brayden’s arm. “I better not ever hear you refer to your sister like that again.”

  “Why? There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Blade yanked Brayden closer. The boy came up to his shoulder. “You’d be surprised at what I can do.”

  “Blade, release him, this instant,” Abigail said.

  Brayden gave Blade a smirk, and he wanted to toss the boy across the room, knocking his head into the wooden paneling. As Blade slowly loosened his fingers, Brayden jerked his arm away. He gave him I-got-you-look, and Blade clenched his fists tight to keep from beating the crap out of him. How could Brayden be related to Abigail? Was he switched at birth?

  Grinning over his shoulder and swinging his arms, Brayden sauntered over to the two girls sitting on the couch, like he’d just defeated a grizzly bear. Giggling, the girls patted the couch and made room for him. The kid needed a good beating.

  “Mr. Angel, I’m Hamilton Parker.” He glanced over at Brayden. “I’m sorry, but we do not man handle the patients.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Leave my brother alone,” Abigail said. “You don’t know what he’s been through.” She glanced between Hamilton and Blade, and then hurried into a nearby bathroom.

  Hamilton shook his head. “I’m afraid that boy brings her to tears constantly.”

  Blade followed him into a hallway to an office. He had the same type of radio strapped on his belt. Hamilton opened French glass doors covered with white, lacey curtains and motioned him inside.

  “So, why the hell do you let him?”

  Hamilton gave him a strange look as he sat behind an oak desk, complete with a desk computer and loose papers scattered on the desk. He sat in a red, leather, executive chair with padded loop arms. “Please sit.”

  Blade sat in a Queen Anne pink-cushioned chair. Bookcases aligned one wall, filled with books on treatment, philosophy, therapy. On one wall, there was a small framed picture of the Serenity Prayer and next to it a white-faced, sad clown with a tear falling down his cheek. Red lips were turned into an exaggerated frown and black outliner outlined his sad eyes. The clown held a black derby hat in his hand and wore a red and black checkered button down shirt. Black overall straps were draped over his narrow shoulders. Black, scruffy hair stuck out behind his ears. Blade shifted in his seat. What was with the creepy clown? Not exactly giving him the confidence to share secrets.

  Harrison put his elbows on the desk and put his fingers into a steeple. He stared at Blade. “Brayden’s an addict and he’s not thinking clearly. You should know that with being a certified alcohol counselor.”

  Blade cocked his smile. “Of course, I know that, but it doesn’t give him a license to be a first class dick.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Blade tilted his chin. “Hey, I call it the way I see it. I don’t paint flowery pictures. These kids deserve the truth. Sugar coating their behavior is not going to help them.”

  Hamilton leaned back in his chair. “I see.”

  “So, are you going to interview me? I thought I had this job.”

  “You do. We didn’t have any applicants. Darndest thing. We usually get ample applicants due to this being a ski town, but you were the only one.” He expelled a sigh that bespoke the frustration of not finding the right candidate. “Strange.”

  Blade chuckled. Not strange in the least. Not when you had an interfering archangel holding all the cards.

  Hamilton’s eyebrows knotted, and he regarded Blade with a firm scowl. “You find that funny?”

  “Not at all.”

  “According to your resume, you have excellent recommendations, so we lucked out with you.” He gave Blade a hard stare. “Don’t disappoint me, boy.”

  “Boy?” Hell, he’d been called many names, but never boy.

  Hamilton picked up a piece of paper. “Sorry, didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Blade tilted his head. “So, what’s with Red’s…”

  Hamilton gave him a disproving look.

  “I mean with Abigail’s brother? Why does he hate her so much?”


  “Half-brother.”

  “Half-brother?”

  “Abigail’s father was killed in a car accident when she was four years old. Her mother remarried—Brayden’s father left home when Brayden was ten years old. Their mother started drinking heavily. Brayden was left on his own a lot.”

  “And?”

  “Abigail had—”

  The radio buzzed. “Staff assistance in the living room.”

  Blade knew that voice. Abigail. She was in trouble. He darted out of the office with Hamilton on his heels. He burst into the living room.

  “Natalie, let go of me,” the black-haired girl cried. Tears streaked down her face and blood oozed from her neck.

  Mr. Tibbs stood on the desk, hissed and arched its back, his hair standing straight up.

  Abigail grabbed Natalie’s arm. “Natalie, release Callie. Now.”

  Brayden was on the other side of the couch, his eyes huge.

  Callie beat on Natalie’s chest, but Natalie refused to release her. Instead, she snagged a clump of Callie’s long, dark hair, twisted it in her hand, and pulled Callie’s head toward her.

  “Don’t let her bite me again!” Callie screamed.

  A male staff member ran toward the two girls, but Blade jumped in front of him and grabbed Natalie’s arm. He grabbed the hand clutching Callie’s hair and pressed down on the back of her palm, trying to get Natalie to release Callie. She refused to release Callie’s hair, and he pressed harder, but she held on tight. Shit, he was three times as strong as this chick. What did she do? Eat at a bowl of steroid Wheaties?

  Blood trickled down Callie’s throat, staining her black shirt. What the hell? Chunks of flesh had been torn out of Callie’s throat. Bloody teeth marks marred her neck.

  Natalie hissed and chomped her teeth.

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Help me,” Callie said as her voice faded.

  Blade yanked hard on Natalie’s arm. She jerked away from him, nearly breaking his grasp. He growled, “What the fuck?”

  Natalie threw Abigail off her, and Abigail slammed into the wall, her head banging against it. Natalie pressed her hand on Callie’s head and pressed her head closer toward her mouth. Blade held his breath. Abigail staggered and Hamilton caught her.

  The other male staff member seized Natalie’s arm. His eyes widened, and he gritted his teeth. “My God, what the hell is wrong with her? She can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”

  “Forget this shit,” Blade said, as he clenched his fist and slammed it into Natalie’s chin, spinning her head backwards. He grimaced. Her eyes were solid black. Crap. She was possessed.

  “Blade! No,” Abigail yelled. “You can’t hurt her.”

  “Watch me.”

  The blackness faded from Natalie’s eyes. Human, brown eyes stared at him, but they were different. Dazed. Confused. Crimson stained her teeth and lips. “What’s, what’s happening to me?” She gurgled up blood.

  Blade yanked her arm away from the struggling male staff member. He grabbed her flailing arm and twisted it hard.

  Natalie screamed, “You’re hurting me!”

  “I haven’t even begun to hurt you, bitch,” Blade warned.

  Abigail gasped, “Blade!”

  Ignoring her, Blade wrestled Natalie to the ground, spread her arms wide, and stuck his knee caps into her palms. Natalie dug her nails into his knees and arched her back, actually moving a few inches off the ground.

  “Shit,” he said.

  Her hand clasping her bleeding neck, Callie collapsed onto her knees. Blood seeped through her fingers. Sobs shook her body. “She…was…trying…to eat me.”

  “Abigail,” the male staff member called.

  Abigail ran into the bathroom and came out with a towel. She knelt next to Callie, pressed the towel on her neck. “Breathe, Callie. Just breathe.”

  Callie took deep ragged breaths. “It hurts.”

  “I’ve called an ambulance and the police.” Hamilton looked over Blade’s head. “Brayden, what happened in here?”

  “I don’t know. Natalie flipped out.” Confusion and disbelief echoed in his low voice. He bit his nails and motioned with his other hand. “We were playing Natalie’s new game.”

  Natalie’s eyes turned black again. “Get. Off. Me.” With each word, she bucked harder and harder.

  Blade jumped in the air. God, this human crap sucked. Damn Raphael!

  Hamilton ran behind Blade. Blade glanced over his shoulder. Hamilton lay across Natalie’s flailing legs.

  Natalie struggled to move. “Get off my legs.”

  “Damn it, help him, Brian.” Sweat trickling down his temples, Hamilton pressed his hands down on Natalie’s ankles. “Hold her other arm down.”

  Brian grabbed Natalie’s right arm with both hands. “Shit.”

  Blade looked over his shoulder. “Brayden, what game?”

  “What difference does it make?” Fear echoed in Brayden’s shaky voice.

  Blade stared into Natalie’s black eyes, her face turned paler and paler. Chills twirled around his back and gut. A sneaking suspicion crept over Blade. Ringmaster. “Show me the damn game.”

  “Fine.” Brayden hesitated, but then rushed over to the coffee table. “Where is it?”

  Natalie bucked again, and Blade had to put his hands on her shoulders to pin her down. He turned his head and stared at Brayden. “What?”

  “I don’t know, man.” He pointed at the coffee table. “It was right here. It’s gone.”

  “Find it,” Blade said. “Now.”

  Sirens screamed in the distance.

  Brayden’s face turned pale. He darted out of the living room, and bolted out the front door.

  “Brayden!” Abigail yelled. “Come back.”

  Red lights flashed through the window. The door swung open, and two police officers rushed inside. The heavy set officer scanned the scene. “Jesus, what happened?”

  “Natalie attacked Callie.” Abigail cradled Callie’s shaking body. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with her.”

  “She’s possessed, under a spell,” Blade grumbled.

  The paramedics rushed over to Abigail and Callie. They knelt down, and the female paramedic opened a black bag. She took out gauze. “We’ve got her, ma’am.”

  Natalie buckled again, sending Blade into the air. He tackled her and held her down again. Damn, her powers were growing. “Taser her. Damn it.”

  The police officers ran over, and Brian released his grip. The heavy officer grabbed Natalie’s arm, but he missed. Natalie twisted and kicked her legs.

  Hamilton flew off. “Crap, she’s loose.”

  Natalie twisted, wiggled, and then slammed the back of her head into Blade’s face. Pain exploded. Dizziness overtook him. He loosened his grip and slid onto his back.

  She lunged for the portly officer and bit his neck. The man screamed. Blood spurted from his neck, wetting his shirt. Natalie munched down on him like he was her favorite steak.

  Screams and howls broke out around Blade. He shook his head, trying to focus. He had to do something, or people would die.

  As hard as he could, he kicked her in the back, but she didn’t move and kept her mouth fastened on the officer. Blade glared at the woman police officer with her mouth wide open. “Taser her, now.”

  Chapter Five

  Natalie sank her teeth into the chubby police officer, who tried to push her off his throat. His hands weakened and he collapsed to the floor, blood dripping down his neck. Crimson soaked the floor.

  Abigail’s stomach swirled as she fell into a horror zombie movie. She had never seen another human try to eat another human, especially a girl at the Buffalo Treatment Center. And now a police officer.

  The lady cop fumbled for her taser. She zapped Natalie. Natalie jerked her head back, and her body shook over and over. Blood spurting out of her mouth drizzled down her chin and splattered on her pink shirt. She closed her eyes and fainted. The lady cop quickly tur
ned Natalie on her back and handcuffed her.

  The downed police officer gurgled, clutching his neck. His eyes fluttered shut.

  Hamilton said something, but Abigail couldn’t hear him, all her attention was locked on the gory sight as more screams ripped through the air.

  Her stomach churned. She covered her mouth. The paramedics worked on the officer. But when his chest stopped moving up and down, his eyes never reopened. Natalie had gone insane, actually eaten away half the man’s neck. Was she on meth, a hallucinogenic? What was making her so strong? She had bucked off Blade as if he were a little boy. When he was at the hospital, he had grabbed two full grown men at the hospital by the arms and slammed them together, knocking them senseless.

  Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close to a broad chest. She inhaled the scent of leather. She gripped Blade’s shirt and hung on tight.

  “Don’t look, Red. Don’t look,” he said, his voice rumbling through his chest.

  She should be strong. She was a nurse, a healer, but all she wanted to do was bury her face in Blade's shirt.

  “Officer down, we need back up and an ambulance,” the lady officer said, her voice shook as bad as her hand.

  Abigail took a quivering breath and glanced up at Blade. “Brayden. I have to find him.”

  “What?” He gripped her tighter and a deep scowl crossed his face. “No, you can’t.”

  She pushed on his hard chest, determined to save her wayward brother. “Blade, I’m his sister.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re trembling and white as a ghost.”

  “He’s my brother.” Abigail gripped his shirt tighter. “He’s just a kid.”

  Sirens howled and brakes screamed outside. Car doors slammed then footsteps pounded down the sidewalk. Police officers and paramedics ran inside.

  “Let me go. I didn’t do anything.”

  Abigail turned away from Blade. “Brayden?”

  Two meathead police officers clutched Brayden’s arms and dragged him inside. Brayden twisted his body and kicked at their shins. “I didn’t do anything. Abby, tell him, I didn’t do anything.”

  Hamilton glanced at the officers. “Release him, officers. He hasn’t done anything. Just a freaked out kid.”

 

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