by J. E. Taylor
“It was dark, but you might be able to find some evidence of what happened,” he said and looked up. “Third floor special exhibition room of the Museum of Natural History. I was handcuffed to a bench and beaten to shit. If he didn’t cover his tracks, the whip should still be there with my blood on it.”
They exchanged a glance.
“Are you sure your girlfriend didn’t do this to you?”
Austin chuckled under his breath and nodded. “The crazy fuck that did this looked Italian. Dark curly hair, green eyes. He had maybe an inch or two on me in height. Our first encounter with him was at Starbucks across from Cornell this morning, and he freaked my girlfriend out.”
The nurse stepped back into the room and crossed to him with two small white cups. One contained the familiar caplets and the other held water. She handed them to him, and he raised an eyebrow, asking whether she checked the visiting room without the words.
She waited expectantly and he downed the medicine.
“Well?” he asked as he handed her the cup.
“She hasn’t returned, sir,” she said.
Cold caressed his cheeks, and his gaze darted to the cops. Fear bloomed in every cell, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“I have to find her,” he said and started ripping at the tubes in his arm.
“Mr. Anderson!” The nurse was around the bed and trying to get him back on the mattress before his feet even hit the ground. “If you don’t settle down, I’ll have to sedate you.”
He sent his most chilling glare in her direction. “You don’t get it,” he growled, fueled by the fire of panic.
“Son, just relax,” the officer said, stepping to help the nurse.
“You don’t understand, if that freak has her...” His breath locked in his chest, coming in short pulls, like an elephant had decided to sit on his chest. He recognized the panic attack gripping him but was helpless to stop it.
“You need to rest. Otherwise, you’ll rip your stitches out,” the nurse said.
He fought against her logic, trying to get to his feet, but the sting of a needle on his backside pulled his head in that direction just in time to see a doctor pulling a needle out of his ass.
“Please,” he started, but the medicine worked fast, turning his muscles to jelly. He slumped back into the bedding. A groan escaped as the pain flared. It only lasted a minute and then his eyelids dropped, along with every hint of consciousness.
Black Magick Chapter 8
Austin woke to a dark room. The silence was the first thing that convinced him he was no longer in the emergency room. He cleared his throat and shifted. Pain flared, shutting off logic for a moment before he realized he was strapped to the bed he lay in.
He coughed, trying to get control over the thumping in his chest. “Hello?” he asked the dark.
His voice hung on the dry air. He attempted to move his arms, but the rattle of metal on a bar left him cold.
He inhaled a deep breath. “Hey!” he belted out at the top of his lungs, ignoring the sting the motion created through his back.
The overhead lights popped on, and he squinted against the brightness. As his vision settled, the door opened and a bearded doctor stepped into the barren room. The recognition of his surroundings dropped his eyes closed.
“Mr. Anderson,” the doctor started.
Austin sighed. He opened his eyes and focused on the doctor. “Why am I in restraints?”
“Do you know where you are?”
“The psych ward,” Austin said without skipping a beat. “I work in one back in New Hampshire.”
The doctor adjusted his glasses. “You didn’t take sedation very well,” he said.
Austin’s eyebrows rose. The last thing he remembered was the needle coming out of his ass, falling back on the bed, and then everything went black. “What did I do?”
“Besides tearing almost every stitch in your back, you punched the doctor and knocked the nurse over before the officer tazed you.”
Austin huffed and closed his eyes. “So, how long have I been out?” he asked.
“We have had you heavily sedated for the past seventy-two hours.”
Shock popped his eyes open and his jaw loosened as he stared at the ceiling trying to comprehend what that meant. He was terrified to ask the question jumping through his brain like a twenty-two shell ricocheting inside his skull.
“Did she ever come back?” he finally whispered.
“She who?” the doctor asked.
“My girlfriend. The one who was with me at the hotel.”
The doctor swiped his finger across the tablet in his hands before he finally shook his head. “There is no notation of a visitor for you.”
Austin’s eyes squeezed shut. Anguish overrode his senses, and he forced his breathing to remain calm despite the internal alarms. He slowly opened his eyes and met the doctor’s gaze.
“Any chance I can use a phone?” he asked.
The doctor glanced at the sheet again. “I will see what I can do, but the police would like to talk to you first,” he said and closed the chart.
He nodded and moved his gaze to the ceiling. If he counted the hours he spent in the emergency room, the last time he set eyes on Paige was four days ago. Based on the hospital’s continued reference to calling him Mr. Anderson, he guessed he had nothing with him that would identify him otherwise, which meant he was on his own and penniless in New York City.
A plain-clothes officer stepped into the room, his badge hanging open from his blazer pocket. “Mr. Anderson, I’m Detective Connelly.” he said, taking a seat on the bench against the wall.
Austin gave him a nod, but something deep down told him to keep his mouth shut.
“You spoke with Officer Petrelli a few days ago, and we followed up on your story at the Museum of Natural History.” The detective stopped speaking and leveled a stare that brought a rash of gooseflesh across Austin’s skin.
“And?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” he asked and crossed his arms.
“Did you find the whip?”
The detective chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he studied Austin. When he nodded, Austin couldn’t help the exhale of relief.
“We found the whip and the blood on it matches yours, so that part of your story checks out. Can you tell me about the blood on the stage?”
Austin’s gaze darted around the room and then back to the detective. Confusion clouded his mind as he studied his memories. Paige never bled. At least not while they were there together. His hand involuntarily jerked, restrained by the soft fabric, but the metal clanked enough for the detective’s forehead to crease.
“She wasn’t bleeding when we left,” he whispered when his gaze landed back on the cop.
“What did you do with the body?”
Austin’s chest hurt. He forced a breath and then a second one as his nightmares surfaced. He shook his head, trying to control the need to panic.
“What body?” he asked after gaining control over the wild beast running amok in his stomach.
“The one that you killed.”
His eyes widened and he shook his head. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he answered.
“Your fingerprints were on the murder weapon.”
“What weapon?” His voice rose an octave higher, following the sudden adrenaline rush pushing his heart to beat a new pattern.
The detective grimaced and opened the attaché case at his feet. When he approached, he turned one of the many photographs towards him.
Austin stared at the bloodied rhino horn, and his entire form started to shake. The nightmare danced in front of his eyes, and he shook his head.
“I touched it, but I refused to use it on her no matter how much that bastard wanted me to,” he said and his vision blurred. Blinking back the tears, he met Detective Connelly’s hard stare. “Can I please use your phone?”
“Why?”
“I need to make sure my girlfriend is okay,” he said,
his voice shaking in time with the tremors wracking his body.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
Austin met his gaze and exhaled. “We came into the city because I had interviews at Cornell and Columbia Medical Schools,” he started.
“Who did you speak with at the schools?” Detective Connelly asked.
“The dean of medicine,” he said. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “And while I was at Cornell, Paige waited for me at the Starbucks across the street. Some guy there freaked her out and followed her when she came out to the car.”
“And if I reach out to the dean—”
“They won’t be able to confirm,” Austin interrupted him and opened his eyes. “Paige signed me in here at the hospital, and she probably thought I’d be safer if she put me under an alias. My real name is Austin Shelton.”
The cop stared at him.
“She was still alive when I was admitted, but if she hasn’t come back from where ever she went...” Austin cursed the burn in his eyes and his now watery vision. “Please, I need to know.”
The detective sighed and glanced at the door before he dropped the pictures back on the bench. When he approached the bed, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Normally, I don’t stick my ass out for anyone, but either you’re a genius of an actor or you’re telling the truth.”
Austin bit his lower lip and nodded. “I appreciate it. But do me a favor, whatever is said, please don’t let whoever is on the line know you are in the room, okay?” he asked and the detective hesitated. “Her life may depend on it,” he added very softly. Not to mention mine, he thought, but didn’t voice it.
The hardness in the detective’s face softened a fraction, and he gave a small nod.
Austin rattled the number off and met the detective’s dark eyes. He punched the numbers in and pressed the speaker, holding the phone close to Austin’s mouth. The phone rang for what seemed like forever, and then a tentative male voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Is Paige there?”
The low chuckle filled the line, and Austin met the detective’s gaze.
“We were wondering just how long it would take for you to call, especially since she had your phone when I found her.”
“I swear...” Austin growled and pressed his teeth together against the threat poised to tumble from his mouth.
The low rumble of ancient words came over the line, and Paige screamed in the background. The detective’s eyes glazed over, and the phone dropped onto Austin’s chest. When the gun came out of his jacket, Austin’s blood froze along with his breath.
Paige’s pleas came through the line. Her promises to do anything he asked if he would just spare Austin’s life burned him more than staring down the barrel of the gun.
Another set of words paused the detective’s trigger finger, but by his expression, he now recognized what was happening. All color bled from his face.
“If you hurt her...” Austin huffed as his entire body contracted in anger. The pain that followed nearly ripped a grunt from his throat, but he was able to control the sound.
“Please,” Paige whispered in the background. “You don’t need to hurt him. I will do whatever you want. Just leave him alone, please.”
“Paige, you don’t need to protect me,” he said, his voice soft but firm.
“Are you alone?” Hunter asked.
Austin wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he said no and Hunter uttered whatever command he had before, he would be dead in less than a minute. If he said yes, he might still be dead in the same timeframe.
“Yes,” he lied.
“Should we test that?”
Austin clenched his teeth, and the detective was able to slightly shake his head. Horror filled his eyes at the lack of control he had over his physical form.
“Go for it,” Austin said, playing out the bluff. His heart pounded in his chest and fear squeezed his bladder to the point he was sure he would piss the bed, but his voice remained steady.
“No!” Paige screamed in the background.
The phone clattered to the ground, disconnecting the call and cutting whatever hold Hunter had on the detective.
He stepped back, away from Austin, holstering his gun with a shaking hand. “I almost...”
Austin couldn’t help but laugh. Paige was alive and so was he, but he knew there was a time limit on both those things, a limit the shaken detective didn’t quite understand.
“What the fuck?” Detective Connelly finally gasped and glanced at Austin.
“Paige said it was black magick.” He cracked a sarcastic smile. “You know, a year ago, I would have shit my pants laughing at the thought, but after what I’ve seen this prick do...” He trailed off and shook his head.
Detective Connelly took the phone off Austin’s chest and crossed to the bench, taking a seat. Austin stared at him, waiting for him to speak or dismiss the situation completely.
“I’m not equipped to deal with this,” he muttered under his breath. He punched some numbers into the phone and held it to his ear. “Special Agent Williams, it’s Detective Connelly.”
Austin blinked in surprise.
“Sorry, but I wasn’t sure who else to call... I’ve got a weird one here and...” Detective Connelly turned toward the small window, listening to the person on the other end of the line. “I know you’re not active anymore, but...” The detective pinched his nose. “My sister said if I ever had a weird case, you should be the first person I call. And this is fucking weird.”
Austin moved his gaze to the ceiling, his mind working at finding a way to get Paige out of where she was. He had a feeling they were still in New York City. After all, if you want to hide a needle, this was the right haystack for it.
“I can swing by and explain.” The detective ended the call and met Austin’s gaze. “As I said, I’m not equipped to deal with this shit, but the guy I just called might be able to help. Let me see if I can get you out of here.”
Austin just nodded, wondering what the hell just happened. He had never seen a cop do an about face so damned quickly before and especially with someone admitted to the psych ward.
It took a good twenty minutes before the doctor returned to the room, and he quietly unhooked Austin before he spoke.
“You are being released into Detective Connelly’s custody, and I can’t stress enough the care you must take with your back. The dressings need to be changed twice a day, and I would suggest you keep your back as dry as possible. At this point, you can safely take a shower, but until the stitches come out, I suggest you don’t lift more than ten pounds.”
“Fourteen days for the stitches, right?” Austin asked as he slowly sat up. He hoped like hell he and Paige were back home by then and Hunter was six feet under. He wanted that prick dead more than he wanted to become a doctor.
“That’s correct.”
A nurse stepped in and placed his suitcase on the bench.
“Would you like some help getting dressed?” she asked.
“No, but thank you,” Austin said and slowly got to his feet.
He shuffled across the room and dropped the johnny and hospital issue undergarments on the bench before opening the suitcase. He slid on his only pair of clean underwear along with the pair of jeans he had packed for their trip home. The undershirt was more of a challenge and putting on his socks and sneakers nearly made him pass out, but he finally had everything set. He stared at the only shirt option that he had in the suitcase. He picked up the torn oxford and slipped it on, but he didn’t bother buttoning it.
He zipped the suitcase and dropped it to the floor. Pulling the handle out, he rolled it to the door. The handle opened easily and he stepped out in the hall.
Detective Connolly straightened and gave him a nod. Austin followed him out to the small emergency parking lot where the detective’s car sat. The detective took his bag and stowed it in the trunk while Austin slid into the passenger seat. The drive from the
hospital to the north side of Central Park took a couple of minutes.
Austin stared at the high-end apartment complex before turning his attention to the detective.
“The FBI pays this well?” he asked.
Detective Connelly let out a little laugh. “Uh, no, not exactly.”
The doorman held the door for the two of them before directing them to the elevator. Once in the confines of the lift the detective pressed the button for the penthouse.
Austin gave the detective a raised eyebrow.
“It was left to him,” Detective Connolly said. “He was my sister’s partner before she disappeared.”
Austin exhaled and looked up at the numbers. “Is that why you’re helping me?”
“No, I’m helping you because I had no control over my actions in that room, and I could have killed you. Your girlfriend saved both our lives, and I owe it to her to get her out of whatever you two stepped in.”
Austin’s face heated and he dropped his gaze to the ground, feeling humbled by the detective’s answer. His hands slid into his pockets.
“I don’t know how to stop him,” Austin mumbled.
Before Detective Connolly was able to offer some words of wisdom, the elevator doors slid open and he stepped out. Austin followed, glancing at the small entry. The detective knocked on the door and waited.
A man with dark hair and eyes that reminded Austin of Paige’s opened the door. The thing that threw him was this man couldn’t have been much older than he was.
“Hey, Tom, we were looking for your father,” Detective Connolly said.
Tom gave him a nod and waved him in, but except for the brief nod in the detective’s direction, his gaze remained locked on Austin. The fact he didn’t speak unnerved Austin, too.
“Hi, I’m Austin,” he said.
Tom gave him a nod before his hands moved in a greeting. It took Austin a moment to realize the man was using sign language. He blinked and picked up the last letter. An M before he glanced up.
Instead of speaking, he signed “Thank you,” much to his host’s surprise.
“I can hear,” he signed. “Just can’t talk without a tongue.” He offered a small smile and waved Austin farther into the apartment.
