Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  Matthison was a crumpled, beaten mess when I got to him. His pulse was weak, and he was bleeding pretty badly from a gash on his head.

  I found the coat I was wearing before the van ride on the floor and cut it into strips with the knife. After folding a couple of strips into a makeshift compress, I used the rest to make a tie to hold it in place. Far from qualified to do so, I did my best to assess his injuries. Broken bones, internal bleeding? I was guessing both and needed to figure out a way to get him out of here. He needed real medical attention as soon as possible.

  I never should have let him come to Toil and Trouble in the first place. I shouldn’t have let him get out of the car, and I definitely should have stopped him when the Inquisitors gave him a chance to walk away. No matter how smart or tough he is, or what kind of badge or weapons he carried, he’d always be a Norm. He wasn’t an Other, and he had no business in all this. How the hell was I going to tell his wife if he didn’t make it?

  I tried to remember the spell I had used to transport myself back to Baylen Knightley’s house when Morrigan had left me to die in an old burial mound, but the words wouldn’t come. Without the strength or the magical know-how I couldn’t move the both of us. I wasn’t feeling so supernatural at the moment.

  After coming to the conclusion that I’d have to get us out of here the old-fashioned way, I went outside to see where we were and what resources, if any, were available to me. The Ringleader had taken off in the van, so that was not an option. If they were using this place as their torture chamber, then there had to be supplies stored somewhere. I looked around, shocked when I realized where I was.

  Winter Island. I guess it made sense. It was close to Salem, but far enough away to mutilate and murder innocent people undisturbed. Especially this time of year when the camping season was over and the maritime park was closed. The island was basically deserted until the spring.

  They were keeping us in the old Coast Guard hangar, leftover from when the island had served as an air and sea rescue station. There had to be something here I could use to get Matthison back to town. If I could make a sled, then I might be able to drag him out. My fear was that by the time I reached town I’d be dragging a corpse behind me. No, I had to come up with a faster way if I wanted my friend to live.

  I scoured around the immediate area and came up with nothing. Moving a little closer to the shore, I caught sight of a small boat anchored in the shallows. The lighthouse flashed bright white again, giving me a better look at the distance between the boat and me. I’d have to swim out to it, but if I could get it started, Matthison could be back in Salem and checked into a hospital within the hour.

  I went back inside to check on Matthison one more time and check for something that I could put my clothes in to keep them dry. If I was going swimming in the Atlantic in the winter, then I wanted my clothes to be dry when I got out. Well, what was left of them. My hoodie and T-shirt were trashed, but at least my jeans had survived intact. The Council needed to pony up for a clothing allowance if this kept up. There was a plastic grocery store bag balled up on the floor. It would have to do.

  Back outside, I started stripping down. Rags or not, I’d be happy to have something dry when I got out of the ocean, so I tossed my hoodie and shirt in the bag. My jeans and Docs followed. Standing there shivering on the shoreline in my socks and flannel bra and panties, I took a moment to psych myself up before the socks came off. I had bent over to take them off when I heard something. Clenching my teeth together to slow the chattering, I listened for something other than the sound of my fillings rattling in my skull. There it was again.

  My heart was pumping so fast; my adrenaline alone could take the edge off of this brisk air. Frozen, literally and figuratively, it didn’t matter. There was nowhere to take cover out anyway. Maybe it was just a bird or something on the rocks. Even in the dark, it was pretty obvious animals used Winter Island more than people did once the temperature stayed below fifty degrees. Then I heard the distinctive sound of a boot crunching on the pebbly shore.

  That was no bird.

  I could only assume at this point, that the person who was approaching the lighthouse was not friendly, so I did my best to stand up as quietly as possible.

  “I’d say that I was getting tired of saving your ass if I didn’t like looking at it so much. Is that flannel?” A voice I knew, but couldn’t immediately place, called out.

  I turned around to get a look at my rescuer, shocked by the face I saw staring back at me. “I’d say ‘thank you’ if I could get past the nauseous feeling that I get every time I see you.”

  “Aww, come on, Maurin, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  “You must not have a lot of friends. How the hell did you know where to find me, anyway?” I really wanted to know the answer to that question. Despite our history, or maybe because of it, I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust him.

  “Seriously, you look like shit. Where’s your friend, the Norm? What the hell are you doing out here in your underwear, anyway? Holy shit, were you going to swim?” He almost laughed.

  “Fuck you, Cash.” It was the only thing I could come up with. “Matthison’s in the old hangar. He needs to get off this island and get to a hospital stat. The only way I could see that happening was if I somehow got to that boat out there.” I couldn’t stop shivering. Despite all of my new abilities, I was not impervious to the cold.

  “Get dressed. You standing there practically naked and shivering is a little distracting.” He was already headed for the lighthouse.

  I threw everything back on as quickly as I could. I wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of Cash being alone with Matthison. The fact that I didn’t see anyone from the Council, or anyone else for that matter, had me on edge. He ignored my question about how he had found me, and I wasn’t putting anything past Cash. He was a mercenary, a hired gun. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for Cash to be working with the Inquisitors. He had a lot to gain if the Council was under threat and Roul was distracted by their challenge. I was on edge as I walked into the hangar. Cash was already bent over Matthison, talking to someone while he looked him over. The conversation was short, and he clicked a little button on his earpiece, ending the call.

  “My guys are moving in. It looks like most of the damage is internal. It doesn’t look good, but we’ll get him out of here. Is that what’s left of the guy that did this?” he asked, looking over at the Butcher lying dead on the floor.

  “Yeah. The two who were giving orders got away. He was just the muscle. You didn’t answer my question, by the way. How did you, of all people, know where to look for me?” I asked.

  “You’re just lucky, I guess. I was meeting with Roul to finalize the rules and terms of the challenge when Mahalia came by. She wanted a tracker, which seemed like an odd request for a witch who should’ve been able to wave her magic wand and find you.” Cash swirled his pointer finger in the air in a lame attempt to emulate a witch. Except she couldn’t. She went and cast a major spell that left her people weak and defenseless. So she had to come begging for help from the wolves,”

  “I know the part about you being in town and Mahalia’s casting. Cut to the chase. We need to get Matthison out of here now!”

  “We’ve got a couple of minutes. There’s been a slight change of plans. I’ve got a helicopter en route since I don’t think your friend will make it if we just drop him off at an E.R. They’ll take him straight to shock trauma in Boston. His head’s bandaged, so unless you’re a surgeon now too, there isn’t much else we can do until the chopper gets here.” Arms crossed over his chest; he waited a breath before continuing.

  “Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the witch. Okay, so Mahalia comes in looking for a tracker. When Roul agrees and asks to push the challenge back, I got a little pissed. I wanted some answers, you know. So they reluctantly filled me in on the Inquisitors, the coven’s sudden weakness, and why Mahalia needed a tracker to look for you.”

 
I supposed he thought that cleared up why he was here instead of someone else.

  “How’d you get on the island?” I was not willing to concede that he was, in fact, here to rescue me.

  “I swam.” He laughed at my expense before finally answering me. “We drove as far as the bridge, and then walked the rest of the way.”

  “So where’s everyone else?” I asked, not wanting to be lured into a false sense of security with Cash.

  “You mean up until I saw you standing naked in the moonlight like a wolf? Roul’s pack is out with the coven looking for you. Hell, even some of the vamps were out searching. But, as usual, I succeed where others fail and found you all by myself.”

  “I was not naked.” I muttered under my breath.

  “I already called off the search. It’s officially a rescue mission. Looks like I’m your knight in shining armor.”

  I could have done without his shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Far from it.” Sarcasm wasn’t normally how one treated their rescuer, but Cash just brought it out in me.

  Relief filled me as I heard the helicopter flying in. Cash and I positioned ourselves at opposite ends of Matthison’s body. I lifted his feet as Cash lifted his upper body, and we carefully carried him outside. Two guys jumped out to help load Matthison into the helicopter. Cash and I climbed in, leaving the two werewolves behind.

  “Aren’t they coming?” It didn’t seem wise to leave anyone behind.

  “Not enough room. The team on the bridge will pick them up.” Cash smacked the side of the chopper, and we lifted off.

  The ride in the helicopter was surreal. The doors of the huge army-style helicopter were open, with a gunner on each side. Sitting on the floor next to Matthison, surrounded by Cash and the rest of his team, I felt like I was in a bad action movie. Thankfully, the seasoned ex-military team members weren’t a chatty group. Even Cash was quiet, despite his sitting right next to me. I caught him looking at me a couple of times as if he was going to say something, but instead he’d just turn away.

  Maybe he realized I wasn’t in the mood for his shit and figured I’d push him out the open helicopter door. He’d have been right. I tucked my knees into my chest and rested my head on them. Surrounded by this many guns, I felt comfortable enough to close my eyes and finally put more energy into healing all the damage the Butcher had done to my body.

  Cash must have caught a glimpse of the burn on my neck as I put my head down. He brushed my tangled mass of hair out of the way to get a better look. The brand was mostly healed over with what felt like smooth, shiny scar tissue; just like the scar on my back. I flinched as he traced the marking.

  “What the fuck is that?” His voice was dark and menacing.

  “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

  “They branded you? Like some kind of fucking animal?” Cash’s voice was getting louder.

  “Yes.” There wasn’t anything else I could say. Branded, like an animal summed it up.

  That seemed to get the attention of Cash’s team. Well, that and how pissed off Cash was. He wasn’t a pack leader yet, but he was an Alpha, and there was no way the wolves in the confined space of the helicopter could miss the anger rolling off of him.

  “What does it mean?”

  “Not a clue. They didn’t explain it, and I was too busy fighting for my life to give a shit. I’ll ask Mahalia when we get back to Salem.” I smoothed my hair back into place to hide the mark.

  Cash grumbled something I couldn’t hear, though his team obviously did because they were all nodding their heads in agreement. Cash suddenly busied himself with checking me out for more injuries. The Inquisitors having branded me bothered him, more than I would have expected. I guess even Cash had a moral code. He pulled up my tattered shirt, tracing a finger along the gash across my stomach. The wolf knew the significance of it, that it was supposed to be more than just another battle wound. He lowered my shirt without a word.

  I started to say something smart, but as I met his eyes, I saw that they were full of respect. For me. The awkwardness of a shared moment with Cash was too much for me, so I turned away from him to look at the view from the helicopter instead.

  The weight of everyone’s gaze bored down on me as I sat quietly, staring out at the trees and little rooftops that made up the suburbs surrounding Boston. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get Matthison to the hospital.

  The helicopter veered to the right, bringing the hospital into view. I could see the landing pad on the roof and the doctors and nurses from the Shock Trauma unit who were standing outside waiting for us.

  As soon as the helicopter touched down, we were mobbed by the doctors and nurses. Cash, his team, and I exited out one side of the helicopter as the medical team poured in through the other. In a matter of seconds, they had Matthison on a gurney, hooked to an IV, and on the landing pad.

  Cash grabbed my arm as I turned to follow the doctors and nurses as they took off with Matthison. “The Council said I was supposed to bring you back to Salem if I found you.”

  “Since when did you start taking orders from the Council? I’m staying with Matthison. He didn’t run. Even when the Inquisitors gave him a choice, he stayed and fought. So I’m staying with him now. I owe him that.”

  The pilot was ready to go, and he fired the helicopter back up.

  Cash shouted something to me, but I couldn’t hear it over the wind from the helicopter.

  I pulled my hair out of my face, holding it back in a ponytail so I could see. I yelled to Cash one more time that I was staying.

  He gave me a crooked smile, threw his hands up in mock defeat, and got on the helicopter.

  I turned and ran to the lone nurse holding the door open, waiting for me to follow her inside..

  Chapter 7

  I waited out in the hall in one of those ridiculously uncomfortable chairs, exhausted, with my head resting on the wall, while the doctors and nurses worked on Matthison. My eyes closed of their own accord and I couldn’t help but drift back to the last time I had waited in a hallway for someone.

  My life had been so simple then. I went to work, busted the bad guys, and went home. Everything changed the day I had waited impatiently for Masarelli to let me into the interrogation room. In hindsight, I probably should have just let him take the damned case, but no, I had to rub my superiority in his face. I should have just walked away when Matthison told me to, but the Council was persistent. In the end, they got what they wanted. Me. And now I was back in a hallway, waiting again.

  A doctor finally came out of Matthison’s room. I jumped out of the chair, which was no easy feat since my ass was numb from sitting there so long. Who the hell picks out this crappy furniture anyway?

  “Doc, hey, Doc!”

  His sneakers squeaked on the linoleum tiles as he came to a sudden stop. He turned and gave me a look that said, ‘Spit it out lady, I’m in a hurry.’

  “Can I get an update? You’ve been working on him for over an hour. I just want to know what’s going on. I’m going to have to tell his wife something.”

  “They’ve removed a piece of his skull to alleviate the swelling, and they’ve induced a coma to give his body a chance to heal. He’s got massive internal injuries and too many broken bones to count. It’s too soon to say anything. A nurse already called his wife. She’s on her way. I’ll have someone come out and take a look at you. You look like you could use a few stitches yourself.” He managed all of that in one breath.

  He turned, and just like that; he was gone. I imagined he had to rush off to some other emergency.

  And he kept his word. After a few minutes, a nurse came and unnecessarily looked me over. As she cleaned away some of the blood and grime, her brow became more and more furrowed. She would move to a new area, where a gash should have been, judging by the amount of blood and torn clothing, only to find a scab or fresh pink skin in its place. She threw her wad of gauze in the little metal tray next to her and looked up at me.

 
“Are you a were or something?” It was apparent she was a little irritated that I hadn’t told her and that she felt she was obviously wasting her time working on me.

  “No. I’m not a were. Can you point me in the direction of the cafeteria? I’m desperate for some coffee.”

  “Well, I know you’re not a vamp. You sure heal like a were. I dated a were back in nursing school, so I’ve seen how fast they can heal. If you’re not a were, then what are you?” Her disbelief was palpable.

  It was an interesting question. What was I? A psychometric, who just so happens to be the reincarnate of a Celtic goddess? An Other, with the strength and ability to heal equal to any immortal I’d met? A tool for the Council to use as they see fit? What else? It was too much to explain to her.

  I settled for, “Lucky. I’m just lucky to be alive. Now, if you would be so kind as to point me toward the coffee, I’d appreciate it.”

  “You should be drinking water. You need to hydrate. Go down that hall, take a right, then a left, then take the elevator down to the ground level and follow the cafeteria signs.”

  “There’s water in the coffee,” I said, as I made my way toward the cafeteria.

  Ignoring the stares of orderlies, nurses, and other hospital staff, I walked the sterile halls. I had a pretty good idea of what I looked like, and it wasn’t my best presentation. The fact that I was up and moving was probably the only thing keeping a few residents from trying to get their eager little surgical hands on me. I’d been sliced up enough for one night, thank you.

  After watching a distorted glimpse of myself in the shiny metal elevator doors, I couldn’t stop the shiver making its way down my spine as I saw the blurry blood and bruises. The major injuries—the ones on the inside that I couldn’t see but would have killed a normal person, were healed, but I still felt like I had been hit by a freight train. There’s something about seeing your cuts and bruises that make them hurt more.