Bleu

by Michaela Haze

  Gregory nodded and stepped back, he brushed non-existence wrinkles out of the front of his shirt. It was the only sign that he was flustered. How pathetic was I? That I could read my kidnapper like a book when his face showed no emotion at all.

  “Go on, Lenora.” Samuel invited, his eyes sparkled and the air crackled with his need for violence. I had no idea how the relaxed shoulders and gentle smirk equated to such a threatening demeanour but somehow it did.

  “He kidnapped me. Took me from outside my university.” I whispered, afraid to make eye contact.

  It was not Samuel that spoke, but a voice was that achingly similar. His twin. Vincent. “He has been Herding humans on our territory, Brother. We should kill him and the girl.”

  Samuel cocked his head to the side. “Without assurance that she won’t go directly to every news outlet in the UK, killing her might be best.”

  “You wouldn’t do something so foolish, would you, Lovely girl?” Bentley spoke for the first time, his voice was gentle like a summer breeze.

  I shook my head. Please let me live.

  Gregory's jaw was clenched, his fists as well. His extire body was a spring that had been tightened until it had no choice but to lash out. The only question was when. I flinched away from him, and prayed that it was all real and not such a silly game.

  “Tell you what, Pet.” Samuel reached forward and dragged his thumb across my bottom lip. “You have a ten minute head start. Go!” he waved his hand to the doorway and I did not need to be told twice.

  In my see through dress and bare feet, I stumbled into the corridor and searched blindly for the front door. I heard the sounds of a fight and the sharp gasp of pain from Gregory. I did not pause. I gripped the slicked UPVC of the door and yanked with all of my might. It opened with ease and the world greeted me.

  I could taste freedom.

  Chapter 10.

  The streetlights bathed the line of terrace houses in a warm orange glow. It was the dead of night and none of the surrounding homes were lit up. It was as if the street was abandoned.

  My barefeet slapped the wet concrete, and a fine mist of rain hung in the air and caused my dress to cling to my body.

  I pushed my ratty hair out of my eyes and lost my breath more quickly than I would have expected. A stitch wracked through my side and I gritted my teeth against the pain.

  Opening my mouth, I screamed for help but my voice was squeaky with disuse. It sounded like I had larryngitus.

  There was no way that I was going back. I would kill myself before I allowed that to happen.

  The houses raced past as I ran for my life. Each dark window mocked me. I did not want to waste time knocking and screaming only to have no one answer.

  He'd said ten minutes. I had to make them count.

  I made the mistake of looking back. Samuel Rose stood in the centre of the dark street, his wild Auburn hair looked black in the glow of the streetlights.

  Even though I had been caught, it was relieved that it wasn’t Gregory that had come for me.

  Samuel moved too quickly to be human. A blink. A blur.

  His hand gripped the top of my shoulders. His skin smelt like autumn bonfires. Warmth. It wasn’t sickly in the way that Gregory's scent was.

  My vision sparkled and swam and I felt the rough concrete shred my knees as I dropped down like I had been tasered.

  His power washed over me and stole my energy.

  I slapped his hands away and tried to crawl but my vision dipped into darkness and back out again like a witch on a ducking stool.

  Samuel was calm, he reached into his jeans and took out a phone.

  The last sounds that I heard before I passed out, was the voice of an emergency services operator.

  They combed my hair, swabbed my fingernails and my throat. Took samples from inside of me.

  The doctor’s used words like 'internal lacerations as a result of sexual trauma.’

  It was the kind of language that I had only experienced whilst watching law and order SVU.

  It took hours.

  I was hooked up to a drip, but they could not find a vein because I was severely dehydrated. In the end, the cannula was placed at the edge of my wrist and it ached when I forgot about it and moved suddenly.

  I was given a sedative because I could not stop crying. Screaming. Slapping any man that tried to put his hands on me, even if they wore a white coat.

  I was unable to control myself. My fear had taken over the driver’s seat of my body. All of the ugliness that I had compartmentalized away so that I could cope with Gregory and my captivity spilled over, like a cup that was too full.

  When I woke up, a kind faced woman wearing a suit was holding my hand. My face must have betrayed my confusion, as I groggily took in her uninvited touch.

  “My name is Shannon Garland.” She smiled kindly and pushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear. The corners of her eyes were crinkled with laughter lines and her face was free of any negativity. “I’m your councillor. The doctor asked me to sit with you, in case you felt like talking.”

  I tried to smile but my face would not cooperate.

  “Dr Rupparell will be in an update in a minute, but I wanted have a word first.” Shannon rubbed the back of my hand.

  I blinked. My mouth was dry and I eyed the jug of water on the side. Shannon reached over and poured out a cup for me. She held it to my lips.

  I tried not to flinch when I sat up.

  I thanked her but the words were hoarse and my voice was unrecognisable.

  “He had you for 21 days.” The councillor said, reaching down into her bag, she produced a small notebook and pen. “Do you remember anything about how you were taken?”

  I nodded and barely managed to scrape out the words 'unmarked taxi'. There was no judgement in her expression.

  My eyes started to flutter and even though I had not been awake long, I was exhausted.

  Shannon excused herself to fetch the doctor and it seemed that I had only closed my eyes for a second. When I opened them, an Asian doctor stood at the end of my bed as Shannon wrung her hands and then smoothed her expression was from of concern to one of professional kindness.

  She sat by my side and took my hand again. I let her. A female touch felt surprisingly nice.

  “Lenora, Dr Rupparell has some news for you and I want you to know that I am here for you. You don’t have to make any decisions now, but we need to talk about this.”

  My brow furrowed as I looked from Shannon’s kind face and then back to the doctor’s severe eyes.

  “Ms Hiscock. It is standard procedure to take a blood sample as part of the rape kit that we completed when you came in.” He cleared his throat and looked down to the chart. “The pregnancy test was positive.”

  After the screaming and an ultrasound in which I refused to look at the machine, it was confirmed. I was pregnant. A piece of my rapist had broken off inside of me like a toxic splinter. I was prescribed two sets of pills. Taking them both would kill the thing inside of me.

  I was still trapped in medical limbo, and I denied all visitors. Although Shannon had informed me that my family had been aware that I had been found.

  I was ashamed.

  I had allowed myself to be taken. Granted, I had fought, but after I had wedged my keys into Gregory’s throat and he had healed like a monster, I had given up fairly quickly.

  It was hard to concentrate on anything else apart from the screaming inside of my mind. I resisted the urge to pummel my fists agsinst the side of my head with the willpower of the pope.

  I deserved to hurt.

  “You realise that those pills won’t help you?” Biscuit had come back. He sat on the plastic chair in the corner. It could not have been comfortable but then again, what did I care?

  I ignored him and stared at the tiny paper cup on my lap tray. The tiny white pills looked innocent enough, but they would be enough to kill a child.

  No. Not a child. A monster. A demon that had attached
itself to my womb.

  “It’s a Cambion.” Biscuit crossed his long legs in front of him and pushed his sheet of platinum blonde hair over one shoulder. “Your child is a Cambion.”

  “You can read my mind.” I said, as I fiddled with the edge of my blanket.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s a Cambion?”

  “Half human, Half Seventh Circle Daemon.” My invisible friend supplier helpfully.

  “And these pills won’t kill it?” I asked but my voice caught on the ‘kill’. I shook my head and swallowed the excessive saliva in my throat. “It’s not a child. It’s a monster.”

  “Correct.” Biscuit nodded and his lips twitched into a smile.

  “Do my problems amuse you?”

  “Quite.”

  A tear dropped down my cheek and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “What can I do?”

  “I can help you.” He said.

  “How?”

  “I can make all of this go away.” Biscuit’s jovial expression sobered and became one of benign sympathy.

  “How many times have you done this?” I waved over my body as another sob broke free from my trembling lips. I forced my shoulders straight. I would not cower. I would get on with my life.

  I had to be strong enough.

  I was going to watch Gregory burn. I wanted to hurt him.

  I wanted him to pay.

  “Enough times.” Biscuit’s expression was solemn. “Its safe. You’ll live another day to find your vengeance.”

  I cleared my throat, ready to accept the deal. Enough had happened to me at the hands of monsters that it was entirely within the realm of possibility that my ghost wanted to help me and that he was the only one that could.

  The words did not leave my throat before my blankets bloomed read like a rose against stark white snow.

  Chapter 11.

  The technical term was a code blue.

  I watched the situation like a member of the audience, with Biscuit by my side. My body laid prone and seizing on the table as the nurses rushed to drop the railings and find the source of the blood flow.

  There was shouting. Beeping machines and emergency surgery.

  I hovered in the space between worlds, with no body and only my consciousness.

  “It’s done.” Biscuit told me.

  I nodded silently, as waves of emotions crashed over me so furiously that I could not discern if I felt relief, grief or sadness.

  I was overwhelmed. My chest ached and it was nearly impossible to breath. I watched my body on the table as I was worked on my numerous doctors, each one wearing masks that made them appear inhuman.

  “Would you like to know my name, Lenora?” Biscuit asked, he wrapped his arm over my shoulders but I could not feel his touch. I was in limbo. Everything was grey and intangible.

  I nodded, but was unable to look away from the bloody mess that I had become.

  “You should know. We have paperwork to fill out.” My apparition reached into his pocket and produced a scroll. He unfurled it and the action was graceful as if he had done it hundreds of times before. He placed it inside of my numb fingers and pointed to the bottom of the stained parchment.

  The words were black, a burnt harsh scrawl. Almost illegible.

  I began to read, but only a few words sunk in.

  ‘Devil’ and ‘Soul’ and ‘Sold’ were the most prominent.

  I rushed back into my body with the force of a tsunami. The world was red with pain.

  I’d made a deal with the Devil.

  The story continues in Bleu2

  Coming soon

  What happened next?

  The Devil’s Advocate

  Even the Devil needs a PA.

  Dahlia Clark is a Hell Broker. You want to sell your soul, she’s your girl.

  The only problem? She’s not seen her boss, Luc, in over two centuries.

  Not since he forced her out of hell, out of his bed and condemned her to be his eyes and ears on the surface.

  As far as breakups go, it could have been better.

  When Dahlia meets Samuel Rose, a male incubus with the London Underground scene wrapped around his finger, things are looking up in the romance department.

  He's dark and intense, and just what she thinks she needs.

  Wrong.

  Lucifer doesn’t like it when people play with his things.

  It doesn’t matter that he dumped her over two hundred years ago. The Devil wants Dahlia back, whatever the cost.