Midnight Savior: The Watchers, Book 4
Page 3
He had no idea how long he had been out. The room, as well as the small window on the door, was dark. All the lights had been shut off. He could not even hear the hum of the computers. The lab equipment had also been shut down.
Listening intently for any sounds to indicate someone was still in the lab, he heard nothing and wondered how long he would be left alone this time. The last time he had been left alone he had been without food or drink for two weeks. He had wondered if it had been a test to see how long he could last without sustenance.
Kern tugged on his chains, testing them. It was a daily routine, a little spark of hope he held on to. There was enough slack to reach as far as the small toilet. “At least he had the decency to allow me that.”
After another tug, he let out a long breath and let the chains drop. He only had one thought, getting loose from his bonds and ripping the doctor apart. The doctor and anyone who was helping him were enemies in his eyes. Enemies he vowed to eliminate, slowly and painfully.
Sometime during his stay in this hellhole, his internal clock had stopped reacting to the time of day. No longer did his body grow heavy during the daylight hours, then have his strength return at sundown. Kern believed it was due to the various drugs the doctor had been using on him.
There were times when he was not drugged, but it was only so the doctor could find out how the vampire’s body reacted to poisonous darts, bullets, tazers, knives and electrocution. Every day the body-wracking pain and illness made him wish for death.
Kern paced, roared his anger and yanked on his chains until his skin bled. Kern found himself sitting on the floor, using the wall to brace his back. He could not recall sitting, much less guess how long he had been in that position. Hunger was beginning to gnaw at him, and he knew the weakness and disorientation would increase.
Sinking against the wall, he let his eyes drift shut, trying to conserve what energy he had left in hopes of holding out until the doctor came returned. If he returned.
Kern’s ears continued to pick up the sounds of the empty lab—the constant slow drip of a leaky faucet, the occasional crack and pop of the walls settling and even a cockroach scuttling across the floor. He tried to let the noises soothe him even lull him to sleep. Leaving his body and conscious thoughts would mean escaping the pain, at least for short while.
Chapter Three
Hitchhiking is a scary thing, Marie thought as she held her thumb in the air and walked along a stretch of Interstate 65. She had done some thinking while in the mental hospital. Actually, a lot of thinking.
Having lost her rental place, her job and even her family, she felt she had nothing left to lose. She was leaving Georgia, following the urging of her grandmother and praying the woman would stay with her during her journey. She had to find the old building her grandmother had shown her. The one in which the man was being held captive like a caged animal.
Marie had never been able to get an answer out of her grandmother as to why this task had fallen onto her shoulders. The dreams and visions had taken over her life, causing her extreme grief and the loss of everything she had. Marie could not help her feelings of anger and resentment, but tried her best to keep it inside. Her grandmother must have her reasons, she kept telling herself.
Marie knew her plan was crazy—a young woman traveling alone to who knew where—but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let her fears get in the way. She was going to see it as the adventure of a lifetime, but couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the last thing she ever did. Was this why her grandmother was sending her on this mission without providing much in the way of explanation? Was saving this man her last good deed before she departed this world?
Pulling her hat down further, Marie stuck her thumb in the air as a vehicle approached and then passed. Several minutes later, a tractor-trailer slowed then pulled on to the shoulder behind her.
The sun had disappeared into the western horizon hours ago when Marie hopped down from the rig and landed in the parking lot of a truck stop directly off the highway. She was grateful to have been given a ride by a rather harmless looking truck driver. He was an older man, slim of build and with graying hair, which blew in the breeze when he cracked his window.
The man had told interesting stories, obviously enjoying having company to share the hours driving along the highway. Marie had not offered much information about herself, so he had decided to carry most of the conversation. Besides, she thought, her stories were not very interesting. Her life was not interesting.
Marie picked up a magazine from the rack near the door and took a seat in the truck stop’s restaurant. She ordered a cup of coffee, pleased to find refills were free. She planned to hang out while she thought of a spot to settle for the night. Tomorrow, she would hit the road again, continuing north on Interstate 65 as her grandmother kept insisting.
He was sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall. Was he alive? She stepped closer and saw his chest rise and lower slowly. Ribs made impressions through his tanned skin, rolling upward with each inhale, then sliding down on the exhale.
His head was bent—chin resting against his chest. Marie could not see his face, but she felt his pain. There was sorrow, anger, hunger. Each emotion was so strong she found it hard to breathe.
The man slowly raised his head, and she felt herself holding her breath, not knowing whether or not she wanted to look upon his face. The emotions she could feel would be there, and she was helpless to do anything for him.
Pink lips, slightly parted came into view. She stared at them, wanting to touch them, to slide her finger along the seam, then taste them with her mouth. She wanted to go to him, hold him close and comfort him. She wanted to save him.
Dark, wavy hair fell away from his face when he straightened and looked at her. When he seemed to realize who was in the room, black eyes full of hate and anger softened to a beautiful blue.
She moved forward and reached out her hand to touch him.
A loud blast from a tractor-trailer’s horn made Marie jerk upright, holding a hand to her frantically beating heart. It had been another dream. Another mental kick in the ass because she was not there to help him.
At first she had thought the hallucinations, dreams and visions were a sign she was going crazy since the episodes had started out of nowhere. After they occurred with more frequency, she had searched the Internet, perusing picture after picture of missing persons, but had never found the man she sought. She had even searched through news articles until her eyes crossed. At one point, she had made an appointment to talk to a detective, though she could tell he had only placated her. She had no doubt he had tossed his notes in the trash after she had left and had written her off as a loon.
Sleeping on the cold, hard ground had Marie constantly rubbing her aching back and neck. She had left the restaurant around midnight to try and get some sleep. If she had to walk several more miles before getting a ride, she was going to need all the energy she could muster.
Marie wrapped her sleeping bag around her. She was thankful for the small shed behind the truck stop. It would protect her from the wind and add some security by keeping her out of sight during the night.
One last thought entered her mind before she drifted into an exhaustion-induced sleep. Her grandmother had not visited her in the flesh, so to speak, since she had left the hospital. Marie had, however, received little nudges here and there to point her in the right direction to travel. Each highway and direction appeared out of nowhere. Without thought or hesitation, she had followed, trusting her grandmother to keep her safe.
The sound of laughter and voices brought Marie out of sleep. She rubbed her eyes, then checked her watch. It was ten minutes past seven in the morning. After hiding a yawn behind her hand, she dug around in her backpack for a granola bar and a bottle of water. “Breakfast of champions,” she muttered to herself and shrugged. Noticing her dwindling supplies, Marie made a mental note to restock at her next stop, wherever that might be.
Marie flung aside the top of the sleeping bag and pulled on her boots. After rolling up the sleeping bag, she secured it to the top of her backpack, then slung it over her shoulder.
To her dismay, none of the drivers were heading in her direction. One man offered to take her as far as she wanted to go, but for a price she was not willing to pay. With a disgusted look, Marie quickly walked away from the slime ball.
Finally, she found a man who was traveling north and said he could take her as far as Shepherdsville, Kentucky.
Each time Marie climbed into the cab of a rig or hopped into the front seat of a car, she knew she was taking her life in her hands. She did not know these people and trusted them to be good Samaritans.
For the first hundred and some odd miles, Marie felt tense, uneasy, and could not put her finger on the source. Gradually, she let her guard down listening to the comedic banter of the truck driver. Although many would consider her Georgia drawl amusing, his northern accent was something she wished she could record.
During the long drive, Marie and the truck driver teased each other about their different accents. His pronunciation of words such as car, harbor and coffee was beyond comical, Marie thought. Even funnier was the fact he used the word soda when referring to a soft drink.
“Well, what do you Southerners call it?”
Marie laughed. “We call it a coke no matter what it is.”
He turned the tables and poked fun at the way she pronounced water, creek and her favorite, y’all.
His good humor did not last as they neared Shepherdsville, the city where he had said he would drop her off before heading east. She had a strong feeling he was not ready to part ways with his new companion.
When she noticed him growing quiet, not really getting into their conversation, the hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end. Marie kept her attention focused ahead, out the windshield, but saw out of the corner of her eye that he was constantly glancing at her. The expression on his face was unreadable, but he was definitely no longer the lighthearted man he had been a few minutes ago.
“Ah, hell.” The man glanced at his side mirror several times.
Marie began to grow concerned, but forced herself not to panic as he shifted gears, slowed, then pulled the truck to the side of the highway. “What’s wrong?”
“Damned chain’s loose on the trailer. I’m going to have to get out and secure it before I get pulled over.”
With quick jerks, he unfastened his seatbelt, opened the door and climbed out of the cab. Marie had a feeling in the pit of her stomach something was not quite right. She hurriedly unbuckled her own seatbelt, unzipped the outside pouch of her backpack and pulled out the small knife she kept for protection. She did not dare carry a gun, afraid one day she would be so despondent she would use it upon herself.
“Grandma, where are you?”
Marie watched the truck driver appear from behind the trailer and return to the driver’s side. The door opened, and after he climbed inside, it happened. He lunged at her and began pulling her into the rig’s sleeper.
A large, calloused hand held a bruising grip over her mouth, cutting off her scream. Marie was pinned close to his body as he continued to yank her backwards. She kicked out with her feet, trying to make contact with any part of his body she could reach. When her foot made contact with the stick shift, the truck lurched forward, startling the driver into releasing his hold.
Marie didn’t hesitate. With her arms free, she swung the knife, cutting him across the arm. The man fell into the sleeper and howled in pain. Quickly, she climbed into the passenger seat, flung open the door and jumped to the ground with her backpack while the truck continued to roll forward.
Marie did not look back as she sprinted down the highway. After making a sudden turn, she ducked into a wooded area and kept moving until she could go no further. Exhausted, she collapsed behind a tree.
Several minutes passed while Marie remained perfectly still. Finally, the grinding of gears and the whine of the truck signaled the man was leaving.
Marie sagged against the tree and let out a long, shaky breath. The possibility the trucker would return, hoping to catch sight of her walking along the side of the highway, brought a sense of panic.
“Dammit, Grandma. Where are you? I could have used a little help. You could have at least told me not to ride with that man.”
“You’re okay, aren’t you? I knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself. Besides, he was the only one going in the direction you needed to go.”
Marie let out a huff at her grandmother’s clipped answer. Heaving her backpack over her shoulder, she took several steps forward, then stopped. Should she call the cops? The man might pick up another woman and try the same thing. He may have even done it before─several times. Marie’s chest hurt, and her stomach turned as she warred with herself. If she contacted the police, she would no doubt have to explain why she was hitchhiking in the first place. Did she have the time to spare? But if she didn’t…
“There isn’t time.”
Her grandmother’s voice in her head was firm, but Marie caught something else as if the woman was trying to assure her that she would be doing the right thing by continuing on her journey. Marie’s grandmother’s words did not ease her worry and nagging conscience, but she began walking again. Though she hated to admit it, her grandmother was right. The man needed her. Now.
Chapter Four
Kern closed his eyes. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his body.
Darkness was everywhere. Even with his keen vampire eyes, he could not see his hand in front of his face.
A light shimmered, then steadily grew in intensity. The silhouette of a woman appeared in its center. As the light faded, her form became clearer.
She felt familiar, safe. Kern found himself wanting her near, wanting to touch her, to assure himself she was real.
She approached slowly and stood before him. Kern strained to focus on her face, but could not make out detailed features. His head was fuzzy, hazy. Even simple thoughts were a struggle.
She brought up her hands. They were shaky at first, as if she were unsure.
Her touch on his chest sent a jolt of electricity through his body. Fingers glided over his skin. A loving caress. Afraid she would vanish, he did not dare close his eyes.
“I want to help you.”
Her voice was a soft whisper.
Kern lowered his head to taste her. She stood on tiptoes, drawing closer to him. Mere inches separated their lips.
Suddenly, she was gone, disappearing into a mist, yanked away from him in an instant. Kern roared in anguish. A mental torment to add to his misery.
Kern awoke with deep sorrow in his heart and a pulsing in his groin. Each time he’d had the dream it ended the same—never feeling her lips on his and wanting more of her touch.
He growled and ran his hands through his hair. He longed to return to the dream. Would he ever discover her name? Would he ever taste her? Hold her?
Many times he had either sensed her presence in the room or had actually seen her standing in the corner. She seemed to want to comfort him. Her presence had brought him comfort. But who was she? A ghost? A figment of his imagination? Or was he going insane? He had questioned his sanity many times, feeling his mental stability slipping away with every passing day he remained in this room.
Moving his head from side to side, his bones popped. The adjustment relieved the stiffness in his neck. Nothing had changed in his surroundings. Kern’s senses told him no one had been in the lab while he had been in a deep sleep. He wondered what day it was. Was it daytime or night? How long had he been kept in this hellhole? Was the human planning to return or had he been left to die in this room? Thoughts scrambled through his head, and he wa
nted desperately to turn them off.
Kern stood and yanked hard against the chains, ignoring the pain of his raw and bleeding flesh beneath the manacles. Letting his head fall back, he bared his fangs and released a roar of frustration. He did not know who he was damning. God? The human who had brought him to this place and tortured him? Or the other Watchers who he felt had ceased their search for him?
Kern turned and plowed his fist into the wall, barely making a dent because of his weakened state. His knuckles split open, leaving smears of blood on the white surface.
“I will not die,” he cried out into the empty room. “You will not win, human. I will hunt you down and kill you.”
Dr. Pearson lifted his suitcase from the conveyor belt in the baggage claim area. He had waited a week before leaving town to make sure everything was in order for the meeting.
Glancing out the window of the terminal, he noticed several inches of snow covering the ground. He had known how deep the snow could be this time of year and had planned ahead by reserving a four-wheel drive SUV.
Dr. Pearson smiled as he drove out of the lot. So far, his travels had been quite pleasant. He hoped the meeting he had planned would be the same. As he followed the directions given by the vehicle’s GPS system, his anticipation grew with every passing mile.
Pulling into the parking lot, Dr. Pearson’s trek up the winding incline was rewarded with an excellent view of the snow-capped Colorado Mountains. After parking the SUV, he removed his luggage and briefcase from the vehicle and rolled them to the front entrance.
The lobby was pleasantly warm and brightly lit. Off to one side a huge fireplace blazed while lodge guests lounged in overstuffed chairs and couches. Some people were adorned with the latest ski fashions and were either returning from the ski slopes or heading out for some fun.
Dr. Pearson enjoyed skiing. Somewhat of a novice, he kept to the smaller slopes. He and his wife had planned on a ski trip for their anniversary. The trip had never happened. She had been killed a week before their scheduled flight. As he stood before the entryway to the sitting area, Dr. Pearson stared at the roaring fire while memories passed through his head.