Triggered (Blackbird Book 1)

by Aly Westman

  “Let me get things ready,” Quinn said as he jumped off the bed and left the room.

  The room was silent except for the gentle breaths of Seth from where he slept. I slowly tested sitting up again and was relieved when my head didn’t spin as much, whatever Quinn had given me had worked, and I didn’t feel extremely tired like I had the first time.

  I stared at the sleeping Seth. I vaguely remember something about him being Russian, which now looking at him sort of made sense going by his accent. Was there a typical look to Russian guys? I guess I always pictured them as massive heavily built people, and Seth was tall and had wide heavy shoulders. But he wasn’t body builder built. If it weren’t for the accent when he first pulled me out of the drain, I wouldn’t have known he was from Russia.

  A phone rang loud and Seth grumbled as he pushed himself off his stomach and sat up, reaching into his pocket. It was then that I noticed the tattoos covering both arms. I tried to tilt my head to make out what it was but his conversation distracted me.

  “Yeah...No…” His voice was thick with sleep. His blues eyes swept to me and suddenly I felt at home, they looked so much like my father’s eyes that I had to look away. “She’s here. I mean she’s alive. Yes.” He sighed. “Ona pochti umerla...da...da…” He pulled the phone away. “Quinn!”

  Quinn appeared then.

  “Kogda my vyydem?” he asked.

  “Kogda ona khorosho,” Quinn responded and suddenly my head was swimming.

  Seth looked frustrated. “Days Quinn, give me a number.”

  Quinn looked at me. “Three, at the least.” He looked back at Seth. “Pozvol'te mne snachala izuchit' yeye, togda ya budu znat'.” The words rolled so effortlessly from Quinn’s mouth.

  “Da.” Seth had the phone back to his lips. “YA otchitayus', kogda uznayu.” Seth didn’t look at me as he left the room.

  “Ready?” Quinn asked.

  “You know Russian?” I raised an eyebrow.

  Quinn smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Seth taught me, I’m a pretty quick study.”

  I tried to move my legs but Quinn ended up having to help me. They were just too heavy, but he said it was from not moving them in so long and the more I moved the better it would be.

  Sitting up on the edge of the bed I felt brave. Quinn told me to take it slow but I wanted out of these clothes and in some fresh water...I wondered if they had shampoo? I went to stand and was surprised at how hard my heart was pounding, it almost took my breath away it beat so angrily in my chest.

  “Easy,” Quinn whispered. He was close, one hand on my back was holding the IV bag, and the other hand was out in front of me ready to grab me if I fell forward.

  “I got this,” I whispered.

  “Okay, just go slow and we can take breaks.”

  Slowly we shuffled towards the door. My body was stiff, my muscles almost groaning as I commanded them to move. The wounds along my torso pinching with every breath. We made it out the door and my body swayed, leaning against the wall.

  “I can carry you,” Quinn said, moving in to pick me up. I shoved him with my hand.

  “I can walk. I will walk.” With new determination I followed Quinn’s directions, happy the bathroom was only across the hall.

  It was a small room, just the necessities were there, counter, sink, toilet, shower with a bath. But it was clean. It smelled clean. And it was fresh. There was a plastic lawn chair inside the tub, and fresh towels folded neatly on the counter. I stared at the shower, and then at the IV in my arm, and then at Quinn.

  “I’m here to help, professionally. Okay?” he reassured. “I also noticed last night that you had...well...you had some stitches. I want to look at them okay? And make sure they aren’t infected.”

  I closed my eyes and could feel my body sway but I forced it to stay upright. I had to do this. “I ask just one thing,” I said. “Don’t say anything. Don’t tell me about the wounds. You’re right, I have stitches...many of them. But I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want the others knowing. I want to forget it all, okay?”

  “You have my word.”

  I kept my eyes down as I began to undress, taking my shirt and pulling it over my head as Quinn steadied me and helped feed the IV bag through. There was a sharp intake of air and I knew he got a good view of my stitches. Fifteen stab wounds...I counted them so many times to be sure. I don’t know how I lived through it, I was unconscious through a lot of it I know. Each wound was stitched up neatly...wouldn’t want me to bleed out before they could trigger me now.

  I kept my eyes down, taking my shorts off and then walking towards the shower. I refused to make any eye contact as Quinn turned the water on and instructed me to get it.

  I didn’t need the chair at first as I lathered up soap in my hands and scrubbed down my body. The low pressure of the warm water felt so amazing on my skin that it gave me some energy.

  Quinn stood there, holding my IV bag and ready to catch me if I slipped. I thought at first that it might have bothered me, being naked in front of him, but I had so much of my dignity stripped that I didn’t even care.

  It was while I began working on my long hair that my arms got weak and my legs shook. Quinn lean forward. “Let me,” he said as he began massaging my scalp, lathering men’s shampoo. It felt so amazing that I had to bite back a moan.

  Quinn was as he said he was, very professional. Once my hair was thoroughly washed twice, at my request, he turned off the taps and wrapped me in a towel. Before I could protest he scooped me up into his arms and sat me down on the edge of the tub. He said nothing as he wrapped my hair up in another towel. “I’m going to bring you to the room okay?”

  I was overcome with exhaustion. I closed my eyes, so I could pretend this wasn’t happening, and nodded my head. Quinn was silent as he picked me up and carried me across the hall. He was gentle and slow while lowering me to the bed as if I weighed nothing.

  Right away I felt a blanket come over top of me, even with my towel wrapped around my body.

  “Ava...Can I examine your cuts? I just want to make sure they aren’t infected okay?”

  “Okay...Just...I don’t want to know.” I reminded him. “I don’t want to know the number of stitches or if they are or aren’t infected. So...Just keep quiet. I want to forget them.”

  “Understood. I just need to grab my supplies.” There was shuffling around the room for a few minutes and then the bed dipped beside me. “I’m going to start,” he said professionally.

  I kept my eyes closed as the blanket was slowly pulled back, and the towel moved out of the way. My breasts touched air only for a short time before they were covered with a towel. I could feel my throat become thick and my eyes prick with tears. I cleared my throat and pushed them down though, I wouldn’t cry...not anymore. Not over nothing.

  Nothing...that's what I told myself while Quinn touched the wounds, tugging at the stitches now and then and then pouring liquid on them. Nothing had happened…

  “Let's play a game, shall we?” The voice brought chills up my spine. I hated him. I tried to throw as many punches at him as I could but he grew smart. Six started knocking me out before he came for me, that way I couldn't fight him as he strapped me to a long metal table. Although he loved the fight so I don't know what he was complaining about.

  “I have a game for you,” I rasped out, my voice hoarse from hours of screaming. “Go fuck yourself.”

  He chuckled. “Why do that when I can just fuck with you.”

  I closed my eyes, my head falling back against the table with a bang. Fuck. When will this end. Why couldn't I just die? Why wasn't I dying? Surely a normal body would have given up by now.

  “I have spent many years amongst the humans,” the demon said. His dark black hair the same shade as his eyes. I tried not to look at them. “And admittedly I did indulge in a few things. One of which is a computer game called minesweeper. Ever hear of it?” I ignored him, though I know it made him happy when I did. He began walking slo
wly around the table. “There are a bunch of spaces, you click on one and if it's empty then you keep going, you click on one and it's a bomb...well, then you die.”

  “Why aren't you just trying to find the trigger?” I asked, tired of these “games”. “My father said I had to be relaxed.”

  “Fuck it, we'll get it out of you some way or another. Might as well have fun.” He stopped by my side and pulled out a small dagger from his pocket. Well shit this is the kind of game I hated. The kind I lost my voice over.

  “So. Let's play.” His bloodthirsty smile spread across his lips. His long fingernails reached out and touched my abdomen. “If I cut into a clear area we keep playing. If I cut into an organ...well...you die.”

  I couldn't help the whimper that came from my throat. As tough as I was I hated the pain. I feared it. Out of instinct I tried to bring my arms down to cover my stomach only to have the cold metal of the restraints bite into my wrists. Tears sprang to my eyes and all I could do was pray he would hit an organ quickly and kill me.

  I could feel the brush of his fingernails against my skin. Trailing along as if looking for the perfect location. Then I felt the coolness of the blade point. He didn't move quickly, he didn't go shallow. I screamed as he slowly slid the knife into my skin. I screamed until I was sure my eyes would pop out at any moment. And he laughed. He laughed and laughed. My skin burned.

  I looked up to see as he dropped his head to my stomach, his tongue coming out and lapping up the blood that spilled over. Like a dog lapping up water on a hot summer day.

  I began vomiting violently. My body on the verge of passing out but against the pain and agony of what was happening I refused to let it. I refused to let my world go black. I wanted to say, “Only God knew what they did to me when I was passed out,” but if God really did know and didn't do anything to stop it...then was there really even a God?

  “Ava?” Quinn’s voice brought me back to the present.

  There, on that metal table, I had refused to pass out, I made sure I knew what was happening to my body…It was like my last bit of control over myself that I tried to preserve. But here… “I’m fine...Keep going…” But I knew I wasn’t, he knew I wasn’t. I could feel my body tremble as I laid there, petrified. I could feel the tears running down my cheeks. Here, I refused to open my eyes, I refused to acknowledge what was happening. What had happened. I kept them closed and imagined everything was alright. I had given up all control and allowed my soul to exit my body and take me somewhere else. I imagined the sun was shining, that my dad was out in the bush setting up obstacles for my training. I imagined I was at home hanging out with my old friends. I imagined I wasn't broken, maybe if my imagination was good enough I might even believe it.

  Chapter 6

  Quinn removed some stitches, I wasn’t sure how many. I didn’t ask as he cleaned them out stating it shouldn’t need to be looked at again unless I started having pain in them. There was pain, but nothing I was willing to admit to. He left the room after setting a pair of sweatpants, a shirt, and socks out for me.

  I grabbed the black cotton shirt and felt the softness between my fingers. I didn’t like how I got choked up, how tears pooled in my eyes. I was grateful none of the guys were here to see me get emotional over a stupid soft t-shirt that smelled clean. I slipped it over my head and pushed my arms through the short sleeves, wrapping them around my torso and feeling the warmth of a simple shirt. I don’t care what people say, nothing in the world feels more amazing than slipping into a pair of warm sweats and thick socks after a hot shower. My feet were so cozy and spoiled as I stared at those socks.

  I laid in bed for a few hours, staring at the four walls until I felt certain I was going insane. I didn’t want to think, I knew I probably should be taking it easy and recovering but I needed to move, to push myself, so that I wouldn’t get a chance to think.

  I sat up in bed, reaching over and pulling out the IV from my hand. I had seen it done so many times in movies, but movies never showed you how much the blood squirts when you have it halfway out. Oops! Quickly I snatched up some Kleenex from the nightstand and cleaned up, pressing a piece to my arm where the IV had been.

  With determination I stood and made my way out of the room. Yes I was shaky, yes I was weak, but I refused to admit it to myself. I refused to let it slow me down. I focused on my goal of getting out of that room and I made it happen.

  We were in a cabin, and I say cabin because it was too small to be a house of any kind and out the windows all I could see were trees.

  The living room had a large sectional facing a blank wall, there were holes in the wall as if something had hung there but not any longer, hmm...a TV perhaps? I remembered how Damion had said Seth installed it in the room.

  The front door opened and Corey walked in, headphones on and hood thrown up over his head. He paused when he saw me, meeting my eyes briefly before kicking off his shoes and walking through the livingroom and right where the others were in the kitchen. All three of them sat with their backs to us at the breakfast bar.

  “You’re going to get fat,” Seth said, his accent light, not as thick today.

  Damion stood up, lifting his shirt and revealing a nicely chiseled set of abs. “Tell me again how fat I’m going to get.” At that moment he noticed me standing there and a grin broke out on his face. “Hey.” He didn’t put his shirt down, instead he turned so I could get a better view. “Do I look fat?”

  The other guys turned to look at me as Corey set about getting a cup of coffee. “No,” I said, my voice a bit raspy.

  “I didn’t say you were fat,” Seth corrected. “I said you are going to get fat. You ate five pancakes. Plus bacon.”

  “And there would have been sausage too if you’d let me cook it! I swear it’s like you’re starving me!” Damion huffed.

  “Ava, are you hungry?” Quinn asked.

  My lip tipped up a bit at the corner. Oh yes, this was the distraction I was looking for. “Someone said pancakes? And then bacon...right?” My voice was scratchy and hoarse as I wobbled over to them, taking a seat next to Quinn on the end.

  Damion was the one to grab a plate, loading it with pancakes and bacon and maple syrup for me. The smell was amazing, I don’t think I have ever smelled something so wonderful in my life. Cooked food! The guys talked around me as I dug in. The buttermilk pancakes melted in my mouth as sticky sweetness ran down my throat. I nearly groaned when the taste of bacon fat invaded my palate. I wasn’t paying too much attention to them until Quinn put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Slow down...This is your first meal, it may not go over too well,” he whispered in my ear.

  “What do you mean?”

  Oh fuck! I found out what he meant. I had finished two pancakes and three pieces of bacon. I stood up to grab a cup of coffee only for my bloated stomach to reject everything. Lucky for me the cabin was small and I made it to the toilet just in time for everything to come up.

  Someone was in the bathroom with me, holding my hair back. I assumed it was Quinn but was surprised when I sat back and saw Damion’s honey eyes, a sucker hanging out of his mouth. “Where's Quinn?” I asked, my throat raw.

  Damion handed me a cup of water, telling me to sip slowly. “Quinn can’t handle vomit. It’s his weakness.” He smiled. “Pretty amusing being as he is a paramedic.”

  I leaned back with my shoulders touching the tub. “Is he old enough to be a paramedic?”

  Damion shrugged. “He’s twenty-seven.”

  Wow, really?

  “Feel like you’re going to blow chunks again?” he asked nonchalantly.

  My lips tugged at his description. “I think I’m good. It’s sort of funny, my stomach used to heave when it was too empty and now that I eat real food it is turning inside out at that.”

  Damion pulled the red sucker out of his mouth. “What did they feed you?”

  I thought of the bleeding raw food. They ate normal food but for some reason found it amusing to force me to ea
t raw food. Like some sort of experiment, how long can we starve her before she will cave and eat like an animal...two weeks… I shook my head. “I don’t suppose there is an extra toothbrush here?” I asked. How amazing it would feel to use mint toothpaste again.

  Damion’s lips quirked up into a little smirk at my change in conversation but he didn't push it. Instead he turned around and opened a couple drawers, revealing dozens of toothbrushes, hair brushes, hair ties, dental floss, little travel mouthwash, and just about anything else you may need toiletry wise.

  I stared at it all, most of them still in packages. “Who lives here?” I asked.

  He shrugged and leaned against the counter. “It’s a sanctuary. Ty owns the houses, well, most of them anyways. Whenever we are out and about we can use them. Teams normally have their own ‘home’ base, but this one isn’t owned by anyone. Ours is where we are taking you, the Ranch.”

  “Yours? You all live together?” I reached for a green toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste and a bottle of mouthwash. Damion shut the drawers.

  “Yep.” He held his sucker, licking it now and then. “Have for a few years now, it’s just easier that way.”

  My body tired easily, and after the vomit fest I wasn’t too steady. I quickly scrubbed my teeth, after a rinse of mouthwash I was shuffling out of the bathroom feeling refreshed.

  “Where did everyone go?” I asked, relieved that I made it to the bed without falling over.

  Damion shrugged and pulled out his phone, swiping it a few times. “Outside talking to Ty and Quinn is grocery shopping in town.”

  I think I should have been upset, or nervous maybe, when Damion crawled onto the bed next to me, but I wasn't. Honestly I could not have cared less. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, he couldn’t even hold me down when Quinn tried to force me to get better. I could smell the sweet innocent scent of his cherry sucker as it hung from his red lips. His dark black hair was in such a contrast to his ivory skin that it made it so beautiful. He shuffled over until he was on his side staring at me.