“What are you doing?” Demanded Andrea.
“It's only a sedative. To relax you. Then I have to take some blood. Just to make sure.”
“Make sure of what?”
“That you are what I think you are. A pure bred Drakon. Imagine it, Andrea. With you and me, we can bring our race back! Our children will rule the world! Do you know how long it's taken me to find another pure Drakon, like me?”
“You're mad!” Said Andrea and she began to struggle against the restraints which held her, but it was no use. The needle came down and she was welcomed into oblivion once more.
She dreamed of Jonathan. A frantic Jonathan, looking for her, searching for her.
Where are you?
I'm here Jonathan
You left me again
I'll never leave you
You always leave me
She woke up choking on her own sobs. Andrea lifted her hand to wipe away the tears, but couldn't. The restraints were still there. The only sound was her breath and the drip-drip of water down the walls. Someone had dressed her when she was unconscious. Some sort of white, frilly nightgown, from what she could see of it. She didn't know how long she waited there before Haroldson re-appeared. He smiled down at her, so she was totally unprepared for what happened next. His hand caught her on the side of the cheek, a stinging blow, which made her ears ring and her eyes hurt. Her cheek felt as though it had swelled to twice its normal size.
“You bitch!” raged Haroldson as he hit her again and again and again. She thought she might lose consciousness again, but she wasn't permitted that relief. Her teeth felt loose and her nose was bleeding, a metallic taste running down her throat. She almost choked on her blood and still the assault continued.
“You were supposed to be a virgin!” Growled Haroldson as he yanked the nightgown away from her bare legs. He thrust his hand between her legs and opened her up. She squirmed trying to get away from his probing hands, but the restraints held her fast.
“Was it good? Did you enjoy it? You whore! You're blood is no longer pure. You have the seed of that human in you now. And his brat!” He thrust a finger into her as far as it would go and she screamed in agony, trying to dislodge him only made the pain worse.
“Let's see how you feel with a pure Drakon inside you!” The sound of his zip was very loud in the silent basement. This wasn't going to happen. She was not going to allow herself to be raped by this madman, but how could she prevent it?
“If you touch me, I'll kill you,” she said it so quietly, he struggled to hear.
“Yeah, right! Do you think you know how?”
“There's one way to find out. Are you willing to risk it?” He withdrew his hand and stared down at her. He raised his arm as if to strike her again, but thought better of it. He left her alone to her pain and misery. She wasn't sure she would know how to kill him with her powers, she just hope the threat was enough to keep him away from her so that she could figure out what to do. What was it Jonathan had said? That the Drakon could simply go from one place to another simply by thinking about it? She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain in her face and thought of Jonathan's apartment. Concentrated so hard that her head hurt. But nothing happened.
She could visualize his couch, the fish tank; Jonathan sprawled on the couch, his head in his hands. But when she opened her eyes she was still stuck in the basement. Why wasn't it working? Maybe her powers weren't up to speed yet. She turned her head when she heard footsteps.
“That won't work,” said Haroldson. “You can only teleport if you aren't physically restrained. Why do you think I kept you like that?”
“What do you want from me?” demanded Andrea.
“Haven't you figured it out yet, Andrea? You're one of the few pure Drakon left. I need you. Everyone else has been polluted by the alien blood, human blood. It's the humans who are the aliens. The Drakon have been here long before the humans arrived in their millions. The humans aren't from earth, they really are alien. They came here a long time ago. The Drakon are the rightful race on this planet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I'm surprised that lover of yours hasn't told you. He seems to know a lot about us for a human.”
“So Jonathan isn't Drakon?” asked Andrea. She thought he was from all the information he was giving her.
“He's half Drakon. His sister was pure Drakon. They have different fathers.” Andrea had suspected as much, and so had Jonathan if what he told her was true. He was only abducting Drakon women. If that was the case why did Haroldson want her?
Weren't there any others?
“Of course there are others, but not like you. You're totally pure; both your parents were pure Drakon. There was one other, but she died.” He could read her thoughts; she remembered belatedly and tried to guard them from his probing mind.
“Who?” demanded Andrea and then hated herself for even carrying on a conversation with this man.
“Amelia. Your sister.”
Andrea felt as though he had just punched her in the stomach and she willed him to feel some of the pain she was feeling. He staggered back, away from her, holding his head as though it hurt.
“Preventing me from reading your thoughts won't help you. Nothing will help you. Even if you do manage to escape, I'll find you. I'll always be able to find you.”
“How?” Asked Andrea and then answered her own question. “The scar? You put something in my neck?”
He didn't answer, just continued to stare at her, as though he were a biologist and had just discovered an interesting new species, and was deciding what to do with it. Study or destroy?
He walked away from her without saying another word. When she was sure he was gone, Andrea tried to think of some way out of her predicament. If she couldn't do anything while she was restrained, maybe she could somehow magic the restraints away. She smiled inwardly. Andrea the science teacher was relying on some sort of magic to help her. Was it any different to praying, she wondered? And she'd also done a fair amount of that in the past few days.
She closed her eyes, imagining the leather strap becoming unbuckled, just from the force of her will. She concentrated hard; repeating the image over and over in her mind until she could feel the straps loosen about her arms and legs. Once that was done, she concentrated hard on Jonathan's apartment, stifling a giggle. Would she materialize in Jonathan's apartment like something out of Star Trek?
A few moments, she was there, in Jonathan's apartment. He looked up from his couch and stared at the space she occupied.
“Andrea? Is it really you?”
“For heaven's sake, Jonathan! Don't just stand there! Help me!” She could feel her strength failing. Jonathan's apartment was being superimposed by the basement. Jonathan grabbed her hand and the basement disappeared completely. She was left trembling in his arms. Jonathan tilted her chin up to face him.
“My God! What happened to you?”
“There's no time. My neck, the scar. He put something in me. Cut it out. Cut it out,” she pleaded. Andrea headed towards the kitchen to hunt for a knife, anything that would get the damn thing out of her neck. Haroldson wasn't going to find her again. Ever. She thrust the knife into Jonathan's hand. “But it's not sterile!” Protested Jonathan.
“I don't care. Just get it out of me. Now.”
“It might be dangerous to remove whatever it is.”
“Please, Jonathan. Just do it. If you love me, do it.” She could almost see his hands shaking as he positioned himself behind her. He gently lifted her hair out of the way before he began to make the cut. It hurt, but not as much as what she'd already been through. She stayed as still as she could while she felt Jonathan's fingers gently extract it from her neck. Such gentle fingers for such a big man.
“What shall I do with it?”
“Get rid of it. It's a tracking device. It's how Haroldson found me. Did you know that's what it was, Jonathan?” She turned to face him, suddenly feeling very angry with hi
m. His silence was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. How could he not have told her? Did he want her to be found by Haroldson?
She wanted to throw up. Andrea ran to the bathroom, only just making it in time. She threw up until there was nothing left, only sour spittle. The front door slammed. Jonathan. Leaving.
Nothing made sense any more.
But then, when did her life ever make any sense?
Jonathan returned around midnight. Andrea was curled up on his couch, a blanket wrapped around her. She pretended to be asleep. She wasn't sure that she could talk to him without screaming at him, at what she saw as his ultimate betrayal. He might as well have delivered her into Haroldson's hands himself.
“I know you're awake, Andrea. I thought it was for the best. I suspected the implant might be a tracking device, but I never knew. I hoped it wasn't.”
“And you were prepared to put me in danger?”
“I thought I was taking you out of danger. The cancer. I wanted to cure you. He told me it would cure you.”
“Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.” He knelt down beside her and began to stroke her hair.
“Don't,” said Andrea and tried to move away from him. She sat up and folded her arms across her chest, as though to ward him off. Her head was beginning to ache again.
“What did you do with it?”
“It's in the river. He won't find you.”
“He won't stop looking though, will he?”
“No. We'll have to go on the run. Hide. These are for us.” Jonathan handed her a padded brown envelope. Inside were passports, credit cards, driving licences, bank accounts, all in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. But the photos were of Jonathan and Andrea. Jonathan had thought of everything, hadn't he?
Did he know this was going to happen?
“This isn't entirely legal, is it?” Asked Andrea.
“Do you want legal or do you want to survive?”
“I want to survive. But we can't hide forever, Jonathan.”
“We can try.”
They drove all night, in a hire car rented under the assumed names. Jonathan wanted to take her to a hospital, but Andrea refused. There was no way of telling which hospital had spies working for Dr. Haroldson. Andrea didn't want to take any chances that he could find her again.
“Where are we going, Jonathan?”
“I don't know. But we can't stay in London. It's probably best if we leave the country altogether, but they'll be watching the airports for us. We'll have to go by sea. They'll probably have people covering the ports as well, but I don't think that's what they expect us to do.”
Andrea didn't care what they expected them to do; she just hoped they wouldn't be caught. It all seemed so surreal. Any moment now she would wake up in her own bed, and none of this would have happened. She would be Andrea Smith, teacher, not some member of a lost race. And she wouldn't be married to Jonathan. She wouldn't have cancer. She would never have been kidnapped.
And pigs would fly. She knew it was real. It was just so hard to accept. They made the rest of the journey in silence. Not their normal comfortable silences, one that the longer it went on, the more difficult it was to break. Andrea felt silent tears slide down her cheek, making her face sting even more. She turned away from Jonathan so that he wouldn't see, she couldn't bear his pity.
They arrived at the docks just before dawn, the sky just beginning to lighten with streaks of orange. The docks were already busy with bustling sailors. There didn't seem to be any passenger ships. From what Andrea could see, they were all carrying cargo of some sort or another. It slowly dawned on her what Jonathan had in mind. They were the cargo.
Jonathan took her arm as he helped her up the gangplank of one of the ships. The ship was filthy and full of rust. Would it even last long enough to take them where they were going? Wherever that might be.
An unkempt sailor met them on board and showed them to a dingy cabin with no window or porthole. There were two bunks with dirty mattresses, but no blankets or pillows.
“I don't feel well,” said Andrea, but she knew that lying down on the dirty bunks wouldn't make her feel any better. She hadn't felt well ever since she escaped from Haroldson's basement. What drugs had he given her?
“You should have let me take you to a hospital,” said Jonathan giving her a hug. She flinched and backed away from him.
“Andrea? What is it? Why don't you want me to touch you? Did he do something to you? Did he - did he rape you?” His voice broke on the last word.
“Is that what you want to hear, Jonathan?”
“God no! If anything like that ever happened to you...”
“What? You'd leave me? Because I was soiled goods? You wouldn't want me any more?”
“Of course not! What sort of man do you take me for?”
“That's just it, Jonathan. I don't know. Not any more” They were both silent, staring at each other. Andrea didn't know what to feel. Did she really know Jonathan? How could she know Jonathan when she didn't even know herself?
“No, Jonathan. He didn't rape me. But he did - other things.” She hoped he wouldn't want any further explanation than that. She wasn't sure she could give him one without breaking down completely. They heard the engines start up as the ship began to move slowly and noisily out of the dock. Andrea didn't feel safe. She used to feel safe with Jonathan, but not now. Not after what he'd done. Jonathan had been lying to her all along.
The journey was uneventful for the most part, but Andrea was seasick almost the entire time. She wouldn't let Jonathan comfort her, even though she knew that he wanted to. He tried to talk to her, about anything, but she just wasn't interested in anything he had to say to her now.
Why had he waited six years before telling her that she was Drakon? Had her parents been Drakon and not known it? It was possible, after all she didn't know until Jonathan had told her. But why hadn't he told her before?
The ship landed in Ireland about nine hours after it had set sail Andrea was glad to get off. She and Jonathan had been together constantly for the past few hours and she needed her own space back. She felt suffocated.
“Where are we going?” She asked Jonathan, as they made their way from the docks at Rosslare. Jonathan hired a car, but didn't speak to her until they were inside and the windows and doors safely locked.
“I have a farm.”
Andrea burst out laughing.“You have a farm? This I've got to see!”
“Why is it so surprising?”
“I just never figured you as the farming type, that's all.”
“Well, I don't actually farm it myself. I have a manager. He and his wife keep things going for me.”
“An absentee landlord?” admonished Andrea.
“Not really. It's run on a profit share basis. Angela and Pat get paid well and they also get a share of any money the farm makes. They have all the benefits of running a farm, but none of the risks. I've got all the risks.” He was quiet again, staring out at the road ahead of them.
Andrea sank back in her seat and closed her eyes. It would be dark soon and she felt so tired. The seasickness didn't seem to be clearing up now that she was off the boat. Maybe she was just worried. No one knew where they were. Her mother would be frantic. Not to mention her overprotective brother, Bill. It was best not to think of Bill. And their jobs. My God, what were they going to tell the headmaster?
She was drifting off to a sort of half sleep when Jonathan cut the engine and put on the handbrake.
“We're here,” he said quietly. As soon as they got out of the car, two dogs rushed up to greet them, yapping excitedly and trying to jump up on their chest. Andrea patted the one nearest her, feeling a lump in her throat.
Pat and Angela followed the dogs outside to see what the commotion was. It was just about dark, but Andrea could make out a very tall older man with greying hair and his arms around the shorter, rounder woman by his side. She looked homely.
“Jonathan!” Exclaimed Angela and
rushed to hug him, as though he was her long lost son. Andrea had never seen Jonathan's real mother greet him with such affection, and she felt sad for him that he hadn't known that type of unconditional love from his parents. Pat hung back by the door, giving Andrea the once over.
“And who might this be?” Asked Angela, releasing a very embarrassed looking Jonathan from her embrace.
“This is Andrea, my wife,” said Jonathan and put his arms around her. Andrea didn't move away, not wanting to embarrass him in front of his friends, but she felt like a trophy, only there so that he could show her off.
“Where are my manners, come in, come in! I hope you're hungry. There's Irish stew tonight.” Angela ushered them into the house, while Pat watched silently. Andrea wondered if he could talk at all. The door led into a kitchen with a large fireplace, and around the fire were three children of various ages, playing and arguing.
“Ma, Tommy hit Kate and he pulled my hair!” The little girl looked up at her mother and her eyes went wide.
“Uncle Jonathan! Uncle Jonathan!” She shrieked delightedly and flung herself onto his legs, nearly knocking Jonathan down. Soon two other little people were upon him like miniature torpedoes, there was no way of stopping them. Three pairs of curious eyes looked from Jonathan to Andrea and she couldn't help smiling.
“I'm Andrea,” she said.
“I'm Tommy,” said the only boy.
“And I'm Catriona,” said the eldest girl, about six or seven.
“And that's Kate,” she pointed to her little sister, who had shyly buried her face against Jonathan's leg.
“Kate's the baby,” said Tommy.
“I'm not! I'm big! I'm four!”
“Now that's enough!” roared Angela. All three were quiet, as though a switch had been turned off. She turned to Jonathan and Andrea, a smile on her face.
“Why don't you two get freshened up and then we can have dinner? Jonathan will show you around,” said Angela. “Though why you didn't let us know you were coming and married! I'm disappointed in you, Jonathan,” she softened her words with a smile.
Drakon Page 6
