She’s hanging from her ankles, her throat slit and blood running down her face, caked in her hair. There are two red stains where her breasts once were and her eyes are gone too. Yet I still feel like she’s looking at me, like she can see me. I watch as her mouth moves, trying to speak. She’s trying to say something. “Eli…” The sound is encased in a sputter of blood that rides out on her last breath. Her body goes limp.
I fall still to find my center, trying to process what’s happening. Her last word haunts me already. Why did she say his name? Involuntarily it escapes my lips. “Eli.”
I have to start mentally cataloging the scene. I note the red liquid that has pooled below Taffy. I memorize every path the blood chose to take while pouring out of her. The lines embody chaos itself, forming a beautiful filigree of horror, staining her white shirt and glitter-encrusted neck. It’s hard to look at her. There are long red pinstripes down her leg where the knife must have cut first. Small stains of blood dot her shorts at the end of each knife mark on her thighs.
My eyes close for a moment to regain my composure, but it’s just too much. I look away from Taffy and study the markings on the wall. The same symbols as before, but there is something different. There is an arrow high up on the wall near a shelf. I follow the arrow through the room. There’s writing on the wall, writing I can read. I study it for a moment to make out the words written in blood. “My eyes are up here.” I can’t help but follow the arrow further to find her eyes there on the shelf.
I’m jolted awake by my phone ringing. I try to cross the room to the dresser where it is, but I’m so dizzy and nauseated all I can do is fall to the floor and throw up. My phone rings again and again—at least four missed calls. At this hour I know it has to be important. I crawl over to the dresser, pull the phone down and lean my back against it for support. Looking at the screen, I startle when it rings again in my hand.
“McNab.” My voice is hoarse as though I’ve been screaming.
“It happened again, didn’t it?” His tone is uncharacteristically panicked.
“Yes,” I push the words out with my breath.
“Come open the door, let us in.” He tries to sound calm, but alarm hangs on the edge of his voice.
“What?” I’m confused, what does he mean? “Let us in?”
“Come open the door and let us in. The bar is on the door; we can’t get in.” He says it slowly, in a kind, non-condescending tone.
“I can’t move.” I still can’t comprehend what he’s saying. I hear some commotion in the background, followed by a crashing sound in the room.
They both move in, crowding me. “Shay!” Aiden gasps. He puts his arms around me, pulling me onto his lap. His amber eyes are full of worry and I nestle deeper into him for comfort. “What happened?”
McNab stands above us, worry wrinkling his forehead. “What was it, kid? What did you see?”
I look up at him. He’s hazy but I know his voice, I know it’s McNab. My eyes refuse to focus and my voice is lost deep inside me. I fight to maintain consciousness but darkness prevails.
***
Shay
My eyes flutter open, assaulted by the bright Florida sun streaming in through the gaps in the curtains. I feel like I had one too many run-ins with Mr. Ceurvo and the room smells like vomit, Aiden, and something else. Sage, I think.
“Hey Sunshine.” Aiden gives me a gentle squeeze, filling me with warmth and comfort. “Are you okay?”
He’s sitting with his back against the headboard and I’m lying cuddled against his chest. The familiarity and warmth of him holds me tighter than he does. My vision is still foggy from sleep and I can’t quite make out the finer lines in the room. “Aiden?”
“I’m here.” He strokes my hair tenderly. “You had some sort of seizure, so take it easy.”
“Seizure?” I question, trying to sit up. I don’t have seizures; what the hell?
“Yeah, we aren’t sure what happened. You were in pretty bad shape when we came in.” McNab’s voice comes from across the room.
“McNab? What are you doing here?” My tone is as addled as my brain. I think I can see the shadow of him sitting in the far corner. “What’s going on?”
“Like he said, you had some kind of episode.” McNab comes into focus as he approached the bed. His tone doesn’t match his words. He’s trying to tell me something, but I’m too out of it to so much as try to get it.
I lay back on Aiden and tilt my head up to look at him. He has a black eye and his face is in even worse shape than it was the day before. It all comes crashing back. The fight with Eli, the marriage proposal: it propels me from the bed onto unsteady feet. Out of instinct McNab catches me from falling.
“Whoa, kid. You really do need to take it easy.” McNab holds me for a moment too long for his own comfort. I can feel his revulsion. His eyes are pleading with Aiden to come and take me from him. I’d almost be offended by his reaction, but I understand how he feels about being touched.
Aiden obliges, guiding me back to the bed. “Sit down; let’s just go slow.”
“How did you get in here?” I hiss, shooting daggers at Aiden with my gaze. Sitting down I pull a pillow from the bed to shield me from him.
“We had to…well… Don’t worry about it. I’m going to pay for all of the damages,” he stammers out, frustrated by my reaction. He’s so used to everything falling right back into place when he comes home.
“I’d like you to leave.” I slide away from him on the bed.
“No can do.” McNab shakes his head. “He needs to stay with you. I have to go and you can’t be alone right now.”
“I’ve got to get the scene down on paper, I need to shower, I have to get ready for my –” I realize I don’t know what time it is. I search the room for a clock. Finding one, I’m launched into panic. “Shit! My signing. I have to get ready to go.” I stand slowly and lurch for the bathroom.
“I don’t think you should be working on any art right now, but you’re fine on time. I’ll get you there.” Aiden offers to help steady me.
They follow me to the bathroom and hover in the door. I lower my chin and give them both a look. They just stand there staring at me. “Um, yeah. I’m going to take a shower.” Still no response from the peanut gallery. “Alone.”
McNab squeezes past Aiden in the doorway. Careful not to make contact, he leans his tall frame down to meet my gaze. “You have to stay with him until I tell you otherwise.”
“Surely you can’t be suggesting he stay in the bathroom with me?” I return the hard look he’s giving me.
“No, but he needs to stay outside the door. Do you get what I’m saying to you?” He’s trying so hard to send some message, but lines are too fuzzy.
“Fine. Will you be at the signing?” My arms are folded across my chest in protest at having to let Aiden stay here.
“Yes. I’m going to meet you there. Try to stay out of trouble until then. We’ll talk after the signing.” He turns to leave. Stopping just outside the doorway he leans into Aiden. “Keep her close, keep her out of trouble, and try not to lose her.”
Aiden nods and turns to me with pleading eyes. I’m not sure what he wants, but he’s not getting whatever it is. I close the door to the bathroom and turn on the shower.
The water is so wonderfully hot and I can’t pull myself away. Despite the temperature, I’m still shivering as I think of my nightmare. I’m trying to hold onto the positive ions from the water, but fear crops up, tugging at my insides. If I had that dream, does that mean it happened? Is Taffy dead? I shudder to think that something has happened to her, but Eli would have noticed the lack of hooker in his bed and called. I’m sure she’s fine. It was just a dream. I keep telling myself that until I accept it as the truth.
I wrap myself in a towel and go to the room for my clothes. Aiden is standing guard outside the bathroom door. “See, I’m just fine,” I snipe.
Aiden’s eyes sparkle at seeing me in a towel. His expression turns fr
om concerned to hungry in a half second. I know that look, seen it many times before, and I can expect him to start mauling me any minute. “I know you’re fine.” His tone is saucy.
“You know what I mean,” I snap and wonder how much it would hurt to get socked in an already black eye.
I can feel him approaching me as I’m digging my clothes out of the suitcase. “Back off,” I warn without wasting a glance at him.
“I’m just…” He stops. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” He sighs, defeated, and just stands there.
I turn with my clothes in hand. “Aiden, what could you possibly see in a murderer?” That’s right buddy, I didn’t forget. Judging from the look on his face he thought I might have. Or that I would just let it go so that the great Aiden Roth would stick around an extra day or two.
“Shay, I only want to protect you. I’m beside myself trying to figure out how to help you.” He can’t meet my gaze.
“Aiden, you are the Sultan of Stupidity sometimes. You have caused so much pain in my life—all the times you left, the broken promises, the distance when we were in the same room. But none of that has ever hurt as much as you thinking I could do something so awful. After all these years, you don’t know the first thing about me, and that first thing is that I could never hurt anyone like that.” Tears threaten to fall. Suppressing the sobs that are trying to break out of my chest is nearly impossible.
“You have it wrong. I don’t really think you did it.” He’s trying to backpedal from yesterday’s botched speech.
“Don’t you though?” I bore into him with a diamond-edged stare, my anger crystal clear as I say, “Don’t you think I hung Alice by her ankles and gutted Gary?”
He tries to come close to me. I step back away from him and he drops his arms in defeat. “I really don’t. I’m just scared. And with how you’ve been acting, if someone were to ask me if you were behaving normally I would have to say no. I really don’t believe you did it.”
“Whatever. I really don’t care anymore. Believe what you want.” I breeze past him into the bathroom, knowing I can’t hold back the deluge of tears about to burst from me. I freeze in place and drop my clothes as an involuntary scream spills from my lips.
Aiden races to the door. “What is it?”
He stares with me at the foggy mirror. He reaches for me without taking his eyes off the mirror. There are words clearly written in the fog announcing, “It isn’t just a dream, my love.”
Aiden tightens his grip on me. Shielding me from the mirror, he says, “McNab isn’t full of shit—there is actually something going on.” His tone is sad, not accusing.
I steal as much comfort as Aiden is willing to give from his arms and nod. I can barely tell him what happened. All I can say is, “Taffy: she was in the nightmare.”
“Was she…” He hesitates. “Did she die?”
I nod again, not wanting to say it out loud. Not wanting to relive it.
Aiden leads me from the bathroom. “You go get ready. I’m going to call Eli and make sure everything is okay.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
John Hancock
Shay
Thankful that I was able to enter the convention center through a loading dock to avoid the press, I grow more apprehensive about this being a good idea. With all the crazy events of the morning, and the nightmare, I want to just go crawl in my bed forever. The coordinator assured me that they would do everything they could to keep the press from mauling my table in the signing room. They hired rent-a-cops to avoid a fiasco, and they were going to be limiting access.
There are fifteen or so other artists, authors, and creators in this session. They’re all keeping their distance, speaking in hushed tones and occasionally shooting a look in my direction.
Stephie the intern squeals when she sees me and wraps her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you! This is going to be so much fun!” She’s always so full of energy. I’m glad Raphael sent her to help with art page sales, Blood-Borne swag, and collecting emails for the mailing list. I could have had to put up with Vanessa the ‘shim.’
“I hope it will be fun.” My face twists with apprehension.
“You’ll be fine girly; love your hair by the way!” She runs her fingers through my hair. “When did you do the red streaks?”
“A couple of weeks ago. I was sick of the same ol’ same ol’.” It feels so good having such a banal conversation with someone.
“You’re totally rockin’ it! Who’s your friend?” She nods toward Aiden, licking her lips. Aiden usually does incite that sort of reaction.
“Oh, that’s Aiden.” Giving her a knowing look to remind her of all the times we discussed him over cocktails after work.
“Ah.” Stephie looks at him with a critical eye upon hearing his name. “He’s yummy; no wonder you’ve let him dick you around for so long.” She pauses. “Odd though.” She cocks her head to the side.
“What?” I look at Aiden, trying to see what she sees.
“He’s like the anti-Eli.” Her finger taps her chin in contemplation. “Total opposites.”
“Yeah, I guess. Remember, they’re all the same at the core.” My words sting, thinking about Eli and Taffy. I really wish it were Eli here with me. I miss him.
“I know that’s right. I’d like to think my Dakota was different, but honestly they’re all just a big hunk of testosterone.” She busies herself getting her end of the table set up with the art pages, notebook for the mailing list, and fiddling with the smart phone attachment for the credit card payments. “If you need anything let me know.”
“Thanks Steph; I’m glad you’re here.” My attention is drawn to the commotion at the door and I brace myself for the onslaught of press.
“I’m with Shay Baynes.” I hear McNab’s voice and one-of-kind speech pattern at the door. If it were anyone else he would sound like a total dick, but McNab can pull it off and still have most folks like him.
“Aiden, can you please go tell them he’s with us?” I direct him as I set up on the table.
Aiden answers by heading for the door, returning with McNab and another man. He’s very tall and very broad. He looks like one of those Sumo wrestlers, but thankfully dressed in a wrinkled beige suit instead of a disturbing diaper-slash-thong.
“McNab,” I greet him, pinching my eyebrows together in a serious look. I can’t hold it for long, but I try, much to his amusement.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, not crossing between Aiden and me. He’s careful to keep his distance.
“Better. I likely won’t be eating spicy foods anytime soon, but better.” I put my hand on my tummy and grimace. “Who’s your friend?” I motion toward ‘Tiny.’
“This is Carl. Carl meet Shay, Shay meet Carl. Carl meet Aiden, Aiden meet Carl.” McNab’s introduction is dizzying.
Aiden extends his hand to Carl. “Nice to meet you.”
“Shay, Carl’s going to be my eyes. Keep you safe.” McNab gestures for Carl to stand closer to me; he obeys.
“I don’t think that is necessary. I can handle looking out for her.” Aiden‘s chest expands and his shoulders pull back to prove his prowess.
“Not open for discussion, Aiden. You’ve already shown you lack the ability. I’m not willing to take chances. These are dangerous times for her. She needs someone who isn’t emotionally involved.” His tone is all business, all McNab, and it’s clear he’s not taking no for an answer. At least from Aiden.
“Um, don’t I have a say in this?” I ask, testing the waters. “This is my life we’re talking about.”
McNab’s eyes soften. “Of course you do, kid. If you want me to send Carl away I will.” He looks at me expectantly. “But I know I would rest easier knowing that you had another set of eyes on you, and with Carl’s specialized training, he can defend against things. Things that others may not be expecting.”
“Specialized training?” Aiden questions, twisting his lips in disbelief. He looks like he may break out into laught
er. He’d better start taking McNab seriously or there could trouble in Aiden’s future. But then again, I guess McNab already predicted that.
“What sort of training?” I’m also curious what McNab would consider special training. Can he bend spoons with his mind? Leap tall buildings in a single bound? Or maybe he can see dead people.
Carl takes a breath and begins to speak in surprisingly heavy southern drawl that does not match his Polynesian exterior. “I am fluent in eight ancient languages, six modern languages, proficient in six disciplines of martial arts, I am an empath as well as able to perform telepathy under certain conditions, and I’m big bad ass motherfucker. What can you do?” On his last few words he looks directly at Aiden.
Aiden is still toying with danger—the amused expression on his face tells me he’s about to get hurt. He sucks in a breath, about to speak, but I put my hand on his arm, halting the stupid from slipping out of his mouth. “I’d like you to stay. Thank you, Carl.”
McNab nods his approval. Folding his arms across his chest, he gives Aiden a look as if to say, “See how easy that was?”
***
The other creators have all taken their places at their tables as the doors open up and fans start to file into the room. I’m still looking for a Sharpie, but I’m unable to find it. “Aiden, did you bring the little bag of pens?”
“Yeah, right here.” He holds up my giant art bag; I guess he has trouble with the concept of “little.”
“No, the other one, just the little pouch; it was sitting on the drafting table in my office.” I’m kicking myself for not packing it. It’s not Aiden’s fault, I’m lucky he knows the difference between a pen and a pencil.
“This is all I got.” Aiden offers the art bag again, his expression apologetic.
“Okay, it’ll have to do.” I put the India ink on the table. Before I can get a pen out of the bag my table is flooded. Carl swings into action close to the table while the convention security tries to bring the crowd into some semblance of order.
INK: Fine Lines (Book 1) Page 15
