Persona

by Amy Lunderman

  Thankfully she doesn’t feel his or her own persona come, but has a feeling that by the time the conversation ends; she will. She turns around now, and faces him only to find that he is in the same stock still position watching her.

  She narrows her eyes, and feels like her heart is breaking for like the hundredth time in a week.

  “What, you want to hit me too?” He says with an edge to his voice, something his face doesn’t hold.

  The cinnamon scent of him spikes, and it plays across her persona, making it want to come out to play. It clouds her senses to the point that she doesn’t even feel her persona fully rise until her vision is clearer and her auburn curls hop on her shoulders.

  She can almost feel his like an echo of her own, and wonders if he feels it too. It was the same way when they were kissing, except now it doesn’t make her feel anything but hurt.

  “Why did you really leave Marty behind like you did?” She begs him, feeling tears in her eyes.

  He glances away from her for a second, and licks at his already healing split lip, before looking back to her and taking a step forward.

  “It’s not what you think, I left Gordon behind too. I did it, to keep you safe. The cops would have gotten us all, and then it would have been for nothing the last couple of days.”

  He finishes right in front of her, and she has to look up at him slightly. She knows everything he just said is most likely true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Marty is still gone, and she’ll never have the chance to tell him how sorry she is.

  Or more importantly, she’ll never have the chance to tell him how she really feels about him; because after all this time, she knows now. She cares for him the same way he does for her, and Liam made her see that with crystal clear clarity.

  Sure, she might have conflicting feelings for Liam and almost thought she might be falling for him, but what he did changes things. She can’t be with someone who would just abandon someone, no matter the situation, she just can’t.

  So she does the only thing she can do, having Liam so close to her, and still making her feel for him while she doesn’t want to anymore. She takes half of a step backwards, and pulls back her hand before bringing it forward to slap him.

  He doesn’t even move out of the way, almost like he was expecting it, and the force of the hit turns his head. She felt her clawed nails rip into his cheeks, so she knows he must be in pain, but he doesn’t let on that he is; he just keeps his head turned away from her.

  Breathing heavily, tears flow down her cheeks as she backs away from him and towards the rest room.

  “I hate you Liam Morgan.”

  She turns away from him then and feels her persona fade from her body; leaving her feeling hollow as she limps away from him on her one good leg.

  She is about a foot away from him and almost to the entrance of the restroom, when she hears him say something so quietly she almost misses it.

  “I hate myself too Moira. I really do.”

  She stumbles in her step, but doesn’t turn back to him because it doesn’t matter anymore. The damage is already done, and there is no fixing it.

  Shaking, she walks the rest of the way to the others and leaves him alone outside.

  ***

  They make it too Libby, Montana in about a twelve hour drive; not bothering to stop much to Moira’s relief. The only thing that got her back into the truck after the arrow was taken out of her leg, was the fact that she was is so much pain, that and she needed to sit down or she’d fall down.

  It was pretty much the same for the others, and she finds it kind of sad and maybe a little funny, that no one sat up from with Liam. No one said two words to each other either, and that was fine with her basically. Besides, if she were to say anything, it would be how angry she is at Liam and how upset she is over Marty; and both would leave her a sobbing useless mess.

  She is so over that, it’s already forgotten; the crying.

  To keep her mind off of the obvious, she thought about other things to keep her mind busy. Those things involve what she did at Gordon’s house, when she was filled with rage so grand that it affected her persona.

  Or maybe it was the other way around, but whatever it was, it still scared her. Made her afraid of what she was really capable of, because the thing is she thinks she might be able to do so much more. She felt it when she moved, that it was only the beginning and that is what scared her. That she was afraid of herself and what she could do.

  Hopefully she’ll have some of her questions finally answered, it wouldn’t make up for anything, but it would be a start for her to be able to deal.

  One good thing though, is that they are finally pulling into Liam’s family’s ranch; and a ranch it really is. The entire property is to be larger than the military base where the facility was stationed; meaning it’s roughly twice the size of a football stadium.

  Like any self-respecting ranch, there is a tall fence around the place and at the entrance there is even a sign with its name; Gli Eletti. She doesn’t know what it means, but she thinks it might be either Spanish or Latin. She files it away for something she’ll ask about later, since she feels like it could be important.

  Liam drives under the sign and onto the start of a long graveled driveway. She can pick up on his cinnamon scent and wonders if he nervous about coming home for some reason.

  Then she remembers that his mother was taken by Fletcher and she almost stops from hating him long enough to feel bad for him. It doesn’t last long though, since he isn’t the only one to have someone taken from him. So she ignores the scent and anything it might make her feels, and stares out the window instead.

  She isn’t alone in her ogling either, her friends that were pretending to be asleep. Stir around just to get a good look at the place, and it deserves a good ogling too.

  The driveway goes down for about a mile, and on either side of the road within the fence is an actual farm. Not the unused baron buildings that were at Gordon’s place, but thriving and animal filled barns and coops.

  It’s still early morning, but it’s light out, and Moira can see people driving trackers, mowers, and horses all around the place. Every one of them turns to the truck as they drive pass, and Moira begins to get really nervous about meeting all of these new people.

  As they near the end of the road, there are five houses that loom on the horizon. The middle one is the largest, and what she would call the main house. It stands three stories high, and resembles an old time mansion; still in good condition too, as it’s a cream color with real green shutters.

  The other four houses are all two story standard farm houses, but still impressive to Moira.

  Liam pulls the truck up to the front of the main house, and as he does a group of people come walking out from every direction towards them. It’s enough to make Moira’s pulse race and feel like she is about to give a school presentation she isn’t ready for.

  Then Liam puts the truck into park and turns it off, and he too takes a look out the windshield like he hasn’t seen the place in a while. She wonders briefly if that is true or not, but then just dismisses it; she needs to stop thinking about him.

  Among the people, an older man swaggers over to the truck with a smile on his face. He resembles an older version of Liam with grey eyes and sandy blonde hair, though a little darker, but he holds darkness in him that Moira can pick up on easily.

  The man, Marshal, stops at Liam’s door and taps on the window. This causes Liam to turn his face to his father. Moira can’t see Liam except for his profile, but she does see Marshall’s smile dim and then he turns to her and the others in the back. His eyes rack across them all, and then finally rest on her.

  Their eyes meet and she picks up on the cinnamon scent she associates with Liam, but she realizes that it’s slightly different. Whereas Liam is all cinnamon spice resembling a pastry, this scent is spicy sweet with a hint of another spice she can’t quite put a name to; sage comes to mind though.

 
That’s when she thinks that maybe it’s coming for Marshall, and when his eyes flash obsidian through his grey eyes, this confirms it. They return to completely grey and the scent vanishes, and he suddenly smiles at her as if nothing just happened.

  He taps on the window again, and Liam lets out a heavy heart sick sigh, and opens the door without saying anything to them or her. The others hesitate, but then curiosity gets the better of them, and they get out too. Moira is alone in the truck now, and watches as her friends exchange acquaintances with the crowd of people that are gathering.

  Even Raven, who has been healing slowly, so she is still somewhat hurt. They seem to be in better spirits though, she finds and it only makes her feel alone and a little lost. It makes her miss Marty, he has been good at being there to steady her.

  She makes a vow then, that no matter what happens, she will get him back; and nothing will stand in her way.

  She reaches for her door and pushes it open before she changes her mind about getting out, and every head turns her way.

  This sends a blush through her body, and she forces to keep her head up high and not to shy away from their probing stares. Climbing out of the truck and taking that first step towards everyone, she has a weird thought.

  She may not be Red Riding Hood by any means, but she has a feeling that the wolves have got her now.

  ***

  Adirondack Mountains

  Peter Fletcher is sitting at his desk in his office and is very upset. He just received word that the lead in North Dakota fell through and Moira hasn’t been caught. He was so close to having her back, and yet she manages to slip from his grasp.

  This makes him fill up with a rage, he hasn’t felt in years. In a dramatic move, he tosses around the files on his desk in a fit. He stops his incised movements when something catches his eyes. It’s a medical report file, and it’s on Moira’s cellular growth regeneration. With a smile, he lifts it up in his hands for a better look.

  He realizes suddenly while reading it over that his serum has actually paid off.

  After all his testing and administering different dosses those years ago, they have finally worked. Now he has even more reason to want his little darling Moira to come home. The he has a thought, and wonders if she has noticed any changes yet.

  He is grinning into the paper when his office door opens. It’s Dixon Hetch, and he also looks pleased with something.

  “What is it General?” Peter asks distractedly.

  “I just got word from the White House.”

  Peter lowers the paper to look at Dixon, who is now smirking. He is filled with excitement now, and can almost guess before the man finishes telling him.

  “The MBS Rights Bill is being put to a standstill until the fugitives are caught.”

  Peter is grinning from ear to ear now, and thinks at least something good has come from all of this lately. He now has mixed emotions about the ‘fugitives’ being caught, but knows too that he can work out a way to have them both.

  One thing is for sure, Moira just might be the one to come crawling back to him, rather than him going for her. He would if he was in her position, if strange things were happening for no reason.

  And he knows things must be happening, the reports don’t lie about blood work; if they haven’t then they will.

  He sits back in his chair with a laugh and shakes his head.

  Chapter Twenty

  Struggling against the restraints that hold him tightly to something that feels like a cold metal pipe; Marty still can’t get any traction with them. It’s been this way since he woke up, to the darkness of a blindfold wrapped across his eyes. The one thing that keeps him tugging at the ropes, which are biting into his flesh with a stinging pain, is that he has no memory of being knocked out and taken somewhere.

  Beside the slight headache, he is almost positive he was taken too; there might be some tension between him and Moira, but he doubts she would tie him up.

  Maybe she would he wonders; it’s not like he knows what happened to him. For all he knows, he could have lost control and they had to bring him down. In the back of his mind though, he knows that’s not possible. The last thing he remembers is rushing into the warehouse searching for Moira and Raven with Liam and the others. He can see it as clear as if he is there again, the way she looked tied up and bleeding; all helpless. Definitely something that made a giant ball of rage course through him, and it didn’t help matters that Raven was also tied up and bleeding right beside her.

  He never wanted to hurt someone more than he did right then, seeing his friends like that. Then there is the fact that when they first rushed into the room, Moira and Liam’s eyes found one another before anything else. It kills him a little, to know that the other boy was just as worried about her as he was.

  It seems ridiculous to be thinking about this right now he knows, but how can he not though. He feels like he had prior claim to Moira or something, and Liam is just stepping all over his turf with no regard for the rules. It’s a stupid thing to think, but he can’t help it. He would do anything for her, and he has already; he just wished that she was honest with him. Clearly she lied about not being interested in the other boy, and that’s obvious by the embrace he interrupted not that long ago.

  He’d like to think of himself as not being the jealous type, and maybe it’s the wolf dna in him, but he can’t make the feelings go away. The last thing he remembers though is seeing her and Raven being led outside by Ray and Daisy. That makes him feel better at least, all he has to do now is figure out where he is and who has him; not to mention why.

  He is sitting down, he knows that much, and the ground is cold and damp beneath him. He must have been tied up in the same position for a while before he even woke, because his legs are already getting locked up on him. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he has the feeling he’ll be able to get away, is to use his persona.

  This usually wouldn’t even be a question for him, but with Fletcher after all of them, using his persona might not be the best idea in front of the bad guy. For some reason, and maybe a good one, he has the sense that he’s not with Fletcher at all. From what Moira has told him about the man, he seems like a standard protocol type of torturer; and this seems like he’s in a bad horror movie or something.

  Better safe than sorry though, and he figures it might be smart if he takes stock of the area before he goes all hulk on his captures. Knowing the room is cold and damp based on the ground he’s on, he takes in a deep breath and his senses are filled with a musty mildew scent. He gets the feeling that where ever he is, the place hasn’t been used in a while; it has that abandoned scent to it. This doesn’t really tell him where he is though, just what the conditions are.

  Taking another deep breath, he concentrates on the sounds that are around him rather than the scents. He picks up on a faint dripping sound right away, and he raises his head up to where it’s coming from. Testing an idea, he jerks on the restraints again and moves the pipe behind him. The dripping sound picks up speed, and he can hear an audible splash almost right in front of him. This leaves him to believe that he might be underground, and a new sound confirms it.

  There are stomping footsteps coming from above, and it sounds like there might be more than ten people making them. That’s not the only thing he is picking up on now; there are voices too. They are very faint and he can’t make out what they are saying exactly, but he has the sense that those are policemen up there.

  Not knowing that for certain, but he does have the smarts to think if they were cops, he’d be in a jail cell right about now. So then who has him, he wonders. If it’s not the cops, and probably not Fletcher; then it’s an outside variable that is in play now. And someone unknown means dangerous, and that means he can go all hulk now and get the heck out of dodge.

  Forcing himself to relax, he allows his body to ease back against the pipe that is behind him. Clearing his mind of all his worries, he takes in a deep breath and allows his persona that is
always lurking just beneath his skin to rise to the surface. Only, there is nothing there. No figurative bee buzzing against his skin, no humming sliding across his senses; nothing. Gritting his teeth in concentration, he tries again, and the only thing that happens is the slight headache he has gets worse.

  What the heck, he wonders; he’s never had this problem before. Sure he’s known for being a little bullheaded for using his persona at the drop of a hat from getting angry; but never this before. He just feels empty, like there was never a persona there for him to call on. He’s felt many things in his life, but nothing ever made his persona disappear on him.

  He’s about to attempt to call on it again, no matter that his head feels like there are fireworks going off behind his covered eyes, when a new sound makes him freeze. It’s one of those slow and a creepy creaking sound, which leaves him to believe it, might be a door opening somewhere close by.

  That’s when the constant footsteps start to come down and closer to him, and suddenly he has an idea of where he might be. A damp, musty, cold place, with sounds coming from above and stares leading below can only be one thing; a basement of some kind. It doesn’t exactly give him the entire knowledge of where he is, but it is a clue, so that’s something at least.

  The footsteps coming down towards him are soft footfalls, and he has the thought that it’s either a woman or a very small man coming for him. Either one is fine by him, and he wonders if maybe he can talk is way out of being tied up like an animal. Regardless of his bravado, he tenses as the footsteps reach his level, and begin to approach him. The closer whoever it is gets to him, the tenser he gets, and by the time they are almost to him; he is clenching his hands so tightly behind him he feels his nails cut into his palms.

  And when the footsteps come to a stop almost a breath away, he feels like a cornered animal being threatened. A growl forms at the back of his throat. He doesn’t bother to stop it as it slips through and just pulls back his lips to make it sound more feral.