Shadow of Vengeance

by Kristine Mason

  Beaming, Melissa turned to Kaylie. “Come on. Let’s study in my dorm room.”

  After the two women exited the foyer, Rachel turned her attention to Jake and Owen. “Okay, about those seventy girls…”

  Jake shook his head. “I’m starting to wish I’d skipped this. Dealing with another pain in the ass council meeting is sounding better and better.”

  “What’s wrong?” Rachel asked. “Were the girls asking you for relationship advice? I know I had a few. Either some of them haven’t heard about Bill yet—which I find shocking considering he used to work here—or they’re just that self-centered and clueless.”

  Smiling, Jake nodded. “Actually, two did. And I’m going with self-centered. How about you, Owen?”

  Owen looked toward the gathering room where the door stood open. Several of the girls craned their necks and Rachel knew they were looking at Owen. Those pretty, young co-eds could look their fill. She certainly had last night, and while she knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, she hoped for an opportunity to do it again later. The chances of anything more than sex happening between them were probably slim to none.

  She’d never had a relationship based solely on sex. Just the thought of it didn’t sit well with her. She might not be the greatest catch, but she knew she deserved better than being a man’s fuck buddy. All she had to do was look at her mother. The woman had been and always would be a serial dater. Jumping from one slick talking man to another, using her body to hold them, trap them and when they grew tired of her and had tossed her aside…she’d be off to find her next conquest.

  No. She might be half in love with Owen, and despite the tragedy they’d dealt with during the day, last night might have been one of the best nights of her life. But she wanted more from him than just sex. The question was… did he?

  He looked away from the gathering room and met her gaze. The heat in his eyes brought back a rush of memories. The way he’d held her, glided her over his thick erection, made her come apart…made her come alive.

  “Nope. No one was asking me for relationship advice,” he said, his eyes still on hers. “A couple of them did try to give me their cell phone number.”

  Jealousy momentarily tightened her chest. “Really? I mean, huh. That’s…forward, but I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. You’re single and well, you look…well, like you.” She’d wanted to say he looked hot, sexy. That his smile was enough to make a woman melt and his eyes had a way of making her heart trip. Add on all those muscles hidden beneath his sweater and he was the perfect male specimen. Fortunately, she caught Jake practically gaping at her and she’d managed to stop herself from looking like one of Owen’s many adoring admirers.

  “He is kind of pretty,” Jake said with a grin. He brushed past them and entered the gathering room, calling out the next name on his list.

  To avoid the awkward situation she’d stupidly brought on herself, she began to follow Jake. But Owen moved past her, then paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Who said anything about being single?”

  As he went inside the gathering room, she remained in the foyer. Too stunned to move, too shocked to gather her thoughts and focus on the next interview.

  Who said anything about being single?

  Hope and longing pulsated throughout her body, making her legs weak and her mind thick and foggy. She didn’t know what to think or how to react. The man she’d wanted, been half in love with for nearly four years just implied that they were…together. As much as she’d fantasized about being with him—on every level—her skin grew clammy with panic and anxiety. Men didn’t stick around, her mother’s love life was the proof. Would Owen? And if he didn’t, how could they continue to work together? She loved working for CORE, for Ian, and had no intention of going anywhere else.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” the security guard asked her.

  She nodded. “I’m good,” she lied. Because Owen’s cryptic remark had just rocked her world. Her safe, boring world. She might have craved action and adventure, and being in a relationship with Owen would definitely be action packed and adventurous, but safe and boring would at least keep her heart intact.

  *

  Bunny fluttered around my room, a big smile on her pretty face. “I’m so excited,” she said, then glanced to the table. When she’d first arrived, Bunny had burst into my room with an orderly carrying a computer. It had taken her the past forty minutes to set everything up, and during that time she’d explained that this computer would become my lifeline to the world.

  I’m still not sure what she’s talking about, but her excitement is infectious. Instead of dwelling on the worry and anxiety of finally revealing my name, anticipation runs through my veins and has my belly burning with a sensation that has been hard to maintain. Hope.

  “Okay,” she said, propped her hands on her slender hips and eyed the table and equipment. “I think we’re all set.” She looked at me, her eyes bright and eager. “Are you ready?”

  I released a pitiful grunt and blinked my eyes.

  “Excellent.” She maneuvered my wheel chair until I sat directly in front of the computer. From behind me, I heard her snap something onto the back of the wheel chair, then she moved to my side holding a couple of cords. “I’m just going to plug this into here…turn this on, and…yes,” she said with a triumphant hiss. “Okay, Jane. And I hope this is the last time I’m going to call you that, unless of course your real name is Jane.” She grinned, then raised a thin, mechanical arm from the wheel chair. Fastened to the arm was a small box with what looked like straws sticking up from the center.

  “Now, I told you you’d be talking today, but I’m not going to lie. You’ll have to work for it.”

  Despite last night’s worries, I’d do whatever she asked. To be able to talk, to voice my thoughts…until I’d come to this point in my life, I had taken the value of communication for granted. How without it, life could be lonely, desolate, bleak.

  “This is a sip and puff, mouse controlled joystick. It’s going to take some practice, but once you get the hang of it, you’ll be reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in no time.” She moved the straws to my mouth. “Think of these as a sort of mouth stick. When you move the stick to the left, it’ll direct the mouse to the left side of the computer monitor, move the stick down, and the mouse will move to the bottom of the monitor.” She pointed to the monitor. “This is an online keyboard. All you need to do is move the mouse to the letter you want and click. To click, you just need to sip or puff into the stick. There’s a voice synthesizer attached to the computer, but we’ll hold off on that for now and save that for when you’re ready to talk up a storm.” She put one stick in my mouth. “Okay, give it a shot.”

  Only recently I’ve been able to drink from a straw. My therapist, Olivia, along with my last speech therapist forced me to practice several times a day. While I loved coating my mouth with whatever cool, refreshing liquid they’d given me, the process had ended up being clumsy, messy and embarrassing. The liquid had dribbled down my chin and soaked my hospital gown, leaving me feeling like a drooling idiot. But there was no liquid at the other end of this “straw.” Only hope.

  “Use your tongue to nudge the stick,” Bunny encouraged.

  As I did what she suggested, my heart pounded hard and I swear my fingertips tingled as if they wanted to toss the stick aside and tap the keyboards. But that wasn’t a possibility right now, if ever. With that daunting thought in mind, I forced my tongue down. The cursor moved downward and settled on the letter G. I nudged the stick again and the cursor landed on the letter V. Excitement had my chest tightening and my lungs constricting. I drew in a deep breath to slow my racing heart and waylay my anxiousness.

  “Very good,” Bunny praised. “One letter down.”

  Glancing at the screen, I realized that in sucking in a deep breath, I’d inadvertently “clicked” the mouse stick. Encouraged and determined as hell, I nudged my tongue again. Up, up, then over a few times until
the cursor hovered over the letter I. As I continued with the tedious tongue-nudging task, my name—my real name—suddenly hovered on the screen above the letters I’d painstakingly typed. It had been so long since I’d seen my name, I gasped, which caused the stick to “click” on the letters and finish my name for me.

  “Vivian,” Bunny whispered, then crouched next to me. “Your name is Vivian?”

  My throat tightened as tears momentarily blurred my vision. Grunting, I blinked.

  “Your name is beautiful.” Tears swam in Bunny’s eyes as she gave me a watery smile. “But if we’re to do a proper introduction, we’ll need a last name. Are you ready, or do you need to take a break?”

  Only a power outage could stop me. Seeing my name, knowing I would no longer be Jane or Janie to the world, gave me encouragement. It put a fire in my belly that would not be doused. Inner strength that I’d thought no longer existed, surfaced. A week ago, I wanted to die. Trapped in a useless body, I wanted to fall asleep and never waken. But as I moved the straw, my tongue flexing and more controlled now that I was exercising it, I started typing my last name.

  “Keep up the good work,” Bunny urged me on while staring at the monitor. “Once we have your last name, we can contact your family. I can’t imagine how much they’ve worried about you.”

  I momentarily paused and shifted my eyes toward her, wishing I could type faster and tell her the truth. No one was looking for me. My fanatically religious parents had disowned me when I’d had a child out of wedlock, and both had passed on years ago. I had no siblings. No extended family. Until eighteen months ago, all I had was my husband and daughter.

  Now, one was dead and the other…a cold-blooded killer.

  *

  “Good afternoon, Puke. I trust your day is going well.”

  The pledge glared at him with hatred and disdain. Regret momentarily crept into his chest. Before last night, before he’d taken the belt to the boy, there had been a glimmer of trust in his pledge’s eyes. But that was gone and it would never come back. What he planned to do this afternoon would assure that.

  Without a backward glance, he crossed the basement and opened a small, metal toolbox. An assortment of ropes and cords greeted him. He sifted through the box until he found the thin spool of twine necessary for today’s calisthenics. Normally, at this point, eagerness would fill his body giving him a euphoric high. But his week hadn’t gone as planned. Being forced to rush through the hazing left him hollow. He’d looked forward to this particular Hell Week the moment he’d discovered his puke would attend Wexman University. Last spring, when the boy’s name had showed up on his radar, he’d thought of nothing else. He’d daydreamed about the moments they’d share together. The trusting bond he would build with his puke, and how he’d destroy it.

  Last night, he’d allowed his emotions to gain the best of him. When Junior had set foot into the basement, he’d sobered. He’d allowed his rage to surface and with it came the realization that all would not be lost. Besides, even God had taken a day off, why shouldn’t he take two? Disposing of the pledge earlier than planned gave him the weekend to rejoice. Maybe he’d join his fellow Townies for a drink, don one of the ridiculous Bigfoot masks he’d seen students wearing around campus in celebration of the festival.

  He pulled the twine taut. Or maybe he’d kill Junior. Once the pledge was gone, rotting in the bottom of the well with his fraternity brothers, he would have no use for her. She’d served a purpose, and he now realized that she also, inadvertently, had given him something else. With her fuck ups, he’d been forced to deviate from his plans. Change was something he’d never been able to accept. Twenty-five years ago, after he’d recovered and his physical wounds had healed, he’d changed. He could no longer go with the flow. Everything had to be precise and orderly. Everything had to be in his control.

  Junior had forced him to overcome and adapt, to improvise when things hadn’t gone as expected. These were good traits to own, and ones he would carry with him when he left Bola to begin anew. That, and the knowledge that he’d come full circle. With the death of his pledge, vengeance would be served. The demon who had tormented him would suffer a fate much worse than if he’d tortured and killed him twenty-five years ago.

  Guilt.

  Yes, guilt would eat at the demon’s blackened soul. Because of that sick, twisted, immoral demon, because of what he’d done to him, the deaths of his son and the other pledges were on that bastard’s hands. The puke’s father had put Hell Week into motion twenty-five years ago, now he would finish it.

  Holding the stretched twine in his hands, he approached the puke.

  “Where’s that crazy bitch?” the boy asked, then spat.

  He backhanded the puke, knocking his head against the rock wall. “She might be a crazy bitch, but you have no right calling her one. Understood?” When the boy didn’t answer he went nose to nose with him. “Understood?” he shouted.

  The pledge nodded, and licked the blood trickling from his chapped lips.

  “Good. Now to answer your question—not that it’s really any of your business—Junior is busy. Just because it’s Hell Week doesn’t mean we can walk away from our daily obligations.” He pulled the twine taut again. “Besides, I didn’t want her here for this session of calisthenics. Do you know why?”

  The puke shook his head.

  He leaned close to the boy’s ear. “Because I’m a crazy bastard and I’m worried I might do something to her.”

  “L…like what?”

  He wrapped the twine around the boy’s neck. “Like this.” Pulling the twine tight, he choked the puke. The boy’s mouth hung open, he jerked and twisted his body. His eyes grew big and watery, his face, even in the dim lighting, took on a lovely purple hue. Not ready for the boy to expire yet, he loosened the twine.

  The puke suddenly drew in wheezy gasps, then began coughing. When the boy’s breathing became somewhat normal, he gave the pledge’s cheek a light slap. “Better?”

  After the boy gave him a quick nod, he raised the twine, then wrapped it around his throat again. The pure shock and outrage in the puke’s eyes made him giddy and reckless. A part of him wanted to simply kill the pledge now. What he had planned for tomorrow, although necessary if he were to maintain consistency, had always been his least favorite part of Hell Week. Now that he thought about it, the demon wouldn’t know if he’d defiled his son the same way the bastard had defiled him twenty-five years ago.

  The pledge’s eyes rolled back. He quickly loosened the twine and gave the boy another slap, this time hard enough to keep him conscious. “Sorry,” he said over the boy’s wheezing. “I shouldn’t have let my mind wander like that.” He took a step back to give the puke a moment to recover. They weren’t finished…yet.

  “You’re probably wondering the significance of this test. I know I did when it was administered to me.” He cocked his head and thought back to that night. The fear had been unbearable and overwhelming, but the demon had explained the reasons behind the choking. “Trust,” he said to the pledge, repeating a revised version of what the demon had told him twenty-five years ago. “I’ve asked you several times if you trusted me, and each time you’ve said yes. Last night I betrayed that trust when I whipped you with my belt. Today I will attempt to regain it.”

  Holding the twine stretched, he approached the boy. “Do you trust that I won’t kill you…today?” When the boy didn’t answer, he asked, “Would you like me to kill you?”

  The puke met his gaze, pure hatred brightening his narrowed eyes. “No.”

  He cupped his ear. “No…what?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Do you trust me?” At this point, he knew the trust was gone, along with the hope of a climatic betrayal. While he liked the newfound ability of adaptation and improvisation, tough habits were hard to break. This had been a question he’d asked every pledge. Of course they had all lied to him and told him what he’d wanted to hear. What else would they say to a man who held
their lives in his hands? “Well, Puke. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “No? Why is that?” he asked, eager to hear the boy’s reasoning. Never had a pledge been honest. With the boy’s honesty, a small part of his damaged heart softened and he wondered if the puke’s demon father had any idea of his son’s strength. Any father would be proud to have a son like this. He would have been proud to have him for a son. Unfortunately, he’d ended up with Junior.

  “You said you knew my dad.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Were you friends?”

  He raised the twine and wrapped it around the boy’s neck again. “No.”

  The puke’s Adam’s apple bobbed, moving the loose twine. “He…ah…my dad is pretty quick with his fists. I’ve taken plenty of beatings. But I always knew he’d stop. I trusted that he would stop.” The boy glared at him. “You, sir, might stop today, but I don’t trust that you won’t kill me.”

  He gripped the boy’s shoulder and smiled. “You’re tough. I truly admire your strength. Truly.” Twine in both hands now, he squeezed the puke’s neck.

  The boy writhed and yanked against his restraints. The shock in his bulging eyes gave him no satisfaction. He hadn’t lied. He admired his puke and if they’d met under different circumstances, he could see the boy as his protégé. But fate had given him Junior instead.

  Thinking about his idiot daughter had him tightening the twine. “You’re quite intuitive, Puke. You’re also correct. I won’t kill you today.” He leaned closer and pressed his mouth against the boy’s ear. “I’m saving that and so much more for tomorrow.”

  Chapter 17

  “I’m so thankful Sean’s been moved out of ICU.” Rachel dropped her head against the Lexus’s headrest as Owen pulled out of the Dixon Medical Center parking lot. Relief eased the tension in her shoulders and neck, while exhaustion made her boneless and longing for a bed. “At least one positive thing has finally happened,” she added, and glanced at Owen.