He repeated the process with the others, rousing the two that were concussed and stalking the one with the injured leg across the basketball courts where he was trying to escape. He finished what he had begun and turned to Grace.
She had stopped screaming and at first he thought she’d passed out. Buffy was with her, purring softly and rubbing against her cheek. But when he lifted her into his arms, taking the cat with her, Grace’s eyes were wide open and seeing nothing. The white light returned and with the speed of his kind, Canaan carried her back to the house.
Chapter 17
Canaan’s hands traveled slowly over Grace’s body; head, face, neck, clavicles, arms and every finger. He checked her ribs, hips, legs and after removing her shoes, each foot and its toes. He stood and blew out the breath he had been holding through pursed lips.
“Nothing’s broken.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Nothing that we can see,” Otto said doubtfully. He couldn’t look away from Grace’s vacant, staring eyes and the flecks of blood at her ears and nose.
“Nothing’s broken,” Canaan snarled through gritted teeth as if the force of his words would make it true. Then he gritted his teeth and forced himself to adopt a more reasonable tone. “She’s in shock and I think it best if we give her some time. Let me clean her up and get her to bed. I’ll call if we need anything.”
Otto looked as if he wanted to object, thought better of it and turned and left Canaan’s room quietly closing the door behind him.
Canaan turned back to Grace and knelt beside the bed. With gentle hands he pushed the tangled curls from her bruised forehead. He ran his finger along the length of her nose and traced the outline of her lips. Even battered and bruised, she was beautiful. His gut tightened and his heart thundered in his chest as he felt again the fear and fury he’d known when he saw her lying beneath that animal. Otto was right. He didn’t want to let her go.
“Ah, Grace, don’t leave us now,” he whispered still fingering her face. “We need you. I need you. This thing between us is just beginning and I want to see where it takes us.”
He went into the bathroom and turned on the taps. While the water warmed, he laid towels over the heating rack and assembled soap, shampoo and washcloths along the edge of the tub. When the water was running hot, he adjusted the temperature and pulled the stopper tight.
In the few minutes of his absence, Grace had changed from impassive to agitated. Her head thrashed on the pillow as her hands clenched and unclenched at her side. Her eyes were shut tight and a soft whimper issued from her parted lips.
Canaan rushed back to the bed where he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. He murmured soft soothing sounds against it and kissed it with care. His free hand went to her hair again and, barely above a whisper, he sang the soothing words of comfort he remembered from his childhood.
“Shush now, my love, and know that I’m here. Shush now, my sweetling, there’s nothing to fear. I’ll chase away heartache and keep you from harm, here in the warmth of my arms.”
At the sound of his voice, she calmed. Her eyes remained closed, lashes soft and still against her bruised cheeks. He continued to sing as he stood and stripped off his clothes leaving them in a pile at the side of the bed. Cautiously, tenderly, he began to remove hers. Talking to her in a quiet, casual tone, telling her each thing he was about to do, he removed the torn and blood stained tee shirt and the drawstring shorts. He was afraid she might fight him when he began to lift the sports bra over her breasts, but she placidly raised her arms when he told her to and only winced when he shifted her to pull it over her head. Her reaction to the removal of her blue silk panties was the same; docile compliance as long as she could hear his voice. Lifting her carefully, he carried her to the bath.
Once in the tub, he settled her between his legs with her back to his chest. Keeping up the quiet, casual tone he had used in the bedroom, he washed away the dirt and grime of her ordeal. He carefully soaked and cleaned the grit from the scrapes at her palms and knees and fought hard to keep the tense anger and rage from his body and voice as he ran the cloth over the vicious bruise that marred the tender flesh of her breast.
Her face had taken the worst of it, cruel contusions on forehead, chin and cheek and one eye was beginning to swell. But it was the blood at her ears and nose that worried him the most. There was no outward sign of the head trauma that would cause such bleeding. It had to come from the inside where he couldn’t go and he prayed that her mind would return to her unscathed and whole.
When her hair was washed and rinsed, he lifted her from the tub and wrapped her in a warm towel from the rack. She still had not spoken, but she seemed more aware and when he sat her on the low stool and began to comb and dry her hair, her shoulders relaxed and she sighed.
He carried her back to the bedroom, dressed her in one of the black tees she seemed to favor and tucked her under the covers. When he turned away to dry and dress, she became restless and he quickly donned a pair of sweats and got in beside her where he lay on his side, facing her, and whispered and sang and ran his fingers softly through the hair at her temples until at last a small contented smile crossed her lips and she turned into him, snuggling against his shoulder and slept.
They stayed that way throughout the day, she curled tightly against him, he dozing and stirring with each sound or movement from her. Otto knocked once and at Canaan’s quiet “enter”, he opened the door and at Canaan’s thumbs up gesture smiled, nodded and retired to his own bed. Time passed. His body ached from lack of movement. The shoulder and arm that supported her had long since fallen into numbness. Still, he would not move. He heard the others rising and their concerned voices in the hall. Still, he wouldn’t move and risk waking her. Finally, as the sun set, exhaustion overcame him and he slept.
Buffy, who’d watched the proceedings with a critical eye and the occasional hiss, settled in a tiny ball at the foot of the bed and began to purr.
*****
“Well hello, my dear. What a delightful surprise.”
Andi looked around the room, searching for the owner of the voice.
“Look over here in the mirror,” and when she did, he smiled. “Very good. It’s so nice to finally see you, though I was expecting a man. Surely Andi isn’t you’re real name. You’re much too lovely.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes and Abyar knew he’d made a mistake. This one was too shrewd to be so flagrantly flattered. He recovered quickly.
“And much too savvy. I like a woman with brains.” He winked. “I think Andi, you and I are going to get along.”
Andi considered the spirit in the mirror. After communicating through the board for so many days, she wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting there. It seemed to be the next logical step, if logic could be applied to any of this. She’d always felt she’d been cheated by life, that she deserved something more, something special. Maybe this was it.
He was movie star handsome with dark curly hair and gleaming white teeth, but there was something in his smile that made her cautious. Somehow that smile, just a little too wide and a little too sharp, reminded her of a shark. And that bit about her being lovely. ‘Andi’ and ‘lovely’ were two words never found together in the same sentence.
“You have every cause to be suspicious, my dear,” Abyar said in complete understanding. “Who is this person? Where does he come from? What does he want? You’re much too clever to be taken in with a smile and a wink. I can see that now. I’ll bet that cleverness has taken you far in life. You can tell me all about it.” A chair appeared behind him and he sat and crossed his legs at the knees. “Why don’t you pour yourself another glass of wine and we’ll chat, get to know one another and keep each other company, hmm?”
Andi poured herself another glass of wine and made herself comfortable in the easy chair across from the mirror. What harm would it do to talk to the spirit in the mirror? She had been alone for a long time and a little company m
ight be welcome. It wasn’t as if he could step through the glass. And like the man said, she was no fool. She’d be careful. She’d be safe.
*****
Grace’s return to consciousness came slowly. Her head hurt and she could feel the bruises on her face against the pillow. Other than a few sore spots on her arms and legs, she seemed to be in one piece. She opened her eyes and checked the room. The scene was all too familiar, the same room, the same bed, the same lovely smelling sheets. She knew it wasn’t déjà vu because this time there was a man’s arm draped possessively over her breast and a man’s body spooned around her with a very impressive erection poking her behind. She wasn’t frightened, but definitely confused. Grace shifted onto her back.
“Canaan?”
He opened his eyes and smiled. “Ah, welcome back.” He felt his erection pressing against her hip, saw where his hand had strayed and hastily moved away. What was wrong with him? She’d been beaten, assaulted, but apparently his cock had a mind of its own. He hurriedly slid from beneath the covers.
“Are you hungry? Do you want coffee?” he asked to cover his awkwardness.
“Did we…?” Grace wiggled her fingers searching for a word and stared at the tented crotch of his sweats.
“No! No, of course not. What kind of man do you think I am?” He walked to the foot of the bed.
Grace’s hand went to her face, touching her bruised cheek and now blackened eye. “Did you…?”
“You think I hurt you?” he asked and he felt his guilt rise and his eyes mist because it was true. He had hurt her. It was his cruel words and the pain they inflicted that had sent her running from the house and into the path of her attackers.
“No, no I…” She took a panicked look around the room. “If we didn’t…” Surely that would be something she’d remember. “Why am I…?”
Grace abruptly threw back the covers and ran to the bathroom. She stared at the mirror and ran her fingers over the reflection in the glass because the face staring back wasn’t hers. When did this happen? How did this happen?
Canaan was standing in the doorway, watching her. She saw the concern in his eyes and heard it in his voice.
“You don’t remember.” It wasn’t a question.
“Oh god, what happened to me?” Her voice cracked and she pressed her hand to her lips as if the pressure would hold back the tears. She caught her breath. Something was niggling in the back of her mind, trying to push its way through the cloud of her memory.
“The park,” she said still staring at the mirror. “It happened in the park.” She looked to Canaan for confirmation.
Canaan nodded, but didn’t speak. This was the moment he dreaded. It would be better if she remembered on her own.
“I was upset, angry,” but she couldn’t say why.
Canaan closed his eyes, swallowed hard and nodded. She could see the pain on his face.
She went back to staring at the mirror, leaned close to inspect the blackened eye, the bruised and swollen cheek. Suddenly she retched, ran to the toilet, threw up the lid and retched again. There was nothing in her stomach to heave, but her body refused to recognize it. The dry, painful retching continued. Canaan knelt beside her, held her hair, rubbed her back.
When it was finally over, she began to speak. “Those men. In the park. I thought they went away but they didn’t. I tried to stay still so they wouldn’t find me. I wanted them to go away.” Faster and faster the words tumbled out. “I fought them, Canaan, I fought them. I think I hurt them. I tried to remember what Col and Dov taught me. I tried. I tried.” She was rocking now, forward and back, still on her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. “But there were too many of them and the sound in my head, the pain in my head.” Her hands went to her head, clutching it to either side. “It exploded, Canaan, my head exploded!”
Canaan had his arms around her now, rocking with her and holding her tight to his chest while she sobbed.
“What happened to me, Canaan, what did they do?” she cried.
“Just what you saw in the mirror.”
She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “How do you know? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I was there. At the end. I brought you home.”
Grace nodded and sniffed. Canaan got up and brought her the box of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“When? When did all this happen?” she asked. She was calmer now that her mind was clearing.
“Three days ago. We thought you were in shock. Now I’m not so sure. I’ve been with you ever since.”
“Three days.” Grace looked from Canaan to the toilet. “Three days?”
He offered his hand to help her up and walked her back to the bed. “You wouldn’t eat, but you’d drink if I told you to.” He shrugged. “And pee.” He held the covers back then tucked her in.
“Oh Canaan, I’m so sorry. Look at all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
“No,” he said and his voice was stern, “Don’t you ever say you’re sorry for this. None of what happened in that park was your fault. Do you hear me? None of it.” He took her hand in his and there was sorrow in his eyes. “It’ll come to you, Grace. You’ll remember and you’ll see that all of this was my fault. I’m the one that said the things that hurt you. I’m the reason you were in the park. I’m the one who’s sorry, Grace.”
She’d remember and nothing he could say would take back the words. Otto was right. He couldn’t keep her here. He couldn’t protect her from anything, not even from himself. When she was healed, Otto would take her to Manon. Maybe then she’d have the life she deserved, the one he couldn’t give her.
He turned to leave. “I’ll send someone up with breakfast,” he said and closed the door behind him.
Buffy yowled like a cat ready to fight.
*****
Not long after Canaan left, Col and Dov had delivered her a breakfast of bacon and eggs, cereal, toast, juice, milk, and coffee. Hungry as she was, it was much more than she could possibly eat so, of course, the twins finished what she couldn’t. They said Canaan had gone out on patrol. Three days of being cooped up had made him antsy and it was his turn. Her mistake. He’d done nothing more than his duty taking care of her and now she was fine, his duty was done. That wasn’t the impression she got when she’d awakened with his arm around her, but he’d also said ‘No, of course not’ as if he’d been horrified when she’d asked. It appeared that once again, she’d misunderstood. Once again?
There it was, right on the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t pull it forward. What had she misunderstood? It was something Canaan said. He’d admitted as much. But what?
She thought about it all night long. The boys did their best to entertain her, telling her tales about their misadventures and teasing her about the disaster they’d left for her downstairs. They made her laugh, but then she’d find herself staring off into the distance trying to remember what had made her so angry and upset that she’d run away.
Otto brought her supper. He said the twins had already left and forgot the pizza they were supposed to pick up and so she would have to make do with canned soup and a sandwich. He spoke to a spot just above her head.
“Where’s Canaan?” she asked after assuring him that it was a fine supper and more than she expected.
“What? Don’t like the company of an old man?” His smile was false.
“I like your company just fine, but you haven’t been to visit all day and now you won’t look at me. Uncle Otto, what’s wrong?”
“He’s gone.”
“What do you mean ‘he’s gone’? Where? Why?”
“Because he’s a damn fool, that’s why and don’t ask me any more. He left this waking. Said he’d be gone for a few days. Didn’t say where. Said we were to keep you in bed for another night and then when your bruises faded and you felt up to it, I’m to take you to Manon.”
“Manon?” Why had Canaan left without saying good-bye? What was it she couldn’t remember that caus
ed him such pain?
“She’s a friend of mine. We thought maybe she could help you with the buzzing in your head.” He put down the sandwich he’d been eating and took up her hand. His eyes filled with tears. “It almost got you… killed the other night.”
“But I didn’t get killed, Uncle Otto, and I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t go out anymore without one of you. I’ll be perfectly happy to stay in the house.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll exist, but you won’t be happy. You’ve already spent too much of your life in a prison. You can’t make this house into another one. I won’t have it. Not if something can be done. We’ll go see Manon. I promise you’ll like her.”
Chapter 18
Otto parked the car where the lane ended and they followed a dirt footpath that wound through the trees. After a couple of hundred yards, the path turned into a stone walkway that soon led them to a clearing surrounded by a dense stand of trees. In the middle sat a little stone house, a cottage really, like something from a fairy tale. There was no lawn as such, more of a meadow of short grasses with wildflowers springing up where they pleased. The cottage looked to be no more than three or four rooms with a wide front porch topped by an eyebrow dormer winking from the roof above. Vines covered the porch rails and trailed over the roof and as they neared, Grace recognized the smell of night blooming Jasmine. The rails and window frames were painted a bright white and the door a cheerful red. Lace curtains hung at the windows.
There was nothing threatening about the place yet Grace had the sudden urge to flee. Images of Hansel and Gretel flitted through her mind. Otto must have felt her hesitancy or perhaps it was his own because he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his arm as they mounted the steps to knock on the door.
The door swung open seemingly of its own accord. Otto patted her hand on his arm and whispered, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. She’s an old friend.”
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