“I’m just the help. They don’t tell me shit,” I replied.
“That’s too bad. If you truly don’t know anything, then you are unfortunately of no use to us after all,” the Ringleader said, sealing my fate.
“You said that I could keep her! She likes to play my games,” the butcher said as he grabbed my throat and squeezed.
He backed me up against a wall until I was almost a part of it. I felt my feet leave the ground as he pushed me farther up the wall, bringing me almost to eye-level with him. I struggled to break his grip on my neck before he crushed my windpipe, but his massive fingers were deeply embedded in my throat.
Between the spots forming in my eyes from the lack of oxygen, I saw him pull back with his free hand. With alarm, I realized that he was preparing to drive his knife into my chest. I had a choice to make. I could either continue to struggle to free my neck or I could try to stop him from stabbing me to death. I was pretty sure that I could heal whatever damage he did with the knife. I didn’t know if I could survive the continued lack of air. Maybe if I fought him for the knife, then he’d have to loosen his grip on my neck. I was as good as dead if my plan didn’t work.
I grabbed his wrist, pushing it away from me with everything that I had. My gamble paid off. I could feel his fingers loosening as I slid down the wall. He hadn’t completely let go of my neck yet, but as soon as my feet hit the floor I pushed my body weight forward, catching him off guard. That little bit of momentum was all that I needed to turn his hand and drive the knife straight into his gut, all the way to the hilt. With both hands and every bit of strength that I had remaining, I forced the blade sideways through the Butcher’s fatty tissue, muscle and probably intestines, until the knife ripped through his side completely.
The Ringleader wanted me dead, but the Butcher had just wanted to keep me, like a cruel cat with an injured mouse. I was pretty sure that I’d rather be dead than become his plaything. The Butcher fell to his knees, and then finally slumped over. I heard the creak of the door and realized that the Ringleader and his minions were escaping. I started to run after them, but stopped when I remembered Matthison. He hadn’t moved or made a sound in what seemed like an eternity. I needed to check on him before I ran after the Inquisitors.
I took a step, stumbling as the Butcher grabbed my ankle. I looked down at him, meeting his eyes. As long as there was breath in his body, he wasn’t going to stop. I saw it in his cold expression. If by some miracle he survived being gutted, he would still come looking for me. Not to serve The Inquisitors, but to satisfy his own sadistic hunger. The knife was still in my hand. Switching my grip on the handle, I drove it deep into his chest, aiming for his heart. His hand fell away from my ankle. I pulled the knife out, wiping the blade on my jeans, and watched as the life finally slipped out of his body.
Matthison was a crumpled, beaten mess when I got to him. His pulse was weak and he was bleeding pretty badly from a gash on his head. I found the coat I was wearing before the van ride on the floor and cut it into strips with the knife. I folded a couple of strips into a makeshift compress, and then used the rest to make a tie to hold it in place. I tried to assess the rest of his injuries, but I was far from qualified to do so. Broken bones, internal bleeding? I was guessing both. I needed to figure out a way to get him out of here. He needed real medical attention as soon as possible.
I never should have let him come to Toil and Trouble in the first place! I shouldn’t have let him get out of the car, and I definitely should have stopped him when the Inquisitors gave him a chance to walk away. No matter how smart or tough he is, or what kind of badge or weapons he carried, he’d always be a Norm. He wasn’t an Other and he had no business in all this. How the hell was I going to tell his wife if he didn’t make it?
I tried to remember the spell that I had used to transport myself back to Baylen Knightley’s house when Morrigan had left me to die in an old burial mound, but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t think that I had the strength or the magical know-how right now to move both of us anyway. I wasn’t feeling so supernatural at the moment.
After coming to the conclusion that I’d have to get us out of here the old-fashioned way; I went outside to see where we were and what resources, if any, were available to me. The Ringleader had taken off in the van, so that was not an option. If they were using this place as their torture chamber, then there had to be supplies stored somewhere. I looked around, shocked when I realized where I was.
Winter Island. I guess it made sense. It was close to Salem, but far enough away to mutilate and murder innocent people undisturbed. Especially this time of year when the camping season was over and the maritime park was closed. The island was basically deserted until the spring.
They were keeping us in the old Coast Guard hangar, leftover from when the island had served as an air and sea rescue station. There had to be something here that I could use to get Matthison back to town. If I could make a sled, then I might be able to drag him out. My fear was that by the time I reached town I’d be dragging a corpse behind me. No, I had to come up with a faster way if I wanted my friend to live.
I scoured around the immediate area and came up with nothing. Moving a little closer to the shore, I caught sight of a small boat anchored in the shallows. The lighthouse flashed bright white again, giving me a better look at the distance between the boat and me. I’d have to swim out to it, but if I could get it started Matthison could be back in Salem and checked into a hospital within the hour.
I went back inside to check on Matthison one more time. I also wanted to see if there was anything that I could put my clothes in to keep them dry. If I was going swimming in the Atlantic in the winter, then I wanted my clothes to be dry when I got out. Well, what was left of them anyway. My hoodie and T-shirt were trashed, but at least my jeans had survived intact. I was going to have to ask the Council for a clothing allowance if this kept up. I found a grocery store bag balled up on the floor. If there were no holes in the bag, then it just might do the trick.
I walked back outside and started stripping down. I threw my hoodie and shirt in the bag. Rags or not, I’d be happy to have those when I got out of the ocean. I kicked off my docs and slid out of my jeans and put them in the bag. I stood there shivering in my socks and flannel bra and panties. I needed a second to psych myself up to take the socks off. I had bent over to take them off when I heard something. I clenched my teeth together to slow the chattering so that I could hear better. There it was again. My heart was pumping so fast; my adrenaline alone could take the edge off of this brisk air. I didn’t move; there was nowhere to take cover out here anyway. Maybe it was just a bird or something on the rocks. Even in the dark, it was pretty obvious that animals used Winter Island more than people did at this time of year. Then I heard the distinctive sound of a boot crunching on the pebbly shore. That was no bird. I slowly stood without making a sound. I could only assume at this point that the person who was approaching the lighthouse was not a friendly.
“I’d say that I was getting tired of saving your ass if I didn’t like looking at it so much. Is that flannel?” A voice I knew but couldn’t immediately place called out.
I turned around to face my rescuer. I was shocked by the face that I saw staring back at me.
“I’d say ‘thank you’ if I could get past the nauseous feeling that I get every time I see you,” I said.
“Aww, come on, Maurin, is that anyway to greet an old friend?” he chided.
“You must not have a lot of friends. How the hell did you know where to find me anyway?” I really wanted to know the answer to that question. Despite our history, or maybe because of it, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could trust him.
“Seriously, you look like shit. Where’s your friend, the Norm? What the hell are you doing out here in your underwear anyway? Holy shit, were you going to swim?” He almost laughed.
“Fuck you, Cash.” It was the only thing that I could come up with. “Matthison’s in the ol
d hangar. He needs to get off this island and get to a hospital stat. The only way that I could see that happening was if I somehow got to that boat out there,” I said, shivering. Despite all of my new abilities, I was not impervious to the cold.
“Get dressed. You standing there practically naked and shivering is a little distracting.” He was already headed for the lighthouse.
I threw everything back on as quickly as I could. I wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of Cash being alone with Matthison. The fact that I didn’t see anyone from the Council, or anyone else for that matter, had me on edge. He ignored my question about how he had found me and I wasn’t putting anything past Cash. He was a mercenary, a hired gun. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for Cash to be working with The Inquisitors. He had a lot to gain if the Council was under threat and Roul was distracted by their challenge. I was on edge as I walked in to the hangar. Cash was already bent over Matthison, talking to someone while he looked him over. The conversation was short; he clicked a little button on his earpiece, ending the call.
“My guys are moving in. It looks like most of the damage is internal. It doesn’t look good, but we’ll get him out of here. Is that what’s left of the guy that did this?” he asked, looking over at the Butcher lying dead on the floor.
“Yeah. The two who were giving orders got away. He was just the muscle. You didn’t answer my question, by the way. How did you, of all people, know where to look for me?” I asked.
“You’re just lucky, I guess. I was meeting with Roul to finalize the rules and terms of the challenge when Mahalia came by. She wanted a tracker, which seemed like an odd request for a witch who should’ve been able to wave her magic wand and find you. Except she couldn’t; she went and cast a major spell that left her people weak and defenseless. So she had to come begging for help from the wolves,” Cash said snidely.
“I know the part about you being in town and Mahalia’s casting. Cut to the chase. We need to get Matthison out of here now!” I snapped.
“We’ve got a couple of minutes. There’s been a slight change of plans. I’ve got a helicopter en route, since I don’t think your friend will make it if we just drop him off at an E.R. They’ll take him straight to shock trauma in Boston. His head’s bandaged, so unless you’re a surgeon now too, there isn’t much else we can do until the chopper gets here. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the witch. Okay, so Mahalia comes in looking for a tracker. When Roul agrees and asks to push the challenge back, I got a little pissed. I wanted some answers, you know. So they reluctantly filled me in on the Inquisitors, the coven’s sudden weakness and why Mahalia needed a tracker to look for you,” he said, as if that cleared up why he was here instead of someone else.
“How’d you get on the island?” I was not willing to concede that he was, in fact, here to rescue me.
“I swam.” He laughed at my expense before finally answering me. “We drove as far as the bridge, and then walked the rest of the way.”
“So where’s everyone else?” I asked, not wanting to be lured into a false sense of security with Cash.
“You mean up until I saw you standing naked in the moonlight like a wolf? Roul’s pack is out with the coven looking for you. Hell, even some of the vamps were out searching. But, as usual, I succeed where others fail and found you all by myself.”
“I was not naked,” I grumbled.
“I already called off the search. It’s officially a rescue mission. Looks like I’m your knight in shining armor,” Cash said, with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Far from it,” I said.
Relief filled me as I heard the helicopter flying in. Cash and I positioned ourselves at opposite ends of Matthison’s body. I lifted his feet as Cash lifted his upper body and we carefully carried him outside. Two guys jumped out to help load Matthison into the helicopter. Cash and I climbed in, leaving the two werewolves behind.
“Aren’t they coming?” I asked.
“Not enough room. The team on the bridge will pick them up,” Cash said.
The ride in the helicopter was surreal. The doors of the huge army-style helicopter were open, with a gunner on each side. I sat on the floor next to Matthison, surrounded by Cash and the rest of his team. I felt like I was in a bad action movie. Thankfully, the seasoned ex-military team members weren’t a chatty group. Even Cash was quiet, despite his sitting right next to me. I caught him looking at me a couple of times as if he was going to say something, but instead he’d just turn away. Maybe he realized that I wasn’t in the mood for his shit and figured I’d push him out the open helicopter door. He’d have been right. I tucked my knees into my chest and rested my head on them. Surrounded by this many guns, I felt comfortable enough to close my eyes and finally put more energy into healing all the damage that the Butcher had done to my body.
Cash must have caught a glimpse of the burn on my neck as I put my head down. He brushed my tangled mass of hair out of the way to get a better look. The brand was mostly healed over with what felt like smooth, shiny scar tissue; just like the scar on my back. I flinched as he traced the marking.
“What the fuck is that?” he asked, his voice dark and menacing.
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” I said quietly.
“They branded you? Like some kind of fucking animal?” Cash’s voice was getting louder.
“Yes,” was all I managed.
That seemed to get the attention of Cash’s team. Well, that and how pissed off Cash was all of a sudden. He was not a pack leader yet, but he was definitely an Alpha and there was no way the wolves in the confined space of the helicopter could miss the anger rolling off of him.
“What does it mean?” Cash asked.
“Not a clue. They didn’t explain it and I was too busy fighting for my life to give a shit. I’ll ask Mahalia when we get back to Salem,” I told him.
He grumbled something that I couldn’t hear, though his team obviously did because they were all nodding their heads in agreement. Cash suddenly busied himself with checking me out for more injuries. The Inquisitors branding me really bothered him. More than I would have expected. I guess even Cash had a moral code. He pulled up my tattered shirt, tracing a finger along the gash across my stomach. He knew the significance of it, that it was supposed to be more than just another battle wound. He lowered my shirt and just stared at me. I started to say something smart, but as I met his eyes I saw that they were full of respect. For me. The awkwardness of sharing a moment with Cash was too much for me right now. I turned away from him to look at the view from the helicopter instead.
I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I sat quietly staring out at the trees and little roof tops that made up the suburbs surrounding Boston. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get Matthison to the hospital. The helicopter veered to the right. The hospital started to appear through the trees and buildings. I could see the landing pad on the roof. Doctors and nurses from the Shock Trauma unit were standing outside waiting for us.
As soon as the helicopter touched down, we were mobbed by the doctors and nurses. Cash, his team and I exited out one side of the helicopter as the medical team poured in through the other. In a matter of seconds, they had Matthison on a gurney, hooked to an IV and on the landing pad. The doctors and nurses took off with Matthison. Cash grabbed my arm as I turned to follow.
“The Council said that I was supposed to bring you back to Salem if I found you,” he said.
“Since when did you start taking orders from the Council? I’m staying with Matthison. He didn’t run. Even when the Inquisitors gave him the choice, he stayed and fought. So I’m staying with him now. I owe him that,” I said.
The pilot was ready to go; he fired the helicopter back up. Cash shouted something to me, but I couldn’t hear it over the wind from the helicopter. I pulled my hair out of my face, holding it back in a ponytail so I could see. I yelled to Cash one more time that I was staying. He gave me a crooked smile, threw his hands up in mock defeat and got on the
helicopter. I turned and ran to the lone nurse holding the door open, waiting for me to follow her inside.
7
I had to wait out in the hall while the doctors and nurses worked on Matthison. I sat in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair, exhausted, with my head resting on the wall. I closed my eyes and couldn’t help but drift back to the last time that I had waited in a hallway for someone. My life was so simple. I went to work, busted the bad guys, and went home. Everything changed the day that I had waited impatiently for Masarelli to let me into the interrogation room. I probably should have just let him take the damned case, but no, I had to rub my superiority in his face. I just had to prove how much better I was as an interrogator. I should have just walked away when Matthison told me to, but the Council was persistent. In the end, they got what they wanted. Me. And now I was back in a hallway, waiting again.
A doctor finally came out of Matthison’s room. I jumped out of the chair, which was no easy feat, since my ass was numb from sitting there so long. Who the hell picks out this crappy furniture anyway?
“Doc, hey Doc!” I called.
His sneakers squeaked on the linoleum tiles as he came to a sudden stop. He turned and gave me a look that said, ‘Spit it out lady, I’m in a hurry.’
“Can I get an update? You’ve been working on him for over an hour. I just want to know what’s going on. I’m going to have to tell his wife something,” I said.
“They’ve removed a piece of his skull to alleviate the swelling; they’ve induced a coma to give his body a chance to heal. He’s got massive internal injuries and too many broken bones to count. It’s too soon to say anything. A nurse already called his wife. She’s on her way. I’ll have someone come out and take a look at you. You look like you could use a few stitches yourself,” he said, in one breath.
He turned and, just like that, he was gone. He had to rush off to some other emergency, I imagined.
Witch Hunt, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series) Page 6
