Intimidator (6 page)

Now her alien hunk had deserted her too.

His words came back to her:
You’ve been watched and studied.

Creepy and yet strangely reassuring. Should she contact the cops or some alien worshipping society? At least he hadn’t probed her yet. Wait, he had. Willow laughed a little crazily.

Fuck this.
She shoved back some straying curls and scrambled to her feet. The real world called.

Mandy wriggled into a better position on the sofa as she knitted the last rows of the tiny green pullover. Then she held it out before her. Her fingers had gone a bit numb from her stupid carpal tunnel problem but this was so worth it. Who would’ve thought anyone would want pullovers for little oil-slicked penguins? The darn things were such cuties she hadn’t been able to resist when she’d seen the link on Facebook for people to knit these to help save them.

Phoebe and Jamie were doing this too. They were racing each other.

She’d begun a second one when the front door opened and clicked shut. His footsteps on the tiles made her grin. What the hell would he think of this latest venture? Being a dentist, he was very practical and no-nonsense.

Her feet jiggled. Hugging and screaming was what she needed to do.

No. She wouldn’t get all excited, not yet. She’d pretend nonchalance, despite him being too busy with the conference to do more than text once or twice. Mean man.

His shadow eclipsed the opening to the hall. She flung aside the pullover, leaped up and ran to him, grinning. Fuck being calm, he’d been away days!

“Christopherrr! How was the flight? What was Adelaide like? Why didn’t you return calls? You’re –”

The blankness on his face chilled her. What was this?

She put a hand out and touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Come here.”

She smiled, tension ebbing, and melted into his embrace. “I missed you so,
so
much.”

Then something stung her cheek and she slipped, senseless, into a white oblivion.

When she awoke she found herself tied, spread-eagled, ever so tightly to their big double bed. Naked, she was naked. Mandy licked her dry lips, stumbling inside her mind to make sense of this.

Had she been drinking and forgotten?

When Christopher appeared still dressed in his suit at the periphery of her vision, she turned her head and smiled shakily. He’d never been kinky.

Something metal and silvery glinted in his hand.

“Chris? Baby? What are you doing?”

Wordless, he approached and raised what she recognized as one of his dental implements to her wrist.

“Chris! Hey! Stop that!” She twisted her body, cringing away as the drill screamed into its little metal whine. She remembered him telling her once that the motor inside it could spin the end drill six bazillion times a second or something. Her throat clamped in tight enough to choke her into not breathing. But she couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear her eyes off the terrifying thing.

She writhed more, helpless to escape but still trying. The sharp point bit her skin, sinking in. Redness spurted and she screamed for all of one second before he planted something over her mouth.

After that she still screamed but the sound was mostly inside her head, muffled, harsh. Even her eyeballs strained with pressure as she threw her head from side to side, as if they would pop from the inside.

He moved on to do her right ankle, having to use his weight to keep her completely still. Then he did her left, then her other wrist, ignoring her whining distress, the arching of her spine, the desperate flinching of her muscles.

Her throat was raw from the screaming.

The
pain
. Her bones jittered when the metal went too deep.

Christopher, her Christopher…this wasn’t him, couldn’t be. It was some monster. Tears coursed down her face. She fought the urge to throw up.

Who was this man?

After extracting the drill from the flesh of her wrist, he stepped back and watched. The multiple pains throbbed and lanced at her. She blinked away the last of her tears, her chest rising and falling in ragged movements, breathing rasping in her ears. Would the neighbors hear? Would they call the police? They must. They must. Before he did something worse.

Maybe he was done?

Had to be. Had to be
. He was done.

Her hopes nearly floated her off the bed. She tugged on the ropes. But no, she was still fastened down, immobile.

Let me go
, she pleaded with her eyes, wrinkling her forehead.

Then something twitched inside her, under the skin of her wrist. Cold yet searing hot, as if something tiny was in there. She tried to roll her eyes upward to the headboard, to focus on her outstretched arm, and felt the sensation advance up her arm. She swore she could hear something crunching, could smell the blood, could feel the tearing of her tissue. Minute jaws nibbled on her.

Fuck, fuck. Fuck.
Mandy blubbered her fears into the object blocking her mouth, shrieking silently as the small terrible agonies began in her other arm and then her feet.

Though she writhed and nearly tore her arms from their sockets, nothing came loose; her body stayed there, splayed out, blood trickling from the holes. She was being eaten on the inside. Panting wetly past the gag, with the fear clawing at her so hard that red prickled at her eyes, she looked at him.

Christopher’s mouth straightened then curved upward and he smiled for the first time.

“Hello, little bitch.”

“Talia!”

She jumped and turned to find Greg, the lab’s nice guy, staring at her.

The strange tug on her that made her want to leave ASAP and travel north zipped away. It’d come back, guaranteed. Just like when she woke every morning, she’d recall dreams of a man with water-clear green eyes in a dark swirling coat, and a blood-smeared crazy guy crawling about the walls of Brittany’s destroyed apartment.

Her memories of the devastation after the earthquake seemed so odd, and so tainted. Though having your sister declared missing, presumed dead, after a massive disaster might tend to give anyone nightmares.

“You were about to turn into stone if you stood there any longer.” He nodded at her coffee mug. “And the spoon may have dissolved.”

She twitched the corner of her mouth as she lifted the teaspoon out. “With the disgusting brand they buy for the staff room, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“It is pretty toxic. I’m on my third stomach transplant this year.” He slumped into one of the armchairs around the coffee table. “Lucky you’re off on sabbatical tomorrow. While you’re out in the big normal world, drink some good coffee and tell me what it’s like.” He paused. “Are you okay? You look shaky.”

“I’m fine. I think lunch disagreed with me.”

It was him, though. The mystery man. She knew exactly what she’d find at the end of the journey her urge was pulling her to take. Not the bloodied man, not some revelation about Brit’s apartment,
him
, the man in the coat. Was it from sneaky hypnosis, or a psychosis, something she needed therapy for? Before she hired a shrink she was going to go back to Brisbane to see if she could find that elusive clue that would explain everything.

Oh hell, who was she fooling? She needed to go back there to find him…if he existed, and she knew he did, which was just not logical. And if she did find him, she was going to yell at him for giving her insomnia for months. Bastard. Whoever he was.

Pity she couldn’t take a sword on the plane. That was the other half of the urge – go armed. There was something, or someone, bad, waiting for her too. Anyone sensible would want to carry a gun, and there was her insane urge again.
Sword, sword, sword
, it whispered to her.

“What’s that?” Greg stood at her shoulder. “Hey, great origami kite.”

“Yeah.” Talia ran her finger over the folds. It was a paper sword, only she wasn’t telling him that. Her origami truly sucked.

“Make sure you relax in between studying. I need you back again in a few months ready to teach and finish off that thesis.”

“Definitely. The University of Queensland looks fantastic but the beaches there are as good as they get. I’ll bring you back loads of pictures of surf, sand, and swimsuits.”

And men with swords, and creepy wall-climbing guys.

“Ssss!” She sucked on her finger where blood welled from a paper cut.

The red on her pale skin was alarming. The droplet on the paper looked frightening. She was fine with blood when it was in a pipette, but not like this – fresh and raw. If she ever got to really use a sword on someone, she’d likely faint.

“Willow?”

Someone shook her. No one called her that anymore, except for him. Alarmed, she blearily opened her eyes. “Ally!” She smiled at her cousin. “Just you.”

The morning light streamed in through the window and silhouetted Ally. As she leaned in, wisps of her long hair shifted against the glaring white. White on white. No one had blond hair as pale as Ally’s. “Yes, just me. I was worried. It’s late.”

“What time?” Her arm ached when she turned to see the clock. She hissed. Also hurting was her neck.

“It’s nine. You’ve got bruises, Willow.”

“Will. Remember? Willow isn’t me anymore.”

“No. I’ve decided I like it again.”

“You’ve decided?”
Shit.
The little frown on Ally’s face said she wasn’t changing her mind. When her cousin got an idea, it stayed got.

“I’ve made you coffee. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” She was such a sweet thing. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“No, you won’t.” Ally stood,
determined
written all over her face. “Turn over. I’m going to massage you. It’ll make you feel better.”

Though she considered protesting, she gave up and rolled over, sighing when Ally’s long fingers began their work. The girl knew how to fix muscle aches like no one else.

Willow now, hey? She played with the syllables in her mind. Funny how she had two people wanting to use the old name. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea? It was pretty. She didn’t need the name change to prove her toughness anymore.

Ally’s fingers reached a knot high on her shoulder and she groaned in relief as the pain ebbed.

“I hit the right spot?”

“Yes. Wonderful.” She tucked her head deeper into her pillow.

“What happened?”

Oops. How much could she say? She didn’t want to upset her. Ally was so innocent of the outside world. She received a government payment for looking after her and that, with her wages, helped them both keep the house, pay rates, live. But there wasn’t anything that could make Ally lose her fear of what was out there. People scared her to bits. Crowds ditto and parks and open spaces in the city. Open spaces in the country were strangely okay; the one time she’d tried taking her camping had proved that. But they couldn’t afford to go camp out in the middle of nowhere forever.

Her psychiatrist had resorted to drugs and a few checkups a year, once it was clear they couldn’t afford expensive treatment.

“Who gave you these marks?” Her delicate fingers trailed cool and comforting over Willow’s neck. “It wasn’t the man who came to our door, I know that.”

“What?” She turned back over and sat up.

Ally shifted down the bed and waited, wide-eyed, her hands curled in the lap of her green dress, and looking like some ethereal creature who’d been caught casting a spell.

“How’d you know about him, about Stom?”

She sucked on her lip for a moment or two. “He’s different, isn’t he?”

“You saw him through the front window?”

“No. I heard you talking, just a little. Then I went back to sleep once I knew he was safe. He likes you.”

Every so often Ally surprised her with some conclusion that didn’t seem possible. Willow sat back against the headboard. “Likes?”

She thought about that. He had saved her from rape and assault, told her he wanted to rescue her from evil, and given her a great orgasm.
Likes
summed it up, pretty much. Then he’d hinted at claiming her, ohmigod.

Ally poked out her tongue. “Was I right?”

“Little smartass.”

“See! Come get coffee and tell me about your new boyfriend.” Then she bounced upright and pranced down the hallway. “I like him too!” she tossed back.

Willow rotated her head, testing her muscles. Her back and everywhere felt so much better. The girl had magic in those fingers.

It wasn’t until she’d eaten a bowl of cereal and had a second mug of coffee under her nose that Ally gave her the eye. “What?”

“Him. Tell me. Please? And the other stuff. I need to know what happened last night.”

Their little house was flanked by the culvert with the jungle of vines and overgrown shrubbery on one side, and the furniture warehouse on the other. The neighbors across the road had their nights of drag racing and loud music, but really, her aunt had lucked out. They were a fortress of isolation. The crime rate was high enough, around here, that if you had the same door lock for more than a year, you went and bought a lottery ticket. Or stole one.

“I don’t think you need to know, Ally,” she said quietly.

“I do.” Pale of face, yet resolute, the girl clutched her coffee mug. “I think I do.”

Damn. She swallowed a mouthful of lukewarm yet super-strong coffee.

Lucky? In fifteen years, they’d never had a burglary. The one time someone had rocked the roof, they’d screamed and run off before she’d wrenched the door open to yell at them. This place was safe. How could she tell Ally about last night when she was so naïve? Nothing bad got into this house. Not since she came to live here, after her parents died in the fire.

She shut her eyes, hiding the pain. The memory of that still hurt like nothing else ever would.

“It’s okay, Willow. I’ll protect you.”

The sadness in her voice made Willow open her eyes and smile. “Course you will.”

“But you
have
to tell me. I promise you, I will worry more if you don’t tell me.”

Such big, earnest, gray eyes. It was possibly true. Ally fluctuated from mood to mood. She already was worried.