Chapter Six
What the hell are you talking about, Emesh? Enten’s voice dropped into the frigid range.
Just what I said. The doctor isn’t human. I’m not sure what he is, but mortal he’s not. There’s a smell wafting off him I can’t quite decipher. You know I’ve never been good at DNA recognition. Where’s Dagon when you need him?
The serpent god had a sniffer that could sort strands like no other deity.
Don’t come downstairs, Emesh continued. So far, he’s not getting any immortal vibes from me, but no need to risk anything. If he suspects us, we could be in for some deep shit.
You’re right. I’ll lay low, but I’m going to keep looking for Kate. If she’s here, we need to remove her immediately. It looks like there’s some seriously twisted things that go on in these upstairs rooms. Emesh caught nothing but cold from his twin, which boded ill. I’ll maintain radio silence until you get back to me.
Hopefully, that won’t be long. Emesh assured him. This whole place creeps me out.
I hear you, brother. Enten shut down communication.
Doctor Sicko and Douglas engaged in a silent stare-off while Emesh called up another head-connection to Marduk. He quickly filled the big cheese in on the non-human doctor and Enten’s search, then gave him pertinent addresses when Marduk told him Dorian would be arriving with a car. Emesh liked the idea of witchy backup. If they got into trouble, the take-no-prisoners warlock would be a good one to have on their side.
Trask began to talk, and Emesh reverted to human communication.
“You know,” the doctor smirked, “it’s my civic duty to alert the authorities and tell them you and Dr. Jacobsen falsified records faking your death. He’ll go to jail, and I can have you back under my jurisdiction within days.” Trask actually rubbed his long white fingers together in glee, much to Emesh’s disgust. The guy was a total whack-job.
Douglas swayed by his side, stifling a groan. And what do you know? The dear doctor gained stature when Douglas elicited fear. Bells clanged in Emesh’s head. A being who thrived on anxiety. Very familiar…but not in a good way.
Emesh didn’t dare impart warmth to Douglas for fear the other-worlder might pick it up. The best he could do would be to get loud and obnoxious. In Trask’s face. He prepared to wing it, but Enten chose that moment to pop three words into Emesh’s head.
I found Kate.… …then three more… She’s locked up.
Emesh smiled. He knew what to say. “I might call the cops myself.”
The god strode forward and poked a finger into the doctor’s chest. It sank with an unnatural squish. Emesh wrinkled his nose but took note of yet another clue to the doctor’s species.
“What will the authorities say about locking someone up who’s not under your jurisdiction?”
Douglas looked puzzled, but the doctor’s eyes narrowed.
“Of whom do you speak?” he asked, his voice dropping into a low register.
If Emesh weren’t used to his brother’s cold, the guy might have been intimidating…and speaking of intimidating, Emesh intuited a presence behind him. Turning, he recognized that two large ghouls, disguised as health aids, had slipped into the room. They stood between him and the door, arms crossed over massive chests.
Douglas saw them, too and sent a helpless, glazed look of fear in Emesh’s direction.
Emesh picked up and squeezed Douglas’ hand, reassuringly. The situation looked like shit, but he could take ghouls any day. They were mostly for show.
“I believe you have Kate locked away upstairs,” Emesh sent back brashly, wondering how the doctor would handle the accusation. He didn’t have long to wait. With a tilt of his chin, Trask sent ghoul number one out the door, presumably upstairs to take care of Kate.
Ghoul coming, Emesh sent to his brother. Keep Kate safe.
Emesh could almost feel the freeze from his brother two floors above. Nothing I like better than ghoul-pops, he laughed coldly. The ice enhances their flavor.
Good. One down, one to go. If only he could keep the fear from Douglas, Dr. Nasty wouldn’t have anything to feed on and would stay within physically handleable, human proportions. Not that Emesh didn’t think he could take on the guy, no matter his size, he just wouldn’t be able to use his god powers to do it without blowing Douglas’ mind. Emesh had to save his immortal skills as a last resort.
“You can prove nothing.” The doctor turned away from Emesh again like he was a pest to be dismissed. His attention refocused on Douglas. “But if I did have her,” he purred evilly, “I believe you are aware of the wonderful…treatments I can use to make her feel…comfortable.”
A helpless cry and a violent spasm made Douglas fold in half. The words had him reacting as if gut-punched.
Oh, hell no. How dare someone hurt his Chosen? And Douglas’ pained posture? Purely emotional or did the doctor exert some kind of physical influence that would cause such a visceral reaction?
Emesh didn’t wait to find out. Furious, he prepared to fight, first with strategy and then with his fists and powers if necessary. Turning his back to the doctor, he grasped Douglas’ forearms to speak in low, soothing tones.
“Don’t let him in your head,” Emesh let a small amount of heat trickle through his fingers. He needed Douglas to focus. “I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He gave Douglas a little shake. “Do you understand? He doesn’t scare me.”
“Very touching.” The doctor clapped his hands, applauding sarcastically. “But the minute you stepped through my door, you agreed to play by my rules. I’m in charge when you’re on my property, and it’s my opinion that Mr. Wingfeather needs to be taken to a room for…evaluation.” Trask crooked a finger at ghoul number two, who pranced forward with purpose. Emesh quickly positioned himself between Douglas and the giant, causing the being to stop.
“Don’t even think about it,” Emesh rasped, wagging a finger toward the minion and throwing aggression into his posture. Totally pissed off, Emesh decided if the doctor wanted a physical fight, he’d give him one.
“I wouldn’t interfere if I were you.” The doctor’s voice turned nasty, with no traces of the fake politeness from before. “As a matter of fact, you should leave while you’re still able. I assure you, Walther can break you in half…and would be happy to do so.”
“Oh really?” Emesh tamped down the fire in his eyes. “Then Walther is in for a world of hurt if he tries,” Emesh growled. He had trouble keeping his powers under control.
And here lay the caveat he’d learned about from the gods who’d found their mates. He’s been warned. If anything threatened the well-being of a Chosen, long dormant and dangerous traits would rise up. For Emesh, more than a thousand years had passed since he’d gone super-nova. He could feel the burn now, but he had to get a grip. Nothing would be more fucked up than doing a big reveal in front of Douglas.
He breathed deeply and backed down, forcing himself to think logically. Enten would spirit Kate out some back door, and Dorian would be here soon to use his ambassadorial skills to take care of Dr. Shit-head diplomatically. Emesh simply needed to buy some time.
“Okay. Fine. Walther can keep his green teeth to himself, but we need to have a serious talk over tea.” The god inwardly cringed, but put ‘limp’ into his wrist, releasing his highest fricatives. “Sorry for getting all up in your face Doctor Sweetie-Pie, but Douglas has been worried about Kate.” Emesh forced himself to sashay over to Trask where he lifted and caressed a wrinkled lapel on the doctor’s lab jacket. He leaned in and tried not to inhale the putrid odor.
“And to be clear, he’s a little scared of you,” Emesh whispered in the creep’s ear. Hah. As if that was any kind of secret. The god drew back to take a clean breath and continued his act. He kept one finger fiddling on the doctor’s squishy chest while speaking over his shoulder to the woman who’d stayed and witnessed the whole scene.
“Mrs. Danvers?” Emesh wondered if the spooky receptionist had any idea she’d stepped right out of the pages of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. “Would you set us up with some refreshment? We need to see if we can resolve our differences like…men.” Emesh stooped so low as to flutter his lashes at the doctor. He made up his mind. He’d offer himself up to the perv if it would get Douglas out of danger…and speaking of Douglas…
Emesh made a reluctant show of leaving Trask and returned to where his ashen, shaking mate stood. He gently led him to a padded chair and had him sit. “Trust me with this,” he leaned down and barely breathed the words, knowing that Trask’s hearing probably acted as acutely as his own. “Show no fear.” Emesh didn’t know whether it penetrated, but when he waggled his hips back toward the doctor, he heard a few deep inhalations.
The psycho-prick on the other hand, faced with Emesh’s flirting, seemed at a loss for words, and wasn’t that just yummy. Flummoxed boded well and would buy time. He needed to chat with his brother.
Enten, listen up. I’m playing the gay card to get Dr. Nasty-pants off Douglas’ tail. Do me a favor and get Kate outside, then wait for Dorian. I estimate his ETA at thirty-five minutes. Once he’s here, have him pretend he’s our doctor, coming to pick us up after Douglas and I broke out of a locked psych unit in Boston.
Does that make sense? How would a caretaker know where to find you? Enten’s exasperated voice asked.
Damned if I know. Emesh couldn’t think of everything. Have Dorian ad-lib.
Fine. We’ll figure something out.
Thanks, bro and don’t dawdle or my virgin ass is in danger of being exploited. In his mind’s eye, he witnessed Enten’s wince. Straight guys were such wimps.
Emesh sniffed heartily. Time to start acting again. Trask looked to be winding up for a tirade. The god’s gaze hit on the leather-bound volumes that lined the far wall.
“Oooh, the classics.” Emesh made a show of squealing and running to the doctor’s dusty bookcase. The last time any of these tomes drew interest, Roosevelt would have been in office. “I love Ulysses,” Emesh oozed. “Don’t you feel like Stephen was really gay? All that talk of dead mothers and those urinating scenes?” Emesh shook his head and ran his fingers provocatively over the spine.
“Alright, young man,” Trask’s voice boomed across the room “What are you playing at?”
Apparently, the poor doctor didn’t understand someone unintimidated by his presence. Emesh pouted, dropped his head, and glided back to stench-man, sidling up before raising limpid eyes.
“Okay. I give. Douglas and I have been…friends for a while,” he simpered, sucking in his bottom lip. “And late at night, after dark, he told me about things…things that you’ve done to him,” Emesh whispered as if enthralled and made his face glow with what he hoped passed for desire. “I think I might like to be put…under your care if you know what I mean.” The god forced his respiration to quicken. The doctor’s also rasped out of control.
“You have a proposition to make?” Trask licked his lips, glancing briefly in Douglas’ direction. The unidentified being thrived on lust as well as fear. Good, Emesh could give him both. He forced a nervous shiver and managed to turn the doctor’s attention from the seated man.
“I’m not sure if the…pain you inflict will be too much for me to stand.” Emesh’s tones turned dulcet, “But bad boys need to take their punishment…and I’ve been very bad.”
Emesh hoped he didn’t lay it on too thickly, but glancing down at the front of Trask’s pants, reassurance became evident. The guy had a hard-on that would rival a donkey. Clenching his teeth, he ‘accidentally’ brushed his hand over the tumescence. Ultra-yuck.
“But right now, I need to have a cup of tea…and some scones. Oooh, Douglas, wouldn’t scones be a treat?”
Douglas gazed at Emesh strangely, and it took all Emesh’s willpower not to decry his whole act. If―right now―his Chosen turned from him in disgust, he’d lose his lunch as well as his thespian abilities. He got struck dumb instead, when Douglas held out a hand, his voice emerging surprisingly steady.
“I’d like that,” he stated, evenly. “But come and keep me company before I lend you out to the doctor.” Emesh barely kept his shock from showing. Douglas played along…without knowing why. Emesh didn’t care. The smooth, dark voice held such seductive promise, it almost obliterated the doctor and his cronies from the room. Whether Douglas played or not, his words made Emesh’s belly clench in anticipation.
Mincing as best he could across the room, he perched himself on the fat arm of the oak Morris chair where his intended sat. Douglas’ hand gripped his thigh. If his mate didn’t watch out, Trask wouldn’t be the only one sporting a beast-of-burden-stiffy in the room.
Madame stick-up-her-ass came back carrying a tray adorned with a yellowed, cracked teapot, a few mismatched cups, and the saddest looking allotment of cookies Emesh had ever seen. It looked akin to what he imagined came out of a senile grandmother’s pantry. Ah well. Emesh hadn’t eaten anything in four hundred years. How bad could it be?
Mrs. Danvers put the tray on a round table sporting a dusty doily and slunk back out to her post. Good riddance. Emesh reached for one of the confections. It soggily fell apart in his fingers. Okay. Maybe not so appealing. He picked up a cup, sipped, and sighed. The tea? Not so bad.
Over hot beverages, Trask actually took a chair and relaxed. He asked Emesh a number of pointed questions about his past that the god deflected and embellished upon nicely, saying things that added up to a life spent in debauchery…and mental institutions. None of his lies put the doctor off. The more bizarre episodes Emesh fictionalized, the more excited Trask became.
During a particularly well-constructed story about women’s pantyhose, Emesh finally heard from Enten. After deep-freezing a ghoul, his brother had extricated Kate from her room and down a fire escape. They were safely in Douglas’ truck, waiting for warlock-roadside-assistance. Emesh waited too. If Dorian didn’t get here quickly, the afternoon might devolve into some twisted shit that he was in no way prepared for.
A commotion out front had him breathing a sigh of relief. At last. The cavalry.
“Who is it, Belinda?” the doctor called. A shuffling and some outraged noises told Emesh that Dorian had forced his way in. Thank the gods for arrogant warlocks.
The pair burst into the room. Emesh didn’t expect to see Addie-May with Dorian, and his face went slack at the change in the witch since he’d seen her last. What-the-hell spa had she been to? Emesh’s dumbfounded-ness, although brief, worked to his advantage. Trask obviously took note; the god’s dropped jaw lending credence to the runaway scenario he had set up.
The doctor rose from his chair and approached Dorian when it became apparent Emesh knew the visitors.
“Your name, sir?” he asked, imperiously. “And an explanation for barging in so rudely, unannounced.”
A human would have been intimidated and rightly so. But Dorian? He stood toe to toe with the doctor. Gods bless him. Ewww. How could he stand the smell?
“These gentlemen are my patients,” the warlock declared. “I’m here to bring them back to their care facility.”
Emesh couldn’t have been more pleased. The nasty doctor’s mouth dropped open as if smacked. Degenerate freak. In his head, Trask probably already had Emesh strapped down and hooked up to gods knows what, and now he ‘jones-d’ for an opportunity lost. His new play-toy had been snatched out from underneath him before he’d been able to break it in. Poor baby.
“How did you know they were here?” The doctor demanded, attempting to gain the upper hand. “Neither of these men placed a call.”
“I heard from this one’s brother,” Dorian pointed at Emesh. “He said that they were coming here looking for that one’s," ―the finger swiveled toward Douglas― “mother.” Dorian managed to look disgusted. “You can’t possibly know, but they aren’t what they appear.” He shook his head at Trask. “They’re both seriously troubled, and I doubt whether there’s any mother involved. Mr. Wingfeather’s incarceration was processed through the state with no listed next of kin.”
Yay for Dorian. He’d come to the rescue and given old Trask-master a reason not to go poking his nose into Douglas’ business. If Douglas’ name had been, supposedly, entered in state records, calling the authorities would do Trask no good. And what did Addie-May extract from her pocketbook? A lethal looking syringe? Yup. Yikes. Sharp.
“Now boys, you can come with us peacefully, or I can sedate you. It’s your choice.” The witch had conjured quite a prop. One scary enough to have Emesh agreeing with alacrity.
“We’re coming, we’re coming.” Emesh reached for Douglas’ hand and brought the newly confused man to his feet. There would be a lot of explaining to do, and none of it easy. Hopefully, Douglas would simply be happy they’d escaped from the doctor’s torture-mausoleum and not ask too many questions. Yeah. Right.
Trask, on the other hand, wasn’t letting them go without a fight.
“Doctor…what did you say your name is?” He drew himself up to his full, whatever-oogie-boogie height and got right in Dorian’s face.
Addie-May to the rescue again. She dug in her purse and conjured credentials.
“This is Doctor Dorian Penmarch,” she answered briskly, moving toward Trask, holding out the requested papers. Less than two feet away, her foot caught on an ancient wrinkle in the bunched-up Aubusson. She tripped and flew toward the doctor, losing the papers.
His body stopped her trajectory, and as Emesh watched, the doctor flinched and raised a hand toward his neck. By the time Addie righted, becoming steady on her feet, the doctor’s nostrils flared irately…his gullet bloody.
“Clumsy woman,” he screeched, dabbling at his neck where her nails had torn flesh. “You’re insane, the lot of you. Get out of my house. Now.”
Dorian made a great show of taking hold of Emesh. Addie placed a gentle hand on Douglas’ arm, who fearfully struggled free and stood alone, chest heaving. Emesh gnawed his lip. Surely Trask couldn’t appear more acceptable at this moment than their escort?
“What about my mother?” his mate, hard-faced, demanded of Trask, with far more fortitude than Emesh deemed possible after the mind-fucking couple of hours they’d spent.
An evilly satisfied look crossed the doctor’s face. He simpered malevolently. “I guess we’ll never know…will we?”
The doctor remained positive at least one Wingfeather would be present and accounted for at the end of the day. What a nice surprise lay in store for him. Emesh was just sorry he’d miss Trask’s hissy fit when he found his ghoul defrosting upstairs and no patient to be found. Life gave these little disappointments.
“I’m sure the doctor has no idea where your mother is,” Dorian suggested easily to Douglas. He said it so subtly that Emesh almost missed the small spell the warlock cast. Almost. Douglas readily nodded his agreement. Show off warlock. Dorian’s persuasion had been applied way more slickly than the compelling the gods did.
Addie took Douglas by the arm again, and this time, he allowed it.
The group trooped out, and the Mrs. Danvers look-alike held the front door open for them with a sour look on her face. Emesh had the audacity to chuck her under the chin as he passed.
“Thanks, sweet cheeks, for the yummy cookies.”