Shadow's Turning- Part 16

I blinked as I hit with a jarring impact, my breath coming out of me in a huff.  I just lay there for a few seconds, waiting for something to happen, the coolness of the asphalt seeping into me.

Warily, I turned my eyes to the side, afraid of what I might find, my heart feeling like it was trying to bust out of its cage.

I stared out at the empty expanse of road and blinked.

Sitting up carefully, every inch of me aching, I looked over to the other side to find the same.

And looked down at my watch.

Fuck me.  We made it.

And then I remembered Birch.

I got to all fours and crawled to one of the windows, cupping my hands on the glass to look inside.

“Birch!”

There wasn’t any answer.

I tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge.  Stumbling to my feet, I climbed to the top and carefully lowered myself inside through the jagged hole.

Birch lay face down amidst splatters and pools of dark blood.

I put my hand on his back and jerked it back at the wetness I found there.  Moving it over to the light coming in from the window, I looked down at the red blood there.

Frantic now, I moved my hands carefully over his back and found slices in the shirt I hadn’t noticed before, made by something sharp.  I pulled up the sodden shirt and found the deep wounds bleeding sluggishly.

I patted his pockets and found the hard rectangle of his phone.  Pulling it out, I stared at it.

This had all happened because Birch didn’t want us taken in by the police.  If I called for help, I might as well be slamming the door shut on our respective prison cells.

I looked at Birch, at how shallow his breathing was, at how much blood he’d already lost.

Better alive in a cell with an inkling of hope than dead and free.

I called.

Chapter 7

I watched as they loaded Birch onto a stretcher, his face too pale, the contrast between his skin and the white sheet too faint.

“You’re going to have to come in with us, Ms. Evans.”

I looked away from the ambulance as they shut the doors.

Detective Patel was tall and thin, with a severe face.  His cinnamon colored skin was smooth and perfect and he had the longest lashes I’d ever seen on a man.

They drew attention to the coolness of his dark eyes as he stared at me steadily.

I nodded as one of the officers cuffed my hands behind my back.

Hopefully this wasn’t going to become a trend in my life.

The drive down to the station was quiet, though the uniformed driver kept giving me quick glances in the rearview mirror.

Maybe he thought I might sprout some fangs or something.

Conversation died at the station as officers craned their necks to get a better look at me.  I avoided eye contact as I was led through to a small room with a table and a few chairs.  Detective Patel waited for me there, a cup of coffee steaming gently at his elbow.

The officer undid my handcuffs before re-fastening them in front of me.  I sat down, feeling light.  Like I was hollowed out and a stiff wind would easily be able to blow away the shell that was left over.

Neither of us spoke as we stared at each other.  I didn’t know what he was thinking.  My mind was completely blank

“You shouldn’t have run.”

“What do you want?” I asked abruptly.

I really had no energy to beat around the bush.  I’d rather know what they wanted right now so I could tell them to go fuck themselves and get it over with.

“We know you’ve been caught out at night before last night.  We also know you went to Birch and his friend for help.”

I watched as he slowly moved the cup to the left.

Leaving myself wide-open.

His right hand clamped down on mine where I’d rested it on the table.

Instant searing pain.

I gasped and yanked myself back hard enough that the chair skidded with me.

He held up his hand, showing me the small spiral-shaped pendant hanging from a delicate silver chain looped around his middle finger.

There was a matching burn on the back of my hand.

Patel raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair calmly.

Bastard.

“You seem to have developed an unfortunate allergy to charms, Ms. Evans.”

I didn’t respond.  What was the point in denying the obvious?

He waited to see if I’d say something.  When I didn’t, his mouth tightened with irritation.

“Now, this is obviously not…a healthy state for you to be in.  Who knows what other quirks you’ve acquired through your time spend out after curfew?  Why, you could be a danger to yourself and society.  We really can’t set you loose on the populace.”  He didn’t have to raise his voice to convey the threat.  That slightly amused tone was more than enough.

I just stared at him some more.

“Now, maybe you could prove this isn’t true.  We would need your full cooperation, of course.  But if you could show that you would be an asset rather than a threat…”

He spread his arms out wide and raised both of those mobile eyebrows.

“If you don’t cooperate, I’m afraid I won’t be able to put in a good word for you.  I’m sure you understand.”

Uh huh.

“Where’s Birch?”

“Your friend is being given the utmost care.  No need to worry about him.  You should be worried about yourself.”  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers, resting the point against his mouth as his calculating eyes read my face.  “Just a few simple tests.”

“And then you’ll let me go, right?” I asked sardonically.

He sighed.

“You know we can’t do that Ms. Evans.  But we can provide you a modicum of comfort.  Or not.”

I looked away, my hands clenching into fists.

“I’ll give you some time to think it over.”

He pushed a button and a different uniformed officer appeared at the door.

“In the meantime, Officer Alvarez will escort you to your cell.  I’ll be along in a few hours for your response.”  He stood up and leaned in close enough that his hot breath brushed against my face, his hands flattened in front of mine to brace himself.  “Resistance won’t make you heroic or noble.  It will just make you miserable.”

With that parting shot, he left the gray little room and Officer Alvarez pulled me to my feet.

I met curious eyes as he led me deeper into the station.  We passed a small cluster of cells with a few people inside, but didn’t stop.

Instead, we went down a well-lit flight of concrete steps into a hallway with a few different doors.  Opening the first one on the left, Alvarez pushed me in front of him.

One side of the room was separated with wooden bars that I was betting were charms.  Very expensive ones.  The rest of the room was a sterile white with a long bench-like table and some stools.  A quiet desktop computer was set in the far corner.

I sat down on the spare cot in the cell.  A glance at the exposed toilet had me hoping I didn’t have to go soon.  The click of the door locking echoed in the small room.

I was really hoping Birch had been exaggerating.