The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (28 page)

He pictured Amy smacking lips with Gwain, then pictured himself ripping Gwain's throat out. He looked at Karl. "Are you okay with this? This is a little weird."

Karl leaned into him and said, "It's much more weird when you're wearing nothing but a morgue sheet."

"Oh. Too much info, man."

"Sorry."

The lights coming from Elena and Gwain faded and they pulled away from each other. Elena looked virtually post-coital, and Gwain looked… Well, he'd be damned. He looked like he'd lost ten years and gained a bit of good health to boot.

"Why the transference?" he asked.

"When Katarra told us Amy was in the past, Elena remembered a spell she could cast that would astrally carry her back to important points in her mother's past. She tried it to see if she could find out anything new that would help us get her out. During the spell, she discovered that Gwain had imbued Elena with his energy while she was in her mother's womb, to stop the Shanka from sensing she existed. She still had that energy within her and felt it was time to give it back. It really was quite a beautiful kind of spiritual reunion," he reflected. "Oh, before I forget…" Karl reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Pueblo. It read 9
^th
October, 1956.

Maybe God doesn't hate me after all.
He looked up at the sky, with a sigh of relief.
Thank you.
 

"Since we now know Amy's in the past, Elena could go in and find the exact date. Hope it helps."

"Does it ever." He could be there in seconds …
mere seconds.
Once he was there, finding her specific location would be easy – the blood-bond ensured that.

Gwain and Elena approached them.

"Elena, thank you," said Pueblo, holding up the piece of paper.

"Go get her," she nodded.

He turned to leave.

"Wait," called out Karl. "There's something else you should know. Two hours ago, we had a visit from the police. They arrested Mary for triple murder."

"What the fuck?"

"That pretty much sums up what we all thought."

"Is she in jail? Are we getting her out?"

"We reckon she's all right for the moment, in that she's not going anywhere and we know where she is. Right now, it's more important we get to Amy, but as soon as you've brought her back, we're sorting out what to do about Mary."

"And my mum," added Elena.

Pueblo nodded, then wondered what ever happened to his plan of getting the hell away from them all as soon as he had saved Amy.

Gwain suddenly turned his head to one side, as if he'd just heard something, spread his wings and disappeared in front their eyes.

"What…?"

Karl let out a little huff. "He does that sometimes, and never discreetly."

Chapter Nine

During a nightmare, Mary would never know if she had woken up. The pain was always there – mainly an excruciating stabbing in her head – so there was nothing to distinguish awake from sleep for her. The intensity of the pain depended on what she saw … and felt, because she always
felt
what she saw in these God-forsaken horrors that were her life.

Her mistake had been lying down. The cot was extremely uncomfortable, and she'd been lulled into a false sense of security, thinking she'd never fall asleep with springs and other unidentified lumps digging into her … how stupid. Of course she'd fall asleep,
because
of the crap digging into her – she was a pain junkie, for heaven's sake. Pain brought her relief, but she'd been too pissed off and wound up to think straight after they'd carted her in.

Being after 10 p.m. when she'd arrived at the jail, they'd searched her, demanded she remove all her jewellery, then threw her straight in a cell – not even her own cell – and told her that statements would be taken in the morning. Personally, she thought they were gunning for a confession. The older policeman – the one that had cuffed her – clearly already thought she'd done it.

It irked her that she'd had to hand over her necklace. The bastards had even put it in a seal-up bag as evidence. Evidence of what? Did they think she'd scored the victims' bodies with her inappropriate Chinese symbols? That necklace was the only thing that
may
have come from her real parents, whoever the hell they were – it was found in the basket they'd left her in. It had come with her – they were a package. She never felt right without it on, and it was the first thing she reached for now as she screamed for the demon that looked like a mutant, human-walrus hybrid to stop eating Sophia's flesh. Of course, this time, the necklace wasn't there.

The demon ignored her screams, but held her eye as it took the girl's arm in its mouth and crunched down on it with its huge, bone-breaking teeth.

Sophia screamed, and so did Mary, as she felt the bones in her own arm crumble. The eight-year-old was lying naked on a stone slab with little razor cuts all over her poor, bruised body. Her eyes had been sewn shut, and Mary could feel the blood crusting around the stitches in her own eyes – except she could still see. Her nightmares were always fucking unfair that way.

On two other stone slabs lay John and Leonard, other walrus-type monsters feasting on their bodies as they lay completely conscious, able to feel everything and unable to move anything. All three of them had their heads turned towards her, and she could see the plea in their eyes despite them being sewn shut.

"MARY!" This scream was from Sophia. "Make it stop!
PLEASE!
"

But Mary could never make anything stop. She was always a voyeur in her dreams, forced to look, forced to feel, and forced still. There was nothing to do except wait to wake up, and this time waking up was going to be hell, if this wasn't already her being awake, because she could feel every attack being made on all three victims at once.

Her first clue that she had already woken up, was when she rammed her head into the bars of the cell. Hard. Hard enough to cause the right amount of pain needed to clear her mind a fraction. Just a fraction, and then the stabbing inside her head was back in full force. She gripped her head and dug her fingers into her temples, breaking skin. That was a little better, but it would only last seconds, she knew. At this stage, if she were at home, she would already have reached into
that
drawer and be cutting herself and doing God knows what else, until the bulk of the pain subsided, which could take hours. There were no tools at her disposal here, which meant she was utterly and completely screwed. She could hear screaming and assumed it was coming from herself, although she did catch a glimpse of her cell mate, and she looked pretty freaked out, so maybe it was her.

Pain. I need pain NOW.

Mary got on her knees and scraped her fingernails as hard as she could along the cement floor. They ripped; they bled; the stabbing in her head receded, along with the visuals of the monsters and bleeding victims.

Don't stop.

She would grind her flesh and bone down to her knuckles if she had to.

The lights came on.

Shit.

They were coming to get her. They'd sedate her, she knew it. That's what they'd done once when she'd been in the detention centre and had had a bad night. No way she was going down that road again – the drug they'd given her had locked her in her own body, but done sod all for the agony. The result had been her entombed in her own torturous dream for 48 hours. Never again.

"No!" she cried, as they unlocked the door.

They were on her in a second. Two of them, either side of her, prising her hands away from the floor, shouting at her, shouting at each other. "Get the Hypnovel!"

"No, please!" But without the continuous hurt of her fingernails being torn, her mind was already being possessed by the afflictions of her nightmare. She fought it; needed to retain some sanity…

"Hurry, she's having a seizure!"

"Christ," mumbled the guy to her left. "She's gonna pop like a balloon."

Balloon.
A single image found its way into her mind amongst all the pandemonium that lived there: the angel balloon Sophia had given her. Gwain.
Gwain.
 

"Gwain!"

A woman with a needle ran into the cell. The needle came at her, and she hadn't a clue what happened next because the agony had kicked in once again. A fresh scream left her and bounced around the cell walls. In desperation, she bashed her head against the floor, and realised she could. No one was restraining her anymore. She went to do it again, but was yanked back by her jersey instead and thrown against the wall. She landed so hard, she felt a sudden quiet, but didn't have time to breathe a sigh of gratitude before her mind was once again sabred and her vision clouded.

She was hauled up by her wrists and pinned against the wall with her arms above her head. The weight of a body pressed against her, holding her in place. Just as well, because her legs wouldn't have done the job. There was a ripping sound and then…

Sweet respite!
Her cry of sheer relief filled the air, as something sharp tore through her forearm. Her mind cleared. She blinked, and saw Gwain in front of her, a large safety pin in his right hand as his left held her arms up.

"Amazing what you can find in a prison guard's desk drawer," he said. "Do I have your focus?"

She glanced to her left and saw blood seeping out of a long cut that ran down her arm. Another glance downwards told her she was topless. That must have been the ripping sound.

Seems like Gwain isn't going to mess around.

And she was grateful.

Her eyes swept quickly around the cell, and she saw all the guards and her cell mate slumped on the floor as if sleeping.

"Do I have your focus?" he repeated.

She looked back at him. "For about ten seconds before the pain kicks in again."

He nodded. His voice was steady. "There are just three things I need to know. First: is there anything you don't want me to do to you?"

She shook her head. There was nothing he could do that would be worse than what she'd spent the last twenty-one years dreaming. "Wait," she thought suddenly. "Don't kiss me. This isn't that kind of deal. You promised – no strings."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, an unreadable look in his grey eyes, then nodded his agreement.

Her head suddenly slammed back and she wailed in anguish, as pain found its way into her brain once more. Sophia's criss-crossed eyes filled her mind, the sharp taste of bile hit the back of her throat.

The safety pin tore through her right arm this time, and she gulped in air as her head cleared.

"Two: how long do I have to do this for, Mary?"

"It'll take hours unless…"

Unless I orgasm.

But she wasn't about to tell him that … then again, he was an angel. If by some miracle he could make it happen, she would be dream-free for a week. She decided to tell him. "Unless I orgasm during … but I never can."

He nodded again.

"Last: do you trust me?"

That one took her by surprise, and she had no idea how to answer it. Did she trust him? She barely knew him. Yet here he was, prepared to give her the relief no one else would or could.

She stared at his eyes, a shade lighter than the cement floor beneath their feet. There was a steeliness behind them that reminded her of her own reserves – what she called upon when she had to keep on going. But did that mean she could trust him?

"Mary, I can't do this if you don't trust me."

It was nothing logical that made up her mind for her – it was the smell of him. Frankincense and that something else she couldn't put her finger on, but was familiar all the same. It smelt like safety and freedom all wrapped up in one. It smelt like the childhood memories she
should
have had… It smelt like home.

"Yes, I trust you."

And then she was drowning in torment, shouting out, unable to breathe, as the torture no one should ever know so intimately invaded her mind … again. It felt like two giant hands were squeezing on either side of her brain, and she wondered if her ears were bleeding, the pressure was so much.

She had a vague sense of being manhandled to the floor. She couldn't tell if she was kicking out and writhing – probably – she wasn't sure. She'd worry about it with anyone else, but she knew Gwain could handle a few kicks, so she let the worry go.

The rough cement against her bare back tore up her skin a little, and dulled the spiking pain into something that was more like a migraine and less like someone sawing into her skull. Thank God.

Gwain lay on top of her and it stilled her from involuntarily jerking around too much. A rough hand found a breast. It kneaded it, pulled at it, then –
HOLY FUCK!
 

The shriek that ripped from her was otherworldly, and was followed by a sudden clearing of her mind. The skewering of her brain ceased – completely. She was only mildly aware of her other breast being kneaded and pulled and then—

Another shriek tore from her, reverberating against the bars of the cell, and then, there it was – that sweet, sweet feeling that was her body going into shock. Oh,
yes.
Everything started to numb except for the euphoric pain in her breasts, which kept her in a lovely state of alpha consciousness, without disconnecting her completely from her body. It was exactly like those times she'd almost died in those two accidents – what the hell had he done to her? Whatever it was, it was bliss – for the third time in her life since she was seven, her mind was utterly clear. She had total clarity.

Then she felt the burn begin at the juncture of her thighs. Her gasp of surprise became a licentious moan, and she automatically ground her hips against his. She needed this –
needed this –
the same way she needed air. And he was going to give it to her.

He was hard as rock against her crotch. Maybe he
did
get off on bloodplay. She stole him a glance, and lost herself for a second. Their eyes met, some invisible force making it impossible for her to look away. An intense desire shone in his. No one had
ever
looked at her that way before.