Copyright
JC Wallace 2014
Welcome to another installment of Diventando:
Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs
Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our
blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at
the end to visit other flashers.
If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read
the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and
start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.
Owen’s eyes widened as Turk took down Malcolm in
three moves. The raw power and skill made him weak in the knees. If Owen hadn’t
been scared shitless—and about to collapse onto the floor—he would have
strolled over and planted a scorching kiss on those lips. Then he would reward
Turk for his efforts. Unfortunately, the thing inside of Owen got off on sucking
the power out of humans through his dick. The realization that he’d never have
sex again was almost as disappointing as knowing that he was going to have to
die to kill the Incubus.
Why was he bothering even to escape?
So he didn’t die in this shithole of a hospital,
that was why.
“What’s going on?” Drew asked, still on
speakerphone. “You guys need to get going!”
Wayne lifted the phone. “Hold on, Drew. We hit a
snag.” He must have covered the speaker because the rest of Drew’s protests
were muffled.
Malcolm lay on his stomach in the floor while Turk
pushed a knee into his back. Turk held both of Malcolm’s tattooed wrists in one
of his large hands. Malcolm let out a few choice swear words, struggling to no
avail. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Turk raised his head and tossed a worried glance at
Owen. Despite the tenuous situation, Owen ginned wide, eliciting a wink and
grin back from Turk. In one swift motion, Turk snatched Malcolm from the floor.
“Fuck, Daniel,” Malcolm snarled as Turk manhandled
him.
“Shut the fuck up, shithead,” Turk growled back.
“What the hell are you doing? That thing is dangerous and you’re, what? Taking
it out for a stroll? What hell is wrong with you? You’re the hunter! Your entire reason for being is to hunt demons and send their
asses back to hell!”
A guttural roar came from Turk as he shoved Malcolm
into the wall. The man’s head thudded against the concrete and Turk pressed
hard into his back. “I believe I told you to shut your mouth.”
Your
entire reason for being is to hunt demons...
Just what was a demon hunter doing freeing a demon,
anyway? This was all wrong. Owen should be tied down and...
Sad, brown eyes locked with Owen’s and the intensity
of the stare sent a jolt down his spine. No one had ever affected him with a
single look like Turk did. Turk was risking his life for Owen. Refusing to
leave now would only get them all killed. This was Owen’s last chance to tell Turk
how he felt. Once they were safe—or even just had the illusion of safety—he’d
make sure Turk knew what he meant to Owen, despite the lies, and the demon, and
the betrayal.
“Turk, while I’m all for roughing up the natives, we
need to haul ass,” Wayne reminded him, holding up the phone and removing his
thumb from the speaker.
“Move it guys!” Drew shouted from the phone.
At that moment, an ear-piercing alarm sounded,
startling Owen and tripling his heart rate.
“Fuck! Wayne, grab the door. Now!” Turk yelled.
Wayne darted up the stairs and yanked open the steel door before the bolt slid
out to lock it.
Shit, that was close.
Turk scowled and pulled out a set of handcuffs from
some hidden place on his body. He cuffed Malcolm’s hands behind his back. Turk pushed
Malcolm up the three steps where he stumbled into Wayne. Wayne snagged him and
held him in place.
“What are you doing with me?” For the first time
since they’d stumbled across the two men, Malcolm was letting his fear showing.
“You’re coming with us,” Turk said, and started to
move towards Owen, who held his breath, anxious to touch Turk again.
Malcolm immediately started to struggle again. “Like
hell I am!”
“Like you
have a choice. Besides, I hadn’t planned on it, but we could use someone with
medical expertise.”
Did Turk expect Malcolm to help take care of Owen?
Had he lost the last of his marbles?
“I would never help that thing! Wes! Do something!”
Malcolm screamed over the alarm however, Wes wasn’t hearing him. One glance at
Wes confirmed that he was still cowering in the corner, his fear-laden eyes
unwavering from Owen. His fear might have been amusing if the reason for it hadn’t
been so gross. As it was, Owen couldn’t even look Wes in the eye without guilt
twisting his gut.
“You know what? You’re right. How about some
insurance?”
Turk stalked over and grabbed Wes. The man came
without protest, as if the mere presence of Owen had drained him of his ability
to react.
Turk stepped up to Owen and he stroked Owen’s cheek
gently. If Owen had been a cat, he would have purred. Without a word, Turk
scooped Owen into his arms and Owen fumbled to keep hold of the IV bag. They herded
Wes in front of them as they followed Wayne and Malcolm out into the cold night
air. Owen shivered and Turk pulled him closer to his broad chest. Owen soaked
in every ounce of warmth he could get from the man.
“Almost there,” Turk whispered as they approached a large,
grey SUV parked next to the building. Owen was definitely disappointed that it
wasn’t the Mustang.
Wayne opened the back door and stuffed Malcolm—who
hadn’t stop shouting—inside, followed by Wes, and then himself. Turk gently
placed Owen into the front seat and buckled his seat belt. With a brush of his
lips over Owen’s forehead Turk stepped back. A metal ping caused him to spin
away from Owen.
“Shit someone’s shooting at us!” Wayne yelled.
Without thought, Owen reached out and yanked Turk
back, causing him to fall on top of Owen.
“Get in the car!” Owen yelled, trying with his
weakened arms to pull Turk further in. More pings and then the passenger side window
shattered.
Owen screamed as glass showered him and Turk as Turk
struggled to get into the SUV. A cold wetness spilled over Owen’s lap and when
Turk had finally managed to get over into the driver’s seat, Owen gasped and
stared down into the deflated remnants of the IV bag.
“No,” he whispered.
He looked up at Turk and knew he had to get away
from them. Owen tried to unhook his seatbelt, but an iron grip on his wrist
stopped his progress.
“No! Let go!” Panic wrapped tight around Owen and
his breath came out in shallow pants. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not
now.
Owen wasn’t sure how Turk managed it while holding
his wrist, but the SUV roared to life and they were moving. Owen’s door was
still open and bullets continued to riddle the side of the SUV. As Turk took
the corner and skidded out of the parking lot, the door slammed closed.
However, the missing window let in a wave of cold air that crashed over Owen’s
skin. He shuddered, and then his muscles started to shake, and his teeth
chattered, but he could have cared less about the icy air. The demon was coming
back.
# #
Wonderful & exciting
ReplyDeleteLove it!
ReplyDelete