Shadows Gather, Chapter 1, Part 3

Shadows Gather

Chapter 1, Part 3

Copywrite 2009, Carolynne Ciceri

Come on baby, just a little bit more. I nudge my chair back just a smidge. “Quit moving!” Michael barks. The gun barrel and his attention snap back to my face. No worries, a beam of light now hits the large aquamarine ring on my right hand, and that’s gonna be all I need. “Sorry,” which I in fact am. “Being held at gunpoint makes me a bit nervous,” which in fact, it does. Not that you could tell from the deep, relaxed tone of my voice. I fiddle with the ring and a bead of blue light flicks across his eyes. “I trusted you. Trusted you with everything.” His voice fades away into a yawn and his eyes blink, suddenly sleepy. “I know you did baby. I know. And I’ve tried to do right by you, didn’t I take you in, teach you things, make you safe?” I twitch the ring again and manage to get a slow nod. “You’re safe now. Safe with me. You can put the gun down now. You’re safe.” More sleepy nodding and the gun-hand does in fact drop to his side.

You know, I had a real sharp twinge in my conscience when I first implanted that hypnotic suggestion, keying it to a ring the color of my eyes. To be specific both ring and eyes are the color of the Adriatic Sea just off Venice. And no, they aren’t colored contact lens, thanks for asking. But I digress. I thought the hypnotic implant was maybe a bit too manipulative, even for me. But given the circumstances of our first meeting and my immediate suspicions about his true nature and of course the whole threatening my life thing just now, kinda glad I stomped that little angel voice into an unpleasant squishy spot on the pavement.

“Mica, baby” I pitch my voice into as warm a caress as I possibly can, “Seems like you’ve been partying hard with some very nasty people. Who’ve you been a bad boy with?” “Nobody. Not a bad boy.” Its mostly a sleepy slur but still too much push back for me. “Well it sure ain’t just booze honey. Someone give you some pills? Some kinda blow? You can tell me baby, you’re safe now.” Michael shakes his head heavily, “Nope. You’ll be mad.” Damn straight I will, but you won’t have to deal with that till you’re stone cold sober and nursing a headache the size of St. Louis. I try again, “Mica, sweetheart, somebody told you some nasty things about me, right? Who was it?” “Like it when you call me sweetheart Reinee. It’s nice.” Damn, he shouldn’t be able to dodge my question like that, I sure did a piss poor psychic hack job on him. Crap, serves me right for going soft on a pretty face.