Persona (39 page)

Maybe she would he wonders; it’s not like he knows what happened to him. For all he knows, he could have lost control and they had to bring him down. In the back of his mind though, he knows that’s not possible. The last thing he remembers is rushing into the warehouse searching for Moira and Raven with Liam and the others. He can see it as clear as if he is there again, the way she looked tied up and bleeding; all helpless. Definitely something that made a giant ball of rage course through him, and it didn’t help matters that Raven was also tied up and bleeding right beside her.

He never wanted to hurt someone more than he did right then, seeing his friends like that. Then there is the fact that when they first rushed into the room, Moira and Liam’s eyes found one another before anything else. It kills him a little, to know that the other boy was just as worried about her as he was.

It seems ridiculous to be thinking about this right now he knows, but how can he not though. He feels like he had prior claim to Moira or something, and Liam is just stepping all over his turf with no regard for the rules. It’s a stupid thing to think, but he can’t help it. He would do anything for her, and he has already; he just wished that she was honest with him. Clearly she lied about not being interested in the other boy, and that’s obvious by the embrace he interrupted not that long ago.

He’d like to think of himself as not being the jealous type, and maybe it’s the wolf dna in him, but he can’t make the feelings go away. The last thing he remembers though is seeing her and Raven being led outside by Ray and Daisy. That makes him feel better at least, all he has to do now is figure out where he is and who has him; not to mention why.

He is sitting down, he knows that much, and the ground is cold and damp beneath him. He must have been tied up in the same position for a while before he even woke, because his legs are already getting locked up on him. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he has the feeling he’ll be able to get away, is to use his persona.

This usually wouldn’t even be a question for him, but with Fletcher after all of them, using his persona might not be the best idea in front of the bad guy. For some reason, and maybe a good one, he has the sense that he’s not with Fletcher at all. From what Moira has told him about the man, he seems like a standard protocol type of torturer; and this seems like he’s in a bad horror movie or something.

Better safe than sorry though, and he figures it might be smart if he takes stock of the area before he goes all hulk on his captures. Knowing the room is cold and damp based on the ground he’s on, he takes in a deep breath and his senses are filled with a musty mildew scent. He gets the feeling that where ever he is, the place hasn’t been used in a while; it has that abandoned scent to it. This doesn’t really tell him where he is though, just what the conditions are.

Taking another deep breath, he concentrates on the sounds that are around him rather than the scents. He picks up on a faint dripping sound right away, and he raises his head up to where it’s coming from. Testing an idea, he jerks on the restraints again and moves the pipe behind him. The dripping sound picks up speed, and he can hear an audible splash almost right in front of him. This leaves him to believe that he might be underground, and a new sound confirms it.

There are stomping footsteps coming from above, and it sounds like there might be more than ten people making them. That’s not the only thing he is picking up on now; there are voices too. They are very faint and he can’t make out what they are saying exactly, but he has the sense that those are policemen up there.

Not knowing that for certain, but he does have the smarts to think if they were cops, he’d be in a jail cell right about now. So then who has him, he wonders. If it’s not the cops, and probably not Fletcher; then it’s an outside variable that is in play now. And someone unknown means dangerous, and that means he can go all hulk now and get the heck out of dodge.

Forcing himself to relax, he allows his body to ease back against the pipe that is behind him. Clearing his mind of all his worries, he takes in a deep breath and allows his persona that is always lurking just beneath his skin to rise to the surface. Only, there is nothing there. No figurative bee buzzing against his skin, no humming sliding across his senses; nothing. Gritting his teeth in concentration, he tries again, and the only thing that happens is the slight headache he has gets worse.

What the heck, he wonders; he’s never had this problem before. Sure he’s known for being a little bullheaded for using his persona at the drop of a hat from getting angry; but never this before. He just feels empty, like there was never a persona there for him to call on. He’s felt many things in his life, but nothing ever made his persona disappear on him.

He’s about to attempt to call on it again, no matter that his head feels like there are fireworks going off behind his covered eyes, when a new sound makes him freeze. It’s one of those slow and a creepy creaking sound, which leaves him to believe it, might be a door opening somewhere close by.

That’s when the constant footsteps start to come down and closer to him, and suddenly he has an idea of where he might be. A damp, musty, cold place, with sounds coming from above and stares leading below can only be one thing; a basement of some kind. It doesn’t exactly give him the entire knowledge of where he is, but it is a clue, so that’s something at least.

The footsteps coming down towards him are soft footfalls, and he has the thought that it’s either a woman or a very small man coming for him. Either one is fine by him, and he wonders if maybe he can talk is way out of being tied up like an animal. Regardless of his bravado, he tenses as the footsteps reach his level, and begin to approach him. The closer whoever it is gets to him, the tenser he gets, and by the time they are almost to him; he is clenching his hands so tightly behind him he feels his nails cut into his palms.

And when the footsteps come to a stop almost a breath away, he feels like a cornered animal being threatened. A growl forms at the back of his throat. He doesn’t bother to stop it as it slips through and just pulls back his lips to make it sound more feral.

Before he even senses movement a gentle soft hand touches his cheek. This causes him to flinch away from the touch, but the growling comes to a stop. He forces himself back against the pipe and even though it digs into him painfully, he does what it takes to get away from whoever is before him.

“Hush now you poor dear.” A woman’s voice says with a light twang.

Well, at least he knows that he isn’t with Fletcher, since he wouldn’t have a woman’s voice. At least he doesn’t think the man does.

***

Laying back against yet another unfamiliar bed, with an ease that is becoming constant, Moira wishes she was anywhere but where she is. This thought sends her reeling, especially since she has finally made it to Montana, and can sit still for the first time in weeks. The one thing that kept her going all this time, was that if she kept her head held high and stayed strong, everything would be fine once she got to the pack. Sure she is safe, but at what cost?

Not everyone made it here, and that, is the reason Moira hasn’t left the room that was deemed hers the night before. A room that makes her even more uncomfortable in her skin, than she already is. Not that she is ungrateful or anything, because the attempt to make her relaxed is noted. She just isn’t used to people clambering around to her every need; not even her own family is like that.

The room in question was definitely put together with her in mind, or maybe just for a girl, since no one really knows her yet. The bed she is currently occupying, is a dark mahogany wood canopy with actual see through lace draping around the bed like a curtain; and it’s adorned with a fluffy lavender quilt and matching silk sheets. She isn’t going to lie here, the bed was a blessing to climb into the night before, and yes she was asleep almost instantly.

Not before she scoped out the rest of the room of course, this has a matching wood dresser and desk. They are strategically placed along the only two opposite walls, both of which already filled with things meant for her; not that she used any of it, or plans to. Her room has a window behind the right wall with the desk, with lavender drapes, and the view is of a thriving garden with all kinds of herbs; the scents travel into the room even now with it tightly sealed shut.

She knows she should feel completely welcome here, and at least try to make herself at home; but she just can’t. Normally at a time like this she would have company, but the one person she relies on for comfort, is the one person missing from their group. Not that the others didn’t try, because Raven, Daisy, and even Ray wanted to keep her company the night before; but she wouldn’t let them. This is the first time they all had their own beds to sleep in; she wouldn’t ruin that for them.

Besides, they would only try to reassure her that everything is fine, when she knows for a fact that it’s not. Marty would know the right thing to do in this very moment, to get her out of bed and to get over feeling guilty for things out of her control. But he’s not here, and she’s alone.

Just thinking about everything that has happened recently, brings fresh tears to her already red rimmed eyes. And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame but her. Well, that’s not completely true she thinks, there is one name that comes to mind pretty easily; Liam’s. He is the one after all, that left not only Marty, but Gordon as well, the day before back at the warehouse. The warehouse, the memory of being kidnapped is almost laughable now. How crazy cult people can get away with that crap, she has no idea. It’s a good thing they aren’t the craftiest criminals, Moira thinks, or they’re numbers might be shorter than they are.

Moira knows that she is a little more to blame than Liam though, since she was the one caught in a compromising position by Marty. A position where she was caught kissing Liam, after she assured Marty that she felt nothing for the other boy. She knew it was a lie when she first told him, but how do you tell a boy that is your best friend, who is deeply into you, that you have a strange connection to someone else. You can’t, that’s what, which is why she kept it to herself.

She regrets it now though, and wants nothing more to take back that kiss. Because right after that, just seeing Marty’s face, killed something in her. It didn’t take any thought to chase after him when he turned away from her; even when Liam stepped away to let her.

She never got the chance to tell him how sorry she was though, in that moment is when the fore mentioned cult group, the Purists, broke into Gordon’s house. Something happened to her then, that she doesn’t even know how to explain to herself. She has been angry before as well as upset, and usually these feeling would bring her persona over her; but this time it was different. It was like her persona fed on her emotions and used it to be stronger; which is a new development.

Even newer, is the fact that she used some pretty juiced up moves back at Gordon’s. The memory of it is a little blurry even now though, like none of it really happened to her. She does remember feeling a strong rage, and it was all directed at the men attacking her. She had moved to fast for her mind to really keep up, and by the time the bodies were motionless on the ground, only then did she realize it was her doing the hurting now.

Even worse, is the fact that Liam and Marty both were in the hallway with her, when she did it. She can still picture both of their faces, as they watched her like they didn’t even know who she was. And honestly, she doesn’t know who she is anymore. All of this is the courtesy of the man in her nightmares, Doctor Peter Fletcher. She knows he did something to her back at the facility when she was captured, she can feel it. Her persona has been out of whack, ever since he injected her with a new drug he supposedly designed.

Apparently the idea was to make ones persona dormant, and she knows personally that it works. It felt wrong and empty to have her persona disappear from her senses. Before any of this happened, she would have given anything to be normal, but when it was gone; all she wanted was for it to come back. And come back it did.

When it first came back to her, it almost tore right out of her, at a speed she never had before. Every hurt she had on her body, healed at a rate that left her screaming in pain from it all. Moira used to be the epitome of control, but ever since that day, she has had no such thing. Now her persona comes on like a drop of a hat, and with no warning tingle like before. She can feel her persona differently now, and she doesn’t know what it means; only that it scares her. It’s like a need, the need to hunt, to kill and worst of all - to feed.

It scares her to know that she might not be in control of her body and could really hurt someone. On the plus side of the crap done to her, she heals a lot faster than the others. The wound in her thigh from an arrow the day before is gone, and not even a scar; it’s the same for any mark that she got when she was at the facility. Even the pain in her side is gone, and so is the scar of an incision that she still doesn’t know what happened.

There are too many questions going through her mind, and not enough answers. That is the reason she didn’t run back to find Marty on her own, and forget the mission of getting to Liam’s father. Because he can help her get the answers she needs; now all she has to do is leave the room and go and ask him.

None of this matters to Moira though, because what is the point to having answers, if everyone you care about is gone. Marty isn’t the first person she has lost recently, he’s just one of the many she tries not to think about. Like her father, who gave himself over to Fletcher so she could escape with Liam away from the facility; or her mother, whom she has never met, because of Fletcher. It’s all too much for her, and all she wants is to curl into a ball and let everything fade away.

Feeling tears roll out of her eyes, Moira does just that, and turns her head into the fluffy pillows of the bed that will never really be hers. Sobs begin to form inside her, and she clenches her eyes shut as she starts to pull the comforter up over her head; but a knock at the bedroom door interrupts her wallowing.