Kelan: Talonian Warriors Page 3

  With her jaw swelling and throbbing, Michelle could barely speak. She quietly replied, "I was working. There was an important meeting with investors I had to attend. I knew you would be hungry, so I brought pizza." Her defiant side reared its head momentarily, and she added, "There was plenty of food in the kitchen you could have eaten. You know how to make it. Starving was your choice."

  Her defiance earned her another slap, this time to the other side of her face. She saw stars, and her ears rang, wiping out the sound of the television. Oddly enough, that was the first thing that crossed her mind. She needed to silence the television, or the neighbor would call the police. Why in the world would she do that? If her neighbor called them, Jackson would be arrested for assault. Wouldn't that be perfect?

  Jackson didn't care for what he saw in Michelle's eyes. Behind the bruises and swelling, he could tell she had a plan. His brain ran through a series of options and settled on the obvious. The neighbor had banged on the door all day, shouting about the noise. That had to be Michelle's plan. Let the neighbor call the police about the noise, and she would be saved. He refused to let that happen. As he saw it, she had to pay for her crimes against him. It was her fault he had lost his job, drank too much, and hit her: right? He couldn't be blamed for what the universe did to him. Michelle was bad luck.

  Jackson grabbed her purse and keys. Escaping wasn't an option. He picked up the remote and silenced the television, ending her hope of rescue. Michelle tried to rise and head for the door, but Jackson wrapped her in a bear hug from behind. Air whooshed from her lungs as he squeezed her tighter. He whispered in her ear, "You're not going anywhere, tonight or ever. You're the reason my life sucks, and you're going to pay for it one way or another." He dropped her into a kitchen chair, pulled an electrical cord from the wall, wrapped it around her numbed arms and the chair, and left her helpless to fight back. He picked up the pizzas and unbroken bottles of beer, then plopped it all on the table. Disappearing once more, he returned with a sharp piece of the broken glass bottle.

  Michelle opened her mouth to scream, but Jackson's hands wrapped around her throat and cut it off. "Try that again, and I'll use the broken glass to slit your throat. Don't test me." He sat down and began to eat the pizza. "I have a few questions for you, and I expect the right answers. First, where were you?"

  Michelle replied, "I told you the truth. I was working."

  Jackson's eyes narrowed, and he said, "Strike one. You were probably screwing your rich boss." He picked up the glass shard and swiped it across her thigh. Her clothing kept the cut shallow, yet the sting was painful. "Second question, where's all the money? You make a lot, but there's only a few hundred dollars in the bank account."

  "It paid for the rent, electricity, telephone, and food. Not to mention, the beer and drugs you waste it on. We can't count on your income, " she answered.

  "Strike two," he countered. "One more and you’re out." He swiped the shard across her other leg. "I want the money. There's a deal I want to get in on. It could set me up for life. Where's the money?"

  "I answered that already. Besides, if I had any, I wouldn't give it to you. I would imagine the deal has something to do with drugs and I won't be a part of it. Why don't you just go and live with your buddies? You don't like it here, so leave," Michelle declared.

  "I warned you, Chelle. That's strike three." He raised a fist and swung it at her head saying, "You're out." Her head slumped onto her chest as she lost consciousness.

  The spray of hot water against bare skin brought her back. Somehow, Jackson had stripped off her clothes and wrangled her limp body into the shower, where she now lay on the floor. He stood over her with a bottle of pills. She recognized them as the sleeping pills her doctor had ordered to combat her insomnia. Jackson shook some into his hand while Michelle struggled to rise. She was too weak to fight. He pried open her mouth and shoved in the pills. Then he held her nose until she was forced to swallow. "Good job," he said. "We're going to wash away some evidence and reduce the swelling. Then, it's nighty-night for both of us. The pills will make you oblivious so I can get some sleep. Tomorrow, you'll give me some straight answers."

  Jackson scrubbed every square inch of her, hair included. It hurt so bad, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of screaming. He wouldn't let her comb out her tangled hair. He tossed her into the bed and waited for her to pass out. Michelle fought the sleeping pills for as long as she could, hoping to outlast Jackson. It wasn't to be. The pills won out. She fell asleep and dreamed of escape. There wouldn't be any slow process of sneaking out her belongings. She would leave it all behind and run for her life at the first chance she got. The money in her hidden accounts could buy her a new life and hide her from Jackson. She might even have the courage to stop at the police station and let them see the damage. The only regret she would carry with her was leaving her job. Somehow, she would get word to Kelan and explain. He would understand.

  Chapter 4

  Michelle

  Michelle jerked awake. Pain shot through her body and every movement made it worse. She carefully sat up and glanced toward the opposite side of the bed. Jackson was sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling over the side. The stench of sour vomit hit her nostrils. She could see the trash container next to the bed. He must have used it, instead of hobbling his way to the bathroom. Now, was her one chance to escape. She slid a soft pair of jeans over the cuts and bruises on her legs and a blue t-shirt over her head. Tiptoeing to the closet, she found an old pair of tennis shoes for her feet. She needed keys for the car and her ID that was in her purse. Where had she put them? Memories came rushing back to her pounding head. Jackson had taken them. She frantically searched the house, growing more nauseous from the pain and more afraid that Jackson would wake up before she could get away.

  In the bathroom, she found her purse dumped on the floor. No keys were in sight. She picked up the necessary items and stood up. The cell phone was flashing, showing a message had been received. It was Kelan, wondering where she was. She tapped in an answer, replying that she was ill and wouldn't be into work. It was close to the truth. Her reflection in the mirror reminded her of a horror movie. Both eyes were narrow slits and blackened. Her cheeks were bruised and swollen. Her lips were bloody and crusted. Her long black hair was a mass of tangles, sticking out in all directions. Looking down, she found bruises everywhere. The cuts on her legs burned where the soft jeans rubbed them. With no time to waste on her appearance, she slipped a comb into her back pocket and went in search of the keys. She had just discovered them, inside the pizza box, when she heard sounds coming from the bedroom. Jackson was awake. She moved as quickly as her injuries allowed toward the back door and freedom. Heavy footsteps let her know that Jackson was in pursuit.

  Kelan

  Kelan had come in to work early. He always did. It was a restlessness caused by the animal within him. He often used the time and excess energy to write reports and catch up on the finances, both personal and business. He also looked forward to Michelle's arrival each morning. In the quiet of the empty building, they worked side by side, running ideas back and forth. It was his favorite part of the day.

  Eight o'clock arrived, and Michelle hadn't made an appearance. She was normally here by seven-thirty at the latest. Kelan's radar went on full alert. He called her phone, but there was no answer. He left a message. At eight-fifteen he tried again. By eight-thirty, he was in a panic. Finally, his phone buzzed with a reply. Michelle claimed to be ill. She wasn't coming to work. Kelan didn't believe it. His personal assistant had never missed a day of work. She came in with the flu once. There was something more to the story, and he was positive it wasn't good. He searched the computer for her personnel file. He committed her address to memory and hurried to the parking garage. He owned several flashy, fast cars, yet he chose a discreet sedan for this mission. Under its hood, there was an engine that would rival any race car, but on the outside, it wouldn't bring undue attention. He required speed and camoufla
ge.

  Michelle's tiny house was in a quiet residential area. At this time of day, it was deserted. Everyone had to work to pay the bills, and the kids were in school. The emptiness worked in his favor. If he found trouble, and he had no doubt that he would, there wouldn't be any witnesses to his actions.

  Kelan slammed to a stop at the curb. He flung open the car door, and the sound of screams instantly hit his ears. He tore off the locked front door and ran through the small house. His eyes took note of the mess everywhere. There were broken beer bottles in the entry, with sticky beer all over the tiles. Pizza boxes and empty bottles were scattered over the kitchen. A frayed electrical cord was on the floor beside a kitchen chair. A piece of glass, with blood on the edge, lay beside it. His alarm rose and anger along with it. Kelan discovered Michelle's torn clothes in the hallway and a trash can full of vomit in the bedroom. Michelle was nowhere to be found. Where had the screams come from?

  Another scream tore through the air, sending anxious shivers down his spine. It was abruptly cut off, and Kelan raced to the back door. A roar left his throat at the sight that confronted him. Michelle was on the ground with one of Jackson's hands on her neck and the other in a fist aimed at her face. Kelan pounced. He landed on Jackson's back and ripped him away from Michelle's motionless form. Her groans told him she was alive and conscious.

  Jackson's fist connected with Kelan's face and he shouted, "Get off me, pretty boy! This is none of your business. She may be screwing you, but she belongs to me. I'll beat her all I want. She's going to tell me where the money is or die."

  "Back off, Jackson. You have no idea what my anger can bring forth. Michelle requires medical aid. I don't have time to deal with your stupidity. I'll leave you to the police and prison," Kelan replied.

  "Look at me, man. Your fancy ass can't win a fight with me. Move out of the way. I'm getting the information I need; then you're welcome to what's left of Chelle. I don't want her anymore. She's used up and worthless except for her money."

  Kelan's ears buzzed and his eyes took on a glow that divided his sight into a grid, similar to a gun scope. Jackson was in the crosshairs. Steam came from his open mouth. He took one step toward his opponent and the foolish man swiveled to attack Michelle. Kelan lost control of his rage and began to transform. His skin turned green, and scales covered his body. His size expanded as wings sprouted from his back. His face elongated into a snout.

  Jackson froze in place, inches from reaching Michelle. Above him, stood a dragon. It was at least twenty feet tall, with a wingspan twice that. Emerald green and midnight blue scales sparkled in the morning sun. Its enormous jaws opened, and a controlled flame singed Jackson's shaved head. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. His bladder released and his pants became soaked. Kelan lifted his large head toward the sky, spread his wings, and roared. The tiny house shook, Jackson fell to the ground and began to scoot backward. When he reached the corner of the house, he gripped the wall, stood up, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

  The beautiful dragon let his wings fall to his sides, and his head turned down to check on Michelle. His breathing slowed, and the transformation began to reverse. Scales became skin, wings disappeared, and Kelan's worried face stared down at Michelle. He was nude. His clothes had been shredded as he changed into dragon form. Pieces of them were scattered in the grass. He didn't care. Michelle was all that mattered. Kelan knelt by her side. She cringed and tried to roll away, fearful of what she had witnessed. The movement must have caused an unbearable pain because she passed out. Kelan checked her over. She was in bad shape, but nothing was life-threatening. He needed to get her to a hospital and remove himself from the scene before Jackson convinced someone of his existence. He couldn't enter a hospital naked. He kept extra clothes in every vehicle he owned for this purpose. However, if anyone was home in one of the houses, he couldn't risk walking to the car unclothed. He might shock some housewife or freak out a small child. He took the route back through the house, picking up a blanket from the bed to cover his loins. Once in the car, he dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. Then he drove the car around to the back of the house and loaded Michelle inside. He took an extra minute to gather the pieces of his clothing, shoving them into the trunk. There wasn't anything he could do about the crushed grass caused by his huge dragon feet. Maybe it would spring back up in the warm sunshine. He stepped on the gas, weaving through traffic until he arrived at the medical center.

  Jackson

  Jackson forgot all about his old truck. Once he started running, he didn't stop or look back. He ran until his feet were bloody, having left his shoes by the side of the bed when he chased after Michelle. He passed a liquor store, and that's what finally halted his flight. Liquid courage was exactly what he needed. Did he have his wallet? He reached into his pocket and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still there. He hadn't put it on the nightstand as he feared. Inside it, there was a lonely ten-dollar bill. It was all the money he had left in the world, stolen from Michelle's desk drawer. It would buy him a cheap bottle of booze to settle his nerves and maybe wake him from the nightmare he was having.

  At nine-thirty in the morning, very few customers were in the liquor store. Those who were there stayed out of the way of the man with bloody bare feet who reeked of urine and vomit. The store clerk almost refused him service but decided he could get him out of the store faster by allowing him to buy the whiskey. Jackson had the bottle open before he even reached the sidewalk. He sat on a bench intended for people waiting for a city bus and guzzled the entire bottle. His hands stopped shaking, and his head stopped spinning. However, the nightmare didn't go away as he had expected. He could still see the green and blue dragon breathing fire in Michelle's backyard. He remembered feeling the heat on the top of his head. His hand slowly raised and swept over his crown. Damn, that hurt. Air hissed out of his mouth when he touched the burned scalp. It had been real! His burnt head was proof. Without thinking about the consequences, he jumped up and ran again. This time to the nearest police station.

  Jackson stumbled through the station door, completely out of breath. He had now added the stench of sweat and whiskey to the variety of nasty odors emanating from his body. Even the handcuffed perpetrators cringed and backed away as he walked past. He stepped up to the desk and said with a slur, "I want to report a crime of nature."

  The policeman manning the desk looked up from his paperwork. His eyes widened at the sight of Jackson's appearance and the smells coming from him. It was obvious to him that Jackson was drunk, but he decided to play along with whatever game Jackson was playing. So far, it had been a boring morning anyway. "What crime would that be, sir?” he asked.

  "I was attacked. A dragon set my head on fire! Look at it. I can describe him if you want. Where's the sketch artist?"

  The policeman's lips twitched, but he managed to hold back his laugh. "Did the dragon have a name? Had you met him before? Was it Pete's dragon by any chance?"

  Jackson shouted, "No, no! His name wasn't Pete. His name's Kelan. Not the dragon, the man who owns him, or maybe he is the dragon. I don't know. Who the hell is Pete? He has got a dragon too? Is it an invasion? You've got to help me. He's in Michelle's backyard. Hurry!"

  "Alright, mister, you've had your fun. It's time to sleep it off." He waved over another officer. "Arrest him for public drunkenness and check his blood for the alcohol level and drugs. Get him a shower too before he makes the other prisoners sick."

  As the officer slapped on the handcuffs and read him his rights, Jackson kept ranting, "It's true. He was a huge dragon, green and blue. Just look at my head. He burned it. I swear, I saw it with my own two eyes!"

  The officer rolled his eyes and asked, "Whatever happened to pink elephants? When did it change to green dragons?"

  Jackson wouldn't stop trying to get his point across. His mug shot was taken with his mouth open and shouting about dragons. He was fingerprinted as he begged for pencil and paper to draw a picture of the d
ragon himself. His blood was drawn, and he asked to have his head looked over too. They took his stinky clothes, shoved him in the shower, and he swore they were washing away the evidence. He was taken to lock-up, and there he discovered a new audience for his tale. He told of the dragon's size, the sound it made, the fire that had come from its mouth, and the roar it made. He showed them his head and let them feel it. After a while, the prisoners grew tired of his insane ranting and were glad when he fell into sleep.

  Chapter 5

  Kelan

  Kelan's brakes squealed as he pulled into the emergency room drop-off. By the time he made it out of the car and around to the passenger side, medical staff had come out to see what the commotion was about. Michelle was placed on a gurney and rushed through the doors, down the hallway, and into an examination area. Kelan tried to follow, but he was blocked by security. They had questions for him considering the state Michelle was in. "What did you do to her?” they asked.

  "Nothing," Kelan declared. "She was like that when I found her. Her boyfriend had her in a choke hold in the backyard. He did this, not me."

  "Are you willing to give us DNA to prove it wasn't you? She probably fought back and would have skin under her nails," they stated.

  Kelan hesitated. Would his DNA look human or alien? Did it matter? If they were comparing it to the skin under her nails, maybe they wouldn't notice the slight difference. "Sure, why not? I didn't do anything. It was Jackson. I think he's been abusing her for a long time. You need to find him. His DNA is all over her house."