Century Traveler

"What about her?

"She visited the shop the day the tablet was supposed to be delivered. It was delayed by a day. Out of the blue, she asked if we could find her ancient texts on scrolls and tablets, and she forced her way into the stockroom before she lost her shit and attacked me. After the attack and her death, the buyer's e-mails dried up. I told Deron of my suspicions that Kate might have been the buyer."

"You don't know who the buyers are?" the detective said, surprised.

"Confidentiality policy. Kelly probably knew, and Deron could get access, but no one other than them and our financial auditors have access to private records."

"Again, how does this connect to the hacker?" Molina said.

"After Kate Darrows died, the hacker got much more aggressive in trying to get into my account. But he had no idea how good Kelly was. She figured out how to track him and brought in her friends with the FBI... you should contact them. Maybe the hacker and Kate were working together. Did you get anything from Kelly's servers?" Each time John uttered his friend's name, he felt a deep painful pull in his chest.

"They were either destroyed or taken. We have nothing," the detective admitted.

John pulled up his e-mail on his phone. He scrolled through the messages. "I don't normally have work e-mail on here, strictly against office policy, but the first day my account went down at work due to hacking, I tried e-mailing a copy of the scroll request to my personal account. When the account came back up, the queued message went through. I never got around to deleting it. It's not much, but your guys may be able to get something from the header. This person recommended us to the tablet buyer." John found the message and forwarded it to Molina as an attachment, as Kelly had shown him, to preserve the security information in the original email. Molina did the same to his tech team.

"We'll look into it. Now, where is Mrs. Harrison?" the cop asked.

"Safe. I have her with me in Seattle. Please don't let that information out. Until the bastard who did this is caught, the fewer people who know where she is, the better." John had a frightening thought. "Have you spoken with Melanie, Satomi, or Franklin?"

"Mr. Cho and Ms. Kimura are in protective custody. We haven't been able to reach Ms. Singh yet," Molina said uneasily.

John leaped to his feet. "What? Did you go by her place? Did you contact her family?"

"Don't tell me how to do my fucking job! She's not home, and we've got units outside her condo and her parents' house. Outside of that, there isn't much we can do."

John felt incredibly powerless. He couldn't help anyone! Then he thought of his friend in the hospital. "I need to see Deron. Are we done here?" John asked.

"We're done when I fucking say we're done," Molina barked.

Carol had quite enough of that. "We're done here. Detective, get some rest. You're no help to anyone in this state."

John followed Carol out. He saw a surprised look, then a grim scowl on the detective's face as he got a better look at John's new body as they left the room. Carol led him out of the building, and they stood on the precinct's top step. Suddenly John couldn't get enough air in his lungs. He started to get dizzy, and Carol braced him against the stone railing leading down.

"She's dead. Oh god, Kelly's dead. And Melanie's missing!" he gasped as he doubled over with stomach cramps. Carol rubbed his back. John looked up, and across the street, in the entrance to the alley, he saw someone in a black leather duster watching him. He looked like Mr. Sass. John rubbed his face. When he looked back, there was no one there. The last thing he needed was to start hallucinating, but why not?

"Carol, could you take me to Deron's hospital?" he asked weakly.

"Of course, let's go," she said, leading the way back to the car.

John leaned back in the seat and kept his eyes closed. Before he knew it, they'd arrived. They found Deron's private room, which Carol had arranged for him. His wife Jeannie was sitting in a chair in the room.

"Mrs. Clarke? Hi, I'm John Doe, and this is my lawyer, Carol Lozinski."

"Are you the one who got us this room and the extra attention from the doctors?" Deron's wife Jeannie asked, tears in her eyes.

"Yes, the moment I heard he'd been attacked, I asked Carol to get him whatever he needed. Deron has always been so good to me. It was the least I could do."

Jeannie walked up and hugged John, and he returned it.

"What's his condition now?" he asked.

Jeannie started to cry against his chest. He looked at Carol for help, but she just shrugged. No maternal instinct there. John looked over at Deron and felt a definite tug from the darkness resting in his mind. It stirred as he looked at the injured man who was heavily bandaged, and John could see burns as well.

"Have you checked in with the girls recently? That will make you feel better. It always filled Deron with joy. I'll wait here with him. Carol, can you take Mrs. Clarke to a private phone?" Jeannie nodded, wanting to speak to her daughters since he'd planted the suggestion. Carol gave him a puzzled look but guided the woman from the room.

John stepped closer to the bed and felt his darkness rise up to the surface. A thin black mist formed before his eyes, and through it, he spotted three black spikes stabbing into Deron; one in his thigh, one on his arm, and one in the chest. His darkness wanted the spikes. They weren't parts of his entity, but they would replenish lost mass. Three black tendrils shot out of John's left hand and wrapped around the spikes. A single tug, and they were free and being consumed by his tendrils. John noted the strength of the energy in the dark spears. This was not like the energy he pulled from the street kids in Seattle. The creature that attacked Deron was of a kind to his darkness but far more concentrated and potent.

The black mist quickly retreated back into his body when it was done.

John looked up at the monitor and saw the numbers start to plummet. Deron was taking a turn for the worse now that the energy-draining spikes had been removed. It was like the holes left behind allowed his life force to drain away.

John panicked and cast his hands over his friends wanting to plug the holes with the shadow tendrils. He desperately wanted to heal his friend. Instead of the black entity, the white mist he saw with Melanie flowed from his hands. The darkness inside him recoiled from the light into the furthest corner of his mind. The white, smoky light spread all over his friend's body, coating every surface and sinking into the punctures where the spears had been lodged. Then the light faded. John wobbled on his feet and staggered back. The chair hit the back of his legs, and he slumped down into it, covering his face with his hands as the room spun.

Jeannie came in the door and saw John. Frightened, she rushed to her husband's side. Carol moved to John.

They heard a joyful sound from Jeannie and looked up. She was watching the monitor connected to her husband. His levels were returning to normal, and his breathing was no longer labored. His brow had relaxed as well. He really seemed to be just resting comfortably.

Jeannie rushed back to John, who was still trying to get his eyes to track properly. She knelt at his feet, grabbed his hands, and pressed her lips to them. "Thank you!" she cried.

"For what? I just told him to get off his ass because his wife and girls needed him," John said weakly.

She beamed a huge smile at him, then went back to Deron.

John staggered up, and Carol hooked her arm around his waist. They walked to the doorway, and John smiled back at the couple. They made it into the hall before Carol couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

"What did you do?" she whispered.

John slumped back against the wall, and Carol braced him there with her hands on his chest. He closed his eyes as weariness swept over his body. "Whoever, or whatever, attacked him left something behind, like spikes. That's the only way I can describe it. It was draining his life away." He shrugged. "I took them out."

He didn't mention the white misty light as he still hadn't figured out what it was or where it came from. He rested for a minute, trying to regain his strength.

"Mr. Doe."

John's eyes opened to see Doctor Giamatto standing before them. Ol' Smiley wore his usual grim frown.

"I see you've miraculously recovered from your injuries.... you... look different..." the doctor said while eyeing him critically.

"Hi, Doc. Take good care of my friend, okay?" John said as Carol helped him straighten up.

"Good GOD! You're taller! Bigger!" Giamatto gasped. "Wait, you said this patient is your friend? Look, he's dying. We don't know why. If you care at all about him, you'd let me study your ability to heal so I could save him and others as well."

As they walked away, John looked over his shoulder with a weak smile. "Oh, I think he'll be fine now. I mean, he has you looking after him." John picked up his pace, sick of being in this building again.

Giamatto watched the greatest discovery of his career walking away. Something about what he said or how he said it... he suddenly turned and dashed into the room, startling Jeannie. He rushed up to the bed, looked at the monitor, and then down at the peacefully sleeping patient.

"What did he do?" he frantically asked Jeannie.

"I don't know! I was out of the room. But when I came back, John looked exhausted, and Deron was coming back to me." She started to cry tears of joy.

Giamatto peeled back one of the bandages over a burn on the patient's arm, but the skin underneath was no longer blistered and scorched! Fresh new skin was growing there.

The doctor ran to the door and looked down the hall, but they were gone.

Chapter 17

John woke up on silk sheets. He'd never experienced that sensation before, and he rather liked it. Then he stretched out and felt someone in the bed next to him. He raised his head and looked over. It was Carol! He pulled back before he woke her. He had no recollection of getting into the bed or getting out of her car, for that matter.

The evening before, John had barely managed to walk to the car after they'd left the hospital. He faded in and out of consciousness while Carol drove. She must have concluded that he needed food as he woke up once with a full bag of burgers on his lap. He ate them almost without chewing. After his eighth double burger, he leaned back and drifted off again. Now it was morning.

Gently pulling the sheets aside, he noticed that he was naked. Another gift from Carol. He slipped out of bed and looked for his clothes, but there was no sign of them. He quietly stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He hunted for his clothes throughout the condo until he found the laundry room, where he spotted them in the washing machine. He moved them over to the dryer and got it started.

Walking back out to the kitchen, he looked in the fridge as his stomach reminded him that it was time to eat. Carol was a confirmed bachelor. There was nothing edible in there, and the food in the pantry was ancient. They'd have to go out for breakfast. Wandering back into the living room, he found his wallet and phone, likely where Carol put them after stripping him naked. He checked for messages, but there was nothing. He tried dialing Melanie, but it went directly to voice mail.

Not knowing what else to do, he went into the guest bathroom and saw it had a large shower stall. He spotted the towels, so he stepped in to get cleaned up. His stomach reminded him again it was food time, but he just ignored its pitiful sounds.

The hot water felt wonderful, and the shampoo he found had a refreshing scent. It reminded him of the smell of Satomi's hair. Which reminded him of the bookstore and Kelly. A deep sadness filled him, and he leaned his head against the shower wall. It turned into frustration from his being so helpless to do anything. The frustration percolated into rage, and he didn't know what to do with that energy.

He felt a slight rush of cool air behind him, then soft hands sliding up his back. He wanted to tell Carol that his head wasn't really in that space, but she seemed aware of his mood. She picked up the soap and ran it over his back, building up a good lather. She moved this down his arms, then down his back, over his ass, and down his legs. Her hands were gentle but firm, and he took comfort in her touch.

She gently pulled him under the spray and rubbed the soap away, perhaps spending a little too much time ensuring his ass was rinsed off. She turned him around so his back was against the wall and repeated the process with his front. She avoided directly touching his groin and concentrated on simply cleaning him. Strangely, this had an inverse effect. The more she avoided touching his most intimate parts, the more they ached for her to handle them. Finally, she sighed dramatically like it was a major inconvenience and worked up a good amount of suds in her hands. She then cleaned his privates thoroughly until he was breathing hard. She suddenly stopped, pushed him gently under the spray, and rubbed the soap away. After she rinsed him clean, she surprised him by dipping down to one knee and taking him in her mouth down to the base in one move. He felt the back of her throat clamp down on his hardness. John's breath came out in a whoosh, and she bobbed her head quickly until he saw spots. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. Her smile was wicked as she saw the lust in his eyes. He surprised her by returning the favor. With his mouth pressed firmly to her sensitive flesh, his lips and tongue worked their magic, and she cried out in pleasure. Once he heard her breathing as heavily as he'd been, he stood up and lifted her into his arms. He positioned her over his stiff member and slammed her down on it. She screamed out her bliss and wrapped her legs around his hips.

There was nothing subtle about the sex. It was fast and hard and deep. With each thrust, Carol was losing her mind. She bit down on his shoulder and almost drew blood. He just moved faster, slamming their bodies together, and her cries grew frantic as she crested again and again. This was what she'd been craving since she laid eyes on him in the yoga club. Raw passion, but she hadn't expected it to be this good!

As John got closer to his own peak, he began to growl. Quietly at first, then more and more savagely. His movements became more brutal, and Carol held on with all of her strength though she felt like a leaf in a hurricane. His strength was overpowering. His snarls were ripping through her defenses, and she was delirious with a mix of atavistic fear and unbridled lust. Her eyes rolled back as her most intense orgasm yet tore through her core.

John erupted shortly after Carol, and he moved them under the needles of hot water. Just as Carol came down, he raised her and tugged one stiff nipple with his teeth while pinching the other. Not hard enough to do any damage but enough for her to definitely feel it. She squealed and began to shake through a surprise aftershock. She went limp in his arms.

John withdrew himself and held her up in one arm while he rinsed clean her delicate and abused flesh with his other hand. He shut the water off and carried her out. He sat on the toilet seat with her on his lap and used a towel to dry her off. She moaned softly, so he carried her back to her bed and threw the towel down before laying her upon it. He dabbed her dry, pulling more moans from her as he reached her chest and groin. He pulled the sheet over her and closed the door on the way out.

He felt terrible for releasing his frustration and rage in that way. He was far too rough on the woman and was mortified by his behavior.

John checked the dryer and his clothes were ready. He pulled the warm garments on. He needed more clothes. Walking back into the living room, he heard his phone chime. He rushed over and saw he'd received a text. He didn't recognize the number and was about to delete it when he noticed the message was simply the address to Anna's house and the word NOW.

John looked at the clock and saw it was only seven in the morning. He quickly wrote Carol a note explaining he was checking out a lead and would call her later. He wanted to apologize for being so rough with her, but it felt wrong not to do that in person. He pulled the door closed behind him and made his way to the street. He dipped into a donut shop and grabbed a half dozen bagels and a large coffee. He hailed a cabbie who looked like he'd just come off an all-nighter. He gave Anna's address, then sat back and devoured the warm bagels as the man drove him there.

Once they arrived, John paid the man, and he stepped out onto the front lawn. There was police tape up, and John was stunned to see the top half of the home was practically gone. He walked around the front of the house, feeling the quaint home's loss deep in his soul. There was where Anna would stand in the front window watching for him. There was where they would have tea and biscuits in the living room. He made his way around to the back, toward the kitchen where Anna made so many wonderful meals. The dining room where they shared Sunday dinners.

John saw the stairwell leading down to his apartment and stepped under the tape to descend the stairs to the basement. The police seal on the door had been torn, and the lock was broken. He pushed the door open with his elbow and peered into the dim interior. He took two steps inside and froze. His darkness shot outwards and caught the descending shadows that dropped on him from all sides. Cold claws scraped against his shield, and John recalled the spikes stabbed into Deron. This bastard hurt his friend and murdered Kelly! His rage burst forth, and he roared. He savagely slashed back but encountered only the shadow, not its source. Frustrated, John struck outwards with his shadow, stabbing into every dark corner, tossing burnt furniture aside, piercing the interior walls, trying to hit his attacker, all the while smashing back the shadows trying to get to him. Desperate, the enemy shadows turned to quick jabs against his darkness, attempting to consume its mass. John felt his entity's outrage at losing even the tiniest amounts of it. It returned the attack, ripping a strip of shadow from the enemy. John felt his darkness pause as it tasted its prize, and John had the oddest sense of déjà vu.

A scent came to him, the warm spice of cologne. John rocked back and staggered into the wall. His attacker stepped out from behind a wall and paused.

"Mr. Sass?" John croaked.

The man was standing before him. Impossibly real. He was a little younger, leaner, but it was definitely him. Something was flitting across his face. A struggle.

"How can you be here? You died?" John gasped.

"Yes, I did, didn't I? Except this bloody shadow keeps me moving. It's always hungry. Finish it so I can be at peace." John could hear the weariness in his voice though it was getting clearer.

"Wait, finish it? You mean kill it? What happens then? It might kill you!" John yelled.

"THAT'S THE POINT, BOY!" Michael boomed back. "Last night, I watched you through the window at the hospital. I saw you pull the claws from your boss and consume them. You have far better control over your demon than I do, so use it to kill mine. Let me die!"

"Don't ask me to kill you! I've missed you so much! I can't begin to tell you how important you are to me and... I don't even understand why you are. I only met you four years ago, yet you've become a compass for my life. You've been so good to me, and I never appreciated it. When you died, I finally saw how self-centered I'd been, and it tore me up inside that I hadn't told you how much I needed you. Now you're asking me to kill you?" John was outraged.