Century Traveler

Kenneth felt a drop in the pressure and began to giggle again as he knew John's strength had reached its end. Soon he would feel the man's death between his regrown hands.

The wolf nipped at the heels of the dark entity until they rejoined John, whose strength was flagging. They supported him from both sides and added their will to the fight. They leaned in.

Kenneth was preparing a spear to stab John when his shield suddenly evaporated. The white light slammed into his body and poured inside like a relentless tsunami. He screamed as it scoured the darkness from his core and flooded outwards to his extremities, washing him clean of its spoor. His mind filled with white light, blanking areas of his memory that once contained arcane knowledge, including the tablet ritual. He felt holes in his memory and slipped into unconsciousness, wondering what he'd lost.

Chapter 20

Kenneth Prescott woke up screaming. His legs and right arm were on fire from their exposed and damaged nerve endings. The ends of his stumps looked horribly burned but had healed sufficiently to stop the bleeding. The nerves, however... FUCK! The nerves were raw! He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ride out the pain, but it wouldn't lessen. Desperately he opened his eyes and looked around for something to ease his suffering. He was lying on the ground in the cave, which was deathly silent.

He spotted John lying on his chest a few yards away, unconscious. Uncontrolled rage burst from him, and he began to scream obscenities at the man. He'd ruined everything! He reached inside for his Shedim, willing it to drain the life of the fallen man.

Nothing was there. His Shedim was gone!

Then came the brutal and terrifying realization that for the first time in over fifteen hundred years, he was one of the sheep! A crippled one at that!

Kenneth saw a gun in the sand a few feet away and dragged himself with his barely functioning left arm over to the weapon. He had to stop and scream in agony a few times, but he made it. He grabbed the gun clumsily and pointed it at John's head. He steadied himself, then pulled the trigger. It clicked. He squeezed several more times, but the gun was empty.

In his rage, he threw the gun but missed. He saw a knife a little further away, and an evil gleam filled his eyes. He painfully dragged himself over to it and then began the torturous process of getting back to John. Spittle flew from his lips as he screamed from the agony of dragging his raw stumps across the hard surface.

Finally, he was within striking range. He got a good grip and lifted the knife high. He stabbed down once and hit bone. The blade didn't penetrate. With tears of frustration and madness in his eyes, he raised his hand high one more time.

It exploded in a red mist. The high-powered rifle bullet took it clean off his wrist.

He stared in disbelief at the stump of his left hand as strangers rushed into his cellar and grabbed him. He was picked up by three burly police officers and carried outside to an ambulance. They tied off his wrist to prevent further bleeding, then he was sedated and left strapped to the gurney, helpless.

Molina looked at Bellerose with new respect. "Hell of a shot! I would have gone for a body shot myself. Less chance of missing."

She smiled at the detective and flipped the rifle's safety back on. "I never miss." He rolled his eyes.

They hustled over to John and saw a fading light on his back as the stab wound resealed. They glanced at each other, and Molina's look turned sour. He took off his jacket, put it over Melanie's naked form, and checked her breathing. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He shook his head and called for ambulances for John and Melanie while Renée walked a little further on.

"Molina!" Bellerose cried in horror. He turned around and hustled over to her side to look over the series of cages that went on and on. They could see people in the pens, some dead, some living, possibly hundreds of them.

"Oh my god. We're going to need more ambulances."

Chapter 21

The steady beeping didn't bother John. He knew it meant life, and he thought that was a delightful thing. He opened his eyes in the dim light of his hospital room and saw someone at the end of his bed reading his chart.

"Hi, Mr. Sass," he croaked.

The man walked over and poured him a glass of water with a bendy straw. He smiled down at his friend as he took a drink. "I wondered how long it would take you to wake up this time."

John swallowed the cool water with relief. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"Six days this time," came the reply.

"Ah. I thought I was getting better at it," he grinned.

"I'm glad you made it," Michael said.

"I'm glad you stuck around as well. You still have to explain what you said about my Mom," John said.

Michael smiled. "Looks like we'll have time to talk about that, after all."

John nodded then his thoughts returned to the deadly battle in the cavern. "Prescott said some things that lead me to believe he knew what I am. He called me a Seraph, which I believe is supposed to mean Angel." He looked at his friend. "I'm no angel. But you saw them, right?"

"Yes, I saw your wings," Michael said.

"People would see those and make assumptions. Superstitious assumptions," he continued.

"Yes, I supposed they would," Michael agreed.

"He said I had a Shedimna, which is an incomplete Shedim, a dark spirit. I guess yours is a Shedimna, too, as we got them when Kate Darrows died. He also said I had a Sedu, a protective spirit, my wolf. He had knowledge of these things. I need--we need that knowledge. It's out there. He might have had help." John hoped Michael understood his request.

Michael looked thoughtful. "I guess I could put out a few feelers, stick around to see how it all pans out." John smiled and relaxed a little.

"Hey, how is Melanie?" he asked, changing the subject.

Michael pursed his lips in thought. "Physically fine, but she hasn't woken up yet. She's in the next room. The doctors are stumped. Any ideas?"

"Damn! After I healed her, I told her to sleep. I bet she's just waiting to be told it's safe to wake up," John groaned.

"Like Sleeping Beauty," Michael smiled.

John yawned enormously. "Yup."

"Get some rest yourself and wake her in the morning," Michael suggested. "You'll have a very busy day when they see you're awake."

"Thank you, Mr. Sass."

The man grinned and vanished into the shadows. John chuckled. "You like that too much!" he called out.

The next morning John woke to the sound of humming. His nurse had come into the room to give him a sponge bath. He cracked an eyelid and looked at her. She was young with sandy blond hair tied back in a ponytail. John wasn't sure what tune she was humming, but she smiled, making her whole face light up. She began with his face and neck, and John struggled to not react. She moved to his arms, then exposed his chest and stomach.

That's when she paused.

"Ooo, you have a lovely body, Mr. Doe," she sighed quietly.

John barely managed to contain his snort of amusement.

Her hands went back to their professional precision as she washed his chest and moved down over his stomach, but he saw she was appreciating his muscles with her eyes.

It was becoming too difficult to remain quiet, so John let the wolf rumble a little growl deep in his belly.

"EEEP!" she squeaked, and John smiled as his eyes opened.

"Mr. Doe! You were awake?" She shook her finger at him and gave him a scowl. "I'll let the doctor know."

As she left, John noticed she was smiling.

Moments later, a tall, skinny, older doctor walked in, followed by the nurse. John's eyes were drawn to the man's obvious dye job. Fighting off the aging process. The man picked up the chart and gave it a quick review.

"Mr. Doe, good morning. I'm Dr. Jacobs. You've been with us for almost a week. It's good to see you're awake. We've run tests, and it seems you are quite healthy. I don't see anything that requires further attention, so I think it's time we discharged you."

"Would it be okay for me to visit my friend Melanie next door first? I think it's time she woke up," he said.

"How did you know she was next door and wouldn't wake up?" the young nurse asked with wide eyes.

"We're psychically connected," John said with a straight face and watched the woman's eyes widen further in awe. He grinned. "I must have overheard someone mention it. Seriously though, I can wake her."

"Nurse, get Mr. Doe a wheelchair," the doctor said with a scowl.

When she returned from the hall with the wheelchair, she helped John off the bed and into the chair. John was surprised at how weak he felt. He glanced at the doctor, but the man just stood there with his arms folded. Big help.

The nurse pushed him over to Melanie's room and up to the bed as the doctor followed. John pulled himself to his feet with the bed rail. His legs were a little wobbly but felt like they'd hold him. He saw a pitcher of water next to the bed on the little table, so he poured a cup of water and dropped in a bendy straw. Then he looked back at his audience of the skeptical doctor and the smiling nurse. He made a mystical gesture, then grinned at the two.

Looking back at Melanie's beautiful sleeping face, he felt a pang go through his heart.

"Hey dummy, don't you think it's time to wake up?" he said playfully, ignoring his breaking heart.

"Who's a dumm- ack!" Melanie's throat was too dry to finish her response, so he helped her take a drink of the cool water.

The nurse beamed a huge smile and clapped her hands, drawing a glare from the doctor, who stepped forward to check Melanie's pulse and pupil response. The nurse made a hasty exit with a final brilliant smile at John and a nervous glance at her boss.

Melanie looked around in confusion. "Why am I in a hospital?"

John smiled down at her. Melanie took in the matching gown he was wearing, and her eyebrows went up. "Uh, why are we in the hospital?"

The doctor leaned in, trying to get his patient's attention. "Ms. Singh, what's the last thing you remember?"

She furrowed her brow and said, "I went home after work, and I was walking up to my building... and I woke up here."

John's face showed relief, and the doctor's expression was more confused. She looked back at John. "Did something happen?" she asked.

"Yes, but it's all over now. You were kidnapped by the boyfriend of Kate Darrows. You remember her?" Melanie nodded, her eyes wide. "He blamed me for her death, but he couldn't find me, so he grabbed you to get to me. I think he drugged you and kept you unconscious. He called me with your phone and told me he'd do a swap, you for me. When I showed up at his house, you were still out. I brought along the Feds and the police, of course. I'm not stupid!" His smile dropped. "I'm so sorry you got caught up in this! I understand if you don't want to see me again."

There were tears in her eyes. "You came for me?" she squeaked out.

John was confused. "What? Of course!"

Her lower lip, the one he dreamed of kissing, was trembling, and he was getting distracted.

"I mean, how many friends do you think I have that I'd be willing to lose even one?" he finished weakly.

Melanie sat up and hugged John fiercely. Due to their positions, her on the bed and him braced against its side, her arms slid around his back, and her hands went inside his gown and on his ass. With her face crushed up against his upper stomach, she didn't notice, at first.

"Uh, Mel? Melanie? That's my ass you're holding," he whispered.

"What?" The words didn't quite register with her.

"Your hands... are cupping... now squeezing my ass cheeks," he said slowly.

She yanked her hands back, throwing the gown's back wide open just as Molina and Bellerose walked in.

"Ah, Christ! Doe, don't make me arrest you for indecent exposure!" the detective growled.

John spun to face Molina and Bellerose, which flashed his now open robe at Melanie, who got an eyeful of John's naked back down past his exposed ass. She yelped but couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Sorry, Mel! Could you re-tie those bows, please?" he said over his shoulder. He felt her hands on his back as he returned his attention forwards.

"It seems Melanie has no memory between getting captured and waking up here. I was just telling her how she was kidnapped, drugged, and left unconscious until we arrived to rescue her." He cast meaningful glances at them to get them to understand.

"You just poisoned my witness!" Molina growled.

"Did you miss the part where she has no memory of the kidnapping?" John shot back.

Bellerose looked to the doctor, and he concurred. "Ms. Singh seems to be having some form of amnesia, either brought on by some drug we didn't detect when she was brought in or by the trauma of the kidnapping itself. It's unknown when or if she will regain those memories. If you'll excuse me." He left the room.

"Doe, you're such a pain in my ass!" Molina growled and followed the doctor. John was standing facing the door with his hands clasped tightly before his groin to prevent the result of Melanie's wandering hands from showing. She'd given up on tying his lowest bow and was instead sliding her hands over the taut muscles of his ass in a daze. John's face was hot from a blush, and his legs began to shake.

"Yeah, never mind that last bow, Mel. I think I'll just go back to my room. I'm a little tired." He pulled away, and her hands followed, then yanked back as she became aware of her actions once more.

As he sat back in the wheelchair, the other occupants in the room got a good view of the tent. He wheeled himself towards the door, and Bellerose went with him. She took pity on him in the hallway by pushing the chair so he could use his hands to cover himself. Once back beside his bed, he pulled himself up and got back into it and under the covers.

"Awkward!" Renée trilled with a smile.

"Uh yeah, Melanie and I have a complicated relationship. Or rather, we did until I learned about the longevity aspect of hosting a wolf, which is called a Sedu, by the way."

"What longevity issue?" the agent asked.

"Oh crap. I'm sorry." John watched the woman's curious expression and wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He saw she wasn't about to let it slide, so he continued. "I guess you didn't have anyone to tell you. I just found out myself." John fidgeted at having to deliver this uncomfortable news. Now he knew how Carol felt. "One of the side effects of living with the wolf is an extended lifespan. Aging stops at some point, and there you stay. While your wholly human loved ones age and die. You leave everyone behind. That's why my wolf's previous host lost interest in living when his spouse, who was also hosting, died in an accident. I was completely smitten by Melanie... still am a little, to tell the truth, but knowing I'll be leaving her behind is torture."

"God, I didn't know. I've got to... think about this. I-I'll talk to you later," Renée said distractedly as she left his room.

Feeling like a total jerk for hitting Renée with news like that, he sat staring out the window for a bit. It made him think of Carol again and how she'd delivered the information to him. He picked up the room's phone and dialed her number. She picked up on the third ring, and he could hear he was on the speaker phone in her car.

"Hello?"

"Hi Carol, it's John," he said, fearing she'd still be upset from their last... interaction.

"John! How are you?" she asked. Nothing in her tone hinted at her holding a grudge, but he remained cautious.

"I'm good. Almost healed. Listen, I wanted to speak with you about, uh, how aggressive I got when we..." his voice petered out as he tried to think of how to describe his actions that morning.

"God! Are you worried about that? Put that from your mind! Wait! On second thought, don't. I expect you to make it up to me. Dinner, drinks, then a repeat performance... only longer. I'll try to remain conscious this time so we can go for seconds and thirds if you are up to it!" she growled sexily.

He was a little shocked, but he should have expected this from Carol. "Uh, it's a date."

"Great! Is there anything else you need?" she said, back to business mode.

"No, I was just checking in."

"Well, call me if you need anything. And I mean anything!" she purred, then disconnected.

He sat looking at the phone. He thought of someone whose voice he really needed to hear. He dialed the number to his condo. It picked up after the second ring.

"Hello?" Anna's voice said.

"Hi Anna, it's me."

"John! You had me so worried! Are you okay?" she gushed.

"Yes, I'm good. I expect they'll let me out of the hospital in the next day or so. I-I was just wondering if you gave any more thought to my request for you to stay with me and set up a yoga studio in Seattle?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, John, of course I'll stay. I need to go back to Portland to make arrangements for the house and to speak with Frances about opening a second studio."

"Excellent! I'm so looking forward to coming home. I'm beat. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Sleep well, dear," Anna said sweetly.

"Thanks, Mom!" he chuckled.

He put the phone down, leaned back, and allowed himself to doze off.

Two days later, John was sitting at his breakfast table with Anna and Sasha, who hadn't left his side since he'd arrived at the building. She'd been eagerly waiting for him on the sidewalk when Jerry dropped him off. He'd barely survived her leaping hug and put a dent in the cab's side panel. He promised Jerry he'd pay for the damages, then accepted his cell from the man. He rode the elevator up to his condo, pretending to read the messages on his phone, as Sasha clung to his side, trying to ride him. She finally caught on that he was teasing her, so he had to give her a big kiss before they entered the condo. Anna opened the front door before the kiss got out of hand. She had a big smirk on her face and announced breakfast was ready. Sasha had been playing footsie with him under the table ever since.

"It's horrible what that man was doing right under the noses of his neighbors! No one had a clue!" Anna was upset from watching the news, which continued to be a daily onslaught of grim and grotesque facts and speculation (mostly the latter due to it being early days of the investigation) regarding the secret Prescott Prison.

What had begun as a global effort to track a wanted master hacker had exploded into a sordid tale of slavery, murder, torture, black arts, and other unspeakable horrors. The FBI was riding a wave of popularity for cracking the case, and a little of that glory managed to splash on his favorite Portland detective though it did nothing for his surly attitude. If anything, he became a little grumpier.

John was going to have to testify but had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the press or publicity this case was generating. Once more working in his favor, the news media demanded the true name behind the star witness. They were entirely dismissing the name John Doe as an obvious ploy by the authorities to hide the victim's identity.

Kenneth Prescott was in a maximum-security lockdown with round-the-clock observation. No visitors and no access to phones or computers. Total isolation. Apparently, he was still a miserable prick.

Anna and John were going back to Portland tomorrow to meet with a contractor to have the house rebuilt. They both loved Portland too much to leave it permanently, and hell, John had billions of reasons to rebuild the first house he truly called home. Of course, they did plan on expanding it... just a little. As much as the neighborhood's building code would allow. Anna had always wanted an indoor pool off the back of the house, and John wanted a bedroom on the main floor. He was done with basements.