The Strange Path Read Free Page B

illumination than the several large candles glowing about the room.
    “Fuck.” She gaped at the splendor.
    Fiona chuckled at Whiskey’s murmur. “Yes, well, that does depend on one’s religion, doesn’t it, dear Whiskey?” She glanced over her shoulder. “I do believe the doctor is in,” she said, stepping back. “Let’s see to your injuries.”
     

Chapter Three
    Waking up in a strange place wasn’t a new experience. Registering the strange softness of clean sheets, Whiskey remained still, eyes closed and breathing even, until she remembered the events that led her here. Walking to the U District.Paul and his cronies. A beating. She opened her eyes, not stirring. Blood-red sheets, black comforter, a nightstand made of ebony. Fiona’s crew, Doctor Daniel. The warm comfort felt disquieting, alien. She shifted, testing her ability to move. Stiff and sore as expected, she forced herself to sit up.
    Although alone in the large iron bed, it looked like someone had slept beside her. Murky and dark, thick crimson curtains blocked what appeared to be the tail end of daylight from entering the room. She glanced at the digital clock beside the bed. If it could be believed, she’d slept through the night, and most the following day. With ginger movements, she edged out of bed. She didn’t remember getting undressed the night before, and frowned at her nakedness. Lifting her arm to her nose, she smelled soap. Someone had stripped and bathed her. A stab of fear lanced through her. Shit! How could I let that happen?
    She recalled sitting on the bed, letting Daniel examine her. He’d asked the right questions, poked and prodded the right areas, and seemed knowledgeable enough with the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff he’d produced from his medical bag; he had to have had medical training. He spoke with a faint German accent as he applied butterfly bandages to the cut on her face. At one point he’d injected her with something, a deep red liquid that looked very much like blood. He’d said the injection fought possible infection, and accelerated healing. Not long after, she’d lost consciousness.
    He drugged me! She went over herself again, finding nothing else wrong. No other apparent needle marks marred her skin. In fact, the bruises and scrapes on her knuckles looked days old. What the hell did he give me?
    Damned if she’d be found any more vulnerable if Fiona walked in. She forced herself to stand. Her knees had lost their earlier infirmity. Both her stomach and her bladder demanded attention, one grumbling loud enough to wake the dead. No banana in sight. She wondered as she stumbled toward the bathroom whether she’d eaten it, or if it had been returned to the kitchen once she’d passed out.
    After urinating, she peered into the toilet. No blood. Grateful for that, she turned toward the large mirror. She grunted at the view, fingers tracing a multicolored map of bruises across her abdomen. Yellow and green blotches stood stark against the skin of her upper arms and her left cheek. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought days had passed since they’d been inflicted. She leaned closer to the mirror. Her lip wasn’t swollen near as much as she thought. The butterfly bandages on her left temple itched when she frowned. An inch or so to her right, and she’d be half blind today. She reached up, tugging one aside. The scab beneath appeared to be healing too well to need them. Wondering if Daniel had been overreacting when he’d insisted on them, she pulled both the butterflies off. Seeing the damage, slight though it was, made her shaky again. She leaned heavily against the black marble counter, gathering her energy. Whoever had washed her the night before hadn’t gotten all the blood and dirt from her hair. Streaks of rusty red marred the light blonde tresses at her scalp. She had an overpowering desire to be completely clean, and she looked at the shower through the mirror.
    Experimenting with