The Lost Nightingale
Chapter 4

I awoke from the darkness with two goons sat round a table staring at me, and a headache that could split the Pacific.

"Welcome back, Anderson!" said the nearest, his face a mass of colours and black ridden smiles. It was a nice face, the kind that would listen to your woes and give you his last buck should you need it. Or even if you didn't. His hands weren't so nice; they held a silver blade that shimmered in the dim lit room like a shy, nubile girl at her first prom.

"Rachel? She sapped me." My voice seemed to be telephoning from Europe. And not with good news.

"Frail must not like you much, bub."

"Impossible to believe isn't it?" I tested my binds, the attempt flaring up a pain across my back. It told me I'd been here for some time. Enough for my muscles to adjust at least.

Rachel had brought me to The Fury. She'd been nervous. Skittish. And I thought I could talk her down. The butt of her shaking Smith and Wesson had thought otherwise. My eyes swept the white room, empty, save for the table and chair I was tied to. A faint smell of foist filled the air. I wondered if it was same seat Kurt's victim had died in.

"No good, baby. I tied you up myself." The nice faced man shook his head sadly. "Ex Eagle scout."

"Really? You should give back your badge." The other bruiser wolf whistled hard and long at that. I wanted to snap his neck.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" The whistler poked me hard in the chest, making me curse under my breath. "Giving back badges?"

"Button up, you cad." Nice Face patted my knee affectionately. With the knife. "Ignore him. He has no manners." He rose, glancing over my shoulder. "Hey, big guy."

"So he's finally awake?" Karofsky asked from behind me. "Talking?"

"He just came to." Nice Face nodded and Karofsky came and stood next to him. Staring down at me with a twisted lip.

"I told you to stay out of this, Alan Ladd. I was trying to be a nice guy. A pal to you." He shook his head, wounded and slow. "But you just don't listen. I thought Dicks were supposed to be smart? How come you're so damn dumb?"

"Coming from you? I'm wounded."

He said nothing, jutting his head at the other two. They took the hint and moved away. Leaving us nice and intimate.

He pulled up a chair beside me, resting his chin on his fingers almost delicately. "How about you tell us where Hummel is?"

They didn't have him! A feeling like bubbling hot water began in the pit of my gut and gurgled up into my throat. I hoped that this time he'd had the good sense to run.

"How about you go sit on your thumb for a few hours?"

He made a faint sucking noise between his thin lips. "Always with the quips," he sneered. "Listen, Anderson." He looked at the other men in the room; they'd moved away and were leaning against the wall watching with bored eyes. "Listen." He licked his lips and his voice dropped. "Just tell me where he is? It's for his own good."

"His own good? Ending toe up isn't for his own good, Karofsky."

"I wouldn't..." The yell halted in his throat, clutching at his teeth and tiptoeing back the way it came. "I wouldn't hurt him. I wouldn't." The implication had been tossed out. I caught it easily.

"Then who would?"

He chose to ignore that. "We know he was with you." He swallowed thickly. "That he stayed with you last night. Pitching woo?"

I leaned as close to him as my ties would allow. "Jealous?"

His nostrils quivered a little and his breath made a noise in them for a moment. Then he relaxed and said quietly. "Let me get to him first. Where is he?"

A creak from behind. Footsteps. "Let you get to him first, Karofsky?"

Karofsky's eyes burst open and tried to edge his nose off his face. "Because... Because I want to give the daisy something to remember me by. Give him a beating he won't forget in a hurry."

"So, you can lose him again?" The newcomer stepped around me. "I think not." He was handsome. Sure. Why not? Tall with wavy film star hair and intense blue eyes that burned over your skin. Throwing me that, he gave me the barest of glances and turned his back. He strolled like a man in the park in Spring. He strolled like he'd already got away with murder once. And practise makes perfect.

"Lost him?" I laughed "Is that the story you've been pitching? Who helped you come up with that one? Hearst?"

"You really want to ride me?" Karofsky whispered, looking at the floor. It must have been interesting, he stared for a while. Then he sucker punched me in the gut. "Applesauce to you! Quit riding me! Where's Hummel, you little queen!"

"Nice...words...you forget...you're...a queen too?" I spluttered out as soon as I had regained enough air. He sat back in his seat, his expression whitening like sour milk. Turning to the tall man they exchanged a weighty glance, filled with questions and answers I couldn't read.

"He's lying! I ain't no damn invert!"

"I know, Karofsky. He's just trying to rattle you." He tapped at Karofsky's shoulder, who jumped up like the fingers were live wires. Oblivious to the reaction, the man took Karofsky's seat. "Do you know who I am?"

"Steamboat Willy?"

He contemplated me silently for a moment, like a celebrated landmark he was disappointed to finally see in person. "I hear you like this?" His slightly minty breath wafted on my face as his hand trailed down my body, reaching my groin. He began to palm it in gentle, lazy strokes. "Like that? Hmm?" I stared at him in disgusted horror and uselessly tried to push my body down through the wood of the chair, desperate to escape his touch. Smiling pleasantly he gripped my balls and squeezed with an almost inhuman strength, chuckling at my resulting scream. "Is that nice?"

I answered with a scream and a curse.

"I'm afraid that's not myinclination. Where's Hummel?" He squeezed again and my vision whitened in blind, inescapable pain. "Where's the boy? We know you were with him? That he stayed at your apartment. Where...is...Hummel?" With each word he punctuated it with another vice like clamp, a dreamy little grin on his face as I writhed at the agony.

"Okay! Okay! I'll tell you! Please! Just stop!"

He let go, wiping his hand on his knee with a curled lip of disdain. "There? Isn't it better to behave? Where is he?"

"I sent him to... I sent him to... " I panted as my crotch throbbed dully.

"Yes?"

"Freedonia. Land of the Spree, and the Home of the Knave."

For an instant he was rigid and motionless, fury filled his face and he grinned tightly, teeth bared. "Wise crack all you want, Gum Shoe. But we willfind him. And when we do you'll really be behind the eight ball. More than you already are, anyway."

"It was never meant to go that far, was it? Killing the owner of New Directions?" My words fell out in a breath and my groin wanted me to shut up, but I ignored it. "You just wanted the club. That's all. Like Cheerios. Like here. You're new in town and taking over, aren't you, St. James?"

His expression softened and for a moment he actually seemed impressed. "You're not the weak sister I'd been led to believe." He shot a glance over his shoulder. Karofsky ducked his head and gave a dry cough. "But nevertheless. I'm afraid that you either tell us what we need to know or we'll deem you no longer useful. Do you understand me, Mr. Anderson?"

I told him I understood.

"Good. That's good. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Anderson." He stood up elegantly, playing with his cufflinks absently. "Karofsky? Keep shaking him and see what falls out."

"And if he still don't talk?" Red patches showed in his cheeks. "What then?"

Jesse St. James gave a sweet grin. "Make that silence permanent."


I drifted in and out of consciousness over the next hour or so, always waking to the same question, always leading to the same result.

"The boy, Anderson!" Karofsky gripped my hair, his stubby nails scraping my scalp. He stared down at me, upside down, teeth bared and mean in the face. "Where is the boy?"

"Go to hell," I said through a mouth of blood. And smiled

"I can't take much more of this," he sighed, shoving my head away. He pulled at his collar and kneaded his face with the other hand, my blood smearing his skin. "He's not going to sing."

"Hmm, you think we should just ice him? I'm getting tired of hearing his skin tear."

For a moment Karofsky looked almost sick. "No- I- Look! I need a damn break! Bryan? Give him half an hour to get a clue. Then we'll decide what needs to be done."

He lurched out, his shoulders bent low and his head lower. That left me, Bryan and Nice Face. Alone at last. I breathed in the thick, poisonous air, my breath machine gunning in short, painful bursts.

Nice Face bulged his lower lip with his tongue. "He doesn't have the stones for what needs to be done," he said. Nicely. "Small time you see. They never do. Which leaves it to us. We have to make an executive decision, Mr Anderson. It's a tough one, but it needs to be done." He pinched my cheek. "You don't know anything do you? Oh, you may want to seem all brave and John Wayne like. We get it. We likeit. But it's getting old. We both know you would have spilled by now."

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"I hope you enjoyed the boy. I'm sorry it had to come to this. You seem a darb guy." He gave a shrug, removing a rod from the inside of his jacket. "Eccentric tastes, sure. But I always liked Noël Coward myself."

"Are you going to talk him to death or shoot him?" Bryan snapped. "Just get it done."

Nice Face gave another one of his sad little smiles and sighed, the breath hanging from his lips. He pressed the barrel to my temple, index finger caressing the trigger. "Awfully sorry, pally."

This was it. This was it.

"Wait!" A familiar voice. "Let me try." My vision was fuzzy, one eye wouldn't even open, so precise Karofsky's knuckles had been, but I knew the voice. Rachel Berry.

Nice Face jumped up, and held his free hand in the air. Warning her off. "This is no sight for ladies. Okay. Just go back into the bar, Miss. Take it on the heel and toe."

"It's okay, Carl. Jesse asked me to swing by." Her voice drew nearer and took on an innocent quality. "Unless you want me to go double check? He hates being questioned, but if it will set your mind at ease? I'm sure..."

"No! No, if he wants you to try, he wants you to try." Carl stood up, looking at my head almost mournfully. Probably imagining the slug that should be in my button by now.

"Go ahead," Bryan said. Gesturing towards me like I was a prize on a quiz show. "Talk."

"Jesse would prefer I talk to him alone."

"No dice. We can't leave you alone with him." Carl shook his head. "It's not safe."

"He's tied to a chair. What exactly do you think he is going to? Use me as a foot stool?" Her voice and poise were confident. You could almost ignore the tiny tremor in her hands. "Leave us alone, please."

He tutted looking between us both. He held up the piece. "I'm going to leave this on here, okay. If he tries anything. Seal the deal." He placed it on the table in front of me. "You know how to do that?"

"I know." Rachel gave a curt nod, her eyes fixed on me. "I know what I need to do."

"Try not to break a nail, Ankle." Bryan smirked. Carl shot him a look and he froze. "Sorry, Miss," he muttered. "Didn't mean anything by it."

"So, you're Jesse's girl?" I asked as soon as we were alone.

Her dark hair surged forward along her cheeks. She put her right hand up and pushed it back and then rubbed her temple with one finger. "You're a mess."

I shrugged. "Cut myself shaving."

"Please." She mourned in a thin, brittle voice. "Do you know where Kurt Hummel is?"

"Kurt Hummel? Say, what's all this about a Kurt Hummel?" I grinned and she visibly winced at my blood stained teeth.

"If you just tell us where he is, he'll let you go. I promise."

"With a warm hug and a cup of cocoa?" I spat. "Get real, kid. That's not the end game here. And what about Hummel? What do you think will happen to him once they find him? Hmm?"

"I'm sure that..." She stopped, wringing her hands in front of her small frame. "If you just co-operate. That's all."

"Why?" I asked, simple and plain. Fancy was getting me nowhere. "Why is a nice girl like you tied up with a redhot like him?"

"You just don't know him. You don't realise how brilliant he is. Jesse sees my talent. My potential. He knows that I can go all the way. That I have what it takes!"

"Really?" My voice was dry.

"Really. Do you know back home I starred in The Wild Duck? The critics said that my performance was a revelation. That I made the part my own. That I was born to play Hedvig. "

"They oughta see this one."

"And then I came out here and no one cared. No one saw me as special. As a revelation. I was just another face in the crowd."

"Yeah? That's just too bad. I'm sitting here crying like a church on a Monday."

"Jesse sees me. Jesse says he can get me a screen test. With Warners. He says that he can take me places!" Her voice crawled down the cracks in hardwood floor. "If I do what he wants. Needs."

"You're too pretty for Jack. Try MGM. You have Crawford's jaw line. They'll like that. Get yourself some Adrian pads and you're all set."

"Don't make fun of me! Don't you dare! You don't know what it's like! This is all I have ever wanted. Don't you get that?

"No, youdon't understand! They're going to kill me. And when they find Kurt they'll kill him, too. This isn't a parlour game, Rachel!"

"But Jesse..." She bit at a knuckle and looked at me over her hand. "He told me he'd let you go. He promisedme."

"And he promised to take you to the top. But, Sister? The top is the H and you're Peggy Entwistle."

She turned her back, her thin shoulders shaking like branches in the winds. "Stop it! Okay!"

I didn't. "How long before he decides you know too much, Rachel? How long before you get a chair of your own? Maybe he'll even wash my blood off this one first. Him being so swell and all."

"He wouldn't do that. He caresabout me." But it was herself he was trying to kid. "He does. Once you tell him what he needs to know then he'll let you go. That boy... It was just a misunderstanding. Jesse wants to explain to him. That's all."

I grinned. It felt awful. I didn't like it. I wanted it off my face. "Hummel saw your Henry Higgins kill a man. A man in a chair just like this."

"No." She gave a harsh gasp. "No, just stop it. Okay? Stop it."

"Rachel," The fight drained out of my pores. "Please." I didn't know that voice. I think it was mine. But we had never met before. "Please, Rachel.Is it really worth this?"

"Damnit!" She snapped, stamping towards me. She moved swiftly behind me, shoving my shoulders forward roughly.

"What are you...?"

"Untying you. Keep still!" She made surprisingly short work of the knots. They dropped to the floor, coiled and vicious, a snake waiting in prey.

"Ex Eagle Scout?"

"What?" She helped me stand, mindful of the worse of my wounds. "Can you walk?" She caught me as I stumbled. "That's a no, then."

"Give me a minute!"

"We haven't got a minute! Right. Here." She grabbed the gun up from the table and placed my fingers around the butt. I stared down at it, my senses still not returned from whatever vacation they'd gone on. "Mr. Anderson! Come on!" She dragged my arm across her neck and pressed her back to my stomach, still tender from St. James men. "Now march me out. They'll let you by."

"How can you be so sure?" She stared me down from the ground and I nodded. I got it. Jesse's girl.I struggled to remain standing, my face buried in her hair. A sweet fruit I couldn't name tried to pull me in. I pushed back weakly. "Okay, let's go."

She grabbed at the handle, swinging the door open and throwing us out. "Please do what he says! He's crazy!" Rachel gasped. "Please!"

Bryan and Carl leapt to the roof, too surprised to pull out the heat. "What the...?"

"Shut up." I hoped they didn't see she was borderline carrying me as we made our way out. We edged closer to them, keeping a distance. "Just shut up!"

"Go easy, Anderson. You're unleashing a whole heap of dutch here." Carl said earnestly, softly tailing us. "Just let the dame go."

"Drop your gun! You! Now! Kick it over. Kick it over!" Bryan lowered the roscoe he had been raising and followed the order, his eyes dark with hate and humiliation. "Pick it up!" I ordered Rachel, keeping the weapon pressed to her neck as we crouched, my eyes trained to the goons. "Put one it in my waistline Her hands shook. She was right. A revelation. Somewhere in the Hollywood hills the Barrymores were quaking. Her knuckles grazed my naval as she pushed the gun into place. Hell, I hoped the safety was on.

"Don't follow us. If you do. She dies." We began to move backwards up the corridor. I darted looks over my shoulder as we went. "I said stay where you are!" To Rachel: "Is there a way out of here?"

"Just a little farther. The fire escape leads to the parking lot," she hissed back. "I have Jesse's keys. We can get out of here."

We reached the door and Jesse's goons watched us with wide, angry eyes. It wasn't my gun they were scared of. It was what Jesse would do if his woman ended up hurt. A dark part of me wanted to test that. Get revenge. I crushed it down and shoved it away.

We backed out into the light and broke into a scrambled run, Rachel dragging me as we moved. "This is it!" She shrieked. We dived into the car and she grabbed at the wheel, jamming the keys into the ignition. "Wait. Wait! I don't know... I don't know where to go!"

The door behind us crashed open and shouts began.

"Iknow," I gasped out, trying not to black out, my forehead against the window. "Just drive!"

The car punched gravel and we flew from the lot. I sneaked a glance in the rear-view. The steps were all over the place and the pace was all wrong. They hadn't got choreography yet. But it wouldn't be long before they got the beat down just fine.

"There's a place we could try. The last place that they'd look."

"A friend?" Rachel asked, glancing over, her bottom lip trembling. Her hands gripped the wheel tight. The white knuckles standing out against the red of my blood.

"Not a friend. No." Darkness began to pull at my shadow, warm and inviting. Down and down I fell. "Artie. We need to go see Artie Abrams."