The usual disclaimers apply: I'm not making any money off of this, Castle belongs to ABC and Andrew Marlowe, and any similarities to real people or places are strictly a coincidence.
Author's notes are at the bottom. Please enjoy!
The Spellbound Affair
Chapter Thirty-Seven
*Warning* This chapter contains mild violence.
The hospital allowed Castle to check himself out by early afternoon. Beckett doubted that the discharge had anything to do with Dr. Reynold's determination that the writer was well enough to leave. It was more likely that the doctor was sick of listening to Castle fret about his missing boys.
While waiting for Will Sorensen and his team to drive up from the city, Beckett had returned to the hospital to be with Martha and Castle. There was nothing she could do yet at the crime scene. Besides, being with Castle gave her some measure of comfort, regardless of his bullish attitude. After waking from the covertly administered sedatives, Castle had steadfastly refused any kind of painkillers that he couldn't swallow from a bottle. Reluctantly, Dr. Reynolds prescribed him extra-strength Tylenol and what bed-rest the writer could bear before signing his papers and leaving the room as quickly as possible.
Castle was less than concerned that he hadn't made a new friend in the stiff medical doctor. As soon as the nurse finished removing his IV and unplugging the other various machines, Castle rushed out of the bed. He nearly fainted at the too quick movement. Beckett caught his arm before he could fall and urged him to take a little more time. "We got what we wanted, Rick," she murmured soothingly. "You're going home. Please don't kill yourself in the process."
"You're right," he admitted. "Damn it."
"What's wrong?"
"If only I'd-"
"No," interrupted Beckett. "There's nothing you could have done differently."
"It's just…" Castle trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose against the pounding in his head.
"It's just what?"
"Fuck." Castle took a deep breath. "One minute, I'd finally gotten Javi to agree to play along with the tooth fairy and the next, I'm waking up in back of an ambulance with no idea where my little boys are."
"We'll find them." Beckett wiped a solitary tear off her cheek. "We're good at what we do, Castle." She needed to hear the words as much as Castle did. While she wished more outsiders hadn't been dragged into her case, she was glad to have Sorensen on her side. He was good at his job, too.
"We will." Castle stood up a little straighter. Beckett could see the strain in his face from the headache, though he did a very good job disguising his pain. Sometimes, she wished she had half the strength and optimism that her boyfriend did.
With Beckett's assistance, Castle changed back into his sleepwear since Beckett hadn't thought to grab the man some street clothes while she was at the house. Martha returned from her short trip to the on-site pharmacy to fill her son's prescription just in time to join them in the trek across the hospital. Castle only agreed to the wheelchair if Beckett pushed it. Despite his assertion that he was a pro thanks to his weeks spent in a chair after breaking his kneecap skiing, the hospital staff would not let him wheel himself out.
The short ride in the chair was enough to leave Castle looking a bit pale and a lot worn by the time they reached the Charger. Castle insisted that his mother take the front seat. Beckett bit back her smile, knowing that Castle was reserving for himself the option to lie down across the back seat. The orderly who had accompanied them to the parking garage bid them farewell and departed with the chair. Beckett drove as slowly and carefully as she could bear.
"Kate, I'm fine," said Castle. "You don't have to crawl down the road."
"Your face is putting the grass to shame, Rick," countered the detective. That wasn't actually true. The grass was a much more pleasant shade of green than Castle's face. "This car is still too nice for the likes of you to be throwing up in the back seat."
"Do you know what some people would give to have Richard Castle throw up in the back seat of their car?"
"Really, Richard, that's disgusting," complained Martha.
"It's true," pouted the author. He let off the fake sadness quickly. "Seriously, though, this pace is making me feel claustrophobic."
"Okay." Beckett cautiously pressed down on the gas pedal. She kept the car right at the speed limit and did her best to avoid any bumps in the road. Fortunately, the rich little community of Southampton kept their streets in pretty good shape so it was a fairly smooth ride.
The Southampton police were still milling about the property when Beckett pulled up in front of Castle's second home. In addition to the marked cruisers for the local force, two black SUVs were parked a short distance from the house. It had taken the federal agents less time than Beckett expected to reach the seaside haven.
Beckett parked as closely to the front door as she could. A few of the Southampton officers glanced over at the new arrivals. They quickly looked away when they recognized the scary NYPD detective. Beckett rolled her eyes as she walked around the car to help Castle.
Special Agent Will Sorensen walked up to greet the trio. He was flanked by two of his own people. "Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle." The agent held out his hand to shake each of their hands professionally. "I wish we could have met again under better circumstances."
"Are there ever any good circumstances when it comes to us?" joked Castle.
"Not that I know of," returned Sorensen with an easy smile. "Please, don't scare off any more material witnesses, would you?"
"Will, this is Martha Rodgers, Castle's mother," introduced Beckett. "Martha, Special Agent Sorensen of the FBI."
"A pleasure, ma'am," said Sorensen. He shook her hand as well. Martha returned his greeting with a tired smile. She did raise an eyebrow inquisitively at the detective once the man had turned away. Beckett recalled her slip at calling Sorensen by his first name and blushed minutely.
As they walked up to the house, Sorensen briefly explained to Beckett what his team had accomplished in the short time they'd been in Southampton. The familiar FBI equipment had been set up in Castle's upstairs media room, making use of the inherent privacy of the windowless room. CSI had finished their sweep and the FBI's squad was currently performing their own investigation and comparing notes with the local team. Back in New York City, a team of agents had started running traces on all of Bellefonte's credit cards and phones while Sorensen's team completed their commute.
Beckett slipped her arm through Castle's as they crossed the threshold and the writer got his first look at the state of his downstairs. "What the hell happened?"
"We're still trying to determine that, Mr. Castle," said Sorensen. "It appears that some high-frequency wave was bounced through the room, causing all of the glass to break. It seems that your children put up a bit of a fight, hence the upended furniture." Beckett squeezed Castle's hand briefly. She wouldn't have expected her detectives to submit weakly.
"Is it safe to stay here?" asked Martha. She looked around the trashed living room with a deep frown.
"We'll have a team posted here around the clock," said Sorensen. "The upstairs looks to have been spared the destruction. However, if you'd be more comfortable at a hotel, we can make arrangements for you to stay at the same place we'll be at."
"I'd rather be here," said Castle. Beckett nodded in agreement. Martha looked less sure, but postponed making her decision.
Out of the corner of her eye, Beckett caught sight of Chief Brady speaking to one of the CSI technicians. She clenched her jaw momentarily. "Will?"
"Yes?"
Beckett tilted her head in Brady's direction. "I don't want that man anywhere near this investigation."
"The police chief?" Sorensen glanced at the officer in question and then back and Beckett. "I thought you preferred the help of local authorities."
"Not this time," the detective said evenly. Sorensen shrugged and nodded at one of his men to ask the police chief to leave. Unfortunately, Brady wasn't interested in being dismissed so easily. He marched over to the small group with the FBI agent trailing him apologetically.
"What's the meaning of this?" Brady demanded.
"Your assistance is not needed on this case," said Sorensen squarely. "If anything comes up that you can help us with, I'll let you know."
"This is my city and this case is in my jurisdiction," argued the police chief. "You can't just kick my people off the case."
"This is a kidnapping, Chief Brady. As such, it is a federal investigation. If you do not cease interfering with my case, I will be forced to press charges for obstruction of justice."
"You're just pushing me out because she has a problem with me," snapped Brady.
"Damn straight I have a problem with you," seethed Beckett. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest to prevent herself from strangling the weasel. Sorensen looked slightly taken aback by the venom in her voice.
"Sir, it's their dependents that are missing," stated the FBI agent. "If your presence is causing them distress, then you need to leave."
"It's not even her house," said Brady, as if that made a difference. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't have picked a worse ally.
"Get the hell out of my house, Brady." Castle glowered at the shorter man. Brady finally looked at the writer. Once he registered the fire in Castle's eyes and the bandage covering his new stitches, the fight left him. With a series of muttered curses for the group at large, Brady motioned for his force to vacate the premises.
"Thank you," said Beckett once the Southampton officers were gone.
"You're welcome," replied Sorensen. She could tell by his expression that he would want an explanation for her behavior but he respected her enough to ask in private.
"Sir," said one of the suit-clad agents. "I just checked in with headquarters. So far there has been no luck tracking down Rayford Bellefonte. He cut off his phone service and hasn't accessed any of his accounts in over a week."
"He'll have to get money sometime," said Sorensen. "Keep me updated."
"Sir." The agent nodded and swiftly departed.
"Besides fear, worry, and desperation, how are you feeling?" asked Sorensen. Beckett quirked up the corner of her mouth at his candidness. "Do you need anything to eat or drink?"
"You're awfully accommodating for a federal agent," said Martha.
"Unfortunately, ma'am, the majority of these investigations is simply a lot of waiting. My job is to help you, however I can." Sorensen offered the actress a small smile. Beckett remembered why she used to like him so much.
"Well, that's certainly a fresh take on things," said Martha. "Is the kitchen ruined, too?"
"It seems that the living room and foyer took the brunt of the damage," said Sorensen. "If you'll point things out to me, I'll make some coffee."
"Oh, don't bother yourself," argued Martha. "I'd feel better if I were doing something, anyway."
"Very well, ma'am."
"And please, don't call me that. You'll make my feel old."
"My apologies." Martha led the way to the mostly intact kitchen. Sorensen joined Beckett and Castle at the bar while Martha hunted for the canister of coffee beans and some clean mugs.
"So, what can you tell me about the suspect, Rayford Bellefonte?" asked Sorensen. Beckett glanced quickly at Castle. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to tell the agent about the real identity of the missing boys and her investigation. In the end, she decided to wing it. Together, she and Castle combined their two primary cover stories and wove a tale that the famed mystery writer could certainly be proud of.
The gist of the story was that some of Castle's distant relatives were involved in a crime ring where things had gone sideways. The two boys ended up in the middle of the internal conflict and witnessed a few crimes that would have garnered the attention of New York's finest homicide detective. Since they were already related to the writer, he and his girlfriend had agreed to take them into protective custody until things calmed down. Castle had been adamant about not contacting the authorities, in fear of retribution from those involved. After the incident at Castle's loft, he and Beckett had decided to move the boys to the Hamptons. Their cover story here had been that Beckett was adopting the two little boys. Over the course of their time spent together, the two adults had grown quite fond of their charges and were therefore understandably upset about losing them.
Bellefonte was explained as a suspect in one of Beckett's other homicide cases. He'd fostered a personal hatred for the detective and upon learning about the children she was protecting, had decided to get to the detective through them. Sorensen took notes until Martha announced that the coffee was ready. He gently chided the two, who should have known better than to not seek out help immediately when confronted with Castle's family problems. Beckett took the criticism in stride.
They enjoyed the warm drinks until Sorensen was called away. Castle looked completely worn out, despite the caffeine in his system. Beckett was too anxious to rest herself, so she let Castle retire to the master bedroom by himself. Martha decided to sit with her son in case he needed anything. Beckett couldn't stand to sit in the messy house, so she scooped up her car keys and headed for her car. She knew it was pointless to drive around the town, as if Bellefonte would just be walking around with her partners in tow, but she couldn't do nothing.
xXx
Kevin was thirsty. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. His teeth felt grimy when he ran his tongue over them. While having not brushed his teeth that morning was probably one of the least of his concerns, it bothered him nonetheless. Besides, it was better to worry about that than whatever it was Rayford Bellefonte had planned for them.
Thanks to Javier's protective position, Kevin was shielded from most of the dusty living room. He couldn't bear to look at the reanimated Nora, with her horrible rotting face and bottomless black eyes that never stopped staring at them. He didn't know Javier how could stand her leering.
The tingling in his limbs had finally dissipated and it was comfortable to breathe again. Kevin made a mental note to go out of his way to avoid being electrocuted in the future. It was not a pleasant feeling, even when the current was actually magical energy instead of true electricity. His tangled hair was still statically charged and no doubt sticking up embarrassingly. Javier was lucky that his hair was a bit shorter and less prone to standing on end.
Javier shifted in order to find a more comfortable position. He dropped his shoulder, which would have given Kevin a clear view of the creepy dead witch had he not had the foresight to look down at his lap, first. His gaze landed on his skinned knee. A sizable scab had formed over the worse scrape from the soccer game the day before. Fortunately, losing the band-aid and being dragged off to who knows where hadn't caused it to start bleeding again.
Kevin didn't know which was worse; being tortured or waiting to be tortured. At least Lockwood had cut right to the chase. The ice cold water was hell on his lungs, but he'd take that over the full body lightning rod experience any day. The other benefit they'd had with Lockwood was that the man, while sadistic, had just wanted information and would have ended their suffering if Javier admitted how far the cops were in the investigation. Rayford wanted to hurt them just for the sake of causing pain.
Javier let out a shaky sigh. His warmth breath ghosted over Kevin's cheek and he shifted again. Kevin wanted to help him find a more comfortable position but didn't know how. Between the hard surface of the bottom of the kennel and the narrow bars that made up the walls and roof, there wasn't really anything cushioned to lean against.
Really, though, a dog kennel? It was kind of stupid, but Kevin felt insulted at the implication that he and his partner were little more than pets to be locked up while their owner was away. At least being handcuffed or chained to something would acknowledge they were humans.
"Javi?" The unending silence had gotten on Kevin's last nerve and he needed something to distract himself from worrying about Castle's well-being. He dared to peek over Javier's shoulder. To his relief, Nora had finally lost interest in them and was now staring blankly at the wall. The neckline of her dress had shifted, once more revealing the thick stitching that reclosed her chest after Lanie had cut her open.
"Shh," replied the older boy. Javier's nose nearly rested against Kevin's temple, so his admonishment to be quiet went directly into his ear. Kevin didn't want to be quiet though. It was making him restless.
"Javi."
"Shut up."
"I don't want to," argued Kevin.
"Do you want to get zapped again?"
"Bellefonte can't hear us if we whisper." Besides, it was kind of Javier's fault they'd gotten zapped the first two times, anyway.
"What's wrong with you?"
"It's too quiet in here. It's hurting my ears."
Javier snorted in amusement. That kind of tickled the inside of Kevin's ear. He squirmed, to which Javier protested by tightening his hold. "The quiet hurts your ears?"
"Yes. Haven't you ever played a blank tape really loudly? It does all kinds of weird things to your head."
"That explains so much."
"Jerk." Kevin was over being smashed against the thin bars. He pushed on Javier until the older boy shifted enough to let Kevin have some breathing room. A short look towards the couch confirmed that Nora hadn't reacted to their shifting. Their new position left Javier reclining against the back of the kennel and Kevin tucked up against his side with his head on Javier's bony shoulder. Javier's cheek rested against Kevin's forehead. "How's your tooth?"
"That's what you want to talk about?"
"I'm concerned about your well-being, though sometimes I don't know why I bother."
"It's gone," said Javier softly. "It must have fallen out when Bellefonte was moving us."
"You didn't swallow it, did you? I remember being worried about that when I was losing my teeth."
Javier paused before responding. "No, I don't think I swallowed it." Kevin regretted worrying his partner, but it was a legitimate concern. You had to be careful about those kinds of things. "I think another damned one is loose."
"Castle will be happy to have another chance at being the tooth fairy."
"I'm glad that my teeth falling out makes his day," said Javier sardonically.
"Castle got it wrong, though. It's Santa who leaves lumps of coal, not the tooth fairy."
"When we get out of here, you be sure to point that out to him."
"I will," Kevin promised. He thought for a minute about Castle sneaking into Javier's room and exchanging something exciting for Javier's tooth. Maybe Knicks tickets? Javier liked those, and Castle had successfully bribed the Hispanic detective with them before. Kevin frowned when a significant detail in the imagined scene bothered him. "Do you think Castle dresses up like the tooth fairy? You know, like in case Alexis woke up one time?"
"Oh. My. God." Javier pushed Kevin away from him. "What is wrong with you? Did you drink bleach as a kid or something?"
"What?" Kevin did his best to convey that his feelings were mortally wounded.
"Ugh, I can't get that image out of my head."
"Oh."
"Oh." Javier gave him a dirty look. Kevin shrugged and smiled cutely. His smile slipped when his stomach growled. "You pick now to be hungry?" Javier crowded his partner again. Apparently his over-bearing protectiveness was enough to overcome his mental scarring.
"I'm more thirsty."
"Me too," admitted Javier.
"Do you think Bellefonte will zap us again if we ask for water?"
"Probably." Javier frowned and looked towards the hallway that Rayford had vanished into earlier. Kevin thought Javier was probably right. He sighed and focused on trying to generate enough spit in his mouth to get rid of the cottony feeling.
The doorbell rang then, causing both boys to jump slightly. Nora also reacted to the sound. She looked towards the far entryway briefly, and then turned to stare at the captive detectives. She smiled hungrily at them. Javier tried to position himself more fully between the witch and his partner. Kevin wrapped his arms around Javier.
From the next room over, Kevin could hear Rayford's heavy footsteps as he made his way to the door. A very large part of him hoped that it was a police officer, canvassing wherever it was that Rayford had taken them, looking for two missing boys. The more likely scenario was that it was that Saul person for whom Rayford was waiting.
The second scenario was proven true when the unnaturally pale witch entered the living room, followed by someone Kevin had never seen before. Actually, that wasn't true. He looked kind of familiar, upon second glance. The stranger carried himself more easily than Rayford. Streaks of gray accented his light brown hair at his temples. His expensive looking suit fit him well and his shoes were quite shiny. He carried a cane with a finely carved wooden handle. It was obviously just for looks, since he never actually used it to support his weight and he had no discernible limp when he walked.
"Come in," invited Rayford in his gravelly voice that made Kevin think of being drowned in a tub of ice water. "This is my esteemed mother, Nora. Mama, please meet Saul Davis."
Nora held up her wrinkly, waxy hand to the newcomer. Davis graciously dipped down to press his lips to the back of her hand in an old-fashioned greeting. Kevin could clearly see the flash of disgust that crossed the man's face once he'd completed the act. The detective was glad that he and Javier weren't the only ones averse to the seriously creepy undead woman. It didn't seem that Rayford or Nora noticed the expression.
"And these are the children?" Davis quickly sidestepped Nora to stride over to the large kennel set in the corner of the room. He tapped on the side of the cage with his cane, but no amount of prodding was going to get Javier to let go of his partner. The two detectives stared defiantly back at the stranger. Kevin continued to try to recall where he'd seen the man before. He was trained to not forget a face, because one never knew when a suspect was hiding right under their noses. "Aren't they kind of small?" Javier bristled slightly at the question.
"They're children," said Rayford.
"Yes, but I imagined they would have been bigger. Valduerez wasn't this small." Davis squinted as he peered at the trapped detectives.
"She was older," said Nora. "These babies will grow, too." It was the first time Kevin had heard the witch speak since leaving her house the day they were cursed. She rasped when she spoke now. Her black eyes flashed in the dimly lit room.
"Well, I'm not sure my master can make use of such small children, no matter what skills they come with." Davis pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open to view the time. Kevin wanted to know what time it was, too. That was easier to think about than what Davis' "master" wanted with cursed detectives.
"If you don't like their ages, I can fix that," said Nora. She coughed slightly into her hand. Kevin thought he saw dust mixed in with her spittle. He could almost sympathize. His throat felt quite raw as well. "How much do you want? Five years? Ten?"
"Five years sounds good," said Davis. "How old are they now?"
"Something-something," said Nora flippantly. "They used to be in their thirties."
"Six and four," replied Rayford more exactly. "That's what the detective and her writer friend have been telling people."
"I see. Do they talk?" Davis knelt down now to get a better look. Kevin was struggling to breathe with Javier pressing him so hard into the corner of the kennel.
"Yes, about stupid stuff," said Nora. "Grown men in fairy costumes."
Kevin felt his face turn pink all of the way up to the tips of his ears. Apparently being undead gave you supersonic hearing, because Kevin was pretty sure he and Javier had kept their conversation to "barely audible". To his immense relief, Davis seemed to write off the strange comment as some oddity of Nora's and not his or Javier's.
"What's your name, boy?" asked Davis. He focused on Javier. Javier glared silently in response.
"He asked you a question," snapped Rayford. The sickly witch kicked the side of the kennel, jarring the two detectives out of their defensive huddle.
Javier said something very mean in Spanish. Kevin had heard the phrase before, but his partner refused to translate it. Unfortunately, Rayford didn't need a translation. His scary murderous face jumped out from beyond his physical one. Even Davis inched to the side. Javier held his ground as long as he could but it didn't take long for his bravado to fail. Rayford gradually calmed down.
"Well," said Davis. "They'll need some training, too."
"I've only had them since this morning. It will be taken care of," said Rayford.
"How long will it take to make them bigger and train them up a bit?"
"A few days," said Rayford.
"Good. And it won't cost anything additional?"
"Of course not," said Rayford sweetly. It was kind of sour-apple sweet.
"We're not for sale," stated Javier. The full-size adults ignored him. "Bellefonte, you rat bastard! You can't sell us!"
"Shut your mouth or I'll knock out the rest of your teeth," threatened Rayford.
"When Beckett catches up to you-"
"Beckett thinks you're dead!" roared Rayford. "She's not even looking for you."
"You're a fucking liar!"
"I told you to shut up!" Rayford's scary murder face was back. He crouched next to the kennel and reached through the mesh towards the detectives. Javier and Kevin immediately tried to move out of his reach, but the witch managed to snag the back of Kevin's shirt. He pulled the fabric back, immobilizing the younger boy with a chokehold as the collar of his t-shirt pressed against his windpipe.
"Javi!" Kevin used what little air he could draw in through his constricted airways to call for his partner. He tried to get his fingers between the unyielding cotton and his throat, but there was no room.
"Let him go." Javier tried to help Kevin tear through the double-stitched neckline but the fabric refused to give. It put him within reach of the maniacal witch but Rayford was more interested in choking Kevin than getting a hold of the older boy. Spots danced in front of Kevin's eyes and his chest burned. "Stop it!"
"Be quiet," snapped Rayford.
"Leave him alone."
"Shut up."
The dots dancing round the edges of his vision blurred together to form a reddish tunnel that grew more narrow with each second that passed. Kevin struggled to move his limbs but he felt like he was underwater. He could barely see Javier through the glaze of his tears. Kevin thought Javier might be crying, too. The older boy clasped his hands over his mouth as he silently pleaded with someone behind Kevin.
The pressure on his throat was suddenly gone. Kevin nearly choked anew on the air that rushed in to fill his aching lungs. His jelly-like limbs failed him and he sagged against the narrow bars with his silly dinosaur t-shirt still bunched up around his shoulders. It didn't matter because Javier was there, pulling him away from the mesh and helping him stretch out on his back so his lungs and diaphragm weren't constricted. If his throat had hurt before, it was nothing compared to the fire that resided there now.
Rayford and Davis moved away from the kennel to discuss their upcoming transaction some more. Javier dared to draw Rayford's ire again as he whispered broken apologies through his own labored breathing. Kevin directed what little control he could muster to his hand so he could squeeze Javier's fingers in forgiveness. His eyelids felt like lead weights were dragging them down. He sacrificed being able to see in order to focus on slowing his breathing and trying to hear the nearby conversation over the pounding in his ears. Javier held his hand tightly.
Rayford at some point had retrieved the two badges he must have stolen from Castle's house during the kidnapping. Davis inspected the shields with various comments about how his master could find use for the misappropriated gear. This was the second time Kevin's badge had been compromised in three years. At the rate he was going, One Police Plaza was going to refuse to issue him a new one.
"I'll contact you when the boys are ready for delivery," said Rayford as he walked Saul Davis to the front door.
"What about that detective?" asked the visitor. "This is a high-profile retrogression and my master doesn't want any trouble from the authorities."
"I'll deal with her," promised Rayford. "It will be my pleasure." The man apparently liked that response because he left then, taking his pointless cane with him. Kevin could breathe easily enough by now to sit upright. Javier hovered next to him closely. They nervously watched Rayford stalk back into the room.
"Get the vials I prepared for you," said Nora. She slowly pushed herself off the couch to tediously make her way towards the secretary. She pulled a wire-bound notebook out of one of the drawers.
Rayford scowled when he saw the book. "I'll get your grimoire back from Randall soonest, Mama," he said. Nora nodded in acknowledgement. She sat down in her favorite seat and flipped to a page near the front of the book. Rayford disappeared momentarily and returned with two vials of bluish liquid.
"Bring the older boy, first," instructed Nora. Javier instinctively tensed and tightened his hold on Kevin. Rayford undid the combination lock and the door to the kennel swung open. Javier let go of Kevin to latch onto the steel bars when the witch tried to drag him out of the cage. Rayford easily solved that problem by charging the metal again. Javier could only withstand the current for a second before letting go with a cry of pain. The witch bodily hauled the struggling detective across the room after magically sealing the kennel to prevent Kevin from escaping.
Now that Rayford was, in theory, too far away to harm Kevin, Javier adding screaming to his kicking. Rayford was deceptively strong. Usually he looked like he was about to fall over from the weight of air above him. He had magic to help him, of course. When Javier nailed him in the thigh with a well-placed heel, Rayford shouted an expletive. His hands started to glow and Javier suddenly went still, unable to move. Rayford set him on the ground before Nora. The male witch pinched Javier's nose to force him to open his mouth. He quickly dumped the contents of one of the vials into Javier's mouth. Rayford now covered both Javier's nose and mouth until the inability to draw in any air forced him to swallow. Still immobilized by whatever spell Rayford had cast, Javier was helpless to prevent Nora from placing one hand over his chest and the other on his head. She chanted silently, reading from the page in her notebook.
Kevin wanted to plead with them to leave his partner alone. He gripped the bars of his makeshift prison and sobbed silently, unable to get his abused vocal chords to produce sound.
When Nora was finished, Rayford carried the still immobilized Javier back over to the kennel. Kevin was still too weak to effectively resist being dragged out of the cage and put through the same ritual as his partner. It wasn't until Kevin was dumped back into the kennel and the combination lock replaced that Javier was finally freed from the binding spell. It only took a few minutes for the sickening feeling that he recalled all too clearly from the initial curse to start building in his stomach. This time, they wouldn't have the luxury of a hospital and pain killers.
His last cognizant thought before his nausea became too much to bear was the memory of where he'd seen Saul Davis before. He had been at Nora's funeral. He was one of the Council members who'd tried to stop Rayford when he was murdering Winston Kennedy.
to be continued…
Author's Notes:
Thank you, TXMedic, for doing such a great job beta-reading.
Thank you Lezzles for the wonderful cover art: lsmwalls[ d o t ] tumbl r [ d o t ] com[/]image[/]58939397473
Please let me know what you think, especially if you have ideas of ways I can improve. I cherish all my reviews. I write for fun but I always want to improve, so constructive criticism is always welcome. All mistakes are my own.