Art of the Dark

by Cabbie Esq

This is a sequel to a story written by my writing buddy, Shady. She and I wrote it together after she completed her story. Todd and Téa are a reunited family with their baby boys, home after a terrifying kidnapping ordeal. They are facing a new mysterious threat though, one that is rooted in the spiritual, that reaches them from beyond the confines of earthly surroundings.

28. Chapter 28

ART OF THE DARK - PART 28

Dean keeps his back to the women, pretending to tend the fireplace. He pokes at the logs with a stick, watching the hot ashes fly as he tries to listen to their hushed conversation. The old woman doesn't look familiar to him; but she definitely knows who he is, which is not good...not good at all.

Joely and Téa huddle at the very edge of the firelight; both of them taking turns eyeing Dean's back, as they whisper to each other.

"That IS who I THINK it is, then."

"Yes...but-"

"Oh, Téa...what are you DOING?"

Téa sighs heavily, feeling like she's about six years old and has just been caught doing something wrong by her mother. Joely straightens up, folding her arms...waiting. Téa knows full well that no matter what she says, it won't sound good and finds herself scrambling, stuttering the explanation.

"I left Todd," she says, "took the kids and left, because I...I didn't...I didn't feel safe."

Joely shakes her head, confused. "What? Not safe… from whom?"

"I was afraid. I...god...this isn't gonna make any sense," Téa replies, more to herself, trailing off.

Joely glances at Dean again, then back at Téa. Even in the dark, she can see the stress weighing on her so she takes a breath and with her gentle British accent, says. "Tell me what's happened...and take your time."

Téa pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, keeping them shut. "Oh, Joely, you know how things have been for us...and it's just gone from bad to worse."

Joely knits her brow, her face crinkling in obvious concern. "Has Todd relapsed? Has his condition returned in some way?"

Téa opens her eyes at that, strangely taken aback. She realizes she hadn't been thinking consciously that his dissociative identity disorder could have returned. She looks up at the doctor, thoughtfully. "No," she replies, shaking her head. She's too assured though and so she tempers her response. "Well...at least...I don't THINK so..." She flashes back to the last time she saw him, how hung over he was, yelling at Starr. Full of rage one second and regret the next, so mercurial… and that was all Todd. Nobody else. No other personality to bear the blame. At the very least, there was that.

"No," she repeats, trying on the assured tone again, but then has to back off once more. "The truth is, ever since we brought the twins home, things haven't been right. It's as much ME as it is HIM though." She rubs her arms now for warmth, feeling a sudden chill caused by something other than the temperature. "I started having these...awful dreams…" Guiltily, she confesses. She knows it's ridiculous but still, she thinks this is all her fault.

"What dreams? Tell me."

"Repeatedly, I dreamt about Todd hurting the children. Killing them. It really scared me and I couldn't shake it. They felt real. And his 'off' behavior made them all the more real. That's the truth."

Joely sighs at that. "Did you tell him about it?"

Téa shakes her head vigorously. "No. I didn't… couldn't. But he knew something was wrong. I wasn't myself."

Joely waits for more, then presses. "This 'off' behavior… was it general? Or something more?"

"Both? The last day, he, uh...he got drunk, very drunk, and um...I found him yelling at Starr. She'd been playing in his office, and...he had her up off the floor, and he was...shaking her pretty hard, and screaming at her..." Joely shuts her eyes for a second, sighing, as Téa sniffs. "...I told him to get out...and that was the last time I saw him. I decided to leave after that. Like I said… those dreams felt real."

Joely nods...then steps closer to her, laying a hand on Téa's arm. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing with HIM," she whispers, tipping her head toward Dean.

Téa half-laughs, quietly murmuring, "I know."

The joke fizzles though, Joely not finding a single thing to laugh about. "Why didn't you just go to your family, or to RJ for help? Why are you with HIM?" The last words were practically hissed.

Over by the fireplace, Dean shakes his head at that, hearing the condemnation loud and clear. Fed up, he tosses the stick into the fire and stands up, turning around. Joely looks down her nose at him as he walks over, her arms folded, countering his determined expression with her own.

Finally, he extends a hand. "Hi. Dean Shelton...and you are?"

Joely's eyes narrow and she looks down at his hand with a cool, mildly revolted expression, then back up at his face. She says nothing, increasing the tension.

Téa jumps in. "Dean...please...just let me talk to her-"

He looks over at her. "Who the hell IS this? And who is she to judge us?"

"Joely Reese-Atherton," the doctor interjects loudly, clearly.

Dean looks at her, then back at Téa. "Wha-the SHRINK?"

"Yes. THE SHRINK," Joely answers, "Todd Manning's shrink. Now if you don't mind."

Dean laughs at her proper English brush-off. "Actually, I DO mind. You're standing here talking about me, IN FRONT OF ME. Anyone ever tell you how RUDE that is?"

"Well, quite honestly, Mr. Shelton, I'm not the least bit concerned about being polite TO YOU," she spits right back.

Dean's eyes flash at the insult even though he gets it, understands it, even though it's absurd to be offended, and Téa quickly steps in between them.

"Ohhhkay, alright. Look, Dean...I'm asking you...just give us a minute. Please?"

Joely watches them closely, taking note of their familiarity, their closeness, as Dean flicks his tongue against his teeth, clearly upset, but still, he does what she asks. He gives Joely a steely glare, and then leaves the room.

Téa turns back around to Joely with a helpless look. How is she supposed to explain why she's with her kidnapper? She opens her mouth to say something and finds she can't. And in that void, she really takes in the doctor's appearance, fragile-looking, pale skin even more pale than Téa remembered.

"Joely," she asks, "what's going on with you? You look… different? Are you working too hard?"

Joely backs off the aggression quickly, all her fire fading, and then she smiles tiredly, nods. She takes a few slow steps toward the fireplace.

"Well, I'm afraid this is me now, my new normal. Old, weak, cranky...and quite ill."

Téa walks right up to her again. "What? What do you mean?"

Joely stares down at the fire with a faraway look. Then she shakes her head, laughing to herself again. "Todd always told me that smoking would kill me. Well...he was right."

Téa's shoulders drop at that. "Oh, god..." she starts, but Joely just rubs her arm.

"Ohhhh...please don't. It's not like this is something new or unexpected. I've been dealing with this for quite some time. It was bound to catch up with me sooner or later."

Téa stares at her for a moment, then buries her face in her hands. "God...this just keeps getting worse and worse..." she mutters, as Joely turns to her.

"Téa, look at me."

Téa finally does. Joely takes her hands and holds them. "I don't have the luxury of time anymore and I realize how precious it is. So I'm not about to stand by and watch you make a mistake like this. I can understand your fear about Todd, it's not without basis...but I think you need to step back and really SEE what it is you're doing," she says, gently, more like her old self.

Téa hears the words, nodding, then gives a weak shrug. "I thought that's what I was doing, what I've been doing. Looking at a big picture. I can't explain it...but I...I feel SAFER with HIM."

Joely's head tilts to one side at that. "You MUST know that you're NOT. You may FEEL like you are...but you're NOT. This is… your kidnapper."

Téa breaks away from her grasp and starts to pace, suddenly remembering being dragged from a car to be shot in an English field. "Yes...I know. I do know that."

"Then you must ALSO know that the longer you stay away from Todd, the harder it's going to be on BOTH of you."

"Yes. I know that, too," Téa replies, with her back to her. "But it won't be too much longer. He's coming here."

"You spoke to him?"

Téa has to laugh at that, shaking her head, having no desire to explain she saw his coming here on some other plane of existence. "Uh...no. But I...I know he's been following us. He'll be here." The cracks and pops of the fire fill the air for a moment...then Joely sighs, "Téa."

Téa shuts her eyes for a second...then turns. Joely looks at her with her tired, wise eyes.

"You have to report him before Todd gets here," she says, flatly.

Téa does a slow take at another idea that never occurred to her. She then shakes her head. "No. No, I can't do that."

Joely walks up to her. "Listen to me. No matter what he's told you, no matter what you might feel about him now, THAT MAN kidnapped you. That is a fact," she says, pointing out the door at Dean. "He held you for ransom, put YOUR life AND the lives of your children in danger...FOR MONEY. He's a criminal. He hurt you."

The words hit Téa like a hard slap. She blinks as if taking the impact. Then she turns away again, rubbing her face. "No, Joely...NO. You don't understand. I… WON'T do that to him."

"You HAVE TO," Joely insists; and Tea whirls around. "Why...because it's the RIGHT thing to do?"

"Yes. Don't you see...you're clinging to this man out of misplaced fear."

Téa does another take at that.

"Misplaced?"

"Yes. You're afraid to deal with your own insecurity...you're afraid to deal with Todd."

Again, Téa takes the hit with a nod. She wipes her face, wet with tears now. "Yes, okay...maybe I am. But that doesn't mean my fear is MISPLACED," she replies.

Joely tips her head back a bit. "So...what, you think Todd will hurt the children? Abuse them? Murder them? After all you've been through, after all you've seen...do you REALLY think that?"

Téa lets out a breathy, bitter laugh, walking over to one of the windows. She stares out at the car, where the children are...where Dean watches over them. "I think...no matter how hard Todd tries, no matter how deeply he loves me or I love him, and no matter how much time passes by...I think there will always be a very dark part of him, a very dangerous part of him that will be forever… untouchable. And that darkness...will ALWAYS be a threat."

She turns back to Joely, her face shadowed now.

"And don't even try to tell me differently, Joely. I respect you...but I've known Todd a lot longer than you have. And this is...something I think I've always known...and just didn't want to deal with."

Affected by her words, Joely says nothing for a moment because she can't actually argue the point. Then she takes slow, hollow-sounding steps toward the window. "So...what will you do, then?"

"I don't know."

"Well, why did you come here? Why didn't you just stay gone?"

Téa shrugs slightly, turning back to the window. "Maybe I should've. But I...I felt I had to see him."

"Why?" Joely asks, standing behind her now.

Téa huffs, a harsh sound, and tightens her lips. "I'm not sure anymore."

Joely sighs sadly, then she places a hand on Téa's shoulder, gently turning her around. "I don't mean to be insensitive, Téa...I really don't. You've been through more awful things than anyone should ever have to deal with. And your willingness to love Todd, a man whom I can very safely say, is THE MOST complicated person I've ever met...well. It speaks volumes about you. I knew the very first time I ever saw you that you were an extremely brave woman, with an enormous heart."

Téa smiles regretfully, glancing up at the ceiling. "I don't feel so brave now," she replies, and Joely cups her face with her hand.

"Do you remember what I told you both when you were here?"

Téa thinks for a second, having only a vague recollection. Joely smiles at the memory lapse. "I told you that the two of you share a connection that's deeper than love...something very rare and very special."

But instead of brightening, Téa frowns. "We're definitely connected. But I'm not so sure it's a good thing. To be honest, Joely, sometimes I feel like I'm chained to something...evil."

Joely hugs her at that. "Oh, Téa...I don't pretend to know what you're going through. But you can be sure that Todd's going through it, too and that it's just as hard for him. He loves you, you know...more than anything. And that's the scariest thing in the world to him...because he's never known how to show it...because no one ever showed it to HIM. And every problem he's ever had...and undoubtedly the problems he's having now...it all comes from THAT."

Téa rests her head on Joely's shoulder, listening; but the words sound old to her...tired...reused. She simply cannot explain the other world she's walking through. To the depth of her, she knows these dreams, these connections with Todd and Roseanne… they're real and they're touched by evil. And suddenly she feels like an actor, with lines of her own that she's supposed to say now,.emotions that she's supposed to feel.

Yes, that's right...poor Todd. He can't be expected to LEARN anything. No, 'course not...he can just sit and stew in boiling self-hatred for the rest of his life, AND mine...AND his childrens'. And I just have to accept that, deal with it...because I'M the only one who knows how.

Bullshit. Bull...SHIT. You aren't listening to me!

Téa pulls back from Joely with a tired sigh. She nods, giving her a little smile. "Well, we'll just have to deal with it...when he gets here."

Joely nods too. "But Téa..." she looks out the window. "...having him here...is just asking for trouble you don't need."

Téa looks out the window as well knowing on this point the doctor is right. But still...the idea of telling Dean to leave for good just doesn't feel like an option anymore. In fact, when it comes right down to it, she doesn't want him to go. She's not sure why exactly. She lingers on the car for another moment, and then turns back to Joely...not about to tell her any of that.

"I'll deal with it," is all she says.

Joely eyes her for a moment, not liking the vagueness of her answer. But she realizes that it's useless to push her any further and feels fatigue coming up on her, fast. So she backs off.

"Right. Well. I should get home. I'm not used to this much activity."

Téa looks at her, feeling badly. "Is there ANYTHING I can do?"

"Yes," Joely replies, with a smile. "Let me see those beautiful babies."

Téa smiles, the first full, earnest one in a while. Then she hooks an arm around hers and walks her out.

---

The return flight on the Jamaican mafia's plane was delayed due to a sudden onset of heavy and persistent English fog. The entire airport shut down and would stay closed for hours, perhaps until morning. Occupied by a dejected Todd and a serene Roseanne, and driven by an anxious RJ, the Range Rover halts its push in nearby Kingsford. The walk along a cobble street leading away from a small inn where the three got rooms to sleep is straight out of a black and white horror film, rolling fog hiding shadows and truths, ghosts lurking around corners.

The entire town seems as though everyone in it has taken a silent gasp...awaiting the next swipe of an attacker's blade.

"How interesting that we'd stop here," Roseanne says softly, roving the place and bearing the subtlest of grins. RJ and Todd trudge ahead of her, both men on a search for a pub to rest in, to mull over plans for Montana over beer and food. Killing time. One man was reserved, the other...muted.

Turning to Roseanne, RJ grumbles, "What's so 'interesting' about it?"

"My secret...your mystery," she chuckles nastily. RJ doesn't like her purposeful jab —they just don't need this—and he glances warily at Todd who surprisingly says nothing, who keeps walking through the eerie atmosphere as if Roseanne has been quiet all along. While his eyes reflect intense tiredness, his face is unreadable, plain. RJ breathes out harshly in a kind of anticipatory aggravation.

Todd gazes at RJ and narrows his eyes, saying, "You look pissed."

"Don't like wasting time. We need to get on that plane," RJ replies, as they come upon a modest-looking establishment with a painted sign hanging off a rod emerging from mortared stone. It reads, "Lion's Tooth." A picture of a crouching lion decorates the wooden shingle—a red number 1807 indicates the year the pub opened.

"As good as any," RJ says, pushing open the door. Todd walks into the dim room first, Roseanne about to cross the threshold. She holds back, however, after giving the place a once over.

"Y'know, I think I'll walk more," she says, "Maybe pick up a souvenir or two from our...tour." Grinning she adds, "Ta, Mr. Gannon, Mr. Manning."

RJ, still holding the door open, watches Roseanne sashay down the block, far too light in step for having just recently fought off a raging Todd putting a gun to her head. He doesn't move until she is gone from his vision. And a vision is what he wishes for, a vision of what to do, what the next step should be.

"Get to Montana," Todd says quietly, catching RJ off-guard as if Todd just read his mind. He's leaning back against the wall, staring unwaveringly at RJ. The door swings shut and people hardly notice the visitors.

"Yeah, I know, Montana, Montana. More important, though...tell me about Shelton. We gonna have to be packin'?"

"I have a headache. Can't think that far ahead."

They choose a corner table next to a set of stairs that leads up to a darkened hall, rooms perhaps. Todd slides onto a bench backed up beneath a shuttered window. He reaches upwards and touches the wooden covering, moving it on its hinge. Swinging it open for more light however useless the attempt is. The sun keeps itself well hidden.

"You still ... seein' shit? Still reading Rosie?" RJ asks.

"Too noisy," Todd says, his eyes focusing on the inside of the pub, along the edges of the room like he's chasing a mouse, round and round. RJ snaps his fingers and Todd immediately looks at him.

"You okay? 'Cause lemme tell you, I'm all out of patience."

"Trying to be alright. That good enough for you, boss?"

"No. What do you need, man, to be more than 'alright'?"

"I don't know. A drink, maybe?"

"Last time you had a drink...you got it into your head to-"

The coolest of chuckles smacks RJ in response followed by an ugly drawl that makes RJ's belly twist into a knot.

"Whiskey don't sit too good with me, I s'pose." Dark eyes land on RJ's.

"Cheap excuse, Manning."

"It is what it is."

A man, looking to be in his fifties with graying short hair and a pair of bifocals sitting tenuously on the tip of his nose, approaches the table. He sniffs and sighs, seeming to be bored performing his duty of taking orders, probably wishing to be doing anything else other than serving at the Lion's Tooth. The pub gets loud suddenly as a throng of sweaty, grimy men in athletic-type clothes bustles inside, demanding booze. The waiter rolls his eyes, glancing at Todd with a questioning look.

"Gimme a lager."

"I'll have whatever ale is quickest to get here," RJ adds.

"Anythin' to eat?"

"What's your special?"

Without missing a beat, the waiter says, "Cook's surprise."

"We'll take two," Todd says quietly, almost too quiet to be heard. The waiter shuffles off. Within minutes the beers are in front of them in huge mugs along with twinned, browned, unidentifiable steaming meals on plain, ivory-colored plates. RJ and Todd glance up at each other and then examine the food.

"Think it's Shepherd's pie," RJ says. "There's a lot of weird shit baked in here—kidneys, hearts, innards." Unhindered, he picks up a fork and stabs at the potato crust. After taking a bite, he says offhandedly, "Eh...it's edible. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess."

After draining half the mug of beer, Todd eats carefully and comments in between mouthfuls, "Not bad."

They continue without conversation, preferring to drink and watch the crowd. Roseanne's absence is both a relief and cause for concern. RJ asks about it, suspicion lurking in his eyes, "Where you think she slithered off to?"

"Hell?"

"No...she promised to stay out of your room."

"Fuck if I know, then."

"You gonna keep away from her?"

"I promise to..." The thought hangs in the air, incomplete, and RJ imagines a noose swinging unfilled on top of a gallows. He wants closure...commitment…

"Promise to WHAT?"

The two men stare at each other unblinkingly. "Hope she doesn't push me, Gannon."

RJ bristles and leans forward, hissing, "You want to see Téa...you better shut Roseanne OUT...shut her looks out, those smart-ass words...all of it. Got it?"

Todd digs into his food, his head dipping downwards, his whole mood darkening. There's moroseness in his slouch. He says ominously, "Why can't we fuckin' drop her?"

"Drop? As in-"

"DROP... as in kill that bitch. We don't need her. Téa doesn't need her."

RJ takes a long swig of ale, studying the warm, brownish brew. His eyes snap to Todd who acts as if he just asked to use a particular play in a pivotal football game, one that looks to be lost already. RJ's lip twitches, his jaw tightens, and every ounce of sympathy he'd had earlier, every shred of empathy, dissolves into nothing...again.

"Y'know, you could at least fuckin' TRY to act human. You could at least make me BELIEVE that you're worth draggin' back to the U. S. of A. You could LIE."

Todd chuckles softly, shaking his head. Drinks more of the beer and prods the food. Stabs at a thick piece of meat and lifts it, turning the fork, examining his catch. The smile fades, a gloss appearing over his hazel eyes. "I AM lying to you...this IS me pretending to be human." He whispers, "Death is the best I can do for Ro, the kindest thing I can think of."

Putting the fork down, he sits back, unsmiling. He rubs his face with his hands and sinks down, running a visibly shaking hand through his hair. He points his finger loosely at RJ, looking at him, about to speak, then drops his hand and tilts his head back against the wall.

"Téa," he says in a soft voice. "You said it, RJ. What am I goin' home to? I've finished it...bulldozed everything." He smirks, bitterness ringing through, and drinks more beer. He motions to the waiter to bring another and the guy does.

The waiter asks RJ, "You?" RJ glances outside at the heavy fog, at the darkening afternoon. "What the hell...we're stuck here. Yeah, bring me another."

Within minutes, the two men work their way through their second round of drinks. RJ doesn't say much of anything. He finishes eating and keeps a wary eye on Todd who's now nursing his third round. The noise of the place intensifies and Todd sinks a little further down, a little further into his alcoholic numbness.

Without being asked, the waiter sets a tumbler of scotch and ice in front of him.

"From that lady over there."

RJ and Todd both glance across the tables at an attractive, dark-skinned woman whose ethnicity is unclear. She has perfect skin, the sharp features a model would have, and her braided hair is knotted upwards in a swept style. Her clothing is impeccable, business-looking, a fine knit suit the color of blood, black leather pumps, and a scarf tied loosely around her neck. Her ears are decorated with large gold hoops. She smiles and winks openly at Todd who looks at RJ.

"Must be my witty charm," he quips before chugging the liquor down and raising the glass to the woman. Sighs, "Oops...that's right...shouldn't be drinking this."

"Jesus," RJ groans. "Ain't the alcohol fucks you up...it's your 'witty charm.'"

Todd laughs, leaning forward, his hair falling into his face. He's clearly affected by the sudden flooding of his system with his favored juice. "Mmmm..." he says dreamily, closing his eyes as he leans back once more against the wall, "...Roseanne...you bad girl...what are we gonna do with you...?"

The woman gets up and strolls to the table, RJ taking in the view from her head to foot, guarded. He finds it hard to believe that anyone would be seriously interested in Manning. Especially a tipsy Manning who's walking a very fine line of sanity. Everything about him should ward people away, his body language, his facial expression...everything. She's not put off, though, and speaks with an English accent. She's shockingly direct.

"You free to come home with me?"

Todd opens his eyes, running his tongue across his lips... "No," he says.

"What's stopping you?" She looks intent, serious.

"I'm taken." He laughs, eying the woman as RJ did. From head to toe. "My friend here, though...he's free. Ain't ya', Gannon?"

RJ shakes his head at Todd, scowling, about to tell the woman to buzz off, to save herself.

"I don't want him," she says, "I want you."

"I'm having a deja-vu," Todd says aloud, a thought come to life, the words floating upwards. He watches them hit the ceiling...and it's strange. He looks at her and she's grinning.

"It's not a deja-vu," the woman answers in a strange voice and Todd suddenly knows that only he can hear her now, the sounds of the pub having fallen elsewhere, receded as a beach's tide washes back to an open sea.

"You're being summoned," she continues. "You're weary, you've fought such a battle...and you've earned the right to rest. Come with me. Let me help you...rest."

"I...I can't come with you...I'm...taken."

"Taken by whom?"

"My wife." He calls Téa that and the concept explodes in a burst of confetti around him, bits of ravaged memory fluttering around him. He hears laughter, laughter at him. He's the butt of the joke. It's as if everyone heard what he said and, knowing who he is and what he's done, they find the idea of him being married, in love...or someone loving him, well...funny.

The woman reaches for his hand. "Come with me, boy. I can see you are lost, so alone in unfamiliar space. You're afraid."

"Who are you?"

"I am everything and I am nothing...I tie you down, I free you...I take away your power, I give it to you. Let me comfort you."

Suddenly the fog clears and RJ's looking at him incredulously. Todd shakes his head. The woman has gone. There's nobody standing there.

"Get back to the room and crash, man. That's all there is to it. I'm so tired of this shit, tired of covering for you."

"Yeah..." The glass of whiskey is still there, emptied. He's confused at RJ's sudden bitching. "That woman who sent this...she's gone. What-"

"OF COURSE she's gone...y'only told her she's an 'ugly cunt.' You got off light if you ask me. She shoulda kicked you in the fuckin' head."

Todd swallows hard, "I called her that? To her face?"

"What, you claimin' blackouts now? You know, man, I like it better when you at least ADMIT the stupid shit you do."

"She...she...you're not fuckin' with me, are you?"

"No, TODD, I ain't fuckin' with you," RJ answers, sarcastically. "Why would I do THAT?" He's this-close to throwing his beer mug at Todd. He's not getting this new game and doesn't like it at all. Things are getting clearer in his head as to what his next step is going to be. This close...this close…

"I don't know...okay...okay," Todd stammers, straightening himself, looking around habitually for keys, a wallet. Stuff. He starts to get off the bench, remembering he has no stuff.

"I gotta go get Roseanne."

"WHAT? Did you jus' say ROSEANNE? Awwww hell, no. You jus' hang on there, son...you ain't going anywhere."

RJ gets up, too, digging into his pocket for cash. Mentally calculating how much the bill should be, muttering as he unfolds money. "No fuckin' way...you and Rosie...rather cut my own throat..."

But Todd's too fast…

… and he hears RJ calling for him angrily but he doesn't respond, slamming through the front door, thankful for the cold air. He searches the street first for Roseanne, then for the woman he insulted, hoping to apologize, except he's not finding either one. He keeps thinking of Roseanne and the stranger, their faces mixing, blending, and he's deeply confused now as to which of them was in the pub...if anyone.

Then he notices that nobody is around at all in fact, and he trips, catching himself before he falls. The walk is tricky, cobblestones he can feel through his shoes, muscles that don't respond to his commands of assured steps. The air presses against him, compressing him, suffocating him. He feels sleepy and a little drunk which doesn't make things any easier as he wends his way from building to building.

Who was that woman? Did she even look like he thought? At what point did reality changeand a dream or hallucination take over? He called her...a what? Who was she exactly?

He thinks to go back to RJ...maybe, maybe there's trouble for what he said. When he turns around, he sees the pub mere feet away like he hadn't gone anywhere, all that walking got him...nowhere. When he tries the door, it doesn't open. He pounds and nobody comes. Pressing his ear against the door, he hears nothing. The establishment is closed.

He panics, his heart races...and he steps backwards in fear. This has to be some sort of dream or a nightmare. Or lost time...like before...like when he was split. Wait...maybe he's just passed out in a gutter. Or maybe the woman shot him and he's dead having finally found Hell. Nobody's around. Where has everyone gone?

He yells at the starless, moonless and cloud-covered sky, turning to the right and to the right and to the right again, "RJ! Hey! The fuck are you?!"

Silence answers back. It's getting harder and harder to breathe and he decides his brain must be fried...that's all...just fried from the past months and the whiskey and the beer and the brains and hearts and blood sausage in the Cook's Surprise. When he looks about once more, he sees the pub is gone and he is hopelessly lost just like the woman had said back in the pub.

Come with me, boy, you are lost, so alone in unfamiliar space. You're afraid.

He doesn't know where the inn is or even its name and he certainly has no idea what direction the airport lies in or London or which way is up or down. The streets look the same, equally as empty, equally as still. The same kinds of row houses line both sides. Lights are off, shutters are closed, drapes and curtains drawn. Nobody responds to his yelps. He's hyperventilating and plunks down on the curb. Holds his head in his hands, trying to get calm...hopelessly. The fog is thick now, thick like smoke, and it moves down the street, stretching toward him, tentacles of gray moving for him, closer and closer…

He starts to cry like a baby, hiccupping with terror. He's out of control, everything is beyond his control. There's not a damned thing he can do to rein in the nightmare. It's his worst fear, worse than the act of death or loneliness or prison.

That's when he hears her.

"What's the matter, Toddie?"

"Roseanne? What's goin' on?" On some level he's relieved, almost thankful for the familiar face. He begins to get up, he's still breathing hard, still hiccupping… then her foot lands on his chest and she pushes him back down.

She tilts her head, "What's going on...with what?

"This...THIS! Where's everyone? Where's RJ? I don't know where anything is! Help me!"

"He's back at the inn. We don't want him with us."

"What are you talking about?! Sure we do!" He looks at her foot...then up at her. "Where's the inn, Rosie...I want to go back there."

"The inn's that way," she says without indicating where. "But...tell me, do you really want him to send Téa away? Because that's what he's gonna do, you know."

"What? No...he's going with us to Montana...he's gonna..."

"Gonna what? Deliver you to Téa? Marry you off to her? Be your best man?"

She laughs loudly, her head knocking back. She wears strange clothing, scarves the same color as the woman wore in the pub, bright orange against a patter of red flames that actually appear to move. Roseanne's scarves are much bigger though, layered, covering her body. She wears rows and rows of beads and gold. Hoops glimmer from fleshy earlobes. Her face almost glows with a kind of surreal beauty, seductive with an irresistible draw. Todd finds himself watching her every expression, the way her eyelids close and re-open, the way she bites ever so delicately on her lower lip, the way a dimple appears when she barely smiles...the bigger the grin, the less the dimple.

"Téa loves me," he whispers.

"Really? You think she'll love watching you rip through me, think she'll love watching your semen splash all up inside of me, your still-hard cock throbbing when you pull out? You think she'll love to see you hit me, punch me, with everything in you? You think she'll love that you've given in to every horrible, sick, violent impulse you've ever had?"

"I didn't kill you...I could have, but I didn't!"

"You didn't kill me because I got the best of you."

Todd shakes his head, feeling a paralysis come over him. He can't move. He wants to shut her up, wants to get up and run, run, run, run for his life, run home.

Can't though, can't move, can't control his thoughts, can't do anything. Red and orange waves lick in front of him, reaching for the black space and he's captured by the movement. Silenced by it.

Roseanne removes her foot from his chest, adjusting herself so both her feet are solidly on both sides of him. She's looking down at him, her hands on her hips. He can smell her, a spicy, sweet aroma, it's womanly—no, it's animalistic. He can smell her the way a male dog sniffs out a bitch in heat. She makes an exaggerated motion of wrapping an invisible rope around his neck and he puts his hand to his throat, feeling nothing except the choking feel of rope. She pulls the invisible restraint upwards and he feels a tightening against his larynx…

"What's wrong, Todd? Can't answer? Feeling a little...restricted?"

Todd feels her pull harder on the imaginary rope and he has to get to his feet in order to prevent strangulation. He's walking, now, following her, the single rope seeming to have thickened, multiplied. There are now heavy metallic cords tied around his waist, his ankles, his arms and shoulders. He feels shackled, no, worse than that, he finds that even if he wanted to, he cannot stop himself from moving, as she is controlling him. Like a puppet.

Everything is being controlled.

"Come with me, boy," she growls, "We're going to a place called, 'Payback.'"

To be continued...