Chapter 5

There was silence. Light filtered through the cracks between the planks of wood nailed to the outside of the building and shone through a large opening on one side of the barn. From the brightness of the sun and the temperature inside, Hutch estimated it was early afternoon. It was stuffy and humid and still that all pervading smell of damp, rotting vegetation surrounded him, wrinkling his nose and making him long for the cool, crisp smell of the ocean. Even the sounds outside were unfamiliar. There was little birdsong around the barn. Instead there was the constant hissing of bugs and a deeper creaking as the bullfrogs called for their mates. The place put Hutch in mind of a horror film he'd watched on TV not long ago and the feeling of horror was not reduced by the tall figure standing in front of Starsky's still hanging body.

When Kaleb had walked in with the suited man, Hutch had thought that maybe the Sheriff had brought a lawyer with him back to the barn. Papa Noir had a presence about him. He was a man who commanded attention and obedience and seemed sure that he would be treated with reverence. In fact, reverence was not Hutch's first impression. As the tall man walked into the barn, it was almost as though Kaleb, Clyde and Jed shrank back from him in fear. When Kaleb announced him as a witch doctor, Hutch had almost laughed out loud – until he had been the focus of that black gaze.

The blond cop had never been one to believe in what he called infantile mumbo jumbo. It was usually Starsky who, streetwise as he was, fell for stories of ghosts and ghouls and things that went bump in the night. It was Starsky who was the best with a gun, was an excellent sprinter, who was brave as a lion and was also as gullible as a 4 year old. It was Starsky who had bought a guinea pig thinking it was a chinchilla; who had invested half a week's wage on a pet stone and who wisely "invested" his and Hutch's nest eggs in a second home that fell down the minute they opened the front door. Hutch prided himself on being sensible – Starsky called it boring. Hutch had the answers. Hutch was the one who would sit down and methodically work things out. He looked after his body, fasted, ran, exercised, ate healthily. He was the one who used his schooling to work things out and yet all of that had gone out of the window when Papa Noir had laid his gaze on the blond. In that one moment Hutch believed. He believed in the power of Papa Noir and he believed in black magic because to do anything else in the witch doctor's presence seemed utter stupidity.

And yet Papa Noir seemed not to be interested in Hutch. Right now, the man with the skin like black velvet had Starsky firmly in his gaze and the brunet seemed to have no will of his own.

Sweat trickled annoyingly down Hutch's face, from the heat of the barn and also from the pain in the centre of his body. Kaleb's big boot had left the blond feeling as though he would never ever father little Hutch's. His balls throbbed in time with his heart beat and echoed the headache that had come to rest firmly behind his eyes. Yet all his pains could not take Hutch's attention from the scene unfolding in front of him.

'That one's the slimy bastard who took my Mary Lou's honour.'

'C'est celui que vous voulez punir? And this is the one you wish to punish?'

'Yes sirree.' Kaleb's face brightened and he licked his lips expectantly.

'Hey, he didn't do anythin'. I was there with him the whole time. Look, Doc...' Hutch felt absurd calling the man Doctor, but he could think of no other term. 'Let us go. We'll walk out of here. We'll get outta your hair and you'll never see us again, but I swear he didn't touch the girl.'

'I saw him and so did Clyde. These fancy pants city cops're all the same. They wouldn't know a lie if it jumped up and bit 'em.' Kaleb sounded bitter and just a little excited at the prospect of a showdown.

The argument seemed to have passed the brunet by. All the while Starsky had remained unnaturally quiet. The curly haired cop knew that things were going on around him but just what, and just who was talking seemed unimportant. Papa Noir had told him to look at him and that was just what Starsky was doing. It occurred to him a couple of times that he should try to explain what had gone on the previous evening and yet when he tried to open his mouth, no words immerged and what's more, it didn't seem important enough to struggle. Instead, Starsky continued to be held by Papa Noir's gaze as he hung impassive, waiting for the next command. Papa Noir turned his attention back to Hutch.

'Your lies mean nothing here. You are in my country now and all your feeble protestations are useless. Kaleb has told me what your friend did.'

Hutch felt the witch doctor's gaze fall on him again and once more the feeling of fire ants biting at his skin threatened to overwhelm him. With an almighty effort the blond wrenched his gaze from the tall black man.

'Starsk, talk to me buddy. Explain what happened.'

With distance put between him and the shaman, life had started to return to the brunet. He was once more aware of the stinging burn of the ropes around his wrists and the numbness in his hands and shoulders. Starsky closed his eyes and concentrated. He was in a barn and the guys from the previous night were with them. How the hell had they gotten themselves into this mess? And now Hutch seemed pissed at him and he had no idea what his partner had just asked.

'What?' he rasped.

'Talk to me. Tell 'em what happened...or didn't happen.'

Enraged, Papa Noir turned back to his subject.

'Don't look at him Starsk, d'ya hear me? Close your eyes. Starsky!' Hutch's words seemed lost on the air between the two of them as the witch doctor stepped closer to the bound brunet.

'Mon Cher. I told you to remain silent. Ecoutez moi. Listen only to me.'

Starsky fought not to look at the black man. He could hear Hutch's voice in the background yelling at him and he though he heard his partner grunt in pain as a muffled thud sounded around the barn but try as he might, Starsky was unable to ignore the shaman's voice and slowly he opened his eyes.

'Vous êtes forts, mon Cher. I can see I will need to try harder with you. Maybe my words are not enough.' Papa Noir reached up on ripped Starsky's shirt open, his hands lingering over the flat plain of the brunet's belly and the arc of the ribs, pulled high by Starsky's enforced position.

Behind the pair, Hutch watched through pain filled eyes. Kaleb had landed several telling blows in order to try to keep him quiet and now blood trickled from a gash above the blond's left eyebrow and he breathed with difficulty past a growing bruise across his chest. Kaleb stood over Hutch menacingly, his baton held loosely in his hands as Hutch pulled ineffectively against the ropes fastening his wrists to the cartwheel. A few strides away, Papa Noir had drawn a dagger from the inside of his jacket and was holding it up so that the muted light in the barn reflected on it's surface.

Starsky too watched the knife. The blade was shaped like an S, the hilt a golden colour against the silver of the blade which was perhaps 8 inches long. Papa Noir held the knife aloft and then started to chant words that Starsky could not understand. The chanting was soft, almost like a lullaby and with it, the Witch doctor described intricate patterns with the blade in the air. It was obvious that this was some sort of magic being wrote in front of the two cops and Hutch's skin crawled.

Finally the chanting stopped and Papa Noir took one step closer to the tethered cop in front of him. He held Starsky's gaze for a second longer and once again the brunet could do nothing but lose himself in those blacker than black eyes.

'Don't...you hurt him an' I'm gonna hunt you down from now to eternity' Hutch yelled as Papa Noir placed the point of the blade in the hollow beneath Starsky's throat. The brunet didn't so much as flinch. In his mind he knew this could well be the end and yet he had not the will to fight or protest. Instead, the brunet swayed gently at the end of the rope and waiting docilely for his fate.

The witch doctor placed both hands on the hilt of the blade. 'Great Mother of darkness, aid me.' Papa Noir looked directly at Starsky. 'With blood and silver I bind you to me. I take your life force and bend it to my will. With blood I capture you.' With the final words, the shaman sliced the knife in one long shallow cut from Starsky's throat to his navel. The brunet made no sound as Hutch watched horrified although the blond could see the muscles of Starsky's belly tighten in pain as the knife slid through his skin leaving a long, scarlet line behind.

'Fuck you and your black magic. Fuck the lot of ya. I'm gonna make...'

'Faites-le taire. Silence him' Papa Noir snarled, his eyes never leaving Starsky. Behind him Kaleb nodded excitedly, reached down and placed a hand around Hutch's throat. He started to squeeze as the blond thrashed against his bonds but the Sheriff didn't let up the pressure until with one last useless buck of his body the light went out behind Hutch's eyes and the flaxen haired cop slumped unconscious, his body supported only by his bound hands.

Meanwhile Papa Noir had turned the knife on himself and had cut a neat, shallow wound across the palm of his left hand. Now he looked Starsky lovingly in the eye as he pressed his own bleeding hand against the fresh wound on the brunet's belly. Starsky reacted as though he'd been scalded and his face contorted in pain as the witch doctor held himself close and whispered into Starsky's ear. 'With blood I have bound you to me. Your will is my will, your body is mine.'

Starsky heard the words. They made his gut clench and his skin crawl. His body would not respond to him although he longed to fight and kick out at his tormentor and finally with one titanic effort he managed to breathe

'Never.'

Papa Noir grinned. 'Oh Mon Cher. You are so strong. You can still deny me after our blood has mingled, but not for much longer.' With that, the witch doctor dropped to his knees. Delicately he placed his hands on Starsky's hips, puling the brunet's body close to his own and in one motion, Papa Noir opened his mouth and licked delicately all the way up the bleeding wound on the brunet's belly and chest. The effect was instantaneous. If having Papa Noir's hand on his wound felt like scalding water, the witch doctor's tongue felt like acid burning deep into Starsky's core. The brunet writhed on the end of his rope. Starsky felt as though his whole world was on fire, as though he was plunging headfirst into the caldera of a live volcano. Tongues of fire shot through him so that his body bucked and bounced on the end of the rope and when he could no longer remain silent he opened his mouth, flung back his head and let out one long ragged raw scream. The scream ended and Starsky's body went limp, hanging by his wrists from his bonds as consciousness fled.

Only then did Papa Noir stand up and look around. 'Il est fait. He is mine. Now I need an hour to recover and to make the final potion. You may do with them what you will, but I will return soon.'