Chapter 14

Michelle guided Maestro and his precious cargo back to her cabin in the clearing without too much difficulty. Hutch was dead to the world and the woman worried about his pallor and loss of blood. His body was soaked in a cold sweat and he continued to shake uncontrollably. On her way back through the swamp she stopped for a few moments to collect some leaves here, a root there and then, just before entering the clearing, she saw a line of large soldier ants, busily heading back to their nest. Taking one of her foraging jars from the pannier across Maestro's back, she encouraged maybe twenty ants into the jar, screwed back the lid and hurried on.

Getting Hutch into the cabin was no mean feat. The blond was comatose and only by allowing the horse almost all the way into the living room could Michelle have any hope of getting the blond cop onto the bed. She managed however and the horse left as Michelle laid Hutch carefully on his back and looked down at both her patients.

Starsky was fighting the soporific effects of the tea she'd given him. Michelle had seen the ghost of Papa Noir in the brunet's eyes and although she recognised the powerful witch doctor and knew of his black magic, she also knew she had little time to get to Starsky's partner and bring him back to safety. It was a difficult choice – one man's sanity and another's physical injuries. The tea she'd brewed allowed her some time, but not too much before Papa reclaimed his lost man. Now Michelle looked at both men. Both were weak, both helpless and both in danger – Hutch from massive blood loss and Starsky from the dark power that threatened to take his mind.

Michelle had lived in the area all her life. She had been born into a family who practiced Voodoo in it's truest sense, concentrating on the healing aspect of the religion. She could cast hexes, work spells and she had come to surpass her mother in her powers, for in the Gallot family the magic was passed down through the female line. She knew plants and their healing properties and was often called upon to help a family when they couldn't afford the expensive doctors fees. She was also feared by some, for her power could also hurt, especially when she was cornered or afraid. She despised cruelty in all its forms and in her life she had had to deal with the fear of the locals and the taunts and physical blows from those who distrusted her or despised her magical practices. For that reason she chose to live away from it all, surrounded by the cypress trees and animals.

Michelle crossed the room and knelt by Starsky's bed. The brunet was semi conscious, his head rolling on the pillow as he fought some inner demon. His face showed pain in every line and the long cut on his belly was red and angry looking. But in the scheme of things, Michelle felt that Starsky's injuries could wait. Hutch was in far worse shape and needed her help more urgently. The woman poured the remains of her tea into a cup and held it to Starsky's lips, trickling its contents into his mouth. His eyes fluttered open and he swallowed, grimacing at the bitter brew, but he was only half aware of what was happening around him. He did, however, catch sight of Hutch on the other bed and made an effort to rise.

'Hutch?' he rasped.

'I'm going to see to him now. You should sleep. You need rest if you are going to fight the Dark One.'

'He's hurt.'

'I know, and I'll tend to him, but he's very weak. I have to warn you that even with my help, he may not survive the day.'

Starsky struggled to get out of the bed. 'Needs a doctor...lemme...I need to...'

'You need to rest and let me work.'

'I need to...'

Michelle pushed Starsky back gently onto the bed, wondering at the bond these two men seemed to share. Desperate to get to Hutch and start her work, but equally anxious that Starsky should rest, Michelle sighed and soothed the brunet. Placing her cool hands on either side of his face, she pressed gently at his temples with her thumbs.

'Sleep' she whispered. 'Rest and sleep.'

Starsky's eyes closed as though on cue. He felt the world slip away from him as though some unknown force had made him. At the sound of the woman's voice, his eyes closed and slumber reclaimed him. What power Michelle had over him he didn't know, but she felt so much safer than the influences he'd experienced from Papa Noir and the brunet allowed himself to settle back onto the bed.

Michelle stroked the chocolate coloured curls briefly. The man would need all his strength for the coming days for Papa would not give up on his prize so easily. She had seen before how the shaman had taken a man, usually a handsome, dark haired man like this one and turned him into a sort of whore, making money by loaning him out to others for their pleasure. Occasionally, Papa would keep one for himself, but that was an even worse fate. Papa Noir was perverted in his pleasures and enjoyed destroying both the body and mind of his "pets" before leaving them to die in the swamps. This couldn't happen again, not to this man, or any man, but Michelle knew she would need all her powers to fight.

The woman turned to Hutch. The blond cop had not stirred since she'd managed to get him onto the bed. Bare chested Michelle could see that the side of Hutch's body was encrusted with congealed and crusted blood and the make shift bandages around Hutch's arm were also sodden with blood. A large, dark bruise had formed across the blond's belly and she suspected an internal injury of sorts, but as her medicine woman experience kicked in, she looked at her patient with a practiced, clinical eye.

Her first task was to stop Hutch from bleeding any more. He seemed not to be in pain – that would likely come later, but for the moment, she thanked the gods that the handsome blond was unconscious. It would make her work easier. Gathering her medicines together gave Michelle time to think clearly. She put Datura leaves in a pot of boiling water and made a weak tea. Too much of the powerful narcotic would kill the blond man rather than help him, but the leaves would bring restful sleep and had good pain killing qualities. She also steamed some large Comfrey leaves and put those to one side along with the jar of ants and a length of clean white linen. Michelle knelt by Hutch's side and gently cut away the blood soaked bandages.

The slash on the inside of Hutch's arm was long and deep and the moment she took the pressure away from the wound, blood started to seep out and trickle down the limb. Michelle cleaned the wound thoroughly with some of the Datura liquid and studied the slash. It needed closing so that there would be no further blood loss and quickly she unscrewed the lid from her collecting jar and took out one of the large ants. Holding the tiny insect in her fingers, it reared up and waved its pincers menacingly at her it's head and mouthparts disproportionately bigger than its body. She smiled at the show of anger from the tiny insect and leaned forwards to hold the two margins of the knife wound on Hutch's arm closed and then she lowered the ant and allowed it to bite at Hutch's arm. Immediately it had sunk its pincers into the flesh on either side of the cut, Michelle twisted the body away, leaving the head embedded in the cop's arm, effectively holding the two lips of the wound closed.

Michelle repeated the process with the other insects until the length of the wound was closed by a row of ant heads. It didn't look particularly pretty, but it did he job and there was no further blood flow save for a tiny trickle at the middle. Satisfied for now that she had stopped the bleeding as best she could. Michelle took her white linen and ripped it into strips which she bound tightly around Hutch's arm. After half an hours work, the woman sat back on her heels and surveyed her patient. Hutch was still unconscious, but his arm was bandaged and his body clean. The bruise and the swelling on his belly had been treated by Comfrey leaves in a poultice and another wide white binding had been wrapped around the blond's middle. Now Michelle could do nothing else for him but wait and watch and hope that she'd done enough.

Starsky on the other hand had not been resting easily. He had tossed and turned on the bed, moaning softly and mumbling under his breath. It was obvious he was distressed and fighting some unseen foe as he brought his knees up, clutching at his gut and writhing on the bed. As Michelle started to tidy away her medicines and water however, the brunet let out one almighty scream and his body sat upright on the bed, his eyes staring wildly around him. As Michelle hurried to his side, Starsky started to struggle out of the bed.

'Where are you going?' the woman asked, trying to stop the brunet in his tracks. Starsky turned unseeing eyes to her.

'Home' he whispered. 'He wants me to go home.'

Michelle knew who "he" was. Papa Noir had once again taken a hold of the handsome brunet and was commanding him to return. The woman stood between Starsky and the door and closed her eyes, summoning her power around her like a cloak. Quietly she started to chant a protection spell, all the while holding onto he brunet's shoulders as he struggled against her.

'Light this soul and let it shine,
light this perfect soul of mine,
let it rise and guide me true
flow through all I will and do.

Protect this man and all around, give me grace, good will abound.'

Michelle chanted the protection spell as she gently placed her hand on the brunet's chest. 'Go back to the bed' she said firmly. 'Go back to the bed and rest.'

Starsky's eyes widened and his spine bowed as though he'd taken a whip to his back. His deep blue eyes stared sightlessly and in them Michelle saw the black figure of Papa Noir. He screamed in anger and frustration and pointed directly at Michelle. She glared back.

'You won't have him. Not this time' she snapped and immediately Starsky fell backwards onto the bed, his body limp and relaxed. Michelle made the brunet as comfortable as she could and covered him with a sheet. His body was hot and dry to the touch. Papa was inducing a fever and as she set about making a tea to help Starsky battle the unseen evil, the curly haired cop started to moan and pant on the bed.

Michelle turned back to her patient. In the distance she heard a small voice, far off as though it was calling from the next valley and she strained her ears to hear. It was calling the man's name, softly, seductively and insistently and Starsky's body stilled on the bed.

The woman looked around, expecting to see some new person close to the cabin. The place was empty save for Hutch and Michelle stopped in her tracks, looking carefully around. Slowly she crossed the room towards Starsky's cot. The brunet had remained quiet, his face pale and his eyes fixed on some distant point and as she watched, the cop closed his eyes and a small smile crept across his lips. The unknown, unseen voice got a little louder and Michelle leaned down and touched Starsky's shoulder. He moaned and his body stiffened but he didn't reply when she called his name. Instead he seemed to be listening raptly to the seductive voice in the distance and as Michelle touched him, she too could hear it more clearly.

The woman knew then what was happening and she shook with anger and fear. Papa Noir had failed to use pain and anger to force Starsky to return to his side and so now, the devious evil man was using something the brunet understood a whole lot better. The shaman was calling Starsky to him not with agony but with physical pleasure – sex – and this time, Michelle knew she'd have to work hard to keep the brunet with her.