Abyss Pt. 02

Mandy's jaw drops and her eyes stare in astonishment. She was so certain she had won. Her face hardens then. Like many people with power, she can't stand when that power doesn't work. She snarls, turns and storms from the classroom. The Court follows her with Christy giving me yet another look of horror and pity. She thinks she knows what's coming and wishes I'd just knuckle under.

Not likely! is my thought. I've faced far worse people, and things, than Ms. Richardson.

* * * *

The next night I'm sitting on a stone bench in a quiet area of the university known as 'Poet's Walk'. It's a very nicely landscaped piece of property, peaceful and silent. I need it.

But I'm not getting the tranquility I seek. The situation with Diane was clawing at me. I have made my decision however that has bought me no ease. I want her, know I can't, know I shouldn't. So strange to be torn by warm emotions for once.

As well my conflict with Mandy Richardson was troubling. Something about her keeps scratching at my psyche, irritating me. Looked at logically, our conflict should be over. An internal shiver of my spine says that isn't the case.

So here I sit, trying to soak up the peaceful ambiance of the area.

A light set of footfalls turns my head to the left. Three people are walking towards me. Big men, of an age to be students here. Their gait is purposeful and they're heading straight towards me. Automatic reactions tighten my muscles, fire up my body. Something about them makes me prepare for combat.

They stop and face me, one right in front and the other two a step behind him on each side.

Mistake, I think. One should be behind me and two in front. Amateurs.

The one in front looks me over. "This is gonna to be too easy," he remarks to his companions. "We gotta message for you," is his statement then and reaches with his right hand to grab me.

I intercept it with my left, twist his arm with a lock so he goes to his knees and blocks the man on that side.

My right hand assailant shows fair reflexes. He steps forward and thrusts a meaty fist at me. I block it and smash my own knuckles into his sternum using a good bit of the strength my nature grants me. Bones crack and he falls to his knees, gasping in agony.

The man on the left moves around the barrier of his companion and closes in. The foot nearest him comes up and places itself in his crotch, hard. He flies back several feet to collapse to the ground. His hands cover his ruptured testicles and he whimpers piteously.

To finish I twist the arm of the person I'm holding until it breaks. He curls into a ball and begins vomiting.

I shake my head with disappointment, stand, and walk away. Nothing will be said to the police by them or me. Me, because I don't want to draw attention to myself. Them, because they don't want anyone to know how easily they were beaten by what appeared to be a skinny, middle aged man.

A peeved scowl passes over my face at Mandy's attempt at intimidation, and I know it's her behind this amateurish attempt at intimidation. Roughing someone up over a paper? Perhaps I should rethink my opinion of her intelligence. Why can't she just attend classes and do the work? Why does she have to use force?

I have no answers.

Still, she must be waiting on tenterhooks for news, so I'll let her know what happened.

A twenty minute walk brings me to her house. Climbing to the porch I knock on the front door. Mandy answers the summons. Her face gapes at me in astonishment.

I try to wear an expression of concern but my amusement at her reaction ruins it.

"Pardonez moi, Mademoiselle Richardson. I had heard there were some punks nearby and was concerned for your safety. I'm pleased you are all right. Bon nuit." I step off the porch and head into the night. Her door doesn't close until I'm well down the street.

I hope that's enough to tell her to pull in her horns, goes through my head. My instincts tell me that will not be the case.

After a moment's thought, I quicken my pace and head for a nearby pay phone. Dropping a quarter in it, I dial a number I haven't had need to use in years.

"Prince Security," comes a young woman's voice, "how can I help you?"

"I need to talk to Mr. Prince, please."

"He's very busy. Can you leave a name and number?"

"Simon Cleary," I respond before looking to the number on the pay phone and rattling off the digits to her. Thanking me, she hangs up.

The return call comes in less than a minute. "Hello, Simon," comes in a cultured English voice, "it's been a while."

"Hello, Major. I require your services."

"Details?" Like all good professionals he wastes little time.

"I need 24/7 surveillance of someone." I follow up with the place I currently live and all relevant information about Ms. Richardson. "I don't need her house bugged or anything like that. But I need to know her movements."

"How long is this job to run?" is his next question.

"A week. No longer."

"I can have a team in place by ten tomorrow morning. The price is $25,000 US."

"Done," I agree. He won't haggle.

"Can you set it up so I can talk straight to your operatives?" I ask. "I don't want to lose time waiting for reports."

"Yes I can. That will be another $5,000."

"Done."

He gives me a number to call.

"Thank you, Major." I say then. "Always a pleasure to work with you."

"Likewise, Mr. Cleary. Good day." There's a click and I hang up the phone.

So, I'll have knowledge of Mandy's activities for the next week. Being aware of her movements, likely haunts and contacts will place me in a position to act against her, if need be.

I sigh. I had hoped never to be in a situation such as this ever again. Conflict is tiresome, often useless and sometimes fatal to the people involved. But I don't want the fatality to be me.

That means I prepare.

I take time to contact one of my Grand Cayman accounts and transfer the Major's fee.

Once that is done, I ponder. The night's still young. There must be something interesting to do. I wander off to look for that, whatever it is.

But not Diane. Not tonight. I'm not ready to tell her goodbye.

* * * *

There's a message waiting for me from the Dean when I awake the next night. "Professor Belleveau? We, uh, we need to talk."

I walk over to her house. Like the last time I was here she leads me to her home office.

Unlike our previous meeting I'm surprised by the way she's dressed. Her white blouse is translucent and the dark bra she wears shows through it. Her green skirt is very short, barely hiding her buttocks. The stockings she wears are white and her jade colored shoes sport very high heels. It seems that Mandy has a uniform for her victims. Is she going to brand them next? I wonder.

After we've seated ourselves, Helen and I stare at each other across her desk. She chews at her lower lip for several seconds. After a deep breath, she gets to the point.

"I'm discussing your position here with our legal department. There are allegations that you've been sexually harassing your students. We have two signed depositions. The school..."

"Let me guess who the depositions are from," I interrupt.

She sits there, mouth open. My breaking into her speech has discomfited her.

"Mademoiselles Coburn and Richardson, ne c'est-pas?"

Her eyes glance to one side and her mouth grimaces, confirming my hypothesis.

"Is there any other evidence?" I ask next.

Dr. Metaxas shakes her head in a negative.

"No other witnesses?"

Another shake.

"Forensic evidence, sperm samples etc.?"

Her gaze fixed on the surface of her desk, Helen tells me, "No."

"And the people accusing me are a woman failing my class and her lover. That will carry their complaint a long way."

She sets her shoulders and looks up again. "That's enough. We only need an allegation to bring to the board. It isn't a court of law."

I can feel my face go stiff with anger. It takes a moment to keep the monster in its cage. "If you do that, Dr. Metaxas," I inform her with a cold voice, "I'll have to talk about what I know of you, and I have more than allegations." The last sentence is a lie, but she's unskilled at this sort of power game, and I'm sure I could get evidence within twenty four hours.

The blood drains from her face. She knows exactly what I'm talking about. Helen tries to brazen it out though. "I duh, don't know what you mean."

"To put it bluntly, Dr. Metaxas, Mandy has been banging you. I know this. She's got her hooks into you and it's her behind this silly attempt at manipulation."

Helen grows even paler and her eyes fill with tears.

I feel not the slightest pity and exasperation breaks into my voice. "My God, woman! What were you thinking?!"

"You don't understand," the Dean whispers, "I can't deny her. She tells me I want her and I do. She tells me I like it when she fucks me and I do." The tears start to flow freely now. "She tells me I like her in my bum and I do. God, I'm so ashamed! But I can't help myself."

I snort in contempt. "That has nothing to do with me, Dr. Metaxas. You've made your bed, now you sleep in it. You can bring the allegations to the board. As I pointed out, your case is weak. Even if you do succeed, I don't care. Let people think what they want of me.

"You on the other hand have a great deal to lose. Your career, your position at the university, your future and your husband."

I can see her collapse inside as I speak to her. She shrinks in her chair. The emotional agony she feels reduces her to a quivering heap.

Standing, I say to her, "End it, Helen. Your entanglement will come out and sooner than later. You can't keep a secret like that. If you don't end this affair, it will destroy you."

"I can't!" comes out in a wavering, quiet wail.

"Good night then, Dean," I tell her.

She makes no notice. Her shoulders heave and her tears pool on her desk.

I shake my head in anger and pity as I leave her home.

Peace is what I need now so I head to Poet's Walk. I hate that the world can bring such pain to people and I hate even more the fact that I had anything to do with it.

If anyone disturbs me, they won't have time to regret it.

* * * *

I have to clamp down on myself when I rise from the ground. The day's rest has not calmed me much. My mind still roils and what I am is dreadfully close to breaking free.

My evening's ritual helps. The simple rhythm of it soothes me.

Finished, I check my messages. Again there is only one, but it's from someone I didn't expect, Diane. She's discovered I never answer during the day. The time stamp shows she called barely after the sun came up. Five minutes earlier and she would have caught me.

"Georges?" Her voice is thin with terror. She's gasping as her chest is squeezed with fear. "Some, something happened. A dream, dream, I think. Can't remember." She pauses to pull in a shuddering breath. "I'm scared, Georges. Don't know why. I think I lost something. Don't know what. Please, please, answer the phone. I need you." There's a long pause and then a click sounds as she hangs up.

I'm gone from my haven, not even bothering to lock the door. In spite of my resolve to end our relationship, I have to go to her. My lover needs me.

The speed and strength of my kind means I can take a direct route, through yards, over fences and roofs. I'm careful not to be observed but not fussy about courtesy or property. The trip is barely ten minutes.

I knock on Diane's door and she answers.

"You!" she hisses with utter venom. Her eyes narrow with fury and lips curl with loathing.

I can't keep the astonishment from my face. If she had appeared wrapped in bandages and trailing dust I would have been less surprised. Without thinking I extend my hand and step towards her. Diane recoils as if my touch would infect her with a virulent disease.

"What's, what's happened?" I ask. The pain that crushes my chest makes my voice quaver.

"I found out about you, you monster!" she growls back.

Terror now wraps itself around my chest. If she knows what I am, she will die. Either I kill her myself or others of my kind will destroy her and me. We don't want the humans to know of us.

"You rapist!" she spits then.

I can't help but feel relief at that statement. My secret is safe. Hurt grows to replace my fear. There's no reason why she would think such a thing.

"That student of yours came by," Diane goes on. "Mandy told me all about you. How you make them fuck you for a decent mark, how you degrade them, how you make them suffer. I can't believe I was fooled by you!"

Her words tear at me. Without thought I reach out and grip her arm. "You can't be..." I start.

Her reaction astounds me. She pulls free with a jerk, falls to her knees and throws up. The sharp smell of stomach acid fills the air.

"Don't touch me!" She pauses for a second heave. "Don't ever touch me again, you bastard!" Another wave of her stomach contents hits the floor. "Get out! Or I'll call the police!" Her stomach expels yet more of her recent meals.

I grow cold inside, it deadens the misery I feel. "D'accord," I tell her. I step back into the hall and close the door on the end of an important piece of my existence.

An apartment opens down the hall and a small dog attached to a leash emerges. It gives a "Yipe!" at the sight of me and defecates. I've turned and headed for the stairs before the person at the other end of the leash can observe me.

When I emerge onto the street, I pull my emotions into a tight ball and slide my human face into place. Death and horror walk with me and there is only one person I wish them to be unleashed upon.

Part 3 coming soon.