The Displaced Detective: A Body Hopper Tale – Part 6
by Limbo’s Mistress

The buzzing of the world’s biggest headache dragged me, kicking and screaming, out of the darkness of slumber into awareness.

I’d just been in the middle of the best possible dream. I was behind the cafeteria with Blake Stevens. We were sitting on the steel benches, out of sight of any prying eyes. He held my hand and brought it to his lips over and over as he told me that I was the one he loved. Not that stupid bitch Becky Davis. Of course, my head just had to start hurting right as he leaned in to kiss me.

Real awareness broke over me, thrusting me the rest of the way to being awake.

I sat up with a start, breathing coming at a rapid pace as my heart hammered in my chest with the fragmented remembrance of the dream. Though I couldn’t rightly say if it were because I’d been enjoying it or if its appearance scared the hell out of me.

As soon as I was upright, the agony between my ears, which had been the catalyst in breaking sleep’s hold on me, flared up. I leaned over, closed my eyes, and grabbed the sides of my skull, positive that it was about to split in two.

“Oh, that really, like, fucking hurts.”

“My apologies for your discomfort, Detective,” a voice from beside me said. It was the same one I’d heard right before passing out in Carol’s living room. “It seems Mrs. Reese used the adult dose on you by mistake.”

I lifted my head, forcing open my eyes, and turned in the direction of the voice.

The room I was in was small, about bedroom sized actually. The source of the light that had seemed to be a god-powered flashlight to my pounding head was a small window on the far wall. The bars on the other side cast parallel shadows on the hardwood floor. The walls were painted a light green color, and were devoid of any sort of décor.

From the bed I was in, I could see a small closed door on the wall perpendicular to the window, and a larger one opposite. I surmised the smaller of the two either led to a closet or a tiny bathroom. The thought of which instantly made my bladder pipe up through the cacophony taking place in my head.

Jesus, all I’d had was a freaking bottle of water. One freaking bottle! Did Sasha spend most of her waking hours in the toilet?

Pushing the call of nature aside, I continued to turn my head until my eyes rested on the man I’d last seen looming in the doorway of the farmhouse, blocking my escape. He sat in an comfortable-looking chair at the head of the bed, his legs crossed and a tablet in one hand. Maybe it was the fact that I was less terrified than I’d been then, or maybe the migraine doing the Macarena in my head, but he seemed far less imposing than I remembered.

He was still wearing the dark slacks and gray turtleneck sweater from before, this time sans the jacket. The holster strapped around his shoulders was empty. No sign of the pistol I’d noticed right before passing out. Guess he felt safe enough wherever we were that he didn’t think he needed it.

His gaze held my own without flinching, the steel blue eyes focused and alert. It took a couple of seconds of trying to figure out what was unusual about his face before I realized he wasn’t wearing the mirrored glasses. He must have noticed my apparent surprise at the revelation, because his mouth curled into a small smile.

“You’re not a Body Hopper, Detective,” he said with a note of amusement. “Hence not needing the protection provided by our eyewear.” His voice still carried that deep timbre that ran with authority. There was no doubt this was a man who was accustomed to being in control.

Which meant that my best chance of seeing the outside world again lay in letting him keep that control. For now.

“Where am I?” I asked, wincing as my voice cracked and my throat suddenly felt like someone was trying to strike matches on the back of it.

“One of our facilities,” he said, settling back in the chair. “I thought it best to be here when you awakened. To head off any potential problems that might arise.”

“What sort of problems?”

His eyes seemed to glimmer with amusement. “The ones born out of your attempt to escape.”

Before I could protest that I was just a helpless little girl, he looked down at the device in his hand.

“Detective John C. Rollins. Born February 1, 1971 in Decatur, Illinois. Attended Woodbury High School, Class of 1989. From there you joined the United States Army, rising to the rank of Corporal. Saw combat during Operation Desert Storm. Honorable discharge in 1996. Attended UMass, majoring in Criminal Justice. After receiving your degree, you enrolled in the police academy, graduating at the top of your class. Four years as a patrolman before passing the Detective’s Examination. Then you spent five years with Vice before transferring to Homicide. Three commendations over the past ten years. Two for Heroism and one for Merit. Parents deceased. No siblings and no spouse.”

He glanced back up to me, his smile widened as his eyes twinkled with an air of smug satisfaction. “Did I happen leave anything out?”

I smiled back, putting no pleasant emotions behind it. The amount of data the Order had on me was scary. A lot of what he recounted was public knowledge, but I didn’t have to imagine too hard to think they knew shit that was kept in secret files.

“Like, you didn’t mention my totally awesome tennis backhand.”

The smile never faltered. “Yes. Well, we tried to stick to just the relevant facts. However, I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I need a partner for doubles.”

I shrugged, leaning back against my pillow. “You sort of have me at a disadvantage. You guys know everything about me, but I don’t know very much about you, Mister …?

“Armitage. Herman Armitage. But you can call me ‘Harry’, if you prefer.”

I took another drink of water, set the glass down, and crossed my arms over my chest.

“So, Herman, why are we talking? Hell, why am I still alive, for that matter?” I gestured at the room. Despite being essentially a cage, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Because we are not savages, Detective. Nor are we vile monsters that ooze evil. Despite whatever exaggerated horror stories the person who stole your body may have told you. The Order isn’t evil empire out to kill and destroy.”

“Why should I believe you? I mean, you’ve been chasing me and Matthew for two days. Or are you trying to say that it wasn’t one of your guys at the hospital who tried to stop us?”

“We were searching for you and your companion. That much is true. However, we were more interested in stopping him than killing you.”

“I see. Is that why I was drugged and taken prisoner at the farmhouse?”

He held out his hands in a supplicating gesture. “I prefer the term ‘guest’.”

“Semantics,” I replied.

He waited a second or two before continuing. “Let me ask you this, Detective. What have we done that would make us the bad guys? Which of our actions would give you the impression that we are exactly what your traveling companion, the man currently wearing your body I might add, has claimed?”

I arched a brow as I thought through his words. True, the guy on the street’s gun was filled with darts, not bullets. Nothing lethal there. Also, given the setup we walked into, the Order knew where we were going. They could have simply taken us the moment we walked into the house. Which would have ended with someone hurt, possibly even dead.

The man smiled. “I see the lawman’s brain whirling around in that adolescent skull. So, nothing at all?”

I continued to stare at the far wall, trying to think logically rather than emotionally. Of course, it was my noticing that I had begun to twirl my hair around my finger that I discovered the answer to his question.

“Sasha Dellinger,” I said as I untwisted the crimson strands from my finger and narrowed mye yes at him. “The young girl who used to inhabit this body is dead because of your organization’s actions. The hunt for Matthew ended with the death of an innocent girl.”

The conceited smile never faltered for a second. “I’m afraid you are sorely mistaken, Detective. Miss Dellinger is very much alive. In fact, we are already making arrangements to put her back in control of that body and return her to her worried family.”

“What?” I flinched inside as the surprised tone of my voice sounded more feminine and youthful than normal. Of all the excuses and arguments I’d expected to hear to support Armitage’s insistence that the Order was benevolent, the announcement that Sasha was alive was a complete surprise.

I sat there for a few moments, feeling the weight that had been pressing on my conscience for the past twenty-four hours lessen. Even though I hadn’t had anything to do with the teen’s situation, other than get stuck in her body, I had still felt responsible. Learning that at least one life might be saved after all this was over went a long way to helping me deal with that strange form of survivor’s guilt.

“Matthew … he said that your people had killed her when they discovered he’d Hopped into her body.”

“Another lie, Detective. Cornelius’ …uh, Matthew, I mean, would say anything to paint us in a terrible light.” His smile moved into one that seemed to turn friendly far too quickly. “I trust that you’re the kind of person who prefers to make his own opinions based on actual evidence?”

There it was, the flattering.

Instead of calling him out on it, I merely nodded my head slightly. The headache had begun to unwind and the mariachi band had taken their act to a room a few doors down.

“I try to make sure I have all the fact before I come to a conclusion.”

“Excellent!” The man rose to his feet, gesturing at the door. “Care to take a walk while I show you the truth behind the falsehoods and discuss the details of your future?”

“Details?”

“Yes. About our organization, our purpose, and, most importantly, how we are going to get you back to your life.”

I thought about all the trouble I was sure was waiting for me when I returned home. Returning to my life as I’d left it twenty-four hours earlier would end up with me in prison at the most. Being fired was a near certainty. So either Herman was just blowing smoke up my skirt, or his group really did have some really powerful influences.

Regardless, I couldn’t do much about my situation by remaining in bed all day.”

“A walk sounds nice,” I said as I slid off the bed. Even though I still wore the jeans and sweater I’d taken from Karen’s closet, someone had been thoughtful enough to remove my jacket and shoes. The coat was nowhere to be seen, but the sneakers on the floor beside the bed.

I slipped my feet into them, tightened the laces, and followed Herman over to the door.

He paused before opening it, turning to look back at me over his shoulder.

“Though I really think it doesn’t need to be said, Detective. Please do not try to escape. I have no desire to hurt you, but I cannot allow you to simply take off on your own. Not that I think you would want to leave before we fix your situation.” His eyes flicked down over my feminine body.

I opened my mouth to remind him that he wasn’t dealing with a teenager, despite what my appearance seemed. However, I opted to just nod my head and do my best to look impatient.

Which, apparently, I was able to do with practiced ease.

Herman’s expression shifted momentarily, from one of outright friendliness to something darker. More guarded. I was sure he didn’t actually trust me. The question was, could I get him to at least refrain from ordering my execution.

That practiced smile returned and he twisted the knob in his hand, pulling the door open with ease. Hell, the damned thing hadn’t even been locked.

We emerged into a darkened hallway with hardwood floors and a curved ceiling beset with recessed lighting. Several closed doors branched off along the corridor, which ended in what appeared to be a T-junction. Several paintings hung on the wall. As we passed, I noticed they were all of stern-looking men.

“The Founding Fathers?” I asked sarcastically.

Herman smiled. “In a way. The Order itself has been around since the early Twelfth Century, although there has been a group such as ours for almost as long as there have been those with special abilities.”

I nodded. “Hoppers.”

“Precisely. However, they are just one type of the dangerous people out there, Detective. Being able to swap souls with someone, taking their body away from them, is detestable. No question there. Unfortunately, there are those who are far worse. Those whose abuse of their fellow man is ore sinister than simply stealing a life.”

We turned the corner at the end, continuing down another hall that was almost identical to the previous. With the exception of perhaps a few less paintings and doors.

“Such as?” I asked. Mostly just because the more he told me, the more I thought he might begin to see me as a potential ally. But also because if there were people out there who could do more horrible things than Hop, I wanted to know about them.

“Let’s see,” he said, pausing as if in thought. “There are ones called Life Drainers. Rather than steal someone’s body, they actually steal their vitality.”

“Vitality?” I asked, a wave of uneasiness forming in my belly. “You mean, their youth?”

He nodded. “While I’m sure it’s not been any fun for you to be stuck in the body of a fifteen year old girl, can you imagine being that fifteen year old and having someone grab ahold of you and steal sixty years of your life away? One day, you’re cheering at the Homecoming Game and looking forward to the Winter Formal; the next you’re in adult diapers and eating through a straw in a nursing home.”

I stopped walking for a moment, staring up at him with my mouth slightly agape. I honestly couldn’t seem to get my mind to fathom the horror of that scenario. As a man approaching fifty, I’d been more than aware of the passage of time and the toll it’d taken on my body. However, to go from being young and carefree to a drooling octogenarian overnight made the urge to pee flare up in me again.

“That’s terrifying,” I whispered, not caring that I sounded exactly like a scared girl.

He nodded in agreement.

“Unfortunately, that particular example is a true story. We weren’t able to catch the Drainer and force him to give her back her stolen youth. The poor thing passed away of heart failure at the ripe old age of eighteen.” He frowned and began walking down the hallway again. “There are also individuals out there who can rearrange someone’s memories as easily as you might rearrange items on a shelf. Also, let’s not fail to mention the ones who can warp their local reality to suit their whims. The Laws of Physics be damned.”

“Shit,” I breathed. Matthew hadn’t told me anything other than there were people out there with powers different than his own. Someone who could control reality? Manipulate memories? How would you even begin to defend against someone like that?

At the end of the corridor, a wide staircase with ornately-carved handrails descended down into a large open room with four hallways branching off in opposite directions. A smaller side room, directly across from the bottom of the steps, revealed a darkened foyer and a thick wooden door.

A beam of brilliant sunlight drifted in through the windows running along the top of the door.

I turned to look up at Herman. “So, the Order’s main goal is to stop these sorts of people from using their abilities on innocent people? It’s not to recruit them for its own purposes?”

“Mostly,” he said, looking me square in the eyes. “We do employ some of the less dangerous individuals. Those who want to use their abilities for good instead of their own selfish desires.”

“So, it’s either get recruited or die?”

His gaze hardened. “Tell me, Detective, have you any idea the aftermath of an ego spat between a pair of rival Reality Benders looks like?”

I shrugged. “Can’t say that I do.”

“You wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week. Bodies grossly altered to mind-boggling degrees of perversion. Entire identities and personalities lost forever to the ether. Leftover memories of acts and events so obscene they defy rational comprehension.” He pointed at me. “Let me assure you, for the victims of something like that, simply getting trapped in a younger body of the opposite sex would be a pleasant vacation.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question. Is the Order putting people with dangerous powers away for the common good? Or simply stockpiling weapons for its own use?” I held up a hand before he could answer. “I mean, you have to totally admit having one of these Reality Benders on the payroll would be, like, a seriously powerful advantage. Might go a long way to increasing the Order’s influence.”

“Everything we do is for the common good, Detective. I hope as man like yourself would appreciate that.”

Motion out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. When I turned, I saw a young man, probably in his early twenties, striding down one of the hallways toward us. He had a concerned look on his pimply face and several sheets of paper gripped tightly in one hand.

He walked right up to us, gave me a less-than-brief glance, then looked at Herman.

“Director Armitage? I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but this report just came in from the Atlanta Division.” He held out the sheaf of paper. “Analytics thought you should see it immediately.”

A look of annoyance momentarily passed over Herman’s face, but he took the offered pages and began flipping through them.

While he did, the younger man turned his attention back toward me, the dark brown eyes behind the thick lenses perched on his nose traveled up and down my body again. This time in a slow, obviously more lecherous manner.

His brown hair was greasy and hung down over his ears and stood up haphazardly in several spots in the back. The smattering of acne was more prevalent on one side of his face, giving his skin an uneven, splotchy appearance. While not grossly obese, I could see the flabby belly and chest under his dark blue t-shirt. Both the bottom of the shirt and the upper thighs of the faded jeans he wore were splattered with grease stains. As if he’d used them to wipe his hands after eating potato chips or something similar.

Beneath all that, though, there was something else that caught the brunt of my notice: his smell.

It was a heavy, musky scent that seemed to surge right up my nostrils like Federal agents breaking down a terrorist’s door. With each breath, the overwhelming aroma wafting off him permeated my senses. Swam up my nose directly into my brain.

I continued to stare up at the boy. No, not a boy. A MAN. This was a man standing there next to me, his eyes telling me how much he enjoyed looking at my body.

I flashed a demure smile at him, shifting my hips and spine so that I struck a pose that did everything possible to put my feminine assets on display for him. I hoped he would find them acceptable, despite the boring, practically asexual clothing I wore.

A dark cloud of self-admonishment rolled through my thoughts. Why had I picked the most boring clothes from Karen’s closet. I kicked myself for skipping over the myriad of skirts I’d ignored in favor of a pair of jeans. Or I could have grabbed that slinky black dress I’d seen hanging on the rack. I was sure it would have really looked totally hot on me.

The gorgeous man’s leering smile widened a bit, indicating that he still liked what he was seeing. The expression alone set my loins on fire. My breathing switched between a deep inhale through my nose alternating with a quickened gasp from between my trembling lips. It was as if I simply could not get enough of his body’s delicious fragrance.

I shuffled a step closer to him, slowly reaching out to place my hand on one of his thick, pasty-fleshed arms. The touch sent an electric currenting running up my limb, down my spine, and directly into my va-jay-jay. My panties, already damp, became saturated. This time, instead of a tiny gasp, a sensuous moan dribbled out from between my lips. It was a cry of desire.

Of want.

Of need

Yes, I needed him. Needed this unnamed bastion of manhood in the most womanly way possible. The boy at the convenience store had been a blip on the scale of attractiveness. What I’d felt looking at him had been nothing more than a curious girlish impulse. That longing was eclipsed by the god standing before me. It was a religious experience of a kind I hadn’t believed possible.

I licked my lips as I drank in every divine morsel of his being, and my thoughts drifted to the bedroom upstairs. I couldn’t think of a better location to give myself completely to my new master. If I could manage to wait that long. Which was doubtful, considering the fire raging out of control in my womanhood made me heady with lust.

My eyes darted to our surroundings. Armitage was preoccupied with his papers. All I needed was a semi-private alcove so I could worship and bask in the studly male’s glory.

I saw my future, clear despite the haze swirling around my addled brain. He would claim me for his own. Naked and kneeling prostrate before him, I would be his forever. I would service his manhood at any time, in any position. As long as it pleased him and made him happy. We would fuck and fuck from dawn until midnight.

A sudden, pleasurable ache formed just slightly above, and to the sides, of my pelvic bone. The twinge shifted my thoughts along a tangent. I would be my master’s broodmare. He would fill me with his seed over and over until I carried his holy progeny in my increasingly expanding womb. I saw myself still kneeling in supplication, only this time with a belly stretched to near the point of bursting.

I literally couldn’t wait one second more. Privacy was no longer a consideration. My fertile young body was so horribly empty. Until I knew that my holy lover had knocked me up, taking permanent possession of me, I would never be satisfied.

Another cooing moan crawled out of my mouth, and I began to lower myself to my knees. The hand touching his arm moved to join its mate at the buckle holding his pants closed. A couple of tugs and the descent of a zipper was all that stood between me and everything I could possibly ever want.

Then, a rude, rough hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back to my feet and pushed me away from Nirvana.

“Goddammit, Jerry!” Herman snarled, placing himself between me and the other man. “Reign that shit in or you’re going back in the damned box!”

Jerry, Blessed be His Name, blinked rapidly behind those adorably thick glasses as he took a couple of steps backward, fear forming on his face as he looked from me to Armitage.

His retreat from me was like a punch in the gut. I reached out with one hand, fingers spread wide, and willed him to come back to me.

“Please …” I cried softly as my heart broke.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, taking another step back, trembling with panic. “I didn’t mean to … I just lost control. It was just for a second. I’m sorry.”

I tried to step around the man between me and Jerry, but his grip on my bicep tightened, keeping me in place. My outstretched hand beckoned toward Jerry, pleading for him to rescue me from Herman’s clutches.

“Whatever,” the older man growled. “Get the hell out of here. Tell Analytics to move in and secure the asset. Got it?” He shoved the papers back at the boy.

Jerry nodded rapidly as he took the reports from Armitage. His gaze swept back across me for a brief moment, causing me to release a sad, wistful sigh. Then he spun around and waddled away as fast as his legs could carry him. He turned the corner at the end of the hall, vanishing from my sight.

I wanted to die.

Herman glanced down at me, snarled with annoyance, then stepped back a step so he could slap me soundly across the cheek with an open-handed blow that echoed in the large room.

“Snap out of it, Jack!”

I stumbled backward, one hand clutching my scorching face, and blinked rapidly through the tears filling my eyes. For a brief moment, there were two of me. One was the love-struck fifteen-year-old who was still daydreaming about being the mother of many of Jerry’s children.

The other was Detective Jack Rollins, who was still trying to figure out exactly what in the hell was going on.

Herman stepped back to me, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face.

“I apologize for slapping you, Detective,” he said, frowning. “The shock was necessary to end the effect. I trust you’re thinking a bit more clearly now?”

I glared at him, still holding my cheek, and pointed in the direction the nerdy boy had departed. “What … the fuck … was that?” My heart was still hammering in my chest and the alien thoughts which had taken over my mind were lingering like smoke in the air.

“Jerry? Well, he’s what we have labeled a Harem Master.”

“Harem Master?” I glanced to the empty hallway, happy to see that Jerry was long out of sight.

Herman nodded. “He, and those like him, have the ability to make members of the opposite sex adore them. To a disturbingly staggering degree. Most of them are male, but we have encountered a few that were women.” He sighed. “Their victims become mindlessly devoted to them. Their age, race, marital status, sexual orientation, or even their relationship to the induvial, none of it matters. They will fall completely and totally in love, willing to do anything and everything to make their owner happy.

I felt a wave of nausea roll though me as I remembered vividly how badly I wanted to give myself over to Jerry. He could have used me in the most disgusting ways, and I knew I would have loved him until the day I took my last breath.

“Jesus,” I said, shaking my head before looking back to Armitage. “And he works for you?”

“Jerry’s a special case, Detective. His ability stems from the special pheromones his body produces, rather than the mental domination excised by the others. He didn’t even know what he was doing until we caught him and brought him in. He just thought he was a really popular guy who could get lucky with any woman that caught his attention.”

Though I still felt like I wanted to vomit up the dinner I hadn’t eaten, the investigator in me couldn’t resist asking for more information.

“What was the damage?” I asked. “Before you managed to get him off the streets? How many girls fell into his lap?”

Herman frowned. “One hundred twelve. Most were female students from his high school.”

“Only most?”

The man nodded. “Several teachers were likewise affected. As were his two older step-sisters and their mother.”

My hands automatically moved down to my abdomen, the yearning throb from earlier still clear in my mind.

“How many resulted in pregnancies?”

“Seventy-five.”

I nearly fell on my ass. This kid had enslaved over a hundred women and girls, including members of his own family. And managed to knock up seventy-five of them. The numbers seemed almost comical.

“So, the Order nabbed him and put him to work? What about the lives he ruined. Even if it was unintentional, there had to be some serious repercussions. I mean, the scandals alone …”

Herman didn’t answer me for several long seconds. Almost as if he were debating how much he was willing to share with me. After a few moments, he nodded.

“Fortunately, we were able to mitigate the aftereffects surprisingly well. As I believe I mentioned, there are some individuals who have the ability to affect memories. We were able to edit the recollections of the affected women and any possible witnesses, removing all recollections of Jerry from their minds.”

I snorted, giving my head another shake. Now that the over-encompassing desire to belong to the disgusting pig had vanished completely, I was left with a hollow anger that roiled in my belly.

“So, you left behind a whole gaggle of girls who were all mysteriously, unexplainably pregnant? I’m sure that didn’t raise any eyebrows.”

Herman’s eyes narrowed at me ruefully. “Of course not. That would cause just as many problems. Fortunately, at least from our perspective, almost all of those impregnated were in

relationships. It was just a matter of transferring the memories of paternal responsibility from Jerry to another. For the handful or so who were not in a pairing, we made additional adjustments to provide a suitable stand in candidate.”

Another short, sarcastic laugh jumped out of my mouth. I couldn’t believe how self-assured the man was about what his organization had done. If he’d followed up his explanation by puffing out his chest in arrogance, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

“Are you telling me that, not only did you make, like, a jillion cuckolded men believe they were the father of their partner’s child, you forced other people into a relationship they likely wouldn’t have otherwise entered?”

Herman’s eyes narrowed. “We made the best out of a bad situation, Detective. What would you have us do? Simply let dozens of women attempt to file paternity suits, or rape claims, and draw public attention? A large part of what we do requires that we remain anonymous.”

I shook my head. “You talk about altruism and the common good all you want, Herman. But from where I’m standing, it seems to me you’re not that much better than the people you hunt.”

Herman’s jaw clenched very visibly, breaking that haughty, superior façade.

“The justification for our motives and actions are beyond your limited understanding, Detective. We do what has to be done for the betterment and security of all.”

From the expression on his face and the furious blush creeping up out of his collar, I knew I’d stepped too far. Any goodwill I might have attempted to use to my advantage was gone as quickly as my desire to have Jerry the Geek put a baby in me.

“The ‘all’ not including those who have to sacrifice without having any choice, right?” I snorted derisively. “Spoken like a true megalomaniac.”

He glared at me for several seconds, then sighed softly. Shockingly, the sound actually sounded genuinely upset.

“I had hoped I was wrong about you, Detective. I wanted to believe that I could show you the good work the Order is performing, how important it is that we identify and find those people with unnatural abilities before they can hurt anyone else.”

In the bottom of my peripheral vision, I saw his hand disappear into the front pocket of his slacks, fingers curling around something hidden inside.

“Sadly, it’s become painfully clear to me that you cannot, or will not, see past your own narrow views of right and wrong. It’s a shame, really. I had thought you might see the light.”

The hidden hand moved slightly beneath the fabric. As if he’d pressed a button on whatever was tucked inside the pocket.

Though I didn’t have any positive proof of what he might have just done, my instincts screamed that it was definitely not for my benefit. Which meant whatever was coming for me would be coming soon.

Armitage had spent so much time trying to woo me to his cause that he’d obviously forgotten the farmhouse. Forgotten about how I nearly got away.

I was in motion before he even noticed, bending down as I drew back my arm and swung forward with a uppercut, putting every ounce of Sasha’s limited strength behind it. Unfortunately for Herman, I wasn’t tall enough to slam the blow home on his chin. So, I used my decreased stature to strike at a much lower, much more intimate, location.

My fist slammed into the space between his legs, the impact sending shockwaves up my slender arm. The air whooshed out of Herman’s lungs as his testicles were blasted back up into his body. The hand not trapped in his pocket zoomed over to cradle his damaged jewels as he doubled over. His ruddy complexion instantly taking on the color of pea soup.

I didn’t wait for him to recover from the punch. I took a single step backward, spun around sideways, and lashed out and down with my left leg. The spinning hook kick drove my sneakered heel directly into the side of his knee. The joint cracked loudly and collapsed, sending the off-balance man toppling face-first onto the hard wooden floor.

The sound of people running down the surrounding hallways in my direction prevented me from continuing my assault on his downed form. I turned away from the prone, groaning man and bolted across the floor to the large, ornate door across the foyer. It was locked, but the latch for the deadbolt was on the same side as me. I flipped it open, twisted the brass knob, and pulled the door open wide.

A rush of cool air blew past me as I sprang through the opening and down the steps. Any residual lethargy from the tranquilizer had long since vanished, and I enjoyed the return of my new, youthful energy. I was like a supercharged battery hooked into a high-performance piece of equipment.

When I hit the gravel walkway at the bottom of the steps, I paused just long enough to look around. The massive house behind me was nothing short of a mansion. Three stories, at least, above ground, and wider than an acre. It sat in the middle of a huge open field ringed by thick trees. In the distance, the bluish-purple tops of nearby mountains rose above the foliage.

We were certainly a long way from the farmhouse. Though where, exactly, was a mystery.

The pathway I was on curved around the house, toward was seemed to be a parking area. Several black SUVs, Chevy Tahoes it appeared, were arranged in neat rows. Standing ready for the next hunt for people with powers.

As tempting as it was to try to use one of the vehicles to get away, I knew I didn’t have time to hotwire it, or search for the keys. Besides, if the Order was half as smart as they seemed, they would have the vehicles low-jacked for easy tracking.

That left the woods as my only hope.

I broke into a full-on sprint, tennis shoes slapping the thick grass as I ran down the gentle incline toward the tree line. A few seconds later, I heard the shouts of people as they emerged from inside the house and saw me getting away. The commotion only spurred me into running faster.

My earlier assessment of Sasha’s body, particularly her legs, had obviously been correct. While I might have more than generous curves in the coming years, right then I was built solely for speed.

I couldn’t help the grin that formed on my face as I rocketed down the hill. Even though I could still hear my pursuers, their voices were getting further and further behind me. Guess none of them had been recruited for their ability to outrun a teenaged girl. A small laugh escaped from my mouth. Suck on that, Jerry!

Sure, I didn’t have much of a plan besides running into the woods. Apparently Sasha was the impulsive type. Right then, the only thing I wanted to do was put as much distance between myself and my pursuers as I could. Though I couldn’t be sure, I assumed Matthew was still trapped somewhere in the house that was receding quickly behind me. Part of me felt bad for abandoning him to the Order’s mercy.

Another part soberly admitted that leaving him also meant saying goodbye to Jack Rollins forever.

Oh well. I would make do as best as I could. If I could stay off the radar for a few years, hopefully the Order would stop looking for me. It might take me years, but I swore that one day I would get my payback.

I was about fifty feet from the edge of the woods when a shimmer disturbed the air around me for a moment. I turned my head to the side, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I had just written it off as a figment of my imagination when I turned to look forward again, only to see the woods weren’t any closer than they’d been a second ago.

Huh?

I was running, practically sprinting as hard as I could. Despite that, the space between myself and the trees remained the same. I turned to change my angle of approach, heading along the diagonal.

No dice.

What the hell?

I looked down at my feet. My shoes continued to slap lightly on the thick grass. From this point of view, I should have been nearly to the woods by now. When I brought my eyes back up, though, I remained squarely where I was.

Risking a glance behind me, I saw several dark-suited men in mirrored sunglasses jogging lightly toward me at what seemed to be a pretty leisurely pace. Each of them held a wicked looking pistol in their hand.

I should have been leaving the slower men in my dust. As it was, they continued to grow closer and closer.

Something seriously wasn’t right here.

Brining my gaze higher, I saw Herman at the rear of the pack. There was a noticeable limp in his gait, and murder on his face.

Turning back around, I began to pump my arms up and down as hard as I could, pushing to get every ounce of horsepower out of my flailing limbs. My heart hammered and my lungs burned, but I didn’t get so much as a foot closer to my destination.

Then a lightbulb exploded in my head, along with two words Armitage had used.

Reality Bender.

I looked behind me again. As expected, there was another person walking along with

Herman. A woman dressed in a similar fashion to the squad of burly men closing in on me. There were no mirrored sunglasses covering her eyes though, and those twin orbs glowed with an otherworldly silver light that beamed out like a pair of spotlights aimed directly at me.

I wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing to retard my progress, but I realized with a sinking feeling in my heart that my momentary flight to freedom was effectively over.

I gave one final look to the trees, then simply stopped running. Instantly, I lurched forward a few steps, like I’d just walked right off of a treadmill while it was still running. I bent at the waist, hands on my knees, and breathing heavily from the wasted exertion. I kept my gaze downcast even as a half-dozen large shadows encircled me.

A few minutes later, Herman’s voice cut through the quiet, drifting down the hill toward me. “A valiant attempt, Detective. I had certainly anticipated the possibility you would resist, even attempt escape. I just didn’t account for your physically attacking me. An oversight on my part it seems.”

I glanced up, a smirk secure on my face and a pithy comment on my lips. The game might be over for now, but I would be damned if I begged or pleaded for mercy from Armitage or his goons.

However, the moment my head came up to face him, he backhanded me across the face with a blow that made the one from earlier seem like a light love tap. My head snapped back as a cry of pain, rather than a sarcastic remark, came from my mouth.

I staggered sideways, reeling from the blow. My feet tangled around each other in the high grass, and I went down in a heap.

“Pick her up and take her back to the house,” Armitage barked at the men standing over me. Then he turned to the woman, her eyes no longer glowing silver. “Put her in Room Five and make sure she’s strapped in nice and tight.”

“As you wish,” she said, flashing me a smile that seemed to indicate she would rather put me in an over and eat me than anything else.

Armitage reached over and lightly squeezed her arm before turning to look down at me.

“Not to worry, Detective. We’re not going to kill you. You’re far too valuable to us alive.” Then a malicious smirk formed on his face. “Well, that body of yours is.”

Before I could ask what he meant by that, he turned away and began limping back up the hill toward the house. The woman nodded to a couple of the men, and two pairs of rough hands grabbed my upper arms and yanked me back onto my feet.

My jaw stung something fierce where Armitage had stuck me. There would be one hell of a bruise on my face before nightfall. I decided that the next time, I wouldn’t just punch that asshole in the nuts.

I was going to kill him.

The men on either side of me dragged me back up the hill, showing hardly any strain while doing it. The woman walked ahead, occasionally looking back at me with that hungry smile. About halfway back to the house, I decided to see how much I could push before the hammer came down. I dug in my heels and pulled against the arms gripping me.

“I can walk just fine on my own, assholes,” I grumbled.

“Release her,” the woman said, taking a step toward me. “She won’t try to run away or cause more trouble. Will you, sweetie?” She let out a little laugh and leaned in until she could have kissed me. “Or do you want to see what other tricks I have up my sleeve.”

“Not particularly,” I muttered.

The march back up to the house was tedious. My flight down the hill had been powered by adrenaline, fear, and excitement. Trudging back, especially on legs running on empty, was a serious pain. Once inside, the rest of the underlings went off their separate ways while Goon One and Goon Two escorted me down another hallway with Super Bitch bringing up the rear.

We stopped before an oak door similar to the others I’d seen around the house. A bronze plate next to the frame had the number “5” engraved upon it. The dork on my right reached over to open the door before shoving me ahead of him.

The interior of the room was practically Spartan. No paintings, no rugs, and no furniture other than something resembling a dentist’s chair in the center of the room. The only illimination emanated from small lamps positioned on the center of every wall.

My appraisal of the furnishings was brief. No sooner than I’d had a chance to glance around, then I was dragged forcefully over to chair and practically thrown on it.

When I started to sit up, one of the men pointed his finger in my face.

“Lay down,” he snarled.

“Would it be too much trouble to get a ‘please’?” I asked.

His upper lip curled into an even ferocious sneer, but the woman calmly stepped forward, eyes gleaming dangerously.

“Please sit,” she said. “I won’t say it again.”

Sighing as loudly and dejectedly as I could, I plopped my bottom on the thick padded seat, huffed with an overabundance of scorn, and crossed my arms over my chest. I turned my gaze to her and rolled my eyes.

“Happy now, bitch?”

Her eyes flashed silver. “Silence.”

I turned my head and asked her if she thought we were in a library or something. At least, that was what I had planned to ask. Instead, my mouth opened and closed, forming the words soundlessly. What the hell? My eyes widened as I reached up and placed a hand at my throat, casting a shocked expression to the smiling female.

“I’ve removed your vocal cords.”

My mouth dropped open, silently of course, and the men took advantage of my shock to strap me down onto the chair.

The woman leaned over me. “This time, it’s only temporary. Next time, I’ll leave you permanently blind, deaf, mute, and incontinent.” Her lip curled evilly. “For a start.”

A river of fear rolled through me, and I merely nodded meekly. I wasn’t ready to just roll over and give up. There was still plenty of fight left in me. But as long as this bitch was nearby, there wasn’t much I could do but play along.

The men completed their task of making sure I couldn’t so much as wiggle on the chair, then stepped back. The woman gestured at the door and the pair departed, leaving the two of us alone.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” she said, reaching out to run her fingers through my hair. “Not that I expect you to take it, but here’s a bit of free advice. Don’t fight with Herman. He’s not exactly a patient man, and you’ve gotten on his worst side. While I’m sure you won’t be happy with what he has planned for you, trust me when I tell you there are far worse fates.”

Then she leaned in and kissed my forward before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.