The Spiral Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Connor and Lunette walked the rest of the way to the house slowly, in silence. The moon illuminated the trees, and she saw just how secluded the house was. She could barely see the road from here, and she had no idea how far she'd have to go in any other direction before she found civilization. It was certainly private, and a chill ran through her. He could do anything to her out here, and no-one would ever hear it.

She shook her head, raven tresses flying. No, not him. She looked up at him. He just saved her from certain beatings, and probably a drugged trip to the 'family doctor', and wanted nothing in return. He would not harm her. He could, most certainly... she doubted her entire body was as strong as one of his hands.

"Thank you," she murmured as they climbed the wooden steps to the front door. "I know I said it already, but... but I don't know what else to do." Her voice hitched a little at the end, and they sighed in unison. Connor unlocked the door, flicked on a light in a small entryway, and beckoned for her to follow.

"Zis is nice," she said softly, looking around, and thankfully stepping out of her high heels. She hated heels, but it was also a mandatory part of her nightly getup. She had too long lived in various secured apartments which were little more than glorified prison cells with cable TV, and to be in an actual house again was something of a nostalgic shock. She thought the house seemed much too large for one man, but she didn't know him. Maybe he liked all this space.

Tugging her dress down and trying vainly to pull the bodice up, she followed him up another half-flight of stairs to a spacious living room which had full-height windows along one wall. All she could see out the windows now was the moonlit sky and a black ocean of trees spreading out like a carpet, butting up against the hills in the distance. It might have been a commonplace view for most people, but it took her breath away.

She didn't notice him leave the room, and she didn't notice him return until he cleared his throat. She gasped and spun around, and it took a few seconds for her bosom to stop jiggling. She blushed self-consciously, then realized he was standing there with a small stack of clothes.

"I, uh, have a few things that might fit you. It's not much, but it's probably a little more appropriate." His eyes stayed locked on hers, and she had to admire his restraint for not glancing at her cleavage once. She smiled, a genuine smile, and walked over, taking the little stack of neatly folded and pressed clothes from him.

"For the seventeenth time tonight, thank you," she said, staring up at him with her huge, dark eyes. Her real eyes weren't so impressively doe-like, so she wanted to get as much use out of these as she could. She glanced down at what she held, which appeared to be a simple white blouse and a pair of women's blue jeans. So, she thought, he has a woman's clothes within easy reach. Was he married? Divorced? Separated? Girlfriend? She wanted to know the answers, but she knew that she had to get him asleep so she could sneak out. By morning, she would be a distant memory.

"Thank you, m'sier Connor," she said. Anglo men seemed to love it when she called them monsieur. The emotional rollercoaster she'd been on all night finally seemed to crest. Clutching new clothes, it was like being on the verge of a new life, a whole new existence. She began to dare to hope that maybe she could finally outrun the family, and get out on her own. Be in charge of her own life.

Still smiling like a fool, she quickly skipped off, heading for the half-flight of stairs that led upstairs. "Uhm, I can change up here?" she asked, pausing halfway up.

He nodded. "Yeah, there's a spare bedroom up there you can use. Bathroom's halfway down the hall. Would you like a drink? Non-alcoholic, I mean."

She thought for a second. "Do you have juice?" Connor nodded, and Lunette fairly danced the rest of the way up the stairs. There were three doors... one was an illuminated bedroom that was almost completely empty. Guest bedroom, she knew. The second was a definite man's bathroom, with nothing cluttering the counters, and a black shower curtain. The third door was closed, and she didn't need a map to tell that he didnt want her in there. Yet.

There were a few problems with getting dressed. For one, her bottom was considerably plumper than whoever had formerly worn these pants, but she managed to wriggle her way into them and get them properly zipped and buttoned. The blouse was slightly more difficult, since the previous owner was probably normally proportioned, whereas Lunette was somewhere in the H cup range, if she was any judge. She exhaled and managed to get the buttons done up, but when she resumed breathing, she could feel the fabric drawing into tight little lines across her back. She glanced down, and sure enough, there were gaps between the buttons at her bustline, but it couldn't be helped. Besides, it might even help her out.

She walked slowly back down, feeling strange on normal clothes, and saw Connor sitting on the couch, holding a beer in one hand. There was a glass of orange juice on the coffee table, and her heart skipped a beat. She slowed as she neared the couch, unable to prevent a little sashay from entering her stride. She liked, she genuinely felt attracted to this man, despite the complete lack of reciprocation... it was the perfect opposite to every other relationship she'd ever experienced. It was very disorienting.

She sat at the opposite end of the couch, and reached down to get ger drink. She feared she might blow a button off of her shirt, but it held, and she sat back up, smiling when she sipped it. "Merci, monsier," she said with a little smile. "They... they don't give me what I ask for very often." A thought struck her, and she tilted her head pensively. "Also, I don't know if Connor is your first name, or your last. I'm sorry, but... it never occurred to me until now."

He chuckled. "First name. Connor Dale Flannery, at your service, milady," he responded, before sipping his beer. "I hope you don't mind, but my drink was interrupted at the bar tonight."

"Oui, I am sorry for that, really."

"Why did you pick me?"

The question struck her hard. How could she answer? Oh, yes, monsieur, I picked you because I have psychic powers and you looked like the best of a bad lot. Also, why don't you like my tits? No, she couldn't answer truthfully. The truth had never set her free. "I had not seen you before, and you didn't seem to be in the family..."

"Sal said my name, though."

She stopped, jaw open. "Mon dieu, he did! Do they know where you live?! Fuck me, I have to go, they could be coming here..."

He grabbed her wrist when she stood, and she was about to fight, but the open, faintly amused look on his face stopped her. "It's ok. Sal knows my name, that's it. They... the family, that is, they wanted to hire me for some stuff. I used to be in the army, you know, and the family, well, they like to get people with experience. I said no a few times, and I was going there tonight to say no a final time. But for all they know of me, they don't know where I live. This house is under a false name."

She sat, slowly. "False name...? Why would... who are you?"

Connor sat back a little bit. "I'm not really anyone special. I'm just someone who doesn't want to be bothered. Not by the army, not by the government, and certainly not by some out-state crime family with delusions of grandeur. But what I'm more interested in right now, miss Lunette, is who you are."

She blinked, and shook her head and chuckled. "Monsieur Flannery, you are a strange person. Zere is nothing terribly interesting about me. I am... well, they would say that I worked for the family, but I was just a passed-around fucktoy, used as an award for... for doing good." Her small mouth clenched a little bit more with every word, and by the end, she was practically seething. Her right eye twitched, and the ice cubes in her juice rattled. "Zey found me years ago, when they..."

Lunette stopped. She couldn't say that they found her when became what an underboss Wanted one night, on what she thought was just another date. "When they saw that there would be no-one to report me missing. I... I do not have any family in zis country, and I have not made many friends."

Connor made a point of glancing down her body once, quickly. "I find it hard to believe that no-one tried to be your friends."

She grimaced sourly. "That's not the sort of friend I mean."

With a chuckle, he said "I know what you mean, I was just... surprised that there would be no-one to miss you. You've spent a lot of... of effort, on your body, Miss Lunette." His face clouded, and he stopped as if he had said something wrong, but Lunette was actually prepared for this question.

"I assure you, monsieur, I didn't look like this when they found me," she said truthfully, and Connor's face hardened even further. They stared at eachother, and Lunette became frightened again. "What did I say?"

He put his beer down a touch too hard, and stood up. "Nothing. It's... trust me, it's nothing you said, or did. It's what... other people do. I'm sorry." he sighed, and looked at a wall clock. "I'm going to bed. You can have whatever you want in the kitchen, and the TV remote's on top of the set there. I just think I've had a bit too much excitement for one night. I'll see you in the morning."

She watched him go, unsure what to say, unable to say it even if she could think of something. Near the top of the stairs, he stopped, and spoke without turning. "I'm locking my door."

She nodded at his back, as he vanished down the hall. She heard his door close, and sure enough, there was a click. She was alone, in a strange house, in a stranger's clothes, holding a glass of orange juice. She didn't think she could take much more excitement for one night, and she definitely did not want to watch television. In fact, she found she rather enjoyed looking at the dormant television set... the one back at her cell was always on, always. Part of her wanted to get the remote, and just flick the set on and off, to prove she could.

Connor did not Want her, that was obvious. Something had been dug at, though, at the end. She'd caught glimpses... dark skin, big eyes. Someone he more than was physically attracted to. There was the violet, almost painful tinge of love to the brief glances inside his mind. She had recoiled almost immediately... she hated becoming an object of love. It hurt her, especially when whoever Wanted it realized it hurt them, too. No-one would ever love her, she knew. It simply wasn't possible.

She walked quietly, ghostlike, around the house. There were very few pictures. Some were of men in army fatigues, some where of women who bore a striking resemblance to Connor himself, so they were likely siblings. There were no pictures of a wife, or even a girlfriend. No-one with dark skin and big eyes, surely. The house was neat, the furniture functional, the kitchen tidy. This was barely more of a home than where she lived... it was merely a place to exist.

So what was he existing for?

She waited half an hour, refilled her juice, and wrote a brief note. She stuck it to the fridge with a magnet, and then quickly rifled through the closet until she found a coat that was much to small to fit Connor, but fit her just fine, as long as she didn't try to zip it up the front. It didn't matter... in a few hours, all her clothes would fit. She felt bad for stealing the clothes, and a pair of old sneakers she found that were too big, but still served if she tied them tightly. She hoped he would understand.

Trying to be as quiet as a churchmouse, she gently opened the front door, and with a final longing look, exited the house. She swore softly when she felt the first few raindrops on her face, but it was a light, gentle rain, and her jacket was sturdy. Too infrequently had she felt the rain on her skin, and she decided to enjoy it. She walked on the grass so as not to make any noise, and in a few minutes reached the end of the driveway, and stood on the shoulder of the unlit road. The moon caused the wet pavement to glow, and she could see back the way they had driven there were streetlights not too far away.

She looked at the house again, almost invisible in the trees, and started walking. She only had a couple hours left in this exotic body, and to help her get on her way, she needed to use it to it's fullest advantage.

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Connor lay in the darkness, staring up at the dim shadows on the cieling. Well, tonight had gone about as good as he could have expected. What had started out as his final attempt to tell the mafia to go fuck themselves had turned into him saying it with his fists, almost wrecking up a protected bar, and maybe breaking the hand of an underboss. Oh, and kidnapping an already-kidnapped woman who was being kept as a private sexual favor, passed around God knows how many abusive men. Then he'd dressed her in Kila's old clothes, gotten mad and stormed off to bed, and was now laying in the dark, listening to her wander around his house, and eventually sneak out the front door in the rain.

He sighed. As good as he could have expected.

He swung his long legs out of bed, and padded to the window, peeking out through the blinds. Sure enough, there was Lunette, walking through the rain, wearing Kila's old coat and a pair of his old running shoes. She walked straight to the road, and he could just see her at the end of the driveway, turning, and heading back into town.

"Women," he said resignedly. He turned, and headed back to bed. Laying back on the wide, cool mattress, he laced his fingers behind his head and went back to staring at the ceiling. The sound of the rain got a little louder, echoing in his ears as he tried to think. He saved her, he offered her sanctuary for the night, and she still ran off. Sure, maybe she thought she was protecting him, since she'd been with the family for years, and he'd just gotten into one scrap and happened to come out on top. Or maybe she just didn't trust the kindness of strangers.

He looked out the opposite window, trying to put it out of his mind, but he knew it was an exercise in futility. She was good looking, sure... maybe not his type, but she couldn't help it. Who knows what she'd looked like before they'd gotten their hands on her. The sheet twisted in one hand, but he didn't notice over the sound of his teeth grinding. Who knows what they had done to her...

It was barely a minute later that he left the house, jacket and shoes flapping in the rain, heading for his car.

He started the car as quietly as he could, and purred down the driveway, checking left and right for any sign of her along the dark road. He flicked the headlights off so he could see the moonlit landscape better, but there was no sign of her, either way. She had most likely kept on the road towards down, he thought, and pulled onto the deserted highway, heading south.

Connor began to grow anxious, as he drove. It had to have been at least a mile, and still no sign of her. Either she had gone the other way, or she was in the woods, for some reason, or she had been picked up. He remembered how she had come on to him in the car, and realized that she had very few aversions to getting rides any way possible, and a body like hers would make anyone stop.

As the highway descended, the streetlights became more common, and the glow of the city could be seen quite easily, he caught a glimpse of a pair of tail-lights in the distance. "There you are," he said softly, applying pressure to the gas and feeling the car surge forward in response. They probably had a mile or two on him, and they were almost out of the hills, so whoever it was had been doing well over the limit, most likely at Lunette's urgings. She wanted to get as far away as possible, and if she was heading into town, there was only two options. Neither one looked good, from where he sat.

He sighed, replaying the night in his mind. Had he royally screwed up, sticking out his neck for that girl? The family might find them, that was always a possibility, and while he had no actual fear of that happening, he didn't want to get her into more trouble than she was already in. Maybe they could do with a change of scenery for a little bit, if he could track her down. It's not like he had anything else going on in his life.

He roared down the last hill, but the intersection was empty. He grunted and squeezed the steering wheel. "Crap," he said, realizing that he'd lost them. Here on the edge of town, there wasn't much traffic, but downtown the night life would be roaring right along. She wanted out of town, and he didn't think going to the Smokin' Barrel was a good idea just yet. It was barely three hours ago he'd busted up some mafia officers, and they were probably still annoyed.

"Bus station it is."

During the short drive to the Greyhound station, he was surprised to find himself getting more and more angry. He wasn't sure if he was angry at himself for interceding, or angry at her for running off, or angry at himself for scaring her off. This was all mixed in with the general rage he felt towards those who preyed on the weak, who destroyed their faith and trust, destroyed their capacity to hope.

Everyone on the sidewalk stared, startled, when he slammed on the brakes and screeched to a stop at the curb near the Greyhound lobby, He leapt out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. An elderly couple who had been just about to enter darted backwards out of the way when Connor approached, and he opened the doors with a little chagrin. He wondered if he looked as angry as he felt. Based on their reaction, probably.

The lobby was packed. Lots of busses left late at night to pull into their more western destinations first thing in the morning. He scanned around, the crowd parting to flow around him. Like all truly classy bus stations, there were the mandatory homeless sleeping curled up in the plastic chairs, there were the chainsmokers by the bathrooms looking to offload a misdemeanor's worth of drugs, and the bored janitors who were doing anything except actually clean.

He recalled Lunette's hair... dark, streaked with red, shiny and curly. Kila's old biker jacket. Big eyes with lots of makeup. She should be easy to see, even with the crowd and the height difference, but he couldn't place her hair anywhere. He sighed, and one hand clenched. He had guessed wrong.

He leaned back against one fake-marble column, and shook his head. She could already be on a bus, she could still be in that guy's car, she could be back at the bar. She could have gone the other way and he'd been wrong from the start. There were a million options. If she'd gotten lost in the hills, in the desert, in the mountains, he could track her, but in the city, he might as well be blind.

Connor turned to leave when he saw the familiar rubbed-leather sleeve of Kila's jacket. His head snapped up, and he saw the rest of it, unmistakably her jacket. The hair was different, the body was different, the height was different, but it was her jacket. Whoever it was was standing by the lockers, leaning against them, eyeing the clock and the departures schedule. He slowly walked towards her, trying not to arouse suspicion or knock anyone over. He needed answers, and whoever was wearing that jacket probably had some.

He stood behind the woman for a moment, and took a deep breath. "Excuse me, I was hoping you could help me."

The woman turned around. Straight, mousy brown hair framed a slender face with sad brown eyes. Every feature seemed petite and smooth. She looked like nothing more than a fresh-faced college girl, except for the fear that lept into her eyes. Connor raised his hands and tried to smile reassuringly. "Look, look, it's nothing, I was just wondering where you got the jacket from."

The looked around jerkily, end ended up pointing at the doors that led to the bus loading zone. Connor took a step back, hoping that she wasn't going to call the guards. Being approached by a large, angry man in a bus station probably wasn't what she expected for tonight. "Thank you," he said gently, turning to head for the doors.

After a few steps, he stopped. Slowly, slowly, he turned around, eyes once again settling on the girl who wore Kila's old jacket. Kila's old pants. Kila's old blouse, and Connor's unmistakable shoes. He blinked, and the girl tried to press herself back against the lockers. She was beyond frightened now... she seemed downright miserable. Her eyes slid down until she was simply staring at the floor tile she stood on, hands clasped in front of her, breathing shakily.

Connor took one tentative step forwards.

"Lunette?"

The girl looked up, the very picture of hopeless defeat, and with a moment's pause, nodded.