22. Messiah

Standing in front of Angel, I blow on my coffee before taking a sip. It is earlier in the morning then I want to be up, but I got shit to work through. First, what do I do with her? Second, what do I tell Charles?

Once I get some caffeine in my system, my brain kicks into gear. The pills still have her knocked out and I take advantage of it. I check the baggy jeans she is wearing to see if anything else is hidden in her pockets. I find a phone and one slim card holder that has a license inside. Everleigh Montgomery. So, that is my Angel's real name.

It takes some time for me to hunt down an inkpad and I take the chance of her being knocked out to get her fingerprints. I scan them into the computer and send her name and the image to a ghost to see if I can get any kind of history on her. By my second cup of coffee, I am trying to determine which apartment in this building might be hers. If she were anyone else, I would try and beat it out of her. But I can't hurt my Angel.

My grocery delivery arrives and I put the food away before starting breakfast. One thing she is going to do – whether she likes it or not – is fucking eat. Even if I have to cram it down her throat.

I am staring into the pan watching the eggs fry and chewing on a piece of bacon when I hear the chains rattle in the bedroom. When I walk into the room, I can see her head turning back and forth as she tries to work the crick out of her neck.

"Morning," I say.

She rolls her eyes as her head drops back down.

"Want breakfast, Everleigh?"

Her head snaps up and her wide eyes take me in. I nod as I step closer, popping the last bit of bacon into my mouth.

"Found your license," I tell her. "Breakfast is almost done. Is that going down the easy or the hard way?"

She doesn't answer, only straightens her stance as her eyes narrow in my direction. Hard way, I guess.

"You going to answer some questions for me today?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. "Or am I going to have to dig them up on my own?"

Her eyes dart back back and forth as she watches me, debating with herself what it is she is going to do. The bruise has grown more purple under her eye, causing the iris to glow brighter. It hurts me to see it, but I have to remind myself I punched her before I realized it was even her.

When she doesn't answer, I walk back to the kitchen and make my breakfast plate. I am not in the habit of eating in bed, but maybe I can convince her to actually eat something. I sit on the floor just outside of her kicking range and dig into my eggs and bacon. She watches me carefully as I smear egg yolk over my toast and try to make conversation with her.

"Really, if you just answer a few questions, this whole thing is going to be way easier," I tell her, slurping in some egg.

She watches me chew, her eyes darting between my plate and my face.

"Were you just going for random guys?" I ask, dipping my toast in the running egg yolk. "Probably not. Why them? Did you know who they worked for? See, my boss was their boss, and he isn't happy to have someone targeting his Disciples – however low they were."

I speak between bites of food, now and then glancing at my phone to see if the ghost was able to pull anything up on her. A long wait isn't a good sign. It means there isn't anything to find. Was Everleigh her real name? This is starting to become more frustrating than it needs to be.

"So," I say, standing up and walking toward her. Her body goes rigid as I reach up and pull the tape back from her mouth. "Breakfast. How do you like your eggs?"

Her jaw tenses as she watches me.

"Look, we had come further than that didn't we? You have glared at me enough to last a lifetime, can you actually talk now?"

The chain rattles as she swings her body, kicking out her legs as she tries to hit me again. I leap back just in time, grabbing her bound ankles before pushing her back against the closet wall.

"Breakfast," I growl. "You are going to fucking eat."

I push her legs away and slide the tape back over her mouth. She curses behind her gag as I leave the room.

Was she on crack? That was what Holden and Joe peddled and she bought stuff from them. It would explain her thin body, but if she was that deep into the mess she would be withdrawing by now. She wasn't sweating or itching. She already did a well enough job of starving herself and I wasn't about to aid her in that matter.

The blender whirs as I mix up some protein powder, eggs, and freezer burned fruit. I add enough water to make the mixture runny. Once it is poured into a cup, I go into the bathroom and remove the shower curtain from the tub. I don't want her getting tangled in it during the fight I know is about to ensue.

She fights me when I try to uncuff her from the closet, but I hold her wiggly little body against mine as I drag her into the bathroom. There is a bar above my shower that is already bolted into the studs in the wall. It was put there to purposely hold a lot of weight whenever I had to wash and dry clothes that my victims might have bled on. I didn't trust washing machines to be as thorough with removing the evidence.

She curses at me as I lift her arms over the rod and cuff her into place. A whimper escapes her when I let her go and step back. This bar is higher off the floor. Her toes just scrape the porcelain of the tub and she screams behind her gag as she tries to swing her body toward me.

"Look, I gave you an option," I tell her.

I take the scissors sitting by the sink and make a shit job – because she won't stop moving – of cutting the baggy clothes off her body. She is wearing a small camisole and panties underneath so she isn't fully naked. Sadly. But this is about to get messy, and it is only going to be worse the more clothes she has on.

Once her clothes are in a pile on the floor, I grab the glass full of pink goo, and step into the tub with her. She is hanging too high up to get any real momentum to kick me. As soon as the tape is ripped from her mouth, she starts cussing at me.

"You fucking lunatic! Let me go!"

"Mouth, Sweetheart. Save the dirty talk for the bedroom."

She grimaces as I reach over and plug her nose. She tries to bite my arm, but I angle it out of her reach. I hold her nose and wait, ready for the moment she has no choice but to open her mouth to breath. As soon as she does, I shove the glass to her mouth and pour. The pink smoothie drips down the sides of her mouth and falls with a heavy thunk against the tub's bottom. I press my hand against her lips and wait, feeling as the goo pushes through the cracks in my finger.

"Swallow," I tell her.

Her body sways as she tries to pull away from my hand, but everytime she moves out of reach I only step closer. Her throat shifts as she swallows, and I can see from the grimace on her face that it doesn't taste good.

"You could have eaten off a plate," I tell her, shrugging my shoulders.

The mixture smells strongly of bacon. I can see chunks of the crisp meat in the pink goo.

"Another," I sway, pushing my hand up to block her nose again.

"You are a fucking psychopath!" she screams.

"Coming from the chick who cuts dicks off as a pastime. How did you even manage to cram it down their throats?"

"Give me a knife and I'll fucking–"

I tip the glass into her open mouth as she argues. A cough escapes her just as I press my hand to her mouth and pink goo squirts out from between my fingers. The cold liquid drips onto my toes and across my chest.

"Swallow," I order.

This same fight goes on for another fifteen minutes. She puts off swallowing as long as she can, cusses me out, and I shove the smoothie down her throat. She can cuss me all she wants as long as she eats.

Once the glass is empty, half of the contents now puddled at my feet and squishing uncomfortably between my toes, I step back. She takes a gasping breath, coughing against whatever bits of liquid she inhaled during the process. Pink goo has leaked down her front and I stare at the mess for a moment before deciding it is time for a morning shower.