Author: Bulgroz the Third
Title: The Adjusters #37 - A Wedding and a Confrontation
Keywords: MF, FF, mc
Posted: February 1, 2013
Edited: February 1, 2013




			  The Adjusters #37


		    A Wedding and a Confrontation



(Charleston, West Virginia. Now.)


Elizabeth Bowden followed her friend Shelley Caskill into the
abandoned church, ducking in through a recessed side door that was
left unbarricaded. Elizabeth wanted to ask how Shelley knew that the
door was unlocked, but Shelley would have answered to simply trust
her, her answer to every question Elizabeth had asked since they
arrived. And Elizabeth did trust her friend, so she followed.

Once they were inside the church, Elizabeth forgot about asking
questions, and looked up in wonder. It had been more then ten years
she had not come here, but she remembered most of the details, the
high arches, the columns, the attempts at merging a modern decor with
antiquated aesthetics. The pews were still there, empty, gray with
dust, looking forlorn and sad the way empty churches sometimes did, as
if they received their life from the souls of the visiting
congregants.

In her mind, she had half expected Our Saviour's Lutheran Church to be
falling to pieces, the way abandoned buildings did. But of course, it
had been only a decade. She did not know exactly why the parish had
decided to change location and build a new church three blocks
away. The old church was still there, however, still sturdy, still
filled with the memories of her youth. She could imagine turning
around and seeing her mother behind her, silently urging her to keep
walking until they got to her favorite pew, the third one on the far
right when facing the altar. Unbidden, she felt a tear form behind her
eyelids, and she fought it back. What was Shelley up to? Why did she
bring her here?

Shelley walked deeper into the church, expecting Elizabeth to follow
her, and Elizabeth did, knowing intuitively where her friend was
leading her. She followed the blonde engineer, clad in her business
attire and with her high heels clacking loudly in the echoing chamber
of the hall, as she walked down the side aisle by the etchings that
depicted the Stations of the Cross along the wall, etchings that had
fascinated Elizabeth when she was a child.

Shelley ducked to the left at the archway, where Elizabeth knew her
friend was headed. Her breathing accelerated.

She followed her friend into the smaller chapel that adjoined the
larger celebration hall of the main church, and felt the need to bow
her head. She was taken with the beauty of the place, despite the
darkness--there were no windows in the chapel, and the modernist decor
of the main church gave way to dark wood and large dark marble
plates. This was the original church, she knew from her history,
around which the rest of church was built later. Even the original
altar was preserved, dominating the small room. Were she to look at
the chapel with her adult eyes, she might have considered the room
small and almost claustrophobic, but she saw it with the eyes of
childhood, and all she saw was a room that brought her mother joy
whenever she entered it to light a candle. Young Elizabeth always sat
and watched her mother go through the motions of lighting the candle
before kneeling in silence with her head bowed.

Shelley walked up to the altar and lit up three large candles that
quickly brightened the chapel. Elizabeth watched her in silence,
puzzled, but strangely moved that her friend had decided to bring her
here on the eve of her marriage, to a place that she knew held a
special significance for her. Even though Elizabeth did not know what
her friend had planned, she felt gratitude.

When Shelley walked back to her, Elizabeth could not resist the
impulse and hugged her friend, hugged her close and tight, and Shelley
hugged her back, the two friends sharing a moment as their bodies
became one under the auspice of the large crucifix sitting high on the
wall behind the altar.

When Elizabeth looked up to thank her friend, although she would have
been hard pressed to verbalize for what exactly, she stopped. In the
corner of the chapel, there was a bed. A wide bed, with large pillows
and covered with bright white satin sheets that sparkled in the light
of the candles. It looked so completely out of place that Elizabeth
stared at it uncomprehendingly for a long moment.

Shelley let her friend go, and Elizabeth took a step towards the
incongruous display, her question both obvious and puzzling. "Shel?
What... what is this?" On a chair by the wall, she saw her wedding
dress, spread out and waiting for her.

Shelley did not answer, and Elizabeth barely had the time to realize
something damp and foul-smelling was being pressed over her nose and
mouth before the room started spinning and a veil of darkness
descended upon her.


				* * *


Daniel Malcolm ran.

Up ahead, his colleague Shawbank straddled the supine form of Gregory
Hermann, holding what looked to Daniel like a short sword to the
fallen man's throat. She was also staring off into space, though
without loosening her grip on her blade. What Daniel had feared had
come true: Shawbank had been affected by the Special's
ability. Hermann could make her attack him, and he had no weapons with
which to defend himself. He stopped in his tracks, and looked around
for something he could use to drive her off if he needed to.

Shawbank seemed to refocus and looked down at Hermann before looking
up at Daniel, moving her blade away from Hermann's throat. At the same
time, Daniel took a step backward and tapped his
earpiece. "Brisecoeur," he said. "Shawbank's been affected by
Hermann."

"Quoi? Impossible," the Belgian replied.

Shawbank stood and looked down at Hermann, who still looked both
stunned and terrified. "It's not him," she said.

"What?" Daniel asked.

"She can't be affected," Brisecoeur said through Daniel's
earpiece. "What's going on out there?"

"He's not the Special," Shawbank said. She sheathed her blade
somewhere inside her leather duster, and completely ignored Hermann.

Daniel took a step back, eyeing her warily. "How the fuck can I know
what's going on?" he replied to Brisecoeur. "She jumped on Hermann,
pulled out a fucking sword, and then her face went blank. She just
stood up and told me he wasn't the Special. Which is pretty much what
Hermann would have her tell me, isn't it?"

Shawbank shot Daniel a look that he could not interpret, while
Brisecoeur chuckled in his ear. "Mon ami, the Freak probably would
have had her strip and suck his dick right then and there. No, I told
you, she can't be affected. She's immune to Freaks. She did not tell
you?"

"No."

"Why would we send a woman against a Freak if she didn't have some
sort of immunity?"

"The question did cross my mind." He looked at Shawbank, who must have
been listening to their exchange. "How?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "Who knows. It happens. It's rare, but it
happens. Natural immunity to a Special's abilities. That's not
important. We were wrong. We need to find the Special. If he's someone
close to the Bowden girl, then we may have spooked him by visiting
her. He may have taken steps to flee."

Hermann, who seemed to have realized that Shawbank was no longer
interested in him after almost decapitating him, sat up on the cold
floor of the garage. "You... you two weren't sent by the Connelly
brothers, were you? Who are you? What's going on? What about
Elizabeth?"

Shawbank ignore him, and walked away, talking to Brisecoeur in her
earpiece.

Daniel hesitated, then helped Hermann up. "Mister Hermann, I'm sorry
for the misunderstanding. This was a... regrettable error. I suggest
you put this out of your mind. And... huh... good luck with the
Connelly brothers. Oh, and you may want to call your administrative
assistant--Meghan?--and tell her you're fine. She seemed worried about
you." Daniel nodded to the man, and turned to follow Shawbank.

Hermann put a hand on Daniel's shoulder to stop. "Wait! What's going
on? You were talking about Lizzie, right? What happened? Is she okay?
I'm... I'm her fiance."

"I know, Mister Hermann. And Elizabeth's fine."

"You're... you're the guy Lizzie told me about, aren't you? Agent
Malcolm, is it? You were asking her about a bunch of her clients,
something about someone wanting to hurt them, or something?"

Hermann looked and sounded flustered. Bowden must have called him
after our interview, Daniel thought. "I am, Mister Hermann. My
colleague and I are investigating strange occurrences surrounding some
of your fiancee's clients. There's no reason to believe Elizabeth is
in any danger. Have you noticed anything odd about any of her
acquaintances, about anyone having access to her records? Anyone
acting strangely?"

"No..."

"How about you? Anyone acting differently, or taking any kind of
interest in her business records at work? Anyone with access to her
records?"

"No... No one acting weird, or asking about her files." Hermann paused
to think. He was calming down. "As to access, that's tougher. Kanawha
is a small company, and our files are shared across most agents and
secretaries. It should be possible to look at access logs though."

"Could you get me this information?"

"Sure. It should just be a matter of contacting our IT guy. Do you
think that'll help?"

"I don't know what will help. But the more data we have, the better."
Daniel turned when he heard a car rush up the ramp towards them, and
recognized their rental, with Shawbank behind the wheel. She stopped
with not quite a screech three feet away from Daniel, who got the
message without ambiguity.

Daniel reached for the passenger's side door. "We will be in touch
shortly to get the access data," Daniel said to Hermann. "Now, you'll
have to excuse me, because we're sort of in a hurry."

He slipped into the passenger's seat, and only noticed when Shawbank
did not gun the engine that Hermann had climbed in the back at the
same time. Shawbank was staring at the actuary.

"I'm coming with you," Hermann said, crossing his arms. "At least
until I know Lizzie is safe."

"We don't know she's in trouble, Mister Hermann," Daniel said.

"Sorry, but the way she--" he nodded towards Shawbank, "jumped me when
she thought I was who you two are looking for tells me you think that
the guy is dangerous, and if Lizzie's involved, she's in danger. Have
you ever had someone you love in danger, Mister Malcolm?"

Daniel withstood the blow, thinking of Jenn--kidnapped by Biff,
seemingly brainwashed, possibly turned loose, and now facing who knew
what, alone, vulnerable, helpless. He had no reply for Hermann. When
he turned back, he saw Shawbank looking at him, studying him, reading
deep into his soul.

"Fine," she said to Hermann.

The car jumped as Shawbank gunned the engine.

"We're taking him?" Daniel asked.

"Why not? He can be useful." She responded to Daniel's unspoken
question. "Decoy."

They swerved into traffic, Shawbank driving fast but
precisely. Hermann remained quiet in the backseat, and Daniel glanced
at him and saw him tapping his phone, undoubtedly trying to contact
his fiancee.

"Where to?" Daniel asked.

"Bowden's place."

"She's not there." He remembered she had left with him, to go and meet
a friend.

"I want to have a look at her records, at her place. And talk to the
father."

"The father's not the most cooperative person around."

"He will be," came her curt reply.

They had been driving in silence for ten minutes, passing cars and
avoiding busy intersections, when Daniel glanced at Shawbank.

"What?" asked the raven-haired agent.

"Two things. First, how did you know Hermann was not..." He did not
say the word Special, since Hermann could be listening, but Shawbank
understood nonetheless.

"When they touch you, there's a tingling, subtle, like a very
low-charge electric current running across the surface of your skin at
the point of contact."

"That's why your face went blank? You were looking for the tingling?"

Shawbank nodded.

"Second question." He paused, not knowing quite how to phrase it. "A
sword? Seriously?"

For the first time since he started at ADCorp, Daniel saw what could
be interpreted as the hint of a smile on Shawbank's lips.

"A hunting knife, actually," she said after a long silence.


				* * *


When Elizabeth came to, her world was still dark, with a reddish tinge
flickering at the edge of her peripheral vision. She understood
simultaneously that she was lying down looking up at the chapel's
vaulted ceiling, and that she could neither move nor talk--her arms
and legs were tied in an X shape, and there was something in her mouth
gagging her. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled
whisper.

"Looks like my Beloved is awake, pet," said a voice she recognized.

She lifted her head as much as she could, noticing at once that she
was tied up in the bed that she had seen in the corner of the chapel,
that the flickering light came from a row of large candles surrounding
her, and that her stepfather was standing at the foot of the bed, a
smile on his face.

Her stepfather was standing at the foot of the bed. It took several
seconds before her brain, still muddled from whatever it was that made
her black out, reacted from the incongruity of the observation.

Craning her neck further to confirm what she could not believe, that
the man she had always known as wheelchair bound was indeed standing
on his own legs, Elizabeth received another shock.

Kneeling at her stepfather's feet, her blonde head bobbing up and down
in a movement that Elizabeth knew all too well, Shelley was in the
middle of a noisy blow job. Elizabeth's head fell back on the bed. She
felt sick to her stomach. She did not understand anything. This is a
dream. It must be. She closed her eyes, willing herself awake.

"Stop, pet. Your Lord's seed is destined for the Ceremony. Go attend
to my Beloved, while I get ready."

There was a loud slurping sound, and Elizabeth heard her friend's
voice. "Yes, my Lord. I'll make sure the little slut is wet and
ready."

Before Elizabeth could wrap her head around what her friend had just
said, there was a loud slap and a cry of pain. "Don't you dare insult
her," said her stepfather, angry, "you stupid little worm! Before the
day is done you will please her like you please me. And I will make
you crawl at her feet and beg her to make you feel an ounce of
pleasure! Now go attend her!"

"Y... Yes, my Lord... I'm sorry, my Lord," scrambled Shelley.

"And strip! You will be naked to perform the Ceremony."

"Yes, my Lord. My body is yours to do as you will."

Shelley's heels clacked on the stone floor, and Elizabeth figured that
her friend was beside her, and she turned her head and opened her
eyes. Shelley was taking off her shirt, her skirt pulled up to her
waist revealing a lack of panties, and only a pair of thigh-high
stockings.

Elizabeth screamed through her gag to try to get Shelley's attention,
and it is only when the blonde had stripped off her skirt and her
stockings and stood completely naked next to the tied-up redhead that
she saw that Elizabeth was looking at her.

"Hi Lizzie. Sorry about the gag, but my Lord was worried that you
would not understand and would cause a scene. I promise I'll take it
off soon."

Elizabeth tried to tell her to let her go, to ask her to explain what
was happening, but all she should do was groan through her gag.

Shelley may have realized what Elizabeth was trying to do, or the
panicked expression in the redhead's eyes may have simply been clear
enough for her to pick up on the struggle, because the blonde leaned
over the bed where her friend was tied up, and gently ran a hand on
the side of Elizabeth's face.

"Don't struggle, sweetie. You have no idea the delights you are about
to experience. Soon, my Lord will be your Lord, and he will fuck you,
and it will feel like God Himself is entering you and bestowing
heavenly pleasure and you will feel like you are being killed and
reborn at the same time, over and over again." Shelley's eyes glazed
over as she turned her gaze inward and shuddered at the memories.

Elizabeth struggled with her bonds. Shelley leaned further down and
kissed her friend on the forehead. "And we will be together, sweetie."
She gave Elizabeth a quick lick on the side of the face. "I will be my
Lord's pet, his slave, willing to do the most perverted things to get
him all hot and bothered and unable to resist fucking me like the slut
I am; and you will be his wife, his beloved, his concubine, also
willing to do the vilest things to please him and revere him and get
him to fuck you over and over again."

Shelley's tongue ran up from Elizabeth's chin to her eye, savoring the
tears that had started to trickle down the redhead's. She's gone
crazy! thought Elizabeth, now trying her best to pull off the ropes or
whatever it was that tied her to the bed posts.

"It's okay sweetie," soothed Shelley. "I know it's hard to conceive,
but soon, after I marry you to my Lord, you will understand exactly
what I mean. Now, though, I have to get you ready for my Lord to claim
you." She smiled a naughty smile.

Shelley straightened and went to the foot of the bed, and climbed on
. Shelley ran her hands up the redhead's legs, sheathed in white
stockings.

Elizabeth took a moment to concentrate and realized she had been
dressed in her wedding dress, complete with stockings and her
high-heeled shoes. Except that in order for her legs to be spread like
that...

"You'll have to forgive me," Shelley said, as if to complete
Elizabeth's thought. "But I've had to cut up the skirt of your dress
to put you in the proper position. In a way, it's much better now. I
told you you should have gone with a shorter dress." She ran her hands
up Elizabeth's thighs, caressing, demanding, teasing. "You do look hot
as hell with that dress open up to your waist and your legs spread
with like this."

Elizabeth could tell she had no underwear on, which Shelley confirmed
by running her soft hand over the redhead's pussy lips, sending
shivers up Elizabeth's spine. She was not turned on--she could not be
turned on--despite the fact that it was Shelley looming over her, her
Shelley, with whom she had played submission games back in college;
her Shelley, who more than once had tied her up just like this and
teased her and aroused her and drove her mad with lust. All of these
memories fought it out with the fear that was gripping her at the base
of her stomach and urged her to scream out and kick and run. This was
not a fantasy; she was tied up and about to be offered to her
stepfather--her stepfather--by her best friend. Elizabeth struggled as
much as she could, feeling her wrists and her ankles scrape themselves
bloody under her efforts. Tears were now streaming down her face,
unbidden. She felt so alone.

Shelley shushed her friend. "Don't fight it, sweetie. You'll see,
it'll be wonderful." Elizabeth could not see her friend but could feel
the blonde had crouched down between her legs as she felt her breath
on her crotch. Shelley's hands were on Elizabeth's thighs, caressing
and pressing them apart.

"You've got such a beautiful cunt, Lizzie," Shelley said, blowing
softly, making Elizabeth stiffen. "It's all nice and red and puffy. My
Lord is going to love plowing into it for the first time." She ran her
tongue up Elizabeth's pussy lips, who tried to struggle away but could
not, and Shelley's grip on her thighs was strong. "God you taste
good!" She licked again, more deeply this time, and before long she
was tonguing her friend's pussy with all of her skill, the way she had
done so many times before.

"Is she ready, pet?"

Shelley raised her head. "She's not very wet, my Lord, but if you give
me a few--"

"No. She will be wet enough when the time comes."

Elizabeth heard a slap of a hand hitting flesh, and Shelley's yelp of
surprise. "Are you going to fuck me now, my Lord?" Shelley said, and
Elizabeth cringed at the tone of supplication in her friend's
voice. What's going on? What's he done to her?

"Shut up, pet." Elizabeth heard Shelley's sharp intake of breath and
the low guttural moan that escaped her throat. "There," her stepfather
said--Elizabeth still could not see him from her position. "You're
going to keep that in your ass for the Ceremony, pet. It will remind
you of your position."

"Can... can you shove it in my cunt, my Lord? P.... Please? It's been
so long..."

"No." Another slap. "You'd enjoy it way too much. If you're good, pet,
I'll reconsider. Now take your position."

"Yes, my Lord."

Shelley reentered Elizabeth's field of vision, and climbed on the bed
above Elizabeth'd head. Elizabeth saw the large end of a butt plug
sticking out of her friend's rear, and she felt fear all over
again. Meanwhile, her stepfather climbed between her legs. He wore a
loose white robe, folded over one of his shoulder, and he looked at
her with what could only be considered love. Elizabeth thought she
even saw a tear in his eyes. She shook her head, and screamed at him,
and he merely looked at her with a smile, unmoved by her mumbling
through the gag.

"Annette--we are about to be united once more. A second chance. And I
will be able to satisfy you now, for I am now more than a man--for I
am now a God. I know you do not understand yet, but you will. Soon,
you will join me as my Beloved, my Lady, and you will sit at my right,
and we will rule our Ministry with Love and Compassion and we will
squash the roaches who run rampant in this decadent world."

Annette? The name registered through her panic. Mom?

Her stepfather hovered above her, running his eyes over her body, but
seemed to be making an effort not to touch her. His cock was hard and
large and was pointed straight at her, half a foot away from her
crotch. He was stroking it lightly, keeping it hard.

"Shelley, my pet," he told the blonde kneeling on the bed a foot away
from Elizabeth's head, "begin the Ceremony."

Shelley cleared her throat, and in a voice she meant to be official,
she intoned, "We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the
union of my Lord and Annette O'Hara in marriage. With love and
commitment, they have decided to live their lives together as husband
and wife."

Elizabeth struggled against her bonds, only managing to hurt herself
further in the process. He thinks I'm my mother? Shelley! Please! Stop
him! Help me!

"Do you, my Lord, take Annette O'Hara to be your consecrated wedded
wife, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, and to
guide her in the path of the Righteous, and to exalt her in the glory
of Womanhood, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," came her stepfather's reply. He was looking straight at
Elizabeth, his vision clouded by love and lust and dreams of the past.

Shelley looked down at Elizabeth, and ran a hand down her face once
more, a gentle hand. "It's your turn now, sweetie," she said
softly. "My Lord, if you will?"

Elizabeth shivered as she felt her stepfather press the head of his
cock against her pussy lips.


				* * *


When Shawbank and Daniel, with Hermann in tow, arrived at Elizabeth
Bowden's residence, her car was still gone.

Shawbank rang the bell, and the nurse, Doreen, answered the door. "Is
Miss Bowden in?" Shawbank asked. Daniel and Hermann remained in the
background.

"She's out," answered the nurse, frowning, and subtly placing her body
to block the door.

"And Mister Bowden?"

"He's sleeping."

"We want to talk to him."

"He's sleeping." The nurse's voice was harsher.

"Please, Doreen, it's important," Hermann said.

The nurse looked surprised to see him. "Mister Hermann!" she said as
her eyes shifted from him to Daniel, whom she recognized from a few
hours earlier. "I'm sorry," she said to the fiance of her charge's
stepdaughter, "I did not see you there. Elizabeth is not here. She
went to see her friend Shelley. Something to do with the wedding
tomorrow."

"It's okay, Doreen. Do you mind letting us in? These agents would
really like to speak with Lizzie's father."

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mister Hermann. But Mister
Bowden is sleeping, and he made it very clear that no one was to
disturb him. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you all to
leave. I'll tell Elizabeth to call you when she gets back."

"I'm afraid we're going to have to insist," Shawbank responded.

Daniel cringed at Shawbank's tone of voice. He half expected her to
pull out her sword--hunting knife my ass, he thought.

"And I'm afraid I'm going to have to call the police if you do not
leave--"

Shawbank moved like lightning. The palm of her left hand connected
with the nurse's chin with a dry knocking sound, and the nurse's head
jerked backwards before her eyes rolled back and her knees gave out

Daniel had barely any time to reach over and keep the tall woman from
falling onto the tiles lining the entryway.

"What the hell?" he snapped at Shawbank.

"Where's the father's room?" she asked Hermann, ignoring Daniel.

Hermann sputtered. "Down... down the hall. Second--no, third door on
the right."

Shawbank went in, pulling her long knife out of her jacket. "Tie her
up, and check the top floor," she told Daniel. "Don't trust any
female, even Elizabeth if she's actually here."

"And what do I if I find any?"

"Feel free to disable them before asking questions." She disappeared
into the bowels of the house, ready for anything.

"Wow," Hermann said, with wonder in his voice.

"Yeah," Daniel echoed, with less wonder and a frown. "Help me with
Doreen, and then let's look around."

After they had laid out the unconscious nurse on the living room
couch, and restrained her up with zip ties Daniel had in his pockets,
they confirmed that the second floor of the house was empty.

They joined Shawbank in James Bowden's room, and found her standing in
the middle of the center rug, her knife sheathed, looking around with
a careful eye.

"Anything?" Daniel asked when her eyes landed on him.

"What do you see?" Shawbank asked back.

Daniel looked. The room was large and unencumbered, which in
retrospect he should have expected with a disabled occupant in a
wheelchair. The bed was of the adjustable kind found in recovery rooms
of hospitals, covered with a dark grey quilt. A few short bookshelves
lined one of the walls, a low dresser and a small desk without a chair
the others. A small television with associated videocassette recorder
sat atop the dresser. A wheelchair rested next to the desk. Framed
pictures lined the wall above the bookshelves.

Hermann looked along with Daniel. "It's his room."

"You've been here before?" Shawbank asked him.

"Yeah. Not often, but I've been here. Sometimes Doreen needs a hand to
help him out of bed or something."

"Notice anything odd?"

Hermann looked around some more. "Not really."

Daniel answered. "The wheelchair."

"Huh?" Hermann said.

"The wheelchair. Elizabeth's father's wheelchair. It's here." Daniel
pointed.

"Oh. But how...?"

"Does the nurse have a car?" Shawbank asked Hermann.

"Yes... a grey Ford Escort, I think."

"Go see if it's still here."

Hermann hesitated, looked at the wheelchair again, uncomprehending,
then at Shawbank, and then left the room in a hurry.

"You think the father was faking?"

"Yes and no. We'd have to know exactly what kind of injury Bowden
received, but if it had a neurological component, he could have
recovered. Specials' abilities are likely neurological in nature, and
cases where nerve connections were restored or augmented have been
reported." She pulled out a small vial of pills from her pocket,
tossed it to Daniel.

"Viagra?" he asked.

"Probably. Found it taped underneath the desk."

"So he was sexually active?"

"Or wanted to be."

Daniel thought about it. "That still doesn't rule out he was just
faking being disabled for some strange reason."

"You saw the nurse downstairs. If he was faking, she was in on it. And
there's that." She stared at a spot high on the wall above the bed, to
a cross-shaped pale discoloration on the wall.

"A crucifix?"

"Removed recently, or at least, after the last time the room was
painted."

"And why is that significant?"

"A common progression for Specials with sufficient power is to develop
a God complex. It sometimes causes them to turn against their old
religion when they're devout."

At that moment Hermann came back into the room, winded. "It's... the
car's gone."

Shawbank nodded. "He took it."

"But he's handicapped!" Hermann protested.

"Was Bowden Senior religious?" Shawbank asked him.

"What? Yes. Yes he was. Profoundly Lutheran. It galled him that I was
catholic. But Elizabeth didn't care. Her mother was catholic before
converting."

Shawbank nodded, and took a step towards the wall with the
pictures. Daniel followed her gaze. Aside from one picture of a group
of military men in what looked like a desert setting, all of the
pictures featured a stunning redhead that Daniel thought was Elizabeth
until he saw one picture with that woman standing next to a younger
Bowden in his wheelchair that was clearly taken at their wedding, in
front of a church. A little red-haired girl stood next to the woman.

"This is Elizabeth's mother, isn't?" Daniel asked Hermann.

"Yes. Annette. She looks just like Lizzie, doesn't she? Lizzie even
started wearing her hair the way her mother used to. She never said,
but I think it gives her a sense that her mom's still alive. They were
close, before she died."

While Shawbank studied the pictures, Daniel turned to the television,
and saw an empty videocassette box next to it. Inserting his fingers
into the recorder slot, he felt for a cassette, and found one. He
pressed a button to turn on the television--keeping the volume
down--and started the tape.

A homemade recording showed up on the screen, capturing a wedding
ceremony. The sound quality made it difficult to hear exactly what was
going on, but the camera was pointed at a couple being wed in a small
chapel, the same couple as in the picture, James Bowden in his
wheelchair, and Annette O'Hara, Elizabeth's mother, radiant in her
long white wedding dress. The image had that vaguely faded quality
that suggested that the tape had been played too often.

Shawbank frowned, and exchanged a glance with Daniel. "When did
Elizabeth's parent marry?" Shawbank asked Hermann.

"Er... Twenty years ago today, actually." At Daniel's curious glance,
Hermann elaborated. "I know the date because Lizzie wanted to get
married around the same date as her parents, but not exactly on the
same date. The only time that fit was the day after--tomorrow--and
this means that today would have been their wedding anniversary."

Daniel saw the look on Shawbank's face, and did not like it. "What are
you thinking?" he asked her.

Shawbank looked at him. "I think he's with her."

"Her? Elizabeth, you mean?"

"Yes. And that he has designs on her."

Daniel groaned. He had reluctantly come to the same
conclusion. "You're thinking he wants to recreate his wedding?"

"He has that power. Why would he not use it?"

"He's her father."

"Stepfather. He's also convinced he's a god."

"We don't know that."

"True."

Hermann was looking from Shawbank to Daniel and back,
uncomprehending. "What are you two talking about? What do you mean,
designs? What's going on here?"

"Okay, let's say that's what's happening. Where would he take her?"
Daniel asked Shawbank.

She looked at the picture of the couple in their wedding regalia
standing in front of a church.

"Where did Elizabeth's parents get married?" she asked Hermann.

"I want you to tell me what's going on!"

She stared at him. "Do you want to see your fiancee again?"

"Y...Yes--"

"Then tell me where her parents were married. Where is that church?"
She pointed to the framed picture.

"That's... that's the old Lutheran church on Washington Street."

Shawbank started for the door, thumbing her earpiece. "Brisecoeur? Can
you do a cell GPS search?"

"Sure," Daniel heard Brisecoeur reply in his own earpiece.

Daniel and Hermann followed Shawbank down the hallway and out of the
house. "What's Elizabeth's cell phone number?" she asked Hermann. She
passed it along to Brisecoeur when he recited it. "But she's not
picking up her phone," Hermann added.

When they got to the car, Brisecoeur had to report that the cell phone
number had no associated GPS coordinates.

"It's an old cell phone," said Hermann, apologetic.

"She was supposed to go meet her friend Shelley," Daniel said. "Maybe
they're together."

"Do you have Shelley's number?" Shawbank asked Hermann, as she put the
car in gear and started down the street.

"Yes, old on." He looked at his own phone, and recited the string of
numbers which Shawbank relayed to Brisecoeur.

Brisecoeur reported two minutes later that the cell phone associated
with that number was currently located at the Our Saviour's Lutheran
Church on Washington Street in Charleston, West Virginia.

"Bingo," said Shawbank, her voice her usual neutral.


				* * *


James Bowden presses the head of his cock against His Beloved pussy
lips. Soon she will be his Annette once more. Ready to offer him a
second chance.

The familiar sensation--familiar when it is running down his arms to
his fingertips, less so when it is shorted through his genitals--runs
the length of his cock and the tip tingles in a way that makes him
want to pull back and rub it raw. But he does not move, savoring the
moment for what it is, seeing His Beloved's face grow blank.

His cock dips into her pussy, without actually entering it. She is
still a virgin, and will remain so until the end of the
Ceremony. Whereupon he shall invest her and make her His. He shivers
at the thought.

His Beloved's eyes are on him now. She has stopped struggling. She is
waiting. Waiting for his instructions.

"Annette," he tells her, "I am your Lord, your Savior. I am the Light
that illuminates your life and reveals the Truth." He does not want
her to be a Servant. Not like the others, at least.

He nods to Shelley, who rips off the piece of tape that seals His
Beloved's mouth shut and pulls out the cloth that gags her.

His Beloved looks back at him with devotion in her eyes. "You are my
Lord--your are my Light."

He closes his eyes, and sighs. It is like a weight lifted from his
shoulders.

"I am your World, the Be All and End All of your Existence, my Love."

"You are my World, my Lord."

He savors her response. Suddenly, he is no longer in any rush.

He reaches down to untie the ropes at His Beloved's feet, trying hard
not to get distracted by the splayed legs of his soon-to-be bride,
looking delicious in her white stockings, and her dress cut open to
her waist. Her chest, which was heaving until he converted her to His
Cause, is now rising softly, and the tight corset of her dress
suggests a chest that he is craving to explore. Annette had such
magnificent breasts, with hard nipples that he loved to suckle on, he
remembers. He is certain that has not changed.

Both Shelley and His Beloved are looking at him, Shelley with an
imploring hungry look--that he has not seen fit to fill her cunt with
his shaft for the past three weeks is undoubtedly driving her crazy
with lust--and His Beloved with a quiet expectation that is arousing
him further. He restrains his urge to push his shaft inside her
expectant body. Especially since she is now shifting her hips slowly,
gently massaging his cock, and trying to get him to press harder and
penetrate her.

He nods to Shelley. "Continue with the Ceremony, pet."

"Do you, Annette O'Hara--" and Shelley lifts her head to look at him,
as if to confirm the name, and he feels the urge to slap her, slap her
hard, the stupid little brainless slut. How dare she question him? She
will be punished, he decides. He will need to question her to find the
specific punishment that will degrade her the most--she will have no
choice but to tell him.

He restrains his anger. He is Magnanimous. He nods to her.

"Do you, Annette O'Hara," Shelley repeats, "take our Lord to be your
consecrated wedded husband, promising to love and cherish, through joy
and sorrow, and to worship him in all of his exalted glory, and to
offer him your body, your mind, your soul, for his pleasure and his
use, for as long as you both shall live?"

This is the one moment that he was uncertain about--whether His
Beloved would respond to Shelley, or whether he would have to make the
request himself. He wanted the script to be just right.

But His Beloved seems to recognize Shelley's authority as a speaker
for her Lord, and her eyes in his eyes, eyes filled with love and now
longing, she responds, "I do, my Lord."

He feels himself shiver from head to toe. He closes his eyes again,
enjoying the moment, the second time he marries His Beloved.

"By the power vested in me by our Lord, I hereby pronounce you husband
and wife," finishes Shelley, with a flourish. She looked up at him, a
look of envy on her face. "You may deflower the bride, my Lord."

He does not deign answer, all of his attention is concentrated on the
woman beneath him, who is now thrusting her hips upwards to get him to
sink his cock inside her. "Please, my Lord--my Love--fuck me! Make me
yours!"

"Untie her wrists, pet," he tells Shelley. He then leans down over his
Bride, sees the lust in her eyes, the desire to Please him, as she
just vowed. He has trouble containing his excitement.

"Annette," he tells her. "You now your Lord's Bride. You are a
Queen. A Lady. The Concubine of a God. I am your Master, your Lord. My
Pleasure is your Pleasure, my Will is your Will, my Life is your
Life."

"Yes, my Lord," His Beloved responds, her voice trembling.

"You will ask for nothing more from life than to quench my every
Desire, grant my every Wish, fulfill my every Fantasy."

"Yes, my Lord." Her voice trembles more, and her body starts to
shake. Shelley having freed her arms, she wraps them around his neck,
and pulls him in for a kiss, her breath short.

"You are mine, Annette O'Hara, mine--Mind, Body, and Soul! Mine!
MINE!"

Just as His Beloved's lips make contact with his, as her tongue seeks
to sneak into his mouth, as her hands clench over his back, he presses
his cock inside the impossibly tight virgin canal, and pushes hard,
and breaks through.

The scream from His Beloved gets lost in his mouth, and he drinks from
that scream as from the rest of the kiss, and when his cock is fully
embedded inside his Bride, he remains there, savoring the tightness,
the warmth, the spasms that engulf him.

His Beloved is clutching him tight, her body a live wire, her thighs
pressed against his sides. She kisses him like a mad woman, while at
the same time shifting her hips to get him to move and continue
fucking her.

He obliges, pulling out slowly and pushing in again once all of his
cock but its head is out of her body.

His cock fully inside her, he stops, and looks at her, really looks at
her. He sees them both, the Annette that was, and the Annette that
is. He remembers the Annette that was, remembers her like it was
yesterday. He remembers how she was, but mostly remembers how he
wanted her to be--always ready, ready for sex, for pleasure, for
joy. He wanted her teasing and playful and uninhibited, but also warm
and loving and devoted.

The Annette that was shined on the latter but not the former. She was
never very sexual, and he had always suspected a story of past abuse,
possibly from her first husband, Lizzie's father. She never wanted to
talk of it, or talk of him either, and somehow, he always thought that
one reason that Annette let herself fall in love with him was because
he was, in a physical sense, inoffensive: not only could he not use
his legs, but he had no ability for intercourse, and did not get
physically aroused. He did not mind--he was happy that he could be
what Annette needed him to be at the time.

Underneath him, the Annette that is, his Beloved, his Bride, is
squirming and moaning, wanting him to start moving again, to start
fucking her.

Shelley leans over her friend, caressing her face, and kissing her
upside down on the lips. Her hands wander over His Beloved's breasts,
grasping them roughly. "You like that, sweetie? A nice big fat cock in
your cunt for the first time? Told you you'd love it, you'd go crazy
for it. You're such a lucky little slut," she adds, sounding envious.

He watches and listens. He slowly pulls out of His Beloved's pussy,
and thrusts in, harder this time, eliciting a "Oh!" of surprise and
lust from the redhead, and a "Fuck yes!" from his pet standing over
her.

And so he remembers the Annette that was, but it is the Annette that
is which is right there beneath him, overwhelmed by the feelings of
being penetrated by a male shaft for the first time in her life, and
he has a chance to do something different, to be something different,
to give her something different. He has a chance to erase all of her
pains and all of her fears and obliterate her miserable memories. He
has a chance to finally set right what was wrong, to allow the seed to
desire to flower in her heart. For he is a God now, and he can correct
that mistakes of the Past.

"Annette," he tells her, as he increases the tempo of his fucking,
much to the redhead's delight. "Listen to your Lord." She looks into
his eyes, squinting a little every time he thrusts inside her, with
Shelley hovering close to her, kissing the side of the redhead's face,
and playing with her breasts.

"From now on," he continues, with His Beloved's full attention on him,
"I want you to enjoy--no, relish--Sex. I want you to be Playful,
Teasing, Uninhibited." He thrusts into her, hard.

"You are a Sexual Creature, my Sexual Creature, and nothing is out of
bound--Sex is Pleasure, Sex is Joy, Sex is Light." He thrusts into her
again, harder, and she moans in response.

"I want you proud of your body, willing and happy to show it, for your
Pleasure and the Pleasure of anyone around you who might be looking at
you." He thrusts harder still, and she clenches around him, her mouth
seeking his. He feels the tell-tale signs of orgasm build up in his
balls, and he is losing control of his hips.

"I want you to enjoy making men and women desire you, lust for
you. You will get turned on by having them be turned on, you will be
the ultimate Tease." Images of her dressed in a see-through gown and
dancing while crowds of admirers worship her makes him thrust faster,
in and out, much to His Beloved's delight, as she is cooing and
ooohing and aaahing and hanging on to him with her nails firmly dug
into his back.

"You will not give in to the urges of the flesh, although you will
tolerate touching and kissing, but you will not satisfy other people's
lust unless I, your Lord, say otherwise. For you are mine,
Annette--MINE!"

With a deep thrust and a shout he presses into her, bruising his pubic
bone in the process, and explodes inside her, and she clenches and
shakes and comes as he does, his pleasure overwhelming her senses and
sending her over the edge.

He spews his load, his precious Semen, all the way into her womb, and
he rejoices at the thought of inseminating her, to make her the Mother
of his Progeny, his Heirs. He feels each and every jet splash inside
her, and it seems she does too, for she groans in time with his
spasms.

Shelley caresses her friend's face and kisses her hard and deep as His
Beloved recovers. "That looked so fucking good, sweetie. Did you like
coming from a big fat cock up your little tight virgin snatch?"

Without letting His Beloved answer her, Shelley grabs the redhead by
the hair and tilts her head back and kisses her violently, while one
of her hands shoots down to squeeze one of His Beloved's breast hard
enough to make it blanch.

He watches, a frown deepening on his face. "Pet!" he shouts, his hips
still pressing against His Beloved, keeping his pill-enhanced cock
pushed inside her pussy.

Shelley pulls up abruptly, a look of frightened incomprehension on her
face. "My... my Lord? Do... do you want to fuck me now?"

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. Shelley is looking at him
with a look that dreads his punishment, and she does well to dread it,
for he is not happy. How dare she treat his Concubine in such a
demeaning way? And how dare His Beloved allow herself to be treated
this way?

He kneels back on the bed--His Beloved mewls in dismay as his cock
slips out from between her thighs--and looks at the two women, the
frightened blonde and the satisfied redhead, and thinks back of their
interactions, those he has just seen, those he has seen in the past,
those that His Beloved herself reported to him.

And then, it hits him. Of course. His Annette, his newly found
Annette, the Annette that is, naturally fell under the spell of her
friend Shelley, who has a more assertive personality, and in the
sexual realm, this assertiveness intensifies into actual domination,
with the more mellow and easy-going woman as a matter of course shifts
into a more submissive role.

And then he smiles. And Shelley sees the smile and her apprehension
turns to fear. As well it should, he thinks.

"Annette," he tells His Beloved, who is running one of her hands on
her breasts, and the other between her pussy lips, spreading the semen
that has started to leak out between her thighs. "From now on, you
will be aroused by sexually dominating your friend Shelley, whom you
will treat as your pet. Whatever you used to feel when she was making
you do things, you will feel by forcing her to do those things
herself. Do you understand?"

His Beloved looks up to her friend, smiling a smile that promises the
blonde that she would not be treated kindly. "Oh but I do, my Lord. I
will put the little bitch through her paces..." She grabbed Shelley's
short hair and twisted her head to the side, pulling her down to
nibble hard on her ear.

"As for you, pet," he tells the now whimpering blonde, "Annette here
is now your Lady, and you will obey her like you obey your Lord, do
her bidding like you do your Lord's, crawl at her feet like you crawl
at your Lord's. Pleasing your Lady is now your second goal in life,
after pleasing your Lord."

"Yes... yes, my Lord."

His Beloved twists Shelley's head again and kisses her hard on the
mouth, paying back the aggressiveness that Shelley has shown
earlier. "I'm going to have a lot of fun with you, my little bitch,"
she said, after pulling out of the kiss. "But now I want you to get
down between my legs and suck your Lord's cum out of my pussy and
clean me out and get me ready for him to fuck me again. Oh, and shake
your ass in his face when you do that, too, so that maybe he'll be
tempted to play with that little hole of yours."

Shelley's face looks hopeful for a second, looking from her Lady to
her Lord and back. "And... and my Lord is going to fuck me?"

"You're going to have to be a very good little bitch if my Lord is
going to fuck that slutty little cunt of yours. Now get licking."

He moves back to let the blonde slide down between the His Beloved's
legs and start dutifully licking the mess he had left there. He grins
when he sees her raise her ass and sway it in front of his face, her
butt plug sticking out of her rectum and begging him to play with it.

"Come on, you little bitch," His Beloved encourages her friend, "get
your tongue in deeper--oh, that's it, just like that..." She squirms,
and sinks deeper into the bed, tilting her hips up to ease the
blonde's access.

His cock throbbing before him, he reaches out to grasp the blonde's
butt plug between his fingers and gives it a twist, eliciting a
muffled moan from the licking blonde. He is rewarded by a squeal of
satisfaction from His Beloved.

He closes his eyes, submerged by Gratitude at having been offered a
second chance at Love.


				* * *


"There!" Hermann exclaimed from the back seat, his arm reaching out
between Daniel and Shawbank and pointing towards a car parked in front
of the Our Saviour's Lutheran Church. "That's Lizzie's car!"

Shawbank pulled up behind the vehicle, and before the car was stopped
Hermann had jumped out and was running towards the entrance of the
church.

Daniel looked from the man to Shawbank. "Do we let him go in just like
that?"

"Decoy," she answered.

She walked up to the side door that Hermann had managed to find that
had been left unlocked, and pulled out her knife from the sheath in
her jacket.

Daniel eyed it with equal parts weariness and fascination.

"Wouldn't a gun be more effective?"

Shawbank shrugged, and again a hint of a smile ghosted her
lips. "Other agents have guns. I find Magenta more... precise."

Magenta?

Before Daniel could ask further questions, they were inside the
church, which was mostly dark. The windows had been boarded up once
the stained glass was removed, Daniel guessed.

Shawbank followed the retreating footsteps of Hermann, who seemed to
know where he was going. If this church had some emotional connection
for his fiancee--her mother had gotten married here, and Hermann had
said that Annette Bowden, in her last year, had frequented this church
assiduously--it made sense that he would know where Elizabeth might
be. The old chapel, he had said.

In the distance, there was a flickering glow, suggestive of
candlelight.

"How are we going to play this?" Daniel asked Shawbank.

"Leave the Special to me. You deal with whomever is there that needs
dealing with."

"I don't have any weapons."

"Well, that was stupid, wasn't it?" Shawbank snapped.

That first display of real emotion betrayed her tension.

Daniel looked around and grabbed and hefted what looked like an old
standing candelabra. It was clumsy, but it could serve to keep someone
at bay. Unless they have a semi-automatic, he reflected glumly.

"Lizzie! Oh my God!"

Shawbank and Daniel hurried towards the sound of Hermann's distressed
shout. They made the corner to the chapel and first spotted Hermann,
frozen in place, eyes wide, a look of utter disbelief stamped upon his
face.

In front of them, on a bed illuminated by several candles, they could
see Bowden, his old body kneeling behind his stepdaughter Elizabeth,
fucking her roughly from behind. The redhead was clad in only a white
corset and the ripped remnants of a wedding dress. Underneath
Elizabeth a thin athletic blonde was busily licking the redhead's
slit, once in a while giving a long lick to the balls of the old man
slamming into her friend's pussy.

Bowden, whose expression was almost as startled as Hermann's, looked
to the new arrivals, and panicked. He pulled out of Elizabeth with a
jerk, the redhead letting out a shout of frustration at finding
herself so abruptly empty.

Bowden jumped off the bed, his cock bouncing incongruously in front of
him. His legs looked incredibly frail compared to his well-developed
upper body.

"Stop them," he shouted at Elizabeth and Shelley. "STOP THEM!"

Quickly, without attempting to cover themselves up, the two young
woman jumped off the bed and ran towards the trio.

Shawbank gave Daniel a sharp glance, and then looked at Bowden and her
eyes never left him as she made for the wall to avoid the incoming
girls. She was going for the Special, leaving Elizabeth and what
Daniel guessed was her friend Shelley to the two men. Hermann, his
arms spread wide and shouting "Lizzie!", ran towards Elizabeth who
went straight for him. Daniel wanted to warn him, but was prevented by
the blonde with the athletic body that was coming at him quickly with
powerful strides.

In the few seconds he had to take in the woman, Daniel saw resolve in
Shelley's face, harsh and unrelenting resolve. He remembered what
Shawbank had told him--that affected women could fight to the
death. He steadied himself for the onslaught, unconsciously putting
himself into one of the defensive position that had been drilled into
him over his summer training.

Shelley never slowed down, jumping on him with a shout and bared
teeth. He did not know what she intended to do with those, and did not
care to find out. He grabbed her arms and brought her down with him,
using her own momentum to flip her over his head. It was one of the
moves they had practiced during self-defense training over the summer,
and he was surprised at how effective it was. That Shelley made no
attempt at defense and attacked him all out probably had something to
do with it.

Shelley hit the ground hard with a blow that winded her. Daniel came
behind her and grabbed her arms in a lock and pinned her to the
ground. She struggled, her legs trying to kick him despite her
impossible position. He slipped a zip tie over her wrists and pulled
it tight.

"Aaarghhh!!!" came the cry of pain from Hermann from his left. Daniel
stole a glance in that direction. Hermann was on his back, and
Elizabeth was straddling him, and he was trying to hold her wrists,
and Daniel saw with horror that Elizabeth had managed to drive one of
her fingers deep into one of Hermann's eyes, which was now closed but
was leaking a disgusting soup of blood and a viscous fluid. Hermann
was wriggling in pain, and was trying hard to keep Elizabeth from
going for his other eye. Elizabeth, naked but for a half-corset that
exposed her breasts, was foaming at the mouth, a look of rage on her
face, and she was shouting incoherently, screams where "my Lord" and
"hurt" and "love" and "die" kept coming over and over again as she
struggled to finish the job of blinding her fiance, or ripping his
throat out.

"Aaaarghh!" came another shout of pain, this time from behind Daniel,
and everyone--except possible Hermann--turned to look and stare and
see that Shawbank had driven her knife into Bowden's left shoulder and
had pinned him to the wall. The man wriggled like a worm caught at the
end of a hook, and Shawbank's eyes reflected nothing but candlelight
as she twisted the knife and elicited another scream of pain and rage
from the old man.

"How... How dare you!" he spat out, between cries of pain. "I'm a God,
you bitch! You roach! You--"

He never finished his diatribe. Shawbank drove a punch into his gut
that would have doubled him over if not for his shoulder being
impaled, and finished him off with a blow to the jaw that knocked him
out. He collapsed like a limp rag, supported only by the knife in his
shoulder. Shawbank pulled an injector out of her pocket and pressed it
against the man's neck. It made a soft swishing sound.

Shelley and Elizabeth quieted their struggles and looked at Bowden's
unmoving form with concern and confusion. Daniel had Shelley well in
hand, and Hermann took advantage of the pause to toss Elizabeth from
him and push back and grab his wounded eye and wail in pain and
confusion. "Lizzie?" he choked, as Elizabeth looked from Shelley to
Bowden and back.

Shawbank went to her and injected her with whatever she had injected
to Bowden. Elizabeth soon went limp. She then turned to Shelley, who
had stopped struggling underneath Daniel, and did the same to the
blonde.

Daniel approached Hermann, who was curled up against a wall. "You
okay?" Daniel asked him.

"What... what happened to her? She just... just attacked
me. Attacked. And he was... oh God! They were fucking! And she
just... she was crazed..." Hermann sobbed again, and Daniel, not
knowing what to do, just grabbed his shoulder and hugged him.

"We have to get you to an emergency for that eye," Daniel said,
finally.

Shawbank, meanwhile, was on her earpiece, contacting Brisecoeur,
talking about sending in a recovery team that had been on standby
since Shawbank had contacted him from the car earlier. She glanced in
Daniel's direction, then added that having a medical team on hand as
well would be helpful.

She looked towards the two men. "Help is on the way," she said.

She then went back to Bowden, and pulled out the knife from his
shoulder. He folded onto the floor.

As Shawbank took a step towards the back of the chapel, Daniel caught
up with her. Shawbank spoke without looking at him, sheathing her
knife after wiping it off on a piece of cloth that Daniel recognized
as the skirt of a wedding dress. "We'll have the Special taken away,
and have Hermann's injury looked after. We'll drop him off to an
emergency room along the way."

"What about the girls?"

"What about them?"

"Are we just going to leave them here?"

"What do you want to do with them?" Her tone had a question in it, one
that Daniel did not particularly care for. What was she saying?

"I don't know. I mean, we should help them..."

"How?"

"I don't know..."

"No you don't. And there's nothing we can do for them. In about an
hour or so, they'll wake up. Maybe they'll go back to their life, and
this will just be an episode that they'll forget about. Maybe they
won't. It all depends on what the Special did to them, what sort of
instructions he gave them."

"And that's it?"

"That's it. Our concern was the Special. Get him out of circulation,
keep him from doing more damage. We've done that. We're done."

"But..." Daniel was scrambling. He stared at Elizabeth and Shelley,
unconscious on the ground, and then to Hermann, holding a piece of
cloth on his injured eye, cradling his knees. "Maybe we can get Bowden
to fix them?"

Shawbank shook her head. "No. He doesn't wake up. That's the
rule. He's unconscious now, and he will stay that way. Once they're
down, they stay down. It's too dangerous otherwise."

"But he can help them!"

"Or make them worse. What if he wakes up and tells them to kill
themselves? Or mutilate themselves? Or go on a rampage? You can't
reason with Specials, Malcolm, not when they've reached the stage this
one obviously did. You can't reason with them, and you can't control
them. All you can do is put them down, like rabid dogs."

"But we have to help them!" Daniel still felt there was something to
be done.

"How?"

"I don't know."

"They're victims, Malcolm." There was bitterness and hatred in her
voice. "They got caught. Too bad for them."

Daniel felt that this was a topic not to pursue.

"I'll go wait for the retrieval team. Keep an eye on Hermann."
Shawbank left the chapel without looking back.

Daniel stared at the two women unconscious on the floor. Hermann was
sobbing softly in the corner.