Page 15 of Bad Blood Bear

Chapter 7

Lissa woke lying on a hard mattress in a jail cell.

She rolled over, groaning. Her whole body hurt, like someone had set her on fire and then pounded her with a mallet.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position.

She didn’t remember getting here. Why didn’t she remember? It was all disjointed and crazy, like a fever dream. Hunting rabbits in the woods in the dark with her bare hands, then some kind of party, and hot meat in her hands, and blood—blood in her mouth, blood on her hands.

She turned her hands over. The nails were crusted with blood, and the valleys between her fingers were sticky.

Her heart leaped into her throat. What had she done?

She closed her eyes, trying to think. She had bits and pieces of memories—riding in a car; being examined by an EMT; sitting in a brightly lit room while people pounded her with questions. What had she told them? What name had she used? How much had she given away?

How long before her demon would go crazy again, and they put her in a psych ward? Or the Arkansas police tracked her down and dragged her back to face what she’d done there?

She shivered at the thought of locked doors closing behind her for good. This might be the worst trouble she’d ever been in, except for that time just before she left Arkansas. After Brother Damien took a liking to her.

And she couldn’t remember much of that, either.

Just running through the woods at night, with blood under her fingernails. The rest of it was a jumbled dream, like last night.

Except she’d had a demon in her ever since.

What had Brother Damien done to her? How could she fix it?

Maybe it couldn’t be fixed. Maybe she belonged in jail, or in a rubber room, tied down and sedated so she couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Lissa hugged her knees to her body and rested her forehead on them, and tried to keep the hot tears from running down her face.

There was a clang and a rattle of metal, and Lissa looked up. A female sheriff’s deputy was standing in front of her cell.

“I see you’re awake, finally,” she said. “You gonna stay calm now?”

Lissa nodded. She sure as hell hoped so. But you had to tell them what they wanted to hear, even if you didn’t know if it was true.

The woman shook her head. “That was some bad shit you took last night, whatever it was,” she said. “Made you real crazy. Don’t suppose it’ll do any good to tell you to stay off it.”

“I’ll try,” Lissa said. She couldn’t say it wasn’t drugs, because that would mean a psych eval and a 72-hour hold, and despite her fears of what she might do if she got out, she knew that would break her. Jail at least meant she could get a PD, get out and try to figure out how to fix this.

The woman gazed at her for a minute, then nodded. “Okay. I guess you’re free to go.” She started to unlock the door of the holding cell.

Lissa was stunned. “I am? Are they—are the charges being dropped?” She didn’t even know what the charges were, but she’d been afraid… She balled her hands into fists so the dried blood wouldn’t show.

The woman shook her head. “Somebody bailed you out.”

Lissa stared at her, mind racing. Who would have paid money to bail her out of jail? Who even would have known she was in jail?

She followed the woman out of the cell and down the hall, feeling numb. Had Brother Damien tracked her down? Had he been watching for police reports, hoping she’d give herself away? Or had her attack made the news?

She didn’t know which would be worse. A cell followed by a rubber room and restraints, or Brother Damien. But that was impossible. Brother Damien was nothing but a nightmare now.

The deputy took her to a desk and talked about bond and court appearances, and Lissa signed some papers. The woman put them in a manila envelope with the few possessions Lissa had had in her pockets. As she was about to hand the envelope to Lissa, the deputy hesitated.

“Don’t know if you want advice,” she said, “but I put in a card for a drug rehab program attached to one of the free clinics in Nashville. Most of the judges are more likely to be lenient if they can see you’re voluntarily getting help. Your lawyer might even be able to get the charges dropped, if you explain to the victims you’re in rehab.”

Victims. The smell of blood was suddenly filling her nostrils, making her want to gag. She couldn’t have hurt anyone very badly, though, could she? Not if they were letting her go.