Figuring the best course of action would be picking up the Fed role before the actual Feds showed up, Claire went for the well cut, charcoal slacks and blazer. Then she remembered how she’d practically melted in the heat of the morning on her jog, and left the blazer back at the hotel. Thankfully the cream sleeveless undershirt was silk, and professional enough to get beyond the suspicions of small town school faculty. She and Jesse sat in the air conditioned office of Principal Harold Bronson, who she noticed had eye-balled her badge a lot closer than he had Jesse’s.
Her first instinct screamed ‘distrust of female authority’. It wasn’t long before he proved her right. He still hadn’t looked her in the eye.
“We’re going to need a list of faculty names and how long they’ve been here before we leave,” she said curtly, but without much room for escape.
“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” Bronson replied. “I just don’ see how the FBI would be so interested in this so quickly when our own police force hasn’t released a statement yet.”
“With all due respect, sir, we don’t receive our information solely from small town PD public statements,” Claire replied in the same tone, going on before he had a chance to further back peddle. “Our help was asked for, so we’re here. I’d expect, since five children have disappeared and the only connection so far is your school, that we’ll have your full cooperation.”
Bronson gave the two of them a polite smile. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “I wouldn’t dream of interferin’ with your investigation. I’ll get my assistant on that right away.”
“Appreciated,” Jesse added with a tight smile. The principal pressed a button on the phone.
“Sheryl?”
”Yes, sir?”
Bronson looked between Jesse and Claire again before speaking. “Can you print off a copy of the employee records and bring ‘em to my office, ASAP?”
”Right away, sir. Should I prep it in any way, or...?”
“Reg’lar print is fine. Thank you, Sheryl.”
Claire’s professional smile, small and cordial, flashed briefly before she went on. “Did any of the children’s teachers report strange or out of character behavior before the disappearances?”
“No, ma’am,” Bronson answered. “Nothin’ outta the ordinary, at least. We pride ourselves on providing an excellent learnin’ environment for our students.”
Jesse tried not to sigh. Places always turned into pillars of their community when any blame might be headed their way. “Of course. We have no doubt of that. But if a student mentioned something strange, going on in their home life, it could help our investigation.”
Bronson frowned slightly. “Our counseling staff would have brought somethin’ to my attention if they’d seen cause to worry, and rest assured I do not take our students’ concerns lightly, Agent Troy.”
Principal Bronson was certainly reassuring them a lot. Not that it was uncommon; he was obviously under pressure, but Claire wasn’t getting any particular vibes from him otherwise. She resettled back against the chair, turning the pen in her hand as a subtle show of thought.
“Is there anyone in particular you recommend we speak with first?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Bronson said, his voice even. “We do extensive background checks on our teachers and staff. If you’re thinking any of my employees are behind the abductions, then I’ll want to know.”
“We’re just covering all the bases, sir,” Jesse reassured him. “No reason to suspect them above anyone else just yet.”
A shadow at the office door drew Claire’s attention over her shoulder, where she saw the familiar face of the receptionist, holding a short stack of neatly folded papers in her hand.
Five minutes later, and after Claire requested the use of the empty teacher’s lounge for a work and interview space, she leaned back against the lunch table, pouring over the first two pages of the list.
Insisting on it, Jesse read over the next two pages to make it go faster. His eyes immediately paused on the word “music.”
“Hey, they have a music teacher here.” Claire looked up from her pages, automatically quirking a brow.
“And?”
Jesse ducked his head sheepishly. “Sorry. Piper, music, guess it just stood out.” His eyes went back to the list but not for long. “Would it make a difference if she’d just been hired a month ago?”
That caught Claire’s attention. The other brow raised with its twin as she moved to stand beside him, glancing down at the hire date. “Yeah, I’d say it would. Districts usually don’t hire this late in the semester.” Also, the timing fit.
A smile tugged at Jesse’s lips. “Alright. Chalk one up on the person-of-interest list.”
Claire couldn’t help but quirk a grin at his little spark of enthusiasm. She made a mental note about the music teacher’s name and looked back down at her list. “You’re adorable when you’re excited,” she spoke to the paper.
Jesse felt a blush rise to his cheeks but shrugged it off. “Well you’re adorable all the time,” he said, giving her hair a fond little tug before looking back at his list. She huffed a soundless laugh through her nose, and mumbled back.
“Like a labradoodle.”
***
Ben was having second thoughts about volunteering to go with Jacob.
It wasn’t because the man wasn’t prepared and played the role badly. If anything, the first family they spoke to seemed a lot more at ease speaking to Jacob than him given the fact that like attracted like. He fit the bill for a Southern boy, and Ben had a horrible time faking the accent so he held back, only speaking up when a particular question came to mind. What gave him reason for having second thoughts was the fact that the more time he spent with the man, the more Ben didn’t like him. He introduced Ben as being ‘new’ to the paper, being ‘inexperienced’ and that he needed to be ‘shown the ropes.’
It was obvious what kind of shit he was trying to pull, and it took all of Ben’s energy to keep his face relaxed and neutral; to smile sheepishly through the role and play it believably. The moment they were out through the doors and heading back to the car, however, Ben grabbed his shoulder and flipped him around.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Jacob’s brows arched at him, moving through the turn and not bothering to pull back. The relaxed look on his face, however, was gone.
“‘cuze me?”
Ben just barely bit back a sneer. “The newbie rubbing-in bullshit. Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doin’.”
Jacob gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Dunno what’cher talkin’ ‘bout, Benj. Just playin’ off what feels natural izzall. Sounds t’me like yer bein’ a bit sensitive.”
Ben felt himself bristling as he pulled back his hand, unable to hide the scowl. “It’s Ben.”
Jacob shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. “My mistake. C’mon, we’re burnin’ daylight standin’ out here.”
Then he turned and started off to the car again. Ben remained where he stood, his voice a bit louder when he spoke again to compensate for the distance:
“Y’know, it’s funny how you’ve been here for three days and shit hasn’t even gotten done.”
Jacob stopped and turned again, once again looking mildly surprised. Ben continued on.
“Even funnier that you missed connection to the Fairchild’s eldest. Maybe we should just pick up the case and let you get back to something a little easier for you.”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed and hardened, but smiled that same not-smile. “From what I hear, that lead ended up amountin’ to nothin’ anyway, so what’s yer point?”
Ben’s jaw clenched and he opened his mouth to speak, but Jacob cut him off. “It’s a cursed object. Dunno how familiar you are with ‘em, but they ain’t that easy to find, and you’ll need my help juss’ as much as I need yers. So why don’t we juss’ get back in the car and get back t’lookin’ fer it, so we can all go our separate ways, eh?”
The word ‘separate’ sent a flash of anger across Ben’s nerves. “She’s not going anywhere without me, just so you know. Whatever you had with her is over.”
Jacob’s expression shifted with the words, his lips curling back in a mean, smug smile. “Well, you know the old saying:” he said, holding out a lengthy pause as he looked Ben straight in the eye. “You never forget yer first.”
Just like that, something inside Ben snapped. Instinct and rage took over, launching him forward at the other man with his arm pulled back for a punch, but Jacob had been expecting it. He ducked out of the way expertly, grabbing Ben at the back of the arm and using his momentum to slam him into the side of the car. The pin, however, was one that Ben was very familiar with, and Ben threw his head backward with considerable force, feeling a rush of satisfaction as he heard the crack of bone and felt Jacob’s grip go loose. He didn’t have long to enjoy the results though, as Jacob wasted no time throwing a punch straight into his eye. Stars exploded behind his vision, but Ben threw his next punch anyway, connecting solidly with Jacob’s gut. The man doubled over, giving Ben just enough time to recover and uppercut him to the jaw, which sent him sprawling to the pavement.
Ben stood over him, panting, feeling blood oozing down his cheek. He reached up and touched it, feeling a split in the skin, then looked down at Jacob’s hand. He was wearing a ring. Fucking bastard. Without another word, he turned on his heels and stalked off down the street.
***
Even though the lead was small, it was something, and so Jesse was in a good mood, despite even the hot drive back to the hotel. When he opened the door to see Ben coming out of the bathroom, his first instinct was to smile. Then his eyes fell on the small bloodstains on Ben’s half-undone white shirt, and the swelling around Ben’s eye.
“Shit, what happened?” he said, not even closing the door as he hurried forward.
Ben finished peeling off the shirt and moved to his bag, searching for the Tide pen or a can of club soda. He kept his face mostly pointed down the entire time.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered.
“What? C’mon, man, what happened? Did one of the dads get pissed at you? Or was it one of the moms and that’s why you don’t wanna talk about it?” It wasn’t that hard to joke, since Ben clearly wasn’t in any danger, but that didn’t stop his stomach crunched with nerves. He took Ben’s shoulder, trying to turn him around, but Ben shrugged out of it hard.
“I said I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said sharply, not quite a snap but halfway there. Clearly whatever happened hadn’t happened that long ago for him to still be so on edge; he was still shaking.
Jesse frowned deeply, taking a step back. What could’ve happened? It wasn’t like Ben had been alone, he-- “Jacob. It was fucking Jacob,” Jesse said, his voice hardening. “Where is he?”
Ben sneered slightly, looking briefly vindicated. “Oh, he didn’t get away on top. No need to white knight me, man. It’s fine.” Ben found the Tide pen and took it, along with his shirt, toward the bathroom.
“Who ‘didn’t get away on top’?” Looking a mix of confused and concerned, Claire appeared at the hotel door, three fully loaded Southern Barbecue dinners in Styrofoam containers stacked in her hands. Ben’s shoulders immediately tensed, his stride widening before he disappeared into the bathroom. It was only a temporary solution to the problem, though; he couldn’t hide in there forever.
“Jacob attacked him,” Jesse said in disbelief, even as he moved forward to help with the dinners. “He’s all bloodied up.”
“What?! Why?” The alarm in her eyes sharpened with her voice, but for one reason or another, there was a lot less confusion there.
“He didn’t attack me,” Ben called out from the bathroom, anger coloring his voice. “Attacking implies surprise. I wasn’t surprised.”
Claire just stood there for a minute, staring at the bathroom door. The sick feeling in her stomach was only getting stronger, and though her first instinct was to demand more information, she very much doubted getting it would settle her nerves. After forcing a deep breath released darkly through her nose, she looked at Jesse, then looked at the door behind her; clearly trying to decide on something--specifically, what to do.
Scowling, Jesse moved towards the door, leaning against it. “Ben, why would he do that?”
This time, Ben did snap: “What part of ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’ isn’t makin’ sense to you? Do I need to spell it out?” He scrubbed furiously at the little red flecks on his shirt, then angrily threw the handle on the faucet to cold and stuck the patch of fabric beneath it with the hope that it would help. He didn’t have too many clean white shirts.
“Don’t you jump on him, Ben--you’d be asking the same questions,” Claire injected sharply in Jesse’s defense, but the edge on her voice softened before she reached the end of her sentence. However, she didn’t press the matter, either.
Trying to make his expression blank, Jesse moved quietly away from the door. Sitting on the bed, he got to working his shoes off. Claire lightly put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, though her eyes were on the bathroom door.
The immediate silence was enough to make Ben stop. It felt like the quiet before the storm, and it put him on edge. “Fuck, do we have any bleach? And an ice pack that hasn’t been used yet?”
After another long pause, Claire finally decided what she was going to do.
“I’ll go get one from the office,” she said simply, and turned for the door without another word.
“No, it’s fine, I’ll get it,” Ben said, his anxiety bubbling over as he threw the door open and moved to his bag to get a clean shirt, once again keeping his head down.
His jaw clenched, Jesse didn’t look Ben’s way, just shifting his position so he was sitting in front of the air conditioner. Claire stopped at the door, slowly turning to face Ben and the rest of the room. She still had intent behind her eyes, but something kept her anchored. Something needed to be resolved.
She watched the side of his face. Even though he tried to hide it, she could see the swelling, and it riled her something fierce, but Claire kept a lid on it as a point of necessity. She folded her arms across her chest and swallowed hard, looking at the floor before she spoke in a low, calm voice.
“Either tell us what happened, or let it go completely--all of it. This--tension... is gonna get someone killed.” She rolled her lips and looked back up, her shoulder blades leaning back against the door. No one was getting through it without going through her, until this was fucking settled. Ben had just pulled the shirt over his head and looked up at the door, and immediately felt the rush of fight or flight at her obstacle. The trembling came back in full force.
“I just wanna get some bleach and an ice pack,” he said, his voice sounding slightly strained. “Please.” Claire met his eyes and didn’t drop them. With the hard line of contact, she felt her stomach drop and tie itself in a knot, but she didn’t move. Not yet.
“Is it over?” she almost whispered, her words carrying more weight in consequences and meaning than actual tone. Ben’s face twisted in confusion at the underlying question.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said, conviction in his tone. “I wanna be here.” Claire swallowed something thick in her throat and couldn’t help the way her eyes closed, even briefly.
She shook her head, and spoke softly. “We want you here. But ever since we started this way, you’ve had the moods of a rattlesnake.” Claire sought his eyes again. “If you don’t wanna talk about what happened, fine--I get it,” she said, not unkindly. She really did get it. “But you gotta drop this.”
An involuntary shudder broke across Ben’s shoulders and he ducked his head, his hands coming up through his hair. He could still feel the after-burn of rage in his chest, scarring and aching after the fight. It wasn’t going to start healing over until they were gone, and he had a pretty good feeling that wasn’t gonna be anytime soon. He hated it.
“I’ll stay behind the scenes and research from now on,” he said after a moment. It filled him with insurmountable fear, but he didn’t have a choice.
“Now you’re being sensible. Took you long enough,” Jesse grumbled, still not turning around. Ben tensed up immediately, the fear taking backseat to shame and humiliation.
Whether that was a good idea or not, or even if Claire agreed to it remained unsaid. She simply remained silent, watching them both, but mostly Ben. After a long moment, she finally spoke; her voice a notch even lower than earlier, and said as she reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.”
Ben didn’t argue, slumping into the chair nearest his bag the moment the door shut. Jesse sat in the heavy silence for a long while, coming up with a few dozen things he wanted to say to to Ben. But most of them amounted to “You hurt my feelings,” and he didn’t want to sound like that much of a pansy.
Finally he gritted out, “There are kids missing. I thought that would’ve been enough for you to get over yourself.”
“Fucker asked for it,” Ben replied bitterly.
That finally got Jesse to turn around. “Yeah? What did the fucker ask for exactly? What’d you do to the guy who asked us down here to help?”
“He was fucking belittling me!” Ben said explosively. “You’d’ve done it, too, if it were you! And he--” He forced himself to stop, take a slow breath, then let it out. “He slept with Claire. More’n that: Claire cashed in her v-card with him.”
There were a couple beats before Jesse said, “Are you taking the piss or what? You gonna go beat up Millie Harris, too?”
“You know what? Forget it,” Ben said harshly, standing up and going to the mini fridge. There was a little ice in the tiny rectangle of freezer space in it, he’d work with that until Claire came back. “Apparently I’m the only one who can tell he’s still fuckin’ jonesing for her. Either that, or I’m just batshit crazy.” Realizing he didn’t have a towel to put the ice in, he stood up jerkily and went to get one from the bathroom.
Jesse followed him. “What does it matter if he wants her? Claire doesn’t want him. And I fucking doubt he called her here from Vegas to try for a booty call. C’mon, he only ever knew her for three days.”
“And she dropped all our shit to come runnin’, didn’t you notice?” Ben spat, turning around to move out of the bathroom only to find Jesse in the archway. He stopped in his tracks, feeling tension in his muscles again. “I need to put ice on my eye.”
“She came running because kids are going missing,” Jesse said, not moving from where he stood. “Shit, Ben, you’re the one who went on and on about trusting each other. Now you’re acting like you don’t trust Claire at all.”
“I do trust her!” Ben shouted. Once again, trembles shook him. “Goddammit, I do trust her! But fuck, you don’t think he’s not thinking that!? That she just dropped it all and came?! You don’t think he’s gonna try’n work with that!?”
“No, I don’t,” Jesse said, his hand on his hips. “Mate, I’ve been on the wrong side of hunters before, and I even I don’t think they’re shitty enough to put sex before the hunt.”
“Can you please just get out of the way and let me get the ice?!” Ben snapped, the negative emotions twisting around inside him threatening to manifest again. He didn’t want to fight anymore, not in his current state, but it was starting to feel like the only option he had.
That moment, the hotel door opened. Claire slipped inside, wearing the same expression as she’d left with, only slightly softened. Of course, the atmosphere in the room was thick as fog, and full of static, thanks to the raised voices coming from the bathroom. Her jaw set briefly, but it was short lived--in her hands, she carried a single-packet of bleach from the hotel laundry room, and a first-aid ice pack.
She hadn’t intended to simply go out and retrieve the items, but her ‘detour’ was abandoned after some considerable thought. Claire wasn’t sure she felt better about it right then or not, but that didn’t matter now. She just stood there, listening.
Jesse didn’t move, and the only reason Ben didn’t shove him was because he was too afraid of his own strength. In all honesty, he felt just on the verge of tears. “Goddammit, Jess, there are thousands of hunts goin’ on right now, and hardly enough hunters to even cover the bases! But this sonofabitch is smooth as fuckin’ butter, and more’n capable of workin’ a case on his own. He might not be up to tryin’ somethin’ on the job, but you bet your ass he’s gonna be workin’ up to it with every free second he has!”
“Yeah? Just like I was fucking all the hookers of Vegas?” Jesse said, raising an eyebrow. “Whatever’s wrong with you, Ben, you got to sit down and figure it out, because this fucking paranoia is getting old.”
Ben sputtered, deja vu hitting him like a punch in the gut, his face flushing with agitation and inexplicable shame.
“I’m not paranoid,” he declared. “I know how guys like that act!”
“Like jealous teenagers?” Claire finally chimed in, the strain in her voice just shy of making it crack. It felt like all of his insides rushed up into his throat and Ben moved his hand out swiftly to the bathroom countertop to stop from swaying on his feet. He could hear the accusation mixed up in her tone, and the shame was all-consuming. Claire dropped the bleach packet on the bed on her way toward the bathroom, gently slipping past Jesse’s blockade.
“Is holding onto all that really worth this?” she went on, teetering on the edge of mental exhaustion. Ben moved to sit back on the lid of the toilet for fear that his legs would shake him to the ground. He felt sick and speechless.
Jesse frowned in concern, shifting closer behind Claire. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
Ben pushed his face into his hands and ducked his head low, then hissed with pain as the heel of his hand collided with his black eye. He felt dehydrated, dizzy, and in pain. The walk through the Louisiana heat hadn’t helped calm him at all, either. What he wanted more than anything was just to leave, but that wasn’t an option. It felt like any power he had over his own life was slowly starting to drift away. There wasn’t a single thing he could say or do to make any of his insecurities stop.
“Get him some water?” she asked Jesse gently over her shoulder, then slowly squared herself in front of Ben’s hunched form. She was beyond anger or extreme agitation; she was worn down, and for the most part, sad. Without a word, Jesse grabbed a glass from the counter, filling it but unsure if Ben wanted it yet. Seeing him struggle with anything was hard on both the other two, especially when everything they tried to do to help only made it worse.
“Lemme see,” she whispered in a tone that she hoped would sooth him, as well as herself. Gentle fingertips angled his face up toward her, and she stood close as she placed the felt-covered ice pack on the swelling. He couldn’t even meet her gaze, and in spite of everything he could feel tears weeping out of the corners of his eyes.
“Here,” Jesse said quietly, holding the glass down for him, which he took wordlessly.
“Thanks, Jess.” Claire uttered, not even bothering to restrict the emotion in her voice anymore. She met his eyes briefly, conveying the worry and fatigue before her attention turned back down to Ben. Her thumb swiped away the drop of moisture that trailed with road dust and sweat from his good eye. Ben swallowed hard, then gave an audible, shaky sigh and closed his eyes.
“I juss’ wanna be ‘lone for’a while,” he said thickly.
Jesse’s insides gave a twist. “We’ll go if you want, but it... it’s alright for you to cry in front of us, y’know.”
Ben made a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob -- though definitely leaning more towards the latter -- and moved his hand up around Claire’s to palm his left eye. Claire swallowed the knot in her throat.
She bent down, adjusting the hand he’d just moved a little more toward his temple, so she could give him a slow kiss. The mix of emotion was just enough to send him teetering off the deep end and much to his inward horror, he moved his free arm to her shoulder and clutched as if his life depended on it.
“Please don’t leave me,” he said brokenly. “Please, I can’t-- I can’t--”
The space around the toilet was cramped, forcing Jesse to sit on the rim of the bathtub as he moved around. His hand rubbed Ben’s back as he nuzzled in close. “No one is going anywhere, okay? We’re right here.”
The smallness of the bathroom seemed only to get smaller at the sudden addition of another body, but Ben didn’t care. He would happily suffocate if it meant being held by both of them, even if he did feel incredibly ashamed and small. Worse still, he knew they’d brought food home and it was getting cold because of him, and that he was wasting their time with his issues. It only made him feel worse.
After a few moments of running her hand through his hair and checking the swollen cheek bone under the cool-pack, Claire lightly brushed his lips with hers, then whispered against them. “You wanna take a cool shower? Recharge a little?” Another kiss to the side of his mouth. “We’ll heat up the ribs on the car-hood,” she teased, letting the faint smile of unspoken acceptance and forgiveness touch her words. “You smell like hell.”
Again, Ben made the same choked noise, but this time it leaned a little more toward humor than sadness. The hand not settled on Claire’s shoulder reached blindly for Jesse, resting briefly on the other man’s side before he nodded.
“I feel like it, so I guess that makes sense,” he said, the words still a little wet from crying.
Jesse smiled, pressing a kiss to Ben’s temple. “Shower should help with that, too. Need any help? Or company?”
Somehow in spite the horrible thickness in his chest, Jesse’s words pierced through it and lessened the ache. All Ben felt he’d been doing lately was making Jesse angry at him, and yet he still wanted to be there. Claire, too. He felt like he didn’t deserve it.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “That’d be nice.”
****
“Jess, grab me,” he said in a plaintiff voice, his arms and legs both shaking.
Leaning dangerously to the side anyway, Jesse had no problem grabbing Ben as he tumbled over. The glorious roominess of the king size bed made it all too easy. And since he had his arm around him anyway, Jesse pulled Ben flush against him, pressing a contented kiss to the back of his neck.
Flushed at the cheeks, lips, and just about everywhere else, Claire’s chest still heaved as her body fought its own tension. Her eyes stayed closed for a moment, the sparks behind her eyelids hinted at a mild lack of oxygen, but it was difficult to concentrate on that at the moment.
“She hasn’t come yet,” Ben panted, fighting to breathe normally again. The words out of his mouth actually pushed a half-gasped chuckle from her. “I-- Claire--” He swallowed and then reached for her. He didn’t want her left behind. “C’mere.”
Amused, Jesse pressed a kiss lower on Ben’s back, but that was about all the strength he could muster. As far as he was concerned, the whole thing had been for Ben’s benefit, and that was a job well done.
The tingle was going away, at least, though Claire felt like she’d just sprinted ten miles. She sat back on bent elbows, her breathing still a bit rough, but she still managed a smile at him. He looked loose as a ragdoll, which was good. A small voice she rarely listened to was screaming inside, but faded quick enough. Her brain was already switching wires to channel the tightened spring-like energy into something else.
She rolled to her belly beside him and caught his lips in a slow, but poignant kiss. “Get some rest,” she demanded softly, then scooted off the end of the bed. Something small and buried in Ben’s chest ached when she pulled away and again he reached out for her, but the darkness was already tugging hard at his brain. He was exhausted, and there was no need to fight it anymore. They would take care of him. Shifting in the embrace of the body still tucked against his, he closed his eyes and started to drift.
****
Heat mirage drifted from the street in front and behind Claire, and gave the impression that everything that touched the cracked asphalt sizzled and baked, even in the shade. The oppressive heat was a distraction from the uncomfortable buzz in her muscles, but she was starting to regret deciding to take the long loop without packing a bottle of water. She’d been out for an hour, the dark green jogging shorts and black sports bra streaked with what perspiration wasn’t already clinging to her skin. Even doubled in a pony tail high away from her neck, Claire’s hair was damp and clung to anything it touched.
Climbing the tree-lined hill toward the hotel felt like a home-stretch, and though much of the tension she’d meant to purge was still there, the anticipation of air conditioning and another shower - this one, cold - flooded her burning veins with relief. Until she saw the green Caddy come into view from behind a shoddy SUV in the parking lot, and movement at it’s side.
Jacob clicked the auto-lock button on the car, which gave a muted beep as he came around the front of it. Pausing long enough to find his hotel key, he started trudging down the walkway toward it, oblivious to Claire’s presence. Claire just ambled there for a moment, for the second time that day pulled between decisions.
In the end, she decided to try and end the fuckery all together.
“You just couldn’t let it go, could you.” She stood behind him, out of swinging distance--tight as everyone was wound, sneaking up on someone she knew as dangerous would’ve been a stupid move. Another stupid move--seemed the area was ripe with them that day.
Jacob froze midstep, every visible muscle pulled tense before he finally relaxed and turned to look at her. Three very prominent bruises spread along his face, but the thing that drew immediate attention was the bandage along his swollen nose. He frowned a little at her, then shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
“He was lookin’ fer a fight. I gave ‘im one.” Claire looked unconvinced, and unimpressed.
“‘Cause that was the best idea you had at the time,” she said, heavy on the cynicism. Again, he shrugged.
“Never claimed I was full of bright ideas.” He paused, looking her over, then brought his eyes back up to her face again. “Didja find any new info?” Claire just glared her frustration at his busted face, her hands set on her hips, in damp jersey fabric.
Finally, after a hard breath and a dejected look at the ground, she shook her head. “Just a new music teacher at the school, but it’s weak.” Her voice was tight as wire.
“Sounds like a lead if I ever heard’a one,” he said, shifting his weight on his feet as he continued to watch her body language. “Looks like I’m outta Official Interviewing for a bit, but I’m gonna hit the bar shortly’n see if I can find any leads there.”
The mention of a bar triggered a vague sense of longing in the back of Claire’s mind, and she was involuntarily reminded of how bad she wanted a drink. But she bit it down with a mild swallow, shifting weight from one tennis shoe to the other. Even after an hour of solid running, she couldn’t sit still. Right then, she wasn’t that far from looking for something to fight.
“I’ll take care of the interviews,” she breathed, dismissively. Ben wouldn’t be on that task for a while either, for the same reason. Again, Claire shook her head, then met his eyes. Hers were sharp, and clearly warning. “Just--everything else, that’s not this job: just drop it, like I asked earlier.”
Jacob looked between her eyes for a moment silently and then frowned a little, his jaw working. After a moment, he said, “If I put a strain between yer boys, I’m sorry. You shouldda told ‘em yerself, ‘n maybe this wouldn’ta happened in the first place. Or d’you not trust ‘em to be able t’handle that kinda knowledge?”
Claire’s eyebrows shot up, surprise and very obvious instigation written all over her face. “I would’a thought that all of us were mature enough to let things that didn’t matter get in the way of doing our jobs--” Her snideness was an automatic reaction to the real reason why she hadn’t told the boys. Or anyone, to be exact--because it did matter, whether she wanted it to or not. But hell if she was going to admit that to Jacob, if she wasn’t going to admit it to herself. She steeled herself on and went in for more. “I’m pretty damn sure you weren’t making friendly ‘chit chat’ with it either, so don’t you try an’swing this around on me.”
Jacob shrugged a third time, then gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Like I said: wanted a fight. We were doin’ just fine up until he decided to get nasty with me, an’ I wasn’t juss’ gonna let him stew in it. I said what I wanted t’say. We’re done.”
Fucking testosterone. Claire’s life was swimming in it. Sometimes it made it hard to breathe. She tightened her lips at him, trying to sift through what was hard truth and what was dipped in Jacob’s particular breed of arrogance.
“I’m sure you did him a great favor,” she bit with sarcasm. “Was it worth the gauze up your nose?”
Just for a moment, a smirk flickered across Jacob’s face, but it seemed the expression caused him pain and he winced. “I won’t be winnin’ any more beauty awards, but s’not like it matters much anymore. I let the best one walk away.”
Claire just stared at him with a look of scrutinizing sourness. A million things ran through her mind to say, all in a matter of half a second. In the end, she just pushed a hard breath through her nose. She’d spent years in Catholic-based guilt and self-reflection on what she’d become since that night, which she still saw as her official drop from whatever grace she had left. And she’d been in the same horrid summer heat when all of it came crashing down on her, enough to make a second go at the true reasons for why she’d entered the life--though that dark side never really went away. She could feel it, even now, coiling like a spined serpent in her belly, strong as ever.
“That girl doesn’t exist anymore,” she breathed, lying to herself more than anything, and started to walk past him toward their room.
****
Like the summer-showers they woke up to the following morning, drop by drop Claire’s frustration with this job was filling. Nothing came from another several hours of pouring over Jacob’s notes, and anything resembling a lead or hunch proved to be a path to nowhere. To top it off, at five thirty in the morning, the police scanner set up on the hotel table woke them up to another kid missing.
The atmosphere at the school was as heavy as the air, at least with the faculty. Claire and Jesse were on the receiving end of several concerned and worried looks; even a couple that were suspicious and accusing. Not that she blamed them--she was used to that kind of reception, but Claire’s nerves were wearing thin. She could feel the strain sharpen her looks to the music teacher seated in front of them in the empty teacher’s lounge, which was why she’d let Jesse take most of the direction of their interview so far.
Claire just leaned on the heavy table nearby, watching the last thread of a lead they had over the brim of her coffee; her eyes trained on any involuntary twitch or slip of the tongue that might give them more of a foothold.
It was Jesse who was getting more antsy as the interview went on, though. His questions were also getting more pointed. “You say a couple students were in your class. Did you ever notice them hanging out with any of the other missing students?”
“Sir, music is a mandatory class for the younger children,” the young teacher responded, fiddling with her bracelet for what must have been the hundredth time. “And we only meet once a week per grade until the older children choose it as an elective. I wouldn’t know who they spent time with outside of class.”
Jesse’s face pinched in a scowl. “Did you notice anything unusual going on with any of the students? Had they mentioned strange occurrences or people in town?”
The music teacher shook her head. “No, sir.”
“What district did you transfer from, Miss O’Connor?” Claire chimed in quietly, her voice as colorless as her stoic expression.
“Didn’t transfer, ma’am,” came Miss O’Connor’s reply. “I did intern at East Baton Rouge Parish, though.” Claire nodded succinctly.
“Kind of late in the term for a new hire--you know what happened to the previous music teacher?” She was careful to keep her tone from being accusatory, but couldn’t help but watch the woman’s hands fiddle with her bracelet again.
Miss O’Connor shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes dropping to the table top. “Miss Hurwin withdrew to take care of her father. He’s recently been diagnosed with inoperable cancer. I’m only a temporary hire, unless she decides to fully retire.”
Jesse’s foot had been bouncing as he sat watching Claire at work, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Alright, Miss O’Connor, we don’t want to take up too much of your time, so I’ll get to the matter at hand. Tell us honestly,” he said, the weight of power behind the words. “Do you have any idea what happened to those kids?”
Miss O’Connor blinked at Jesse, her brow furrowed in surprise and confusion at such a direct question. She chewed her lower lip viciously before shaking her head, twisting the bracelet on her wrist in a hard circle. “Outside of what’s been said in the paper, sir, I don’t know. I wish I did. I might not’ve known the children long, but this is my first teaching job and I... I’ve grown to care for them all very much. It’s a terrible tragedy what’s happened.”
Claire watched Jesse for a moment before flicking her gaze back to the teacher. Maybe she was just grasping for straws, but the nervous twitch that could’ve been interpreted as typical reaction to being interrogated could also be a sign of guilt--at least in some form. And still, her eyes shot back to the bracelet.
His hands clenched on the table but Jesse just gave a short nod. “Alright, miss, I think those are all the questions we have,” he said, looking over at Claire, his gaze pointed. The teacher nodded and stood, frowning in concern as she started to move toward the door.
“I hope you find whoever did it,” she said before slipping out the door. Claire visibly slumped when she was gone, sighing into her coffee.
“She’s lying,” Jesse said, as though it was a personal affront. “Or she’s not. I can’t fucking tell because my powers weren’t working.”
Claire squinted in obvious thought at the gaze on Jesse’s face. It was tight with the frustration she could hear in his voice, as well as feel in her own shoulders.
“How do you know they weren’t working?”
“I could feel it. It wasn’t like the drones or the demon, where it just wasn’t getting through. This...this felt like throwing out a net and catching only air,” he said, his expression twisted in confusion and not a little fear. “She can’t be human.”
Claire was quiet for a few moments, working things over in her head. They were getting down to the dregs of ideas, and O’Connor was the closest thing they had, and not by elimination--but by desperation. It made deciding anything about her feel forced. Claire did not like it.
“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “At least deserves a visit to her house.”
****
With interviews being out of the question due to his colorful battle scars, Ben eagerly jumped at the chance to get out from behind the computer research and library duty when they’d discussed raiding the teacher’s house. Seeing as it was a school day they had plenty of time to work, and when they arrived at the correct address he couldn’t help be glad for that little fact; her house was surprisingly large. No doubt she inherited it or something, all the houses here are family homesteads, Ben mused, driving them down a few blocks before parking and killing the engine.
“God, I hope she lives here by herself,” he muttered, pocketing the keys and double-checking his lock pick set.
“She goes by ‘Miss.’ I’m betting the only thing we might have to worry about is spinster roommates,” Jesse said wryly. “If you’re really worried, though, I can pop in alone, like I said before.”
It wasn’t the first time since they’d started hunting together that Jesse offered to be the human wall and while Ben knew he could heal or zip out quickly, he didn’t like the idea of them being separate. He also couldn’t help feel a twinge of bitterness that it seemed okay for Jesse to go into a situation alone but the moment Ben offered to do the same, both Jesse and Claire gave him shit for it.
“Let’s just do it the old fashioned way, shall we?” he replied. When they got up to the door he knocked swiftly.
Back to the door, Jesse kept a casual lookout as, after there was no answer, Ben set to work. It wasn’t long and soon they were walking into the musty old house. “Yeesh. Looks like someone vomited lace in here.”
Ben looked around from the foyer thoughtfully, then added. “Wow, she doesn’t own a hundred cats. Color me surprised.” His eyes trailed along the staircase leading up to the second floor, which was lined with framed photographs. “I’ll take upstairs, you take ground floor?”
“Sounds good. Think I’ll hit the kitchen first; if she really isn’t human, that’ll probably show it,” Jesse said, heading down the hall.
“Whatever, you’re just out to make a sandwich,” Ben heckled, already starting up the stairs. He got about three steps up before a face in the fifth picture stopped him.
“What the...”
It was the father of the Fairchild kids. Or, well, the step-father. He remembered that from the interview.
“Don’t tell me you found a shedding of her second skin or something already,” Jesse called, stopping in the kitchen doorway.
“Naw, man, she’s got a photo of one of the guys we interviewed.” Ben raked his brain, trying to remember the man’s name. “Judah. His name’s Judah Allweather. He was the Fairchild girl’s step-father.”
Ben frowned as he studied the picture. The woman appeared extremely happy to be there, whereas Judah Allweather looked bored. That wasn’t exactly a good sign. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, taking a snapshot with his camera to send it to Claire.
“Lessee what Claire thinks.”
Jesse shrugged and started going through the kitchen. If the woman wasn’t human, she was doing an awfully good job of hiding it. It was well stocked, enough that a single woman could probably survive a month on it all. She even had a whole shelf for herbs. He moved into the dining room.
Once he was at the top of the stairs, Ben immediately started opening doors to the rooms lining the halls. The first one appeared to be a guest bedroom, and the second a small library. He made a mental note of that before going into the third, which appeared to be some sort of private music room. There was an upright piano along with several music stands and various instruments on stands. So she does private lessons? he wondered, opening cases and checking the sheet music. No sign of any sort of flute or wind instrument, though. Damn.
Ben’s phone buzzed to life, signalling a new text message from Claire; a reply to the picture.
Running Judah now. Find anything else?
“Find anything?!” Ben called out.
“Cutesy china figurines is about the creepiest it gets in here!” Jesse called from the living room.
“I dunno man, that’s pretty damn creepy!” Ben shouted back, texting Claire a reply message:
Boring house is boring. Why do I get all the uncool jobs?
Her reply came back quickly:
You jumped on this one. See if you can find that braided bracelet. Jesse knows.
Ben closed the door to the music room, heading back in the hall and sticking his head down the stairwell. “What about a bracelet?!”
“Huh?” he called back.
“Claire said something about a braided bracelet.”
Jesse frowned. “...In general, or something specific? You might have more luck in the bedroom with that kinda thing.”
Ben also frowned, confused as he headed back down the hall and toward the master bedroom. The large bay windows facing the front of the house made the room surprisingly bright and he grimaced at the change in light. The bedroom was sparsely decorated, but Ben couldn’t help notice yet another photograph of Judah Allweather on the music teacher’s bedside table.
Looks like teacher has the hots for step-dad, Ben quickly texted Claire, looking at the long dresser for any sign of a jewelry box and finding nothing. He bypassed the drawers for now in favor of the adjoining bathroom door. His phone buzzed with Claire’s reply.
I don’t like it. Followed shortly after with: I’m 80% sure she had devil’s shoestring in that bracelet.
Ben stared at the phone for a moment in confusion before texting back: Why’s it matter if it has devil’s shoestring?
All the more reason to check every box, don’t you think? I won’t even go to church below the Bible Belt--it’s hard to pick the crazies from the monsters down here.
“Sure enough,” Ben said aloud, checking in the little ceramic bowl of jewelry near the mirror. There weren’t any braided bracelets, though; just beads and bangles. No braided bracelets that I can see.
A minute later, Claire replied simply with: H/O
Jesse was scouring the den when he heard the ice-down-the-back sound of a key in the lock. He froze where he stood, looking toward the door, then up at the ceiling. Shit. He couldn’t call out, and he hadn’t gotten a look at the upstairs. Trying to appear up there would run the risk of coming out in the middle of a wall. But he couldn’t just leave.
Ben found himself standing in place staring at the screen before he realized how stupid a move that was, then quickly moved out into the bedroom again. It seemed like checking the teacher’s house was proving to be mostly useless outside of the picture of the Fairchild’s step-father. “Maybe I should check the music room again...” he muttered aloud.
As he heard the front door opening, Jesse had no choice. He disappeared, stumbling as he hit the side yard. His heart hammering, he waited in a crouch, hoping Ben would stay quiet upstairs. When he was certain the music teacher must be inside, he crept around the house, keeping lower than the windows. The best he could do right now was warn Ben.
Rushing up the porch, he pounded the doorbell five times before disappearing for the car.
Ben immediately froze midstep, panic rushing through him. Somewhere downstairs, he heard a female voice.
“Lord in heaven, kids still play ding-dong-ditch when they’ve got computer games and other crap...”
Shit shit shit, Ben despaired, running back into the bedroom again. The windows had to unlatch, right? Making sure to shut the door as gently as possible he sprinted over to the window, finding a latch. He gave it three tugs before realizing there was a bar keeping it from opening all the way that needed to be moved. If she was observant, she would notice, but it wasn’t like they were going to be coming back to her house again.
Footsteps sounded up the steps far too soon and, panicked, Ben dove under the bed. A moment later, the door opened. Perfect timing for his phone to buzz again.
For a moment, it felt like Ben’s heart stopped. The ground trembled lightly with the weight of her foot fall. Oh fuck me! came Ben’s terrified thought. Not knowing what else to do, he quickly slid his body up against the bed frame to suspend himself from it, just in time for the teacher to drop her head down to look beneath the bed.
“...Weird.”
A couple drawers opened and closed, then the door to the bathroom opened. Within seconds the shower was turning on. Ben felt like he was going to have a heart attack. As carefully and quietly as possible, he slid out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and out the front door. It was only when he was a good twenty feet away from the house that he dared look at his phone.
Found a pattern. Call ASAP
Jesse was running toward him as soon as he got within sight of the car. “What the fuck is she doing home so early?! Did she see you? You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ben answered, panting from the sprint. “Can you drive?”
****
“Chackbay, Raleighville, Green Ridge, New Lennox,” Claire listed off tiny one-horse towns on the map she had spread on the hotel wall, each one in their turn and their own little red thumbtack, having no visible pattern besides being relatively close to the East coast. “Dawson, German Town, and about fourteen more that I haven’t put up yet--all of’em with ten missing kids over the course of a week. No one ever found.”
“Why the fuck haven’t the police made this connection? That many kids gone, you’d think someone would have pulled their thumbs out of their asses,” Jesse said, scowling as his eyes went over the map.
Ben frowned slightly, feeling a sinking feeling in his gut. “You’d be surprised how many mispers happen every day. It’s not something so out of the ordinary that they would notice and with the way they’re spread out?” Ben trailed his forefinger along the tacks. “It’s like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.”
“And they’re especially not looking for patterns that skip every twenty-five years.” Claire pushed the last of the pins in place and stood back from the board, her hands on her hips. She was glad to have at least something more solid as a lead--however, the idea of how old this thing was congealed the feeling as a brick in her stomach. “All the way back to before this was a country. Probably longer, if it came from somewhere else.”
“S’very possible it was brought over with the colonists,” Jacob said quietly, his laptop open in his lap and already starting research. “Betcha it would be inna ship’s log somewhere, if we can find the earliest township with this same pattern.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Claire injected, pausing for a sip of water. “Unless it’s big enough to be considered cargo, whoever--or whatever--it is would’ve kept it close.”
Ben chewed his lips in thought, trying to think of any other way that it might come to someone’s attention, even briefly. “Well... if it is a cursed object,” he said slowly, “And a possibility that it came over from across the pond, wouldn’t somethin’ like that show up in, like, an exposition for a witch burning?”
“Only if the person using it had ever been found out,” Jesse pointed out. “If they’re still using it, or if they passed it down to children, there’s no way to know.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to look, I guess.” Claire leaned back on the table, glancing at the board while setting her laptop on the top of her thigh.
“Should we track Allweather in the meantime?” Ben asked, keeping his eyes trained on Claire.
Jesse raised his eyebrows. “Wait, who? What about the teacher?”
“Both,” Claire uttered, typing something into a search engine specifically designed for her. “We can’t let any balls drop on this, not until we know more.”
“I’ll take Allweather, then,” Ben said. Jacob looked up from his laptop, his eyes spanning between them before he closed his laptop and stood as well.
“Guess I’ll take the teacher, then.”
Jesse looked between them. “And what am I going to do?”
“We’ll go back and forth, depending on where they are, what they’re doing.” She gave Jesse a somewhat sympathetic look, knowing how he’d take what she was about to say next. “We gotta find what this object does.”
He tried not to look too irritated but Jesse couldn’t hold back a sigh. “Right. Guess that’s important, too.”
Immediately feeling sympathetic, Ben stuck out his curled fist. “I know one way to settle this.” Claire mildly rolled her eyes.
“I’m getting Barbecue with whoever stays with me.”
“Tempting, but hard to combat the boredom of research. You want to throw in now, Ben, or try your luck?” Jesse said, holding out his fist with a grin.
Having some alone time with Claire, even if it was while they were still mid-job, was appealing enough. Having Southern-style barbecue also sounded fantastic. Ben held his hands up in defeat, trying not to grin on how good he was getting out of this deal. It almost felt like hustling.
“G’head and take it then, man. Have fun.”
Jesse beamed. Trust Ben to take boredom as long as it came with food. “Alright. So the plan is I just follow this guy until he doesn’t something fishy like kidnapping a kid?”
“Yep,” Ben said simply.
“Right. Could I borrow a phone? In case I need to reach you,” Jesse said, pointedly not looking at Jacob. Claire dug her phone out of her back pocket and tossed it Jesse’s way. Jacob looked between the three of them again with mild confusion, shifting his weight on his feet for a moment.
“Well, I’m gonna head out. Catchya on the flipside.”
“Yeah. Give Claire’s phone a ring if you see anything. We might cross paths if these two are more than just teacher-parent,” Jesse said, bobbing his eyebrows at Jacob. Jacob smirked slightly and chuckled, then gave Jesse a quick wink and wave before slipping out through the door.
***
About twenty minutes into tailing Allweather, Jesse realized he might have gotten the short end of the stick after all. That was when he texted Ben, and was told he was SOL and to keep his eyes on the target. An hour in he called. He managed to squeeze in five minutes of talk time before they told him to get back to it.
It was worse after it got dark. Jesse found himself spacing out and having to tell himself to watch. He wished he had coffee. One by one the lights went off in the house. Likely everyone going to sleep. He wondered how Jacob was doing with the teacher.
He was about to try calling Ben again when he saw movement at the side of the house. It was dark, but it looked like a figure pulling a tarp off of something. There was a gentle start of an engine and then a man on a moped pulled out of the drive, going right past Jesse. He had one guess who.
Quickly texting “on the move” to Ben, he started the car and followed Allweather, keeping his headlights off and staying well behind. Five seconds before he’d been knock-down bored but now his heart was hammering.
The phone beeped with an alert of an incoming text:
Keep on him. If anything happens, don’t hesitate.
‘Don’t hesitate’ to what? Jesse wanted to ask, but he tucked the phone in his pocket, eyes on Allweather.
The road got twisty, and a couple times Jesse was afraid he might have lost him in the effort not to be seen, but he always managed to catch up and saw quite clearly when Allweather turned into the long drive of what looked like some old plantation house.
Parking the car on the road, Jesse waited until Allweather was inside before getting out of the car and following. He shot Ben another text: Big old house, middle of nowhere, he’s inside.
There was a pause, then Ben’s message jumped up on the little viewscreen: Thank you, Channel 4 News. What are you waiting for?
Jesse gave a snort and tucked the phone away. Then he paced the perimeter. In the back, he saw candlelight in the window. Quiet and careful, he looked in. The large, once stately sitting room housed no furniture, only one or two lit candles scattered on the floor, lighting the feet of six children.
They all stood perfectly still, and in no particular order or place; like marionettes without their strings, little heads hung toward little chests, all dressed in pajamas, their hair mussed from sleep.
His stomach giving a flip, Jesse tried to peer into the corners of the room but didn’t see Allweather. Alright. Kids come first. Get them out and then deal with the shithead. Creeping to the backdoor, he found it unlocked and hurried in. The place was silent and he couldn’t so much as see the other end of the hall. The sitting room wasn’t hard to find, though.
“Hey,” he said quietly, taking the first kid’s shoulder and giving it a shake. The was pliable under his hand but didn’t look up or react at all. “Hey, c’mon, we gotta get you out of here.” He grabbed the next kid but still got no reaction. “Shit.”
“Who are you?” came a sudden voice behind him. All the children looked up in unison, their eyes glassy but their lips suddenly turned up in smiles.
The smiles were almost worse than the voice. Swallowing, Jesse turned slowly, afraid of what Allweather might do. The man was tall and looked like he could hold his own, but all he had in his hand was a pale flute. While Jesse had a gun tucked in the back of his jeans.
“Since you’re the one with a house full of missing kids, I think I should be asking the questions,” Jesse said evenly, hands at his sides.
A dark look fell over the man’s face. “You need to leave. Now.”
“Not going to happen, mate,” Jesse said, his hand reaching back to free his gun’s handle. “Now if you let these kids go, maybe we can talk.”
Before he was able to fully draw it, Allweather brought the pipe quickly to his lips. The room filled with the eerie sound of the flute’s music. All the children immediately looked at Jesse, their little expressions twisting into fury as they swarmed him. Jesse gave out a yelp, trying to twist away. Small, too-strong hands wrenched the gun from him, scratched at him, beat on him. Before he could pull in a breath, pain bloomed in his groin and he fell to his knees. They were pulling at him, tearing at him, and it finally pulled a scream from him.
“STOP!”
The scene was all too much like pressing pause on a movie. All the children screeched to a halt, arms and legs held in midair, their vacant eyes glued on Jesse. Allweather even stopped, momentarily stunned himself at the childrens’ reactions, before resuming much more aggressively. The children’s eyes immediately widened, their pupils dilating, before their hands came up to their heads and they cried out in pain.
Jesse rose to his feet, his eyes aflame. “Stop playing! Don’t move!” he roared at Allweather. The music cut out mid-note and Allweather stared at him, eyes flashing with anger and hate, the flute suspended past his lips.
Sneering, Jesse rubbed at a bite that had broken skin but was already starting to heal. With slow steps, he walked up to Allweather. “You might think you’re tough shit, taking out a bunch of kids. But whatever you are, I’m badder. Got it?” Knowing a response wouldn’t come, Jesse gave him a shove. Having been ordered not to move and with no way to stop himself, Allweather went into a full tumble and collapsed against the ground.
Scooping up his gun, Jesse pointed it at Allweather’s head as he spoke. “Alright. You can speak. But the only words I want to hear are how you’re doing it, why you’d kidnap kids, and how you’re so sorry and going to free them all right now.”
Allweather just sneered at him without saying a word. He remained immobile on the ground, the flutetip still between his lips.
Snatching the flute away, Jesse hit him across the face with the butt of the gun. Allweather’s head whipped to the side. “Y’know, I could do this the easy way, but I kind of like having to work for it,” Jesse said lightly, pressing the barrel between Allweather’s eyes. “Start talking if you want to keep a head to talk from.”
Allweather spat a sticky mouthful of blood before speaking. “I’m saving them from a world full of death and sin,” he said. “I give them joy. They give me their lives, and I set their souls free and without pain.”
Jesse’s grip tightened, his finger pressed against the trigger guard. “Right. And I’m sure you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart and you get nothing in return?”
“I’m doing God’s work, demon,” Allweather snarled out. “He lead me to the flute. I was meant to have it, to do His work.”
Jesse flinched, his eyes searching Allweather’s a moment, to find out how he knew. But then he shook himself. Allweather was a God nut; he probably thought everyone was a demon. “This conversation is already getting boring, so we’ll go with the easy way. Tell me how to free them,” he demanded.
Allweather let out a laugh that was bordering on sadistic. “They’re mine. They can’t be freed. They can only die.”
His expression twisting, Jesse just shook his head. “They’re not yours anymore.” He pulled the trigger. The gunshot sounded overloud in the small space, but nothing compared to the sound that followed: the ground all but shook with the force of six small bodies collapsing to the floor as one.
Jesse spun around, the gun dropping to the floor as his chest clenched. He fell to his knees, crawling to the first child. A little girl, her hair in pigtails, wearing a large t-shirt for pajamas. He grabbed at her neck and wrists, desperate for a pulse, but felt nothing as her wide eyes staring blankly out at him.
“No. No, c’mon.” He grabbed the next child, a boy, by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “He’s dead. You’re safe, you’re free.”
He went from body to body, each of them limp, lifeless, staring in the candlelight. Cringing away, he sat flush against the wall, staring at the scene. His chest was the only thing that moved, his breaths short and fast.