Claire Novak (theclearpath) wrote in spn_nextgen, @ 2011-08-10 20:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | 1x18 - mutilation is the sincerest form |
Episode 1x18: Mutilation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery (Part 1 of 3)
Getting groceries took surprisingly longer than he expected, and Ben found himself all but squirming as he pushed the little half-cart out through the doors and toward the car. He got all of five steps before he saw Jesse’s body on the ground, curled up at an awkward angle. It felt like all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs.
“Jesse!”
The cart forgotten, Ben raced toward him, crouching down and checking immediately for a pulse. It was weaker than it should have been, staving his panic by fractions. Ben shook the older man.
“Jess, c’mon, wake up! Wake up!”
Head lolling, Jesse gave a groan, his face squinching up as he brought a hand up to cover his eyes. “Fuck. Light.”
Ben finally took a full breath, his heart still racing as he helped Jesse sit up.
“You all right? Where’s Claire?”
Pressing a hand to his temple with a wince, Jesse shook his head, looking around. “Something got me from behind. She was headed to the bathroom.” He started that way before the words were out of his mouth, his steps a bit unsteady before Ben stopped him.
“You might have a concussion,” Ben said with concern. “Sit down a sec. I’ll go check.”
Jesse waved him off as he firmly walked towards the bathroom. “It’ll pass.” He had to find Claire first; then they could worry about what had just happened to him.
Ben scowled slightly in frustration as he followed a few steps behind, his hand within reach of both his gun in his side holster and the flask of holy water strapped to his thigh. The two men moved into the women’s bathroom within moments of each other, but the found it empty.
Jesse checked the two stalls, twice. Not good, not good, not good. His eyes stopped on the floor, feeling his stomach drop. He squatted down, opening the white take-out bag. “Shit. This was her lunch.”
Ben was out the door before Jesse even finished his sentence, running at full tilt back toward the shopping mart. Both places were small, and in both cases he shouted out Claire’s name, but there was no trace of her. The panic started flooding him again as he rushed back out, cellphone in hand and dialing Claire’s number. It rang four times, going straight to voicemail.
“No. No, no, no, no, no-- Fuck!”
When he got back to the car, he found Jesse leaning over the passenger seat, digging ferociously through his bag. He jerked back when he spotted Ben, getting to his feet. He didn’t need to ask if he’d found her.
“I...I think I know who got her. The demon.” Jesse’s face was pale.
Ben threw his fist into the side of the GTO with all the force of a battering ram, his hands fisting up into his hair as he curled into himself.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he shouted, the pain from his hand barely registering through the throes of his panic. He could feel himself hyperventilating as he quickly turned, grabbed the bags of food from the abandoned cart and threw them precariously into the back seat of the car.
“We gotta go, we gotta go--”
Jesse set a shaking hand on his shoulder, his eyes round. “We don’t know where to go. We can’t just--”
“THE HELL WE CAN’T!” Ben exploded. He was literally trembling with rage and fear. “We get on the phones, we call everyone we know, we fucking drive as fast as we can. It can’t have ridden her out, so they’re on the road, and they’ve only got a twenty minute head-start at best, so get in the fucking car!”
“We don’t know which way!” Jesse’s voice hitched. “Just-- Just stop a minute, I’ll talk to someone who can help us.”
“Either get in the car,” Ben said, his voice suddenly dropping in volume to barely above a growl, “or I’m leaving your ass here.”
Jesse took his shoulders, swallowing hard as he met his eyes. “If you go in the wrong direction, it’s only going to make it harder. Either way, you’re not driving like this.”
The fact that Jesse was being so calm and collected about what was happening only seemed to infuriate Ben even more. He threw Jesse’s arms off him roughly, jabbing the keys into the trunk and opening it before he managed to find the box containing their fake IDs. Grabbing the first one that looked like a badge, he turned around and booked it back toward the shopping mart.
Trying not to feel hurt, Jesse slid into the car, shutting the door behind him. Closing his eyes, he said, “Ruth, I really, really need you right now. C-can you come?”
He’d barely finished the thought before the blond materialized behind him, her pale eyes wide with confusion and shock.
“Has something else--” she stopped herself before she finished, looking around the car.
[ No no no no not here not here not supposed to be here too close too close -- ]
Jesse instinctively grabbed her arm. “Too close to what?” he snapped, harsher than he meant to be. She froze up like a rabbit in his grasp, her eyes nearly the size of saucers. The anxiety and fear radiated off of her.
“People here. Too many people, and hunters.”
“The hunters are my friends, they won’t hurt you,” he said firmly. “But one of them got taken, by a demon. Do you know anything about that? Can you-- Can you sense him?”
[ Not him not him not him not him ]
“No,” she breathed out, still tense. “Nothing here now. Remnants, but not him.” The remaining color in her face faded. “Wouldn’t come if he were here.”
[ He’d kill me stone dead can’t let him find me can’t let them find me don’t wanna die but I would if you wanted me to ]
“I’m not asking you to die for me,” he said firmly, already feeling the headiness that came with her emotions rushing at him. “Just, he took my friend, Ruth. They’re going to hurt her. Can you help me find her? Is there any place around here they might go?”
“Not here--” [ Too many people ] “--the nearest place is gone--” [ burning burning so many dead screaming without sound ] “--two months now, at least.” [ so much confusion flames leaping higher angels coming run run run get away while the watchers are gone ] “The only places I’ve ever known were Nursery and Academy.” [ Clifton Clifton Clifton don’t go there don’t go back stay away run run run run run-- ]
Her panic caught in his throat and for a moment he forgot to breathe. “Nowhere? It could be farther away. They’d have to drive. Just give me a direction, that’s all I need.”
The girl shuddered like a leaf, then suddenly her head turned sharply to the left and she sucked in a harsh breath.
“Let me go--”
[ No no no no no he’s coming he’s coming run run run get away have to run have to run can’t let him see me run run run-- ]
“Tell me where I should go and I’ll let you,” Jesse said, his expression hard.
For the first time since he grabbed her, she pulled against him, her eyes growing bright with fearful tears.
[ No no no no no no no-- ] the words continued on like a beat beneath her rushed words, encompassed in her fear.
“Please, Jess--” she pleaded. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Haven’t seen it--”
[ too fast like lightning never strikes in the same place twice race across the continent then hides she’ll find me too he’ll find me they’ll find me can’t let them find me gotta run gotta run can’t stay wanna stay love you love you love you ]
Then her words rang with her power, made strong with her terror: “Let me go!”
The words brushed over him like a spider’s web. His grip tightened on her arm. He could feel the fear coursing through her, but that didn’t matter. They had to find Claire. “Tell me which way to go!”
“I don’t know!” she wailed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ben’s form could be seen racing back to the car at full speed.
Jesse’s expression twisted but he finally let her go. “Fine.”
She was gone again in less than an eyeblink. Ben threw the car door open, his expression no less strained than when he’d ran off.
“Who--”
“Ruth,” Jesse said shortly, not looking at him. He felt ill. “She healed your feet before. I thought she could help. I was wrong.”
Ben shoved the keys into the ignition and twisted them hard, the car roaring to life. He didn’t even bother explaining himself as he gunned off through the shopping mart exit, the tires squealing from the sudden displacement.
“I can’t even handle that right now, man,” Ben said in a rush.
Shifting away from him, Jesse leaned on his hand, staring out the window. Useless and a bully, great. He had one more person - thing - he wanted to talk to, but he had a feeling Ben wouldn’t take it any better if he asked to go chat with the demon that had snatched Claire.
“It was a man and a woman,” the younger man continued on, eyes glues on the road ahead of them. He didn’t even signal as he got onto the highway entrance and crossed three lanes into the fast lane. Two different cars blared their horns at him. “They drove off in a police cruiser. Get on the line and call Lucas so we can see if he can activate the GPS in her phone.”
Nodding and feeling foolish for not having thought of it himself, Jesse pulled out his phone and started dialing.
****
Consciousness didn’t come back for Claire all at once. Like a slow tide rolling in, the first thing she was even remotely aware of was movement. The subtle lean in her equilibrium as well as the vibration of an engine and an uneven road paved the way to the opening up of the sounds that surrounded her. A distant song played on a radio, turned down. Other cars rushed by.
For an instant, she automatically assumed she was just laying down in the back of the GTO, but the next second, the dull ache in the side of her neck triggered the memory of its sharp origin. A body had pressed against her from behind in the truck stop bathroom, pinned her to the sink and jabbed something sharp and burning into her neck.
Claire opened her eyes and tried to suck in a breath, but it only collapsed the duct tape across her lips. Her hands twitched hard against the plastic zip tie that kept them together at her back. Full consciousness set in, finally, with a flood of barely suppressed panic on its heels.
“All right there, sweetheart?” came the tall, English vowels of the driver. A slim hand rose to adjust the rearview mirror in her direction, green eyes catching her form before wrinkling in the corners. “Sorry for the precautions, but I had to be sure you didn’t try and end the party early.”
That voice put a proverbial pick of ice into the back of Claire’s skull. Wide-eyed, she glared through the wire mesh that separated her from the front seat of what was obviously a police cruiser, onto the back of the driver’s head, then into the mirror. Not happening not happening not happening, the only cognitive thought that rushed through her head in those first few moments, all until the sharp ache in her shoulders brought her back to reality.
It was happening. A darted look around the back seat showed she was alone. Ben and Jesse-- where were they? Were they jumped? Where they dead? No. Claire’s eyes closed tight, her nostrils flaring with breath above the tape. She refused to entertain the thought, and blocked it out by grunting in effort, slamming her feet against the door.
“I never thought you were going to leave that blasted hospital,” the demon continued on, sounding both bored and annoyed. “And when the lot of you warded that hotel room the night you finally left -- Lord, that was a pain in my side. But I finally gotcha. It’s only too bad I couldn’t ride you out, that would make this whole mess so much faster. It’ll be at least two days before we can get where we need to.” Her red-painted lips upturned in a slow smile. “Unfortunately that means no bathroom breaks and no food or water. That’s the trouble with tight schedules, though.”
The only sign that Claire was listening - however badly she didn’t want to - was a slight hesitation between hard, desperate kicks. The hair in her eyes barely masked the swirl of emotion, laced by equal parts rage and apprehension.
Two days. She had two days to get out, get away, get back. Though it hadn’t been spelled out, on some deep level of understanding, Claire knew what the destination at the end of this ‘trip’ meant. The British demon in the driver’s seat had tried it before.
Claire gritted something foul into the tape, and kicked at the door again. Visions of mindless slaves - vessels - with scars around their ears came back like nightmares, fueling the power she put into her legs. If she was going to get out, it was going to be in the first day, while she was still strong--before the impending starvation and thirst had a chance to do its work.
The demon sighed loudly. “Honestly, you’re only going to hurt yourself doing that. Don’t waste your energy. They’ve made quite a few improvements on these vehicles since I was last here; you’re not about to get out anytime soon.”
In the back of her mind, Claire knew the demon was right, but she gave the handle one last good kick anyway. Her chest heaved, not from spent energy so much as everything else. She’d let her guard down. She hadn’t been watching. She was waiting. The whole time, she was waiting. Claire let her head fall back against the lower arm rest, hard plastic that smelled like oil and Lysol. Her eyes started to burn from behind.
“That’s it.” The demon chuckled, drumming her fingers on the wheel. “We’re almost through West Virginia now. I’ll call out the states we go through so you’re not left too bored.”
The hunter in the back glared razor blades at the rear view mirror, her jaw set like granite. Ignoring the pull to her shoulders, Claire tensed and angled herself more square to the driver’s seat, coiled up, and slammed her boots against the wire set barely an inch from the woman’s head. The car swerved slightly from the contact, but the demon only laughed louder.
“So feisty. I can see why my master was so adamant we take you; you’ll give us a definite upper hand in the future.”
The fuck I will, was Claire’s automatic answer, but it dissolved into the duct tape. She took her frustration out with yet another kick, and a snarl that scraped deep in her throat. This ‘Master’ could only be that gray-eyed demon that attached himself to Jesse in Maine, who was still manipulating him. Again, her thoughts shot straight to both of them--Jesse and Ben.
I’m so sorry, she thought automatically, again shutting her eyes as her feet fell down to the floor. Claire sat up and leaned toward the door, scraping her cheek on the window. Maybe she could catch a corner of the tape and peel it off.
****
The conversation with Lucas had been a short and painful one. It was hard not to go into details about what happened, but with Jesse uncharacteristically quiet in the seat, Ben had no other choice but to direct the flow of conversation. It was going to take at least twenty minutes for the man in Las Vegas to hack into the system and activate the GPS in Claire’s phone.
Assuming, of course, that it hadn’t been disposed of. Claire normally kept the phone on silence unless she was expecting a call, and even then there was no guarantee that the demon who had snatched her hadn’t frisked her.
While they were waiting for Luke’s call, Ben had called Izzy and asked her to send out feelers through her connections. It was a wide net, but there was no guarantee anyone would bite or even make the effort to go looking for her. There was, however, at least one hunter who would no doubt drop what she was doing and search about as hard as they were planning to. Ben felt his chest constrict as he thumbed the number from the contact rolladex. It rang twice before there was an answer:
“Shaggy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Just hearing Kat’s voice was enough to make Ben’s stomach twist a little harder.
“Where are ya, Kat?”
“Illinois. Why, what’s wrong?”
Ben took a breath, then let it out.
“Claire’s been snatched.”
“What--?”
“We were at a rest stop, just getting onto 270--”
“How the hell did this happen!?” came the snarl on the other end of the line. Kat’s volume had risen considerably. Most likely she’d had to get away from whatever company she’d found herself part of in order to yell at him properly. Ben swallowed around the knot in his throat.
“We’re chasin’ after her--”
“That right? You know where she was taken?”
“No.”
“So you could be chasin’ a ghost for all you know!”
“Kat, I called Lucas and he’s working on it.”
“Shut up. You find a hotel and you park right now. You do this right, boy. Driving all night ain’t gonna do you anything aside from waste your gas and leave you high and dry. Who took her?”
Ben flipped the turn signal to get into the exit lane, his body moving on automatic. Misery saturated every part of him. Jesse sat up, looking at Ben for the first time in miles but not saying anything.
“We’re thinkin’ a demon we’ve been tracking for a while. He was behind my sister getting snatched a couple months back.”
“Do you know the demon’s name?”
Ben nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Belial,” he breathed. That got a frown from Jesse. “Or Abbey. Abbey’s another demon working for him.”
“What’s the threat level? Maybe you could summon one, pin it down and make it talk.”
Ben shook his head unnecessarily again. Belial would kill him the moment he laid eyes on him. Abbey, though--
“Could maybe get Abbey, if that’s even her real name. But I’ve never done a summoning before.”
The huntress gave a humorless laugh. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day, Shaggy. I’ll text you the spell and the supply list, but you’re on your own for tracking them down. Just make sure you lay down a devil’s trap before you start. Can’t have you getting killed.”
The line beeped an incoming call and a quick glance showed Luke’s name on the faceplate.
“Gotta go, that’s Luke. Call ya in an hour.”
Lucas didn’t even bother saying hello. “Got a lock on her phone. It’s not far from you, though you overshot it a bit. You’ll want to turn back around on 270 and get off headed southwest on highway 109, or Old Hundred Road. After that, it gets a bit complicated. You got a GPS?”
Ben angled the question -- “Jess, can you pull up your GPS?” -- away from the phone before replying to Lucas: “Is it moving?”
Jesse immediately had his phone out, and Ben thumbed on the speaker option before sipping it into the dashboard dock.
“No, it’s been still long as I’ve been looking at it. Ready? Latitude, 39.227599144403285. Longitude, -77.40692138671875.”
Lucas recited the numbers slowly, and once they were typed into Jesse’s phone the device gave a little jingling-beep to tell them it had been accepted before spitting out directions.
“Thanks, Luke,” Ben said. His expression was tight. “While I got ya, there’s one other thing I need you to do, if you can. I know we’re askin’ a hell of a lot from ya lately--”
“Shut up, man, it’s what I do,” Lucas said softly. “And if there’s anything I can do to help you get back Claire, I’ll do it.”
Ben felt a flicker of relief deep beneath the heavy weight of his worry for Claire. “Thanks, man. Okay, so... we’re pretty sure it’s demons who took her. And I think since they’re driving, there’s gonna be activity along a path leading somewhere. Checkpoints at gas stations, y’know? If you could maybe start checking for that, and get some of your contacts on the line that might be in the area...”
There was a hitch of breath and silence before Lucas said, “Okay. I’ll get the word out. Can’t say it will be very helpful, because it’s a bit of a long shot, but I guess we thrive on those.”
“Any trail is better than chasing ghosts,” Ben replied, borrowing Kat’s angry words. “Thank you, Luke. For everything.”
“No problem, man. You need anything or find anything, give me a call, alright?”
“Will do. End call,” Ben spoke. The line went silent, and Ben’s foot pressed a little harder on the pedal as they headed off in the directions the GPS sent them in.
It was a while before Jesse spoke up, cautiously. “What is ‘Belial’?”
Ben visibly tensed up a little. “That’s his name. The lead demon.”
Jesse hissed in a breath, looking over at him. “The demon? How did you find that out?”
Ben kept his eyes pointed forward, the tension never leaving his frame. “An angel told me.”
“When did you talk to an angel?” Jesse said, half snapping, half fearful. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh yeah, because I’ve had a lot of time to talk about what just happened to me!” Ben shouted back at him.
Jesse flinched. “I wasn’t... When?”
“It doesn’t matter,” the younger man growled out. They were getting closer to the coordinates Luke had given them.
Quiet as he watched out the window, Jesse bit his lip hard. He couldn’t hold it back, though. “Were they after me?”
“No,” Ben said shortly. “He was making sure I transitioned through my coma.” Apparently the henna tattoo didn’t prevent his mind from being invaded.
That got another sharp look from Jesse. “Why?”
Ben kept his eyes on the road, looking for some sign of Claire. The roadside was nearly empty, but there was no sign of any buildings. Cold dread filled him. Please don’t let her be in a ditch. God, please, I’ll do anything.
“I don’t know,” came the distant reply.
Jesse pursed his lips but didn’t say anything, looking at his cell phone. “Here, mate, stop.”
Ben pulled over sharply, breaking so hard that they both jerked forward. He threw the door open and leapt out of the car.
“Claire!?”
Yanking on the parking break, Jesse hopped out, looking around then back down at the phone. It said right there, but there was nothing. No place for them to hide Claire. His stomach rolled and he started kicking through the grass off the embankment. Not three steps in, he crossed over a set of tire tracks in the mud. Someone had obviously skidded off the road, stopped sharp, then peeled off in the same direction.
The sun glinted off something caked in dirt just inside the disturbed glass line. A foot beyond it, a large patch of weeds had been disturbed, flattened by a scuffle.
“Ben!” Jesse yelled, snatching up the cellphone. He wiped off the dirt, feeling sick. It was Claire’s. Ben was at his side in three long strides, his face still pale in spite of not finding Claire dead in a ditch.
“C’mon,” he said, his voice low as he turned and headed back for the car. It was back on Lucas to find them a trail.
****
It’d taken an forever to discreetly pry up a tiny corner of the tape over her lips, without the sharp eyes in the cruiser’s rear view mirror catching on. Claire sat slumped in the hard plastic back seat, most of her face purposefully hidden by her hair. She moved achingly slow, drawing the side of her cheek on the seat only a little at a time. Bit by bit, the tape released more of her skin, then the corner of her lips.
She had to fight her own impulse to do it any faster, even concentrating on the deep burn in her shoulder joints from their unrelenting strain. It got more difficult as the time and the miles rolled on, but eventually, she was able to move her lips--and speak. On her first breath, she wasted no time.
“Exorcizamus te,” Claire whispered through her teeth just under her breath, and staring through her hair at the back of the demon’s head. “Omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas--”
The car screeched to a sudden stop. If they’d been on the high way, no doubt there would have been an accident, but Claire had noticed that they were taking the back roads in the midst of her slow process. The force of the sudden breaking sent her lurching forward, her head knocking hard against the grating. With a hard grunt, pain shot through her temple as skin scraped on the mesh. A warm tickle crawled down her brow bone and across her cheek, smearing as she braced a foot on the back of the seat.
“Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii!” There was no reason to hide it now. Claire’s voice was harsh and growled with hatred--the incantation picking up speed. “Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!”
The door was thrown open, and moments later hers was also. Before she even had a chance to react, the demon yanked her out of the car by her hair, then slammed her head against the metal corner near the glass with significant force.
The next thing she knew was the smell of apple pie.
Claire opened her eyes; they widened as the familiar beige and maroon decor of her grandmother’s kitchen came into focus. There was no squad car, no demon; her hands weren’t wretched behind her back, but comfortably set on the formica table on which she remembered eating Cheerios with banana slices every Saturday morning until she was ten. The sound of the evening news played in the background, filtering through the warm autumn sunlight that lit the curtains over the sink.
Claire sat back against the chair, breathing in the comfort of fruit and cinnamon and her grandfather’s cigar, trying to figure out if she’d just kicked off. That’s when she noticed the slender figure in the corner of her eye, standing by the oven.
“Hello, Claire.”
The angel’s presence was soothing and familiar, taking the shape of the same woman she’d seen in Indiana, then again in Chackbay.
“Kadiel.” Claire knew the voice better than the face. Seeing her supposed guardian did not calm the inkling that she was dead. She stared at the angel, unblinking and expectant. “...why are we here?”
“The henna mark you put on yourself has blocked my ability to find you,” Kadiel answered gently, moving around to sit at the table. Her slender, long-fingered hands moved across the tabletop and took hers, her skin cool to the touch. “I sensed your distress. I had to wait until you weren’t conscious to contact you.”
Claire swallowed, watching the connection between their hands. The sigils she spoke of weren’t for hiding from Kadiel--but from another. She looked up to the other woman’s warm, brown eyes, wondering how much she had to do with that particularly hellish fiasco. But the phrase ‘weren’t conscious’ rang a few bells in her head. It was sobering, remembering where her actual body was at the moment. Amitiel’s dream could wait.
“You know where they’re taking me?”
“No.” There was genuine concern and pity in her eyes. “The demon orchestrating this is very old, and very clever. He’s made at least a dozen different locations not too unlike whichever one he’s taking you to. I have no idea which one, and I’m not even certain how many of them are decoys. The very way he’s blockaded them forces our eyes away, so we are only given a vague generalization of where.”
Claire’s shoulders fell a little, but she didn’t take her eyes off Kadiel. So much for her first knee-jerk hope that she could warn the boys. Her lips twitched, almost asking if they were alright. Then, she remembered the moment in Chackbay--the angel’s reaction to Jesse.
She rolled her lips instead, looking around the warmth of their surroundings. “Not that I don’t appreciate the little vacation,” Claire’s voice was honest, but strained. “But why contact me if you don’t know where they’re going with me?”
Kadiel’s chest rose and fell, an unnecessary movement, but one showing the angel’s inner struggle.
“Because you are the only eyes we have.” She swallowed. “You must be strong, Claire. They won’t let you escape easily. I would be able to join with you were you not blocked and you were willing to accept me, but that option isn’t on the table. I know your heart isn’t ready.”
The words had a familiar ring to them that soured in Claire’s stomach, but not the way it had in Amitiel’s vision. This had the taint of guilt to it, and she wasn’t sure why.
“So what is on the table,” she asked quietly, opting to forgo going too deep into that guilt. There were more pressing matters. She could see it in the woman’s eyes.
“If you are able to get into their stronghold, to survive and pull away long enough to tell us where they are, we could shake them all the way down to their very foundation.” The angel’s voice took on a stronger tone. “The blockade would fall. Our cherubim would be able to find the abominations. This war would dissolve before it even started.”
Claire was quiet, locked in the angel’s gaze and her own thoughts. Her heart leapt at the chance to diffuse the memories of the future in her head, at the option of a different path than the other angel ever suggested. Her shoulders shifted, a deep breath inflated her chest, then she slowly let it out.
“Guess if I’m going there anyway,” she muttered, humorlessly and more to herself than anything. Her blue eyes fell back to the table top. “What do I have to do?”
“You must let them lead you to the lion’s den,” Kadiel told her.
Claire’s brows arched slowly. “And then?”
“And then find a way to escape.” Her eyes were deep with concern. “If you are able to break the sigil on yourself somehow, I will be able to aide you, but only once you are outside of the blockade.”
Again, Claire went quiet, her eyes focused on nothing in particular, somewhere in the space between them. The demon that had nearly pulled her arm out of its socket back in Maine clearly had a similar intention this time around. At least a dozen locations... all of them hidden. I can see why my master was so adamant we take you. Claire moved her hand from the table to wipe at her face. Her stomach twisted as her thoughts pieced together.
“They’re taking me to be with the other vessels, aren’t they.”
There was a stretch of silence, and then a soft, “Yes.” Claire closed her eyes.
“I had that feeling...” She let her voice trail off, since there wasn’t much else she could say. Two days in the back of a cop car without food or water was going to be the least of her worries. And even if she somehow escaped en route, the problem still existed.
And it wasn’t going to get better.
“Any advice?” Claire asked with an almost breathless laugh that contained no humor. It was nervous, and matched the watery look in her eyes when they set on Kadiel once again--frightened, but flying in the face of that fact. The angel squeezed her hands and didn’t let go.
“Have faith.” The angel gave her a faint smile, her eyes filled with hope and confidence. “The pieces are falling into place. It will not be easy, but we will prevail. You will prevail.”
Kadiel’s final sentence echoed in Claire’s subconscious as it faded from the bright comfort of her memory, back into the darkness and ache of her reality. She was in the back of the cruiser again, a new layer of tape around her mouth (and around her head, bunching and pulling at her hair). The smell of blood caked across her cheek rivaled that of the plastic seat.
She rolled stiffly so that the roof of the car filtered into her gaze, between the white sparks of a mild concussion. Beneath her, all ten fingertips had gone numb from the pinch.
“Next time you try anything, I’ll crash the car and leave you to burn alive in the wreckage,” the demon hissed out. “You are replaceable. The only reason you’re even alive is because my master likes you. Be thankful of that.”
Among the many words that could’ve - and did - come to Claire’s mind, one stuck out the most: Irony.
She closed her eyes and fought the sick feeling in her gut that went with the stabbing light of passing headlights. Puking into a gag would be almost as desirable as burning to death in a wreck.
Claire was quiet after that, shifting only enough to get the blood back to her fingers and if at all possible, attempt to sleep. She wanted to go back to her grandmother’s kitchen, whether Kadiel was there with more words of encouragement or not. She wanted to smell that apple pie and the hint of cigar, but most of all--she wanted Ben and Jesse to be there waiting.
****
Ben seemed to be trying to make up for not knowing where they were going by driving there as fast as he could. Jesse didn’t comment. It wasn’t like he was any help, and it least they had a general direction.
He’d fallen into silence, hardly saying two words the whole trip. There was one more thing he could do, one more person--thing he could talk to. He didn’t think Claire would approve, but that didn’t matter as much as getting her back.
The only problem was Ben. Jesse immediately dismissed the idea of just popping out to see the demon without saying anything. He didn’t know how long he would be, and Ben was panicking enough. If he told Ben everything, though, that might not lessen the panic any. He might even try to stop Jesse from going. To be honest, he was nervous about trying to come back to a moving car again. If they could stop, just for a half hour or so, he could chase the demon down.
As if hearing his thoughts, Ben pulled off the next exit, turning into a gas station.
“What’s wrong?” Jesse said quickly.
“Running on fumes,” Ben muttered, his voice low and tired as he pushed the door open and slid through it. “Gotta fill up, drain out and caffeinate. I’ll be back in fifteen.”
“Wait.” Jesse’s voice was sharper than he meant, his throat seizing in a panic. He tried to swallow. “I...I have to tell you something. There’s--there’s someone else I could talk to about finding Claire.”
Ben stopped at the other side the door, slouching to look in through the open window. He looked at Jesse with dark circles under his eyes, exhausted but expectant.
Jesse focused on the windshield as he said quietly, “I could go talk to the demon.”
“How?” Ben countered, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Jesse still didn’t look at him. “It’s complicated. And I’ll tell you everything later. Just...now we should find Claire. And I know where to find the demon.”
Ben shook his head. “It’s too risky.” He swallowed hard, his eyes briefly dropping and his voice cracking, “Claire wouldn’t want that.” He moved around to the car, swiping his card through the reader before lifting the nozzle and pushing it into the gas socket. Flipping up the latch so it auto-filled, he said, “We’ll get the supplies to summon Abbey first thing in the morning when the shops open.”
Sinking lower in his chair, Jesse practically whispered, “He won’t hurt me. It’ll be safe. We can get Abbey in the morning either way, I just...”
Ben stared at him through the passenger window, his expression dark and unreadable before he finally spoke: “Why are you even asking me? I thought you did whatever you wanted?”
Jesse’s lips parted but nothing came out. It felt like everything inside him had turned to stone and he was just waiting for his skin to follow suit. Eyes dropping to his knees, he stayed silent. Ben returned the silence, straightening up. He licked his lips and took a breath to speak, but simply dropped his head and shook it, then turned in the direction of the little gas station’s storefront. Jesse waited until the door closed behind Ben before wiping at his eyes. That was exactly it, wasn’t it? He did whatever he wanted without thinking, and now it led to Ben in a coma and Claire getting kidnapped. All because he was too damn selfish. And right now he wanted to go after that demon, almost more than anything in the world.
But not more than he loved Ben.
Sniffing hard and wiping his eyes one more time, Jesse was still there when Ben got back.
***
It was dark again when Claire woke with a startled muffle into the tape around her mouth, jarred back into consciousness by a noise so loud, her first panicked thought was crash. But she wasn’t suddenly engulfed in spilled gasoline or flames. There was moisture in the air, in the wind that pushed through the cruiser, since something had opened the door. It was raining sheets, and the loud noise had been a peal of thunder.
Strong arms grabbed her around the middle, throwing her over a tall shoulder before steadily marching through the rain. In less than ten wide steps they were under cover again, the doors thrown open by an unknown force. Even as she was taken inside, distant screams of pain met her ears.
“Took you long enough,” a gruff male voice called out.
“They were in Maryland. I got back as fast as I could.”
“Whatever,” came the sharp retort. “Stick her in processing with the others.”
The enslaved vessel delayed only a moment before moving off again. Claire could feel every step taken beneath her like separate punches to the gut. The water in her hair, even mixed with dried blood, was its own form of torment; it’d been almost two days, maybe more from what she could tell. Her throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, and the hunger pangs had started to spread into her joints.
But all she could do was steel her stomach with each step. Her eyes were wide under the veil of hair, finding every detail she could.
Six steps to a corner. A hallway--with doors. Doors at measured increments. ...four, five, six-- Another scream muddled by the walls interrupted her thinking. For the moment, Claire closed her eyes and bit back the wave of nausea that came with it.
They traveled down another hallway, down a flight of stairs, and four doors over before the vessel stopped. The door was opened, and Claire unceremoniously dumped inside it. The horrible stench of unwashed skin and waste rushed toward her as the door was firmly shut and locked from the outside. Never before had she been so thankful for the sharp crack of her hip and shoulder on the hard floor; the pain was good and distracting, because she had never wanted to throw up so badly in her entire life.
It took a while before she could do anything besides force herself to breathe. When the waves finally started to pass, Claire rolled stiffly onto both knees and sat back on her heels. The movement cut the plastic tie around her wrists into the grooves it’d already worked into her skin. Warmth seeped into her palm after a sharp pinch that let her know the wound was open again. It barely registered.
Her concentration was fixed on the sound of movement and breathing not too far off.
“Fuck, we could have gone for it,” a male voice uttered, but a woman cut him off.
“Shut up, they’ll hear you.”
“Let ‘em hear!” he snarled. “What else are they gonna do other than kill me! Fucking do it already, you cowards! It stinks like a sewer in here! Don’t you know what long-term exposure to methane gas’ll do to a person!?”
Claire tried to shake the hair out of her eyes, but the movement made the room spin. She was still concussed; even the very dim light of what was apparently a storage room scraped at the back of her eyes. They closed for another moment; her head hung heavy between her shoulders.
Get up. The thought echoed faintly through her mind, riding diminishing waves of weakness. Claire clenched her hands into fists and gnashed her teeth, then rolled her shoulders back with enough momentum to get to her feet, where she wavered. Breaths from the effort cut through her nose, flaring her nostrils.
“Open the fucking door!”
“David, shut your damn mouth!” another man cried.
The man called David only shouted louder. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”
“New girl, if you have any strength in you at all, can you please kick David in the stupid balls so he’ll shut the hell up before he gets them to come back?” the second man snarled out. “I’d do it myself, but my ankle is busted.”
Someone in the room started crying. The sounds behind Claire had been as ominous as the stench, and just as heavy. Even after her equilibrium returned, she’d been reluctant to turn around.
Swallowing the taste of bile in an already rancid throat, her boots scuffed the dirty floor as she slowly whirled to face the other prisoners. A handful of them, filthy and in various states of obvious abuse. Claire’s eyes briefly dulled before she blinked the sting away.
“Jesus, they duct-taped her mouth!?” David gasped, his voice taking on a tone of renewed outrage. The only light coming into the room was from the crack beneath the door, but apparently the occupants were well used to it by now.
“Shut up and help her, you idiot!” the woman from earlier commanded. David limped forward, leaning in close.
“Sorry, I just--” he shrugged his shoulders and gave her a wane smile, then lipped at the corner of the duct-tape on her mouth until he caught it in his teeth. Claire closed her eyes against the second horrendous churn in her stomach with the disturbed air that surrounded him; she bore down on her tongue with her teeth to keep the sick feeling in check until he pulled back. She turned away to help; the gritty noise in her throat was a direct result of bits of skin and hair leaving with the tape.
Not even a breath later, Claire half-stepped back and crumpled against the wall, heaving up the contents of her stomach--which was barely enough to spit.
“If you could kindly direct your vomit to the far left corner--”
“David, so help me God, if you say ANOTHER WORD--” the woman cried out shrilly.
“Everyone just shut up!”
That voice belonged to someone much younger. On cue, the room went dead quiet, save for the quiet crying. Claire spit the bad taste out of her mouth, simply content to breathe without having to suffer the smell for a moment, but the youthful voice that was still echoing in her ears was very sobering.
“You don’t want the silence,” Claire finally muttered, her voice hoarse and burning in her throat. “They do.” Her eyes were adjusting better; they swept the hobbled, broken figures against the wall, finally settling on David. He was obviously the latest one before her. He had the life in his eyes the others had started to lose.
The younger voice belonged to a girl who might have just hit puberty. She leaned against another girl -- the one who was sobbing quietly. The injured man sat midway between the right wall, his leg propped up on what appeared to be a busted up coffee can, its contents long-since gone. A woman sat next to him, her fair hair dirty and mussed with her face against her knees. On the opposite wall was another woman, the coffee-colored skin of her legs mottled with deep bruises.
“What d’you mean, they want the silence?” David pressed, the whites of his eyes unnaturally bright in comparison to his dark complexion.
Claire swallowed hard. She had the unfair advantage of having seen the end result to this assembly-line torment. She just hadn’t anticipated having to explain it to a group who’d already started living it--who she doubted she’d be able to save.
“Because of your bloodline, they brought you here to break you,” she continued on slowly, pressing her back to the wall to take the strain off her shoulders. Her wrists were still bleeding fresh every time she moved her hands. “They want you as slaves; the ones they’re able to get to that point--they don’t hear. They don’t speak. I’ve seen it.”
A heavy silence fell by the time Claire finished speaking. Then the woman on the left wall also started to cry, her voice breaking as she started speaking a long string of Spanish: “Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino. Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo--”
“How?” David pressed, taking a step closer. “How do you know? There’s others that speak; maybe they just don’t because there’s nothing worth sayin’--”
Claire watched him for something solid to keep her focus, but she didn’t answer immediately. How could she? Because I do just didn’t seem like an answer that would satisfy any of them. She sighed quietly, keeping David’s shadowed features in her gaze.
“I’ve been hunting these ‘others’ for almost ten years.”
Before she could add more, the door suddenly opened again. The same tall vessel who had carried Claire in entered, and everyone -- including David -- pulled back. The crying girl openly sobbed. But it was the woman speaking Spanish that the vessel went for, hefting her up bodily by her right arm. She fought back as brutally as she could, digging her heels into the floor.
“No, por favor, ten piedad!” she begged, her voice high and gasping as she shook her head violently, but the vessel remained oblivious and simply moved to lift her over his shoulder. “¡Por favor! Dios, sálvame!”
Claire’s stomach lurched as a million urges shot through her brain; a fight instinct that combined with compassion and pride flared in her veins, and she stiffened, coiled before the strike. But she was weak, dizzy, and nearly blinded by the light that spilled in from the open door. Before she knew it, the silent vessel slammed his hand into her shoulder when she got too close. David, then the wall stopped her fall before the door pulled shut. Terrified Spanish faded into the distance.
She’d only felt so helpless and useless one other time in her life: the day she found her mother in the bathtub.
“Her name was Maite,” the young woman said quietly. “She’d been here the longest.”
Claire struggled to right herself on her knees; the force of the fall had every joint in her body burning with ache, and the darkness in the room was spinning. She closed her eyes against it, hanging heavily over her lap.
“Assist Maite, O Lord our God,” Claire’s voice was weak and tight with breath, but spilled a prayer she’d known since before she was tall enough to reach for the Bible on her father’s desk. “--and defend her evermore by the might of Thy Holy Cross in whose honor Thou makest us rejoice... In Christ, our Lord, Amen.” She pulled in a hard breath, forcing the burn of tears back down her throat, and started reciting the plead for protection again.
The two girls’ voices joined in where they sat, the girl on the left’s words broken occasionally with sobs. Midway through, the injured man added his voice to the prayer. By the time Claire started the third repeating, even David was praying along.
***
Sleep was impossible, at least for him. Jesse stood in the middle of the hotel room, staring down at Ben’s naked form curled on the bed. He had his back to Jesse. All Jesse wanted to do was go on a walk, but he couldn’t without Ben. He walked around to the other side of the bed to face him, but Ben’s back was to him again. He walked quickly back, and again, but no matter where he moved or how fast, Ben always had his back to him.
He heard the click of the door latch and spun around just in time to see long, blond hair disappear through.
“Claire!” he shouted, sprinting through the door and right into thick woods. He caught another glance at her hair as she ducked around a tree, running from him. He didn’t slow down. “Claire! Claire, stop!”
“She can’t.”
A tiny voice echoed off the trees, off the fog, off the very darkness that surrounded him before becoming solid. Right behind him, an adolescent girl in a Catholic school uniform stood on a log. Her yellow hair was pinned back at one side, but otherwise swallowed her small shoulders.
Jesse’s breathe caught as he looked at the girl, but he quickly turned away towards the spot Claire had disappeared from view. “Why? She has to come back.”
“She wants to,” the girl-version of Claire responded after a short pause. Her voice had fallen. “But she can’t yet.”
“But you’re here.” Jesse’s mouth tightened as he looked at the girl. “You’re Claire, aren’t you?”
She just stared at him for a moment, her fingertips playing nervously with the pleats of her skirt.
“I was.”
Jesse frowned. “What are you now? A ghost? A memory?”
The girl looked behind her as if she heard something in the woods, but seemed to think better of it. She sighed quietly, setting herself down on the log and folding her hands on her skirt. Her shoes didn’t even reach the ground.
“I’m the Prom she never went to; the entrance exam to Weslyan still in its manila folder. I’m the boy she didn’t meet in the English class she never enrolled in, and the wedding dress she never fell in love with.”
Jesse’s lips parted, a sharp wrench in his chest. He hesitated only a moment before sitting next to her. “Claire wanted those things?”
“There were a lot of things she wanted,” she replied, watching him with a vague sadness. “But those weren’t part of the plan.”
Jesse was instantly on his feet. “Don’t talk about plans. There isn’t a Plan. There are things people want to do and things that get in the way, that’s it.”
The teenager followed Jesse with her eyes--big blue eyes, too large for her face. His outburst didn’t seem to affect her expression in the slightest. “What is it you want to do?”
The words came easy. “I want Claire back,” he said, his chest hitching. “I want Ben to stop being mad. I want to take them someplace safe to hide, where there’s no angels or demons. Just us.”
“How do you intend to make this happen?”
He gave a wet laugh. “I can’t. I can’t make any of it happen. Even if I get Claire and Ben back, they won’t hide.”
“They can’t hide,” she corrected him softly. “They never could, Jesse. Their lives have specific purpose--as does yours. Claire knows this, which is why she can’t come back to you yet.”
“They could hide if they wanted to!” Jesse suddenly snapped, tears in his eyes. “If they stopped caring about other people, we could be safe!”
The manifestation of Claire’s innocence looked on him sadly, silence sweeping over the little clearing like fog over the fallen birch she sat on. She scooted off of it to the ground and warmly curled her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed a good seven inches lower on his chest than Claire’s would in the same position. Jesse’s face crumpled and he held on to her tight, wishing she was the real Claire.
“You know that’s not true,” she soothed. Somewhere in the distant dark, something shrieked. The child in his arms twitched, squeezing a bit tighter. She buried her cheek in his shirt. Jesse squeezed tighter too, looking around.
“We’ve got to find her. Do you know where she is? Is she alright?”
“I only know where she isn’t,” she answered, though her voice went tight when another scream pierced the dark, closer and more familiar. “And it’s nowhere close to where she wants to be.”
It felt like the darkness was closing in on them. Jesse held her tighter, his tongue feeling thick. “I have to do something. But I don’t-- I don’t know what to do.”
“Have faith.”
The voice that answered was not the higher pitch of an older child, but the woman she’d grown into. Jesse was gripping air; the school girl had disappeared, and Claire stood right behind him, her bloodied back facing his way.
“Claire?” His voice hitched on the word. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold it, but there was hardly an inch of her that didn’t bleed. “Oh God, Claire. I’m...I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Claire turned to face him, dirtied and beaten, the expression on her face was difficult to read, but there was definitely sadness in her eyes.
Shaking, he fell to his knees. “You’re hurt. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”
“We would have ended up here even if you never came,” a voice echoed behind him, deeper and more resonating. “It was the life we chose. The life we were destined to lead. It was never your fault.”
Jesse jerked back, his eyes falling on Ben’s overly shaggy, dirty, half-starved form, then back to Claire. “It’s not destiny! It’s a fucking choice. You weren’t destined for anything. I’m not destined for anything.”
“You haven’t been shown the road, yet,” Claire’s voice had started to melt into the fog, just like the rest of her body. As if sensing her impending departure, her eyes took on a desperate glint as she stumbled forward to her knees, taking Jesse’s face in her hands. “But you’re on it. It’ll bring you to me--but you have to have faith.”
The tears spilled over from Jesse’s eyes as he tried to hold onto Claire’s disappearing hands. “I have to find you. I have to save you.”
Fading into the gloom, Claire’s lips moved, saying something without voice before she disappeared completely. Jesse grabbed frantically at the empty air.
“No no no, Claire, please, come back! I’m sorry!”
“It won’t be long now.” Ben’s voice took on a far-away, echoing quality. “The clock is ticking and the walls will come tumbling down. We’ll all end up broken. But at least the others will be saved.”
Jesse stumbled to his feet, reaching for Ben, but he was already disappearing. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Ben! Please! We can leave! We can always leave!”
Ben’s voice floated back to him as he disappeared from sight: “But what if I don’t want to leave?”
“No! Please!” Jesse sobbed. But there was no one to hear him. He felt the world tilting, falling, until he was on the ground. It was soft and warm and his hands grabbed tightly to the bed sheet. He gasped, opening his eyes to see moonlight glowing around the edges of their hotel room’s curtains. Ben stirred slightly in his sleep, curling into himself a bit more. His face scrunched up a little before evening out again, but he remained asleep.
All Jesse wanted to do was roll over and hold Ben tight, but the man deserved some sleep while he could get it. But Jesse’s heart was still racing and his eyes threatened with tears; he couldn’t just lie there. Quietly, and carefully, he slid out from under the covers.
That was the problem with sharing a bed with a hunter, however: the slightest change in the environment around them was enough to have them flinching awake. Ben inhaled sharply and rolled, catching him at the wrist before he even managed to take a step away from the bed.
“Sorry. I didn’t--” Jesse’s voice caught and he had to swallow before he could speak. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Wuzrong?” Ben said thickly, letting go just as easily as he’d reached for him to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
The selfish center of him that Jesse was really starting to hate thought that, since Ben was up anyway, he might as well benefit. The rest of him tried not to give in. “Go back to sleep,” he said quietly. “It was just a...weird dream.”
Ben blinked a few more times, his brow knitting together before he focused more intently on Jesse’s face. While he was certainly tired, he could see the other man’s grief. Jesse had never been that good at hiding what he was feeling.
“C’mere.”
Relief washed over him. Sliding back into bed, Jesse curled against Ben, tears threatening to spill. He wanted so desperately to be safe, and right here was the only place he ever felt it. Ben wrapped his arms around him tightly, pressing every available inch of himself against Jesse, resting temple-to-temple with him. He could feel the heat of Jesse’s breath against his neck, little bursting gasps from the compression of his lungs.
“I gotcha,” he whispered. “S’okay. S’gonna be okay. It was just a dream.”
Jesse nodded though his eyes screwed shut tight. “Stay with me,” he said, his voice strained. “Whatever happens, just stay with me.”
Ben swallowed hard against him, trying hard to silence the guilt he felt creeping into him. Jesse and Claire could survive if he took it upon himself to save them. They wouldn’t have to witness another attempt at ending the world, but to do that he would ultimately die himself, or be as good as dead and let the angel enter him. Kissing Jesse’s temple, he nodded gently.
“Always,” came the murmured reply.
After a while curled close to Ben, Jesse’s breaths were coming easy again. He finally said, “It wasn’t like the dreams Belial usually sends me. This...Things were strange. I jumped around, and some stuff was impossible.”
Ben brought a hand up to stroke the back of Jesse’s head. He thought for a moment to stay quiet and just let Jesse ramble, seeing as the man never really got down to sharing his thoughts much, but Ben knew deep down that Jesse needed the hand to hold. He didn’t feel confident without it, not when it came to these new and sensitive things.
“So you think they came from someone else?”
Jesse’s mind immediately jumped to Ruth and his stomach clenched. “I don’t know. I’m just sick of people getting into my head. I’m sick of them using you and Claire against me.”
You’re not the only one, Ben thought in answer, hugging Jesse tighter. “They’re not just after you, you know.”
“Doesn’t feel that way,” he said with a bitter laugh. But his stomach sank. Ben didn’t know to what extent they already had him. He’d said to Claire he’d tell Ben, and keeping him in the dark now might prove dangerous. Taking a breath, he clung tighter to Ben.
“I think this is all my fault. I made a deal with Belial.”
Ben tensed, his hand coming to a stop as his pulse suddenly sped to a gallop. He felt the urge to pull back, to get a better look at Jesse’s face, but the grip he had on Ben was enough to stop him from moving just yet.
“What kind of deal?”
Thinking about it was bad enough. “I lied to you about that night with the pied piper. When I shot him, the kids, they all fell down dead. And I couldn’t do anything to bring them back, so I called Belial to do it. It wasn’t a bad deal,” he said quickly, though the seeds of doubt Claire planted had certainly grown. “Whenever he calls me, I have to come and listen. I don’t have to do anything, just listen.”
That time Ben did pull back. His wide hazel eyes rapidly scanned Jesse’s face. “No,” he said, anxiety flooding through him and coloring his voice. “That can’t be it. Six souls just to have you come when he calls? There’s a catch.”
Jesse felt heat rushing to his face. “That’s what Claire said, too. And--and I guess the summoning process is painful. You saw it, when we were out shooting. But that’s all there is, I swear.” He managed to meet Ben’s eyes, but Ben was shaking his head.
“No, there’s gotta be more. There’s always more. He wouldn’t have done it if he--” Ben cut himself off, his eyes widening further. “How did you seal it?”
His stomach sinking, Jesse said, “With a handshake. Though it--it was painful. Like the summoning.”
Panic started beating against Ben’s ribcage where his heart should have been. “He linked with you somehow. How else would you have known where to go where he summoned you?”
Jesse’s eyes were wide. “W-what’s that mean?”
Ben pulled Jesse against him, holding on as if for dear life. No. No, no, no, no. Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have left, please, please, please--
“It means he can find you.”
Fear converged into solid, aching fact. “It’s my fault. They found Claire because of me.” And they might still be coming. He automatically jerked, trying to pull back from Ben.
“You’re not leaving,” Ben said tightly, not letting go. “This doesn’t change anything. We’re gonna find Claire, y’hear me? And we’re gonna fix this. Deals can be broken.” He’d never heard of one being broken in his life, but there had to be a way.
It was that finally glimpse of hope that pulled a sob from Jesse’s lips, his face burying in Ben’s chest. “Thank you. Thank you for not making me go. I’ll save her, I swear. I’ll do anything.”
No, I’ll save you, Ben mentally vowed as he shushed Jesse quietly. “You think you’re getting rid of me that easily, Turner? Hand to God, I will follow you wherever you run off to. Count on it.”
TO BE CONTINUED...