It would have been just as easy to break into a new age store and simply steal everything they needed, especially for Jesse, but Ben didn’t want to risk any additional or unwanted attention being turned their way. They’d gathered what they needed from Kat’s texted list, avoiding the shopgirl’s polite small-talk as to what they needed everything for, then raced back to the nearest abandoned farmstead they’d found on the drive through town. Ben found the box of white chalk and moved to the wooden boards they’d dragged in earlier, drawing up the greater seal of Solomon, meant to trap and render a demon unable to use its power. It was much more elaborate than the typical devil’s traps he was used to using, but he had to be sure.
Jesse sat on the floor, watching him with red, sleepless eyes. His stomach clenched with nerves, and he felt like a traitor for it. They had to do anything they could to get Claire back, it was as simple as that. He shouldn’t feel anything else.
“Can I help?” he asked, his voice a bit rough.
“Get another piece and draw that summoning sigil just on the outside of this. I’ll get the ingredients for the spell after I’m done here.”
Coming over to give Ben’s arm a quick squeeze, Jesse nodded and grabbed some chalk to get to work. Working carefully to get the details right and avoid accidentally stepping into the devil’s trap himself, he hardly noticed as Ben left and returned. Straightening, he met the other man’s eyes.
“Finished.”
Ben placed the censer in the center of the circle in the sigil, a candle in each of the circles on the end of each stalk leading outward from it, then lit the charcoal brick. Gathering up a pinch of the herbs they’d ground down to a powder, he sprinkled it onto the charcoal. Smoke rose quickly, smelling pungent and burning his eyes. He started the summoning chant, the Latin low and clipped. As he spoke, the flames of the candles grew hotter and higher, leaping up at least three inches before a rush of wind blew them out.
Just on the edge of the battery lantern light, the chair in the middle of the Devil’s Trap now had an occupant; a spindly brunette wearing a flight attendant’s uniform. A brief look of confusion washed her brown eyes as they turned up to the two that summoned her. That confusion was very quickly replaced with annoyance.
“I do not need this right now,” she rolled her eyes.
“Neither do we,” Jesse said, his teeth clenched. “So I’ll be quick. Tell us where Claire is.” His voice thrummed with power. She looked directly at Jesse, flashing a cold smile.
“Y’know, I really have no idea.” Though it was still venomous, Abbey’s smile turned oddly sweet. She folded her hands in her lap.
A strum of panic went through Jesse. “Tell us where Claire is!” he yelled, taking a sharp step towards her. Abbey arched both brows and canted her head.
“I don’t know,” she answered, much more directly. “Have you tried Cancun? It’s lovely this time of year.”
“We know you took her,” Ben growled out. “We saw the tape. Nice job with the police cruiser, by the way. Where did you take her?” The demon turned her head toward Ben, her smile taking on a cruel edge.
“Why, thank you, Benji. You know, I picked up that trick from your father. Good for getting through traffic.” Her brows lifted; she continued to avoid the question. “Did you know I knew him?”
Ben felt his stomach twist up into knots at the very mention of his father. Once again he was reminded of his memories, of his mission, of what he needed to do in order to end this war. Without replying he pulled the flask from the holster on his thigh, twisted off the cap, and sloshed its contents on her face. White, ethereal smoke poured off of her as she recoiled with a shriek of pain.
Jesse reached for Ben but fell short of touching his shoulder. The flask’s contents made him nervous as well.
“Where did you take Claire?” he repeated.
Abbey’s flushed face twisted even further into something like a snarl. “Oregon! La Grande, Oregon, where she was supposed to go a long time ago.” She snapped a look back to Ben. “The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Benji. Daddy was a mean son of a bitch, too. Wanna know some of the stories I heard about him from his time in Hell?”
Ben crossed into the circle before he could stop himself, drawing his hand back hard and backhanding her with all the strength he had. Though her head snapped to the side, displacing her carefully arranged hair, the demon just laughed.
“That’s it,” she hissed, sneering at him with blood spilling from her lip. “Anger issues run in the family, don’t they? Among other things.”
“Spare me,” Ben barked. “I’m all caught up, thanks.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted her head upward, bending down so that he was close to her face. “You tried to kill my mother and my sister, and then you took my girl. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” He threw her head back, glaring down at her as he started chanting out the exorcism ritual.
“I got this,” Jesse said, cutting him off firmly as his eyes fixed on Abbey. “Go to fucking Hell.”
The demon’s head tipped back and she screamed, body rigid and voice breaking as the smoke poured out of her. When the last of it faded into nothing her body slumped forward, nearly falling out of the chair. Ben caught her before she dropped, moving her hair out of the way as he checked for a pulse. It was weak, but still present. Without speaking, Ben slid his arms under her knees and lifted her with a grunt of effort, then moved to put her in the GTO, Jesse at his heels. They needed to get her to the hospital before she woke up.
***
Chinese water torture seemed like a ridiculous idea. What harm could water really do? And it wasn’t like Claire hadn’t been through much worse.
Which didn’t explain why it was such a relief when she heard a door open to the small room. There was a click, and a dim yellow light turned on overhead. Restraints kept her from looking over, but she didn’t need to. A face leaned over her, young and smiling.
“Hello,” the boy said. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, his near-black hair tucked back in a ponytail. His expression was serene, almost impassive.
Had she not been strapped to a table and assaulted by drops of water for hours, confusion might’ve been Claire’s first reaction. The kid now blocking the piercing light should’ve been on the set of some kitchy Disney channel show, or waiting in line for the newest video game with his friends--not grinning down at a kidnapped hunter in the middle of a demon nest.
She didn’t fully trust her senses right then, either, but hallucinations didn’t typically hang around so long. Or did they?
Claire closed her eyes, regardless of how they twitched every time another drop hit her on the forehead. Weak from lack of food, water, and sleep made even the most subtle rise in her blood pressure feel like hot tar moving through her veins. She opened her eyes again, hoping the kid wasn’t there. Of course, he was.
His smile widened. “Water bothering you? I’d turn it off, but you might as well get used to it, so.”
“Oh, I’m used to it,” she lied with another twitch. After the first hour, her muscles had knotted up from stress to the point where she doubted she’d be able to walk right. “Nothing like a good shower.”
“We do like to keep our pets clean,” he said, lightly brushing the damp hair from her forehead. He glanced down towards her crotch. “‘Course, you don’t count as one yet. Leaves me dealing with the smell.”
“You poor baby.” Claire’s voice was gritty, practically dragged through malicious sarcasm. She swallowed the brick in her throat in an attempt to temper her breaths. Just this kid’s presence was enough to trigger deep, tense instincts, as well as a few recently learned ones.
He tilted his head before stepping back. After a moment, he came back with a water bottle. He stuck it in her mouth, giving one small squeeze, before pulling it away again. Even a little shot of water at that force and angle flooded her sinuses as well as her throat; her brow slammed against the strap that held her down when she gagged, coughing up the excess water.
Propping on his elbows, he leaned closer to her. “So why do you think you’re here, Claire?”
“You tell me,” she sputtered, struggling for breath.
The boy raised his eyebrows. “Because you might be useful. Might,” he said lightly. “‘Course I’m sure you’ve put two-and-two together and realized there are quite a lot of your type here.”
Claire’s eyes were watering when she opened them again. She could make out the corner of the boy’s face in her peripheral vision. She swallowed again. “So I’ve noticed.”
She felt a finger running along her arm. “So. You’re not special. Because I know that’s what you’ve been thinking, tucked away, tied up. You’re just one of many. And you’re not necessary.”
A colorless laugh cut from the back of Claire’s throat, interrupted by another twitch, from another drop. The line of sensation left by the touch on her arm felt like oil; it made her stomach twist. “That’s a lot of effort for someone so unnecessary, Junior. I’m surprised you haven’t slapped more tape on my mouth like the others.”
“Now why would I need that?”
Claire was quiet for a moment. Something cold and slimy churned in her gut; something she felt like she should’ve recognized earlier. After the next hard breath, she spewed the first few stanzas of the exorcism rite as fast as she could, but the boy didn’t so much as twitch. Instead, he just smiled down at her. Claire didn’t even bother to finish, only let her voice die off in a frustrated silence.
Her lips pressed in a thin line. The kid obviously wasn’t a demon, he wasn’t one of the braindead minions either. There weren’t many possibilities left, and none of them provided any relief.
He laughed, sweet, boyish, and completely out of sync with the situation. “See, Claire, I am special. I was created for a purpose. And you’re just cattle.” He picked up the water bottle again but didn’t bring it too her mouth. He turned it over, squeezing cold water across her chest and watching with disinterest as she sucked in a shaken breath. “You had gone a little further from the herd than we like, but we got you back all the same.”
Claire’s hands had curled into fists a long while back. She only noticed it when they tried to tighten against a stiff soreness that only added to the unpleasant cold. Slowly but surely, the water had been seeping the heat out of her; now the rest of it leached into her wet shirt, and she started to tremble.
“So am I supposed to be part of the feed-lot or what?” she pressed on, despite how much effort it was starting to take to keep up the sardonic conversation.
Setting the bottle down, he ran a hand over her wet breast, his eyes watching her face as her jaw set like stone. “Breeding program. Not with me, ‘course,” he said, his mouth quirking. His fingers tweaked her nipple. “No matter how nice the packaging, you don’t fuck a cow.”
Claire immediately closed her eyes tight, trying to block the involuntary flood of images that came with the realization; images of Ben with whitened eyes and the voice that wasn’t his. She thrashed once, hard, against the straps that held her still. The effort shot sparks of pain through each muscle.
A slap came hard across her face, and she opened her eyes and went rigid.
“That’s a bad habit,” the boy said, just as lazy and conversation as before, though he leaned over her closer now. “You’re not leaving, unless we want you to. Go ahead and say it. ‘I can’t leave.’”
She showed him her teeth, gnashed in challenge and growing frustration. “What are you, a Torturer in Training?” she hissed in insult, ignoring his command. There was no doubt in her mind getting out of this place would be next to impossible, but she wasn’t going through Hell just to come out the other side empty handed. “How’bout you send Daddy in--show you how it’s done.”
That same boyish laugh. “You’re hardly my first.” He slapped her again. “This is the last time I ask nicely, though. Say it.” Claire answered by spitting in his face.
Blinking once, the boy wiped his cheek. Then he heaved a sigh. “There are so many of you I have to get to today, so I’ll just leave you something to think about.” Without a pause, he grabbed her forefinger and broke it.
The pain was delayed a half second, but hit after the wave of shock; the blood drained from Claire’s face an instant before her eyes screwed shut and a mangled scream cut through her teeth. Suddenly there wasn’t much thought left for the drops of water seeping into her hair.
Giving her one last smile, the boy was gone and the light went out.
****
The time had long passed since Claire answered every question or demand with an insolent attempt to break free or sarcastic jab. After the first two hours, it’d boiled down to a matter of pride, which had flared as hot as the piece of hard wire that’d already shredded the back of her shirt and skin beneath it. When the black-haired kid reddened the end of it with a blow torch--that’s when Claire stopped speaking all together. Of course, she still made noise.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t satisfactory either.
All sensation now blended into a indiscriminate roar of pain. The barbed wire that held her wrists wide apart snagged into her skin every time she jerked, spilling a blood and sweat mix that ran sick trails down the length of her body. No one cut, bruise, or burn distinguished itself from any of the others at this point--not until each time he delivered a fresh one. Claire was still panting from the last strike which cut across the less-abused area of her hip and around to the front of her thigh, taking bits of dirty denim and skin with it. There was a long pause, waiting for the next blow, but instead a hand twisted in her hair, yanking her head back.
“How’s my girl doing? You gonna be good for me?” he said, running a hand down her battered side. The bare light bulb above sliced through her closed eyelids, sending little spikes into her brain that rivaled the salt-hot touch he tried to flinch away from. But besides the shaken yelp that parted her lips, Claire still said nothing.
He hummed. “At least you learned it’s better if pets stay quiet,” he said, sliding a thumbnail along one of the deeper cuts.
Behind her closed eyes, all Claire could suddenly see were sparks of red. On the outside, every muscle shook with agony; the wire restraints tummed and scraped metal in harmony with her garbled scream. But something had started to switch over inside. She felt the pain, but her own voice sounded somehow distant, as if she were hearing it through water.
With no clue of how long she’d been there, with no more than a half hour of sleep at a time, her body was boiling over with weakness, stress, and pain. She tried concentrating on answering him, but it’d gotten to the point where all she wanted was for it to stop. She wanted the creeping numbness that slowly worked itself through her veins to be shock, even if Death came on its heels. As her torturer’s thumb dug deeper, something inside her screamed for the Dark; but it was answered by an echo of a woman’s voice saying have faith have faith have faith.
Fresh, hot tears spilled from her closed eyes as she uttered that phrase aloud, gritty and torn.
For the first time, the boy’s expression twisted from its usual serenity. He swung hard, punching Claire across the face. Her head snapped to the side, galaxies exploding in her vision. There was a moment or two where she instinctively tried to keep her weight off the wire in her wrists, but the blow had turned the volume of the world down to next to nothing. She remembered the taste of blood and the hazy sight of the sadistic teenager’s anger, then an extra bite in her tendons when she went slack before everything went dark.
“Claire?”
Claire thought she opened her eyes, but it was still mostly dark. A small point of blue light seeped through the black, slowly illuminating the features of the room around her. Not the cement cage she had been in, but there was the soft lines of a bed spread, a small desk and chair in the corner; the faint light was being given off by a twenty gallon aquarium with three gauzy goldfish. They were named Huey, Dewy, and Lewie. It was her old bedroom.
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”
Turning her head in the direction of the door, Claire’s eyes fell on the shape of her father. His expression was pained and sad. She felt the breath leave her lungs and hang in the air as a heavy silence. It was so hard to look at him, but the Devil himself couldn’t get her to look away.
It was when she caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror behind him that the moment caught up to her, and Claire realized why she no longer felt starving, weak, or bleeding. A sight she hadn’t seen as long as it’d been with her father stared back at her; the gangly thirteen year old girl with wheat colored hair and eyes too big for her face--but when she looked away from the reflection and down at her own hands on her lap, they were still mangled and streaked with blood that soaked from her wrists--same with the pieces of hair that fell into her vision.
Claire stared at the mess that was her own body, hanging in silence until a sob bubbled up from her throat. She looked back up at him, her face twisted and pleading. Jimmy moved into the bedroom immediately, sitting on the bed and pulling her into his lap.
“I’m so proud of you, Claire. You’ve been so strong.”
She wasted no time in burying her face in his shoulder, clinging to his shirt with her broken hands. Every hard sob should’ve sent waves of pain through every bit of her, but she felt nothing besides her father’s warmth and the weight of his arms around her shoulders. In a matter of heartbeats, Claire just collapsed on herself.
“Don’t make me go back,” she begged, crying into his shirt. “Please, Daddy--I can’t do this...”
His hand stroked through her hair, lips brushing against her temple as he rocked her. “If I could stop it all, honey, I would,” he murmured. “You were supposed to be safe. This was never supposed to happen.”
She just continued to curl against him and into herself, her breaths hitching in uneven gasps. “Tell me what to do. How do get through this? They’re just gonna kill me--”
“No,” Jimmy hummed out. “They won’t. There’s too few Vessels in the world. They’ll keep you alive, but they won’t stop until they’ve broken you.” He pulled back, looking into her face. “But they won’t succeed. The boys’re coming for you.”
Claire stared back into her father’s deep blue eyes; warm as they were always honest. A wave of something she couldn’t define swept through her, starting at the heart. “They’re alive?” she breathed, her eyes wide. Through the systematic breaking down of her body and spirit, the dregs of her faith had centered on simple survival--to make it to the finish line Kadiel had given her. Worrying about Ben and Jesse’s fate after she was taken had been too difficult to bare. Jimmy swept her hair out of her face, his thumb tracing a trail along the contour of her cheek.
“But the moment they arrive, you have to run, baby. Run for your life. Promise me.”
She searched his face for details behind the instruction, but the seriousness in the simple words was clear enough. More tears fell from her eyes, streaking the dried blood and caked grime beneath Jimmy’s fingertips. Her lips pressed into a hard line, folded between her teeth, but she nodded.
“Stay with me,” she half-sobbed, her voice tightening. She had no idea how long she had this temporary escape for, but the thought of waking up alone in that Hell terrified Claire more than the notion of dying there. “Please don’t leave me...”
“I’ve always been with you,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. Claire’s eyes closed; another rush of internal strength flushed through her. It felt like a long drink of cold water.
His arms circled her a bit tighter, and more whispered words moved against her temple. His voice was like dark velvet, wrapping it’s perfect affection and love around her battered psyche. The relief brought more tears to her eyes. “Hail Mary, full of Grace--” Claire’s lips followed suit on her next breath, without hesitation. The faded blues of her old room dissolved back into the cold yellow light of the cement hotel. Her nerve endings all lit with various levels of fiery pain, but she didn’t scream; only continued to whisper: “--blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus...”
A hand came under her chin, tilting it up. “Look at me,” the boy said, almost gently. Her reverent, almost chant-like whispering paused just long enough for their eyes to meet. Claire’s breath caught tightly in her throat, then continued, still holding his gaze.
“--pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death...”
The boy’s expression tightened, but he kept his tone down, just loud enough to be heard over her. “Your God is gone. He doesn’t care about you any more; He has left your world. You’re speaking to dead air.”
Claire paused, searching his face in a way she hadn’t done before, not in their entire horrific time together. The building crescendo of her pain made her quiver, and made her eyes sharp, but there was something else behind them now, something that complimented the fragmented smile that cut across her face.
“Then why do you look scared?”
He smiled. “Because that’s what you want to see. Your brain is so desperate not to feel helpless that you’re starting to invent things to hope for.” He leaned in close, his grip tight on her jaw to hold her fast. “But there is no hope. If you’re going to pray, start praying to me. Then you might survive.”
She felt his every movement, every breath in that grip, shooting sparks of pain down her spine, but her jaw set tight to resist it. Her breath hissed through gnashed teeth and lips that peeled rebelliously back.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death--”
Something passed over the boy’s eyes but he stepped away, turning his back on her. He turned the light out as he left, the door clicking shut and leaving her in darkness. Claire took a moment to acclimate to the void, listening to her own breaths. Then, still hanging in her own bloodied skin and clothes, continued to pray.
****
“There’s a little hotel on the edge I want to work out of,” Ben was saying into the phone as they drove. Driving on the main highways all but guaranteed a cop would pull them over, so they were following a back road perpendicular to the highway. Unfortunately, there were a lot more bends and hills. “Just outside of town, called the Hot Lake Hotel? It’s remote enough that we won’t be followed back. We’ll meet you there.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid, Shaggy,” Kat’s tinny voice replied on the other end. “Wait for back-up. There’s no telling how many other demons’ll be there.”
Got all the back-up I need, Ben thought, casting a quick sideways look at Jesse in the passenger’s seat. “Yes, ma’am. Seeya soon.” He ended the call and immediately started ringing up Lucas.
“Any news?” Lucas answered.
“We got a location. We’re gonna need a few more eyes though, if they can be spared,” Ben said. “How many we got in eastern Oregon?”
“Three that I know of. Maybe another half dozen if you include all of Oregon and southern Washington. What’s the town?”
“La Grande,” Ben answered, his eyes glancing at the map and then the digital clock on the radio faceplate. “We’re about eighteen hours out. If we push through the night, we’ll be there by two tomorrow.”
“Alright. Any idea where in town? I can definitely have other hunters there. Hell, I’ll be there.
Once again, Ben was reminded of his mistake not to drill the demon a little harder. “Wasn’t able to get specifics.”
“We’ll get there and start looking then. Call you if we find anything likely.” There was a pause before Lucas said, “That’s a helluva lot of trouble for the demon to go to for Claire.”
Ben looked sideways over at Jesse again, his whole face focused on driving, and felt a twist in his chest. How much did he dare to tell Lucas about what was going on? Maybe he’d know a few more tricks they weren’t themselves aware of.
“There’s a bigger story to it that I promise I’ll tell ya once all this shit calms down,” he said, opting for the compromise. “I wish it was just as simple as that, but when is anything simple with us, right?”
There was a pause, and then the way Lucas spoke, it was clear he was careful picking his words. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but has it got something to do with Jesse?”
“It has to do with all of us,” Ben answered, swallowing down his defensive tone. “We’ve all got a part in it.”
Another pause. “Alright. I’ll see you when you get to La Grande. Call me if you need anything. And you be careful, alright?”
“I’m always careful, Luke,” Ben replied, trying to inject a little humor into his voice before ending the call.
“There are other hunters coming, aren’t there?” Jesse said quietly, looking at him.
“We need all the eyes we can get, Jess,” Ben answered. “Even with a small town like that.”
“I know,” Jesse said, fiddling with the air vent. “Anyone and anything we can get to help is fine. Was just asking.”
Ben leaned back in the seat, resisting the urge to curl into himself. He hadn’t meant to snap, but every time he closed his eyes he couldn’t help but remember the vessels from the camp in Maine. Had they already started deconstructing Claire to fit their mold? She’s stronger than that, he told himself. She’ll survive. It’ll be okay. Believe in her. Ben turned his eyes out the window, bringing one hand up to twist the heel of it into each of his eyes.
****
It’d been hours--or at least, that’s what it felt like, since the light went out. Maybe it’d only been one hour. Maybe it’d been fifteen minutes. Claire hadn’t been able to follow the time in a long, long while, and she’d stopped whispering the prayers of her childhood aloud when her mouth became too dry to speak.
The pitch black had eventually faded by the faint slit of light that still managed to peek through the bottom of the closed door. She only knew about it by the ghost of a shadow her battered body cast on the opposite wall; her back facing the tiny glow. Claire looked at the dark shape in front of her, poised on her knees with her arms spread wide, held fast by what felt like rusted wire. She didn’t dare move; the stillness she settled into kept the pain at a tolerable roar--but the weight of her own head had become too much for her neck to support.
Slowly, she dropped her chin toward her chest, eyes squeezing tight against the rods of hot pain the movement caused. Her mind zeroed in on the imagined shape of her father. She repeated his words without any sound to her voice: They’re coming for you. They’re coming.
The light suddenly snapped on, causing the bulb it emanated from to buzz loudly.
“Hello, little hunter,” a warm, deep voice uttered. The door hadn’t even opened or shut.
Ice water trickled down the length of Claire’s spine as her stressed synapses very easily processed that voice. Caked blood in her palms cracked and flaked away when her hands closed into fists--except for the three random fingers that stood stiff and swollen from the rest. There was no use trying to temper her breathing in order to stay still.
“I would have been here sooner, but I’ve been very busy. This isn’t an easy job, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“You’re wasting your time with me,” she croaked out, finally opening her eyes. The light hurt like everything else, but so did her natural grimace. Still, her focus centered on the shifting shadow of a tall man. It came closer as he drew nearer.
“I don’t think so,” he admitted. “One way or another, I’ll get what I want from you. The difference is whether or not you take it easily. The faster you submit to your fate, the quicker it’ll all be over. We treat our mothers with much more care than you think, once they’ve been tamed.”
Tamed. That word soured in Claire’s stomach. Broken down. Brainwashed. Destroyed. She wanted to say every other more accurate description she could think of, but she knew she’d be wasting her breath. This wasn’t a deranged soul with delusions of grandeur; there would be no changing his mind.
She hung there for a moment of silence, watching his shadow draw ever closer. Claire already knew who he was; she didn’t need a visual. He was the Lion in the lion’s den.
“And what is it you want from me?” she asked with poison in her weak voice. His hand took her chin and forced her head upward to look at him, his lips spread in a wide smile.
“You aren’t like the others,” he whispered. “You’re stronger. I felt it, the moment I looked at you. I have different plans for you than the others.”
Her jaw clenched in his hand; Claire swallowed hard, but held onto his gaze despite the cold throb of instinctive fear that came with it. Somehow, she managed to give him a deeply sarcastic sneer. “Goody. What might that be?”
He smiled right back at her, leaning in so close that their lips nearly touched when he spoke. “Why tell you when I could show you?”
The urge to wretch her face away was so strong it hurt, but just the precursor tension through her neck and flayed shoulders hurt a lot more. Claire gnashed her teeth together and tried to swallow her own rapid heartbeat. It continued to spike, despite her efforts.
“I don’t do well with surprises,” she gritted. Every gut instinct screamed that she didn’t want to know either way, but then everything she’d survived to that point would be in vain. She had to follow this to the end. Nothing could be missed.
The demon stroked her face with a smile before forcefully letting go, which caused Claire to immediately hold her breath and bite back another shot of pain.
“I’ll see you in a few hours, little hunter. Isaac will be with you in a moment to prepare you.”
“Prepare me for what,” Claire demanded, unable to keep the twist of desperation completely out of her voice. She quickly tried to cover it. “I think he’s tenderized me enough.”
The demon’s smile widened as he moved through the door without answering. It echoed shut with painful finality behind him. Claire followed the sound of his footsteps as they faded in the distance, and were replaced by her own breaths. They were deepening involuntarily as the vice around her stomach tightened. A new set of tears threatened to burn her eyes. Only by extreme effort was she able to grapple them under control. It was getting harder and harder.
It was hard to tell if it was minutes or hours later that the door opened and the boy, Isaac, came in to the sound of squeaking wheels. As he moved around to Claire she saw he had one of the the braindead minions with her, pushing a small cart. The top was covered.
“Congratulations, Claire,” Isaac said, his smile easy. “You have been approved to have your body cleansed of imperfections.” She watched him, then the cart from behind her hair, her vision still hazy from the light. Doubtful whatever lay under the cover was antibiotics or a tetnus shot. Claire’s stomach slowly twisted, bottoming out.
“What ‘imperfections’.”
Isaac’s touch was almost gentle as he circled a spot on her forearm. “The blood has done fairly well covering it up, but I’m afraid the tattoo goes too deep. It must be removed for you to suit our needs.”
He turned around, the other man lifting the lid off the tray. Isaac picked up a scalpel, and for the first time since arriving in that Hell Hole, Claire was truly terrified.
“NO--!” Eyes wide, she jerked against the wires again and again, the pain was lost in the flood of horror. Where the strength came from, she had no idea, but a animalistic part of her was ready to tear her own hands off to get away. “Don’t you touch me!”
“Now, Claire, there’s no reason to keep you pretty. And if you keep this up, I’ll just have to cut off more than I need to.” He ghosted the scalpel along her thigh. “And we don’t want me hitting something important, like an artery.”
Two large hands clamped down on Claire’s shoulders from behind; the silent man pressed in and held her still, sending bolts of lightning through every jagged slice and welt that crossed her back. A growled scream cut through Claire’s teeth, her eyes screwed shut.
“This is an honor for you, Claire,” Isaac said as he made the first, careful slice. “Someday you will realize that.”
Shuddering like a leaf from head to toe, Claire’s mind screamed in desperate protest. Her heartbeat matched the furious pace her breaths had taken on, punctuated by more gritty shouts of pain. Hot trails of crimson rolled from the now open wounds at her wrists, mixing with the lines that dripped from Issac’s work on the anti-possession tattoo, and Claire could no longer hold back the tears of terror and rage that streaked down her face.
“You’re doing so well, Claire,” Isaac soothed, as though to a child with a scraped knee. “There, see? All finished. Now Bryce will patch you up. Can’t have you dying on us. That would just be a waste of time and energy.”
As if on cue, the large hands on her shoulders suddenly let up, leaving her limp and panting, her head hanging heavy. Blood and tears dropped to the floor in Bryce’s shadow as he moved around her, pushing a sterile pad and gauze on the raw patch of missing skin. Every fiber of her being was steeped in pain, and now the clarity of the Demon’s words pulsed through her veins like acid.
They’re coming for you. They’re coming. Just hold on.
Whether it was Kadiel’s voice, her father’s, or her own didn’t matter. The thought was distant, but it was there. It was her only scrap of hope--that, and the thought that came with it.
“Before I leave this place,” she muttered, her voice tight and shaking, just before Issac could leave. “I will kill you.”
Isaac gave her cheek a pat. “Good thing you’re never leaving then.”
With quiet steps and a squeaky wheel, they left her alone again in her pain.
****
Even as physically weak as Claire was, in the hours after Issac left with a crucial piece of her forearm, her consciousness refused to yield. In the dark, she shivered and bled, whispering prayers that provided less and less comfort as the time went on. More than once, she called to Kadiel, and received no answer, each time remembering the angel’s words; the place is barred, you must get away.
But the wires around her wrists felt like they were part of her actual bone structure at that point. Even her broken fingers contained no feeling from the lack of blood. Every breath cracked the dried black crust on the shreds of her shirt and reopened another wound somewhere. She wouldn’t have been able to stand, even if she were somehow able to get herself untangled.
Claire’s head hung, her eyes closed and burning like the rest of her. The last hour had gone by with memories of Ben and Jesse, no longer focused on when they would arrive and this Hell would end. Only their smiling faces; the sound of Ben’s laugh when he’s slightly drunk, and Jesse’s tendency to shriek like a girl when tickled.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled tightly into the dark, slowly resigning to the knot in her throat. “I love you.”
There was the sound of rushing wind from somewhere distant, but it became louder as it approached. The little light that snuck in from the crack underneath the door flickered out as the sound reached tornado decibels and then Claire felt it: the rush of putrid black smoke, shoving its way past her throat and claiming her altogether. Her eyes and head rolled back as darkness started to worm its way through her mind, wrapping around her soul like a choking vine.
Get out get out get out Jesus help me God please get the fuck out! Claire mentally thrashed and kicked as the demon pressed her into a cage in her own consciousness. There was a sensation not too unlike laughter, and for the briefest moment Claire heard could hear it -- in her own voice. The demon dug in deep and invasively, but just as quickly as it joined with her it was gone.
It left her limp and shuddering, like she’d been hit and rolled by a train. The sheer violation of it, the deep, fiery malice left its impression on her heart that she couldn’t shake, no matter how much she tried. Between their shaken counterparts, Claire sucked in a hard, painful breath, then let it loose as a guttural, anguished scream.
“Temper, temper,” a rumbling, familiar male voice injected. “I was only in you for a minute; get your panties out of a bunch. Considering what you’ve been under lately, you should be glad it was me and not Isaac coming in to prod you a bit more.”
Slowly, Claire opened her eyes, lifting them toward the chillingly recognizable timbre. Even in the near-darkness, it was easy to find the dark brown eyes of the man who had helped un-gag her the moment she’d finally been released into the processing cell: David. However, that’s where the similarities ended. What stood in front of her was not David.
“It really is a bit sad, what must be done for the breeding process. At least when we’re riding you, you’re not experiencing the pain and shit all of it all the time. Boss likes you. He’ll make sure his mate rides you gently and keeps you comfortable.”
Is that supposed to make me feel better? Claire stared at the demon, not even bothering to hide that thought from her eyes or temper her breathing.
“Who are you,” she demanded, strong as she could make her voice. “Why just jump in and out like that--or was that just for shits and giggles?”
“Oh, I’m not the one he’s chosen for the job,” David replied, flashing her a smile. “I’m just the physician, if you will. Checking to make sure you’re ready. Unfortunately, it looks like we’ve got a couple days yet, assuming your stress hasn’t slowed your clocks down.” He rocked back on his heels. “Well, I better get to reporting back. This was just a temporary body, too. All the locals in the house have been taken, and boss wants this one on breeding duty.”
Claire swallowed thickly, processing each separate bit of ominous information. Her heart hurt as much as the rest of her, and it went out to poor David. Couple days. Still got a couple days. Dropping her chin back to her chest, Claire said nothing else. Maybe she was reaching for any scrap of hope, but that ‘couple days’ felt like a small window.
Hurry, guys, she thought desperately in her head. Her eyes closed as she started to weep Please hurry.
****
Lucas had called them when they were still a few hours out. They’d found a place swarming with demons; the Hot Lake Hotel. It was going to be a tricky thing, especially since so far only Kat and three other hunters had been able to join them. They were hunkered in a hotel in La Grande. When Jesse and Ben arrived, they kept the greetings short. The three other hunters were a family, the Mathers. Ellis was tall, blond, and weathered and didn’t seem a man of many words. Sarah was red-haired and freckled with eyes always crinkled in a smile. Their daughter Rebecca was blond and probably a few years younger than Jesse, though she seemed pretty sure of herself.
Convening in Lucas’ room, he quickly brought Ben over to a map pinned on the wall. “Hot Lake isn’t too far away, and observation is pretty easy,” he said. “It wasn’t too hard finding the blueprints online. The only trouble will be deciding where they might have Claire. How...important do you think they’re treating her?”
“They’d want her in isolation,” Ben said, feeling a clench in his chest as he tried not to focus on the details. “And with enough obstacles in the way that if she did get out, she’d be easy to stop.”
“So either up high or as low as they can,” Sarah chimed in from her lean against the far wall. Rebecca nodded absently, looking down at the phone in her hand; she was texting her father, who had just checked in from his stake of the place.
“Doubt they put her in a penthouse,” the younger woman added.
Jesse’s expression was hard as he looked over the map. “Can I get a look at the blueprints?”
Lucas glanced at him, then at Ben. “Sure. Haven’t had a chance to hit a printer, but we can bring them up on my laptop.” He opened it up on the dining table.
Ben knew without asking what Jesse was already considering, and felt a rush of overwhelming anxiety. To counter it, he tried to fixate on the night before, when Jesse had woken up from his nightmare and clung to him so desperately. He isn’t leaving. He wants to stay. He won’t leave without me.
“Did you see any other civilians?” Ben asked Luke.
“The place is boarded up pretty tight, so no luck seeing in. But there were some men walking around,” Lucas said, pointing to the side of his head. “Ears looked burned, like you told me about. This looks like the same kind of operation you came across before.”
Both Sarah and her daughter pulled the same expression; brows knitted, their lips tugged down at the corners. They were both looking at Ben. Sarah spoke first. “What’s this, now?”
“The demons found religion or something,” Ben answered, carefully dodging the question. “We don’t know all the details yet--”
The door to the hotel opened and closed before he had a chance to continue, and in came Kat, looking drawn and exhausted but very pissed off.
“Please tell me there’s coffee. I haven’t had any in two hours, and I’m ready to kill something.”
“Always got a fresh pot for you, Kat,” Lucas said with a small smile, nodding toward the kitchenette. Sarah and Rebecca glanced briefly at the other woman, a spark of subtle recognition in their gazes before they turned back to Lucas, veering back on topic.
“Big gathering like this ain’t a pool-party. If you fellas got an idea about what’s going on, it be nice to know.” Rebecca injected, then glanced back down at her phone.
Kat returned within moments, drinking generously from a travel mug and looking pointedly at Jesse and Ben. Ben found himself torn on what exactly to say; he hadn’t prepared himself for a presentation.
“You ever dealt with angels before?”
“Angels?” Sarah asked before she could stop herself. She sent a look toward her daughter, who’s expression was much less cynical. They both looked back to Ben, the older huntress continuing: “As in ‘Army-of-Heaven-Let-There-Be-Light’ angels?”
“As in ‘rain-the-wrath-of-God-upon-you’ angels,” Jesse said, not looking up from the laptop.
“They possess people, too. Different circumstances and much more willing hosts, but they exist. Thing is, their hosts come from very specific bloodlines, and they’re the only ones that can be ridden. The demons want them for something. For all I know, it’s their version of Comic-Con and these hosts are their costumes. They’re out to fuck the world up; what else is new?” It wasn’t the whole truth and Ben knew Lucas might be roused to speak up about it, but he hoped he wouldn’t. There was only so much he felt comfortable sharing with strangers, for all that they were willing to help them out in a pinch.
“Well, fuck--” Rebecca’s brows arched in that ‘learn something new every day’ fashion. “So what--your girl’s one’a those ‘bloodlines’?” Sarah looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“Why else would she have been taken?” Kat interjected before Ben had a chance to answer. Her voice was a lot more agitated, and Ben had a pretty good idea why. “If you don’t want in on this, you can turn back at the door, but there’ll be other people in there. Y’think y’can walk away from people dyin’ on your doorstep, kiddo?”
Rebecca’s jaw tightened and her lips parted to shoot a retort, but Sarah beat her to it. “We came for a reason, but no one’s goin’ anywhere blind.”
“They’re demons, Sarah,” Kat answered flatly. “We all know the drill.”
“There...” Lucas glanced quickly at Ben. “There are probably more than just demons in there, though.”
It took all of Ben’s energy not to punch Lucas in the face, even after all the guy had done for them over the past few weeks. Feeling the eyes turn back on him again, Ben said, “It’s possible they’re trying to summon a critter. We’ve been working on researching what, but there’s next to no lore on them. If it doesn’t beg for mercy and it doesn’t flinch away from an exorcism, kill it.”
Sarah and Rebecca’s faces reflected their obvious skepticism; the younger started furiously typing something on her phone.
“Do we even know how it can be killed, Shaggy?” Kat countered, her voice taking on a harder edge. Ben had to practice extreme self-control to keep from shouting at her.
“If it were that easy, Kat, why would I have called for help?”
“Look,” Jesse said, turning around and sitting back against the table. “We know there are demons in there. We know there are freaky mindfucked minions in there. We think there might be something else in there, something bad and strong but that should be at least affected by planting bullets in its torso. If you want to back out, fine. We got this.”
Kat remained silent, though the ferocity in her body language had dimmed significantly at Ben’s words. Sarah’s copper brows pushed up toward her hairline. “Once again--we’re here because we want to help, but since asking specifics is twisting some panties, how’bout you two tell us how you wanna run this show. I don’t mind followin’ instructions, but you can’t blame us for asking.”
“That’s what we have to figure out,” Jesse said, eyes falling on Ben. “Outside for a bit?”
Ben rolled his lower lip between his teeth but nodded, waiting for Jesse to stand and following him out through the hotel door. Jesse walked a couple doors down before stopping.
“I can get in there, right now,” he said, watching Ben.
“I knew you were gonna say that,” Ben breathed, his anxiety once again skyrocketing.
“It would just be a scouting trip, I swear,” Jesse said, laying a hand on Ben’s arm. “I’d get in there, see what we’re up against, where they’re keeping Claire, if she’s there, and then I get out. Like the lady said, we don’t want to go in blind.”
“And you think nobody’s gonna notice that you suddenly know where everything and everyone is?” Ben pointed out, his voice strained. “If Luke were any more obvious about his lack of trust in you, he’d be a neon sign.”
“I don’t give a fuck if he trusts me, I want Claire back,” Jesse snapped. “That’s the important thing here, right?”
Ben put both his hands on Jesse’s shoulders and met his gaze, his expression deeply serious. “I don’t want anyone hunting you, Jess. I want Claire back, too, but I don’t wanna risk anything happening to you.”
“Look, I don’t need to tell them shit. I go in there, figure it out, then you bring it to them like a plan, not like you actually know. And if there’s a problem, I’ll scrub a few memories and we’re good.”
“Jess--” Ben started, finally allowing some fear into his voice.
“Let me do this. Please,” he said, grabbing Ben’s arm. “I’ll do it tonight, it’ll be really quick, and then we can save Claire and fuck those demons good. Just let me do this.”
Ben let out a shuddering breath and dropped his gaze, nodding. Every single instinct inside him screamed in protest, but he understood Jesse’s reasons. He couldn’t be possessed, for all that they knew; he wouldn’t get hurt in the crossfire.
“If something happens to you--” Ben croaked out.
Cupping his face, Jesse cut him off with a kiss. Ben all but crushed himself against him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist and shoulders. When he finally pulled back, Jesse’s lips brushed against Ben’s. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy.”
“I know,” Ben rasped, feeling a tremble starting in the marrow of his bones. “I just-- I can’t lose you both. I can’t.”
“You’re not losing anybody,” Jesse said, pulling back. “Now cowboy up. You have to be all macho and man-with-a-plan.”
Ben gave a wet laugh and rubbed painfully at his eyes, but nodded. Steeling his shoulders, he lead the way back into the hotel room.
***
If there was one thing Jesse had learned, it was that security was always generally focused on keeping people out. Once you were in, it might as well be your own house. Which meant he had a distinct advantage. He came up in the basement; that’s where they had figured Claire might be, so it was probably the best place to start. The place was quiet, except for a high, far off noise he couldn’t quite place. The halls were dim and he walked carefully along. Just as he was about to turn a corner, a man beat him to it.
“Stop. Don’t make a sound,” Jesse ordered. The man instantly complied, his eyes going wide. He looked to be in his thirties, but Jesse knew by the twist in his stomach that he was much older. “Where is Claire Novak?”
The demon looked confused, but answered in a gravelly voice. “Storage room five.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “How do I get there?”
“Down the sub-basement stairs, second door on the right.”
“Great, thanks. Now go to Hell.” No sooner had the words left his lips that the man’’s head rolled back, the thick black smoke spilling out of his mouth coiled round and shot down a nearby drain. Its host collapsed where he stood, gasping wide-eyed and obviously terrified.
Jesse felt only a little guilty at being disappointed the host was still alive. “Calm down and stay here. And don’t make a sound,” he ordered. “I’ll be back for you.”
Of course, he might be back for him the next day, but there wasn’t much Jesse could do to help him now. He should actually leave right now, since he knew where Claire was. But he had to see her. He couldn’t come this far and not make sure.
Following the directions into a sub-basement alight with bare bulbs, Jesse listened at the door a moment before opening it and peering cautiously in. It was too dark. Throwing caution to the wind, he flicked the lightswitch. His gaze immediately fell on a head of long, blond hair.
“Claire,” he breathed, quickly stepping in and closing the door. “Claire, it’s Jesse, I’ve--”
He froze when he saw her face. It was Claire alright, but only just. It was hard to find an inch of her which wasn’t covered in blood. Her clothes hung off of her in torn strips, dirty and matted as her hair. He felt his stomach surge as he reached out to gingerly touch her.
Besides the barely-noticeable rise and fall of her chest, she was quiet and limp as a dead animal supported by two suspended wires. Even when he touched her, there was a moment of no reaction--but two breaths later, Claire’s eyes slowly, painfully opened. It took a while to focus, but the familiar solid frame of the body in front of her finally sunk in.
“...Jess” Claire stammered on the deepest breath she could muster. Please don’t let me be dreaming.
Jesse’s breath hitched. “It’s me, baby. I found you.” He wanted to touch her, hold her, but her body looked like one mass of pain. There was only one thing he could do. He grabbed the wires wrapped around her wrist and began untwisting them. “It’s going to hurt, baby, but I’ll get you down, I’ll get you out of here.”
It did hurt, a lot, but Claire simply didn’t have the energy left to tense up or even flinch away. Her eyes closed, her breath hitching through split and bruised lips, but the new tears that dropped along her cheeks weren’t from the pain. As much as her exhaustion would allow, elation washed over her like a tidal wave.
“I knew you were coming,” she rasped. Most every part of her was nearly broken, but after almost wilting, her heart felt full and untouched.
He couldn’t manage a smile at the words. She sounded and looked so mutilated that all he could feel was the boiling, poisonous heat rushing through his veins. He freed her from the last of the wire, gently easing her to the floor.
“What’s broken?” he said, his own voice tight. “I’m going to carry you, but I want--”
[ wish at least they’d let me wash her she stinks like hell and then I’d get to rub peroxide and salt into the wounds it’s been at least six hours since I heard a good blood curdling scream ]
The thought had started off distantly, but as it approached it became louder and the thrum of all the emotions tied in with the words washed over him. The nagging sensation in his mind was relentless, but then confusion and hope started pulsing into him.
[ wait what’s that is that him oh god is it him master is here master is here where is he must find him must serve him -- ]
The door opened and a teenager emerged, his eyes bright and wide as a grin split up his face.
“It’s you,” he gushed with uncharacteristic happiness. “It’s really you.”
The words were like being in a pool of adulation, but the hot anger at Jesse’s core burned hotter. He was on his feet and in two strides had the boy by the neck, yanking him inside as he slammed the door shut. He pulled the boy over, shoving his face towards Claire.
“Did he do this to you?”
Isaac’s eyes went wide with pain and confusion at his mistreatment, making a choked noise. [ master why are you doing this all I want is to be yours -- ]
Claire’s dulled eyes locked in Issac’s sharply frightened gaze. Her expression barely changed on the surface, but there was a moment of solid reckoning.
“Tell him,” she whispered to the boy.
Jesse yanked the boy back, pinning him against the wall but easing up enough on his throat so he could speak.
“She’s a vessel. I was only doing as ordered,” Isaac gasped out.
Gritting his teeth hard, Jesse pulled the boy forward only to slam him hard against the wall. The lights flickered as the air rushed out of boy’s lungs. “Not by me,” he snarled. “You were born to serve me, and I never told you to hurt her.”
The boy’s eyes glazed over with reverence. “I’ll do anything you ask. Anything and everything--”
[ born to serve born to love born to be yours always yours everything anything follow you wherever you go ]
Jesse punched him hard across the face before tightening his grip on his throat again. The boy didn’t even try to stop him.
“Jess--we have to go,” Claire urged weakly. Her attempt to sit up barely made it past trying to move her arms, but the trickle of adrenaline was slowly putting life back in her limbs. It also reminded her of how crucial their escape was. “Before the rest come back.”
His grip tightening a moment, Jesse let go with a snarl. “Don’t make a fucking sound,” he ordered, eyes hard on the boy’s before he glanced down. He pulled a long knife from the boy’s belt, placing it in his hand. “When we leave, slice open your stomach and pull out your intestines. And then sit here alone in the dark and think about how you failed me as you die.”
Turning around, Jesse slid his hands under Claire’s knees and behind her back, lifting her in one smooth step. He flicked off the light and left without so much as looking back. The boy remained silent as the door fell closed, but Jesse hardly took a step away before he heard the mental screams of anguish:
[ failed him failed him failed him failed him worthless useless sack of shit meant to die only born to serve him and failed him failed him -- ]