Ben sucked in a sharp breath as he startled awake. It took a minute for him to catch his breath and reorient himself to his surroundings.
He’d had the nightmare again. It’d been months since the last time he’d had it, but there it was, the last strained sound of his mother’s scream echoing through his head. He could feel Jesse’s body pressed against him, warm and breathing slow, but when he turned toward where Claire was supposed to be he found the spot cold. It was only then that he recognized the muted blue light of a laptop screen. Looking up, he could see Claire hunched over it.
“Hey, why’re you awake?” he called out in a loud whisper, his voice still gritty from sleep.
Where do I start, Claire thought silently as a natural reaction, but merely blinked tiredly at the screen before turning a half-look toward Ben’s heavy voice. “Digging deeper into something that caught my eye earlier,” she answered, keeping her voice low. Ben carefully adjusted Jesse’s arm from around him and eased carefully away, rolling off the bed. The floor creaked quietly underneath his bare feet as he moved over to where she was sitting, his hands gently coming to rest on her shoulders.
“It can’t wait until morning?” he asked quietly, his voice a little louder now that he was closer to her. The weight of his hands was comforting, like a blanket lulling her to give in and go back to bed--but her brain wasn’t about to relent. It hadn’t properly shut up in a long time.
Claire shook her head, but pointed with her ring finger at the screen. “I think I found a reason why three ancient Greek monsters are terrorizing Redneckville, Alabama.” There in the prominent window was an Arlington Times article showcasing the Birmingham branch of the Smithsonian, and its featured Echos of Olympus exhibit, which was staying there for three months before moving on toward New Orleans. Ben bent down over her shoulder to look, frowning slightly.
“But I thought they were monsters. If they’re attached to an object, wouldn’t that make it more like a haunting?”
“However it works, that traveling exhibit came through this town a week before the first death.” Claire sat back in the pleather chair, sighing and pulling her knees up to her chest in order to stretch her back. Ben straightened up and resettled his hands on her shoulders again, massaging the chorded muscle with practiced ease. He could feel a deep tension beneath his hands that he hadn’t been wholly aware of until right then. Something was wrong.
“We’ll check it out in the morning,” he said softly.
Despite the near robotic desire to keep reading and keep digging into that exhibit’s manifest, Claire’s eyes involuntarily closed, and a silent breath deflated her shoulders. His fingers encroached on a thick, dull pain buried deeper than the muscle itself. Its discovery only tightened her up a fraction more, and she put her hand on his to signal him to stop. She didn’t let go of his hand, though, whether she was aware of it or not.
Ben swallowed, the strength in his hands dissolving. After a moment he pulled his free one up to swipe her hair away and kiss her neck.
“Talk to me,” he coaxed gently. Claire felt a prick of something painful spark behind her jaw; a physical manifestation of an emotional spike, brought on by his kiss, but more by his words. Her eyes tightened, just for a moment, while the sensation faded away, though wasn’t completely gone.
She was tired, but that wasn’t anything new. She was worried, but that wasn’t new either. However, the carefully balanced and contained tempest that kept her going all these years had gotten a hell of a lot bigger in the last several months, with too many new factors added to the debris cloud. Factors like guilt and love and frustration and a new breed of fear she hadn’t known since she was thirteen. The storm had become a super cell, and it was slowly eroding her from the inside out.
But she never said a word. Because that’s how it was done; soldier on. Accept the consequences. Walk off the pain.
“About what?” she replied, just as gently, but the words felt hollow in her own ears. His free hand slid up and through her hair, massaging her scalp.
“We’re in this together,” he murmured. “Remember? Whatever’s got you like a live wire, you don’t gotta do it alone. I’m here.”
Her head tilted a bit into his touch, but not falling limp. It was just enough so that she could meet his eyes, and how concerned they were caused another pang of that earlier, undefined sensation. The corners of her mouth turned up in the slightest impression of a tired smile. “Who’s alone?” she countered just as quiet, then sighed heavily, looking back at the laptop. There was no use stirring up the dust right now; they had a pressing job to do.
Ben gently tilted her head back, pressing a kiss to her forehead before gently claiming her lips.
“Is that part of it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light. “Because if you need more time to yourself--” Claire very faintly shook her head, even as she rested her brow against him. The barely-there kiss had more intensity than she anticipated. She rolled her lips together, and pushed another nasal sigh.
What hurt the most was that there was a part of her that wanted to agree with him--not because she wanted to be away from them, but because of the terror that came with how much she loved them. Whether it be severed by the dangerous things in their lives, or - equally hard to bear - them drifting away from her, Claire’s natural defense was to separate before what you cared for got ripped away. It was so ingrained, that she hadn’t realized it creeping up on her.
She put a hand on his cheek and toyed her fingers in his shaggy hair. “I’m just--wound a little tight,” she explained, truthfully. What she didn’t say was how she wanted to just sit there and cry, or go outside and scream until her throat bled. But neither thing was an option. “It happens.”
Ben squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Whatever I can do,” he murmured. “And I don’t mean that in any way, just so you know.” He let out a slow breath, his thumb trailing along her cheek. “I love you, Claire. I wanna help you.”
She felt something inside her break; not a complete shattering, but a long, thin fissure ran the length of her, and Claire took in a deep breath. She closed her eyes and gently nosed against his cheek. Oddly enough, she felt that tiny, almost mundane bit of contact more acutely than anything in the last few days. It was enough to take her breath and words away.
After a minute, her hand squeezed around his and she slowly started to stand, abandoning the laptop for another attempt at sleep. Ben followed behind her wordlessly, pausing at the end of the bed.
“You want the middle, or back on the end again?” he asked in a low whisper. Claire looked up, oddly stricken by the question, even though it hadn’t been the first time she heard it. For some reason, it just stuck out this time, and she looked down at Jesse’s still form.
“Middle,” she answered lowly, surprised her voice even made it past the breath. She slipped under the sheets, careful not to disturb him, and held the covers open for Ben. Before he settled in, Claire felt an arm slip around her, Jesse pressing in tight against her back.
“I missed you,” he said in a soft whisper. The crack inside her cut a little deeper with the warm pressure and warmer words. Claire draped her arm over his and nestled back against him while Ben pressed in close, his arm curving just under theirs. He stayed quiet, watching her for a few moments before he finally closed his eyes and leaned in enough to give her a brief kiss.
As soft and quick as it was, that kiss resonated through Claire for a long time. Her fingertips gingerly bridged the gap between his and Jesse’s arm around her middle, thoughtlessly caressing both in minute back and forth patterns until it felt natural to stop--as if she were asleep. But she wasn’t. Not until well after the rhythmic breathing on each side of her finally lulled over the steam of thoughts and worries in her head.
***
Claire had insisted on doing more research, so it had been up to Jesse and Ben to go investigate the museum the following day. It certainly wasn’t atypical of a hunt, but Ben certainly felt that it was better to turn every stone than to potentially miss something. Still, it felt weird approaching the desk, paying admission, getting the stamp... he hadn’t gone to a museum since he was a kid, and even then he remembered being bored out of his mind. Thankfully they weren’t going to stay for long.
Jesse was all but running through the museum, always a step or two ahead of Ben and totally focused on following the directions they’d figured out from the map. He wanted to get in and out of there as quickly as they could. Leaving Claire alone sat about as well with him as a brick in his stomach.
The Echos of Olympus exhibit had a grand, Parthenon-y entrance that Jesse breezed right by. And then he stopped. The thing was huge, and it looked there wasn’t just one room in the exhibit. “Any kind of clue what kind of thing we’re looking for?” he asked Ben, slightly breathless.
“None whatsoever,” Ben answered, feeling a drop in his stomach. Claire would know. His hand went to his phone, quickly sending her a text message as he continued to talk aloud to Jesse: “Let’s just circle around and see.”
With a small scowl, Jesse started towards the case of figurines to the right, carefully reading the descriptions over for any mention of vengeful women.
A minute or two after Ben sent his message, his phone buzzed with Claire’s reply:
No solid clue. Maybe something that’s supposed to be cursed, or missing.
“Cursed or missing?” Ben asked aloud, though he stuck the phone back in his pocket as he took the other side of the large hallway. It was a big place; just as before, they would need to split up a little in order to cover more ground.
In spite of the urgency, Ben found himself mildly interested in the items on display. It was certainly a change of pace from what he normally saw. However, as he breezed by each piece, he suddenly came upon an empty display. His brow furrowed as he read the description plate: Porcelain jar, hand-painted.
“Oh, it’s a right shame you can’t see that one,” a warm woman’s voice came from behind him. He turned to find a middle-aged woman, her auburn her up in a loose knot. She wore the red vest standard for the museum staff. “It’s beautiful, but they’ve got it out for repairs, I’m afraid.”
“Repairs?” Ben asked, feeling his pulse start to beat a little faster. “What happened to it?”
“Seems it got a little mishandled in transit,” she said, giving a light click of her tongue. “Even the most careful hand can slip sometimes, but it is a shame.”
His panicked heartbeat was so loud that he could hear it rushing in his ears, nearly drowning out her words. So they had been attached to an item. “By any chance, d’you know what the painting on the jar was?”
“I do,” the woman said, smiling and straightening. “It was the legend of King Phineas of Thrace and the harpies. Zeus sent the harpies to steal away Phineas’ food every day, to punish Phineas for his prophetic abilities and revealing the secrets of the gods.”
Ben forced an impressed look on his face, then went through the process of looking disappointed. “Any idea when it’ll be back?” he asked, though his mind was already going through the process of how they were going to track it down. Maybe they’d be lucky and could zap the harpies back into the jar. God, this is too much like a freaking genie legend, he thought agitatedly. What the hell.
The woman gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid not. The folks in restoration are very picky about not only fixing the jar but also ensuring it is less likely to be harmed in the future. Might not even get to be seen here in Alabama.”
The words fell out of him before he was able to stop himself: “Do you repair on site?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling proudly. “Birmingham has some of the most world-renowned experts on antiquities. They’re taking good care of it.”
Oh goodie, Ben thought sarcastically. A damn breaking-and-entering in a museum. This is gonna be fun.
“I’m goin’ to school for repair,” he replied with a grin. “But I didn’t know you guys had a department for it. How awesome.”
She looked infinitely pleased. “They are a wonderfully dedicated bunch. If you’re studying in the area, I’m sure your professors will take you behind the scenes some day.”
Ben put on his best hopeful expression. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to maybe let me take a peek early? I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself, I’m just so fascinated with the field. It’d be great to see something other than pictures and videos, y’know?”
“Oh darling, I’m afraid that’s not possible. They don’t even let me back there without an expert,” she said with a smile. Ben dialed up the charm to ten, conjuring up the most embarrassing mental image he could to help bring a flush to his face.
“Maybe you could introduce me to an expert? I’d be so grateful.”
She pursed her lips, looking uncertain, but then she pulled out a phone. “Give me your email address and I’ll see what I can do. I’m afraid they are quite busy, though, so no promises.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Ben replied, feeling a tug of disappointment in his gut. Guess the job goes to Wonderboy again. “Y’gotta pen?”
****
It was only a matter of finding the right thing to look for. Once they had determined the creatures running amok in Arlington were harpies, finding all the information on her custom configured network of databases was simple. It was sifting through all the lore, myth, and actual truths that took time--which is why she opted to stay behind. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep and constant uncomfortable buzzing under her skin was making sitting still for too long simply impossible.
On her way back from a short break at the motel vending machines, Claire rounded the corner to their room, making sure the orange fizz bubbling from her open soda didn’t spill on her shoes. Movement in the background of her field of vision had her pause, though. A pair of legs shifted weight, standing directly in front of the door she was heading toward.
“Alice Halstead?” the first suited man called out. “FBI, open the door.”
Claire froze. Synapses flared to life, working through various cover stories, back-door plans, and worst case scenarios, but the predominant theme in her head at the moment was a terrible slew of every curse word Claire could remember.
Half a second later, everything clicked into place. She put a bright smile on her face and a swagger in her stride, despite the fact that her heart was firmly lodged in her throat. “Y’all lookin’ fer th’lady stayin’ there, Handsome?” Thank you, Steel Magnolias, for the perfection of her accent.
The second agent turned to look at her, his expression sharp and piercing. He looked her up and down, then narrowed his eyes at her.
“Have you seen her?”
“Sure, I seen’er,” Southern-Belle-Claire responded, fingering the cap of her soda as she came to rest in their company. “My Paw’s visitin’ from Atlanta--he’s inn’a room down there on’a end.” Claire nodded toward the strip of rooms beyond the men, weaving the story in her brain, even as she continued. “She dang-nearly ran me over this mornin’. Said she was late fer some conference down in Birmingham.”
The first agent flashed her a thin-lipped smile, pulling out a thin silver holder from his inner pocket and tugging out a single, cream-colored card.
“If you happen to see her comin’ back in, would you give us a call first thing? It’s very important.”
Claire took the card gingerly, glancing down at it before she put it in her back pocket, smiling up to the Fed as she did. “Sure thing, Fellas,” she said, then furrowed her brows. “She in some kinda trouble? I don’wanna have my Paw inn’a same motel with anyone dangerous...”
“We aren’t at liberty to share that information, ma’am,” agent number two replied in a somewhat gruff voice. “If you’ll excuse us.”
The two men immediately turned and headed off down the hall at a fast trot, disappearing around the corner. As soon as they were out of sight was the first time she felt like she could actually breathe.
Okay, part one down... Claire thought sharply, forcing herself to continue down the hall, past their room door, just in case there was a pair of eyes on her somewhere she couldn’t see. When she got to the staircase, she slipped inside, and dug out her phone, rapidly texting both the boys.
Code Blue; new hotel name coming soon.
***
Once upon a time, Ben used to be excellent at working over people. Though he would never openly admit it, it was one of his favorite parts of the job. He’d spent years perfecting it: the puppy dog eyes, the sincere tone, the act of being genuine. While he certainly enjoyed the fact that Jesse made everything a hundred times easier, he couldn’t help but feel like he was losing his touch entirely when Jesse managed not only to get into the repair department, but walk out with the vase as well. At least they didn’t have to come back after closing, though.
He stayed a quiet as they made it back to the car, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Settling the well-packed pottery between them, Jesse felt infinitely better. They were on their way back to Claire, and might’ve gotten something good for the case besides.
“That went better than I thought it would.”
Ben hummed in agreement but didn’t add anything, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror as he merged into traffic. His mind also drifted to Claire, and the scene from the previous night. She still hadn’t told them what was wrong, but he’d noticed her focus honing in on the case the moment she’d found something in the papers. It wasn’t out of character for her, but the tension in her body and in her eyes was.
“Maybe we should stop and pick somethin’ up for Claire,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Just, y’know... to cheer her up.”
Shoulders sagging, Jesse nodded. “Do you... know anything? Is there some sort of bad anniversary coming up or something?”
Ben went through his mental calendar, then shook his head. “Don’ think so--”
He was interrupted by a text alert on his phone, and blinked in surprise as Jesse’s went off a half-second later. Well that can’t be good...
Jesse pulled the phone out of his pocket, the device still a bit foreign to him. He scowled as he read, before saying aloud, “Code Blue. She’ll send us a new hotel name soon.”
Ben’s eyes suddenly went wide and color drained out of his face. “Fuck. Shit. Okay. That-- okay.” On the one hand, that meant she was safe. On the other, it didn’t guarantee she’d be safe for long. “Guess we can stop for something later.” He found a nearby phone booth and immediately pulled over, leaving the car running as he jumped out and pressed inside. Luckily, the directory screen still seemed to be functional. It wasn’t uncommon for people to bust them up and try to steal the parts. A few keytaps in, he brought up the hotel and motel list, flipping to the third page and the third from the bottom. She would try there first, assuming it was far enough away from their first choice. Typing the address into his phone’s GPS, he trotted back to the car and immediately started off again.
****
As if the last two hours hadn’t been stressful enough, Claire’s muscles had knotted up double for the fact that the circumstances left her in the transit without a car. Granted, she was glad the GTO wasn’t in the parking lot when the Feds came knocking. Truth be told, she was actually a little amazed she got away without them giving her a second glance; surely that good luck won’t be repeated if they caught up to her in this town. By now, they had to have a description--and it would match the sweet southern Sally that pointed them down the interstate.
Which was the reason for a stop at the local mall, after the new hotel had been procured (using a completely new identity). Claire now sat in the far corner booth of the diner close to the new place; sporting a look she thought completely opposite of what the law would be looking for. With streaks of bright green and pink mussed through her natural blond hair, heavy eyeliner, and the purposefully dark (and in some places, torn) clothing, ‘rebellious youth’-Claire tensely sipped at a mug of coffee around an uncomfortable false lip ring... looking very much unapproachable.
Walking through the diner door, Jesse did a poor job of not looking overly concerned as he scanned the place. It was mid-afternoon and not very busy, so it was short work in seeing that Claire wasn’t there yet. “Should we give her a call?” he asked Ben coming in right behind him. “She should already be here, shouldn’t she?”
Ben chewed his lower lip and frowned, then pulled out his phone. Calling might be a little risky, especially if she was still being followed, so he sent out a where-are-you text instead, his eyes looking up and sweeping the diner’s occupants as he pressed send.
Apparently the look did its job, considering Claire watched them both from her corner vantage point--neither hinting recognition of any kind. Ben tapping out a message that buzzed in her phone two seconds later confirmed that. Claire just sighed lightly through her nose and typed a quick reply that simply said: Far left The moment Ben checked the reply his head snapped in that direction, his eyes going a little wide.
“Oh god, I hope that isn’t permanent,” he muttered, leading the way toward the little corner booth nearest the side exit.
Scowling in confusion, Jesse followed, and felt a jolt when he looked beyond the metal, make-up, and dye of the little blond goth. He only just managed to hold back a laugh.
“Kinky,” he teased, sliding into the seat next to her and giving her a peck on the cheek. “You want me in a black leather collar so we can get this roleplay right?” Claire just rolled her eyes a little.
“Don’t start. I’ve had a bad day,” she grumbled, but not threateningly. She had the look of a cat in a bathtub. “Any better on your end?” Her eyes lifted to Ben; under the heavy charcoal outline, their color seemed even more pale. Ben forcibly shoved away the complex emotions that came from the look in her eye.
“We found the object. It’s shaping up to be a bit like a classical genie legend. They must’ve been stuck inside and got out once the jar broke.” Claire faintly nodded, and wet her bottom lip. The fake ring there was turning out to be more trouble than the damn thing was worth. The distraction evaporated when she was struck by a sudden thought.
“Wait--it’s broken?”
Ben nodded solemnly. “Though I’m sure a little epoxy glue should fix it up. If we go firing it in a kiln again, the paint’ll burn off, and I have a feeling it’s what makes it more than just a plain ol’ jar.”
Jesse winced. “And we’ll probably have to work fast. No doubt the place had security cameras and once they realize they didn’t want to give me the jar...”
Claire’s face had started to blanch as Ben’s words hinted at what Jesse then confirmed.
“...you took it from the museum?” Of course they did; it would’ve been the next logical step, but they didn’t know they’d be operating under the FBI’s shadow. She grimaced to herself, suppressing a curse or three. When she looked up, there was a new flare of chaotic urgency in her eyes. “We gotta figure this out tonight. There’s only so many places we can run in this town.”
Ben nodded in agreement. “Did you manage to find anything?” he asked, his hands twisting in his lap beneath the table. Claire pushed a frustrated breath through her words.
“Something, but it’s vague. Sounds like a ritual, but there’s a big importance stressed on there being a demi-god to perform it.”
Ben felt his stomach sink and he put on a weary smile. “Fantastic. Even if we did manage to find one, that’d be as bad as the harpies themselves.”
Jesse looked between them. “Is there some way we can summon a god or something? Ask if they have any kids around? Or is that just a half-god?” Claire’s eyes were unfocused on her coffee as she pondered the options, distracted only by the frustration of the fake piercing. She pulled it off and tucked it in a napkin to be thrown away.
“They’re extremely hard to track down; never sticking in one place, disappearing as fast as--” She stopped mid-sentence. A sharp sting of frustration shot through her mind when she realized she hadn’t made the connection earlier.
Her eyes were suddenly on Jesse, then switched to Ben, knowingly. Ben felt his pulse double up.
“You think it might work?”
“Wait, what?” Jesse said, uncertainty tinged in his voice. He felt like he blacked out a couple parts of the conversation. Claire’s hand fell on his thigh under the table, her eyebrows arched as she clarified.
“You’re the closest thing we have to a demi-god.”
The fact that what he was might prove useful should have made Jesse happy. Instead it made his stomach churn. As bad as the harpies themselves. And it wasn’t like they were even sure about it. If things went wrong, the consequences would be on him. He’d already gotten a taste for how fast, strong, and smart the harpies were.
“What would I have to do?” he asked. And please don’t make me do it alone. Ben found his other knee and gave it a squeeze.
Claire made a quick, sympathetic face, and sighed lightly. “I’m not exactly sure yet.” Just then, a diner waitress wandered up to their table, wearing an obviously dubious look for Claire, but set two plastic bags of a to-go order on the table and gave the boys a customer-service smile. She turned around with a hasty ‘have a good one’. Claire looked none too relieved.
Jesse bit his tongue before scooting out of the booth. “Let’s get on it then.”
***
His heart thumping harder than the bass, Jesse’s eyes were overly wide as he moved through the dance floor. Being the lure was probably his least favorite job, but he was the only one the harpies got a look at. Of course, it didn’t make him all that comfortable that he only ever got a look at one of them. The other two could be anyone.
But at least he’d already spotted the one he knew. More importantly, he’d made sure she spotted him. Now to get back to the car and hope the girls were pissed enough to still want a piece of him.
Stepping into the sweltering night, he tried to keep his calm as he headed back towards Ben and Claire. Despite himself, his steps were quick, and they were also being followed; not from just inside the club foyer, where a tall brunette in violet stilettos trailed him through the crowd, but from each side on the walk that cut through the entertainment district of Arlington.
He was just within sight of the car when the familiar harpy called out to him: “Back for more, are you? You’re not getting away so easily this time, sweetie.” Not too far away from her was her blond sister, and stepping around a building on his flank, the redhead.
Jesse’s steps quickened slightly as he glanced back. “Yes I am,” he said, hoping he sounded as confident as he wished he felt. “But you won’t. Unless you want to talk, work things out so we all walk away alive and happy.”
“We’re not really in the mood for talking,” the blonde retorted. The three sisters rushed forward with a sudden burst of speed.
Instinctively taking off at a run, it didn’t matter that Jesse couldn’t beat them to the car. They’d planned on this anyway. Mentally wishing Ben and Claire a quick trip to the spot they’d found in the woods, he disappeared. The moment he was out of sight, Ben revved the engine and took off down the street at full speed, hoping to God that they could make it to the woods without being pulled over. Claire held tight to her seat belt and the dash, thinking the same thing, until the distinct clank and bang of something large and heavy landing on the car roof made her worry a little more about being pulled apart.
An unearthly shriek came from above; Claire instinctively flinched downward into her seat, followed by another jolt when a second creature landed on the trunk.
“This may not’ve been the best idea...” she breathed, forcing her heart back down from her throat.
“Hang on!” Ben tossed back. Gripping the wheel tightly he slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel sharply to the left. The tires squealed on the pavement as one of the harpies -- there was no trace of human appearance anymore -- was thrown off the car. Ben threw the gear shaft into first and floored the gas again, pushing them both back in their seats.
The one that’d been bucked off the back end was quickly back in pursuit, slicing through the humid night air. The creature still perched on the roof slammed one claw into the back windshield, over and over, spider webbing the bullet proof glass Claire had installed six years ago. She looked sharply over her shoulder, readying her gun. Hopefully it’d buy time if the thing got through. Or when it got through.
“Any sign’a the other th--” Claire’s voice was cut off by her own yelp when one of the missing harpies landed in a dragon-like crouch right on the hood, jarring the car out of it’s speed with a bark of tires and crinkle of metal. Ben yanked the wheel in the opposite direction, but apparently the trick only worked once as the harpies held on steadfast.
“Can you get a shot out the side window?” Ben asked, his voice tight.
There was only a brief hesitation on Claire’s part, only because she knew if she hung out her window too far, she’d probably be yanked out of it. Her eyes wide, she looked at him, then at the creature on the hood, quickly cranking down her window. Breathing hard and shallow, her eyes kept switching from the roof to the thing on the front of the car. Just as she arched her arm and head through the window to take aim, the third harpy landed on the dented trunk, screeching and clawing toward her. The shot went wide, grazing the thing on the hood’s wing and pulling out a sharp screech out of the creature, but it was just enough of a distraction. Ben barrelled off the main road. The thick, low-hanging branches collided with the one on the roof, knocking it off.
Somewhere in the back of Claire’s mind was a rageful cry for vengeance for her beloved car, set to the sounds of scraping talons drawing sparks on the roof’s now dented paint job, but seeing the thing collide with the one that clung to the trunk snapped her focus in sharp. She took the advantage to slink further out the window, braced on her hip so both hands could aim at the one she shot before. A chorus of shrill cries met their ears as they raced through the woods at top speed.
“Fuck, Jess, you better be ready,” Ben uttered, his tone bordering on hysterical.
****
Jesse’s hands shook slightly as he cut open the thistle, carefully squeezing what liquid he could from it. “Right,” he breathed, tossing the bud aside before spinning the jar three times clockwise.
He looked over at the notebook, where Claire had written out the incantation. He was pretty sure he had it down. The lid lay right by it, and the knife on top of that. Now all he needed was the harpies.
On cue, he heard the distance roar of the GTO’s engine. His heart leapt. Not that he’d doubted a moment that Ben and Claire would be fine. But he felt better as the car screeched into the clearing with Claire half hanging out the passenger side window, hanging on to the rear view mirror with one hand and aiming a gun with the other.
Another shot rang out, slamming the winged creature on the roof of the car in the shoulder joint right before the talons closed around her arm. Ben threw the door open, just barely aiming before he fired his gun at the harpy’s leg.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jesse hissed, running forward. He’d expected the harpies to be quick, but not literally on top of them. The panic ratcheting up his throat, he yelled the first order to come to mind. “DON’T MOVE!”
The sheer force of the words hit Claire’s every muscle, freezing her, and apparently everyone else, in place. One of the harpies, having been mid-flight, fell to the ground. Her eyes went wide, meeting Ben’s equally frozen gaze, then locked on her precarious grip on the mirror, the only thing holding her upright.
“Specifics, Jesse!” she barked in a bit of panic.
Jesse looked at her, confused before it hit him. “Oh! Shit, sorry, Ben and Claire, you can move!”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Claire fell through the open window. Ben, equally freaked out by everything that had just happened and very nearly shaking from the adrenaline rush, quickly ran around the car to help her up.
“Start it!” she shouted, scrambling with Ben’s help from the ground, her eyes firmly planted on the two motionless creatures precariously perched on the car. Instinct screamed for her to get away from them, even if they were still as statues.
Jesse nodded, but hesitated. “Looks like you got time to talk now,” he said, looking at each of the harpies in turn. “It doesn’t have to end this way, you know.”
All three harpies shrieked in response, their voices carrying a note of discord that made Ben wince.
“Yeah, I’m thinking the talking-tos aren’t gonna work this time,” he said solemnly.
Jesse scowled before nodding. “It’s just... they’re kinda like us,” he said. “We’re...you’re people who hunt bad monsters, they’re monsters who hunt bad people.”
“Jesse, they were gonna kill you--if you let them go, they’re gonna kill us!” The tone in Claire’s voice left no room for argument. “I’d say their definition of ‘bad people’ isn’t all that strict.”
“And given the fact that we’re not exactly killing them,” Ben pointed out swiftly.
Blushing and feeling ridiculous, Jesse turned back to his set up, getting to his knees in front of the jar. Grabbing the knife, he slit open his palm, refusing to let himself wince as he smeared blood along the pot’s rim. “Hoson zēs, phainou.”
The cut had already begun to heal, so he used the knife again, letting a small stream fall into the pot. “Mēden holōs sy lypou.”
Slicing himself a third time, he ran the lid over his palm. “Pros oligon esti to zēn...”
He looked towards the harpies, his eyes shining pale. Looking at them now, their eyes gleaming yellow, their features twisted sharp, their arms bristling with black feathers, it was easier to believe Claire. They were monsters, and this was necessary.
“To telos ho chronos apaitei,” he said finally, closing the lid over the jar.
It was as though the screeching suddenly doubled in volume and hit them from all sides, before modulating into human screams. The harpies’ forms shimmered like a camera going out of focus just as their painted counterparts on the jar glowed a fierce red, then they vanished. The silence that followed settled heavily on all of them.
Claire took her hands off her ears, though they continued to ring. Frantically, she looked at the jar, at Jesse and Ben, then around the small clearing that surrounded them. She swallowed, tentatively willing her breath to slow down. Daring to think it was over.
Jesse let out a breath, picking up the jar. He tested the lid but it held fast, as though his blood were glue. His hand left a smear on the surface of it, across the face of the figure the harpies were stealing food from. “Now what do we do with it?” he asked quietly.
“I’m a fan of the sealing-with-cement-and-throwing-it-in-the-river thing we did with the flute last time,” Ben offered. Claire agreed, and was already circling the GTO in order to open the trunk, which didn’t take much, considering the beating it took. The lock was broken and dangling from a wire.
“Need something to put it in,” she started, her voice still tight as wire. “The cement’ll rise like dough and crush the thing, and I don’t feel like ever coming back here...”
“Right!” Ben replied with a false air of cheerfulness as he clapped his hands together. “We’ll get on that immediately then. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
***
Sitting in the middle of the bed, Jesse still held the jar. He hadn’t let it go since they left the woods. He’d bound them in there, after all, so he’d be the one responsible if anything bad happened.
“It’d have to be airtight, but strong enough to stand the concrete moving like that,” he said.
Claire was leaning tensely on the large A/C unit under the window, glancing out of it more often than not. She’d been quiet the entire drive back from the woods. Forcing thoughts of any possible candidates for something to hold the jar safe was proving more difficult than she anticipated, when all she could think about was getting away from this town.
“I could weld one tight if we got a hold of a blowtorch,” Ben suggested, frowning thoughtfully from where he sat in the nearby club chair.
“Maybe if we just wrap it up tight, tie weights on it, and drop it in the middle of the ocean,” Jesse said, looking down at the jar.
“Something would break it,” Claire finally injected, still looking out the window before slowly turning her eyes to the other two. “We could get a strong-box,” she looked directly at Ben, nodding once. “Take a torch to that, then bury it in cement on our way out.”
Ben nodded in agreement. “First thing tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow?” Jesse looked a bit pained. “Can’t we just finish it now?” The way Claire looked at him showed how much she clearly agreed with that idea.
“I would love to,” Ben drawled. “Except that it’s 2AM, so unless you can conjure me up a fully-functional blowtorch, Harry Potter--”
Claire snorted lightly at the reemergence of the running gag that had to be explained to her at least three times before, then pushed off her perch near the window, heading for the door. “Grabbin’ a soda,” she sighed a bit in her voice, and arched her brows at them to take any orders.
“Something without caffeine, don’t care,” Ben said, giving her a faint smile.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Jesse said, studying the image on the jar for about the hundredth time.
****
It shouldn’t have bothered Claire that the vending machine was out of what she was really craving, but it did. She cracked the seal on some generic brand of cola and took a reluctant sip, rounding the motel corner toward the walk that led back to the room. The hunt was over, for the most part--they’d be leaving soon, and the edge to her nerves could soften a little bit with every mile they put between themselves and this town. As she brought her eyes up from the ground, however, she found them settled immediately on the two federal agents in her path. The same two from earlier. This time their guns made an appearance.
“Hands were we can see ‘em,” the taller agent said, his voice low but as sharp as a knife.
Fuck! She complied slowly, still palming the open soda in one hand as it raised to shoulder level; a million and one thoughts buzzing through her head, and all drowned out by the automatic repeat of various curse words.
“C’mon now, boys,” she said, her voice tight. “You don’t need those.”
“We’ll be the judge of that, ma’am. Put down the pop,” the second man said, his feet shifting. Claire stitched her brows together at them, completely fine with showing a little more of her true anxiety and agitation. Normally, she’d talk her way out of this, but the chances of that happening a second time with these two all but disappeared.
“You gonna shoot me for holdin’ a ‘pop’, Slick?” she countered defiantly, her feet planted where she was. If they wanted her, they’d have to come and get it.
The taller agent’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve killed for less, isn’t that right, Claire?”
The appearance of her name struck something sharp and deep inside. Claire felt her stomach twist and her features hardened on the lawman who thought he had her pegged. In truth, the swell of acidic heat in her core was fear, and it fed the anger and sense of violation behind her eyes.
“Have I?” Her brows arched high as her voice lowered into dangerous territory.
“You don’t deny that your name is Claire Novak?” the second man spoke up again, his blue eyes hard. Claire cracked a small, wolfish grin at him that didn’t go anywhere near her eyes.
“Claire Novak died a long time ago, Fellas.” Her fingertips were tense on the plastic bottle, slick with condensation, not unlike the delicate sheen on her cheeks, chest, and arms. Every fiber in her body felt infused with hot wire, and Claire was willing them closer. “She’s the one thing I killed that didn’t deserve it.”
It looked like that was good enough for the shorter agent. “Claire Novak, you are under arrest. Put your hands on your head and get on your knees, and you really don’t want to make me ask a second time.”
“Oh, I think I do,” she responded, losing her impression of a smile. C’mon, c’mon... The first agent broke away and drifted off to the side, circling around her left in order to get behind her.
“Do as he said!” he barked.
The man in front of her looked to his partner. “Keep her covered,” he said, before holstering his gun. She watched him like a snake as he moved forward, grabbing Claire’s wrist roughly to twist it behind her back.
The next instant, the unfortunate Fed with his gun trained on her was hit in the face by a wall of frigid, sticky soda when Claire squeezed the open bottle with an estimated jerk toward his head. Using the same momentum, her wrist twisted out of the other’s grip, and the butt of her hand slammed into his Adam’s apple.
“Mother--” the first spat, wiping his arm hard against the back of his eyes. “Get on the ground, or I’ll shoot!” Except that his gun was suddenly shot across the sidewalk when the back of Claire’s boot cut across his hand and wrist. She became a small whirlwind of sharp, frenzied jabs and punches. Every strike crumbled a little more of the thick wall she’d been building around emotions and stresses she hadn’t known how to deal with. Her logical consciousness shut down, giving way to the flood of pent up aggression that made her eyes wild. The first agent dove off to the side, rolling and grabbing up his gun again before he aimed and fired.
The bullet buckled the sidewalk a foot behind Claire’s boot, but not before ripping through the waist of her jeans and an inch of skin and tissue beneath. A snarl sliced through her teeth as the rush of adrenaline and pain put iron behind her swing at the other lawman’s temple. She connected, and he dropped. The first agent immediately took another shot. Claire felt white hot spike plunge into the meat of her chest, right beneath the right shoulder joint. Blinded by red sparks that replaced her vision, an anguished battle cry scraped her throat as she threw herself at him.
They both went down on the side of the curb, Claire’s knee under his ribcage while both hands clawed at the one holding the gun. She slammed his wrist down on the edge of the parking brick nearby; once, twice, enough to crack the waffled grip as well as the bones in the back of his hand before it finally clicked to the ground. That’s when the pummeling really began.
He had long-since lost consciousness by the second time she’d bashed his head against the ground, but she kept going. Midway through what could have been the tenth punch to his busted and bleeding face, a sharp voice pierced through the red-tinged fog in her mind:
“Claire! Stop!”
Blood, sweat, and tears of rage stung her eyes the way the familiar voice stung her consciousness, opening the door for all the pain her body had been trying to register, to get her to stop before the slug in her joint tore it to shreds or she bled to death while she took this unnamed federal agent with her. Claire’s breaths were shuddering and labored as she whipped back from the bloody mess she created, shouting in pain as she landed on the gash in her hip. Her world was spinning out of control; a smear of colors and sounds that vibrated as she fell back to the pavement, completely unaware that she was sobbing.
There was a gentle hand on her shoulder, and then just like that the pain eased. Claire felt herself moved to standing before deep green eyes settled in her line of vision.
“You cannot go on like this,” the angel said, her voice smooth and even. “You are slipping again. If you continue, you will lose yourself entirely, just as your mother did.”
The sight of Kadiel through Claire’s rage-blurred vision was enough to pull all the breath from her lungs, but the angel’s words turned her knees into water. They buckled beneath her, slamming to the pavement as everything washed over her mind as a tsunami of grief, regret, and very real terror. Claire put her face in her hands, smearing blood across her cheeks, streaked under her palms by unrelenting tears. Kadiel observed her briefly, then turned to the two unconscious agents. Wordlessly she moved to the first, touching his forehead with two fingers. He zapped out of existence a half-second later, and was joined by his partner. It was only when both men had been dealt with that Kadiel moved back to Claire’s form, crouching down in front of her and lifting her slowly to standing again.
“Please reconsider your path,” she said softly. “You were finally regaining your faith, and doing the Lord’s work. Nothing good will come of the road you are currently following.”
The grief in Claire’s eyes melted into the guilt she’d been harboring for a long time, but underneath it was a contempt that made her tears hot as they continued to fall. Her lips pressed into a thin line and her gaze dropped, but when it returned, it was hard and desperate.
“I’m following a path in the pitch dark!” she half-choked, still sparking with the aftershocks of her rage.
“Only because you’ve let yourself become blind, child,” Kadiel replied, her hands cradling Claire’s face. “Come back to yourself.”
There was movement off to the side and suddenly Kadiel’s gaze drifted, her expression becoming hard and dangerous. She pulled back and away, moving past Claire with swift and purposeful steps.
Five feet from the corner, Jesse stepped out, hands clenched as his side. “Freeze,” he ordered, his voice managing to shake on even the one word. The angel immediately froze midstep, a fire igniting behind her eyes. Ben stepped out from behind Jesse a moment later, his favorite and most-trusted gun held firmly in his hand. Kadiel’s lips curled back. Claire’s eyes were wide, stunned, and still muddled with her flood of adrenaline.
“She’s not going with you,” Ben said coldly. “You should leave.”
“I didn’t come to take her,” Kadiel said, her voice low and icy. “I came to keep her safe.” Her gaze turned to Jesse. “I never knew how much danger she was really in.”
Jesse’s stomach turned to ice. He circled around the angel to Claire. “You alright?” he asked, his eyes only leaving Kadiel for a moment. Besides the blood left behind by healed wounds and a vicious fight, she was whole, but Claire didn’t seem to know how to speak. That brief moment Jesse broke eye contact was all that the angel needed and when he looked back, she’d already gone. Ben sprinted into the spot where she’d been, then ran a hand roughly through his hair and kicked at the ground.
“Sonofabitch.”
“How’d she do that?” Jesse snapped, spinning around to try to find her. “Shit. We gotta go. Now.”
****
Claire was finally getting her wish: they were leaving the city of Arlington behind, with an hour or two of darkness left before the sun would blanch the horizon. However, she was clearly far from as elated as she’d expect. They’d left in such a hurry, she hadn’t even changed out of her blood stained clothes, now turning deep brown and black as they dried. She could smell it on herself; stale and coppery and mixed with dirt and sweat. She felt the ghost of pain where Kadiel had stitched her together; as if pain left its impression in guilt. She should be in pain. And in many senses, she still was. Claire hadn’t said a word since the parking lot, and within fifteen minutes on the open road, emotional and physical exhaustion finally overtook her, leaning against the window in the back seat.
Jesse, on the other hand, had hardly stopped talking. His words were frenetic, not unlike his driving. It had been years since he’d physically crossed paths with an angel, and he’d gotten distracted and let her get away. If that thing was so concerned with Claire, it was a safe bet she wouldn’t be leaving them be.
“We should get out of the country, that would be safer,” he said, changing lanes to pass a slow car. “Some place unexpected, where they won’t be looking.”
“They’re angels, man,” Ben replied. “They’re not just limited to one continent. We need--” He cut himself off suddenly, his brow pinching. “You remember those symbols from the college house back in DeKalb, don’t you? Those were angel banishing sigils. Can you recreate them?”
Jesse’s stomach sank. “No. C’mon, mate, I didn’t even know what I was looking at, how am I supposed to remember those?”
“Just try!” Ben shot back, his voice straining. “‘Cuz otherwise we’re all fucked, don’t you get it?”
They can’t find me if I’m alone. Jesse just couldn’t quite make himself say it aloud. There had to be another way. Gripping the wheel tighter, he took a few deep breaths. “I’ll try. But we might be fucked anyway if one of those things got to Claire. You saw what she did; something’s wrong.”
“It’s still Claire,” Ben said insistently. “C’mon, pull over, you’re gonna get us another run-in with the fuzz the way you’re drivin’.”
Jesse slowed down, but he didn’t pull off. They couldn’t stop. “Claire wouldn’t do that. Fuck, I thought she was gonna kill the guy. She might’ve and that angel was just getting rid of the bodies.”
Ben shook his head again, looking into his mirror and back at Claire’s sleeping form. “She probably had a reason. We’ll ask her when she’s up.” His jaw tightened. “Seriously, just pull over for a sec so I can drive.”
“Ben, these things wanna kill me,” Jesse said, accelerating as he spoke. “They don’t try to reason, they don’t ask questions, all they want to do is stab first and I can’t-- I have to be doing something. If you want to drive, give me something else to do.”
“Work on trying to remember those sigils,” Ben tossed back. “Just c’mon, man, please.”
His lips pressed in a line, Jesse eased off the gas, pulling off to the side of the road. He sat there for a second before stepping out and moving around to the passenger side. Since they were stopped anyway, he moved a little further from the car to take a piss. There hadn’t exactly been time for that before leaving.
Ben looked back and caught the motion, letting out a burst of a sigh before pulling out his phone. He could only think of one person who might able to help them. The phone rang twice before there was an answer:
“Benjamen Braeden, so help me, you better be dying to call me this late.”
Ben gave a faint smile into the darkness. “Heya, Iz. How ya been?”
“Boy, I will hit you in the head with a brick--”
“You got an empty bed or two?” Ben interrupted. “We’re about a day out, but I can make it in twelve hours if I take the back roads. Should be there in time for lunch tomorrow.”
The woman on the other end’s voice softened slightly. “You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on, Benjy?”
“I promise I will, the moment I get six hours of sleep and some food in me.” He paused, rolling his lips. “Don’t suppose you know anything about angel-banishing sigils?”
There was silence before she replied: “I’ll see what I can do. Be safe, Benjy. I don’t wanna have to read aboutcha in the paper.”
Feeling marginally better, Jesse slid in the passenger seat just as Ben finished with the call. He froze, hand still on the open door. “Who you talking to?” He didn’t mean for suspicion to color his tone, but it did anyway.
“Friend’a mine,” Ben answered, already dialing up Lucas’s number even as he turned the ignition in the car again.
Jesse didn’t like not knowing what Ben was doing, but he closed the door at least. “Who’re you calling now?”
Ben shoved the frustration down. “Lucas. Front pocket in my bag, there’s a notebook and a bag of pens.”
“Hello?” came the sleepy voice on the other end of the receiver.
“Luke! Buddy, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake ya, but I need to pick your brain, man.”