Again, I disclaim.
AN: Title a line from Tolkien: "Take the hidden paths that run / West of the Moon, East of the Sun".
It's a bit longer than I was expecting ;) But they had issues, and it just didn't feel right to insert a chapter break. Would have disrupted the whole flow of the story, I think.
There's cussing later on. John insisted, sorry.
Take the hidden paths
"...salt wards off demons and spirits, Anasazi symbols against Wendigos, but fire keeps away just about anything corporeal anyway, including ghouls – they only show up in deserts, though, near cemeteries. And I can't believe I managed all that in one sentence."
Mary laughed at that. She was driving, of course, the Impala rumbling through the dark Wisconsin woods. John was reading by flashlight – or had been, till she decided to quiz him.
"What about hellhounds?"
"Salt, too. I think."
"It works. Gopher dust is better, but that's hoodoo, so hard to come by up north."
"Aren't hellhounds usually under the control of some kinda demon?"
"Usually, yeah. A dealmaker. They can get loose, though."
"Dealmaker… like in Dr. Faustus? Robert Johnson? Went down to the crossroads…"
"…fell down on my knees," Mary joined in, and they sang the whole thing through, laughing.
It was the little things like that that were important. That were keeping John Winchester sane. Three weeks since they'd escaped Cold Oak and the horror of it still sat deep in his bones.
It had taken all Mary's concentration and much of her strength to gain control over Justin's pet demon while the two men fought. John had come away with a knife-wound across his ribs, more bruises than he cared to count, and the sickening memory of the soft wet slide of his knife across Justin's throat.
Most horrific of all was the trip to the actual borders of the town, being chased through the woods by the possessed corpses of the dead kids they'd found the day before, mutilated, twisted bodies stumbling tirelessly after them, the demons inside them twisting the very trees into weapons. The iron poker Mary had found and their own abilities had been the only things that kept them alive.
John had never felt such relief as when they finally reached the dirt track that marked the boundaries of Cold Oak and found that the demons were unable to cross it.
They'd waited out the night hidden under an outcrop of stone in the hills by the road, waking from fitful sleep the next morning cold, battered and bleeding, and utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. It was a feeling John knew far too well – but on the other hand, that had probably saved them in the end.
The hospital staff in the nearest town had been sympathetic and helpful towards the young couple who'd been mugged when their car broke down. John had never in his life told the police such a pack of lies as he had that day. He'd also seen a glimpse of Mary's ability – she'd used it on one of the doctors who hadn't believed their story. The way her voice had deepened and echoed as she told him to leave us alone, and forget about it, the way the guy's eyes had glazed over as she spoke, had been almost as disturbing to John as the demons.
He wondered if that's what Mary had thought when she saw him fling that demon away with nothing more than a look when it had –
Not going there.
The day after they got out of hospital, Mary's cousin Mark had arrived. He'd been none too trusting of John, and furious at his cousin, but after a fight or two John had stayed well away from, Mark had finally given in and let them leave without telling his father what they were up to.
"Uncle Ben would pack you off home to Kansas and expect me to sit quietly in a corner and learn to knit while he takes care of it all," Mary had told John. "Quite apart from the fact that it's grossly unfair, I'm not even sure if he could do it. If anyone's going to defeat this demon, I think it has to be us."
"How did you know I was from Kansas?" he asked, surprised. She blinked and then grinned. "I didn't. I was just referring to Wizard of Oz."
John fought back a laugh. His side still hurt too much for that.
The only person he'd called was Deacon, and had relegated to his worried, exasperated friend the unenviable task of telling Katie and Allison that yes, he was fine, and no, he wouldn't be coming home just yet.
The last person John had any intention of calling was his Dad. The General would have had the entire Marine Corps out combing the state of Wyoming for him before the end of the phone call. He couldn't afford that.
Listen, Dad, I'm sorry, but, uh… there's some ancient demon after me because it wants me to bring about the Apocalypse, or something, and… oh, the girl? Name's Mary. We're supposed to kill each other. By the way, did I tell you already I resigned my commission?
That'd go over real well.
After all the organisational matters had been dealt with, they'd hit the road.
Well. Once John had stopped admiring the Impala, anyway.
Now they were cutting across Wisconsin, headed for Minneapolis. An old friend of Mary's father lived there who might be able to point them in the direction of someone who might know something about a Key, a focus point for the binding spell that could trap The Demon.
"Awful lot of mights and maybes," John had observed.
"Welcome to my life," Mary had said drily. "You gotta remember how old this stuff is. This demon that wants us, it's been around for thousands of years. Information tends to get lost over time like that."
John had just started to read again when Mary slammed the brakes on.
"Holy crap!"
She could swear like a trooper when she wanted to. John was pretty sure his sister Katie had trouble with 'damn'.
Then he looked out the windshield, and saw the body lying in the middle of the road.
"Jesus, where did he come from?"
"Johnny, I swear the road was empty a minute ago."
John put the book down slowly and got out of the car. He switched the flashlight from right hand to left and pulled his gun out of his jeans, holding on the man as he moved in front of the Impala. Mary came up behind him warily.
The guy was in his thirties, maybe, and gave a low groan as they drew nearer. His eyes flickered open, seeming to glow in the headlights as he looked up at them.
"Help me…"
"OK," Mary said softly, coming forwards. "OK. Tell us what happened to you."
"Mary," John protested, "don't get-"
Too late. She turned back to glare at him and Roadkill Guy moved faster than John's eyes could follow, catching hold of her as he stood up, pulling her flush against his chest and yanking her head back by her hair, exposing her throat, and oh my god, was that a second set of teeth?
John didn't bother with the gun. He dropped all his inner defences and simply lashed out, feeling the now-familiar surge of heat in his veins. It twisted inside him like an alien entity clawing at his guts, but finally went where he wanted it to, tearing the guy away from Mary, flinging him across the road and leaving John with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
Mary staggered when the guy was wrenched away from her, stumbling back until John caught her, arm around her shoulders, holding her against his chest.
He was shaking, she realised.
"I'm guessing he's not human," he said unsteadily as the guy… no, creature… staggered to its feet. It looked murderous.
"Can you hold it still?" Mary asked, and ducked under his arm without waiting for an answer. She pulled a machete out of the trunk and then rejoined John. He looked pale, face set with effort.
"Vampire," she said. "Only way to kill them is decapitation."
"No stakes?"
"No stakes. No garlic, either. The bloodlust is true, though. Hence the teeth."
John really looked sick now. "You mean it would have…"
"Drunk her dry," the thing cut in harshly, red-faced with the effort of struggling against John's hold on it. "Lapped up every last drop of her warm sweet blood, and then come for yours, boy."
"I'd advise you to choose your victims a little more carefully from now on," Mary said. "But you won't get the chance."
The Impala's headlights glinted along the machete's razor-sharp blade.
The vampire sneered at her. "I will be avenged," it said. "They will destroy you both, hunter."
It spat the word at her like an insult, and John watched silently as the blade swept up and back in a long deadly arc.
He let the body collapse on the ground in a bloody heap and gave a sigh of relief as the pounding heat in his veins retreated the minute he let go of his power.
Then they had to drag the body off the road.
"Sunlight," he said, using a stick to roll the head into the ditch. "What about sunlight?"
"Hurts 'em, but they don't spontaneously combust," Mary replied. "We should burn the body, really."
John shook his head. "Don't have time. It talked about others, remember?"
"Vampires move in groups of up to eight or ten," Mary told him. "Like a pack of wolves. They mate for life, too."
"Puts a whole new spin on 'till death do us part'," John observed. Mary chuckled, and came over to stand beside him. She didn't touch him, though. She rarely had, since they left Wyoming.
"What the police will think when they find him," she said. "Two sets of teeth!"
"The newspapers will be full of the serial killer who decapitates his victims, not the teeth," John predicted.
"It wouldn't really be that far off, would it? Come on, let's get to town."
"Ladies first," John teased. "Seeing as you're driving."
Mary smirked. "If you bring me breakfast in bed tomorrow morning I might let you have a go."
"I'm gonna need something a little more definite than might in exchange for all that effort," John said as they got in the car.
"First things first," Mary answered. "What's our last name this week?"
"Fogerty," John answered.
"I hate CCR," she grumbled.
"Tough. You were the one who insisted on fake names."
"We're Chosen to destroy the world, Johnny, remember? There are hunters out there who might take offense at that."
Well, that ruined the mood. At least he was right about the news reports. They were full of the decapitated body, and three disappearances from the week before, and all sorts of ridiculous theories about another Ed Gein.
"The whole town's in a panic," John observed as they sat down to breakfast.
"Wouldn't you be?" Mary asked. "I asked around this morning. Three teenagers have disappeared over the last week or so. Let's hurry up and get out there, see if we can pick up some kinda trail."
John frowned at her. "And Minneapolis?"
Mary took a gulp of coffee and then, seeing the doubtful look he was giving her, set her mug down with a loud thunk.
"I know. And I know what we're doing is important. But those disappearances? The cops will make a connection between them and our vampire. And if they find the nest, they'll be slaughtered. People are dying, John. And we have the power – the knowledge – to stop it. If that means getting distracted, delaying our quest… it's a price I'm willing to pay."
"We leave this too long, we might find it's too late," John told her without thinking. She must have heard something in his voice, because her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What do you mean, too late?"
"Nothing," John said harshly.
Mary was having none of it. She reached across the table and grabbed a handful of his shirt, yanking him forwards. The other diners were giving them looks from scandalised to indulgent and amused, but Mary never took her eyes off John's, voice low and thrumming with anger when she spoke.
"Listen, Winchester. Just because I can't order you to do anything, or even just kill you for fear of bringing about Judgment Day, doesn't mean I'll hesitate to leave your sorry ass in this dump if you're not straight with me. I can't afford to take you along if I can't trust you. We clear?"
In spite of himself, John smiled. "Yes, ma'am," he said softly.
She searched his face intently for a hint of mockery, but didn't find any. He just sat there, rim of the table digging painfully into his ribs, and watched her watch him, the way her eyes glinted when the light hit them and the arch of her eyebrows –
-and just as he was about to lean in and kiss her, she pulled away.
"So what's worrying you?"
Not that he was surprised. They'd made love only once, the night they finally got out of the hospital in Wyoming. It had been a comfort, an affirmation of life, the only thing they had had between them to hold the darkness at bay and stave off the nightmares.
And since then she'd avoided having any physical contact with him whatsoever.
The next morning, Mark had arrived and then they were leaving and that was that. Still, he was a little… puzzled. It wasn't as though they'd spent the last weeks discovering that, actually, this wasn't going to work because they hated each other.
The thought that there might already be someone she was with was not one he really wanted to entertain.
"Johnny?!"
John grimaced at the return to subject. He dropped his eyes to the table and stabbed an unoffending slice of bacon rather savagely while he tried to work out just what to say.
"Last night," he began, "in the woods… when I used – when I pulled that thing away from you, it felt – I mean, it's always felt like that, not that I've used it much, but since Cold Oak it's getting stronger. It's as if it has a mind of its own, see. My ability, I mean. Like it knows that there's something I should be using it for, and it's not tossing vampires around. Every time I use it, it's harder to control."
Mary was silent for a long while, just watching him. Then she said, "You killed Justin."
"I remember," John cut in drily.
"Silence in the cheap seats," she ordered. "You killed Justin. That makes you next in line for the crown. Makes you the designated heir. All you'd have to do is kill me."
"Never happen," John said without thinking.
She smiled. "Thank you. But I think – I think we both need to be more careful about using them. We'll need to hide who we are from most of the hunters we meet anyway. The sooner we stop using them, the better."
"OK then. So what about these vampires?"
He wasn't entirely reassured, but no way would he let her see that. Better to leave it alone. She was probably right, anyway.
Thing was, he wasn't sure how much use he was going to be without his ability.
Mary didn't seem to have any doubts, though. They headed along the road as if they were leaving town again till they came to the 'crime scene' and got out to talk to the cops. One young deputy in particular was more than happy to talk to them… if that was what it took for Mary to stand still long enough for him to peer down the front of her shirt.
John was having a hard time keeping himself from hitting the little git. If Mary minded, she didn't let on.
"So… I mean, where around here could some serial killer possibly be hiding?" she asked in her most vapid, breathlessly admiring voice. "I mean, everyone my cousin and I have met around here have been so lovely…"
"Oh, there's places, ma'am, there's places," the deputy said in his most mysteriously important tones. "The Cooper place, that's been abandoned for years. Who knows what's going on up there. Or there are caves in the woods, you know, up in the hills."
He waved a hand in the direction of the hills in question, off to the east of where they were standing. The gesture, unfortunately for him, was large enough that it did not go unnoticed by his superiors.
"Tommy! Stop makin' an eejit of yerself and send those people back to town, now!"
John decided he liked the Sheriff.
When they got back in the car, Mary sat for a moment with her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone white. John made to reach out to her, but thought better of it. He wasn't sure she'd want him to touch her.
"I hate that," she said at last, helplessly.
"What?" he asked, voice low and comforting. He still couldn't tell if she was upset or angry.
"That!" she exclaimed, jerking upright and waving a hand through the windscreen at the crime scene.
Definitely angry.
She revved the engine furiously and slammed Zeppelin III into the tape deck, and John winced. Immigrant Song was Mary's angry music, he'd found that out fairly quickly.
Once the song was through, however, she turned the volume back down and said quite calmly, "It'll be the Cooper place he talked about. They won't use the caves. Too far away from potential victims, and above all too inconvenient. They want someplace where they can… store… the victims. Someplace they can't get out of. And I'm guessing five fangs."
John bit back an inward groan. The whys and wherefores of her all conclusions had just completely escaped him. One day, maybe, all this would came to him as easy as breathing, but until then, he was pretty much dependant on Mary for all the information.
He hated being dependant on people.
"Why only five?"
"If the nest were bigger than six, there would have been more disappearances. Listen, we need to find a funeral home."
"Now you've lost me."
She chuckled. "Sorry. For dead man's blood. They feed off the living, see? Dead man's blood is poison to them, a sedative. Indigestible, you might say."
"You wanna force-feed them blood?"
"Dipping a knife in it will do the trick."
"Oh, OK then."
"Is this freaking you out?"
"A little, yeah."
"Any way I can help with that?"
He sighed. "I doubt it. So we… what, find the Cooper place, head up there, and…"
"Don't think you're getting away with that. I know all about evading uncomfortable subjects."
"Right. So what were you so mad about just now?"
"I think we should wait till morning to looking for them. They'll be more vulnerable in the daylight."
He burst out laughing. She grinned.
"So what's the actual plan?" John wanted to know. "We can't just saunter up to the front door and ask them to hand over the prisoners," infusing his voice with as much sarcasm as possible.
"Well, no," Mary agreed. "We'll have to take a window."
"You're kidding," John said in disbelief.
She looked across at him. "About the window?"
"You want to saunter in there in broad daylight and start picking locks, is that it? You're talking about a pitched battle. On their turf. And they have the advantage of numbers."
"Got any better plans?" Mary asked. "And I'm serious. There's no way to trap them. Salt, iron, Devil's Traps… none of them work. Locking them in isn't an option, they're too strong. I can hide our scent after we leave, but that's all. And if we wait for them to leave before we get the victims out, we'll just be putting someone else in danger. We don't have the time to hunt them down one by one. So. How would you do it?"
John sat staring out the window for a long while, thinking it over. He didn't notice the way she was watching him out of the corner of her eyes.
Did he know how sexy that look was, that intense, concentrated gaze? Mary's best friend (and Mark's wife) Colleen would never believe she'd been living with this man for three weeks without jumping his bones.
But there was the matter of this Alison girl he'd mentioned on the phone to his friend. And Mary refused to ruin his life any more than she already had.
The fact that he wouldn't have a life anymore if it weren't for her didn't cross her mind.
"Fire won't hurt them?" John asked at last.
"Not permanently," Mary replied.
"But it'll drive 'em out of the house, right? Injure them just enough to give us an edge. Add in the sunlight…"
"Genius," Mary said happily. "We'll need alcohol."
She took care of that part. He spent the afternoon creeping round a funeral home. It kinda worried him that he found it as exhilarating as he did. Was this job supposed to be fun?
Mary, it seemed, hadn't enjoyed herself as much. She was sitting at the motel room table, glaring at the cheap whiskey bottles and whetting a knife, when John got back. He wondered who she was imagining using it on.
"Everything go OK?"
"No."
"Ah."
"It's just –" and then she stopped.
"Yeah?"
She tilted her head off to one side in a quick little jerk. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
He grimaced. "It's kinda ridiculous."
"Try me."
"Has it occurred to you yet that I'm… sorta dependant on you for everything about this?"
"Oh. Oh, I see. Yeah, I'd hate that too. Tell you what. When we've been to Minneapolis and seen Abe, we'll go down to Connecticut and put you through boot camp at Mark's."
In spite of himself, John laughed. "That'll help?"
"We probably should have done that first thing. I know you can take care of yourself, but you're right, you do need a more intensive crash course in demonology. I'm sorry."
"I was just as eager to take off as you were," he reminded her. After leaving the hospital, getting as far away from Wyoming as they could had been the foremost thing on both their minds, leaving little room for anything else. "What about you?"
He meant their little deal. Mary flipped the knife so that it stuck, quivering, in the table-top and sat up straight.
"Men," she said. John blinked. "Not you. All the others. The ones who never actually see my face because they're too busy trying to peer down my shirt. The ones who think I'd be more than happy to go home with them if they just look at me the right way. The ones who treat me like an airhead because I'm blonde. Makes me want to scream. Or castrate them. I haven't decided yet."
The words rushed out of her in a quick angry torrent, and then she fell silent. Somehow he knew his response was important to her for some reason.
"So I should have hit the deputy this morning?"
She tossed her hair back and laughed.
"Yes please. And then thank your mother for me."
John almost choked on that. "Not likely. It's my sister's fault. Our mother is the Antichrist. Even Dad says so."
Mary's laugh rang out again. "I hope they're not still married, then."
"Divorced when I was eight. Katie was six. Only reason it lasted that long was because the General was away so often. Korea, places like that."
Time to take the plunge, Mary decided. "So who's Alison?" The sixteen-year-old girl inside her wanted to bite her lip as she waited for the answer.
"My stepmother," John answered. Then he blinked. "How'd you know about her?"
Mary shrugged. "I overheard your phone call at the hospital," she said.
Didn't look even remotely ashamed of herself. Quite the contrary.
John leaned over the table in sudden, dawning understanding. "Did you think… is that why you haven't-"
"Why I haven't spent every night since we left Wyoming in your bed?" Mary interrupted, incredulous.
"We practically dragged each other out of those woods," John reminded her. "Then we had sex, and you've barely touched me since. In any way, for any reason."
"These aren't exactly ideal circumstances to be starting a… to be starting anything in," Mary said harshly.
"And for all we know, we're stuck with these circumstances for the rest of our lives," John said.
Mary started to say something, stopped, and then tried again. "Look. I'm… kinda high-maintenance. Not in the big-houses-in-the-country-and-a-new-dress-every-Friday way either."
"Could never stand girls like that," John told her, patience beginning to wear thin. "What's really the matter?"
Mary flung herself to her feet, utterly exasperated. "No one chooses this life, dammit!" she yelled.
"Well, what about you?" John was suddenly just as angry as she was. Did she really think he didn't know what he was getting into? Did she really think he wasn't capable of making his own decisions?
She whipped back round to face him. "My father was a hunter. He and Mom were killed when I was fourteen."
"I'm sorry."
"Not the point."
"True. And too fucking late anyway. You're stuck with me. I didn't choose this life, remember? Some demon did it for me, some kinda thing that wants me to destroy the whole world! Not forgetting the fucking abilities! I can move things across a room without even looking at them, what kind of other life do you think I really have a chance at right now? And don't you fucking dare apologise. You're the only reason I'm still alive."
She just stood there, looking at him. Waiting. For him to leave? Too bad.
"So. As for starting something? Tell me now you don't want to, and it'll never come up again. I swear. But tell me you don't want to, not that it's not a good idea. The ball's in your court."
It was a challenge, and he knew it. For a moment she simply stood there, watching him still, green-gold fire dancing in her eyes. Then something snapped inside her - he could see it in those eyes - and she took a quick step forward and pushed him back into the chair, folding herself into his lap.
"You're going to regret this," she breathed between kisses and then gasped when his warm hands wound their way under her shirt and up.
"Never," he answered, a whispered promise against the side of her neck as she traced the muscles of his back and arms with feather-light fingertips.
Next morning, he brought her breakfast in bed, and she let him drive the Impala up to the Cooper place.
"Sure they'll be asleep?" John said softly, eyeing the long stretch of open grass between the tree line they were crouching in and the old farmhouse.
"Yeah. They're not like demons, tireless, untouchable. They need sleep like we do."
"OK then. Here goes."
Mary caught his sleeve as he started forwards. "Remember. Don't stab them unless you have to. Go straight for the neck."
"I'll remember," he promised.
Judging by the silence in the house, no one had seen them cross the lawn. They dipped the machetes in dead man's blood, hid the Molotovs by the back door, and slipped inside.
The door creaked alarmingly, but other than that, there was no sound.
The house was dim and dirty. Jewellery, clothes and even cash lay in piles on the dilapidated sofa.
"They loot their victims?" John breathed.
"Easy money," Mary whispered back. "Looks like the people are upstairs."
John looked round the living room again and spotted the basement door opposite him, in the kitchen. "Vampires down there?" he murmured, gesturing with the knife.
Mary's grin was savage. "We can stand in front of the trapdoors outside and pick 'em off one by one."
John grinned back. He couldn't remember ever feeling this alive, practically high on adrenaline. Vietnam, and then Cold Oak, had been terrifying, always an inch away from death, unable to do anything but survive. This, on the other hand, was a rush.
Sure enough, they found the master bedroom locked and barricaded with a chest of drawers. Moving it was a pretty awkward undertaking, wincing at every squeak. Then Mary picked the lock.
"You're gonna have to teach me how to do that," John murmured.
"Get Mark to do it," she whispered. "He taught me."
The three kids from the news report, two guys and a girl, were in the room, looking pale, terrified, and hopeless. John felt a rush of pity when he saw them; the oldest was maybe eighteen.
But there was another occupant. An older guy in his forties, dressed like a farmhand. He was paler than the kids, sweating, holding a bloodstained cloth against the side of his neck.
They'd fed off him.
His eyes flickered open as Mary shushed the kids, fixing on John, then moving to the machete he held.
"You killed that fang last night?" he asked softly. "They thought it was me. Been tracking them for a couple months now."
"Sorry," John said, equally soft. "Can you walk? We gotta go."
Everyone nodded. John helped the other hunter up. The girl was trembling, face streaked with tearstains.
"They're – they're not-"
"We know what they are," Mary soothed her. "Just go, OK? Quiet as you can, straight down the stairs and out the back door. Run for the road."
"Don't stop for anything," John added. "Go on, get out!"
They crept down the stairs in single file, Mary first, John last, supporting the other hunter. Along the corridor, through the kitchen, the kids running unsteadily as soon as they were out, John saw Mary reaching for the Molotovs, and then the basement door opened behind him and he caught a glimpse of a girl with long blonde hair in the doorway.
Then he just moved, no thinking involved, no time for it, shoving the older hunter at Mary as she reappeared in the doorway and swinging the machete up as the vampire opened its mouth to scream, teeth already descending, and then the wet thud of the body hitting the floor and voices drifting up the basement steps.
Mary tossed him the Molotovs as he came out of the door and ran for the trapdoors to the basement at the side of the house. The other hunter followed her. John tossed the Molotovs into the kitchen and watched as they lit up, fire racing across the floor, a vampire in the basement doorway staggering back with a shriek of anger and horror.
John ran after Mary.
Two vampires were dead. He arrived in time to kill the fourth, and Mary got the last one again.
Like Whack-a-Mole, only bloodier.
They heaved the bodies back into the basement, crashed the trapdoors shut, and got away from the house.
"Wow," John said softly, staring at their handiwork. He felt oddly hollow now it was all over – but the grin on Mary's face was pure triumph.
"Yeah," she agreed.
"I guess I owe you kids a favour or two," the other hunter said ruefully. He was sitting against a tree behind them, still pressing a hand against his neck. "Embarrassing. Although it is kinda rude of you to be snakin' someone else's case."
"Pure coincidence," Mary said. "We were supposed to be yesterday's dinner."
He laughed out loud. "Well. I'm Dan Elkins. And you two…"
John took the proffered hand and introduced them both, deliberately dropping their last names. But Dan still frowned at Mary. "Mary… Mary Roberts? Lisa Colt's daughter? Your uncle's been tearing the whole blessed U. S. of A. apart looking for you, girl."
Mary grimaced. "Too much to hope he'd understand this, I guess."
Dan snorted. "Ben's a stubborn sonovabitch," he said. "What is this, exactly?" shooting a look at John, who was following the exchange in silent surprise.
"My business," Mary said sharply.
But Dan smiled. "Girl," he said, "I owe you and your – friend, my life. I won't tell on you. I did hear you were askin' around about Cold Oak some months back, though?"
"What about it?" John cut in, and immediately cursed himself for doing so. But if this guy knew something that could help them…
Mary glared at him. Dan was looking between them both with eyes gone wide. "I've heard a thing or two from Abe Rosenbaum," he admitted slowly. "Is it true? Are you… are you the Chosen?"
Mary was still glaring at him. How long could she keep that up?
On the other hand, she was pretty adorable when angry.
John turned back to Dan with a shrug and a sigh. "That's kinda the question," he said. "We don't really know anything about… about what it wants from us."
Dan nodded slowly. "I'm guessing you were headed for Abe's place anyway? I'll tag along. Who knows, I might be able to help you."
"Why would you?" Mary asked, still suspicious. John rolled his eyes at her. Dan got to his feet and glared back at her for the first time. "Because, like I said, I owe you my life. I don't take that kinda debt lightly. But I might need a doc first."
Mary caved at last. "We'll drive you. Car's back that way."