A bead of sweat trickled down Emma's back as she stalked in front of the devil's trap currently ensnaring a very pissed off demon. She had been hoping, praying that he could assist (however unwillingly) in their search. But after dousing him with a gallon of holy water it was clear he didn't have the information she desired, in other words, was completely useless.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…" she recited, glaring at the black eyed fucker before her, "mnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio…."
This one was particularly infuriating because he was smart, almost smarter than her, and therefore evaded her longer than usual. He'd led her on a ridiculous chase through the streets of Atlanta before she'd finally caught him, and while it wasn't yet summer, the humidity was already killing her. She couldn't believe she ever wanted to live in Tallahassee.
Emma faltered slightly as her phone started to ring, "…et secta diabolica…" trying to shut out the dark laughter echoing from the demon, undoubtedly at the Star Wars theme blasting from her phone.
"You going to get that?" he croaked, a bead of blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth.
Ignoring him, she continued as her phone undoubtedly went to voicemail, "Ergo draco maledicte et section…"
The demon twitched, visibly uncomfortable as she reached the latter portion of the exorcism, he struggled against his bonds as her phone started to ring again, "I really think you should get that," he sneered, the menacing intent ruined by his distressed panting.
Emma paused, considering for a moment, this demon was a low-life and she could take a quick call. She sighed, pausing her memorized Latin spiel, and whipped out her phone, "What?"
"Swan," his lilting English accent drifted through the phone, "At last, I've been trying to pin you down all day."
"Jones," she replied dryly, throwing a glance back at the seething demon, "I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"By all means continue then, lass," he chuckled, "I'll wait."
She rolled her eyes, "Give me a minute," and shoved her phone, call still connected, into the pocket of her leather jacket.
"Now, where was I?" she narrowed her eyes at the demon, "Oh yeah, ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica."
Yelling now, he cursed her, threatening to rip her apart, find Jones and rip him limb from limb, positively thrashing in his bonds. Emma did her best to avoid vividly picturing his threats and shouted over him, "Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos."
With her final word he yelled and his neck snapped back, facing upwards, smoke pouring from his open mouth and dissipating into the ceiling. She slowly made her way over to the man, now limp against his bonds, head gently dropping down towards his chest. She had sinking a feeling he was dead, he'd been possessed for too long and while she'd been fighting him, the demon didn't seem concerned with his bodily health.
She reached out and cautiously pressed two fingers to where his pulse should've been and found nothing. She quickly untied his bonds and wiped her prints from everywhere in the room. After being abandoned herself, this was the hardest part of every job, that she couldn't give any victim's family closure. Emma sighed, looking around the large room for anything she might have missed and tugged lightly at her braided blonde hair. It was time to go.
She pulled out her phone and pressed it to her ear, "It's over," she muttered, walking outside to her bug and dumping her stuff in the trunk before sliding into the driver's seat.
"You alright there, Swan?" he asked lightly, a note of concern edging in at the last moment.
"I'm fine," she admitted heavily, "The guy didn't make it, though."
"Ah," Jones breathed, in the same line of business as her, he understood the disheartening effect of a loss like this, "At least his soul's his own,"
She nodded to herself and rubbed at her forehead tiredly, it was a small comfort. What she really needed now was a good meal and a full night's sleep, but since Jones was calling, she doubted that was in the cards for her, "So..?"
He cleared his throat, "I've found him."
She sat up so quickly she almost smacked her forehead on the roof of the bug, "For sure?"
"Bobby Singer provided some information pertaining to murders in a small town in Maine," he answered, "It fits better than anything we've seen before and I've got a description of a new person in town with an odd coat that sounds like the crocodile skin one he wears."
"I can't believe it," she breathed, not yet daring to hope.
"Don't take me on my word for it," he said, "I'm in Charlotte, currently lacking a vehicle so if you can pick me up we can travel together."
"Since when has a car not being yours kept you from using it?" The answer was never, Jones was as bad as a pirate, commandeering vessels left and right (thought he always put in a helpful anonymous tip as to its location when he was done using it – maintaining his honor and all).
"And miss your charming company? I wouldn't dream of it," he teased.
Driving alone was nothing new to her, but company on a fifteen hour drive would not be unwelcome. She could even get some sleep and that was the deciding factor. "Fine," she huffed.
"And Swan, have I mentioned that you sound quite captivating when you speak Latin?" she could practically hear the wink and the shit eating grin in his voice, "Absolutely…"
She rolled her eyes, only fifty times before, and interrupted him, "I'll see you in a couple hours, Jones."
"Too right, love" he chuckled and hung up.
She stifled the small smile on her face, annoyed that Jones was so easily able to take her mind off topic, even if the attempt was to make her feel better. It didn't matter how she felt, not when it was finally time to avenge Henry. God, Henry. Her fingers tightened around her phone, aching to ruffle his hair like she used to when he was goofing off. She would give anything to listen to him talk about his latest wacky secret mission. Operation Dracula, he might call this one.
Emma threw her phone on the seat next to her. A gasping sob echoed from deep within her chest, surprising her with its voracity. This might all be over soon, but even if she stands over Gold as they put him down, it will never bring back her kid.
The night Henry woke her screaming, Emma thought he'd suffered a bad dream but when she ran to his room she saw something much more terrifying than a nightmare, because it was standing right beside him. A man, if you could him that, with stringy hair, a scaly leather jacket and fangs protruding from his mouth was looming over Henry's bed. He'd dragged him out of it and kept him still with a hand around the back of his neck.
She'd rushed the man, only to be dragged backwards by her hair, tears springing from her eyes. A petite brunette appeared from the shadows, leering, fangs popping down from above her bared teeth as she pinned her to the ground. Emma had done everything in her power to escape, to get to Henry who was constantly yelling for her. She'd punched, scratched and kicked, screaming Henry's name but the woman's strength was enormous. She felt powerless, struggling as she watched the monster sink his teeth into Henry's neck. Powerless, as she felt the woman's needle like teeth pierce her skin and then only darkness when enough blood drained from her body.
The first thing Emma was aware of upon waking was the spinning. Worse than any drunken night, she kept her eyes shut tight, urging the world to stop moving beneath her. Thoughts slipped away faster than they could form and it was all she could do to think about keeping the contents of her stomach where they were. Looking back, she still hated herself for not remembering right away. How could she have forgotten?
Only when she had felt fingers pressed against her wrist did she force her eyes open, letting in her bleary surroundings and a massive headache. A tall man with shaggy hair was checking her pulse and speaking to her, but his words flew through her brain to quickly to understand.
Emma tried to ask what was happening, but as she spoke, her tongue felt heavy and her words came out slurred. The man shushed her and she realized he was pressing a lump of cloth against her neck. Her neck, why was that important?
The room started to regain focus and the man's words soon registered as comprehensible. He had reassured her that they were here to help and that he and his brother drove away the monsters. Monsters? He was back to making no sense.
She was in Henry's room, she recognized and as the spinning decreased, Emma decided to chance looking around and tilted her head to the left. The breath she drew in to scream brought the dizziness crashing back down on her. Even as the men offered meaningless reassurances, there was still a decapitated man lying on her carpet, head a foot from its body staring in her direction. Her eyes widened as she saw the fangs resting on his lips.
"Vampires," the man tending her wound offered and with a rush the events of the night came back. Henry, Henry, Henry.
She bolted upright, determined to stay on her feel, their protests of blood loss falling on deaf ears. Glaring at them, Emma held the bloodied cloth to her neck but advanced on the brother, "Where is he?" she demanded, words just on the wrong side of slurring but the look in her eyes must have convinced him she wouldn't take no for an answer.
Sympathy flashed across his face as he moved away. Emma could see Henry on his bed, eyes closed, too pale and too still. Like a dream she had drifted over to his side, a shaking hand hovering over the punctures in his neck, still smeared with blood. Her fingers dropped gently to his forehead and quickly withdrew at the complete lack of warmth. Henry was gone and in that one night her life was utterly destroyed and in the years since she was just trying to pick up the pieces.
Alone in her car, she cried, unable to restrain herself, head dropping to rest on the steering wheel. She pressed the scars on her neck and cursed the day that she survived instead of him.