The sparks looked like stars, zooming up and melding into the night sky. Jesse hadn't thought of that one himself. A girlfriend - or at least as close as he ever got to a girlfriend - had said it on a night that was pretty similar to this one. Only that night was several years and tens of thousands of miles ago. Then he'd been lying on a towel on the sand with a pretty girl, listening to the waves. Now he was lying on a blanket in the middle of the woods, listening to three guys giggle over their mull. Aside from no possibility of sex, they were pretty equal nights.
"Look," he said, pointing up. "The fire's like stars, except falling up instead of down. Stars are made of fires sparks."
There was silence a moment, then giggles.
"You ain't far enough along if you're talking Lion King shit," said Luke, passing the joint.
Jesse took a deep pull before passing it on, watching the smoke rise above him as he let it out. "And now I've made clouds," he said, snorting a laugh.
"Dude, where's the fritos? Did we finish 'em already?" Bryan asked, looking around their junkfood pile.
"Fuck if I know." Stu shoveled the last handful of Funyuns in his mouth and tossed the wrapper in the fire. He was so captivated by the way it shriveled, he almost missed the blunt being handed his way.
"Fuck fritos, I want chips," Jesse said, rolling on his stomach and propping himself up. "No, wait! Fried pizza! Shit, you ever have fried pizza?"
Bryan snorted derisively at Jesse. "Fritos are chips, fag."
Stu choked a little, spurting smoke from the corners of his mouth. Laughing and breathing at the same time were a little too complicated at the moment. "Fried pizza Fritos, man..."
"This blunt shit is too slow," Bryan said solemnly. "I think it's time to bring out Fat Sally."
"You been hidin' a girl here this whole time and didn't tell me?" Jesse said, tilting his head with a smile.
Luke roared. "Ain't a girl, but you can try'n fuck her later if you want. Go and get her, Stu."
"Dude-" Stu's glassy grey eyes were open as much as possible-which wasn't that much-trained on the new recruit of their group. "Don'chu put your dick anywhere near my bong." His brows arched and he pointed, because pointing was important, then got up and headed to the truck.
Bryan snickered, grabbing up a stick that was on the ground within arm's reach before chucking it at Stu's retreating backside. He screeched in the distance. "Lord knows, you fuck that bong enough, Stewie."
"Yer mom complains too much, Asshole!" Stu barked back. His footsteps crunched on dead leaves and grit now that the fire and the others' voices faded with distance. Fuck it was dark out here. Funny how Chicago was only an hour drive away, and here he needed the help of a mini Maglite just to see the lock on the tailgate.
Fuckers better not smoke everything I got, a mildly disgruntled thought ran through his mind as he dropped the gate and pushed up the old mismatched topper, and climbed in with the rest of their gear.
Digging through chaotically thrown-together camping supplies in the pitch black with a Maglite rolling awkwardly between his shoulder and cheek was a lot more difficult than it sounded. Stu could barely hold onto the light, braced with bony knees digging into the raw metal truck bed and moving duffels and sleeping bags aside to find the blanket-wrapped gravity bong hiding somewhere in the back.
"FUCK-" He'd shifted weight to accidentally lean all of it on a tent-spike that got left behind, lurched forward, and dropped the flashlight from his neck. It clanged harshly, then went out.
"...mutherfucker." Stu grimaced and grabbed for the light and pressed in the rubber switch. Nothing happened. It clicked again and again with the same result; even shaking the damned thing didn't work. A slew of muttered curses echoed in the back of the truck, keeping Stu distracted from the fact that the tailgate, and the topper door, were slowly closing by themselves.
As he finally came up with the bong, there was a loud and distinct click. He spun around, finding himself closed in. "Hey!" he snapped, grabbing at the window latch. It wouldn't budge. "You fuckers lock me in here, you ain't getting the bong!"
There was no response. Not a word, not even a laugh. Stu frowned. Maybe it had fallen closed. The only other way out was the cab window. He turned back around. The night had been relatively warm, but suddenly he felt like he'd was out in the dead of winter. His breath came out in a hot white cloud, which easily dissipated in the air. Suddenly he was flipped onto his back, and above him a furious, pale woman glared down at him with a blood-tainted knife. He screamed in pants-wetting terror before the knife came down into him, cutting him off.
Jesse's head jerked around to the cut-off scream, and he wasn't the only one.
"Fuck, he having a freak-out or something?" he said, eying the others. Luke's eyes were glued to the darkness, cut by a little glare from the fire off the truck bumper in the distance. He forced a half-chewed load of Doritos down his throat, then cleared it.
"'Ey Stu! The fuck's wrong with you, man?"
"Probably saw a spider or something, the pussy," Bryan said, snickering like he'd told the best joke in the world.
With still no response, Jesse fiddled with his hands before getting up. "Prob'ly fell in a ditch or something. I'm gonna check."
He headed towards the truck on unsteady feet, calling Stu's name every once in a while. But no one answered or even seemed to be around. The truck was still all closed up. Thinking that he really should have brought a flashlight, Jesse figured he could grab the bong while he was here and then they'd look for Stu. Maybe he'd gone to take a piss and fallen over.
Opening the tailgate, he reached in and started feeling around.
"Aw shit." Someone must have spilled a drink. From a thermos, probably, because it was still warm. Looked like it had spilled on a blanket covering something harder. He felt along it, coming to a warm, hard jut of something and then what felt like...lips. Eyes going wide, he grabbed what had to be a sweater and pulled the body into the light. Stu'd wide eyes stared back at him, his mouth as gaping as the wounds in his chest.
Jesse froze for one long moment. Then he let go, stumbled a few steps back, and leaned over to vomit, hard and burning. Without even thinking it, his feet went towards the campfire. Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGod.
Luke's brows pushed down over his nose as he peered into the dark, and caught the hard thump thump thump of Jesse's panicked stride-then shot up when he saw the new dude's face. "Shit, man..." Guy looked like he saw a ghost. He was about to say such when his thought was cut off, and his blood suddenly chilled with the shrill, piercing, haunting sound of a woman's anguished scream.
"...tell me you heard that," he shot a look at Bryan, then back to Jesse.
"Holy shit, what the fuck was that?" Bryan bleated, his eyes wide and his skin going as pale as a sheet. "What the fuck was that?"
Jesse's head snapped around, his stomach lurching. On instinct, he grabbed Luke's arm. "It-It- Stu's dead. Someone killed Stu. He's bleeding and not breathing."
"What?" Luke tensed as soon as Jesse grabbed him, but what the other man said fought back his original urge to just rip away. "Th'fuck you mean, de-"
He was cut off again, this time by the echoing bellow of a man, somewhere in the dark nearby. Rageful and crazed, and so close to the oily halo of light cast by the fire. The oddly warm early spring air suddenly dropped, like the breeze and the subtle sounds of a forest at night. After that scream, everything went silent, except for the increasingly frantic breaths of those huddled together.
"Fuck, dude..." Luke's eyes had locked on something just over Jesse's shoulder. They were wide and glassy with shock, and he grappled at the other man's arm to turn him around. There, melting from the shadows themselves, was a tall, pale man. His expression was complete hatred and malice; his clothing, besides the monotone black and grays, streaked by deep red and deep, yawning gashes. At his side, he held an ax.
"We gotta get back to the car, man," Bryan said in a shrill voice. "Where are the keys? Did Stu take the keys with him? Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have let that fucker have the keys." He started shoveling everything within reach into the bags that they'd brought out with them.
"Forget the shit and move!" Jesse yelled, shoving Luke towards the trunk before grabbing Bryan's arm and yanking him along. Dead body in a trunk was better than man with an ax.
Out of the complete blackness in their line of escape, the shape of a woman materialized in the blink of an eye; she raised the dripping blade in her fist, and her cracked mouth gaped like the wounds all over her body, in order to let loose another fearsome scream. But it was cut short by a piece of quite real, dark metal slicing through the middle of the apparition's waist. The spectre yelled into nothingness as it dissolved out of sight-behind her was Claire, wielding an iron fireplace poker like a Louisville Slugger.
"Get back to the fire!" she barked at the three men, already cutting around them on a slightly limping stride, her weapon raised and threatening toward the other ghost-who leered at her before disappearing on his own.
Bryan certainly wasn't going to argue, and immediately turned around and started bolting in the other direction until Jesse's grip on his arm forced him to trip and fall, very nearly dragged the other man down in the process. Luke stumbled back, still gaping and seemingly unable to speak.
"What's going on? What was that? What the hell was in that pot?" Jesse said, his head snapping around, trying to find the man and woman. Instead he saw Claire, and finally got a good look at her. "Fuck me dead. You're that cop from the concert."
Claire had just buried the end of the poker in the moist ground in order to snag the box of salt from the bag around her shoulder when she realized one of them was talking directly to her-which wasn't surprising in principle. Not in the circumstances. But the context... That was new.
She looked over her shoulder at the one who'd called her a cop. His face was familiar; she'd definitely seen him before. Obviously he'd seen her. "Sure," she cut it short and quick, opting for sharing time once the circle was complete. "Cop from the concert-that's me." In the meantime, she stooped low and circled the fire slow, Morton Salt box in hand, and tipped. "Stay behind this line, and don't mess/i with it."
Bryan looked at the salt incredulously, then back at the blonde. "So what, whatever it is has hypertension or somethin'? The hell is salt gonna do?"
"Shut up and just do it," Jesse hissed, though his eyes stayed on Claire, sizing her up. He sure knew what salt was for, and he had to hold back the urge to run. It was entirely possible she was trying to trap him, that she'd somehow followed him here from the concert, but it didn't all add up. Why kill Stu? And what were those- "Jesus Christ, those were ghosts. They were ghosts, weren't they?"
She'd just finished closing the circle when he came to the correct, and rather quick conclusion. Claire stood up straight, long, escaped strands of her hair unloosed from her pony tail caught the gold of the fire. She stared at the tallest of the three-the one who'd done most of the coherent talking. Her breaths were still a bit sharp from the hard (and painful) run from where she'd come from, but the burn in her lungs wasn't comparing to the one in her leg. His reminding her of that night didn't help the distraction either.
In the end, opting for the quick explanation was best-for now. Claire closed her lips and nodded, and limped lightly toward the three. "Nasty ones. Hold out your hands." She had the salt ready-just an extra handful for each, just in case. Of course, she didn't exactly expect full, quiet cooperation.
"No, this is crazy!" Bryan cried out. "There's no such things as ghosts! We're just trippin' our balls off! There's no way this is real!"
"Sit down, shut up, and take your salt!" Jesse snapped at him. It wasn't just the crazy-ass situation getting to him. All his life he'd tried to avoid the creepy stuff out there, and the people who followed it. Being caught in the middle of it had him on edge.
Both Bryan and Luke did what they were told almost instantly, though Luke immediately started shaking where he sat. He looked like he'd either piss himself in fear or cry, or possibly both. Bryan just stared wild-eyed in the direction of the woods that they had came from. Somewhere off in the distance, another male voice shouted out, though it didn't sound like the howl of the first one. Claire instantly stiffened, her eyes snapped in the direction of the distant shout.
"Dammit," she yanked the poker from the grass and put the salt back in her bag, then shot a look back to the obvious leader of the stoner-parade. The familiar one who was a lot more accepting of this scenario than should've been. "You all stay... don't cross the line, you'll be fine." And with that, she turned for the dark with an answering shout.
"Wait..." The words died half out of Jesse's throat. He swallowed. Being penned in was bad enough without being left alone. From what he'd read, ghosts didn't cross salt lines, but damned if he didn't want to find out the truth tonight.
Claire's crisp, if slightly off-kilter stride immediately slowed, even if every bit of her wanted very much to keep going. The inexplicable need to find out what she was waiting for overrode all of it, and she stopped, half turned in his direction. "What?"
What a loaded question. "You-you'll be back, right?" he said, eyes glued to hers, trying to read the truth there. She nodded curtly-genuinely-though a spark of impatience and a healthy dose of anxiety sharpened her blue gaze. It was made bronze by the fire light.
"If I don't get chopped to kindling, yes." Her feet started to move again, and Claire headed off, the poker poised out from her hip. Bryan whimpered where he sat on the ground, but didn't say anything.
"You're not stopping me that easily, you bitch!" Ben shouted into the darkness. He'd circled the grave he was digging with salt, but the ghost was apparently much more clever than the last one he'd ever torched. She was throwing shit at him. The tree branch that had knocked him over the salt line had been just enough for her to grab him and drag him out a few feet before throwing him bodily against the nearest tree, but he still had the iron chain wrapped around his forearm. A single whip through her and she was gone again, but he knew it wouldn't be for long.
"I didn't kill your daughter!" he shouted again. "I'm trying to help you! All of you! You're dead and you don't even realize it!" Out of the darkness came another vengeful shriek, echoing against the trees somewhere between words and mindless screaming. Claire grunted as she stomped over a fallen log, having followed the haunting sounds and Ben's familiar cursing. The flashlight she brought was barely a match for the moonless night; she was glad for the glow of Ben's lantern when she came to it, despite the scene it revealed. Namely the gray mist rapidly forming the shape of a man directly behind him.
"Six o'clock!" she barked, knowing she wasn't fast enough to get there in time. Ben dropped the shovel instantly, grabbed his shotgun, turned, and shot the male ghost in its newly-materialized face. It faded instantly.
"What took you so long!" he shouted, an unintentional edge in his voice. He'd tried her phone, but reception out in the woods was spotty at best. He deeply regretted not having bought the walkie-talkies he'd seen in the store they'd trailed through before stopping for the night.
"Ran into the Scrappy Doo Gang right before they got skewered," Claire panted and leaned heavily on her good foot-her bag dropped to the ground for the teabags of salt she used as ghost-grenades. She was on her way down to grab a handful when a thick branch swung out from nowhere and caught her in the gut-all the air left her lungs in a sick noise, and the ground outside the circle broke her fall.
Ben cursed, once again reaching for his gun. Panic stopped him dead in his tracks; he wouldn't dare pick up the shovel and go back to it until she was all right.
"Are you all right!"
"OW!" was her answer, with no small amount of disdain in her voice for the dead woman who appeared standing over her, brandishing the bloody knife. Claire whipped her poker at the thing's legs, and she evaporated. "Fine! Keep digging!" She'd only gotten one foot flat on the ground when the male twisted a grip in her hair and yanked hard. Her shriek scraped in the back of her throat-she banished the ghost with a backhanded swing.
Jesse's head jerked around toward the scream, his wide eyes searching the darkness.
"You hear that?" Luke said, his voice breaking in panic. "Was that the-the ghost?"
"No. It was the girl," Jesse said, pacing the edges of the circle. The girl who had already come and saved their asses. He wasn't used to being the one saved, the one protected. He didn't like it. And if things were going bad for her...
He looked at the wide line of salt at his feet. When he'd first read that salt kept demons at bay, he'd grabbed a canister from his cupboard and poured out a line to walk across. It made him feel like crap, but it wasn't impossible.
"Stay here," he said, without looking back at the guys. Then he took a step forward.
The whole world seemed to shift on its axis and he nearly fell over before catching his balance. His stomach heaved with nausea and he held still, closing his eyes. That's when he heard the crying. It was quiet but insistent, like someone in more pain than they could imagine. The girl. Who else could it be? Not yet recovered, he stumbled off in the direction of the crying.
"The hell were you talkin' about, 'Scrappy Doo Gang'?" Ben asked insistently between breaths, not even bothering to correct her reference. Later, maybe, but not now. He'd managed to get her back into the circle easily enough, and was back to rapidly digging through the grave he'd started. His next dig finally hit something solid and he gave a little noise of triumph, then took the blade of the shovel and slammed it down as hard as he could muster.
"Bunch'a stoners camping in the clearing," she replied while keeping watch on the edge of the grave, poker in one hand, salt in the other. The contrast between the lantern and the dark beyond made it hard to see beyond the circle, but by God if Claire wasn't watching a lot closer for flying tree limbs. She could see the two of them-the dead husband and wife-on the edge of the trees, looming closer in choppy, unnatural movements. Claire shouted at them. "We. Are here. To help you!" Course, the enthusiasm in those words leaked after the third or fourth branch to the body.
Ben kept breaking apart the grave, which didn't take long given how old the wood had become, though his face twisted in a scowl. "There's always a bunch of stoners camping in the damn woods. Christ on a cracker... Pass me the salt, wouldja?" Claire obliged, but not before lightly swatting him on the back of the head with it. He winced and scowled further, swiping it out of her hand unnecessarily hard.
"Language."
"Yes, mom."
As he started shaking salt out onto the first set of bones, the two ghosts turned their heads as one into the woods and vanished. Ben looked in the direction with a hint of puzzlement.
"Guess they're goin' to say goodbye while they still have a chance," he muttered. Claire looked unconvinced, but more so, worried. She turned her eyes down into the grave, counted one half-skinned, long haired skull, and that was it.
"I doubt th-" she was cut off by the shrill wail of a child on the wind. The sound turned Claire's blood cold.
Ben groaned. "Fantastic. Here, my arms are sore; just tell me which way they are." Claire took the shovel and salt, then gave him a hand out of the dirt hole.
"Less than a hundred yards south west-just look for the fire." She caught his eyes just before letting go. "One of'em looks familiar. Be careful."
He flashed her a small smile. "I'm always careful," he reassured her, grabbing his shotgun before taking off at a sprint.
Jesse swore he couldn't have gone too far, but his limbs felt heavy and he was breathing hard. The world didn't feel like it was quite in clear focus, not helped by the fact that his flashlight seemed to hardly reach three feet in front of him. But the crying was clear. That he could focus on.
"Where are you?" he called. "Are you alright?"
She never answered, the crying just continuing to get louder and louder. The ground began to slope up but he hardly noticed. Then his feet hit rock, giant boulders jutting out of the hill. The crying came from them. Crawling up on them, he found a crevice, dark and narrow and echoing with sobs. He slithered onto his belly, peering into it with his light. It hit on a crying girl, alright, but not the one he'd been looking for.
"You alright? Here, I'll get you out," he said, reaching down for her.
He hadn't scooched three inches on his belly before a cold, hard force seized his ankle and yanked backward. Another unnaturally strong five fingered grip twisted in his shirt between the shoulder blades and whipped him through the air.
Jesse's scream cut off as he hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of him. He struggled to move and push himself up, his eyes falling on the ghosts. Shit, shit, shit. He should just blink out of there, but there were two girls now. He couldn't leave them alone.
Now if he could only think how you were supposed to fight ghosts.
The female launched herself forward, her bloodied weapon arched over her head like a scorpion's stinger, but suddenly disappeared in a burst of bright, heatless flames, wailing into blackness.
Jesse gave a shout, stumbling to his feet, and looking down at himself. Had he done that? He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and ducked, an ax swinging right where his neck had been. He broke into a run.
The last spirit bellowed hollow and frigid, he and the sound dissolved into the darkness, only to reappear directly in front of the man who dared reach for his offspring. Hatred and soulless rage burned in his eyes as the ax swung down from over his head.
But before the ax connected, there was the sound of the air being sliced through, and the spirit vanished yet again. Ben appeared once the spirit vapors dispersed, his chest heaving with every breath.
"You were s'posed t'stay in the circle," he growled out between breaths before recognition set in. "Oh, Hell."
"You're telling me," Jesse said, breathing hard but trying to smile. "Why you two always gotta show up and ruin things when I'm tryin' to have fun?"
"Why you gotta be a magnet for trouble?" Ben shot back, then tossed him the shotgun. He wasn't even completely sure why he did it, but it felt right. "C'mon, we gotta get back to your friends before Daddy Dearest gets any ideas."
Jesse caught the gun, although he didn't know how to use it beyond pulling the trigger. "No, there's this girl, she's stuck," he said, turning back to the rocks and heading towards the crevice. "Gotta get her safe first."
"Trust me, she's taken care of," Ben said, catching the other man by the arm to keep him from going back. "Your friends are in a lot worse danger if they go steppin' out of the circle and the longer we sit here, the more likely the ghost is gonna come lookin' for them."
"They aren't dill, they'll stay put," Jesse said, though he had his doubts even as the word came out. "Whaddya mean she's taken care of, she's right there and there's a ghost with an ax here."
"She's a ghost too, man, now come on!" Ben said insistently, all but yanking on his arm. "The longer we stand around, the more likely Dad'll-"
As if summoned by the thought, the male ghost reappeared a few feet in front of them, looking just as murderous as previously. Jesse jerked Ben back, still on automatic "run away" mode. When Jesse didn't shoot him, Ben grabbed the shotgun out of his limp grasp again, aimed and fired. The ghost exploded into vapors yet again.
"Move it!" Ben barked, long past asking politely.
Jesse didn't hesitate now, running back towards where he thought the campfire was. His heart was going a mile a minute, but his legs seemed to move in slow motion, his arms like slabs of stone attached to his side. And he was going to have to pass the salt line again. The idea made him feel ill.
Ben's whole body ached, from the tips of his fingers all the way down to the soles of his feet and everything in between, but he knew there was no way he could stop. They needed to get back to that damn camp, or something would happen to these poor, stupid stoners. He scowled at Jesse's back, pushing as hard as he could.
When they finally got to the fire, though, the circle was broken and empty. Ben skidded to a stop, looking around wildly.
"Shit."
His heart dropping to his feet, Jesse fell hard to his knees, too exhausted to stay up. "Maybe- Maybe they drove off," he said through heaving breaths.
Doubt it, Ben thought bitterly, though he didn't dare say it aloud. He didn't know how long the other man knew his friends, and he didn't want to take away his hope. The woods were silent except for the mournful sobs of the little girl that whispered through the leaves.
"Where'd you park?"
"'Bout twenty feet that way," he said, pointing but staying put. He'd left them. He'd left those two fuckwits alone to chase after a little girl ghost and now they'd gotten themselves killed. He got them killed.
Ben paused in a moment of indecision. He didn't want to leave the other man alone, but he looked thoroughly shaken up. He'd be a liability. It would be much safer to shove him back into a ring of salt and come back for him. Ben ran a hand backwards up through his hair. Maybe he'll be better with the chain than the gun, he thought, unwinding the chain from around his arm.
"C'mon, let's go." We gotta keep moving," Ben told him. Claire, please be safe.
Though it took all his strength, Jesse pushed to his feet, following close behind. "Where's the other hunter?" he said. "I heard her scream."
"She's-" Ben started, then stopped dead in his tracks, turning sharply to look at him. "You know what hunters are?"
Jesse froze. Definitely the wrong word to use, but not like he could take it back now. "Yeah, met a couple before. Otherwise I'd've been pissing my trousers with the other blokes."
Ben looked at the other man critically. This was all just a little too coincidental for his taste. He had half a mind to pull out his silver knife and test the guy to see if he was some sort of... relative of the shifters they'd just killed. He'd been there for that, after all. It made him nervous.
"She's fine," he said, the words clipped. Me, I'm not so sure. "She can take care of herself. Keep walkin'."
Jesse looked at him with a slight frown but didn't hesitate to follow. He felt a twist in his stomach, though, when they saw the truck. The shadow of Stu's body was just visible from where they stood.
A scream ripped through the air before cutting short. With a surge of adrenaline, Jesse ran towards it as hard as he could.
"Wait-!" Ben shouted, but Jesse was showing no signs of stopping. Ben groaned out in frustration and sprinted after him, each breath burning in his lungs. He was heading back in the direction of the crevice where the little girl ghost had been sobbing.
"Dammit!"
As he burst into the clearing around the hill, Jesse recognized the place. Of course, before, Luke's dead body hadn't been lying there nearly sliced in half. Bryan lay blubbering about fifteen feet from him, the male ghost above him, swinging up his ax. Without thinking, Jesse raced forward, grabbed the handle, and yanked it. He was shocked when it came loose but he only had a moment of surprise before the ghost roared and spun around, backhanding him to the ground.
Rolling over with a groan, Jesse didn't even have time to blink before the ghost was on top of him, fingers digging into his throat. The shotgun blasted out again, but this time the ghost had been expecting it and merely blinked out of existence, appearing just behind Ben. The younger man turned sharply, knowing his gun would simply go through the ghost with little consequence but unable to stop the instinct to swing anyway. The ghost grinned ferally at him, bringing up an arm to hit him as well before fire engulfed him and he howled in rage, promptly disappearing in a flash of black smoke.
Ben stared at the empty space, his pulse roaring in his ears before he turned back to the other two men. Aside from the sobbing one and the nosy one staring up at him in bewilderment, they both seemed to be breathing. Ben forced himself to take a slow, deep breath, then let it out again. The little girl appeared a few feet away from her hiding place, her form flashing jerky for a moment.
"Where's mommy and daddy?" she asked, her voice touched with an upper New England accent. Ben took a few steps toward her, his expression sympathetic.
"They're gone, Elizabeth," Ben told her gently. "They've gone to Heaven. But the bad guys are gone, too. You don't have to be scared anymore."
Jesse watched blearily from where he lay, his heart giving a twist at how lost the little girl sounded.
"But...why are they in Heaven? I want them with me," Elizabeth said, her face screwing up with tears. Ben settled in a crouch in front of her, his hands coming up to rest on her little forearms.
"They're waiting for you, sweetheart," he replied in the same kind voice. "They've been waiting for you for so long, but you got left behind. All you have to do is go to them."
Her bottom lip trembled. "But I don't know how to go there."
Something inside Ben ached. She'd been in the ravine, scared and alone for over two hundred years. He couldn't imagine how tormenting that must have been on such a young soul.
"Do you believe in God, Elizabeth?" he asked her. Ben himself didn't really have faith anymore, but there was no denying that He existed. Maybe if he worded it right he wouldn't have to be so terribly blunt about her death.
"Yes. God is our Heavenly Father," she said quietly.
"If you pray real hard to see your mommy and daddy, He'll hear you and He'll show you the way. I know He will. You just gotta believe it with your whole heart, and it'll happen. Can you do that, Elizabeth?"
Claire limped into the clearing, shovel and iron poker braced across the back of her shoulders with one hand, where she stopped three steps out of the trees. Her breath still hadn't returned to normal, and despite the spring chill, she was hot with the perspiration from digging up a grave at full fricken speed, but all thoughts of the painful exertion evaporated with what she saw.
Elizabeth nodded, clasping her hands in front of her and bowing her head. Her lips moved silently, he eyes crunched up tight. And then, slowly at first, so that it seemed almost like an illusion, she started to glow. Ben stood up and stepped back, watching as the light enveloped her. She looked up at him just before she faded entirely, a smile pulling at her little mouth and her green eyes bright. Then she was gone, and darkness once again claimed the woods around them.
A bittersweet relief washed over Claire, but in the wake of the adrenalin and two grisly deaths, she couldn't help but feel tired under the weight of her heart. She stabbed the ground with the spade and poker and crossed the clearing to the young man's remains. There, she stooped and using a fold of her jacket to keep from leaving her prints, silently closed his eyes with her thumb.
Jesse breathed out a sigh, tears in his eyes. Through the terror and pain and nausea that had been the night, that one little spark stood out pure and bright and more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.
"Think I like her best," he slurred with a weak smile. Then his eyes closed and he slumped into exhaustion.
The world was too bright. Jesse scrunched up his eyes, trying to turn away. "Close'acurtains," he mumbled, waving a vague hand.
"They don't close." Claire was sitting at the little hotel room table, backlit by the white-out light of mid-morning, filtered through the not-so-functional gauzy 'privacy' drapes. Her bare feet were propped up on the table top, crossed at the ankle; her laptop set semi-comfortably in her lap, twitching as she jotted a few things down. The tapitty-tap had stopped when their 'guest' sleepily muttered into his pillow, and she was looking his way.
He turned towards the voice, prying one eye open. It fell on Claire for a moment, then he peered around the room. "Usually when I wake up in a hotel with a strange girl and can't remember gettin' there, this ain't how it goes," he said, trying to shift up in bed. Claire snorted comically.
"So how does it usually go?" The tone of her voice made it fairly clear how she viewed being compared to some random one-night-stand.
"Usually there's breakfast?" he said, giving a half-grin. "Also there aren't usually ghosts the night before. I remember the girl going off in a big light. What happened after that?"
"You bit the dust," she explained, a little more gently than the last time she spoke. Claire sat up a bit and set the laptop, closed, on the table. She tucked her legs beneath her on the chair, Indian Style, resting her forearms on the bones of each knee. Claire's face was heavy with shadow thanks to the dark of the room, but her eyes were sharp and locked on him, although her gaze was more curious than threatened. "Your other friend was too messed up to leave anywhere besides the ER and, well-we couldn't really leave you there with him, could we."
Which was probably a good thing. Jesse had never been to a hospital before, and he figured that's the way it should stay. No telling what they might find.
"So you decided to take me along? Well I'd figured you'd fanc-" He stopped halfway into leaning forward, his bladder making itself very known. "Bugger me."
Rolling off the bed, he scrambled for the bathroom, closing the door and just getting the lid up in time. Claire tracked him the whole way, then twitched a minute smirk and shook her head when she caught the hollow echo of porcelain hitting porcelain. She was just starting to get used to cohabitation with Ben-handling two of them wasn't coming anywhere near her mind.
When he came back, she was in the middle of making the generous complimentary two cups of coffee. The mini-Mr. Coffee was gurgling away; Claire bellied up against the counter ledge, twisting her hair in a loose braid over her shoulder. Jesse paused, his eyes traveling over her deft hands, her shoulder, her back. Hunter, Jesse, keep it straight.
"So, ghosts, huh?" he said. "Bet you deal with those all the time."
Claire had been watching him watching via the mirror in front of her, but said nothing. Nor did she allow her expression to change in any capacity-it required very little effort, by this point in her life. She did crack a half-smile at the oddly blasé tone attached to the sudden 'how'bout those Bears' breed of chitchat, and turned around to face him squarely.
"Enough'a the time, I guess. You deal with hunters a lot?" She didn't say it to be sharp or interrogational. Claire was just a little over-cautious with random people with familiar faces.
"Not a lot. Enough, though," he said with a shrug. "This is my first close encounter with the creepy stuff, though. Was that other lady, at the concert, was she a ghost or demon or something?"
Claire waylaid that question for the time being, instead choosing to concentrate on the topic she brought up. Her brows pushed down above her nose, and the freckles there wrinkled lightly. Claire folded her arms loosely under her breasts.
"Forgive me if I'm curious, but what are you into that exposes you to hunters, but not 'the creepy stuff'?" The coffee machine hissed and spouted steam. She kept her eyes on his until the last moment before angling them down to one of the mugs, which she grabbed and handed to him first. She did still have manners, regardless of the odd situation.
He took the mug, keeping his hands steady. This was why he avoided hunters: They asked the right questions. "I ran into something creepy once. Wasn't a ghost, though. A little personal," he added, hoping that would put her off. He tipped up his mug. "Cheers."
Claire lifted her mug too, though her gesture was much more subdued, and she didn't drink from it just yet. "A little personal?" Her expression mixed pure cynicism with a sugar coat of amusement. By experience and personal habit, she searched his face for any specific nuance or tick that could help give her a better read on their guest. He had incredibly intense eyes-made concentrating on the more subtle things a bit more difficult. She bumped off the ledge from her hip and passed him, and headed for her original chair. "When isn't it personal?"
Jesse's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "If we're going to swap life stories, I think you ought to go first," he said evenly. Claire scoffed lightly as she sat down and sipped at her coffee. She rolled her lips off the bittersweet residue, feeling them overly warmed by the drink was a subtle comfort she carried from childhood.
"You go'head and think that. I'm not the one unintentionally attracting hunters and 'creepy stuff'."
"Unless you're talking about yourself, I don't attract hunters," he said with an annoyed smirk. He took another big gulp before setting the mug aside. "Thanks for the life-saving and letting me spend the night and all, but I oughta get going."
"You mean, before last week, you didn't attract hunters, right?" Skepticism still weighed a little in Claire's voice. She watched him, still and calculated from her chair by the window, sipping again at her coffee. Didn't have to be a psychology expert to know he was holding back, which is exactly why she was pressing-even if it wasn't exactly that hard. In fact, she even cracked a somewhat gentle smile, in spite of the flare of disagreement when he mentioned leaving. She wasn't comfortable with that idea. At all.
"Breakfast'll be here soon anyway. Plus, you haven't told me your name. That's a bit rude to someone who saved your life, don't you think?" she said delicately as the church welcome-lady.
Jesse's mouth quirked in a return smile. His eyes did turn to linger on the door, then back to her. "I'm Jesse. And you, my stalker-hunter friend?"
Stalker-hunter? Claire's right brow pushed a little higher than the left, the opposite corner of her lips pulled up as well. She was about to protest that particular title, but a single absent thought shot straight to Ben. She'd been following him the first time they met. Not true with this guy, though.
"I'd say 'guardian angel' is more appropriate, but my name is Claire."
"Good to meet you, angel-Claire," he said, holding out his hand with a smile. She took it with her own slightly warmed grin, her grip heated by the coffee and baring the appropriate amount of strength and demeanor one might expect. The smile faded when other matters at hand returned to her thoughts.
"I'm sorry about your friends." She meant that too. A healthy amount of personal detachment came with her lifestyle, and Claire had gotten very good at letting most emotions roll off her back. Some things were just too hard to ignore-like when she was too late.
His expression drained and he turned back for his coffee. Images he'd been successfully ignoring swarmed back into his head. Not your fault. Except it was. Maybe not Stu, but he left Luke alone to get frightened and run right into death.
"I didn't know 'em that well," he said.
"Still stands," Claire said gently, and nudged the chair opposite from her out with the tip of her foot. "I'd like to say I'm not used to meeting people over such... traumatic circumstances, but..." But, Claire didn't really know how to finish that sentence. She glanced out the window through the haze of the drapes, looking for Ben.
Any other topic would be welcome right then. Jesse sat on the offered chair before looking at her. "So what was the story with those ghosts? The older ones were fucking insane, but that kid, she was just like a regular kid."
She looked back at him, for the first time, completely honest in her expression, which was both somber and thankful. Seemed they were on something of the same wave length.
"'Bout the turn of the nineteenth century, the forest preserve belonged to Jacob Kline-he had a wife, Sarah, and a little girl: Elizabeth." Claire shifted on her seat to rest her forearms on the table top. Her fingertips caged her coffee mug, twisting it back and forth between them. She was watching the movement with a slightly cool repose.
"According to the territory records, the Klines just abandoned the property-just up and left. The rumors that the pair of them went insane and started murdering anyone who wandered through their land started after the property changed hands, about three years later. Five years after that, a man caught and condemned for highway robbery confessed to the parish priest that he and three accomplices murdered the Klines and buried them in the woods." Claire rolled her lips after another short sip. All the archival research and dusty library digging she'd done four days ago filed behind her gaze, making it slightly glassy.
"As the years went by, more people turned up bloodied and dead in the woods with no criminals to show for it. More than a few people who had close calls with the Klines started talking about hearing a little girl crying before they were attacked." She shrugged one thin shoulder. The loose braid over it twitched faintly. "Jacob and Sarah were going after anyone who got too close to their little girl."
Jesse stared at her, his brows knit. "They were protecting her?" He licked his lips. "I guess that makes sense. They were human once." She nodded faintly, brushing a piece of pale hair back from her cheek. On the inside of her wrist, a design of dark ink caught the light from the window-an interlocking five point star, circled by the flames of a sun.
"They thought they still were," she added, and brought her eyes up to Jesse's. "But like most cases, they were twisted by what they went through."
Jesse bit his lip. That in most cases was a worrying phrase. "Not that I plan on seeing more ghosts any time soon, but how do you avoid 'em?"
"How do I avoid them?" Claire quirked a brow, the impression of amusement on her face, but just barely.
He smirked. "How does one avoid 'em, grammar nazi?"
This time, the amusement was clear as the snort in the back of her throat. "Why does everyone call me that?" She sipped her coffee again, and just like before, rolled her lips before arching both brows in some mock-defensive gesture. "Far be it for me to enjoy understanding what others say to me-yeesh."
Just then, the door opened and Ben returned, carrying two plastic bags looped over one arm and a paper one tucked against his chest. The room immediately started to fill up with the smell of a greasy breakfast. He shut the door behind him with his foot before bringing the load further into the little motel room to put on the table.
"They didn't have Tropical Skittles, just regular ones," he said as he pulled a bright red package out of one of the bags and tossed it lightly underhand in Claire's direction. She caught it with a distinct six-year-old pout. "Sorry." It was only then that Ben realized Jesse was awake. "Well, look who decided to finally join us."
Finally? Jesse ruffled the back of his hair uncertainly. "How long I been out exactly?"
"Ten, twelve hours maybe?" Claire glanced at Ben for confirmation while tearing into her skittles.
"At least," Ben said with a nod, unpacking the paper bag. Inside it were five wrapped sandwiches and three little pouches of hashbrown-looking things. From the plastic bag he pulled three plastic bottles of juice; the remaining groceries and whatever else were left in the bags for the time being.
Jesse's eyes widened. Definitely explained why he'd had to pee like a racehorse and why his stomach was currently an empty, growling maw. He grabbed one of the sandwiches and mentally tucked away the information. If he knew how bad crossing salt would affect him, it would help to weigh the pros and cons. But then, the two hunters didn't seem all that surprised. Maybe people's bodies tended to shut down after dealing with ghosts.
Taking a big bite, he held out his hand. "Jesse, by the way."
"Ben," the younger man parroted, taking his hand and giving it a firm, brisk shake. He settled in the nearest chair and wasted no time tearing into his own food, though he kept giving sidelong glances at Jesse. "You all caught up?"
"Caught up on which bit?" he said, looking between them, then out the window. "Where are we, anyway?"
"Right outside Kenosha," Claire answered, delicately removing the sausage from her sandwich to set it aside, abandoned. She met Ben's eyes for a brief, but pointed moment, then paid attention to her food. "Only been up for about fifteen minutes."
Ben took the opportunity to swipe up the abandoned breakfast meat, layering it between his sandwich before taking another bite.
Finishing up his first sandwich, Jesse grabbed a second. "So Claire was just about to tell me how I can avoid getting kicked around by ghosts again," he said, shooting her a smile.
"Y'mean aside from avoiding the situations entirely?" Ben said around a mouthful. He paused to swallow, then twisted open one of the bottles of juice and took a swig. "Not all ghosts are bad. Best way to avoid a ghost is to get the hell away from whatever the ghost is haunting. Simple as that, really. It's finding out what that is that's tricky."
"'Specially with your luck..." Claire added on with a knowing glance at Jesse, then took the first bite of her sandwich. Ben looked between the two of them with a slight frown, but didn't say anything and simply grabbed a handful of hashbrown nuggets out of one of the pouches.
"Hey, these have been a crazy couple of weeks for me, not the average. It's what I get for coming to America, I guess," he said with a snort.
"Thought I heard a bit of an accent there," Ben commented around another mouthful of food. He waited again until he swallowed before continuing on. "So what was the deal at that concert?"
Jesse tilted his head. "Whatcha mean? I was just there to see a couple of bands. What were you all doing there? That woman didn't feel like a ghost, that's for sure."
"She wasn't." Plain and simple, Claire answered after swallowing. She looked up at Ben through her lashes to gauge where he was on the amount of information about to be given, or asked about.
Ben gave her a small, almost indiscernible head shake. "Unless you're lookin' for a crash course in Hunting 101, the short answer is she was a monster and she was dealt with." He looked at Jesse a little more critically. "How'd you make the crowd just part for you like that? I was shouting and shoving like I was on fire, but nobody moved for me at all. All you did was give one good shout and it was like watching the Red Sea parting."
Jesse shrugged. "Maybe they heard me say she took my wallet. Though you'd think someone would've had the balls to try to stop her. And what d'you mean 'dealt with'? Was she a demon?" Had they found him? He should have thought of the possibility soon as he found out they were hunters, but he'd been a bit busy with the running and screaming.
Claire ground to a soundless halt, mid-chew, her eyes fixed on Jesse. Ben also grew dead silent, putting down his sandwich.
"First you know about hunters, and now you know about demons?" Ben asked, all good humor in his voice gone. All his warning bells were going off in his head.
Looking up from his sandwich, Jesse's eyes met Ben's, then Claire's. "Whoa, hey, the two are related. My...my mum was possessed by a demon," he said, his shoulders tensing. With them so on edge, he was going to stick to the truth. Or at least a version of it. "That's how I met hunters. What did you think I was saying?"
Something deep inside Claire twisted uncomfortably with the small tidbit of Jesse's background. She said nothing, though. Only swallowed the bite in her mouth and snagged a quick gulp from her juice, then got up from the table and quietly retreated to the bathroom.
Ben followed her out of his line of sight with a concerned frown, his body going tense for a moment as though he planned to follow after her before he relaxed again. She needs a moment alone. She'll be okay, he told himself, turning his gaze back to Jesse. His expression hardened a little.
"I hope you're not lying," Ben said in a low voice. "Because I really don't wanna have to lose the security deposit on this room."
"Yeah, y'know, just because you saved my life don't mean you get to threaten it," Jesse said, stress working his jaw. He glanced at the bathroom door. "I was eleven, and it was the worst day of my life. Fucking end of my childhood, that's for sure."
"Yeah well, demons lie," Ben replied harshly. "They lie about everything: every word, every emotion, every thing they are is a lie. And if you knew a damn thing about demons, you'd know that. I have every right to threaten you if I'm feeling threatened, so you should be damn thankful I'm not tryin' to tie you down or exorcise you right now, even though every instinct inside me is screaming to."
"She put me in a circle of salt!" Jesse snapped. He really had to rein in the instinct just to blink out of there and be done with it. Not in front of hunters. That would get him marked for sure. And storming out wasn't on the table, with their devil's snare in front of the door, so all he had on his side was logic. "Last night, Claire put salt around us to keep us safe from the ghosts. If I'm a demon, how'd I get out, huh-?"
"The line was broken when we got back to the camp," Ben interrupted heatedly.
"Then why didn't I just leave this body behind? Because it's my body. I'm not a damn demon!"
"Prove it," Ben demanded.
"Fine. Exorcise me," Jesse said, throwing out his arms. "Tie me up if you want or whatever, doesn't matter, I'll just sit here. But go ahead and do that ritual and the Latin words. I'll still be here when you're done."
"Fine," Ben spat. He got up from his seat roughly, but rather than go through the efforts of tying him up, Ben simply crowded into his personal space, grabbing either of his arms firmly and getting right up close as he started off the Latin incantation.
Forcing his body to stay loose even though he wanted to shove Ben away, Jesse didn't so much as blink. As the incantation went on, he smirked and leaned a little bit closer, his nose just a hair's breadth from Ben's.
Ben's face was flushed by the time he was finished, both from anger and embarrassment that he'd been proven wrong. Just for clarity's sake, he grabbed each of Jesse's arms in turn and inspected them quickly. No seals. He didn't react violently however, simply pulling his hands off the other man and stepping away from him. His face was pinched in an attempt to keep from scowling.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"...what the hell?" Claire had emerged from the bathroom just in time to see Ben roughly pull away.
Looking over at her, Jesse's smirk just widened. "Your boyfriend's a bit friskier than I'd've expected."
Ben's face went from flushed to full-on crimson at the remark and the scowl he'd been holding back bloomed on his face. Without looking at either of them he grabbed up the two grocery bags and stormed into the tiny kitchenette to start shoving things into cabinets and the little mini fridge.
Jesse laughed, pushing to his feet and turning to Claire. "Ben decided I had to be a demon or something, so I invited him to exorcise me. Didn't take." His expression slowly sobered though. He had a pretty good idea why she had to leave the room when he talked about a demon possessing his mom. It made him feel like shit. Worse, it made him want to talk with her about it. But then, that's why she left the room, right? Because she didn't want to talk. Swallowing it down, he sat cross-legged on his bed. "Anything else you want to test me for? Would be a different twist on Hunting 101, I take it."
Claire had quickly recovered from her general confusion and oddly placed upset at what she'd just walked in on, mainly because of the subtle smugness on Jesse's face. It didn't reach his eyes, but it was still there. Ben didn't exactly go around forcing exorcisms on anyone who looked vaguely suspicious; he had to have thought there was good reason. Claire followed Jesse with the angle of her body, her expression slowly steeled.
"You make him nervous; so you think it's a good idea to goad him?"
Jesse's jaw tightened. "He was being a dick. How would you feel, huh, if someone said you were lying about your mum? Accused you of being a demon? Would you take it with a calm little smile?"
"Or laugh in his face when you proved him wrong?" Claire shot back without missing a beat. Her blood pressure jumped when he used the idea of her and her mother in the analogy. Right as he may have been, it didn't exactly work to his favor. "Then joke -badly- about it?" Claire snagged one of the table chairs with the tip of her boot and dragged it across the carpet to where she stood. The tension the whole situation had caused started to bleed through into her actions. They were sharp, and purposeful. She threw her good leg over and sat facing the seat, her arms folding on the fake-wood spine.
"Lemme fill you in on something, Jesse: We don't normally make a habit of taking in any random stray who happens to be caught in the middle of some job. There's something off about you, and that starts ringing bells, y'know?" They'd checked his wallet when he'd passed out to see where he lived, and it had been empty. She tipped her head a little, locked and unrelenting, despite the knot of nerves tangling in the pit of her stomach.
"So you're not a demon. Fantastic. Should we start at the top of the list to find out what you're hiding, or you just wanna tell us and save everyone some time?"
Jesse scowled, his heart upping the tempo with every word. This was starting to get screwy. He could duck into the bathroom and disappear, only it had no window and so there would still be questions and hunting and damned if he wasn't sick of it all. Damned either way, actually.
He took a deep breath. "Before we get to the poking and prodding, can I take a step back and say I'm sorry that I ruffled your feathers? Had a bad couple of days, and I'm stressing 'cuz you people - hunters - you make me nervous. You're tough shit and I don't know how the rules work in your world, so I don't know when, in your eyes, I cross over the line. I make you nervous, you make me nervous, we're on pretty even footing here." His eyes darted between them, still trying to think over what he was going to say.
Ben had finished the task of putting everything away much too quickly and had been watching in the space between the cabinets and the countertops, his eyes hard and focused on the man while he spoke. He could see the tension in his shoulders, hear the uneasiness in his tone, and it was only with that careful, well-worded response that Ben felt any of the agitation ease out of him.
He still didn't like the bastard, though. Lying or not, he had a mouth on him that Ben knew was nothing but trouble. His eyes moved to Claire's in a wordless inquiry. The look she returned was uncertain, but at least on some level a little more in control of her initial anxiety. Claire looked back at Jesse, her eyes were a hair or two softer than before.
"Fair enough," she continued, her voice containing a little more breath than normal. It was her attempt to further settle the tightness in her gut. "There aren't many 'rules in our world' to remember-just that what could seem like paranoia to most people has kept us alive on more than a few occasions. Its not an instinct we take lightly. Also, I'm sure you could've guessed that this isn't exactly a life someone tries to get a scholarship for. You don't just decide to go looking for vampires or demons or homicidal ghosts on a whim. We-" Claire tipped her head at Ben, but kept her eyes on Jesse, "-aren't really in it for the 401K or health insurance. So casual joking from someone who's got no idea what it's like definitely 'ruffles our feathers'."
"Alright. No more joking," Jesse said, his voice heavy with promise. He pursed his lips, looking at Ben a moment. Then he licked his lips and looked down at the bed. "I've always had these... abilities. Super powers." His mouth quirked in a half smile before it faded. "Didn't know I had 'em at first, but I was already affecting things. My parents couldn't do it. Just me. And then my mum got possessed by a demon, and it was my fault. A couple of hunters came, talked with me, told me I had a choice. You can do good or evil, with great power comes great responsibility, that kind of thing. So I chose good. Not gonna pretend I'm perfect. I fucked up some as a kid. But I've got it under control now. I'm good, and I never hurt anyone. I don't know what the powers are about, but I don't really care. I just wanna be normal."
Ben came around the other side of the counter silently, moving back over to his chair and the rapidly-cooling breakfast foods. He wasn't sure what to think about the new information, other than the fact that it sounded like a crossover with their world and Marvel Comic's Spider-Man. The comment about two hunters stuck out in his head, though, and the same creeping sensation he'd gotten in the car with Claire on their first stakeout was coming back to him again.
Claire's eyes glimmered with a potent mix of caution and curiosity, on top of the acute sharpness common when she was searching someone's face for clues of deception or honesty. It was a fantastic claim, but he talked about it like a benign tumor that kept growing back. She watched him for a few beats longer, then flicked a glance at Ben before returning it to Jesse.
"Can you show me something?" she asked cautiously, but her voice was no longer hard.
No torches and pitchforks; that was a good sign. Leaning forward, he slid his wallet from his jeans pocket. He opened it and held it out for them, revealing that it was completely empty. No identification, no cash, no cards. He closed it, and resisted the temptation to say, "Nothing up my sleeve." Opening it out for them again, the wallet was filled. He held it out for Claire.
"It's not an illusion or anything. It's real. You can have the cash."
She took it gingerly, as if the thing would disappear in a puff of smoke if she handled it too roughly. No small amount of surprise and deliberation brightened her gaze. Claire straightened her shoulders and pulled them back from the chair-spine, looking wide-eyed at Ben.
There was just something so wrong about all of this. Being able to make something out of thin air like that? Weren't there laws about how everything had to come from somewhere? It defied everything about how the world worked, and everything inside Ben told him to get him and Claire away from this stranger. They'd run into him twice, within days. This wasn't a happy coincidence; this was an omen.
"We don't need your money," Ben said flatly. It was the first thing he'd said in over twenty minutes.
Jesse looked over at him, hearing the rejection in his voice. Not that he expected anything different, not from a hunter, but there was a little twist in his chest. All that was left was how much of a rejection. "So. What're you going to do with me now?"
Claire inhaled deep and released the breath slowly, flaring her nostrils. Her apprehension ran thick through her veins, laced with the bite of uncertainty. She met Jesse's too-intense eyes and handed the wallet back. She couldn't deny the first thing she wanted to do was hop on her laptop and start searching, but that didn't answer his question. Claire didn't know how to answer it, either.
"'Scuse us for a minute?" she suggested gently, rising to her feet with a pointed look at Ben. Ben stood as well, frowning slightly. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Jesse being alone in their room with all their stuff so easily accessible, but he didn't say so aloud.
Ben waited until Claire had disappeared into the bathroom before pausing to speak to Jesse directly.
"We do what we have to because we wanna help keep people safe, not because we wanna be thanked," he clarified. It hadn't been hard to miss Jesse's reaction to his prior words. He took a breath as if he wanted to add on to that, but then he let it out and shook his head. "There's still another sandwich and those hashbrown things and juice. Have as much as you want. We'll be back inna sec."
Jesse nodded, though he knew this was his out. They probably knew that. He was unsettling and they probably didn't want him sticking around, so he'd take the out. But not before he had to. As soon as the door was closed he padded over to it, listening close. And when Jesse wanted to hear something, he heard it. His ears didn't mess around.
Claire's look of apprehension hadn't dissolved in the slightest; tension pooled between her shoulder blades and made them shift uncomfortably against the drywall she leaned against. There wasn't much room to go anywhere else-especially with both of them. The sound of running water echoed in the small tiled space of the bathroom when Ben turned it on full force. Her brows pinched together in a clear look of questioning when she met his eyes.
"My mom was nosy," he explained in a loud whisper. Rather than risk her asking him to repeat himself, Ben moved in close so that they were nearly standing chest to chest, then crouched slightly so he could speak in her ear.
"What're you thinkin'?"
Her first thought was somewhere along the lines of several things, but surprisingly a few new ideas that had nothing to do with the mystery waiting on the other side of the door were included in that list, sparked by Ben's inevitable proximity. Claire's breath held for a beat, her eyes focused intently over his shoulder at the cheesy hotel art on the wall behind him.
Focus, the thought repeated to herself, closing her eyes slowly, then setting them back on his face. "Nothin' we can just walk away from."
"Honestly, I'd rather we just walk away," he admitted in a low voice. "If he's not causin' any problems, he's not our problem." Claire swallowed something uncomfortable in her throat. She gently leaned her head back against the wall.
"Maybe. Doesn't help me feel any better, though."
Ben frowned slightly, pressing his lips into a thin line as he looked at her. "I know," he admitted at last. "It's kind of... weird. Like, even for us weird. I swear I've heard this sorta stuff before, but I can't remember where. I'll have to go through my journal and see." He deeply regretted not having grabbed it before joining her.
"We can't just...keep him here," she added quietly. Claire shook her head faintly. She looked honestly lost. "I have no idea what to do."
Ben nodded in agreement. They couldn't keep him while they researched what he was, assuming they found anything at all. That would be going against his will and so long as he was telling the truth, Ben didn't like the way holding someone hostage tasted in his mouth. They would need to keep tabs on him, most definitely, but they could do that without having him right there.
Plus, Ben wasn't even sure he wanted him there. They could send word out through Claire's contacts to be on the look out for him, as Ben didn't really have any. All he wanted was to get away from this Weirdness magnet; they had plenty of their own crap to handle without adding another layer to it.
"Yeah," he said at last. Claire just looked at him for a moment of silence. Clearly his uncertain agreement didn't settle anything. They were lost together.
"Y'know, that line from X-Men he spouted about responsibility and all that-you don't think..."
Ben groaned. "It was from Spider-Man," he exclaimed quietly. "That's it, I'm taking away your pop culture referencing privileges." Claire gave him a mock-scornful look.
"Whatever. You get my point."
"That he was delivering a line?" Ben's expression darkened just a little for a brief moment. "Yeah, maybe. But it's also possible he was just reachin' for somethin' familiar. People do that when they're scared. Just because he's got powers or whatever doesn't mean he can't still be creeped out. Like I said: if he isn't causin' trouble, no reason we can't get as far the hell away from him as we can."
She went still for a few beats, turning the words over and over in her head and gaining absolutely no satisfaction or dawning moment. It was frustrating-the whole messed up situation was frustrating, but the logic in Ben's words had appeal. Claire sighed silently and shifted weight against the wall, chewing on her bottom lip in the process.
"You're right," she hushed finally, and put her faith into that hope. It helped a little. Ben gave her a nod and pulled back, bringing up a hand to rest on her arm. His thumb made a short trail back and forth before he gave it a squeeze and let go. Her eyes had closed for a second or two, only to open when the change of atmosphere around her shifted, and she knew he pulled away.
"Y'know I've got your back," he told her with assurance, stepping back far enough to turn off the faucet. She half-smiled at him, but her eyes were honest, and more expressive than she figured any words would be. Claire pushed off the wall and opened the door, holding it for both of them to pass.
When they moved back into the room however, it was empty. The food remained where it was, untouched. Ben immediately had a flash of paranoia and hurried over to his bag, opening it and rifling through the contents; Claire did the same. Nothing appeared to be missing. Ben looked up at Claire with a frown.
"Well, guess that's that, then."
She nodded, pressing her lips together and rolling them inward. Guess it was that. But the sudden disappearance without even a goodbye or a thank-you didn't make the anxious twist in her stomach any less noticeable.