DISCLAIMER: I do not own The River or any of its characters. The plot idea of this story is completely my own imagination (though if they do something like it in season 2 which I'm really hoping they have, they can own it cuz it'll be much better than this ;])

NOTE: Chapter 9. It's kinda short I think... But. It has a lot of stuff in it so pay attention. I spelled "expression" wrong the first time every time I wrote it lol.


LENA LANDRY

Clark and Emilio were supporting Kurt through the doorway; he was gushing blood from several deep cuts on his forehead. Lena then saw the gun that Kurt was still hanging on to, and it dragged on the door with the metal distorted and twisted by something incredibly powerful. She quickly cleared out a space for him in a chair and watched, feeling once again out of place and useless as everyone else switched into a "do something" mode.

Somehow Lincoln was able to shift into doctor mode, although she expected that in his state he wouldn't be able to do very much.

Jonas and A.J. were doing their jobs. Clark grabbed Kurt's gun and tossed it out of the way as Tess tried to stem the bleeding with a towel. Emilio went to shut and lock every door just in case it was out there. With the damage it had done to the gun - and Kurt - Lena wasn't sure how much a door would do to stop the thing. Kurt's expression was more angry than hurt of scared. He seemed genuinely disappointed in himself that he hadn't been able to stop it. But maybe he had. She didn't know - maybe he had killed it, but was angry that he had gotten hurt in the process. He was probably angry about the gun. He loved his gun more than he loved anything or anyone else.

"Lena, get me the bag!" Lincoln ordered. His expression was sharp and focused, although his movement was stiff and unnatural. She wished he would just sit down and rest and let the rest of them get to work.

Regardless, she was glad to be doing something as she brought the medical bag to him.

"These are deep," Lincoln said. "You'll need stitches."

"She came out of the reflection in the water," Kurt said, mater-of-fact, as though it was an everyday occurrence. "Turn the lights off outside. It isn't just mirrors she can move through. Anything that offers even the slightest reflection." He seemed calm and in control. At least he wasn't in shock.

Lena was pretty sure she would be in shock if it had happened to her.

"We'll worry about that later," Lincoln said back.

"I hit her twice," Kurt said with the closest thing to satisfaction she suspected he would ever get to. The only thing that pleased him was shooting things. Interesting. "She can be hurt in our world. If she can get hurt, she can be killed," he added in his strong accent.

Lena shared a glance with Tess.

"Stop talking and hold still. This is going to hurt," Lincoln said unnecessarily.

Kurt didn't even flinch.


The next morning, Lena found herself following Lincoln as he made his way to the deck to see what had happened. She had been trying to stop him from going but he had been adamant about asking a look, and had told her that his head no longer hurt at all.

So what. He was still hurt. He didn't know that his entire back was covered in claw marks.

In the end she gave in and followed had all fallen asleep in various places throughout the kitchen, no one really wanting to leave.

The rest of the crew was still sleeping - she thought.

She wasn't exactly sure what to expect. Kurt said he had wounded it, but what did that mean? Did it bleed? Did it even have blood? Would it still be there, waiting for them? It wasn't exactly sunny outside and there were still thick clouds over the sky, so the water would be dead and non-reflective. But she would have felt safer if they had waited for everyone else to get up. Or hadn't gone at all.

When she walked on to the deck, there was... nothing. Not a single, noticeable splash of blood. She was surprised at that. Kurt had been dripping blood down his forehead and there should at least be a sign of it on the deck.

"This is strange... usually wherever she goes, there is blood," Lincoln said out loud. She had to agree. Maybe it had left for good because it didn't want to get injured further. Maybe it was going to look for easier prey. She doubted it. It was a demon and it was probably just biding its time. She wondered what the next trip up its sleeve would be. It was probably pissed off.

"Let's just go back inside," she suggested, feeling sick to her stomach. They were vulnerable here, all alone.

"In a moment," Lincoln said distractedly.

He was staring at the deck. She walked up to him and knelt down when she noticed strange indents in the wood. It looked like something had slammed a hammer down over and over. But the shape was different. More almond shaped.

Like a hoof.

"Lincoln, please," she said, panic fluttering in her chest. She didn't know why she was scared. All she knew was that they had to get inside, now. They were too out in the open, and the demon was dangerous. Looking for blood. Just Lincoln's and Jahel's and Kurt's, or the rest of theirs too? She wasn't sure, but she didn't want to find out.

Was that how Jahel felt all the time.

He couldn't say no to her when she begged.

They were turning to head back inside when something made the boat jerk hard. They both staggered against the railing and she pretended not to hear his grunt of pain.

Wounded. Vulnerable.

"Lincoln?" She asked. He seemed to be frozen, staring with a startled, disgusted and stared expression into the water. She didn't see that expression on his face often. Something wasn't right. She didn't want to look, and her heart as racing violently. Was it down there? She could almost picture it, grinning from ear to ear with a zipper of fangs, eyes wide and coloured like blood, waiting for them to look so it could invoke terror in them. It was most certainly succeeding.

"This isn't..." he said, still looking at the water. "How?"

She forced herself to look and promptly forgot how to breathe. It seemed like time had suddenly stood still. She then understood his stumbling phrases and questions, mostly because she felt her own forming on her lips, even as her stomach dropped dangerous, threatening to betray her.

It wasn't water anymore, anywhere.

All around the ship was a gurgling river of thick red blood.