CHAPTER 10 - "Paying the Piper"
The road tilted sharply downward and the classic auto wasn't exactly a 4x4, but it handled what was being asked if it with a kind of gritty aplomb as we half drove, half slithered down the incline and around a series of sloping twists and turns.
As we progressed, I saw that fresh gouges had exposed patches of lighter colored wood in the dark, weathered trunks of the trees on the outer edges of the curves. It was clear that something big had come slaloming down this road at a good clip and it hadn't handled the turns nearly as well as we were.
Once on this incline, I realized the bus wouldn't have had a chance of halting its descent, not with its greater mass and unwieldy size. Short of plowing into the trees, it's best hope would have been to try and make it to somewhere more level. I tried not to imagine what that would have been like, in the dark with a dozen screaming 8 year olds. God ...
I kept expecting to come upon the wreck of the bus at any moment, but as we wound deeper and deeper into the woods we continued to find only mangled trees and tire tracks. The road was narrow, there was certainly no place a bus could have turned around, especially if it were being pursued, so the answers must still lay ahead of us.
"Damn, that driver did the right thing," Dean muttered approvingly as he navigated the rough trail as fast as was possible while avoiding ripping out the undercarriage. "Kept moving, didn't stop to confront the other driver or slow enough for them to mob the bus. Probably hoping he could find a turn off somewhere to double back for the highway. Sam?"
Sam had a map spread on his knees and was fiddling with a mobile phone. "No GPS signal and this road is either too old or too small, it's not on the park maps." Sam grimaced. "No cell signal either," he added.
"Great," Dean muttered, echoing my thoughts on that. It meant that even if we wanted to, calling the police was out. We'd have to go all the way back to the main road to get a signal, probably, and that would take too much time.
I felt like my teeth were going to rattle out of my head from the bumpy ride and I held onto the door's arm rest as we rocketed along. I felt a subtle, familiar prickle rolling over my skin and glanced beside me. Trent had his eyes closed and his lips moved soundlessly, a look of concentration on his face. He was gathering wild magic to him, I guessed sourly. He'd said it was harder for him to control, so he was probably trying to pull it into his chi and be ready in case it was needed.
I ached to be able to do the same and it made me mad at him all over again. Furious, I turned my gaze back out the window and tried to tell myself I should be glad that at least one of us had a useful fallback. It didn't make me feel any better.
We found the ghoul's stolen car first. It hadn't taken one of the curves and was wrapped around a large tree. The doors were open and it was empty. The bus' tire tracks continued ahead and we pressed on. We found the bus another mile or two further in. The front right fender of the bus was dented inward, and it sat at an angle across the road. It looked like it must have struck something and gone into a skid. A small army of ghouls surrounded it, prying at the doors and windows. I think the only reason they hadn't gotten in yet was because they were fighting each other as much as the structure of the bus, constantly grabbing one another and pulling each other back in an effort to get to the prey inside first. I got the feeling there were too many ghouls gathered here and there hadn't been enough food to go around. They were turning on each other, and that was to our advantage.
"Sorry, baby," Dean muttered, speaking I think, to his car as he floored the accelerator and plowed into the thick of the tangle of ghouls. Using the solid metal frame of the car to push them aside and force them to scatter, Dean swung the vehicle around so that it skidded to a halt directly in front of the stalled bus, the body of the car blocking the front doors, which was the bus' most vulnerable point.
Dean and Sam were out of the car almost before it stopped moving. Trent and I followed suit. The Winchesters tossed us the rifles they were holding, and quickly grabbed two more from the trunk.
"I think you two know the drill by now," Dean said, sighting in on one of the approaching ghouls and pulling the trigger, hitting it clean in the head. "Stay down, stay here by the car. There's ammo in the trunk. Keep your backs to the bus, try not to let them get behind you. Keep them away from the doors. Check on the kids if you can."
Dean glanced at us once to make sure his orders were understood before he and Sam quickly pushed forward, putting themselves between us and the ghouls, pushing out into the thick of the melee.
I pumped the bolt action on my shotgun and turned to look at Trent. His expression was calm and focused and he held the weapon like he knew how to handle it. He took a stance beside the car, and glanced over at me. We could both hear the children inside the bus behind us crying and calling for help. Trent looked a question at me and I nodded.
With him covering me, I hopped up on to the hood of the car, and peered in through the window. Behind me, Trent's shotgun roared. I scanned the interior of the bus quickly. Most of the children had left their seats and were huddled in the center aisle. Some were peeking up through the windows. They looked terrified, but uninjured. I saw that someone, probably the driver, had had the good sense to jam the front doors closed from the inside with what looked like a nightstick or an antitheft bar of some kind. Something had been jammed into the emergency exit latch on the rear exit as well. In the front of the bus, I could see a figure larger than that of the children slumped on the floor.
Having seen me, and drawn by the sounds of the ensuing firefight outside, more of the children were popping their heads up, crawling cautiously onto the row of seats facing me. I tried to look reassuring.
"Is everybody okay in there?" I asked.
Too many young voices tried to answer at the same time, making it impossible to clearly understand any of them. I got the overall impression that the children were unharmed, but the driver had hit his head pretty hard in the bus' final crash. He'd apparently stayed conscious long enough to jam the doors and tell the kids to stay down, but then he had "fallen asleep", and they couldn't wake him. I hoped he would be okay. I hoped all of us would be okay.
"You do what he said, all right?" I told the kids, raising my voice to be heard through the closed windows and above the roar of the fighting. "You all need to stay in the middle of the bus, down on the floor; don't look out the windows. Everything's going to be okay." They were just scared enough that I thought they would probably obey, for the most part. Knowing I needed to get back to the fight, I slid quickly off the trunk and back to the ground.
Trent was reloading. He looked at me and I nodded, indicating that all was as well as could be expected. "The kids are okay!" I called out, loud enough to let the Winchesters know, too. The problem, was going to be keeping them that way. There seemed to be a hell of a lot more ghouls then there had even been last night. Whatever force had stirred them up and drawn them together in this unusual manner appear to still be at work.
There were too few of us, and too many of them. It was obvious in under a minute that we would never be able to hold them off for long. Despite our efforts to keep them away, the ghouls were massing around the bus again. They beat at the sturdy safety glass, prying at the rear windows and door. Several of them jumped up onto the roof. My gut clenched in horror when I heard a popping sound, and saw that they'd found and opened the emergency escape panel on the top of the bus. I fired up with them, knocking one off the roof. Trent got the other one, but more were already climbing up to take their place. My shotgun was empty. I needed to reload, but there wasn't time.
Beside me, I heard Trent swear in frustration. "This is to damn ineffective." He dropped the useless gun he was holding and instead threw a golden ball of energy into the midst of the three ghouls on the roof, blasting all of them off at the same time.
Something slammed into me from behind as one of the ghouls tackled me. The force of the impact made me drop my empty gun. The being that looked like a man, but was not a man, had a knife. He slashed at me, and I sidestepped. My martial arts training came to my aid as I automatically blocked his forearm with mine, whipping my body around so that I caught his arm between mine and twisted, forcing him to drop the knife.
Another attacker punched me harshly in the side, making me reel. I kicked him in the knee, buying a little distance, but it wasn't going to be enough. There were too many and they were pressing in too close. I was running out of room to maneuver.
"Rachel!" Trent called out, and I looked up to find him at my side, his hand held out towards me. I didn't understand what he wanted, but then he took my hand and I felt magic rush into me like a wave. I grabbed the energy, almost instinctively pulling into my empty, aching core. Trent was feeding it to me through his touch, allowing me to pull the energy through him as if he were my familiar.
I instantly saw what he'd meant about the magic feeling different here. It didn't have same type of slippery unpredictability I was used to from the wild magic in our world. It filled my chi like I was pulling on a ley line, yet it didn't feel like a line. The power signature was somehow completely different. It burned a little, like plugging into a foreign current without an adapter, but it still felt glorious after the emptiness of having been able to touch nothing.
A ghoul charged us and I threw a flaming curse directly into his chest. "Exuro, exussum!"
I heard Trent spelling beside me, the music of his magic humming on the crisp air. I felt the dip and swell of his energy draw as we both blasted spells and curses the attackers circling us and the bus.
I slid my hand away and felt the connection break abruptly. I gasped from the loss and Trent quickly grabbed my fingers again. Apparently, I had to be physically touching him for it to work.
"Eram pere!" Trent called, whirling and taking down a ghoul that had climbed up onto the roof of the car and was trying to jump us from behind.
"Fucking hell?!" I heard one of the Winchesters exclaim in shock from somewhere amid the tangle of ghouls mobbing them. I could just barely glimpse the two brothers standing back to back, swinging their rifles like clubs, presumably because they were being pressed too hard to be able to reload. I was pretty sure the words were a reaction to what Trent and I were doing rather than the battle they were fighting, but tough, we were what we were and they were going to have to deal.
Thinking I was beginning to understand how this worked, I drew deeply, pulling as much energy as I dared through Trent without hurting him. I spindling it, then let go of his hand again. As I'd hoped, even though I lost my connection to the power source, the magic I'd spindled was still there and I could use it until it ran out. That gave us a little more autonomy and freedom of action.
In daily life there were many ways in which Trent and I had a tendency to pull in different directions, but such was not the case in a situation like this. For some reason, it seemed that we spelled and fought together very well. It was fast, natural and intuitive. Our energies resonated and flowed. We seemed to embrace the same tactics, knowing what the other was thinking and backing one another's plays automatically, even without a mental connection. By now we had simply come to know each other's rhythms.
Staying more or less back to back, we moved in tandem, quickly settling into a rhythm that was almost a dance - spell, turn, spell, turn, grip hands so I could re-fill my chi, spin, switch places, repeat.
The ghouls started falling back from the bus. I don't think they'd encountered anyone like us before and the unexpected threat threw them into disarray. I just hoped they didn't realize too quickly that we weren't actually killing any of them. While some of these spells could be fatal for humans, they were only hurting, scaring and slowing the ghouls.
It was throwing them off enough that it was giving the Winchesters an edge. However disturbed the hunters may be by our magical display, they seemed to have adapted their own strategy pretty quickly to take advantage of the new circumstances. They'd been able to reload and I noticed that they were now intentionally targeting and picking off the distracted, disoriented ghouls as we spelled them.
I knew curses that would probably kill them outright - most things will die if you superheat and explode them from the inside out - but that was a road I didn't want to take. Thus far I had never killed with magic and I desperately wanted to keep it that way if at all possible.
"Trent, they're afraid of us!" I told him quickly as we grabbed arms and spun around again, backs bumping as we changed our positions. Our continual motion was an effort to keep the area around the bus clear and to keep the ghouls from being able to form up on us too tightly. Even with magic, the odds were seriously against us, especially once the scare factor wore off. If we could do something big, conjure up a little shock and awe, maybe we could make them flee all together, or at least force them to fall back and regroup.
I looked over and found Trent's face grimly set, but his were eyes alight with the power dancing between us. I saw that he understood what I was saying without needing an explanation. "Well then, maybe we should give them a little show?" he suggested.
I grinned at him and squeezed his hand, power crackling through me as I lifting my other hand, a growing haze of magic dripping down between my fingers. "Light 'em up!" I agreed.
We did. Holding hands, we worked in unison, drawing the power to us. The force of our conjoined spell whirled to life around us, shifting and spinning like a sudden, unnatural wind. When the power hit critical, we pushed it explosively outward. It shook the ground and rolled away like a shockwave of light and sound. This was not a targeted attack, it wasn't even terribly dangerous, but damn it looked scary as hell if you didn't know anything about magic. Smaller blasts of crackling energy flew about like lightning bolts, catching several of the ghouls and making them stumble and scream as they ran away.
The display had the desired effect. The definitely freaked out ghouls scattered, fleeing into the woods. I didn't think they were gone for good, unfortunately. Whatever else they were, they didn't appear stupid. Once the initial shock wore off, they'd probably realize that they still out numbered us a dozen to one. We had minutes, maybe, if that.
Breathing hard and realizing only now that my head and my chi were stinging from the exertion of handling the unfamiliar energy, I looked up to find the Winchesters jogging quickly back towards us. Given the looks on their faces, the ghouls weren't the only ones we'd freaked out. Great.
"What the hell are you?" Dean demanded, brows furrowed. Both men's bodies were tight with tension and battle wariness.
"People who want to save those kids and would like to get all our asses out of here alive; isn't that what matters right now?!" I snapped shortly.
To their credit, the Winchesters seemed able to accept that, at least for the time being. They exchanged a look and Sam quickly took off for the bus. Out of my periphery vision I saw him climb up and over their car, then onto the bus roof, before he disappeared inside through the opened emergency hatch.
Trent was leaning his hips back against the hood of the large black car, arms folded across his middle and his head bowed slightly. Now that the power of magic and the adrenaline of the battle weren't actively flowing through him, I realized he really didn't look well. He must be as tired as I was - maybe more so, judging by his unusual silence and the fact that he was leaving dealing with the Winchester completely to me. He coughed, covering his mouth with his fist.
"You're witches, aren't you?" Dean's quiet, flat voice quickly drew my attention back to him. The look on his face said that was definitely not a good thing in his book.
My eyes narrowed at his tone, but I wasn't sure how to answer that. Sort of? I was, Trent wasn't. Well ... technically I wasn't either anymore, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to mention that I was a demon. Even most of the people in our world had a problem with that little fact. It was all too complicated an explanation for the time we had and frankly I didn't care for the way he was looking at me after we'd just helped save their butts, so I said nothing.
Dean scowled at me a moment longer, then ran a frustrated hand through his short hair and shook his head. "Crap. We haven't got time for this. Those ghouls will be back any minute. I don't know what your game is or what you're really after here, but if you honestly do want to help, just be sure you keep the freaky hoodoo pointed in their direction." There was an unspoken, quiet threat in his eyes about what would happen if we didn't and if our intention was to betray them. He had the look of a man who had been burned too many times to trust easily.
"We will," I promised, biting back on some of the things I'd like to say for the sake of trying not to further alienate our already hesitant allies. This situation was enough of a mess without complicating it further. "We only want to help, Dean."
Behind us, I heard the throaty rumble of the bus engine trying to turn over. Sam must be trying to get it fired up. The engine growled and sputtered, but wouldn't catch.
"Guess we'll see," Dean said. He gave me a last look before turning away and jogging quickly over to the front of the bus.
"It won't start," Sam called out to his brother from the interior of the bus, his voice muffled. "It must have been damaged in the last crash."
I bit my lower lip. That wasn't good. Driving the kids out in the bus was about the only plausible option at this point. Taking them out of the bus would only make them more vulnerable. We couldn't run a bunch of third graders out of here on foot and we couldn't fit all of them in the brothers' car.
I saw Dean force open the hood of the school bus with some difficulty, the dented front corner warping the frame and making it difficult for him to pull the assembly forward and down as it was built to do. Jumping up so he was standing balanced on one of the bus' large front tires, Dean leaned over the engine cavity and signaled Sam through the windshield to try it again.
Again the engine sputtered and failed to catch. Dean leaned over farther, shoulders working as he quickly dug around inside the engine. "Again!" he called and again the engine revved. It held for a few moments longer this time, but then sputtered out again.
Dean swore, hopping down off the tire and quickly retrieving some tools from inside his vehicle before climbing back up again and bending over the damaged bus motor. Apparently, the line about them being mechanics hadn't been a total lie. Dean seemed to know his way around an engine very well. I heard him call out a couple of the bus' issues to his brother as he worked urgently under the hood. The only one that I recognized was something about a slipped belt.
Trent had started coughing again, like he had something stuck in his throat. I started to turn to him, but a rustle in the trees drew my attention. The ghouls were there, watching us. There was no mistaking the predatory gleam in their eyes. I emptied my chi, sending a fire ball bouncing into the trees as a warning shot. They scattered warily to the sides, but didn't retreat. They were already getting over their fear. The lure of food and the threat that their prey might escape was too strong. They might be just watching for now, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they made another move.
"We have company," I called over my shoulder, warily watching the tree line and backing up at the same time. I didn't want to risk diverting my gaze lest they choose that moment to spring, but I needed to grab another refill from Trent. The fact that he hadn't already come forward to join me should have tipped me off that we had a problem, but my attention was severely divided at the moment.
"You gonna be able to get that thing started?" I added, still not turning and this time keeping my voice quiet so as not to give anything away to the enemy surrounding us.
"Yeah, but not fast enough," Dean replied grimly, in equally quiet tones. He hopped down again, snatching up his rifle when he saw the watchers in the trees. "We need time. We need a distraction."
I heard the bus squeaking behind me and turned to see that Sam was hauling himself back out through the roof to join us. I felt the futility of the situation in my gut. I didn't think the four of us could hold off another full frontal assault and we certainly wouldn't be able to do so while attempting to keep the ghouls both out of the bus and off of Dean long enough for him to fix the bus.
My brows furrowed thoughtfully. We couldn't fight and win ... but fighting wasn't the only option. Maybe Trent and I could pull off a protection circle big enough to do the trick. I looked about quickly, judging the area around us. Encompassing the bus and car and avoiding the other terrain-based obstacles around us meant that it would have to be one huge circle. I thought I could maybe just do it, but it would be a real stretch. Still, it was the best chance we had. Actually, it was probably the only chance we had. No pressure or anything.
"I have an idea," I told them quickly, walking swiftly down the length of the car, looking for Trent. He wasn't standing by the hood anymore and I didn't see him, although I couldn't imagine he'd gone far. "I think we can make a circle, buy you some time. Trent! We need to ... " I rounded the car and froze when I found the elf.
Trent was on his knees. He was hunched over, gripping the earth with one hand, the other pressed to his mouth as heaving coughs wracked his body. With shocked horror, I realized his mouth and his hand were both dripping red. He was coughing up blood. Alarm sliced through me like a cold blade. What the hell had happened?!
"Trent! What's wrong? Where are you hurt?" I demanded worriedly as I dropped to my knees beside him. My hand went to his back as I urgently searched him for injuries. Trent shook his head, unable to speak as another set of choking spasms shook him. I glanced anxiously back towards the trees and saw that the ghouls were stirring restlessly, as if scenting our weakness.
My gaze shot quickly up to Sam and Dean, who had come when they heard the alarm in my voice and were now dividing their grim-faced attention between whatever was happening to Trent and the rallying ghouls.
"Make me a circle!" I told them urgently. "Make a circle around all of us, including the bus. The line needs to be unbroken," I added distractedly when realized they probably wouldn't know what I meant. The area was too large, I wouldn't be able to hold an undrawn circle that big. There was no time or tools to draw the formal patterns, but even a circle scratched in the dirt would suffice.
"That won't help with ghouls," Sam told me as he and Dean rapidly jacked some of the remaining shells into their shot guns, their alert gazes on the trees. The ghouls were still just watching us, but we could all feel the tipping point coming. It wasn't a matter of if, but of when. They'd decide on their attack strategy soon and then we were done unless we had our counter measures in place.
"I know what I'm doing!" I hissed, not understanding what Sam meant and not having time to care. "You need time, I can buy some, but I need help! I need a circle and I need Trent - I can't take care of both, pick one!" I said in urgent, frustrated desperation.
They frowned at me in confusion before moving off quickly. I could only hope they were doing what I asked as I refocused on Trent. My grip tightened in his shirt as he pushed himself up so he was no longer leaning on the ground. He seemed to have finally gotten the coughing under control, but I was still worried. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, spreading a crimson stain on his pale skin.
"I'm not injured, Rachel," he told me, his voice still a bit hoarse from the coughing. "It's nothing."
"This is not nothing," I growled savagely, gripping his arm and giving him a little shake. "Trenton Aloysius Kalamack don't you dare lie to me right now, we can't afford it! I need to know what's wrong!"
Trent's hand fisted against his thigh, his expression both resigned and weary. "I told you, the magic here wouldn't acknowledge me. It can't claim me because I already belong to the Goddess in our world, Rachel, we both do. The only way I could get its attention was through sacrifice."
My whole body stiffened, a cold dread beginning to form in my stomach. Some stories held that the elves used to practice animal sacrifice as part of their quasi-religious magical rites. Whether that was true or not, I somehow didn't think that Trent was talking about goats or doves, here.
"Trent," I breathed, my jaw clenching. "What exactly did you offer up for this sacrifice?"
Trent snorted, wiping his mouth again and pushing a little unsteadily to his feet. "The only thing I had," he said simply.
Oh God, Trent meant himself.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," he muttered, because I guess my face showed what I was thinking. "It just means that every time I use magic, I have to pay a price. It takes a certain toll on me, physically."
"How is that not as bad as it sounds?!" I demanded, also rising to my feet. The dread in my gut had solidified into horror. "You say I'm reckless? Trent, how could you do something so stupid?!"
"It was a calculated risk, Rachel. I needed to find you, and I thought we would likely need it to get home. I never intended to use it this much. I wasn't exactly planning on having to fight a zombie army," he said tensely.
No. He hadn't been, had he? Guilt mixed with my anger and dread. "Trent, I didn't know," I whispered, shaking my head. "You should have told me!"
Trent looked at me steadily. "You wouldn't have used it, if you knew," he said quietly.
"Damn right I wouldn't have!" I agreed. "We stop using it right now!"
"They're coming!" I heard Sam's shout and it felt like a knife twisting in my gut.
Trent smiled thinly at me. "Right. Only we can't and you know that." Taking a deep breath, he held his hand out to me, palm up. "You're right, Rachel, our only chance is to get in a circle. If we don't then we're all dead. It's not that bad, truly. I can do this."
I drew back a step, shaking my head, heart in my throat. How could Trent expect me to use him as a conduit now that I knew the cost?
Trent just looked at me, hand still extended. "Rachel, you need to do this or we'll all pay the price.I'll do it myself if I have to, but I won't be able to hold a circle this big for as long as I know you can."
I hated him for being right. I hated that he was going to make me hurt him. I hated myself for not having found some other way. Feeling miserable, I reached out and took his hand, gritting my teeth as I felt the surge of magic coursing through him and spilling into me.
A shotgun blast yanked my focus back outward. I found Sam and Dean flanking us, firing and falling back slowly, picking off first few ghouls as they rushed out from the trees.
"If you've got some brilliant idea, now would be the time," Dean said darkly, glancing at Trent and I as he quickly reloaded. "Ghouls aren't like ghosts or demons, that salt line isn't going to do shit to keep them out."
Looking about, I saw that Sam and Dean had made a circle all right, they'd laid a circle of salt all the way around us, the bus and the car. Oooookay, that was different. Given Dean's words, I guessed that the salt lines themselves would in fact be a deterrent for some of the inderlanders in this world, which was interesting, but not my main concern right now. The question was whether it was going to work as a basis for raising a protection circle. Salt dissolved earth magic, but could be used in some ley line spells.
The front wave of the ghouls were almost on us and the only way to find out was going to be to try it and see. I gripped Trent's hand tightly and focused on the shape of the circle about us. "Rhombus!" I cried, and was relieved when I saw the familiar, molecule thin shimmer of my aura rush upward from the salt circle, meeting over our heads to form a bubble of protection about us.
Not a moment too soon. Almost as soon as it sprang into existence, the first ghoul impacted with the barrier, running into it full tilt only to be thrown backwards with a surprised yelp. In other circumstances, it might have been comical the way they piled up against one another, banging and poking experimentally at the semi-invisible wall. They obviously had no idea what to make of it.
The circle was huge and I could feel the strain of holding it throb between my temples, but it was solid for the time being. The rock salt was actually making a very good base. It added a pure resonance to the energy flow that made it almost as good as a properly drawn circle would have been. Part of it was because of the different structure of this magic's energy. I wasn't sure it would have worked so well in our world, but it was nice to have something go right once in a while.
"Whoa, holy force field, Batman," Dean muttered in obvious shock and maybe just a little bit of boyish wonder as he and Sam stared at the shimmering surface of the bubble. It was tinted the gold of my aura and clouded over by the black smut that slid and swirled like oil across its surface. I winced inwardly, then realized that if the Winchesters had never seen a protection circle before, they probably had no idea what all the black meant - or rather, what people in my world always assumed it meant.
The ghouls were trying to punch through it now, pushing their fingers in until they burned before drawing them back, hissing and growling. They seemed disturbingly undeterred by the pain and continued to attack the barrier with dogged confusion. I had to pour a little more strength into it to keep it solid.
Beside me, Trent's grip remained tight in mine, even as he folded to his knees on the ground. I swallowed, trying not to think about what I was doing to him. He said he'd be okay, that he could handle whatever strain this was putting on him. I could only hope he was right.
I sank down to sit next to him and pulled our entwined hands into my lap. I couldn't let go, he was my conduit. The moment I let go, I would lose my connection and the circle would fall. I was reminded suddenly of the first time I'd met and worked with Peirce - back when I was 18, he was a ghost, and it had been me who was acting as his physical conduit to the lines. I thought I understood his frustration with the situation so much better now. My stomach ached as the feeling of isolation and not belonging from my dreams last night returned with a vengeance. I was like a ghost in this world.
"They're not going to be able to get through as long as the circle's in place," I told Sam and Dean, forcing all the decidedly unhelpful emotions churning inside me away and focusing in on the situation at hand. My gaze lifted to find both brothers staring at us. "I don't know how long we can hold it, but hopefully long enough for you to fix the bus so we can all get the heck out of here."
The Winchesters were apparently rather good at dealing with whatever curveballs a situation threw them and making things up on the fly. I could tell there were a lot of questions they were dying to ask, but they just hurried back to the bus and wasted no time digging right into what needed to be done. They must both know something about cars because they worked on it together - sleeves rolled up, arms thrust into the engine.
The children inside the bus had fallen silent. They were probably simply worn out by now, but I hoped that if they could see the bubble around us and understand what it was doing, maybe that gave them a little comfort. Children usually accepted such things more easily than adults might have.
I was glad that Trent didn't start coughing up blood again or anything, but he didn't look like he was doing all that well either. I was reminded uncomfortably of the other part of my uneasy dreams last night and my fingers tightened a little.
"Trent," I said quietly. "Help me understand how this works. This toll it takes on you ... I mean, is it like, it hurts but if you stop and don't use it for a while you'll feel better again? Or are we talking something more permanent like it's draining your life force or ... I don't know ... taking parts of you?"
Trent grimaced dryly. "There's a lovely idea. Honestly? I don't know," he admitted with a frown. "It's not like I wrote up a contract. You saw how it works. The magic here was not so different from ours in that respect, you basically give it what it wants and abide by however that turns out."
I made an unhappy face at the nasty uncertainty of it all. Yes, I did understand; it was after all part of how we'd ended up in this whole situation in the first place. Stupid, unpredictable wild magic. I liked this world's version even less than our own.
Trent looked more than a little sick, although I think he was trying to hide it from me. His lips were still stained with blood from before and I was trying not to stare. He rubbed his face and head several times, shifting uneasily on the ground. "You have this, yes? I believe I'm going to lie down," he finally informed me, keeping hold of my hand as he shifted awkwardly around so he could lay on his side beside me. I pulled on his arm, impulsively tugging his head over into my lap at the last moment.
Trent tensed up but then relaxed and lay his head down on my thigh, our clasped hands resting nearby. I wasn't sure why I'd done that, but I felt the need to keep him close and it would give me a better chance to monitor his condition. I was trying my hardest to keep the circle up with as little power as necessary so I would need to take less from him, but that was much easier said than done. Especially when the darn ghouls wouldn't stop poking at it and throwing things.
"Do you think I could make the same deal with it that you did?" I asked after a moment.
Trent turned his head up towards me sharply, his green eyes suddenly hard. "No. You will not do that, Rachel. You yourself said it was a stupid idea and one of us is bad enough."
I frowned, bristling at being told what to do. I thought I caught a glimpse of worry behind Trent's harshness though and tried to keep myself from reacting too sharply. "But it's my fault you had to use it so heavily," I argued quietly instead.
"Mm," Trent didn't disagree, but he didn't look mad at me anymore either. "So fix me when we get home, then," he said simply. "If anything's missing, you can put it back. You're ... good at that."
I frowned, perfectly aware of what he was referring to and so not about to go there. Of course I'd do whatever I needed to do to heal him when we got home. That was a given whether this had been my fault or not, but it didn't solve our problems in the short term. "If we need it again, after this, then I should make the deal," I persisted. Not because I wanted to do something that risky, but because I didn't want to be dependent on Trent for magic, especially not when it was doing God knew what to him. If we spread the damage out, maybe we could both survive it long enough to get home where I could, as Trent had said "fix" us.
Trent sighed turned away from me again, giving his head another shake. "That is not a good idea," he murmured. "Wild magic is unpredictable, Rachel. Just because this is the cost it chooses to extract from me doesn't mean it would be the same for you. It could turn out a lot worse, and there's no telling what binding ourselves too much to this world might do to our chances of getting back. Anyway, I'm not going to tell you the proper spell for sacrifice and trust me, you can't do it by just standing around shouting at it." I heard a faint glimmer of a smile in his voice at the last.
I scowled down at him and smacked his shoulder lightly with my free hand to indicate my displeasure, although I kept the motion too light to hurt.
I felt Trent chuckle against my leg. "God, why are you always hitting me?"
"Because you always deserve it," I retorted.
I was silent for a little while then, listening to the Winchesters work on the bus and focusing on maintaining the circle. My free hand rested lightly on Trent's shoulder as I listened to the thankfully mostly steady sound of his breathing.
"Rachel?" Trent's voice was quiet. "Do you think you will be able to keep drawing through me if I pass out?"
My body stiffened. "I don't know ... probably?" I hedged. "Why, you feeling like you're going to?"
"No," he lied. "But I can draw through Tulpa even when he rests; I would think this shouldn't be much different. I don't need to be touching him to do it, but I imagine that limitation is because of this world." He murmured thoughtfully, almost sounding as if he were speaking to himself more than me.
I stiffened at the mention of Trent's horse and the mental parallel the elf seemed to be drawing. "Trent, you're not my familiar."
Trent smiled dryly. "Say that again sometime when you're not doing the equivalent of pulling of a line through me. Maybe I'll believe you." His tone was sarcastic, but not upset.
I shook my head, not at all comfortable with what Trent was implying. "No," I protested. "I severed that connection years ago." And then Trent became Ku'Sox' familiar, and I wrenched control of that bond away from him and made Trent mine again by force. I had thought that destroying the slave rings would have taken care of everything. I'd never considered that I might need to release Trent again, but now I suddenly wondered. What if there was more to the ease of our ability to connect than I had thought?
"No, you just set me free so I didn't have to obey or let you in, unless I wished to." Trent's voice was very quiet. The calm way he said it meant he'd probably known that for a long time.
I was more than a little stunned. I wondered why he'd never said anything, but then I supposed I understood. Even if he had the choice of turning it on or off, it still meant he was vulnerable to me in some ways I certainly wouldn't have wanted to be vulnerable to anyone. What I didn't understand was why he was telling me now.
The circle was taking a massive amount of effort. The headache throbbing behind my eyes had now officially reached migraine proportions and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to feel nauseous. "I'm sorry," I told him honestly. "I really thought it was gone. When we get home I'll find a way to turn it off, I promise."
"No, I don't want you to do that." Trent's quiet answer surprised me and I looked down at him. His head was still resting on my leg, his face turned away from me. His gaze focused on some point in the distance. "Obviously, at times it can be useful, and as I said - I can control it. You're not compromising my will, Rachel."
I just stared at him. No ... but I could. Trent was very strong, but I was stronger and the ties that bound us had not been formed on equal footing. If he was still vulnerable to me, then if I truly wanted to I probably could force submission from him through the shared connection. The thought made me sick. I didn't care what Trent said, I was going to find a way to shut this down.
"I know you don't trust me, Rachel," Trent said quietly, gaze still fixed on the distance. "But I trust you. If you'd wanted a slave, you could have had me, many times. You're one of the only people I know to whom I could admit something like this, and rather than trying to figure out how best to take advantage of it, you're busy trying to think of ways to break the connection whether I want you to or not, aren't you?"
My cheeks warmed a little at how accurately he'd guessed my thoughts. Trent finally glanced up and when he caught sight of the look on my face, a small, smug smile lit his drawn features. He knew he was right. "That's why I trust you," he said simply, holding my gaze for a long moment before turning away again. His breathing wasn't so even anymore and I saw him close his eyes as if trying to gather strength.
I felt ... I didn't know what I felt. Trent was right about some things, but he was wrong about others. He thought I didn't trust him, but I knew that when it came down to the things that really mattered, I did. I don't know why I couldn't tell him that, but the words would not come. Instead I let my free hand stroke slowly through his hair as I'd been doing way too often lately.
"I will get you home," I promised him in my mind, as if it could make up for the things I didn't know how to say. "I will do whatever I need to do."
We fell into silence and I tried to deal with the raw pain boring through my temples. The bubble wavered in my grasp and I quickly fumbled for it, pouring more energy into it with a wince that wasn't only for Trent's sake. This was really, really not fun. The stupid, not-quite-right current was starting to make my brain burn from the prolonged exposure. I missed my familiar ley lines so badly right now.
"How's it coming over there? No pressure or anything, but we really need to speed this up!" I called over to the Winchesters.
"Workin' on it!" Dean's voice was muffled from his inverted position over the engine. There was a clanging sound and I heard him swear under his breath. "Just leave it be," I heard him say sourly. "No, I got it, Sam! Get your head out of the way. Go ... check on Mork and Mindy or something."
A few moments later a shadow fell over me. Opening my eyes reluctantly, I found myself squinting up at Sam. The younger Winchester crouched down in front of us. There was grease on his hands and smeared on his cheek. He regarded us with a worried frown that told me we must look about as rough as I felt.
"We're working on the bus, the engine's more screwed up than we thought," he told us carefully. "Took a hell of a beating on the way in here. I think we've just about got it though. You two holding up okay?" He gave a little nod that vaguely indicated the circle about us.
"Honestly? No," I told him. "The bubble's too big; I don't know how much longer I can hold it." I looked down at Trent who was laying much too still in my lap. He hadn't responded to Sam's presence and that worried me. "He's paying for the magic we're using and I don't know how much more he can take, either," I added quietly. "I'm not kidding, you need to hurry."
Sam nodded his understanding. "Okay, hang in there." He rose and jogged back to his brother. I didn't hear what he said to Dean but the hurried clanging increased in tempo. I knew they were working as fast as they could. I just had to keep holding on.
I was trying not to think about what came after. I wanted to be optimistic and believe the best about people, but I also didn't want to be dangerously naive. Thus far the hunters hadn't reacted too badly to our little secret, but then, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? We were currently helping them stay alive. When they didn't need us anymore, that was when we'd see how the dice were really going to fall. I needed to stay on my toes, especially if I was going to be responsible for protecting Trent as well as myself. The way things were going, that was looking likely.
"Trent?" I said quietly, giving his shoulder a shake. I got no response and his hand was slack in my grip. Apparently, he had indeed passed out. Well, I knew the answer to his earlier question then, not that it made me feel much better. I chewed the inside of my lip, trying not to worry. I wished he'd told me the problem sooner instead of keeping everything to himself like he always did. Maybe we could have found some other way that didn't come at such a cost ... but then again, maybe we couldn't have. I wanted to be angry at Trent over what he'd done, but then I had to ask myself what I would have done in his place? I sighed and pressed my hurting eyes shut again. It didn't matter. We'd get through this.
"Trent, I am getting really tired of worrying about you. It feels like all I do lately. It's getting old and frankly, it sucks," I muttered to his still form. "You seriously need to stop getting yourself messed up, okay? Stupid cookie maker." I squeezed his hand tightly.
My head was on fire. The struggle to hold the circle was becoming deadly serious. I was holding on by my fingertips but I was wearing out, fast. Focused on my silent struggle, I lost track of time and just about everything else beside the one, important thought of keeping the barrier up. By the time I heard the lovely, long anticipated sound of the bus engine turning over and roaring to life, I wasn't terribly far from passing out myself.
Time had taken on a blurry, slippery quality. Someone was talking to me. Sam? No ... Dean? I blinked but I couldn't focus on his face or the sound of his words. I tried to shake myself out of it. Some part of me knew that the time had come and we had to move.
I stumbled to my feet as if in a dream, automatically trying to drag Trent with me. In so doing, however, I lost my hold on his hand and with it the energy that had apparently been sustaining me as much as the circle. The sudden loss was abrupt and painful. Violent vertigo gripped me. The world went black from the outside in, my knees buckled and I had no idea which way was up, only that I was falling.
Panic and guilt flashed like starbursts behind my eyelids. I'd failed. I'd failed to get us out of here. I'd failed to be strong enough and I'd left Trent and myself at the mercy of two men whom I only hoped we could trust. If the Winchesters really were like HAPA, then my failure meant the two of us were both dead. We'd shown them what we were and now they didn't need us anymore. They could easily just leave us and run. At least the kids were safe.
My last vague memory was that of strong arms catching me and the sensation of being swung up onto someone's shoulder right before everything went fully dark.