NINE
Old Campus Courtyard, Yale
New Haven, Connecticut
Monday, November 6, 2006
4:49 PM
Bobby knew that sitting parked in the middle of the Yale University campus was playing it a little close to the chest, especially since he was sitting directly outside of Dwight Hall, the only thing protecting him from being seen being that unfortunate statue that stared out at the building. But he had a reason for being there, one that might or might not fly should he be spotted by either of the girls he had visited only a day ago.
He had been stationed out on a stone bench for the greater part of the last three hours, having just woken up from his twenty-four hour coffee and persistence marathon after sleeping the rest of the day and night away. By the time he had stirred just after noon, the first time in a long time that he had snoozed so late, Bobby had remembered the reason he was sticking around New Haven, getting dressed and heading for the school, pit stopping only to grab breakfast at McDonald's and managing to swallow down the greasy food in a whole two bites while he directed his truck back toward the university.
When he had rolled up to the metered stall he had used the afternoon prior, Bobby had quickly noticed that the campus was more abuzz today than it was yesterday, with students bustling from class to class, the whole area in his line of sight seeming packed and crowded while every single co-ed hurried to get out of the cold and into the warmth of the buildings. As he walked toward Dwight Hall, dressed much differently than the day before, neither guy nor gal gave him a weary look unlike during his previous trek through the courtyards of Yale, the tattered tweed coat and raveling sweater he was wearing probably causing the kids around him to assume he was one of the numerous professors on campus, one they hadn't seen or heard of, but undoubtedly existed nonetheless.
Taking a seat directly in view of the dormitory's front doors, Bobby had popped a book open in his lap to make him look busy, his eyes truly trained on the entrance to the residence hall instead of the pages of Redburn by Herman Melville. While he waited, he attempted to go over his suspicions behind what had happened the day before and what it might mean, a list of various things calculating in his head but ending in no result. For a man who had studied every demon, witch, vampire, wendigo, skin-walker, shape-shifer, rugaru, rawhead, werewolf, and ghost out there, he was still drawing blanks when it came to figuring out whether his watchful eye stationed in the courtyard was worth something or for naught. Though not much had happened the night before, just one girl getting sick while the other consulted a book that Bobby knew would lead to nothing good, it was enough to send a shiver down his spine. In his experience, the only reason to consult Creatures of the Modern World was if you suspected something inside had gone supernaturally awry, with it telling you almost exactly how various beings were made and turned, though giving little warning as to the actual pain any of the transmutations caused.
However, Bobby had known Morgan Callahan, and he had known the curse that shouldered the woman, making whatever his mind could come up with an impossibility in terms of Amelia and that book. While it was probable that the girl was undergoing changes, it was also highly possible that she and her friend had misdiagnosed the problem, most likely causing them to think something else was wrong with the youngest Winchester rather than what was actually getting set into motion. Morgan's condition was hereditary, coming into its own around the women in her line's twenty-first birthday, and a quick glance at Sam's printout, which Bobby had taken with him to Connecticut, told him that Amelia wasn't too far off from that eventual date.
Unfortunately, whether either of the two girls knew that, Bobby didn't know, and it wasn't his business to tell them. John, when he had been alive, should have taken the time out to inform the girl what was going to happen to her once she became the legal drinking age rather than leaving her unaware while he went off to track down the demon that gave the man tunnel vision. If Bobby had to guess, John's plan had been to hope that somehow the condition had skipped a generation, something that happened maybe one-percent of the time, so that he could keep the girl in the dark. John Winchester, in all the years that Bobby had known him, had never been known to be outwardly truthful, keeping things a secret and admonishing whoever went against his unsaid restrictions by giving them a good berating that often ended in "I told you so", even though he never once opened his mouth to give anyone the warning that they were walking into a trap—case in point being Bill Harvelle.
Still, alterations aside, Bobby felt the need to watch Dwight Hall, the feeling that something was due to happen itching at the back of his neck like a bug that wouldn't quit. Beside him on the bench were copies of the local newspaper that the McDonald's he had stopped at had carried, a week's worth in total and starting the previous Monday. According to at least a few dozen articles that sounded the same, something had been going around town taking bites out of people's necks and leaving the bodies behind, their blood drained to the last drop. Instantly, Bobby had recognized what was going on in town, and couldn't help but assume what the two girls were distressing themselves over up on the top floor: Amy probably getting bitten by the thing and immediately supposing she was done for.
As the week progressed throughout the clippings—with the death toll reaching the small number of five despite the multiple write-ups on the topic, most of them opinion pieces citing television-influenced teenagers to be behind the attacks—Bobby could see that the deaths suddenly stopped on Saturday morning, a body being found on Friday night, it's head five feet from the rest of it, and a clean slice through the neck indicating someone with a sword or a machete had gotten to it. Judging by the fact that Bobby knew that almost no Hunters dwelled nearby, except for Mirna Bridge who had since retired back in 1996, he could only imagine who had been behind the decapitation of the vampire to blame for the body count. However, if that had something to do with the reason those girls were consulting that book like a medical journal, he would never know.
Ultimately, something about the idea that the number of dead bodies found had only reached the tiny till of five bothered Bobby, especially since vampires fed three times a day just like humans, sometimes on multiple Happy Meals with Legs at once. Vampires got a rush out of taking a bite out of one victim while making the others watch, some sort of sadistic power surge coming over them as they sucked one person dry after another. If he had to guess, it looked as though the vampire in question had been feeding on the blood the bodies provided before feeding the remains to something else, something that would eat the corpse whole and clean up the mess the creature left behind. However, why it would still leave five out in the open to be discovered was odd, especially since the trail of leftovers would draw every Hunter within a hundred miles directly into New Haven.
Because of this, the idea that he had in his head that there was still a formidable opponent out there, Bobby had taken to watching the girls, still bothered by what he had seen the night before. Did those two really believe that book was going to help them? Did they think something involving the vampire was wrong with Amelia? Was that why the other one, Taylor, had been watching her so closely and why Amelia had jumped up and away whenever she had heard her stomach rumble? Was her friend convincing her that she was dying instead of simply changing? If that was the fact, then Bobby hoped neither girl went to the next step, especially since whatever Amelia was enduring was something that John should have explained months back in order to avoid this confusion.
Suddenly, directly in his line of sight, something walked up beside the statue of Theodore Woolsey, something not quite right about the man dressed in a cardigan and slacks that hadn't been seen since 1950. Though Bobby recognized that his own clothes were a disguise, at least they had been purchased within the last decade. This guy, whoever he was, seemed to have held onto the red ribbed sweater that was buttoned up on top of a white shirt and tie that made him look like Mr. Rogers for at least as long as Bobby had been alive. Watching him as the man shielded his eyes from the fading sun and looking up at the top row of windows the dormitory provided, Bobby noticed that the man was counting the panes of glass, as though looking for a way to determine which room was which by the number of panels shining down at him in the pink and orange sky.
Seeming dissatisfied with what he had seen, Bobby watched as the man headed for the doors inside, disappearing into the building as the heavy wood fell shut behind him. Getting up from his post for the first time in four hours, Bobby's knees cracked as he stood, with him giving no mind to it as he trailed behind Ward Cleaver. Seeing the man head for the stairs, Bobby pushed the button for the elevator, hoping it would open right off instead of making him wait. When the shining silver separated in front of him to reveal a dirty, overused inside, Bobby pushed the button to five, appearing in the hall just as his target pushed his way out of the stairwell. Watching him from the alcove of Suite 1, Bobby kept his eyes on the man as he headed down the hall, turning to knock on one of the doors on the opposite side of the corridor, the room opening to a girl who jumped up and down, excited to see that her father was there to pick her up for dinner.
Sighing dejectedly, Bobby turned around and followed his path back outside, taking up his post on the bench as the dusk began to fall into darkness, Bobby knowing that soon he was going to have to abandon his station for another alternative as soon as it became too black to see.
Nid knew from where he stood that a Hunter was keeping watch on that girl's dorm, that there was no way he was going to be able to tear into her sweet, delicate flesh unless he took down the bumbling old man sitting like a certified stalker on the bench outside of the building he was intent on entering. As he remained within a throng of other students, blending in amongst the crowd as he tried to get a feel for the skin he was currently crammed into, Nid kept his gaze fixed on the aged Hunter, wondering how easy it would be to take him down, figuring one solid punch to his spinal column would do him in, paralyzing him enough to be considered a low-level threat as opposed to the girl who had killed his partner.
Nid had known that following that snippet of information he had heard about the new kid on the block was going to be difficult to verify, made worse by the moronic partner he had chosen to do his nightly bidding for him, but once he had seen her in play, he had known what she was and what he wanted to do with her, certain that her blood would be sweeter than he had ever imagined it to be, like cherries that had been plucked at the most opportune time. All it had taken to get the ball rolling was to find skin defiled enough to allow him in, having to wait for someone so cocky, arrogant, power-obsessed, and full of shit enough to be made available, the body having to be cleared of the soul before he could inhabit it.
Once Victor had murdered the boy in cold blood out in the backyard of his house, Nid had slid his way into the corpse, him finding it a snug fit for his usual form, but figuring it would do for now. There were only so many remains that were molded to the needs of something that usually resembled a serpent with arms, this boy not yet ripe for the picking but the best they could do on a short notice. If he was going to make his strike soon, he didn't have room to complain that the son of a lawyer he had chosen to inhabit was too short and stocky for his liking, instead having to suck it up and deal with it until he could move on.
However, now that he was out amongst the living for the first time in a century, Nid realized that there seemed to be more people around who fit his description than ever before. As person after person told lies and exaggerations over accomplishments and finances, Nid couldn't help but wonder how many people in New Haven could have been used as his skin, the flesh he was having to occupy something that was required to be as slippery as his heart in order for their natures to mesh. There had been one point in time where Nid had attempted to use any old body, snaking his way into the carcass of a nun once and becoming poisoned by her holiness. As a creature of the underworld, he should have known better, having crawled out of Hell in order to defy people like the Sister he had been intent on possessing back then, but it hadn't been for lack of trying.
Ultimately, Nid had learned his lesson, though he seemed to be having an easier time transitioning between his usual form to that of the human visage he was in now, the people surrounding him and groveling at his feet reminding him of his circle of home, everyone attempting to outdo each other in some sort of contest for his affection. Hell was like that, full of the backstabbers and the demons that humanity was slowly impersonating, kindness and goodness getting thrown out the window in lieu of fame and money. In a delicious way, Nid liked it, the dog-eat-dog world providing higher entertainment values than those stupid praying pilgrims he had seen the last time he had been topside—Nid only being allowed to surface every four hundred years due to a curse that had been doled out to him back in the days of Odin and Frigga, the pair dooming him to the netherworld with a preview of life on Earth every once in awhile to give Nid perspective on what he had missed out on by consuming the corpse of Balder directly after he had been killed by Hod.
But this girl, she was the one who was the key to him receiving an all-access pass to civilization. He could already smell her, the way her body was changing, pure power coursing through her veins that would give him enough juice to undo Odin's spell. Girls like her only came once in a lifetime when he was doomed to remain in Hell for centuries on end, this one being the first he had ever heard of that was undergoing the modifications it took to come into her own while he had been above the Earth's crust, and he would be damned if it was screwed up because of one damn Hunter getting in his way.