Blood Ties; First Blood; Chapter 12;

Mike stepped out of the hospital and into the cold drizzle misting the night air. He pulled his coat closer around him, staring into the darkness with concern and frustration…it really shouldn't be this cold, it was almost spring. But if it was an unnatural start to the season it at least had the benefit of shocking him awake and driving the pictures of blood and bodies of his mind. Mike turned to go, pulling his keys out of his pocket and squinting through the rain to see his car still parked at the other end of the lot.

"Detective!" he stopped and turned around at the sound of the voice and saw a nurse in a white uniform running towards him, papers clutched close to her chest to keep them dry.

"Yes?" Mike took a deep breath and tried to remove the 'this-has-been-too-long-a-day-already' look from his face, steeling himself to face yet another person's retelling of the triple homicide inside.

"The day nurse on duty said that you'd requested this?" she half asked, while handing him the papers, trying ineffectually to shield both them and her strawberry blonde hair from the drizzle.

"The visitor logs?" she reminded him gently when he continued to stare at her for a moment too long.

"Oh, thanks," he answered, genuinely meaning it. He'd almost walked out without them, had completely forgotten it in fact…was this was a few months on a desk did to a guy? he thought…maybe Vicky had been right about not wanting to end up stuck behind a desk watching rookies and second rate detectives fumble their way through homicide cases…

"It's been a long day," he said quickly, not finishing the thought and not completely sure if he was making excuses to her or to himself.

"and night," she said, looking at him in sympathy and gesturing up to the dark sky. She patted his arm lightly in commiseration before turning to run back inside. She couldn't be more then 23, Mike thought watching her go….he was probably old enough to be her father…god it made him feel about a hundred years old. And days like today didn't help.

A particularly large drop of rain fell on his head, curling its way through his hair to drip down his collar and making him shiver, jumping slightly as it traveled. He shook himself out of his reverie, and holding the remembered logs closely jogged the rest of the distance to the car.

He slide in behind the drivers seat, starting the engine and watching while the windows slowly began to fog as the engine warmed up enough to produce heat through the vents. Brushing his hand back through his hair and shaking off his coat he dislodged droplets of water that beaded on the faux leather interior of the seats, splashing over the manila folder the nurse had given him.

"Damn," Mike swore, quickly reaching out and brushing off the water before it could soak in and make the ink run on the pages inside.

"well…I suppose I might as well get this over with," he muttered under his breath. He wanted this case behind him. There was something about it that bothered him, something that even after years on the beat, then in homicide, and even more recently filing the reports of all the crazy shit going on in town lately…something about this case just got under his skin. Literally, it felt like something crawling…squirming around just where he couldn't see it.

He flipped open the folder, eyes skimming the heading information: patents name, doctor, columns for date, time and signature…

There weren't many. It didn't take him long to notice it, and only moments to make the connections between why after so long he was finally put back on a case. Back on this particular case.

Cause right there, about half way down the page it was:

Visitor's name: Vicky Nelson. And yesterday's date.

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Coreen said goodbye to the other waitress at the corner, watching as Sally's completely unremarkable jeans and crème sweater clad form walked around the corner to where she'd catch the streetcar off Dundas. Not that long ago Coreen used to walk home alone after closing up completely unafraid of the dark, if asked, she might even had said that the possibilities of what could be out there were so invigorating and exciting she didn't' have any room left to be afraid.. but not now. Now she walked with Sally from the subway as far as she could before they had to part ways. It was only another 3 blocks to her apartment but standing under the yellow streetlit corner and looking out into the night through the silver rain, it seemed like a really far ways right now.

"Come on chicken, you can do this…" she whispered quietly to herself, pulling her red and black fake velvet scarf closer and setting out quickly.

Just think about something else…anything else, she thought leaving behind the safety of the streetlight. But crème coloured pages filled her mind, pictures of dark and twisted forms inked onto their surface, betraying her mind's instructions to think of rainbows and puppy-dogs.

Coreen shook her head, as if it would be that easy to dislodge the images and started to walk faster, nearly jogging unconsciously in her desire to get home and lock the doors and be safe again. If anywhere in the world could ever be considered safe while Asteroth was in it.

She sighed in relief when her building finally came into view. Not anything to be incredibly impressed with usually, the slightly run down student building in the Annex looked heavenly right now with its security lock door and brightly lit foyer. Coreen fumbled with the keys, finding the right one and getting inside but not really calming down and taking a deep breath until she was in the elevator, its dark doors closing firmly behind her as she leaned back against the wall.

God what was wrong with her? She couldn't even step foot outside these days without being terrified of nearly every noise and person…it was only the knowledge that Vicky needed her that kept her walking out the door every day. Without Coreen, Vicky would be all alone….she'd chosen to risk the world to save Coreen's life…how could she walk away after that?

Coreen stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hallway, barely noticing or caring about the flaking paint or stained carpet. It was familiar and comforting, just like the way her doorknob stuck slightly and you had to wiggle it to the left to get it to open.

She dropped her bag and coat onto a chair by the door—after firmly clicking the dead bolts on the door closed behind her—and unwound her scarf adding it to the top of the pile.

But home was no refuge, as she turned around to find the pages and books open and scattered across the table, bed and floor; their surfaces covered with the drawings and illustrations of demons that had haunted her mind along the dark walk home. She shivered as if they were really watching her, staring and just waiting for their chance…just waiting for their chance to take her…

She crossed the room in three steps, shoving at the pages and sending them scattering in her anger. She tore at the books and scraps of paper flew creating a mini whirl wind in the room like a snow globe having been shaken before resettling slowly around where she'd collapsed to the floor.

Coreen sobbed, covering her eyes with one hand and feeling the tears and dark makeup leave streaks over her palm. Her other hand reached out and slowly traced over what looked like an old scar across her chest, the thicker skin pulled and puckered in a line over her heart. She'd never told Vicky, never told anyone, but she remembered how he'd made her stand in the bathroom of the bus station before the mirror, eyes smiling and looking at that part deep insider her body where she was screaming and pleading, held captive while he put the blade to her skin and sliced out her heart….she remembered the look of joy on her own features at the pain and terror it caused.

Coreen straightened up, wiping at her eyes that were suddenly dry at the memory. She wouldn't be a victim. She wouldn't let him ruin the life that Vicky had bought for her. She'd find a way to stop the son of a bitch and send him back to hell.

And so she reached for the pages strewn all over the floor around her, parts of them had been ripped and shredded in her anger and she set these aside to tape back together later. But as she pulled one page towards her, the picture on it made her pause…it was small, which was unusual, mostly there had been large swirling darkness on every page, as if the demons in their had tried to make themselves as large as possible even in the illustrations. This page was mostly covered in text, carefully printed in neat lines, with small pictures illustrating the steps like in a cook book.

What made her hand tremble so that the paper shook and she unconsciously held her breath was that it looked like the very last picture showed a demon being pulled back into a raging darkness…pulled through a circle and into hell.


A/N: hi all, sorry again that it's been so long. What can I say—politics of RL have been making me so depressed that it's hard to find the will to write. Maybe some reviews would aide in lifting my spirits and bringing a creative muse back my way? Yes? Lol. Hope you enjoyed and as always, happy reading! ~Xan