The scene seemed to freeze as Maria reached for her sidearm. She wasn't quick enough, she was never quick enough when she was staring into yet another thing with too many teeth. The demon didn't move, the horrifying face pointed firmly in her direction like it could smell her fear. Her breath came out in a small puff of white condensation when she finally closed her fingers around the pistol's rough grip. She pulled it free, but the rumbling voice inside her skull stopped her short in the process of leveling it at the monster in front of her.
You've already lost.
You've already failed.
There is nothing left.
You are alone.
Alone. She could feel the darkness creeping in again just like when she struggled through the endless tunnels beneath Haven. Alone, and she was waiting for the truck with the lyrium stuffed in the wheel wells to show up at the docks, staring up at cold stars and remembering a wedding anniversary she couldn't celebrate. Alone in bed, again, the anguish so heavy she could suffocate, wondering if this was how dad felt before he…
The gun felt right in her hand. Polished, gleaming metal reflecting the blue light of the coolers. It was pretty, honestly. Sometimes dangerous things were so fucking pretty. Sometimes monsters came with beautiful faces and crooning voices.
Then a click broke through the silence, too loud. Metal snapping open, then a whoosh of air that carried heat, scalding, blazing heat. Maria flinched away from it, back into somebody's strong grip. The despair loosened its hold just in time for her to panic before Dorian's voice broke through the madness. "Whatever it's telling you, do remember it's only trying to sweet talk you into its mouth."
A mouth full of razor sharp teeth, flashing in the light as it screeched, meeting the flames shooting towards it with a wall of sharp, sickly looking ice. The condensation threw up when the two forces met created a fine mist of steam that nearly obscured the monster, but couldn't obscure the witch standing in the midst of the sugary drink carnage, zippo blazing and flames circling her form.
Unfortunately, the demon emerging from the shattered glass, attention fully focused on Hawke, was only part of the problem. The cooler door shuddered beside them and Dorian swore. Maria shoved him back against the opposing door behind them just in time, they fell through it into the bathroom while the heavy walk-in door nearly flew off its hinges. Another demon pushed its way out with a growl. Dorian fell flat on his back, Maria's elbow perilously close to his groin as she crumbled on top of him. She barely had time to take in the grimy tile floor, the exposed plumbing of a dingy toilet before she scrambled up, leveling her pistol at the lumbering ghoul stumbling in after them.
It dug its claws into the drywall, gouging deep scratches into the paint before Maria's shot landed right between its empty eye sockets. It made a sharp scream of agony before it fell, talons clawing at its own face and leaving the same horrid welts, skin flaking off in chunks, before it stilled like a spider on it's back, limbs locked and frozen.
Maria bolted back out the swinging door, nearly straight into the arms of a third demon wearing a gruesome red smile, teeth dripping some sort of terrible, sizzling bile. It reached out for her, but she was small, thank the Maker, and she ducked underneath it's grasping reach, throwing her whole body into it's back to send it staggering back towards Dorian.
"Cadash, GO!" He ordered, the terrible pulse of his magic echoing in her ears as he began to draw down his own power. Maria left the demon to Dorian, slipping into the gap between the cooler door, hanging crooked in the frame, and the wall. She stumbled into the dark, cavernous space behind it that held the rest of the store's stock of soda and drinks.
The second she did, she heard gunfire from the main store. Familiar voices shouting. She could pick out Varric's over top of the rest. "Damn it, Hawke, why is it you can't be left alone for five damn minutes?"
"Alright, to be fair…" Hawke sounded breathless, but there was a bubble of laughter in her voice. "I just wanted some snack cakes. This was all your pretty Inquisitor."
"Where is the Inquisitor?" Blackwall demanded.
"Back here!" She yelled over the sound of more shattering glass. She could feel the crack pulsing beneath her feet, a living thing, a wound that oozed into the world. She could make it out like an angry, dark scar in the blue light. A body lay next to it, his eyes gouged out, mouth opened in one last, agonized scream. The missing cashier.
Poor bastard.
Another sound of shattering, followed by gushing water. Dorian's exuberant cursing was so loud she could hear it echoing inside the damn cooler. But it was Varric's strangled, horrified shout that almost made her stop.
"Sparkler, why the fuck are you not with her?"
"I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment!"
And they would be until she closed the crack underneath her. She knelt beside the body on the ground, placing her hand over the smoking rift. She could feel it reaching towards her, tugging on her fingers even as she thought the word she always thought.
Close.
She didn't know if it was an order or a prayer. Tendrils of darkness tried to wrap around her palm, but there was light sparking within the mark in her hand now, and the rift couldn't quite get a grip on her. Even still, she felt it pulling her in, gravity, a vacuum, sucking something through her skin.
The world spun, the way it always did, but she didn't stop struggling with it, pouring whatever it wanted from inside her into the tear in the world, anything to fucking close…
She didn't see the corpse twitching beside her until it was too late. It lurched to the side, startling her from the corner of her vision. She wrenched her hand away from the crack, left hand raising her pistol, but not before rotten, diseased flesh circled her neck.
The strangled sound she let out was barely audible as the zombie stood, dragging her up with it and throwing her against the metal shelves lining the shelves. She hit hard, breath whooshing from her lungs as she crumbled, gun skittering uselessly off into the darkest corners. She'd fallen on some of the shattered glass, she could feel it digging into her hands, slashing into her skin as she pushed up off the slick tile.
Not fast enough. How the bleeding hell did the undead thing move so fast? Every horror movie she'd watched with Bea hadn't prepared her for the demon infested creature to be back on top of her, eyes glowing with malice. She struggled, nails singing into slick, slimy flesh as she tried to claw it's dead, cold hands off her, the blood roaring into her ears. She was going to die, a panicked part of her thought, and then something would pilot her body around like a puppet without strings.
Then the creature snarled, an agonized, wounded sound. It's whole body lurched to the right from some impact and it's grip on her neck loosened, dropping her to the tile once again. As soon as her knees cracked against the cold floor, a sharp blast echoed and the monster fell beside her. She struggled to catch her breath and looked up into the solid bulk of a man guarding her fallen form.
"C'mon Princess." Varric crooned, shouldering his shotgun to reach down and pull her gently to her feet. "Come here, I've got you."
The former cashier had a hole in his head, one that was still smoking, and Varric was covered in suspicious looking blowback. He'd hit it damn hard to make it let go of her, and then he'd…
He'd rushed to her rescue like a sodding knight from a fairy tale is what he'd just done. She didn't know whether to slap him or…
Or kiss him senseless.
The crack was still smoking and she could still hear gunshots. That was the only thing that could force her back into the action, the thought of people, her people fighting monsters she led them straight into.
She shoved past Varric, collapsing beside the smoking crack again and slamming her glowing palm back down over it more fiercely, thinking the words with all the venom she could summon. Close you son of a bitch.
Like it knew she was serious this time, that she fucking meant it, the tear snapped close with an audible crack that reverberated in the dark, cold space. It took her breath away, made her blink as the shapes and sounds around her distorted, turned gray. She closed her eyes tight, willing the ghostly shimmer over everything away, but the second she did she swore she felt the room spin. She struggled to stand up off the slick floor, the glass, the oozing slime she didn't want to think about.
"Easy." Varric's arm hooked around her waist, eased her the rest of the way up. "Easy, beautiful, let me…"
Standing upright was hard, but he was solid, and she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it. She leaned into him, dropped her face to his solid shoulder. He still smelled good, smelled like that cologne he wore their last night in Haven, a warm scent with hints of sandalwood. She twisted her marked palm into his jacket, over his heart, her other fingers curling into the broad muscles of his arm. He was an anchor in a world she seemed to be slipping away from, and if she just held onto him, if she just…
Whatever he was saying died on his tongue. Instead, in silence, he pressed one palm tightly to the small of her back and let his other hand slowly cradle the back of her head while he moved his head to tuck her under his chin.
"Varric!" Cassandra yelled. "Are we clear?"
Varric didn't answer. He needed to answer. Maria turned her face, tried to lift it from his shoulder but found it only made her head throb. Varric stared down at her, but it was too dim to read the expression on his face. She wished she could see it clearer, because the second she pointed her eyes up to him, his palm on her back pressed her even closer.
"Varric!" Cassandra snapped impatiently.
She echoed it with her own soft, whispered question. "Varric?"
He smoothed his palm down over her hair and tore his eyes away, pointing them resolutely towards the shattered, broken cooler. "Clear. Could use some of that tonic Solas packed for our intrepid leader. Sooner would be better."
Maria groaned weakly, already dreading the taste, and buried her face back into his solid shoulder while Varric chuckled, the sound as rich and dark as chocolate.
xx
Varric could do without Hawke's speculative gaze burning into the back of his neck. He focused instead on the color slowly coming back into Maria's face as she sipped unhappily on the thermos of what she called 'ass tonic' in the passenger seat of one of the jeeps. Bull gave her a soda and a semi-smashed snack cake then stood above her, watching her recovery sternly.
"You never punched a zombie in the kidneys for me, Varric." Hawke's amusement bubbled under her words. Varric pointedly didn't look up at her.
"Counterpoint." He stated smoothly. "Do zombies have kidneys? Has anyone checked or is zombie anatomy one of the last true mysteries?"
"Have I ever told you how charming I find your ability to deflect? It's not annoying at all." Hawke rapped her knuckles, hard, on the top of his head. "I saw you. Dashing and heroic. If I were wearing panties, they'd have been across the room."
"Dare I ask why you're not wearing underwear?" He ducked his head and pinched his nose, hard, but he could hear Hawke's wicked grin.
"I pack light, remember?"
Oh, somehow he'd forgotten just how terribly wonderful Hawke could be. He laughed and shook his head, grinning up at her. "I'll remember that when I write my next book about you. The Champion of Kirkwall always forgot to pack her damn knickers."
Before Hawke could retort, Dorian swanned by, Cassandra and Blackwall hot on his heels. "Well, my dear Inquisitor, you'll be pleased to know that you appear to have stumbled onto the only crack in the veil within ten square miles."
"I have that kinda luck, remember?" Maria asked with a weary, chagrined smile. Dorian sighed theatrically in return.
"An odd sort of luck." Cassandra grimaced. "I am uncertain if we require more of it or less."
"Less would be good." Bull advised. "If we're taking opinions."
"You knew it was there. Far before I did." Dorian mused, staring down at Maria as he stroked his luxurious facial hair.
"That's true." Hawke turned her piercing gaze onto Maria. "I didn't feel it either."
"Yes, but that's not surprising. Second rate witch and all." Dorian dropped down to his knees beside the open car door, lightly tapping the back of Maria's knuckles with his fingers and ignoring Hawke's warning growl. "May I?"
"Only if you stop antagonizing Hawke." Even as Maria spoke, she shifted the dreaded thermos from one hand to the other, allowing Dorian to examine her marked palm. He brushed his thumb over the sun engraved in her flesh, watched it light up with a dim flicker.
"You knew it was there." Dorian sighed, folding her fingers back over the gleaming sun. "But I suspect it knew you were there as well."
Varric didn't like the sound of that. He liked the look on Hawke's face even less. "What does that mean?"
"It means she's a magnet for every hole in the world. Every time she walks into a place where the veil has cracked, there's a chance she's going to rip it back open again." Hawke muttered darkly. "Even if it closed itself when she shut the vortex."
"What?" Maria's strangled cry of alarm rang out across the abandoned parking lot. "Fuck that. For how long?"
Neither witch answered. Maria looked between the two of them, aggrieved, until Dorian finally dropped her hand. "Nobody could say for certain. There has never been anything like you in existence. Nothing like this has ever happened. Who knows how long the ripples will last?"
Maria tore her eyes from Dorian to pierce Hawke with them instead, like Varric's very favorite witch could provide an educated second opinion. That… was a miscalculation. Hawke rolled her shoulders and forced the most non-reassuring smile Varric had ever seen. "You know, after a while, you kind of pick a favorite demon."
Ah. There it was. The look where Hawke said something so ridiculous, that a person's brain had to completely reboot to process it. Maria stared blankly at Hawke for a moment. Another one.
Then she fell back on the backseat of the jeep with a muttered curse. "Balls. Fucking balls."
Varric jammed his elbow solidly into Hawke's ribs the second Maria looked away. The witch grunted, but didn't protest.
"Hey! Inquisitor!" Harding's voice called out from the far corner of the lot. She had her camera pointed in the direction of the deserted road into Crestwood, frowning. "We've got company incoming."
"Of course we do." Maria muttered, propping herself back up. She still looked too pale, and Varric didn't like those shadows under her eyes, but dammit she looked determined. "There's my luck again, right Bull?"
Varric tried to make out the car incoming as Harding retreated back to them, the gleam in the dim sunlight the only thing he could make out for a moment. It wasn't until it got closer that he could see it, a nondescript, banged up pickup. Honestly, it looked like something Blackwall would drive.
…or something Chantal Amell would. What was it with Wardens and needing to have the worst car in ten square miles?
At first, Varric thought it would pass them by. But the vehicle veered at the last moment, swerving into the parking lot and facing them. Bull lovingly trailed his too big hands over his assault rifle as they all watched, wary and silent. The engine rattled to a stop, one Varric feared it would never restart from, and a man threw open the cab door. He jumped to the pavement, straightening and eying Hawke with keen speculation.
"Fucking told you it wasn't her." The woman with him unfolded herself with far more grace, glaring at their group. "Why would a shifter wonder around with her own face out when she knows we're looking for her?"
"You're not her, but you look familiar." The man frowned intently at Hawke. "The witch from Kirkwall, right? The other one that's on the run?"
"I've turned myself over to the very capable authorities." Hawke beamed sweetly. "Can I help you, Serah?"
"You look like her." The woman claimed tersely. "The witch we're looking for. Always thought you two were dead ringers for each other."
"I've been told I bear a startling resemblance to the Hero of Ferelden and the Queen of Antiva. Varric, what do you think?" Hawke asked, throwing a pout onto her lips.
"I think I've got more than enough witches in my life. Let alone any wacky shenanigans with your unknown double." Varric lied smoothly. "That's why I always said you two shouldn't meet."
"Doesn't matter, Jana." The man grunted, turning back to the cab. "You're not who we're here for, lady, and we've got orders."
"What kind of orders?"
The question came from behind Varric and Hawke, from the small figure balanced on the edge of the backseat. Jana craned her head to see and Varric took a chance, helpfully moving to the left.
"Andraste's ass." Jana blurted out. "Adrian, it's her. That dwarf that's been all over the fuckin' news."
Maria smiled wryly and repeated her question. "What orders? The Inquisition would want to help track down a dangerous witch."
"To recruit them, most likely." Adrian snapped disapprovingly. "You've got a reputation for being soft on witches."
There were probably worse things to be known for, but you wouldn't know it by the way tall, dark, and ugly growled out the words. "It's none of her damn business, Jana."
Definitely Wardens. Varric could sniff out their damn shifty secrecy a mile away. Which brought up new and interesting questions. They'd assumed, with good cause, Chantal Amell vanished to keep her nose out of the witch and templar war. But these Wardens didn't seem the friendliest sort, and they certainly didn't look like they wanted Chantal's autograph. Chantal was a Warden herself though, why in the Maker's name…
"Are you going to Crestwood?" Jana's dark eyes flashed. "The people there need a damn rescue party. Zombies wondering through the fucking streets and they're afraid to run. Not that there's many places to run to. People barricaded themselves in the school, but they won't last long."
"So you left them there to fend for themselves?" Bull rumbled darkly.
"We've got our orders." Adrian snarled, twisting back to the cab of the truck. "And you'll need a damn army to take Crestwood back from the dead. Get in the truck, Jana, before I leave your Elven ass."
Jana looked like she wanted to say more, her shoulders hunching forward, eyes fixed on the dwarf in the backseat of the jeep. But the woman swallowed whatever she wanted to say and turned, stalking back to the vehicle. The man revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"They didn't recognize you." Maria stated quietly, looking up at Blackwall.
"They're Orlesian. Can't miss the accent." Blackwall growled. "It's not like a Warden to leave innocent people to suffer. Our order doesn't stand for that."
"There were only two of them." Harding frowned after them. "Two people does not an army make."
Neither did two dwarves, two witches, a Warden, a Seeker, a Qunari, and a reporter. If things in Crestwood were really that bad… Andraste, they had to try though. "Please tell me we're not gonna leave those people hanging."
"Of course we're not." Maria answered immediately, rubbing her temple and slipping from the car. "I know we're supposed to be looking for your Warden. But if she slips us we'll pick up the trail later. I'm not abandoning a school full of people to a nightmare like that fucking gas station."
"We're a hundred soldiers short of an army, Inquisitor." Blackwall advised with a tight frown. "It could be difficult. It will certainly be dangerous."
"Good thing I'm dangerous too." Maria pushed herself resolutely out of the car like she was indeed a one-person army. "I hope this was enough of a break to stretch your legs. Let's move."
Her eyes flashed in steely determination while she made her way back to the jeep she arrived in. Bull peeled off to follow her, dropping one heavy palm onto her shoulder.
"She's going to get us all killed with her insufferable nobility." Dorian sighed fondly as he followed. "Do try not to drive our bear of a Warden mad before we get to Crestwood."
Varric barely noted the words, too busy staring at the straight line of Maria's spine, her head held high. A dizzying contrast from the way she'd stood just after he met her, shoulders hunched forward and hands deep in her pocket.
"Varric, I'm going to tell you something a wise woman once told me." Hawke declared smoothly from up above him.
Varric snorted, an action he hoped conveyed his skepticism. "You don't seriously expect me to believe you know someone who can be described as wise, do you?"
"Shut up." Hawke ordered. "Listen to me. If you don't sleep with that fine broody piece of ass soon, I'm going to."
"Rivaini is not a wise woman by any stretch of the imagination." Varric glared up at the lanky human who, much to his distress, was also watching Maria walk away with keen interest. "Besides, what would your elf say about that?"
"She can shoot. She can talk guns. She's got tits for days." Hawke grinned brightly. "The only thing he'd have to say would be 'can I watch?', trust me."
