Chapter Sixteen:
The sound of dripping water echoed beneath the dank overpass, an artificial rain shaken down by the steady traffic than ran over Charlie's head.
She sat in the shadows against a stone wall. Her legs were tucked to her chest and her forehead lay limply on her knees. The night had turned cold and she was shivering, a problem she could have rectified with a thought and a little dry kindling, but she dared not use her powers just yet.
They'll be looking for a fire, Charlie thought quickly, They'll be looking... A fire... Any fire... My fire... Can't start one... They'll be looking...
The words cycled through her mind over and over, warning, maddening, and only magnified by her exhaustion. She had no sense of what hour it was or how much time had passed since she ran from the taxi and her strange rescuer. Her only instinct now was to hide. They were after her again. She could not let them find her...never again... never again...
And who are they, Charlie? Another voice called out in her mind, Do have any real idea who they are?
Charlie raised her head and stared forward at no one. There were no tears in her tired eyes. She had cried enough during her first twenty years of life to last her decades more. Yet, at the sudden sound of that inner voice, a sob threatened to escape from her throat.
It was the voice of her mother that questioned her so insistently. In reality, Charlie had not heard the voices of either of her parents since she was eight years old. But it was her mother who spoke to her now. Maybe next time, it would be her father's voice. She supposed this was what psychiatrists meant when they said someone was haunted, hearing the voices of the dead. It was a label Charlie was willing to take, because as much as her memories could hurt, there was comfort in those anxious words as well.
Who, Charlie? The voice prodded on, Who are they? Do you even know anymore? Do you even know why you're running?
"They want to hurt me," Charlie muttered to herself in a small voice, "They hurt you. You and dad. And they hurt me. They just wanna keep hurting me."
The inner voice did not reply immediately. Every word Charlie spoke was the truth, and even the most rational part of her mind knew it. There had been nothing but running and pain in her life since the SHOP first kidnapped her and killed her parents, something in her still insisted... something was not going to let her get away with old excuses so easily...
"They all want to hurt me," Charlie continued, "Everyone just wants to hurt me..."
Not everyone, the inner voice of her mother spoke up again, Not everyone. Think about the Manders. They tried to protect you and your father. They took you in after you escaped. Think about Richardson. His intentions were good... though misguided. Think about Vincent..."Vincent is dead," Charlie said flatly, "He died because of me."
Think about one from the train station, her thoughts continued, Think about him. Why did he help you? Don't you wonder about that? Aren't you the least bit curious about secret society he spoke of?
"Just more of the same," Charlie said, "Just one more group of people who are looking for power."
Is that how it seemed? The inner voice persisted, Did he really seem so insincere?
"No," she admitted reluctantly, "Of course, Oscar season is coming up..."
A bitter laugh exploded from her throat. The sound reverberated back through the tunnel. It was horrid in Charlie's ears and she fell silent.
And if he was telling the truth... she finally thought on her own, He couldn't have any idea what he'd be getting himself into. Council or no Council. It'll be best if I never see Jay Malloy again...
You remembered his name, the voice of her mother cried out quickly. Her mother had always liked to have the last word.
"Oh, shut up," Charlie said irritably at her own noisy psyche.
She got to her feet slowly, stretching out her numb legs and hoisting her duffel bag onto her back. It did not matter what had happened at the train station. All that mattered was that she got away. She would keep getting away. Nothing in her plans would change.
North. North. Nothing mattered but getting north.
Charlie walked as fast as she could out from the underpass and kept her feet moving forward despite of her weariness. Rest would have to wait. Despite her questionable ally from the cab, there were still others searching for her in this city, which meant she had to put as many miles as she could between herself and Chicago before daybreak.
"I don't suppose it would do any good to insist you use your 'vacation time' wisely," Rupert Giles said with a heavy sigh.
He was cleaning his glasses as he spoke (a habit the young man would carry far into his adulthood) and leaning casually against the doorframe that joined his soon to be vacated hotel room with that of his friend.
Jay imitated Ripper's sigh and smirked as he shifted his unopened luggage from one trolley to another.
"Relax," Jay said confidently, knowing Giles would not take that small word of advice until they were all back in England, "I'm just going to see my folks, beat up my little brother once or twice, and take in some good old Bible-belt air before I head back to Stuffy Central..."
Giles regarded him with absolute suspicion, served with such pure English indifference that Jay immediately cracked under the pressure.
"And..." Jay began slyly, "If I happen to do a little extracurricular activity and run into a few old friends... or one... particular...new... friend..."
"Then you will be removed from your studies at the Council for insubordination and I shall be forced to thrash you within an inch of your life for leaving me to face the horrors of future field studies alone," Giles completed the thought quickly without losing an inch of his outer apathy.
"Horrors?" Jay asked with raised eyebrows, seeking clarification.
"Parks...and his elder-arse-kissing lackeys," Giles replied with a dark frown.
"Of course," Jay shot back, and then added with a grin, "I'd hate to see them settle you down and make you a librarian or something..."
"Not bloody likely," Giles said in that typical 'Ripper' fashion, and then looked somber again, "This is... was... your first real investigation, Jay. Don't defy the Elders now and make it your last."
"Point take and appreciated," Jay affirmed quickly before shaking his head, "I have to find her, Rupert. Don't ask me why...cause I couldn't tell you why. I don't know. Maybe it is all just because this is... was... my first chance to really show what I can do. Everybody wants to do well on their rookie outing...but..."
Giles watched him curiously as Jay shook his head again with frustration.
"I think there's something else..." Jay admitted slowly, "Something that even has the Elders nervous. I wanna know why Charlie is so different than the other gifted girls the Council helps."
"I wish I could tell you," Giles said, "I've put my trust in the Elders. And you should do the same."
Jay sat down heavily on the bed nearby and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He did trust his teachers at the Council. He could not remember one time they had ever mislead him in his studies. The ancient histories and arts were there to discover and the Elders always encouraged him to excel. Yet, there was a nagging doubt in his mind, one he knew he would not be able to ignore, even if he skipped his 'vacation plans' and left America now with the rest of his team.
"I do trust them," Jay said aloud, getting to his feet and walking to a nearby window to stare out at the city, "But I trust my instincts more..."
Giles made a rude noise through his lips and guffawed, "Aren't we a tad arrogant."
Jay turned back toward him a grinned, "What? I'm not allowed to be egotistical sometimes?"
"Sometimes...right..." Giles replied with a smirk, "If I recall... your instincts were what made you start a fist fight with a Cromlax demon only last month..."
"He started it," Jay defended himself.
"And then you tried to kick it in the genitals..." Giles continued.
"How was I supposed to know it reproduced by mitosis?" Jay shot back.
"And then when it picked you up by the toes and began twirling you around like a baton..." Giles mused.
"Aren't you leaving yet?" Jay asked, throwing his hands up in the air wildly and scowling, "If you're ever a real Watcher, I hope your Slayer ends up being a cheerleader..."
"Again," the young English man repeated, "Not bloody likely..."
Giles took a step forward and held out his hand, which Jay shook once in a gesture of farewell.
"Good luck, Jay," he said, "See you when you get back to London."
They both headed down to the lobby area, where they met up with the rest of their team. Bellboys were loading their luggage and equipment into a line of black limos. Jay lifted his own bags and moved to the street to hail a cab. He gave Giles and the others one last wave before they were coached off to the airport.
It would be over a decade before Jeremiah Malloy saw anyone from the Council again.
