Chapter 7 Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves
Forest Edge, Oregon
The wind rushed down the mountainside, shaking the soaked twigs and branches of the trees and scattering drops of water across the gravelled road, the bare garden and against the cladding of the house. Inside, Dean looked up at the patter on the glass, watching the thin, tattered clouds scudding across the sky. Another month and he'd be back to mowing, in between storms. Everything grew like crazy here, the rich soils and the climate conspiring with Mother Nature to turn the suburban gardens into wilderness.
He looked into his empty cup and got up slowly, feeling the incipient headache somewhere behind his eyes. Frank enjoyed sending him the new reports in micro-fonts, guaranteeing eye-strain by the time he'd finished reading them. He wandered down to the kitchen, going to the coffee pot and pouring himself another load of caffeine.
Ellie came in as he was turning around, cheeks reddened and strands of coppery hair pulled free from her habitual braid by the strong wind.
"Hey." She dropped a thick file onto the table and unwound the thin scarf from her neck.
"Hey, how was the road?" He put his cup down and walked to her, his arms enclosing her, her skin and hair filled with the fresh scent of the windswept mountain flooding his senses as he bent his head to kiss her neck.
"Yesterday's storm has given us a whole new set of ruts and holes to navigate," she said breathlessly, linking her hands behind his neck as she looked up at him. "And there's a tree down, past Chaz' place."
Dean nodded. "I'll clear it before lunch. What's that?" He looked at the file on the table.
"First search results on the information uploaded from the library." Ellie glanced at the file as she walked past him to the counter. "Monster variations."
"Huh." The file was almost four inches thick, and barely a third of the reference library had been digitalised and added to Frank's database. "Better make another pot of coffee."
She snorted. "Anything in the latest real-time data?"
"Yeah, a headache," he said, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. "Tell Frank to stop reducing the goddamned font."
"Anything else?" she asked, tipping out the remains of coffee from the pot and going to the sink to refill it.
"He cross-referenced the original jump in the numbers against the reports he got from Seattle, then again against the new federal data," Dean said, giving her a one-sided shrug. "Looks like the rate of increase in populations has slowed a bit, but the mutations are increasing."
Ellie filled the coffee maker's reservoir, a frown drawing her brows together. "Have the mutations stabilised across each species?"
When they'd originally seen the reports of the deformations of some of the species, there were very few commonalities, particularly in relation to cause. It made trying to work out who could be doing it impossible. Dean waved his hand.
"Yeah…maybe. There's still not enough data to be sure, but it looks like the same thing is affecting each type in the same way now."
"This just gets weirder and weirder," she said, filling the filter paper and closing the lid.
"Tell me about it."
The doorbell rang, and they both turned in the direction of the hall.
"I'll get it," Ellie said, turning for the door. "Can you give Baraquiel a call and tell him to bring anyone who's free? We need to get this analysed."
He followed her out of the kitchen, peeling off for the living room as she walked to the front door.
Tamsin stood on the porch, her eyes huge as she looked at Ellie.
An hour later, Dean and Ellie stood in the warm, bright kitchen of Garth and Tamsin's house, staring at Garth's arms.
From fingertip to just below the elbow, both arms had turned black. Above the ragged line of solid colour, spots and patches of black dotted the thin arms. Ellie could see more, spread across his chest, visible in the vee of his shirt, and reaching up his neck. She sat down at the table slowly, and reached out for his hand, hearing Dean's sharply indrawn breath behind her as she touched the skin.
"Ellie—"
"It's not contagious," Tamsin said quickly, looking at him. "I've been trying everything to get them off, or even slow their progress, and it hasn't affected me."
Under her fingertips, Ellie felt the roughness of his skin. She looked closer and saw that the colour wasn't just a change in pigmentation of the skin; fine scales covered Garth's hands, almost as smooth and supple as skin, but thickening around the fingers.
She turned his hand over. Over the palm the scales were slightly larger, and when she lifted the hand to peer closely at the fingers, she could see the beginnings of ridges forming along the digit, curving around the fingers. She let go of his hand and looked at Tamsin.
"When did it start?"
"Three weeks ago we noticed the first spot. It was tiny, no bigger than a mole and we…neither of us paid too much attention to it." She put her hand on Garth's shoulder, squeezing it. "A couple more spots like it appeared, randomly, not close together. Then last week it started to accelerate." She looked at Ellie. "His hands—they weren't this bad last night, still just patches here and there."
"Are the patches all over now?" Ellie raised a brow at Garth who nodded unhappily. "Tamsin, what have you tried?"
"Everything I could think of: herbal pastes, tonics, teas, spells, cleansing, prayer…I'm out of options and I still don't know what's causing it."
"Alright, Garth, what have you been up to?" Dean pulled out the chair beside Ellie and sat down, his gaze on the skinny hunter.
"Nothing." Garth looked at him, eyes wide and helpless. "The skinwalker job, uh, before that there was some cleaning up on the vampire nest that Trent and Katherine took down. I did a couple of hauntings last year, nothing out of the ordinary." He shook his head.
"Further back? Any cases that were dealing with, uh, witchcraft, cursed objects, shamanism? Anything that was tricky, or that you weren't sure was finished?" Ellie leaned forward, looking at him.
"Well, uh…" He flicked a glance at Tamsin. "There was a case but it was a long time ago, in Alabama."
"And?" Dean suppressed his impatience. Garth took his own time to recount cases.
"Well, it was just a haunting." He looked down at his arms, resting on the table. "I stumbled across it by accident. A group of people were being haunted by one of their family."
"A group of people?" Ellie frowned.
"Ah…a group of Romani," Garth clarified reluctantly.
Dean glanced sideways at Ellie as she groaned. She was staring at Garth in disbelief.
"Garth…you didn't burn the remains, did you?" she asked.
He nodded, his expression scrunching up as he dropped his gaze to his lap.
"Oh…god." She leaned back in her chair. Dean looked from her to Garth and back.
"What?"
"The Romani have their own rituals for taking care of their dead," Ellie told him, her eyes closing as she scrubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. She drew in a breath, opened her eyes and looked across the table. "You've been cursed, Garth."
Tamsin looked at her. "Why would it take so long to start?"
"No idea." Ellie looked at her. "But that—" She pointed at Garth's arms. "—is definitely a curse. How long ago was the haunting?"
"Um…four years."
"Four years? Are you kidding me?" Dean stared at him. "How the hell are we going to find a bunch of gypsies after four years?"
"How is it that he's still alive? Someone drop him on his head when he was a baby?" Dean muttered as they walked back up the road. "Four fucking years?"
"Relax. We'll find them." Ellie slipped her arm through his. "Is Sam doing anything right now?"
"No." Dean attempted to let go of his annoyance with a gusty exhale. "No, they're staying put."
"Good, that solves one problem."
He flicked an oblique glance at her. "How are we going to find a bunch of itinerants after four years?"
She smiled. "Oh, there are ways."
"You like being mysterious." The statement came out accusingly, and she laughed.
"Yeah, I do," she agreed. "How has it taken you this long to work that out?"
He snorted as they turned up into his brother's driveway, and walked to the house.
"How the hell are you going to find them?" Sam asked, his forehead wrinkling up in consternation. His brother slid an 'I-told-you-so' look at Ellie.
"I've got some people we can see." Ellie glanced at Tricia. "The real problem is that I don't know how long it'll take us; to find them, to get there and to negotiate a payment to lift the curse."
Sam and Dean exchanged surprised looks. "Pay them?" Sam said.
"I thought we were going to gank 'em?"
Ellie looked at him. "I think we have enough curses on this family without adding more, don't you?"
Dean looked away, shrugging. Sam hid a grin at his discomfort. It was one of the things he really liked about his sister-in-law: her ability to stop his brother in his tracks with one, inarguable sentence.
"It doesn't matter, Ellie. John and Rosie can stay as long as you need." Tricia pulled the conversation back on track. "Marc and Laura have got their introduction to kindy thing twice a week now, so it's not even a problem with drop-offs and pick-ups."
"Thanks, Trish." Ellie let out a soft exhale and set her cup on the end table beside her. "You two need a break anytime…we'll repay the favour."
Tricia grinned at her. "I'll definitely take you up on that." She slid a sideways look at Sam, one brow arched. Sam grinned back at her, and Dean looked between the two of them, rolling his eyes.
"Thank you, you two. My brother having sex, now seared into my brain."
Sam snorted. "It's a beautiful, natural act, Dean. And we've got three kids; how'd you think that happened?"
Ellie looked at Tricia, who shook her head.
"When do you want to drop the kids off?"
Ellie glanced at Dean. "We should be able to get what we need organised by dark. Maybe just before dinner?"
"That'll be fine." Tricia stood up, picking up the empty cups. "You don't sound all that worried about this curse, Ellie?"
"No. Garth was an idiot to not let the family handle the burial in their own way, but I think we'll be able to negotiate something that'll get him off the hook."
Sam looked at her curiously. "What's he turning into?"
"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think a raven." Ellie followed Tricia out of the room, answering over her shoulder.
She heard Dean's snort behind her.
Ellie zipped up the small canvas bag and tucked John's teddy in between the handles.
"But Mommy, you said, you said I could stay at Tommy's when you went away again!" John's plaintive wail filled the bedroom.
"No, John." Dean picked him up, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Your mom said that we needed to talk to Tommy's parents first, and get to know them before you could have a sleepover."
"But you had lots of time to do that!"
"Yeah, not really."
Dean sighed. It didn't matter how nice or normal or friendly Tommy's folks were, he thought. There was no way any of the kids were staying anywhere unprotected for the foreseeable future. Cas hadn't returned, and the warning the demon had given Ellie still brought uneasy images to his dreams. "When we get back, we'll go and see 'em, okay? Maybe Tommy can come and stay here for a weekend?"
He glanced at Ellie, catching her slight nod. She wasn't prepared to let them stay anywhere else either.
"Okay." John's bottom lip stuck out. "But you have to promise."
"I promise," Dean said, hoping like hell he wasn't promising something impossible.
"You too, Mom." John swivelled on Dean's lap to glare at his mother. Ellie nodded.
"I promise, John," she said, picking up the bag. "Come on now, Uncle Sammy's waiting."
Dean stood up as John slid off and raced out of the room ahead of them, his path downstairs defined clearly by the thunder of his small feet.
"Any ideas on how we're gonna handle this when we get back?" He took John's bag from her and followed her out of the room.
Ellie shook her head. "We're going to have to get sociable, I think. Maybe a couple of dinner parties, or barbeques or something to get to know these people. We'll do the backgrounds after we get a face to face feel for them."
"One look at our home décor and they're gonna think we're wackos, Ellie." Dean glanced up at the Aramaic devil's trap painted above the front door as they came into the front hall. It was beautifully rendered in dark crimson against the white plaster. It still looked like something from a Satanic cult.
"Yeah. Well, we'll think about it." She shrugged and looked around for Rosie. Sam stood by the front door, reaching out to take John's bag from his brother.
"She's in the car already, Ellie. Laura wanted to show her some doll or something," Sam explained, seeing her distracted look.
"Oh, okay." They followed Sam out to the car, getting John settled and kissing them both goodbye. The engine started and Sam pulled out of the turnaround, driving slowly through the gate and down the road.
Dean looked at his wife's profile as she watched the taillights turn out of view.
"What's wrong?"
Ellie looked at him, her face screwing up. "I thought they'd have a lot more freedom…that we'd be able to just keep hunting and they could have a nearly normal childhood." She shook her head.
"It has been like that, mostly." He put his arms around her.
"Until we find out that they're targeted," she said, her voice sharpening. "And we don't even know by what, or why."
He ducked his head, resting his cheek against hers. "We'll find out, and we'll stop them…and then things can go back to normal."
Her arms tightened around his ribs. "Promise?"
"Hell, yeah." He lifted his head and looked down at her. "We'll figure it out, Ellie. We've done it before, we can do it again."
I-84
The rumble of the black car's engine was a soothing backdrop to Dean's thoughts. He glanced at Ellie, curled into the corner and sleeping, her jacket draped over one shoulder. They'd left home just at dusk, and had almost reached Idaho. He thought he could do another couple of hours before he'd need sleep.
Despite what he'd told her, he wasn't all that sure that they'd be able to find out who or what was behind the latest threats to their family. The changes in the monster populations didn't seem to be connected with the little they knew of the nephilim. In terms of odds, they were stacked against the two events being unconnected, but so far nothing Frank had come up with had shown any links between them.
In comparison to his own childhood, or Ellie's, for that matter, their children were having a normal upbringing. But comparisons weren't good enough for either of them. It might be easier in a few years, when they could explain more about the life to John and Rosie, or it might make it that much harder. He had vivid memories of life getting harder once Sam had known the full extent of what his father did.
His brows drew together as he stared at the road in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do. No one would say anything if he and Ellie decided to quit. It probably wouldn't help matters much, he thought sourly. Whether they were actively hunting or trying to hide, it had never seemed to make much difference to what found them.
He shifted in the seat, stretching his back. Maybe it didn't make that much difference. Most kids found something to bitch about in their childhoods. Too much money, not enough. The wrong neighbourhood, city, county, state, whatever. People got on with their lives no matter how they grew up, at least the strong ones did. Maybe he and Ellie just needed to make sure that John and Rosie knew how much they were loved, understood that a good life demanded hard work and at least some sacrifices, and knew how to take care of themselves. He sighed. He still didn't know, exactly, what constituted his vague dreams of a normal life. It wasn't a nine-to-five job and worrying about the household bills. It wasn't being surrounded by people who had no idea of what lived in the dark. It wasn't living with lies and obfuscations and wondering if, despite all that he could do to protect those he loved, something would still come.
He liked living where they lived. He liked waking up in the mornings, in his own bed, with Ellie curled against him and an idea of what he needed to do that day. He liked getting up and getting the kids ready for their day, cooking breakfast, tying shoelaces, talking to them. He liked talking to Sam about…everything; from the planning of a hunt to the best way to build a cubby house. He liked playing poker every now and then with Twist and Trent, and seeing Frank finally starting to relax a little, under the patient attentions of Rona, the waitress at the Acorn. He liked watched his kids play with Sam's kids in the huge yard, the four of them coming in at midday, or on dark, covered in mud or windswept or bright red with cold, their high chatter filling the house, and their unselfconscious love filling the spaces in his heart.
He was always aware that this life could end in an instant, never more so than when he and Ellie were driving toward a job. But the same could be said for any life. Accidents happened in normal people's lives. They might be tipping the odds with what they did, but he thought it was balanced by their skill, their knowledge, the preparation and care that went into the jobs.
On normal hunts, he amended to himself. On the occasions when the world decided it needed their help, the odds got considerably worse. They were still alive, but it had been a close thing on a couple of those occasions. He shook off the spectres of his memories, forcing them away. Every instinct he had told him that what was coming, still on the horizon for the moment but gaining speed and strength, was going to be another one of those times when the odds against them kept going up.
He looked up as the sign for Caldwell flashed by. It was just past midnight, and he'd been driving for a little over six hours. He'd stop and get a room. They'd make North Platte by tomorrow evening.
Afton, Iowa
Ellie turned the Impala off the gravel county road onto the driveway, easing her over the bumps as they crested the small hill and drove down between the trees to the farmhouse and buildings nestled into the small valley below.
The pop and crunch of the gravel under the tyres, and the dappled sunlight through the bare canopies over them marked the long shallow incline to the fields. As the trees drew back from the side of the road, they saw the trailers and wagons and caravans, painted in vividly bright colours against the new spring grass in the fields, and the pale blue smoke rising from a dozen fires lit close by them.
Dean frowned, staring at the round-roofed wagons as they trundled slowly past them, drawing the curious gazes of their inhabitants, tanned faces and raven-black hair and eyes, clothing as bright and varied as the vardos. A number of dogs raced toward them, their hysterically shrill barks echoing in the quiet valley.
"They don't still use those?" He looked at Ellie, gesturing to the vardos. Ellie grinned.
"Mostly, no. Some of the older people prefer them, and the gentle pace of the horses, but this family keeps them mostly for the tourists in the summer-time." She eased the car through the farm gate, and stopped next to several other cars and pickups, nose in to the side wall of the stone and timber barn.
A tall, slender woman came out of the house as they opened their doors, long black hair drawn loosely back from her face, sloe-dark eyes sparkling.
"Ellie! Oh my god!"
"Arinya, it's so good to see you again," Ellie dropped her bag and stepped into the other woman's embrace. "I'm sorry it's been awhile."
Arinya stepped back from her, holding her hands and looking at her. "Yeah, you damned well should be! Look at you! Oh, hips are wider, how many kids you got?"
Ellie laughed. "Only two." She turned around. "This is Dean…Winchester."
"Winchester?" Arinya's smile widened as she turned to him. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Dean stepped toward her, taking her offered hand, a half-formed question in his face as he registered the wording.
Ellie looked around the yard. "Where is—?"
A man shot around the corner of the barn, tall and dark-haired, green shirt half-pulled on, dark jeans and bare feet suggesting a rapid dressing. Dean's hand twitched toward the automatic in his coat as the stranger barrelled past and grabbed Ellie, arms closing tightly around her and lifting her from the ground.
"Hey," Dean said as the man dipped Ellie backwards, his mouth covering hers in a kiss that was lasting far too long.
"HEY!"
Arinya put her hand on Dean's arm, shaking her head. "Oh, let him get it out of his system, he'll only pine and sulk otherwise." Her eyes were full of laughter.
"Marco!" Ellie dragged in a breath when he allowed her to straighten up. "Goddamnit!"
"Ellie, I've missed you so much!" Marco took her hand between his own and held it against his chest. "Where have you been?"
She wrinkled her nose at him, pulling her hand free. "Running away from you. Didn't Arinya tell you?"
He laughed and dropped her hand, turning to walk to Dean and Arinya. He stopped next to the dark-haired woman, dropping his arm around her shoulders and smiling at Dean.
"I am Marco."
"Dean." Dean glowered at him, shooting a fast glanced at Ellie as she came to stand beside him. "Ellie's husband."
Marco's grin got wider. "Congratulations!"
"Where're Mica and Tomasino?" Ellie looked across at the fields. Marco laughed, turning away and pulling Arinya toward the house. Arinya shrugged, looking back over her shoulder.
"They're somewhere out there." She gestured to the fields and woods beyond the farm buildings. "But we have Zara, Pesha and Nico as well now. Come in, you must have wine and see them and we must talk!"
She turned to the doorway, Marco with her and Ellie and Dean followed them inside. Dean's arm dropped proprietarily over Ellie's shoulders and she looked up at him, her mouth curving up at one side.
"Don't worry about him, he's just overly dramatic."
"Yeah, well, if he gets dramatic with you again, I'm gonna punch him in the face," he growled.
The interior of the farmhouse was warm and brightly lit; a riot of rich, deep colour from end to end, with shawls and blankets and throws covering most of the furniture, hand-knitted or embroidered, glowing in the golden light of the many lamps.
Ellie followed Arinya to the kitchen, feeling Dean close behind her.
"You've been busy," she commented, looking at the two toddlers and the baby sleeping oblivious through Marco's loud singing as he walked down the hall and up the stairs to finish dressing.
Arinya gave a deep, throaty laugh. "These winters…they're long." She pulled a couple of bottles from the cupboard and set them on the table, turning away to get glasses.
"I'm thinking that you're not here for a social visit, Ellie." She gestured to the table as she poured dark wine into the glasses and set them out.
"Is Drina still with you?" Ellie sipped the wine, looking at Arinya as she sat down opposite them.
"Yes, just." Arinya made a face. "What do you need?"
"A name. A location." Ellie smiled at her. "The usual."
"Marco!" Arinya turned and yelled down the hallway. "Get Drina, tell her Ellie's here."
"As you wish, my love!" Marco's voice boomed from down the hall and the door slammed a moment later.
"So, what? One of the families?"
"Yeah," Ellie said. "Four years ago, there was a camp in Alabama. One of the men died, and the tradition burial wasn't done for some reason. His spirit rose. A friend of ours burned the remains, and someone cursed him."
Arinya snorted. "I'm amazed he's still alive."
Dean rolled his eyes. "So're we."
"Drina will know." Arinya looked from Ellie to Dean. "So, you will stay with us tonight and we can visit properly, yes?"
Drina was an ancient woman, wizened and seamed as a raisin, her skin almost coffee-coloured, her eyes barely visible beneath the thick dark brows and the folds and creases of skin surrounding them. Her hair was silver, still thick and long, and wound into a knot at the back of her head.
"Eleanora, you have been away for too long," she said, her voice deep and soft as she came into the kitchen on Marco's arm. "Vy buly v bidi."
Ellie stood up, smiling as she went to hug the old woman. "Yes, all kinds, but we made it through."
"We were watching you, in the earthstones, when Beng rose. I was very happy to see that you lived." She pulled back from the younger woman, tilting her head to look up at her as she shuffled to the table. "O Del is still looking after you."
Ellie sat down as Drina settled herself, pulling the ruby-coloured shawl more closely around her shoulders, her hands curling around the cup of black tea that Arinya placed in front of her.
"What do you want to know, child?"
"There was a family, camped near Decatur in Alabama, four years ago," she started. Drina nodded.
"Yes, Aljenicato. I know the family. They were there for the year. There was trouble with them, the death of a man and the desecration of his body."
"That'll be the one," Ellie said, her tone dry. "The man who burned the remains is a friend. He was cursed by the elder of the Kris. We need to find them and make a payment to lift the curse."
Drina pursed her lips and nodded. "It is possible. They have been in Georgia for the last year, a small town in the south called Ocilla." She looked at Arinya. "Vellos is the head of the family, but it is his mother, Jofranka, who holds the power. She is formidable, that one."
"Will she accept payment for the misunderstanding?" Ellie asked.
The old woman's mouth curved upwards. "Yes, I think so. But it will be a particular thing and it will be in addition to the favour, you understand?"
Ellie nodded, feeling Dean's questioning gaze on her. "I have four flawless blood-red rubies. Will this be sufficient for the payment?"
Drina cackled suddenly, throwing her head back in amusement. "Oh yes, Eleanora. That will be sufficient."
Forest Edge, Oregon
Tricia walked along the upstairs hall, quietly opening the doors and checking on John and Marc, then Laura and Rosie as she moved toward the nursery for Adrienne's feed. Somewhere downstairs, she could hear Sam's footsteps as he checked the house, locking up and looking over their protection. The routine was deeply instilled now and neither could have gone to bed without following it any more than they could get in the car without checking that a gear bag was tucked in the trunk.
She opened the door to the baby's room, the dim nightlight providing just enough illumination to see the furniture and the shape of the room. She could hear Adrienne's small baby laugh, rising softly from the inside of the crib, and see the tips of her daughter's fingers as she waved her chubby hands in the air, just visible over the rail.
She looked at the mobile above the crib and stopped.
Maybe the window is open, she thought, feeling her heartbeat pounding suddenly high in her chest. She walked to the windows, pushing aside the curtains. Every one of them was closed.
Turning back to the crib, she watched the mobile spinning slowly above Adrienne, the butterflies turning in lazy circles counter to the movement of the delicate wires supporting them.
She heard Sam's feet in the hall outside the room, and turned as the door pushed open when he came in. When he met her gaze, she glanced sideways at the mobile then back to him. His brow creased up when he caught the movement in his peripheral vision, then his face smoothed out.
The mobile stopped spinning. Adrienne's hands dropped below the level of the top bar of the crib, and Tricia hurried to the baby as she made a small sound of discontent.
Sam sat rigidly on the side of the bed, looking at his wife. "No, tell me again, exactly what you saw."
"Sam, I've told you—three times now—hearing it again doesn't change anything." Tricia stripped off her clothes, leaving them neatly folded over the chair near her side of the bed. "She's not a monster, and it's not demon blood. Psychic power has existed for thousands and thousands of years in the human race, you know that."
"Never proved, Trish, never acknowledged by scientific proof." Sam heard his voice deepening.
"Doesn't matter if it's been scientifically proved or not." She walked to the bed, pulling back the covers. "You used telekinesis at great need. You saw what Max could do."
"That was the demon blood!"
"Was it?" She looked up at him as he turned around to face her. "I'm not so sure about that. You said it was a long time before you needed to ingest it. The abilities you had were developing on their own. And anyway," she added, turning on her lamp, "it might not even be from you. Dad said his grandmother could shut doors in her house just by thinking about it. Maybe it's from my side, and skipped a couple of generations?"
He shook his head stubbornly, leaning down to pull off his boots. "This is happening right after we find out that our kids are targeted by something? I don't believe in coincidences, Trish."
"Alright, calm down." She wriggled down as he dropped his clothes on the floor and got into the bed next to her. "Let's just take it slowly, and do some research before we go into panic mode."
He flipped off his lamp and slid his arm around her. "You looked pretty panicky when I came into the room."
"I know," she acknowledged. "But I've had time to adjust, to think about it." She curled against him, her arm curving over his ribs. "You need to do that too. We'll find out what's happening, Sam. I'm positive it's not going to be as bad as you're afraid of."
Sam tightened his hold on her, closing his eyes. Behind the lids, he saw his brother again, Dean's face stiff with tightly held control, staring at him as he'd told him about moving the dresser.
Afton, Iowa
Dean wiped his bowl with a hunk torn off the freshly baked loaf, stomach contentedly full. Ellie had told him what the stew was but he hadn't paid attention to the details. It tasted great and that was all that mattered.
Arinya and Marco's children had eaten an hour before, and been sent off to bed, their faces reflecting their disappointment at not being allowed to stay up. From the eldest to the youngest, they were healthy and curious and polite, Dean had noticed, their interest and energy tempered by the rules of the household.
Ellie had told him that Arinya and Marco were not as traditionally minded as the older people in their clan. The Romani were extremely religious, in a similar way to the Orthodox Jews, living their lives from the Old Testament in unbending custom. The younger people in the clans were more relaxed, slowly bending the old rules and integrating more with the Gadje: all those who were non-Romani.
He looked up at Arinya stopped beside him, taking his bowl and refilling his glass.
"Thanks," he said. "That was delicious."
"We feed our men well. They perform better." Arinya smiled at him, glancing across the room. Marco and Ellie were looking through a book of curses. "She told us about you many times. I'm glad you are together."
He felt his eyebrows rise at that. "Uh, what'd she say?"
She shook her head, her warm, deep laugh flowing over him. "Oh no, those are her secrets, not mine."
He acknowledged the point. "When did you meet her?"
Arinya sat down next to him. "The first time, Michael brought her."
Dean tensed involuntarily, and knew Arinya had seen it. He dropped his gaze to the table.
"Michael was half-Romani. His mother was quite powerful," Arinya said. Her tone softened. "You feel the bite of jealousy for no reason, I can tell you that she was never in love with him. Michael was Drina's grandson, and I know that Drina hoped that there would be something between them, but there never was. Ellie's never been in love with anyone, until you."
He looked down at the table. "What makes you so sure about that?"
"Most of us have some kind of gift, from O Del," she said, reaching across the corner of the table for his hand and taking it in hers. "Mine is to be able to see into people."
She closed her eyes, her fingers tightening around his. "Your life has been so full of pain, of loss and doubt. Yet you still have courage, and hope, and so much love."
He cleared his throat, withdrawing his hand from hers in discomfort. He didn't need to know about himself, or for anyone else to know that much about him.
Arinya opened her eyes and smiled. "When I met her, she didn't believe in love. At all. She was like a cat. Affectionate but inside she didn't care for other people, barely even for herself."
She glanced across the room to the bowed head of the other woman. "After Michael was killed, she returned here, to tell Drina, to apologise for what she'd done. We didn't see her again for another two years. We needed help then, and she came…and the second I saw her, I knew that she'd found love. She refused to admit it, of course, but it was there." She tilted her head as she looked at him. "It was you, you know. When I finally got her to admit to it, she told me about you, about the way your family found her, when she was a girl, about hunting together. I didn't need my gift to see how it was with her when she talked about you."
Dean swallowed, staring at her.
"Your name, your father's name, is not unknown to us," she continued. "Drina was glad when he was freed. And when you killed the demon. Azazel was responsible for many of the persecutions of our people, his meddling in the world set off the worst of them."
She picked up the bowl and stood. "You will always be welcomed among us for that, Dean Winchester."
The bed was small by most standards, a double that fit neatly into the end of the trailer. It was soft than he was used to as well, the mattress filled with feathers and down. Dean watched the track of the moonlight as it came through the small window, laying a silvery beam across the end of the bed and rumpled pile of quilts, over the floor to the opposite wall.
Ellie's friends were—as a general rule—bizarre, he thought, most of them so far from his experience he felt like he was on a different planet. But they were also, he had to admit, people he was drawn to, honest in their ways, living fully. He thought Sam would've enjoyed meeting these people. They were strong, and lived their lives by principles, understanding that more was out there than what could be seen in the brightness of day. They weren't hunters, but they were close. Like Father Monserrat, and Andre, and Tatiana, the mad, insanely wealthy Russian woman Ellie had introduced him to last year. Close enough to know about their world and understand them.
It had come as a constant surprise to him that his father had been known to nearly all of her friends he'd met. The sense it gave him was of connection, not immediate or special, but being a part of something greater. There had been a lot that John Winchester had not shared with his sons. More than he'd realised.
He shifted on the soft mattress, his shoulder and hip sinking deeper. Ellie opened her eyes, looking at him.
"What's up?" she asked.
"Can't relax. This bed's too soft." He pushed himself out of the hollow in the mattress until he was leaning back against the pillows behind him.
She sat up, looking at him for a moment, then moved closer, her thigh swinging over his, settling herself on his legs. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, his hands moving up her thighs, curving around her hips. "Nothing, specifically."
He lifted his head as her lips brushed over his, and a flutter of desire stirred inside.
"Something is," she murmured against his mouth, "you can usually sleep…unless…"
She opened her eyes and looked into his. "Are you having nightmares?"
"No." His gaze cut away. "Not really nightmares."
"Are you trying to be mysterious?"
He laughed, in spite of himself. "No."
"What are the dreams?" She turned his face back to hers.
He shrugged uncomfortably. "Just, confusing, you know…bits and pieces that don't make sense." He shook his head at her frown. "Don't worry about it; it's probably a side-effect of not knowing what the hell is going on."
"Undoubtedly." She shivered as his hand slid lower. "But…uh…"
"I can think of better things to do right now than talk," he said, dipping his head, his teeth grazing down her neck.
She changed her position and he sucked in a breath, his heart slamming hard against his breastbone, his arms wrapping tightly around her as her soft heat enclosed him.
I-24 S Tennessee
"Tamsin, how's he doing?" Ellie leaned against the car, her cell pressed tight to her ear as she tried to hear over the rumble of the trucks coming and going from the parking lot.
"Good, okay. We'll be in Georgia in another few hours." She listened to the barely contained panic in the other woman's voice. "No, no matter what's happening, we'll be able to reverse it. Yes, I promise."
Dean shifted the two big sacks of food to one arm as he walked toward her, brows drawing together as he noticed the lines of tension surrounding her mouth. He opened the car door and put the food inside, catching the last of the conversation.
"Tamsin? Just keep him inside and locked in the room, alright?" Ellie pulled in a deep breath. "By tomorrow this is going to be over. I know how scary it is, but you need to stay focused, look after Henry and not worry about Garth, okay?"
"Okay. I'll call you as soon as we're done. Alright." She closed the cell and tucked it back in her pocket, rubbing the heel of her hand over her face tiredly.
"She okay?" Dean looked at her.
"No. She has a giant raven in her guest room." She slid into the car. "She's not okay."
Dean shut the door and walked around the car, opening the driver's door and getting in. "But we can fix it, right?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that once Jofranka reverses the curse, Garth'll be fine." She opened the sack closest to her and lifted out a burger, unwrapping it and taking a huge bite.
"I thought gypsy curses were unbreakable, once you were cursed that was it?" He rummaged in the sack beside him and pulled out the sub, grabbing a handful of serviettes to dam the leakage.
"You do know that Stephen King writes fiction, right?" She looked sideways at him. "He's not an authority on the supernatural."
He made a face at her, taking a bite and tucking it into his cheek. "Yeah, smart-ass."
"There aren't many families left who actually have the powers that the Romani used to," she said, taking another bite. "Maybe four or five, and they all have different gifts."
"Whaddaya mean, gifts?"
"Psychic power, mostly. Arinya, her clan, they have what you might call passive gifts; telepathy, psychometry, far-seeing, clairvoyance." Ellie wiped her chin with the serviette and tucked the wrappings into the bag. "The Aljenicato have more active gifts. Jofranka is supposed to be renowned for her ability to design and implement curses, and to precognitate…see into the future very accurately." She shrugged. "Most of the old ones are dying out, and the next generation isn't as committed to the life."
"That sounds like a good thing," Dean said, licking his fingers. "Less work for us."
Ellie picked up her coffee. "Yeah, not that I've had to do much with them in that way. They keep to themselves as much as possible."
"How did you meet Arinya?"
She looked at him. "Drina was Michael's grandmother. He took me there."
"An' what's the story with Marco?" he asked.
Ellie laughed. "Some of the Romani families keep to the biblical text of a brother's wife going to the brother if a man dies. Marco is Michael's fraternal twin. He liked the idea, although Drina knew that it was never like that between Michael and I. Arinya finally convinced him that I was in love with someone else, and that I'd never bear him enough children to make it worth his while in any case."
"Huh." He half-turned in the seat, looking at her. "And he's still feeling that way?"
"No, I told you he likes to over-dramatise everything," Ellie said, wrinkling her nose. "He's convinced he should make Arinya jealous to keep her from finding someone else. It's a…running joke between them; they both know they're perfect for each other."
"How far to Ocilla?" He turned back to the wheel, starting the engine. He didn't understand the impulse to check what Arinya had told him, and he felt as if he shouldn't've, in some way. But at the same time, Ellie had told him everything about it, obviously not in the slightest bit worried about how it had looked. At least how it had looked to him.
"Another six hours." She squashed the bags together and tossed them into the trash can as they pulled out of the lot. "We'll find a motel, go and see them in the morning."
Ocilla, Georgia
The land was flat as they drove past the town, heading west along the highway. Pastures filled with rank, green grass, tilled fields, clumps of evergreens crowding the hidden waterways, and deciduous trees misted in spring's first leaf growth, bright and hopeful, lined both sides of the road.
"So what's the plan?" Dean flexed his hands on the wheel as they left the houses behind and farmland enclosed them.
"We'll be polite, eat and drink whatever is offered, and request that the curse be lifted for a price since it was a misunderstanding on the part of Garth, and not a deliberate insult to the family." Ellie stretched out on her side.
"That's it?" He shot a look at her.
"That's it."
The camp of the Aljenicato was easy to find, two dozen caravans in various states of wear and disrepair gathered near the edge of the field, the blue smoke of their campfires rising straight into the still morning air. Dean pulled into the field slowly, wincing as the car bumped its way across the lumpy grass.
They got out and waited by the car, as several men began to walk toward them.
"What do you want, gadje?"
Dean looked at the man who stopped in front of him. The Romani was a couple of inches under his height, but broad-shouldered and powerfully muscled under the thin, grimy singlet he wore.
"We would like to visit with Vellos and Jofranka," Ellie said, walking up to stand beside Dean.
The man's eyes narrowed as he looked at her, lip curling contemptuously. "Women do not speak unless they are spoken to."
Ellie's brow arched delicately as she smiled at him. "It is a matter of a curse and a payment."
He scowled at her, and Dean realised belatedly she'd boxed the man in with those words. He couldn't ignore her, couldn't ignore or insult them now.
"Come." He turned on his heel and strode away, heading for a long trailer on the other side of the encampment.
They followed in silence, flanked by the other men. All of the men carried knives, sheathed on their belts, or the hilts protruding from their boot tops. Ellie had insisted that he leave his Colt in the car. His knife, Ruby's knife, lay flat against his ribs, in the leather sheath sewn into his jacket.
The man stopped at the door of the largest RV, an ancient and battered-looking vehicle, stepping back as he gestured abruptly to it.
Ellie stepped forward and knocked. She looked up as the doorway was filled by a large man, reeking of alcohol, the thin singlet he wore almost grey with dirt, loose-fitted dark brown trousers held up by a pair of suspenders over his shoulders.
"Yes?" He looked down at her, his gaze flicking behind her to Dean, then to his men.
"My name is Eleanor. This is Dean," she said, half-turning. "I would like to speak to you and your mother about a curse."
Vellos laughed, the men gathered around behind them joining in after a moment.
"A curse." He wiped his mouth, black eyes fixed on Ellie's face. "Come, we can talk about curses, if you wish."
Ellie stepped up and walked through the narrow doorway. Dean stepped up and found the man blocking the doorway.
"Just her. Not you. You wait here."
"No." He tried to see past the man, into the dark interior of the van. "No way."
Vellos put his hand out, shoving back against Dean's chest. "She is fine. You stay here."
In the interior of the van, Ellie grimaced. "Dean, it's alright. Just wait there."
"No!" She heard the anger in his voice as he got closer to the door again.
Vellos looked down at him. "Wife, yes? She is safe. You stay out here. You are…impure…to be in same space as my mother."
Dean hesitated. "Ellie? You alright?"
Vellos turned slightly, and Ellie looked down at Dean through the gap between the man and the doorframe.
"Yeah. I'm fine. It's alright."
He nodded reluctantly and watched her turn away. Vellos nodded and closed the door. Dean turned around, staring at the loose circle of men surrounding him. After a few moments, the man who'd led them to the van shrugged and walked away, the others drifting off as well.
Goddamn it, Dean thought. Goddamn it to hell.
"Drina sent you here, didn't she?"
The voice, old and cracked and wavering, came from the darkness and Ellie looked around, finally seeing the woman seated in the banquette next to the small table. She was tiny, hidden beneath layers of clothing and shawls and blankets, her hair still black as a raven's wing, her face creased and seamed and lined until the features had almost disappeared.
"Yes."
"Sit, sit." A small claw-like hand emerged from under the wrappings to gesture at the seat opposite. "Vellos, make tea."
"Yes, Mama." The man turned away, and filled the electric jug with water, standing in the cramped kitchenette near the front of the van.
"A curse you are here to discuss. The gadje who burned up Ranjen."
"Yes." Ellie looked at Jofranka. "It was a mistake, not a deliberate insult against your family. He didn't know the traditions."
The old woman nodded slightly. "Ignorance kills as readily as O Del."
"Yes."
"You want to bargain, for the curse to be lifted?" Silent laughter ran through the words.
"If there a price that you will accept, I will bargain," Ellie said slowly.
"What have you brought me?"
Ellie opened her bag, taking out the small black silk pouch and opening the drawstring. She tipped it up and the stones dropped onto her palm, gleaming dully in the dimness.
"Vellos! Light here, I can't see what the young woman has brought." Jofranka's tone was peevish. Ellie kept her face expressionless, but she thought that Jofranka was in pain, a lot of it.
The man brought two cups of strong black tea to the table and turned on the overhead lamp, the incandescent bulb throwing a murky but strong light over the table. The rubies flashed deep in their hearts, and Ellie heard his sharply indrawn breath whistling between his teeth.
Jofranka looked at the stones and then up at her. "You've dealt with the Rom before, girl?"
"Once or twice."
"The payment is satisfactory." Her hand emerged from beneath the blanket again and she lifted it, spitting into the palm. Ellie nodded, lifting her own right hand and spitting into the palm, and taking the old woman's hand in her own.
"I will lift the curse." The old woman nodded at the cups on the table. "Drink the tea."
Ellie picked up the cup, seeing the crystals of sugar swirling at the bottom of the cup, through the dark amber liquid.
"There is the favour," the old woman continued, sipping at the hot tea. "You understand this?"
"Yes, I understand." Ellie looked at Jofranka consideringly. "You are in pain."
"Yes. I am old." She smiled suddenly at Ellie, gold gleaming from between her thin lips. "How old do you think I am, girl?"
"I couldn't imagine," Ellie said, dropping her gaze to the tea in her cup.
"Diplomatic." Jofranka laughed, her chest hitching as the laugh turned into a coughing fit. "I will be one hundred and eighty-three this year. And I have no one to pass on my gift to." Her gaze slid accusingly toward her son.
Ellie watched her warily. The favour, extracted from the Gadje on any encounter with the Romani, could not be against her will. It could not put her life or those she loved into any kind of danger. It had to be freely offered and with an easy heart. She didn't trust the old woman sitting across from her any more than she would have trusted a demon, but those were the rules binding the transaction, and she would have to hope that Jofranka would abide by them.
"The sons of the Grigori are rising, this you know, yes?" Jofranka leaned forward across the table, staring at her.
Ellie nodded.
"When they do, they will wipe everyone out," the old woman's voice cracked, becoming soft and breathless. "They have called the oldest goddess, they have bid her walk the earth and tend her children."
The oldest goddess? Ellie strained to hear Jofranka's words.
"They are arrogant in their belief that they are strong. Stronger than their fathers. Stronger than humankind. But they are not, not strong enough to control what they have called, not strong enough to build the circle," she said, looking up at Ellie with bright eyes. "They need two more."
"There are only seven," Ellie whispered to her, the small crease appearing between her brows as she struggled to make sense of what Jofranka was telling her. "They have only ever been seven."
"But nine holds the power to build the circle."
Jofranka slumped back into her corner of the banquette, eyes closing as pain struck her. Ellie waited, watching her bent and misshapen hands curl together.
"The favour…" Jofranka opened her eyes and looked at her. "I need you to take something of mine, take it and keep it safe, keep it guarded."
"What?"
Jofranka laughed, the sound wheezing at the end. "Does it matter? It will not harm you or yours. It is…inert…but it is important and it must be kept safe."
"Alright," Ellie agreed reluctantly.
"Vellos will come for it, when the time is right." She leaned back against the wall, her breath rasping in her throat. "Until then, keep it locked away and let nothing near it."
She reached into the folds of her clothing, scrabbling for something. When her hand emerged again, there was a small golden locket in it, held by a length of fine gold chain. She extended her hand and Ellie held open the silk drawstring bag in which she'd brought the rubies, careful not to let her skin touch the necklace.
"This is the favour. You cannot forget. You cannot betray me."
"This is the favour. This will remain safe and guarded with me until your son comes for it." Ellie nodded, tucking the silk pouch into her backpack.
The old woman's hand slid across the table to take Ellie's, her fingers surprisingly strong as she held it, turning it over, tracing over the palm.
"There is a blessing." She looked up into Ellie's face. "And there will be a tragedy. You will be strong enough."
Ellie felt a tingle in her fingers and pulled her hand away. "Why did you tell me that?"
"Because things happen for a reason, even when no reason can be found. And you still have far to go." Jofranka's eyes closed, her small body curling into the corner.
Ellie stood up and pulled her backpack out after her. She looked at Vellos, standing by the van's door.
"We're done."
He nodded and opened the door.
Dean looked up, relieved to see Ellie come out, step down beside him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the chalky pallor of her face.
"You okay?"
She nodded, walking away from the trailer to the car without looking back. The men of the camp had gathered again, but they weren't following, just standing by the vans and watching them leave.
"What happened?" he said in a low voice.
"I'll tell you later," she answered him tiredly. "Let's get out of here."
Jackson, Mississippi
"That's good, keep using the comfrey, it'll probably help a lot with loosening the feathers," Ellie said, wandering back to the room's kitchen counter to grab a couple of glasses.
"Trish, slow down…" Dean said, lifting the gear bag onto the bed as he tried to hold the tiny cell between his ear and shoulder.
Ellie put the glasses on the table, opening the bottle one-handed. "Can he talk yet?"
"Sam? What's going on?"
"No, it should all just come off over the next couple of days." Ellie poured an inch of whiskey into each glass. "No, she didn't mention the time-delay."
Dean sank onto the edge of the bed, hunching over slightly as he pressed the cell tighter to his ear. "Did you check for EMF?"
"Alright, we'll be back in a couple of days. Just…yeah, hot baths, and…yeah, the comfrey. See you then." Ellie closed the phone and put it into her jacket pocket, sitting down at the table and picking up a glass.
"Okay, what about sulphur?" Dean shook his head. "I know you know this, Sam, I'm just trying to eliminate crap, okay?"
He looked up at Ellie, eyes dark and face drawn as he listened to his brother. "No, a couple more days…yeah—listen—call Cas. Ask him."
He closed the phone with a snap and shoved it into the pocket of his coat, rubbing a hand over his face.
"What?" Ellie asked worriedly.
"Adrienne." Dean got up, walking to the table and picking up the glass, swallowing half in the first mouthful. "She…uh…apparently she moved the mobile over her crib." He looked at her, dropping into the chair next to the table. "With her mind."
Ellie's brows shot up. "Really?"
"Yeah." He frowned at the tone of her voice. "You don't sound surprised."
"Well, I am, a bit," she said. "But Dwight's family on his mother's side had some pretty strong psychic abilities. He told me about them, said they skipped the males, went down the female line. I'm sure Trish knew about that." She leaned toward him. "Is Sam freaking out?"
"Of course he's freaking out!" Dean scowled at the glass. "He finally got rid of all his freaky stuff and now his three-month-old daughter has it."
"Dean, settle." Ellie reached across to grip his arm. "People do have these abilities; they're not limited to demon poisoning."
"We've never come across any who could do it without the blood, Ellie," he said, draining the rest of the whiskey. "Sam's didn't get really strong until he was guzzling the stuff."
Ellie frowned. "Actually, that's not true. Sam—and all the others—their abilities were stronger before he started drinking the blood. He said that in Cold Oak, that girl…"
"Ava," he supplied irritably.
"Ava could control the demons and she wasn't drinking the blood. Those were her own powers—the same as the two guys who had mental domination."
"They were kick-started by Azazel, when those kids were six months old," he growled, picking up the bottle and pouring himself another shot.
"Yeah, but that was it. Maybe that turned something on, something that was already there, but it didn't develop it. They all developed those powers by using them."
"Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?"
"Better, I think," she said. "I don't know how you got your panties in such a twist over psychic ability, Dean. It's a part and parcel of human nature since the beginning."
"You didn't see it, Ellie." He looked down at the table. "Didn't see Max with that gun, didn't see Andy, just making a simple suggestion and driving off in my car, didn't see Sam…"
"No. But I've seen a lot of people who have telekinesis, MD, pyrokinesis, telepathic ability…they're not monsters. They're just people with abilities that are different… you don't think someone who is gifted musically is a monster, or someone who can calculate huge numbers in their heads."
"Those abilities don't kill." He looked at her. "So you think it's a coincidence that Adrienne's started to show this…ability…now?"
She shook her head. "No. But I don't think it's indicative of something evil going on. Any more than I think that John and Rosie's ability to see clearly and draw what they see is indicative of something evil."
His breath hissed in. "Dammit, that's not the same thing; they're drawing!"
"It is the same thing, Dean, and you know it. It's manifesting as drawing because they're little kids and that's what they understand, but it's not going to stop with that—and you know that too," she said evenly, knowing how hard he'd tried to keep that knowledge from himself.
He sat staring at her, fingers curled tightly around his glass.
"Look, we know that something, most likely the children of the Grigori, are looking for us; looking for you and Sam, looking for John and Rosie, and most likely for Marc, Laura and Adrienne as well." She raised a brow at him. "That's not for revenge, Dean. There's a real reason behind it, and the sooner we can figure out what that is—without going nuts with speculation—the sooner we're going to know how to protect them properly."
She watched him as he absorbed the words, fighting them, denying them…and then, his shoulders dropped when he began to accept them, the tension draining slowly as his attention sharpened on her.
"Alright." His exhale was soft. "What did that old woman say about them?"
"She said that they were rising," Ellie said, closing her eyes and drawing the memory back. "They had raised the oldest goddess but they weren't strong enough to control her or to build the circle. The circle needed nine."
"More cryptic crap," he said, frustrated. "What did you think it meant?"
She shook her head. "The oldest goddess…that's Asase Ya, in Africa. Or possibly Ninhursag, in Sumeria. Both probably the same entity. She was the Earth Goddess, the creator of humankind, of every living thing on the planet. She was worshipped for fertility, at planting and harvest. She took the souls of the dead and guided them to the next plane."
Dean frowned. "So maybe, this is the bitch who's responsible for the monster increases, the mutations?"
"Maybe." Ellie looked at the whiskey in her glass. "It would be within her ability, to cause mutations, increase the populations, and Jofranka was right, the firstborns wouldn't be able to control her; she has the power of every living thing at her disposal."
"God, this just keeps better," Dean looked at her. "How do we get rid of her?"
"I don't know." Ellie tossed back the rest of the whiskey. "We'll have to look for it, in the library."
"And the nephilim need two more to build this circle or whatever it is?"
"Well, that's the thing." She looked up at him. "There were only ever seven firstborn nephilim. There were only seven Watchers who fell to earth with God's blessing, to teach humankind. There can't be nine."
"Wait a minute, what about Oran and Adina and all the others of our Watcher's kids?"
"Not firstborn, Dean." Ellie set her chin her hand as she looked across the room. "The firstborn were the ones in the Book of Enoch."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes hooded as he looked at her. "Do you know what she meant by building a circle?"
"No. I've never heard or read about any kind of prophecy or spell or anything to do with nephilim building a circle." She put her glass on the table. "It might be somewhere in the library, but I wouldn't know where to start looking."
"Would the Watchers know? They were there."
"They might." She shrugged, tired suddenly of all the things they didn't know.
Dean watched her shoulders drop, and stood up, going around the table to her. "Let's just go to bed, forget about this tonight."
She smiled at him. "Can you?"
"With a bit of help, I think I might be able to put it out of my head for a few hours," he said, ducking his head to kiss her neck.
Ellie moaned at the feel of his fingers slipping over her, into her, his mouth tracing an aching path around her breasts, down her sides, teeth and tongue and lips making her throb unbearably and push harder against him.
Dean wondered how long he was going to be able to hold back, considering he'd almost lost it twice now. He wasn't sure what was different, only that he felt an urgency, verging on desperation, to be inside of her, as deep as he could get. He froze as she thrust her hips up again, shutting his eyes and trying to distance himself slightly from the ululation in his mind, feeling her ripple against his fingers, their sensitive nerve endings connected directly to his groin.
He pushed her legs apart, tasting her sweetness with its underlying musk and felt her whole body shudder deeply, his eyes flying open, seeing her hands clenched into fists, her lips parted, breath rasping between them, a series of snapshots that made him arch back and he couldn't wait another second, had the feeling she couldn't either.
She was deeply slick, furnace-hot, and the violent thrust of her hips pushed him through the tightness of swollen muscle, their tension thrumming around him, the sensation snatching at his control, taking his breath and strength as a groan fled his chest with the last of his air.
"Stop…don't…move," he whispered, holding her hips still with his hands, feeling that build-up in his pelvis, his nerve endings screaming at him. She looked at him through half-shut eyes, straining to move under him and shook her head wordlessly.
He thrust into her hard, felt her arch up under him, a long wave of pressure and heat and vibration rolling up him, and he was lost in it, her legs tight against him, her body milking him, leaving him husked out and unable to move as the tremors and aftershocks shook them.
He lifted his head slowly, looking at her. "What the fuck was that?"
"Describes it pretty well, I think," she agreed, her arm slipping around his neck.
"As much as I'd like to take all the credit for that, Ellie, that wasn't all me," he said, easing his weight off and curling his arms around when she wriggled up against him.
She gave him a gentle, exasperated smile. "Sure felt like all of you."
He smiled into her hair. There wasn't a lot that fazed her. It was one of the million of things that made them work so well, she could bring him back to reality when he what he really wanted to do was panic. He thought of his niece, and the smile disappeared. Maybe Ellie was right…maybe Trish was right. Maybe it was a rare but normal part of the human genome, and some people could use it, most couldn't.
He heard her breathing change, shifting into the lighter pattern of sleep, and took a deep breath. He was exhausted, mind, body and soul. And they still had at least two more days on the road before they'd get home. He closed his eyes.
Forest Edge, Oregon
The dining room table was fully extended, the smooth polished surface covered in books, files, stacks of papers, manuscripts and texts, every chair taken. Dean looked up as Frank came in, an archive box filled with printouts in his arms. Frank raised an eyebrow as he caught Dean's gaze.
"Where do you want 'em?"
"What are they?" Dean asked warily. Frank gave him his humourless shark's grin.
"Search results for the specified noted agricultural change locations."
Dean gestured to the wall behind him. "There'll do."
They'd been searching for four days now, looking for any changes that would indicate the location of the goddess, the possible location of the firstborns, parapsychological data on metaphysical and psychic phenomena, the ongoing changes to the creatures that had been changing the most…
Dean sighed. Multiple needles in a fucking great stack of needles.
Ellie had been right about the documentation of psychic abilities in humans. It was there, not a lot of it but enough to make the abilities of their children less frightening and more understandable. Sam had thrown himself into the data, hunting for other cases, for more information. He'd tested John, Rosie, Marc and Laura with the Zener cards on Ellie's suggestion, and all four children had been able to pick the symbols with a hundred percent accuracy in the first five minutes of the test, their accuracy dropping as the test went on longer. For kids under six years old, that had seemed in line with their ability to concentrate on a single activity.
The search for the goddess had been less successful. Frank had found dozens of locations that fit the search criteria, and at the moment, at least, it looked like the bitch was wandering around, not just in this country either. Random bursts of plant growth, sudden increases in births and deaths, record-breaking harvests and satellite photos showing crop growth and soil fertility increasing exponentially along with the other signs showed them clearly where the goddess had been, but unfortunately not where she was going.
And then there was the monster problem. Unexplained animal attacks, homicides and disappearances had lit up the federal law enforcement databases in the last four weeks, the increases in some states had the government seriously considering sending army units in to handle what they'd thought was an outbreak of lawlessness. Dean shook his head as he thought of the soldiers' reactions to what they were going to see. Unsurprisingly, the numbers of psych leave applications in local law enforcement agencies had skyrocketed as well.
Trent and Katherine had taken Oran and Adina to Michigan, a few days after returning from Mississippi. Laney Pike led a small band of hunters up along the lakes and they'd been hunting wendigos over the border for months now. Twist had come home, thinner, tired-looking and shaken. He and Marcus would be heading out to the southern states in a few days time to get a handle on what was going to be a big problem with rugaru, vampires and rawheads in a very short time.
On the plus side, Garth was no longer a bird, so he supposed that could be counted as a win. He'd looked around the room that Tamsin had locked her husband into, once the curse had really taken off, trying not to laugh at the piles of black feathers that still floated around in there, finding the deep, trilobed holes in the walls less funny. The only lasting side-effect of the whole business was that Garth had developed a liking for sunflower seeds, and carried them around with him everywhere now.
He looked down the table. Baraquiel and Talya had co-ordinated the Watchers and nephilim to search their records for information on the firstborn. He'd been surprised that none of the Watchers had any idea of where their children were, or what had become of them. They'd had a couple of thousand years to lose track, he guessed, but still, they were family.
Four boys, three girls. Chasina, daughter of Sariel. Chuma, son of Chazaquiel. Idra, son of Baraquiel. Lazio, son of Amaros. Kitra, daughter of Azazel. Maluch, son of Bezaliel, and Reuma, daughter of Araquiel. His ancestors as well, and Ellie's and all the hunters, according to Cas. Frank hadn't yet found any sign of them in any city in the US. He wondered distractedly if they would come and visit their fathers, if they knew that most of the Watchers were here.
"Hey." A voice said beside his ear. He looked up, seeing Ellie behind him.
"Hey, where've you been?"
"In the library." She glanced up the table and back to him. "Frank got another set of hits from the east coast. It's showing what may be the beginnings of a pattern of movement. We think we know where Asase will be next."
He looked at her, brows rising. "That's great. Why don't you sound more excited?"
"It's just a tentative guess, at best, right now." She shrugged. "And we don't have any way of dealing with her yet."
"It's a start," he said firmly, looking at her. "You look tired, are you alright?"
She nodded. "Yeah, just reading through those reports for hours, my eyes are sore. I did tell Frank to stop worrying about saving money on paper and use a bigger font. We're not going to be much use hunting her down if we're all blind from research."
He snorted. "Come on, let's get out of here for a while, go for a walk and get our long vision back."
He got up, taking her hand and they picked their way through the piles of books, papers and boxes that were stacked on the floor, along the walls and around the table, walking out to the hall.
Outside the wind rushed down the mountainside, shaking the branches and twigs. The air was fresh and cold, and the bright green of new spring growth misted the trees and ground. They turned left at the corner of the house, following the path up toward the forest. Neither saw the bright eyes in the high branches of the oak that marked the corner of the property, watching them as they walked away.
