For the Dead Travel Fast
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"Castle," she shouted, twisting in his death grip. On her knees beside the SUV, pinned by his grip and the deranged woman's attack. "Castle, I need my weapon!" The woman's heel caught her cheek; she snarled in return, the foreign scent of the deranged one tearing through her lungs. Demanding action, demanding her teeth sunk into flesh.
No. No.
Kate could not let the vampire in her take over. She was a detective; she needed her damn gun.
The woman had him caught on the floorboard, and Kate caught between Castle and the seat. The deranged one kept rearing back and clawing at him. He was howling, animalistic snarls, spitting, flashing his teeth; she smelled blood and terror took over.
Kate battered her own body at the woman, fire burning in her shoulder. She got smashed in the jaw, the neck, by a flailing foot, then Castle's knee, then the woman's sour-scented armpit at her mouth.
Kate gagged, wrenched back.
Beckett yanked on her hand in his grip, wrestling with her own her self-control.
"Castle," she begged. His scream was savage; he was fighting back at least. His grip on her wrist was like a vise. She yanked, twisted, contorting to get to her holstered weapon.
Behind her, the door opened at the Marathon, a voice called out. Shaky, weird, too thin.
The clerk. Oh God.
"Stay back!" she yelled. "I'm police! Stay back!"
A scrape of shoes. "What's—"
An inhuman howl cut through the night. The hair stood up on the back of her neck; there seemed to be a pause in the violence, as if the world itself was just as shocked by the possession, the cruel and terrible possession of the deranged woman.
"Holy shit, what the hell—"
Beckett clawed at the door for leverage. "God, Castle, let go."
And then he did.
She spilled backwards, sharp terror rising in her even as she pulled her weapon. She aimed for the back of the SUV, weapon weaving as the two wrestled. Grunts now, gurgling, gnashing of teeth. Bodies close, too close. She smelled blood.
"Castle!" she warned sharply. She had no idea if he was able to even know her. "Castle, I need a clear shot!"
She heard the bell over the door; a shotgun being cocked.
"No!" she screamed. "Police! Don't shoot!"
And then the woman reared back, her arm came up—
Kate fired. Twice. Into the back of the woman's head so that her skulled exploded.
Castle roared, coming upright, shoving at the still-writhing body. The deranged vampire spilled out to the pavement, a crumple, a twitch of some kind of terrible animation, and Castle jumped out after it, pouncing like an animal.
The shotgun. She could smell the gunpowder, the fear-sweat of the man aiming at her husband.
Kate twisted up, came to her feet brandishing her own gun, assessing. She flipped the gun onto her thumb, hooked, hands up, and put her body in the line of fire. "I'm with the police," she called to the store clerk. "He's in my care. I need you to put the shotgun down."
"What the hell kind of—!" His voice was lost in his terror, the gun barrel bobbing. She could smell his terror. She could smell the decay of the deranged woman. She thought the clerk could too, but he was staring at Castle.
"Gun down," she yelled. Flicked her eyes to the side where Castle was crouched over the woman. "Castle. Castle."
His head came up. Blood stained his chin, his neck. She didn't know. Was he wounded. If he'd bitten the deranged vamp, could she even call him back to her. Was he gone forever.
"No. Castle," she whispered. "Please."
The shotgun steadied; she could see the whites of the convenience clerk's eyes. Dark blown pupils.
Castle's were still grey, bleached, colorless.
"Please, Rick," she said. Blood ran down her spine from the open wound at her shoulder. Her hands were up, gun hooked on her thumb—her partially ravaged thumb. "Please, babe. I need you."
Castle rocked back on his heels. His face changed, smoothed. "I got you," he said. The evenness of his voice terrified her. His eyes were still wild. "You got this." It was his voice and it wasn't his voice.
"You," she insisted. "You got this. Back in the car. I need you in the car."
His eyes cut from her to the SUV and then back to the half-ruined woman.
"Rick," she pleaded. "I need you."
He began to uncrouch. The clerk's shotgun wavered. She shifted, drew his attention, and the clerk's shotgun came her way. She returned the favor, two-handed stance, her heart throbbing in her shoulder. The wound wasn't bad, but it burned like fire.
"We're going to leave. I'm putting him in the car. All you have to do is let us leave."
The clerk's fear was a stench in the air. The deranged vampire reeked of decay. But when Castle stood, she felt him scent her, felt him leaning in for her. (Or was it the poison even now in her shoulder?)
She shifted her grip on the weapon, risked the wavering injured arm with the gun to slowly reach back for Castle with her bleeding hand. The wound he'd made. For him.
His fingers laced through hers, tugged her back. She stumbled, surprised, and angled her body towards the car, tried to keep her grip on her weapon. She felt Castle's breath on her neck and saw the wide round eyes of the clerk.
"No," she whispered. "No, Rick."
"You're bleeding," he husked.
"I can't," she said. Her eyes glued on the clerk with the gun. A kid, just a kid, sweat staining his pits, the front of his t-shirt, the front of his shorts—he had pissed himself. He was shaking. He was terrified, and terrified people did stupid terrible things. She lifted her voice. "We're just going to drive away."
Castle's fingers tightened in hers. "I'll drive."
She almost laughed, so ludicrous was the idea in their normal life. And like this? Possessed by something else? No. "Get in the car, Rick. I need you in the car. Get in the backseat and close the door."
She backed up, pushing on him; his breath was still close, his mouth close. She could feel his fingers stroke her neck and shivered. Elbowed him off her.
He actually went. Obedient.
The clerk never lowered his shotgun. Even as Castle finally climbed into the back. Even as the door shut. Her left arm was shaking badly, the shoulder burned with the poison of the deranged vamp, but she forced herself up into the driver's side and pulled the door shut after her.
She pushed start on the car; the engine purred to life. She had just paid for the gas and left the convenience store when Castle had sat up, as if from the dead, wild-eyed and wanting her. She flipped on the headlights and put the car in reverse, saw the body in the headlights, crumpled, messy.
"Can it be killed?" His voice from the backseat. We, she thought.
The butt of her gun was sticky with her blood; she felt it down her back, pooling at the waistband of her jeans. Her vision was beginning to tunnel.
"You're bleeding." A pause. "Is it dead?"
"Yes," she breathed. "We can all be killed."
"Sunlight," he murmured.
"No," she corrected, swallowed roughly. She didn't know where to go. The lake now seemed ridiculous, and yet she was turning north, heading for Lake Erie like a lemming to its cliffside. "No. Only sensitive at first, until the phase is over."
"Vampire," he said roughly.
Tears burned. She blinked and they were gone.
"You're bleeding, Kate."
She nodded.
"You can't keep going."
She nodded. Lips twisted. Tried to shrug.
"Can't keep going like this, Kate."
"I have this long," she husked. "Since my training days." She drew in a shaky breath. "You get used to it."
"Oh, Kate," he whispered. His fingers at her neck.
She whimpered. They were not far enough away. She had to get them far enough away.
There was a breathing silence. She couldn't smell him like before, not as much; she smelled only the woman's decay, her derangement, now seeping into Kate's open wound. She felt sick, clammy; she didn't actually know if she could catch it. She didn't understand why she couldn't smell her husband, the one she'd transitioned.
This wasn't in the Little Black Book.
"Give me your hand."
She surrendered it just that fast, wanted it as much as he did. The gun was balanced on her thigh, she lifted her heel off the floorboard to press her knee against the steering wheel, blinking hard to keep focused. They were going sixty miles an hour on a rural route, just had to get away, keep going. She would have to turn off somewhere, in case or when the clerk gave their descriptions to the local sheriff.
But the moment Castle's lips touched the cradle of her palm all her thoughts fled.
He hummed.
Her breath caught.
He kissed her softly. Inhaled. She whimpered and his tongue touched the base of her thumb.
Pain and fire—like a flash grenade—and then it was gone. No pain, just the lovely heat of his tongue curling around her thumb and the heady sensation of deep-pooled arousal.
He sucked softly at the heel of her palm, her wrist. Her wrist, moaning, and they both shuddered. She forced herself to clamp down at the wheel, concentrate. So hard to do when he seduced her with the warm breath of his desire, the gentle kiss of his lips, the work of his tongue.
She was buzzing. She smelled rot and decay, but she was buzzing. Confusion mudded her vision.
"See?" he murmured. "No teeth." A chuckle that made the hair stand up on her arms. "Until you say so."
She shivered, sharply awake now. Her heart rate was elevated, her blood hot in her veins, thrashing. She smelled death, derangement, not him. She curled her fingers, stretched them again, felt his toothy smile against her palm.
"I need to pull over," she husked. Near-panic.
"Yeah you do."
"N-no," she croaked. "First aid. I need to clean this shoulder."
"I can do that for you." A hum. "With my mouth."
"No!"
She could feel him pouting. Feel his oozing charm. His seduction.
She shook her head to clear it. "Lie down, Castle. Conserve your energy. You can't last long like this."
"I feel very good," he rasped. "I feel… thirsty."
"No," she croaked. She moved to grab a Gatorade from the front seat, but he held her by the wrist, held her fast.
"Mine."
Kate shivered. Tried to quell her panic, her terror. This was her husband. He would listen to her voice and no other.
He had to.
His teeth bumped the heel of her hand. A little soft noise in his throat.
She swallowed back tears. "You'll kill me if you do," she whispered. "You'll kill me."
"You've been dead before."
"Rick, this isn't—right. This isn't you. We need to both get cleaned up. She—she might have done something to you. To me." She hadn't seen any deep wounds on him, but she'd also been staring down the clerk.
"You got her. She can't hurt us now."
"No," she said softly, tried not to let him confuse her. His scent wafted forward, a vague tendril. She had been filling her lungs with the deranged all this time, and she had forgotten how potent he was. "I mean yes, I got her." She tried a new tack, curling her thumb against his bottom lip. "Give me back my hand, Rick. I need to drive us somewhere safe. I need to get us somewhere we can stop, and you can—"
"Yes," he snarled. "Yes, that."
He released her.
Her heart was pounding.
She gestured carefully towards the seat beside her. "There's Gatorade in there. Drink some. It will help."
"What do I need help with?"
"You must be thirsty," she tried again. She wasn't sure what of her husband remained through the false shell of the phase. Back to his playboy ways? to seduction and charm and that smooth cleverness? Default Rick Castle. "Aren't you thirsty? I know I am. Open one for me, Rick. So I can find us a place to stop."
He reached past her and she gripped the wheel, her heart seizing, but he began rooting around in the bag for a bottle, taking her suggestion.
Suggestible in phase.
She let out a slow breath, risked cracking the window open.
He gave a low growl at the change in pressure, but he attacked the Gatorade bottle. He got it open; she heard him guzzling it and her shoulders slumped in relief. He was still drinking as the night air whipped through the interior cabin of the SUV.
Fresh air, slaking his thirst, and the odor of derangement began to fade as well. She needed to clean her wounded shoulder so that it wouldn't linger, even if it couldn't fester, even if she couldn't catch it. Clearly, whatever or whoever's scent he came across, it was going to affect him. A strong scent was going to alter him.
As he affected, altered her.
"Shit," she breathed.
Vampire bitch had tried to take her husband from her. That's why he had no wounds. It was mating season and Castle smelled like virility.
She couldn't suppress the laughter. It bubbled in her throat and tumbled out of her mouth, hysterical, desperate.
"Kate." Strained, pale, tired, his voice from the backseat. Thirst quenched now, he was beginning to crash. "Kate, I'm so tired."
Her laughter stopped. She swallowed roughly. "Lie down then, Rick. It's okay. You can lie down."
"I'm so tired," he mumbled. "Was gonna fix you."
"It's okay." She heard his body shift, heard the plastic of the bottle crinkle and pop. She risked a glance back; he had slumped against the window, the empty Gatorade bottle trapped between his body and the door.
Kate turned, blinking away tears in the darkness.
—-xxx—-