The Chaos Tree
Chapter 3
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Sam sat in his home office searching the Internet. Dinner of roast chicken and potatoes were cooking in the oven. A crisp green salad was chilling in the fridge, and frozen yogurt with berries for the top stood ready for dessert. Mary was coming for dinner and to spend the night before she went back to New York. She was wrapping up her last year of college, and had been busy with an Internship writing for NYArts Magazine. She worked mainly for the online site, but was tickled when she'd been able to co-author a piece on Tarsila do Amaral, a Brazilian artist specializing in modern interpretive art for the hard copy print. While she hadn't written the article herself, she'd done all the legwork, and was ecstatic she'd been mentioned as a contributing author. Sam was excited she was able to stop by, as he hadn't seen her for two months on his last visit to New York.
At the moment, however, he was searching national news for outbreaks of violence similar to what had happened in Baltimore and Stillwater. After all, if riots and random violence occurred in those cities, maybe there had been incidents elsewhere.
Looking for outbreaks of violence might have sounded easy, but it wasn't. It required sifting through all sorts of articles and news pieces about muggings, murders, home invasions, riots, domestic violence cases, brawls and so many other horrors to find ones even more heinous. He felt like he'd been crawling through filth. Eventually he was confident he'd identified four other locations with similar outbreaks: Ashland Wisconsin, Rockland Idaho, Anaheim California, and Houston Texas. Houston, Sam thought, and shook his head. That meant Ethan Matthews was likely in the thick of it all, and he hadn't called Dean or Caleb, as far as he knew. Dean was going to be pissed. But if Houston was in as much disarray as the news said, then maybe Ethan hadn't had time to call anyone.
Sam heard the key in the lock and smiled.
"Dad!" Mary called out, stepping inside and slamming the door.
Sam rolled his eyes. His daughter never could close a door without slamming it. Though Mary was his kid from her love of books and soccer down to the last meticulously tied shoelace, the slamming doors were all Dean. Standing, he met her in the hall and enveloped her in a warm hug. "Good to see you, Mary-belle."
"It's Mary," his daughter clarified with a laugh.
Sam grinned over her shoulder. Now he understood all the joy Dean got out of calling him Sammy growing up when he'd insisted his name was Sam. He also understood with crystal clarity all the affection that came with Sammy. "Mary," he corrected. Stepping back, he smiled down at his blonde-haired daughter.
While he looked like his father and Dean their mother, Mary had inherited a combination of her mother Lydia's looks, and Mary's, her namesake. Strong features with wide, brown eyes and his mom's blonde hair. She was beautiful.
Mary stepped back and looked at the light shining from her father's office. "Working on something?"
"Aren't I always?" Sam answered, leading the way into the kitchen. "Come on, I've got dinner almost ready. I want to hear about school, the Internship, the magazine, everything."
Mary laughed, slinging an arm around her father's waist. "How much time have you got?"
"As long as you have to give," Sam stated with a smile.
The Next Day…
Joshua pointed to a letter and said, "B."
Nicholas looked up and said slowly, "B, baby has two Bs."
Joshua nodded, smiling widely.
It had been almost a year since he and Carolyn had brought Nicholas back from Washington, and the boy was flourishing. Joshua had been giving him calcium injections, and he thought the child was filling out a little more. While still slender, he had grown two inches. Carolyn was kept busy making sure he had clothes that fit. His daughter Josie was in love with having a little brother, and had been spending a lot more time at home playing with Nicholas and helping with his studies. Even Max had been around more, talking and spending time with the child.
It was also beneficial to have Adam and Margaret nearby with Maisie and Lucas, two other children that had survived the Owl Witches.
Adam was Joshua's liaison with their coven, his body guard for years, and best friend. Though his son Ryker was to be the next Advisor to JT's Triad, Adam hadn't approved of the Brotherhood nor its members. But one year ago he'd gotten an up close and personal introduction to hunting that had changed him completely. Children had been kidnapped and held captive by witches for years, witches that had wreaked havoc on their young bodies. Adam had been asked to come and lend his expertise in potions and spell work to find a solution to whatever was warping the children's physiology on a cellular level. That trip had resulted in one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, but one that had yielded a great blessing for him and his wife; Maisie and Lucas.
Maisie's parents had been killed by the witches when she had been taken five years ago at three years old. They'd put up a fight to keep her, and had lost. When she was rescued four years later, she had few living relatives to take her. Though a maternal grandmother had wanted her, she readily acknowledged that as someone who needed to work full time, she hadn't the skills nor time required to care for a traumatized child. She'd signed the papers for adoption, asking only that Adam and Margaret allow her some contact with her granddaughter, that maybe they could visit now and again. Since Adam and Margaret took Maisie and Lucas back to Washington every month to spend time with the other kidnap survivors, they always made time for Maisie to be with her Grandmother.
Lucas had been the result of an underage pregnancy when his father was fifteen and his mother fourteen. Though devastated that their child had gone missing, the two had quickly returned to their young lives, using school and school activities as solace for their grief. No longer a couple, Lucas' mother was in her first year of college at the University of Washington studying graphic design when he'd been rescued. His father was already in Utah studying mechanical engineering at Brigham Young University. Both parents had decided the best thing for their son was a stable family who could care for his needs and give him a good home, something they wouldn't be able to do for some time to come. Doctor Etsitty from the Yakama Reservation Clinic facilitated the adoption, with Alison Daughtery of the Brotherhood making the paperwork painless and speedy. Only the mother had asked if Adam and Margaret could keep her updated yearly with pictures of her son.
Joshua had arranged for a tutor specializing in childhood trauma to home school Nicholas, Maisie and Lucas at his house four days a week. On Fridays, the children were taken to a local park to play so they could become acclimated to other kids and find out what playing was all about. This activity was easier for Lucas, as he'd only been in captivity for a year and a half. He remembered playing with other children, and adapted quickly. Maisie and Nicholas were another matter. They'd been taken at such a young age, and been held captive for around four years. They didn't remember playing and had a hard time understanding why they would climb on monkey bars or teeter-totters or merry-go-rounds. One playground item both had taken to, however, was the swing. If Joshua let him, Nicholas would spend hours swinging higher and higher, his blond head tilted back, allowing the wind to run invisible fingers through his hair. Joshua knew why Nicholas loved the swing set so much – he loved it because he was free. The swing gave him the illusion he was flying through the air, the sun on his face, the wind all around. It was the complete opposite of being held captive in a cave so dark you couldn't see your hands, caged and lying in the filth, mud and dirt. And as far as he was concerned, Nicholas could swing for as long as his heart desired … or until Carolyn insisted they come home for dinner.
Nicholas needed to see Dean at least a couple times a week as well. If he didn't, he'd look at Joshua with huge blue eyes and murmur, "Back?" Joshua and Dean were the constants in Nicholas' life. They'd rescued him and been the first two people he'd connected with. He needed them. Dean made it a point to have lunch at Joshua's every Tuesday, and at some other point or two during the week Joshua and Dean made sure they got together. Dean also made sure Nicholas got to see Ben's children Mac and Lisa Anne at least once a month, even if he and Joshua drove the two hours to Nashville to get it done. Mac and Nicholas got along like a house on fire, and Dean could see them becoming best friends as they grew up. He was already hinting to Ben that he might consider transferring to UK Chandler Hospital in Lexington. It would put the small family an hour's drive closer to New Haven.
Joshua pointed to another letter.
"D," Nicholas said. "Dog." Frowning, he asked slowly, "What is dog?"
"A dog is something I'm going to take you to see today," Joshua said with a smile. "Or more specifically, a puppy."
Nicholas thought for a moment, then said, "P."
"Very good," Joshua praised.
"Park," Nicholas added.
Joshua grinned. "Well done. Are you ready to see a puppy?" Nicholas nodded, though he was certain the child had no idea what a puppy was. "Then let's go, shall we?" Joshua scooped up Nicholas in his arms, smiling at the soft giggle that resulted from the action. "Let's go to the pet store."
An hour later they were walking through an humane shelter's puppy section. There were several other people looking to adopt puppies, and the crowds of milling people were making Nicholas nervous. Quickly Joshua backed out and went to the front counter. "May I speak with the manager, please?"
The girl behind the counter stared a moment, before nodding. She disappeared through a back door, and when she came back, an older man with a scruffy face followed.
"Can I help you?" the man asked.
Joshua held Nicholas while he quickly explained the situation.
The man looked at the child, then nodded as a slow smile crossed his face. "See that door behind you? Go inside and wait."
Joshua nodded. "Thank you." Quickly he carried Nicholas through the door into a small room that contained one batter wooden chair. He sat down and shifted the child so he was on his knee. "There were a lot of people looking at the puppies, weren't there?"
Nicholas lifted his head from Joshua shoulder. "Puppies?" he murmured.
Joshua smiled and rubbed his hand soothingly back and forth across the child's back. "Soon."
Twenty minutes later the door opened, and four people entered carrying two heavy boxes.
The manager smiled and said, "The other customers weren't too happy about our carting off several animals, but I think this little guy is worth the effort." Opening the loosely interlocked corners of one large box, he reached in and pulled out two squirming balls of fur and set them on the floor.
Joshua watched as Nicholas tilted his head, frowning. Slowly he lowered the boy to the ground and smiled as the two puppies came over to investigate this new play-thing.
By the time the manager and his team had unloaded the two boxes, there were eight puppies yapping and snuffling and crawling around on the floor.
"I'll leave you to it," the man said, and he closed the door.
A smile was slowly crossing Nicholas' face as he touched the small balls of fluff. Gingerly he sat on the ground, and the puppies had a field day crawling onto his lap, little paws scraping at his shirt, small, wet tongues licking his face. Giggles erupted from his throat as he tried to hold all the small, squirming bodies.
Joshua laughed, and despite his head's admonishment, his heart had him lowering himself to the floor near his son. Together, they spent a wonderful twenty minutes petting and playing with the litter of puppies. Finally, Joshua couldn't take the cold, hard floor anymore, and he groaned softly as he pushed himself back up to sit in the rickety chair. Nicholas quickly abandoned the puppies to help Joshua sit. Smiling, he asked, "Which puppy do you like best?"
Nicholas frowned at the question, then looked down at the mass of writhing fur jumping at his legs and nipping at his shoes. A couple of puppies where playing together, rolling on the tiled floor.
Joshua leaned forward. "You can have one," he said, holding up one finger.
Nicholas looked down, and his lips trembled. Suddenly large tears started rolling down his face, and instantly Joshua's heart sank. He could have kicked himself for his heartlessness. Picking out a puppy was such a simple thing for any other child, but for Nicholas, it would be impossible to leave anyone behind. The puppies had been brought to the room in a dark box and set free; they were like the other children kidnapped by the witches, and he couldn't fathom rescuing only one. Quickly Joshua pulled the distraught child to his chest and desperately tried to figure a way out of his blunder. Just then the door opened, and the manager looked in. His eyes widened as he took in the sobbing child.
Joshua suddenly had an idea. "Could you bring in the others wanting to adopt a puppy? He needs to see that all the puppies will have good homes, not just one."
Understanding crossed the manager's face and he quickly shut the door. Seven minutes later it reopened to other families with children. The squealing of delighted kids had Nicholas turning around.
While it wasn't a big room, it was large enough for six other children to crowd in and start playing with the puppies.
Nicholas sniffed and leaned back into Joshua's chest as he watched. One child held up a black puppy with white spots. His mother smiled and nodded, and they left the room, puppy in tow. Another young girl picked up a brown puppy with golden face markings. She left with that one licking her face all over. Soon there were only two puppies left in the room; a floppy-eared beagle puppy and a solid black Labrador puppy. Both took the opportunity to crawl on Nicholas' shoes and attack his laces.
Joshua sighed. If no one else was around today, it looked like he was taking two puppies home instead of one.
The manager appeared in the doorway, a look of sympathy on his face. "I'm sorry, those were the only families left for dogs."
Joshua nodded. "Well, never leave a man behind," he said.
The manager chuckled softly and shook his head. "You sure you want both?"
"It wasn't what I had intended, but I don't think we're leaving one, are we Nicholas?"
Nicholas rose with the two puppies in his arms, both licking the tears from his cheeks as they scampered to get closer to his face. "Back," he whispered.
Joshua nodded, slowly taking one of the puppies in his arms. "Back," he confirmed. Maybe they could leave one at Dean's house. The man was always taking in strays. Rising, he clasped Nicholas' small hand in his and said, "We'll take these two."
The manager studied Nicholas' serious face, then nodded. Leaning down, he said, "Thank you for giving these puppies a good home. You'll take good care of them, won't you?"
Nicholas gave the man a solemn nod.
"That's all I want." Rising, he said to Joshua, "The papers are at the front desk. No charge."
Startled, Joshua began to protest, but the manager shook his head. "The thing I want most in the world is for these puppies to find loving owners." He looked down at Nicholas. "I've never been more certain of that than I am today." With a nod, he walked out of the small room to ready the paperwork and gather some food for the puppies.
Sitting back down for a moment, Joshua turned Nicholas toward him. "I'm sorry I asked you to choose only one." The boy had come a long way in understanding the words spoken to him, but sometimes the concepts were beyond his experience to comprehend. But Joshua had unintentionally hurt Nicholas today, and he felt horrible.
Nicholas slowly lifted a hand and touched Joshua's cheek. Then, tucking his arm around his adoptive father's neck, he leaned in and gave Joshua a hug. The puppy squirming in his other arm snuffled and climbed closer, wanting in on the action. Nicholas gave Joshua a sweet smile and said, "Home."
Joshua nodded. He put the puppy he was holding into Nicholas' hands, then lifted all three into his arms. "Back," he murmured into his child's ear. Kissing Nicholas' forehead, he said again, "Back."
Sam leaned over his computer, typing another line into the search engine before leaning back in his desk chair perusing the results.
After finding additional cities with massive outbreaks of violence last night, the next logical step had been to see if anything like this had happened before. If it had, maybe history could tell them how to stop it from happening again. After turning his two afternoon classes over to his teaching assistant, he'd spent the afternoon in his office searching the Internet for past violent outbreaks in the United States. It was difficult, as he needed to carefully weigh what happened during the turbulent time when angels and demons were fighting to bring about the Apocalypse. The Horsemen had unleashed several bouts of violence, which had all been heavily covered in the media. Carefully he stepped over that period and went further back.
After researching through US and Colonial history, he moved into Europe. Four hours later he was yawning and drinking his fourth cup of coffee. His stomach was protesting the lack of sustenance, and he reached into his desk for a power bar. Standing, he munched on the food and stretched. He wanted to call Alison Daughtery, head of Research for the Brotherhood, but decided to check a couple more sources before that happened. Grabbing his jacket, he'd left his office and walked across the campus to the Ancient and Medieval Studies Reading Room.
While many ancient texts were already translated and available online, some of the oldest texts with only a copy or two in existence, still needed to be read in person. Now, he was sitting at one of the large tables in the reading room, checking back through a couple books that were dated near two hundred anno domini. Sighing, he lifted another page with his gloved hand. While he loved books, after having information at his fingertips though the Internet, searching through ancient tombs wearing a pair of gloves was somewhat tedious.
Leaning over the heavy tomb, he read a bit, then checked the translation cipher at his side. It was times like this that he especially missed Bobby. The man could read and speak more languages than anyone Sam had ever known. Even to this day, he'd be working on a piece of research and find himself reaching for the phone to call and ask Bobby a question before realizing he wasn't around any longer.
Groaning softly, he pushed back in the chair and massaged his neck to forestall a burgeoning headache. There was just too much to look into. He couldn't search all the rare books in all Universities; it would be like looking through a hay stack for a needle. Bobby's library was amazing, but he wasn't sure a trip to South Dakota was worth taking during the middle of the school term, especially when all he and Dean had were Diana Ballard's hunches and Donna Hanscum's suspicions. So far he'd researched the United Stated back as far as back as possible. The indigenous peoples of America would have oral records of their history, and that would require bringing in maybe Adam or Onida. He wasn't ready to take that step. His research trail through European history had gone as far back as two hundred AD. There was just too much to cover. Time to bring in reinforcements.
Closing the book on the desk, he pulled off his gloves and walked out of the Reading Room. Passing the librarian sitting at the counter, he said, "Thank you."
"No problem, Professor Winchester. Anytime."
Sam smiled and nodded. He walked out of the huge library. Once outside, he pulled out his cell. It was time to call Alison Daughtery. She was prickly, opinionated, and ran the research division like it was her own kingdom. Without Bobby, if anyone could help and keep a confidence, it was her.
"Daughtery."
"Alison, its Sam."
"Yup, it's your name on the cell screen."
Alison sounded distracted and unusually curt.
"Are you working on something you can't break way from?"
The question got Alison's attention. "I can reassign. What's up?"
"Are you somewhere private?"
There were a couple moments of silence on the connection where Sam heard the clip-clop of Alison's no-nonsense shoes before she said, "Yes."
Sam nodded. "Okay, I'm working on a problem and I need some help. The search parameters are wide, like the entire world wide. For the moment, this needs to be kept between you and me. I don't know if there's anything here, and I don't want to start a panic."
"Dean and Caleb?"
"Dean knows." It would have been futile for Sam to ask Alison to keep anything from Dean. When the Guardian had presented the research staff with Brotherhood rings, he'd won Alison's undying loyalty and allegiance. "I'll fill Caleb in when we're finished."
"Good. Shoot."
Sam told her about the incidents of extreme violence that had happened in certain places across the country, and the unusual nature of their cessation.
"The violence just stopped? Abruptly?" Alison asked.
Sam could hear her typing, and figured she was in her office on her locked computer.
"As Jody said, like someone flipped a light switch."
"Hold on…." Alison said. There was more typing, and after a long minute, she said, "Marlene and Syrus Walthrope reported something like this near Kennebunkport, Maine four months ago."
Marlene and Syrus were one of the few married couples that hunted for the Brotherhood. Their two children had been taken by Changlings and never returned. In their search for their missing kids, the Walthropes had come across Caleb and the Brotherhood. With Caleb's help, they'd found out what had taken their children. They'd gone in with Caleb and Max and killed it.
Later, the couple sold their home, stored most of their possessions and went to Dean to hunt full time. Dean had insisted they get training and take a year to make sure this was a course they wanted to take. After working closely with Jackson, Steve, Mark and Jody at Bobby's, and training under Max's tutelage - supervised by Caleb - they had still chosen to hunt. Though reluctant, Dean agreed. After all, considering his own background, who was he to dictate how others should grieve? Dean gave them the Brotherhood credit card, cell phones loaded with Brotherhood contacts, and a satellite phone. For their protection and in case backup was needed, they were to keep Caleb and Alison in the loop on their hunts. Dean only asked that they be willing to take hunts for the Brotherhood if they were needed and available.
"Tell me," Sam stated.
"They were working on a haunting, had tracked down the ghost and were driving to the graveyard to salt and burn when suddenly their car was surrounded by people with baseball bats, axes, even guns. The people were attacking one another as much as them. They stayed in their car and kept moving, crawling more like it as they were trying not to run anyone over. Then suddenly, everything just stopped. The people stood around for a moment, staring at each before the just walked away."
"That's weird."
"Since the town of Kennebunkport has a small population, I wondered if it might have been a test case for mind control. Rather like subliminal brain washing, maybe mass hypnosis."
"Government?"
"Like they're organized enough for that," Alison scoffed. "I'd say a private corporation."
Sam frowned thoughtfully. "Mind control either subliminally or via a drug like Scopolamine or T. gondii wouldn't work on a larger scale, like the population of Houston."
"Toxoplasma gondii hasn't been proven to work on humans at all, at least, not like that," Alison stated. "It usually results in neurological disorders or schizophrenia."
"Exactly. That's why I'm looking for something else."
"Something supernatural, magical or cursed," Alison supplied.
"Exactly. We've got three cities with small populations going ballistic, then three major cities. The cops are unable to link the violence to any riots, gang wars, drug wars or political activism. Drugs or subliminal coercion might work on smaller populations, but populations as large as Houston? There are over two million people living there, and the violence has been spread out across the city."
"So, how far have you gotten?"
Sam blew out a controlled breath. "I've searched the US and European historical records back through two hundred anno domini. I haven't even touched the rest of the world."
"All right. You want no one else in on this at this time..."
"I don't know," Sam sighed. "It feels like I should be keeping this on the lowdown, but I'm not sure why."
There was silence for a moment, then Alison said, "All right, but may I suggest bringing in Elijah Matthews. As a Professor of Ancient Studies, he's got a lot of ancient history connections. If this craziness happened in Houston, he's probably all ready on it. Ethan would have called him."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I'll give him a call in the morning"
"Until then, I'll take the world up through two hundred anno domini. I've got the resources and the connections to check back further than you. You've got the world from two hundred on to modernity. Let me know how we proceed once you talk with Elijah."
Sam stared down at the dead phone. Alison never was big on goodbyes.
Ben walked down the halls of University Medical Center, frowning. He'd gone off duty a few hours ago, but instead of heading home he'd been working on a problem. As head of the Brotherhood Medical Network, he was privy to a lot of casual hunter talk. When hunters communicated with his father or uncles, it was reporting. When they talked in front of Ben or other doctors it was casual, and therefore at times more informative. Over the last couple of months he and a few other doctors in the network had heard talk about quirky occurrences in the field. It wasn't particularly serious, just informal reflections on their hunt; a person acting oddly, creatures exhibiting some unusual behavior. In fact, most of what was said Ben had merely chuckled over and forgotten until Doctor Rachel Bernard from Washington had called.
Rachel's parents had been attacked by something called a Mynoghra, a succubus type creature with tentacles in place of hair. Usually a dweller of the higher mountainous elevations, a harsh winter had drawn it downward into the lower ranges where Rachel's parents lived amongst a small community of neighbors. People began dying, and Rachel was concerned for her parents in the wake of the deaths. She had been visiting when Ashley and Nathan Bernard were nearly killed, and she saw the Mynoghra with her own eyes. When two hunters burst through the door and killed the creature, her shock had reached new heights. After she'd recovered, she knew she wanted to help.
"Hey Rachel, what's up?" Ben had asked.
There was silence for a moment before Rachel spoke. "I've heard some … odd things and wondered if you had too."
"What kind of things?"
"You know Jack Sloe?"
"Yeah, forty-ish, hunts mainly in your neck of the woods," Ben supplied.
"Well, he got slashed on the leg hunting in Vancouver, and when he came through Seattle he stopped so I could take a quick look. He said the black dog he was hunting hurt his leg, then pulled him into his cave, keeping him warm and fed until the leg healed enough so he could walk on it. Then he hiked out of there."
Ben chuckled. "And you believed that?"
"No, smartass," Rachel retorted. "I asked him what he'd been drinking. But for the last few months, I've heard other stories too. Hunters getting attacked by townspeople, creatures acting weird; Frank Wetzel said he went into one small town to take care of a ghoul, and the hotel manager comped him a room, and the sheriff insisted he eat at the local diner for free his entire stay."
"Okay, that's weird."
"The first few times I heard this stuff, I just laughed, or thought lucky bastard. But after a while, it all adds up, you know?"
Ben didn't immediately respond. For the last few months he'd been hearing talk as well, about quirky stuff happening in the field. He hadn't thought much of it, but maybe he should have paid more attention.
"Ben…?"
"Oh, sorry," Ben said quickly. "Yeah, I've heard a few stories as well. I guess I just didn't think much about it."
Rachel sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't have called. I know I'm still new to all this … this world of weird, so maybe I'm reading more into these stories than I should."
"And maybe I'm so used to all this world of weird that I'm not paying closer attention," Ben stated, frowning.
Rachel gave a laugh. "Let's meet in the middle. I'll become a little less paranoid, and you see if anyone else in the network has heard of creepy monsters give aide to the enemy."
"Deal."
Since that call, Ben had discreetly asked other members of the medical network if they'd heard odd stories. He didn't know if he should be gratified or alarmed when many had an odd tale or two to pass on. After jotting down several instances of unusual behavior, he was thinking about sending it off to his father when he received an air express package from Riley. The short note inside said that the Vetalas had acted very aggressively, which was very out of character, and could Ben examine the blood sample for foreign antibodies or antigens.
Conducting tests on unlogged blood in a hospital setting wasn't easy. Ben had to do all the work on the sly; after hours and on Sundays. He was very thorough, even to checking for abnormal adrenalin residue in the blood and for potion conduits used for spell work. Aside from a slight warping of the white blood cells – which may have been normal for a Vetala – he found nothing. But the Vetalas were just one more incident of creatures acting out of character. Gathering his notes and test results, his rose and headed for his office. Glancing at his watch, he grimaced. Maya would expect him soon, though he was sure Mac and Lisa Anne were already in bed. He'd missed saying good night to his children, and he hated that. Through the years he'd lived with his father, he'd observed the effort Dean made to be there for him and his brothers; to being there or at least calling to say goodnight. He'd missed saying goodnight for perhaps the first time. There wouldn't be another miss, he'd make sure of it.
"You off, Winchester?"
Ben looked up and smiled at Doctor Phillips, a young woman just off her first residency. "Going home in a bit. You're on till eleven, right?"
Phillips nodded. "It's been a long night. Cops must have been working overtime to quell all the riots." Shaking her head, she muttered, "Sports fanatics."
Ben chuckled. "It's definitely been a crazy night." Nodding once, he said, "See you later," and continued on to his office.
Once behind the privacy of the door, he lay the folders down. Pulling out his phone, he texted Maya and let her know he'd be home within the hour. Then he searched in his contacts for Riley's number. After a moment, the hunter picked up. "Riley," Ben said with a smile. "Got the results of your blood test."
"Anything I should worry about?" Riley asked.
"No. I checked for everything including high adrenalin count, foreign bodies in the blood stream, and spell conduits. Other than a slight warping in the white blood cells, everything looked normal."
"What about the warping in the white blood cells?"
"It's only a slight warping, and without anything to compare it to, I don't know if that's normal for Vetalas or not."
Riley sighed. "Damn. I was hoping for something weird."
"Tell me again about the hunt," Ben asked.
"You know how Vetalas work. They sedate their victims then feed off them for a few days until the victim dies. They're not very aggressive, though they will defend their food. And they usually hunt only in pairs. There were six Vetalas killing their victims outright, then eating and fighting as though they were on steroids. It was a mess."
"Yeah," Ben sighed. "I got a call from some young man named Hunter. He wanted to talk."
"He and his girlfriend survived. How did the talk go?"
"I told him about my experience with the Changlings growing up, and how dad saved me. My mom didn't really take us to therapy, but we talked a lot about what happened. I told him to talk to his girlfriend, for them not to clam up or drift apart during the next few months. Being near one another will be bad and good. Bad, in that it will remind them of their trauma, and good because they can share it. Most people try to get away from anything that will remind them of a bad time. I urged him not to let that happen, and to have her call me if she needs to talk to someone else. I gave him the number of a counselor near his home, and let Doctor Michaels know he might be calling."
"Doesn't get better than that," Riley stated.
"Anything else out of the ordinary happen?"
"Not yet, but I'm keeping my eyes open."
When they hung up, Ben looked at his notes. With a sigh, he began organizing them in an orderly and succinct manner so his father could read them quickly. After scanning them into his hard drive, he opened his email. One thing that stood out was that the violence hunters were describing didn't seem organic. There was no impetus, no inciting factor; in most cases someone just turned and wacked someone for no discernable reason. There was an arbitrariness to it that bothered him. Most acts of violence, while seemingly indiscriminate, usually had an impetuous of some sort.
After he'd finished writing the email, he attached his notes and hit send. Yet instead of rising, he merely stared at his cell until he finally picked it up. Hitting speed dial two, he waited for only two rings before he smiled. "Dad…"
Dean was stacking plates in the sink when his phone went off.
"You know, I think you time those calls so you never have to do the dishes," Juliet remarked.
"Babe, you know I'd never do that," Dean protested, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"Don't try that charm on me," Juliet warned. "If I'd do it, so would you."
Dean laughed out loud and went to get his cell from his jacket pocket. When he saw who it was, he quickly answered. "Ben, you all right? Maya? The kids?"
Juliet dropped her washcloth and hurried over.
"Dad, I'm all right," Ben rushed to assured his father and Juliet, whom he knew was standing right by his father's shoulder. "Everyone's all right. That's not why I'm calling."
Dean nodded to Juliet, who sighed and went back to the sink.
"Do you have a second?"
"Sure," Dean said, walking out into the living room. "What's up?"
"I've come across something … weird."
"Yeah? Tell me about it."
Half an hour later Dean walked back into the kitchen, frowning.
Juliet looked up from the cup of coffee she'd been nursing. "Is Ben all right?" She pushed a cup toward him.
Dean nodded and sat down. "He told about some unsettling instances of violence he's been hearing about through the hunter grapevine." After a sip from his mug, he continued, "Thing is, Sam called about the same thing this morning, and so did Diana Ballard."
Juliet's forehead creased in thought. "Ballard … you told me about her, from Baltimore, right?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"Seems there might be an epidemic of violence sweeping across the country."
"Is that a thing?" Juliet asked. "I mean, there's always violence."
Dean gave a small smile. "This is different. It starts spontaneously and ends abruptly. Ben said he heard about the violence from other hunters, Sam said Jody called him from Sioux Falls, said Donna Hanscum had something like it happened in Stillwater. Then Diana calls from Baltimore." Knowing Juliet didn't want to know details about the Brotherhood, he gave her a very cursory run down of their concerns. "Why didn't I see any of this? I used to be able to watch the news, look at a newspaper and just know there was a hunt." He shook his head in disgust. "I'm getting rusty, that's what."
Juliet worked hard to force the smile from her face. So conscientious, so dedicated, so hard on himself; that was her man. "So," she said, "you're jealous that your son saw something you didn't?"
Dean's head jerked up. "What?"
"Sounds to me like your jealous Ben put together some idle talk from hunters, and you didn't."
"I'd never be jealous of Ben, or any of the kids," Dean stated, looking offended. "But I have a responsibility as the Guardian to keep my eyes open for evil. I didn't do that."
Juliet got up and walked around the table. Sitting down beside Dean, she said, "You can't see everything, everywhere, all the time. You're only one man." She rarely spoke about Dean's role as the Guardian of the Brotherhood. However, in this rare moment, she spoke candidly. "That's why you're the Guardian of the Brotherhood, not just the Guardian. There's an entire organization of people out there that work to fight bad things in the world. You're not always going to be first to the plate, Champ. Sometimes Sam calls you about a job, sometimes Caleb calls. Sometimes its Alison or Joshua. I think you're upset that Ben, who's a doctor, called." Rubbing a hand against Dean's back, she continued, "But Ben is in a rare position. As the head of the medical arm of the Brotherhood, he talks to and treats a lot of Brotherhood members from all across the country. They talk. It looks like here, there was enough idle talk that Ben got curious. That's all."
Dean nodded. Juliet made several good points. He wasn't the sole person responsible for finding hunts for the Brotherhood. But he had always watched the television, read the papers, scanned the Internet for news about what was happening. After growing up looking for hunts in the newspapers, he and Sam were both experts at sleuthing out weirdness. But over the last several months he hadn't been quite as vigilant, and he knew why; Pastor Jim. Almost a year ago he'd had his first dream with Pastor Jim since before he'd gone to Hell. During that dream, all the Guardians throughout history had been there and told him he'd done good. That had been the most healing, the most cathartic experience he'd ever had, and he'd let that go to his head. He'd relaxed, let that absolution, if you will, go to his head. And that needed to stop.
Smiling at Juliet, he said, "You're right. But I think I'll call Sam, see what he's come up with. I'll be right back."
Juliet watched Dean walk back out of the kitchen, frowning. She knew him and knew a dodge when she saw it. Despite her reasoning, he'd come to some sort of conclusion that he was at fault in all this. In truth, she'd never known anyone as dedicated, loyal, hard-working and selfless as Dean Winchester. That he always thought that somehow wasn't enough broke her heart, and made her more determined than ever to love him with every ounce of her being.
Standing, she went to their bedroom to get her own phone. Dean would be on the call with Sam for awhile, and she needed some backup of her own. There was someone who understood Dean and his psyche even better than her, who had watched out for him far longer and was her favorite confidant when Dean came to a wrong conclusion as to his perceived failings. She needed to talk to Caleb.
Arizona was a hot and dusty place, and JT thought he had dust everywhere, on everything and in places he'd rather not think about. While the East coast may have been more humid, it certainly wasn't this dusty. But he was glad he'd accepted the assignment, because Supai was beautiful.
Lifestyle Magazine had contacted him four months ago and asked him to be their photographer for an upcoming series of five articles featuring remote and interesting places across the country. At first he'd turned them down. A five article feature was a long undertaking, and he didn't want to be tied up if an important hunt came around. However, when his father found out, he'd convinced JT to question the magazine further on the time frame for the photo shoots. When he had, the magazine had been open to doing the shoots on his schedule. That led to his taking on the commission. And now he was standing in Supai, Arizona.
Supai was the only town in the world where mail was still delivered from the back of a mule. The only way to get into the small hamlet was by horseback or helicopter. Since JT needed his equipment, the magazine had flown him in. Once there, he'd checked in to the Havasupai Lodge, the sole place for visitors to stay while exploring the area. Despite the lack of amenities, the lodge was surprisingly comfortable and tranquil, and JT had relaxed the moment he checked in.
The last year after the hunt in Washington had been rough. Though the current Triad showed no signs of stepping down soon, it was obvious Caleb was training Max to step in as Knight, and getting other hunters used to the idea. The Knight had been turning more strategic hunts over to Max, or taking Max with him but letting his protégé run the hunt. His own father had sent him on hunts he would normally have taken. He'd even brought in JT on Guardian business, introducing him to aspects of being the Guardian he hadn't known about before. And of course, Sam along with Onida and Joshua were working with James to develop his clairvoyant skills. But more than that, Sam was having James liaise more often with the research arm of the Brotherhood. It was all leading to their officially taking over the Brotherhood as the next Triad, and while he was excited about the move, he was also nervous and unsure of whether he was ready for his father to step down. Maybe his father was aware of his emotions, and that was why he'd suggested JT reconsider taking this commission.
Supai had been refreshing for his soul. The lodge was amazingly comfortable, and though he had no cell service, he could communicate with Max, James, Ryker or his parents via his satellite phone if the need arose. The population of two hundred and thirty people were ninety-nine percent native American, and their guide had taken him to photograph some of the most spectacular spots in Supai. Red rock cliffs, scrub brush and low trees, capturing years of history in the sedentary layers of the cliffs, there was so much to see. But by far his favorite spot was the Havasu Falls. Water in a desert falling graceful down into a tranquil pool… He'd wanted to stay. He and his guide had eaten lunch near the pool, then laughing like a couple of kids they went swimming in nature's bathing suit. He was glad it wasn't tourist season!
After two days of hiking, walking and swimming, he was tired but relaxed. Two more days of work, and a helicopter would be coming to take him back home. It would be hard to leave this pocket of tranquility. Picking up his favorite camera, he loaded it into its leather bag and placed it in his case beside the others, ready for his last day on the job. Clean clothes hung over the back of a chair, while his duffel was already packed with most of his dirty clothes. Once he'd showered, his current soiled garb would join the others, ready for a good washing once he got back to North Carolina. Pulling off his shirt, he was just about to head for the shower when his phone rang.
Retrieving his satellite phone from his equipment bag, JT said, "Hello…"
"I'm glad you're there."
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah," James sighed, all of a sudden wondering if he should have called at all.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
The familiar questions from his big brother settled James in a way nothing else could. "I'm fine, great," he said. "When are you coming back to civilization?"
JT smiled, sitting down on the bed. He wasn't fooled by James' answer. His brother needed to talk. "The helicopter is coming to pick me up in two days."
"How is it?"
"Beautiful," JT said truthfully. "I wish you could be here. You … well, you wouldn't have loved it, but you might have liked it."
James laughed. "Yeah, nature isn't my favorite thing. Give me the smog-filled city any day."
JT chucked. "So, what's up?"
James hesitating for a moment before saying, "Max and I got back from a hunt."
"The shapeshifter, right?"
"Yeah." James swallowed. "Uh, we tracked it down to its hidey hole in the tunnels, then … it just gave up and we killed it."
JT frowned. "What?"
James blew out a growl of frustration. "The thing just gives up! Who does that? It's supposed to fight to the death! He'd killed his last victim and already had someone else waiting to switch in to, and he just turns around and says to me and Max, fine, just do it." James' voice caught slightly. "It felt … it felt…"
"Like murder," JT stated quietly. He knew his brother, after all.
There was a moment of silence, then James' breath whooshed out. "Yeah," he admitted softly.
"It wasn't."
"I know that," James stated, his voice rising again. "It was a shapeshifter. They kill people; they rob and murder and commit crimes while wearing other people's faces. But to have him just turn around and say that, to just tell us to get on with it … it felt like we were executing somebody, not fighting for justice, you know?"
JT nodded, frowning. "Do you know why he said that? Was there no other way out of the tunnel?"
"There was a side corridor he could have ducked in to. We would have followed and the result would have been the same, but monsters don't just give up!"
"Was he on something?"
James blinked. "What?"
"Was the shapeshifter on something, was he under a spell, was he taking drugs? Did you get a blood sample?"
Frowning, James said, "Oh … no."
"So, something odd happens, a creature acts way out of character, and you don't get a blood sample?"
"We'd just killed a shapeshifter in cold blood," James defended irritably. "We didn't think blood sample."
JT smiled, glad to hear the indignation in his brother's voice. "Then next time you will … if this ever happens again."
James sighed on a laugh. "Yeah, I suppose." After a second, he asked, "You going to be back for the barbeque?"
"I don't know. I'm leaving Saturday morning, but don't know that it's feasible to fly into Louisville and come to the house."
"Try," James urged softly. "We can stay over for Sunday, then stop in New York before you head home to finish your spread."
"I'll try to get back to the farm, but New York is definitely on," JT said. "See you soon."
When he hung up, JT held the phone a contemplative moment before sliding it back into his equipment bag. Monsters fought; it's what they did. So he could understand James getting wigged out that the shapeshifter had merely given up. In all his time hunting, he'd never heard of such a thing. He'd forgotten to ask his brother if he'd told their father. Maybe once he was out of Supai, he would call dad himself.
Sighing, he rose and took his neglected shower, then got into bed. Shifting onto his back, he sighed and relaxed. Could he get to the farm in time for the barbeque? Arizona was three hours ahead of Louisville and New Haven. Feasibly he could get back by dinner. Rolling onto his side, he smiled. Maybe Uncle Caleb could send the Ames jet to fly him back. Something was up. He'd heard it in his brother's voice. Maybe a ride on his godfather's Hawker was just what he needed.
TBC