Chapter 16, In Which Our Heroes Get Some Bad News

Reid's mind was in a bloody, dizzying spin of shock and fear, along with a good helping of fury. Kat wasn't moving. His hands, arms and lower chest were covered with blood, and he could feel more of it pumping out of Kat's chest over his palms. He pressed harder, cursing. He'd knocked out the redhead with a quick mental jab, but that was about the extent of his finesse: he knew perfectly well that he was in no way skilled enough to use in order to heal Kat, not without causing some major inner damage. When he'd fixed Sarah's car all those months ago, all it had required was a simple nudge of a part or two. That was far different than removing a bullet without ripping through another organ, knitting together flesh and muscle, replacing lost blood…

Mentally, Reid was shouting for the others. His first cry for help had been aloud, but obviously, that hadn't worked. Thank God the redhead didn't appear to have guards posted. A flutter of nerves somewhere inside him wondered why that was, but it passed with another warm wave of Kat's life on his hands.

"Shit! C'mon, Kat, don't die. Don't die on me, not now!" He bent his head towards her mouth, listening desperately for breath.

Nothing.

"Kat, you stupid bitch, wake the hell up!" Insults had always worked on her before, but they weren't working now. "Okay, please. Please be alive. See, I'm begging! Oh god, Kat," he continued, leaning almost his entire upper body weight on the wound. "Okay. Shit. Okay. I'm gonna-" Without finishing his sentence, Reid pulled off his jacket and rolled it into a tight tube-shaped pad, pressing it between Kat's breasts, right on top of the bullet hole. He shifted, bringing his knee down on the pad to keep the pressure on, and pinched Kat's nostrils shut. Lowering his head, he sealed his mouth over hers and breathed into her mouth, once, twice. Drawing back, Reid moved his knee and replaced his hands over the pad, mind racing to remember his menial CPR knowledge. Thirty short, hard pushes later, careful to avoid worsening her wound, and Reid was bending over Kat again.

If you are alone, continue CPR until paramedics arrive. If they do not arrive, after half-an-hour, there is almost no chance of resuscitation.

Forcing himself to remain as calm as possible, Reid kept breathing. He breathed for himself. He breathed for her.

There!

Wait, was that-

Yes.

Weak, soft, barely there: an inhalation. He waited, frozen, and it came again. She was breathing. Just barely, but it was there.

"That's good. Good girl," he muttered, not really knowing what he was saying as he returned to pressurizing the wound. "Come on, guys, hurry up!" Swallowing, Reid undid the buckle on his black leather belt, yanking it through the belt loops of his jeans and tearing off the chain attached to it, throwing that to the side. He slid the belt under Kat's back as gently as he could, drawing it up over her left shoulder and below her right breast. He buckled the belt over the pad, creating a diagonal strap across Kat's chest, and tightened it until the pad was held hard against the wound. Then, stripping off his unbuttoned Oxford over-shirt, Reid folded it into a make-shift pillow and stuck that under Kat's head. He didn't really know what he was doing, but he figured she'd be more comfortable with her head off the cold floor.

Then, in just his bloodstained T-shirt and jeans, Reid stalked out of the cage and over to where the redhead lay. He bent down, grabbed her by the collar of her blouse, and dragged her over to the wall. He noticed that her shirt was bloody too, and then saw the deep, vicious cuts on the inside of her forearm and wrist. They were bleeding slowly, oozing crimson, and he had to smile.

"That's my girl," Reid murmured beneath his breath. He knelt by the fallen woman, wrapping one strong, narrow hand around her throat. With another stinging nudge, he forced her back into consciousness. As soon as her eyes opened, Reid tightened his grip until she was choking. "One good reason," he snarled. He watched her gag for air with twisted pleasure before loosening his grasp just enough so she could gulp some oxygen and answer him.

She gasped for breath as soon as he loosened his hold on her, but she didn't look nearly as worried as she should have been. In fact, she was almost… smiling.

8888888888888

"This is where it came from."

"Then let's go!" Caleb held up a hand, stopping Tyler's movement towards the old house on Mitchell Street.

"Wait," he said. "Reid was calling for help. That means this isn't gonna be as simple as it looks." Pogue nodded.

"You're right," he said. "Something's not kosher here." They looked around. It was an ordinary-looking house, gray with white trimming. The lawn was unkempt, and the porch could do with some repair. The door was closed, and all the windows were shut. Two were boarded over. There was no sign of life, and no one stood guard over the house.

"I sense something, but I can't figure it out," Caleb said softly, closing his eyes. Tyler and Pogue concentrated on the house, reaching out mentally. In the car, Sarah and Kate watched the three Sons intently. Suddenly, Caleb's eyes opened. Moving swiftly, he walked up to the front gate of the house and flung out a hand. It connected with thin air and bounced back, creating the illusion of a solid wall.

"Oh shit," Tyler murmured. "She's a witch."

88888888888888

"Answer me, bitch!"

"Because," she said hoarsely, not even trying to fight him, "you can't kill me."

"Oh yeah?"

"You have-" She broke off, coughing, breathing hard, "- no choice." Soft, gurgling chuckles racked her frame as Reid's face tightened.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"No way out," she breathed. He remembered the lack of guards.

"What?"

"You will both die tomorrow," she replied. "Either let me live, and die by my ritual, or kill me…"

"And? What's so bad that'll happen if I break your miserable-"

"This building," she interrupted, talking easier now, "is protected by my coven's strongest spells. Only you were allowed to enter. I knew you would come for the girl… I knew you would come alone… and now you're both here…"

"What-"

"Don't you see?" She was definitely smiling now, a trickle of blood dribbling from her right nostril. "The ritual was always meant to be here. It's all been planned. This entire building has been prepared for it. You are standing in the middle of a spider web, boy, and the spider has been waiting for you." Gritting his teeth, Reid shook her.

"So what happens if I kill you now?" A bit of contempt came into her face and tone when she answered.

"And you call yourself a warlock… I am the key, fool, don't you understand? Without me, you cannot leave this house. No one can enter, and no one can escape. Kill me, and you're trapped here until tomorrow at noon."

"What happens at noon," Reid asked lowly, not wanting to hear the answer.

"The building will explode. If you're still alive when that happens, there will be nothing left of you. If your friends keep trying to break through my shields, as they're doing now, they will die as well."

"So you planned everything," he said slowly. "You meant for Kat to get shot, you meant for me to catch you, you meant for it all…" The redheaded witch bowed her head, looking at him slyly from beneath the tangle of her hair. The gleam in her eyes was purely triumphant.

"Check mate."