Chapter 33

Freed, exhausted and decidedly ill at ease, Reid crumpled shirts and tossed ripped jeans to the floor. He was at home, or at the huge old house a child had once called home. His mother was down the hall, once more ensconced in her bedroom, as if she had done her duty and was now released from all further parental obligations. As far as Reid was concerned, she was. He didn't expect anything. He had learned.

This was bad.

This whole situation was bad.

Chase had been bad. Chase had been fucking awful. But Chase had also been one of them. That catastrophe had been contained, something the Four could deal with by themselves. This… This was the law. This was murder. Sure, they could try the line about Kat having been kidnapped by Mary Harcortte, but how believable would that be? Detective Waters could testify that Kat had assaulted him, or just that she had most definitely threatened him. Mary herself was one woman, hardly capable of both kidnapping a healthy teenage girl and keeping another strong, capable young man captive. The stun gun had been destroyed in the explosion. They could hardly tell the authorities that she'd tortured them with magic.

That was another thing. The magic. The Sons of Ipswich were now officially being watched. They were under suspicion. The only way they would be able to defend themselves against charges of destruction, homicide, and hell, maybe even kidnapping, was to tell the truth. Give up the secret. But to do that was practically suicide.

In short, as Reid realized for the seventh time, there was no way out.

"Fuck!" He grabbed the heavy glass candle holder by his bed and hurled it against the wall, making a satisfying crash. Glass flew everywhere, the shattered pieces sprinkling down like deadly rain. The sound as first the base, then the outer shards hit the ground, seemed almost like something Reid could feel rather than hear. He felt an odd twist of nausea, and then-

Sitting on the bed. Feet flat on the floor. Bare feet. Cold floor. Hands in the lap, fingers limp like bits of clay. Staring at the wall. Glass. Glass everywhere. Glass on the floor. Eyes blank. Black, blank eyes, lax face. Mouth open. A slow, ominous trickle of saliva down the chin. Pathetic.

Use the power.

It's in you.

Use it.

End it.

End everything.

There's no way out. Nothing to do but… check out. This hotel's getting old. Time to check on out. You can do it, you know. You've got the power, the power to make all this… go… away…

Do it. Do it. End it all. Fucking do it, you pathetic sniveling little coward. You couldn't handle this much power anyway. Might as well use it now before you jump off a bridge and waste it all like the no-good loser you are. Always have been, always will be. You were an addict long before Mary came along. You know it's true. You never admitted it, but you know it's true. You were always bound to lose your fucking mind, and that's a fact. Look at you. Sitting here, practically comatose. The power. It's too much for you. It's always been too much. Kat? Kat doesn't know what she's gotten herself into. You'll kill her, you jackass. If you don't go to jail first.

So

Just

End-

"What the hell are you doing?" Reid blinked, the queasy feeling in his stomach not dissipating. His head was aching, and when he put a finger to his face, he found a tiny trickle of something wet. Blood? No. Spit. He swallowed, wiping his finger on his pants, and looked up. Veronica Garwin stood in the doorway, her icy eyes locked on the glass shards covering the floor by the wall. Reid, heart pounding, waved her away and slammed the door shut. He turned his back to it, sliding down the wood to sit against the closed door.

He felt like throwing up. His head was dizzy, his breathing erratic. Something had just happened. Something big. Reid tilted his head back, leaning it against the bottom panel of the door. He closed his eyes. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember. He'd… thrown the candle holder… and he'd been sitting on the bed… and… then…

And then what? When he'd looked up to see his mother, he'd been standing, hands fisted at his sides as if… as if… as if he were readying himself for something. Reid found that he was shaking, and came to another conclusion.

He was fucking terrified.

The crawling, uneasy feeling that had haunted him since his awakening in the hospital was heightened, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling on end. Something had changed. Something had… shifted.

Things had just gotten a whole lot worse.