Chapter 8: Surprise All Around

Ev'ry night the tears come down from my eyes,
Ev'ry day I've done nothing but cry.
It won't be long yeah, yeah.

- 'It Won't Be Long', The Beatles (Across the Universe)

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"Attendez! I don't want to hurt you!" Regina held up both hands, the snooty look falling off her face as if it were stone dropped into the river of her skin. She looked breathless, and Reid had the feeling that she had no idea what she was doing... and that that was a dangerous thing.

"Well, great, me neither," he replied, tense.

"That was a bad way to put it," she allowed, taking his momentary silence as permission to continue. "He made a mistake. Hale, I mean. After they realized what they had done, Hale and another of the witchfinders went back to Salem, to try and right the wrong. Ever since, his descendents have dedicated their lives to watching and protecting those with the Power." Reid snorted.

"Fat lot of good your Ward has done us," he drawled, letting his body relax. He'd heard the ring of truth in her accented words. The girl folded her arms defensively.

"We've been in Europe."

"Oh, ok, then. You guys live it up in France while we-" Reid stopped abruptly, aware of how close he'd come to snapping out a sardonic description of the events that had led to his current situation.

"Well, I'm here now." He blinked at her, but the serious look didn't leave her face.

"That's fantastic. I'm leaving." Regina stepped forward, grabbing his arm. At her touch, Reid flinched away despite himself, the Other shading the back of his mind. Ahh, so it hadn't left, after all. Just sat back to enjoy the show. Her hand on his forearm was warm, solid, real. In the instant before he twisted away, Reid could actually feel her warmth seeping into his skin, could feel the tangible difference in temperature between the two of them. It made his skin crawl: how cold was he? How much of his body heat was being used to fuel his suddenly hyperpowered mind? He knew that, after using, the four of them were often tired and cold, almost sluggish, depending on how much energy they had devoted to supernatural means. But this... he hadn't even been using.

"Let me come with you."

"Excuse me?" That breathlessness was back in her expression and voice, and in that moment, she looked like nothing but an excited little kid.

"Let me help. It's obvious that something is wrong. It cannot be coincidence that I ran into you here, so far from your niche."

"My what?" Regina shook her head, waving it off. Reid spoke before she could continue her plea. "No. Hell no. I don't need your help." She put her hand on his arm again to turn him around as he ducked to get into his car, and Reid snapped his other hand over and closed it over her wrist. He removed her fingers from his arm, letting her go as soon as she was no longer touching him. Just as he was about to close his door, heavy footsteps interrupted the girl as she began, in hurried Frenglish, to speak.

"This guy bothering you, kid? Need someone to teach him his place?" It was an older man in jeans and a flannel shirt, steel-toed workboots clomping against the pavement. Reid craned his head up to look the man in the face, glancing between him and Regina. The French girl looked so surprised and put out by the interruption that it was almost comical, and Reid had to fight back a laugh.

"Non," Regina said finally. "He is my... cousin. My very dear cousin."

"If you say so," the man said amicably enough, gleaning from her flashing eyes that she didn't require any more assistance. He ambled off, and Regina bent at the waist to talk to Reid as he convulsed with helpless snickers.

"That was not-" She broke off, her mouth dropping open in shock as Reid's laughter stopped, and his convulsions turned real. Spit bubbled against his lips, his eyes rolling back as he slumped against the steering wheel. Reid's voice was silenced, his mind overflowing.

Now!

No! Stop!

You're weak. You've always been weak. Even now, letting down your guard because of what? A stupid prick who dares interfere with our business, and a fancy talking foreign bitch? You were right to turn her down; she can't help you.

Get- Shut up! I won't let you win this, you- No-

I'm so fucking sick of listening to you whine, boyo. It was funny for a while, but it's time to grow up. I'm taking over, Reid-ikins. Thought I was gone, eh? Thought I left you all by your onesies?

It was furious now, a fast stream of hate.

Well, you thought wrong. Fuck California; you won't get there alive. I will, though... Oh, yes. Kat's going there, did you know? Vicious Kat with her pretty body... You've seen that body. You've tasted her. Not like I did, though... And not like I will, either. I'll eat her right up, boyo. You'll love it.

"Help! Someone help us!" Regina looked around, searching for the man who'd offered to kick the blond boy's scrawny American ass. He was gone. The parking lot of the rest area was empty. She opened her mouth to scream again and a hand, painfully cold but strong as iron, clamped over her mouth. Reid was looking at her, his eyes a weird, horrifying mix of icy blue, hellish red and an even more terrible black. The colors swirled, visible reminders of the battle that seemed to be taking place inside the boy's skull. When he spoke, it was a guttural hiss.

"Don't get help." She stared at him, wide-eyed, uncertain. What the hell was going on? Reid choked in a breath, his chest jerking. "California," he whispered. "Gotta- California."

And then, the psychedelic swirl of colors in his eyes solidified into a dark hue of blue, a kind of compromise, and rolled back. Reid's hand fell away from her mouth, leaving an angry imprint against her skin, and the boy from Ipswich was out of commission.

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"So here's the plan," Kat murmured to herself, flexing her fingers and stretching. She was making her way towards the doors leading out of the terminal and out of the airport itself. "Mary hunted me here, in Agora. That means she must have been close, to know about me. And that means the rest of them are close, too. The coven. That must be why Reid's coming here; to find out what happened to him. So I'll find them first, and we'll figure out a way to fix this before he even gets here." Optimism at its best. She half-smiled to herself, rubbing at a nagging itch from the place where, logistically, she should have been covered with bandages: the bullet scar on her chest. The touch, which she could feel through her sweatshirt and the t-shirt she had on under it, brought a sense memory of that dream...

Fingers on her.

She shuddered, half in pleasure, half in discomfort. Despite how good that phantom touch had felt, Kat discovered that she would not be at all displeased if she never had a dream like that again. She dropped her hand from her chest, using it to straight-arm open the wide glass doors that led out into the sunny California air.

Kat looked around, her bag slung over one shoulder, taking in the sights she had left behind what seemed like a lifetime ago, when she first came to the East Coast. Agora hadn't changed a bit. Same old clear skies, same old elderly women selling hotdogs by the doors to the airport. The line of taxis idling at the curb made her remember what she'd come for, and Kat glanced at the huge new-art clock on the side of the airport's main entrance. Twenty minutes ago, she had made a call. They didn't live far, or at least, they hadn't when she'd left...

And, cue.

"Kitty! Honey, we came as soon as we heard from you." Kat bit her lip, forcing back the automatic urge to correct the woman. She turned, plastering a smile on her face, making sure that she held her bag in a way that hid the remaining bandages on her palms.

"Hi, Mom."