When the Cradle Falls
Chapter Fifty-Two: Heavy Effects
One Month Later
A young woman approached her car, parked near an abandoned train bridge. As she turned to unlock her car, she saw the reflection of a person standing behind her. Turning, she said, "It's rude to sneak up on people."
Opposite her, a black man stood. "Bela Talbot."
Bela smiled, skillfully hiding her shock. "You have me at a disadvantage. I don't know who you are." She didn't know if that had ever happened.
"Gordon Walker." He held out a hand.
Bela didn't take it. "I've heard of you. Heard you were in prison," she said, conversationally.
"Got out."
"Released early on good behavior?" She teased, reaching for the door handle, to retrieve something from the backseat.
"Looking for this?" Bela turned to watch Gordon remove the clip from her gun, letting it clatter to the ground. He pocketed the gun. "I know you were in Massachusetts, and I know you were with the Winchester boys. Tell me where they are."
It was true Bela had crossed paths with the hunting family recently. But she just shrugged, and said she didn't know. Perhaps if he offered a better incentive…
"You don't, huh?" Bela could see the calm facade Gordon was sporting started to crack, especially now that he had a larger handgun pointed at her face. "Why don't you think a little harder?"
"What's so pressing about finding the boys, anyway?"
"Sam Winchester's the antichrist."
"Mmm. I heard something like that."
"And there have been whispers that Noah Winchester is also another Rosemary's baby," Gordon added.
"Hmm," Bela said.
"It's true."
"From the mouth of my good friend the Easter Bunny, who heard it from the Tooth Fairy. Are you off your meds?"
Not liking how flippant she was, Gordon took a step towards her. "The world hangs in the balance. So you go ahead and be a smart ass, but if you don't tell me where they are, I'll shoot."
"What are you planning on doing with them?" Bela asked.
"'When I said that world hangs in the balance…'"
She nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But a kid?"
Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're secretly precious about children."
Bela shrugged. "I'm not."
Gordon didn't seem to fully believe her.
"Gordon, I know you and I don't know each other very well, so let me tell you a little something about me. I don't respond well to threats. But you make me an offer, and I think you'll find me highly cooperative."
Gordon didn't seem to fully believe her. "How about you tell me where they are right now, or I'll kill you."
"Go ahead. Kill me. Good luck finding Sam and Dean."
Grunting, Gordon dropped the gun. "I can wrangle up three grand."
"Darling, I don't get out of bed for anything less than ten grand." Something hanging from Gordon's belt suddenly caught her eye.
A hex bag.
"Scratch that. Give me the mojo bag, and we'll call it even."
Gordon's eyes widened. "Oh hell no. This thing's over a century old. It's-"
"Priceless. Believe me. I know. Now how badly do you want the Winchesters?"
Conceding, Gordon unclipped the bag and tossed it to her. "Your turn."
Nodding, she pulled out her phone and called a number. "Hello, Dean. Hey, where are you?"
Over the course of the month, and several other hunts they had gone on, Cara and Noah were slowly becoming more invovled in cases. Still, they couldn't go with their uncle or dad very often when they were dressing up like federal agents.
Their current case had been a little different. They were hunting a nest of vampires. The brothers had only been aware that vampires were still active right before their father had died. Vampires were pretty nasty, and with their lack of experience, the kids were kept where the action wasn't happening. If Sam and Dean were interrogating a vampire in the hotel room, then Cara and Noah were waiting in the car. If Sam and Dean were going to check out the club, where there was lots of activity, the kids were back at the motel room.
This particular motel room was exceptionally shitty. The places they stayed were never fancy by any means, but with the bare mattresses stood up blocking the walls, the peeling yellow wallpaper, and moldy carpets, it really seemed like they were squatting in a hovel than staying in a room that they paid for-illegally, but still paid for.
Not only that, but since all of the mattresses-if it was amazing how many were in the room-were propped up against the wall, everyone was camping out on the floor. The Winchester brothers had gone off to a club named after some bug while Cara and Noah stayed behind. For some reason, the bathroom light wouldn't turn off, so there was a small sliver of yellow that penetrated the dark.
The two kids were tucked in their sleeping bags, leaned against mattresses on opposite sides of the room. Noah slept on the wall with the door while Cara slept against a mattress hiding a window. Because of the strange arrangement, neither kid had gotten very much deep sleep.
The two were as close as they could get when the motel room door opened quietly, the overhead illuminating the room in a gangrenous glow.
Between where Cara and Noah slept, they could hear footsteps moving back and forth.
"Dude," Noah said, after about ten minutes. He'd been awake for a few and was waiting for the walker to quiet down so he could try to sleep again.
Sam stopped. "Sorry."
Rubbing his eyes, Noah sat up and leaned against the mattress. "Where's Dad?"
From the other side of the room, Cara groaned, awakened as well. "What?"
Caught between his niece and nephew, Sam's first instinct was to lie. It always had been when it came to them. Conceal the truth. Offer some cushy alternative.
But as the words were about to tumble out of his mouth, he changed, and told them the truth. "We found the vamp. But I don't know if you remember hearing about Gordon. He showed up. Your dad distracted them so I could get away."
Neither of them said anything. Noah sucked in his cheeks while Cara started to braid her hair, and then let it go, repeat.
Sam was grateful that he didn't have to think of anything to say when the door finally opened again, revealing Dean, carefree.
"There you are!" Sam yelled. Both kids sat up straighter in their bean bags.
"Yeah. Sorry. I stopped for a slice."
"Nice move you pulled back there! Running right at the weapons, Dean!"
Dean chuckled, still in the entrance. "What can I say? I'm a badass." He stepped further into the room. "Why are you guys awake?"
"Uncle Sam told us what you did," Cara said, with crossed arms.
Dean was almost taken aback by how much she looked and sounded like her mother. "So I guess Gordon's out of jail," he said, attempting to change the subject.
"Yeah I'd say so. You know, how the hell do you think he'd know where to find us?" Sam asked.
The older brother was halfway through a shrug when he realized something. "That bitch," he muttered, ignoring the offended look on Cara's face. Pulling out his phone, he redialled one of the last numbers that had called him. "Hi, Bela."
"Hello, Dean," came the British voice from the other end, smugness oozing.
"Question for you. When you called me yesterday, it wasn't to thank me for saving your ass, was it?"
"No, Gordon Walker paid me to tell you where you were," Bela admitted, no hesitation in her voice.
"Excuse me?" Dean asked.
She laughed on the other end. Dean wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her. "Well had had a gun on me. What else was I supposed to do?" If anyone could get out a gun being pulled on them, it was Bela.
"I don't know, maybe pick up the phone and tell us a raging psychopath was dropping by?!" Dean asked, voice rising in anger. Sam crossed his arms, looking pissed and disapproving.
"Ah, I did fully intend to call, but I just got a bit sidetracked."
"He tried to kill us!" Dean yelled into the phone.
"Then why did you try to get yourself killed by running at them?" Sam demanded, only hearing Dean's responses.
"Shut up!" Dean yelled.
"Darling, I didn't say anything," Bela responded.
"Not you," Dean said into the phone. "You," he said, pointing to his brother.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was such a big deal, Dean. After all, there are two of you and one of him."
"There were two of them."
"Oh," Bela said softly. "Well, I suppose three if you count your children."
Dean's face twisted and hardened. "Bela, if we make it out of this alive, the first thing I'm gonna do is kill you."
"You're not serious." He could hear the playful edge slipping from her voice.
"Listen to my voice and tell me if I'm serious." Without preamble, Dean hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket. He ignored the deafening silence coming from both of his children. He always put on the carefree dad front for them, so he knew it was a bit jarring to see him go into stone-cold hunter mode.
Noticing the tension in the room, Sam flicked on a lamp in the middle of the room, realizing none of them were going to get any sleep. "Okay. What are we doing about this?" Sighing, responding to his own message, Sam moved away from Dean, towards the kitchen table. Noah joined, pulling up another chair. Cara came and hopped onto the counter of the kitchenette, nearby, Sam began the process of disassembling his gun so he could clean it. "That vampire's still out there, Dean," he said.
Dean stared at his brother. He was talking about a vampire, but he looked at the weapon Sam was holding. A gun wasn't gonna do anything against a vampire unless the bullets were coated in dead man's blood. "First thing first," Dean replied.
"Gordon," Sam said, with no emotion on his face or in his voice.
"About that. When we find him or if he finds us…well I'm just saying he's not leaving us a whole lot of options." Dean observed Sam's face, looking for any sign of disagreement in his little brother's face.
Pausing, Sam sighed and placed his weapon gently on the table. "Yeah, I know. We've got to kill him." His response was so quiet, even Noah, who was sitting next to him, had to lean forward to hear him.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Really? Just like that? I thought you would've been like "no, we can't. He's a human. It's wrong,'" Dean said, mimicking Sam in a high pitched whine.
Sam shook his head. "No. I'm done. I mean, Gordon's not gonna stop until we're dead…or until he is."
"But, we only kill monsters," Noah finally spoke up. Cara glanced over and nodded, agreeing with him. She had been thinking the same thing and was about to ask the same question.
Sam glanced at his brother. He knew that his niece and nephew were smart kids and had seen a lot, but at the end of the day, they were still kids. And their father was a black and white type of man. Sam knew that he would have to be the one to explain the nuances of the situation to the kids.
Dean sucked in his teeth and thought about how he wanted to phrase it to them. It wasn't a question he had an answer prepared for. But as he was about to throw a string of bullshit words together, his phone rang again. But upon seeing it was Bela, he answered it but yelled into the phone, asking what she wanted.
She let him know. "I don't like when people hold grudges against me. And more to the point, I'd rather you don't kill me, so I went and found Gordon's exact location for you."
Dean's brow furrowed. "You're a hundred miles away. How the hell did you-"
The British woman cut him off, chuckling. "Hello? Purveyor of powerful occult items? I use a talking board to contact the other side."
"And?"
"Warehouse. Two stories. Riverfront. There was a neon sign outside."
Dean's mind was already spinning. "Thanks," he said, actually meaning it. He almost didn't want to kill her anymore.
"One more thing. The spirit I talked to had a message for you. They said: leave town, run like hell, and whatever you do, don't go after Gordon. And I hope for whatever that's worth, it's worth my life." She hung up the phone, before Dean could respond.
"Bela?" Sam asked. He had been watching his brother the whole time, trying to piece together the conversation.
Dean nodded. "She knows where Gordon is." He relayed the information from the spirit.
"Why would she do that for us?" Sam asked. She always had some ulterior motive.
"Self-preservation," Dean replied plainly. Bela was always looking out for number one, as long as number one was Bela. "We should get a move on."
Both brothers were immediately moving around the room, throwing their minimal belongings haphazardly into bags. Dean stopped, seeing that neither kid had moved from the table. "Guys, let's go."
"I just have one question."
Oh here we go, Dean thought. He tried to keep his face neutral. "Can it wait?"
Cara just stared at him.
"Okay. What?"
"I just don't understand. You said you were gonna kill Bela for ratting you out, but you have to think about maybe killing Gordon after everything he's done? It doesn't make any sense."
Again, not a question he was prepared for.
Damn, these kids really knew how to keep him on his toes.
At a loss for words, Dean looked over at his brother, who sighed, realizing the torch was being passed to him.
"Look…" Sam started. "I know that can be confusing. But it's complicated…"
Noah snorted, almost comically. "Yeah, we know nothing about complicated." He seemed to accept he wasn't going to get an answer, and kicked Cara's shin, indicating she should pack too. She responded by yelling at him, and following him around the ramshackle room, calling him names.
Dean let out a sigh, not interfering with the bickering. At least it gave him time to scrape together some explanation.
Page, Arizona
To try and get back some independence, Alice had been walking to and from her treatments. Because of the longevity of the time they were spending in Arizona, Alice and Olivia had made the decision to move to an extended stay. The room was a lot nicer, and cheaper, and within walking distance.
Currently, Alice was walking back from therapy. The walking was good exercise. It also gave her time to think and try to sort out everything afterwards.
Her mood had finally balanced out. The meds were finally working and she honestly felt like a new person. She didn't know how she had lived her life before. Pretty much every waking moment previously had been wracked with existential dread, depression, loneliness, shame, guilt, and any other soul-sucking emotion she could think of. Sure, she still felt guilt about what she had done to her kids, and fear about monsters, but it was something she could put into perspective, now knowing her brain chemistry was out of whack.
But there was something there she'd never really felt before.
Anger.
Growing up and being a pretty-much single mother, Alice had never let herself get mad. If she was mad, that meant she was entitled to something she didn't deserve. And since she grew up believing she didn't deserve anything, she wasn't entitled to feel mad about anything. Disappointed? Sure. Frustrated? It depended on why.
But the red-hot, skin boiling fury was new.
And she felt it everywhere.
To herself for not knowing she needed help and not saying what she needed. For Dean for not sticking around when she needed him. Jan, for dying. Sam for telling her to leave in middle school. Cara for being so contrarian. Noah for being so unaffected. Olivia for ruining her mother and sister. Piper for being so infuriatingly obstinate. Seth for being MIA. Her dad for not speaking up, even once.
And her mother.
If there was one theme that was ever-recurring in all of her group and individual therapy sessions, it was Sherry Mercer.
The woman who, to her own daughter's face, said she didn't have a daughter.
And the fucking fact that Alice's entire life was built on a lie.
She didn't care if it was an omission, that Eli never existed, because Alice never knew to ask. It was a lie.
That was the biggest fallacy. The fact that she could've had a brother, someone else, so she hadn't been alone. Sure, she knew her mother probably changed after his death. But frfom Alice's point of view, to keep it from the twin their entire life was so fucked.
Yes, Alice knew bipolar ran in her family-too little too late-and so did early onset dementia. Her grandmother had both. Her mother definitely had bipolar. And now Alice had bipolar.
She stopped for a moment. Wondering how long it would take before she kept forgetting things. It wasn't completely pre-determined that she would have early onset dementia, but she was a nurse-she knew how genetics worked.
Within thinking about the lineage of misfortune that fell upon the women in her family, Alice always landed on Cara. That little girl so desperately wanted to move on to the next phase in life. She was like her mother thinking that the grass was always greener on the other side. Alice just hoped that the other side didn't involve the slew of mental illness, and that Cara took after her father's side in that category.
Of course, thinking of Cara made Alice think of Noah. Noah had a knack for evolving to the situation, while still remaining positive and upbeat. She wasn't sure where that skill came from, but Alice was sure it was his own. Still, there was a dreading part of Alice that was wondering what Noah's breaking point would be.
And then thinking about her children, who were brother and sister, it brought her back to Eli, and ultimately, Sherry.
It was cyclical. But therapy helped. With each cycle, Alice could make sense of a little more, name something she couldn't name, and use some strategy she didn't have before.
And once Alice made it back to the room, she was still thinking. But, she was able to employ some of the things she had learned and heard from in therapy.
Dropping her bag on the bench near the door, Alice kicked off her shoes and came over to her freshly made bed, flopping onto it. She closed her eyes for about a few minutes, and then sat up when Olivia didn't respond to her, when usually her cousin was greeting her within the first thirty seconds.
Alice observed her cousin. Olivia had her hair pulled up into a messy top knot-that still looked fashionable-and was wearing an oversized, loosely woven cardigan. Her legs were crossed on the chair, and she was staring intently at the computer screen.
Alice plopped down across from her cousin. "Hey."
Olivia looked up and down several times. "Hi. How was therapy?" She sounded far away, like she was asking out of politeness.
"It was fine." Alice watched her cousin. "What's going on?"
Putting her legs down on the floor, Olivia scooted closer to the tiny table. She had a quizzical look on her face, like she was deciding how to begin the new topic. "Do you know a Forrest Thackert?"
Alice frowned for a moment. She was about to say no, but then she remembered. In the group, there was a woman in her mid thirties with black hair, green eyes, and freckles, who was paranoid and nervous.
The brunette lit up. "Oh, yeah! She went by Fee."
Olivia nodded. "Did she finish early?"
Alice shrugged. "I just assumed she was done with her time."
Olivia shook her head, somber. "Look, I'm sorry to tell you this, but she's dead."
"What?"
Sighing, Olivia turned the laptop around. It was an article. At the top right corner was an undoubtable picture of Fee smiling, wearing a bucket hat.
Alice's eyes blurred after seeing the picture. She twisted the laptop back to her cousin. "What happened?"
Olivia shook her head. "She was found in Antelope Canyon, in the river. In the bend where there's the formation that creates a 'U' shape."
"Suicide?" Alice asked.
The blonde felt her skin crawl. "No. Forrest-Fee's umm…insides were completely gone. Like all the organs."
Alice frowned. "So you're saying-"
Olivia sighed. "It wasn't a suicide. Especially not since this." Olivia spun the laptop around again so Alice could see.
This time, a young man with red-to-blonde locs and a half smile appeared on the screen. "You know him?" Olivia asked.
"That's….what was his name? Hmm. Dan or something…oh Dante! It was Dante!" Alice said. Dante had only been there her first three days, but he had been notably kind and helpful to her. Alice had been sad to see him go, but was, at the time, glad he graduated from the group.
Olivia nodded.
Alice's smile fell. "He's dead. Right?"
The blonde nodded again. "I'm sorry."
Throwing her hands up, Alice gave a frustrated sigh. "So what? Are you trying to prove the suicide rate here? I know this shit isn't an exact science like medicine but-"
"Alice."
"What?"
"Dante died the same way as Fee. Guts ripped open. Floating in a river."
Finally looking her cousin in the eye, Alice shook her head, realizing what Olivia was getting at. "No. No."
Olivia leaned forward. "Look, if it were one-"
Alice was standing now. "No! No fucking way! We went here to get away from this hunting shit, and now you're telling me it's right underneath our feet?!"
Olivia watched from her seat, letting Alice go through the motions. It was a bit alarming to see her cousin being so passionate, but it was honestly about damn time. But also, seeing Alice lose her shit reminded Olivia of her older sister and dad. They were usually calm and laid back. Once something set them off, they were flamey and passionate, and it was good when they were on your side, dangerous when it wasn't, as Olivia knew she would never be back on Piper's good side.
"I can't believe it either. But, two is too much for me."
Alice nodded, and then squinted her eyes, needing to think about something else for a moment. "What did you do when you were in Lynch? Were you hunting then?"
Olivia shrugged and shook her head. "I wasn't hunting. But if I thought something was off, then I'd let the appropriate people know the appropriate things." She didn't want to tell Alice you didn't have to look that far to find something supernatural. If you weren't looking at all, sometimes you would still see it.
Alice took some deep breaths, ready to return to the matter at hand. "So, what are you thinking here?"
The blonde grabbed a yellow legal pad from nearby. Alice couldn't make out the words exactly, but recognized Olivia's romantic cursive font. "Poltergeist. Ghoul. Wraith. Werewolf…I know they don't all fit but they also don't. However, considering everything-" Olivia stopped talking, looking up at her cousin.
Alice leaned back into her chair, not liking that look. "-there's something," she finished. Alice reached for the legal pad, the loopy letters finally forming words. It was jarring to see just innocent, pretty handwriting reveal such horrendous words.
Olivia leaned forward, both elbows resting on the table, she watched Alice flip the ends of the pages, repeatedly. "Look, I may be overly cautious, but to me it seems like something is going on. The fact two of your therapy-friends…classmates?-are the targets, says something. There is something about that group or place." Olivia stopped. "So I think we need to be careful about what we're going to do about this."
Alice bit the inside of her cheek. Part of her was still resisting the idea that there actually was a hunt here. She didn't know if it was the Winchester or Mercer or Sutton luck, but either way, it seemed like she had always attracted all things shitty, and had only more recently become a magnet for all things supernatural, and that it had rubbed off on her. Or maybe she was just aware of it now that she knew about that world. "I'm gonna keep going to therapy. There's only a few weeks left."
Olivia nodded. "Of course. I'm not suggesting you pull out. I'm not even telling you that you need to do anything differently, but just be careful. I need to do some research to really figure out what's going on here.."
Research.
The more Alice was submerged into this world, the more she knew that going to the library or scouring the Internet was only a part of that. She knew research was also an illegal affair, skulking around in the dark, breaking and entering, operating under a false identity, committing fraud…just to name a few things.
Alice nodded. She didn't have much more to say on the topic. She was all talked out for the day. She began to gather her things so she could go take a hot bath-something she had been doing most days. Seeming to understand the conversation was over, Olivia didn't need to say anything else to her cousin. She opened her laptop back up and furrowed her brow, furiously typing and clicking away.
By the time Alice had come out of the bathroom, Olivia was dressed in a pair of bell bottom jeans, wearing a white shell top, a pink and yellow plaid shirt over that, her golden hair pulled back into bouncing pigtails. Although she had moved from pastor's wife to hunter again, Olivia still managed to hold onto the Barbie aesthetic. She had always loved the color pink and all things girly, even growing up in a family of hunters.
Alice frowned. "People fall for that?"
Olivia did a little rehearsed twirl and bounce, "Just leaning into the stereotype. Like I have all my life."
"That's it?" Alice asked.
Olivia stopped, eyes wide. "Did it work?"
Alice nodded, a bit mesmerized, wishing her body could command the same attention "It'll do the job."
Olivia giggled, her pigtails bouncing. "Good. That's what I was hoping for."
Feeling pleased with herself, Olivia sat down on her bed to put on her shoes.
"Is that how you got Cliff?"
The blonde froze. She had one long sock on. Putting that foot down, she straightened up to Alice watching her. Not knowing what to say, Olivia coughed, as she shoved some cowboy boots onto her feet. Once she was standing, Olivia turned back to her cousin. "Get some rest. I'll be back eventually."
Olivia had found herself at a bar only about a block away from the health center. The building was in a strip mall on one side of the road. It was a flat roofed, pink-stucco building that said "BAR" in dim, red lettering, right above the door, smushed right between a twenty-four hour laundromat and a CASH-4-GOLD with crooked blinds.
She approached the front door of the bar. It was one of those revolving doors that opened into a narrow hallway. At the end of the narrow hallway were a pair of authentic-looking saloon doors that squeaked, adding to the Wild West ambience of the establishment.
Walking through them, Olivia entered a pretty standard bar. There were various animal skulls mounted on the walls, broken up with neon beer signs, license plates, and various street signs. The main bar was oak and curved at both ends. It was polished brightly, with a cork countertop covered in a glass sheet. Away from the bar, near the center of the building were various tall tables, and booths lining the walls. Further back, there was a section with a raised stage for a band-empty right now, as it was a Tuesday-a sunken dance floor in front of that. On the same wall, there was a cluster of pool tables and dart boards.
The place was relatively empty, which wasn't surprising for a week night. There was a bartender polishing glasses, and a waitress leaning against the end of the counter. They both wore jeans and pearl-snap cowboy shirts in different colors.
Putting on the facade that she had just stumbled in off the street, she slung herself onto the barstool, making sure that it tipped over a little bit. "Damn, this place is dead," she commented.
The bartender and waitress glanced at each other. "Well, Tuesdays ain't exactly our busy days."
Olivia stuck out her lip, creating a pout. "Sad to hear that. I'll take a vodka cran." Shrugging, the bartender pulled out one of the glasses he was polishing and grabbed an unlabeled a clear bottle, some juice and splashed it together.
Olivia told him to keep her tab open. She wandered over to a booth, so that she had a view of the front door and waited.
Within the next half an hour, a decent amount of people had trickled it. It was mostly a few groups, with some single people taking a seat at the bar.
Olivia was about a third of the way done with her drink when the saloon doors opened again, this time seeming to creak louder than they had before. It was as if everyone stopped what they were doing to see the new patron.
It was a woman. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, maybe early forties. She had jet black hair that was tied back into two braids, one thrown back over her shoulder, the other settling on her chest. She had wispy bangs framing her face, with high cheekbones and a straight nose. She wore a white tank top, fringed at the bottom, each fringe stopped by a wooden bead. She wore standard flared jeans, square toed boots. There were large jade earrings that matched a necklace and stack of bangles she wore on both wrists.
"Yo, Tally!" The waitress called. "I'll get your medicine."
The woman raised a hand. "Thanks. I'll be in my spot."
Olivia pretended to be tracing a pattern on the table when she felt the presence of someone hovering over her.
Looking up, Olivia squinted. "Hey!" She said, like she was greeting an old friend.
The woman's face remained neutral. "You're in my booth."
The blonde gave an incredulous laugh. "I didn't know there were assigned seats."
The other woman, Tally, didn't seem to think it was funny, or at all a joke. "There aren't. Except for this one."
Olivia leaned back and motioned across the table. "Well, that side is open."
Tally's mouth drew into a thin line. "I don't want company."
"Seems like a strange place to come if you don't want to be bothered."
Tally didn't say anything. Eventually giving into the silence, Olivia sat up a little bit straighter. "Look, I'm sorry I'm in your spot. But, I'm sorry I'm just not moving. I'm just not." She held out a hand. "I'm Olivia."
The other woman, contemplated for a minute and then finally exhaled, realizing this was not a fight she was willing to fight right now. She was too exhausted. Taking Olivia's hand as she sat, Tally introduced herself. "Tallulah. Some people call me Tally."
"And am I some people?" Olivia asked, into her drink.
Tallulah shook her head. "No."
The waitress came back with a copper mule mug and placed it in front of Tallulah. She glanced at Olivia, and then back at Tallulah.
"It's fine, Ash," Tallulah assured.
"Okay."
"I'll take another vodka cran!" Olivia announced, as the waitress was about to walk away, obviously not planning on asking the blonde if she needed another drink.
"So what'd get you there?" Olivia asked, watching as Taly took a measured sip.
"Half tequila half whiskey."
She genuinely wrinkled her nose. "That sounds foul."
"I don't drink it for the taste."
"Sounds like you've had a rough day."
"Perhaps more than one."
"Hmm. Are you Indian?" Olivia asked suddenly, leaning forward a little bit.
If Tally was stunned, she hid it well. "That's a bit abrupt."
"Well you just look so…exotic. I don't know. I was just curious."
Tally's face was completely neutral. "First of all, I prefer Native American, native, or indigenous. Indian is offensive and inaccurate. But yes…I'm Navajo."
"Oh wow. So is that similar to Cherokee or…"
"And where are you from?" Tally asked.
"Oh well, I'm pretty sure my dad's side is English. Not sure about my mom. There might be some Irish in there."
"No. Not your ancestors. You."
"Oh haha. Well, I've been living in Kentucky the last few years."
"And now you're out here." Not a question. More than a statement. An accusation.
"Yeah. I wanted to come out here. Get some culture. You know? I mean I know you know. You people just have so much culture."
Tally nodded. "I can tell your worldview is very small."
Olivia pursed her lips, and gave a slight frown. She sniffled once, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. "You know what? You're right. This is your spot, and I took it. It's fine. I'll just go and sit over there by myself. Sorry for bothering you." Olivia stood up and moved to exit the both, toe hooking on a table leg. She nearly pitched forward, elbows catching at the edge of the table.
Tally was up, reaching forward, trying to make sure she didn't fall. "Just sit down before you fall on your face."
Tears falling now, Olivia accepted a napkin from her. "Are you sure?"
With a deep sigh, Tally nodded and sat back down. "Yes. Please stay."
Olivia measured her drinks, making sure she stayed a little drunker than she would've been. She was good at pretending, and acting like she was on the way to wasted wasn't hard.
Tally seemed to have quite the tolerance as well.
"So, you just rode horses bareback all the time?
Tally nodded. "It was one of the best parts of living on the reservation."
"Do you still live there?"
There was a moment Olivia hadn't noticed before. Tally lowered her head for a moment, as if she was about to say a prayer. But a second later, she lifted it up again. "No. I live in town."
Olivia frowned, allowing herself to have a moment of awareness. "It sounds like you're sad about that."
"Maybe. It's just that my entire life, I've tried so hard to act like I wasn't native. So, there was a point when I went to med school and I didn't ever really stay back for long. But now, here I am wishing I actually listened and tried to learn my own language. Med school was a breeze, but trying to learn Navajo as an adult? It's one of the hardest languages to learn."
"You're a doctor?" Olivia asked.
Tally nodded.
"That is so cool! I don't know if I've ever met a doctor before."
"Well, I hope that's not true."
"Oh I mean out in life, haha."
"Right."
"So are you like a surgeon or dermatologist? I've been actually wanting to find a dermatologist. My skin lately has just been so bad."
"Sorry not a surgeon or dermatologist."
"Well, then you're a…"
"Psychiatrist."
"Oh you deal with the crazy people!" Olivia exclaimed loudly and excitedly.
Within the past forty-five minutes of being in the bar, Olivia cringed at multiple things she had said. From Indian, you people, and now crazy people. She knew she was really playing it risky with this, but she was sure this was how to get in. Still, she had been amazed at Tallulah Bennaly's ability to remain composed.
But as Alice's main doctor, who was used to dealing with mental illness, Olivia supposed a drunk, ignorant white girl wouldn't scare her away, especially when she was sitting in Tallulah's regular spot at Bar.
"We don't really use the term crazy anymore."
"Wow. I had no idea."
The conversation continued for about another thirty minutes. Just small things. Olivia talked about her life, making sure that anything Alice could have possibly brought up in therapy, she didn't mention. But, it wasn't hard. Olivia had had an entire life that Alice didn't know about until very recently.
"Hey, I'll take another one!" Olivia waved her mostly empty glass at the apprehensive waitress.
"Are you sure you want another one?" Tallulah asked.
Leaning forward, Olivia gave a sly grin. "Why? You worried about me?"
"You've had a lot."
"Oh don't worry about me Dr. Bennaly."
Tally visibly retracted "How do you know my last name?"
"Because you told me, silly goose." Her voice was wavering.
Tally shook her head. "No. I never told you that."
Olivia shrugged. "Well, maybe you don't remember. You are pretty drunk."
Tally shook her head. "No. Not like you."
"Is this some doctor reverse horscopothy thing?"
Stone faced, Tally stood. "Get up. Now."
"I'm not done with my drink—" Before Olivia could finish, Tally grabbed Her underneath her arm, like she was a child's toy being dragged by a toddler.
Once she was up, Olivia righted herself, yanking her out of Tally's grip, making sure she almost tumbled back into the booth. "Don't fucking touch me!" She yelled loudly, making sure her words slurred more than they already were.
"The bathrooms sign. At the end of a hall is a back door. Go. Now," Tally commanded. She was a bit surprised that the blonde woman actually complied and tripped her way down the hall, bursting out a back door, nearly falling into a picnic bench where workers took their smoke breaks.
Tally made sure the door was secure behind them, and that there was no one else around. "Okay. Who the fuck are you?"
Olivia held onto her drunk girl persona a little longer. "Umm fuckin' Olivia. I told you that already."
Tally shook her head. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but I can guarantee you do not want to mess with me."
Seeing some fear finally, Olivia decided this might be the time to drop the veil. She sat up straight and crossed her arms. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just need some information."
Thoroughly disturbed by the transformation from drunk ditz to seemingly sober inquisitive freaked out Tally. But she managed to keep it together on the inside. She was used to seeing her patient's mask slip, but not normally in the real world. By someone she didn't know, who evidentially knew you she was. "Tell me who the hell you are."
Appealingly, the blonde nodded. "My name is Olivia. I am from Kentucky. My parents are Irish and English. That's about where the truth ends."
Tally didn't say anything.
"I'm a hunter. My whole family is. Parents, siblings, even my niece. And I know that you've had two of your patients die under unexplained circumstances. Fee and Dante."
Tally's breath hitched at the mention of Fee and Dante.
"And the most important part. My cousin, Alice, is one of your patients."
"Did you come here for this?" Tally asked.
Olivia shook her head. "No. Not originally. My family came out here years ago to bury my stillborn cousin—Alice's brother. It wasn't until she was in the group, that I saw the news articles and the similarities between them."
"So instead of being forward with me, you decided to be pretend to be a stupid, racist, ignorant drunk girl?"
"I sold it, didn't I?"
"Too good. How do I know that's just not who you are?"
Olivia gave a shrug. "I won't lie. I am a piece of shit. I've never denied that. Never said I wasn't."
Tally seemed to accept that. "That might have been the most honest thing you've told me."
Olivia was still sitting at the back when Tally came over with two steaming cups. "Coffee."
Olivia accepted it. "You know, I am a little drunk, but pretending to be stupid was the hardest part."
Tally took a seat opposite of her. "At least you're being honest now. I think."
"That's a hard thing for me, Olivia admitted.
"I can tell." Tally paused. "Look, you're not one of my patients."
"I could be." Tally gave her a quizzical look.
She thought about all the shit she'd been through, and all the shit she'd caused. She would, for sure, be the poster child, for the reason families fall apart. "I fucked my sister's husband and then married him. And they had a kid. Before me."
Tally sipped her coffee. This wasn't the worst she had heard. At the very least, in her own head, Olivia and her sister had been at odds their entire life. And now, because of what Olivia had done, everyone would forever be on Piper's side.
"Yeah, that's pretty despicable," Tally finally said.
"For sure. And I knew it all along. I was just trying to fill a void."
"The void." Tally was good at asking questions but instead stating what was actually needed.
"Of my dad. It's my fault he's dead." Olivia stopped and took a deep breath. "I don't think I've ever told anyone that."
"Tell me what happened." It was a question, but more of a prompt and a request.
Close to tears, Olivia shook her head. "Look, I've been through a lot, but this is where I draw the line."
Nodding, Tally accepted that, hands wrapped around the white ceramic of her cup.
"But I do know there's something hunting your patients."
Tally nodded.
"You don't seem to be at all surprised by the fact I told you that I hunt monsters for a living."
The other woman stared down at her cup, picking the right words to say. "My people are very spiritual. We know there are other creatures besides humans and animals that walk this earth."
Olivia nodded. Most native groups had lore and tales about preternatural beings that lived among them. "I can confirm they do exist. First hand experience, if you want to believe me."
Tally already knew the answer, but took a moment to respond. "I think I can help you. But it comes with a price."
Olivia gave a tiny smile. "I think I can do it."
Hope you enjoyed. Not making any promises about when I'll post again.
V.