A/N: Beta-read as always by the awesome Starrylizard. Any and all mistakes left are my own. Hope you enjoy:)
The night wasn't very kind to either of the men, their minds too disturbed by what happened on the island and the possibility that instead of helping Harper find a new home, they just put her into a more dangerous situation. The pleasant buzz Marcus felt from the beer whilst they were waiting for the ferry was long gone. What was left was a bitter taste in his mouth, a low key headache and a feeling that things were spiraling into some catastrophe. He lay down thinking about God, still trying to hear his voice but coming up empty. He wondered if he fell out of God's grace when he failed to see that the demon in Casey Rance wasn't really gone, when he dared to think it was that easy. Was it pride that was his downfall?
No, Marcus thought, turning his head on the pillow. Pride wasn't his problem, not for a long time now. He'd been brought down on his knees too many times for that and after Mexico... any pride he could have felt was gone. So what was it? Did killing a man in front of the Pope bring on God's disappointment in Marcus? Was it drinking? Was it lust?
None of those sounded right and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't God that lost faith in Marcus, but the other way around. Ever since his excommunication, Marcus felt empty, abandoned, cast out. Just like that child over forty years ago that was shown into boys home because he happened to kill his own father in self-defense. The child no one wanted to get close to, because he spilled blood at the tender age of seven. Killing seemed to be in his blood and, in those early days, Marcus often found himself running, hiding in tall trees as other children pelted him with rocks, shouting obscenities that cut deeper than any knife could.
'Like father, like son!' Marcus still remembered hearing the director of the boys home say to the nurse who was tending to his scraped knuckles after he grew weary of running and finally repaid Billy with a punch of his own. That was the night he first touched a blade to his skin... not because he was scared of the others. Never of the others. No. That night, Marcus was scared of himself, of what he could become. It took almost five years until he stopped being scared of himself... it took him standing face to face with a demon, the bible and flickering candle the only thing separating him from pure evil. That's when he heard the voice, when he felt the warmth enveloping his whole body, and realized he would never again be alone because God was there with him.
All those years, all those lonely days spent on the road in different motel rooms, leaving behind people he never allowed himself to get close in the first place, not after what happened to his little church mouse. After her, Marcus swore never to be that reckless again. It was a lonely life, but he still heard God's voice, felt his light coursing through him and knew he had purpose. What more can a man crave for, other than purpose?
Until Gabriel. That was the moment Marcus started doubting. And it was Marcus, not God, who seemed to hold onto that doubt, hold onto the anger about the injustice of it all. But despite it all, Marcus believed and, even though he and God weren't on speaking terms, the warmth and light was there.
And when one day a young priest from Chicago stepped into his room, that warmth and light shone so bright that Marcus screamed in anger. How was this fair? Eighteen months he was trying to reclaim his purpose, to find his path and trust in God. Eighteen months... and then he was sent a priest that didn't even believe in demons, yet he had the 'gift'.
Marcus was angry then and it took him some time to accept that Tomas was sent his way for a reason. Saving Casey Rance and the Pope seemed to be reason enough... but then Tomas asked him to stay, to be his mentor. And Marcus felt some of the walls inside him crumbling, being replaced by hope. He felt needed and wanted and it was almost as good a feeling as when he sent his first demon back into the pits of hell.
But where did all of this leave him now? He lost his collar... he lost his identity, the only thing he'd known since childhood. The excommunication felt like being stabbed in the stomach with a fiery knife and not even six months and hundreds of miles later did that feeling vanish.
And today on the island, Peter brought up the question, the one Marcus feared the most. What was he now that he wasn't a priest? He didn't know. He was just an old guy with a bible and a rosary, 40 years of experience he was trying to teach Tomas, hoping that he would manage that before the younger man got himself or someone else killed. The way things were going, Marcus either needed to speed up his mentoring or hope that Tomas really was God's new chosen favorite and that the Almighty won't let any harm come to him. First step for that would be to let him go through the night without any heart stopping nightmares and visions.
Marcus opened his eyes to a slit and looked at the unmoving form lying in the bed next to him. For once it seemed that Marcus' prayers were heard. Tomas looked to be asleep, snoring ever so softly. Marcus wished he could do the same, turn off his brain and just tune out, but it was impossible. There was so much to do in the morning and all they could go on was Tomas' vision and animals acting strangely. They knew nothing about the history of the island and Marcus was thinking about hitting the library first thing in the morning, then almost snorted. He wasn't really the type to sit around reading books and anyway, talking to people was his favorite past time. At least to some people... and the Fish and Wildlife bloke seemed more than willing to talk. Maybe he could ask around on the island, while Tomas could try and get them an invitation for a chat with Andy and the kids. With at least a partial plan formed in his mind, Marcus turned over in bed and willed himself to sleep, a soft prayer flowing from his lips.
'Lead me to your still streams, O Lord, where I can kneel in the waters of life. Lay down my anxious thoughts and cast all my cares on You. Here I will wait a while, wait a while, and bathe in the life-giving waters...'
The words were familiar and comforting, like being enveloped in a blanket. Marcus fell asleep before he even finished.
When Tomas opened his eyes, skin damp from sweat and the heart beating wildly in his chest, it was still dark outside. Letting out a shaky breath, Tomas sat up on the bed and looked to his left, only to see that Marcus was sleeping, head half buried under a pillow and one of his legs sticking off the bed, as if he was trying to walk away in his sleep. Tomas swallowed, grimacing at the strange taste in his mouth. He was parched and at the same felt like his stomach was full of water, his chest burning as if he held his breath for too long. Tomas felt slight panic and reached towards Marcus, but paused mid motion. This was stupid. It was just a dream, nothing else. A dream he couldn't even remember anymore...
Tomas shook his head. No, he already kept Marcus awake the night before, and there was no reason to trouble him with something that was just Tomas' imagination. Shuddering, Tomas tried to ignore the crawling feeling of something slick touching his skin. He needed to clear his head.
Getting out of bed, Tomas checked the time and was surprised to see it was already five in the morning. That was the time he usually went for a run in Chicago, but nowadays he had other priorities... like exorcising demons or getting some much needed sleep. But just the thought of getting back into bed and closing his eyes made Tomas' breath hitch. He shot one more look at Marcus, making sure the older man was really sleeping, then he grabbed the bag with his clothes and vanished in the bathroom to quickly change into his running attire. When he left the motel room and the cold morning air hit his lungs, Tomas silently thanked God for the relief that flooded his body. He needed this, to run and put all thoughts behind... put all the visions behind, at least for an hour.
When he returned to their motel, the sun was already coming up and the lump on the bed that was supposed to be Marcus squirmed when the front door clicked close.
"If you didn't bring coffee, you can just turn back," Marcus grumbled from beneath the blanket and Tomas put a cup of steaming hot coffee on his bedside table with a smirk. It took Marcus a moment to smell the aroma and to peek an eye open. He sat up in his bed, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip, then he sniffed the air and grimaced.
"That's just gross," he stated, giving Tomas a look.
Tomas frowned, puzzled.
"It's the same coffee you drank the last three days. What's the problem?"
"The coffee's okay, but you smell like a locker room after a playoff."
Tomas took a whiff of air and had to admit that he might've overdone it a bit with the run.
"I thought the doc told you no heavy exercise for at least a week," Marcus reprimanded him and Tomas rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine... and I needed the run. Had to clear my head before we go back there."
"Right, 'cause getting exhausted before actual work is such a good idea."
"Running isn't exhausting. You would know that if you ever tried," Tomas said and went looking for some clean clothes.
"I run only when someone's chasing me, just like any sane human being," Marcus retorted. Tomas snorted.
"Now go, shower, before your stink ruins my coffee."
"Next time, I'm getting you tea... one of those cheap ones from the vending machine you love so much," Tomas teased, then headed for the shower.
"Blasphemy," Marcus muttered under his breath. "This is another test, isn't it?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling. There was no answer, but Marcus didn't really expect one anyway. The day was just starting and the strong coffee helped, clearing the cobwebs in his mind. Outside, the sun was shining and it promised to be a beautiful day. Marcus was pretty sure it wouldn't last.
They left the truck in the car park and caught the next ferry heading for the island. They didn't really have a plan, except for trying to find out more information about the history of the island or the Kim's house. If there was really a demon, as Tomas' vision and the strange behavior of animals hinted, it most likely already took its victims before their arrival.
"Do you think it is wise to split up?" Tomas asked, earning a raised eyebrow from Marcus.
"I would've thought you would enjoy taking a break from my charming self," Marcus joked, but gave Tomas a thoughtful look. He was expecting Tomas to give him a scalding retort, or at least an easy smirk. Instead, Tomas leaned against the railing of the boat and looked at the water below.
"What, no witty comeback?" Marcus stepped up next to Tomas and leaned against the railing too, their elbows touching. Tomas shook his head, but managed to give him a lopsided grin.
"I think I'm still just a bit... thrown, by those handprints. The meaning of them..." Tomas grimaced, the worry clear on his face. Marcus instinctively reached up and gave the nape of his neck a gentle squeeze.
"Don't," Marcus said and his hand slid away with a final pat on Tomas' back.
"What?"
"Don't try to figure it out, Tomas. The more you think about these visions... the easier you make it for the demons to slip in along. If it was God's plan, you won't understand until it's time, anyway. And if it wasn't Him... the less time spent pondering, the better."
Tomas looked at Marcus, surprised that he even admitted the possibility of the visions coming from God. He wanted to say that he's careful, that he won't let any demon slip into his mind without invitation, but he knew it would be a lie. He might be able to refuse demons access to his mind when they are face to face during an exorcism, but he had no control over the visions or over his dreams. That scared him more than he was ready to admit, especially after what happened with Harper. There were moments when his body and mind weren't his own and, even though he didn't want to admit it out loud, Tomas begun to realize that Marcus could've been right since the beginning.
Pushing away from the railing, Tomas gave a small nod, then heeding Marcus' advice, changed the topic.
"Are you sure I'm the right one to try and persuade Rose? After all, you're the charming one," Tomas smirked and Marcus rolled his eyes.
"We might've had a bit of a rocky start with Rose. I think your collar combined with that kicked puppy look might be of better service in this case."
Tomas snorted and shook his head.
"You and a rocky start? Hard to imagine." Tomas remembered their first meeting when Marcus practically pushed him against the wall within the first two minutes. The second one wasn't much better with the ex-priest breaking into his apartment, but despite all of that, Tomas knew since the first moment that he could trust this man, that he needed him. And even though Marcus might've doubted the first vision that brought them together, Tomas was sure that wasn't the work of any demon.
They'd reached the island and, as the boat docked in the port, any amusement Tomas felt was lost when he once again stepped onto the pier. The gust of wind brought warning whispers that made his skin turn up in goose bumps, but Tomas wasn't ready to let it deter him. Just the idea of leaving the island, of leaving Harper and the other kids in danger, made his steps more determined.
"What will you be doing while I try to convince Rose about needing our help?"
Marcus shrugged.
"Yesterday I met up with some locals. I'll try to ask around about the history of the island, see if there were any bloody tragedies. Anything that could be a sign of demonic possession in the past. You have the motel keys, I'm keeping the car keys. If you finish before me, take a cab or wait by the car, but I don't want you behind the wheel when your mind is being used as a bloody signal receiver."
Tomas wanted to protest that, but in the end he just gave Marcus a frustrated frown.
"You just don't want me messing with the seat, admit it."
Marcus shrugged.
"Not my fault you have shorter legs," Marcus smirked and popped a candy into his mouth. "Let me know when you finish with Rose. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Oh, so I am allowed to pick locks now? Good to know," Tomas grinned and nodded at Marcus as their ways parted.
The visit with Rose didn't go exactly according to plan and Tomas was wondering if he should've pressed more or, on the contrary, tried to talk his way around the issue. But he was never that good at lying and subtlety could take him only to a point.
There was something in the house, Tomas felt it when he was sitting in the kitchen, trying to convince Rose to let him talk with the kids. It was a presence, a dark one. He heard whispers, felt as if something cold and dark reached through the walls and touched the base of his skull. Tomas had to force himself to stay in his seat and put on a smile instead of showing the fear that was gripping his insides. He was about to call Marcus and tell him they would have to try again, together and maybe with a different approach, that he wasn't ready to give up, when his cell phone started ringing. Tomas looked at the caller ID, then realized it was useless. They changed numbers so often, the only person that could be calling was Marcus.
"Are you still at the Kim's house?" Marcus asked without a preamble and Tomas grimaced, knowing he would have to admit his latest failure.
"No, I'm on my way back. I spoke with Rose, but..."
"Let me guess. She doesn't think us snooping around is a good idea?" Marcus didn't seem surprised and Tomas felt some relief as well as annoyance.
"No, she doesn't. And you knew she wouldn't be so easy to convince, right?"
Marcus had the good grace not to chuckle, but Tomas could just imagine the smirk on his face.
"You know you could've just asked if you wanted to take a break from me for a few hours," Tomas said, feeling the annoyance creeping in, especially when he remembered the presence lurking at the house. "This is no joke, Marcus. There is something wrong in that house."
"I know that, Tomas." Marcus voice turned serious and Tomas slowed down his steps, frowning.
"You found something?"
"Something, yeah." Marcus told him about the story of Glen Powell and his daughter, about the massacre that happened fifty years ago.
"Could the demon still be here, fifty years later?" Tomas wondered. Could demons lie dormant or were they feeding off some poor innocent visitors, lost in the woods?
"I don't know. Not in my experience," Marcus answered the question.
"I should go back and try again with the Kim family."
"And tell them what? That fifty years ago a demon killed a family on the island? Look, your visions brought us here, I believe you. But we need confirmation."
Even though hearing those words from Marcus should've made Tomas happy, all he could think about were the kids and the darkness lurking inside the house. While the demon might've laid dormant for fifty years, it has definitely awoken... and was more hungry than ever. Tomas could feel it, his skin prickling even now. Of course Marcus didn't know that, couldn't feel the imminent danger.
"We will go together, in the daylight. Tomorrow."
"What if they're in danger? What if we can help them?" Tomas needed to convince Marcus. He wasn't willing to wait another day and leave the kids in danger.
"We go pounding on their door in the middle of the night, with some crazy ass story, we're gonna scare them off for good. Are we clear?"
Tomas stopped, biting at his lip, knowing well that the next thing coming out his mouth would be a lie.
"Clear," he said and before Marcus could add anything else, he ended the call, not even noticing the warning beep of the phone's dying battery. His thoughts were elsewhere.
Marcus might've been set on waiting, but Tomas didn't need a confirmation. He felt the evil from the moment he stepped on the island and there was definitely a presence in the house. Tomas didn't think he was the one to wake it up, but their presence quite possibly sped up some things and Tomas was afraid that the children might be in imminent danger. There was no way he would just walk away now and hope that nothing bad happened during the night.
Tomas put the phone away and resolutely turned around. He knew that Marcus would be pissed and that this would just be another disappointment, another failure of his to become a proper exorcist. But right now, Tomas didn't care. The house was calling to him, the woods around him were whispering a warning. His steps quickened, as if he was trying to make it there before the sun settled.
Despite his earlier joking about lock picking, when he arrived to the house Tomas found the front door unlocked. He felt it strange until he realized that this wasn't an apartment in Chicago, but a house hidden in the middle of the woods on a small island.
Tomas stepped through the door, feeling more like a thief than a priest. He turned on the lights and felt a sudden chill, even as he called out Rose's name. The only answer he got was the lights turning off and Tomas knew that Andy didn't need to lock his doors. Something was inside the house, something much more dangerous than a rabid guard dog.
As the last of the lights flickered out, an unearthly growl shook through the house. His feet turned to stone and even if he'd wanted to run, he couldn't.
Tomas closed his eyes, cold sweat running down his spine as he muttered a prayer for protection in Spanish. He jerked when his ears caught the sound of laughter. Swallowing down his fear, Tomas fumbled in his bag for the flashlight. Mustering up all the courage he could, he followed the sounds, determined not to let himself be scared off. Determined to find some answers.
When things started moving of their own accord, Tomas knew he should've just turned around and left. There was no heroism in staying and letting himself be killed. And for a second his feet moved in the right direction, but then there was the feeling that things would get out of hand. The darkness was growing around him, reaching out into the nearby forest and he knew the children weren't safe, not even there.
So Tomas swallowed his fear and persevered, walking into the attic as if it didn't stink of rot and death. There was food on the floor and months old dust, but all Tomas saw was the painting and all he heard was a dull banging sound that shook the house. Tomas opened his bible.
"In the name of God, the Father Everlasting and all of His saints," he started and the house shook stronger. "I order you to show yourself and make your presence known!" It was like an earthquake and Tomas instinctively turned his prayers to Spanish. The paintings started dancing on the walls and Tomas had to fight the gravity as the floor seemingly tried to vanish under his legs, even as he shouted "He commands you!"
Suddenly, time seemed to slow down and Tomas' eyes went wide in horror and fascination. Everything around him raised in the air, as if held by some invisible force, floating tauntingly, showing Tomas the power that made this house its home. Then as suddenly as it started, gravity took back its hold and everything fell down to the floor. The only evidence that it wasn't all just Tomas' imagination, the settling dust visible in the beam of his flashlight.
Somewhere in the woods, the demon just released its hold on Truck. While the deed was far from done, there was a pesky priest inside its home, rummaging through things that didn't belong to him, trying to find a way to defeat him. The demon roared and in a blink of an eye focused his full attention on the man with the collar in his attic.
Tomas felt the sick presence the moment his fingers touched the stone. He let himself be lulled by the sudden silence, even though he should have known. He should have known that silence brought the storm, yet he couldn't stop himself from saying those words.
"In the name of Jesus Christ... show yourself to me."
'As you wish, padre,' a little girl's voice sounded inside his head and he was plunged into hell.
Tomas woke up in the attic with a silent scream on his lips, the flashlight blinking next to him, looking as if it was ready to die any moment. For a blessed second he didn't know what was going on, where he was or why every part of his body hurt. For a second there was only the flashlight and shadows dancing before his eyes. Then everything rushed back to him and, with a gasp, Tomas scrambled to a sitting position, banging his back against a table.
"Dios mio," Tomas uttered, overwhelmed by fear. He started muttering a prayer in Latin and the flashlight flickered warningly. Tomas paused, eyes wide as his senses screamed at him all at once. There was some invisible danger lurking close and every bit of his body wanted to flee. Tomas opened his mouth to continue with the prayer, hoping it would push back the darkness that was trying to swallow him.
Unbeknown to him, a little girl was standing over his slumped form, a doll hanging limply from one of her hands. The other hand reached out with purpose and touched the fallen priest right where the hammer connected a few days back.
Tomas screamed from pain and doubled over, barely holding in his lunch. He couldn't see, couldn't think. There was only the pain and the sound of screaming children in his head. Until the little girl leaned down and whispered in his ear, with a voice sweet, yet deadly.
"Run."
And run he did.
Tomas didn't remember how he got out of the house or how he managed to grab his bag, the bible and the now useless flashlight. All he knew was that he was suddenly kneeling on the ground on all fours, the grass wet from the evening dew a cool sensation on his shaking hands. He had just finished heaving, spitting bile but still tasting the blood on his tongue; the sensation of being shot in the stomach battling with the sensation of drowning. Moaning, just the memory of it made him heave again. He expected to see the murky well water but got nothing but spit, stomach already painfully empty.
Sitting back on his hunches, Tomas tried to calm his breathing and prayed silently. This time there was no presence pushing at him but he still felt like something dirty was crawling across his skin. Shivering, Tomas looked around, realizing he somehow managed to leave the house and run into the nearby woods. He didn't run deep though, as he could just see the shape of the house lurking behind the trees.
For the first time since he faced the demon in Angela Rance, Tomas was truly scared. The presence in the house held such... malevolence, Tomas couldn't even start to grasp it. But he could still feel it, in his body, in his mind. That's what scared him the most. He couldn't stop the vision, couldn't stop feeling the pain and fear of those who were killed by the demon. He needed someone to pull him out of that hell and anchor him back in reality. He desperately needed Marcus.
The problem was his phone died as he was halfway back to the house. And even if he could call him, what could Marcus do? He was probably already on a boat heading to the mainland and their motel.
No, Tomas went against his order and had paid the price. Now he needed to pull himself together and somehow make it back to their place, back to Marcus. Back to safety.
Tomas managed to stand up on shaky legs. He was astounded to find his bag lying on the ground only a few steps away. He didn't even remember grabbing it. Tomas woozily picked up the bag and headed towards the road, giving the house a wide circle. He'd almost reached the road when he heard the sound of a nearing car. For a second he froze like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. His mind tried to figure out what the chanceswere that it was Marcus coming to look for him. Even in his shocked state Tomas quickly ruled out that possibility as insane. It might've been someone from the island just passing by, in which case Tomas could maybe hitch a ride and get to the mainland much sooner than he anticipated. But that chance was also pretty slim based on the remoteness of the Kim house. Most probably it was the family returning from camping prematurely. Tomas swallowed and instinctively stepped back from the road, his dark clothing making it easy for him to hide in the darkness of the trees.
Soon enough, a familiar car drove down the road and parked in front of the house. Tomas could see Andy Kim and one of the children, Verity, the girl that seemed to dislike him greatly. There was no one else in the car and Tomas didn't know if he should feel worry or relief that Harper hadn't returned to the house. In the end he settled on worry as he saw Andy rush inside, leaving a visibly shaken Verity behind. Tomas looked wistfully towards the now empty road, then back at the house, the front door still open. Swallowing, he turned back towards the house, his legs feeling like lead.
By the time he'd made it to the front door his heart felt as if he'd run a marathon. Tomas stopped next to the car and looked worriedly inside the house. Verity has vanished in to her room as Andy went up the stairs... Tomas wished to have the courage to follow them inside, to ask what happened and find out where the others were, to drag both family members from that damned house and away from the danger. But it was just that, wishes. Tomas couldn't move. It wasn't Marcus's warning that rang in his head anymore, it was his own experience. He knew that whatever lurked inside was too strong for him. Those visions, they were a warning. A playful warning at that, Tomas realized, because he could've very easily been killed by them. Hell, he already felt like he'd died three different ways. He wasn't prepared for the real deal.
So he stood before the house and looked up in silent terror at the shining light in the attic. He should go inside and do something, anything to stop the demon from taking over Andy.
'Don't be a bloody idiot!' he could hear Marcus's voice clear as day, shouting into his ear. It didn't matter anyway. Tomas's legs refused to take a step closer to the house. Goosebumps covered his arms and he felt positively sick, but he didn't move. As if sensing his apprehension, the lights in the house flickered in amusement and the front door slowly, excruciatingly slowly, started to close. If Tomas squinted hard, he thought he could see a small hand on the door frame. Then it shut with a soft click, though in the silence of the night it sounded like a gunshot.
Tomas jerked, then looked back towards the attic window. The shades were closed and the light was gone. Everything was quiet, except for the loud thumping of Tomas' heart inside his chest. He couldn't stay, not tonight, not by himself. Pushing aside the guilt of abandoning those two people to the evil of the house, Tomas said a prayer for their protection and tried to ignore the animalistic relief he felt with each step that was taking him farther from the house and its occupants.
The night seemed to last forever. It might've been the fact that Tomas kept stumbling on the dark road and stopping several times to fight down a surge of blind panic... at having left the occupants of the house alone, at not knowing where Harper was. But mostly he panicked as he saw flashes of carnage and felt himself being pulled back into the attic.
The visions attacked him once more and he shivered as he felt the cold well water closing in around him. He shuddered when the chain hit his face and felt himself falling to his knees, a silent scream on his lips. His eyes wide open, Tomas blinked in confusion as he found himself kneeling on the hard road, something wet running down his face. Reaching up in blind panic, expecting to find his fingers red and sticky with blood, he was surprised to find only the wetness of tears.
Tomas forced himself to stand up on wobbly legs and continue down the road. The flashlight didn't work since the incident in the attic, so Tomas had to walk the road in total darkness. The moon was at half-mast and only scarcely peeked out from behind the clouds. Tomas was just grateful it wasn't raining.
The walk shouldn't have taken him so long... the walk to the house during the day wasn't longer than an hour, but Tomas found it impossible to walk faster in the dark out of fear that he would simply wander off the road and become lost in the unwelcoming woods. And they were unwelcoming, with all the strange sounds, the occasional hooting of an owl or the swishing of leaves in the wind. Tomas wasn't used to camping out, he was the child of a city, whether it was Chicago or Mexico City. He knew how to behave in the dark streets, what things deserved his attention and when it was wisest to just run. Here, on this god forsaken island, lost in the darkness, everything screamed of danger. This whole island was occupied by evil and Tomas felt the hate and sick interest focusing his way.
Shuddering at the thought of all the demons that could be feasting on this little island and its occupants, Tomas subconsciously quickened his step. Somewhere he must've missed a turn, because he found himself face to face with a road sign. Squinting in the darkness, Tomas let out a shout of frustration as he realized where he was and that he would have to backtrack a mile or two or he would have to walk another six miles to reach the port.
It seemed like the island has conspired against him, like it was playing with him, trying to see how much he could handle. Tomas could almost hear the wind playing with the trees, as if cackling at his plight. Shaking his head resolutely, he turned and started back on the road. He needed to get off this island and back to Marcus as soon as possible... he needed to warn him. The kids were in much bigger danger than either of them had imagined. Steeling himself for more walking, shuddering in the coldness of the night, Tomas gritted his teeth and continued on. He was on a mission, one that had too many lives at stake to just give up, however badly Tomas wanted to. Because he did want to give up... to just get off the island and run as far away as possible, away from the demons and from his 'gift'. Tonight, Tomas saw the truth... tonight he realized his visions weren't a gift from God, they were a curse.