Here's Chapter 2! The canon characters make their grand entrance in this one, so thanks for bearing through Chapter 1! Hope you guys like it, and please, constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Twelve hours later Emily found herself sitting in a car outside of a dingy highway diner off the interstate. If everything went as planned she would have her answers within the hour. Her stomach clenched with anxiety. What she wouldn't give to just go home and forget any of this had ever happened. But she was determined to go through with this. It was the only way she could ensure her parents safety.
The diner, Detective Rowley had assured her, was the frequent haunt of one of the men suspected to be connected to the murderous cult. She had been given a description, and told to watch and wait for him to show, which he usually did around this time. The idea had been to let him get a glimpse of her, have her "let slip" to a waitress that she had run away and that she would be staying in a local motel. Rowley would be waiting for her there and, if all went as planned, the man would follow her there, and Rowley would make the arrest. Hopefully this man would lead them to the others. Emily closed her eyes for a moment, trying to stifle the rising feeling of panic welling in her chest. If the man didn't show up soon, she would scream.
Four tense minutes went by, and then Emily watched as an old, black, well-kept station wagon pulled into parking lot. There, that was him. Unnaturally tall and thin, slicked back black hair, a hooked nose and sharp chin, he looked like a raven in a suit. He was far too well dressed for this diner, but he was obviously a regular by the way the waitress greeted him when he sat on a stool up at the bar. Emily knew her moment had come.
She got out of the car as gracefully as she could. Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest she thought it might burst. She tried to walk at a normal pace when all her instincts said to run in the opposite direction. She had decided while she had been waiting that she would sit up at the bar, making her visible to the whole diner. Sliding onto the stool, she shot a glance up and down the bar. The man was three stools away, bent over a newspaper, and sipping a coffee. Emily needed to get the waitress interested in talking. So she took a deep, audible breath (hoping she wasn't overdoing it) and buried her face in her hands on the exhale. It worked. The plump, blonde waitress bustled over and leaned forward on the bar.
"You okay hun? You don't look so good." Emily looked up at the waitress, hoping that her expression conveyed deep dejection, rather than over played melodrama.
"No, I'm not okay..." She said, dropping her head and following with another deep sigh. She paused, then looked up at the waitress again, this time with a conspiratorial look on her face. "Can you keep a secret?" The woman nodded her head vigorously, obviously enjoying being told other people's business. She must be one hell of a gossiper, Emily thought, but all she said was "I ran away from home. My parents always treat me like a child, and I'm sick of it." The waitress tried (and failed) to keep the look of glee off her face.
"Oh you poor thing!" She said with an unconvincing affectation of sympathy. "You poor, poor thing. Why don't I bring you a coffee, and you can tell me all about it!" Barely hiding her snide grin, she bustled back over to the coffee pot and poured a large cup of black coffee. Pausing, she turned to the man and said,
"Can I fill up your coffee Mr. Pitchiner?" She grinned at him and proffered the pot. The man pushed his cup forward and mumbled a soft thank you. The waitress replaced the coffee pot on its burner, turned to Emily and asked if she wanted cream or sugar.
"Both please." Emily replied. She was no great fan of coffee, but she needed the waitress to ask the right questions. When the mud like substance was placed in front of her, she took a sip and suppressed a shudder. Fixing a smile on her face, she looked back up into the eager face of a waitress.
"Thank you very much." Emily said. Taking a hint from the expectant look on the waitress's face, Emily put on her best "hard done by" expression and said, "Yesterday was the last straw. Someone came to the door, and when I went into the living room to see what was happening, she shrieked at me and drove me out, saying I was only a child and I shouldn't interfere with adult matters." Emily hated lying, and hated saying bad (if untrue) things about her mother. The waitress was waiting impatiently, clearly lapping up the fresh gossip. Emily took a deep breath and continued, "So I took the car, and am going to San Francisco. For tonight though, I'm staying at the Red Creek motel, a couple miles back. It's nice, I've got a first floor room, so lugging my stuff in wasn't so bad. Plus, my mom would be furious if she knew where I was." Emily faked a grin. The waitress grinned back and said,
"Oh you poor dear. All alone in the world. Well, that coffee's on the house. You just sit there as long as you need and you tell little ol' me if there's anything else I can get for you." The waitress patted Emily's thin hand with her meaty one, and went to gather up a meal from the counter to take to one of the other customer's in the diner. Emily peaked sideways from under her hair at the man, Mr. Pitchiner the waitress had called him. She was startled to see he was staring at her. She quickly ducked her head down, and forced herself to take another sip of the dreadful coffee. She gripped the cup tightly; it was the only way to stop her hands from shaking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man turn towards her.
"Pardon me for the intrusion," Emily jumped halfway out of her seat when he addressed her. She nearly fell off her stool, but he gently grabbed her elbow and steadied her until she was balanced again. She faced him, and was surprised to see a good-natured smile on his face. "So sorry," he said kindly, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to offer this." He held up a 20 dollar bill. "I overheard you saying that you're on your own for now. It's not easy, taking care of yourself, no family to help. I know it's not much, but at least it'll get you a couple hot meals." He held the 20 out to her. Slowly, Emily reached out a hand and took the proffered money. The man's smile broadened. "I'm Kozomotis, by the way. What's your name?"
Emily hesitated. None of this made sense. Rowley must have suspected the wrong man. If this man were part of the cult that was after her, surely he wouldn't be being this friendly or telling her his name. (And what kind of name was Kozomotis?) Of course, it could be an alias, but still...
"Thank you for this." she said tucking the twenty into the pocket of her jeans, "My name's Emily." For an instant she saw a look flash across his face, but the smile was back in place so quickly Emily was left wondering if she had imagined it. He reached out a hand and she shook it.
"Well it was nice meeting you Emily." Kozomotis said, finishing his coffee in one gulp, then standing up and stretching slightly. "But I've got to be going. Good luck to you." With a half glance over his shoulder and a small wave, he headed out to his black station wagon, flipped on the headlights and drove off. Emily let out a shuddering breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. She turned back to her coffee and was surprised to see the waitress standing there leaning on the bar and looking at her knowingly.
"I'll bet you anything his number's written on that twenty." She said with a hearty wink. Emily pulled the bill back out of her pocket and unfolded it. There just as the waitress had said were seven digits scrawled in a tidy handwriting. Seeing this, the waitress giggled and said, "He couldn't keep his eyes off you from the moment you walked in." Emily was actually quite relieved. A random stranger hitting on her was something much easier to handle than a possibly murderous stranger being kind to her. She breathed easier. The waitress sighed dramatically and went on, "Isn't he just so handsome? I love when he comes in, he's always dressed so well." And with that, she huffed off to wipe down tables.
Well that was it. Rowley had said this man was their only lead, and he was clearly just a normal guy. Emily sighed, said goodnight to the waitress, and headed out to her car. She would head back to the motel, let Rowley know what happened, and head home. She started up her car, pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the highway. She pulled her car into the space designated for her room, and hopped out, feeling much more at ease than the last time she had left the car.
Any good feelings she had felt instantly dissipated when she saw the door to her room was open. Not thinking, she rushed in. The room looked like a tornado had ripped through; the mattress had been flipped, the pictures were torn from the wall, her clothing and possessions were strewn across the floor. Emily felt her heart shoot up into her throat. Her voice came out as a squeak.
"Detective Rowley?" She called, knowing that she wouldn't receive an answer. She checked under the mattress, then headed toward the tiny bathroom, terrified of what she might find when she got there. "Rowley, are you here?" She peaked around the bathroom door to find it had been given the same treatment as the main room. And there, scrawled across the mirror in what looked horribly like blood where the words CALL ME.
Emily's head swam dizzily and the ground heaved under her feet. They had killed him. The blood on the mirror was obviously Rowley's. She felt the coffee churn in her stomach and just barely made it to the toilet in time. She coughed and sputtered until she could breathe again, but that didn't help the sick feeling in her stomach. It had gone all wrong. She was the bait. She was supposed to have been the one in danger. But now an innocent man's blood was on the mirror and on her hands. She slumped against the wall, trying to breathe as her whole body screamed with disgust and horror. She forced herself to take deep even breaths. When she had calmed down slightly, she pulled out the twenty, and her cell phone. Numbly she dialed and held the phone up to her ear. She waited with baited breath, dreading each ring, but dreading even more that someone should answer. Finally, the line picked up.
"Hello?" She said shakily. "Who's there?" Her whole body shook as the seconds ticked by.
"Hello?" She said again.
"Hello Cailey. It's good to hear your voice again."
She froze, the phone shaking in her hand as a cheerful male spoke to her. He called her Cailey. Did they think that's who she was? Maybe they were confusing her with the wrong girl.
"M-my name's Emily." The girl replied back quietly, without any confidence.
He laughed suddenly, but it sounded jagged and insincere. "Is that what they've been calling you?" He chuckled, the sound utterly terrifying Emily to the core. "I was expecting something more original. I'm kind of disappointed."
"What do you want from me?" She asked. She had no clue what else to do. The ball was in their court, and while it may have been too late for Detective Rowley, her parents were still in horrible danger.
"We want you sweetie." He told her, as if it was plain as day. "We wanna talk to you. Alone." He paused at that word, his tone making it clear she was not to call for any further help. Emily waited for him to continue. "We're at 22100 Parkway Drive. The abandoned warehouse. Come now, alone, or else we'll kill Detective Rowley before we head over to your house and kill your parents too." He practically hissed at the word parents, and Emily couldn't hold back her tears. She managed to speak somewhat steadily though.
"Detective Rowley's alive?" She asked, afraid to hope, afraid he was just lying to her to get her to come out.
"For now." The male voice said airily. "If you don't hurry up and get here though, I can't promise he'll be alive by morning."
"How do I know he's still alive?" She fired at him. A pause, and a second later she could hear muffled shouts. Her heart dropped and her breath got stuck in her throat.
"Hurry up and get here." The man told her, all cheerfulness gone from his voice. "To make sure you don't dawdle, for every hour you take getting here, poor Rowley will lose another finger." On cue, a loud sickening thud was heard as well as a horrible, muffled scream. Emily couldn't stop herself from gasping, and then suddenly the line went dead.
Without a second thought she rushed outside to her car and got herself in, taking a second to double check no one was hiding in the backseat. All was clear. She pulled out her phone and typed the address into Google maps as fast as she possibly could. Once she had directions, she started the car and hit the gas, intending to get there before the hour was up. She ended up making it in about a half hour, doing ninety on the freeway. Part of her hoped a cop would notice and go to stop her, but then his constant repeat of her coming alone kept playing in her head. She made it to the warehouse uninterrupted, and parked in the first spot she saw.
Once she was out of the car, it wasn't clear what she should do. Should she stay and wait, or just go ahead and go through the door? They didn't tell her where they were inside the building, and this place was fairly big. Suddenly, there was a loud creak and her head snapped to the right, and a door was wide open. Taking in a deep breath of air, she bolted for the door and only hesitated a moment before stepping inside.
It was relatively well lit, the ominous hallways illuminated by lanterns. She made her way cautiously down the hallway, not sure of where to go and simply letting her feet lead the way. There were black, shadowy drawings on the walls consisting of arrows telling her which way to go. She ended up walking across the main floor and going down a set of stairs to the basement. Each second felt like an hour, and she was horrified that they went ahead and chopped Rowley's hand up to pieces already. There was no way their word could be trusted, but she had to come. She had to try and save Detective Rowley and her parents.
She arrived at a dead end, no more black wall art directing her. She stood there, heart pounding against her rib cage, wondering what to do next, when suddenly white lights flashed above her and she had to shield her eyes for a minute to keep herself from going blind. When she could see normally again, she lowered her hand and cried out,
"Detective Rowley!"
There he was, tied a chair and gagged. His clothes were dirty and stained with blood, particularly near his left shoulder and his right hand. His face was drenched in sweat and his eyes looked dull. It was horrifying seeing him like this, when he seemed so calm and confident just hours earlier. She started running to him, when a voice halted her in her tracks.
"Woah, hold on there kiddo! First things first." The man who she had spoken to on the phone earlier came into sight, and Emily pulled back as she got a good look at one of these infamous killers.
He looked young; very young. He couldn't have possibly been older than his early twenties, and even that was pushing it. He was thin and lanky, but tall. He wore a blue hoodie and khaki pants. His hair was a dark brown at the roots, but the rest was overcome by snowy-white shaggy strands. He had a square jaw contrasted by a very otherwise young face, and large, blue eyes. He was smiling, as if this was some long-anticipated event with friends. He was also looking at her rather intently, as if he was studying her. He took a few steps forward, one hand in his hoodie pocket while the other dangled by his side, holding something she couldn't recognize.
Emily stood where she was, afraid to move and afraid to speak. She was trembling, but couldn't stop it. She stared wide-eyed at the man, waiting.
"Well. Aren't you gonna say hi?" He asked her, cocking his head to the side. He was making this into some kind of game. She clenched her fists. The sick motherfucker.
"H-Hi." Emily stuttered. "You wanted t-to talk to me?"
"Nuh-uh." He withdrew his hand from his hoodie and wagged a finger at her, as if she had given a wrong answer. "We wanted to talk to you." Emily's brow scrunched in confusion until another figure stepped into the light, his footsteps echoing loudly off the concrete floor.
This man was taller than his accomplice, but only by a couple of inches. He was tanned and muscular, and looked like he had about ten years on his partner with a more mature face and light facial hair. But he looked young too, and while the other was smiling and beaming, this guy had a serious face as if he was concentrating on something heavily. He had light brown hair pulled back in a small ponytail, strands randomly sticking out around his face. Intense green eyes smoldered out at her from behind thick, dark eyebrows. He was wearing a white wife-beater under a black vest and green cargo pants, tucked into what she dubbed as "shit-kicker" black boots.
He raised his hand which held a boomerang, spinning it in his palm casually.
"'Ello lovey." His voice was thick and rough, and obviously of Australian heritage. "Been a long time." The boomerang came to a halt and he clutched it, pointing at her with it. "Seventeen years to be exact."
Emily thought. That far back would have been when her mother found her. These were the guys!
"Who... who are you?" She felt the question slip from her tongue.
"The name's Aster." He nodded to the shorter male. "This is Jack." Jack cocked his head to the side as if he was a small child, and waved at her.
"You're the ones who had me when my mom found me." Emily stated questioningly.
"When she took you away from us." The shorter male corrected, his friendly face replaced by anger. "There was no finding or losing, you were right where you belonged, and that bitch took you from us!" He shouted, thrashing his hand holding the mystery weapon towards the ground. Suddenly ice formed a line from where he stood to the wall, coming up in clear, jagged crystals.
Emily took a step back and covered her hands with her mouth, the lump of fear in her stomach solidified, not believing what she just saw. He couldn't have just created ice out of thin air. He couldn't have!
He composed himself, bringing himself back under control and looking at Emily, ignoring her shock. The other man decided it was time for him to speak.
"That woman that you believe is your mother is nothing but a liar." His eyes hardened to stone. "She got damn lucky, the only reason she got away was because we underestimated her."
"I don't understand though. What did she do to make you two want to kill her in the first place?" Emily asked, looking imploringly at them.
"What did she do?" The one called Jack laughed. "She was out fucking another guy, because apparently your daddy wasn't good enough for her anymore!" His face became filled with hatred, and Emily wasn't sure if it was directed at her or her mother. "So we had to teach her a lesson."
"By trying to kill her?" Emily injected. "Adultery doesn't deserve death!"
"Hah!" Aster startled her by his loud, sarcastic tone. "She brain wash you with that bullshite too?" He took a step closer, pointing at her again with his boomerang. "Let me tell you somethin' lovey. All that talk about "second chances" and "it was a mistake, please forgive me, I can do better", is nothing but a load of hogwash! People like that are disloyal and cannot be trusted! They're the reason that marriage is mocked at, like it's some big joke. Because they treat it like one! Cheating whores like her don't deserve to take up space on this Earth."
White hot anger surged through her at the insult. Despite her fear, Emily glared at them. "My mom is not a whore." She said through clenched teeth.
"No, she's not." Aster said, suddenly calm and soft. He looked at his boomerang, running his fingers along the sharp edges. "Your real mother that is." He looked back up to shoot a look into Emily. She felt it pierce her as if it was done by the very weapon he held.
"You knew my biological mother?" She realized.
"We know your biological mother." Jack corrected her. Emily's eyes grew even larger. Her birth mother was still around? How did she know them?
"She... She's still alive?" Her voice faltered. "You didn't kill her?"
"No." Jack looked at the girl as if she just asked a dumb question. "Why would we do something like that?"
Before she could stop herself, a retort fell off her lips. "Because you're serial killers who like to hurt people?"
Jack smirked, but his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "You better watch your tone missy." He walked lazily over to Detective Rowley who had remained quiet through this exchange. With a mad grin, Jack grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head back, startling a yelp out of the man. "Or else I might get mad." He picked up a scalpel from the small table next to Rowley and pressed the blade against the bound man's throat. "And slip up." He pressed down just hard enough to draw some blood.
Emily tensed up, putting her hands up. "Okay, please don't! I'm sorry!" She pleaded. "I just... I thought you killed my biological family. And that's why I was with you when my... other mother took me." Her adrenaline skyrocketed as she waited, feeling like she was going to pass out right then and there. Slowly, Jack pulled the blade away from Rowley's throat and released him, walking forward. He never took his eyes off her. She couldn't figure out what he was thinking, he looked serious, like a blank slate.
"You don't remember anything?" He whispered. At her confused look, he went on. "From that night, before she took you away?"
Another hopeless rack at her brain provided nothing, and she was worried he was going to be dissatisfied with her answer and kill Detective Rowley. "No... I can't remember anything from that night."
Jack looked heartbroken at this confession, and his eyes dropped. Aster looked at him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't do that Jack." His voice was strict, but not harsh. "You can't expect a three year old to remember." The shorter male breathed deeply, struggling with himself. When he spoke, his tone was quieter and sounded pained.
"I know... I just hoped she would..." He wasn't making sense. What was she supposed to remember? The hand on his shoulder squeezed reassuringly before giving him a loud slap on the back, startling him.
"Buck up ya sad sack, that was then and this is now. We can fix things now." At this, Jack nodded and his face hardened with determination. Emily looked between the two, her alarm growing with each second as she became more and more puzzled.
"I don't understand." Her voice was soft, pleading. Some shred of attempt to hopefully reason with them. "What do you two want from me?"
Jack looked at her for a minute, not blinking, before speaking. "We're taking you home. Where you belong."
"Home?" The word felt foreign on her lips. "Where's home?" They couldn't possibly be taking her to her biological family, could they?
"With us." Aster said. Emily shook her head.
"But... why? Why would you wanna take me with you? What about my biological mother?"
"She'll be there too." Aster told her. "Well, not literally in the same house, but she'll be close by. She's missed you terribly." Emily felt her frustration rise as she became more confused.
"But why do you want to take me with you? That doesn't make any sense!"
"What do you mean it doesn't make any sense?!" Jack shouted, looking agitated. "It's plain and simple. We're taking you home where you belong! With your real family!"
"How do you even know my real family though? Are they just like you? Is that why you're here? You're doing them some kind of favor or something?" Emily finally snapped.
The two stood still, surprised. They slowly turned to look at each other, and then they started to laugh. Emily was furious that they were laughing at her. And as their shoulders shook and menacing snickers echoed throughout the room, she just looked at them; angry and scared and confused. She kept glancing at Detective Rowley, who was silently struggling to try and break free from his bindings. He looked just as unnerved and perplexed.
When they finally settled down, Aster looked up at her, his face looking disturbing despite his obvious amusement. "Ya don't get it lovey." Whether it was planned or not, Jack spoke up then, his eyes widening for dramatic effect before he spoke, slowly as if to make sure she understood.
"How do we know your real family?" He leaned forward, speaking with great delight. "Because we are your real family!"
Emily's jaw dropped. Her ears couldn't believe what they were telling her. The possibility that she was related to the murderers had crossed her mind, but she was shocked all the same. But to see them, in person, and hear it from their own mouths... it just couldn't be.
"W... What?" Emily wasn't even aware she had spoken.
"We" Jack gestured to Aster and himself. "are. your real. family." He theatrically gestured with each arm, as if to get the point in even deeper.
Emily wasn't sure what to say. So many thoughts raced through her mind, all clamoring for her attention. She balled her fists into her jacket, clenching the fabric into her fingers as if it would magically make this whole horrible situation disappear, and Detective Rowley would be back home, unharmed.
"Still don't believe?" She looked up, to see Jack with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, hello, it's kind of obvious." He gestured to himself. "Who do you think you got your good looks from?" The minute he said that, she began mentally comparing pictures of him and her, side by side. There were some clear resemblances, but it didn't strike her as so obvious the minute she saw him to realize who they were.
"So.. what are we then? Brother and sister?" She asked. He grinned.
"I'm humbled you think I look that young." He straightened himself up even more, looking onward with a sense of pride. "I'm your dad. And Aster here is your other father." Aster smirked at that.
Emily spluttered. "There's no way you can be my dad! You look the same age as me!"
"Don't feel bad darling, this youthful beauty fools everyone." He waved his hand, as if thanking some grand audience. "I am much, much older than I look. So is Aster here. He's ancient." Said man whipped his hand at his smaller partner, eyes narrowing. "Shut yer bloody mouth, ya damn show pony" Jack simply laughed and danced a few steps away from the hand before turning his attention back to their bewildered daughter.
Laughing. They thought this was all just a joke. She felt the terror boil away and the anger take hold. She just couldn't take all of this in, so her mind focused on an escape plan. She knew that Rowley was much too heavy for her slight frame to carry. She needed a plan, and she had only moments to think of something. Keep them talking, her mind supplied.
"How did you find me?" She heard herself ask. "Have you known where I was all these years? Why didn't you come for me before now?" She was only dimly aware of the angry expressions which her questions had placed on the faces of the two men before her. She thanked god that they had chosen to keep a ten foot gap between them and herself, because it hid the darting movements of her eyes as she looked for an escape route. It was then that she noticed it, Rowley's gun. They had set it on the small table sitting between Rowley and herself, from which Jack had gotten a scalpel and held a number of other unpleasant looking steel instruments. She hadn't been listening to their explanations, but they must have said something she was supposed to react to, so on the pretext of confusion on her part, she took an unsteady step towards the table and clutched her head. She was close enough now.
She knew this was going to hurt.
Aiming her outstretched arm toward the table and the gun, she rolled her eyes back in her head, and fell back in the perfect impression of a dead faint. She heard a satisfying clatter as the gun hit the ground next to the fingertips of her right hand. The men's footsteps echoed as they came rushing forward. Waiting until they were only feet away, Emily grabbed the gun and sprang to her feet, its muzzle pressed tight under her chin. Both men stopped, eyes wide, hands raised. For a long moment no one moved or spoke. The moment seemed to last hours. The hand that Emily was using to hold the gun was shaking slightly.
Jack finally broke the silence, speaking slowly. "Cailey... what are you doing?"
"My name. is. Emily." She spoke through gritted teeth. Jack's eyes turned hard, and he snapped. "I told you! That's what that whore and her man called you-" He started to walk forward, so Emily gripped the gun even more tightly, jabbing it against her chin.
"Don't you take one more step closer!" Her grip around the gun became like a vice. "Let Detective Rowley go. Right now! Or else I'll blow my brains out all over this floor!" She prayed to God that this would work. If they had any intent of killing her anyway, then this would be useless.
Jack looked a little panicked now, but Bunny just chuckled and scoffed at her. "Oh please, I bet ya don't even know how to handle that-"
Keeping her eyes on them, she quickly brought one hand off the gun to cock it, readying it to fire. She had never been more grateful before this moment that her parents had made her practice shooting guns and learn how to use them.
Bunny's final words stopped as she proved she was capable of handling the weapon. His look became irritated, while Jack started to look more worried. They glanced at one another. They both took a step back and looked at her expectantly.
"Y-You're going to let Rowley go." Emily said, her voice shaking but her hand steady. "You're going to let him go free, and you aren't going to hurt my parents. Do you understand?" She watched as the two men shared a look of irritation. Then suddenly Jack grinned.
"Okay." He said abruptly in a cheerful voice. He took three strides over to Detective Rowley, and began to untie his hands. Emily saw her own disbelief mirrored on his face. When he was free, Rowley turned to Emily, taking a step forward. Quick as a flash Jack had a knife to Rowley's neck.
"Now now, you behave and leave quietly." Jack gestured to the large bay door opposite the one through which Emily had entered. Rowley gave Emily one last, desperate look, then headed in the direction he was told. The sound of the door closing echoed loudly throughout the otherwise quiet room.
Now Emily was alone with the two murderers.
They both took a step forward, Jack's chipper facade looking less genuine.. "All right. We fulfilled our end of the deal. Now hand over that gun before you hurt yourself." He talked to her as if he was scolding a child for having a temper tantrum.
Emily hesitated pulling the gun away from her face. She wanted to shoot the bastards, but she was worried. She was worried she would miss, or that the bullets wouldn't kill them. That stunt with the ice earlier... that was proof they weren't ordinary people. A regular human couldn't have done that. She tried to reason it had to be some kind of magic trick, but it had seemed so real.
Before Emily could change her mind, Aster sped over to her at an abnormal speed and swiped the gun out of her hand. Emily didn't even have time to comprehend what just happened. There was definitely no way these guys were human. They were like walking science experiments gone wrong. And now she was alone with them. Vulnerable and unprotected and defenseless. But at least Rowley was safe now.
Emily stood stock still, waiting for the stroke to fall. She had no idea what they had planned for her. But she knew it couldn't be anything good.
Aster had returned to Jack's side, emptying the gun of its bullets before tossing it carelessly aside. He hated the bloody things, he found them such a cliché weapon and it was too easy for anyone to cause damage with them.
Suddenly, Jack burst out laughing as if he had been holding it in. Aster looked at him, and whatever his eyes told him, he understood because he started chuckling deviously too. These two were batshit insane, Emily thought, and their constant teeter between maniacal laughter and stoic stare downs was grinding her already shattered nerves down into dust. While at the same time pissing her off in ways she never experienced before.
"What's so damn funny?!" She demanded. Jack appeared to be wiping a tear from his eye, and gave her a great big smile all shining white teeth.
"Okay Pitch... you can come out of hiding now." With that said, out from the shadows emerged two figures. It took a couple minutes before they were in enough light for her to see, but Emily felt herself shout. There was Rowley, using whatever fight was left in him to thrash against the tall, thin dark figure holding him captive. That same figure who smiled at her just a few hours prior and offered her money with that dreaded phone number written on the back.
"Hello Emily." Pitch purred, his voice full of perfected charm. This same man, who she had presumed as normal and decent, was suddenly gripping Rowley with a painfully tight grip, and he had the smuggest damn look on his face. His flirtatious tone pissed Jack and Aster off, and they both glared murderously at him from where they stood.
"I told you not to call her that!" Jack hissed at Pitch, although that wasn't the only thing that pissed him off. Pitch flashed a toothy smile at Jack.
"Oh, no, there's no need to thank me. Honestly Jack, I only tracked down your missing daughter, tricked her into coming here and cleaned up the mess after that whole gun incident." Pitch's voice dripped with sarcasm. As much as she hated him, Emily was honestly impressed that he would say such a thing with the two men glaring so hatefully. She watched as Pitch rolled his eyes at them.
"I am sorry Emily dear, but I owe them a favor, so-" And with a swift jerk, Pitch snapped Rowley's neck.
Emily watched in horror as Rowley's body hit the floor. She felt a shriek building in her chest and when she could contain it no more, it exploded out, tearing at her throat. She felt herself keep screaming but everything felt disconnected as she stared at Rowley's lifeless form. Phrases formed in her screams, though she put no conscious thought into what was said. Distantly she heard the men speaking, practically shouting to make themselves heard, but her whole world had narrowed. Her whole world was the man lying dead because of her. She barely noticed when a fourth man came into view. Then suddenly her world went dark. And she slept.