Hunter Of the Shadows
Chapter 25
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Sam stares at the Rolex in Dean's hands.
"I guess if it weren't for Lenore, we might never have known what happened to Tobius," Dean's eyes are suspiciously moist. He lays the watch down carefully, and studies it, his expression both sad and affectionate.
"Beautiful time piece. One of the best in the world, so they say." Dean's voice grows a little distant, as memories swamp him once again. "Never fails. Just keeps right on ticking…"
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"Where is he?" Sam demanded, getting right up in Lenore's face. "When's he coming back?"
She didn't seem flustered or angered by the youngster's presumptuousness. More saddened.
Sam was blind to it, but I could see.
I could see it on her face.
"He's not coming back, Sammy," I whispered, sadly, though I was struggling to believe it. Guess a part of me never would.
Lenore made the announcement calmly, and with all the dignity expected from a chief vampire.
"Tobius was involved in a stray hunt on our territory a few days ago. It was a female non-lunar, and she'd been bugging us for days, testing our boundaries, trying to get in. I feel it only fair to state that Tobius was there at my request." Lenore dipped her head for a moment, as if in shame, then continued. "We believe the stray was attempting to free Gordon Walker, but your Sire finished her off with silver. Unfortunately, whilst our attentions were elsewhere, Gordon saw a means to escape, killing three of my nest, and has so far evaded capture. We suspect he had help, though there's been no proof."
We were waiting for the rest, and Lenore didn't keep us hanging. What she told us came as no surprise, but still made my heart stop in my chest.
"Tobius, terrified Gordon would seek retribution by heading for his pack, took off in hasty pursuit. We haven't heard from him since."
A cold, pale hand rested on mine as I carefully took hold of the battered Rolex.
"This was all we found. The blood, as you know, belonged to your father. There was no trace of Gordon."
She didn't need to tell us the rest. Sammy and I could smell the sharp tang of silver in the dried, black flakes of blood, and my mind conjured up all kinds of sick and twisted images, the various ways Gordon might have disposed of the body.
"I am truly sorry for your loss, Sam and Dean." Lenore meant every word, and for someone we'd only just met, I was touched by her concern. "Perhaps you would be safer staying with the nest. As Tobius' remaining family, you'll always be welcome in Florida. He was one of my oldest and dearest friends and we will not turn you away."
I nodded, heart and soul filling with pain and anger. Denial was at the forefront of my thoughts, and it would be a long time before acceptance was invited in.
If ever.
After eight hundred years, no way could it end like that. In fact, the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed.
Tobius losing to a newly turned vamp?
Possible, yeah, I'll admit that much. But definitely not probable.
Maybe I was refusing to face reality, but it worked. Gave me hope and made me feel better. If Tobius was out there somewhere, alive and well, he'd soon find us.
Of that I was certain.
Sam hung his head and turned away, but not before I caught the glint of tears on his face.
Christ. I didn't know what to do. Pretty sure I didn't want to head to Florida, though, and I could easily guess that Sam wouldn't either. Besides, Gordon likely had that move covered.
One thing was for certain. We couldn't stay in Palo Alto. Walker would certainly head out here, if he wasn't en route already.
There was only one place we could be safe. Tobius' cabin.
Gordon had never managed to track us there, and only Lenore knew the place existed. According to Tobius, she'd been sworn to secrecy long ago about its location, even from her mate and second in command.
"Thanks, but we're good." I couldn't bring myself to smile, not even a little, but Lenore didn't appear to take offence.
"As you wish," she whispered softly, and held out a small card. "Here. My personal cell phone number should you need anything." A small sad smile flittered across her face, then was gone in an instant. "Stay safe."
The vamp melted into the shadows without another word.
I glanced down at the Rolex, the black and gold wolf motif winking up at me in the dim light, like a Morse code message I couldn't decipher.
"C'mon Sam," I called out, voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Let's get back to the apartment. We need to pack."
"What?" Sam swung round, eyes glowing furiously. "Where the hell are we supposed to go?"
My answer was short and succinct. "The cabin."
He started shaking his head. "No way. I'm not leaving Jess here. If Gordon shows up..."
"We take her with us," I replied, firmly.
"She won't agree to that, Dean," Sam crossed his arms, jaw set stubbornly. "And neither do I. We both have exams this week and assignments to submit..."
"To hell with all that!" I suddenly yelled, and though the kid hid it well, I'd obviously surprised him. Grabbing him by his shirt front, I pushed my face right into his. "Tobius is dead, and that's all you can think about?" My mind rebelled at even saying the word, and my blood boiled hotter with rage. "You selfish little bastard."
Sam reacted by shoving me away, his own face crimson with anger.
"I'm doing this for Tobius! He wouldn't want me to blow it! Ok? Not for a piece of shit like Gordon!" His nostrils flared in defiance. "I thought that's what you wanted! Not run away and go into hiding!"
Kid struck a nerve there, but I had a responsibility to him, and Jess.
"Your lives are more important than some damn test!" Levelling a finger at him, my voice grew deep and uncompromising. "And as for Jess, if she wants to be a part of this pack then she'd better learn to take orders from the alpha." My ears were sliding up, teeth lengthening, all for effect. Like Tobius' own haki, I was asserting my dominance. "And until further notice, that's me!"
Sam's eyes widened, mouth falling open. He looked about ready to protest my claim, but his mouth snapped shut again, and he nodded slowly.
"I hear ya." Sam agreed quietly.
It was as good of an acceptance as I was going to get under the circumstances.
The realisation that things had changed, that one event had altered everything, must have come as a shock to the kid, 'cos it sure blew me the hell away.
But there was more to come that night.
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Sam and I ran through the campus, keeping a wary eye out for trouble. Streetlights loomed overhead, casting creepy shadows on the sidewalks and tarmac, and in the distance I could hear the laughter of drunken students carrying out late night trick or treat – though mostly trick, judging by some of the screams.
We stayed silent, no longer in the mood for fun, if we ever were to start with.
The night had turned from noisy and tense, to dark and troubled, and my heart pounded painfully, as though counting the seconds until it fell to pieces. Sam's grim face sometimes caught the streetlight, revealing his own torment, and no doubt brooding over my claim to alpha. I didn't think it was me he had a problem with; Sam's always followed me first and foremost, and though we might have our differences, he knows I'll listen to his view point. Sam's problem lay with the circumstances, and I kind of felt the same way. We'd assumed that when I took over as pack alpha, it would happen because Tobius had willingly abdicated and gone into retirement. I mean, yeah, as I said before, after the age of twenty five – quarter century being considered the prime age - werewolves don't get any older, depending on when they were turned.
But they do grow emotionally tired. Eight hundred years is a long time, guys, and it's bound to take its toll. I don't know what Tobius had planned for his life should that time ever come, but I somehow imagined him settling down, maybe writing his memoires, or even building up some kind of training camp for new additions to the pack. But now...
Now I could keep thinking ahead, not allow our grief to bog us down. I wasn't convinced of Sire's demise anyhow, and that bolstered my strength enough to keep Sam and me moving along.
Yeah. Denial always works.
A faint, deep pop and a rumbling noise reached our ears just as the wind suddenly changed direction, and a strong smell of smoke wafted under our nostrils. It clearly wasn't cigarette smoke, and by unspoken agreement, our pace increased until we reached the campus gates. A deep red glow in the sky up ahead had Sam racing down the street, shouting, screaming for his girl.
"Jess!!!!"
Sam, what the hell dude?
It's Jess, I fucking know it!
You don't know anything, just calm down.
I mean, it couldn't be.
Right?
It was probably a road traffic collision and some poor bastard's gas tank had gone up.
But as we drew near, the flashing lights and wailing sirens, the crowds gathered, gasping and whimpering in shock, fire crews yelling out orders, cops taking statements...
...everyone's attention was fixed firmly on the flaming remains of our apartment.
Sam didn't hesitate, just kept running straight for the blackened front door, smoke billowing out and blinding him. Tears rolled down his face, as he carried on screaming for Jess, and he would have made it, except I grabbed a hold of the back of his jacket and yanked him away.
Sam rounded on me, furious and desperate.
"Jess is in there!" He roared.
"It's too dangerous Sam!" I bellowed right back at him.
"I don't care...!"
"Well I do!"
The kid just stared passed me at the burning building, eyes filled with tears, body shaking. He was going into shock and I needed to get us away from the place.
We can't burn to death, but we ain't flame retardant either. It hurts like a bastard and the healing process is even worse. If you've ever been scalded or burnt, then you know how painful that is. It's the same for us, just maybe not as slow.
However, the biggest threat to us is the smoke. God only knew the kind of toxins set free by the fire; from furniture, wires, cables, detergents, electrical appliances, you name it, and any free radical silver ions we breathed in would head straight for the heart.
So, big trouble for us.
"Sam? Dean?" A teary voice from behind had us turning to face a red eyed Rebecca and her sooty faced brother, Zack. They both looked as exhausted and heartbroken as we felt.
"Becky," Sam allowed himself to wrapped in the girl's arms, but pulled back at the first opportunity. "What happened? And please... tell me she wasn't in there... tell me... Jess..."
His voice trailed off in misery when Rebecca's sad eyes filled with fresh tears, and she shook her head morosely.
"I'm so sorry, Sam."
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Sam was like an overloaded electricity generator, thrumming with power. I could practically hear the blood pumping through his veins, fuelled by grief and anger.
"It was him, wasn't it?" His nostrils flared again, and Rebecca took a pace back in fear.
Sammy, calm down, dude. Let's just hear her out.
It was Gordon, Dean. I can feel it…that bastard killed Jess.
Ok, ok… just take it easy. You're scaring ya friends.
I grabbed hold of the scruff of his neck, gently shaking him.
Not a good time to lose it, kiddo. C'mon get a grip.
I felt mean as hell. Poor kid comes home to find our apartment in flames, with the distinct possibility the love of his life, his soul mate, had gone up with it.
Gone forever.
I didn't blame him, couldn't. But we needed to focus.
I ducked my head to peer up into his face. Long hair hung down, hiding his eyes, but I gently brushed it aside. His body was calming, even if his mind was still about to blow, and I could feel the cold spreading through him. Shock had well and truly set in, like a snake under a rock. The kid sniffed and nodded, eyes gradually dulling, blanking out Rebecca, Zack, me, and everything else around him.
Keeping my hand on his neck, more to comfort than restrain, I pushed him forward until we reached the Impala, parked further down the road. Thanking God we were unable to park right by the apartment earlier that day, I opened the car's passenger seat and pushed Sam inside. Rebecca and Zack had followed us, wrapped in blankets provided by the ambulance crew, and stopped nearby, gazing at Sam in devastation.
I'm gonna find out what happened. You just sit tight and don't move, ok?
Sure.
I stared at his hunched form, worriedly. Never seen him like this before, never heard his mind so dull and lifeless, and I sure didn't know how to help him.
I guess I was also grieving, but pushed it deep enough to block it out because Sam needed me to be strong for him. Or maybe, I was just overwhelmed.
Leaving the car door open, I turned to Zack and his sister.
"What happened exactly?" I asked quietly.
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Sam was silent and sullen throughout the journey. He didn't argue once about heading for the cabin, merely grunted his ascent, and I got the feeling he no longer gave a damn one way or the other.
A terrible darkness was welling up inside him, and I didn't need our werewolf connection to sense it.
Vengeance.
Sam's blood bayed for revenge, and I couldn't deny the same thing crossed my mind a time or two.
Zack had taken over from Rebecca when my interrogation got too much for the poor girl, but his voice was just as shaky, eyes red with fatigue and sadness.
They'd escorted Jessica to our apartment as Sam requested, even walked her right to the door. Laughing a little, and asking them in for a cup of coffee, Jess had seemed bright and happy, looking forward to seeing Sam again once we found Tobius. Apparently, she hadn't lost faith in that.
Refusing the offer of a late night caffeine hit saved their lives.
Jess stood there watching her friends leave, and waved just before they were out of sight. Seconds later the building erupted in flames. Zack and Rebecca were some way along the sidewalk by that point, but the force of the blast still knocked them down.
I'd spent a few minutes talking to the fire crew, but no one was willing to spill. So I hung around at a distance, hoping to catch snippets of conversation.
Which paid off almost immediately.
One of the crew had muttered quietly to a colleague, and I stood out of sight, listening in. Gotta love werewolf super-hearing, huh?
"...something attached to the light switch just by the front door. Torn apart by the explosion of course, but it's a telltale sign. Seen it before… "
He went on to explain, but I ignored that part; that wasn't what I was interested in.
"Yeah? You sure?"
"Definitely some kind of incendiary device. Victim wouldn't have seen it, but once it blew open…"
"Shit!"
"Yeah. Sure hope we ain't dealing with some kind of terrorist attack, cos the way that thing was set? I'd say we were meant to find it..."
They went on to describe the state of the victim, or rather, what was left of her, and I couldn't listen any more. I ain't as sensitive as Sammy; I use humour or just plain anger to cope with heartache, but this was too much, even for me.
The news of Tobius was one thing; he'd lived a long time and wouldn't have complained. Probably would've shrugged his shoulders in a I had a good innings kinda way. But Jess was so damn young, a mere girl, just starting out, in love with a great guy, and her whole life ahead of her.
Sam had taken the news with little reaction. If I didn't know better I would've said he'd fallen asleep, but the grief and shock rolled off him, and he just sat there, head bowed, eyes hidden underneath all that hair.
Any attempts at conversation fell short, and I could understand all right.
'Cause now it was really hitting me low in the gut, like a lead pipe in full swing. With Tobius and Jess gone, where did that leave us? We were effectively running for our lives from a psychotic enemy, and no family left but each other.
Tobius' hotel was a no go area; I had no idea if Gordon was aware that place was one of our bolt holes, but with so many civilian guests, it wasn't worth the risk. Same went for the werebear family. To keep them safe, we would need to stay out of contact. Fortunately, Tobius had taken a call from them before he headed out on his last hunt - the thought made me want to screw my eyes shut.
Gerald and Josie had taken Janaya-Maria up to Canada for a few months, to meet the rest of the family. Gerald had asked Tobius to stop by and water his cactus plant if he was ever in the area.
I nearly snorted out loud, but didn't think Sammy would appreciate the sentiment right then. Poor Gerald wasn't good with house plants, and in a last ditched attempt to develop his green fingers – paws? – Josie had bought him a hardy cactus. I suspected the plant had wilted the moment a delighted Gerald had tipped up the watering can, and overfed it. Probably heard of his reputation, and gave up out of sheer despair.
The cabin was more than a few days ride away though, so I took the opportunity to lay a false trail. Easier said than done, but John Winchester had taught me well. I'd kept up the credit card scams all these years but on a smaller scale, just in case our pack split up and I needed the cash and cover.
This was just such a time.
As soon as we pulled into a motel for the night, and checked in under false names, I made use of my cell phone, booking various motel rooms all over the state, in all directions. It wasn't perfect, but I hoped it would keep Gordon and his lieutenant's off our backs until we could disappear into the mountains.
Worst case scenario, we'd change, ditch the car, and go lose ourselves in the wilderness. And that really was the worst case, 'cause ditching the Impala would be one more member of our family lost to us.
"Hey Sam, why don't you take a long hot shower, huh? I'll go get food."
Sam clenched his jaw and nodded, striding across to the bathroom, shoulders tense.
"I'm not hungry," he muttered in monotone, before quietly closing the door.
I wanted to bawl my eyes out, even felt the tear ducts gearing up, getting ready for a real doozey. A few deep breaths, and a belt of whiskey from the mini-bar, the only redeeming feature of our seedy motel room, put pay to that.
Pack alphas don't cry, at least, not in front of its youngsters.
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We lived like that for nearly a month in fact, dragging out the journey as best we could, moving from motel to motel, and sometimes sleeping in the car. The motels were always low key hovels, the exact opposite of what Tobius would have provided.
I told myself it was tactical, keeping danger out of our review mirror, but the real truth was, I was dreading seeing the cabin again. Last time we were there, Tobius was still alive and well...
Sam was barely eating, and in the end, for the sake of his health, I had to issue a direct order. To his credit, he didn't argue but I could see he didn't rate the food any better than I did. Given the state of our lives, food was like ashes in our mouths, and even the night time hunt had lost its shine.
We were no longer living, just existing. Our world consisted of drive, hunt, eat, sleep, then the cycle would start all over again. I tried talking to Sammy, but the kid seemed so lost to me. He shut me out, even his thoughts hidden away, and I tried hard not to take it personally.
As Tobius once told me, I just had to be patient.
As the days shuffled by, I said little, just let him know I was right there beside him. A pat on the back here, a gently squeezed shoulder there, and eventually, slowly, a little of the old Sam came back to me.
Thanks Dean, he actually smiled at me when I handed him a packet of beef jerky, and my heart thudded loudly as I revved the engine. So he wasn't cart wheeling for joy or anything, but it was the first sign of hope.
My own smile was returning for real when we burned rubber out of the latest gas station.
But, as if waiting for the right moment, my cell phone began belting out Enter Sandman, and 'private number' flashed up on the screen.
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Present day…
Dean scratches the back of his head, sighs, and glances over at Sam. The kid's face is tear-streaked, mouth trembling, sandwich lying forgotten on his plate.
"Ah shit Sammy, I'm sorry you had to go through all that again."
"S'ok." Sam replies, voice husky. He nods stiffly; but his teary gaze meets the camera lens in defiance, and this time his tone matches up. "Had to be said, and we owe it to Jess and Tobius."
Dean's got a half smile of admiration growing, before he schools his features and turns back to the camera.
"I guess you're wondering why I interrupted the entry at this stage, huh?"
Clearing his throat, he continues. "The beginning of the first entry talked of a trap, a running battle, and Sammy got silver shot when we tried to escape." Dean nods to himself, as if sorting it through in his head. "He's still recovering from that wound, 'cos the damn bullet went deep, and fragmented. Fact is, we're finally there. You're about to find out what happened…"
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It was obviously going to be a trap, just not in the way we expected. I guess hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and we were desperate.
"Well hullo, Dean."
I ground my teeth 'til my jaw ached.
"Gordon."
"Good guess." And the bastard actually snorted.
"What the hell do you want?"
"Need you ask?" A low rumble of laughter made my skin crawl. "Why, you and your brat of course. You sure did good covering your tracks, but your cell phone signal… now that shoulda been a dead giveaway. Seems you wolves have more lives than a cat."
Yeah. I arranged to have the signal re-routed through various cell phone companies. Anyone with my number could reach me, but tracing my whereabouts would've been downright impossible.
"You mean the bomb at Stanford?" I snarled, angrily. "So much for the hunt, huh Gordon? You missed us altogether and killed an innocent girl."
I could almost feel his shrug of indifference at the same time as Sam flinched. I sent him an apologetic glance, before returning to the conversation from hell.
"Don't matter. The little bitch was banging your son; only a matter of time before she was turned. That don't make her innocent in my eyes, Dean. Either way, my man did his job. Shame we didn't find out 'til later you boys escaped. He'd have gone after you sooner, but you were long gone before that snippet of information was released to the press."
Sammy and I had watched the news for days after the apartment went up, and the cops sure took their sweet time about releasing information, presumably pending notification of Jessica's family.
Sick I know, but I felt a little smug; that small delay gave us a valuable head start.
"What about Caleb? And Jo Harvelle? Waste of time dude." But I was wondering about that my man comment. Who set the bomb? Who else had Gordo recruited?
"Means to an end. Got you spooked, and made the game more interesting. But when Tobius took off to Florida, that's when the opportunity arose."
I nodded grimly. "Yeah, someone helped you escape, and you knew Tobius would be on your ass…"
"It was a hell of a lot easier than that, Dean." He interrupted smoothly. "He didn't know what hit him."
I was tempted to hang up, but Sam was watching me, eyes pinched in worry.
"You bastard!" I growled softly.
"Now, now. No need for name calling." What he said next had me bolting upright in my seat. "Not if you wanna see ya daddy again."
The shocked silence obviously dragged on too long, 'cause when the guy spoke next he sounded pissed.
"Hey! You hear me?"
"Uh..." I swallowed hard before answering. "Yeah, I hear ya. How do I know you're telling the truth? Lenore…"
"Lenore don't know squat. All she saw was Tobius' Rolex." I sensed the smug grin from his tone. "Nice time piece by the way. I was tempted to keep it, but I didn't want no filthy mutt's cast offs."
I was itching with a snarky come back, but if Gordon was telling the truth, then Tobius' life depended on our cooperation. Which, unfortunately, meant making nice with the sick sonofabitch.
My blood boiled at the thought.
Dean? Sam could hear both ends of the conversation, and he clearly wasn't any happier than I was. Ask him to put Tobius on the line.
I understood where the kid was coming from. Proof of life. Somehow I got the feeling that wasn't the kinda game ol' Gordo was playing. But it was worth a try.
"Let me speak to him."
"No can do, Dean. Daddy's in no shape to be talking. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one."
"Yeah, right!"
"Choice is yours." That deep laughter again echoed down the line. "But just remember the things I can do with silver Dean, what I did to little Sammy before his first change…"
Yeah. Sam got so sick he couldn't even communicate with our thoughts.
We had no choice. If Tobius was still alive, like I'd hoped all along…
"What do you want?" I repeated my question from earlier, knowing full well what the answer would be.
"The ultimate hunt." Gordon hissed. "Grab a pen and note paper. Coordinates..."
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Author's Notes:
Our poor boys have really been through the mangle eh? And now they're faced with a dilemma. Can Gordon's word be trusted?
Is Tobius dead or alive?
Personally, I don't think they have a choice in this. They have to find out one way or another.
Cheers my darlings. As you might have guessed, there's big trouble ahead, and, as Dean explained in the second part of his journal entry, we're pretty much closing in on present day, which means there aren't many chapters left to this fic. Enjoy!
Kind regards,
ST xxx