Supernatural-Animorphs AU

Trigger Warning: Contains flashes of images of suicide and...

Wed, 08 May 2013 18:53:00 -0400

Trigger Warning: Contains flashes of images of suicide and murder. Contains images of guns, knives, and blood. Contains images that fetishize death.

Sleeping Beauty

Sat, 02 Feb 2013 21:13:39 -0500

His only concern at this point was the dogs. He had sent them to Cassie- a letter and a bank card attached to one of the dogs’ collar. He had held them each close to him as they had departed single-file, to where the Hunters would be camping. Tears leaked onto thick fur.

Erek hauled the camping materials and what few pieces of human clothing he had accumulated to a donation site, and walked back to the edge of the forest in man-form, cloaked in glamour made to resemble a typical hiker’s attire. When he reached the edge of the trees, he shifted to dog form and loped through the dense trees for miles. His canine paws were cracked and stained with blood by the time he reached his destination; a grove of ancient trees. In the center of the trunks, he aligned his gaze to the eldest of the trees. With a trembling hand he ripped through a glamoured branch, destroying the illusion and making the contents drop to the ground. A dusty cloak, beautiful as a spiderweb in morning dew, but much warmer, was wrapped around a necklace- a charm for good luck and safety hung from a thin leather cord. The man who called himself Erek slipped the cloak over his body, sighing at the soft feeling of the fabric. He could still hear Zak’s voice, the first time they had met, as if the fold of the fabric had preserved the words, the tone, and the tentative smile over the space of years.

He recalled the violence, the battle against the djinn, Zak’s haunting smile. He remembered the taste of blood thick in his throat, and the flesh between his teeth. The visions of what the hunters had wanted. The confusion. The dying screams. The single, resounding clap from Rachel. Running and never looking back.

He envisioned the fight between Zak- his Zak, only not his anymore, not right as Zak had always been- and Mockingbird, who he was beginning to think of as his as well. He saw the fairy’s spine exiting that slim body, those mismatched lips with a jaw laying on the ground. He felt the slam of his back against the shed, his back snapping from Uryphe- that was who it was, Uryphe-‘s strength, and it felt like sweet redemption and he didn’t want to stop feeling it.

Erek shuddered involuntarily and tightened the cloak around him. He glanced at his feet, at the purple star shaped flowers all around him, and gave the slightest echo of a smile at his true name. He bowed his head as the leather cord was slipped around his neck, the pendant hanging solidly at his breastbone.

Here was as good a place as any to sleep for a while. He stretched his limbs as if he were waking rather than sleeping, and extended his arms to the sky, palms open, fingers extended. He started to speak the first words of the spell. Perhaps when he awoke, things would be better. He fell against the tree trunk. He looked as peaceful as if he were just taking a quick nap. His arms were still stretched to the side, his head resting on the ancient bark.

Erek slept a deep, dreamless sleep while the tiniest seeds of hope lay dormant, hiding deep in his mind.

As he rested, purple flowers grew, stretching towards the sun. They bloomed like jewels, like the stones set in rings, between his slender fingers.

Family

Sat, 26 Jan 2013 22:01:51 -0500

“If I’d known you were coming, I would have made a cake,” said Ellen, desperately searching her cabinets for ideas on the family dinner she insisted on having.

“They don’t want a cake, El,” said George, rolling his eyes from where he stood at the kitchen doorway, out of the way until called upon.

“Have you noticed that these things keep happening around your birthday?” she muttered off-hand, plucking out a box of rice and what appeared to be a can of soup.

“Really?” Rachel snorted.

“It’s completely escaped me until just now, Aunt Ellen,” Jake laughed.

Ellen shot him a look. Tom just watched them from where he sat, perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, chin rested on folded arms. When Jordan returned from the restroom, she looked miserable. She leaned briefly against George. “Hey, doll,” he greeted gently, rubbing her cropped hair lovingly. “Why don’t you go take a nap? Borrow Brooke’s bed.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, but didn’t move immediately. Rachel frowned at her but didn’t say anything.

“Rachel, come help me with this chicken?” Ellen called.

“Depends. Is this part of a ploy to make me good wife material?” Rachel asked with an entirely fake snarl, getting up.

“I’ll help,” Tom offered, standing.

“You will not! You sit back down, young man!”

“I really don’t—”

“Sit and relax. That’s an order. Rachel, kitchen.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and joined her aunt in the kitchen, pulling up her sleeves as she entered. At the sink, she paused and glanced mischievously back at Jake, who instantly tried to mentally run through all his recent screw ups. “Speaking of good wife material,” she drawled confidently.

Jake’s immediate response was to physically stop her, but George grabbed him by the shirt collar. “You are far too old to be wrestling each other over childish spats. Use your wo—.”

“Jake and Cassie got secret married after I died,” Rachel confessed.

Jake pulled George’s hand off his shirt. “Wanna try that out again?” Jake snapped.

George smacked him in the arm. “That was uncalled for,” he chastised as Jordan rolled her eyes and headed back to Brooke’s bedroom. “Apologize to your si— cousin.”

“Sorry,” Jake groaned, rubbing his arm.

“Now, explain what the hell she’s talking about.”

Jake continued rubbing his arm and glared at Rachel, before letting his eyes slide guiltily aside. “We’ve been together since we were thirteen. The idea of officially making each other something we couldn’t stand to lose…” Jake frowned and shrugged. “But you grow up and you start thinking about things like hospital privileges and taxes and legal standing… We just didn’t want to promise more than we could deliver. You know what our lives are.”

There were several significant looks exchanged in the room. Tom was just sort of watching him, and it made him shift uncomfortably. In all honesty, he couldn’t wait to— “That is the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” Ellen decided, hands on her hips. George hid a snicker behind a cough.

Rachel snorted. “Right? I can’t believe anyone married him, much less someone as level-headed and smart as Cassie.”

“It’s because we’re level-headed that we—!”

“Sssh. This conversation no longer involves you.”

Jake made a noise of complete disbelief.

“You’re getting real married or I will die of mortification at your sinful life,” Rachel insisted.

“That makes no sense!” Jake countered. “We are legally married, and neither of us fucked half of California.” He didn’t wait for George to chastise him before handing him his wallet.

“It’s not real without pretty dresses, Jake, no matter what the government says.”

“That’s idiotic.”

“Hush, now, children,” George scolded them. “Jake, we don’t get a lot of happy memories with you. You really want to deny your loved ones the chance to celebrate something good in your life? Something actually working out the way it’s supposed to? You moving on with a good life, despite everything?”

“Yes,” Jake sulked, knowing he’d lost the argument.

“Oh my god, Ellen, that’s disgusting,” Rachel suddenly whined as Ellen shoved stuffing into the chicken.

“You spend your life murdering things, and you can’t handle a little stuffing?”

“Okay, first of all, there’s a difference between ‘kill’ and ‘murder’,” Rachel argued. “Secondly, I’ve never stuffed anything into the carcass.”

“Well, there was that time with the explosives,” Jake reminded her.

“That’s different.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to become accountants or something?” Ellen asked. “The community college has a very successful program, I’ve heard.”

Rachel grinned and pulled Ellen close and kissed her forehead. “Sorry, Auntie Momma.”

Ellen scowled and continued with the preparations, gesturing for Rachel to start on vegetables. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“We love you, too,” Jake and Rachel replied in eye-rolling unison.

“Don’t do that. It’s creepy,” George chided them.

Tom stood from the counter and made his way past George and Jake. “What’s up?” Jake asked.

“Just checking on the kids.”

“I’ll—” George started to offer, but Tom shook his head, waving him off tiredly as he continued down the hall.

“It’s fine.”

George frowned after him then turned to Jake. “He’s not adjusting well.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jake asked. “He doesn’t remember any of this shit. I mean, look at him. Temrash never happened. Life and death never happened. He’s been ripped right out of the right before.

“We can’t help him with that. All we can do is pile on more weird. That’s why I brought him to you. For a normal life.”

“You think he can have a normal life in a house where the little girl he used to baby-sit is heading off to college?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s the best I can come up with,” he admitted.

George nodded solemnly. He had no better suggestion. “Is he protected?”

“As soon as Temrash was out, Cassie tattooed him. Left shoulder. It won’t show easily.”

George nodded. “And Temrash? Will he come back for him?”

Rachel shook her head. “Temrash and Uryphe, the demon that was in Zak, both bit it a couple nights back. Permanently. They didn’t really stand much chance against three angels.”

“And Sandalfon?” asked Ellen. “Where is he?” She clucked disapprovingly when Rachel raised an eyebrow at her. “Like I don’t know the difference between my distant niece and that self-assured snob.”

Rachel snorted and Jake smirked. “He’s been kicked, but Jordan’s not getting tattooed because she hasn’t decided the arrangement is permanent.”

George frowned. “Vessels can’t have tattoos?”

“I think some can,” said Jake. “But Sandalfon seems to be a lot pickier. We thought it was bullshit snobbery, but…”

“The vessel he borrowed to help out in the… recent confrontation needed to be taken to the hospital,” Rachel supplied.

“Hospital?” Ellen repeated.

“Got burned,” Jake summarized for her.

Ellen swore under her breath. “Language,” Rachel chastised.

Tom knocked on the door at the end of the hall. He had no more doors to try. When he received no reply, he tried opening it and found the handle oddly warm, almost hot. Frowning, he opened the door.

Jordan groaned from where she lay curled on the bed, a ring of faint brown charring surrounding her on the bedspread, facing away from the door. “You sent him away.”

“Sorry. Does Rachel know he’s still visiting?”

“I don’t care what she knows. Also, no.”

Tom glanced down the hall before closing the door behind him. “I don’t understand why you haven’t… hooked back up,” he said.

“Can’t. I’m broken.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Jordan.”

“I just puked Holy Oil earlier.”

Tom frowned. “There’s still some in you?”

“No. It was a miracle.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to be sar—.”

“I wasn’t.”

“… Oh.”

Jordan rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not sure if I want him back anyway. I mean, I liked having him around, and he’s really good for saving their dumb asses. But…”

Tom frowned again. “But what?”

“Angels heal. All the time. Always. I’m not even sure ‘heal’ is the right word. Humans don’t. There are things that should be scarred over. There are things that should be left behind. There are things… simply not meant for us.”

Tom knelt next to her bed. “What was it like? When you came back?”

“More subtle than it was for you,” she admitted. “I didn’t remember dying. No one remembered that I had. My entry into the world came complete with lies and everyone already believing them.

“But my friends were suddenly older than me. They were grades ahead of me, and I had no memory of them getting there. They couldn’t explain why I was behind, either. Mom was constantly arguing with the bank. And Rachel was gone. Rachel looked older. We had no explanation.

“And then she died. She died, and I had no one to argue with. No way to continue to convince myself that everything was okay. And that was so alone and so confused. And Sara needed me, and I didn’t know what to tell her anymore. I needed to know. I needed a role. I needed… comfort.

“I started hearing voices. I started feeling these convictions that I had to do these weird things. Fires started up around me without reason. Appliances overheated suddenly. And Sara started talking about this friend she had. Knew her like a sister. They’d been so close, but she was gone now, and she didn’t know why, and it just sounded like an imaginary friend, except Sara was convinced and Sara was too old and Sara had evidence and…

“And then Sandalfon came. He never actually healed my memory, but I know the things he knows, and sometimes when I concentrate on the things he knows, I can see the people I used to be.

“But I’m tired of bring rewritten.” Jordan sighed and turned away again. “I’m just tired, really.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom muttered. “Shouldn’t have brought it up.” He stood again and turned to the door.

“Tom?” she called.

He turned back to her. “Yeah?”

“You can stay if you want.”

Supermorphs: The Red-Eyed Piper [tw: kidnapping, child abuse]

Fri, 25 Jan 2013 15:12:32 -0500

rattyjol:

Today, dear Rachel, I think I will tell you a story. It is a story you may have heard before, but I think this version will interest you. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. I hope you don’t mind if my rats snack while you listen. They do get so hungry.

Once, not so long ago — though I suppose it was for you, my sweet, you humans with your brief flutters that you call lives — there was a village. It was a charming little place nestled in a valley in the mountains, full of charming little huts with thatched roofs and charming little people living charming little lives. But everyone there was entirely miserable. The village was overrun by rats, you see. Rats in the cellar and rats on the roof, rats in the street and rats on the stoop. Rats on the table and rats in your bed, they eat all the food and still want to be fed.

Read More

rattyjol: 1wantchange: Hell The soles of her feet sizzle...

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 03:22:01 -0500

rattyjol:

1wantchange:

Hell

The soles of her feet sizzle and smoke curls up from between her toes. Her side is coated in the blood still pumping from the ragged stump of her arm and she runs, over smoldering leaves and between burning trees. Smoke swirls into her lungs with every gasp, but she can hear tiny feet skittering so close behind her and she can’t stop.

And then there it is again. The horrifying, awe-inspiring, shapeless, flickering, enormous thing with six wings and four ever-changing faces, that cut her loose and said it was an angel. One of the faces looks at her, and goes from hawk to boy and back again. Go, it says, but she turns back to see the rats go up in a column of flame.

Come, it says now. Its wings fold and envelop her. She feels her feet leave the ground, and then she feels nothing at all.

In The Cards

Fri, 04 Jan 2013 13:01:38 -0500

They were visiting Ellen and George again, all of them worried about both of the charges they’d left there, though none of them said as much. Now, as a unit, they walked through the town, enjoying the annual town festival. They could almost be said to be at ease, as much as any of them ever were.

Jordan paused at a fortune-teller’s booth, and Rachel rolled her eyes, but stopped with her. She was less then pleased to find that this man had been one of Jordan’s neighbours, judging by their conversation, and she stopped paying attention to survey the area around them, arms crossed.

Suddenly, the man flinched violently, jerking forwards and grabbing Rachel’s arm. “You! I need to read- for you!”

“Let go of me.” Rachel snarled, reaching out to break the hand grabbing at her, stopped by Jordan’s hand on hers.

“He’s-special, Rachel. Let him read the cards.”

“I don’t care if he’s-“

Jordan glared and cut her off. “Not that kind of special, though you don’t have to be rude about it. He had a demon in him, once, and Sandy thinks a bit was left inside when it was cast out. Sandy let him be, he doesn’t do any harm. But he’s… twitchy.”

Rachel cast a look at the man, who had let her go and was now nervously shuffling the tarot cards.

Then she sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

She took a seat in the chair on the other side of the table, slouching forwards with one elbow on the table.

“Alright George, go ahead.” Jordan said, patting him on the shoulder, with way more patience then Rachel had in her right then.

He placed the cards on the table before her. “Shuffle them, please and- and think about what’s bothering you.”

“Who says something’s bothering me?” She snapped, grabbing the cards and angrily shuffling them. They were a bit too large to shuffle easily, but she did it, thoughts of what the creepy vessel-kid had said to her coming to her head without her meaning to think of it.

When she was bored, she held the deck out to him. He took it, divided it in three, and asked her to stack them. Rolling her eyes, she did so.

Carefully, he laid out cards in a specific pattern. Jordan leaned on the back of Rachel’s chair and looked over her shoulder. Each card was face down.

He turned the first one over. A knight on a horse, covered in blue, holding a sword aloft. “This represents you in this problem. The Knight of Swords. Relentless, focused, on a quest. There’s something you need to find or do, and you will not allow yourself to be distracted from your goal. If this isn’t you now, it’s what you are going to be, this will consume you until it is resolved.

Another card was flipped, and laid overtop of the Knight of Swords. This was a girl, sitting upright in bed, clutching her breast, swords above her, an owl on her window. “This is the problem. There is something you are agonizing over, and you’re dealing with it alone. You have help nearby, and you should take it. While you are, in this, the Knight on a quest, there is no reason for you to be alone. Trust your loved ones. Don’t be alone and frightened when you can be supported.” He trembled, suddenly, violently, and Rachel noticed coolly that the pupils of his eyes got a little bit wider. “You are vulnerable without taking advantage of your allies.” He reached out to the spread of cards.

The next card was underneath the other two. A man, weeping over three overturned cups, two behind him. “This card, the Five of Cups, represents the foundation of the problem. You lost something. Something very special, and you mourned, ignoring what you had to focus on what had been taken from you. You probably ignored ways to move past this tragedy, and whatever you did to cope has grown into the problem you face today.” Rachel wasn’t leaning forwards anymore. Her back was ramrod straight, and her face was utterly expressionless.

Jordan’s hand was on her shoulder.

George didn’t seem to notice, already reaching for the next card.

The card to the left was turned over. “The past.” Rachel flinched. This card was obvious enough. A man, honey-skinned, horned, and standing in flames. The Devil. “This represents indulgence. You-“

“I know enough about what this would mean about the past, George. Next.” Rachel interrupted, words short and clipped. He hesitated, nibbling on a thumb nail while peering at her, then nodded and moved onto the next card.

“Present.” The card was above the first two, and showed a man, carrying ten large sticks on his back, hunched over from the weight. “You are reaching the end of a very arduous task or journey. You must not stop or relax, you must keep going. You could finish this, you could win if you have the strength, the courage, and you listen to your instincts.”

The next card was to the right, between the cards flipped over thus far and four in a column. He flipped it over and said “Future.”

He glanced at Rachel and Jordan’s faces and shook his head emphatically. “Death is not a literal card.” He told them, either too used to their reaction of shock and dismay, or able to read it on their faces. “It means there will be a change, a hard change. It may be a good change, or a bad change, but it will not be an easy one.” Both girls still looked uneasy, but nodded for him to continue. The bottom of the four cards was turned over.

George lifted an eyebrow. “This is how you see yourself in this situation.” Rachel glared down at the card in a sullen sort of fashion.

“I am not some blindfolded girl trapped in a circle of swords.” She objected hotly, tapping the card in a clearly offended way. “I’m no victim.”

“The Eight of Swords is a card that represents being controlled by fear, of being trapped in a situation of your own making,” Rachel ground her teeth. “This is a card that warns to not give up your power, to not let fear bind and blind you, that you have the ability to see things clearly, and you can unmake whatever situation you have made.

Without waiting, he flipped the next one. And he smiled, a little. “And this is how others’ see you in this situation.”

A woman stood, head raised high, holding a chain looped around the neck of a lion. “Strength.” Jordan read, smiling a little. “Pretty self-explanatory.”

Another card. A man hung upside down. “These is your hopes or your fears of the situation. The Hanging Man.” George frowned, examining it for a long moment before drawing three more cards, and laying them out, flipping them over in quick succession. “The Seven of Swords, the Nine of Wands, the Five of Swords. That… makes it clearer. So the Hanging Man would be your fears, then. It’s a card of doing what feels right, of following your instincts, and damn what anyone else would say.”

“Why did you draw more?” Rachel asked, drawn in despite herself.

“To clarify.” He pointed at each of them in turn. “The fear of your actions being a bad plan that will lead you and yours to ruin. The fear of failure that may take what you love. The fear of victory at the price of everything else. You don’t think your instincts will lead you down the right path.”

Jordan pointed at the only unrevealed card. “So what’s the last card?”

“The outcome.” George said before carefully turning it over. A helmeted woman blew on a horn, with transparent spirits contorting around it. “Judgement. You are being called to do something. And you must do it.”

“I can’t believe I got to that monster before...

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 23:14:23 -0500

“I can’t believe I got to that monster before you,” Marco smirked, dragging an extremely strange corpse with a shotgun slung over his shoulder. He glanced over Rachel’s disheveled form as she quickly brushed herself off. “And what, exactly, happened to you?”

“Eh, nothing worth commentary,” she said, forcing a shrug simply because she couldn’t think of anything to make the symptoms of sex congruent with the symptoms of monster hunting.

Marco raised an eyebrow. “… Right.”

— —

Jake kicked the doors of the Whore Closet. “Take it down a notch! People are trying to sleep!”

In her bed, Rachel laid a hand over her face and knew, just knew, that David was sneering down over her in the darkness.

— —

David hissed as he was suddenly hit by a bolt of… something, and vanished in a puff. Which was odd, because she’d never seen a puff when a demon had vanished before, and also because David never took off of his own accord when she was partially unclothed and moaning his name.

After resentfully taking care of her own matters and then redressing, Rachel returned to the RV, parked a short hike away to find Cassie debating a spell with Jake with the components spread all around her. “Uh… What is this?”

Cassie chewed her lip. “It was supposed to track and attack that lamia, but it seems to have interacted with something near by. I can’t figure out what since it didn’t actually work as intended.”

— —

Rachel strained against his grip to try to gain access to her tossed-aside jeans, which were currently ringing. David picked his head up from between her thighs. “Are you actually intending to answer that?”

“Obviously you’ve never missed a call from your mother-figure.”

“… No, I cannot say that I have.”

— —

Rachel’s eyes flew open. That voice. Outside. Talking to Jake.

He was back.

Knowing that everyone had been out hunting without her due to her terrible fever, she kicked David through the doors of the Closet, grabbed the first object she could find (pencils from Cassie’s homework), and shoved it in David’s chest, grabbing his mouth to make sure he didn’t shout his pain.

It did seem to be a slight bit of a boner killer, which really, was all she needed. When he grabbed her wrist with a snarl, obviously ready to show his strength again, she nodded toward the door. “Witnesses, smartass. You really ready to give up the game so soon?”

David frowned, then kissed her before disappearing. Rachel ran to her bed, doused it in holy water, then locked the upper cabinet doors, barring access to it. She then grabbed towels and clothes and shoved herself into the shower, using the cold (holy water) option just before the others began to enter the RV.

“Rachel?” called Cassie. “Oh, I guess she’s in the shower.”

“Has there been a demon in here?” asked Tobias.

Jake made a noise. “I’ll go check the wards.”

— —

She would forget, sometimes, how much she’d come to rely on it. Their constant presence and interruption. The inability for him to make be too loud or go on too long without giving up his game.

And then, he would get the opportunity. He’d bring a piece of hell back. He’d chase her til she wore. He’d fight her til she broke. He’d heat her til she begged for it.

He’d humiliate her and drink up every single second. Never let her forget that it was exactly her position, broken and beneath him.

On those occasions, she’d give anything for another interruption.

rattyjol: (( Gratuitous Ratmance gore! Standard David/Ratmance/Hell warnings apply. )) Rachel woke...

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 22:57:00 -0500

rattyjol:

(( Gratuitous Ratmance gore! Standard David/Ratmance/Hell warnings apply. ))

Rachel woke up with grass prickling the back of her neck.

She leapt into a crouch, half-feral, ready to lunge at him now that her hands and feet were untied, but the meadow was empty.

It also, she noticed, her stomach twisting in anticipation of deceit, was almost certainly not in Hell.

There was the air, for one thing. Too clean, too cool, no smell of blood or terrible screams carried over from the free-for-all racks. And there was grass under her feet, and trees all around. Nothing grew in Hell, nothing lived in Hell.

Her breath caught, her stomach leapt. She knew, she knew this wasn’t possible, she was never getting out of Hell, she’d promised her soul for eternity, and yet—

A twig cracked in the trees behind her, and before it had even registered consciously she was running, running, bare feet slamming on grass and crushing wildflowers. She wouldn’t let him take her back there, she’d run herself to death first. The meadow seemed to stretch on forever, the forest sprawling out close on either side, and she was sure she could hear footsteps behind her, or maybe it was just the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Her foot caught on a gopher hole and she went down. It seemed to take her forever to hit the ground, falling for an eternity until the sod came up to meet her. Her stomach was heaving, aching; it had been a long time since she’d run this hard.

She tried to scramble to her feet, and the pain in her stomach caught and flared. Falling back into a crouch, she clutched at her abdomen, realizing now that she could feel something wriggling, writhing, and the skin seemed to swell beneath her fingers. The thing inside scrabbled to get out, she could feel tiny little teeth and tiny little claws scratching at her, nibbling biting chewing oh

The burning was unbearable now, the skin beneath her fingers trembling and swelling until suddenly, with a cold flash of agony, she felt stickiness, and a small warm snout nosing at her palm …

She was fading, falling, her vision narrowing to an unfocused tunnel of gray, and the grass beneath her vanished and there were screams, far far away, and not all of them were hers, and he stood over her grinning, laughing, leaning.

No, she tried to say, no, no, but there were rats in her stomach and Hell under her back, and David stood above her, and laughed.

rattyjol: Even putting aside all the torturing and breaking...

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 22:40:00 -0500

rattyjol:

Even putting aside all the torturing and breaking and soul-twisting that come with the job, David thinks being a crossroads demon definitely has its perks.

There’s the deal-sealing, of course. Any career that includes “making out” in the job description is a good choice, in his opinion. Maybe he should visit a high school job fair and get some early recruiting done.

And then there’s a fact that every time he gets to collect on a deal he has the opportunity to make one of his favorite jokes.

The hounds (two of whom stop to play ball with a bystander’s head, the overgrown pups) drag in her soul, kicking and screaming, and deposit it at his feet. Metaphorical ropes bind themselves around her metaphorical limbs. She’s stopped vocalizing; now she’s just angry.

“To Hell with her,” he decrees, as if this is an unexpected decision, and then laughs and laughs, as if he hasn’t told that joke a thousand times before.

She spits (metaphorically) in his face before the largest hound snaps her up in his slavering jaws and carries her (metaphorically) down into Hell.

rattyjol: (( Warnings: innuendo and language I guess? This...

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 22:33:16 -0500

rattyjol:

(( Warnings: innuendo and language I guess? This Ratmance is surprisingly tame. ))

“So I guess you liked those burgers, huh?” Grinning easily, Rachel tipped a tray of crumpled paper wrappers into the trash.

“Yeah.” Tobias was polishing off the last of the fries; the others had already left for the RV. “Thanks for paying.”

She shrugged and leaned over to snatch a fry from between his fingers. “Was worth it to see the look on the counter guy’s face when I ordered twenty burgers for five people. For a scrawny guy you sure can put it away.”

“Perks of the job, I guess.” He stood. “So … I guess I’d better go.”

“Angel business?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He hesitated, as if unsure whether to shake hands, hug, or just leave. Rachel seemed to be suffering from the same, and settled for an awkward, probably harder-than-necessary clap on the shoulder.

“See you, then.”

“Yeah.” With a nod and a light breeze, he was gone.

Rachel huffed in annoyance. “‘See you then,’” she muttered under her breath. “Stupid.” Scowling, she turned to grab the empty fry basket and her half-full Coke, only to find someone lounging in the corner booth slurping at it. Someone with sandy blonde hair and a chiseled jaw and a stupidly tight shirt that showed off a not-so-unwelcome view of what was underneath.

“Hello, darling.” He grinned lopsidedly, the soda straw pinched between his teeth. “You and Featherbed getting along well, I see?”

“David.” She reached over and snatched the soda out of his hands. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“When has that ever stopped me before?”

She had to concede that point. “What do you want?”

“What do I always want?” He leered. “There’s a nice secluded alley out back, we can fuck behind the dumpsters.”

“Tempting, but no thanks.”

“Why not?” Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. “Because of Feathers?”

“Mostly just because you’re a dick,” she informed him, dumping the Coke in the trash.

There was a pretty obvious comeback there, but he let it slide. “Oh, Rachel, honey. He doesn’t want you. He already had his human fucktoy, dead and gone a long time back. Why would he want a rerun?”

“Is there a point coming or can I go now?”

“He won’t even touch you, he’s never going to touch you. And I know you want to be touched, Rachel, I know exactly where you want to be touched, exactly how to make you scream—”

Suddenly, Rachel threw back her head and laughed. Almost bewildered, David tried to cover it up with a smooth, “Care to let me in on the joke, Rach?”

“You,” she snickered. “Oh my God, you— you’re jealous!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” David did not sputter. “Why would I be jealous of that overgrown bird?”

“You are, you’re jealous because I’d rather talk to him than sleep with you—”

“Oh, we’d do a lot more than sleep,” he tried, but the innuendo fell flat.

Still giggling, Rachel leaned over and patted his arm. “Hey, thanks, David. I needed a good laugh.” With a cheery wave, she practically skipped across the restaurant and out the door.

phorambles: A demon. Smoke billowed from the ground, as Seerow watched, one hoof scraping against...

Mon, 24 Dec 2012 12:10:09 -0500

phorambles:

A demon. Smoke billowed from the ground, as Seerow watched, one hoof scraping against the dirt. It filled his hoof, and tasted awful. Shaking his head, he stared at the smokey demon. It hovered, tendrils sometimes flicking out and caressing Seerow’s cheek.

Read More

And now it’s embedded.

Tue, 11 Dec 2012 18:14:45 -0500

And now it’s embedded.

caseyboots: Tyrianterror was nice enough to commission this of...

Sat, 08 Dec 2012 20:10:28 -0500

caseyboots:

Tyrianterror was nice enough to commission this of me. :) Rachel and Jake from Animorphs (Which I’ve never read). Thanks again!!

[This was commissioned from Caseyboots by Tyrianterror as a present for Jteeple! I thought it should be reblogged to this blog as well so I can make sure the people who’ve read He Loaded Up His Shotgun With Nails And Dynamite will see it too!]

Friend Like Me

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 00:40:00 -0500

Erek was attending to his dogs. This in itself was not unusual. It was a fairly routine thing, feeding them, petting them, scratching behind their eager ears, being swatted with dozens of wagging tails. He was in the open meadow where he had taken to sheltering recently, and although he was by no means happy, he was at least distracted.

Until he felt it. Felt it with his whole body, his whole being. It was as sharp as the keening of an injured pup, and just as potent to the fairy. He leapt to his feet. The dogs didn’t seem to hear anything, which was odd. Erek realized why in a moment, when he realized what was calling him wasn’t a sound. It was very much like a sound, yes, but it wasn’t. It was a sharp tug, and an even sharper drop in the pit of his stomach, and he was off. He changed to his wolfhound form as he ran, dropping down to all fours and running as fast as he could in the direction of the feeling. The direction of the hunters’ camp.

He knew something was wrong before he arrived. He knew it as a wolf knows about his pack, and as something broken knows when it is about to be shattered once more.

When he arrived, he figured out what it was. There were monsters, so many monsters. Rachel stood in the middle of them, looking calm, focused, and full of energy. She fought with grace and discipline, and Erek looked on, his jaw on the floor. None of the other hunters were anywhere to be seen.

A figure approached him from the scrub, and the fairy faltered as he moved towards Rachel, seeking to aid her in whatever way he could.

From the bushes emerged Zak. His Zak. Whole, unmarked, happy. A smile pulled at his lips and the brightness of his eyes entranced Erek just as it had when they first met. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Erek,” Zak said, and he reached towards the other man. Instead of embracing him, or kissing him, he took his hand. Erek had almost forgotten the feeling of Zak’s hand in his. The rightness of it all was overpowering.

“Erek, you have to keep going. Walk towards Rachel. With me. Come on.” Zak said, and Erek, as if in a trance, agreed.

He continued forwards, towards the blond woman, who seemed to be the calm in the middle of the storm of monsters- monsters that, oddly enough, weren’t touching him or Zak. Something about this screamed wrongness in the far back of Erek’s mind, but he was not in the state of mind to care.

Zak’s hand squeezed Erek’s, bringing him back to the present. They walked, hand in hand, towards a Rachel that didn’t acknowledge their presence.

Suddenly, it was a different Rachel altogether. They were in a different setting, too, and the alarm bells started going off in the daoine sidhe’s head. This Rachel sat on a couch. Jake was beside her. They looked different, in a way it took Erek a moment to figure out. They looked younger, Not physically, but mentally. There were no lines of hurt or suffering on their faces. For the first time, he became aware of another presence besides his and Zak’s. Jake, the Jake he knew, the Jake with responsibility and sorrow etched deeply into the fibres of who he was, was beside him. He didn’t look as clear as the Jake on the couch did.

Blurry-Jake didn’t speak, but Erek heard the thought, loud and clear.

“I just want her to be okay.”

Zak pulled him along again, “Come on, there isn’t much time,” he said and Erek looked at him.

“What’s happening?”

He got no reply.

They moved again, towards the pair of happy cousins sitting on the couch, and the vision flickered again.

They were at a diner, not an unusual place for them to be. The whole team was seated around a table. They ate and drank and laughed and Erek was absolutely, positively sure that something was going to happen. Something extraordinary. An attack, or maybe even a good thing, maybe even a positive moment.

No such thing happened. It was an average, boring day.

A faded Marco watched from Erek’s left side.

The vision shattered, and Erek was beginning to catch on. This was what they wanted. This was what each of the hunter’s desired. And the saddest part was that nothing they wanted was so extraordinary. They wanted normalcy. They wanted health. They wanted safety, and to be together. And as much as they wanted it, they got it rarely enough in their actual lives for it to be their one true desire.

Erek let out a yelp like an injured dog, and Zak looked him in the eyes.

“I know. I know. It’s hard, but we will get through this. Together.”

The fairy didn’t know where the strength came from. It felt like it flowed from their intertwined fingers. But he moved on, looking around at this next vision.

The hunters were older, at least in their late thirties. There wasn’t much difference between this hope and Marco’s, except for the age. Erek came to the realization that this meant that they had survived.

He looked to his left, and found Cassie, Cassie as she was actually, holding a hand to her mouth. Tears were in her eyes. He saw the flicker of a knife, and blood appeared on her arm. Something was happening, something very bad. He forged onwards.

The next vision was completely unlike any of the others. He was flying, somehow. Zak’s hand was still in his. Below them circled a bird, some sort of hawk, by the look of it, though Erek wasn’t as good with birds as he was with dogs.

Tobias stood next to him, several hundred feet in the air. Except, it wasn’t Tobias. There was something. Erek wasn’t sure what, but there was definitely something that tipped him off and he saw that this was the host. Alex.

“I always wanted to fly away,” came a soft thought from the translucent man.

And then everything turned to chaos.

He was flashing through bits of visions, visions from all the hunters, Zak’s hand still in his. Zak himself was starting to flicker like a hologram. Tattooed, humanoid creatures flashed in and out of view, and they were feeding- actually feeding- on his friends.

Zak was fading quickly now.

“What’s happening?” Erek asked, his voice high with panic.

“You can handle it,” Zak replied.

“You said you would stay!” Erek exclaimed, his face a mask of anger and pain, so much pain.

“You know that I lie,” said Zak, with the same almost blank expression he had worn when he had told Erek that he didn’t love him. The corner of his lip twitched up in a smirk eerily reminiscent of the Mockingbird’s.

Erek howled, a long, anguished howl. He felt his claws extending, though he wasn’t doing it consciously. The claws ripped through Zak’s hand, but when he tore his hand away and looked at it, there was no blood. Zak had never been there.

He saw around him the enemies. Djinn. Many of them, too many to count even if Erek had bothered to slow down before launching himself, half-shifted, at the nearest one.

Blood ran down his throat like poison.

When he came to, the taste of gore was still strong. He was covered in blood- none of it his own- and surrounded, completely surrounded, with body parts.

Immediately, without pausing to process what had occurred, he began to cry, Sobs that wracked his entire body. He looked down at his hand, and remembered the sensation of Zak’s fingers against his, and saw the blood, drying on his fingers, and sobbed harder.

Around him, the hunters were gathering, having slowly extracted themselves from the carnage. Every pair of eyes was wide, and it took several long moments for anyone to react at all.

Rachel clapped her hands together once, louder than loud in the clearing, and then froze as Erek began to hyperventilate.

She stayed there with her hands pressed together. The rest of the team stayed there as well, not doing a single thing.

Finally, blessedly, Cassie stepped forward. She placed a warm hand on Erek’s upper arm.

Erek winced away from her touch, rose to his bloodied feet, and ran.

He didn’t look back.

Rat Faced Git

Wed, 21 Nov 2012 01:25:06 -0500

George paused in unfolding the bedsheet to the sound of his wife giggling. He looked over his shoulder to see Ellen smirking at him and replied with a raised eyebrow. She only shook her head and gestured to the end of the hall. He made his way to the hall and peered down through the open door at the peacefully sleeping figures. “Again?” he grumbled?

“Well,” she said. “At least it’s slightly less dramatic this time. And we have the experience to know how to handle it.”

“I’m not convince it is,” he answered. “The kids are hiding things from us again. I can tell.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “What else is new?”

“It isn’t right, Ellie. They shouldn’t be the ones protecting us.”

“I think you know they should.”

The comment stung. She’d known it would, but he pressed the issue. “I mean that we should all protect each other. We should be here together. It’s not their job to save the world.”

“Tell them that. Again. See how well it goes over.”

“She’s frightened.”

Ellen nodded solemnly. “I saw. I think it’s been growing a while. She knows she’s not immortal now, and… and I think…”

“Someone’s reminding her,” George agreed.

“What’s the demon hunter retirement plan?” Ellen mused. Neither of them bothered guessing options. For one, they knew the kids would turn them all down. But moreover, they knew what the real retirement plan was. That’s why they’d bought two more plots before Rachel had even died. George wondered briefly if a third was his responsibility now. He definitely couldn’t broach the subject with her parents.

He shook his head and went down the hall to turn off the light in the spare bedroom where Tom and Jordan were sleeping curled against each other. He found, on the floor, an open family album. Jordan must have been filling Tom in. He picked up the album, turned out the light, and left.

In the living room, Rachel had returned from the RV. “… too much trouble for me to stay on the couch tonight?”

“Of course not, dear. Tom’s not actually using it.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

“There’s no rush,” said George, entering the room.

She smiled politely. “There is, actually. Marco thinks there’s a case a few cities over.” George started to protest, but she pointed to his hand. “Whatcha got?”

“Hm?” George looked down, then lifted up the album, holding it out to her. “Jordan was looking at it. You want to have a go?”

Rachel smirked. “Sure. I haven’t done that in…” Her smile faded slightly. “Ever, I think.” She took the book. Flipped through, quickly smirking at a few pictures. She pointed one out to Ellen. “Remember when Brooke was nuts for Dora?”

She flipped a few more.

Her eyes widened suddenly, and she nearly dropped the album. She scrambled to grab hold of it and shoved it out at Ellen. “When was this? Ellen, when was this?”

“He’s in the hospital, Rachel. It was just after the accident.”

Rachel flipped. Stared. Flipped. Flipped. Her mouth hung open. She shook her head. Kept flipping. “No. No. Nononono… We never… I hadn’t… How could…?” Flip. Flip. Flip. Flip. Flip.

George tried to put a calming hand on her shoulder, but she tore away immediately. “TOBIAS!” she screamed so hard she had to have hurt herself.

George hadn’t heard fear like that in a long time. He shot Ellen a meaningful look, and she went immediately to the kitchen to gather the salt and iron filings from where they were kept under the sink.

He Loaded Up His Shotgun With Nails and Dynamite (Part One)

Sat, 10 Nov 2012 20:12:00 -0500

Rachel didn’t sleep until she heard the soft thumps of Jake’s shoes on the roof of the girls cabin.

And she slept well until the shouting began in the morning. She rolled out of bed, sweeping her hand under her pillows to grasp for the handle of the knife she normally would have kept under it.

Of course, it wasn’t there.

George had searched them three times before sending them to summer camp, and had packed their luggage himself. They were helpless and vulnerable. That just made the forced separation worse.

At least when they were together, they could watch each other’s backs. Getting split up into ‘activity groups’ or to sleep in different cabins was utterly nerve-wracking.

Rachel bit back a curse at being left empty-handed and went outside, relieved to see the shouting was nothing but the counsellors having caught Jake on the roof.

She shaded her eyes and peered up at him. He blinked back, eyes heavy with sleep. The broken-off arrowhead she’d taken from archery was in his hand, she noted with approval.

“Morning, Rach.” He greeted, not taking any notice of the screaming teenagers and adults. She didn’t either.

“How’d you sleep?” She asked.

“Eh. Probably should have brought a blanket to lie on.” He shrugged. “Tried to stay in my bunk, but.”

But. But. But. But.

The same reason she hadn’t slept until she knew he was there. The same reason that George and Ellen had sent them here.

“But.” She echoed, smiling.

Then her ear was seized and she yelped. She would have been on the attack if she hadn’t looked up and recognized her favourite camp counsellor, Jeremy.

“Down.” He ordered Jake, who made a face and dropped down from the roof, tucking the arrowhead up his sleeve as he did so.

Jeremy held out his other hand, and with a sigh, Jake held his head at an angle where his ear could be easily grasped. Jeremy did so and hauled both pajama-clad Berensons to the head office cabin, depositing them in chairs before taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

“Well?”

Jeremy Jason McCole was the camp favourite of almost every girl there. He’d been a minor celebrity as a kid, but like many child actors, that had vanished when he’d gotten too old for the business. He was cute, charming, and had dimples that made even Rachel’s knees weaken.

Rachel liked him best because he taught archery, let her join in on the wrestling lessons, never called her and Jake out when they avoided singing at campfires and… well, he really was incredibly cute.

Mirroring each others’ movements, the cousins slumped in their chairs and crossed their arms. Rachel was pouting.

“You two know this can’t keep happening.” Jeremy said after a good five minutes of sulky silence passed.

“We don’t like being apart. Is that such a crime?” Jake muttered.

“Arrow on the desk, Jake. And yes, when it starts the kind of rumours that are flying about you two.” He shook his head. “Really kids, I understand that you’ve been through some unpleasant things in your lives, but do you really think dealing with people making those kinds of assumptions will make your lives any easier?”

“I can just let Rachel kick their asses.” Jake replied with a cocky little half-smirk.

Her answering grin was wide and vicious.

“Your cousin is not an attack dog.” Jeremy scolded.

“I’m not saying she is!” Jake protested indignantly, frowning.

“Bark.” Rachel said innocently, earning herself black looks from both of them.

“Look, even if that was an acceptable answer-which it’s not- that wouldn’t exactly solve the problem. Even if both of you wade in blood up to the hips, there will be more tongues to wag.

Jake and Rachel exchanged a look. Unfortunately, he had a point.

A dead hitchhiker lay in pieces on the ground behind the jeep. About half a mile from the campsite, Jeremy looked into the bowl of blood he’d drained from the man.

“Why, exactly, did we give them instructions on how to fit in better? They’re baby hunters!”

He paused and scowled.

“Are you just trying to zero in on the vicious little blond? She’s your type, if a bit young for your tastes.”

He chuckled after another short pause. “Yeah, okay. Esplin’s orders. Whatever you say,sir. I don’t mind helping raise functional hunters so long as my visa holds out and they don’t get a whiff of me.”

“We are making an oar. Out of paper mache.” Rachel said dully, mechanically adding strips of sopping-wet paper to the oar.

“Then we’re going to paint it.” Jake pointed out cheerlessly.

Rachel shuddered. “What did we do to piss George and Ellen off so much? What was wrong with survival camp? We could be learning how to roast snakes on a hot rock right now, but no. Paper. Mache. Oar. To PAINT.”

He patted her mucky hand with his. “You can paint rude things on it and try to make Jeremy blush.”

She blushed and grinned at him . “Are you sure you don’t want to paint dolphins and horses all over it and give it to Cassie?” Her elbow lightly dug into his side.

He stuck his tongue out at her and added more paper to the oar.

“You two having fun?” Jeremy asked, coming over to check on their progress.

“So much fun.”

“All the fun.”

“Careful, kids, you’ll sprain your sarcasm joints.” Jeremy said with a snort. “Look, I need two volunteers to help set up for archery class. I know how much you two just love crafts, but if you want-“

The half-finished oar lay abandoned on the table as they made a break for the sweet freedom of menial labour.

Bourrache au bois dormant

Fri, 09 Nov 2012 21:08:51 -0500

Erek kicked a piece of Mockingbird lying abandoned on a patch of blood-soaked soil. Jaw, probably.

Shit, this was…

What was it?

Everything. Everything was this now. Violence and cruelty.

There wasn’t any escaping it. He could run far and hard, but the monster always caught him.

He couldn’t abandon them. Not now. Not forever. What if they needed him?

But there was magic. Old magic. He could use that maybe.

He just wanted a break. He just wanted to sleep.

Really

Thu, 08 Nov 2012 10:22:47 -0500

Sometimes, she could go a full day without the thought. Maybe more. Obviously, she couldn’t count days of not thinking about it without thinking about it.

But it always found a way to worm back into her skull, like so many of his ever-gnawing rats.

This isn’t real.

She would stare at her coffee, at the television screen, at the views that passed the windows of the pick-up truck. The calm moments. The calm moments were bad. The calm moments were thinking.

It was as though, with a snap of the fingers, the world suddenly came into focus, came into being, and she realized that she had absolutely no tactile hold on anything that had happened. She hadn’t come back to earth, to home, not really.

None of it was real.

Cassie wasn’t laughing at another stupid joke from Marco. Jake wasn’t asking her opinion on weapons. Jake and Cassie weren’t holding hands as easily as breathing. Marco wasn’t rubbing a bruised neck. It was all in her imagination. It was something David had helped her to invent. It was too perfect.

The pain of the beatings was perfect. The shouted arguments were perfect. The boring sex was perfect. It was everything she could want in a perfect reproduction.

She took Marco back into her bed without a thought because, in the end, what did it matter? She joked around with the tattoo artist because, in the end, what did it matter? She killed and fought too easily and had no patience for the mediocrity of life. None of it mattered. None of it was real.

She was just waiting for the day to come. In all honesty, she wanted it to. In truth, the only reason she fought the idea that her world was fake was because it left her with a painful loss of power, a crippling sense of inability. But she wanted the day to come. She wanted to be right.

Because a real world, real friends, could be lost again.

Spook Showdown, part three

Thu, 08 Nov 2012 01:03:00 -0500

“Uryphe,” spoke the child, and Zak collapsed to the ash-covered ground.

“ZAK!” Jordan screamed, racing past the angels as a Sandalfon and Temrash disappeared with a flood of light, leaving the damaged vessel behind. The child flickered to the man’s side and they disappeared briefly. Jordan collapsed by Zak’s side and Tobias appeared beside her. “Zak! Zak! Please, say something!” She pulled him into her lap, weeping openly. “Zak, please!”

Weakly, Zak just barely shook his head, blinking up at her with bleary eyes. “Busy,” he muttered through the thick blood in his mouth.

Suddenly, Tobias pulled Jordan away. The child stood now over Zak. Jordan screamed for Tobias to let her go, that Zak didn’t deserve it, that he’d made a selfish mistake. Tobias flew her back to the cluster of hunters watching in confusion, but Jordan continued to fight him tooth and nail.

“Who is that?” Tom demanded, rubbing his arm.

“Royalty,” Tobias snarled, eyes narrowed distrustfully.

Zak glared up at the child-bound angel. “This it?” he sputtered. “Ousted by… glor’fied el’vator?”

The child shook his head, then crouched, removed the dagger, and unceremoniously shoved his small hand into the knife wound. Zak screamed in agony. As Jordan wailed for him to stop, fighting Tobias’s powerful grip, the angel seemed to dig around like he was trying to find a dime the bottom of a purse. Finally, he withdrew an entirely clean arm and hand from a suddenly nonexistent wound. A toothpick from a baked cake.

Zak curled his torso to side and vomited pathetically. The child stepped back and gestured that Jordan could return if she wanted. But, at last, she hesitated. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The child flicked in front of her and pressed a mocking finger to her lips. She jerked back in repulsion.

The child flickered next to Rachel and held out the knife to her, handle out. She looked long and hard at Tobias, then took the knife. A huge smile appeared and disappeared on the child’s face so quickly as to mimic his flickering, phantom-like movements. She took the knife from him, but he didn’t let go immediately, instead pulling her toward him.

“One way or another,” he told her, “you’ll be the last. He can see it, and he worships it.”

He let go of the dagger, and Rachel stepped away from him distrustfully, tucking the weapon away. With another flicker, he turned to evaluate the collapsing house. He then turned his attention to Tobias, who swallowed nervously. “Dumah, I thank you for the favor.”

The child nodded and glowed as the angel within disappeared.

— —

Sandalfon set the head of Temrash down in a valley of flames, the valley itself unfathomable in breadth and wound through with a path of unmeasurable length, up and down and around and around. A path littered with phantoms. “The path to redemption lies through the Sins you created. This is not an act of mercy.”

“I didn’t want redemption,” Temrash muttered weakly, only barely capable of remembering himself at all.

“I know.”

And then Sandalfon was gone. The first Sin to approach looked like Sandalfon’s vessel, drenched in oil. When she spoke, oil poured out of her mouth. “You drowned me,” she said. “You drowned me seventeen times. I felt what it was like to die, each time revived by the Grace of an angel that couldn’t leave.”

Temrash frowned in confusion, unable to remember the accused crime.

“I know,” said a voice behind him. “I shouldn’t have. That was wrong, and I was wrong.” And then, steady hands picked up the head and clutched it close to his chest. “Please allow me to bear the burden of punishment.”

— —

The stranger set aside clothes for Zak on a little table next to the bed he was struggling to prop himself up on. “She says once you can get past the yellow bushes, that will mean all the demon blood is out of your system and you can be tattooed and, of course, live there.”

“She’s not living there anymore?”

The stranger chewed his lip and didn’t look at him. “I… She was getting her things… There were people with her.”

“You know what she is?” asked Zak.

The stranger smiled. “I know that she is kind and good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was.”

— —

“This is a lot of stuff,” Brooke said, tapping her arm where the new tattoo was beginning to itch. “Are you sure I need it all right from the start?”

“You need everything,” Ellen said, elbowing bag in hopes of wedging it into a slightly too small free space in the trunk of their sedan. The same sedan that Brooke would be parking outside her Freshman dormitory.

Justin, perched on the hood, rolled his eyes. “Mom, stop worrying. She’ll be fine. This is Brooke we’re…” His words faded away as he saw a hideous pickup amble up the road.

Ellen frowned. “Brooke, Justin, get inside the path,” she said gesturing to the circular walkway that surrounded their house. She didn’t wait for them to comply before walking to the end of the drive, waiting for the pickup to pull to a stop along the road.

When Jake stepped out, she took quick account of his dirtied clothes, his bruises, and the bandage around his left wrist. Rachel, climbing out of the passenger seat, didn’t look a lot better. After both finished demonstrating that they weren’t demons, Ellen hugged each. “Well, isn’t this a surprise?” she clucked over their appearance. “I suppose you need a bed.”

“Actually, no, we were hoping you had room for someone else.”

Ellen frowned. “You know how we feel about security.”

Rachel nodded. “Which is why this is the best haven for family.”

Ellen blinked at her in confusion as the other doors opened. Ellen smiled. “Jordan, it’s so good to see you again,” she said, pulling the girl into a hug. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fourth figure come around the truck.

“Mom?” Brooke called, confused.

Ellen tried to say something, but she was at a loss. She raised a shaking hand to her lips, uncertain. Tears welled in her eyes as Tom stood there awkwardly, hands shoved in his pockets. “Aunt Ellen,” he greeted quietly.

“You did it,” she gasped. She reached out and touched him carefully, not quite believing he was actually there. “You really did it.”

Spook Showdown, part two

Wed, 07 Nov 2012 22:22:39 -0500

“Jake, the house!” Cassie cried, pulling at his arm to get his attention. Shingles were peeling back and falling away. The paint was chipping and flaking. The entire house seemed to be aging rapidly. Except… It wasn’t quite doing it the way an aged house would. She couldn’t put her finger on how, but there was definitely ice spreading up the house and across the ground. Toward them.

“Go! Gogogo!” Jake urged, helping pull the exhausted practitioner to her feet and away from the property, but Uryphe turned from Tobias and shoved them back into the remaining fence. Cassie cried out as the freezing cold pierced her flesh where it met the best.

On the yard, Rachel shouted swear words as she attempted to haul Zak up and get them out of the ice. Marco ran to help them, but was knocked against the house by Uryphe. Temrash flickered next to him in the doorway, and he groaned as the demon grinned down at him. “I think you’ve got something in your teeth.” In a flicker, Temrash grabbed his shoulder and blisters and ice spread from the touch, causing him to scream wretchedly.

A blast of salt Tom’s shotgun dispersed Temrash long enough for Marco to pull away, grab Zak’s other arm, and help Rachel drag him across the front yard.

The roof and paint now almost entirely gone, the boards of the outer wall of the house began curling away from their framework. Curling outward from the top down. Dropping Zak against the fence, Rachel groped at her belt. “What? Goddammit, where’s my knife?!”

Tom rolled his eyes and blasted the next appearance of Temrash. “Maybe you should settle for the guns,” he suggested as she abandoned her weapons in favor of the second and third shotguns left nearby, loading salt in one and iron in the other, as Marco grabbed up the fourth.

Tobias was thrown again, further this time. Again, Uryphe attempted to leave, but found himself stopped. “If I leave, he’ll stop!” he insisted. “Let me go! You’ll get Jordan back when I find safety!”

Pulling himself up from the asphalt, Tobias looked around at trees whipping wildly in sudden storm winds. “We’re not keeping you…” he breathed.

And then they were met by an ear-piercing shriek. An unearthly wailing that brought Uryphe to his knees while the hunters desperately covered their ears and caused Temrash to flicker into absence. Tobias just stood aghast.

The shrieking stopped, and Tobias spun to face the newcomers as the storm winds picked up speed and strength and the others followed his gaze to a man holding a child’s hand. Fire whipped out from him, singing his hair, turning his nails black, charring his clothes, and even causing some blisters to boil up in a few places, but it was the child who had Tom’s attention. He couldn’t take his eyes off the little boy.

“I know you,” he breathed.

The child simply put a finger to his lip in amused warning.

Sandalfon turned his attention to the house and raised his free hand. Marco tackled Rachel and Tom out of the way just before fire flooded forward like dragon’s breath and melted the ice, scorched the yard, and steadily charred the wooden house to ash and cinders. Cassie screamed at him to stop, that he was risking too much, but he ignored her. When Uryphe tried to run again, Jake shot Jordan with salt, swept off target by the high winds. Uryphe turned on him, but the child was instantly next to him and Uryphe recoiled in fear.

The house burned and crumbled, and whatever had been made of Temrash roared in fury from the horrid burning bloom of what had once been a beautiful home, carved by hand to reinforce the safety of a love that had fought its way out of hell itself. Temrash snarled and snapped, an abomination of everything he’d become, of all that he had sacrificed.

Jake clutched Cassie close, unsure what to do and glanced down the fence at Marco, Tom, and Rachel, who had not given up their guns despite equivalent terror and confusion. Tom and Tobias, actually, had their focus glued on the angel with the child vessel.

At last, the framework began to crumble, and the stinking smoke billowed out from the house, released from Cassie’s binding, and arced toward Uryphe, who cowered in fear. The child only smiled sadly at the oncoming beast and said “Temrash.”

The cloud disappeared immediately and entirely. At the child’s feet, a severed head materialized. He reached to pick it up, but Sandalfon stopped him with a firm grasp of the wrist. “I have a promise to keep.” The child raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“No!” Uryphe shouted. “You can’t take him! He’s not yours to destroy!”

Sandalfon glowered down at him. “Fool. Give gratitude for the sacrifices made in your name. Not another has—.” But he was interrupted when, to everyone’s surprise, Jordan’s head snapped back and expelled demon smoke that was drawn, as if by a vacuum pipe, to the trap set for it.

Uryphe struggled to pull himself up on bloody hands. “What—?” he coughed through a mouth lit with hellfire as all his power was torn away in shreds by the knife David had given Rachel.

See you at home.