by Abbey, Kit
Chris gestured in that direction, “go see who that is,” he said, “if they’re not Grey Corp, kill them.”
“But we have to keep holding him down,” said Jeff in a tone that mocked Chris’ earlier command.
William wasn’t looking at the Collectors, but he figured Chris must have given Jeff a pretty foul look, because without another word he jumped up and trotted towards the cab of the truck. He easily scampered up the side of it, and stood on the roof of the cab looking down. “Hey,” he said, “who the hell are-”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he started screaming. He staggered back, clutching his face, his screams rising in intensity. Chris and Danny jumped to their feet, Jones lying forgotten between them. Jeff was shaking his head desperately back and forth, his cries now coming in short little bursts. He took another staggering step backwards, and toppled off the side of the truck. He writhed on the ground, wailing.
“What the fuck?” said Danny.
William struggled into a sitting position, bracing his weight on his arms.
Chris took a few hesitant steps towards Jeff. “Jeff, what happened?”
There was no change in Jeff’s screams to indicate he’d heard Chris. Danny took a step backwards, but Chris squared his shoulders and strode purposefully towards his friend.
William took advantage of their distraction and tried to move towards Jones. Dragging himself backwards towards Jones with his hands was only slightly less painful then trying to walk, but he gritted his teeth and continued making slow progress.
Chris reached Jeff and crouched down next to his twisted form. “What’s wrong with him?” called Danny, who had stepped even further back. He had moved out of the pool of light the headlights offered, and William could barely see him.
“It’s his face,” said Chris, who seemed highly reluctant to actually touch Jeff, “it’s-”
Chris abruptly stopped talking at the same moment William finally reached Jones. William froze, thinking that Chris had noticed him. But Chris wasn’t even looking his way; he was staring intently into the gloom, focused on something that William couldn’t see. After a second’s more hesitation, William reached out a hand, scraped and cut from the rough road, and grasped one of Jones’ wrists.
For a few stomach freezing moments nothing moved under William’s questing fingers. He dropped the arm and reached over Jones’s still form for his other wrist. His hand grazed Jones’ shirt, and found it wet. The ground was damp, but not damp enough to account for that much wetness. William told himself it was sweat, refusing to entertain any thoughts of blood. This wrist was as lacking in a pulse as the other. William moved his fingers franticly, trying to find any movement, any at all.
He was dimly aware that Chris was talking to someone, his voice raised and angry. But this was of no consequence to William; he didn’t even turn his head to look. Instead he dropped Jones’ limp arm and, ignoring the sharp protest from his leg, he flung himself down onto the werewolf. He pressed a cheek into Jones sopping shirt. Jones’ chest was still. William’s chest was tight. He felt as though he could barely breathe.
Danny had ventured back into the light, his fists clenched at his side, his eyes fixed furiously ahead. William followed his gaze. Jeff’s thrashing had subsided to erratic twitching, his screams to whimpers.
Chris stood over his friend, although Jeff didn’t seem to be taking up any of his attention. Instead he was focused on the woman standing on Jeff’s other side, an enormous and brightly coloured gun cradled in her arms.
“Whatever debt you think you owe him,” said Chris, continuing a conversation they had been having whilst William had been preoccupied with Jones’ missing pulse, “it’s not worth dying for.”
“I agree,” said Gwen. “That’s the main reason why I don’t intend on dying.”
Chris hissed, and started to step forward. Gwen slightly moved the bright gun, (oh! It was a water pistol) and he instead took several hasty steps back. Gwen smirked.
“You think you’re clever?” spat Chris. “You think you’re the first person to exploit this weakness?”
“I think there’s ordinarily quite a few more of you,” said Gwen, stepping daintily over Jeff, “and I think you should take your friends and leave.”
“I think I’d rather rip your throat out,” said Chris, and he lunged.
She raised her bulky weapon, but it seemed to William that she was moving too slowly, and that surely Chris was going to tear her apart, and it was all too much, and he couldn’t draw a full breath, he couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t he breathe, why-
Chapter 62.
“William, let go.”
Who was talking to him? Someone young. Did he know anyone so young? William contemplated solving this mystery by opening his eyes, but that just seemed like far too much effort. Much, much nicer to just drift and float around.
“He’s not breathing. What did they do to him?”
“He just has to let go.”
A hand, a tiny little hand, gently brushed his hair from his forehead. William resented the touch; it anchored him, kept him from drifting. He liked drifting.
“How am I supposed to know what’s wrong with him? I was a little preoccupied.”
Oh, now that voice he knew.
He plummeted from the drifty place, slamming back into his body with a gasp. He still couldn’t breathe; his sides burned; his mind swayed and lurched, and his fingers and toes prickled painfully. His eyes were open, but cavorting black shapes obscured much of his vision. His bloodied fingers scraped compulsively along the road, his body was tense and arched.
Probing hands were at his throat and mouth.
“He’s not choking,” said Gwen. her hands continued to flit over his chest. “He should be breathing.”
“He won’t feel better until he lets go Mummy.”
“Lets go of what?”
Jones’ voice was sharp, and Gwen immediately started berating him for speaking to her daughter with that tone. William paid her no attention, something more important was tugging at the edge of his strained consciousness. Jones… Something about Jones… Jones… Was snapping at Daisy. Which meant that he probably wasn’t dead. Which meant that William didn’t have to try and heal him. Not that he could have healed him anyway, without his powers. Powers that, William abruptly realised, his body was still reflexively trying to grasp.
“You have to let go.”
Oh. He finally understood exactly what Daisy was telling him to let go of. He stopped trying to reach for his powers, and the pressure in his chest eased instantly. He breathed in compulsively, and again. The oxygen was so sweet it hurt.
“Sleep now,” said Daisy.
And William slept.
Chapter 63.
William woke slowly He was still squeezed into the back seat of the Charger. His neck was stiff and he felt all over filthy and gross. The morning light was very bright and it took a few attempts to get his eyes open.
Jones was driving, and Gwen was in the passenger seat. Daisy was curled up asleep on her lap. William sat up slowly, and stretched as much as the cramped back seat would allow.
Jones glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. “Decided to finally join us did you.”
Gwen twisted in her seat and regarded him without speaking.
William looked at Jones. His face was a study in blood and bruising, but he was alive.
“I thought you were dead,” said William. His voice was raspy, and his mouth tasted disgusting.
“I can see why you would think that,” said Jones, “seeing as I decided to stop breathing for no apparent reason. Oh, wait, no. That was you.”
“I didn’t decide to stop breathing,” said William, who despite everything was struggling not to grin. “I just…” He trailed off, and then burst out with, “hey! My leg! It doesn’t hurt!” He swung it back and forth as far as he could. He’s grown so accustomed to the constant pain to be suddenly wit
hout it was a very novel feeling. He bet the feeling of getting his powers back twenty billion times as good.
“Daisy healed you,” said Gwen, her voice flat. “Now she’s unwell.”
William craned his neck around the front seat and saw that Daisy was very pale. Gwen glared at him as though it was his fault.
“Illuded healing is hard,” said William. “and my leg was in real bad shape. I’m sure she’ll be fine after some rest.”
Gwen appeared to be torn between glaring at William and gazing with concern at Daisy. “Not just your stupid leg, but his-” she jerked her head at Jones- “neck as well.”
“Hey,” said William, feeling defensive, “it’s not like we asked her to! You’re the one dragging her all over the Godforsaken countryside to fight vampires in the dead of night! Who do you think you are, Buffy?”
“Daisy said we had to! She knows things sometimes, and it always turns out worse if I don’t listen to her. She told me to get holy water and a water pistol and come here, so I did it.”
“It still sounds like your blaming us for something you decided to do of your own free will!”
“You could have healed yourselves instead of making Daisy do it!”
“For your information,” said William, “he doesn’t have any powers, and they took mine away because I brought your kid to you.”
“After you kidnapped her in the first place.” But a lot of the fire had left Gwen’s voice, her thoughts seemed to be suddenly elsewhere. “I don’t think that’s punishment enough.”
“That wasn’t my punishment! They wanted Jones to eat me! Is that horrible enough for you?”
“Who’s Jones?”
William pointed. “That guy.”
“Oh.”
He looked at Jones. “I close my eyes for ten minutes and you don’t bother to introduce yourself?”
“Ten minutes? Try nine hours,” said Jones.
“Wait,” said Gwen, “he was going to eat you? Is that like some kind of weird sex thing?”
“No!” said William, “no, it is not some kind of weird sex thing! It’s a weird he’s a werewolf and the moon was full kind of thing!”
“Interesting though,” said Jones, “that your mind went straight to weird sex thing.”
Gwen ignored him. “Werewolves? Vampires? What the hell do you people do at Grey Corp? Making monsters and stealing little girls, a spot of virgin sacrificing before tea on a Sunday? Do you hurt puppies and shoot kittens out of cannons for fun? To pass the time while you wait around for a thunderstorm to get some good lightening to reanimate the corpses you have lying around-” Gwen looked as though she’d been gearing up to continue on in that vein for quite some time, but she cut off sharply when Daisy stirred. The little girl pushed away from her Mother, her movements sluggish, her eyes unfocused.
“It’s better if Rowan doesn’t know,” she said, “I know you know that. Don’t be an idiot Jude.”
William’s already sore neck was not at all impressed with the way that William twisted it to quickly look at Jones. Any reaction Jones had to Daisy’s words took place on the inside, although William fancied that his hands were gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than they had been a second ago.
“She does that sometimes,” said Gwen. She reached out and gently eased Daisy back. The girl resisted, then allowed her Mother to tuck her back under her arm. “She can’t control it,” she added, daring William and Jones to argue.
“Stop staring at me,” snapped Jones.
William stopped staring at him, turning to look out of the window. Daisy sounded as though she was quietly sobbing, and Gwen began to sing her a soft lull-a-bye. It sounded like one that his mother might have sung to him, a long time ago.
The scenery by day was slightly less oppressive than by night, but only slightly. Farmland sprawled in every direction, large numbers of cows sedately chewing on grass. William had never seen so many cows all at once. It was vaguely sinister
“Have we really been driving for nine hours?”
“No,” said Jones. “Only one. I needed to rest.” Which was as close as Jones would come to admitting weakness.
“Are we close getting close to Madeline’s brother then?”
“Plans have changed,” said Jones, “we only needed your powers back so you could find the kid. But now we have the kid, so we can skip that step and go straight to the safe house.”
He turned the music up, but William reached between the seats and switched it off entirely.
“No,” he said. “No, that’s unacceptable. Caspien. I mean it. Turn around, we’re going to find Madeline’s brother.”
“No,” said Jones.
“Yes!”
“The fewer people able to get into heads, the better,” said Jones.
“You mean the fewer people that have the power to get into your head, the better! You mean the fewer people who know that you didn’t kill Jude Cross like Grey Corp thinks you did, the better!”
A squeal of tires and the smell of burning rubber filled the air as Jones slammed on the brakes. A blue Ford swerved around them, horn blaring.
Jones twisted in his seat to stare at him. “Do you think that just because I didn’t kill you before, I won’t kill you now?” asked Jones, his voice soft. “The only reason, William, the only god damned reason I didn’t tear you apart is I needed you to find the girl.” He made a show of looking over his shoulder at Daisy, and then back to William. “And it would seem I don’t need you for that anymore.”
William was shaking, but it was from anger and not fear. “How many times are you going to play that tune? Kill me, or don’t. I’m sick of hearing about it. But I am going to find Madeline’s brother, with or without you!”
He threw the door of the Charger open, got out, and slammed it shut again. Possibly he hadn’t thought this through. He was barefoot, his clothes were torn, he was absolutely covered in dried blood. He half expected Jones to peel instantly away without so much as a backwards glance, but surprisingly Gwen opened her door and climbed out awkwardly with Daisy in her arms.
She looked at him, shivering a little the cold air. “This man you’re looking for. If he knows how to restore your powers, would he know how to take Daisy’s away?”
William was taken aback. “You can’t take them away from her! It would be cruel, you have no idea how awful it feels.”
“Could it feel worse than spending her whole life being hounded by you people?”
William didn’t really have an answer for that. “They’re not my people anymore,” he muttered. He considered telling her it wouldn’t make a difference. Powers or no powers, Daisy was still a well. But he needed to find Madeline’s brother more than Gwen needed to know that.
“Damn it.” Jones leant over and pushed Gwen’s door open. “Would you get back in the car.”
“We’re going to find Madeline’s brother,” said William. “Are you going to help us?”
Jones shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. You could practically see him mentally counting to ten.
“Fine. Get back in the car.”
Gwen pushed past William and got in the back, where there was more room for Daisy to sleep, and more distance from one very aggravated werewolf.
“This is a bad idea,” said Jones as William did up his seat belt.
“All the best ideas are.”
The drove in silence for fifteen minutes or so before Gwen asked, “is your name really Caspien?”
Jones turned the music all the way up.
Chapter 64.
Daisy woke up after a while, but she was still groggy and miserable. Gwen chatted to her brightly, about the clouds and cartoons and which trees they liked best. William did not like any of the trees best. He didn’t like the way they grew so close to the edge of the road, and he did not like the way their branches joined overhead, dappling the sunlight. The press of buildings and people and traffic in the city had
never made him feel as closed in as this.
Jones looked as unhappy as William felt, although probably for different reasons. Well, too bad. It would be good for him to learn that other people’s wants were just as important as his own.
William made an attempt to convince Gwen not to take Daisy’s powers away, but he couldn’t find any words seemed sufficient.
“There’s a big gaping nothing where they used to be,” he finally said, “and it’s cold, and it’s horrible, and when I try to reach for them, I can’t breathe and it’s just really horrible.”
It was clear from her expression that Gwen still didn’t understand. “These powers aren’t making her very happy right now, are they?”
Daisy did look awful, and William was starting to suspect she was actually sick and not drained from all the healing she had done.
“You don’t understand,” he said, “you can’t understand. I wouldn’t wish feeling like this on any one. If you love her-”
“Of course I love her, how dare you even imply that-”
“That’s not what I meant!” William pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You keep twisting everything I say, making me look like some awful bad guy.”
“You are an awful bad guy,” said Gwen, as though this was obvious.
“No I’m not, I-”
She spoke over the top of his. “You kidnapped my daughter! You are an awful. Bad. Guy.”
“I brought her back! You act like that counts for nothing!”
“They wouldn’t have found her in the first place if you hadn’t gone and started working for them!”
“Oh they would have,” said Jones, eyes intent on the road ahead. “It just would have taken a little bit longer.”
“You still helped them,” said Gwen, “and who knows what other awful things you’ve done in the name of Grey Corp.”
It would be a lot easier for William to defend himself if she wasn’t making such good points. He slumped down in his seat and folded his arms.
“Grey Corp is evil,” said Gwen. “Can’t you remember what it was like before you worked for them? Wondering if the person you pass on the street works for them? Wondering if you’re about to be killed because you’ve somehow offended them! Wondering if they’re going to take your baby away because she was born with something they wanted, wondering if the cute guy that wanders into your work one day is planting a god damn tracking device on you!”