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[b][color=powderblue]”What’s wrong with my shoes?”[/color][/b]

Camilla looked down as she stepped in the house, her brows furrowing. The boots were made of durable leather, having dealt the brunt of some of her worst days as a hunter. Even now she could imagine them coated with blood and mud as she attempted to scramble away from a wendigo or watch them cautiously as they skirted around a circle of crystalline salt. Perhaps she didn’t take the most meticulous care of them, but they were one of the things she owned that were truly hers. She didn’t have a home to return to consistently, a car or a dog, but the boots were solidly and definitively hers. Jack hadn’t meant anything by it, though, and she supposed that she was being sensitive.

It had offered him enough time to slide by her, pulling her jacket and causing her to stay behind Jack. Cam could only offer his silent shushing with a quiet nod of her own, taking the gun from its resting place and grasping it firmly in her palms. It didn’t take long for them to start sweating, which dismayed her; it didn’t seem to get easier, despite how many cases she worked. She kept the pistol at hip level, her eyes wide and searching back and forth as they progressed through the house. 

The smell of sulfur got worse and Cam’s nose wrinkled. [b][color=powderblue]”Christ Almighty,”[/color][/b] she offered, looking towards Jack. He didn’t seem as affected by it, or if he was, he didn’t mind it nearly as much as she did. Perhaps the amount of alcohol he’d imbibed had dulled his senses, she thought hastily, but not before they moved through the house and towards the upper floor. The rest of the home didn’t look well lived in, with a few pieces of furniture placed haphazardly. Some were askew, as if they had been pushed aside without much thought. Cam’s brows furrowed once more as she looked around, studying everything.

If she’d had time, maybe she would have found herself resting on the couch with her feet on a table while watching TV. It reminded her of some days with Peter, when he was well enough to stay awake during a movie marathon. Her expression softened slightly at the thought of her brother, but a touch on her back caused her reverie to break. The touch trailed down, burning movements until it rested on her ass. But it was difficult to focus on it when Jack’s voice escaped beside her. Cam jumped; she hadn’t heard a squeak upstairs to suggest someone was up there and waiting, but it was eerie here.

That small jump was nothing in comparison to the startle Camilla experienced when she caught sight of the sickly woman staring at them. The woman released her grip on the pistol, trying to steady herself as the ground beneath her shook. The empty hand reached towards Jack, grabbing onto his upper arm. Her hip bumped into his and she felt her chest graze against his. The arm that had held the pistol promptly dropped it, using her newly free grip to steady herself against Jack, her fingers gripping at his jacket.

But truly before she could recover her footing, she was shoved away. It wasn’t that she appreciated it – which she did – but that rendered her completely useless. No sooner had she landed on the floor had the woman thrown Jack away, as if he’d been a crumpled piece of paper. Cam looked up, but not before scurrying back as quickly as possible on all fours. Her boots slid as she tried to gain traction but it didn’t seem to moving her at all; she didn’t even have a weapon! Her blue eyes, wide with fear, attempted to move towards the gun when she caught sight of the woman. Her soulless stare locked on Cam but she disappeared as the hunter began to move again. 

Her chest was heaving in terror and Cam tried to catch her breath as she reached for the gun that she’d discarded. She steadied herself on a nearby wall, pushing herself up off the ground before stowing the pistol back in her belt line. The woman moved to the door, leaving the dangerous confines of the house for the open area of the lawn.  [b][color=powderblue]”Figured out what happened to that window, too,”[/color][/b] Cam said wryly, collapsing beside Jack. [b][color=powderblue]”What are we supposed to do? I didn’t bring the rites and I don’t know them off the top of my head. I used to be a good Catholic, but never like [i]that[/i].”[/color][/b]

Cam sighed, letting herself look up at the sky. [b][color=powderblue]”I could manage a heptagram, but it would take me time. And I’m sure you have salt-loaded bullets somewhere, but do we [i]want[/i] to harm the host?”[/color][/b] It wasn’t that poor woman’s fault that she’d been possessed… or so Cam hoped. And if they killed her, they wouldn’t be able to glean any information about the missing boy. [b][color=powderblue]”I’m at a loss, Jack. And I’m refusin’ to go back into that house until we work somethin’ out. I’ve got a date tonight with a boy prettier than you at the bar and I have every intention of bein’ there.”[/color][/b]

She looked over to Jack and lifted up, resting her palms on the ground as her eyes surveyed her partner. But that woman in the house... her eyes hadn't been black, had they? Cam's brows furrowed and she chewed on her bottom lip again before offering her concerns. [b][color=powderblue]"You okay?"[/color][/b][/indent]