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ASPECT


Serenia & Hokum


When the darkness scampers



Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Hokum
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Hokum The man in the moon

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How did she get my number?

The question had many possible answers; friends, associates, word of mouth, so Jack didn’t give a lot thought to that aspect of the call right away. Besides which, the desperate hollering of the woman had its own distracting effects. Once the necessary information was noted, he cut her off by ending the call. He then pinch-shut his eyes, placed the android with a lackluster fumble on the dashboard, while the thumb of is other hand softly stroked the running mustang at the center of his steering wheel. It was far too early for a call like that.

The horn of the morning ferry to the city soon had his eye sliver open again, squinting against the light of sunrise stretching out like hazy fingers to the scattered red-tone cloud above the distant skyline. It would have been an admirable dawn had his head not been pounding with the reminiscent drums of last night’s abuse. He could almost feel his liver disintegrating. And there it was, the gaping mouth of his departed friend, now just an empty bottle of Russian Standard that he turned in his seat to eyeball on the passenger seat. …No Hair of the Dog salvation this morning.

“Rest in piss….”

The words faded out with his presence of mind. He spent the next thirty minutes nodding in and out of consciousness before his inner voice alerted him of the need to contact his associate. They had a job to do. He started the engine then retrieved his phone from the dash. Not yet in the mood for vocalizing, he scrolled through his longer than desired list of contacts until he reached the name Quinn, opened a text window, and thumbed out the message:

got a live one. woman hysterics. son gone. no cops.
21 ashmore ave freesprings.
on way now. pick u up or meet ther?


He paused for a moment, blinking to focus through the glaze of eye fluid to assess any typos before hitting Send.

… Message sent.

A minute later the old slate-grey Mustang rumbled as it backed from the harbor-side parking lot to ride off into this new day of hell….
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Serenia
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Serenia Cullenite

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All. Fucking. Night.

That’s how long Camilla’d been awake. She’d just laid down when a chime sounded from her phone. The woman grumbled and palmed around on her bedside table until she found the device. The screen, a bright fluorescent, burned her tired eyes and deep blue eyes squinted as she focused on the small words of a text message.

Pick me up.

Maybe if he was drunk enough he’d kill them on the way. It would be a blessing, Cam thought as she threw off the sheets she’d just recently warmed. The skin on her arms pebbled as the colder air hit them once more and the hunter pulled off her tank top before searching for the bra she’d just discarded. Her arms bent almost unnaturally and her sternum cracked, causing her to grimace. Camilla quickly dressed in a clean, white T-shirt and skinny jeans, rezipping the black boots before reapplying her black leather jacket.

21 Ashmore Avenue. Cam’s brows furrowed as she tried to place the address. She’d been in this town long enough to figure out the general areas, but this one didn’t sound familiar. Of course, she hadn’t spent much time touring. Fighting, hunting, shooting, sneaking… she could have used a plethora of verbs to describe her time here. But amongst those words she could choose, ‘pleasant’ wouldn’t be included. Neither would it describe her working experience with Jack, but that couldn’t be helped.

For the longest time she’d preferred to hunt alone. Technically, she supposed she still did, but it was too dangerous. But he was experienced, or at least seemed to be, and that was enough. No one would take the place of Peter and she was more than keen to make sure Jack knew that, but it wouldn’t matter. They had jobs to do and none of that mentioned in-fighting. Hunters had enough to worry about without arguing who wanted what. She trusted him just enough to watch her back, and that would be enough.

Camilla rolled her shoulders, running a hand through long, dark hair. Thin strands had begun to fall around her features, highlighting high cheekbones and a heart-shaped face. She blew a puff of air up, hoping to move it away completely, while tilting her head towards the window. Listening to the tell-tale sounds of an arriving muscle car was more difficult than usual, thanks to the red brick that encased the apartment building.

Her eyes moved towards her bed, wondering if she would possess enough awareness to close her eyes and not fall asleep; it was unlikely, Camilla decided, and it would perhaps be better to loiter outside. She took a few short steps, gathering her phone and keys, before locking the door and quickly descending the stairs to the lobby. Pale, lithe fingers pushed the door to the outside open and her boots clicked softly on the pavement as she walked onto the sidewalk.

She pushed her hands into one of the jacket pockets, feeling the rectangular shape of a lighter there. It was a comfort, though it was nothing like the rush of nicotine that often accompanied it. Cam pulled it out, flicking the top off and quickly moving to summon a flame. The woman’s eyes watched as it waved back and forth before she heard the familiar rumble of a Mustang.

She closed the lighter and shoved it away, hiding it deep within the recesses of clothing before she moved towards the car. Attractive enough to intrigue her and with just enough issues to detract her, Jack seemed like the perfect partner. He was a little older than her, though not older enough to give her pause, and he seemed to know his shit. Cam opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her. ”What exactly does ‘a live one’ entail and when is someone not in hysterics?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes after closing the door.

What was it this time? Poltergeist, vampire, werewolf… demon. Nothing seemed to be preferable to the other, and it had become difficult to prepare for their calls. ”I’ve been up all night. Better be good,” she continued, sliding down into the seat. "Don’t tell me all you got was that her son was gone. Tell me that I don’t need to wear my fuckin’ pantsuit. Better yet, tell me this is bullshit and I can go back to sleep.”

Cam took a deep breath, her eyes moving towards the empty bottle of liquor nearby, before refocusing in front of her. She didn't have any business getting into Jack's; she wasn't his mother or even his family, and if he wanted to drink his life away, so be it. As long as he could perform on the job, she didn't care. "This better not be an angry, frustrated teen trying to teach his mom a lesson, Dolson, or I swear to God you'll have another woman in hysterics on your hands."
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Hokum
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Hokum The man in the moon

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Seems the older one gets the less surprises happen. First Jack is woken by a hysterical woman, and now he’s being relentlessly badgered by his senseless partner. Okay, that was unfair. But really, the battle never ends, the fight even seems to intensify when feeling ill equipped to handle it. It's like spirits were always watching, influencing those around you, making sure you get hammered at the most inopportune time. It wasn't Cam's fault, she was just doing her thing. In the end Jack blamed himself as always, and for good reason, especially in this case. He's the only one to decide on obliterating himself with alcohol on a nightly basis. He makes his own bed to lie in, everyone does. But that doesn't negate the torment that ensues. Besides, Camilla had a point, it was far too early for this shit.

He held still like a man who, though outwardly calm, could clearly be construed as one about to explode at any moment. One hand rested on the gearstick, the other limp on the wheel while he inwardly winced at the words that flooded from her mouth. Of course, it wasn’t as bad as all that, in his condition her words felt more antagonizing than what was intended. But still….

Shut up. Nothing you’ve said will actually change a thing.

Cam finished spouting her mouth, and in that moment of praised silence he sneered, although even the curl of his lip would have appeared to be lacking effort. Opening the door, he stepped out of the car without a word, swayed to find his bearings, then shuffled his way across a patch of lawn, his back to the car as he unzipped the fly of his blue jeans and relieve himself into a nearby hedge. Finished, he made his way back to the car, adjusted the well-warn, brown leather jacket to find moderate comfort in his seat before closing the door and jamming the car in first gear.

“Done bitch’n?” His words were flat as his deadpan look as he reached for the back seat to produce a paper bag that he preceded drop on her lap. In the bag she’d find a bacon and egg McMuffin. “Breakfast of champions.” He tells her, “Get it into ya.” There was also a coffee waiting for her in the cup holder of the center console. In the closing of the only words he had to express, he pulled away from curb and tore off down the street.

To be perfectly clear, Jack didn’t mind Camilla at all. She was a good girl. Sure, she was about as placid as a ship tossed at sea in a hurricane, but for the most part her head was in the right place. More importantly, she did have a way of impressing him. He’d seen it on a few promising occasions; the ability to think coherently in the face of danger. That’s what he needed in a partner, not some hesitant automaton constantly in need of instruction, rather someone who could think for themselves. Think on their feet. Independence took leaps and bounds in this profession. Besides her annoying exuberance - something that defiantly served as an anchor for Jack - she was easy to look at. A little eye candy had its place. Not that it was an essential component, but it certainly helped in some decrepit manner of thinking. Naturally, that wasn’t something he’d care to admit to her, or anyone for that matter. Business was business.

The journey to their destination didn’t take long and Jack held his tongue, listening to anything else Cam had to say, though in all honestly he may not have appeared to be paying any attention. He was like that; never feeling the need to voice his opinion or express any emotional response. Circumstances spoke for themselves. Yet every now and then he tended to voice his own surprise with words that left no doubt of his attentiveness.




They arrived at 21 Ashmore Avenue fifteen minutes later and Jack pulled into the driveway. He wouldn’t have seemed at ease to Camilla. Though he always gave the impression of being calm, she would have noticed by the unsettled shifting of his eyes that his suspicion was mounting. Something wasn’t right, but then, when was ever anything right in their profession? In the end, it was just a matter of degree.

He continued to leave the engine run idle while looking Cam up and down, possibly the first time he actually regarded her with any amount of visible interest that day. After what may have deceivingly seemed to be a man checking out the attractive hitchhiker in his passenger seat, he posed the question:

“Look’n to buy?”

His question was clearly intended for Camilla to take note of the residence immediate appearance: A well weathered For Sale sign loomed on the overgrown lawn, while the two story red-brick home didn’t exactly exalt in recent maintenance or upkeep. One of the three ground floor windows had its glass shattered. But there was no screaming woman exiting the front door with arms flailing, no teen peeking from the window snickering on account of the trouble he or she had caused. Jack was beginning to wonder if the house was actually occupied when the roller door to the lock up garage started to open for them. Apparently someone inside was welcoming them… but why the need to have them enter the garage? Jack would have been happy to park on the street for all it mattered.

The roller door to the garage released a loud thud as it finished opening. Inside the garage there was nothing, however. No boxes, no household machinery or tools, no children’s push bike; nothing to indicate that the house was actually occupied. But then again, if the house was up for sale, it was reasonable to assume that most of the packing had been done already. Still, he didn’t drive in because he just didn’t see the point, especially if a quick getaway was going to be needed later. So he cut the engine, secured the handbrake, and regarded Camilla with a Jack-typical raise of one brow.

“I’ve got my Glock. That’ll do me until we’ve assessed the situation. Grab something from the trunk if you feel the need.” He suggested.

Cam already had an extra set of keys to the Mustang. Jack had given them to her a few weeks earlier, since he felt it prudent to keep all things covered in case of emergencies.

They’d get out of the car at this point. Jack would linger by the entrance of the garage further analyzing the situation while awaiting Cam to do whatever she needed to do.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Serenia
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It was difficult for Camilla not to roll her eyes, or to comment on Jack’s gruffness. By no means did she consider herself a Chatty Cathy, and she believed herself far from annoying. Asking Jack, though, perhaps would allow for a different story. His quick words, full of forthright irritation from her nonsensical comments, caused Camilla not to recoil but instead to cross her arms over her chest, pressing full lips together in something that almost resembled a pout. Her eyes stayed straight, looking out the windshield as her partner moved behind her seat and… well, somewhere else. The woman wriggled down in her seat, keeping her arms over her chest, until curiosity finally got the best of her.

The corner of her mouth turned up in a slight snarl but she said nothing, schooling her features into one of neutrality as he carelessly dropped food into her lap. She supposed she appreciated the gesture, knowing that he’d actually had to put thought into getting food for her. Cam offered him an unhappy look but nothing else as she ungraciously tore into the English muffin, viciously tearing off a piece with her teeth. It was quickly followed up with a gulp of coffee, which caused the woman to grimace, but she said nothing. In fact, she kept quiet for the remainder of the short journey, pleased that it hadn’t taken long at all to arrive.

Her blue eyes narrowed as Jack looked to her, his words clearly hiding a meaning. But what was it? She readjusted herself in the seat, leaning forward and causing hair to spill over her shoulder. Cam’s brows furrowed as she looked back to him but she said nothing. This didn’t exactly look like a house she would want to buy, and it would be assumed that if someone was so worried about their son, they too would be worried about presenting their house – still on the market – the best they could. That was hardly the case here, and no woman seemed to be running around or searching for a lost child.

Cam startled as a loud noise released from nearby, causing the hunter to look back to Jack. Something was certainly amiss, though it was difficult to tell from here. Her fingers pulled at the door when the Mustang was put in park, but she held it ajar as Jack’s voice rumbled throughout the small space. ”Fuck me, I’ll need something.” she muttered before finally moving. The rough material of her jeans slid easily over the car’s leather seat as she went to stand, though she didn’t move from the Mustang completely as she looked over the top of the vehicle and onto the house in front of them.

No, she would certainly need some type of weapon. It was foolish of her to not bring something, as her companion had, but he always seemed prepared. It was interesting, considering the amount of alcohol he seemed to drink. Already she could smell the stale liquor on his breath from the night prior, but what did it matter if he was sober now and more prepared than she? Cam shut the door behind her as she travelled to the trunk, digging into her jacket pocket as she searched for the keys. ”Old ass car,” she muttered, fidgeting with them as she searched for the right one.

When the trunk popped open, Cam was met with a shine of weapons. The girl hummed slightly as she ran her fingers lightly over a rifle; she had an affinity for it, but it wasn’t appropriate in a short-range situation such as in this house. Perhaps they wouldn’t find anything… she continued with the made-up melody as she took a pistol, checking the chamber before sliding it into the posterior waistband of her jeans. Quickly, Cam grabbed some bullets before shutting the trunk and moving towards the broken window.

She looked in, finding nothing that looked completely out of the ordinary. The house looked lived in, as far as she was concerned. It was neat, but none of the furniture was covered with sheets. It looked modern enough, nothing that would suggest an old woman that was lonely and conjuring up her recently dead husband. Cam harrumphed before sticking her hands in her front jean pockets and moved towards Jack. With a quick shrug in his direction, she looked around. ”Not sure I’m interested, with that broken window. Rest of the place seems kept up.” Cam chewed lightly on her bottom lip. ”Garage is nice and big.”

Cam took a few steps forward, her boots clicking on the dry cement of the garage floor. ”You could put two of your cars in here, huh? But I swore Mrs. DuBois said something about a family bein’ here.” She advanced once more, grimacing as she smelt a hint of sulfur in the air. ”Must not have cleaned well,” Cam continued, ”smells like rotten eggs.” She shot a look back to Jack, her eyes shimmering slightly with worry.

If it were straightforward enough to be a demon, they could deal with that. She would prefer it, actually. But anything else… she wasn’t equipped for it. There wasn’t any prior research she’d done on the house, or on the family that lived here. But what she did know was that there was something awry in this house. Her hand reached towards the interior door, grabbing the knob and turning it. ”Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” She turned her head over her shoulder, a smile spreading across her features. ”Comin’?”

The smell wasn't that much stronger as she entered the house, and for that Cam was thankful. The house was dark, however, and the atmosphere cloying and thick. Something had happened here, as much as she'd wished it otherwise. Where was the woman who had called Jack? She, at least, should be here. The garage door had opened, and surely someone would have had to open it. But that nagging feeling in Cam's chest knew she was asking all of the wrong questions.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Hokum
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Hokum The man in the moon

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As Camilla already knew, Jack had received a call from some frantic woman not two hours earlier, a call that supposedly originated from this house. But where was this woman now? Cam had no doubt observed that oddity, it would have been hard to miss. Everything was quiet. Still. Not the abode of a woman who had recently lost her son. But In addition to the silence, who in fact opened the damn roller door for them? It must have been remotely activated by a controller inside the house - one would imagine - yet the person who supposedly opened it hadn’t revealed themselves, no less made a peep. Not to mention the fact, and the thing that continued to play most on his mind, was the For Sale sign in the yard. There was no Sold sticker plastered on the front of it, probably meaning it hadn’t been sold yet, and yet the lawn hadn’t been cut in weeks, which didn’t exactly indicate the typical upkeep for someone trying to sell.

Jack’s best guess, despite not being sold, was that the house was empty and the call he received earlier wasn’t actually made from anyone, at least no one who was still alive. This was pure speculation at this point, educated speculation of course, but still speculation. He may have been wrong, and therefore he didn’t share that specific insight with Cam. Increasing the girls fear unduly wasn’t about to help their situation, not even if his hunch proved correct.

He was, as always, curious about Camilla. She was enjoyable to watch and listening to her commentary amused him. Still, his face remained void of expression as she made too much noise on her approach to the door.

“Remind me to get you new shoes.” He said, as she looked back to give him a smile, though his voice was so low and soft that it was barely audible. In jack’s eyes, she seemed to treat everything like a game, despite the possible dangers. Even when she was serious he had a hard time seeing her that way. She was fun. She had a good smile. The whole package was cute in a hazardous kind of way. But he wasn’t about to let his unmentioned affections get in the way of the job at hand and possibly jeopardize their safety. Especially hers.

He followed her inside calmly, slowly, removing his Glock from the belt at his rear while holding up his free index finger in a sign to be quiet.

Inside, he gently gave a tug to the back of her jacket to have her fall back. He took the lead until they arrived to the side of the foot of the stairs. There, he stood and placed one hand on her shoulder, letting her know to keep still. From their position they had a clear view of the main ground-level hallway that led to the kitchen, the stairs, and the living room on their left. Camilla was right, something really did smell. He hadn’t even noticed before now. Then again, women were known to have better noses than men. At least he thought that was the case. He hoped that was the case. Hell, his mother had the nose of bear on heat. The problem of course was that the smell of sulfur didn’t fit with what he actually suspected to be the trouble with this place.

Removing the hand from her shoulder, his fingers slid gently down Cam’s back and came to rest on the curved summit of her buttocks, but he was actually too absorbed in stretching his hearing and scrutinizing every detail of their surrounds to be aware of where his hand actually came to rest.

A cold chill ran his spine.

“Anyone home!?”

Without warning, Jack had finally exerted himself, sharply calling out the words that proceeded to echo in an unnatural cascade of repetition that eventually concentrated their roll directly down the hallway and fell silent at the entrance to the kitchen… where a middle-aged woman now stood staring at them from the threshold. The woman was pale. Bare foot. Dressed in a thin, white nightgown. Dark rings under her glazed eyes. Her hair hadn’t received a touch of attention in what appeared to be decades. Jack was staring back at the woman for no less than a couple of seconds before she suddenly burst into action –

The foundation of the house convulsed hard enough for both Jack and Cam to falter when the woman charged at inhuman speed directly toward them, her arms flailing madly while screaming in a voice that sounded like grating metal: “GIVE ME BACK MY SON!”

Jack’s automatic reaction was to shove Cam from the woman’s path, which he did, but barely had time to raise his gun before the woman arrived. He was lifted off his feet by her presence and launched clear through the air until crashing out the front door and tumbling across the lawn. The woman, however, had come to an abrupt halt where Jack had been standing, then shifted her empty glare down at Camilla before vanishing.

Out on the lawn, just a few feet from the For Sale sign, Jack twitched a few times before finding the strength to lift his face from the earth.

“I guess that explains why the house is still on the market.”
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Serenia
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”What’s wrong with my shoes?”

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. ”Christ Almighty,” 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. ”Figured out what happened to that window, too,” Cam said wryly, collapsing beside Jack. ”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 that.”

Cam sighed, letting herself look up at the sky. ”I could manage a heptagram, but it would take me time. And I’m sure you have salt-loaded bullets somewhere, but do we want to harm the host?” 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. ”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.”

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. "You okay?"
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Hokum
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Hokum The man in the moon

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“Fine.” Was the only response to Cam’s concern for his welfare as he pushed to his knees by her, sitting back on his heels with hands open on his thighs. His gun was now next to him, bedded in the bends of long grass. He looked around in that position like a man resting on the beach and surveying the waves rolling in from the vast ocean beyond. In a short while, his eyes came back to Cam. He didn’t ask if she was okay, but the search of his eyes over her person would have made it clear to her that he was, in fact, making sure she was fine. She was. A little shaken up, but fine. There was then a following moment of, well, something that may have come across to Cam as not so typical for Jack. He raised one hand from his lap, reaching out to briefly caress her cheek, push a fall of hair back over her ear, then ended the moment by returning his hand to his lap.

“What is it with girls and pretty boys? You need a man, not a boy.” It wasn’t like he was propositioning himself, his words sounded more like a non-affectionate father giving his daughter some general, though questionable and rather fleeting advice. That being the case, his mind was back on the job. Reaching for his gun he returned it to his belt and shook his head like someone slightly bothered by a passing fly.

“This is no demon.” He told her, then got to his feet while giving the situation further thought. “I was thinking it may have been a restless ghost.” He added, giving himself a light dust off. “Something simple. A dead woman needing closure before moving on. But it’s not that either….” He curled his lip while peering into the house through shattered hangs of what was left of the front door. “I’m not sure what that was.” Then, after all that had transpired since the question was asked, he answered: “They’re too loud. You can’t sneak up on anything with those things on your feet. Save em for your date.”

Jack then starts walking to the car. Apparently he wasn’t planning on re-entering the house so soon either. “We’re going back to your place. Use those internet skills of yours to do some research on this place.” He paused before entering the car. “You got beer?”

Telling Cam that he was fine may have been a little stray of the truth. Truth be told, he was in a considerable amount of pain. Yeah, being thrown through a door like a rag doll was sure to do some damage. He didn’t expect anything serious or broken. After all, he could walk, talk and think normally, but he was damn certain a few ribs had been bruised at least. He wasn’t worried though, the pain would pass, and no doubt the alcohol in his system was inhibiting a lot of pain receptors at the moment. Besides, there were other things on his mind than thinking about his health right now:

Jack’s hopes for encountering a woman that had lost her son in the same or similar way to how he had lost his own family had fallen through. The circumstances surrounding the current situation just didn’t fit. The monster he was seeking would have to keep in hiding for another day. He also knew that all the salt-loaded shells and blessed bullets in the world may not have any effect on the entity that inhabited this house. It wasn’t a demon. It wasn’t a ghost. At least nothing standard of the two. Not even a hex, enchantment, heptagram, or even a prayer would work unless they knew exactly what they were dealing with. In the end Cam was right about another thing, harming the host, or whatever that was, may not have been the best course of action.

If Camilla were willing to go along with Jack’s new plan, they would now get in the car and head back to her place. His own place wasn’t actually an option. As for libraries, well, they tend to make Jack feel uncomfortable. Cam may not have been aware of the fact at that time, since he wasn’t one for complaining about his personal circumstances, but Jack didn’t actually have a place to live at present. His car would hold him over for now, and it wasn’t really a matter that troubled him. Still, the open duffel bag of packed clothes and personal items sprawled out on the back seat, including the unframed photo of his late wife and young daughter, may have been enough for the woman to work it out on her own.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Serenia
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There were plenty of things Cam had learned about Jack in their short time together.

Don’t ask about family.
Silence was next to godliness.
Always have alcohol on hand.

But amongst everything else, she’d learned that his touches were rare, especially ones in moments such as this where he wasn’t shoving her out of the way or tugging on her clothes to keep her from traipsing into a dangerous situation. Her eyes went wide as she felt a gentle brush against the skin of her face, moving to graze her ear, before the moment left altogether. That was enough to tell Camilla that Jack was, in fact, not okay. But there was no time to comment on it, and perhaps that was for the better. He quietly commented on her plans later in the day and she offered a snort.

Boys were easier to deal with. They didn’t have baggage and there wasn’t any want for her to lay in bed to cuddle the next day. They were straightforward and honest; Cam didn’t care if they had a girlfriend or a wife at home, knowing full well that who she slept with had business of their own that didn’t involve her. It was just one more easy way to remind herself that they weren’t worth shit. That she could love them and leave them, but past that it wasn’t anything. What was something was that she had a partnership and a job, neither of which could be detracted from.

No, she didn’t need a man. The boys were just fine.

Cam pushed herself up off the ground as Jack spoke about what they’d encountered, chewing on her lip once more. She didn’t claim to have much knowledge about diagnosing the problems they encountered, but she did like to figure out how to fix the issue.

She could aim a gun and she could type a few key words into Google. That would be enough, she hoped. Cam swatted at her backside, wiping any dirt away that hadn’t settled into the threads of her jeans, and began moving towards the Mustang. She scowled as Jack once more commented on her boots but she said nothing as she threw open one of the doors. ”I always have beer.” If not for her, then for Jack. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out they liked their alcohol, and perhaps one of them more than the other.

But what business of hers was Jack’s vices? He wasn’t stumbling around their jobs, unable to focus or walk in a straight line. His reflexes had been better than hers in the house, something that Cam could recall in vivid detail. Perhaps a few sips of whiskey could help dull that memory. ”And Motrin. It wouldn’t hurt, considering you’re a little on the old side anyway.” It would help with any pain he’d experience from being thrown from the house, though she couldn’t guarantee it would take it completely away.

Cam adjusted in her seat, stretching by pulling herself and twisting on either side of the leather clad interior. Her eye caught sight of Jack’s familiar duffle bag. It was open and Cam’s brows furrowed. While she preferred to grab a short-term apartment or motel room when they moved, he didn’t seem to share the same sentiment. A picture made her stare a bit more than she normally would have, looking over the beautiful woman and little girl in the picture.

She said nothing as she turned back, swallowing harshly as a lump of emotion gathered in her throat. They all had families, whether they were left behind or if they were no longer living. Was it so surprising that Jack had lost people along the way?

The trip back to her apartment was quick and quiet, with Cam’s arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed together. If he wanted to talk about them, he would on his own time. No amount of questioning could pull information from the man and it was likely to piss him off more than anything.

It would her if the situation was reversed and he was trying to figure her out.

When they were parked again, Cam swung from the Mustang and stretched. Tiredness was quickly sweeping over her but there was little to be done. She didn’t have a choice but to struggle onward, she thought as she pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket. Her fingers quickly found the familiar key that would allow her access to her modest home and, when she reached the door, she unlocked it and pushed it open.

The apartment was relatively bare, with a modern desk that held a laptop and notebook, accompanied by an office chair, a bed with plain, rumpled navy sheets, and a moderately sized TV. ”Help yourself,” Cam said as she toed off her boots, shoving them away before entering the kitchen. It was barely bigger than a closet but it had all the essentials, including a full sized refrigerator. She opened the door and sighed, scanning the sparse contents before grabbing two bottles of beer.

The woman grabbed the magnetic bottle opener that stayed on the freezer door and popped both of the glass containers, offering one to Jack before travelling to her bed. She took a big swig of her own beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before sitting roughly on the bed. She pulled her legs under her, crossing them before she took another drink.

”So, let’s talk about this. Give me some ideas and let’s brainstorm before I search ghost and demon and abnormal behavior into a search engine.”


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"you’re a little on the old side anyway.”?

"Hmm..." Jack narrowed one eye before entering the car with her. His peripheral sight caught her eyeballing the items of the back seat. He should really learn to put shit away after a night of brooding. Cam had her own shit to deal with, she didn’t need to be reminded of his as well. The girl had class though. She knew when not to pry, as opposed to most people who felt the need to offer support for no other reason but to make themselves look virtuous. There was very little holy in this world.

Once they had parked, Jack remained behind the wheel for a minute and made a call to an acquaintance that Cam hadn’t yet met. Well, at least he thought she did’t know this person. The call was short, no shooting the breeze, and he soon joined Cam inside. He accepted the beer with a nod then rummaged through a few cabinets until he actually found some Motrin. He didn’t ask permission to go searching for it, but Cam didn’t strike him as a person who really cared for uptight formalities. ‘Help yourself’ the two golden words of prestige in his books.

The four pills were washed down with half the stubby of beer before he took the chair from the desk, gave it a quick twirl in his fingers, positioned it a comfortable distance from the bed, and then took a seat in it back-to-front, arms propped on the backrest, beer bottle dangling in his fingers. His ribs hurt like hell, but he didn’t let it show.

To Jack, Cam was the lie-like-a-dog type of girl, for lack of better ways to explain it. That free spirit, not even giving mind to her own sensuality in the many rough and perhaps less than lady-like performances - Swatting her ass in to dust herself off, her unrelenting jests, that cheeky smile, the overall absence of traditional female discretion - yet managed to keep her femininity intact. It was refreshing to watch. Appealing to his base urges. No broomstick up her ass.

“Look at me and tell me you think it’s a demon we’re dealing with.” He said, with a shake of his head, and limply dropped back a few more mouthfuls of beer. “We both know it isn’t that. Demons are filthy. Vermin. They don’t give two shits about human values…. They don’t care if some woman lost her son. This situation’s too random. And hey, whatever it is, managed to get my number. Beasts making phone calls... go figure.”

Jack let his eyes wonder about the apartment for a time, not really thinking about what he was looking at, rather taking a moment to assess his own thoughts on recent events. It was possible that this thing they encountered was a hostile ghost, allowing it more power than your standard spirit. He’d seen it before, enraged souls of the departed summoning more strength than your standard haunts. But this one didn’t quite fit that bill. Too much specified power.

“I’m waiting on a call.” He added, lifting his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and tossing it on the bed beside Camilla. “Put it on speaker when she calls and take note of her number. You might need it in the future. Her name's Bobby. She knows you're with me. She does a few jobs for me from time to time. Right now she’s looking into the history of the house. That should help us -”

Jack winced, grinding his teeth from the pain in his ribs that suddenly decided to give a quick, cold stab through his chest.

He hung his head and sighed, regretting to let his pain known to Cam, before rolling his eyes back up at hers with an ‘I’m fine’ kind of grin.

“Fucking monsters….”

Had Camilla been looking at the right place, she would notice a small spread of blood staining the side of Jack’s t-shirt inside the fall of his jacket. He didn’t even acknowledge the damage himself. While being thrown through the door earlier, a shard of timber had pierced the flesh on the left side of his torso, just a few inches lower than his pectoral cleft.
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Blue eyes flickered up to meet green and the woman grimaced, unable to tell Jack with authority that it was a demon… that she believed a little sulfur, an easy trap, and a few words spoken in Latin could drive it away. Cam scratched her head, not keeping a sigh from falling from her pursed lips. It would have been easy to fight and argue, but it would just be a futile waste of time. No matter how much she wished that it was something as simple as a run-of-the-mill demon, it likely wasn’t. All of his reasons why it wasn’t made sense and Cam refused to refute them for the simple sake of being a devil’s advocate.

No, there wasn’t any way in the world that something so base as a demon or routine-oriented as a ghost would have plucked his number from God-knows-where and called him. Perhaps it had all been a plan? She wasn’t the smartest woman when it came to supernatural beings and anything apart from the standard was likely nothing she would catch on to. A shudder overtook Cam as she took another drink of beer, wondering what could have changed in the hour or two it had taken for the two hunters to get there.

”Whatever happened to pointing a gun and shooting,” she grumbled, looking at Jack as he surveyed the space. There wasn’t much to look at and she didn’t mind; she’d had done the same if she’d been invited to his house… wherever that was. At more than one point, she’d thought about asking him about his roots, but something in Camilla had always warned her completely away from uttering useless questions. Maybe it was the way Jack could look at her, as if boring into her soul, and still seem as if he was looking straight through her.

A corner of her mouth quirked as she looked over him. Part of Cam wondered idly if he would be interested in fucking… even if it was just once. She’d heard of some partners doing so and managing to continue to work together. It wasn’t as if either one of them were unattractive; she wasn’t humble and he didn’t seem the type for bullshitting, either. The thought was enough to keep her entertained, hardly realizing that she’d been staring until he moved to reach into his jacket.

The shine of the black phone screen initially caught her attention, drawing her eyes down, but when she looked past that to find the tell-tale dark stain of dried liquid on his shirt, Cam took a deep breath. She’d been stupid and careless; she’d hardly felt the need to assess Jack for any actual injury, assuming that since he could just get up and drive there wasn’t a serious problem. It had been foolish and naïve, but she’d done it all the same. ”Bobby,” she repeated dully, not saying much else until she heard Jack’s voice hitch.

Her gaze moved back to his face, entirely uncertain about what to do. The way his grin was still pained with eyes that held quiet suffering made Cam’s heart stutter, a jolt of pain moving through her chest.

He was her partner.

She was supposed to protect him.

Her jaw clenched as she took another swig of beer, before placing it on her bedside table. ”Shit, Jack, you shoulda said something.” With that, she moved from the bed and began walking towards the bathroom, motioning over her shoulder for him to take her place. ”Get in bed and take that damn jacket off.” Cam’s fingers glided over the bathroom mirror, opening it and searching for gauze and peroxide. When she’d grabbed what she needed, the woman quickly returned to Jack.

”I’m not gonna beg you to let me help,” she started, quirking a brow as she looked to the man. ”But it ain’t my first rodeo. And it’s the only way I can return the favor.” Cam’s eyes softened as her grip on the gauze packets tightened. ”You know, how it should have been me.”

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Jack was aware Cam didn’t always agree with him on these things, and he knew her well enough at this point to realize she had her objection to his thoughts on just what they had encountered at the house. By the same token, she didn’t really need to voice her objections, he took note them anyway. But her quiet restraint on the matter wasn’t the only thing he took note of….

Perhaps it came with the occupation. The life of a hunter had its way of fine tuning ones senses. The need to be on guard on a daily basis will have that effect. Jack had always been that way to a point though, picking up on more than expected of a man, but maybe his line of work helped amplify the gift somewhat.

No, it wasn’t fun having to sleep with one eye open, waking from the slightest sound or looking over your shoulder at every turn, but it was helpful to pick up on the less regarded aspects of things taking place around you. Like Cam’s look, for example, the one she drifted with for that moment before he drew the phone from his pocket. Jack had seen it a hundred times before from women, that slightly dreamed gaze of wondering if maybe… just maybe…. To be fair, he didn’t get that a lot from Cam, he could count those moments from her on one hand and still have a few fingers left to count with. But that didn’t really account for much in the broad scheme of things - when you get two people of opposite sex in a room alone, it’s nothing less than natural for the prospect to cross their minds. And really, Camilla was an overall great package, any man would have been lucky to have her. Jack would be lying to think he didn’t feel the appeal. On more than one occasion he’d been tempted to bend her over the nearest bench and give it to her. Simple as that. Still, he wouldn’t be the one to initiate. If she wanted to, the first move was on her.

“It’s just a scratch.” It wouldn’t have been fitting for Jack to respond in any other way, so her ignoring the comment while walking to the bathroom didn’t come as any surprise.

It wasn’t really a lie. The internal damage hurt much more than the cut did, though he had his suspicions a lot of the pain had been dulled by the amount alcohol he’d ingested over the last 24 hours. Truth was, he didn’t really want to look at it, as ignoring wounds that didn’t feel life threatening had become a habit, and in time he would get around to tending to it himself. But right now he had more to consider than himself. Camilla was there and she had a conscience. It wasn’t like she owed him anything, he would have done the same for anyone standing next to him at the time of the event, a fact that didn’t however negate her need for recompense. He was aware of the unwritten code of loyalty between partners and in her position he’d be feeling the need to extend the hand of appreciation as well. Far be it for him to deny her that.

When she returned from the bathroom he let out an appropriate sigh to state his reluctance, yet pushed from his chair regardless, nudged it aside with his foot, and then placed his bottle on the bedside table next to hers.

“You should know you don’t owe me anything.” He said turning back to her, giving a short shake of his head with a low furrow of his brow, and noticed the gauze packet being crushed by the angst of her grip. Producing a minor howler look, he shrugged the jacket to the floor and kicked it aside as well, then regarded the woman with approbation. “I don’t have any complains about you. If I thought you were lacking I wouldn’t be working with you. You’re good. Real good.”

With the jacket off, Jack kicked his boots free before peeling up his T-shirt for a better look at the damage, and okay, it was a little worse than he thought. Above the naturally solid plate of abdominal muscles and in the shade beneath his pectoral ascent, a thin splinter of wood could be seen protruding, causing the flesh to swell parallel with his rib.

“Well that’s fucked up.” He almost sounded like he was joking while pulling the T-shirt clear from his head. But he didn’t discard it, instead rolling it over one hand in preparation. Without hesitation he removed the splinter and tossed in the wastebasket next the bedside table while using the shirt wrapped around his other hand to press down on the wound. Keeping the pressure on, he removed the Glock from his belt with his free hand, placed it next to the beer bottles, then dropped back on the bed in a casual manner, feet crossed, shoulders and head propped against the wall and pillow. He gave her a wink, one corner of his mouth cracking with a stunted smile.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”
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A harrumph escaped Camilla’s mouth as Jack stated he didn’t need paid back for his favor earlier. But much like his actions to defend her, dressing his wound was much the same; would it be so different if she’d had a visible injury for him to attempt to fix? She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched her partner hesitantly stand. She supposed that they now lived in a world where there was a cost for everything, even for an act of kindness. She should not have been so offended, yet she stood indignantly as Jack continued speaking.

Besides that, none of this was regarding her skill as a hunter. She was young and inexperienced, but past that she wasn’t bad. She wasn’t a skilled predator trained to stalk and hunt and inherently know what she was fighting against, but she was willing to learn. ”Thanks,” the woman grumbled, watching as the jacket haphazardly fell to the floor. There were small blessings about Jack: one was that he wasn’t obsessively compelled to make sure everything was neat and tidy. ”But I haven’t exactly started dressin’ it yet, have I?”

The boots soon followed, clunks on the floor that would no doubt make the downstairs neighbors wonder if she could have another fellow over so soon. Her blue eyes followed them until they rested solidly on the floor, then up to see his shirt pulling upward. Immediately a concerned look entered her eyes. ”Jesus, JD,” she muttered, only able to stand and look at the ugly wound before her. It was already irritated, a line of erythema surrounding the puffy tissue that the splice of wood emanated from.

”Fucked up is a word for it,” Cam said, her stomach clenching at the site, ”but maybe we shouldn’t –” A quiet squelch sounded throughout the small room as the splinter was dislodged from Jack’s side.

The crazy bastard had pulled it out.

Immediately it started oozing, coloring the cracks of his hand with a bright red. ”I was so not ready for that,” Cam chastised, looking around for a piece of cloth that she wouldn’t mind ruining. The woman grimaced as she hustled back to the bathroom, pulling out her rattiest looking washcloth before returning to Jack. He had an almost smug smile on his face as he looked at her and even had the audacity to wink!

”This is bullshit,” she said, moving towards him and climbing on top of the bed for easier access. After all, leaning over him for God knew how long wasn’t an idea she was willing to entertain. Not at the moment, anyway. Cam swatted his hand away from his side and stuck the washcloth to it, pressing to continue attempting to staunch the blood. ”Honestly, what were you thinking?” she asked with a tsk of her tongue, shaking her head minutely as she continued holding the cloth against Jack. ”Ripping that out without preamble… Not cool, dude.” Surely there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to have completely numbed that sting.

Cam released a pent-up breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding before pulling the washcloth away for a moment, looking down and surveying the wound. It wasn’t bleeding badly, but there was steady drainage from it. She pressed once more and looked up to Jack. ”I know you like to keep this bad-boy, ‘I don’t feel anythin’ and ‘the world can kiss my ass’ persona thing, but maybe next time holler at me when you’ve got half a tree stickin’ out of your side?”

She let pressure up again after a few minutes, now happy with the results. She unscrewed the cap off the peroxide bottle and looked to Jack with a grimace. ”It’s gonna hurt,” she offered, not saying much else as she poured the liquid over the wound. It foamed as it ran over the jagged edges of inflamed skin but trickled down onto the bed in a mixture of light pink liquid. ”Shit.”

Cam dried the area with some gauze before placing more squares loosely over the opening, taping it in place. ”I’m not sure I can do much else,” she said, sitting back and looking at her handiwork. It was by no means hospital quality, but it would serve its purpose for now. As long as the injury didn’t get infected, it didn’t matter how it looked… did it? ”I have a bandage, like an ACE? It will help if you plan to move around, but other than that, I don’t have anything else.”

She swirled around on the bed, allowing her back to collapse onto the mattress and her head and on a pillow. ”I’m not sure I currently have the energy to look on the computer for anything. It’s there if you need it.” Cam fought a yawn, eventually losing as she ungraciously opened her mouth.

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Jack didn’t say any more while Cam tended to his wound. In a way she reminded him of his wife, not so much by the dialogue as the tone she used. That voice of disapproval. It was sweet. He watched her. Admiring her. He moaned almost pleasurably, though clenching his jaw, nostrils flared with an outshot of breath when she applied the solution that trickled down to the bed sheets, mingled with his blood.

“Thanks.” Was the only word of gratitude he could muster as she spun about to lie beside him.

He shifted down, his head now on the pillow. He heard the small, moist clip of her yawn but kept eyes on the ceiling as the room fell silent. There seemed to be a thickness in the air, maybe the discomfort brought on by the passive tension between himself and Cam, or maybe there was some uncertain source to the heavy calm. Though the silence ruptured when Jack, in a low, monotone voice that came close to a whisper, started talking:

“It was uh… late. Near midnight. My little girl, Hannah…. Eight year old. Last time I checked she was in her bed. Sleep’n. I was in the lounge. Television on. Heard the screams from outside. …Somehow she was there now…. Don’t know how. Why. She was in the pool. Those screams… water splash’n…. So many screams. Thought she was die’n. I uh… rushed out there. M’little girl was in trouble.”

Jack paused, chest swelling slow and deflating with a silent breath before continuing.

“I was… too late. I’d seen her. Just for a sec. Saw her there, eyes so wide. The terror. Need for safety. Then she was just… gone. Blink of an e…. The water, it was still splashing like she was there. But she wasn’t. Still heard her scream’n too. Splash’n. Scream’n for me…. But… I just…. She just wasn’t there. Must’ve…” Jack moistened the corner of his mouth with a touch of his tongue. “…a few seconds, maybe. That’s all there was, and the screams were gone too. Water still. So calm. Quiet. Thickness in the air….”

Jack took another pause, long enough for anyone to have considered he’d finished, but he hadn’t. In the same monotone hush, he went on with the story.

Anna came out. Saw me stand’n, stare’n…. She didn’t know. Not at first. She was just confused. She looked at the pool. Me. Took a while to sink in. I uh… not sure what happened the rest of that night….” Jack reach for his beer, stopped, rested his hand back down on his bandaged wound. “Anna didn’t take it well. Not at all…. Each week went by, more depressed she got, till one worn’n - Huh…. It was still dark. First light. Woke up. She wasn’t there. Got out of bed look’n for her. Shower was running but she wasn’t in it. Was a trail of blood leading out. Followed it out back… down the path to the pool…. And there she was. Float’n face down. Exact same spot my little girl disappeared. Water was red. So much blood…. Thought she’d gone and killed herself.”

A dull groan escaped the man as he took another moment….

“I was wrong. Fished her out. Her face was….” The cold breath of a silent sigh left him. “…Her eyes were torn out. Ears torn off. Tongue gone. Teeth. All gone. Deep scratches around those empty sockets. Too uniform to be an animal. Something else…. Her skin was, uh… burnt. All over. Scorched. I couldn’t see if maybe…. No fire around. No smell of burnt flesh. No smoke…. Her body was still warm.” Jack’s voice finally cracked.

Somehow during his speech his hand had made its way to Cam, wrapped over the top of her thigh, gently holding, thumb moving with a slight caress.

“I’m going to kill it.” He cleared his throat, voice remaining dull. “I’m going to get that motherfucker.” He gave Camilla’s thigh a firm, gentle squeeze while his head rolled slowly to the side, dry gaze falling on her. “And I want you to be there when I do. I got a feeling about you, Ca…. I want you to be there with me…. Want you there…. Don’t want you dead.”
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One thing Camilla had always minded was silence. A fan was always blowing at night, or the TV murmuring in the background. Now, with Jack’s breathing at her side, it was relatively easy to begin to drift asleep. The barely grating voice beside her, however, brought her back to reality and she almost groaned until she heard the content of what he spoke of. She listened, each part of the story causing the pit in her stomach to grow heavier with every consonant that resonated from Jack’s mouth. Her fingers clenched at the thought, curling into a fist that only tightened with each new word.

She couldn’t imagine such an atrocity, especially happening to her own kin. It was one thing for her to experience a poor childhood; so many others had, how could it possibly be that much of a problem? Ultimately, she was still alive and would still manage her own fate. A little girl, though. Cam’s fingers relaxed minutely as Jack stopped for a moment, allowing her to catch a breath from the horror of which he spoke. She thought he was done, but he wasn’t, and immediately Cam inhaled sharply, keeping it in her lungs until he was done a second time.

The picture he’d painted was certainly one that would stay with her for a while and, truth be told, she couldn’t imagine living it. It was entirely barbaric, though she knew that monsters cared not about any man. In fact, it had probably been nearby, holding the girl’s dead body with a smile on its face as it looked on. A shiver racked Cam’s body as she tried to think of something to say. Anything but ‘I’m sorry’, the two words that were too blasé and too easy to say.

And if she hadn’t imagined the story getting worse, it sure the hell did. Now he’d lost his wife, too, just as horribly as his daughter. Perhaps less so, given that he at least had a body to look as opposed to wondering what had happened to poor little Hannah. No longer could she keep her breath held in, and Cam exhaled shakily. She’d barely noticed the way his hand now rested on her, almost as a secondhand gesture.

Was it something he’d done with his wife? Those slow, circular motions would have been too intimate in any other situation. However, now, Cam suspected that it was comforting for him. Not once had the man offered her a tender gesture and now, in the span of a few hours, he’d offered two. What had happened, for him to become so sentimental? She wouldn’t say anything of it, of course, but they’d just been on a unassuming hunt. Nothing earlier had been out of the ordinary, save for the peculiar way the woman had acted.

And, perhaps, that was exactly what had triggered his memories. That a woman – so clearly grieving – was looking for a son that had simply disappeared. Cam met his eyes as they turned to her, giving her head one affirmative shake. ”I’ll help you,” A corner of her mouth quirked up as she slid a hand down, grabbing his fingers with her own. They were certainly rougher than hers, though that much was to be expected. It was all she could muster at that moment, uncertain of what else to say. ”I don’t exactly want me dead either, so the sentiment is appreciated.” Cam’s eyes flickered back up to Jack’s, unaware that she’d even looked away in the first place.

”We’ll get the son of a bitch,” she said definitively after a few quiet moments. ”And when we do, maybe you can retire. And be a gentleman, for once in your life, and treat me to dinner.” Cam sighed once more, this time less weighted than when her partner was speaking earlier. ”I should get up,” she said, slowly untwining her fingers from his but not making a move to leave the bed. ”Unless you can spare a few hours to let me sleep. I was…” She almost felt bad for her next admission, though she didn’t know why. ”Very active last night. Then I’ll get to researching.”

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Jack had never asked Cam about her past. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. He just wasn’t one fore asking. It occurred to him as he finished his speech that telling her these things likely didn’t make her feel any better, and in the end she probably didn’t need to know. The reason he shared the experience with her wasn’t clear, not even to Jack. Not like he was one for feeling sorry for himself or seek sympathy from others. That definitely wasn’t it. Yet, one could assume he shared the information as a way to help her understand him better. Maybe it would give her reason not to judge him too harshly when he does stupid shit, while at the same time let her know that, despite his shortcomings, he appreciated her being around. Her presence somehow… made living easier to bear. She was someone in this world he could care for.

Jack kept his now passive eyes on her, listening, seemingly contented by having shared his story, though Camilla’s soft touch had its hand in it as well. Although he didn’t show it with expression, he appreciated her willingness to help as much as she did his sentiments. He enjoyed the moment, including her jest, which resulted in him cracking a smile –

“Bacon and Egg McMuffin not enough, you need dinner as well?” He let the chuckle subside. “Thought my delightful charm would have done the trick.”

When she removed her hand from his, he slipped his hand from her leg, placing it over his other hand resting on his bandaged wound. The moment was savored. With a slight narrowing of his stare, nothing more, he let several moments of silence pass in the wake of her admission before responding:

“Sleep. Hell ain’t going anywhere.”

He rolled his head back, eyes on the ceiling once more, just for a few seconds before his own eyelids weighted shut.

“I know you got my back….” His words softened to a trailing mumble as he drifted off to sleep himself; “Glad you’re here, Camill….”
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A sound broiled in her stomach, slowly erupting into a heartfelt laugh that made Cam wonder when was the last time she’d truly laughed. No, McDonald’s was likely the closest thing she’d get to a sit-down meal anytime soon, but it would be enough for now. What was more than enough was feeling Jack’s hand slowly slide away, no fast movements that decisively said that he regretted telling her or that he was going to leave her. No, for now, he seemed content to stay at her side. Cam took a deep sigh as she offered a quick nod, letting her lids fall shut softly and her breathing relax once more. Jack’s gentle words barely registered as she finally fell asleep.

///


Camilla awoke slowly, her eyes fluttering open as the oranges and pinks of dusk streamed into her window. She grimaced and adjusted herself, realizing that sat some point she’d managed to turn to her side. She’d always been a side-sleeper and time hadn’t seemed to change that, even if she was sleeping with someone in bed. How many times had Peter tried to tell her to sleep on her back, with her arms crossed over her chest so that she could wake up and strangle someone without thinking?

”That’s the Marine in me,” he’d said with a laugh, causing a teenage Cam to roll her eyes. “They taught it to us, I swear! Don’t you go all sulkin’ teen on me, Milly.” Warmth flooded the woman at the memory, knowing it was as close as she would be to Peter at the moment, or so she’d thought. He was sick – had been sick for a long time – and she’d started all this in order to cure him. Look where it had gotten them, Cam thought with an unhappy look, though it was before she realized Peter was in the same bed with her. Alive. Well.

Cam began blinking rapidly to clear her vision. Dark hair like her brother’s, but with a red tint Peter wouldn’t have been caught dead with. Features that were more pointed and rugged instead of the kind, softened face of her brother brought Cam back to the present. It wasn’t Peter that was with her but instead Jack. She wiped at her eyes, eager to banish away any thoughts of her family and with it any remnants of sleep. The nap had done her good, she thought, even if it had brought unsolicited reminiscences with it.

The clock read 5:49, and Cam groaned slightly. A few hours was better than nothing, she supposed, even if it wasn’t as much sleep as she wanted. The woman climbed from bed, scooching from where she’d laid to the foot of the bed. She stood quickly, pulling her hair up into a messy bun and affixing it to the top of her head, before moving to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of previously opened water. With a swig of that, and hoping it would be enough to refresh her, Cam moved to the desk she’d previously offered to Jack and opened the lid of her computer.

Cam quickly navigated to her email, deleting mostly spam that involved fast food rewards and clothing discounts, before finding herself staring at an all-too familiar search engine.

NOT ghost OR demon AND vengeful

Boolean phrases had never looked so unimpressive, Cam thought as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it lightly as she concentrated on what else to add to her search string. There wasn’t much and the hunter hoped that looking further would help her identify some new terms. After she got through the bogus Wikipedia links and when she started to get to the third or fourth page, Cam started to finally relax and delve into research.

…That was, until a ringing behind her made her visibly jump, turning around to the bed. ”Fuckin’ phone,” she managed, scrambling towards the mattress. The name flashing on the screen said Bobby, and vaguely Jack’s instructions returned to the forefront of her mind. Cam chose answer and quickly put it on speaker phone, sitting on the bed beside Jack before placing a hand on him to wake him. ”Bobby?”

A grunt.

”This is Camilla Quinn. I’m with Jack…” Shit. Shit. What was his last name? ”Dolson. Listen, we got a thing here and we were wonderin’ if you had any info. Jack got a call sayin’ that some boy was missing, then we go to the house and it stinks to high heaven. Smells like sulfur but doesn’t exactly fit the bill of demon, either. Jack… wake up!

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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Hokum
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Hokum The man in the moon

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Bobby was a woman, but by no means a lady. Her initial response to Camilla answering the call was nothing, not a word. When the hunter finished saying her piece, Bobby let out an abrupt mocking laugh, kind of like someone laughing at a clown hurting himself while attempting a stupid trick. The reason for the laughter wouldn’t have been apparent to Camilla right away, since Bobby didn’t explain the laughter at first. Once the laughter cut off, just as abruptly as it started, it was like a whole new speed-induced mood had taken Bobby as she started rattling off information in her rasped voice:

“Yeah, great to meet ya, Cammy – listen up would ya. You’re both fucking wrong. I guess JD didn’t tell ya he called me earlier and gave me the rundown on events. Anyway, I did some research on the house you two dumbasses visited earlier, and apparently you never made it to the backyard. Had you done that you would’ve seen a damned pool. So you might wanna check out the pool the next time you go out there. That pool is where a kid named Greg was last seen before disappearing over a month ago – and I should probably add right now that the kid went missing one day after Dolson arrived in town. And let me tell ya another thing, hun - this isn’t the first time this shit has happened; but I’m betting old JD didn’t tell ya that either, being that he’s all so very talkative. Am I right or am I right? Of course I’m fucking right, I’m always fucking right.

So, hun, here’s the deal. Every now and then a kid goes missing from a pool or shower or bath or some other fucking place that’s wet. The last five times it happened was when our dear friend Jacko had only just arrived in that town or city. Coincidence? I think fucking not. JD knows about the previous instances, but I’m guessing he didn’t tell you that either. Anyway, long story short, hun. After a little investigating I’ve come up with a theory that what you met at that house today was some type of mimic entity. It called Jack because it knows about Jack’s daughter and wanted to draw his attention to the fact that some boy got taken from the pool there. In this case I’m guessing the woman you saw was a representation of the boys mother who also drowned in that pool a week or so after her son was taken. Sound familiar, hun, or did Jack not tell ya about his daughter and wife either? As for the smell you mentioned, that’s an easy one; a lot of different mimics can emit the smell of demons or anything else they damn well please in an effort to confuse their subject. So don’t pay any attention to the sulfur bullshit in this case. To be fucking honest, I’m still not sure if this mimic is responsible for the disappearance of these kids or if it’s only acquainted with the entity that is. But Mimics are nosy turds so I'm not surprised if one of those dress-up fuckers got involved. Chances are the entity responsible is some type of fucking water wraith. Good luck with finding all that shit out.

So here’s what I’m gonna do, Cammy, I’m gonna hang up now and let you scream at JD for a while. I’m also gonna go ahead and message you a bunch of links of news clipping about the kids that have gone missing soon after Dolson had arrived in those town. Should provide you guys with some more details about the events.”

There was a quick pause before Bobby spoke up again to explain her earlier outburst of laughter –

“Ah, and one last thing. If you’re awake, so is Jack, princess. That bastard couldn’t sleep through an ants fart. Save my number to your own phone and keep in touch. Bobby likes the sound of ya. Later.”

Bobby had another quick laugh and ended the call, but not before Jack opened one eye to glare at the phone, muttering the words, “Fuck you, Bobby.”

Jack pushes up on one elbow, regarding Cam with a small grin of narrow, sleepy eyes.

“I see you met Bobby…. Wonderful, ain’t she?”

He sits up on the bed next to Camilla, feet on the floor, and takes a drink of the now warm beer on the bedside table.

A few minutes later Jack’s phone receives a message from Bobby with a list of links to the information she had mentioned. Each case shared the same theme of a child between the ages of 8 and 12 going missing, both male and female. No trace or leads have been found by police in any of the instances. It was like each of the kids just vanished from the face of the Earth. In most cases, the children had been taken from a private pool in the backyard of their homes, while one was taken from a shower and another from a bath. In all these cases, the mother of the missing child had supposedly committed suicide, or had been savagely murdered in the pool or bathroom their child had gone missing from a week or two after the child's disappearance. As Bobby had mentioned, each one of these children were taken within a week after Jack had arrived in the respective town. In the previous town, Jack had been named as a suspect to the murder of the mother and disappearance of her child, though no charges were laid on account of no solid evidence. One other thing these cases had in common is that each of these children were an only child in the family and - the only details that didn't match with what happened to Jack's family two years ago - they had a father who had previously passed away. Their mother was their only guardian at the time they were taken.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Serenia
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Serenia Cullenite

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Cammy.

The hunter hadn’t been called that since she was young and it briefly took her back to a time in her life that was just as tumultuous but, perhaps, less dangerous. Screaming, blood, shattered beer bottles… a shiver overtook her as Camilla turned her attention back to the phone on the bed below her, utterly uninterested in the voice that filled the room with a rasp. She wasn’t offended that she’d been wrong about a demonic presence in the house; hell, JD had told her as much when they were leaving. What she was surprised about was that they’d missed a landmark so big as a pool. Then again, it wasn’t as if taking a swim would have been on her top list of priorities while some psychotic apparition ran at her. Her brows furrowed as the informant continued to speak, causing her eyes to move toward Jack.

She supposed that she hadn’t wondered if he was telling her everything or what he’d omitted. It had been enough for him to share what had happened to his family and by no means was she keen enough to connect what had happened then to what was occurring in this shitty little town now. Anger rolled around in her stomach as she continued to look at the man in her bed. How could he have neglected to tell her details about the job, though? Details that would help them stop whatever paranormal creature was prowling here… Her gaze narrowed as she stared down unhappily at Jack, seemingly getting no response.

A huff later and Cam’s attention was back on Bobby. She bit her lip to keep herself quiet; whoever was on the phone didn’t seem like she would take kindly to being interrupted, especially by some smart-ass remark. And suddenly, as if none of the other conversation had mattered, Bobby blurted out the two things they should be looking for: a water wraith or a mimic. Her shoulders dropped minimally in a sigh of relief. It was enough of a lead that she could search for it on the internet or library… likely library. A water wraith sounded ancient, which meant translating. She grumbled slightly as Bobby muttered her goodbye, not at all amused like the other woman had sounded, before she crossed her arms and looked to Jack once more.

”Jesus H., Jack,” the woman said, her dark hair falling around her face as she shook her head. ”How am I supposed to find things if you won’t tell me.” Cam to stare daggers towards her partner, doubtful that guilting Jack into telling her everything would make her feel better. If he wasn’t going to tell her out of the kindness of his heart and she had to fight for it, she didn’t want it. ”What the hell’s the point of having someone to work with if you don’t work with me?”

She sighed and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. ”I get it if you don’t want to share your life. And I get it if you do. I don’t care what you don’t tell me as long as it doesn’t affect me. But this? This is a prime example of what does affect me. Not that I’m saying I know what any of it means, but it’d be nice to know to be overly cautious when around a body of water. Or water at all, from what Bobby said.” Cam ran a hand through her hair, her eyes softening when they met Jack’s. It was difficult to be furious when all she could think of was the way his voice had broken while talking about his family.

”I…” Her brows furrowed. ”It shouldn’t matter, but why does she call me princess? She doesn’t know me. I don’t sound that… high-strung, do I?” Cam wasn't offended, but a part of her wondered if Jack had mentioned anything about her to Bobby that would make her think she was a spoiled, entitled brat. Surely Bobby couldn't have gathered that much of her personality from a phone call!

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