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𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 : 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

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The car ride back to the cabin was filled with pointless chatter that I could hardly remember. I was too focused on the way my skin stuck to my new clothes and the little flakes of dried blood were peeling and crusting on my hands. There was also the fact that I was now facing my own mortality, something I thought I wouldn't have to do once getting shot and nearly bleeding out across town.

I didn't need to think about things like that. Wasn't I just a kid? I was just nineteen, still a teenager, still a kid. I didn't need to be worrying about death and dying and demons and the devil but here I was, stuck in the backseat of an expensive car holding my bloody clothes in a trash bag to my chest.

There were things worse than fate but I wasn't so sure about that now. My fate was beginning to look more and more crappy as the days went on. And, if Cage was right, which I was praying he wasn't, there was a good chance I'd bring Crow to the grave with me. We would die together, or one after the other, an act of sacrifice.

He could already be dead.

I had to mentally slap myself not to think that way. We were going to bring him home tonight. He would be alive and home and warm and him. He'd finally be back here with me.

With us.

The car slowed to a stop outside the cabin and I turned my head, a small gasp leaving my lips. I opened the car door and was out before it was put in park. I threw my hands to my head and yelled, pointing to the accident before me.

"My car!" I cried, bunching my fingers in my hair. "Look what you've done to my car!" I looked up to the sky, seething out, "Pandora, you better find me money to get this repaired or I swear to god–!"

"Pandora did that much damage?" breathed Blondie with a chuckle as she came up to stand beside me. "We found it like this when we got here and, well, when you weren't inside...thought you had gone off into the woods or something."

"She wrapped my car around a goddamn tree," I whispered, shaking my head. The front of the car was totaled, the hood scrunched up and the windshield shattered. The front two tires were flat and there was definitely something leaking from underneath the ruined hood. "If she wasn't already dead, I'd kill her."

"I think maybe she did you a favor," Winker said to me as he approached the mess. He had both hands in his pockets and he was smiling. "She's giving you the perfect excuse just to drive lover boy's car around."

I pursed my lips. He wasn't wrong. Crow's car was significantly better than mine and I wouldn't have to worry about any mechanical failures anytime soon. Changing the subject to stop the pain from losing my car, hopefully just for the time being, I asked, "Did you have any trouble getting what we needed?"

Blondie shook her head. "We got everything inside, grab your things and we can get this show on the road!"

I headed to my car, trying the passenger side door. I gave it a few hard pulls, the door refusing to budge. Winker came to my side, wrapping a hand around the handle to help me pull and the metal with one loud grinding groan finally eased open. The door was scratched all down the side, like a monster had dug its claws in to keep from escaping. Climbing inside the car, I grabbed my bag, checking for the bone I collected and feeling at ease that it was safe.

I wouldn't have known what to do if it had been shattered or gone. There wasn't a store to go back to, not one with an owner that is. Thinking of Miriam gave me an unsettled notion in my gut and I swallowed the feeling. At least there would be no evidence tied back to me. She was as lost to this world as I was.

I hefted my bag over my shoulder, carrying a few textbooks in the other hand as I exited the car. Going inside, I dropped my school things in my room and quickly rejoined the group in the kitchen where Blondie was laying out the ingredients we had gotten.

It was strangely quiet when I approached, opening the little bag that held the bone. I placed it down on a small cloth towel Blondie had gotten from one of the drawers and inspected everything we had as Winker grabbed a large cooking bowl from over the stove. As the pair worked on pulling bundles of sage and rosemary from their respective places in the kitchen, I grabbed one of the kitchen knives and dipped my hand into my bag for my mother's journals. It held the spell we needed for the summoning and I flipped the book open and began to search the pages. It wasn't that long ago I had summoned John, the page was still marked by a dog-ear.

"Oh, shit," breathed Blondie as she held the ingredient list we'd snatched from Crow's office. Her eyes met mine and she flipped it over, holding it out to me. "We need holy water."

I frowned, taking the note and right on the back in faded ink were the two words I didn't think we would've needed at all. I let out a slow breath and murmured, "Okay, okay, that's easy, right?" Winker couldn't give me a reassured look as I went to the sink and grabbed a glass for water. "Get the water filter from the fridge."

He did as he was told and brought it out. It was just a jug of water which got as filtered as it could once poured. I filled the cup and placed it aside. I pulled the journal towards me on the table, flipping the pages until I found what was needed as Blondie looked over my shoulder.

"It says you need to concentrate the salt?"

"Consecrate," I corrected with a small smile. "It's, like, making it sacred."

She mirrored my smile and asked, "Can I do it?"

I pushed the journal over so she could see it better and I pointed to one of the small paragraphs under the list of instructions. "Recite this over the salt and then this over the water," Winker placed a small bowl of salt in front of her and we thanked him silently with a nod, "and once you do that, pour the salt into the water in the shape of a cross and recite the third statement." She began to perform the small ritual, speaking softly to herself as she did so and when she finished with the salt and the last statement, I said, "Now bless the water."

She did as she was told and looked up at me with a broad smile across her face once she was finished. "Have you had to do this before?"

I nodded, slowly. "Had to make some for when I...well..." I cleared my throat. "When I killed Amy, I used this to get information out of him." I scratched the back of my neck, still guilty from how things had gone but it wasn't like he'd been a good demon, anyway. "Crow taught me how and I wrote it all down here to remember."

"It's crazy that this is something we need to know how to do," she said back with a shrug. "Never thought I'd be spending my Saturday night performing a ritual."

"It's Sunday morning," said Winker with a smile. "So, technically, you've spent your entire weekend doing this fun ritual shit instead of going to that party the lacrosse team wanted to go to in the richer districts."

"Choosing blood rituals and demon summonings instead of beer and sugary jello shots?" I gasped with a weak laugh, Blondie rolled her eyes. "Oh, how I've changed you."

She passed the bowl of holy water towards me and then the ingredient list she had placed alongside the instructions in my journal. "Just get on with it all, okay? We need lover boy back, we have a devil to kill, don't we?"

"Crow knows more about this stuff then we do, anyway," muttered Winker, grimacing at the frog liver. "We need him here and now."

"Don't you have faith in us?" I chuckled as Blondie nudged him.

"I mean, yeah, but," he rubbed his forehead, "Crow is a Morticianer and John was one. He knows everything about the guy, more than we do or ever will. We need his upper hand if we're going to even attempt to kill him before he kills you."

"He's not the only upper hand we have," said Blondie, flipping through the pages of the journal, keeping our page marked with her finger as she looked at each page with a grin. "Your mother had everything in here, Blaire. We've got spells to counteract dark magic, we know how to make fire out of air, we have defensive incantations, and look–" She pointed to a neatly written page, something unusual for my mother's writing. "–a prayer for safe passage when someone dies. It allows the soul for a peaceful transition."

Winker nodded but he sighed and said, "This will give us something but we need Crow." Blondie gave him a strange look as my heart leapt at what he'd said. He was right, we needed him, we needed him, we needed him, I needed him–

"Crow trained John," I said in a strained voice, forcing me to clear my throat. "He's nothing compared to what Crow can do."

"It's crazy," breathed Blondie, sagging against the counter. "Like, this is John we're talking about. We've known him forever..." She shook her head, her blonde hair falling past her shoulders and into her face. "But seeing him that night in your–what was it? Panic room? Whatever, anyways. Seeing him was like a slap to the face. It just wasn't him, like he'd finally pulled off the mask and underneath was fucking ugly."

"He needs to die," breathed Winker, tightening his hand around his arm. "He's taken things too far, he's a monster. We willingly let a monster inside of him." Winker looked at us and sighed. "We've all seen Supernatural, the devil has to ask to enter a host."

Blondie scoffed. "You really believe in a fictional show?"

"And you don't?" he snapped. "Are we not living in an episode of a teen paranormal show right now?" She didn't respond and he nodded and continued to speak, "What I'm saying is that we're dealing with forces so beyond us, it's crazy. But we're doing this for a reason. There's no way we all found each other in the same high school, it was fate."

"You're beginning to sound like Blaire."

"John is a piece of shit school boy, he has nothing on us," said Winker, his eyes flashing. "He's going to underestimate us without Crow, without any guidance, but he's got a shit storm coming for him."

"Then we kill him," said Blondie after a beat. She reached out, taking Winker's hand in her own. "We kill the devil."

"And you're okay with this?" I asked, finally meeting their eyes. "You really don't have to do this, you don't have to kill or be apart of something like this–"

"Will you fucking stop it?" Winker groaned, reaching out and taking me by the shoulder with his free hand. "How many times do we have to show you we're going to be here with you? The second Gretchen died and the devil took over my dick best friend's body, we were a part of this. Nothing's going to change that now." He stared at me until I nodded and he smiled and nodded back, with a hint of relief in his eyes as he did so. "Now, what else do we need for this thing?"

"Chalk," said Blondie, going to her bag on the kitchen table. "I went and bought some incase we didn't have any here." She pulled out a box and tossed it to me. "They were all out of white...I hope this is okay."

The pink chalk was thick and I nodded with a grin. "We'll have to do this outside. I don't think Crow would appreciate me ruining his floors."

We gathered out ingredients, the journals, and our bags to head outside. The best place for us would be by the fire-pit and the small strip of concrete where Crow must've started with a proper driveway and had stopped. I laid out what we had on one of the plastic chairs around the fire pit and Blondie took the chalk. She drew out the pentagram and all its symbols, recreating what was in one of the journals as Winker and I worked on lying out the things we needed.

"We just read the same incantation from the John summoning, right?" asked Blondie, looking up from her crouched position.

"Everything should pretty much be the same," I murmured, holding Crow's cologne, "except for this." The little bottle fit in the palm of my hand and I wrapped my fingers around it, the glass cold.

Blondie stood from her crouch, wiping chalk off onto her pants. "What goes in first?"

"Holy water."

We followed the list of ingredients, adding each down the line. It was the best we could do for the time being. Blondie unscrewed the jar which held the liver and it plopped down into the water, slimy and hard. It was small and an odd color but I ignored it as I opened the little bag I'd gotten and dropped the bone inside. Next went the sage and rosemary, which Winker sprinkled in as I worked open the cologne bottle.

The smell hit me, like it had been bursting to escape. It spun up to my nose, drifting and dancing until it stung my nostrils and burned my eyes. It was him. It was him all over.

I didn't think it would make me feel this way, so sick, but without him here it made it all so much worse. He was everywhere and in everything I saw and did, it was hard to forget he wasn't beside me, guarding me from the forces I could not see. He was simply gone.

I tipped the bottle, a few droplets leaving to spill into the strange mixture forming. When I was done with the cologne, I capped it quickly and set it aside. I didn't need that aroma stalking me the rest of the night.

Before I could ask, Winker grabbed the knife and held his hand out over the bowl. He let out a small stream of breath and dragged the blade quickly over his palm. It wasn't deep but just enough to draw a few droplets of blood against the blade which he held over the bowl. They dripped inside, splashing against the frog liver and bone. He handed it to me, wincing slightly as Blondie handed him a small rag to wrap around his wound. I cleaned the blade against my shirt, the best I could do for the time being.

I caught the barest reflection of myself in the knife as I held it in my hand, wishing it was Spiorad and her dangerous glare looking back up at me. The blood on my face was drying and flaking, cracking alone my cheeks, nose, and jaw. My hair was matted down, plastered to my skin. Did I want Crow to see me like this when he returned? Did I risk him seeing me so unsightly?

Instead of answering my own questions, I pressed the tip of the blade into my palm and cut along the incision marks I had done just the night prior. Blood bubbled and rose with the sting and I turned my palm over, letting the blood run out and down into our makeshift cauldron. As it spilled inside, the bowl sizzled and churned happily, steam rising with the awful smell. But it wasn't blood or rot I was smelling, it wasn't decay or even salt, it was his cologne. It was just him all over.

I curled my bloody hand into a fist, the red squishing and spilling between my fingers as I began the incantation. "Hic te voco, nefande daemon. exi ad me in vocatione mea. Hoc a te peto. Hic voco!" I didn't allow myself to wait, only squeezing my hand tighter and more blood left me, repeating the same awful words in a desperate attempt to bring him home.

You can't do this without him. You can't do this!

"Hic te voco, nefande daemon. exi ad me in vocatione mea. Hoc a te peto. Hic voco!"

(I call you here, you heinous demon. Come out to me in my calling. This I ask of you. I call you here!)

Bring him home, bring him back to me, dammit!

There was no burst of energy, no smell of sulfur, no pops in the air. There was nothing but the sound of our breathing and the wind through the trees and the constant chirp and cry of the cicadas.

"Hic te voco, nefande daemon. exi ad me in vocatione mea. Hoc a te peto. Hic voco!" I repeated, seething out the words as my nails dug into the cut. I couldn't leave here without him, I couldn't stop until he was safe.

"Blaire," whispered Blondie, "I don't think it's working." I met her eyes and there was no smile, just a disbelieving frown.

I ignored her, continuing the incantation for a fourth time, and then a fifth, and then a sixth.

"It's not going to work!" pleaded Blondie, grabbing my hand and pulling it away from the bowl, jerking me towards her. I tried to push her off, trying to get back to the bowl but it was steaming and sizzling and her grip was better than mine. "It didn't work! If it had, he'd be here! You know that!"

"But we did everything right!" I cried, finally fighting free of her grip and I stumbled to the side, my hip hitting the bowl. It toppled over the side of the chair it rested on to the ground, its contents spilling into the grass. I had tried to move, to somehow catch it before it hit but I was too late and the filth inside was already seeping into the tall grass. I kicked at the bowl once before feeling my lips tremble as I finally released the awful tension in my shoulders and limps. I released my fist, letting my hand fall open bloody to the sky. The pit of the cut was dark, like an endless void. The blood reflected like stars and I wished it would suck me inside to this other world I was envisioning. "It was supposed to work."

"We'll find another way," said Winker but I shook my head.

"There is no other way."

"Then we find where John has him–"

"If he was with John, this still would've worked!" I snapped, hating that I was turning on him and I let my awful anger slide away just to breathe, "If this summoning spell can bring out the devil then this should've worked."

"But it didn't," murmured Blondie, an awful realization crossing her face.

I met her dark eyes and whispered, "If it didn't work that means...that means..." I squeeze my hands into fists, ignoring the sting of pain. I didn't want to admit it as it was something I had been trying to avoid all this time but here it was, right in front of us. "That means he's dead."

Winker started to shake his head. "We don't know that for sure."

"If this didn't work–"

"John probably has him under lock and key," interrupted Winker, determined to change both our minds. "There's no way he'd let Crow just walk out like this."

"But–" Blondie started but Winker shook his head again.

"We can't let him win this," he snapped. "We can't allow him to think he's gotten us just because we couldn't summon Crow. We just have to move on, we'll find him or he'll find us when it's time."

I narrowed my eyes. "But we can't just sit here and hope he comes home!"

"We aren't going to be sitting," said Winker with a faint smile and I wondered how he could even smile like this. I couldn't even find it in myself to smile, to even allow such happiness to creep its way into my chest. "We're going to be reading these journals front to back to strengthen our defenses. We're going to train until we throw up and we're going to beat this until Crow comes home because he will." He placed a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "He's going to come home, Blaire. He will."

I nodded back, slowly.

"Now," he smiled, "let's clean up, we can still get a few hours of sleep until Macabre wants us to come in tomorrow."

He bent down, grabbing the bowl and heading over to the side of the cabin where the hose was to clean the rest of the mess. Blondie took care of the journals and the empty containers and bags we'd gotten from our respective ingredients. As they began to move, my world tilted into gray and a chill rested over me, pulling at the hairs on my arms and back of my neck.

I hoped it wasn't Pandora as I turned to face my spirit. I didn't need her belittling. I knew I had screwed up tonight and I didn't need the reminder but the ghost staring back at me wasn't her but someone else entirely.

A familiar and kind face.

"Why is it every time I see you, you look like shit?"

"Wow, thanks."

Beatrice smiled and I found it in myself to mirror the expression. "I don't want to pull the 'I told you card' but Blaire, honey, I practically spelled it out for you."

John is a devil of a boy.

She reached out, her ghostly fingers brushing a chill over my cheek. "I'm only glad one good thing came of it."

"And that is?" I frowned.

"You know the truth."

"Yeah, but," I sighed, "I really should've listened."

She let out a soft chuckle, tucking a hardened strand of hair behind my ear. It was strange how she could still touch me, that she could still move things without physically holding them. Her smile faltered just for a moment before answering the question that she knew I was readying to ask next.

Is he alive? Do you know? Have the ghosts been talking?

"Oh, sweetie, I don't know." She took a step back, her feet just barely touching the top of the grass. "But don't assume the worst just yet. Just because I don't know only means he's out of my view. He's being blocked out by something strong, dark magic."

"John really is giving us his best," I murmured and she smiled. "Do you know where he is? Any estimates at all?"

She shook her head. "He's warded himself completely off the radar. There's not a soul here who knows where he is." There's not a soul who knows whether he's alive or dead. "But that doesn't mean you need to give up faith," she reached out and her ghostly hand brushed against my cheek like delicate flower petals being dragged across soft flesh, "he'll be returned to you, I know he will." Her brows furrowed as she looked at me and a question crossed her eyes before she even spoke. "He's changed, hasn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't believe it, seeing you with him a few days ago," she murmured. "But there was something so different in him, in both of you." She narrowed her eyes and the air around us drew colder. "You love him."

"Wh–" I let out a laugh. "What?"

She clicked her tongue. "You love him even after everything he has done."

"Wha–"

"He killed your father. He killed him and yet, you love him."

"I don't love him," I scoffed, feeling an edge in my tone come crawling free. "He's a demon, okay? I'm practically ingrained to kill him, to keep him far, far away." He was nothing but an ally, a trusted friend. A dear friend. A beloved friend.

"Come on," she smiled, "you've seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's alright to love the dangerous ones."

"How have you seen Buffy? Didn't it come out way after you died–"

"Come on, Blaire. You really think I didn't see all those times you binge watched all seven seasons?" There was a smile in her voice, tempting, loving.

Rolling my eyes I uncrossed my arms and planted my hands on my hips to keep myself from fidgeting with my fingers. "He doesn't love me and I don't love him, okay?" I dug my fingers into my hips. "We're just way to unalike, you know? Complete opposites. And, not to mention, he drives me crazy and he's a murderer. He's unhinged, an asshole, a thorn in my side–"

"Oh my god," chuckled Beatrice and I glared, my mouth clamping shut. "You do love him."

"Will you please shut up–"

"It's written all over your face. I should've known, especially when you two were at the house, because–" She let out a sharp laugh. "–because you're blind and I don't get it. If I had the chance to fall into the arms of a man who truly loved me, I would do it in a heartbeat but look at you, Blaire. You're fighting something that's been here the entire time."

I narrowed my eyes. "The only thing I'm fighting is the urge to hit you."

"It's the only reason John took him from you," said Beatrice with the hint of something sad in her tone, something desperate. "He took Crow because of what he means to you, and you know that. He took something you love, something you can't live without, to hurt you." She moved towards the fire-pit, inspecting the ruins left there from when I'd dealt with Hex's remains. "There's going to come a time when you can't keep hiding it, you'll have to say something to him."

"I can't say anything if he's dead," I muttered, kicking my foot across the grass. I wouldn't think he'd even come to me if he was dead. He wouldn't want me to see him like that, no matter how important it would be.

"He'll come home," said Beatrice as she turned to look at me from over her shoulder. "And when he does, tell him to get rid of the wards in the house. I'd like to come visit more often."

When I glanced back at the cabin, my world shifted into color and things were moving again. I grabbed what I needed and began to help clean up, wondering how all of this failed so miserably.

The summoning incantation was powerful, more powerful than any of Crow's, he'd told me so himself in the tunnel. But, somehow, it wasn't powerful enough to bring him here, to bring him home. I grabbed the kitchen knife and the bloody towel, stanching my wound as I walked inside.

~

After I had showered, scrubbing my skin raw until the blood was gone, I got into bed. Blondie and Winker took up station in the living room and I could still hear them faintly, talking and whispering to each other by the fire amongst the blankets and pillows I found in the hall closet. I'd told them it was okay to go home, that we'd just meet at the church in the morning but they disagreed. It seemed they thought I would do something in anguish over my failure, which wasn't a far cry from what I was thinking of doing, but I couldn't help but think of all they were saying about me if they were even speaking about me at all.

Did you see how emotional she got?

She didn't try hard enough–

She'll never get him back.

There was an unforgivable throb in the back of my skull and across my hand, but mostly the pain was from worry. It was building up inside me like something thick, like sludge, like honey. It coated me all over, gooey and unforgiving.

I was worried about my friends and the build up of awful excuses sent into school and to their parents. I was worried our lies would spill into each other and we'd get into more serious trouble than we could handle, especially with Blondie and Winker getting into college (they'd told me over clean-up that they'd gotten in last month to a few different schools and were still deciding which one would be best). I didn't want their chances at a better life than our sleepy town getting ruined, and I really didn't want them to get killed.

There was a growing chance that if I were killed, they would be next. If Crow isn't here and I'm no longer breathing, how would they be protected? Macabre might pull some strings but even then, I don't think he'd want to watch over them for however long they get to live after this is all over.

I wasn't worried about myself, not in the same ways I was for them. I knew, through an awful bout of crying in the shower earlier, that I would not make it out of this alive. I would not get to go to college. I would not get to have sex for the first time, or fall in love. I would never get married or have children or grow old with someone. I wouldn't even get the chance to graduate high school. There were so many things I would never get the chance to do and all I had to focus on was making sure Blondie and Winker got to experience everything I never would.

I would never get the chance to tell Crow the truth of my feelings, the ones that had been bubbling up underneath my skin and under every surface he's touched. I could barely admit it myself but I would die with my secret because I'd failed tonight.

It was strange for me, as I rolled over in my bed, to think of how much Crow affected me. He was a demon and everything hateful and cruel in the world but he was the opposite (sometimes). He cared for me, which I didn't understand nor believe, and he was protective and powerful and filled with vile but he still cared.

Demons were good and everything I've known was crashing down.

Macabre was good. He wasn't the suspicious man I'd met at the hospital or the one who'd been lurking inside the church's halls for years. He wasn't the man or creature I'd made up in my head, neither was Crow.

Neither was Crow.

When I realized I was never going to get any sleep, I pushed my way out from underneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. There were so many things I still needed to do, things I needed to prepare for, and sleeping wasn't one of them. I didn't necessarily know where I was going to go but I dressed in an old pair of jeans and a thick long sleeve to keep the cold from getting to me. My jacket, along with my nicer clothes, were all being washed and soaked to get rid of the blood.

I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and slid into my sneakers that squeaked when I walked but I didn't have another pair of shoes that were clean and not drenched and caked with dried geata blood.

Leaving the bedroom, I had hoped Blondie and Winker were asleep but they were up and talking on the couch. She turned when she heard me and she let out a little gasp with a smile following quickly.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep ages ago," she said softly as Winker rested his arm against the back of the couch. "You okay?"

I nodded, adjusting the strap on my bag as I grabbed Crow's keys. "Can't fall asleep so I'm going to drive around for a bit. If I don't come back, I'll meet you at the church later, alright?"

"You want us to go with you?" asked Winker and I shook my head.

"Just got a lot to think about on my own, I'll be fine," and I added, "I promise," just to be safe.

"Okay," said Blondie with a slow nod. "Be careful, we'll be here if you come back."

I nodded and gave them a little wave before slipping out the front door. I unlocked the car and got into the seat, hearing the engine turn over as I slid the key inside the ignition. It roared and purred and I drummed by fingers against the wheel as Crow's familiar scent washed over me as did the little radio playing whatever had been on the last time I'd been inside. It was a comfort.

As I drove off, I didn't know where I was going exactly but it seemed my body had the sickening idea before I did myself. I let my instincts take me over, like phantom hands covering my own. It was all I could as I drove aimlessly, to fall into that feeling.

My mind drifted back to my conversation with Beatrice and I swallowed the ignorance I was bestowing upon myself. I didn't want to believe anything she said, I didn't even want to believe myself. How could I? Especially since I have been running from the truth at every turn. But Crow was gone and there wasn't anything I could do to fix or change that.

I had performed the ritual perfectly and even my strongest will to bring him home had been implemented but still, he remained just out of my grasp. It made me only turn to the worst because it was what I was raised to do. I had trained myself to turn to the worst possible situation imaginable, no matter if it wasn't rational. And right now? My mind and gut told me he was dead. He was dead until he made himself known otherwise.

If he was alive, I was just hoping he could sense that tug I had on him, that he knew he was missed and loved and needed.

Because, oh god, did I need him.

I shook off the thought as I pulled off the road and realized where I was headed. I knew that I needed to be here, that it was only a matter of time, and judging by the thickness of the trees and the darkness that lay within, it seemed it was a rather depressing homecoming for such a tragic place.

I parked my car just a little behind the trees in a secluded place I knew I could get away from easily if needed. There were a few hours until morning and I needed to get my job done now with the veil of darkness to protect me from any sudden onlookers.

Getting out of the car and opening the trunk, I was happy to find the shovels, both still covered in dried mud and dirt dust from digging up Cage. It wasn't that far away but it still felt like decades gone. We had been together, digging up my father, finding out the clues, the path to where we are now, and I was alone.

Well, only slightly alone.

I followed the strange path I had taken once before and it felt like falling back into place. It all came to me naturally, like I'd done it a hundred times before and maybe even in my dreams. Keeping my bag tucked to my side and the shovel over my shoulder, I ducked under tree branches filled with desperate fresh leaves and buds.

Spring was trying to fight her way back to us.

I remembered running through these woods, fighting the urge to collapse, dodging trees and roots, hoping to god someone would find me. I remembered being out of breath, my face hot with blood. Pain exploding everywhere, in my side, in my chest, my face, my neck. Conner had tried so hard to kill me, he'd done just about everything he could think of besides truly using that gun on me.

He was never going to kill you. He was saving you for John.

Your body, your blood, you're a prize.

I found the trailer after twenty minutes of getting somewhat lost in the dark. Not even my phone flashlight could help me, it was still awkwardly caked in blood from how hard I had clutched it once I'd gotten free of the bloody pit and Blondie and Winker had arrived. I shined the light over the grass and found instantly where the body had been buried.

The earth was still freshly overturned. There was no grass near the plotting by the trailer. It seemed John had help when digging because the trailer was partially on top of the unmarked grave. It was easy to forget how powerful the demons were, especially John. It only made my situation even more blindingly painful. John was a god and I was a sad mortal hoping to dive out of the cross fires. I was nothing but a hopeful civilian praying to get out of this alive.

But you're a demigod in comparison. A god trying to find its way after being shunned.

I dug the best I could, knowing I wasn't strong enough to move the trailer on my own. The grave wasn't deep, like John had planned on returning but never did which was shocking. Didn't he have henchmen for jobs like these?

Whatever it was, I still dug the body free. I ignored the way the corpse smelled and the skin was an ashy white in the dim light of my phone and the moon fighting her way through the trees and I nearly felt the arms give way when I pulled it free and into the open. The skin and muscle were almost slimy in my grip and I had to swallow my bile and pull it completely free.

I dropped to my knees beside Eric Conner's original host body and opened my bag to reveal my mother's journal. I knew I needed to try this again, to give it a proper go.

The body in the morgue with Amy had almost come back. We'd heard it move, we'd heard it moan. It just meant I had to try again, to cross my fingers and pray I was doing it right but spirits were tricky, so reanimation could only be ten times worse.

I flipped through the pages, finding the original incantations and wondering what I was missing. It wasn't like my mom had just outright said it and neither had Cage. It only explained the spell and the inflictions I needed to add to the words.

My stomach did a flip of nervousness, maybe even from excitement at a new revelation. These incantations didn't work for Cage because maybe they were wrong, maybe these weren't even the right words needed for such a strong spell. Cage couldn't even summon the dead, he couldn't force a soul back into a body. Everything he did wouldn't have worked, so why would it work for me?

I settled my hands over the body and took in a deep breath before releasing it. I repeated that a few more times only to help calm my nerves and to empty my mind. There wasn't anything in me telling me this would work. I tried anyway, for a good awful hour.

I started with the incantations in the journal, knowing that the basic structure of one had helped me bring a sound out of a corpse in the morgue but I worked my way through my own reworked versions. I gave myself a small break to sit away from the body to eat a small snack and to somehow keep my strength and to let myself slip into the darkness and forget my failures before trying again with a new idea in mind.

I had absolutely no faith but I held one hand out and pulled a pocket knife I kept in my bag out. I was following my instincts.

Didn't one have to give in order to receive?

To gain something, you must give something of equal value. I couldn't exactly give him my soul for his own but I could give the next best thing. My blood was power, it was raw and exquisite and it would work. Or it wouldn't.

You might not even be the one. You might be the nobody you always wished you could be.

I dragged the little dull knife over my palm, digging into the flesh to draw enough blood before I began to recite the incantation with my own improved lines.

"Recipere animam. Efferte et signate in quod amissum est. Surge. Surge."

(Recapture the soul. Bring it forth and seal it back into what it lost. Rise. Rise.)

I turned my palm as I squeezed my fist shut, watching my blood spill across the body's decaying face. As the blood danced and dropped across his eyes and mouth, I repeated the incantation.

"Recipere animam. Efferte et signate in quod amissum est. Surge! Surge!"

I felt a small tug in my gut and a strange release a moment later before a tremor passed through me and I felt pain erupt inside my stomach. I doubled over, pressing a bloody hand to steady myself as a strange wave filtered through the wave, like energy, like something fighting to pass through the veil.

The sky lit up like lightning even though there weren't clouds or rain. The pain was sharper as white hot lights flashed behind my eyes and for a moment, I thought I felt hands touch me all over before it faded. Whatever had been fighting in the veil was stilling.

It struggled against the invisible, just for a brief moment more, and then the pain faded inside of me and like a miracle, Eric Conner's eyes blinked. He blinked away the filmy white that glossed over his eyes and his lips twitched, his chest slowly rising.

His chest rose steadily, his eyes fluttered, his mouth pulled open, and then he tried to kill me.

He was stronger than I would've given him credit for before he had his dirty hands wrapped around my throat before I could even jump back in surprise. I struggled only for a moment to rear my leg back and strike him in the stomach which ended up being the worst decision of my life.

My foot nearly went straight through him and I had to suppress an awful scream and gag as he tried to strangle me. I hadn't anticipated the strength I now had to go coursing through my leg but I got my foot out from being dislodged between his ribcage and he trembled with the force, his grip loosening only enough for me to throw him off me. He was still heavy, but it seemed the bugs and worms had gotten to his most precious bits.

He sat there in the grass as I scurried away, opening and closing his mouth. His eyes were vacant and empty. He was utterly not human. There was no true soul left in him. Eric Conner's host had passed on and whatever I had pushed back into his body was no longer his own. Just some fragmented pieces of souls latched together in hopes of finding peace.

I was able to grab my shovel, knowing my pocket knife would not get the job done. The shovel felt lighter in my hands than it did an hour ago but I kept it up like a baseball bat as the corpse, zombie, whatever it was, groaned.

Decay cannot replace the soul. Rotten and wasting, there is no coming back.

When the body slowly stood, swaying back and forth, I readied myself. I wasn't going to allow myself to get close, I wouldn't risk having my own Walking Dead moment. I knew I could use magic to restrain him but I wanted to do it the normal way, as if there was ever a normal way to handle such situations.

Conner's body staggered forward, getting used to its legs before it looked up and met my eyes with a growl and the loud clicking noise of its jaw. He took off running before I even blinked and I swung the shovel back and angled the sharp edge the best I could in a short span of time as he raced towards me.

I struck his neck and it dropped to the ground like a brick, the impact nearly shaking the ground at my feet. I pried the shovel free from his thick neck, brown blood spewing and leaking, the smell acidic. He groaned and tried to move but I moved first. I slammed the tip of the shovel down into his head and marveled at the fact that his skull wasn't hard to get through. It cracked like an egg and I hid the smile that came to my face at my hidden strength.

I killed the creature with another blow to the skull, piercing through his brain. The body settled and stilled and I used the power in my legs to move the body with more ease. There wasn't a strain in my back and I sighed contently at the fact as I dumped the body back into the grave. Although it had technically been a failure, I was happier than I should've been after killing a zombie-humanoid. It had worked. After all this time, it had worked.

By the trailer, I turned and lost my stomach across the ground with a single retch.

It had worked...but at what cost?

Light was spilling over the horizon when I finally returned to my car. I tucked my journals back into my bag as well as my little knife, keeping the shovel as a walking stick to maneuver myself back through the woods. I had successfully resurrected Eric Conner's host body and I was overcome with joy and true sickness.

This couldn't be me. I couldn't be the one all these people were killing themselves over and as I drove to the church to meet my friends, fingers trembling, my throat went dry and my lips felt chapped with worry. I had been successful and I didn't know if I really wanted to be.

When I arrived at Clandestine, I was surprised to find Blondie's car already there waiting for me. Realizing she was already inside with the rest of our little misfit group, I hurried across the street and inside. My stomach was flipping and turning, sloshing around even though it was empty. The powerful surge of strength I had felt was from the veil, truly. It had been lifted. Something had clicked, perhaps in the gray or within the spirits themselves. Something in the atmosphere changed and crackled.

I made it to the basement door, throwing it open with surprising gentleness before heading down at a rapid pace, nearly tripping over my feet. I wasn't late, I wasn't in trouble, but somehow, I felt like I was. I felt like Macabre was going to be furious, that my friends would be doubled in anger because I'd done.

I'd made it real.

"Blaire," said Blondie, with a slight frown. "We've been here for like thirty minutes, we thought you were here!"

I matched her frown and muttered breathlessly like I'd gone running, "What do you mean? I–I never even gave us a time to be here, so, like, what are you doing here?"

"You texted us," said Winker, holding up his phone for me to see and I blinked.

Church. Five minutes.

"You sent that over forty minutes ago."

I pulled my phone from my bag, looking through my messages and frowning more. "I never sent that." I showed them my own messages and Eva snatched the phone from my hands to look more.

"We all got the same message," the woman explained. "It looks like something wanted us all here together."

"It's nearly six on a Sunday," groaned Monroe, falling into one of the chairs at the table as Macabre gripped the back of his own. "There's no reason we should be here."

Yes there is. Oh, god, yes, there is!

"Why the hell are you covered in dirt?" asked Blondie as she leaned against Winker who put a protective arm around her middle. "Don't tell me you went back to that grave Pandora dug up."

"Pandora?" This spared Macabre interests and I shook my head, rubbing my forehead.

"I went–" I sighed. "I went to find Eric Conner's host body."

"Why on earth would you do that?" asked Macabre with a frown to match all our own. "There's no point in digging up that monster."

"Unless someone wanted to run a few tests on him," I muttered, realizing my knees were covered in dirt and so were my hands. I'd hidden the bloody middle of my shirt but my palm was still split open from my knife, crusting and red.

"Tests?"

I nodded, feeling a strange guilt flutter through me. I didn't want this. I didn't want this to be true.

"Blaire..." murmured Blondie. "What were you doing with his body?"

"I didn't think I'd end up there," I blurted out, shaking my head. "I think something in me just knew I had to be there, that I had to try–"

Macabre narrowed his eyes, gripping his chair tighter as he interrupted me to snap, "Try what?"

"To bring him back," I whispered, fighting strange tears in my eyes. "To–to bring his host back–"

"And did you?" The older man was breathless, color brushing against his cheeks.

"Do–do what?"

"Bring him back."

I forced myself to nod. "Something came back, it wasn't really him, but it was alive. He woke up, he breathed, he–"

"My god." Macabre staggered where he stood and Monroe jumped up to help steady him as Eva ran to his other side. They eased the older man, now slightly pink in the face, to sit down. He wasn't that old but in mere moments, he looked deathly. Macabre looked up from his shaking hands to meet my eyes and my heart stuttered in my chest.

"They were right about you," he breathed, silver lining his eyes as he blinked away tears. "You're the one we've been waiting for. All this time, it's truly been you."

new chapter after months of not uploading!!! so sorry.....been neglecting my stories for school ahhh!!!

hope you enjoyed this chapter and let me know what you think!! poor blaire but also.....hot blaire

vote/comment and pls pls dont b a ghost reader!! im begging!!

beatrice, blondie, and winker when blaire couldn't summon crow: