Clare wishes they were much taller than Kaia. When they open the door of the cab, the wind is whipping through them violently. It's a waste of money, a cab in Chelster, but Kaia had tips from her shift and Clare was worried Kaia would have tears frozen to her face by the time they returned to the bed they share.

Clare hurries around to the other side of the cab and opens the door for Kaia. The ghost-girl wipes the edge of her eyes one last time before unbuckling and pulling herself out of the cab. Behind her, the wheels of the car grind against the small pebbles in the parking lot. The sign buzzes above them. The motel is louder than usual, especially with all the crows that have begun to gather on the wire.

When Kaia looks at Clare, who has soft eyes and an even softer heart, Kaia leaps into their arms. A fist balled around the stack of papers, Kaia leans in as best as she can. She can feel Clare's fluttering heart, hear the fluttering wings of a dozen crows, and can feel her own heart leaping in her chest. Slowly, Clare's arms raise to wrap around Kaia's.

This isn't a good time. It's never a fucking good time. The last time Kaia kissed a girl in a parking lot, she was murdered. If things go poorly, there isn't another continent that Kaia can run to escape. She can't even leave this fucking town.

Behind Clare is a cop car.

Kaia rips herself out of Clare's car, grabbing Clare's arm and pulling her toward the edge of the parking lot. Clare feels the wind rip through her, holding tight to Kaia's hand. Together, they squat behind a different car, peering over the hood.

"What's-"

A shush interrupts Clare. She wasn't even speaking louder than a whisper. Her eyes follow Kaia's gaze, and she sees the back of a cop standing outside of their motel room, writing something in a notepad. It's her fucking partner.

Someone shushes in her ear, the right while Kaia is on her left. Clare crouches to the ground. Her hand goes to her stomach, pressing tightly against her skin as it hums beneath her. The loud metallic sound of a gunshot. Maybe it's a car backfiring blocks away. Maybe he didn't kill her. Certainly he knows who did. And when Clare thinks of her death, she has no memories of the boy who is in jail for the crime of killing a cop. She only thinks of the man waiting for her outside her room.

As Clare quivers, Kaia stares up at the man, a scowl on her face. She lets go of Clare's hand, to wrap her shoulder over Clare's and pull the crouching, quivering ghost in close. Fuck him. There are no good cops who remain. Only cops who are forced out, through simple ostracization or the means by which Clare was torn from life. Kaia is Jane Doe number 13 from Chelster. The twelve before her were not entirely at the hands of the pastor. And it's his fucking fault.

And Kaia sits with Clare rather than take vengeance into her own hands. For Clare's sake. Not her own.

They listen for the sounds of the cop's car rolling out onto the road. Neither of them move for another two minutes after he is gone. The cold doesn't seem so bad anymore.

~~~

When they get back to the motel, Ajay in the middle of a story about a high school dare on the wrong side of town, he stops talking. There, he can see Kaia and Clare crouched behind a car together. Only when he stops walking does Lydia stop too. It takes her a beat longer to catch sight of them, huddled in the cold.

"Shit," she whispers. She looks up at the motel, and back at them.

"I'll check on them," Ajay tells her. He passes her the bags. "Don't go inside until you know it's safe.

He passes off the bags to Lydia. Once again, she cannot follow the doctor's orders. After all, Lydia isn't even sure she is mortal now. She walks with the items up to the motel room, moving quietly to avoid Ajay's gaze. When she peaks through the slight gap in the curtain, she can see Nico's shadow. The potpourri smells in her bag, even with the wind carrying the scent all over town. The front door creaks when she opens it.

At the foot of a bed, Nico nibbles on a cookie. It's stale, leftover from Halloween twelve days ago, somehow. After that night, most of the Halloween-themed snacks went untouched, even by the ravenous Clare and the insatiable Barry. Nico feels like their tooth will chip. Above them, Leo hangs on the edge of the bed, eyes on the bathroom door and an ear turned to listen to the television, in case the news pivots back to the story of Jayce Rodwell's untimely demise.

"Hey," Lydia manages. Her voice is shaking. "What's... is something up, today?"

Nico gives her a lingering gaze. She shivers, forcing the door shut behind her. On the tips of her toes, still with her shoes on, she strides toward the desk. Narrowly she avoids stepping on Nico on the floor, or bumping into Leo's nose as he hangs over the edge of bed, turning slightly at the sound of her voice. The plastic bags crinkle as she pulls out the potpourri. Already, the smell is lingering, mixing with the sweat on the bedsheets and Ambrose's smoke.

"Este killed her husband," Leo's voice lowers the room by ten degrees. "With Ajay's help."

Digging her nails into the plastic packaging, Lydia rips open an air freshener. She straightens her back, "you're sure?"

Nico swallows, "not exactly. But Jayce Rodwell was murdered in his home during a robbery, and the police just came asking for Este and Ajay."

A robbery. Lydia stops moving. Pawn shops have cameras, and she is famous. And Lydia was involved in the first robbery of Eva's, though obviously not this most recent heist. She swallows, putting down the air freshener.

"What do Clare and Kaia have to do with that?"

Leo blinks twice. Nico twists their head to the side, "what?"

~~~

Ajay sits on the ground next to Clare. He ignores the tears on her face as well as those on Kaia's. Instead, he pats a hand on Clare's shoulder.

"It's a bit cold," he manages. "Is there a reason we aren't going inside?"

Kaia squeezes Clare's arm. Ajay can feel her through Clare too. Alive, all of them. Breathing, skin cold and blood rushing beneath the surface. This is not the kind of suffering he can fix. There is nothing pleasant about how they feel.

"The police were here," Kaia tells him, a soft smile on her face. "We were just catching our breath."

Ajay's head swivels back to the motel. The police. He doesn't know if Este is back yet. She's been gone longer than him today. Eva is there though, as expected. When he looks around, he doesn't catch Lydia. He swallows, then he recoils, closing his arms into his body to keep warm.

As he shifts, Clare looks up at him. She studies his face. His jaw is tight set, his eyes narrowed. He met the police, that first night, by her side. Clare didn't tell him she thinks her partner killed her, and yet Ajay hasn't asked why the police have her curled up beside a car. Maybe as an aircraftsman, Ajay is used to not asking questions in moments of crisis, but there is something to certain about the way he holds himself.

"What happened?" she asks.

Ajay gets up. He wipes his chin, pulling himself out from the back of the car and heading up toward the motel. He hurries through the parking lot, nearly stumbling as he narrowly misses Fallon sprinting around a car. Her speed doesn't slow, and she catches herself slamming into the trunk of a car to dodge out of his way. Fallon's knees hit the ground, panting.

Este went out with Fallon. Ajay remembers. He runs a hand through his hair.

"Where is she?" Ajay asks.

"Who?" the only name on Fallon's lips is Corrin's. "What?"

"Este."

Fallon pries herself off the ground, resting her hands on her knees and bending over. She's no more thirsty than if she hadn't sprinted across town, although her calves are painfully sore. The shoes she wears were made for casual strolls, and the arches of her feet ache. She hisses out a breath and gestures in the direction she came.

"That way," Fallon guesses. She tries to do the math. It took her something like ten minutes to jog to Corrin's, and maybe a bit longer to run back. While she doesn't have a watch or a phone, she does have a good sense of rhythm and timing. Probably something like that. "I don't know. She should be back soon."

"Shit," Ajay nearly trips on the pebbles in the lot as he races up to the motel room. If Clare wasn't here to talk to the police, Leo was. and Ajay has already disappointed Leo too many times.

Kaia helps Fallon off the ground. Clare is hot on Ajay's heels. The two of them nearly crash into the motel room at the same time.

Only Nico looks up at the two pressed into the doorway. Ajay's shoulders heave. Clare bends her head to peer into the room, trying to catch Leo's eye. He won't look at her.

Someone did something.

Someone did something very bad.

Ajay wishes Leo would just scream at him. He's used to responding to barked orders. Ajay can take it. So long as he knows the depths of Leo's fury, feels the heart of the flame and not just the embers. Ajay can eat coal. He can swallow fire, and breathe it in. Other officers smoke cigarettes, and maybe he doesn't because he wants to be a doctor but he also doesn't because he doesn't need to feel the heat of it inside him.

And Leo doesn't say a fucking word.

When Fallon and Kaia come up behind Ajay, he moves, slipping into the room. Kaia looks at Clare, who just gestures to head inside as well. Together, the three of them sit on the free bed in the doorway. Ajay takes the desk chair.

"Fallon," Leo looks at her. "Did Este come back with you?"

His skin seems to steam, seeping heat into the room. Lydia's fingers wrap around the potpourri, crushing it.

Fallon swallows, "she should be back soon."

Leo nods. They'll have to rip open the door to talk to Audrey. People will have to see Ambrose, people who don't want to see him. Leo doesn't think he can breathe in this air, so anymore smoke in the room won't bother him.

"Should we wait for Barry?" Nico whispers, looking up at Leo.

Of course, Leo doesn't answer.

They sit together, the television news playing behind them. The show is going to end soon. They must have missed the minutes that discussed the murder. There is a television station in Chelster that serves the communities within a four-hundred-kilometre circle around the town. A kid a three-hour drive north got his fingers stuck together crossed, broken in a tractor accident. They had to drive six hours to the nearest hospital to have surgery on his hand. An argument between the premier and the prime minister about oil and taxes and remittance. A drought now, in the last month where there has been no rain and dry wind.

When the door finally opens, Este on the other side looking for Ajay in the bathroom, she is met with the better part of a dozen faces. Well, the worst of their faces, muted and sunken.

"You rolled out the red carpet for me?" she asks.

"Close the door."

She listens to Leo. Shutting the door behind her. Leo stands up and stalks to the back of the motel room. The bathroom door groans as he rips it open. Eva sits up from her spot on the floor, staring up at him.

Leo steps inside and stares at Audrey, "get out. Now."

Before they can answer, Leo moves back into the room.

"Who wants to be the first person to confess to a crime?" Leo asks, glaring at the others.

Clare stands up off the bed. She doesn't look at Ajay.

"Leo-"

"I don't need a detective, Canosa!" the words rip out of his mouth. "I need a fucking confession. Audrey?"

On the floor of the bathroom, Eva smirks, "find out we've been living off the proceeds of crime?"

"What?" Leo asks.

"I've been stealing from houses and selling stuff to the pawn shop," Eva grins. "Robbery."

"Burglary," Clare whispers. "Unless you've been threatening them, it's burglary."

"Maybe I have been?" Eva snaps.

On the bed, Fallon grabs a pillow. She puts it on her lap, squeezing it tightly.

Leo laughs, "oh, that's just fucking great. So we've got grave robbing. I fucking hope that's what they've got you for Audrey because so help me if it isn't. Grave robbing and regular robbery. What about you, Ajay? Anything to confess?"

Este's fists curl at her side. It's her ugliness, not his. Of course, Leo asks the man what was done, and not the woman with her claws wrapped around the trigger. Maybe Leo thinks his voice is loud, but the gunshot rings in Este's ears. She crosses her arms over her chest.

"If what you're asking is who killed Jayce Rodwell, put my name in your mouth, not Chandra's," she stares Leo down.

Clare's heart thrums in her neck.

Less than an hour ago, Kaia had thought about vengeance. The love of her life, the only life Kaia ever got to have, is now marrying the man who killed her. Or maybe Rory did the deed herself. Kaia will never know the order of events. There are hundreds of versions in accessible to her. In one, Rory slammed a rock over Kaia's hands after she escaped Liam's grasp. Another version has Rory bawling as Jayce forces the rock into her hands, another with Rory doing it because she knew Kaia was on her way out of life anyway and blunt force seemed quicker, less agonizing. The one she doubts the most is a version where Rory didn't touch her at all. Regardless, Kaia's life was stolen, but so Rory's life has been stolen too. Marrying a man she could never love, one who is responsible for Kaia's death.

And too many white men kill women who look like her and Este. Too many men get away with it.

"You've endangered the rest of us."

"We're already dead?" Este smirks, shaking her head.

Leo looks at Ajay, who flinches away, "what were you both thinking?"

Ajay doesn't answer. Neither does Este, but Ajay feels like she doesn't think she needs to answer. Ajay must atone.

In the bathroom, Eva is giggling. Leo shoots her a look, and she cackles, "Leo, what would you have us do?"

"We could have..." Clare trails off. Not the police. Obviously not. "We could have gone to the news. You could have told them you fled for your life, Este, from his abuse. And after what happened to Kaylee, you've come forward."

"He's a Rodwell," Este rolls her eyes.

Clare doesn't answer, because she knows the name. Rodwell is the name of a defence lawyer in town. The only one for miles, of course, but the best one in distances further than that. Rodwell is the name of the man who defended the boy convicted of Clare's murder. The boy who didn't do it.

"You should have talked to us," Leo says. "We should have agreed to it."

"Like we agreed about the priest?" Kaia asks.

Fallon curls up tighter.

Only now does Nico pull up from the edge of the bed. They look around at everyone. Telling someone to calm down has never once, in the history of all of time, worked. Nico's head hums with anger too, but it's not unidirectional. They are angry at Leo's righteousness, at Ajay's recklessness and Este's self-righteousness. They are angry at Kai for moving on, and they are fucking angry at themselves for losing that damn Epi-Pen at Christmas last year. They hate the flat lands where they are trapped. Barry's right; Chelster is a terrible place to live and a worse place to die. They are angry at men with money and the police who protect them, and they fucking hate that all they want to do is have money so they can buy waterproof shoes. Boots are the kinds of things you have or are under. There are no good cops, or good governments, or good deaths, and probably not any fucking good lives.

"We can't just go around doing vigilante justice." Leo sighs. "This is how lynch mobs begin."

"We can do nothing, though?" Kaia asks, her voice raising. "All we have been doing is nothing."

"Sitting idly tells us nothing," Audrey shouts from the bathtub, looking over at Ambrose. Mostly to check if Eva looks back at him. She doesn't.

Este cringes at joining Audrey's side.

"This isn't right," Fallon whispers into the pillow.

Her death was senseless, violent, nonsensical. She was at the right place at the right time and still is dead. And she doesn't feel any anger, or any crawl for vengeance. Maybe Fallon isn't happy, but killing some junkies isn't going to give her the edge she needs. Anger feels warm but fire requires fuel. Fallon is no pyre.

"We can crawl back into the dirt where we came from, if you want," Eva winks at Fallon.

"Not appropriate," Nico snaps at her.

"Or helpful," Ajay says. "What's done is done. We're not going to bring him back to life talking about it."

"Maybe Audrey can," Eva laughs.

Leo ignores her, "talking about it means we can decide what to do. And agree never to violate this line again. We've been given a second chance at life, and all you want to do is take others?"

Obviously, Leo has never thought he deserved this chance. Somehow, amongst these ghosts, he's starting to think no one does. Maybe he's close. He's doing good, and Este is taking life. Leo wouldn't even kill his father, who murdered his childhood friend. If Leo doesn't believe in justice, what can he believe in? Not God. Not good men.

Lydia feels herself blend into the smells in front of her. She counts out the sides people are taking and slipping into. If Barry were here, her decision would be easier.

In the chaos, Audrey slips out of the bathtub. She pulls out the tool she's been keeping in her pocket.

"If I'm going down, I'm taking every bastard who takes down women with me," Este spits. "First Jayce. Now the pastor."

The air is sucked from the room. Kaia slinks off the bed, brushing past Clare and stepping next to Este. There, Clare stares after her, longingly.

"You're not..." Nico gulps. "You're not serious."

"We can go to reporters," Clare swallows.

Ajay pulls himself off the chair, "Ambrose told me a while ago that the cops were on his boss's payroll. He thought they might be on the pastor's too."

"We aren't killing anyone," Leo says.

"We aren't killing anyone at all," Este rolls her eyes. "If he's like Kaylee, he'll come back too. Then the burning will get him."

Over Ambrose's body, knife gleaming in the light streaming into the bathroom. Audrey pauses. A replication of an experiment. Ambrose will be here when she gets back.

"Could be fun," Eva shrugs. When she turns back to look at Ambrose, the knife that was in Audrey's hand is gone. Maybe they hover over Ambrose in a freakish way, but nothing too odd for Audrey. Besides, Eva is a proud freak.

Lydia looks at the lines. Four people against, five people in favour. Albeit, with Eva and Audrey, people nobody thinks of as rational. Barry wouldn't give a fuck, maybe. But Lydia. What does she think? Independently of everyone else. She must decide. The burden is hers alone.

From the bed, Fallon gets up. She barely makes it into the bathroom before she is sick. The stench of Ambrose hits her, and what would have been dry heaving becomes her emptying her stomach. She clenches herself tightly.

The police are already coming after them. This is how lynch mobs begin. Lydia knows what crowds mean, how fast they can turn. One person can become your world, a thousand people can break it.

No. This is wrong. She drops the potpourri and steps closer to Leo.

"So this is it then?" Fallon whispers.

No one answers.

The motel door jingles. When it swings open, Barry stands on the other side. Even with their jacket zipped all the way up, Barry still shivers. The room is hotter than it should be. The bathroom door is open, and people have red faces. Barry doesn't step inside. Instead, they smirk.

"Guess the police got here before I did?"

~~~~~

Okay, I actually edited this one. And the changes I made I think elevate the text. What side would you fall on here? Is there a character you agree with most? Let me know haha. I think I really resonate with the fuck it we ball energy of murder, but I feel Fallon's point about the hollowness of revenge is so convincing lmao.