Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Twenty-Eight | Killian

"Family ties mean nothing now," Chris growled softly. "Not in a world like this. Not when the dead come alive and murder our own. If Jackson is capable of doing whatever that thing did to Wilson, then we can't risk it." His eyes flickered towards Jasper, "As a group leader, maybe stop thinking about your plaything and think about the rest of us, too."

Plaything? Killian felt as if a knife had been stabbed through his chest. A sudden sharp, indescribable pain he couldn't describe. "I'm not a plaything." Killian hated the way his voice shook. "I'm a person."

Looking up, Killian could see the bloodlust in Jasper's eyes again. A burning hatred towards Chris and everything that man stood for. Somehow he still calmly replied, "Of course I won't take personal matters into consideration," then quickly added, "So I'm dismissing you from the meeting on account of unsolicited aggression towards another group member."

"What? You can't do that!" Chris whipped around to glance towards Tom. "Tom, you're the leader. Can't you-"

Before Chris could continue to cause problems Tom replied bluntly, "You've already just established that Jasper is a group leader, and you'll treat him as such. All leaders are equal here. Respect his decision as you would respect mine, learn to hold your tongue on unnecessary insults."

"It's not just an insult if it's true." Chris jeered, glaring at Killian straight in the eyes. He shoved past him, purposefully bumping into his shoulder. Trying to catch his balance, Killian put his bad foot down and immediately winced, using Jasper to help him keep his balance. Something about Chris' glare put him off. It wasn't just a glare. There was some sort of promise behind it, a promise Killian didn't want to see come true--whatever it was, it wasn't good.

The next person to speak was Casimir, ignoring everything that had just happened. "I agree that murder might be a bit hasty," His voice was smooth as he continued, "However, if Jackson holds some sort of information we could use, it shouldn't be hard to get it out of him. The only problem would be...husbandry." Husbandry? Killian thought angrily. He's not an animal. "Specifically, diet." Casimir moved his arms away from Keagan to cross them. "If he has a taste for human flesh, that won't exactly be pleasant."

Clenching his hand harder around Jasper's, Killian could feel the anger growing more and more inside. Like the bottle Jasper had talked about before, he was about ready to shatter and hurt anybody unfortunate enough to be close. Aubrey suddenly gave him an apologetic glance, and Killian felt his stomach churn uneasily. "This is all too complicated. Why don't we just let him go?" Aubrey, you too? At least she hadn't been heartless enough to suggest his execution.

So far, things weren't looking so good for Jackson. He had to do something. Jerking away from Jasper, Killian had to get away from that conversation. Part of him wanted to break Jackson out of the house then and there, but that would cause too much of a scene. Jasper's reputation would be on the line if he stuck up for Killian, which he knew he would. Jasper was too protective for his own good. From the hallway he could hear Darren say quietly, "We can't kill him, but if Cohen thinks some sort of tests could be done to figure out what he is, I don't think we should throw that away as an impossibility."

With his stomach twisting and a dizzying nausea taking over, Killian wound his way through into the kitchen and slammed open a screen door, not bothering to close it as he left. Shoving his hands in the pockets of Jasper's jacket, he sat down on the steps and closed his eyes, wishing the feeling of impending disaster would go away. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, he could feel his heart beating hard against his chest. Everything felt tight. Even though he was outside, it felt like he was trapped, unable to move. It was getting harder to breathe. Pressing his face against the wooden railing, Killian attempted to cool himself off, clenching his hands to try and alleviate the anger and resentment he felt towards these people he trusted.