Cry Me A River | Book Two/Season Two

5

"They're coming back, so we don't have much time to talk." Deaton explains as he mixes a concoction. I look around, noticing there's no sick dog that needs to be urgently taken care of. Then, it hits me. The clinic is closed. I was so caught up in all of the Derek drama I let James lie to my face.

"Uh, what is that?" Scott asks Deaton.

"Rubbing alcohol" He then walks over to me before speaking again. "You don't want it to get infected, do you?" He asks me. I shake my head slowly, knowing this is about to hurt.

I pull up my shirt to reveal the cut, and wince as he starts to dab a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol onto the wound.

"It'll heal the same. Just not as quickly, because of Derek." Deaton tells us. I look to Scott, wondering how his boss is so informed on all of this.

"Okay, how do you know all this?" Scott finally speaks up. I look back to Deaton, waiting for an answer. When there is none, Scott continues. "Actually, how do-how do you know anything?"

"It's a long story." Deaton starts as he places a bandage over the scratch. "What I can tell you is that I know about your kind." He looks to both of us. "Your kind...I can help."

I throw my head back in agony as he tapes down the bandage. This pain is up there with that time Kate shot me.

"This-" He cuts himself off as he looks to the mauled body. "This is something different."

"Wha-well-do you know what did it?" I ask, pulling my shirt back down and trying to ignore the throbbing in my stomach.

"No. But the Argents will. And this is the crucial part. They'll have some kind of record, or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations of all the things they've discovered." Deaton says, motioning with his hands as he talks.

"Wha-all the things?" Scott stutters, shocked.

"How many different things are there?" I question, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Suddenly, we hear tires screeching outside. I look to Scott and then to Deaton, trying to figure out what to do. Deaton nods towards a door and Scott grabs my wrist, leading me over to it. When we enter, it's a closet. We crouch down, hoping they don't find us.

"I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent 'closed' sign." Deaton says soon after their footsteps enter the room. Then, a third set of feet enter, and Scott's heart rate picks up.

"Hello, Alan." The aged voice says. Gerard. "It's been a while. The last I heard; you had retired."

"The last I heard; you followed a code of conduct." Deaton snaps back.

"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours." Chris' voice speaks up. I look to Scott and try to control my quickening breathing.

"I did. I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his fingertips. So don't assume I'll be swayed by your philosophy just 'cause I'll answer a few questions." Deaton tells them.

"He was only twenty-four." I look down after Chris' words, sad about the young death despite his belief status.

"Killers come in all ages." Deaton says slowly.

"All ages, sizes, shapes. It's the last one that concerns us." Gerard explains.

"How about you tell us what you found?" Chris suggests. I look to Scott, wondering myself what he could have found.

"See this cut? Precise. Almost surgical. But this isn't the wound that killed him. This had a more...interesting purpose." Deaton speaks calmly.

"Relating to the spine?" Gerard asks.