Sublime Messages

Seven, B

"Damien? The Damien Jensen? The one I've come to get information about?"

"I guess."

Vanessa shook her head more to clear her thoughts than to disagree with him. "Wait, hold on. Damien Jensen is holding up that school full of kids over in Palm Valley."

"No, I'm not."

"That's the whole reason I'm here! Your prints were on the letters—"

"Well, that's a mystery then."

"If it's not you, then who is it? Who's there?"

It was his turn to shake his head. "Besides Ruby, I don't exactly know. It's something I can't figure out."

"Ruby as in Anabelle Rouge's daughter Ruby?"

Damien flattened his lips, raised his eyebrows; it was answer enough.

"But that's—it's—" Vanessa huffed. She lowered her gun.

"Impossible?"

"No, I guess not." Her jeans pocket vibrated, reminding Vanessa of two things: first, that she was soaked in some foul liquid and second, that every passing moment was potential for concern. She retrieved her phone and dreaded answering Eli's call, turning away from Damien in order to do so. Her old friend's ominous and desperate words nearly brought Vanessa to her knees, but she was lucky to be near one of the folding chairs and able to sink into it. Eli's voice, his continued detailing of this new terror, hummed against her ear, but then she recalled the revelation she'd just experienced. "Listen, I do actually have information.. Damien Jensen, he's—"

The phone was abruptly snatched from her hand and flung far off into the brush.

Vanessa twisted slowly to see Damien standing over her, the sheepish look on his face almost comical. "Look, I'm not your enemy here, all right? We just—we need to talk before you tell him anything."

The woman would've burned a hole in him with her gaze if she could've. "Go and get my phone," she ordered, her voice low, insistent. "Now."

Damien put out his hands. "I will, okay? I will. If you just promise me you'll—"

"Now!"

"Fine! Fine. Just calm down, all right? I'll get it."

Within half an hour, after a quick stop at the motel so Vanessa could change out of her wet clothes, the two of them were settled in Arlo's, alone; the bar wouldn't open for another few hours. Interior lights were off. The bright daylight was enough to illuminate the table at which they sat. Damien had opened a beer for himself, but Vanessa had declined when he'd offered her one only because she needed something stronger. He'd fixed her an Irish coffee.

"Don't think that just because I'm sitting here with you that I in any way trust you, Damien," Vanessa grudgingly snarked. She warmed her hands against the glass mug he'd given her. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around you not being who I thought you were, and then Eli's call . . ." She turned her head toward the window, curled one fist against her mouth and bit her knuckles.

"It was the eyes this time, wasn't it?"

Damien's words were sympathetic, gentle even. Vanessa realized he was watching her keenly and gave in to the deep sigh she'd been holding. "How did you know it?"

He lowered his gaze toward the tabletop. "It's always the same order: teeth, tongue, eyes, ears, and then the bad stuff—but you don't want to know the rest."

"She's done this before, Ruby? Somewhere else? Another school?"

"No."

"But you said always the same order."