A DREAM.
No, a vision.
Hannah's in a lulling state of awareness and sleep, forced to suffer the headache-inducing indiscriminate flashes of a future she doesn't want to be shown.
She tries to fight the pull, but can't.
Kane. She sees him kneeling in a sea of blood, his back to her. There's a figure above him, looming and clouded in shadow, offering a hand. Her heart leaps against her chest, but she can't scream for him to not reach out with crimson-dripping fingers.
He does, holding tight, like that hand is the only thing keeping him from drowning in the murky red.
Above, in the starless black sky, a raven circles and laughs humanly.
Before she's thrust into the next vision, she sees the hand that Kane holds, and worn on death's finger is a familiar signet ring.
She is surrounded by cold stone and knows this vision, past or future. The cell no longer keeps her in its torturous chill. She's in Francine's body, seeing through her eyes and feeling her sensations.
Her fingers slip through soft hair. Her bare stomach shivers at the graze of smirking lips moving downward.
She tugs, and the weight of a body draping across her form steals her mouth in a tender kiss that has her heart beating fast enough to dizzy her terribly. She's been dizzy a lot lately. She thinks anyway. Fingertips dance over her naked skin. She arches into the touch, moaning softly.
"Francine," Azrael purrs near her ear. "Darling."
Hannah awakens with a jolt at a touch of fingertips against her cheek. She's smiling before her eyes fully open, this having become welcomingly familiar. The dream slips away. The ghosting shivers of Azrael's deceptively tender touch leave unwanted goosebumps on her skin, but the distracting smell of Kane envelops her.
However, when she opens her eyes, she's not met with a heated green gaze looking for a late-night rendezvous. This is despair so tangible that she's out of bed before she's even thought about throwing off her blankets and swinging her legs over the mattress.
"What is it?" Hannah breathes, rising. She's close to hyperventilating. Kane looks shaken, and that means whatever has happened is bad. She can't fathom why, after everything they've been through and survived, she'd begun to think of them as invincible.
Kane's in full gear. Leather jacket, boots—the only thing he's missing is his sword. "The fucking moron..."
He embraces her, and Hannah gasps softly, crying and not understanding why—just that Kane's trembling, and it's scaring her.
He tells her everything that's happened while she slept unaware.
In the kitchen, Reid had taken her hands and danced with her. His blue eyes were full of an emotion that left an ache in her heart, but she didn't know what. Now she knows it was guilt and fear he was carrying.
Because Reid did something so stupid, she wants to punch him, but also heroically self-sacrificing. It's the only way that they'd save Francine in time—they only have days and aren't a step closer to finding a way to Shadow Peaks and Azrael. Tonight showed that. They had the crystal, but that's all.
They've been stuck playing Azrael's game. Every step forward they've taken has been by that monster's hand.
Hannah sits on the edge of the bed. She looks at the letter in her hand, the paper shaking.
Kane refuses to relax, pacing with heavy stomps of his boots and constantly running his hands through his hair restlessly. It's making her nerves even worse, but she knows it's his way of doing something when he can't. The urge to fight must be overwhelming for him to hold back.
Hannah asks tightly, "Have you read it?"
Kane scoffs. "Skimmed." He exhales shakily, pacing. "I was...angry."
"Do you want me to read it aloud?"
Kane finally stops his endeavour to scruff the planks of the floor with the indents of his boot soles. He leans his lower back against the edge of the desk and nods.
Hannah reads the letter aloud: "Yes. I'm aware that I'm an idiot. You're going to kick my ass, yada, yada." She lifts the paper gingerly. "It literally has written, yada, yada."
Kane doesn't reply, continuing to glare holes into the drapery of the closed window.
Hannah clears her throat. Looking back to the paper and concentrating on the handwritten words past the blur of tears that's overtaking her eyes. "I know threats of violence are your way of saying I love you."
Hannah smiles tearily at Kane's snort, because it's true. She continues, "I tried to think of alternatives. There's none. Azrael has a month on us, and every day that passes, he's building his army. Alma's our only hope of getting to the monster before he's unstoppable."
Breath hitching, Hannah looks up, and Kane's staring at her, green eyes miserable. Reid's right. Neither of them can deny that. But couldn't he see that he wasn't worth this sacrifice?
She looks back at the letter, heart heavy, and continues, her voice cracking slightly, "Alma won't give me to Azrael. Not for at least a day. He hates me, and he'll take the opportunity to show me just how deep that dislike goes. Now, all you have to do is find me, and we'll have Alma and everything he's hiding."
She squints at the bottom of the page, where the nice penmanship has been written smaller with obvious haste. "Hurry, I'll never forgive you for letting that Pond scum break me."
Hannah laughs in disbelief, lowering the letter to her lap. She has tears streaming down her cheeks. "He's such a dork." She lifts her gaze, and Kane's staring at her with closed-off coldness. "What are we going to do?"
Kane shoves away from the desk. He feels far away. The man she met a week ago, cold and untouchable, is looking down at her when he says with a gruff edge to his voice, "Ready for a lesson in magic?"
Hannah gawks at the weaponry that fills the chilly basement. She's felt like an outsider for the last hour. Lingering near the weathered table in the middle of the damp room. She's unable to contribute to the conversation because she knows nothing about guns or the best bullet to kill a vampire.
Apparently, there are more than a few.
"He's an idiot," Lucas says suddenly. He'd been focusing entirely on taking apart a pistol piece-by-piece. For a reason that Hannah doesn't understand, but he's expertly putting it back now with deft fingers.
Kane snorts. "Just figuring that out now?"
Hannah clutches the ring she'd been given to keep safe, as Kane had said gruffly, before taking to finding every sword that he has strewn about and laying them on the table's surface. He's being picky. He won't admit such, she's sure, but he's taken out a few blades from their leather sheaths and glared at the glinting steel like it personally offended him by not being sharp enough before putting them back.
Reid left them his ring with the note. Hannah fingers the grooves of the outstretching vine that's inlaid into the flat blue metal. She thinks of her vision. Death wore this ring. Does that mean Reid is Kane's death? The mere thought fills her with dread.
But she can't dwell on the possibilities now.
Kiernan picks up a long piece from Lucas's taken-apart pistol. He hands it to the man and says, "He purposefully subdued us all, knowing that we'd be none the wiser about his scheme. He's not an idiot, quite the opposite."
"He acts like one," Kane mutters, and he decides on a blade in a thick leather sheath with a silver hilt. He slings the sword over his shoulder and moves behind Kiernan to assist him in strapping the side holster to his upper back. "How'd he subdue you?"
Kiernan looks off, his expression placid. "Conversation. We spoke at length." He takes a pistol from the table and shoves it into the holster.
Kane steps away with the deep frown he's been wearing since Hannah awoke to this nightmare and moves back to the table, busying himself with the weaponry.
After a moment, Kiernan continues, "I didn't realize the guilt he was keeping was because he had plans once we weren't watching closely."
"He sang to me," Hannah says, shrugging at Kane's snort.
Lucas says, "He flirted with me." He pretends to not see the fiery glare Kane's giving him from across the table. "Should have known something was up when he was acting sweet like that."
Kane growls, "Stop fucking flirting with him." He harshly shoves his gun into the holster at his side, underneath his leather jacket. He's shaking, and Hannah doesn't think it's entirely caused by Reid's continued obsession with sharing the spit in Lucas's mouth.
Kane's freaking out. He's shutting her out and snapping at everyone that dares meet his glare.
"Tell him to stop flirting with me," Lucas retorts. "He came to me."
Kiernan interjects stoically, "He's most likely being tortured as we speak." He doesn't react to the pair of glares he receives from the towering mages on either end of the table. "How Reid chooses to show his affection is the least of our worries. Let's get him out alive, then worry about trivialities."
He's right.
The others must agree because there's no more arguing. They're entirely focused on arming themselves. Once they're finished, Lucas heads upstairs with Kiernan on Kane's order for them to wait for him in the parlour with Presley and Rowan. The poor woman has been pale and shaky since she found out what happened. Hannah's heart aches for her.
Hannah's suddenly unsure. She's alone with Kane in the chilly basement. The door, having clicked closed a few minutes ago, Kane busies himself with stuffing stray bullets into the pockets of his jacket.
Then Kane's green gaze slips to her, and it's detached, but there's a warmth there that leaps the rapid beat of her heart with familiar affection.
"Hannah," Kane says gruffly. He lays his fingertips on the black box that he'd carried from upstairs earlier and placed on the table between the strewn weapons. "You have to take him. Something tells me that letting Valrus fall into the wrong hands would be devastating."
Hannah stares at the box of black wood. Her fingers twitch to reach out, and feel the dead coldness that she knows will be there. That's where Valrus has been this entire time?
"This is a dampener box," Kane explains. "There's no magic in its confines. He's subdued or gone. I don't know. Don't open it."
He pushes the box toward her. She flinches as if touching it will make her that woman chasing the burn of that destructive flame she'd left behind. She doesn't want to be her again. She forgot about him and doesn't know what seeing Valrus again will do to her. The thought scares her.
Kane says, "You'll need to take him. I said I'd take care of it, and I will. But I don't know what I'm walking into tonight. I might not..."
"Don't..." Hannah's eyes burn with tears. "You're coming back."
"I might not," Kane says softly.
"Shit!" Hannah gasps, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm coming with you." She moves to grab a pistol from the table, but fingers snatch her wrist.
She hardly has time to react to the tug that has her stumbling against Kane's broad chest, gasping as a hard kiss takes her mouth.
This isn't the familiar warmness of love that would have gentle, calloused hands gliding over her bare skin, making her wither with pleasure. This is the desperation of an aching longing to touch one last time.
Then, a hand grabs her shoulder and turns her. Her hips hit the edge of the table. There's a parted mouth grazing the delicate skin behind her ear and harsh breaths against her ear. The callouses of a palm clutch her jaw, fingers slipping between her lips.
She arches into the touch, reaching back and grasping the strap of Kane's holster across his chest.
Her palms flatten on the table, fingers bumping a sheathed blade.
She cries, heaving gasps.
Not from the harshness of the hands that pull her cotton shorts down mid-thigh. She's pressing back against the chafing friction of Kane's jeans and lowering herself onto her elbows when his fingers find her hair, twisting. She's moaning for more of the desperate touch that will leave bruises on her skin and aches come tomorrow.
She's crying because this could be goodbye.
Kane's hand covers her mouth, smearing tears and spit across her damp cheeks. He's a relentless force, taking until she's a muffled, moaning mess.
She'd never survive if he didn't come back. Can't he see that? She needs him to breathe.
Hannah pulls the hand away from her mouth. "I need you," she gasps.
"I'll find you," Kane rasps, stilling and slipping a calloused palm under the hem of her shirt to smooth over her sweaty back. "I've seen death, the walk to the other side, and I would wait for you."
Hannah glares over her shoulder, tears falling. "You will come back, both of you, or I'm going to kick your asses."
Kane laughs gruffly. Hannah reaches back blindly, finding his hair and pulling him into a harsh kiss that tastes of salty tears.
They don't speak more of death or uncertain futures. They pretend for a precious moment, with sweat-slick skin and searing touches, that love is strong enough to beat fate's cruelty.
Hannah sits cross-legged on the parlour floor. The coffee table, couches, and armchair have been pushed aside. The carpet has been rolled to reveal a rune burned into the aged planks. There are four points and artistic swirls from a knowing hand that she doesn't have the knowledge to understand.
She's having a hard time not laughing, despite the dismal circumstances. Kane's lazy take on magic is a sight to behold.
Kane drops a clump of moss-covered dirt onto the topmost point of the rune. "Earth."
"Dirt, mate?" Lucas asks from his place on the floor, sitting cross-legged beside her.
"It'll work." Kane takes the cup of water from Rowan's waiting hand and, holding Lucas's gaze, drops the entirety on another point of the rune. The water pools and slips between the glossy planks of the floor.
"Water," Kane says, expressionless.
Lucas makes a distressed sound from deep in his throat.
"Fire," Kane says. "Presley."
Presley leans forward with a lit candle that smells of cinnamon and places it sheepishly on another point of the rune.
Hannah can see over the werewolf's shoulder. In the shadows of the foyer, Kiernan watches stoically. The vampire doesn't want to be close to magic, apparently, or he finds comfort lingering in dark corners creepily. She's not entirely sure.
"No," Lucas whispers, horrified. "Don't you dare."
Kane holds Lucas's gaze, unfastens the jar he's taken from the mantle of the fireplace, blows air inside, and replaces the lid.
"Air," Kane says in that dead tone, placing the jar on the last point of the rune before sitting cross-legged on the other side.
Lucas leans heavily against the couch, disturbed. "You're crazy."
Kane shrugs. He looks at Hannah, and her heart leaps. "We'll walk you through what you need to do."
Hannah nods. "Okay." She's more than nervous that she's going to be the one casting the locater spell, but Kane and Lucas need their magic for the upcoming fight they're sure to face. "I'm ready. Let's hurry."
In the middle of the rune sits Reid's ring.
Kane says, "Focus on awakening your magic."
"What's with the dirt and stuff?" Hannah asks tightly. She's not used to her power, and the tingle in her fingers is wholly uncomfortable. She can feel her magic waiting for her command, but it's wild, making her fight to focus on keeping it subdued.
"There's always a price with spells," Lucas explains. "Different, depending on what you're invoking."
Hannah asks, "Price? For who?"
"No one knows," Lucas replies in a whisper. "But it demands payment."
"And if we don't?"
"It'll take it another way."
"Fucking creepy, Lucas," Kane snaps. "Hannah. Look at me." He holds her nervous gaze. "Pour your power into the rune."
She does. The swirls of burnt black begin to brighten into a vibrant purple. She's sweating from mental exertion.
"Good." Kane's green eyes harden. "Now, focus on the ring. Envision Reid in your mind. Your feelings for him, and your want to find him."
Hannah's about to voice her confusion on how to do that exactly, but then there's a blooming of warmth in her chest. She knows somehow, this isn't her magic, but the rune's answer.
She focuses on the ring.
She doesn't resist her emotions. Her heart is aching with longing and her stomach is churning with dread. Her overwhelming worry for Reid's well-being is at the forefront.
The ring takes on an otherworldly dimness that glints the metallic silver.
The rune gradually loses its purple glow.
Kane picks up the ring. "He's not close by." He rises, his expression cold, and Hannah's heart beats faster with the desire to beg him to stay. But instead, when he looks down, her lips rise into a shaky smile.
Kane's gaze lingers on her for a long moment. She thinks he's going to say something, his lips parting, but then he's turning away and making for the foyer with heavy stomps.
Lucas pats her head. "We'll be back," he says, before rising and following Kane out the front door with a glance back, giving her a reassuring smile that lifts her heavy heart a little.
Moving to follow, Kiernan is stopped by Rowan, who approaches him and lays her fingers on the curving wooden door frame to the foyer. "Did he... did he lie? The others said he lied to make us all..."
"He never lied," Kiernan says coldly. He holds Rowan's gaze. "Not to any of us."
Rowan sniffs, teary. "Bring him back." Her voice cracks, pleading, "Please."
Kiernan stares at her for a few silent beats.
Then he's out the door, closing it with a soft click, and the world that had begun to brighten becomes shades of bleak grey.