"So there wasn't anything they could have done?"
"No, he was supposed to die." Cassidy said, picking at her fries. "I don't understand the dramatic jump though..."
"Maybe souls get damaged as they grow older. Younger more ambitious people looking for an easy alternative to success." Bentley replied with a shrug. I ran my hand through my hair, sighing in frustration.
"I hate this stuff." They looked over at me, "It is so unclear. Like is it a demon? We don't know. It is a cursed object? We don't know. Is everyone get really lucky and then really clumsy? We don't
know!"
"Feeling okay there Rae?" Bentley asked.
"I just hate not knowing." To much of my life is spent not knowing.
"Well, I was planning on meeting with the kid tomorrow. We should know after that." He replied.
"Sounds great." I said, pulling my laptop out of my bag. Clicking the power button, I waited impatiently for it to turn on. After about two minutes it flashed on, displaying the dead battery symbol. I groaned.
"What the hell is wrong now?" Cassidy demanded, looking up from her book.
"Dead battery. I have to go get my charger from the truck." I grumbled, standing up off the bed.
"It's locked," Bentley said, tossing me the keys before I left the room.
"Thanks." I walked outside, shutting the door behind me.
Grumbling about how stupid it was having a battery die, I thumped down the stairs of the motel to Bentley's truck. I was agitated and moody. Everything felt numb but also over stimulating. Honestly, I think it was because I was here. This wasn't a good time to be here. Unlocking the truck door, I pulled out the small backpack that I had left on the passenger side.
This was the first year. When I was running for my life, it wasn't hard to ignore the pit in my heart. But stuff like this, slow cases, I missed her more than anything else. Everyone tried to help the best they could. Dean talked to me about it last week. He knows what it's like, but part of me can't help but feel like he doesn't understand completely. Which isn't fair to him. He's trying.
Leaning against the side of the truck, I watched the sun sink lower. God, I have missed desert sunsets. The only thing that even compares to it is when the sun sinks over the ocean, but even then, it is a whole different feeling...I smiled, thinking about when my mom took a painting class at the art center. The first thing she painted was the sunset over the ocean. I bit my lip. I wondered if all of our stuff was sold at auction or maybe locked up in a police holding.
"Rae?" I looked up to see Bentley, who was standing by the hand rail. "Are you okay?" His expression was concerned.
"Yeah, just reminiscing." I replied, looking up. He nodded as he came down the stairs.
"You don't have to work this one, you know that right?" I laughed bitterly.
"Ya' know, I wish that was true." He raised an eyebrow. "Bentley, this is my home town. The place where I spent my entire life, whatever is going on here, I owe it to my mom and to my past to stop it. I can't let what happened to me happen to anymore people. No one deserves to die because of a demon..." I trailed off the end of my sentence.
"Well, you at least don't have to do it alone." He stated coming up next to me, watching the sunset fade. The vibrant colors were now soft, pastel oranges with the dark blue of night creeping in slowly behind it. "Come on inside. Tomorrow is going to be one of hell of a long day." I nodded. Slinging the backpack over my shoulder, I followed Bentley back to the room.
-------------
We were up by six the next morning. All three of us got up and got ready. I pulled my hair into high pony tail, best to keep it out of my face. We all looked professional, now it was a matter of acting the part. Our cover story was that Bentley and I were from a newspaper out of Utah and Cassidy was our fact-checker. There was no way in hell I was leaving her here with this mess going on. Piling into the truck, we set off to meet with the most recent case.
"Okay so Cole Grant, 17 years old, was diagnosed back in June with stage three, Invasive Lobular Carcinoma. This is a type of breast tumor which is rare compared to Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. Invasive Lobular Carcinoma is considered as a special type and is deadlier. It is also the type that afflicts the breast tissues of men." Cassidy read off the newspaper clip, " In the interview Cole said, "I was given about four months to live when they diagnosed me at the beginning of the year. But I believe that I have a guardian angel out there watching over me. I can't believe I'll get to go to my dream college too! I'm truly blessed." After that is more stuff about cancer awareness and fluff."
"Let me see," I asked, Cassidy handed over the file. We were the same age, the kid and me, the picture showed him holding a sign that read "Cancer Free! Can't stop me!" While I would never want to see someone die of cancer, I feared that whatever this kid did, cancer would have been the least painful way to go... Bentley took a turn to the left, onto Meadow Street. I looked up from my papers, I recognized this neighborhood. He drove for two blocks then turned right onto Sage Hill Drive. I felt suddenly lightheaded. Please keep driving, please keep driving. I begged silently, the feeling in my chest growing more intense. We stopped in front of a beige colored house with a wood fence on the left hand side. The small stoop let up to a bright red door, the bay windows to the right, a small garage to the left. My hands shook.
"You've got to be kidding me..." murmured. Bentley and Cassidy looked at me then the house and back.
"Let me guess..." Bentley said quietly.
"This was your house..." Cass finished. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the pressure of the tears.
"Welcome to my house guys..."
-------
We climbed out of the truck in silence. I lingered at the edge of the sidewalk. I can do this. I can do this. I repeated over and over in my head as I neared the house. They took out Mom's lilys... I noted as I reached the door. Bentley and Cassidy watched me quietly. I had to steady my breath as I raised my hand to knock on the door. Flashbacks of the last moments I had here, filling my mind with flashbulb memories. I knocked three times.
We waited for a minute, but no one came to the door. I looked at my friends nervously. Turning back to the door, I raised my hand to knock again, but the door swung open. Cole Grant stood in the doorway.
"Can I help you?" He asked, seemingly irritated.
"We called to set up an interview with you yesterday." Bentley stated. "You are Cole Grant, right?"
"Oh... yeah my dad had mentioned that. I thought it was later today though."
"It happens." I said curtly, "May we come in?" He seemed hesitant, but nodded, letting us enter in the house. My heart was racing. Images of that day kept flashing across my mind. Making me nauseous.
"So uh, how does this all work?" Cole asked.
"Well we sit down and you tell us about your life. What happened. What you plan to do next. Ya' know, the sappy stuff." Bentley replied.
"What newspaper did you say you were from again?"
"Deseret News, it's out of Salt Lake City." Cassidy replied.
"Wow, and they sent three of you out? For one story."
"Last time I checked we were supposed to be the ones asking the questions." I replied with a plastic smile.
"Just curious." He replied with a smirk. "So, what do you want to know?"
"Well let's start from the top. When were you diagnosed?"
"January 31st at 2:35pm." He replied nonchalantly. I raised an eyebrow. " You don't forget anything when your life takes a turn like that. It's not everyday you're told you're going to die." I smiled and scribble a doodle on my paper, like I'd take notes.
"How did you feel?" Bentley asked.
"Like shit. It was scary but I felt worse for my dad. We lost my mom three years ago from a brain tumor, it was the last thing my dad needed to hear." I nodded. That was a weight I could understand. No parent wants to hear their kid's expiration date be it by cancer or by a psychotic angel out to turn you into a weapon. "But we started chemotherapy as soon as we could. To slow it down. Give me more time."
"You were receiving treatment at the local hopsital correct? Under Doctor Miriam Hanks?" Cassidy inquired, looking down at her file.
"Yeah. She was great. She helped us out a lot."
"So tell us about treatment?" We continued on with the mediocre questions, I filled my paper with a series of scribbles and the occasional attention-getting fact.
"So, treatment stopped working?"
"Yeah, around the middle of August. I started getting sick, I wake up screaming in pain. It was really bad, but we were approaching the deadline they had set for me. Doctor Hanks recommended bringing in a grief counselor to help me and my dad get ready for what was to come next."
"And?" Bentley asked, leaning forward. Now we were getting somewhere.
"And, she was nice. Gave us all of the usual information. The brochures, the talks, the "hope". But there was something off about her. I could never put my finger on it, but it was alluring."
"Alluring? How?" Cassidy asks, her attention fully invested.
"Well to start, she was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and her voice was almost salesman like, persuasive in a passive loving way...if that makes sense." He shook his head. "All I know is that right when it was looking like my final days were here, we had a final meeting. She asked me something. That if I could change anything or having something happen what would it be? And of course I said that not dieing would be number one, but then listed off some other stuff. Like getting a full ride for Harvard this year. What better way to kick off being a senior right?" He smirked. "But she smiled at me and shook my hand. Saying it was great to know me. And that was it. The next day, my body started to recover. One week later, I got an acceptance letter to Harvard and their best scholarship. It was unbelieveable. After that it was only a matter of recovery. I've only been home four days."
"That was it?" I asked, confused. "Nothing else?" Chills crept over me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
"Nope. Clean bill of health all the way." He motioned with his hand like he was wiping something away. The three of us stared at this kid in shock. "Pretty crazy, right?" He smiled, but there was something there. Something he wasn't saying. Forcing smiles, the three of us stood, shook his hand and promptly left.
We didn't say anything for a long time. I wasn't sure if it was out of complete astonishment, or if it was because we all already knew.
"So..." Cass said, "How about we go find out about this grief counselor?"
------
"Loren Price was wonderful. She has helped so many people in this community...We receive people from all over northern Nevada, and she had become a key member of our psychology and psychiatry department." Doctor Hanks smiled, her teeth as white as her hair. While she was an older woman, her age made her soft presence dominant. She may have looked like she'd give you a cookie, but I was convinced she'd rather reset your broken arm.
"You said, "was"? Why?" Bentley asked.
"Oh, Ms. Price left the department two weeks ago. She apparently was moving to Chicago! None of us had known. It was really last minute."
"Doctor Hanks, is there anything you can tell us about Loren's relationship with Cole Grant and his father?"
"Loren had excellent relationships with all of her patients. They all loved her. She treated them just like family. But she did take quite an interest in Cole's case. Their sessions would go for hours! It seemed like the highlight of their days!" Doctor Hanks smiled. "What a wonderful person...truly, so gifted. We could really use her help with all these accidents lately, then again...she might not have been able to help...."
"Oh?" I asked, "How so?"
"Well, I'm sure you've read the papers, all of those wonderful people that have been in all the accidents around here, they were all Loren's prior patients." Bentley and I exchanged looks. Doctor Hanks's expression changed to one of frustrated disappointment, "It's a damn shame." She paused for a moment...."What newspaper did you say you worked for?"
"Deseret News. Is there any address Loren left behind?" She shook her head.
"No, she hasn't left anything behind."
"Thank you for you time Doctor Hanks." Bentley replied. She smiled.
"You're welcome dear. I can't wait to read your article!" We left the doctor behind. We grabbed Cass from the waiting room.
"What happened?" She asked.
"Well everybody loved this lady. Like, everybody. And she disappeared two weeks ago. Leaving no information behind."
"And?"
"And she was the psychologist for every single person that was "blessed". " I replied.
"So that's our link."
"Yeah, beyond that, Doctor Hanks said she had a close relationship with Cole too."
"Did you get a photo?" We shook our heads.
"No, apparently, she was always the one taking the photos." I said rolling my eyes. This was just our luck. Cassidy scrunched up her face in thought.
"Let's get back to the motel, research into "blessings" and see if there is something darker going on here." Bentley said, tossing his keys in the air. I nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, maybe we'll find something."
------
"Did you check everything?"
" Cass, this place is spotless. No hex bags. No symbols..." I murmured into the phone as I drag the flashlight beam around the hardware store.
"I don't get it. I mean there is no EMF, no hex bags, and the video footage is shitty." She sighed and I hear her shuffle papers around on the other end of the phone. "That only leaves one thing...Rae, I think we need to call Sam and Dean."
"Let me guess, demons?"
"Demons."
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Authors note:
Update woohoo!
Also SupernaturalWiki retweeted my post about the books!!!!!!!!!