Page 9 of Fortress (A Monster By Any Other Name #4)

E very high school, no matter how bland and soul-sucking it appeared during the day, took on a different character at night, something creepy and sinister: the vast darkness of the halls punctuated by the blinking of smoke alarms and the occasional distant flicker of an emergency light. Minden High, save for its dependable brown brick and the occasional window lit by the streetlamps, was no different from a dozen others that Jake had wandered at night with no more than a flashlight to guide him.

Of course, only a handful of those times had involved Jake scouting to catch a spirit in the act.

He and Tobias turned left toward the administrative offices, silent as ghosts themselves except for the whine of the EMF reader in Tobias’s hand, until Jake saw a flicker of light beneath the office door. Jake froze and raised a hand to stop Tobias behind him.

Jake turned off his own flashlight, motioned Tobias to the side. He dearly loved breaking down doors (it wasn’t something he could do much outside of hunts), but he didn’t want Tobias to catch any splinters when the wood burst. Jake gathered himself, then moved forward, kicking the wooden door in with a satisfying crack as the lock and lintel gave way, leaping through it, leading with his gun.

A shadowy figure whirled by the filing cabinets in the corner, then lobbed something toward Jake’s head. He ducked instinctively, bringing his gun up, but the throw had been bad to begin with, and the projectile—something blobby and shapeless —burst as it hit his arm. The air filled with a substance between smoke and dust, blocking out the thin light from the windows just as Tobias came around with his gun at the ready. The last thing Jake saw, before he had to shut his irritated eyes and cough from the powder clogging his lungs, was his assailant disappearing deeper into the offices.

Tobias let out a frustrated hiss. “Do we go after him?”

Jake would have answered, had there been enough clean air in his lungs to breathe.

Tobias didn’t know why Jake always had to be the one to break down doors. Tobias was pretty sure he could manage it, if only Jake would let him try. It was more a question of what angle one applied the force rather than actual strength or size, and his smaller frame meant he had less chance of being hit on the other side.

Their assailant rabbited as soon as he’d thrown his missile, and everything in Tobias wanted to chase him, to bring him down for attacking Jake, but he wasn’t sure that in the maze of offices that would be a good idea. There could be nooks and crannies and more ways out than either of the Hawthornes knew.

And Jake was still coughing.

“You okay?” Tobias asked.

Jake shook his head, rubbing at his eyes with his jacket sleeve. “Fuck, Toby, this crap got in my eyes.”

“Is it hurting you?” Tobias felt his stomach lurch.

“I just can’t see for shit.”

Tobias cast one more regretful glance in the direction the fugitive had gone and sighed. “Let’s find a bathroom.”

Jake grasped Tobias’s shoulder, and Tobias led them to the nearest bathroom, painted an irregular white over decades of faintly visible graffiti. Tobias turned the lock just for safety’s sake, then flicked on the light. Jake kept rubbing at his eyes. The powder had been fine and black, settling over Jake’s face with a strange sheen like oil on water. The blackness was thicker right around his eyes, where his rubbing had left swirls. Tobias turned on the faucet, yanking out some paper towels and wetting them. He had to grab Jake’s wrist to stop him from pawing at his eyes so that he could begin wiping at the caked crud.

Some of it came off, but a discoloration remained, darkest around his eyes and streaking back to his hairline. After Tobias had removed the worst of the crud, Jake was still blinking, his hands reaching up to rub again.

“It’s not doing shit. Here, give me that and turn the lights on, and maybe I’ll be able to get some more off.”

Tobias looked at his second paper towel coated with black muck, then up at the fluorescent lighting that burned through the tiny space. He felt cold, suddenly. “Jake... the lights are on.”

Jake straightened then, his eyes going wide, staring and unfocused. Abruptly, he turned and slammed his fist against the sink counter behind him. “Son of a bitch . Toby, I can’t—I can’t fucking see .”

Tobias drew in a slow, shuddering breath. Now that he was looking, he could see the oddness of the pattern, how it seemed to indicate shapes and symbols that felt familiar in his gut, but not to his head. “Jake, I think... that was a witch. You’ve been hexed.”

Tobias went back to collect the remains of the hex bag, using paper towels to keep the powder off his hands. He stowed the well-wrapped package in his pocket and then led Jake by his hand out of the school. At first he warned him about turns and steps, but after Jake had stumbled more than once over nothing, Tobias wrapped an arm around his waist, his gun ready in his other hand in case the witch came back. His warnings became more a running commentary on what they were passing, where they were now, something to keep himself from panic as much as to keep Jake from falling.

By the time they got to the Eldorado—Tobias helped Jake into the shotgun seat, then took the keys, started the engine and turned them back toward the motel—outrage had worked its way past Jake’s initial shock. He swore, quietly at first, and then with increasing volume, viciousness, and color until he was pounding his fist against the dashboard with almost every syllable.

Tobias drove with even more caution than usual, his mouth shut tight, squeezing the wheel so his hands wouldn’t shake. He was grateful that Jake wouldn’t be able to see the flinches he couldn’t hide.

Then Jake stopped cursing and said in a different tone, more uncertain than Tobias had ever heard before: “Toby?”

“Yeah?” Tobias looked over immediately, anxious about any new effects of the witch’s curse.

Jake exhaled, the tension in his shoulders releasing fractionally. Tobias noticed how he sat: back pressed taut to the seat, one arm braced against the shotgun window, the other stretched across the top of the seat. Like he was afraid he might slip away if he stopped holding on so hard.

“Hey,” Tobias said, and let go of the steering wheel with his right hand to grab Jake’s outstretched arm. Jake returned the grip at once, squeezing tight. “We’re going to be okay.” It took effort to say, but once the words were out, something loosened in his chest. He knew it to be true. “I’m going to fix this. We’re going to find the witch and—” He released his own shaky breath, the possibilities unfolding before him. “We’re going to undo this, soon .”

“’Course we are.” Jake was trying to sound confident, nonchalant. “It’s just a fucking bitch is all. Son of a bitch. I can’t even fucking shoot the asshole.”

“I can,” Tobias said.

Jake was quiet for a long minute. “Yeah, but it may not come to that. Gunshots get messy. There can be other ways to handle a witch, scare ’em straight.”

Tobias let go of Jake’s arm and gripped the steering wheel again. “We’ll see.”

When they got to the motel, Tobias parked as close as he could to their room, but he still had to lead Jake over the curb to their door, throwing wary glances around to make sure no one was watching. He felt the tension in Jake’s hand, through his halting steps, and then they were inside. Tobias flung the door shut, threw the bolts, and let out a sigh of relief.

Jake reached for the wall and slowly walked around the perimeter of the room, stumbling around the dressers and TV stand, groping at the edge of the closet and sink. Tobias watched, feeling a tightness in his chest; then he drew a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and focused.

Moving to the table, he used his sleeve to protect his hand while removing the remains of the hex bag from his pocket, careful to shake any last scraps out of the lining of his pocket. He took off his jacket, tying the sleeves in a knot and dropping it on the combination TV stand and dresser so he wouldn’t forget to purify it before wearing it again.

“I’m going to analyze what was in the hex bag,” he told Jake, who was fiddling with the faucet at the sink and swearing quietly to himself. He hadn’t turned on the light. Tobias crossed the room to get the notebook that he used for recording the details of their hunts. “Can you tell me if you see anything, like flickers, images, light, color?”

“Fuck no, not a fucking thing.” Jake’s voice was tight. He stood in front of the sink, one fist resting on the lintel of the bathroom door.

Tobias took a steadying breath. “Jake, could you—come sit by me? I want to see if we can reverse this ourselves.”

Jake paused, then swung around and moved unsteadily back to the bed. Tobias jumped up to guide him to the table. He pulled up a chair for Jake and took the other himself, pulling his notebook closer. Once he sat, Jake’s hand dropped to Tobias’s knee. Tobias squeezed it once, then set to work. The warm pressure of Jake’s palm and fingers helped steady his hand as he wrote the date and circumstances of the witch’s curse.

Poking through the remains of the hex bag with a coffee stirrer, Tobias wrote and reported aloud what he could identify or at least describe. Wolfsbane, hemlock, rue, something spiky he couldn’t name. After figuring out what he could (and putting aside a couple of plants to look at later), he frowned.

“Does any of this sound familiar to you?” he asked Jake, who was still gazing vacantly into the distance, the black smudges around his eyes darker than they had been back at the school.

“I fucking hate witches,” Jake said, then jerked a little, turning his head toward Tobias. “I mean—”

So Jake remembered Becca. “I know,” Tobias interrupted. He kept his voice level and his hands still. “They look h-human. But anyone who chooses to corrupt their humanity with the occult has forfeited the r-right to be considered human.”

“Toby—”

“I need to get some supplies out of the trunk, okay? I’ll be right back. I don’t recognize this particular curse, but I can try some standard anti-witchcraft remedies. I’ll be right back,” Tobias repeated, and squeezed Jake’s hand before getting up. At least he didn’t have to try to smile.

The difference between Becca and the freak they were hunting now was that she couldn’t hurt anyone again. Tobias wished he could forget her, could stop remembering her, because it never helped anything. It certainly wouldn’t help now. Jake had to know that Tobias understood what a witch was, especially now, and that Tobias wouldn’t flinch from doing what had to be done to stop the bastard who had stolen Jake’s sight. So what if there had been a time ( no, no, don’t think of it ) when the only comfort he’d known was a thin arm holding him tight, one hand over his eyes, shh shh in his ear?

None of that changed what they were hunting now , and Tobias would not think about her.

When he returned, Jake was on his feet, circling the middle of the room with his fingers extended to catch the furniture. Tobias let him roam while he warmed holy water with a high concentration of rock salt over a small burner and disinfected one of the washcloths.

Once ready, he called to Jake, “I think this may be easiest if you sit and tilt your head back or lie down.”

Jake felt for a chair and lowered himself into it, one knee bouncing as he drummed his fingers on the armrests. “Whatcha got for me? Better not taste like that gross cough syrup.”

“No, it’s a basic poultice. Just holy water and rock salt. Sometimes if you apply it to an affected area, it draws out the curse.” Tobias touched the cloth to Jake’s arm first to prepare him for the temperature and moisture, but Jake’s shoulders still flinched as Tobias draped the cloth over his eyes. “Sorry—is it too hot?”

“Nah, it’s just like my last time at a day spa. You got any cucumber slices?” But Jake’s knuckles were white, gripping the armrests. Tobias touched them lightly, stroking back and forth with his thumb until Jake let go to take Tobias’s hand instead.

After ten minutes, Tobias lifted the poultice off and went to get a fresh cloth, this one dipped in cold holy water (from a flask hastily pushed into the mini-fridge), to wipe Jake’s eyelids as carefully as he could.He tried to ignore the growing ache in his chest. Jake should not be so helpless, left to no one’s care but Tobias’s.

“Okay,” Tobias said at last. “Open your eyes slowly.”

Jake blinked them open, but his eyes were still blank green, focused on nothing. His mouth twisted, and he struck the armrests with his palms. “Should’ve worked by now, right?”

Tobias laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Yeah, but there’s other ones to try.”

Blowing wolfsbane over Jake’s eyes, drawing the sigil against the evil eye over Jake’s forehead, the back of his neck, inside both his palms, wrapping a blessed set of beads around his eyes and saying a few words to match the blessing tradition—nothing had any effect. Tobias told himself that perhaps this would at least prevent any spread of the curse. But as far as reversing the vision loss, their only real hope was to catch the witch who had cast it.

They’d come to Minden, Louisiana, after hearing one of those “weird news of the day” specials that entertain civilians without setting off ASC alarm bells. This kind of investigation was usually worth checking out but went unnoticed by ASC hunters.

A high school science teacher (plain, middle-aged, serious, and seriously upset in the interviews) had woken up to find that every plant in her greenhouse had not only been relocated to inside her house, but had also quadrupled in number. Flowers and ferns overran her carpets, and vines twined up her lamps and banisters. She’d called the police, suspecting one of her students had broken in as a prank. The police, however, had been unable to find any signs of illegal entry and hadn’t been sure how even a group of pranksters could have moved all the flora inside without the homeowner hearing so much as a whisper.

To Tobias and Jake, those details spelled out “mischievous spirit of one type or another,” so they turned the Eldorado down I-55 and headed toward Louisiana.

They’d found a few more odd things going down in Minden once they arrived, most of them focused around the high school. Nothing as suspicious as nocturnally migrating plants, but enough to connect a few dots, even if those dots didn’t yield a clear image yet. The custodian admitted that classroom doors kept getting stuck shut, no matter how much they were oiled and examined, and that sometimes even the master key wouldn’t work. He also complained that the new gymnasium hovered at arctic temperatures, despite it being summer in the South and that technicians had completely dismantled the air-conditioning unit.

Jake figured that whatever type of spirit or mojo going on didn’t have much juice, but since the Hawthornes were in the area, they ought to put a stop to it. They’d gone to the high school that night intending to scan the place for EMF, but instead they’d run into the trespasser with a hex bag in hand.

“We’re going to have to do a lot more interviewing,” Jake said. “Research. It was sloppy of us—me—to get surprised like that, and no way are we gonna let it happen again.” He glanced at Tobias, but it didn’t quite work, his eyes passing over the general area where he thought Tobias should be and focusing past his shoulder. “He looked human to me when I could still see him, which means definitely a witch and not just something humanoid. That always makes it hard. Witches can be tricky, they’re... well, you know a lot of this, Toby.”

Tobias agreed, and they brainstormed the next course of action, whom to interview and where to gather evidence. What neither of them pointed out was how much harder it would be now that they had only one working set of eyes between them.

Tobias knew he could push back the usual worries and self-doubts he had while navigating the real world, enough to get the information they needed without alerting suspicion. He wouldn’t let his own weaknesses get in the way when Jake was depending on him. Tobias had promised he would find the witch and restore Jake’s sight, and he knew he could do that. He knew how weak freaks were, how they tripped up, and how they broke.

But there were still countless ways his ignorance and inexperience could trip him up, leave him vulnerable to those same mistakes freaks were so likely to make, or at least slow him down at this, the worst possible time—when Jake needed him. Tobias knew he could do it, knew he could make it work, but he also knew that they needed to use every possible resource and assistance to get it done fast and right.

“I think we should call Roger,” he said.

Jake gave a short nod but stayed quiet, restlessly fingering the amulet hanging from his neck. That motion, coupled with the silence, worried Tobias more than he wanted to admit. He reached for Jake’s free hand, interlocking their fingers as he dialed Roger’s number, then turned the speaker on and set the phone on the table.

To Tobias’s relief, Roger picked up, though he sounded groggy and irritated. “Something tells me you ain’t got good news.”

Tobias filled him in on the Louisiana case and finished with the school, the attack, the escape. “We think it’s a witch.”

“Yeah? That how Jake lost his voice?” Roger was trying to joke, but Tobias felt his stomach drop, couldn’t quite get out a response.

“Funny,” Jake snapped. “No, I can talk just fine. It’s my eyes that got whammied.”

“Ahh.” Roger took that in. “So—you stuck watching some witch’s personal horror slideshow, or is everything gone black?”

“The second one.”

“Shit,” Roger said.

“Yeah.” Jake slumped back, his fingers tapping a restless pattern on his knee.

“I already tried the standard anti-witchcraft remedies.” Tobias listed them off for Roger. “And I collected the remains of the hex bag—I think I’ve identified about sixty percent of the ingredients.” Picking up his list, he read them aloud.

“That’s good work. How you holding up, Tobias?”

“Fine,” Tobias said, and felt himself flush. He knew that not long ago he would have been basically helpless now, unable to do what had to be done to catch the witch, but he’d improved. He wished Roger could trust him to be reliable. “I’m fine, it didn’t get me at all.”

Roger sighed. “Can’t drive over to your area of Louisiana in less than a couple days, not at my age. You boys want me to book a flight?”

Tobias glanced over to Jake, but Jake continued to stare just sideways of anything, eyes blank. Tobias looked away fast, heartbeat racing again from the unpleasant shock that they couldn’t read each other’s faces and decide their next step without words. “Um,” Tobias said, and swallowed. If Jake felt strongly one way or another, he wasn’t jumping in. Whether to ask for an experienced hunter’s help in curing Jake, or to trust himself to do it alone, was up to Tobias.

He took a deep breath. “Give me forty-eight hours. If I haven’t found the witch and gotten Jake’s sight back by then, then yes, please, we’d appreciate the help.”

“I’ll pack a bag just in case.”

“We almost caught the witch tonight,” Tobias continued. “With a few more interviews, I think we can identify the common factors and ID the witch.”

“Yeah, but you gotta plan on taking this witch one-on-one, Tobias. I’m guessing Jake’s not gonna be much help when he’s playing blind man’s bluff. And this’ll get much worse for you if they hit you with the same curse—or something worse, hell. In my experience, witches’ bags of tricks don’t stop with blindness.”

“I know. It would be better not to risk a second attack.” Tobias focused hard on the phone, not looking at Jake, even though Jake couldn’t see him. “How foolproof would a headshot be to undo the curse?”

Jake’s fidgeting stopped, his head turning toward Tobias.

It seemed that even Roger had caught the quiet. “Well,” he said slowly, “it depends on the curse. But, Tobias, that’s—I dunno if you—it’s a hell of a thing, blowing someone away. I wouldn’t do it except as a last resort.”

“It would be different if I’d suggested killing a person,” Tobias said, his voice measured. “Witches forfeit the right to be considered human.”

“But they look human, and that’s what counts with your noggin. Look, let me do some research on these ingredients, see what I can find. You be careful, don’t tip the witch off, and don’t let Jake wander into the street. He won’t look pretty run over by a clown car or something.”

“Bite me,” Jake said, just as Tobias said, “I won’t.”

Blindness sucked hairy ass like nothing Jake had experienced before.

He’d been in some tight corners before, but excepting those times when he’d been shot, concussed, or unconscious, he’d throw himself back into any of those corners if he could just fucking see . When tied up, he could count on a way to work the ropes loose, pick the cuffs, or find a sharp object and free himself. No matter the plot, the plan, or the restraint, there was always a weak spot, and Jake took it as a personal challenge to find and exploit that spot.

Now, there was no blindfold to rip away. He could wait, but there was nothing he could do to give him even a moment’s glimpse of what was going on around him.

And yeah, Jake hated being reduced to a big baby , weak and helpless, someone Toby had to worry about. Toby was beside him, talking to him, doing things, being his ruthlessly productive self, but Jake still heard the undercurrent of anxiety in his voice, no matter how Toby tried to hide it. Like Toby didn’t have enough to deal with on a daily basis.

Jake was trying to keep his cool, trying to show Toby that though the situation sucked, Jake wasn’t going to fuck them up more than they were already, even though the disability made him restless and angry and ready to gut anything that made a funny noise. Already the idea of Toby alone, facing off against some wild-eyed witch with nothing to lose, made his skin crawl.

Even getting ready for bed was way more difficult than it should have been. Toby was right beside him, handing him pajamas and taking away the shirt and pants he shucked. In the bathroom, Toby placed his toothbrush in one hand and the toothpaste in his other, but Jake had no way to gauge when he had enough or too much toothpaste on the bristles, or when the fluoride shit was spilling out over his fingers until he felt it there and shook it off before he thought of who would have to clean it up. Toby was right there watching him fumble and fuck up with slimy tooth cleaner against the calluses of his hands.

“I . . . I could—”

Jake handed them over before Toby finished the offer. When he returned the brush, Jake stuck it in his mouth, thinking furiously that he better not fucking choke himself. Spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth sucked too, though there at least he could brace one hand on the faucet, gauge the distance, and have a better chance of not getting spit and Colgate all over the fucking floor.

He thought bedtime would be easier. That when he heard Toby switching off the lights, for the first time that night Jake would have a familiar darkness, the weight of Toby’s arms over his shoulders, the sound of his quiet breathing evening out into sleep.

The breathing, that was good. But the darkness was wrong . No hotel room was completely dark, except for that time in Butte, Montana, when the power went out all across town in a semi-supernatural downpour, and there hadn’t been a single car, streetlight, functioning alarm clock, or smoke alarm in a twelve-block radius of the hotel where Leon had left him. Other than that sort of cause, no blackout curtain could completely cut the glare from the parking lot, and some light would always trickle under the door.

The absence of all that locked his jaw, set his heart thudding, pulled his body into one tight line, his fingers digging into the sheets. He tried to relax, tried to rest in Toby’s arms, but he had this feeling that he had to move, had to run or the darkness would hold onto him forever. He twisted and turned, pounding his pillow into a better shape like that was the reason he couldn’t relax, when he couldn’t even say what he really wanted to punch.

“Jake?” Toby asked.

“It’s fine, Toby, go to sleep.” Jake threw himself down again. He wasn’t helpless. He had his sheathed knife under his pillow, both out of habit and the knowledge that knives were his best defense right now. But what could he actually do if someone knocked down the door? How could he be sure he was stabbing an attacker and not Toby? A hell of a lot of things that went bump in the night would love to take them down, not to mention their personal, very human nightmare that could step over salt lines like they were nothing. He’d sworn up and down to protect Toby from the ASC, from his own father, and they could all be line dancing across the street from him in fucking tutus right now and he’d never know.

Fuck . Jake sat up, putting his back to the headboard, fighting for deep, even breaths, as though if he could just get enough air and focus , he could force himself to see again. He needed to see , what good was a fucking hunter who couldn’t see?

“Jake?” The mattress dipped as Toby sat up too. “Is something happening? More curse side effects?”

“No, it’s just—” Jake ground his palms into his eyes and then dragged his hands through his hair, gripping tight. Then he broke, twisting away from Toby to give in to the urge he’d felt since he’d realized the truth in that high school bathroom. He slammed his knuckles to the wall once, twice.

“Jake!” Toby scrambled to his side, one hand landing on his shoulder, the other on his arm. “Hey, hey, talk to me, Jake, please.”

“I can’t see .” Jake dropped his head, his breath ragged, and used his palm for the next, less forceful blows between each word. “I can’t see , and I can’t—fucking—handle this. It’s like it’s, it’s fucking claustrophobic, Toby.”

“I know.” Toby squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. “I always hated it.”

That broke through the frustration and self-pity swamping him. He turned his head toward Toby. “What?”

Toby caught his breath. “It wasn’t like this. Not with magic. Don’t worry, Jake, please. I just hate that it happened to you, it should have been me—because”—he continued quickly, before Jake could respond to that statement—”at least I—have some experience. I might have—found it easier to deal with. But Jake, please, please —I know it’s hard to believe me, I haven’t had much experience in the real world and sometimes I still can’t do things—but I will fix this. I will get your sight back, I swear. Please trust me.” Toby sounded almost near tears, both Jake’s hands in his now, holding them tight.

It was enough to pull Jake’s attention from himself, to really listen to what Toby was saying. “I do,” he said, quieter. “I do trust you, Toby. ’Course I do. No one knows better than me what a badass you are. I’m not that blind, y’know.”

Toby sighed, and Jake felt Toby’s head come to rest on his shoulder as Toby let go of one hand to rest it on Jake’s back. “We’re going to be okay. We’re okay.”

Jake tried for something like a laugh, though it sounded weak. “Dude, you stole my line.”

“Never said I couldn’t use it,” Toby said. Jake felt the brush of lips on his cheek. “Maybe I can—turn the radio on? Just as a distraction.”

“Sure,” Jake said, and forced himself back down. The bed shifted as Toby leaned away from him. He heard a staccato crackle, different stations given a few seconds each, until Toby settled on one—not classical, but the familiar riffs of “Moonlight Mile.”

Toby eased back down next to him, his hand folding over Jake’s. “Okay?”

Jake rubbed his thumb over Toby’s knuckles, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t focus on what he couldn’t see. “Yeah, Toby. Just fine.”

For a second, waking up the next morning, Jake didn’t remember. He rose out of sleep slowly, blinked his eyes open—then blinked harder, because the warmth on his face meant the sun shone, but everything for him was still pitch-black.

Then panic hit, and he sat up sharply, bracing himself on the headboard, his other hand scrabbling for his knife. Hands landed on his arm, and Jake shifted to draw the knife and slash at the intruder—until Toby said, quiet and steady, “Jake.”

He remembered, then, and stopped. He stopped everything, even breathing, for a long moment to get himself under control. Then he forced a smile in the direction of Toby’s voice. “Hey, Toby. What’s for breakfast?”

Toby squeezed his arm and let go, the mattress shifting as he moved. “I thought I’d run to the donut shop at the corner. Do you want to watch a morning show? I can give you the remote.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jake held out his hand. “Get me some of those chocolate donut holes. Where’d you stash my duffel? Might as well get dressed while you’re gone.”

Even with the idle chatter of Good Morning America , it was way too quiet after Toby left. Jake tried not to count the minutes as he wiggled into his jeans and shirt (much more careful about the buttons and zipper than usual), but the show hadn’t ended before he heard Toby’s quick coded knock, followed by the door opening and his bright, “I’m back.”

Jake sat up from where he’d been stretched, trying for lazy indifference. Without his eyes, he really wasn’t sure it had worked. “You got coffee?”

“’Course.”

Jake joined Toby at the table (he remembered where that was, at least), and Toby pushed a bag and coffee cup into his hands. This wasn’t too bad, Jake decided, as long as he didn’t forget where his cup was. He should use this clusterfuck to hone his ninja skills, like Batman. Maybe the attempt at positive thinking would work. Anything to keep him from thinking about Toby facing off alone against a witch.

Toby reviewed their research aloud as they ate. Jake could imagine him ticking off each of the known victims on his fingers: Carrie Allemand, the science teacher, and Amelia Saint-Rome, the principal whose school seemed to be the epicenter of the trouble.

“We aren’t going to get anywhere digging in public archives, since it seems like a fairly new witch problem. We should ask the principal about problem students or employees who left disgruntled.”

“So, time to check out the principal.” Jake dusted powdered sugar off his fingers. “Ready when you are. Have I got sugar all over me?” He gestured toward his face.

Jake heard Toby’s hesitation in the silence before his cautious query. “You want to... come along?”

Jake shrugged, trying to keep it more matter-of-fact than defensive. Being blind was screwing with his reactions, Jesus. “I know I’m not gonna be much use in a gunfight or identifying victims, but I can at least keep an ear on your back.”

“You could,” Toby said slowly. It did not sound like agreement. “But Jake, you might be... safer here. Fewer things can go wrong, and I could—it would be easier, I think, for us to focus just on finding out what we need to catch the witch and get your sight back.” After a pause, Toby rushed to say, “I know I can talk to her and follow up on anything she mentions. I can interview whoever I need to, Jake. I can do this.”

“’Course you can,” Jake said automatically. “I just thought, I mean. Sure, whatever rocks your boat, Toby.”

Toby drew in a sharp breath, and Jake felt Toby’s fingertips on his hand. “I don’t want to leave you, if you’re not comfortable—if you’d rather go with me.”

“Nah, you got a point.” Jake turned his hand to squeeze Toby’s once, then let go. “You can’t be worrying about me tripping over shit. I’ll slow you down. Just, uh—we better come up with a good cover story for the civvies. The ladies could never resist me, but I still had a hell of a time getting info out of anyone else when I was seventeen.”

“I could say my parents are planning to move here, but they’d heard about some troublemakers at her school,” Toby suggested. “Though it might be weird if I’m there by myself.”

“She might want to talk to your parents instead, yeah. Hey! You could have her call me—I can totally be a dad.” He deepened his voice to prove it.

Toby huffed out a laugh. “If you think that will work, okay. You... I’d like you to keep your phone handy, just in case, anyway.”

Toby dawdled another fifteen minutes, going over the plan, how to dial the phone for emergencies, the available TV channels, and weapon locations until Jake finally waved for him to go, go already.

But after the door closed behind Toby, Jake became aware of the silence in a way he had never really been before.

Every move he made—exhaling, drumming his fingers on the table, knocking his boot against the table leg—was amplified. He managed to turn the TV on, channel surf, adjust the volume. But he could still hear the noise outside—voices shouting, car doors slamming, footsteps moving quick and heavy and closer.

Jake muted the TV, unconsciously holding his breath until the footsteps passed the door and faded away. Only then did he release his knife hilt.

It didn’t get much easier after that. The minutes ticked by—fifteen minutes, half an hour, Jake couldn’t tell because he couldn’t even look at a fucking watch. He switched off the TV in favor of the clock radio because at least the DJs announced the time every so often.

Toby was fine. No news was good news. Toby was in his super-focused badass mode, when nothing cowed him, when he could charm the pants off anyone, and he didn’t need Jake’s help. He’d find out everything there was to know, and then he would come back. Probably with food, because Toby was thoughtful like that and because Jake might have made an impression, early on, when he insisted on Toby getting three meals a day.

Jake wasn’t going to think about anyone giving him a hard time, hassling him about why a teenager was driving a sweet old ’67 Eldorado. Jake had gotten shit himself once, and he’d made sure the assholes left with a few bruises to remember him by. Toby could handle himself, no question about that, but there was always shit to handle. Jake was not going to think about his father showing up now, though that would be just perfect Hawthorne luck.

And if it was one of those assholes... Toby might shut down. He might be unable to run. But they probably wouldn’t recognize him; he had come so far in almost a year, with meat on his bones and clothes that fit him. And even if he froze at first—he’d get his breath back, find a chance to run, and get back to Jake. Of course he would. That was how they’d planned it.

That was the only way it could go down when Jake couldn’t rescue him himself.

It was hard to avoid the list of things he shouldn’t think about when he had nothing to distract himself but the radio. Ads for Toyotas and mattresses didn’t really do the trick. He got up, pacing the room with one hand on the wall, counting steps from the door to the bathroom. He found the bag with their first aid kit and opened it up, trying to identify items by touch, but he could barely distinguish packets of Advil from fucking wet wipes. Then he had to add stitching-up-Toby-while-blind to the list of things he wasn’t going to think about. Along with how the hell he could help Toby in a hospital, again, while not being able to see.

The DJ announced it was half past noon. Jake was not going to call. Toby was busy, and that was all it fucking was.

When a quick knock sounded on the door, Jake shot off the bed to his feet before he realized it had been their code. Then the door swung open, and Toby called, “Hey, Jake.”

Jake sat back down on the bed, but he couldn’t force himself to look any more relaxed. Toby was back, but Jake couldn’t see him, couldn’t check how he moved or even if he had a huge-ass bandage around his head or if some potato-faced creature had just stolen Toby’s voice and memories and was about to rip Jake’s throat out. Paranoid? Sure, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility because nothing was impossible when it came to Hawthorne luck.

“Hey,” Toby said again, closer yet quieter, and goddammit, Jake actually jumped when Toby touched his hand. Then the mattress dipped, and Toby took his hand. “You okay?”

Jake tried for an easy laugh. Not even he could pretend it worked. Without thinking, he reached for Toby’s face. His fingers found Toby’s forehead and the stray flop of hair that nearly reached his eyes. He traced the curve of Toby’s cheek down to his chin. “You okay?” he asked again, even though he hadn’t answered before.

“Yeah.” Toby didn’t move away, didn’t change his grip on Jake’s hand. “Nothing exciting happened, but I found out some things. I talked to Mrs. Saint-Rome, and she was really helpful. I just mentioned that I’d heard about a troublemaker, and she told me that particular student had graduated and wouldn’t be welcome back on campus.”

“Did she give you a name?” Jake left his hand on Toby’s jaw. He would move it soon. Just not yet. It was good to feel it move as Toby talked.

“No, she wouldn’t. I—I didn’t know how to find out without her wondering.” Toby’s voice was low, almost ashamed, like he was confessing a failure.

Jake dropped his hand to squeeze Toby’s shoulder. “Hey, you did awesome. That’s a great start.”

“I did ask if there was anyone else who might cause trouble or if it was just that one. She was sure no one else would. I went again to Ms. Allemand’s house to see if she’d had trouble with a student who graduated, but she wasn’t home. So I picked up Subway and came back.”

“Awesome,” Jake said, and let go of Toby’s shoulder. “Knew you could handle that and bring me back grub too.”

Toby gripped his fingers tight, then let go and stood back up. “Food’s on the table.”

The sandwich was good and easy to chow down, as long as he peeled the paper wrapper off first. “So, what’s the plan for the afternoon?”

“I was thinking I’d try Ms. Allemand’s house again and look around the school to see if I can catch anyone to talk to,” Toby said.”The witch probably won’t try anything in the daytime. I thought you could ride in the Eldorado, if you want.”

Jake lifted his head in surprise. “Yeah?”

“What I figured is,” Toby said cautiously, “it’ll help us move faster if I can bounce ideas off you, get your help on things I’m not sure about, and decide the next move. And you should be okay as long as you’re in the car.”

“Oh, yeah. Works for me. There’s nothing good on TV, anyway.” Jake could pretend, to himself at least, that Toby hadn’t read the naked relief on his face.

When Toby led him outside by the arm, it was sensory overload all over again: traffic whizzing down the nearby road, hot sun beating down, the fry-basket smell of the nearby diner. Jake lifted his face, trying to tell the direction of the sun, and then Toby nudged his fingers to the door handle before unlocking the car. Getting in still came naturally enough, and Jake ran an appreciative hand over the inside of the shotgun door and the dash.

“Guess I gotta trust you didn’t take her out for some wacko hippie paint job, huh? You better brace me before I get my eyes back if there’s a bunch of dragons or flower decals all over her.”

Toby’s laugh was audible even over the engine’s rumble as he started the car, and Jake settled back into the seat, smiling easier than he had all day.

When they returned to Ms. Allemand’s house, Toby reported a green Honda now parked in the driveway. He went to knock again while Jake tried to play it cool, listening to the radio with the window rolled partially down, trying not to think about those news reports about dogs and helpless babies trapped in cars in the midday heat. Summer in the South was no joke.

Toby returned with a name: Justin Malveaux.

“It sounds pretty likely,” Toby said, as they pulled away from the block. “That was the first name she mentioned, and she didn’t hesitate. Apparently, he had a lot of trouble in her class, accused her of a personal agenda against him. She doesn’t know how anyone could have moved her plants, but she wouldn’t put petty revenge past him. She also told me to talk to her niece, Isobel, who works at Sonic. She was in the same year as him.”

“Sounds like a solid lead. She didn’t mind talking to you?”

“No.” Toby sounded surprised by it. “I know she was defensive about her story since people have basically called her crazy since the report. But I just told her I’d heard there’d been a student at the school with some grudges, and I hoped she wasn’t in danger—and she opened right up.”

“Looks like you’ve got some charm with the ladies after all.” Jake smirked.

Toby made a soft noise of disbelief. “Let’s find that Sonic.”

It wasn’t too hard to find in a town the size of Minden. When a girl showed up with their drinks, Toby asked if Isobel was working. The girl gave an affirmative and promised to find her and send her out as soon as she had a minute. Footsteps returned before long.

“Hey,” said a different girl’s voice, young and friendly. Once, Jake would’ve flirted like hell with the owner of that voice. “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” Jake called, tipping his head toward her automatically. He hadn’t taken his sunglasses off since he’d left the motel, so it wasn’t like she’d spot anything weird.

“Jake lets me drive it sometimes,” Toby said brightly. “It’s Isobel, right? I’m Tobias. We were just at your aunt Carrie’s house. We’d heard about that weird plant incident, and since our parents are thinking of moving here, we wanted to know if that kind of thing happens a lot.”

“Please, if it did, that wouldn’t have made the national news. It’s not like we have an ASC outpost here.”

Toby forced a laugh. “Yeah, th-that’s good. So, your aunt mentioned you might’ve known this kid in your class—Justin?”

“Oh, him.” Her voice changed abruptly, going dark and angry. “I don’t even want to talk about that creep.”

“What do you mean?” Toby added quickly, “Though I understand if you don’t—”

“He’s just—such a loser , and the scary kind that thinks the world owes him, you know? I couldn’t get him to leave me alone for a while.”

“Did he—what did he . . .”

“A date,” she said, sounding pissed. “Just wanted me to give him a chance , all that shit. Only backed off when my brother got in his face. Though maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Uh... you gotta ask him that. Just, bad stuff’s been happening to people who piss Justin off.”

“Did something happen to your brother?” Toby asked, shading his voice with just the right amount of concern.

“Maybe. I can’t talk about it. He’s all freaked out, though, and won’t go see a doctor.” Isobel sounded indecisive and anxious, a tone Jake knew well when a witness was on the verge of spilling everything. “I, I just—have you talked to Antoine Gallot, who runs the hardware store? Justin worked there a little while. Antoine might be able to tell you something too.”

“What do you think he’d tell me?” Toby asked, nice and gentle. Jake gave him five stars for interviewing skills.

Isobel was silent for a long minute. When she spoke, her voice came closer, dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“No,” Toby agreed immediately. “We don’t want that either.”

“And I don’t know if—” She took a shuddering breath. “It’s a big fucking deal, I know that. I don’t want—I don’t want trouble. I know what they do to—to people who play around in that shit.”

Toby was silent. Jake said, “We won’t call them, I promise.”

“I don’t want to be the one who did that to him,” Isobel continued nervously, picking up speed, “even if... I saw him with this book, once. In his backpack, I mean.”

“What kind of book?” Toby asked.

“The kind no one’s allowed to have. Like, it looked... wrong. Alive . I was completely whacked out.”

“Did he know you saw it?”

“No, I—but I think he wanted me to see it. Like maybe he thought it would impress me or something.” Her voice caught, equal parts anger and tears. “He scares the shit out of me.”

“Okay,” Toby said. “Don’t worry. We’re going to figure this out.”

“Why?” Isobel sounded suspicious again. “Why would you do anything? What’ve you got to do with it?”

“He, uh—” Toby hesitated. “He may have hurt someone we know too.”

“Well, be careful,” she said. “And look, I didn’t make any accusations, okay? I won’t testify to the ASC about anything.”

“We’re not getting them involved,” Jake repeated. “You’re smart to steer clear of that kid. Your brother, uh—there’s nothing wrong with his eyes, is there?”

“What?” Isobel was startled. “No, it’s, uh—a shrinkage issue. Down there .” Jake couldn’t see her gesture, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. “Like guys get taking those sketcho steroids, you know? So it could be nothing. But talk to Mr. Gallot, see what he has to say.”

“Thank you, Isobel,” Toby said.

As Toby backed out of the parking space, Jake said, “Well, I guess there are worse things than being blind after all.”

Toby didn’t answer, and Jake wanted to say, C’mon, that was a little bit funny . He wanted Toby to laugh, even that little huff that he gave at Jake’s lousy jokes. But without being able to catch the crinkle of his eyes or the twitch at the corner of his mouth, Jake didn’t have the smallest clue how Toby felt, despite being two feet away from him.

All Toby said was, “I think we passed the hardware store earlier, back toward the motel.” His voice sounded far more distant than it actually could be.

Toby spent half an hour inside the hardware store, returning with a lengthy report of accidents and bad luck that had plagued the store since Justin quit, storming out one day. He also had a lead on possible locations, including a barn outside town where Justin had asked Gallot to drop him off one time.

“Sounds like he’s the one,” Toby said, tone flat as a dead lake.

More than he wanted to be able to aim his gun, check for threats, or dig under the Eldorado’s hood, Jake wanted to see Toby’s face.

Taking the lead on a hunt still didn’t feel natural to Tobias; still more unnatural was Jake’s total dependence on him. It made his skin itch, made everything feel wrong , unbalanced. Jake had always been able to take care of himself. Tobias had known that as a core truth since the first day they’d met, when ten-year-old Jake had swaggered alone into the monster pen.

In the last year, he’d seen Jake more vulnerable than he’d ever dreamed Jake could be. Tobias had once assumed that Jake had a worldly expertise that meant he wasn’t really in danger when he threw himself into situations, whether they be hunts or volatile interviews or bottles of alcohol. Tobias had been forced to reconsider that theory the first time he’d hauled Jake out of a bar fight.

Drunken nights didn’t happen so often anymore. Maybe that had made Tobias out of practice dealing with a Jake who relied on him completely. But Tobias was going to use everything in his arsenal to fix it—his way.

By the time they pulled into the motel lot, he had a plan, though he waited until Jake was safely in the room before voicing it. “We have his address, and we know enough about him to gauge his threat level with w-witchcraft. I don’t think it’s very high, more like a novice. So I don’t see any point in waiting.”

Some guilty part of Tobias thought that it was easier to talk to Jake this way, not to get flustered by his gaze on him. When Jake looked up sharply, his eyes were blank and unfocused as they had been all day. “Yeah? What are you suggesting?”

“I want to go after him,” Tobias said flatly. “I want to corner him and give him no choice but to reverse the curse on you. I don’t see a better solution.”

Jake’s brow creased, his face turned to some point just to the right of Tobias. “You want to go alone? I don’t think so.”

Tobias tensed. “I’m used to dealing with monsters on my own.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Jake—” Tobias bit back the rest, because there was no good way to say you’ll get in the way . That was not something they said to each other. By the way his shoulders stiffened, Tobias could see that Jake had heard it anyway.

“Look,” Jake said, his voice steely like when they were facing down a freak and running low on rounds. “I’m not waiting here again. Not while you go toe to toe with some teen wannabe warlock hopped up on knockoff mojo. I’m not gonna sit here and guess how long it’s been since you left, how long before I should call Roger, wait for him to show. How long before I lose my shit wondering what happened to you, not sure if you’ve ended up answering questions in some lockup or gutted for ingredients by that sick fuck. And either way, I’m trapped here because I move more than five feet outside this door and I’m going to fall on my fucking face. I’m not doing it!”

Tobias would have identified that rise in anyone else’s voice as incipient hysteria. With Jake, he was transfixed by how he could look Tobias in the eye even when he couldn’t see a fucking thing. “You may need to be there,” he said at last. “If he needs you there to undo the spell.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed an inch. “Yeah, exactly. I’m not saying you have to keep me by your side when you have your showdown, but I should be in range to hear what goes down, with a radio and cell on me in case it goes south. It’s take me with or call Roger and wait until he gets here.”

Tobias shook his head. “I don’t want to risk Malveaux taking off. I’ll take you to the site and scope out the best place for you. But until I disable him and give you the all clear, you have to stay where I put you, okay?”

Jake’s mouth twisted in a thin imitation of his usual smile. “Yeah. Crystal. So, we hit him first thing tomorrow, when he’s not expecting us.”

Tobias hesitated. “I don’t want you to have to spend another night like this.”

Jake sighed, gesturing in matter-of-fact agreement. “Trust me, I feel you. But we have to do this right and take it slow. This is not a situation we can afford to fuck up. I mean, if we both end up blind, we’re gonna have a hell of a time finding someplace safe to wait while Roger makes it down to save our asses.”

“Yeah.” Tobias paused, took another breath, and held Jake’s hand. “Okay. So, what do you want for dinner?”

Later that night, curled together in bed and staring into the darkness that was his world, Jake said, “What do blind people do all day?”

Toby didn’t answer for a long moment, and Jake wondered if Toby had slipped into the sleep that so thoroughly evaded him. Then Toby sighed and shifted in his arms, pulling away slightly.

“I’d have to do research. There’s a lot I don’t know. But I’ve heard of a type of trained dog—Seeing Eye dogs. We could get one of those.”

“Thought you didn’t like dogs.”

“I’m sure I can get used to one trained to help.”

Jake huffed. “Probably wouldn’t be much good on a hunt.”

Toby didn’t answer, and Jake felt like kicking himself. Of course they wouldn’t be hunting if he stayed blind. “Guess we’d move our stuff from Colorado to New Mexico or Arizona, what do you think? Whatever one’s got a better school for you.”

Toby made an indeterminate noise. “We’d figure it out.” Jake felt Toby’s fingertips on the back of his hand, and he turned his hand over to let Toby grasp it more firmly.

Jake went on, unable to get his mouth to shut up. “I always figured that if I couldn’t hunt anymore, I’d work in a garage, but fuck, Toby. If you tell me I’m never gonna be able to drive again, not anywhere—”

“I’m not telling you that,” Toby said quietly. “I’m going to get your sight back, Jake.”

Jake heaved out a breath, forcing his other hand to unclench. “Yeah. I know you will.”

They fell silent, and Jake thought that maybe Toby had really fallen asleep. He let himself move in, brush his lips over Toby’s cheek. He didn’t need light for that, at least. “I miss your face,” he told Toby, in a whisper more breath than voice.

Toby took Jake’s hand and brought it to his own cheek, letting Jake’s thumb trace his nose, his lips. “I’m right here.”

Finally, Jake slept.

The barn was decrepit, the back half of the roof collapsed. Tobias drove slowly around the structure without seeing any other vehicles or signs of life, then parked in the back.

“Stay here. I’m going to check it out.”

“Shucks, and here I was going to get us malts,” Jake said with heavy sarcasm. He’d been tenser, quieter this morning, but everything he said had a bite.

Tobias didn’t respond, just slipped out of the Eldorado and over to the barn door, walking silent as a vamp. He found a simple snare just inside the door, and a tripwire where a clutter of rotting boards and hay from the fallen ceiling made the footing more challenging. Neither significantly increased his appreciation of the witch’s skill or cunning. Tobias disabled both of the traps and quickly confirmed that the barn was empty, but judging by the dust-free path to a closet, it had been used recently. The stash of herbs, contraband amulets, and witchcraft ingredients he found in the closet confirmed that they’d found the right barn.

When he returned to the Eldorado, Jake was fiddling with a sheathed Bowie knife, leg bouncing. He snapped around and stilled at the sound of Tobias’s footsteps.

“It’s me,” Tobias said, and leaned his forearms where the driver’s window was rolled down. “I think you ought to wait here until I incapacitate him. I don’t like the layout—”

“Tough shit, Toby, we’ll make it work.” Jake threw open the shotgun door and got out, even if he had to stop there, one hand on the top of the car, to wait for Tobias.

Tobias gritted his teeth a moment before walking around the Eldorado, because this? Was a bad plan, a stupid plan, a decidedly non -plan sort of plan, and Jake was too fucking stubborn sometimes. For a second, Tobias considered shoving Jake back into the car, leaving him there while he staked out the barn—but Jake wouldn’t stay.

And something in Tobias still shrank back at the idea of touching Jake like that, physically forcing him to do anything, especially when he wasn’t drunk. Blind and out of patience with his own helplessness did not count, as much as Tobias would have liked the excuse right now.

He led Jake to the barn door, conducting one last survey before entering. “It’s about twenty feet wide and twice as long. This front area is cleared, with just a few support poles spaced apart. Open stalls on either side, starting here—ten steps in. I’m walking you to the back of the barn, where there’s an exit door—here.” Tobias placed Jake’s hand on it, pushing to show the give. “I’m going to sit you two steps back, against this short wall.” Tobias guided him backward and lowered him to sit on a pile of hay. “You’ll hear whatever happens in the front, but if it goes wrong, you can leave and reach the Eldorado—it’s less than a dozen steps straight from the exit.” Then what? Tobias hated that question because there was no answer. If Tobias were incapacitated, Jake’s options were limited or scarily suicidal, and he really didn’t want to think about them. “Jake, are you sure—”

The roar of an engine from the road cut Tobias off, making him flinch. His grip tightened on Jake’s arm.

“I’m good,” Jake said. “Go get him.”

Tobias squeezed his arm, then hurried down the length of the barn to stand beside the front door. He drew his pistol and held very still, his breaths slow and measured.

A single set of footsteps approached. Then the bolt slid back, the door opened, and a skinny young man with spiky blond hair stepped inside.

Taking one step forward, Tobias slammed the pistol against the side of Justin’s head.

Justin toppled forward onto his knees with a sharp cry. While he clutched his head, Tobias kicked him the rest of the way to the floor, then stomped hard on Justin’s right wrist.

Justin screamed, and Tobias yanked his arms behind his back (distantly registering the crunch of bones in the broken wrist), efficiently lashing them together with the rope he’d taken from the Eldorado’s trunk. He used a second rope on Justin’s ankles. Then, using the back of Justin’s shirt and his bound arms, he hauled him upright against the nearest post.

Justin was sweating and panting, face contorted in pain. Tobias stepped around to face him, aiming the pistol steadily with both hands into Justin’s face.

“You’re Justin Malveaux, the witch of Minden. You’ve been hexing people. Do you deny it?”

Justin stared up at him, terrified. From what Tobias had learned, he knew that Justin was a few years older than him, but in this moment, he didn’t look it. He looked shocked and snivelly and about thirteen. Tobias didn’t care. He felt nothing but cold fury and contempt. He knew better than to trust the face of any freak. It took everything in him not to pull the fucking trigger .

Apart from that savage urge and disgust, he felt focused and clearheaded. Despite everything he still did not know about the real world, this he understood. He knew how to handle a freak.

Justin swallowed, his lips parting again, but not to speak. Tobias moved in and hit Justin across the mouth with the butt of his gun.

Justin’s head jerked back, and he swore through bloody teeth, kicking helplessly against the floor.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Tobias said.

Justin spat blood on the barn floor, glaring hatred at Tobias, then said thickly, “Yeah. I hexed them.”

Tobias’s lips compressed into a thin line. Nothing more was necessary—except Jake needed his sight back. “You threw a hex bag in the high school two nights ago. The one with a blindness curse. You’re going to undo it now.”

Through the grimace of pain and anger, Justin’s face registered bewilderment. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie,” Tobias said forcefully, shoving the gun closer to Justin’s face. “We saw you there in the school office. We almost caught you then.”

“That was you?” Justin said, incredulous. “I dunno what the fuck I threw. I hadn’t finished it yet.”

Tobias gritted his teeth, but he didn’t think Justin was lying. “You’re going to find a way to undo it. You’re not leaving here until you do.”

“You broke my fucking wrist!”

“That’s not the worst I can do,” Tobias promised, his voice low and vicious with all the ways he meant it. By the way Justin stilled and stared up at Tobias, he heard them loud and clear.

“And the worst I can do,” Tobias continued, whispering so there wasn’t a chance Jake could hear, “doesn’t come close to what the ASC will do to you when they find you. Because they will find you, Justin Malveaux. Freaks aren’t very smart, and you aren’t smart, even for a freak.”

Tobias hadn’t thought Justin could go any paler.

“Witchcraft isn’t like getting bit by a vampire or a werewolf,” Tobias said, cold and mechanical. “Those who deal with the occult forfeit their humanity. There’s no mercy for you, Justin. You have two choices now: undo the witchcraft you’ve cast, renounce the occult, and leave this town; or die here and thank me for not turning you over to the ASC.”

Justin took a shuddering breath. “Okay, okay, option A. I’ll undo everything.”

“Including the blindness hex you cast two nights ago,” Tobias pressed.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I’ll do my best.”

“Your best will be a complete reversal,” Tobias snapped. “I won’t accept anything less.” He jerked his head toward the closet. “You have what you need in there. I know enough about witchcraft to know if you’re cooking up something else. Now I’m going to untie your hands, but not your feet.”

He did as he said, loosening the ropes around Justin’s wrists, then stepping back quickly to keep his pistol trained on him, out of reach of any sudden lunge. Justin took a minute to cradle and hiss over his mangled wrist, then tried to pull himself to his feet, but his tightly bound ankles stopped him.

“How am I supposed to move?”

“Crawl,” Tobias said.

Justin got to work slowly, assembling a large bowl, a battered book stripped of its cover, and a set of makeshift tools, some of them plastic or rusty. He flipped through the book for a few minutes, then looked up at Tobias. “You want me to undo the blindness one first, right? It’s gonna be hard without access to the dude I cursed.”

“Well,” Tobias said grimly, “you’re in luck.” He stepped back, to the middle of the barn, and called, “Jake, you can come out now.”

After a moment, Jake appeared, walking slowly toward them with one hand on the stalls. Tobias’s throat tightened as he realized the trust that showed in him. He moved toward Jake, blocking Justin’s line of sight until he could grab Jake’s arm and pull him behind him.

He made Justin describe the process exactly, step by step, before he let him reach for Jake’s eyes. Jake stood stiff, tense with Tobias’s grip on his arm, but he didn’t so much as twitch as Justin swiped his smoky fingers over Jake’s eyelids, chanting in halting, mangled Latin all the while. It set Tobias’s teeth on edge how bad he was at this, how easily he could fuck it all up again, but he didn’t dare interrupt.

Then Justin sat back, and Tobias tugged Jake behind him again before leveling the pistol at Justin’s head. “Get down on the floor, on your belly, hands behind your head.”

Jake felt a buzzing in his ears, which was definitely weird and probably shouldn’t be happening, since it was his eyes that were supposed to be getting fixed. Then his eyelids were tingling, and he blinked hard, grinding the heels of his palms into them.

When he next opened his eyes and blinked, the world was no longer black. It was muddy brown, with light in the distance, like he was trying to see underwater. Still, it was a hell of an improvement over unchanging pitch-black, and he let out a triumphant hiss as he rubbed his eyes again.

“What’s happening?” Toby’s voice was sharp. “Jake, talk to me.”

“I think it’s working...” He started to make out shapes, lines and rectangles and thinner lines down the floor. All were tinted different shades of brown, but that probably made sense, seeing that they were in a barn. He turned his head, desperate to see more—and there .

“Shit!” A burst of sunlight (which must have been there the entire fucking time) pierced his eyes like a fucking barbed arrow. Swearing in pain and sheer gratitude, Jake squeezed them closed, feeling tears prickle his eyelashes.

“Jake?” Toby’s voice rose, alarmed.

“It’s fine, just—I can see fucking sunlight, Toby.” Jake felt giddy. Swiping away the water, he tried opening his eyes again, cautiously. The sunlight was fucking bright at first, too bright to see anything else in the barn, but he blinked through it until shapes and colors started coming back into focus. Stalls—he was looking at horse stalls, loose hay strewn over the floor. Farm tools stashed at the far end of the barn by a door. Sunlight streaming through an open window.

He looked the other way, and the scene slowly came into focus: a teenage punk, almost as skinny as Toby, stretched facedown on the floor with his hands clasped behind his head. Toby pointing a gun steadily at him with both hands, his face committed to murder.

“Toby,” he said. Toby didn’t move. Slowly, Jake stepped toward them and even more slowly reached for the gun. Toby’s fingers went slack as Jake’s hands closed around it, and Jake was able to pull it away, placing one hand on Toby’s shoulder as he did.

“You got lucky today, punk,” Jake told the witch, trying to keep his voice a growling threat when all he wanted was to laugh maniacally and maybe dance-stomp around the barn and just look at everything, lame as that sounded even in his head. He could see, he could fucking see again—but he had to focus. “Just in case you haven’t figured it out, you ain’t a very good witch. We caught you half-blind and a day late, so get this through your dumb skull if you like living as a free man: we’re going to let you live for now. But after we’re gone, you’ll reverse the rest of the hexes, burn this barn down, leave town, and live clean. We’ll be watching you, and at the first sign, the first fucking peep of you doing this shit again, we’re going to come down on you like a Rocky Mountain avalanche. You’re going to be so flat you’ll have to use your toes to hold up your nose, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Justin muttered.

“Good,” Jake said, and bent down to punch his lights out. Then he cut the restraints on the punk’s ankles and walked away. When Toby hesitated, still looking over at the kid with death in his eyes, Jake went back to grab him by the shoulder. They left the barn, walking quickly around to where Toby had parked the Eldorado in the back.

Toby passed him the keys, just pressing them into Jake’s hands without looking, but Jake caught him before he could move toward the shotgun seat. Toby hadn’t been looking at him, but now his eyes opened wide, startled.

Jake kissed him hard, one hand in Toby’s hair above his neck, the other around Toby’s upper arm. It took Toby a moment to get with the program, but he opened to the kiss, not quite matching Jake’s ferocity.

Regretfully, Jake kept it short, licking his lips when he pulled away. Toby looked gob-smacked, wet lips parted tantalizingly. Jake was tempted to go in for seconds, but common sense (and Justin, likely to regain consciousness sooner than Jake could finish anything he wanted to do with the beautiful boy before him) got him moving. Still, it had been worth it: Toby was staring at him, alert and with him now.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They spun out of the gravel driveway a little faster than he’d meant to, but there was no sign of Justin in the rearview mirror. Jake had to talk to his baby for the first five minutes of driving, telling her how much he’d missed her and that he wouldn’t leave her again. Then he had to ask Toby for directions back to the motel. Every few seconds, he’d glance over to see Toby smiling at him.

He wasn’t an idiot; he hadn’t forgotten about Becca, the way Toby had talked about witches on the phone to Roger, or the look on his face as he’d stared at the back of Justin’s head like he was imagining carving it out like a jack-o’-lantern. But Jake couldn’t think of a way to broach the subject now, not when he was just so fucking grateful to see again, to press the pedal to the metal as they roared down the highway, on their way to get the hell out of this town. There were so many better ways to celebrate getting his sight back and the relaxation in Toby that hadn’t been there for the last forty-eight hours once they got to their next motel. Talking could wait.