Chapter Text
The last bell had long sounded at the Royal Academy of Diavolo, but not all had the luxury of turning in quite yet.
Lucifer looked out across the row of chairs to where his brothers were seated. Satan with his nose in a book, Asmo posing with his phone, Beel staring into space and chewing on the end of his pen while a pool of drool formed on the table. It was hardly the noble demonstration of the Devildom that he’d hoped to present, but at least they were behaving. They were quiet. If Lucifer hadn’t known better, he would have been downright suspicious at this blatant lack of delinquency.
A pity the same could not be said for the man behind him. From his seat of prominence above the others, Lord Diavolo had spent the last hour slowly lowering into his slumped position, hunched forward over the table, head resting languidly on a curled fist. His spare hand drummed impatiently against the wood, and the sound pulled Lucifer’s attention from the stack of papers he was using the time to work through.
Lucifer had known the prince long enough to know that forcing Diavolo into stillness for too long could be more dangerous than Beel skipping breakfast. The prince bore his impatience like a child - that was to say, not at all, and just as he let out a long, suffering sigh that Lucifer was certain was meant to draw his attention, the avatar of pride pulled a small section of papers from the rest, rose to his feet, and approached the seat of the chief judge.
“If you are looking for something to pass the time,” Lucifer began, setting the papers he held down on the table under the prince’s nose. “There are departmental budget proposals that require your signature.”
Diavolo took the pen that Lucifer proffered, but did little more than stare at it as he twirled it around his fingers.
“Here,” Lucifer continued, bringing one document in particular to attention. “The captain of the Fangol team has requested 30,000 Grimm in order to replace damaged equipment, in preparation for the new season. I’ve amended the request to grant a sum 15,000 instead. It should help instil a more responsible attitude towards the use of school equipment-”
“He’s been gone for too long.”
Lucifer halted, finally lifting his eyes to meet the prince’s. He realised then, in a moment of clarity, that he had misread Diavolo’s manner entirely. The prince was not bored - he was worried. His handsome face was marred by a knitted brow, his lips pressed together in a tight, tense line. It was so unsettling to see Diavolo this way; a disturbing wrongness in the disquiet that pervaded his usually confident, jovial face, that there was a moment before Lucifer could form the appropriate response.
“Humans are unpredictable. Barbatos is perhaps having difficulty locating them.”
Diavolo gave a small, non-committal hum, and continued to roll Lucifer’s pen between his thumb and forefinger.
“I cannot think of anything in the human realm that could pose a significant threat.”
Though admittedly he was hardly known for his bedside manner, Lucifer did feel irked at the sole, languid sigh that his efforts earned in response. In truth, he hoped that Barbatos would return, and soon, if only because the servant knew how to handle Diavolo’s moods better than he did. Resigned, Lucifer was already turning away when Diavolo spoke again.
“It’s not only him I’m worried about.”
Ah. Lucifer hung uncomfortably for a moment, wondering if he could reasonably let that be the end of their discussion and head back to his chair.
He was aware of Diavolo’s concerns. Lucifer shared them. Negotiations with the Celestial Realm had been difficult to approach and nigh impossible to navigate. Between the animosity that had existed between the two realms since the beginning of time, and a general lack of enthusiasm from any angels willing to spend a year in the Devildom, volunteers had been thin on the ground. Their saving grace had been the realm’s structure; that stifling autocracy that, despite his own personal feelings on the matter, Lucifer had exploited to the hilt - after all, when Michael said jump, the other angels asked ‘how high?’
The human realm lacked a similar hierarchy, and as such their means of finding human subjects - ah, ‘exchange students’, Lucifer corrected himself - left much to be desired. Finding their first had been simple enough. Solomon was no stranger to them, had prior contact with demons - pacts with them, even. He was a known factor, powerful enough not to need protection during the program, and reasonably trustworthy. They were also aware of his willing disposition towards the exchange before they had a chance to formally extend their request.
Diavolo’s criteria for the second student however, had resulted in their employment of less courteous methods.
All in all, Lucifer could consider their tactic a polite kidnapping.
Diavolo did not worry when Lucifer voiced his concerns, but then Diavolo rarely worried. If the selected human proved utterly incompatible, they could drop them back into the human realm with a spell to fix their memory and pluck another from the stack. Repeat ad infinitum. Or at least, until their list of names ran dry. In Diavolo’s mind, it was this simple. But Diavolo’s mind, Lucifer knew from experience, was prone to flights of fancy that only the few truly privileged by power could afford. It did not help that between them, Lucifer and Barbatos had become so effective in cleaning up their master’s messes that the consequences of his bad decisions never had a chance to sink in. As a result, once Diavolo set his heart on something, there was little that could dissuade him.
The idea that Lucifer had a hand in encouraging this monster, sent a shiver through him that he hid behind a careful roll of his shoulders.
“I am certain it shalln’t be much longer.”
He hadn’t expected the platitude to placate him. As expected, Diavolo sank deeper into his slouch. Something in his deflated expression prompted Lucifer to ask:
“Shall I go? If there is trouble afoot-”
“You’ll make it worse, I’d wager,” said Diavolo, and the ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Operations in the human realm require…” he hesitated, his hand drawing circles in the air as he searched for the right word.” “Finesse. You, Lucifer, unfortunately draw too much attention.”
It was not his words, but the implication behind his cocked eyebrow that had Lucifer look away. Millenia had not been time enough for him to fully adjust to the prince’s flattery.
“Lucifer.”
The third voice drew their attention. Their talk had managed to stir Beel from his trance-like state.
“I’m hungry.”
“Check inside your bag, Beel. I took the liberty of placing some snacks in there after lunch.”
“I know,” Beel replied, a forlorn and guilty look on his face. “I already ate them.”
The eldest brother pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a short, sharp exhale.
“Then I cannot help you. In future, learn to pace yourself and plan for unforeseen circumstances.”
Beel’s stomach answered for him. A loud rumbling that somehow managed to sound pathetic and angry at the same time echoed through the vacant hall. Lucifer had to clench his teeth when beside him, Diavolo chuckled.
“You can hardly blame Beel for all this,” said Satan, without looking up from his book. At the center of the assembly hall in which they sat, a circle of ancient carvings sat atop a raised stone dais. A portal for inter-realm travel. Satan waved a careless hand in its direction, indicating its current lack of activity.
"Let him go home,” he continued. “Or don’t. I’m sure he won’t try and devour the human whole when it turns up.”
“Satan please, your input is neither useful nor wanted.”
The book snapped shut. “Then perhaps I shall go too, if I am so superfluous?”
At this, Asmo turned his attention from his phone and looked around hopefully at his eldest brother. His mouth opened, but before he could make his own plea, Lucifer shot it down.
“No one is to leave. It is unacceptable enough that of my five brothers, only three saw fit to attend this meeting. I will not brook any further-”
“Six,” said Beel quietly, as he rubbed his stomach.
“What?”
“Six brothers,” he said, as he slunk back down in his seat.
Lucifer felt an unwelcome swell of guilt at the look on Beel’s face. Images of their youngest brother flooded his mind. He forced them aside.
“I meant, of course, of the five required to be here-”
“Only we three were dumb enough to show up.”
“Satan!”
The flash of white that filled the hall was sudden and stark in contrast to the dim light their eyes had adjusted to. Lucifer raised an arm over his face, shielding himself against it as he felt blindly for his seat, the light fading as he sat down. Behind him, he heard Diavolo’s chair scrape back across the floor as the prince rose to his feet, eager to launch into his long-awaited speech.
It never came.
Barbatos stood on the raised dais, a human woman draped across his arms. The rest of the details came in a rush: the blood, a limp way she hung, the look of horror on the demon servant’s face.
“Barbatos!”
Diavolo was stunned, immobile, but Lucifer’s palms hit the table as he pushed himself up and over the bench, hitting the floor a moment later and hurrying over to the dais.
She was no burden to a demon’s strength, but the servant still seemed to sag under her weight.
“It was my fault,” he muttered, as Lucifer took the body from him without resistance. “I didn’t foresee-” Barbatos looked past the avatar of pride as he lay the human down on the floor, to his lord who now rushed to meet them.
“Barbatos,” said Diavolo, shocked but steady, the authority in his voice calling for calm. “What happened? Are you injured?”
It was more than a little unnerving to see the look of anguish on the imperturbable servant’s face, but Diavolo’s presence and tone of voice seemed to call Barbatos back to his sense of duty.
“There was an accident. My lord, I should return - there was another. I don’t believe she’ll survive the transportation-”
“Go,” ordered Diavolo, and there was another flash of brilliant white light, after which the room turned to focus on the human laid across the floor. Lucifer had tugged off a glove, his fingertips pressed against the pulse point in her neck.
“Lucifer?” Diavolo whispered, barely daring to ask.
“She lives,” came the reply, though there was little relief in his voice. The prince stared down at the young woman’s face, red and swollen, and littered with cuts. He could see from where he stood the litter of glass shards embedded across her neck and chest, her long hair trailed with dirt and matted with blood. What had happened? How had Barbatos allowed this? And what had he said - it was his fault? Diavolo shook his head, forcing questions that could wait for later from his mind.
The others were approaching now. Beel, though a hand still splayed across his stomach, seemed to have forgotten his hunger. Asmo frowned, sadly. Satan looked from the human to Lord Diavolo, who seemed to read his thoughts.
“Go all of you. Find Simeon. Bring him here at once.”
One hour earlier.
The woman who the world had come to know as Ash stood in the darkened alley, jacket pulled tight about her person, fighting hard not to shake from the cold.
She’d lost track of exactly how long she’d been waiting. Thirty minutes, perhaps. Maybe forty. It felt like hours. Inside her pocket, her left hand clasped over her phone, but she refused to pull it out in order to check the time. It did not matter. She would wait all night.
A small group passed by the mouth of the alley. Ash tensed, her right hand tightening around her small bundle of keys - her last means of defence should anyone decide to get too close. But the group passed by her without taking notice, caught up in their own company and the giddy energy that came from being young and tipsy and wandering the night. Laughing and chatting amongst themselves, they carried on down the street, oblivious to any dangers the night might be holding, until the babel of their revelry became one more indistinguishable layer in the soundscape of the city.
Ash relaxed, letting out a long, shaky breath that turned to mist in front of her eyes. She shuffled from side to side, moving to keep her knees from locking and her feet from going numb. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears burned so painfully from the cold, that they might as well have been on fire. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be done with this mess.
Then she spotted her. At first, Ash didn’t dare raise her hopes. A head of blonde hair, so pale it seemed to glow white in the dim light. It had appeared across the street, emerging from the club entrance she’d been watching. The woman it belonged to stumbled down the front steps, and Ash flinched. She saw a considerate bouncer reach out and take her by the arm, steadying her. The woman laughed and waved away his concern as other hands took her and guided her down onto the pavement, before turning as a group and starting down the street.
Ash leapt into action, eyes sparing only the briefest glance up and down the road for oncoming traffic before she darted after them. Her legs trembled beneath her, as though they might give way with every step. She pushed forward. The blonde woman and her companions were heading away from her but Ash caught them easily, each of her long strides accounting for two of their drunken, stumbling steps. Instead of approaching them from behind, Ash dipped into the road and came around the group from the side, speeding ahead a little before stepping back onto the pavement and cutting them off. One of them swore at her sudden appearance, weaving out of the way in a drunken lurch.
“Watch it, ya dumb-”
“Kit!” Ash snapped, taking several people by surprise as the group came to a crumpled, disorganised halt. She ignored them, her eyes trained on the blonde woman at their center.
“Katherine!”
Katherine, better known as Kit, or Kitty, or even KitKat, depending on her sister’s mood, drew to a halt. She glanced around, glazed eyes blinking as she tried to focus.
“Hmmm?” She slurred, voice thick. “Who wants me?”
One of the men who had seen her down the steps still had an arm about her waist. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. Kit shushed him, giggled, and knocked him about the shoulder playfully before her attention finally came in to focus on Ash, and her expression fell flat.
“Oh, it’s you.” She grumbled, “come to break up our fun, have you?”
“Who is it babe?” Her companion - a man who looked to be Ash’s age, with a face slick with sweat and grease - eyed Ash with something between a sneer and a scowl. “This your mum or somethin’? Want me to tell her to fuck off?”
“Who I am isn’t important,” Ash replied, fighting to keep her face impassive even as the man groped along her sister’s hip. She’d dealt with enough drunks over the years to learn that they had fragile egos as well as tempers, and that it took only the slightest of infractions on either to set them off.
“But you see my friends over there?” She thumbed over her shoulder. At the nearest street corner, a pair of police officers in high-vis jackets were standing nearby, watching the steady stream of late night drunks filtering from the club for signs of trouble. “You could try telling them instead.”
She watched carefully as several pairs of blurry eyes followed her indication. The gentleman Kit had chosen for the evening snarled and spat.
“Piss off, will ya? We’ve done fuck all wrong.”
“She needs to come with me.”
“Nah. She’ll stay with us,” the man continued, looking down and grinning at the blonde on his arm who smiled back sleepily. Ash felt her blood rising, realising there was probably more than alcohol in her system.
“You can’t make her do shit. Now get out the way, unless you wanna tag along?”
A suggestion went up from the other men in the group. One of them whistled. Ash didn’t look at them.
“How old did she say she was?”
Kit’s smile vanished, her face falling into a scowl as she hissed through clenched teeth.
“Ignore her. Frigid cow will say anything-”
“She’s sixteen,” Ash continued, unperturbed. The hand that had steadily been snaking its way over Kit’s rib cage towards her breast stopped short. “Still want to take her home, do you?”
A tense moment followed, then the gentleman dropped his gaze to the woman on his arm. Through the haze of arousal - and whatever else was coursing through his system - he seemed to notice something he hadn’t before. Maybe the cold air was helping to sober him up. Not a woman, he realised, and Ash could see the dawning horror on his face. A girl. For a moment he looked as though he might barge past regardless, but then he glanced back at the pair of officers and saw that their small gathering had garnered their attention. He scowled, twisted, pulling his arm back from around Kit without so much as another glance at her.
“Plenty more where she came from anyway,” he snarled. Then, in an attempt to recover his wounded pride, looked Ash up and down and spat at her feet.
She could feel his seething gaze following them as she snatched Kit by the arm, skirted past the group and headed back up the street. A stream of jeers and insults came in their wake. Ash grit her teeth, white hot with rage that seared through her. It was almost enough to put the freezing cold out of mind.
Ash marched her little sister up the street, past a string of nightclubs, weaving through throngs of teetering patrons. Kit waved at a few as they passed, but Ash kept her grip tight and pulled her along without stopping.
Kit allowed herself to be dragged along until they had turned the corner. Once out of sight from anyone who might recognise her, she stopped abruptly, almost tugging Ash over with the sudden shift in force.
“What is wrong with you?” She cried, struggling to free herself from her elder sister’s strong grip. “All I wanted was one night - a bit of fun! Why’d you have to ruin it? Why’d you have to ruin everything?”
The sounds of nightlife were a background humm when they turned off the main road and started down a side street. A battered old Fiat shining dully in the orange glow of a streetlamp was parked a short distance away, facing them. Ash thought it looked tired and a little pissed off with the way the light cast shadows about its darkened headlights, but perhaps she was projecting. As they reached the car, she dropped Kit’s arm in favour of rooting around in her jacket pocket for her keys.
“Just because you never go out,” Kit continued, her voice cracking with emotion as she slumped against the car. “Just because you don’t have any friends doesn’t mean I can’t!”
Ash flinched, almost yanking the door from its hinges when she pulled it open.
“Get in the car.” She hissed, jaw tight. “Now.”
“No!”
Ash grabbed her by the shoulders, tried to twist and wrestle her body into place, but Kit fought back, squirming and flailing around with futile, booze-heavy swings.
“I’ve spent - all - night - worried out of my - damned mind! Standing out - in the - freezing cold - like an idiot - trying to find you,” Ash stammered, ducking several blows that came too close to her face, and finally managing to get Kit’s arms under her control. “My patience is gone! So when I say, ‘get in the car’ - you get in the goddamned car!”
Kit swore in protest, glaring up as she continued to struggle. Ash stared back, and tried not to back down at the twisted expression she saw on her sister’s face. She knew she walked a delicate line - a tightrope over a pit of fire and fury that was Kit’s magic. It had been some time since she had unleashed her powers, longer still since she’d used them against someone, but Ash could feel the static rising in the air. Just when she began to wonder if Kit might actually attack her, a voice sounded right behind them.
“Excuse me. I beg you’ll pardon the intrusion, but perhaps you could help me?”
Neither of them had even seen the stranger approach. Ash would have jumped in surprise, if her anger wasn’t presently overriding her ability to feel anything else. She glanced around, stared at the stranger who had interrupted their fight, and felt her stomach lurch. Even half cast in shadow, something struck her as off about him.
He took a step forward, smiling at her and dipped his head politely. “I’m looking for someone. A Miss Emmeline Sampson.”
The cold chill that her anger had kept at bay suddenly flooded her chest, freezing and trapping the air in her lungs. She stared at the stranger for just a moment, then back down at Kit where she saw her own fears reflected in her sister’s eyes. Calm, she told herself. They had prepared for this.
She released her grip and turned, forcing her face to appear impassive. Clearing her throat, she shrugged and said:
“Sorry. Can’t help you,”
The stranger’s smile faltered at this. He glanced past Ash to the smaller girl who slunk down in her sister’s shadow.
“Are you quite certain that-”
“Yes, I’m certain. Excuse me.”
Kit was already ducking into the passenger seat, all traces of anger and teenage rebellion disappearing in light of this new development. Ash stepped out into the road, rounding the front of the car as she moved to the driver’s side, but the stranger was quicker. He stepped forward, placing himself between Ash and the door before she could reach it.
“I don’t mean to press the issue,” he continued, in a measured tone. “But you do bear a striking resemblance to the woman I’ve been sent to look for. Perhaps if we could talk for a moment?” He paused a beat, reading her expression, then drew back to grant her some space. “I admit this is not exactly how I would have liked for this meeting to go, but I assure you, I mean you no harm.”
“I don’t know who you’re after,” said Ash, her heart pumping wildly now. The stranger’s sudden appearance had been enough to startle her, but his appearance was cause for alarm. Though slender, he was taller than her, which immediately placed her at a disadvantage if their altercation became physical. His dark hair seemed to shine green in the light from the streetlamps. And he was wearing - What the hell was he wearing? It looked to be something caught between an expensive suit and an old-timey butler costume. No, she observed, normal people did not look this way. And in her experience, where abnormality trod, danger followed.
“Please,” he continued, stretching out a conciliatory hand towards her. “I must insist. I’m under direct instruction from-”
“I don’t care. Get out of my way.”
If the stranger took umbrage with her tone, Ash didn’t have a chance to find out. Suddenly, the driver’s door of the Fiat was thrown open. It hit the stranger flat across the back, and he stumbled forward as Ash dipped out of the way. She seized the opportunity, diving into the car just as Kit pulled back into her own seat.
Outside, the stranger was already back on his feet. Ash could just about make out the look of bewilderment on his face, as though Kit had snuck up on him and yelled ‘boo!’ instead of knocking him face first into the tarmac.
“Go!” Kit cried, as he turned back towards them. Then Ash felt the rising static; sensed the rush of magical energy filling the air. She turned her face away from the window, braced herself for a blast, before realising with dawning horror that the magic was rising from inside the car.
“No! Don’t!”
It was half a demand, half a beg. She made a grab for her sister’s arm, but Kit was already out of reach, climbing back outside. Even as she stumbled out, the tendrils of light that were her magic raced across her skin, rushing to form spheres that gathered in her hands. An outstretched palm thrust towards the stranger over the roof of the car, and a wave of radiant, electrifying energy tore from her at will.
There were sorcerers in the world who were rumoured to have such a fine mastery of their abilities that they could perform surgery with their magic. Ash didn’t know if this was true; she had certainly met magic users for whom it might have been, but her little sister was not one of them. The spell Kit had cast was a heavy, blunt blow - the magical equivalent of being hit over the head by a broad hammer. Or perhaps, several dozen very broad hammers, for what she lacked in control, she more than made up for in magnitude. The little car rocked in the spell’s wake, the force throwing Ash against the dash. Then the moment passed, the air around them shifting back into normalcy just as quickly as it had changed. Pushing herself upright, Ash looked across first to see if Kit had been injured, then out her window for the stranger.
She checked the street in both directions, but he simply wasn’t there.
“But - where?”
“Does it matter?” Kit snapped, stammering with the rush of adrenaline and magic in her system. “Just go!”
Without waiting to strap herself in, Ash jammed her keys into the old Fiat’s ignition and the engine struggled to life. Her eyes on the road, she put the car into gear and made for the end of the street. Just before turning back onto the main road however, she cast a glance back in her rearview mirror, and saw the stranger standing in the middle of the road once more, watching them as they drove away. Ash felt her stomach plummet. She wanted to be sick.
Kit managed a full thirty seconds after turning the corner before she broke the terrified silence that had settled between them.
“Who the fuck was that?”
Ash grunted. “No idea.”
“He knew your name.”
“I know.”
“Your real name.”
“I know.”
“He said he was looking for you-”
“Jesus, I know, Kit! Alright? I know!”
“Then who the fuck was he?”
“No idea.”
Kit paused for a beat, then: “Oh god, what if- No. No, no. It’s not. It can’t be.”
Ash said nothing. Even if it wasn’t her, Kit’s magical stunt had effectively painted a target on their back.
“Pull over.”
“Are you joking?”
“Pull over!” Kit groaned, a hand over her mouth.
The roads were largely empty in the early hours of the morning. Ash pulled the car over with the passenger side to the pavement. Kit threw open her door before they’d rolled to a complete stop, spraying vomit over road and pavement and car alike. Ash leaned over to hold her long blonde hair, but her eyes never left the street. They’d stopped by an embankment that stretched alongside of the road for miles, its slopes rolling down into darkness that no doubt concealed a thicket. Peering down into it, a shiver ran through her body.
“Done?” She asked, suddenly anxious to get moving again.
Kit silently nodded, pulling herself back into her seat. As they began to move again, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and, apparently sobered by her heaving up whatever was left in her stomach, turned to her sister.
“If they found us, they could be at the flat already.”
Ash nodded grimly, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“I know. We aren’t going home.”
Kit’s eyes went wide. “But - but, Ash, please. Everything we have-”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, in a final tone that brooked no further discussion.
She’d foreseen this as one of many possible eventualities. She had contingencies in place. Reserves of cash and clothes, burner phones, some other necessities, all stashed away in a storage facility nearby. The keys were on her person at all times, just in case. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to leave items of sentimental value in a locker somewhere. They’d stayed at home where she could protect them, keep them close. Now she was paying the price for her decision. She pressed her eyes tight together for a moment and tried not to think about the things she’d never see again.
They drew up to a junction. Ash slowed to a stop behind a set of traffic lights shining red and turned to stare at her passenger.
Though Kit fought to hide it, her head turned away to her window, Ash knew she was crying. In light of her carelessness, her insults, her disregard for the rules, Ash’s urge to lean over and hold her sister close was tainted by the impulse to wrap her hands around her neck and choke the living daylights out of her. She settled for leaning across and putting on her sister’s seatbelt. Kit sat still and didn’t respond until Ash moved away, then pulled her back into a tight squeeze. Ash flinched - Kit stank of booze, cigarettes, and sick, but she chose to ignore it, leaning into the embrace and cradling the back of her soft, blonde head in her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Kit whispered into the side of her neck, her words smothered by Ash’s hair. “I’m sorry. For what I said, for going out, for- for everything. I’m sorry, Ash. I’m so sorry.”
Her elder sister pulled away, forcing a smile as they came face to face. “I know you are. It’s alright.”
“But I can’t do this again, sis. I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Ash found her sister’s clammy hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “We don’t have a choice.”
A sudden movement in Kit’s periphery seized her attention. Glancing to see what had caught her attention, she spotted the source and paled.
“What?”
“Oh my god!”
Ash turned around. Kit was staring out at the empty junction, to where a man was standing in the yellow beam of the Fiat’s headlights. A tall man in a funny suit with green-tinged hair.
What the fuck?
“That’s impossible.” Kit gasped, grabbing at Ash’s jacket sleeve. “I mean, I’m still coming down but that’s impossible, right?”
Ash didn’t reply. She couldn’t. The man heading towards them, walking slowly, his hands up in a placatory manner. He was smiling.
There was no way, no way that he could have followed them through the empty streets without them noticing. Ash turned, looked around. There were no other cars nearby, no vehicles of any kind. Even if he had managed to get here somehow, how the hell had he known where they’d go, the route they’d take, and beaten them to it?
He was drawing closer. Ash could see his face clearly now. His smiling expression was still calm, but apprehensive. The light was still red. Ash revved her engine. The stranger came to a halt, hands still held palm out as if willing her not to move. Ash glanced in her mirrors, saw nothing behind her. She jammed the gearstick into reverse and swung out, turning the car to a ninety degree point before moving back into first and barrelling forwards. She sped across the empty lanes, bouncing over the grassy bank dividing their side of the road from the oncoming traffic, and sped away in the opposite direction.
There was another breathless pause before Kit could think to speak.
“How the - How did he?”
Ash didn’t reply. Her eyes were wide, but barely taking note of the road ahead of her.
“Hey!” Kit shook her. “Are you listening? Just how the hell’d he appear like that out of nowhere?”
Ash didn’t reply. Her mouth was dry. Her eyes suddenly blurry. She blinked once, twice. Tried to focus. It was impossible. Just impossible. But perhaps - Perhaps if the stranger knew who she was, he would know other things about her too. Maybe he’d been following her for a while, learning her routes, her habits. Maybe he was tracking their car somehow. Maybe he’d just gotten lucky, found a faster route and that’s how he’d managed to head them off at the junction. But then why hadn’t she seen a car? And how had he managed to just appear like that, as though from thin air? Ash had looked away from the road for, what - fifteen, maybe twenty seconds tops? It was impossible, inhuman to move that fast.
There was an answer, of course. But before it could even fully form in her mind, she crushed it; too afraid of what it would entail.
She blinked, pressing the heel of her hand into her eyes. In her lap, her phone vibrated and slipped, tumbling down into the gap between her seat and the center console. She dropped her attention for the briefest of moments. When she looked up there was something in the road. Someone. She braked hard on instinct, swerving from the figure. The car spun from the road and her control, hurtling sideways across the pavement and rolling once, twice, three times before it finally came to a halt. Something hit her head, hard. She heard Kit scream. It seemed distant.
She heard a crackling, crunching. Urgent steps on frozen undergrowth. She smelled the earth, fresh air. It hurt to breathe. A cough sent agony through her chest, as though her ribs were threatening to split apart. Where was Kit? It was hard to think, to focus. Hands grabbed at her, pulled her this way and that. Then a bright light, painful even against her closed eyes. New voices. Where was Kit? She tried to reach out, move her arms, her fingers, but her body refused to obey. Everything hurt, everything felt so heavy.
It went dark, but her thoughts stretched out into eternity.
Where was her sister?
Please be alright. Oh God, please.
Sound returned to her. Shapes in the darkness. A feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced washed over her body. There was sudden clarity in her mind, her vision cleared. Unfamiliar faces swam into view. Then the pain hit in earnest, and she heard screaming once more.