Chapter Text
Gerry flicked their lighter, watching the flame for a second before lighting the cigarette in their mouth. They inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in for a second, like they could somehow exist in this slow moment forever before they exhaled reluctantly.
They hated being out in the open, but they had learned the hard way that this motel actually took it's no-smoking signs seriously. Figures. Sure, they might be sharing their room with a menagerie of bugs and critters and sure, sleeping on the floor might be better for their back than that shitty mattress, but smoking — now that would harm the motel's "reputation".
Inhale, exhale. The parking lot was getting cold, the wet kind of cold that crept up first in their bones and then spread to the air around them. Think about the mission, Gerry. Focus. That's what Gertude would tell them, that's what mum would tell them—
"Thing is, is it a stranger or a hunter we're looking for?" They mused, taking the cig out of their mouth and breathing in the sharp icey air.
Gertrude had sent them to investigate what may or may not be a Stranger skulking around this small town. Obviously it wasn't that important- she was back doing Gertrude Things- but Gerry supposed they preferred fieldwork to sitting around twiddling their thumbs and flinching when Gertrude looked at them suddenly.
"Uncanny, everyone else notices, picks one person who's never recognised again. I mean that reeks of stranger."
They weren't sure who they were talking to. The cig, maybe? The Eye? Giving Gertrude an update on their thoughts if she was watching, which she probably was?
"But from Herbert's statement it's also exactly what the Vampires do. And those are Hunt, right? Or do they just inspire the Hunt?"
Their questions remained unanswered and they sighed, inhaling another drag.
Gerry was being watched.
Of course, they were always being watched. They had gotten used to the feeling since unofficially joining the Institute. Every tattoo on their knuckles was a reminder of it. This was different.
Gerry had their back against a lamppost, fists already clenched. They were sure that'd be lots of help against whatever was making the hairs on the back of their neck stand up. They swept a cursory glance around and gritted their teeth. Nothing.
Were they overreacting?
They continued, quieter. "If it's a vampire, chances are it'll be lurking around a club and there's only one of those in town. If I watch the exits-"
Gerry looked up, fear running like cold water down the back of their neck.
"Who's there?" They said, gritting their teeth and stiffening their back against the post. They looked around, feeling a shiver go down their back.
They dropped the cig on the ground and snuffed it out with a stomp. There was no sound but they were still being watched, being followed, being observed.
Gerry heard a sound from the bushes outside the lot and took a step back on impulse, towards what they instinctively thought was safety, the ratty motel that really only meant more walls around them. Another sound and another step back. Could they make a run for it? With a dreadful sense of clarity, Gerry realized what was happening and it made their blood run cold.
Gerry was being hunted.
With a whirl they acted on impulse, lashing out behind them and feeling their wrist caught by a dry hand, much too strong to be human. They flicked their eyes to the side to catch a glimpse of their attackers face and saw a grizzled beard, two eyes that seemed entirely too focused and youthful to match the rest of his face.
Realizing that punching wouldn't help them, Gerry scrambled to grab the pepper spray that Gertrude had set them up with and sprayed it as close to the hunter's face as they could on short notice. He stumbled back and let go of Gerry's hand, rubbing at his face.
Gerry fell to the ground and inhaled a few adrenaline tasting breaths, feeling blood rise in the back of their throat as they decided to head to the hotel, figure things out, maybe call Gertrude, and why was he laughing?
The man was grabbing his face and snickering like they were both in on a joke. Gerry stood up, never taking their eyes off him.
"Boo."
They felt nails- claws digging into their throat as someone stood behind them. A cloth pressed over their mouth and Gerry smelled something sweet and sharp. It reminded them of nail polish remover but they could hardly think of it as their eyes drooped and the man's figure became swimmy. They fought and clawed and choked and bit and held their breath as long as they could but the figure holding them was so strong and as the minutes ticked by, their struggles faded out.
The last thing they heard was a cold voice gloating in their ear. "Night night."
..
Gertrude leaned against the side of the car, cold metal blending in with the foggy East London night and making the pads of her fingertips numb through her gloves.
"What do you mean Noah's gone?" She hissed, staring daggers as the man in the car across from hers.
"'Said 'e was gone." He replied, cigar in his mouth obscuring his thick cockney accent. He tapped the dashboard. "Left wit'out a dickie bird."
"So he's dead."
He only shrugged and grinned. Gertrude didn't have time for this. She never did. First that corruption man in France, then the pig in New Zealand. All the Eye ever whispered to her anymore was a plea, an insistence that her time was running out. She felt it in her chest, in her diaphragm, a chant that blended with the beat of her heart until they were one and the same.
"I don't suppose you sell C4s." She growled pointedly.
He chuckled, looking out his windshield. "Not to the likes 'o you." He sniffed.
Something's wrong.
Yes. She didn't need the Eye to tell her that, she knew it with every growl of her own frustration. Something very wrong had to have happened for Gertrude to spend her night interrogating a criminal and waiting to stumble across the question that would get him to spill where the bombs were.
Something's very wrong.
Gertrude watched as he started to put his truck into drive, sighed, caught his gaze and held it.
"What are you hiding from me?"
Like a flower wilting in winter his senses dropped, his limbs grew slack on the steering wheel, his words grew eloquent and flowed like a rushing waterfall.
Gerard is in danger.
Gertrude didn't move her eyes away from her target, but she did blink just once.
She couldn't deal with all their problems right now. Gerard was just going to have to figure this out on their own, at least for a bit longer. The kid was smart, they could get out of whatever mess they got caught in.
..
Gerry woke up with a splitting headache, nothing new, they had been getting those more and more lately. They looked around and blinked a few times, eyes dry and burning with the power of a thousand suns.
"What…" they looked around, head lolling a little. "Didju…" they reached their hand up to their face and their palm felt weird, waxy. "Didju… fuckin… cloroform me??"
"Look who's awake!"
Gerry opened their eyes as wide as they could go — that is to say, not very wide — and saw a woman with close cropped red hair and a scar across her right eye. She was staring at them, eye level even though she was standing and they were sitting on what seemed to be a shitty mattress. She held a wickedly sharp knife close enough that she could jab it at them if they moved at the wrong time.
"You made our job a lot easier," she continued as they stared back at her, "I mean, seeing as you rented a room in the shadiest motel in town."
"I've stayed at worse." Gerry startled and dazedly turned their head to look around and catch a glimpse of a shadow looking out the window in the corner of the room — the same burly man who had attacked them.
" 'Course you have, Trevor, you lived on the streets."
He laughed. "The streets are better than some of the places I've slept."
Gerry blinked again a few times, trying to regain control over their awakening thoughts. "Trevor… Trevor Herbert?" They asked, stumbling over their words a little. "The vampire hunter?"
"In the flesh." His gravelly voice perfectly matched his looks and when he smiled, Gerry could see rows of sharp white teeth. They shivered.
Gerry turned to the woman with the scar over her eye and stared at her. "You're…"
"Julia." She said simply.
"Julia? Oh so like…" Gerry trailed off and the smile on her face snapped and pulled into something forced.
"You're a right encyclopedia, arentchu?" She said instead of confirming what Gerry thought. "Know a lot about those monsters we've been chasing."
"I don't have a clue what you're talking about." Gerry hissed.
"You sounded pretty smart out in the parking lot." Julia leaned back. "Going on about- what was it? The Stranger? The Hunt?"
"That's us, innit?" Trevor laughed. Gerry could feel his presence like a sleep paralysis demon, making their heartrate quicken and a voice in their head start to chant go get out leave run save yourself. Both the hunters could feel their fear, taste it, they knew. With each wave of cold sweat, the hunters looked at them like wolves looked at a rabbit.
Gerry was used to feeling like prey, yet they could never stop hating it.
"All I'm saying is, we could help each other."
"What, I help you find whatever monster you're hunting and you let me go?" Gertrude was going to be mad but that was fine, they'd be okay.
The hunters started laughing like a cacophony of vultures huddled over a soon to be corpse. Gerry shrunk back in their seat.
"Deal is," Julia said, hands forming air quotes around the word 'deal', "You help us and you get to live another day.
Trevor shifted and stepped from the window. Gerry wanted to run, run far from here, and they could try but the hunters would love that. It would be like enrichment for them.
"What makes you think." Gerry looked down, ignoring the catch in their throat, "That I want to live that much?"
Trevor's hand fell on their shoulder, giving it a reasuring pat like the kind you'd give to a brand new tool that's not yet working quite right. "You all do." He just about purred. "And you're a fighter, aren't you?"
"I'll never help you." Gerry growled back.
"There we go." Trevor smiled and moved back to the window.
"You will." Julia chuckled as sat back and started polishing her knife.
Gertrude's fingers drummed on the wheel as she drove, not so urgently that she was running red lights but still pressing harder than usual on the gas when they turned green.
Gerard is in danger
"I know." She said out loud so hopefully the Eye would hear her. It might have, but that didn't stop it's incessant whispering. It sure did like that silly emo kid for some reason, blessing them with eye tattoos that she knew they hated. Every time they were in danger it was like her patron was stabbing her between the eyes with a screw until she did something to fix it.
But the cockney man had been shot dead just a few minutes after he started talking and how was she supposed to juggle that with an impromptu trip to America?
She pulled up outside the house and turned her lights off, rushed demeanor falling as she sighed into her windshield, breath fogging the glass. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Hilltop Road. Where it all began, although it burned down before Gertrude ever knew of her.
It was time to call in a favour.