Page 20 of Freedom
When they were on either side of the Eldorado, Jake rested his forearms on top of the car and looked Tobias straight in the eye. “Look. You don’t have to do this.”
Tobias looked back at him, waiting.
“I mean it,” Jake said, a little desperately now. “This is what I do, yeah—but even though you’re with me, you don’t gotta do it. Even in a basic salt-and-burn, there can be a hell of a lot of danger, and even experienced hunters can crack their walnut open on a gravestone. Nothing says you have to do this, okay? I won’t be mad—hell, I’d be impressed you’ve got the brains not to jump into this. It won’t changeus, all right? I’ve taken on a hell of a lot worse cases on my own.”
Tobias rested his arms and chest against the warm metal. He didn’t break Jake’s gaze, even as he wondered about the fierce earnestness in Jake’s face. It didn’t sound like Jake was saying he didn’t want him to come along (freaks mess things up, after all, he could be a hazard), and Tobias wanted to go. He had to, because if Jake was going into danger, if Jake was risking his life and limb even on one of the easy hunts, Tobias wanted to be right there with him.
“I don’t want to be left behind,” he said at last. “I know I don’t have to. I believe you. But I want to come along, Jake. I can help you dig, I can—help watch your back.”I can protect you, he didn’t say, because Jake was a hunter; he had been protecting himself for years, and he didn’t need a monster, no matter how devoted, watching his back. But Tobias wanted that very, very much. He took a steadying breath. “I know it can be dangerous, but—I’m not scared.”
Jake leaned back, taking in Tobias’s words and expression. At last, he nodded. A little grimly, not looking quite happy about it, but accepting. “Okay. If that’s what you want to do, Toby. I’d be glad for another pair of eyes.”
“Okay,” Tobias said, and smiled before opening the door and sliding with Jake into the Eldorado.
~*~
By the time they weregetting ready to leave for the cemetery, Jake had had enough time to recapture all his nerves—even though Tobias showed none whatsoever, despite the close eye Jake kept on him. The kid had been far more nervous at the raucous sports bar where they had had dinner last week. Now, after he finished gathering everything Jake listed, he sat on the other bed and waited expectantly.
“So technically, we can walk into the nearest sheriff’s office, flip out my ID, and they’d give us whatever excavating equipment we like,” Jake told him. “They’d even loan us the people to use it, and we could sit back in lawn chairs and drink rum and Coke with those little umbrellas while they do the heavy lifting. A lot of hunters take that route. But that’s because they’re not just lazy asses, but melonheads. You do something flashy like that, call in the cops and the coroner, and it spooks the locals and sends up the supernatural equivalent of a signal flare for miles around that hunters are here. And if you don’t get the right spirit, or there’s an unexpected sequel, then every nasty in the area has the advantage. So my old ma—Hawthornes do it the old-fashioned way: late at night, by hand, privately, and if anyone comes bothering,thenyou flash the badge.”
Tobias nodded. Jake picked up his shotgun, checking the chamber automatically before counting out ammo shells, until a new concern stopped him. He held up the shotgun, turning to Tobias. “You know how to use one of these?”
Tobias blinked at him. “No, Jake.”
Jake’s brain tripped over and then reset. Yeah, he was an idiot. When would it have ever been safe or logical for Tobias to have learned how to shoot a gun? Maybe that just went to show how rarely Jake thought of him as a civilian, how he trusted him like he’d only ever trusted Dad and Dad’s friends. “Yeah, it’s loaded with rock salt,” he said. “Good for sending ghosts packing. I should show you how to shoot. But not tonight. Tonight, I want to get this bastard before he does anything to that kid. You can remind me later.”
“Sure, Jake,” Tobias answered, but if he’d said it with a little less enthusiasm, Jake would have had to check for his pulse. Jake figured he’d have to remember to give the gun lesson and a few other self-defense basics by himself.
Security at the cemetery was nonexistent, and if there were any angry spirits around, they stayed the hell away. Tobias was new to shovel work, but Jake showed him a few tricks to break up the ground—damn lucky it wasn’t the middle of winter, frozen earth was always abitch—and Tobias set in with energy. Jake rested the gun on the edge of the tombstone where he could snatch it up in a second, and with two people digging, they got to the coffin in near record time. After that it was routine, Tobias scattering the salt like he’d done it a hundred times before, Jake dumping gasoline over the casket like shitake sauce and throwing in a cheap lighter.
The fire roared up at once, flames flashing blue before settling into the usual yellow-orange, and Jake glanced at Tobias’s face in the fire’s light. He stood with the handle of the shovel clasped between his hands, absorbed by watching the flames, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead despite the cool early October night. He’d taken to the night’s work more naturally than anything he’d yet done in the real world, Jake realized. The thought twisted something funny inside him, and Jake couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.
“You did good,” Jake said at last. That was a pretty shitty summary for how awesome Tobias had been, but it wasn’t like Jake had the words for that either. “Seriously. Don’t know if any other sixteen-year-old could keep his cool handling his first salt-and-burn.”
Toby smiled, and it lit up his whole face like an internal fire, transforming him from the frightened kid he usually was into someone far more confident. Someone Jake hadn’t seen before.
His blood beat against his skin from the exhilaration of the work, the fire, and he had the sudden, irrational urge to walk around the cheerfully crackling grave, grab Tobias, and—
What? What the fuck?
Jake blinked several times, staring intensely at the flames until his eyes burned. Finally, he said, “I think the show’s over. Might as well fill it back in.”
The work went fast. Given how abandoned the cemetery felt (what, had the family gotten a discount by moving to the least popular boneyard?), and the unlikely odds of a remorseful widow showing up with flowers, no one might even know about this round of grave desecration.
But somehow, even after they’d packed away the shovels, Jake couldn’t start the car right away. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but the harder he tried to grab at it, the faster it slipped away. He sat, scowling at the high cemetery walls, until Tobias glanced at him.
“Seemed too easy,” Jake muttered, not sure if it was an apology or an explanation. “Think we missed something? Could the guy have left something else behind?”
Tobias considered. “There was a lot of blood,” he said quietly. “You could see it in the first newsprint photos they pulled because it showed too much of the corpse. And the floors were wood and fairly battered. That kind of surface makes it hard to get blood out if it soaks in.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, finally sliding the key into the ignition. “I think we better check that out. Let’s go over to the widow’s—shit, I didn’t write down the address. Well, fuck, it’s a small town, probably anybody we ask knows where she—”
“611 Sycamore,” Tobias said. Jake stared at him, and Tobias smiled again, ducking his head. “I saw it on one of the r-reports you were looking at. And I brought a town map. The sign in the motel said they were free.” He pulled it out of the side pocket of the door.
“Damn,” Jake said, poleaxed for the second time that night. “Now you’re makingmefeel like a rookie.”
With Tobias navigating from the map, they reached Sycamore Street fifteen minutes later. They had no trouble finding house number 611: only one had the living room lights not only on, but flickering like a disco, and screams—a woman’s, part anger, part terror, part despair—breaking into the night like a brick through shattering glass.
Shit. Talk about Hawthorne timing.
