Page 28 of Freedom
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Eventually, he andToby moved up to actually hooking the other end of the cuffs through the slats in the bed frame, Jake’s wrist dangling from the thin metal chain. Jake had noticed early on that certain positions of the cuffs made Tobias more nervous, which in turn made it harder for him to actually work the locks. On one hand, the fear that filled Tobias’s eyes, the way his hands shook around his makeshift lockpick, made Jake want to throw the cuffs in the Mississippi, punch someone’s face in (maybe his own), and wrap Tobias in his arms and never let go. On the other, it was good—or at least useful—to know that Tobias could pick a lock in various stages of panic. And given that the one time Tobias didn’t seem to be afraid had been when he was shoving an iron poker through Dead Eddie, Jake would pretend, at least for now, that hunting wouldn’t be an entire other level of panic.
Tobias was curled over Jake’s wrist, twisting around with the paper clip, when Jake’s phone went off.
Tobias jumped back, and Jake moved toward the phone before the cuff brought him up short. When he glanced back, Tobias was breathing slowly and carefully but didn’t seem to be having a panic attack. The phone kept ringing.
“Hey, could you hand me my cell?” Jake grinned and rattled the handcuff, already digging the key out of his pocket. “I’m kind of tied up right now.”
Tobias managed a small smile and something that might’ve even been an eye roll before he got up to pick the blinking phone off the nightstand and bring it over.
Jake quickly checked the ID and felt a flash of relief at the name before he flicked open the phone. “Hey, Rog!”
Tobias caught Jake’s eye and gestured to the door, making a book-opening gesture that Jake interpreted as him going to read in the living room downstairs. Jake nodded, waving an okay at him before tuning back in to what Roger was saying.
“—it’s been a few weeks of radio silence, and I thought I’d check on you.”
“Oh, we’re awesome.” Jake spun the key ring around his finger, then examined the end closely for tarnish.
“What are you up to now? Still sightseeing?”
“Nah, we’ve moved on, mostly. We figured out Tobias’s better off feeling useful, and it helps his confidence if we’re doing something important. So we’ve been working some cases together.”
“Cases? Jake, tell me you’re talking cases of beer.”
“Nope, our kinds of cases. Like ghosts and poltergeists and demonic chicke—”
“Are you out of your mind, moron?”
Jake jumped, yanking the phone away from his ear barely in time to save his eardrum and accidentally flinging the handcuff key halfway across the room, likely under the doily-covered dresser that neither he nor Toby had bothered to use. Jake glared after it and pressed the phone back to his ear when a cautious test showed that Roger had stopped shouting.
“What the hell, Roger? It’s not like I’ve been taking him to strip clubs.” And much as Jake liked strip clubs, he knew setting foot in one with Tobias would likely set a new world record for fastest panic attack. Bad idea. Not gonna happen.
“Don’t you give me thatwhat the hell, Roger. You wouldn’t have survived two decades with your daddy if you were that dumb. Though now I’m wondering if maybe you scraped by on good looks and that cheeky grin, because what thehellare you thinking, taking a—a kid raised in Freak Camp, not even out six months yet, raised with monsters and treated just like one, out to huntothermonsters? Not even mentioning how planning a perfect hunt is about as likely as me winning the lottery when I don’t buy any damn tickets, and the kid’s about an inch away from shattering every time he hears a loud noise. What, you just gonna charge into a new situation and cross your fingers that there ain’t any triggers that’ll leave that kid shivering on the floor and you vulnerable at the wrong damn moment—”
“Hold your fucking horses.” Jake fished a spare paper clip out of his pocket and popped open his handcuffs with a quick twist. “I’m not an idiot, okay? I know there’s risks and all, trust me. We’re not hitting a fucking werewolf pack on the full moon here, we’re working our way through the hard stuff, which right now is talking to witnesses. If you’re flipping your shit over a couple of spirits, believe me that Tobias does just fine going up against the big stuff. Hell, the coolest I’ve ever seen him was when there was an undead bastard going for his throat. And we’ve talked about the whole monster thing, and Tobias gets it, all right? He doesn’t want to hurt people or see them get hurt, and he wants to work to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Jake drew a breath, but there was just silence on the other end, maybe the slight rasp of breathing, the bark of a dog in the background. “It would be different if we were tossing freaks back to the ASC—hell, that would fuck withmyhead—but that’s not what we’re doing. Salt-and-burns, Roger. And honestly, we aren’t even doing much of that, mainly a ton of research and the least threatening gigs I can find. Like that haunting in Greenville, which isn’t one, we’re pretty sure of that by now. Seriously, Roger, it’s—he’s sleeping better, okay? Gets through the night easier. And he can look people in the eye now, and it’s just—it’s good for him. For both of us.”
The silence stretched. Jake gritted his teeth and moved to the edge of the bed, wondering if he should grab the handcuff key from under the dresser. Wondering if Roger would say something. Then at last, Roger exhaled. “Balls. I dunno, kid, I’d like to take your word for it, but hunting screws up the best of us, and that kid wasn’t so steady to begin with.”
Jake let out a short laugh. “Yeah, but the thing is, we’re kinda working backward on the whole thing. Monsters don’t scare Tobias—people do. So we’re gonna start making him the world’s most badass, cracked-up hunter and gradually try and make a civilian out of him. And compared to what he’s used to... well, hunting ain’t so bad.”
“Maybe not. But you gotta admit... the ASC did a number on his noodle. The kid might mean well, but if you hunt with him, he’s gonna do something that surprises you—and Jake, when it’s hunting, it’s never a good surprise. Or at a good time. Or something you can always deal with. You’re playing with a mess of crossed wires in that kid’s brain, and sooner or later something’s gonna spark.”
“He’s not a time bomb,” Jake said, annoyed. “He’s a kid, and he’s my—” He almost lost his tongue biting off the words.
“Yourwhat?” There went all the muttered, half-reassured calm that had crept into Roger’s voice. That was the voice he used to yell at Leon when the Hawthornes had shown up drunk, the voice he’d used once on a witch that had revealed a particularly badly thought-out plan to destroy the world. Jake winced.
“He’s just—Toby.” Jake rubbed his hand over his eyes, not sure what else he could have said. “My responsibility, okay? The kid I sprang from Freak Camp. We work through shit, and we eat, and we watch TV, and get through panic attacks, and I’m not gonna turn to him now and say, ‘We’re not doing this hunting shtick,youcan’t do this hunting shtick because I don’t trust you’ because it’s not fucking true. Because ganking monsters is a part of my life and now a part that makes him feel good, like he isn’t—because he’s not what they always told him he was. And yeah, it’s gonna suck sometimes, and I’m kind of nervous as hell about the first time we go against something seriously nasty, but we’re taking it a day at a time, like we take everything, and that’s gonna have to be enough for you.”
Roger exhaled again heavily. Jake heard the man’s sleeve scrape against the phone. Maybe he was rubbing his forehead or moving the handset. “Christ. Just... be careful, moron. You ain’t eight, thinking you could fly if the car was moving fast enough and had a blanket stapled to your shirtsleeves.”
“That wasonce, Rog. I’m a bit older now. Look, I’ll call you, all right? I’ll check in, let you know we’re not dead, let you know if we are. The usual. But we’re not gonna get dead. We got this, Tobias and me.”Or at least, I hope we do.
“You better. Take care of yourself.”
“Always do.”
