Page 53 of Fortress
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 waswrong. 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, andsomelight 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 torunor 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 someoneknocked 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 andfocus, he could force himself to see again. He needed tosee, 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’tsee.” Jake dropped his head, his breath ragged, and used his palm for the next, less forceful blows between each word. “I can’tsee, 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, beforeJake could respond tothatstatement—”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 Iwillfix 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 reallylistento 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 notthatblind, 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 ofGood 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 positivethinking would work. Anything to keep him from thinking about Toby facing off alone against a witch.
