Scribble Scrabbles

My phone buzzed on the comforter beside me. I shot it a glare, hoping to frighten it into silence, then curled tighter under my blanket and refocused on my latest true crime drama obsession. A few moments passed and I relaxed, thankful for the reprieve. It was my only day off between two long stretches in the Emergency Department, and I would be damned if I spoke to anyone today. In fact, I may not even leave this bed. 

Bzzt bzzt. My phone echoed a few minutes later. 

I studiously ignored it again. Another minute passed.

Bzzt bzzt. A few second pause. Bzzt bzzt. Followed nearly instantly by another buzz. I growled and reached for it. 

“This had better be good.” I told the tiny, plastic monster. 

An alert for four unread text messages from Val Spencer, my best friend from work, sat on my home screen. The phone buzzed once more in my hands, bumping the total up to five. I rolled my eyes as I flicked through the text messages.

Hey, are u up?

I’m kind of in a bind and I need your help. 

Are you ignoring me?

Bitch?

It will be fun!

I snorted and considered ignoring her further, but the phone buzzed with a call this time. 

“Go away.” I groaned in greeting.

“Oh shut up, you don’t mean that.” Val said, using her perky voice. “Have you been ignoring me?”

“Yes.”

“Bitch!”

“Yes, now you’re mad at me and you’re going to leave me alone right?”

“Yeah absolutely not, I need you.”

“No one needs me today.”

“Look, I know you just worked a bunch in a row but…” Val trailed off, obviously knowing this was going to be a hard sell.

“And you know I work a bunch more starting tomorrow….” I mimicked her tone.

“I know, I know, and I will owe you a massive favor.” Val said hastily.

“Pretty sure you already owe me one or two of those.” 

“Pretty sure that goes both ways, sister.” She snarked. “Listen, Tyler and I had a double date planned tonight with his best friend and Nikki backed out on me last minute.”

“Absolutely not.” I nearly hung up the phone right there.

“But it’s for a concert I have been dying to see for months! She got Covid, it’s not like I can tell her to suck it up.” 

“Tell someone else to suck it up, Valencia.” I emphasized her full name to let her know I was serious. “ I literally cannot. I don’t think I can even force myself out of bed.  I just pulled three twelve-hour shifts and yesterday was absolute hell. I’m staring down four more on the other side of today, and I just can’t.” “Mikayla Reynolds, I need you! If I can’t get anyone else to come on this date then Tyler is making me cancel the whole thing.” Her voice was earnest now. “I have been wanting to see these guys  in concert for as long as I can remember and this is the first time they have ever come close to this shit-hole town. The only reason Ty agreed to go was so we could try to fix up his friend, and if I don’t find someone he’s going to refuse to go at all. I’ve called six other people already this morning, and you’re my last hope.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Please?”

The earnest need in her tone finally cracked me. 

“Where am I going, when do I need to be there, and what am I wearing?” I sighed, dramatically. Val squealed in delight and started giving me instructions. 

We were meeting at 6 at a restaurant a few blocks away from the theater where the band was playing downtown. It was a typical rock concert and the restaurant was casual enough, so at least I wouldn’t have to try and be fancy. I swung my legs off the bed and then sat for a moment with my head in my hands. I hadn’t been exaggerating, I was absolutely bushed both mentally and physically. Yesterday had been critical patient after critical patient, and absolutely nothing had gone my way. We had lost a young patient, which was always hard on the entire department, but I had also had to deliver some really bad news to several really nice people over the past few days. The level of bad juju had been substantially greater than normal, and it had taken a toll.  I needed the mental break and the emotional break. But, I supposed I just had to put on my armor for one more day and pack the exhaustion away for another day. 

Still, it took a few moments to shift my mindset from “borderline panic attack” to “let’s just get through this” - which was longer than I typically needed  to ground myself.  I tried not to think about the last few days or the days to come, and instead focused on the possibility of actually having fun, which felt improbable but perhaps not impossible. 

“So much for a relaxing day to recharge.” I grumbled, putting my phone on  the nightstand - and got to work. 

*****************************

At 5:45, I pulled into a parking deck about halfway between the restaurant and the concert venue. I checked my makeup quickly in the rearview mirror, reapplying some light lip gloss before getting out and gathering my purse and texting Val that I had parked.. I walked the two blocks to the restaurant, which turned out to be somewhere between an actual restaurant and a sports bar.  At least it was casual. 

Val met me at the door with an enormous hug. I was happy to see we had dressed similarly in jeans, a logo tee, and a light jacket against the fall breeze. Her blonde hair was flowing in ringlets down her back, and I tried not to get my fingers tangled in the long stands as I extricated myself from her grasp. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She chanted. “I promise, I’ll make this up to you.”

“Doubtful.” I grumbled. “But, it’s good to see you happy.” 

“Well, let’s see how you like Jake, shall we?” Val said with a wicked glint in her eyes that made me wonder if she really had called six other people before me. She slid her arm through mine and began leading me towards the back of the restaurant. “You know I don’t like anybody but you, kid.”  I smirked at her and patted her hand on my arm. 

“Alright, Mikah, meet Jake, Ty’s best friend from college. He’s a computer-something at the engineering firm where Ty works.” Val had stopped in front of a dimly lit table in the back corner of the restaurant. She gestured at a vaguely masculine looking figure that was mostly hidden in the shadows of the table. “Jake, meet Mikah, my best friend and the best damn physician assistant in  our emergency department.” 

The figure stood then, extending his hand and stepping into the light so that his features were finally illuminated. My breath caught in my chest as I took in his tawny hair, stylish black plastic glasses, and soulful brown eyes. Eyes that were uncomfortably familiar, and looked equally startled to see me. I stared at him for a beat too long before recovering and taking his hand to shake. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I said, hating the strain in my voice. Val nudged me with her elbow and smiled reassuringly, taking my moment of pause to mean attraction and not recognition. He gestured to the seat beside him and I joined him in the shadows, which I welcomed in the moment.  As we sat, he squeezed my arm. When I glanced at him he shook his head ever so slightly, and I took his meaning immediately. They don’t know. 

My heart slammed in my chest as the last few days came rushing back. My brain froze for a few moments, replaying the last time I had seen him with his jaw set determinedly in the ER, masking any emotion that may have tried to surface. I was mentally stuck in that last conversation, paralyzed with what to do now that a person I never should have seen again was suddenly here. What had it been, two days ago? Three? They all ran together after a while. 

He squeezed my arm again, snapping me back to the present. My mind raced, catching up to the present and realizing all over again that he hadn’t told anyone he had been to the ER, much less what he had learned. My heart ached and a rush of emotion suddenly lodged in my throat. He was here and also didn’t want to be - didn’t need to be - and he was begging me to play this cool. I looked back at him, barely able to make out his eyes and gave him a quick nod of understanding. I flipped my arm over and gripped his from beneath and returned the squeeze, before dropping it. Your secret is safe with me. 

Technically, his secret had to be safe with me. He had been my patient, and it would be breaking a federal law for me to say anything.

But, then it struck me, shouldn’t his friends know so they could be there for him in the coming days and weeks? Didn’t I also have an obligation to Val and Ty?

I glanced back at him and saw his eyes still on me. My vision had adjusted some and I could now make out the tight crease of his brows and set of his jaw. He was terrified and I alone had the power to put him out of his misery. 

“Earth to Mikah.” Val kicked me underneath the table, snapping me back to the moment. I looked across the table and was relieved to see that the shadows obscured most of her and Ty’s faces. I hoped that meant ours were as well. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

“Do I ever listen to a word you say?” I snarked, returning her kick playfully.

“Well, that’s true.” “Besides, I’m exhausted and you drug me out into public anyway.” I grumbled. “I’m sorry, Jake, I may not be the best companion tonight.” 

“Hey, anybody who gives it back to Val is already top marks in my book.” He said, all traces of worry removed from his brow.

“Yeah, we’ll get along fine then.” 

“Anyway, what were you saying, bossypants?” I returned to Val. “I was asking if you knew anything about this band.” 

“Of course I know this band, I play them in the doc box all the time. It’s one of Johnson’s favorite playlists.” I said, referring to the dictation area where I sat with an attending physician during our shifts. It was a little removed from the nursing station, which allowed us to play music and have more discreet conversations without being overheard by patients.  Johnson was one of our younger attendings who worked way too many hours and ran on caffeine and sarcasm - which basically made him my twin.

“Oh God, you don’t think he’s coming do you?” Val said, sounding stricken. 

“Pretty sure he’s working.” 

“Oh thank God.” She said with a sigh of relief. “What’s so bad about him?” Jake asked.

“He’s an asshole.” Val said.

“He’s just surly.” I defended him. “He’s really not bad one-on-one. I think he might be fun at a concert.” 

“Well, I’m glad we don’t have to find out tonight.” “Do we have to talk about y’alls work?” Ty grumbled. “Do we have anything else to talk about?” I quipped. Ty was not my favorite person, but I tolerated him because Val loved him and he was good to her. 

“We could talk about our work.” Jake suggested. “No thanks, I don’t want to take a nap and miss the concert.” Val laughed.

“Same.” Ty said. “So, Jake, why don’t you tell Mikah a little more about yourself.” 

“You don’t have to drive the conversation, Ty, this isn’t a dating show.” Val scoffed. “We can talk about whatever we want.” 

“We could always talk about all the ways Ty is an asshole. That’s always fun.” I said, gleefully.

Unfortunately, Ty was rescued by the arrival of our waitress. “Is this everybody?” She asked.

“Yes.” Said Val and Ty in unison. “Okay great! My name’s Jess and I’ll be serving you tonight. What can I get you guys to drink?” “Water.” I said. “Can you tell me what’s on tap?” Ty asked, and I stopped paying attention to the conversation after that. I glanced at Jake out of the corner of my eye and saw him studying the menu. His finger tapped restlessly against the plastic and I could see his knee bouncing just a little bit, but his face was a mask of indifference. He was definitely as nervous as I felt. I took a breath and forced my own leg to still. While it was difficult to see details in the low lighting, I noted the pallor of his skin and the slightly increased rate of breathing. I wondered if Val had noticed, but I doubted anyone would at this stage, unless they knew to look. 

My mind whirled back to the moment I saw the results of his CT scan. My heart dropped and I had retreated to the “panic room” part of my brain, where I only go when it’s bad. I’m not allowed to feel anything in there, so all of my decisions become purely clinical. I cannot care for a patient if my heart is breaking into a thousand pieces like a normal human - none of us can in emergency medicine. If we let ourselves feel everything we should feel for every single patient, we couldn’t function. All of that hurt and pain had to go somewhere. Still, it was hard to do, especially with someone my own age. 

I had made a few phone calls, ensuring there was a plan of action - either admitting him to the hospital or rapid follow up after discharge. No one would admit him, but they did agree to follow up the next day in their office. I had taken a few moments in the empty dictation room to organize my thoughts and steel myself before going in to deliver  the news. “I know what’s wrong with you.” I had said, taking a seat next to the bed. Jake was sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone, but utterly alone, as he had been throughout the entire visit. When I spoke, he must have sensed my demeanor, because he immediately put down the phone and gave me all of his attention. “Well, that’s good.” He said, trying for some levity. “I already have a follow up arranged for you, and I’ve made sure it’s written down for you so you know where to go and when.” I said, not wanting to dodge the subject, but knowing that once I said it, he wouldn’t remember anything after the diagnosis. I had to get that in first, or else risk him forgetting. “What is it?” He asked, his hands now fidgeting in his lap. I took one last deep breath. “There’s a large tumor in your colon.” I said, voice shaking just a little bit. “It’s very concerning for cancer.” My voice steadied after a beat. “There are also several spots on your liver that are very concerning.”

His hands fell still, and I saw his eyes glass over just a little bit as he took it in. His mind was retreating, panic was threatening to set in, and I had to get in the rest while he could understand it.

“I have a follow up scheduled with oncology tomorrow morning at 9 am. I’m sorry, I tried for today but  they were booked. I also have a follow up scheduled with gastroenterology the next day, and the general surgery the day after that. It’s all written down for you, including phone numbers and addresses. Make sure you give them to whoever is going to be helping you, so they can help you keep up with it all.” 

He nodded, numbly. I knew I had already lost him, but I had to say the rest. “Try to get a planner and a binder so you can keep all the appointments and follow ups in one place. It’s also handy to have all of your paperwork printed and with you, just in case the doctors aren’t talking. I printed out your labs and imaging reports from today and put them with your paperwork, so you can have them.  It’s a whole lot of information very quickly, and having it printed to help you remember is critical so you don’t miss appointments and so you can be sure you get everything you need.”  I paused, and he nodded again. “Is there someone I can call for you?” I asked, tentatively.

“Um, no.” He shook himself a little, coming out of his stupor just a little. “No, that’s not necessary.”

I hesitated a few moments, giving him some time to think. “I have to go get the rest of your paperwork together. I know this is alot right now, so I will come back in a few minutes to answer any questions that I can. I’m not an oncologist, so I may not be able to answer all of your questions, but I will do my best. Just know that whatever the oncologist says tomorrow is probably more accurate than anything I tell you today.”

I sat with him in silence for a few moments as he stared at nothing, eyes unfocused. I knew that look, and I hated it when I had caused it. “I’m so sorry.” I said, and heard the wobble come into my voice just a little bit. I slammed shut the cracks in the panic room in my mind, caging the sorrow before it could leak out and make a mess of everything. “I wish I had better news.” I wanted to tell him that he was young and healthy and give him some sort of hope, but I also didn’t want to lie to him. Metastatic colon cancer at 38 was bad news, no matter how healthy they were otherwise.

I stood up and moved to leave the room. “I will be back in a few minutes. Please let us know if we can do anything for you in the meantime.”

I left the room to find his nurse hovering outside his door. She started following me back to the doc box on the other end of the department. “Fuck.” said Katie. “Just…” she paused, then said with more emphasis. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” I said, twisting my lips into a sad smile. “Yeah, it’s bad.” I sat in my chair and put my hands over my head. “It’s really bad.” “What stage?” She asked, chewing on a fingernail. “Optimistically? Stage 3.” I said with a sigh. “But, realistically, probably stage 4.” 

“So he’s gonna die.” She said flatly. 

“We’re all gonna die eventually, Katie.” I said, smirking but rapidly sobering. “But yes, he’s probably dying more quickly than he should.” 

“Fuck.” She said again. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the only word for it.” 

“Only word for what?” asked Dr. Williams, strolling in with a chart in hand and taking his seat next to me. “My 38-year-old with stage 3 or 4 colon cancer.”  I said with a sigh, twirling my chair back to my computer. He put down the chart and turned to stare at me somberly. 

“Fuck.” He said.

“See?!” Katie said, gleefully, then sobered. “So what’s the plan?” 

“I have to finish his discharge paperwork, but I have all of his follow ups scheduled for the next three days.” I said, handing her a pile of paperwork with a note on the top that listed times, dates, phone numbers, and addresses of the clinics he needed to visit. “When I finish, I’m going to go back in and see if he has any questions.” “How did he take it?” She asked.

“Stoically.” I said, honestly. “He just stared off into space. I asked if we could call anyone for him and he said no. He’s been alone this whole time too, unless you saw someone I didn’t.” She shook her head in response. “Well, then I guess he’s taking it alone.” 

“He’s going to need someone to help him.” Williams said, alreadying clicking away on his computer. 

“Hopefully he has someone and they just couldn’t be here today.” I said with a shrug. I couldn’t let myself worry about that. Except now, it seemed, I did have to worry about that. Because he sat beside me now, anxious and probably overwhelmed. I bet he hadn’t told anyone about anything yet, and so he was taking all of this alone. The emotions that I had kept in the panic box pounded at the door, but I fought them back down. I still had three more shifts to get through before I could let them out. I couldn’t risk an emotional melt-down in the meanwhile. I needed to speak to him alone, soon. I glanced around the restaurant, looking for an excuse. I saw a sign for the restrooms pointing in the opposite direction from our table and thought that was as good of an excuse as any. I tried to make eye contact with Jake, but he was very purposefully ignoring me, looking at the menu that he was now gripping with white knuckles. I tapped his foot under the table and cleared my throat. Val and Ty stopped talking to look at me. Jake turned to look at me. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.” I said, scooting out from my chair and gesturing to the sign. 

I was walking away when I heard Jake say, “Actually, I think I need to go too.”

Subtle, kid. Real subtle. I thought.

I followed the signs around a corner and into a narrow corridor that passed around the kitchen. We would be well hidden back there. I only had to wait a moment until Jake found me. As he rounded the corner, I was struck by how young he looked and how healthy, despite being somewhat pale. The sharp outline of his glasses accentuated his deep brown eyes, which I realized had some small flecks of green in them, as he grew near.

“Jesus Christ, I am so sorry.” I said in a rush, as soon as he was within ear shot. “I can make an excuse and get out of here as soon as possible. I know I am the last person on the planet you want to see again.” 

He stopped and cocked an eyebrow at me. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?” He seemed genuinely confused, and for a moment I was afraid I had confused him with another patient.

“Um,” I was taken aback. “Well, I don’t think I’d want to see the person who told me I have…” I looked around quickly and dropped my voice to a whisper, “cancer.” 

“It’s not like it’s your fault.” He said, leaning back against the wall across from me. “You just happened to be the one that found it.”

“Oh.” I stammered, then recovered. “You just looked like a deer in the headlights when you saw me.” “I could say the same about you.” He countered. I shrugged. We were both quiet for a moment, before he said in a voice so soft it was difficult to hear, “Nobody knows but you.” 

I stared at him for a moment. “Wait, nobody as in ‘not a single person’ or nobody as in not Val and Ty?”

“Nobody as in nobody.” He said, returning my stare. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

“What?!” My question turned into more of a squawk.

“Nobody needs to know. This is my problem. I don’t want to bring anybody else down with it.”

“You don’t want to…”I began, then shut my mouth. Where did I even begin here? “Jake, this is a lot. You can’t hide  this from everyone forever.” I paused again, and tried to choose my next words carefully. He must be in denial. “You don’t need to do this alone.” 

“But, I do.” 

“No, I mean, you can’t do this alone. It’s too much for any one person. You need a team, a support system. Didn’t oncology talk about this?” I asked, flabbergasted. “They did, and I told them I would think about it.” He held up a hand before I could speak again. “But this is my fight and I get to choose who I tell and when.” I paused and really looked at him then. His jaw was set, muscles twitching and his hands were fists at his sides. It struck me then that this was a type of coping mechanism. Everything that happened here was out of his control - except this. And now I was here to threaten taking that control away even further. I deflated.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I promise.” 

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Thank you.” 

“We should get back before they get more suspicious.” I said. “Val is already going to know something is up, so I’ll just tell her you and I had met at a party for my ex boyfriend a few years ago.” 

“Yeah, except I don’t really do parties.”

“Well shit, me neither.” There was another beat of silence. “Any ideas?”

He crossed his arms across his chest and tapped his finger on his watch, thinking.

“How about a half truth?” He finally said. I cocked an eyebrow at him. “As in, I met you in the hospital a few days ago when I was there with my sick aunt.” 

“Yeah, but then Val is going to pepper you with questions about your aunt.”

“Well, I actually have a sick aunt, so that should be easy to answer.” 

“Oh.” I paused, then nodded. “That…could actually work.” 

He smirked at me then, and it struck me that he was actually quite handsome. That turn of his lips caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle, and his eyes sparked with mischief. “I’m good at stories.” He said with a shrug. “You mean you’re a good liar?” I quipped, smirking back. “Guess I had better watch out then.” 

“I don’t make a habit of it, if that’s what you mean. But when I do lie, I know how to be convincing.” We turned and started to walk back to the table together. There was no sense in hiding that we knew each other.  But before we cleared the corridor, I caught his arm and pulled him to stop.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I asked, searching his eyes. “Because I really don’t mind leaving. I get it.”

“No.” He said, and actually smiled at me, the crinkle returning to his eyes. “No, I’m honestly kind of relieved to have someone who knows.” The smile faded. “I guess that means I’m not completely alone.” 

I smiled then. “No, I guess you’re not.”

Max thumped his head back against the seat of his car and groaned.

“Come on, man, what are you missing here?” He asked aloud, bouncing his head against the headrest, trying to jar loose it’s mechanisms. He sighed, drumming his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel. No one answered him, of course, because Max hunted alone. He had always hunted alone. But right about now he was thinking about how nice it would be to bounce some ideas off of someone else. He glanced down at his phone, resting in the console of the beat up Jeep, and thought momentarily of making a phone call to one of his fellow hunters, or maybe just his Mom.  He shook his head slightly, disrupting an unruly wisp of brown hair, and slipped it back behind his ear. “Don’t be weak, Max.” He had been following a pack of werewolves that had stirred up trouble in a small town in Iowa, when he sensed a strange surge of power somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee. The pack had been quiet for weeks, so Max had weighed his options and decided that the pack would be fine and, if not, they would come in range of another sentinel before too long. This spike of magic was huge and would draw the attention of any sentinel for hundreds and hundreds of square miles, but this town was so far away from the major population centers that he wasn’t sure if anyone would sense enough of it to come looking. Besides, things in the cities had been getting strange and dark over the past several months, and he thought he was due for some quiet time in the mountains. While the magic had been immense, it was also very brief, and may not have had much significance. Still, something felt off, and he couldn’t just let it pass.

Max had not expected to find a moderately sized town in the middle of the mountains, located not far from a moderately sized city. Still, he hadn’t encountered anything more supernatural than some teenagers on methamphetamine and was at a loss. It had been two days since he’d felt the initial spike that had drawn him here, and now everything was silent. He had checked the local news outlets for anything that might smell like powerful witchcraft. He’d checked for any strange activity with local crops or farm animals and found nothing. There were no mysterious deaths, no mass murders or mass suicides, and no signs of occult activity anywhere.  

Bored and more than a little frustrated, Max had decided to go deeper into the mountains to an off-the-beaten-path “mystery spot”.  Places like these were often centered on lines of occult energy, so he thought it might be the source of his little mystery power-surge. Perhaps a local coven had used the nexus as a hub for a little more juice in the tank of whatever spell they performed. He’d spent most of the afternoon searching for something, anything, and had decided to stakeout the place overnight just to feel like he was doing something.  He sat there in the dark, alternating between beating his head on the steering wheel and the headrest, when he caught the faintest hint of power stirring the hairs on the back of his neck. Max stiffened and focused intently on the tingle of energy, then smacked himself on the forehead. Another surge of power was building, and it definitely wasn’t here. “You damn fool!” He raged at himself, cranking the keys and slamming the Jeep into gear, ignoring the grind of the transmission. “You never should have left town! What the hell were you thinking? You can’t be patient, just for one more damn day?” 

And so, Max found himself speeding back towards town berating himself when a wave of energy crashed over him so powerful it caused him to drift partially off the road. He cursed, guiding the truck back to safety and took a slow, gulping breath to calm himself. “Sorry, old girl.” He said, patting the dashboard and slowing his pursuit. “Sorry, but this one is a doozie.”  The energy was still there, deep and powerful, but not quite as forceful now. It was strange and difficult to identify, but he thought it had to be witchcraft.  His ears began to ring and a faint headache started in his left temple. 

What kind of witch lives alone and sits on that kind of power?  He pondered and didn’t like the answers that came to him. This magic was different yet similar in a way he couldn’t quite place. The initial spike had been short, sudden, and powerful. This was longer and ebbed and flowed, seeming to take its time and stretch its limits. He raced towards the source and followed the surge to the east end of town. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. He sat, dumbfounded and numb at the sudden loss of supernatural pressure. “FUCK!” he bellowed, slapping the steering wheel. He was suddenly exhausted and his head still ached. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He punctuated each curse with a slam of his fist against the innocent wheel, then ran his hand through his already disheveled hair, leaving it standing on end. “Why did you leave town, you stupid, stupid ass!” He had been so close he was practically in the neighborhood, but now he was just as far from his source as when he’d started this whole damn investigation. He heaved a few dramatic false sobs and put his face in his hands. 

He sat that way for several minutes, trying to gather himself. He’d never experienced anything like that type of power before and certainly nothing so potent. It had caused him physical pain as he’d approached, like he was pushing into a wall of electricity. It both beckoned him to it and pushed him away. Most “calls”, as his mother had named them, were more like an instinct than a sense of power. He had dealt with covens in the past, and this didn't feel like that either. Over time, he had learned how to pick up the scent of a werewolf or vampire or wendigo and follow it often great distances if need be. But every magic user was different and left a different type of trail. Earth magic was different from fire magic or air magic, and a shaman wasn’t the same as a witch. And gods forbid if he ever caught the trail of blood magic again. Max shuddered at the thought. But even the blood coven hadn’t produced anything similar to this.  If a coven of witches couldn’t produce that much power, what could he possibly be facing now? 

That gave him an idea. He straightened and started driving in the direction he had felt earlier, following the ghost of power as close as he could before the trail went completely cold. It led him to a small, dilapidated appearing neighborhood close to the railroad tracks. Nothing appeared amiss - no giant crater or flashing sign that said “Evil Coven Meeting tonight” anywhere to be seen. He sat at a four-way stop, searching the houses and yards for any sign of movement. 

He had just decided to make a slow drive-through of the neighborhood when something slammed against the passenger side of his door.  Max yelped in surprise, grabbing his pistol out of its concealed holster. A hand grabbed the front fender of the truck and used it to pull up. A disheveled man staggered to his feet using the hood of the vehicle to steady himself. He waved an apologetic hand at Max and started to walk around the front of the car, muttering and mumbling to himself. Max’s eyes caught on the streak of blood left by the man’s hand. He cranked down his window. “Hey Buddy, are you okay?”

The man jumped and turned to look at him, as though he had been completely unaware he’d just ran into the side of a car. Max pointed to the man’s bleeding hand. He raised it to look at it, like it was something alien and strange. Max realized that two of the man’s fingernails had been torn completely off, and recently judging by the amount of blood. He turned off the Jeep and tucked his gun into his pants. “Dude, what happened to you?” Max asked as the man continued to study his hand like he’d never seen one before. He started to mutter again, but he wasn’t close enough for Max to make out the words. “I’m sorry man, can you speak up a little?” 

When the man didn’t respond, Max opened the door to approach him, hands out as though he was trying to calm an animal. “Sir?” Max began, softly. He reached out and brushed the man’s hand. The moment their skin connected the man threw both of his arms up over his head and started shrieking in terror. “No! No! No!” He howled. “No, don’t hurt me, I won’t do it again.” Max flinched back, instantly on high alert and scanning the surrounding houses. He saw porch lights flick on from the nearest house. He mentally cursed, but resumed his earlier stance and put his hands up in a calming manner. “What won’t you do again, friend?” Max asked, but the stranger kept repeating the last sentence again and again, quietly now.  “If you mean hit my car, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure she hurt you more than you hurt her.” 

He tried to smile, but the figure wasn’t hearing him anymore. Max saw movement from the house nearby and heard a door clatter shut. A flashlight came on and was pointed in their general direction. Max waved, trying to dissuade the onlooker, but the flashlight began bobbing towards them and he sighed. He knew better than to attempt touching the man again, but he approached him once more, looking for more signs of struggle. The man’s face was scratched, and some of what he had assumed earlier to be mud was actually dried blood. His shirt was torn, like someone had tried to rip it off of him and failed. Each injury may have been done to him, but he could have easily done it himself as well. There was no evidence he had been tied or handcuffed, nor any sign of being beaten or stabbed. Max couldn’t be sure if he sensed any hint of magic from him, but felt fairly confident this man was not his source of power. Power did often drive people mad however, so he wasn’t entirely ruling him out. “Buddy, do you know your name? Can I help you get home?” Max asked, gently. By now the figure with the flashlight was approaching and called out to them. “You folks okay?” drawled a man’s voice, with an edge of concern. “I’m not sure. This guy ran into my car while I was stopped. I saw he was bleeding and got out to check him, but when I touched him he just went nuts.” Max called. Flashlight man was close now, and Max could make out a large white man in plaid pajama bottoms and a stained white t-shirt. He swung his flashlight over the bum’s back and then over Max. “You from around here?” Flashlight man asked.

“No, just passing through and I got lost. I was stopped at the sign to look up directions when this guy came out of nowhere and ran into my car. I didn’t see where he came from or…” he trailed off. Flashlight man’s light finally swept over the bum’s face and he swore. “That’s my neighbor, Ray.” Flashlight man said. “I just saw him earlier today and he looked fine. Holy shit.” He knelt next to him and reached for him. “Ray, are you okay man? “I wouldn’t do that.” Max cautioned and Flashlight man paused. He wiped his free hand across his face and shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe it.” He said, shaking his head. “That’s just so sad. I don’t know what Cindy is going to do now. First Billy and now this.” Max straightened. “I’m sorry, I’m not following. Who’s Billy?” “Oh.” Flashlight man said, still shaking his head forlornly. “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know.” He sighed and sucked in a breath, as though he was going to deliver some terrible news. “Two days ago, Cindy and Ray’s son Billy drowned in the creek back behind the neighborhood. I knew they were torn up, but I didn’t realize...I mean…” he trained off, wiping his brow again and shaking his head once more, a nervous tick of his, Max surmised. “Does Ray have a history of mental illness?” Every instinct Max had was tingling. This was it! This had to be connected to his case.

“What?” Flashlight man began and Max motioned to the figure cowering on the ground. “Oh, no, not that I know of. I mean he has a temper and he drinks too much, but nothing like this. At least not that I know about.” He was reaching for his cellphone. “I’m going to call an ambulance and see if we can get him some help.”  Max nodded. “Do you think we should go get his wife?” Max asked. Flashlight man shook his head and motioned to the phone as he began speaking. Let them do it. Max didn’t disagree. Dealing with grieving mothers and widows was his least favorite part of the job. 

Based on a reddit writing prompt. Part of a larger universe I am working on.

[WP] You are a powerful ancient wizard, masquerading as an unassuming, friendly and senile history teacher. But when a supervillain threatens your school, they learn to never underestimate senior citizens.

The wizened old woman had to sit in the front of the classroom nowadays, her bones were too sore to stand for the full day any longer. But she still loved teaching and would gladly do this for years to come, just to see the spark come into another student’s eye as they learned about Alexander the Great or Hannibal and his elephants. She patted her silver white hair, making sure every strand was secure in her bun, while her high school students strolled in, laughing and talking among themselves. They regarded her as a kind old eccentric, and often tried to get her onto tangents talking about the “forgotten stories” of history, that her students believed she concocted on the spot. She smiled to herself, thinking “If they only knew.” 

The bell rang and the students continued to chat among themselves, as they often did in the period directly before lunch time. Ms. Green shifted herself, spine cracking dryly, to casually look out the window and into the beautiful spring day. She felt the light playing along her skin and smiled, and as she did the students began to quiet down. She took a deep breath, as though breathing in the warmth of the city below, and turned to smile at her class. They quieted to silence. 

“Now, who can tell me where we were after last class?” she said, her old voice cracking with age and use. 

One of her favorite students, a boy a bit too small for his age with shining blond hair raised his hand and was beginning to speak when there was a loud pop pop pop noise from outside, followed by a deafening roar. Ms. Green, or Theresa to her friends, snapped to attention, standing from her chair faster than any of her students would have considered possible, if they had been paying her any attention. The students closest to the windows were already exclaiming in fright and awe, as plumes of fire rose into the beautiful blue sky. Theresa hurried to the window, cursing the arthritis in her hips, and stared, dumbfounded, at the scene unfolding below. 

This particular high school was situated just across the street from a bank, which now stood unrecognizable in a pillar of smoke and flames. Theresa’s eyes were drawn to a small figure robed in black, backing away from the building, a large backpack slung over one shoulder and flames shooting out of his hands, feeding the fire as he fled. She felt the power rolling off of him, and it felt wrong somehow. Not just angry but tinged around the edges with something that felt black and corrupted. She felt a shiver run up her spine as she explored that corruption and realized that it almost felt like something was helping him, or controlling him. This was no ordinary fire mage, and something was very, very wrong. 

“Get away from the windows.” Ms. Green said, her voice firm. The class obeyed, but she stood her ground, watching the figure as two police cars already appeared on scene. He turned to the cars, bringing his hands together before throwing a large, molten ball of fire into the car closest to him. It exploded just as he was bringing his hands around to form another for the other car. You’re much too old for this, Theresa, let it be. Her fingers popped as she curled them into fists at her sides. Unless he threatens the students you can just let it be. She felt her power there, just on the edge of her senses, and willed it away. It had been centuries since she had touched it, just so she could feel herself grow old as the mortals did and experience history the way the mortals always would. All she had to do was ignore it and these centuries would not have been wasted. All the figure below had to do was turn and run the other way. But she knew, deep down in her ancient bones, that was not the way it would happen today. She was not meant to ignore her calling forever. And she could not let these students, her students, suffer the wrath of this wild little fire mage. 

The fire mage turned and ran towards the school building as more police cars began pouring into the street. Theresa turned and ran to the door. 

“Out! Down the back stairway. Run, and don’t stop. He may set this whole building ablaze.” She waited until her students were all safely out the door, and then she hurried to the front steps to meet this little vagabond who had disturbed her centuries of rest. She twisted and cracked her neck as she reached for the power she had kept locked away for far too long, feeling it rush into her veins and restoring her strength. The earth began to tremble beneath her, as she took the stairs two at a time, redirecting anyone as she went to the back stairs of the building and telling them to run. One student, a clever girl from her first period World History class, stopped to gape at her and she pushed her back towards the crowd, ushering her to go. She smiled, knowing that the tendrils of power she drew on were already reversing her wrinkles and returning color to her hair.

She saw him then, wearing a plain black cloak that anyone could get from a party store. Underneath he wore jeans and worn out sneakers, and she thought she spied a flame of red hair underneath the hood. Fire crackled between his hands as he sent small wisps of flame out to lick and scare the children closest to him.  Rage boiled through Theresa and the ground rumbled.

“ENOUGH!” she bellowed, and thick green vines shot from the floor and grasped the villain’s hands, anchoring him to the spot. “You will leave this school and my students alone, child, or you will regret the day you were born.” Her voice growled and echoed around the hall, despite the noise and confusion of the running students. Everyone halted to look at her in bewilderment. The robed man laughed and shook the hood free from his tangled red hair, a sneer across his sharp, pointed face. “Cute trick, grandma.” He sneered, fire leaping from him to burn her vines to ash. “But I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t think an old lady like you can do much to stop me, despite your cute parlor tricks.” Flames encircled him, popping and cracking, as he drew a ball of fire into his hands and hurled it towards her face. A pillar of stone rose in front of her and the fireball struck, sizzling to nothing. “Oh, my dear.” She said, waving her hand and turning the pillar to dust that began to orbit around her slowly. The ground beneath them shifted and moved, pushing the students out of the line of fire and building a barrier between them and the coming fight. “You have no idea who you’ve crossed.” 

“I think I can handle an old earth mage.” 

She waved her hands and the earth moved beneath her, cracking the floor of the school into long shards that she brought up to orbit around her. Crystals coalesced out of the ground, and she took one into her hand, letting the others float beside her. He closed her eyes and breathed, loving the feel of power coursing through her and wondering how she had gone without it for so long. Her young opponent took that moment to strike, but her dust cloud merged into a shield, easily deflecting the flames that seemed to be growing deeper red. He snarled at her, stepping closer, and she shot a dart of flooring towards him, a warning shot more than an outright attack. He dodged and continued towards her, hands outstretched and she felt the heat trying to melt her shield of rock into lava. 

“Clever.” she smiled, pulling the particles apart and dissipating the heat. He growled and pushed his flames forwards, surprising her. She formed a shield of crystal, but not before the flames licked at her skirts and burned her ankles. She cursed in surprise and rocked the ground beneath him, making him fall and causing all of the fire to die. Before he could rise, she formed a cage around him, bars of stone and bits of concrete, hewn in haste. He shot a bolt of darkening flame between the bars, and she dodged. She was beginning to get a better feel of his power now, but also the corruption, playing at the edges of his spells.  Probing it gave her a sick feeling in her stomach. 

He shot more fire towards her, a deep burgundy red and she began to turn the bars of his cage into walls. All she had to do was keep him contained long enough for the children to get to safety and the police to come into the building. She didn’t have to fight him. Fighting was not much in her nature, after all. Earth was an element of peace and healing, and she hated the idea of killing a child, especially one who may not be acting of just his own influence. 

The cage exploded and the mage stood, bellowing, darkening fire licking every inch of his body. He snarled at her and threw flames towards her in a wild, barely controlled wave. She cursed again and threw a whirling gale of rock and debris towards him, striking him and hurling him to the ground. The corruption at the edges of his power had grown rapidly, turning his flames from orange to red to nearly black. Her mind whirled, thinking of what could possibly be exerting that much control in such a small span of time, and she didn't like her options.

She threw out a hand and raised an earth elemental, the size of a large human, and sent it lumbering towards him. Vines sprouted from the ground, entangling his feet and grasping for his arms as he raised his hand and black fire appeared at her feet. She growled and pushed the earth beneath her to hurl her away from the flames, turning her hands and willing poison into her vines. A paralytic and a mild sedative, she thought, nothing too potent now. He gasped and writhed, setting black flame to the vines and struggling free. The elemental pounded on his arms, destroying the fire and breaking his hands as he gave an agonized scream. Theresa felt the last of his fire magic give way to the corruption beneath. Darkness flowed from his fingers, thick and swirling, moving towards her like snakes. She sucked in a breath and shot herself into the sky on a pillar of rubble and vines. This was very, very bad.

The mage rose, dark flames pouring out of him, turning her elemental into molten sludge. He roared in rage, ignoring his broken fingers and sending flames and darkness hurtling towards her, his eyes as black as night. She dropped the pillar, cushioning her fall, then throwing her hands up to form a crystal shell around herself as the dark amalgam poured over her.  She stared at the boy, knowing that whatever corruption he had played with had now consumed him entirely. He wasn't a mage anymore, but a monster, fire and dark, slithering tendrils pouring off of him like water and inundating her bubble of protection. 

Her mind raced, thinking of various ways of disabling him without killing him, when she saw a tendril of darkness slip around the barrier and grap a student around the middle and lift her into the air. More tendrils shot towards the barriers, and Theresa stopped thinking. 

In a rush of rage, she rose two enormous stone giants beside the mage and raised their fists to smash him. He dropped the students and redirected his attacks to the two elementals, darkness and flames swirling around them. She pushed the ground beneath him, launching him into the air, then drew it away suddenly, watching him plummet to the ground. Vines and thorns burst through the earth, ensnaring him and pushing poison into his veins. They pulled and tore at him, as the elementals raised their fists again and brought them down, hurling him to the ground. The vines held him fast as the fists came down again and again, dust billowing out around them. Theresa held up her hands and they stopped, as she slowly approached the writhing mass of vines, now coated with dark and spreading blood. 

Sightless, black eyes stared up as she withdrew the vines and they slithered back into the earth. Theresa shuddered, kneeling beside the corpse and feeling for a pulse, then for breath. She surveyed his broken body and felt a wave of sorrow wash over her, pricking tears into her eyes. 

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she watched with growing dread as the last few tendrils of darkness dripped from his broken fingers, scattering amongst the smoke and ashes. A black substance oozed like blood out of one ear, and was coagulating on the ground, stretching towards her where she knelt. She leapt up, face twisted in revulsion as it also began to smoke and dissipate. 

Preface: I have mentioned in my introduction post that some of my prompts are pieces of a larger story that I am constructing in my head. This is one such story. I would really appreciate feedback on this one, because I can’t decide if the idea is worth pursuing.  Also, I wrote this while working two horrific ER shifts, so it may be rough around the edges.

[WP] A serial killer stalks his prey -- a timid, vulnerable young woman. Unknown to him, she is a serial killer who lures her prey.

The day was unseasonably cold, right on the cusp of the change of seasons from summer to early fall, a teaser of what was to come. He chided her for not paying enough attention to the weather and neglecting to bring a jacket. But, he told himself, what should I expect from such an oblivious flip of a girl, texting more than watching her surroundings. 

He sat in his car, watching her type furiously on her phone, completely oblivious to the fact that she was being watched - no - stalked, as oblivious as she had been for the past few weeks as he followed her home from the hospital nightly, learning her routine. She should feel flattered, frankly, he thought as he traced the outline of her unremarkable figure, and unremarkable brown hair. She was unremarkable in every way, but he would change that, perhaps even tonight. 

She was standing just outside the ambulance bay doors, apparently on her last break before shift change, and her wrinkled brow implied it wasn’t going well. She looked up suddenly, back towards the bay doors as though someone had called her name. But then, just as suddenly, she turned and looked back out at the parking lot, eyes sweeping the parking lot until they met his own. He sucked in a breath, but her eyes continued scanning the lot, not lingering over-long on him. Good, he thought, she still hadn’t made him yet. It wouldn’t be long now. 

She punched a code on the keypad by the glass doors and she slipped back inside. He hadn’t been able to catch the numbers yet, despite his efforts she always seemed to be in the way. Besides, there was another keypad before the second entrance, and, likely, a different code entirely that he would never be able to see properly, so it was never going to be a feasible entrance anyway. Not that he could do much to her in the Emergency Department, other than visit her and maybe offer her flowers, like a real gentleman friend. Not that she deserved a true gentleman, with her wild whoring ways. 

He settled back into his seat, relaxing while he waiting for the last two hours of her shift to be over, so he could once again follow her home - or maybe to the grocery store, it had been a week since she’d been after all, and it had looked like she was running low on milk this morning. He smiled, thinking just how far they had come in their little “relationship” since the first time he had seen her all those weeks ago. He’d gotten a very nasty cut dealing with his last lady friend, and had gone to the ER seeking stitches and saying it had happened while preparing dinner. Beatrice, who inexplicably preferred to be called “Tris”, had been his perky little nurse, and as soon as he had laid eyes on her, he had known he had found his next lady friend. The polite chit-chat she had continued throughout his suturing process had allowed him to ask questions about her job (“How much longer are you here for, darling, you look like it’s been a long day?”)  and her life (“Do you have anybody waiting for you at home?”) that he could get away with while pretending he needed a distraction. That evening, he waited for hours until she went home for the day and followed her. He thought that perhaps a medical professional, particularly one who saw what happened to victims of violence, would have been more aware of her surroundings. He had thought she would present a challenge, but no, the little bitch was as simple as the rest of them. What a disappointment. But they had all turned out to be disappointments in the end. 

As he waited, he lost himself in the fantasies of how he would take her. He would wait until she had gone to bed and slip in through the sliding glass door she always kept unlocked on her back patio, stupid girl. He would lecture her on her carelessness while he tied her up and drove her back across town to his “facilities”, where he would punish her until she renounced her sins and accepted him as her true soul-mate. He would show her how a true gentleman treated a lady.

*******

Beatrice smirked to herself as she walked back inside the Emergency Department. She felt sure tonight would be the night, and she could barely contain her glee. She hummed to herself as she went back to her computer and badged in, noting the new orders on patients and making a mental list of what urgently needed her attention. Today she was in C-pod, the dumping ground of the ER that sometimes had sick patients, but mostly had little old ladies with broken hips or urinary tract infections, and the occasional arrhythmia. It had been a good day - she was working with her favorite Physician Assistant, Abigail, who ran a tight,efficient ship, even when shit hit the fan. It had been a rare day, where the flow of the ER was steady and not overwhelming, and most of the patients were nice, even if they were in pain. 

Abigail, perhaps sensing Tris’ mood, smiled knowingly as she approached the desk. “Were you out there talking to that boy again?” she asked. Tris laughed and shook her head. 

“What boy?”

“The one that has you in such a good mood.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?” Tris looked at her, trying to put on her best serious face. 

Abigail looked at her, knowingly. “It’s a boy.” 

Tris grinned again. “Yeah, it’s a boy.” Abigail nodded, sagely, and turned back to start dictating. “How did you know?”  Abigail looked at her and winked, tapping her head to signal she was telepathic. Tris smiled and rolled her eyes. If she only knew, she thought. 

The thought struck her then that, perhaps, Abigail did know. She’d always had trouble reading her, so maybe the woman had her own secrets to keep. Maybe she also guarded them closer than most, like Tris herself. She tried to think on that further, but her concentration slipped and she was back to fantasizing about tonight - unable to contain herself.  She went back over her order list, making an effort this time to remember what she was supposed to do before walking back to the supply room.

Blessedly, the last few hours of her 12 hour shift went smoothly and quickly, partially due to spending the time chatting with Abigail and her fellow RNs, and partially because the work was steady and routine, which is not always a guarantee in the Emergency Department. She clocked out and had to take a breath to calm herself before walking calmly to her car. Once inside, she locked her doors quickly, closed her eyes and took slow, centering breaths. “You can do this, Tris. Just play it cool and wait for him to make his move. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.” She murmured to herself, trying to focus on sensing him to help steady herself.  She sat that way for a few minutes, before she opened her eyes and started her car, putting on some up-beat music to suit her mood. 

She kept checking herself in her rearview mirror all the way home. 

********

He snapped back to attention upon seeing Tris start towards her car. He waited until she had shut her door before starting his own, ensuring he wouldn’t draw her attention . Tris worked mid-shifts and, as a result, often walked to her car alone at night, making her an easy target, but also making anyone following her more noticable. He pulled out behind her on the highway, his excitement growing as they neared her home. She lived alone in a small house on the outskirts of town, where the houses were spaced out and no one would hear any commotion she might cause as he introduced himself. He felt himself harden as he imagined her screams, then tried to push it away. 

“Not so fast, friend. We need to slow down and enjoy it.”  He muttered to himself, putting more distance between their cars, so as not to draw attention. “You’re always going so fast.”

And fast, he thought, was part of the problem. In the cop shows they would call this “escalating”. His last girl was only a month ago, another petite, young thing with nothing but air in her head. The one before her had satisfied him for six months, and the one before that even longer. Perhaps he just wasn’t choosing quality specimens anymore? He pondered that, but decided self reflection could wait until after he satisfied himself with Beatrice. 

He parked his car two streets over, at a house that was listed for sale and had been empty as long as he had been with Tris. He made his way between the neighboring houses, until he could see her backyard. She was calling in her dog, still in her work clothes and chatting on her phone. He smiled to himself. Yes, he thought, tonight would be the night. He couldn't stand waiting any longer. 

Cautiously, he moved to the side of the house, crouching beside the air conditioning unit, which was rattling noisily, despite the chill. From here, he could easily see through her curtains and into her bedroom. She was heading into her bathroom, likely to turn on the shower, still chatting away on her cell phone. He settled in, knowing her evening routine would progress from bathing to eating and then finally to bed. 

He relaxed and let his mind wander to his last victim - Josie, had been her name. She was a young barista that was just begging for it from the moment he had laid eyes on her. It only took him one night to see just how much she needed him to help her. He thought about how she had fucked that boy from the bar, the first night he’d come home with her and it made his blood boil, so much it started giving him a dull headache. He remembered how she’d come to recognize him as he made regular visits to the coffee shop, and even had come to laugh at his jokes. And then, how she had rejected him when he’d asked her to dinner. That stranger in a bar had meant more to her than him - after he took so much time to get to know her. But then, the sweet release he had felt when he slit her throat, and her hot blood poured over his hands. But no, that was making the headache worse. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, to relieve the pain, and when he opened them, to his surprise, Beatrice was in her pajamas, and getting into bed. He blinked and checked his watch, shocked to see he had lost an hour of time.  

He waited for 30 minutes, until he was sure she was asleep, and crept around behind the house to the sliding door he knew would be opened. He entered, immediately looking for the dog, but it was nowhere to be seen. He crept carefully across the mud room and into the kitchen. 

“Well, it’s about time you showed up, Handsome.” 

The lights flipped on as he stumbled backwards, heart racing, and he fell against the wall. To his horror, Beatrice was sitting at the kitchen island, legs crossed, sipping on a glass of what appeared to be soda. She cocked her head to the side, a slow, victorious smile spreading across her lips. He stared, mind reeling to make sense of the scene before him. She was here, dressed in her work clothes, expecting him. But he had just seen her get into bed, in pajamas - hadn’t he? He tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy and the light was making his head throb.

“It’s amazing what you can make people believe when they want something badly enough.” She swirled the ice around in her glass as she spoke, watching it tumble. “It’s amazing how easily you fell into my trap. Honestly,  I expected it to be harder, but I suppose I overestimated you.” She scoffed. “Or underestimated myself. I suppose that could go either way.” 

Fear gripped his chest as he realized, with blossoming horror, that she had planned everything. His head was now hurting so badly it was disorienting and he seemed to have lost control of his limbs. He willed his legs to move, to run, but he was frozen in place. Have I had a stroke? He thought. 

Tris flicked her eyes up to meet his, suddenly all business. Were her eyes always that blue? They looked almost unnatural. No, he decided, something had changed. In fact, her entire demeanor seemed changed. She sat her glass on the island and moved towards him, a predator toying with her prey. A mischievous smile played at the corners of her mouth as she knelt in front of him, so close he could touch her if he could just get his limbs to obey. She was just a girl, he could still overpower her - this could still work - if only he could will himself to move, to lunge at her. But, he couldn’t - he was mesmerized. 

“Before you go hunting, you should always be sure you’re not the prey.” She purred, running a finger down his cheek. 

“Did you drug me?” He croaked, his voice barely sounding like his own. 

She scoffed. “Nothing so mundane, my dear.” 

She tapped her index finger to the middle of his forehead, and memories whirled to the surface, dizzying in their speed and clarity. Josie in her cute barista outfit. Josie fucking the man from the bar. Josie struggling against his hands as he slit her perfect throat. He heard himself groan as every emotion flooded him - arousal, betrayal, and rage. And then he heard her voice again as she leaned in and whispered, lips brushing his ear, “And now, I’m going to give you the gift of empathy.”

He was trapped in the memory of Josie’s last moments, but suddenly his perspective was not his own, but of hers. Horror and terror rushed through him, in a way he had never before experienced. Somehow he was experiencing her torture and death as though it was his own. He began to struggle in earnest then, willing his body to move - to run, but he was being held in place. This girl, this thing that was holding him was not human. He had to escape. He reeled against the memories forced into his head, but that only made his headache worse. 

“Oh come on now, darling.” Contempt dripping from her voice. “‘You may as well enjoy it, because it’s going to be your last.’”, he heard himself tell not just Josie but all of the girls before her. The terror and rage and despair of everyone ripping through his mind. He felt his grip on reality slipping as his mind was forced into dozens of different perspectives all at once, his entire body tightening and convulsing. Every torture he had ever performed was being performed on him now. He could feel every broken bone, every tear, every cut - and he heard himself screaming. It lasted an eternity, and yet it lasted only a moment. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it shifted again. He was outside of himself - seeing himself through Tris’ eyes. His body lay on the floor, blank eyes staring up at nothing, twitching at intervals and muttering to himself. But he was also on the bar stool, sitting across from Tris, who was watching him with some amusement. 

“This is what I do, you see. And I’m very, very good at what I do.  Not many people realize that there are telepaths that move among them, much less telepaths of significant power. As it turns out, when I see into the horrors of the mind and find a true monster - I just can’t help myself. I have to avenge them - the ones whose voices you took away. But death is too good for you all. I can’t just cut you up and dump you into a river. You people can’t really feel fear and regret, unless I make you.” She was leaning forward now, eyes hot with rage. “So I make you feel what you made all of them feel. I make you feel it until you rip your own mind apart. And then I leave you, a sniveling, convulsing ruin of a creature - and you will feel them for the rest of your worthless, miserable life.” She spat the words at him, eyes burning with fury beyond anything he could have thought possible. “Now, look at yourself one last time and say goodbye.” 

“Please.” He started, but she silenced him with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“There is nothing you can say that would have me spare you, so don’t waste the precious few neurons you have left trying.” Her blue eyes flashed, and he was falling back into a hell of his own creation. He reached for her and she took his hand, just for a moment, and smiled. “Hell hath no Fury greater than me.” She released his hand and he felt himself falling. He was falling off of the staircase that he pushed Cassandra down, feeling every bone in his body break. He was falling and his own knives sliced and tore at his skin on the way down. He felt his mind give way and the terror flood through him, as all of his own cruelty came down on him as a wave. 

****

Beatrice saw when his mind finally broke, and smiled to herself, checking the clock on the stove. The entire process had taken less than ten minutes. She was getting better. 

“Stand up, please.” She told the shell that had once been a monster, in a calm, measured voice. The husk stood, obediently, looking blankly ahead. “Do you remember your name?” 

“No.” It shook its head, blinking slowly. 

“Do you know what you want to do now?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I think you should get back in the car, drive as far as you can, and then start walking. I think you should walk and wander until your body breaks down and you finally die. And I think that whenever you come across a woman that would have once attracted your fancy, you will feel utter and complete terror, the likes of which you once made them feel. Do you understand?”

The husk nodded.

“Good. Now go.” 

[WP] You are a homicide detective called in to investigate the murder of a high profile victim. The forensics crew at the site is eerily uneasy. You ask to see the body and they guide you to a small piece of cloth at room's center. You lift it and find a perfectly shaped half-foot cube of meat.

“How’s it going, Simmons?” asks the officer, lifting the caution tape for me to duck under.  

“Another day, another dollar.” I say, slipping under the tape. “What’s the word?” The officer visibly tenses, shifting uneasily. 

“They didn’t tell you?” 

“No, I just heard there was a high profile homicide and to get my ass down here ASAP.” I glance around, taking in the scene. A large house sits atop a short, lush grassy hill with an expertly manicured landscape. Nothing appeared amiss from the outside, the lawn and decor appeared undisturbed by a struggle. 

“I better let them tell you up there then.” The officer nodded towards the house. 

I made my way up the driveway, admiring the lovely old house while looking for any signs of disturbance. Two young officers came out of the house ahead of me, looking pale and shaken. 

“That bad?” I ask. They only nod. I steeled myself for a bloodbath and entered by the side door they had come from. 

The inside of the house was as pristine as the outside, beautifully furnished and decorated with not a thread out of place. I shot a questioning glance at another officer, flashing my ID, and she pointed towards the center of the house. I followed her gesture into the large, central study of the home, lavishly furnished with rich carpeting and plush upholstery. Most of the wall was covered with built in bookshelves full of books of various genres, some old, some new. Against the wall to the left was a lovely wooden desk with a computer with a large, ornately carved matching desk in the center of the room. On the desk lay a small drop cloth, covering a small object.

Mitchell, another homicide detective, stood off to the side, talking with the coroner and a crime scene tech. He noticed me and motioned for me to join them. They stopped talking as I approached, looking grim. 

“What have we got?” I asked, nodding in greeting as I approached. “The way the street boys looked I was expecting a blood bath. Is it upstairs?” Mitchell grimaced.

“Well, it isn’t exactly a blood bath.”  Mitchell started. “It’s just very strange.” Dr. Culpepper, the coroner, stated. “I’ve honestly never seen anything like it.” 

“Well that doesn’t bode well.” I said. Mitchell nodded, then tilted his head towards the desk in the center of the room.

“Under the sheet.” he said. 

“What is?”

“What’s left of the body.” he started towards it, slipping on a pair of gloves. I looked at the doctor, confused, who just nodded and started moving with us towards the desk. Mitchell gently lifted the sheet, revealing a perfectly square cube of raw meat. 

Confused, I stared at each of them in turn, then back at the meat. 

“Are we….”

“Sure it’s human, yes.” Mitchell preempted my thoughts.

“I tested it myself.” Dr. Culpepper said.

“You can do that in the field?” I asked and he nodded in response.

“We got a call from the housekeeper this morning, said she found what she thought were human remains in the study and could we come and take a look. She said the owner has been out of town for a few days, she comes in every day to water the plants and be sure nothing has happened, but today she found this. Nothing else appeared out of place, no blood trail, no sign of struggle, nothing. So a beat cop comes out, takes a look and calls the crime scene guys, who verifies that this might be human remains.  Doc here comes out, does his little test thingy and says ‘yeah, it’s human alright.’ So we go about trying to find the owner, and we can’t track him down. It’s like the guy just disappeared off the face of the planet. His car is at the airport, but he missed his flight, never made his hotel reservation, and hasn’t been seen or heard from in 3 days.” 

“Huh. So we think this is the owner?” I gestured to the perfect cube in front of me.

“Maybe, but it gets weirder.” 

“How much weirder?” 

“This is Danny Silverman’s house.”

“Holy shit.” I take a deep breath. Danny Silverman, the country’s leading expert on criminal psychology, who has personally put away hundreds of violent offenders, is missing and now a suspicious cube of meat appears in his home. “How did we not know he was missing? Hadn’t anybody reported it?” 

“He was taking some personal time, according to the housekeeper. Going away to a secluded cabin after putting away that child rapist last week.”

“Have we ran this through VICAP?” 

“As we speak.” 

“Doc - how soon can we identify who this cube belongs to?” 

Dr. Culpepper cleared his throat. “About 24-48 hours to be sure.”

“What can you tell me, then.” 

“Well, I can tell you it’s a perfect 6 inch cube of human muscle, and at first glance I would say it was removed post-mortem, but I’ll know more when I get it back to the lab.”  The old doctor fidgeted and looked at Mitchell. “Which I would be happy to do if he would release it to my custody.” 

I glanced at Mitchell, who nodded. “I was just waiting on Simmons to get a good look first. It’s all yours doc.” Mitchell moved to pull me aside and I allowed him. 

“Mitch, this is bad.” I said, an edge of hysteria rising in my voice, “This has to be a class ‘A’ psychopath we’re dealing with and if Silverman’s dead…” I shook my head. 

“Yeah.” Mitchell said, echoing my own feelings. “I know you two used to...be close.”

I shifted uncomfortably.  “We worked a couple of cases together, several years ago.” 

“Which is exactly why I need you on this. You’ve got experience with serial killers and psychopaths, so you’re my best asset on this. But can you do this objectively?”

I straightened. “Of course I can be fucking objective, Garret, what the fuck kind of question is that?” 

Mitchell smirked. “The kind to get your head back on straight.” 

“Fuck you.” I rolled my eyes. 

“The housekeeper is down the hall. I figured you’d want a go at her before we let her loose. The responding officer is probably off pissing his pants somewhere, but I told him not to leave. His name is Rankin.” He grinned at me. “Let’s get to work.”

I spent the next few hours interviewing the housekeeper and responding officer, then combing every single inch of the house and the grounds.  Hours of work revealed absolutely nothing, except perhaps how much my old friend and I had grown apart. 

It had been a long, long time since I had seen Danny. Back then, he was living in an apartment downtown, drinking too much whiskey and spending late nights in the library reading old psychiatric journals. But then, we caught our first big case - a serial rapist turned murderer that had the whole city buzzing for months. Danny had made a huge breakthrough that led directly to his capture, and I was given the choice to move to homicide, instead of staying in vice.  He landed multiple consulting gigs around the country, and over time we just grew apart.  I was having a hard timing grasping that the cube was what we had left of Danny. 

Before leaving the house, I pulled out my phone and thumbed through my contacts, unsure if I even still had Danny’s number or if he would even have the same number after all these years. But, sure enough, his number was still in my phone, so I reflexively sent him a text.     Hey, I know it’s been a long time, but just wanted to be sure you’re ok. -E

Well, I’m probably going to regret that later. I thought, putting my phone back in my pocket as I walked back to my car.  Not two minutes later, my phone buzzed and I pulled it back out of my pocket. 

Danny had texted back.

My blood ran cold as I opened the message.

    Welcome to the game, Elena. 

“Fuck.” 

[WP] You’re doing research in an old library when a stranger comes running up to you. They go to give you a hug while saying, “My love.” You flinch away and their expression falls. Under their breath they say, “Fuck. Wrong timeline.”

...based on these findings, we can conclude that the enzymatic reaction is stable at physiological pH, and thus…

My eyelids drag coarsely across my weary eyes as I blink up at the time. I'd been waist deep in journal articles in the ancient half of the university library for hours, and everything was blurring together, getting me nowhere. Another day wasted. I sighed, gently closing the journal and placing it back in it's spot on the table, where dozens of books and journals littered the workspace. I closed my eyes and inhaled the musky scent of old books and old buildings, letting my thoughts drift as they wished, relinquishing control. 

I was 2 years into a PhD program, researching the biochemical processes of aging and going nowhere in the meantime. The whole field was chock full of pseudoscience and impossible to prove theoreticals, resulting in a metric fuck-ton of useless drivel that I needed to parse through while writing my thesis. Trying to be a “serious scientist” in a field of superficial commercial products was exhausting and disheartening. And yet, like all budding scientists, I felt my cause was righteous - that unlocking the mechanisms of aging would let us reverse senility and save those we held most dear. It was a pipe dream, and I knew it, but I clung to the hope that one day this would all mean something. I peered at the stacks on my table and sighed, rubbing my temples and feeling the headache starting there. 

Time for a change of scenery. I thought to myself, standing and stretching. I was deep in the stacks of the older section of the library building, where largely forgotten volumes of scientific journals and old medical texts were housed. The room was largely silent, minus the hum of the ventilation system and occasional creak of the floor above me. I liked it here, wrapped in solitude and blanketed in the smell of books and old wood, as opposed to the laboratory or classroom where I was constantly asked questions I couldn’t answer about where my project was heading and what, exactly, it was that I wanted to accomplish here. A female in academia isn’t exactly new, nowadays, but a female in academia studying biochemistry in a laboratory that also tested makeup and skin care products was treated as a joke. 

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I turn to go back to the main library when I hear a faint “pop” somewhere in the stacks beside me. I know the odd pops and creaks this wing makes well enough, and I’m stuck with the sensation that I am no longer alone. I shift to see into the cluster of shelves and see a figure moving among the rows. How did someone get past me without me seeing them? 

“Hello?” I call, “Sorry, I have a whole bunch of journals over here on the table, so if you can’t find what you’re looking for you may want to…” I trail off as the figure moves into the open. He’s a tall, slender college student, and he looks at me with a sudden warmness and recognition that sends a flush of embarrassment through me. I’ve never seen this man before in my life, but he’s looking at me as though I am his oldest friend.

“Oh thank goodness! My love!” He rushes towards me, moving to embrace me. I flinch backwards, suddenly alarmed, running through every potential acquaintance in my memory and coming up blank. I am absolutely sure I have never seen this man before in my life. He stops, his warmness instantly replaced by despair. “Fuck!” He exclaims. “Wrong timeline. Again.” He drops his hands to his pockets and averts his gaze. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am.” I stand in stunned silence, gripping my purse. His green eyes flick back up to mine, briefly, and I see what seems like true sorrow there. 

“Does that line ever actually work on anybody?” He stares at me, confused. “Because, I mean, I have to admit it’s unique but a little bit over the top.” I smile at him, and after a moment, he returns it.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He snorts out a short laugh, still obviously embarrassed. “You look just like someone I know.”

“Someone you love, you mean? She must be pretty special.” 

The stranger looks at his shoes. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

“Why did you think she’d be here? I’m pretty much the only one who ever uses this section of the library - at least for the past few months.” 

“Ah, well..” he rocks back and forth on his heels, “She’s been working on this project for astrophysics and I thought I’d find her here.” 

“Well, there’s your problem.” I laugh. “This is the medical wing.” He looks up sharply. 

“Medical?” 

“Yeah, pretty sure it has been for at least 2 years or so now. Probably a whole lot longer than that.” 

“You’re in the medical field?”

“Well no, not exactly. I’m in a biochemistry program, but I’m studying the aging process and…”

“Oh, well,” he starts, then pauses, “that’s different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I feel heat rising to my cheeks. “Because I’m a girl and I’m…” he holds his hand up soothingly.

“No, no! I just mean…” he trails off. I cock and eyebrow at him, waiting. He sighs. “I just mean, you’ve never done this before.”

“Well of course I’ve never done this before, it’s not like I have other PhD’s just lying around.”

He meets my eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh his options. Then he shrugs and says “I mean, in every alternative universe, I’ve never once seen you pursue medicine. It just...isn’t you. You’ve always been a physicist and a damn good one. I just have a hard time seeing you as anything else.”

“I….what?”

He sighs. “Your name is Rachel Turner. You grew up in Huntsville, Alabama where you were supposed to get interested in rocket science and physics. I don’t know what diverted that, but I know that in every other timeline, you still love books, terrible movies, and have a soft spot for old things and history.” I shift uncomfortably and he laughs softly. “And when you’re uncomfortable you push your hair back behind your ears like that, and shift your weight to your left foot.” I straighten, and consciously shift my weight back to my right. “You’re stubborn and fierce and have never encountered a puzzle you couldn’t tease apart.” The twinkle in his eyes falters, slightly, “Until you open the portal.”

“Was I your TA or something?” 

“What?” He looked confused.

“Is that how you know so much about me? Are you stalking me?” 

“What, no, I…”

“Because if you did you’re a terrible stalker. I only lived in Alabama until I was 3, we moved when my father died and my mother needed to go back to Ohio to find work and be closer to family.”

“Your dad died?”

“Yeah, early onset dementia.”

“...which is why you’re studying aging.” He nods, satisfied. ”Look, I’m sorry for scaring you and wasting your time. I’ll let you get back to your work.” He motions to the stack of books on the table.” He turned to go back into the stacks.

“Wait!” I exclaim, before I know what I’m saying. He looks back at me over his shoulder and smiles. 

“You may want to find Sam Albertson over in the physics department.” He says, turning back to walk away. “But he’s not going to remember any of this though.” 

I stood, stunned and watched him disappear into the stacks. I heard another faint “pop” a few seconds later and the sound snapped me out of my confusion. I rushed into the stacks after him, but found nothing. I searched and searched, feeling along the walls, looking for hidden openings, until the library lights flipped on and off flipped on and off three times, signaling that it was about to close. I returned to my table, looking all around for any clues of the stranger’s identity or where he could have gone. Had I really just met a time traveler? Could such a thing really be possible? 

I shook my head, thinking it was more likely that I had just fallen asleep while reading my articles. 

As I made my way back to my apartment, I remembered the name he had given me and decided to search for “Sam Albertson” on social media. I nearly dropped my phone when the stranger’s green eyes looked back at me from his profile picture. 

“That little fuck.” I whispered, heading towards the physics department. He was a graduate student, so maybe he would be there this late in the evening. He was published on a paper describing faster-than-light travel models, which gave me a place to start looking. My heart thundered in my chest, a mixture of rage and embarrassment, as I ran up the steps of the physics building. I looked briefly at the directory, then started making my way towards the quantum research labs. Halfway down the hall, my annoyance became tinged with terror. Why was I looking for my stalker in a mostly empty building at night? What if he was dangerous? My steps slowed as I came to the door. Did I really want to do this? I froze, suddenly acutely aware of the insanity of my undertaking. My thoughts whirled through a hundred possible scenarios, not one of them favorable. I turned, and started quickly back down the hallway. All of this could wait until morning, until after I had eaten and slept and had a clearer head. 

The door opened behind me, and I reflexively quickened my steps. 

“Can I help you?” A voice called after me. I stopped, chagrined, and slowly turned to face him. 

Behind me stood Sam Albertson, just as he had stood before me in the library a few hours ago. Except, not the same, I realized, as I took him in. In the library, his hair was longer and shaggier, and his face held a whisper of stubble that made him look older and more rugged. The Sam in front of me now was clean shaven, with short, but still unruly hair. His green eyes looked at me curiously.

“Sorry.” I muttered. “I was just…” He took a couple of hesitant steps towards me. My mind was racing, trying to make everything make sense. 

“Are you okay?” He said, curiosity shifting to concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

I shook myself, trying to fit the pieces together. You’ve never encountered a puzzle you couldn’t  tease apart, the stranger had said. The stranger. Not the man in front of me. I suddenly knew exactly what I was going to do. I straightened and extended my hand. “I’m Rachel,” I said. “I’m thinking about changing my major.”

  Sam grinned, taking my hand. “Oh yeah, what are you interested in?”