It'd been five nights since I slept.

Because when I slept, I dreamt of him and the last thing I wanted was to see his face in the only place I was supposed to have peace.

So, like every other night since our last encounter, I found myself at the consulate's gym.

Of course, he hates you, I reminded myself. You told him you hated him first.

I swung at the punching bag, my knuckles turning red.

I mean, what were you expecting? You practically told him to fuck off.

Punch.

Okay. But even when I hated him, I never wanted to destroy him.

Punch.

Whatever. Like I care.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

I hissed as blood sprayed the punching bag and splattered me on the face.

Before I could focus on the pain, or return to punishing both the bag and myself, I felt the presence of another unwelcome intruder arrive.

She materialized within the mirror across the room and I knew something about her blood-covered clothing was supposed to scare me, but right then all I felt was annoyance.

She was like a buzzing fly you'd chase all around your home but could never quite squash, leaving you wondering what in the hell had ended up happening to it once you no longer saw it.

Seeing Ally felt a lot like that these days.

"Marcy will continue to be tortured until you do something." She said, getting straight to the point. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Telling me all about what would happen to mom and Taylor the longer I stayed here hiding like a coward.

With Ally's return had come the dark reminder that I still had yet to rescue either one of them. Not that it was something I could actually ever forget.

It was something, much like Ally, that haunted me day and night.

"Eventually he'll get bored of her and move on to Taylor, ya know?"

I flinched, picking up speed as I punched and kicked the bag until my knuckles were raw.

I didn't stop.

Blood slid down my knuckles and across the inner crease of my wrist, disappearing into the sleeve of my shirt.

Ally stepped out of the mirror, black water spilling onto the smooth linoleum flooring. When I glanced away and back, the water had disappeared and so had Ally.

I stopped, drawing in a deep breath to steady myself.

She reappeared just then, on the other side of the punching bag and I wished I could punch her instead of the inanimate plastic.

"They can't wait much longer. Why aren't you listening?" Her voice was mild but there was a hint of teasing in it. Like she enjoyed the prospect of my family being hurt.

"Garton's promised to help me rescue them soon." I snapped. "So fuck right off to hell, Ally. I don't have time for you right now."

"Garton," She laughed. "I think he's a little too busy with all the dark things going on around here." She said in a sing-song voice. "I wish for once you'd listen to me. It's because I'm older isn't it? You always had a problem with authority."

"Leave me alone, Ally!" I shouted, steadying the bag before fixing her with a glare. "Please, I don't need you reminding me how horribly I'm failing my family, ok?"

Ally wound around me.

I could feel her cold breath on my neck, her presence causing goosebumps to travel across my spine. I could see her reflection in the mirror, the way her eyes shifted to black ovals and how her breath billowed out as black smoke.

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself Aimee. What are all these neat powers for if you don't use them?"

"I'm not stupid enough to think I can single-handedly take on an entire Soulsucker army." I snapped.

"I disagree. I believe you can take on anyone," She said. "All you have to do is give in to it."

"Give in to what?"

"The darkness." she whispered.

I swallowed and tore my gaze away from the mirror.

"Go away, Ally. Please."

"While you sit here with your broken little heart you are wasting precious time. You are so blind and so, so foolish."

"What is that supposed to mean? God, for once can you not speak in cryptic little messages? What do you want from me?"

"You are fighting the wrong enemy!" Ally shouted.

"What do you mean!?" I screamed back, acutely aware of how crazed I sounded. "What the hell do you mean, Ally? Answer me!"

I shook my head and sank to my knees, exhausted and emotionally drained. Ally didn't respond and I wrapped my arms around the punching bag for support, drawing in a series of deep breaths.

Don't cry.

Don't cry.

Don't you fucking cry, Aimee.

Ally laughed once and in that laugh she managed to convey disappointment, disdain and amusement all at the same time.

After a moment, she disappeared but the damage had been done.

I stood and continued punching the bag until my hands became covered in blood.

It was early in the morning that I banged on Damian's door with my freshly healed knuckles.

I heard the shuffling of his feet before he appeared in the doorway, scratching the back of his head as he yawned.

"Aimee," He said, voice groggy. "What's going on?"

"I need you to help me find mom and Taylor. Please, Dai, they've waited long enough. Who do I need to talk to to make it happen?"

"Aims," He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "You've had this conversation with Garton, remember? He agreed to help you."

"But it needs to happen now."

"It's not that easy."

I shook my head stubbornly. "No. It has to be. You don't understand. Stefan is going to keep torturing Marcy until I show up. You can't ask me to just sit around here and wait. If Garton won't do it I'll have to do it myself."

"We're working on it--oh, Jesus, Aimee, don't cry."

"Stop, stop," I said, swatting away his arms then wiping viciously at my face. "I don't want you to hold me. I need you to help me."

He scanned my face, his green eyes wary. "What are you asking?"

"I'm asking you to convince Garton that the time is now."

"I--I don't have that kind of power, Aims."

"Then come with me. Because if you don't," I said as I rubbed my hands against my jeans and took a deep breath. "I'm going to do it alone. And it's not a threat or me throwing a fit. I really just don't care what you or Garton have to say about it. I've left them here long enough."

"You don't think I want to get them back too? They're practically family to me, Aims! But we gotta have a real plan. We can't just go in there guns blazing."

"Well I can't just sit here and do nothing, either, Damian. I can't. I won't."

"He wants you to go there so badly. Why do you think that is? No, don't answer that." Damian said, holding up a hand mid-air. "I can tell you why. It's because he needs you for something and whatever it is, knowing him, it won't be anything good. And once you're there, and he has no use for Marcy and Taylor, don't think for one second that let them to live. I know that man. I've studied that man."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" I cried. "Give me another option."

"Trust that Garton will find a way to get them out."

"I don't have that kind of faith in him, Damian. You know that."

"I know." He said gently, reaching for me again. This time, I let him wrap his arms around me, my cheek pressing into the warm fabric of his cotton t-shirt.

"All I'm asking is for you to have a little faith in me. I'll talk to Garton. I'll see what we can do, I promise."

"Okay," I muttered, nodding my head and squeezing my eyes shut as I realized it was a pointless fight. I had no intention of truly waiting to see if his talk with Garton would yield any results. A plan was already forming in my mind.

Maybe Damian was right that I couldn't go in there guns blazing but I could go in there with dark magic blazing, no matter the repercussions to my soul.

What in the hell did I have to lose anyway? And what did my soul even matter if mom and Taylor died? With them gone, I'd be dead inside anyway.

"Alright, enough hugging--" My voice cut off, my throat going dry as pain rushed through my hands.

I pushed away from Damian's arms, gasping. I glanced down at my hands, expecting to see flames on my palms, slapping them together to put out a fire that wasn't there.

"Fuck!" I gasped, shaking my hands in the air. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

A horrible pain seared my skin. Invisible, excruciating blisters covered every inch of my palms.

"Aimee!" Damian exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

"Get it off, get it off!" I screamed, eyes scanning the room wildly.

Damian glanced down at my hands, searching for a wound neither him nor I could see.

"Get what off?" He touched my hands and I cried out in pain, tearing myself away from him.

I ran to his bathroom, flipping on the faucet with my elbow and shoving my hands into the cool water.

But it did nothing to help.

"Holy hell, please, make it stop." I gasped and panted, tears burning in my eyes and unwittingly streaming down my face. I bit down on my lip, trying to stifle the awful sounds coming from my throat.

And for a fleeting second, I wondered if this was what hell felt like.

Damian appeared behind me, his hands hovering helplessly.

"Oh, freaking fuck." I panted, leaning against my elbows, trying hard to focus on anything but the pain.

And then, just as it'd arrived, the pain disappeared to be replaced with a cool sensation. A delicious numbness spread from my fingertips to my palms and all the way up to my elbows.

In that one second of pain-free clarity, instinctively, I thought of Christian.

Hadn't he said if I was hurt or in danger, he'd feel it through the bond?

Something told me just then that it went both ways.

"What the hell was that, Aimee? What just happened?"

I shook my head, looking up into the mirror.

I saw my reflection in it, all red-eyed, with a swollen bottom lip from biting it and with tears still sliding down my cheeks.

Behind me stood Damian, with his mouth slightly parted.

I met his eyes and said, "What do you know about becoming un-bonded from someone?"

***

A/N Hey everyone, if you're enjoying Chasing Demons so far don't forget to hit the little heart and leave me a review! I love hearing from you all <3