**UNEDITED**

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

HARRY GROWLS AS DAMIEN slams into him, his back colliding into a tree so forcefully it cracks. He tries to stifle the urge to rip the kid's throat out, the beast inside clawing its way up. The lock on its cage has long since broken, and Harry isn't sure if he can ever replace it. He has an incredible amount of willpower for one of his kind, but willpower can only get you so far when threats are constantly appearing out of thin air.

Like Damien.

All had been as it was when they were walking into the woods to hunt for meat, hoping for deer. Damien hadn't been keen on the idea of eating animal, but one stern look from Harry had shut him up quickly. They cowered in the woods, their abilities allowing them to see clearly despite the darkening sky overhead. Harry had followed the movements of every living thing in the trees and shrubbery, deciding which would make for a better meal to hold them over.

Then Damien had started twitching.

Harry had snapped at him at first, telling him to quit moving so he didn't scare any of their food sources away. Then a maniac giggle had fallen from the kid's lips, one that sent chills down Harry's spine. He looked over slowly at Damien, who was ripping at his hair and whispering to himself until he felt Harry's stare.

He lashed out. He screamed at Harry incoherent nonsense, swiping his nails this way and that. Harry hadn't been prepared, but he easily deflected each of Damien's blows considering the boy was out of his right mind. Harry had ignored the confusion welling inside him to focus on the fight, but Damien was getting progressively more hostile and, shockingly, more coordinated.

Now Harry has to duck to keep Damien from headbutting him, instead slamming his forehead into the tree. Harry tackles him by his waist, attempting to reach for his throat to subdue him but Damien thrashes and gets loose. Harry growls again in annoyance. He's in the middle of two battles--a physical and mental one.

He tried to talk to Damien before, but it's clear that hadn't worked. He doesn't want to kill him, but he may have no other choice if Damien keeps spazzing out. He flexes his fingers and watches Damien carefully, though Damien seems to be more interested in the voices in his head as he screams at them. He notices Harry once more as if just realizing he's there. He gives a shriek and lunges.

Harry is ready and swings his fist, his knuckles colliding with Damien's nose. Blood gushes out of it, but there's already blood staining Damien's clothes from the battle earlier. He can't tell if there are any new wounds or--oh... Oh.

Damien must have been bitten earlier. It's the only explanation for his sudden outrage.

A bit more wary now, Harry takes a step back. He can't get bitten or the same fate will await him. He bounces on the balls of his feet, studying Damien closely as he lunges a second time, unphased by the blood pour from his nostrils. He actually tries to lick it off his lips, bloodthirsty and crazed.

Harry sidesteps and kicks Damien in the side, distracting him long enough to snap a branch of the tree their fight seems to be circling around. It's a thin stick, but maybe he can choke Damien out with it to put him to sleep for a while. He scans the skinny tree quickly, looking for a thicker weapon but finds none. The trees are still dead from the winter, and here up north it's still freezing.

He grumbles under his breath and uses the stick as a whip when Damien tries to come close. The deranged kid flinches back, but bares his teeth and hisses. He tries to step forward, but back away again when Harry swipes the branch. At least he's keeping him at bay, but he has to do something.

With a risky idea, he turns his back on Damien. He inhales a breath through his nose, concentrating on the rustling of leaves behind him. He drops the twig to further entice Damien into attacking. He can hear the leaves stirring up quicker now, like Damien is pacing in little circles whilst contemplating what to do.

Then the footsteps turn into running.

Harry lets out the breath with the words, "I'm sorry."

He whips around and swoops low, picking the twig up once more. He drives the firmer end of it through Damien's left eye to get him to fall. He does. Harry wastes no time placing his boot on Damien's throat, pressing hard. Damien's face spots red then purple then pale as his left breath gets trapped inside his chest. To be certain he won't get up again, Harry kneels and snaps his neck.

He pulls Damien's collar down and there--two swollen puncture wounds.

He sighs and scoops the body up, carrying it to the creek they had passed on their way. He sets the corpse in the surprisingly clear water, submerging him entirely. He uses the rocks and stones around the creek to weigh the body down, the only respectful burial he can offer. He lingers a moment longer in guilt, then leaves the woods without an appetite.

***

Something is wrong. He can feel it before he even reaches the house. He smells the same figure that had been distant before, and panic slices through him. He sprints towards the door, yanking it open without a moment's hesitance. He shouldn't have left her here without someone. He knows she can handle herself but he still should have stayed.

He can smell both Evelyn and the other now, mixing together as if... as if...

With furrowed eyebrows, he walks into the living room and his jaw slacks.

Micah and Evelyn sit calmly on the sofa.

"Finally," Evelyn says in relief. "We've gotta go get Robbie."

Harry frowns. "How did you get here?"

Micah shrugs. "I stole a hovercar. Hello to you to, by the way. I didn't miss you either, since you didn't ask."

"Where's Damien?" Evelyn asks, standing.

"He was bitten earlier," Harry says, his voice somewhat hoarse. He doesn't have to say anything else for both of them to conclude what happened.

Evelyn graciously changes the subject after a brief silence. "Where's the hover, Micah?"

"Right this way, milady."

Harry waits until both of them have passed to follow. Evelyn falls back to walk beside him. He can't believe how much that small gesture comforts him. He grabs her hand and intertwines their fingers to show his gratitude.

Micah glances back and scoffs. "You guys are going to be like that all the time now, aren't you?"

"No one told you to look," Evelyn bites back.

Harry smirks.

"Whatever. Just keep up," Micah mumbles.

The walk isn't very far, and Harry is surprised to see that Micah had actually stolen a hovercar. It sits in the middle of a clearing, the area reeking of death. He presumes a fight must have broke out when they landed. Micah strides up to the door and stretches, knocking four times in a rhythmic beat. Harry is surprised a second time when he realizes it's the same rhythm the two of them used to use when taking over enemy camps.

Micah is either one of sentiment or lacking originality. Perhaps both. The thought makes Harry grin in amusement.

The door gradually opens, the metal scraping. It digs into the dirt, a rut already there from the other times they've opened the door. Standing in the walkway is Robbie with Caroline, Michelle and her still unconscious son, Maxie, and a man Harry has never seen. He has dark skin yet contrasting bright hazel eyes. A bow is strapped on his back with a quiver of arrows. Harry instinctively straightens.

"Took you long enough," the man remarks, leaning against the wall with his arms across his chest.

Harry is surprised that Micah doesn't smack him. Tonight is full of surprises, it seems.

"We had to wait for 74--"

"Harry," Evelyn cuts in, narrowing her eyes at Micah.

He rolls his eyes but clears his throat. "Sorry. We had to wait for Harry."

"Eve!" Robbie shouts suddenly, bolting down the way. Evelyn grins widely and kneels with her arms open, engulfing the little boy as soon as he's in reach.

"Hey, kiddo. Told you I'd be back," she says nonchalantly, though Harry can see the pure and utter relief and joy in her eyes. She goes to pull away but Robbie doesn't let go. "You act like you missed me or something."

"I did, you goose," he mutters into her shoulder. "I can't ever let you go again."

Tears brim Evelyn's eyes, so Harry turns away to give them their privacy. Caroline waves sheepishly to him to which he sort of awkwardly returns. Michelle gives him a nod that he firmly returns. The man is staring at him carefully, like he's configuring every movement Harry could possibly make against them.

"If you've put up with him," Harry says, jabbing his thumb in Micah's direction, "then you can most certainly handle me."

"It's true. He's the softie," Micah comments. For a second, Harry thinks he sees remorse in Micah's eyes. Maybe he remembers how Harry had always been abused for being "the softie." The word "disgrace" comes back to him and he shoves it away.

"Killian," the man says, still unsure. "No offense, but I'm not up for handshakes when the hand is covered in dried blood."

Harry scrunches his nose and examines his bloody hands. "Yeah, I get that. Got any soap and water?"

"I'll get it," he replies and disappears.

Harry looks to Micah, who huffs. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're laughing at me."

"I'm just surprised is all."

"Yeah, well he's a tough shell to crack and Michelle won't let me go any farther than yelling so it makes for insolent companions."

Harry grins.

Micah swears at him.

Robbie comes bounding over. "Oh, Harry! Guess what Micah taught me."

Before Harry can say anything, Robbie hooks his little foot around Harry's ankle and yanks. Harry barely feels it, but he plays along to humor the kid. He falls to his rear while Robbie switches his foot to press against Harry's chest.

"Ha! I got you," he says proudly, his fists on his hips.

"Man, how did you get so strong?"

"I told you--Micah taught me. I can fight like you now."

Harry looks up at the boy with adoration, his chest feeling tight.

"Let me try it on you, Eve."

"I don't think so, kid."

"Please?"

"If you try that on me, I'll steal the candy bar I know you hide in your pocket."

Robbie's eyes go wide and he shakes his head. "Fine, fine. I won't try it on you. But can you teach me something?"

Harry sits up when Robbie removes his foot, but stays on the ground and watches the conversation like he would a movie.

"Teach you something? Like what?"

"I don't know. Something."

"What about two plus two?"

Robbie sighs dramatically. "I know it's four, Eve. I'm nine years old now, you know."

Evelyn's face pales. "You are?" she practically whispers.

Robbie grows sad too. "I turned nine in that cell you saved me from. Caroline was there. She sang me happy birthday, so it's okay."

"Oh, Robbie...."

Killian comes back then and says, "Here you go." He tosses Harry a water canteen, a rag, and a bottle of soap that's nearly gone.

"Thanks," Harry says and stands.

Caroline comes over to Robbie, so Evelyn comes over to Harry. "I'll help you," she says quietly, chewing the inside of her lip as she watches the two children begin to talk.

"It's not your fault," he tells her.

"I know. But that doesn't mean I can't feel like shit for it."