Ch. Thirty-One
"Break in the sun till the sun breaks down, And death shall have no dominion."
- Dylan Thomas
***
Galloway gasped, clutching at his wrist, trying to find some way to breathe. She couldn't twist away. His claws were out, embedded into the flesh on either side of her neck. If she moved too violently she would end up shredding herself on their razor edges.
"Sirius," she choked, which only made his hand tighten, crushing her windpipe.
A silty, viscous liquid trickled slowly from the corner of his eye and real fear crashed into her. This wasn't Sirius. It was just his body. It was something else choking her.
Harshly, she dug her fingers into the flesh just under the bones on the inside of his wrist, pressing hard into the tendons there. His fingers loosened automatically as she manipulated the tendons, forcing him to relax his grip.
With little reservation she planted both hands firmly against his chest and shoved as hard as she could. He only stumbled back half a step and laughed, the sound making her shiver. It wasn't his laugh.
She dropped to her hands and knees, fingers skittering over the floor, looking for the bar of iron she'd lost when she'd been thrown into the wall. Her shoulder wailed with every movement and she lost focus for one second too long.
Whatever had control of Sirius kicked at her, a foot connecting viciously with her ribs, sending her flying several feet down the hall once more. She hit the floor and rolled, scrambling to stop herself.
Dazed, she coughed, blood warm and slick in the back of her throat. The strike had broken a rib, sending a shard of bone into her lungs. Gasping, she rolled to her hands and knees and used the nearest wall to help her into a standing position.
"You shouldn't have come here," not-Sirius said, stalking toward her unsteadily.
Galloway spit, then asked, "Who are you?"
His head cocked in a way that seemed almost impossible. Insect-like and stiff, it was nothing like the fluidity he normally possessed. More ectoplasm leaked from the corner of his mouth. Still using his voice, it said, "Who do I seem to be to you?"
"An unwelcome tenant," she hissed. "That's not your body. Get out."
An insane smile drew his mouth up in a way that looked painful. Murmuring, she said, "Rules out a doctor. Crazy patient?"
The smile snapped. With unnatural speed that spited the ungainly movement of limbs, the spirit raced across the distance between them, pinning Galloway to the wall once more by her throat. Even though she knew he was being possessed—which was difficult to believe in itself—she was still shocked when Sirius' claws stabbed into her once more.
She pressed her head back into the wall, turning away as the ghost forced Sirius to bring his face uncomfortably close to hers. His breath didn't smell like mint anymore. It smelled like a musty basement, a scent that was common with spirits. She flinched when his nose skimmed along the edge of her jaw, the spirit inhaling deeply.
"Amazing!" it muttered. Looking at her, it explained, "Death takes away so many senses. His are just extraordinary. For example, I can smell you. Blood, sweat, everything. But more than that, you have a scent like..." The ghost seemed to have to search for the smell he was trying to describe. Something dark flickered in his eyes as the spirit found the description it was looking for. "Like sunlight."
"Make that a mad doctor," she choked, thrown off by how clinical its voice was. "I knew it."
The ghost slammed her into the wall, making stars sparkle in her vision. She slumped to the side, trying to fall and distract the spirit's attention from her hands. Making a clucking sound, the ghost said, "Oh my. You seem to be suffering from a little faintness, dear. Why don't you let me help you?"
"Who are you?" Galloway rasped. She almost had the lid off the bottle of salt.
Again, it tilted its head in a way that seemed to defy the physics of how a body should move. Blood tickled at the back of her throat, but she couldn't clear it away. Her lung felt like it was collapsing. It made her fingers shake as she tugged the bottle out of her pocket.
The spirit considered her with a disquieting interest. She slowly tilted the bottle in her grasp, the grains of salt pouring into her palm. With a small chuckle, the ghost answered, "Well since you'll be dead soon enough too, I don't suppose it can hurt me."
"It might," she choked out. "You know what I am?"
"Of course I do, ridiculous girl," it snapped. An elongated canine stabbed into his lower lip and the ghost paused, testing the sharp edge with the sensitive skin. Speaking to itself, the ghost murmured, "Delightful."
Its attention snapped back to Galloway, the whites of Sirius' eyes steadily turning to a pearlescent grey. "You're just like that terrible boy, all those years ago. He came with someone too, meaning to get rid of me. I saw all about what he meant to do when I used his girlfriend to test the human body's ability to withstand excessive force."
Bile rose in the back of her throat when she realized it was talking about the couple that had come here eight years ago. Salt was spilling over the edge of her palm.
"So," she gasped. "Mister..?"
Addressing it as such got the reaction she wanted. He opened his mouth—most likely to snap Doctor—and Galloway, her hand filled with salt, slapped her palm against his lips.
A muffled shriek issued from all around them as she drove Sirius back against the opposite wall. The hand filled with salt pressed it into his mouth, fingers pinching his nose shut. She used her free hand to tilt his head back, forcing it down his throat.
His whole body vibrated violently and her eyes narrowed as he blurred and the ghost was forcibly ejected. The spirit flew backwards until it collided with one of the metal doors. Galloway managed to make out his face and lab coat before he dissipated, the iron forcing him back to the in-between place.
Sirius collapsed, clutching at his mouth. Foamy black blood poured from between his fingers. She remembered with a jolt of horror that salt would be corrosive to Sirius, too. Like silver, it was a pure substance and he was from Hell. Those two things did not mix well, though, some substances had more effect than others.
Galloway clutched at her shoulder, dropping to her knees beside him. Unable to draw a proper breath, she said, "We need to get out."
Sirius retched again. It looked like he had swallowed drain cleaner, the soupy mixture he spit up not only blood, but dissolved tissue as well. The pinkish hue of flesh mixed with the black blood as he tried to clear the salt away.
Galloway ignored her aching ribs and grabbed his elbow, hauling him to his feet. He leaned heavily against her, doing his best to walk by himself. She started down the hall, then could have cried with relief when her foot landed on something hard and round. She bent down, leaving Sirius to wobble precariously for a second before she shot back up, bar of iron held tightly in her hand.
Sirius retched again, frothy blood dripping from his mouth.
The air rippled in front of them and she raised the bar of iron threateningly, then lowered it when it was just the girl. The ghost pointed at Galloway, then down the stairs. When Galloway nodded, the girl pointed to herself, then back down the hall.
Galloway got the message. The ghost girl would hold off the good doctor while she got Sirius the hell out of here.
Wheezing, she started down the stairs.
Sirius clawed at his mouth, still gagging as they ran. She could have cursed when she misjudged one of the steps and was suddenly flying through the air again, but she didn't have the time.
They both collided hard, tumbling down the remaining two flights of stairs until they fetched up against the half-wall that made up the front desk. Galloway lay very still as the world spun upside down and sideways around her, her body so stunned by what had just happened that it couldn't even process all of the new injuries. Of which there were surely many.
A small whine from Sirius had her immediately sitting up to try and find him. He was only about a foot from her and he looked up, his eyes dazed and unfocused. Galloway crawled over to him, trying to get her own feet under her.
He retched once more, then swore. Hoarsely, like he had gargled with broken glass, he said, "This night keeps getting better."
Confused, Galloway looked up, then felt the blood drain from her face. There, speared through his shoulder just above his heart, was the bar of iron she'd been holding before they'd fallen down the stairs.
Somehow, he got to his feet before her and dragged her up, making her yowl when he used the arm that was dislocated. He hissed, "Fucking perfect."
Carefully, he set her on her feet and then they were stumbling toward the door. Sirius grabbed her wrist and they all but fell through the front wall of the asylum. An unearthly shriek chased after them, lightning flashing in the windows of the third floor, echoed by a flash of light that speared the clouds above the asylum. Galloway coughed blood into her hands, lightheaded.
Then Sirius was dragging her back to the car. They fell in and Galloway twisted the key, the engine leaping to life.
There was a moment of complete silence until the asylum was no longer in view. Sirius wiped at his mouth, accidentally tearing some skin away, and said, "Next time, you pick the job."
Galloway tried to laugh, but she couldn't even breathe. She could feel the shift of her rib being pulled from her lung as her body did the bare minimum required to keep her alive.
The whole purpose of her advanced healing ability seemed to be making sure she stayed alive to feel every moment of pain. It never healed her completely like Sirius' body healed. It just kept her in a functioning state of misery.
Sirius shifted then swore, the iron bar snagging on the seat. He gripped it hard but stopped when Galloway's hand flew out, knocking his away. He yelped when she also managed to hit the bar. Glaring, he opened his mouth but she beat him to it.
Exasperated, she said, "Not in the car!"
Sirius stared at her for a moment, his mouth hanging open, then he closed his eyes and shook his head. Galloway sighed and amended, "It'll be better if I can do it in the motel. That way we'll have something to patch it up."
He growled, then winced when it made the iron vibrate. He stayed in stony silence for another long minute, then glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She knew he could see the unnatural way her arm hung from its socket and the blood on her face.
His voice like steel scraping across stone, he asked, "What happened?"
"Wait," she replied through gritted teeth, white hot agony pulsing through her every time her heart beat.
The motel sprang up in front of them and she parked a little sloppily, dragging herself out of the car, Sirius doing the same. Once they were inside, Galloway locked the door.
The weight of her arm seemed disproportionate to its size, gravity feeling like it was tearing her already dislocated shoulder completely apart. She ground out, "You're going to ha—"
The rest of her sentence was lost in a strangled scream when Sirius shoved her shoulder back into place. The bone popped sickeningly and she sighed as the intensity of the pain immediately lowered. She let out two sharp breaths, then looked at him.
The skin around his mouth was burned, like she had poured acid across his face. Guilt clawed at her, but she shook her head. There had been nothing else she could have done. Either way, she was horrified that she had hurt him in such a manner.
Unthinkingly, she took his hand and pulled him into the bathroom where she had him sit down on the edge of the counter. His eyes were half closed as he tilted forward. She pressed closer to him to keep him from falling over. Trying to move efficiently, she cut away his shirt, not wanting the cloth to snag the iron or get in her way when she tried to wrap him up.
His head rested in the crook of her neck and she said, "I'm going to pull it out now."
"Please," Sirius murmured, voice still ragged. Smoke was starting to rise in whisps from the skin around the iron as it began to burn him.
She could feel his breath on her neck pause when she wrapped her fingers tentatively around the bar. Biting her lip, she braced her hand against his chest, fingers splayed over his heart. She inhaled once, twice and pulled.
The bar slipped a little in her hand but she didn't stop, yanking the metal out with one quick, brutal tug. Sirius snarled, still holding his breath as he tried to deal with the pain. Blood leaked in a slow pulse from the hole above his heart and Galloway slapped a folded bandage against it. Quickly she took his hand and had him hold the pad there while she applied one to the hole in his back as well.
Almost frantically, she wound a length of gauze around his arm and shoulder, trying to secure the bandages. Sirius watched her, every now and then wiping at the blood that was still coming from his salt burned skin. She only stopped when he leaned over the sink to spit dissolved flesh and foamy blood.
When she was done, she simply stared at him with wide eyes, cataloging the plum colored bruises that covered him, thick as paint in some places, and the burns on his face. He did the same, eyes studying the blood staining her blonde hair and the way she clutched at her side.
They looked like Hell. And not like the fancy section meant for tourists. They looked like the back-alleys and shanty town parts of Hell. If Hell actually had any of those.
Whispering, she said, "I'm sorry."
His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What for?"
She gestured at her own mouth and throat to indicate the burns on his. "I forgot that it's like acid to you, too. I forgot how it would burn you."
"What happened?" he demanded quietly, slumping back against the mirror.
"It was something my dad called a siren spirit," Galloway started, frowning when he snorted. "What?"
"Sirens don't have ghosts," he pointed out.
Irritably, she explained, "Not like an actual siren, Sirius. It's just a name." Closing her eyes and leaning against the wall, she said, "They can look inside your mind. Find something that will entice you. A voice, a smell, whatever. Then they copy it, using it to lure you in before they possess you. Or kill you."
She opened her eyes to find he had grown very pale, which was an impressive feat considering how pale he already was from blood loss. Softly, he asked, "How did you know it did that?"
"It called to me with my father's voice, trying to lure me into one of the cells. It's a trick certain...higher functioning spirits can sometimes pick up. They use it to get your guard down. It makes possession easier." She eyed him critically and asked, "What did it use on you?"
Sirius looked away from her, prodding gently at the burned skin around his mouth. Galloway watched as his fingers slid along the edge of his bottom lip, tracing over the whitened, dead-looking skin. Guilt racked her again.
Quietly, she said, "It was that, or hit you as hard as I could with the iron and pray that that would remove the ghost. Unfortunately, the salt is a more reliable method."
Sirius chuckled, the sound rough. "It's okay."
"No it isn't," she argued. "If I had just been paying attention, if I hadn't let you go off by yourself, this wouldn't have happened."
"This always happens," he said, eyes flickering over to her. He gave her a wan smile. "Would it make you feel better if I said I would have done the same to you if that thing had jumped your bones?"
Reluctantly, Galloway snickered and Sirius gave her a self-deprecating smile letting her know those words had been chosen with a purpose. She pushed gingerly away from the wall and walked toward him. She helped him down off the counter.
Gently, she touched his face, watching as the skin repaired itself. He watched her through lowered lashes. Softly, she said, "So much for a good fight and a real win."
Sirius huffed out a tired laugh. "It was worth a shot. There's something satisfying in the thought that we're going to go back and burn him to the ground." She raised her eyes from his mouth to meet his, startled. With a small grin, he said, "You know which body we need to dig up, don't you?"
Galloway nodded. Sirius raised an eyebrow knowingly, then tilted his head when she didn't move away from him. He sighed and she inhaled the familiar sweet mint, something inside of her truly relaxing. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone and said, "You need to sleep."
"I can't," she whispered, which was true. If she closed her eyes, the events of the night would tumble through her head, driving her mad.
Understanding shone softly in his eyes and he stepped past her. He nodded toward one of the beds and she sighed before walking past him. She lay carefully on the bed, her body aching fiercely.
Reluctantly, she closed her eyes, just for them to fly open when he lay down next to her.
She couldn't breathe when he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her firmly into his chest. Shivering when she felt his breath on the back of her neck, she bit her lip even as her muscles relaxed. His warmth was like a balm to her battered body, and she sank back against him, eyes closing again.
Murmuring, he said, "You can sleep."
And it was suddenly true. It didn't matter that she felt like she had barely survived a stampede, or that she had tried to kill Sirius with salt, or that a ghost had kicked the hell out of the both of them. It didn't matter that they were both still covered in blood or that she shouldn't be allowing this.
Galloway drifted slowly into sleep, lulled by the steady motion of his breathing. Almost asleep, she stirred only slightly, sure she was dreaming already when he said, "I thought you were calling me."
~~~
Galloway woke up late the next day, every inch of her body cursing her very existence. She rolled over, groaning, then immediately fell silent when she found herself face to face with Sirius. His eyes were closed, but she didn't think he was asleep.
She lay there for a long moment, her head resting on his bicep, his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Galloway could still see a few of the salt burns left on the edge of his mouth. Wiggling her hand out from where it was pinned between them, she lifted up the edge of the bandages to see that the hole through his chest was completely healed.
Galloway stopped moving when he opened his eyes. He blinked twice, then frowned at her. He yawned and said, "You know? Before I met you, I didn't wake up every morning feeling like I'd lost a fight to a Mack truck."
"It's not every morning," Galloway responded. She knew she should pull away first. She didn't want to. His skin was warm on hers.
Apparently, he didn't want to move either, because Sirius just sighed, nudging slightly at the pillow. They lay there quietly for what felt like a long time to Galloway. Then, he said, "I think we need to stop pretending."
Her heart stopped momentarily, then restarted at triple speed to make up for the lost time. She swallowed hard and asked, "Stop pretending?"
"Mm." He closed his eyes again. "That there isn't something between us."
"What are you talking about, Sirius?" she asked. She shivered with an awful mix of dread and anticipation.
He opened one eye. "It's too much effort to pretend like this isn't going to end one way." He stopped, his hand skimming up her waist until it rested against the column of her throat. She knew he could feel the rapid pulse there. "Maybe we should just enjoy the ride."
"What happened to you wanting the demons to be stuck forever?" Galloway asked, her voice strangled. This couldn't be real. He couldn't mean this.
Whispering raggedly, he said, "You want to know how that thing at the asylum got me?"
Tentatively, she nodded, the pillow scraping against a tender spot on her cheek. Sirius brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes and said, "I thought you were talking to me. You said you kissed me in Philadelphia because..."
He trailed off, his eyes unfocusing.
"Because," Galloway prompted.
She yelped when he tore himself away, flinging himself off the bed and into the bathroom. Galloway sat up, worry rippling through her. She was about to get up and follow him when there was a single, menacing tap that sounded through the room.
She exhaled very, very slowly, then got off the bed and opened the door.
Theron stood there in an expensive suit, ruby cufflinks glimmering at her in the late afternoon light. She stood to the side and he swept in, casting a critical eye over the splotches of blood everywhere.
With a sigh, he asked, "Do you leave all of your rooms like this?"
Galloway shrugged. "Depends."
"On?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"On whatever." She crossed her arms, not looking over when the bathroom door opened again.
Sirius said, "Theron. This is a... You know what, never mind. Why are you here?"
Theron gave Sirius a tight smile, then reached into his suit jacket to extract a single piece of folded paper. He handed it to Galloway, who immediately unfolded it, scanning its contents. She could feel Sirius' eyes on her as she read, but she ignored him, looking up at Theron instead.
"Even we can't manage this along with everything else, Theron. Not unless you're going to arrange transportation faster than my car."
Theron sighed wearily, like she was being stupid on purpose. He snatched up the folder of their remaining assignments and tucked it under his arm. "I'm giving these to someone else. I need you to take care of this one. It's a reassignment, Galloway."
"Since when do you reassign anything?" she snapped. "It's too much paperwork to do that."
"What's so special about this new Debt?" Sirius chimed in, making Theron shoot him another foul look. Sirius ignored this and asked, "Why does it need to be us, specifically?"
"It's not really your place to question, is it?" Theron said, still looking only at Galloway. "Just do as you're told."
They both opened their mouths to reply, but Theron snapped his fingers and disappeared. Galloway scrubbed her hands down her face, then regretted that when she realized they were still covered in dried blood.
Sirius snatched the paper away from her, making her jump. She scowled at him, but it fell when she remembered what he had been saying before Theron showed up. She desperately wanted to know what he had been about to say, but didn't know of a good way to bring it back up.
Plus, she was feeling a bit jumpy after seeing the demon. Galloway decided that maybe it would be better to leave that particular discussion alone for now. Maybe forever.
His brow furrowed as his eyes skimmed the document before he sighed in disgust and threw the paper onto the bed. When she raised an eyebrow, he simply said, "I hate Minnesota. It's cold."
Galloway picked the paper up again. "At least we have like a week to get there."
Sirius frowned and took the paper from her again. "What?"
With a raised eyebrow, she said, "Yeah, a whole leisurely week. That means I don't have to break the speed limit... Everywhere." She grinned—or at least she tried to—and added, "I still have to be able to actually drive."
"No, that's not..." Sirius trailed off, still glowering at the piece of paper. "Something's wrong."
She stared blankly at him for a long moment. Then she let out a shallow laugh. When he turned his glare on her, she said, "And I thought I was the paranoid one here."
He rolled his eyes, handing the assignment back to her. "You're a bad influence then," he deadpanned. "I just mean, why would he give us so much time?"
"Why wouldn't he?"
"Because when does he?" Sirius shot back and Galloway pursed her lips.
"You have a point."
"I know I do," Sirius replied, rubbing at his eyes. "Get in the shower."
She shook her head at the wild change in subject. "What? Why? We still need to go dig up that doctor."
"You're not doing anything with a busted rib. I'll take care of it, then we might as well just go." He started to walk toward the door, but she grabbed his wrist.
He raised a polite eyebrow, no evidence of their previous conversation in his eyes. Slowly, she loosened her grip and said, "Dr. Evan Yates. That's who you're looking for. He's buried on the asylum grounds. Don't go inside."
Sirius nodded and she bit her lip as he left, taking her keys.
She didn't move until she heard the Chevelle's roar dissipate as it drew farther and farther away.
Then, she buried her face in her hands.
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