Reaper's Word

Chapter 13: Helping Touch

Clair had woken to Isaiah telling Alpha and Beta to leave the man who'd had the bomb. She inched her way to the door near her, not making any sudden movements. His back was to her and she used her mind. Taxing as it was to do. Seeing he was holding the door closed, and she very carefully put pressure on the handle with her mind watching him for any tell that he noticed. He was focused on the scene, not her. Intently focused and that was her luck.

She got out and moved quickly. Once she was far enough away she ran and ran fast. She went to a bathroom on the third floor to deal with her wounds. Her arm had bruising and teeth marks in it. Her right side was horribly sore and starting to bruise. She had a few cuts here and there. It was hard to breathe and she sat down on the toilet cleaning her wounds and soot from her. She still had some of the art supplies on her. The bag lopsided and had banged against her side as she ran.

Clair set her head back against the wall and passed out for a few minutes. She jerked awake looking around. Putting a hand to her chest she stood and realized that she didn't really hurt so much anymore. It was odd because just a couple minutes ago she'd been incredibly sore, and bleeding. She lifted her shirt to look at the wounds again.

She looked at her arm, the wound was almost gone. The bruising yellow looking days old. She could breathe easier too. She knew what this was from, she didn't know how but she knew.

"Thank you." She said feeling that she should never look a gift horse in the mouth, and touched the walls of the bathroom. This house was alive in ways that she couldn't understand but was glad it helped her at times. She jerked her hand back when she felt a kind of electric jolt go through her. She gave a startled laugh.

"That was unexpected." Perhaps a few weeks ago she'd have passed it off. Thought herself crazy for just believing the house was alive with magic and dark things. But not now, kind of hard when the evidence was right in your face. Clair went back out into the hall and went to the nearest vent. She

wasn't far from her home now. She only moved a little ways and felt rather tired. She lay in the vent for a bit not moving looking at the room in her view.

There were several cabinets in the room and it had a kind of red and white appearance. She noted that at least four statue heads were in the room. She wondered what they were for. It looked odd to set up like that at one side of the room.

She was just about to start moving when she heard someone come into the room. She looked to see Isaiah was there. He moved to one of the cabinets she couldn't quite make out and got something from it. She watched him toss the small silver blades. He threw them hard and straight. Anger clear in every line of his body. She stared in awe when he hovered the one blade and it shot across the room. She'd love to have that kind of control, but more practice she guessed.

Then he'd moved saying, "I need this." He smashed the window in the room, then moved on. Clair had scooted out of the vent and followed. Curious as he went down the hall. Doors slamming open with untold force and cracking, anything with glass seemed to shatter. She saw him go into one room and then she heard what sounded like a thousand vases smashing on the floor.

Clair moved past the room after a moment. Then went into a chute and climbed up finding a very small grate that let her see in the room. He was standing there looking out the door and she was worried that he might have heard her.Then he moved back and the pieces of floating glass filled the spaces in the wall like puzzle pieces.

When he was done he turned and left the room. His eyes were not completely black anymore, but she felt for the first person he came across. She recognized this as a very dangerous time to be out in the house.

Clair went to her little home and laid down. She ate some food and then put in her music. She always charged it while she was down in the studio. Humming to the tune playing she fell asleep like that. It

was nice to have the sound of music in her ears because it drowned out the screams.

The next day Clair woke and was kind of angry. She couldn't really go anywhere now for the next few days. She wasn't going to go around the house with the scent of blood on her. She wasn't suicidal and she knew that the hell hounds had a great sense of smell.

"Fuck being a woman." She was just grateful for the supplies she had and over the next three days she stayed where she was eating and drawing in her space. She didn't even dream of freedom anymore. She dreamed of drawing and bloody things.

To be honest the outside world was just fading from her and these walls were what she considered safe. What she considered her home now. It was all a game. A game of how long could she live? She wondered if she could make it a year, that would be a feat. She had barely made it two months. It was really just a month and a half. She wasn't sure how long anyone had ever lasted, but she was going to last as long as she damn well could.

She'd given up on trying to find an out, no reason to. She wasn't going anywhere. On day four she thought it okay to leave because she wasn't really bleeding anymore and she wanted to look at her drawings in proper light. She rolled them up and tied the plastic tube she had to a rope and hung it down the right shaft.

Clair climbed down with expert skill and went out the swinging grate after checking that no one was in the hallway. She reached back in and grabbed the tube. Closing the grate she moved down the hall to a room near the back of the house. It had windows on all sides but one.

She rolled them out the drawings and stared at them. She'd drawn Isaiah with the glass floating around him eyes closed. Then she'd drawn him with anger in the motion of throwing one of the knives.

"Not so bad." She said. "For the darkness, hard to draw. What do you think?" She asked the house. Feeling like she had a companion. Maybe she was going crazy but at least she didn't feel totally alone.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

There was a kind of warm touch to her skin, approval, and she smiled.

"Thank you." She remarked and then reached back into the canister and pulled out a third drawing. It was of the house as a whole. From what she'd remembered from coming up.

"This was from memory so sorry if I didn't get it right, but it's for you." She held it out to the room that was empty. Again the feeling came to her but stronger.

"You're welcome." She said rolling it up. "I'm thinking of putting some color into it. Do you think that would be a plus or minus?" She said tucking the pictures away. She felt a cooler touch this time.

"No? Okay it's your picture. I'd pin it up but I'm not sure where it could go that it wouldn't be destroyed. There was no response. "Well, perhaps I'll find somewhere to leave it out and you can do with it as you wish." A warm feeling, she was getting good at this communication thing.

"I don't suppose you'd help me leave." She said sadly. There was a very cold touch but then a warm one right after.

"It's okay." She said the small hope she'd told herself not to feel was still crushed.

"Will you help me stay alive?" She asked quietly. She didn't feel anything at first but then she got a warm touch. She felt it on her face.

"You'll try." Another warm touch, she gave a smile. "Thank you, I will try not to destroy anything in the house, just for you." She got a kind of flipping feeling in her stomach. She'd never felt that from nowhere before. Then there was a warm touch. She was glad that she was able to feel the sensations so well, and her talents helped with that. It was much more than an added bonus.

Clair touched the wall and went to move to the door but it pulled out of her hand and shut. She felt around her and turned back into the room. He was coming this way, so was one of the hell hounds. A

panel slid aside and she ran to it. Going in she turned to put a hand out.

"Wait!" But the panel closed. She'd left the canister in the room. Well at least the house had kept its word. Or she was going crazy.

Clair moved down the wall and stopped at a mirror that had been in the room along the wall with the door, as it was the only wall. She could see into the room and she stopped. She heard the door open, and in stepped Beta.

He loped around the room sniffing the air and then stopped at the canister leaning against the sofa. He picked it up with his teeth and moved toward the door.

"What do you have?" She heard Isaiah say. She stayed still, unfamiliar with this passage and where the creaks and moans were.

Isaiah stepped into the room and unscrewed the cap of the canister. He was only wearing a pair of jeans. Clair however didn't need his shirt off to know that he had to be pure muscle. It was still shocking to see it, ripped, serious he could probably bench press a house and not even get tired. Clair didn't know what he'd do once he looked at the images. He'd know she'd seen him, been where he'd been and he'd missed her. Would he figure it out?

Clair moved off when he pulled the pictures out. She felt the drop in his amusement as she made a quick escape. A panel moving for her and she was in the hall. She took off thinking it best to give him a bit of space until he calmed down. Well at least not do something like this again. She didn't want to be caught again. She didn't think she'd make a second escape.