Last stand bullshit

"Go fish, motherfucker," RJ told Aidan confidently as she stared at him over her cards.

"Bullshit," Aidan said, eying the large pile of cards between them that were face-up and discarded with his one good hazel eye. His left eye squinted; his glasses were sitting on the nightstand unused, unable to fit over the bandage on his right eye.

"That's a different game," RJ corrected, and showed him her hand. "See?"

Aidan threw down the cards he kept in his hand, rolled his one eye up and said, "Well, this is pointless now. You deal. Let's try something else. Anything else. I'm sick of go-fish."

RJ gathered the cards that were splayed on her bed in the B&B between them. They had arrived back an hour ago after Aidan had been released and had taken a cab to get back to the rental. They agreed to hide out there until Fin called one of them or showed back up. Aidan was still a little dizzy from the morphine after the operation, so he didn't have the stamina for schoolwork and wanted to instead pass the time thinking about anything other than Finley (and Ben) being in danger. Unfortunately, he seemed preoccupied with them - understandably so, but RJ felt differently.

RJ was convinced they'd be fine, in the end, but some things were fuzzy about the details of the immediate future and she didn't want to admit that to Aidan in case it caused him to panic, so she simply dealt them both half the cards in the deck each and declared, "War. Ready?"

"Ready," Aidan said, and flipped over the top card right on top of hers. It was a jack of hearts, hers was a nine of spades. He took the pile.

They played two more rounds that RJ won before War happened, and they both drew matching threes. "1-2-3, fight!" RJ and Aidan said simultaneously, putting down three cards face-down and flipping up the fourth. RJ won with the king of spades, and cackled as she drew the cards into her growing pile.

Aidan's mind tended to wander to Finley in random moments, as Finley's did to Aidan, so it was only inevitable after a while that he would ask, as they flipped over another War that RJ won, "Do you know what's in Fin's future the way you know mine?"

RJ automatically, by habit, answered with what she saw as the truth: "Four or five kids, one of them ends up queen of the fairies. And I told you, after forty be serious about the prostate exams, Aidan, or you'll regret it. There are alternate futures. Nothing's written in stone yet. What more do you want to know?"

"He said that you'd say that," Aidan said with a frown, and he clearly chose not to take her seriously. His loss, RJ thought, might save him some pain down the road if he did.

She did see Finley's future and had looked into it extensively. As well as her little brother's alternate futures. In only so few of them did Aidan live happily - and even fewer did they live together in. What Aidan didn't know couldn't hurt him, anyway.

"I guess I mean—"Aidan began, but hesitated when flipping over his next card, lost in thought.

"He'll always love you," RJ told him. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" She wondered, a little annoyed about where Aidan's focus was.

"I'm not sure what I wanted to ask," Aidan admitted with a small, uncomfortable smile. He tugged at his blue cable-knit sweater around his neck, and though his expression did not change, everything else about him did. His eye sockets seemed deeper, his shrug became heavier, his worried brow more pronounced, and his smile even more wan.

RJ replied flippantly, "Finley will be fine as long as he has me or Sal looking over and after him. It's when we're gone that you should really worry. Because we ain't always gonna be around to keep his ass from going off the deep end. That'll be some one's else's job eventually." She wanted to bite her own tongue off by the end for saying more than she had intended.

"How do you mean?" Aidan queried.

"Just what I said," RJ said dismissively and pointed at his deck, annoyed with Aidan thoroughly. "Look, it's no surprise to anyone Finley is a fucked up cookie and he needs professional help. Just make sure he gets it. Hey, come on, are you playing or not? How else am I supposed to win?"

Aidan sighed and flipped over his next card. "War again." Aidan won that round to his surprise, and the next, and the next few ones until his pile began to rival RJ's in size. Eventually he did win, much to his amusement.

Jeri pouted. "You cheater—" she was interrupted by a knock at the door from below that neither of them were expecting.

Out of habit, Jeri glanced at her phone. "Did Fin text?" Aidan wondered, clambering to his feet and swaying slightly in place.

RJ offered him her arm to stabilize and saw no notifications on her phone from her brother at a glance. "Nope, maybe he just showed up." She doubted it, however, and expected it was just her package. She had drank too much rum out of her flask to precisely predict who might be on the door-step, and the future was pleasantly fuzzy. She knew Finley might lecture her about that if he was there, but he wasn't, and so she and Aidan clambered downstairs to the door to answer it.

As soon as the door was opened and she saw who it was, she wished they'd never left the hospital. Her heart sank into her gut and then kept dropping all the way down to her boots as she took in the clean-cut gray polo and blue button-up dress from the two people in front of her. One of them, a naturally blond woman who gave her a creepy smile, stuck out her hand toward RJ and Aidan in the hopes that one of them might perhaps take and shake it. The other was a relatively normal man who kept his arms laced in front of him, and just stared at them with bored eyes.

Neither of them took her hand. Aidan stared at the hand like it was a snake and spat out a name, "Olivia. I don't believe I left you our address. What's the occasion?"

A few things added up in RJ's drunken mind that slowly painted the painful reality around her. RJ realized then that Aidan must recognize her from the church, and that the church had found her - and perhaps already had her brother and Ben in their custody. After all, what else could prompt them to be so bold as to show up to her door and introduce themselves?

"Oh good, you remember me, that saves us some time," Olivia the volunteer coordinator spoke and withdrew her hand back to her side like an armed handgun. "You'll be coming with us, Mr. Dearborn. You as well, Ms. Ravara," she informed them politely.

"Ex-fucking-squeeze me?" RJ blurted out and let go of Aidan's arm, to get up in Olivia's face and business. "Who the fuck—"

"We'll go," Aidan interrupted firmly and put his hand on RJ's shoulder and pressed gently but urgently. There was a desperate, pleading look on his face when he turned to look at her, mixed with pain from what was likely the morphine finally wearing off. The white patch over his missing and bandaged eye glared bright in the November sunset that made its way through their south-facing door. His face was wearied, and the orange light from the sun cast shadows she didn't know he had on his face. Aidan's hand squeeze said it all - that these people would not hesitate to hurt, maim, or otherwise incapacitate if they needed to. RJ felt herself instantly sobering up, much to her chagrin, and remembered she'd promised her brother that she'd hold the fort down. Keep Aidan safe.

"That's a smart decision," Olivia agreed and gestured toward a car that they had waiting outside. "Ms. Ravara, you seem like a clever young lady. I doubt you want anyone else to get hurt more than they already have been. I suggest you come quietly."

"I'll come but it won't be quiet," RJ threatened. "I can scream and alert this whole stupid fucking Canadian neighborhood if I have to." She wondered, where's a good neighbor when you need one? RJ glanced around outside but saw no one who could come to their rescue.

"And lose another eye?" She threatened with an eyebrow raised. RJ grit her teeth, looking at Aidan out of the corner of her eye. Aidan's eyes didn't leave her and seemed to bore holes into RJ's composure. "I thought not," Olivia said and gestured once more toward the vehicle. "This way please, Ms. Ravara."

"To be clear, you won't hurt us if we come with you?" Aidan wanted to make a point of saying this, of drawing out some sort of verbal contract. RJ wouldn't trust a verbal contract from them at all.

"No harm will come to any of you if you cooperate fully," Olivia promised, not a hint of a lie in her features. Perhaps she meant what she said.

Jeri didn't believe Olivia for a moment, but for the sake of Aidan's one good eye, and for the sake of her brother and Coffee-boy, she kept her mouth shut and got in the back seat of the town car and had to literally bite her tongue to avoid screaming as her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. Olivia got in the driver's side and her meaty bodyguard slammed the door shut behind RJ. She flipped him off as he got in the passenger side. Aidan slid in gingerly toward her from the other side.

"I want to thank you for making this as simple and painless as possible," Olivia told her as she locked eyes with RJ in the rear view mirror. Olivia's eyes were an icier shade of blue compared to RJ's own and they reminded her uncomfortably of her father's eyes. Everyone had always told Fin and RJ how much they looked like him, while Salvador had inherited their mother's eyes and face. At least if I get murdered, I won't have to go to another family reunion, RJ mused.

"All about making that kidnapping easier," RJ quipped as she leaned forward to grip the front seat with white knuckles. She whispered into the shell of Olivia's ear, "How'd you fuckers find me?"

"Mr. Dearborn has location tracking services on his phone," Olivia explained easily, waving her away from her head. RJ sat back in her seat without the seatbelt with a thud. "We couldn't approach you in the hospital, too much security, but you made things easier for us."

"Fuck," was all Aidan could say and rub his head. "My eye," he whimpered.

"Does it hurt?" RJ worried.

"No, worse. It itches," he grumbled.

RJ asked, "Can we swing back for his pain medication?" RJ wondered what the rules for abduction were, but they were being civil about it so far. She had the pieces of the shotgun still scattered inside, missing ammo but largely complete. The meaty guy looked at her, and then at Olivia, and said nothing. Olivia shook her head and kept driving, and RJ looked at Aidan and they shared a sympathetic look.

"Fucking inconsiderate assholes," RJ muttered under her breath and folded her arms in front of her chest and slumped in her seat. Aidan patted her on the arm, and she grabbed his hand and held it tight in her own for comfort. He didn't even seem to mind that some of her rings bit slightly into his fingers. Sometimes you just need to hold a hand in this world, she thought and felt a little childish. Aidan didn't seem to mind, though his one working eye was wide and staring; she was more angry than afraid, as usual, and didn't process danger the way other people did. Part of her wanted to kick Olivia's seat until she complied with RJ's demands.

She didn't understand why she'd been building the gun if the abduction was going to happen anyway - why had her coked-up brain back in California thought it would be smart? What had she seen of the future, that she couldn't remember? There's the problem Jeri, trying to fix your shit with coke, she criticized herself mentally, and squeezed Aidan's hand. He squeezed back gently and didn't let go. The colorful pink neon bandage on his hand from the IV scratched at her palm. She knew she had to protect Aidan at all costs - who knew what Finley would do if he lost Aidan? Finley's light would never recover. He'd probably sail on right off the deep end in leather pants and no one wants that, she reasoned internally.

It was a short trip - the church was just a few blocks away. In hindsight, RJ wished she'd booked the rental somewhere on the other side of Toronto where they could've had more time to escape the car, or kick off a chase, or perhaps gotten the police more involved. She wondered if Omar Ibarra was still searching for answers. Something was keeping her from seeing too far into the future in that moment, perhaps her own drunkenness or panic obscuring things. In the future she was gunning for, she wouldn't die quite yet - there were still a few years left - but the others would far outlive her. If they all died here, nothing good would come of it.

She paid attention to little else beyond Aidan's clammy, bandaged hand in hers as they were escorted out of the car, into the parking lot. She felt the cold stinging her cheeks, and missed the Georgia sun suddenly and fiercely, more than she'd missed anything in her life. "Shitty place to die," she muttered, "wish at least the sun had said hello."

Aidan snorted back laughter against his better judgment and will. RJ smiled and pulled her leather coat around her for warmth. Olivia's grunt held open the doors for them and they followed her in, her blue dress and white overcoat swaying at her nylon-covered knees hypnotically as she clacked on taupe heels across the floors.

There was no one in the halls at that time of evening, unsurprisingly, and they escorted Aidan and RJ to a nondescript door that led to some dark stairs down past paintings of Biblical scenes adorning boring walls. RJ felt numb, or rather felt nothing at all - not fear, nor anger, nor any form of excitement. It was as if someone had stuffed cotton into her mouth to keep her from screaming. There was a difference, she knew, between being unable to feel something and not wanting to feel something.

Still, when they led her to a door down that dark basement hallway and opened, and she saw Finley's face behind those bangs she'd cut for him, she genuinely cried out in relief and ran inside the room, letting Aidan's hand go for the first time.

Fin's arms enclosed around her and she sobbed for relief. She hadn't realized she'd been so worried about him until she'd seen him look a little worse for wear - a black eye and split lip, but nothing too bad. She turned his face in front of her from side to side, gripping him by the chin, and he didn't object to her examination. He had a cut on his cheek, and a bump on the back of his head judging from his sensitivity and knee-jerk movement when she accidentally touched it. He was alive, however, and that was what mattered most.

The door slammed shut behind them, and there was only a faint light from an overhead bulb that dangled on a string. Ben was in the corner, and regarded them with wide, fearful eyes. She let Finley go and approached him, sniffling. "Did they hurt you?" She asked Ben first, knowing Finley would have said something if he weren't okay. She also knew that Aidan and Finley needed a moment - Fin's arms encircled Aidan as he approached RJ's now absent place.

Ben shook his head. "They hurt your brother," he muttered, and fidgeted with his sleeves.

"Fin's tougher than he looks. I'm so sorry this happened to us," she told him honestly. "I wish — I don't know — fuck, I feel so powerless," she hissed into the dark. "I don't know what I wish. That I could get us out of here. Or something. That my powers were even useful for anything except party tricks and freaking people the fuck out."

"Don't sell yourself short," Finely chimed in from over in the other corner, where his arms were still wrapped around Aidan's broad shoulders. "You got me through that FBI building, right? We'll figure something out." He sounded determined, and certain, and everything that RJ wasn't. She was so proud of him.

RJ wiped her eyes angrily as tears threatened, and Ben tentatively grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Fuck, is there even a bed in this stupid cell?" She asked in a harsh voice, looking around. There was a sleeping bag on the ground spread out on a very old mattress, and a bucket in one corner for presumably unmentionables. Nothing else. "God, even Dad at least gave us the downstairs bathroom when we were locked in that room," RJ criticized her captors, hoping they heard her.

"I know, the assholes," Fin agreed with her firmly. "Don't even get me started on that goddamn bucket. I'm wearing heels, leggings, and a skirt and it's my fucking nightmare."

RJ couldn't help but start laughing. It was horrible and it needed to happen, for her to feel something other than numb. Ben squeezed her hand even as she did, and Finley laughed with her, and eventually Aidan and Ben joined in with chuckles. Aidan and Finley cozied up to each other in the opposite corner and slid slowly down the walls as they leaned on them until they were a puddle of laughter. RJ sat on the wall between them and Ben and held her head in her hands after she calmed down and took in slow deep breaths. She regretted it, upon remembering them mention the bucket, and groaned. It was a small, awful room.

"It'd be really helpful if a certain ass-bucket, named Ramiel, would conveniently show up and help us," Aidan muttered in his corner into Finley's jacket, where his face was tucked into Fin's shoulder.

Finley looked over and locked eyes with RJ. His silent questions hung in the air between them - why hadn't she been able to do something about this? What about her powers? Why weren't they able to get out of this situation? And yes, what of Ramiel? Why didn't she have escape directions written on their arms? "Don't give me that look," she snapped at him.

If she focused, she could tell that the church used to be a defunct community center, and before then, a segregated school for native children. Always an unholy place, once the walls had come up. Before then, the land had simply been . . . Land. The only remnant were the grasses that grew through the cracks of the sidewalk in summer, the dandelions that sprung from the foundations. There was humanity built into every inch of it now, suffering that was torn down and brought up again, all around her. The basement was a new addition, she knew that much, and that she was surrounded by the old remains of the dead and the recent additions of the poor runaways and homeless. The alcohol had started to wear off, and she was getting a headache connected to dehydration, and the voices of the dead all around them started creeping in on her, edging her thoughts with whispering intentions.

They wanted to be free, they clamored to be heard, they were so lonely and all she felt like she could do if she listened to them was helplessly cry. So she tuned it out, as best as she could, and turned back to her brother.

Aidan had asked her what she saw in Finley's future. There was so much more to it that she'd never say to him, or anyone - the possibilities were limitless and terrifying. He was an earth-shaker in every one of them, a mountain-mover and pathfinder, marking the way for thousands of others that would follow him. Jeri could only hope they wound up with the future with the most general happiness. She wasn't a monster of a sister; she did want Finley to be happy. She also wanted to not sabotage his happiness by pulling the strings of fate to determine his future for him. He had to make his own choices. That was the only way.

"Hey," Fin said suddenly to get everyone's attention, and cleared his throat, unwinding the scarf that had been around it and played with it in his hands as he spoke. "I know shit seems dark right now, but we'll find a way to get out, and get help. I'm not going to let anyone who's down here suffer any more. It's not just us down in these cells . . . And I don't know what he wants us for, but the Pastor has a plan. And he needs us alive for it, I think."

"You think?" Aidan repeated.

"I don't know," Fin admitted carefully. "But we have to do something to help these people down here. We're in the right place. We just need the right moment."

"The right place, right time," Aidan murmured. "Maybe fate is a thing after all."

RJ chuckled. "Are you a believer now?" She asked him, leaning her head on the wall as she turned to cock an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe," Aidan said inconclusively. "If Ramiel is real, something about this shit is apocalyptic. It can't be good, in any case. Malcolm will expect us to fight back."

"Who's Ramiel? And Malcolm?" Benedict wondered, and as Aidan explained, RJ let her mind wander, and heard her brother sigh. Ben shuffled in place as he listened to Aidan's voice, and he took in their full story with silence. He'd more than earned it at this point, as far as RJ was concerned, and she wished she had told him everything from the beginning. Maybe he would have run away screaming. Or given me a pitying look I couldn't stand and left us alone, she thought. At once, she looked at her brother to see if he had picked up on it, and judging from the understanding on his face - and general air of self-loathing that he always seemed to have - she knew he had.

She put her block back in place as the whispers of the dead in the walls began to grate at her. She let this slip-up slide. Her mind tended toward old movies she had once seen to try to drown out the hum of the dead, anything to distract herself from them, but ultimately she still thought of ghosts. She started to chuckle under her breath, and Aidan from across the room adjusted his legs and demanded to know, "What? What's funny?"

"Nnnnnnothing," RJ defended with a smirk.

Finley immediately supplied, "She's thinking about Ghostbusters when that Civil War-era ghost gave Dan Aykroyd's character a blow job."

"Damn it, Jeri," Aidan was disappointed.

"No!" RJ denied, although it was true. "Get out of my head!" She said petulantly and put up her mental block, unaware that it had fallen again. She knew her anxiety must be extreme if she was letting him in. Finley rolled his eyes at her. Normally, sober or drunk, she could maintain it. "What's the matter with you?" She growled.

Fin drawled with a slight smile that suggested he welcomed the distraction, "You should know that scene was a super weird fantasy that was part of a larger, stupider plot that was shoehorned in and didn't fully make the cut."

One of Aidan and Finley's shared hobbies was watch old cinema together, so it didn't surprise RJ when Aidan agreed, "Super weird, it came out of nowhere!"

"Oh hey, a quarter!" Ben suddenly perked up and picked up a coin from where it had been hiding under his shoe. "How lucky," he said with a smile, and showed the grimy quarter to RJ. Jeri was unimpressed. It was Canadian, dated 2031.

"We're in a cell - how lucky can it be?" Fin seemed upset.

"It's from my birth year, I'd say that's pretty lucky," Ben defended, and held the coin in his palm to examine it.

"That is unusual," Aidan agreed.

RJ cleared her throat to get her brother's attention and barked, "Fin, I got something to say. Serious now, I'm for seriously. I really want you to know that I really, really wish I'd ditched you all and flown to Jamaica instead of fallen ass-ways into this last stand bullshit."

"Aww, bitch!" Aidan grinned fondly and said, "We feel the same way about you."

"So," Finley ticked off his fingers, "Ben can get murdered, Aidan and I can just fuck off, and you can go get abducted in Jamaica? Great fucking plan, sis," he criticized.

Ben frowned and then had the grace to add, perhaps just to humor RJ, "Jamaica would be an okay place to die, if I got a choice in it. I really don't want to die at all though."

"No one is dying," Finley insisted loudly, "Especially not my sister. And Ben, buddy! Priorities, okay? Just focus on staying alive," he addressed the Canadian student in particular with a worried expression.

"I'll try," Benedict promised.

"Suicide is still an option, right?" RJ had to wonder, already knowing the answer.

Aidan and Finley simultaneously said, "No," in terms of utmost certainty. She sighed.

"Nobody told me killing ourselves was an option," Ben looked to her, seeming worried.

"Last resort," she said. "If they make us do weird sex shit, let's make a suicide pact."

"No suicide! Period! End of discussion," Fin said with finality.

RJ rolled her eyes and head toward the ceiling and groaned loudly. "You're such a dad!" She told her brother. "Jeez, fine, let's go save the world or stop the apocalypse and help the kids, or whatever. Can't even fucking kill myself in peace . . . I never get to do anything fun."

"Does anyone else have anything to add? No?" Fin asked of the room. RJ rolled her eyes again and Aidan shrugged.

"I'm kind of hungry," Benedict announced.

"Anyone have a power bar for Ben in their pockets?" Finley asked. RJ searched hers, but all she found was her flask, which she placed in her lap with a whoop of joy.

"Oh no, I'll be okay," Ben said, and immediately apologized, "Sorry, you just said to say if we had anything else to add. Suicide isn't really seriously the back-up plan though, right?" He turned toward RJ when he asked this.

After a swig of rum, she said, "It's always the back-up plan," even as Finley said loudly over her, "No!"

"You're really a strange person," Ben told her with a small smile.

The hall outside their dank cell was alive with noise, and the rapid clicking of heels down the vinyl tile floor. Abruptly the door opened after being unlatched, and Olivia was there in the same blue dress and tan heels she'd been in when she'd shown up at the rental. There was a different goon beside her, this one particularly angry in appearance. RJ was only wondering where she kept finding all these religious idiots - one look at him, and despite her inebriation, she could tell he worked at a hardware store, had two kids he was physically abusive towards, and he generally didn't seem to understand what Jesus actually would do in his shoes despite worrying about it a lot. RJ thought to her brother deliberately this time, the original peace-nik would have been flipping tables in the main hall and slapping bitches down if he heard about First Advent's secrets, and heard him chuckle despite their circumstances.

"The fuck do you want?" RJ demanded to know, squinting at the sudden influx of light from the hallway.

Olivia smiled, an unkind gesture on a face that wasn't built to be split by smiles but for scowling exclusively. "Mind your manners," she criticized. "And your mouth."

Jeri laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. With her middle finger raised skyward, she said, "Boy did you pick the wrong captive. Fuck the hell off, you assholes don't get to tell me what to do. What is it you want from us anyway?"

Olivia's head cocked to one side. "Your bloodline is sacred. Did you know that?"

Finley's face scrunched up in a mixture of disgust and confusion. What he was reading from her mind, RJ didn't want to know. He at least had enough curiosity to ask, "You're after our bloodline? Why are you killing our parents then?"

"My mother," RJ spat. "My aunt. You murdered them."

"The timing wasn't right," Olivia defended. It wasn't a denial - more of a half-hearted explanation that didn't quite make sense. "Now eat."

The goon shoved a plate of food into the room and it skittered messily across the floor, sending potatoes and corned beef scattering. Ben, who was the most hungry, reached for it first but RJ kicked it away and it spiraled up through the air and into Olivia's chest, where it splattered with gravy and potatoes. Olivia was infuriated and held up her hands outward, making a noise of distress and disgust. She stalked over to RJ and slapped her across the face once, and then twice with the back of her hand. The ring she had on her finger had a jewel that cut into RJ's lip, but she took it with a smile.

Jeri laughed. It was an angry child's scratch compared to Dana's full-bodied hits that used to leave her a broken pile of girl on the ground. RJ would wear the wound. It meant nothing. Olivia made a 'hrmph' noise and left them in the cell with the rest of the mess, and her goon latched the door behind her as she left them all in the room together again, while RJ was still laughing from the slap.

Jeri sighed after she calmed down and commented, "Those buttons of hers sure are easy to push. Hey Fin? Get anything from her?"

Finley swallowed and looked his sister straight in the eyes as he reported, "There's a ritual. They want . . . It's . . ."

"Is it for weird sex stuff?" RJ guessed, hoping she was far from the mark. Why the future was so hazy, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know either.

"Kinda," Finley admitted carefully. "They think you're going to the be the mother of their new god. And they plan to impregnate you with—"

RJ took a swig of her flask in the middle of Finley's sentence and spat out some of it instinctively as soon as he said the word 'impregnate.' She guffawed, laughed, and couldn't stop laughing for a minute as she wiped the blood that trickled down from her split lip. "You're fucking serious," she guessed, looking at her brother after she had calmed. She sighed plaintively, "Of course it's for a weird demon baby. Just my goddamn luck."

He nodded, and Aidan groaned. Ben eyed the food that had been spilled hungrily but refused to touch it.

"Ugh, disgusting," she snarled, and downed the entire contents of her flask. "Alright, I'm as ready as I'm ever gonna be." She stood on wobbling feet using her hands for support, then threw the flask over her shoulder to the ground where it clattered with a metallic clang. She brushed her fingers off on her pants and asked, "Everyone else alright? We game? I say we fight like hell the next time they open the door."

"I sorta feel like road rash," Benedict piped up, and took off the wig finally to scratch his head, "uh, and my mouth tastes like asphalt." He fiddled with the fibers of the wig she'd put on his head and stuffed it into his hoodie pocket, as if he was afraid to discard it onto the ground. "But, I'm ready for whatever you have planned," he said after a moment.

RJ felt she could empathize with the Canadian student. 'Prodigal son' or no, Ben probably didn't need this complicating his life up any more than they did. As if she didn't feel bad enough for Aidan's injury, now this innocent nerd was getting caught in all of it too. Preparation was key to any endeavor; RJ was already running through the speech she'd have to give Ben's very-likely-suffocatingly-supportive parents if she got their son killed. Her mouth went dry at the notion of failure. If he dies, life as we know it is over. The whole fucking world is going to end, Jeri realized.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling stellar either," Finley admitted, looking grim. For whatever reason, he had left the wig on - then again, she had pinned it in many places, and thought he looked good in it.

Ben frowned, concerned. "Uh-oh. You think you're coming down with something?" He asked.

Finley stared at him. "No, we're about to start a fight that I'm not sure we can win. I'm anxious as hell, Ben," he stated in a tone that suggested his disappointment with Ben's innocent obliviousness.

"Oh, sorry." Ben flushed, and RJ mentally debated whether or not he was real.

"We're totally winning," RJ told him confidently, clapping her brother on the shoulder as she walked over to him and tried to be supportive. "Unless we totally fuck up and die," she added in the same tone. Finley cursed under his breath as Ben let out an audible gulp.

Aidan patted RJ on the back gently with a wry smile. "You're truly an inspiration to us all."

"I'm sorry," she bit back bitterly, causing Aidan to draw back, "I guess I'm a little preoccupied with the cult of fuck-sticks that want to kidnap and rape their demon-god into me, so it can claw its way out of my womb and enter the world and rule over it for all of fucking time, perched in a Duke Nukem chair atop a mountain of skulls!"

The four of them went quiet for a few moments, before Benedict broke the ice: "Well, I suppose it'd be worse if you lived through that pregnancy, and then had to be a demon-god's mother." He suggested this in the same way one might suggest pancakes for dinner. I worry about that kid. Wait, isn't he Finley's age? RJ thought as she shook her head, disturbed by the train of thought.

RJ had never considered this idea before and was appropriately horrified. "Holy shit," she rasped. "I need more liquor."

Finley shook his head. "You," he pointed at her, "need liquor in the same way you need to get demonically impregnated. And you," he pointed at Ben, who looked innocent, as usual, "need to not fill her head with any worse ideas than what she's already got in there. And we, we really need to get out of here, and not get ourselves killed while trying to save the others trapped down here."

Aidan shook his head and rubbed the golden-blond brow over his one good eye. "Nope, can't do it," Aidan said, looking squeamish and disturbed, "all I can think about now is RJ going all . . . Rosemary's Baby," he spat out in disgust as he threw up his hands, "with Ben as her midwife!"

RJ roared in a mixture of horror and despair and threw up her hands and marched back to the wall to stare at it defiantly. She rifled through her pockets for anything that would block out that mental image and cursed that the flask had only been half full.

"Guys," Finley complained as he pinched his brow, probably - if RJ knew him - developing a headache from his sister's thoughts and Aidan's, "I'm serious, this is serious, we might die."

"I hope we do die," RJ seethed at him. "Especially you, Aidan, you fucking gay pirate!"

Aidan looked upset for all of a second before he gasped and started laughing. "Did you just now realize that you have a pirate eye-patch and are gay?" Finley guessed. Aidan's only response was to double over and laugh harder, clutching his stomach. Fin couldn't help but chuckle along with him - it was infectious. RJ smirked but managed to contain her laughter thanks to her genuine outrage, and continued staring - pissed - at the wall.

"Why am I the midwife?" Ben wondered. "Not that I'm complaining. I just figured they wanted to hurt me, not midwifery - is that, is that a thing that I'm going to have to do?" He blanched and ran his hands over his head and ears, as if he still felt the wig on his head. It was hard to believe that Finley was the same age as him; he still seemed like a kid, in so many ways. "I don't know how to do that, but my Mom is a nurse, so I know a little bit about childbirth—" Ben rambled, but Aidan cut him off.

"No, no, no, none of that," Aidan confirmed after he had calmed down, "at least not from what Finley said. We don't know what they want with us, but Ben, you never know, and it's good to be prepared for anything." Ben looked impossibly more uncertain after hearing this. Aidan patted him on the back comfortingly as Ben started to pace. They were all standing now, ready for action after Olivia's departure.

RJ groaned, drawing all three of their eyes' to her. She straightened her back, cursed the ceiling, and fell flat back on the singular dirty mattress on the floor of their small room. "Well, the good news is, I'm filled with rage and excited to kill these assholes," RJ told the room, though more specifically her brother. "The bad news is I'm all out of rum." She sniffled back tears that threatened. She poked her fallen flask. The last the she wanted to do was confront whatever happened next sober.

"Sometimes I wonder how we ever get anything done at all," Finley murmured, just before the door handle of their cell slowly twisted to open. They braced themselves, some against the wall or each other in RJ's case as she abruptly got up and ran behind Finley, and Fin out of instinct put himself in front of the others.

There were five of them in total including Olivia, one was the man from earlier, and the other two goons stepped inside the room to grab Aidan and Finley. Aidan they grabbed first and Finley didn't object at all when he saw how effortlessly they did so and shuffled them out of the room and into the hall. Jeri cried out, "No, FINLEY!" after her brother's disappearing form. Quite suddenly she and Ben were closed in the dark.

Out of nothing else to do, she clutched at the black rosary around her neck dedicated to St. Cecilia, the one Mara had prayed with every day. Her aunt's hands in the past worried at each bead in her fingers as Hail Marys slipped from her lips, even as RJ's shaking hands in the present hovered in their same place. She could feel Mara's shade embrace her. For the first time she let the dead in, and together they prayed — not just for Finley, but for Ben, and Aidan, and for herself.

They shoved Finley in after Aidan and he stumbled in the still-too-tight heeled boots onto the floor in front of them. Aidan knelt down to his level at once, concerned as always, and they were closed in a different but similar - and smaller - room.

A slot opened in the door and Olivia's voice emerged, "You and your sister will be kept separately." And then she left, the clicking of her heels against the floor and on the wooden steps fading as she left them all behind. Finley could sense that one of her trained Christian soldiers was outside at the end of the hall and watching the doors closely. Pacing the length, back and forth, occasionally listening in on certain doors to see what he could hear.

"You really ought to take those boots off, they're not your size," Aidan cautioned.

"Help me get them and the wig off, will you?" Finley said with a groan as he sat on his behind and started to unzip the boots. Aidan's fingers quickly un-did the other one, leaving him feeling freed in his woolen socks and leggings.

"How many pins did she put in this fucking thing?" Aidan grumbled as he struggled to feel around the wig. Gradually, dropping bobby pins on the ground as he did so, he managed to free Finley's head of the long hair and at once Finley felt cold, and different. He pulled up his scarf around his neck again and wrapped it twice and ran his fingers through his hair a few times.

Aidan asked, "Better?" Finley nodded and stood, and offered his outstretched hand to Aidan who was still on the ground. They found a more comfortable spot in the corner, far away from this particular room's bucket. It was devoid of anywhere comfortable to sit or sleep, but they managed to find comfort in each other's presence.

"My head's cold," Fin commented without really thinking about it. Aidan encircled his arm around Finley and put his arm and hand on his head and tangled his fingers in Finley's hair, damp as it was with sweat.

Finley knew Aidan didn't mind it when he felt his feelings or read his thoughts. It was comforting to have someone who didn't judge or feel as though what Finley could naturally do was a violation. Finley felt differently about it and remembered the red cords that he'd severed with the three people on the roof of Magpie. Aidan didn't witness what he'd done, and no one had told him. He knew his sister and he had their differences and spats, but one thing was for certain - if he had asked her to, she would have taken that secret to the grave.

If anyone was to tell Aidan, Finley wanted it to be himself. It wasn't worth keeping secrets from him. "I have something to tell you," he said quietly, making sure to keep his voice low so their guard outside couldn't hear.

"You know you can tell me anything," Aidan reminded him, and tugged at his hair gently.

"Yeah, but you might not like me very much after this particular confession. Let me finish," he requested as he saw Aidan's mouth move to object. "Those three cultists on the roof of Magpie? I did that. That's not all. The guy that RJ went to prison for . . . That was me too."

"I know," Aidan said, sounding confused. His hand, still in Fin's hair, froze in its movement.

Fin continued, "The report said they shot each other, and I made them do it, because they were going to shoot at us and could've killed Alex and Tim and me, all to get to my sister. Anton though?" Finley stared up at the ceiling and sighed. "That was my grief getting the better of me. My anger. My . . . I want to believe he had it coming. He was a rapist. An asshole. A thief. But it shouldn't be up to me to make those kinds of judgment calls. I've killed people, Aidan. Several. I'm capable of it, and I might have to do it again to get us out of here."

"How did you 'make' them do it?" Aidan wondered, after a quiet moment passed. Finley picked up on a growing sense of unease in Aidan's gut as he thought up the implications for it.

Fin knew he could lie and make it seem better, but Aidan was the one person in the world he never wanted to lie to. "I don't know how to describe it. It's like there's these tethers of - of consciousness - around everyone. I picture them like big, vibrant red strings that get all tangled around each other. And I can pull on them, or tap into them, or—" he didn't want to finish the thought suddenly but knew from Aidan's answering silence that he had no choice but to keep talking. Finley drew up his knees and his arms clenched around them. "Or manipulate them, when I'm desperate," he concluded.

Aidan was silent for a long moment. His hand withdrew from Finley's hair and he contemplatively folded in on himself, not shifting in his proximity to Finley but certainly in his demeanor. He was a flower in reverse, folding in on his bloom. After the moment passed, he asked, whispering, "Have you ever done that to me?"

Finley knew the accusation was possible, but it hurt to hear it from Aidan. He understood his best friend's caution and feelings better than anyone. He wanted to heal the sudden gap between them, made by his confession. "I would never," Finley said with passion. "The real question is whether or not you believe me when I say that," he added.

"I do," Aidan nodded, and looked him in the eyes, his left eye shifting between various parts of Finley's face as it struggled to find something to settle on. "Come here," Aidan commanded, and put his hands around Finley's head and neck, dragging Fin's lips toward his.

Their lips met and Aidan's pain slid into Finley's heart like a bittersweet knife, cutting him deeply. He worried for Finley most, that Fin had carried this for so long without trusting Aidan enough to tell him - and the lack of trust hurt most of all, because there was love there twisted inside of it in all its broken glory. Finley had to pull away before he disappeared into it and lost sight of his own pain.

He had to differentiate. He pushed Aidan away, keeping him at arm's length despite Aidan's hurt feelings that made him want to draw the man closer and keep him there forever. "Sorry, I just, I need to think," Finley spluttered out, and kept the distance between them without closing it.

Aidan sat back, understanding and contented in that. He knew well what proximity did to Finley. "I'm worried about your sister," Aidan said, changing the subject.

Fin locked eyes with him. "We will get out of here, I promise, and if they lay a finger on her . . ." He trailed off, not willing to finish that sentence despite the sentiment toward violence.

Aidan seemed troubled. "You'll do what? You'll kill them?"

"I'll make them relive my sister's worst memory until brain death," Finley summarized, remembering exactly which memory he'd so carefully plucked to play on repeat in Anton's mind. It hadn't even been one of Anton's own, but rather Mandi's. It unfortunately lived on in Finley's mind now too, along with dozens of other memories that never belonged to him and lived on immortally inside of him.

". . . Jesus Christ, Fin," Aidan succinctly summarized his opinion of the matter.

Remembering his sister, Finley defended, "Jesus would flip their tables and slap these people down."

Aidan shook his head and went quiet for a moment. "It's one thing imagining it, it's another hearing you said it out loud. I just . . . I don't know what to think or how to feel about any of this."

Finley let him have his moment of contemplation. After a while of staying out of Aidan's brain, he asked, "Do you hate me?"

"That's the one thing I'm certain of. I love you," said Aidan as his hand found its way to Finley's knee and squeezed gently. "And that's not going to change."

Fin let himself get drawn into Aidan's side, and they lay like that for a time, listening to the creaks of the building above them as Finley focused on Aidan's sense of calm. It was true that he held a lot of anxiety about their circumstances, but he felt a sense of comfort in Finley's presence that helped keep Finley grounded.

Just outside their cell were a dozen doors perhaps, and manifold miseries locked in the minds of those still living down here. It was hard to tell who had been there longest, each mind on a pattern of repeated thoughts and miseries. One man had been singing to himself for days every song he knew; his voice had gone hoarse. One girl had been working on scratching her name and story into the walls with a spoon. Some of their bravery impressed him, made him want to weep and chide himself for his own suffering. After all, he'd brought this fate down upon them all.

"I know you're probably trying to blame yourself somehow for all of this," Aidan interjected suddenly, and perhaps it was due to their nearness that he was able to pick up on Finley's own feelings - or that he knew Fin too well. "I don't blame you. No one does. We will get through this, somehow," Aidan told him confidently.

Finley despaired, "I just . . . I don't know what to do. I don't know what Malcolm is. The Pastor isn't like us. He's . . . He's like Ramiel. I can't get a read on him. It's like trying to hold up a hand against a storm—I don't think I can do it without losing myself. I don't know what to do," he repeated, staring down at his hands in the dim light, coated in shadows that made his matte black nails seem like talons.

"Do what?" Aidan wondered. "What do you mean, 'losing' yourself? And why is this all on you?"

"Because . . ." He trailed off, remembering his conversation with Sal. Salvador would find a way to resurrect and kill him if he died; and if he let their sister get impregnated by some kind of demonic force, Sal would kill him twice, and he'd deserve it. "It just is," he finished lamely.

Aidan didn't have a response beyond huffing disbelievingly under his breath. The cords of at least a dozen different people were wrapped around Finley's consciousness, and it was only due to Aidan's vibrancy of presence that he could keep track of anything in his own mind. Fin's own feelings and thoughts were a muddled blur, swirling somewhere below his own consciousness. His instincts were with them, telling him to run and fight with his last breath to get him and his loved ones out of this mess. He knew he had to bide his time for the right moment, however.

Aidan adjusted the bandage around his eye for a moment, wincing. Finley gave him a concerned look that was missed in the dim lighting, and Aidan simply stared up at the ceiling with one hand on Finley's leg and sighed. Eventually he uttered, "What if we don't make it out of here alive? Should we talk about that?"

"No, because we are going to make it out alive," Fin insisted.

"We're in firm denial of fate, got it," Aidan said with a sly smile.

"Staunch denial," Fin nodded in reassurance. "I'll get us out of here. Somehow, someway."

Aidan said, "I appreciate your confidence, however misplaced I think it is. You're overlooking the fact that I'm crippled."

"I took it into account. I'll protect you," Finley promised. "Just don't be too mouthy or you might get slapped."

"I'll try to restrain myself, but you know me," Aidan laughed. Finley looked up at him and saw the corners of Aidan's mouth dimple and he smiled at the sight. "I can't resist the urge to snark. I'm just like my mother," Aidan went on.

Fin chuckled and leaned his head against Aidan's arm and shoulder, finding a fleeting moment blissful comfort in it. He made a silent promise to Aidan's parents that he would get Aidan out of this situation alive. Aidan's right eye was gone and there was no fixing that, but he could at least make sure Aidan didn't endure worse.

The sudden urge to consume nicotine flooded Finley's body, along with a wave of hunger. He recalled the food Jeri had kicked in defiance, and the slap Olivia had delivered. "I wish I could smoke right now," Finley grumbled, making Aidan let out some unexpected laughter. "Sorry, I know you'd rather I quit," he added, recalling a conversation he'd had with Aidan about the matter six months after Teegan had passed. His coping mechanisms had not since significantly improved, but he did feel more capable of handling the thought of her loss.

"There are worse things," Aidan mused. "And I'd rather you smoke than one of those worse things."

They lay curled against each other for an indeterminable amount of time, occasionally talking, almost enjoying the privacy were it not for the general feeling of doom and thoughts of all the others captives keeping Finley's mind occupied. Finley's hunger was past the point of nausea and under control by the time their door opened again, and this time Fin knew who it was before the door even opened.

"Get ready," Fin murmured into the shell of Aidan's ear as Pastor Malcolm emerged from the other side of the locked door.

He wore what seemed to be a purple graduation gown with a hood, and a symbol of gold embroidered on the outside. It appeared to Finley as though Malcolm was now in his full cult regalia, and Olivia and the two guards were on the other side of the door. Finley knew they were all unnecessary, by the look in Malcolm's eye which spoke volumes. Pastor Malcolm needed no assistance - he needed nothing at all, except to look at Finley to tell him everything he needed to know. What he was capable of was anyone's guess, but if Ramiel was to be compared, then Fin knew he didn't stand a chance. Malcolm's cold brown eyes were almost black in the dim light and gleamed with maleficence.

"I trust you understand your circumstance, Finley Ravara?" Malcolm intoned, looking directly to Fin and Fin alone.

Finley nodded and stood slowly on his socked feet. He knew that if he struggled, they'd hurt Aidan again - or Ben. Fin's only goal was to find a way to get Malcolm to target him instead, because he felt like he could handle the attention and pain better. That, and a part of him felt like he deserved it after what Aidan had endured because of his folly.

"Is this the part where you tell me your evil plan?" Finley wondered, trying to sound casual.

Malcolm's head cocked to the side, considering. After a moment, he said in a contemplative tone, "Yes, I think it is. Come with me. Both of you, now." He motioned for Aidan to stand up, and Finley helped his wobbling boyfriend onto two feet. Aidan shivered against Finley as they stood together and followed Malcolm out the door, with Olivia and their guards close behind them.

Fin counted the locked doors as they walked down the hall. He reached eleven by the time he got to the end of the hall, where a massive steel door with several locks lay in front of them. Malcolm had one of his goons unlock the behemoth and open it up with the other, and they remained on the inside of the door guarding the hall while Fin and Aidan went inside with Olivia behind them.

Inside was a madman's menagerie, a chaos of kennels and cages stacked all upon each other throughout a massive, ventilated room. The cacophony of squawks, barks, meows, and screeches that greeted them was nearly deafening for a moment after so long spent in the silence of the cell, and the smell of the refuse and food for so many animals at once was overwhelming. Fin drew back for a moment as he realized somehow, this door and everything that lay beyond it had been sheltered from his senses. He could sense the impressions and emotions of animals even at a distance - all living things really, except plants which RJ swore had thoughts and feelings but he couldn't sense - but unusually in this circumstance, Malcolm had somehow found a way to keep Finley's awareness out of his private zoo.

"It's useless trying to hide what you are from me," Malcolm reassured him. "I know everything about you and your sister, at this point."

"What do you want from us?" Finley demanded to know, putting himself in-between Aidan and Malcolm, a somewhat fruitless gesture but one that made Finley feel better.

"Your cooperation, preferably the silent kind," Malcolm told him with some distaste.

"That might be hard to come by," Fin commented.

"Your attitude will not help you here," the pastor promised him. "And you will die here, that is certain. The only question is the manner of your disposal."

"So you intend to kill us all?" Finley presumed.

"You and your friends. Your sister, I have plans for," Malcolm freely admitted. "She is the sacred womb that will engender Ba'el Moloch into the world."

Finley processed this - it was nothing Ramiel hadn't told him already, and nothing Olivia's brain hadn't revealed to him previously, but it was something he'd been in denial about it. He'd rather hear it all from Pastor Malcolm himself.

"What's your real name?" Aidan asked from behind Fin.

"Does it matter?" Malcolm wondered.

Fin wasn't sure, but Aidan seemed to think it did. "I want to know," Aidan said with a trembling lip, "the name of the person who killed me, and preferably why I was killed."

Malcolm, in a strangely human gesture for an otherwise inhuman monster, shrugged. "I've had many names over your human eons. Asmodeus was my most recent adoption, try that one on. As for why you're going to be killed, because you're nosy and the only thing you're good for is to make a sacrifice."

Fin snorted, unable and unwilling to stop his own tendency to snark. "And here I thought it was just to tell us your evil plan. But why the animals? Or are they supposed to all die with us, too?"

"They are his sacred vessels, if temporary," Malcolm, the man named Asmodeus, intoned. "My master speaks to me through the mouths of beasts."

All around him, the clamor reached a height and the animals sensed each other's stress. Fin locked eyes with a crazed cockatiel in a cage, and a moon-eyed cat a few cages away pacing restlessly and yowling, and he knew for certain that none of these animals were speaking to Malcolm except to express their distress, discomfort, and hunger. The only thing they could do was howl. The noise reached a height and Malcolm-Asmodeus closed his eyes and listened to it, as if he found a soft word of wisdom that was only for his ears in the midst of all that chaos.

"The time is nigh," Asmodeus interpreted and motioned for them to follow him. Aidan and Finley looked at each other, Aidan silently wondering if they should comply or try to run, but Fin knew they were locked in that room and that the only way out was forward. So he shook his head and offered his hand to Aidan instead and sent him waves of reassurance and calm even if they were slightly artificial. Aidan soaked it up as they went onward, following Pastor Mal.

"In you is the blood of saints," The man named Asmodeus told them as he led them past the menagerie, toward a more quiet hall that had the look of a gabled cathedral. The vaulted wooden ceiling was somehow shorter than it should be, and it seemed to have been constructed in haste as the room seemed to only hold space for a small number of people. They were the only ones present at the time, and Malcolm led them to a centralized altar behind which was a crowned, or horned figure. It was designed after the symbol carved into his mother's head, into Mara's, and tattooed onto RJ's arm. He wondered if they survived this, if she would laser it off.

"What?" Finley asked, not sure if he heard Malcolm correctly as he was staring at the symbol. Aidan squeezed his hand gently, like a reminder.

"The gifts you have were given to you by your gods," Asmodeus went on, "and today, they will be given back, with your lives." From behind his head, the black-eyed man pulled up his hood. The door opened, and several of his cult goons appeared behind them from the main hallway. Olivia was in front them all with the same gun she'd had from before, only she kept it trained at Aidan's head and this made Finley wince.

"This is to ensure your cooperation," Olivia informed him with a cold, scathing look in her eyes that spoke volumes. Finley would rip out all her memories from her mind and give her only the terrible ones back, if only she would point the gun at him instead. He didn't trust her trigger finger and knew that his silent cooperation could mean life over death for Aidan.

"You don't scare me, bitch," Aidan spat at her, and Finley loved him. She responded by having one of her goons at the sidestep up and force Aidan down on his knees by the altar, and one pushed Finley into a similar position.

They were bound there with para-cord and chain, to such a ridiculous degree that it was not only improbable but absolutely physically impossible for them to move. Olivia stood behind them with the gun still trained and nestled in Aidan's hair by his ear, and only after she did so did the other cult goons leave and return after a moment of tense silence with a screaming and kicking RJ and Benedict.

Ben seemed to get in the spirit of defiance as he had undoubtedly spent enough time around his sister to pick up her infectious attitude. She stopped, however, when she saw Olivia with the gun and instead went limp, letting the idiots drag her toward the central altar and place her on her knees. Ben went similarly limp after, and held up his hands when they tried to shove him, instead coming to a kneel beside Aidan and letting himself be tied up. He sought out Finley's eyes desperately, and Fin tried to display a sense of confidence in their circumstance that he didn't innately have.

The altar itself was a stone bier wide and large enough to tie several people to, but instead, RJ herself was tied to it in a process that divested her - or rather cut off - her clothing first. Though Finley knew and had been present for the collection of most of her tattoos, he looked away for the sake of her dignity and had to smile to himself as he heard her cursing in every language she knew.

Once she was bound in place, RJ looked the man calling himself Asmodeus squarely in the eyes and said, "Fuck you."

Fin couldn't help it. He started to laugh.