#9 Amongst the rubble.

It was only typical that when she was needed, Hannah was nowhere to be found. John had left countless messages on her answering machine and after about the hundredth phone call had settled for cursing and hanging up every time he heard the tape.
Although Emmet had settled down, and not so much as a snort had been heard, John would rather have back up on hand, than risk opening the bathroom door. Even in his current state of anger and resentment, John was willing to bet that he was still as crafty as he had always been; and if he could fool demons while out on the hunt, what was to say that he couldn’t fool John?

Joel was still resting in the living room, Kyle was tending to the bar downstairs, Near and Emily were still god knows where, doing god knows what and Hannah had now decided to vanish. If Emmet were to attack him now, he would have no chance.
The kettle began to whistle, stem spitting from its spout like flames. With a sigh, John rose from the table, took a jar from the draining board and filled it with boiling water. He then added a few spoon full’s of table salt, sealed the jar and placed it into yet more boiling water in a saucepan. As far as John was concerned, his holy water didn’t need to be blessed, just boil the shit out of it and read from The Roman Ritual; BOOM you have holy juice.

It wasn’t a practiced ritual for Hunters to make their own Holy Water. Most still relied on the priests, and John had too for a while, but when things had gotten sticky a few years back, he had been left with no choice. To his amazement he discovered that, although he had added to much salt and pretty much ignored all the rules, it was stronger than anything he had ever used before and he had almost felt sorry for the poor bastard that was on the wrong end of it. Then again, if he hadn’t of done it, Ireland would be a very different place. It was never Emmet’s fault that, when he escaped from the firm grip of Abaddon, he brought with him a frenzy of bloodthirsty monsters, but he saw fit to blame himself regardless.

“Dad?”

Joel was leaning weakly against the frame of the door, his face was flushed and his forehead was caked with blood. His chest moved slowly up and down as he struggled to catch his breath and it was obvious that he was fighting sleep. John, on an impulse of fatherhood, quickly went to the aid of his son, he slung his arm around Joel’s shoulders and steered him away from the door.

“You should be sittin down.” He said.

“Where’s Emmet?”

“The Bathroom.” The elder man retorted quickly, “Come on now.”

“I’m fine Da. Just you see to the holy juice your makin.” Joel wriggled out of his father’s strong grip and stumbled into the hallway.

“Boy!” John exclaimed, “Where do ya’ think yer goin!?”

Joel ignored his father and began to fetter his way down the corridor, holding onto the walls for support.

“Joel!”

“Go back to your Holy Water Da!” Joel warned.

“Where are you going?!”

“To see Emmet.”

“No!” John sped after his son and stood in his path, “You’re in no fit state to go in there!”

“Has there been any sign of movement.”

“No. But—“

“Then I’ll be fine.”

He pushed past John, taking care not to collide with his shoulder and half marched, half staggered towards the bathrooms whitewashed door. John strongly pulled on the material of Joel’s shirt, stopping him in his tracks and tugging him backwards.It wasn’t until he felt knuckles painfully connect with his mandible that he realized he had lost the battle. He released Joel immediately and involuntarily covered his throbbing jaw with his hands. His nose was bleeding, the sticky fluid dripping into his mouth. Joel shook his hand and cracked his knuckles, his back was turned on his father and he had no desire to gaze back. Taking a deep breath, he took hold of the door handle, turned the key in the lock and gently threw the door open.

The colour drained from Joel’s face as he laid eyes on the crimson pool, caked into the grout of the white tiles. Reluctantly he peered around the door’s frame.

“Holy fuck.” He whispered.

An arm hung over the side of the tub, its flesh was severed so badly that it was hard to tell where the artery was. Blood was bubbling from numerous incisions, each adding to the sticky trail on the floor. From what Joel could tell, the other arm wasn’t in any better condition judging by the stains on the wall and the bare torso closely resembled a butchered piece of meat. The bodies face was out of sight, the head turned to the one side and hanging limply over the top of the bath.

Joel prayed that Emmet had somehow escaped and left a stranger in his place, he hoped this lifeless body was that of a tramp from the street outside, or a drunk from the bar below.

John was the first to react. He pushed past his son, immediately lifted the body out of the bath and laid it on the floor. Joel cringed as he saw Emmet’s face, all his hopes shattering into pieces. A sudden wave of nausea engulfed him and, as awful as it sounds, he was prepared to run.

“Call an ambulance!” John cried. He looked up at his son, his nose was still bleeding and his cheek was beginning to bruise.

The elder man felt around Emmet’s chest for a heartbeat and sighed with relief when he felt the organ faintly pumping struggling to pump. Joel, however, remained where he was. His face was drained of all colour and his eyes were wide with shock; He looked as if he may faint at any moment.

“Move Joel! He’s still alive but barely. We could save him.”

The younger Black nodded and disappeared out the door.

John lifted Emmet into his arms, took hold of his jaw and gently brought his head upright. His face was sliced and swollen across the nose and under the right eye, as was his neck and beneath his chin. The wounds were caked in deep crimson, almost black, clots, the skin around them was a slight lilac colour and the faint pulse could be seen pumping in his wrist. John held his breath as Emmet coughed and spluttered into life, he opened his eyes faintly; they were back to their original misty ocean colouring. His breathing came in sharp, painful ruptures, he kept twisting his body away from John’s and he was opening his mouth to try and scream out; but there was nothing, just an unhealthy wheeze.

John gently supported Emmet’s head in his hand; the other was placed above his heart. He was trembling with anxiety and he studied the canals of blood, trying to pin point the exact incisions. Even if he found them, there were too many.

Joel mumbled franticly on the telephone to an unheard operator, his voice rose in panic and he stumbled over his words. The receiver was threw back onto the base of the telephone.He dashed down the hall way and hovered around the threshold of the bathroom door.

“They’re on their way.” He breathed, “Is he okay?”

“No.” John snapped.

Joel fell silent and simply leaned back against the door frame for support.

“We should close the bar and inform Emily. Give Ramses a ring as well will you. ”

“I’ll go tell Kyle now, then I’ll ring Emily and Near.” Joel replied, pushing himself from the wooden frame, “Mrs O’Malley isn’t going to be happy.”

“Of course she won’t, but there’s not a god-damn thing we can about it but get him to the hospital.” He pointed to Emmet’s ears, “The cartilage isn’t pointed anymore, and his eyes aren’t discoloured. No one will be asking questions because they’ll assume it’s a suicide attempt.”

“Suicide?!”

“The wounds aren’t much different from a vicious suicide, the slit wrists, and the numerous tears on the chest and stomach….”

“What about his face?” Joel cut in,” He looks like he has been attacked by some wild animal!”

“That could take some explaining,” John considered this, looking down at Emmet’s blood soaked face, “I’ll figure something out, just go!”

Joel was already taking the mobile from his pocket when he walked out the door. Moments later, John could hear him speaking to a no doubt distraught Ramses’ and then there came the wailing siren of an approaching ambulance.

****

Near sat with his feet propped up on the coffee table, Emily stood by the window gazing at the sky outside, both in profound thought. The family basset hound lay by the open fire and watched them with bloodshot eyes. There was a thick tension in the air, awkwardness between the two and nether were willing to break the persistent silence.

The rain had turned to hail and the wind rattled the double glazing. They both shared the feeling of relief to be inside the cosy living room, with its lightly decorated walls and family photographs. Emily chewed on her fingertips. She wasn’t a physic or an empath, but something was filling her with dread, sending her heart into an unnecessary frenzy and filling her stomach with tightly coiled knots. The feeling was far too strong to simply shake off.

Near straightened up, planting his feet on the wood, and glanced towards Emily. He considered his words carefully, opening and closing his mouth several times before finally speaking.

“So, have you known John long?” as soon as he said it, he cringed; it was such a cliché.

Emily turned to face him. She had one arm draped around her waist, the other lingered around her red lips.

“I’ve worked there since I was eighteen.” She replied before leaning back against the window, “He’s been like a dad to me.”

“He knows a good bit about the paranormal to just be a bar owner.”

“He’s not. He hunts the paranormal. Everything I know, he taught to me, as he did to Joel and Emmet.”

Near leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I figured as much.” He sighed, “Back in the day, I used to hunt too.”

“I haven’t done since 1939, that’s when Mammon caught up with me again. Since then I’ve been roaming all over. Making friends here and there. You know how it is.”

Emily watched him, musing about his sudden openness. A small spark of sympathy rose in her breast as she thought about all he had told her earlier that day. She could only imagine the loneliness he must feel,the rejection and anguish he must have felt all those years ago; when he first was changed. He has seen so many years of change and yet he hasn’t aged a day.

As she studied his pale lips and the smooth contours of his face, she realised that his amber eyes held age and sadness; clearly portraying his exhaustion.

“Then I met Benji in 1997,” He continued, “It was in a pup around the corner from a fairground infested with Redcaps. Well we got talking and decided to investigate the matter together. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Emily smiled, “Who would have thought? Malevolent goblins could make you two such strong friends.”

Near chuckled and lay back against Jenny’s colourful cushions. He placed his arms behind his head. Emily sighed heavily, sat in the nearest recliner and stretched out her long legs.

The wind wailed outside. Lightning flashed in the sky and a moment later, thunder exploded over head. Emily’s mobile buzzed on the wood of the coffee table. She jumped to her feet and snatched the device into her hand.

“Hello?” She asked, “Oh. John. Hi.”

Near watched as she nodded her head slowly, answered John’s questions with short answers. She feel silent, he expression became pained, her brow furrowed and he lips fell into a frown. Near sat up to attention when she slipped the phone back into her pocket, quiet as a mouse.

“Emily?” he questioned, “What is it?”

Her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears, “It's Emmet.”

Near jumped to his feet and gently took hold of her shoulders. He looked down into her liquid eyes.

“What? Tell me.”

“He slit open his arteries.” Her voice broke, “He’s gone to hospital.”

She burst into tears and buried her head in Near’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezed her body to his and laid his head on her’s. Anger swelled in his veins. Those vicious demon bastards had won again, they’d claimed another solider and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The amulet would be no use to him now, it would never smother Abbadon; unlike it smothered Mammon. They needed something stronger and they needed it fast.

“We’ll figure this out Em.” Near whispered as he patted her back.

“We can’t use the Amulet anymore…” she sniffed, “there’s no way in hell it’ll bring Abbadon down.”

“No. It won’t.” she wailed as he confirmed her assumption, “Hush now. It’ll be okay.”

She dug her nails into his creased shirt, “How do you know that?”

Near sighed. He didn’t know. He had never come across someone possessed by Abbdon, most people he knew had only encountered the minor devils and demons. Emmet was unlucky enough (or worthy enough?) to witness and host the leader of the pack, next to Lucifer of course. Near was slightly impressed that the kid was still alive, for now at least.

Emily held tighter to Near’s body, his icy, stone skin obviously not a problem. She had her head against his chest, expecting to hear the comforting beat of his heart, but she could hear nothing.

Gently she squeezed his shoulder blades.

“Near?”

He shook his head, disengaging from his fantasy, “Sorry Em. What was it you wanted?”

“How do you know it’s going to be okay?” she repeated.

“I don’t.” he sighed, “but I’m just a fool for miracles.”