Red. Blood red, these streaks and smears of blood bright in bleary black nothing. Shadows over shadows with all this bright red, motion and movement in ways that are strange. Wavering awareness brings unpleasant sensations, stabbing reminders of something tangible, something important.
A rolling motion glides a here and there glimmer, a sudden change in perspective. Unfocused, bright by comparison even though it’s still dark, still mostly shadow, disorienting and implacably familiar. Sounds now, trickling through a fogged-over, muffled awareness. More motion, blinking, everything gaining better focus as the lurid red glow fades, harsh yellow-tinged streetlights provide contrast to the darkness.
More sounds, louder, everything rushing together because I remember fast-growing headlights, impending doom, this is the aftermath of the wreck. I’m something enough to be thinking, slowly becoming more as I keep at it. I’m starting to feel terror. I feel so many things in the moment I realize that I don’t feel my body, that I don’t think I can move. I’m in this moment, I’m thinking about it, I’m here watching it happen and listening —
Cain?
A blur of fast motion, too fast for me to follow just what exactly is in the confusion of space. The soft darkness of closed eyes follows. Vibration forms a groaned protest. It’s not quite an answer. It’s all the answer I need.
Cain? Cain, open your eyes.
Lidded oblivion parts to reveal the sideways shadows of the backseat. I can hear Cain’s panted breath, the steady-ticking protest of the sedan’s turn signal or maybe the hazards, it’s hard to understand just what I’m looking at, where I am, or rather — what Cain is looking at, where Cain is. I can’t be wrong about this.
I have to stay calm, even though I want to panic. I am so frightened, so beyond terrified, I try not to think about it but I’m nothing except thoughts and feelings, I can’t do anything besides think and feel.
Cain, are you okay? Can you get up?
His eyes close amid a low tight growl, this terrible sound of agony and frustration.
Okay. Sorry. No questions. I’m just — scared. I’m really scared. Cain, I’m not in my body. I’m in yours.
He snarls some, his head shifts so the perspective changes. He looks around slower, blinks, things waver in and out of focus. I get a brief glimpse of his feet, his legs, I think Cain’s okay. The interior of the car is this blown-apart mess of wrong angles and broken glass. Cain’s behind the driver’s seat mostly, he’s this strange upside-down sprawled mess of limbs but I think he’s okay-ish. Not significantly worse off than he was before the wreck, at least. I don’t think he’s broken anything, I don’t see fresh blood anywhere just those same deep cuts I gave him.
Something’s happening outside the car, there’s a cadence of voices and urgency. The inside of the car is just that ominous back-and-forth click, the harsh ragged sound of Cain breathing hard, the engine idling. Maybe it’s because I’m only thoughts and feelings, but I have the sudden understanding that everything is terribly wrong.
Cain, get up. You have to get up.
Blunt-edged nails claw at the leather upholstery as Cain struggles to sort out the tangle. His legs flop off the seat as he gets upright, it’s incredibly confusing to watch Cain’s body move like this. I’m suddenly grateful to have experienced Cain controlling my body, just so I can feel this calm about being stuck inside Cain’s body.
I’m not in the front seat. That’s immediately obvious, soon as Cain gets to where he see the front half of the car. I feel this dizzy sense of relief, I become nothing but how relieved I am that my dead broken body isn’t taking up space in the front seat. The windshield is cracked but not shattered, unlike the back, and I hope I don’t need to make Cain crawl out of the car to see if my dead body was thrown clear of the wreck. I’m just not there, but Aidan is, he’s slumped unconscious and bleeding in the driver’s seat, half-draped over the wheel.
Oh, the engine — Cain, turn off the car!
Cain lurches forward and grabs the steering wheel to keep his balance. He scrambles his fingers for the keys. He yanks them from the ignition and then flicks his gaze to the window. I want him to look at Aidan, I’m about to tell him to make sure Aidan’s okay, but then I realize just why Cain’s suddenly staring at the dark glass. Someone’s staring back at him.
Face stark white in the gleaming night and nearly hidden behind a sweep of black silk, it’s Deimos staring back at Cain. His gaze is sharp like a knife. Fear cuts me with cold certainty.
Get out. Cain, now — out the back windshield, go!
Cain shoves off from the wheel, the console, he throws his hand against Aidan’s back as he struggles to push his body into motion. I think Aidan’s okay, I’m pretty sure he’s alive, there’s going to be ambulances and police soon. Someone’s going to call in this wreck. My safe complicated world will save Aidan, but Cain needs to save himself.
Light floods the car as Deimos yanks open the driver’s side door. It’s kind of pathetic the dome lights still work. I nearly warn Cain not to cut himself on the broken glass as he wedges through the busted back windshield, but I don’t want to distract him. It’s hard just to stay calm like this, but I have to stay calm.
Aidan nearly made it, to judge by where the car’s crumpled and smashed. I bet he would have made it, too, if the other car hadn’t been gunning for us. We’ve been slung through the intersection, spun into facing the way we came. The collision happened on the corner, square over the rear tires, I’m trying to take in this whole scene at once for Cain just as fast as I can. It’s strange to use his eyes like this, stranger than being a passenger inside my own body, but I try not to think about it. I need to focus on what I’m doing, so I can get Cain out of this mess.
The headlights I saw belong to a hulking SUV, this sleek black monstrosity with a grille guard and dark-tinted windows. It’s cockeyed up on the sidewalk, taillights flashing as starts to reverse. The two front windows are down despite the cold weather, and from the pitch and timbre I know it’s Phobos shouting at Deimos. It’s mostly Cain’s tormented breathing that I hear, I think maybe I can even hear his hard-pounding heart.
Where’s Deimos? Look for him, quickly.
I get an answering whirl of perspective until Cain finds him, close and coming closer now that Cain’s out of the car. That’s okay, I have more options now, I couldn’t let Cain stay trapped in the car. I don’t think Cain is armed, I certainly didn’t give him any weapons, I can’t think of anything within arm’s reach he can use either.
Deimos has a knife, of course he has a knife, it’s this silvery blade that catches the glaring streetlights and softens their harsh brightness into a moonlit glow. I’m sure it’s not a normal knife, I’m positive I can’t let him get anywhere near Cain with it.
Cain, you need to do something. You can’t let Deimos catch you. Can you run?
Cain rises from his crouched stance. He shouts something — a short collection of sounds, perhaps in a language I don’t even recognize, it’s bewildering not to understand the single-word shout. Deimos’ eyes widen, he takes a step back even though he’s got a knife and Cain’s wavering, bloodied, exhausted — he must look more intimidating on the outside. From in here, I’m desperately terrified that Cain might collapse and not get back up again. I can feel the way he’s trembling.
This time when Cain shouts I understand him perfectly, even though it’s all slurred snarl and growling, gritted teeth. “Miss me?”
Deimos hasn’t moved, I’m not sure he can, his blown-open stare is one of complete shock, total fear. He recognizes Cain, that’s immediately obvious, but it’s more than that. It’s whatever Cain said first that I couldn’t understand, that strange foreign-sounding something, and I can’t even remember how it sounded. Couldn’t take a guess at a single syllable it contains, a solitary letter that shapes it.
Cain’s boots beat into the twisted metal as he gets on top of the car, balances himself on the roof like a colossus. I have no idea what he’s doing, but I’m not about to stop him. Deimos scurries back with a quick-startled reaction, I think he’s genuinely frightened of Cain now. He doesn’t seem nearly so intimidating, looking like this, even with the knife held at his side. Deimos seems rather small, a little trembling thing staring up at big snarling monster.
I can feel Cain’s mouth spread in a fearsome, mocking smile. “My necromancer’s not here right now, but good try with the hit-and-run.”
Cain glances briefly from Deimos to the SUV, this black mechanical beast curving into position behind the demon hunter’s slight frame. It’s Phobos at the wheel, his petite and pretty runway model look ridiculous compared to the size and style of the vehicle. He’s wide-eyed as well, though not nearly as frightened as Deimos. He doesn’t seem frightened at all, actually, he looks excited and eager, almost grinning with glee.
“Deimos!” he calls. “Time’s up! Gotta go!”
Deimos jerks back another step, feet shuffling like there’s something sticky keeping him in place. Headlights sweep onto the street in the near distance, the first bystanders about to arrive on scene. My complicated world is coming to rescue Aidan.
Cain cocks his head to the side. His fist clenches, his jaw tightens. It’s hurting him, but he forces the words to sound distinct rather than slurred. “How’d you end up with a fairy like that, kiddo? Bet it’s an interesting story. Too bad this reunion’s getting cut short.”
“Killed you.” It’s a whispered rasp, a pleaded denial. Deimos flails a hand behind him for the car door without taking his eyes off Cain.
All Cain’s inner torment comes out in his laugh. It’s this terribly raw and hoarse clatter of morbid amusement. “You sure about that?”
Deimos doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to, his terrified expression says it all. He gets a foot up on the running board, swings open the door. His getaway driver’s already hit the gas, even though Deimos is half-hanging from the vehicle. He’s got hold of the grab handle, either can’t or won’t take his eyes off Cain. I know that feeling too well.
Only once the SUV’s clear of the intersection and making a fast escape do I see him shift inside fully. The door closes, and Cain watches the taillights from atop Aidan’s ruined car. His head turns to check out the approaching headlights. These poor bystanders can probably see Cain, he must be pretty obvious standing on top of the car like he is.
You need to leave.
A shudder runs through Cain. I’m reminded of a dog shaking wet from its fur. He shudders again and then slumps to his knees. He slides across the warped metal, tumbles off the car and to the pavement in a barely-controlled fall. Breathing becomes choking as he coughs.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but you have to go. Cain, get up. You need to run. You can’t stay here.
He struggles and pushes. That approaching car is getting louder, brighter. Cain doesn’t have any form of identification, he doesn’t have a real name to give, I’m sure he doesn’t have a home address or medical insurance or anything that’s going to be required of him once the police arrive, once an ambulance comes on the scene. I’m not even sure a hospital could fix what’s wrong with Cain.
I’m not sure he can manage back to his feet again, though he’s trying. He’s hurt, but I’m not. I feel fine. Terrified, yes, but I’m staying calm about it at least.
Cain, I’m sorry. I’m going to —
It’s all the warning I can give him, because soon as I think about what I want to do, I’m doing it. There’s resistance, this tissue paper-thin block I brush aside. It’s like sweeping back a curtain or sliding into a soft, freshly-washed shirt. It’s like pouring water into an ice tray, this wavering effort of infinitesimal struggle to level everything out. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, taking over Cain’s body.
I clench my fingers, Cain’s blunt-edged nails claw jaggedly at the pavement. I shudder in a breath, Cain’s ribcage heaves. I take control of this battered, bloodied demon and suddenly become something more than mere thoughts and feelings. I become a chaotic ruin of blistering white-hot pain, this constant shredding sensation like ravaging jaws closed tight and shaking.
A scream rips through my throat — Cain’s throat — I can’t tell anymore, I don’t know anymore, I don’t know anything except agony, this is too much to feel — too much to think, I’m not sure I can be all these things, it’s too much, it’s impossibly too much. Simply impossible.
Switch me! Abel, let go! Let go!
Pressure surges forward, there’s no resistance at all. Not even a tissue paper effort, not even a whisper. Soft lidded darkness parts with a bisected waver. Perspective whirls and wavers, it’s rolling over and then pushing upright, staggering forward. Boots pound off the pavement, even as concerned strangers shout, because it’s those bystanders arriving to make everything so complicated.
It’s not impossible now to think about things and understand them. I’m not in control of Cain’s body anymore, I’m definitely not going to try that again. I’m not sure if it hurt because Cain’s hurt, or if that’s just what it’s like trying to control a body that’s not mine. I don’t want to know anyway, I’ve got enough to think about as Cain runs from this car accident that wasn’t an accident at all.