22 March 2010 @ 12:10 pm
Hands of Fate 5/?  

It just keeps going. Thank god I can hide my notebook for this and work on it at my job.


 
Chapter 5
 

The search for what was going on took on a new sense of urgency after the morning’s chaos, Sam and Dean returning briefly to their motel room to work out a plan of action.

When it came to finding out what the three women were, it had been agreed that they were pretty much at square one. Information-wise, they were in better condition; they had copies of reports and the interviews they had done earlier to go on, so they weren't completely in the dark. They knew about the victims, they knew about the incidents, but that was pretty much where they stood. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing at all.

The plan was simple: Dean would go find out what he could about the latest victim while Sam worked the research angle at the local library. Dean's prior visit to the historical society was a good start, but Sam was aiming for the archival records of not only the town but the county as a whole. It would also give him a chance to see if there was anything on the elusive trio.

The library was exactly as Sam had figured it would be for a town the size of Oak Ridge: small and quiet. They're weren't many there at that early hour aside from the two or three staff Sam had seen when he arrived, so finding a secluded corner of the stacks was easy enough. It was just a matter of looking through the books from there on out.

For the first hour it had been skimming old logbooks and histories, jotting down notes about the town and its sometimes sordid past, and looking for anything out of the ordinary. Three leather-bound newspaper archives later, he still wasn't any closer to finding a connection. It just came across as a normal town.

Sam closed the archive with a heavy, frustrated sigh as his eyes moved to the notebook peeking out from his computer bag.

He could feel the frustration grow just by looking at the dollar-store notebook, their notebook. Every maybe and possibility Sam had come up with or across, every 'close but not close enough,' sat in that flimsy covered spiral-bound, tucked between his laptop and his father's journal. He could find out anything about the town, but try as he might, the creatures in that notebook eluded him. He felt it was silently mocking him whenever he looked at it.

He pulled the wire-bound notebook from his bag as he grabbed his cell phone, scrolling down through the numbers until he found his target. He hit the call button, flipping the notebook open to one of the numerous clippings showing the three; staring at the photo of the young women. His pen tapped absently against the table as he looked at the faces, the phone line finally clicking to life.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Bobby. It's Sam," Sam greeted him.

The voice that had answered so gruffly softened slightly at the introduction. "Hey, boy. How you two been? It’s been a while."

Sam smiled as he twirled his pen between his fingers. "We're pretty good."

"Good to hear, son. Last I heard you two were out near Omaha working a poltergeist case."

"Yeah." Sam cringed at the mention of Omaha as the memory of being tossed into a dining-room wall returned along with the sharp ache in his ribs the action had caused. "That was a painfully interesting job."

Bobby chuckled over the line as Sam shrugged off the memory. "So what are you boys up to now?"

Sam's eyes moved to the list of maybes in the notebook as he set his pen down. "We're working a job in Ohio and could use a little help."

Bobby could be heard walking from one room to another over the line. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Have you ever come across anything that hunts in threes before, Bobby?" Sam questioned almost hesitantly.

There was a pause before Bobby's voice came back, a hint of confusion in the man's tone. "You mean like a pack?"

Sam sighed and pushed a hand back through his hair. "I'm not even sure if you could call it a pack. We haven't been able to figure out what these things are yet."

Bobby sounded almost fatherly as he spoke, but even over a phone line, Sam could tell the man was interested in what the boys had found. "Tell me about this job of yours."

It didn't take very long to fill Bobby in on the job and even less time to tell him about the three who seemed to be at the center of everything. He told the older hunter everything they knew about the mysterious trio, every maybe they seemed to fit yet not fit at the same time. Every disguise was laid out, from the schoolchildren the brothers had seen that morning to the old women Sam had spotted in newspaper photos. Even the "accidents" themselves were explained. Nothing was left out.

When he was done, Sam waited. He let the information he had given sink in and said nothing. After everything so far and the frustration both he and Dean were feeling, he was more than happy to simply wait.

"Let me see what I can find and get back to you," Bobby finally said. His tone was one Sam had heard before, both contemplative yet still untrustingly cautious. "In the meantime, don't go doing anything stupid like trying to catch these things. Between the two of us, someone is bound to find something."

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam felt oddly drained after explaining everything, catching it in his own voice as he spoke. "We really appreciate it."

"Sure thing, kid. I'll be in touch."

With the call disconnected, Sam pocketed his phone and sank back against the hard plastic of his chair.

His eyes scanned the pages of maybe lists and news photos, his mind working over the scene from just that morning as he added it to the ‘file’ with everything else. The new page, Jane Doe, brought the body count to 20 and did little more than add one more piece to an already confusing puzzle. He doubted it would become any clearer once Jane Doe had a real name.

Sam’s jaw set as he gathered up his papers and shoved the notebook in his bag, pushing away from the table.

The archives weren’t going anywhere, Dean was probably still laying on the charm at the coroner’s office, and Sam’s mind, as much as he hated it, was now stuck on them. He had time to kill and a nearly empty library at his disposal; there wasn’t a better time to look over Red Oak Public Library’s selection of occult books. If anything, it could at least get Sam’s mind off the trio for a moment or two.

With the size of the library it wouldn’t be hard tracking down the right area to start looking. Most places kept their selection of ‘metaphysical’ books in the same general location; tucked back in some far corner away from prying eyes. Whether it was to garner some amount of privacy for a curious patron or just keep them hidden from the more visited areas via the Dewey Decimal System, it wasn’t easy to tell. But whatever the reason, the somehow always ended up in the same locations. A quick look at the card catalog simply cemented that fact.

Sam scanned the stack markers as he made his way through the shelves looking for the books the library had. It wasn’t a surprise when he followed the numbers gleaned from the electronic catalog that led him past the world religions section and into the far back corner of the building. He could almost hear the cars outside pass by the further he went.

He paused halfway down the long metal shelf, running his fingers along the book spines as he checked the numbers against those on the slip of paper in his hand. He took a step as he looked along the row ahead of him, his brow knitting at the sight further down the aisle. Apparently the library wasn’t as empty as he'd thought.

Sitting quietly on the floor amid a handful of books pulled from a bottom shelf sat a young woman, head bowed as she read. Her back was to him as a slender hand moved to grab another book from the shelf, the waist-length blonde hair that fell down her back obscuring her features. She looked completely absorbed as she skimmed the books, tossing one aside as she grabbed for another. His eyes moved from the figure to the slowly growing piles of books as he drew closer, stopping to look at the titles. It wasn’t exactly light reading unless you were a hunter or an occult scholar. Grimoire Bestiae, Grimoire of Armadel; those may have been more modern retellings of older books, but they were not light reading and especially not speed reading subjects. Yet here was this woman clearing out each book from the shelf as if nothing was in it but blank pages.

His eyes moved back to the body seated on the floor, taking a long look at her.

Slender body dressed in faded jeans and a white tee shirt that didn’t look too out of the ordinary, straight blonde hair that shielded her face from view; that was all he could see. There were no marks on the pale skin, nothing noticeable that he could make out. And that was making him a little uneasy.

The woman sighed as she tossed the last book aside, the slight body moving to its feet in one graceful movement.

Sam swallowed as he watched her turn toward the shelves and a hauntingly familiar profile came into view. “You.”

The word had been barely breathed aloud but the young woman reacted as if it had been as loud as a shotgun blast.

The woman turned toward Sam, a startled pair of piercing blue eyes locking on his face. The face that had so eerily looked out from the newspaper clippings was now masked by a look of shock as the young woman stared up at the man she had only seen from a distance before. Her eyes remained on his face as she took a step backwards trying to distance herself from him.

“You.” The word fell from Sam’s lips once more as he matched her step, seeing a flash of uncertainty in the blue eyes.

Her movement was instant; faster than Sam knew possible for any human as she turned and ran.

Bobby’s advice against something stupid disappeared as Sam took off behind her, keeping the blonde hair in sight. The hunter instinct kept him on her as he rounded a shelf corner, brown eyes searching for a flash of blonde-haired woman ahead of him. No sooner had he rounded the corner behind her than she disappeared from sight.

He stood there searching for any indication of where she had gone before he moved back toward where she had been. The disappearing act had been just like at the streetlight, no trace of her left. But this time there was a difference; she had given a clue that hadn’t been left at the corner that morning.

They didn’t always travel in threes.


Chapter 6


 
 
 
Current Mood: tired
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