Marked (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {2}

28. Oliver Pryce

28. Oliver Pryce

"Look, it's Sam's idea, not mine," I say to Cas through the phone. "Just be there."

"Is Sam having you babysit?"

"No, I'll be coming with. We'll think up an issue for Dean to buy. Unfortunately, I think he'll buy just about anything at this point."

"Hmm. Well, I'll talk to you later."

"Talk to you later, Cassie." I end the call and look to my younger brother, who's on his laptop like always. "I hate doing this behind his back like this."

"We're out of options, Jo. We got to try and find something to end this."

I flex my hands. Lately, with the cases we've done, I've been getting close to being out of hand. We encountered Cole on another case, and I had nearly killed him. The times when I've gone out, by myself, I've almost killed. I've roughed up a few people, got them shaken enough to drive them and keep them away from me. I've even been ballsy enough to make people think they're tripping on acid by showing them my eyes.

And the best part? I fucking loved it. I loved scaring people shitless. Nobody would believe them, because there aren't a lot of people who believe in the supernatural besides the creatures and the few hunters around the world. Well, I guess I can't forget the hardcore believers that aren't hunters, either.

"Hey," I greet Dean, who shuffles in with some coffee in hand. "How did you sleep?"

"Like a drunk baby. What do we got?"

"Uh, nothing," Sam reports.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, uh, no weird deaths, no demon signs. There's a Kitsune working some truck stops outside of Boise, but Rudy's on it, so..."

"All right. So, uh, snow day. I say we get drunk and shoot crap."

"Yeah, except we do that every day. Actually, I was thinking about seeing a movie."

"Yeah, that'd be cool."

"It's a French movie," I point out.

"You mean like nudie French?"

"Even better. It's about a mime that's secretly a cockroach."

"I-I don't get it."

"Dude," says Sam. "The New York Times said—"

"Who cares?"

"All right, well...It's playing in Wichita, so we might not be back 'til morning."

"Well, I trust you. Make good choices."

"Right," I say slowly. "You know, I mean...we don't have to go with it being just us two..."

"It's fine. Besides, I could use a little 'me' time."

"All right. Stay out of my room," says Sam.

"Totally."

"You know he's most likely gonna mess shit up, right?" I ask Sam as we head up the stairs, out of the bunker. "You practically gave him the invitation to go through your room."

"You're not worried he's gonna mess with yours?"

"What is there to screw up in my room? Hide my weapons? It's not like I've got a lot of keepsakes, Sam." I push the last door open, exposing us to the daylight and air of Lebanon, Kansas. I twirl my truck keys around my finger.