Haunting ▹ Dean Winchester [2]

PART ONE ; thirteen

      thirteen ; war of hearts

      Odessa seamlessly evaded Costello's imminent onrush, quickly stepping away from his hulking frame as he nearly stumbled on his own shoes. The back of her shoe connected with his sculpted stomach, but she remained unnerved by the snarl escaping him as he collapsed onto the floor. She raised the edge of the polished, wooden beam toward his throat, a smug smirk etched on her carmine-stained lips. "I know you've been dead for the past four years," She began, observing Costello's irked expression remain harsh as ever. "But you could've gotten seriously hurt on our last hunt. We need to keep training." She saw him roll his hazel eyes but she didn't take offence to his crudeness. 

      He glanced her way from the floor. "There was nothing to be concerned about," He asserted, swiftly swinging his lengthy legs at her ankles but, as expected, Odessa merely leaped mid-air and dodged the attack with ease. An annoyed expression overcame his features. Hoisting himself from the ground, he patted his clothes with his palms. "I knew what I was doing. So what if I'm a little rusty?"

      Odessa's eyebrows rose inquisitively. There wasn't any form of incertitude regarding his capabilities, she was primarily concerned with his unfamiliarity of brawling. Costello had been dead for nearly four years and throughout that time period, he wasn't training or practicing or completing bestowed assignments for obvious reasons. Resting her hands on her waist, she looked up at him. "One mistake and you're dead again." She explained slowly. "I just got you back. I'm not gonna lose you again. I don't think I could ever forgive myself if you I lost you again." 

      Costello, resembling a child being scolded by their mother, seemingly cowered and nodded, unsure of how to respond. He didn't know how much his sister was affected by his death, and he didn't suppose he would ever know. She didn't talk much about it, always seeming uncomfortable to talk about the day that dissolved into ashes and embers. Whirling the wooden beam around his hand, he motioned for her to rush onward and continue with their training. Before Odessa could prepare her stance, the phone perched on the edge of mat began vibrating erratically. 

      Answering and raising the phone to her ear, she wiped the beads of sweat from her hairline with the back of her hand. "Hey, Bobby." She greeted, "How are you?" She hadn't seen Bobby in months, she'd obviously spoken with him on the phone to discuss cases and Bela's whereabouts, but she hadn't physically interacted with him and she was only beginning to realize how she missed him.

      She could hear gravel crunch under his shoes from the other line. "Hey, Odessa. Doing great because I think I finally got a lead on Bela." Odessa froze, attention directed solely on Bobby's voice. "Rufus Turner. He's a hunter, or used to be. Now, he's a hermit, mostly. Does a little selling on the side. Anyway, I put the word out on Bela months ago. He just called. Said a woman got in touch, wanted to buy some things." 

      "And how does he know it's Bela?" 

      "British accent, went by the name Mina Chandler."