Deserted Highways

The Blood Under My Nails

dangerous."

"I don't need to give you an explanation. You don't own me," she responded bitingly. Kaelie stalked down the hall and into her room, shutting the door with a sharp click. She wanted to scream, the frustration building in her veins and threatening to spill over. She just wanted her friends, her family, she wanted to hear Michael laugh and see Sarah's gentle smile. Eventually sleep claimed her, dreamless and uneasy.

Jordan sat on the couch for a while longer after Kaelie left. He rubbed his hands up and down his legs, like the motion would soothe the irritation and anger boiling in her veins. Kaelie wasn't listening and she didn't understand. He needed her, needed her for everything, and she was going to ruin it if she didn't start listening to him.

He stood abruptly, walking down the hall and leaning against her door. He couldn't hear anything from inside, but that didn't mean anything. Kaelie was, well, she was Kaelie, and her enhanced Hunter abilities were just the least of those things which made her a formidable person to cross.

Jordan moved quietly, back towards the door. He was going to be late if he didn't get moving now. He opened the door as quietly as he could, and could only hope that Kaelie was asleep and didn't hear him. Outside, a warm summer rain was falling and he ducked his head down and walked down the street, trying to stay out of view of the streetlights. The ads had been running nearly every hour since he'd dragged Kaelie off the street three weeks ago, and he couldn't afford to be caught.

It didn't take long until Jordan was coming to a stop in front of an old, abandoned building, eerily reminscient of an old cobblestone hospital for the insane, which Jordan supposed was fitting, all things considered.

He opened a door set deep in the back of the building, cringing at the screech the rusted hinges made as he did so. He was plunged into darkness as he entered and shut the door behind him. He pulled a flashlight from a dusty table by the door, and switched it on, sending particles of dust flurrying in the sudden light. It seemed he was still early enough, and he made his way down the hall, until he turned into the last room on the right. He lit several candles that had been placed haphazardly around the room. The flickering light cast deep shadows on the walls, moving and shifting and Jordan felt slightly unnerved despite having been here so many times before.

At the far end of the room was another door and Jordan started for it, checking his watch to find that he still had a few minutes before others would begin to arrive. He opened the door and lit a few more candles. Pictures adorned the walls of the small room, a petite woman with blonde hair and green eyes smiled softly back at him. There was one, slightly blurred, of Jordan sitting next to the girl, looking at her while she looked at the camera, like the photo had been taken hastily before someone had caught them. Another was of her hand, held tightly in his, a simple band adorning the third finger, startling against the clinical print of her hospital gown.

"Oh Britta," Jordan said, tapping his fingers gently against the photos. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled. He looked away from her face, hurt rising in his throat like bile and at the photos he'd tacked on the other side of the wall. The same surveillance photo of Kaelie was crookedly tacked on the wall, her eyes wild, nearly feral, blood coating her hands, the young Hunter girl on the ground in front of her. Other photos of Kaelie and the others were pasted next to it, of their early years in the labs, the time they spent in captivity before Mrs. Dae helped them escape. There was a grainy photo of Jace and his mother embracing.

Jordan turned away, standing and blowing the candles out before they could illuminate the glitter of tears in his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes, until little blinks of light danced around behind his closed eyes. He had to get it together. He needed to keep himself together. Others would be here in moments. He closed the door to the room tightly, locking it again with a rusted key that he placed back atop the door jamb, out of sight.