Chapter Text
Jim was significantly more understanding than John. He supported Zed’s decision to forgo the emergency surgery to extract the tumor. He knew what the visions meant to her—well, as much as a non-magically inclined person could.
“I spent a large part of my life searching for a bigger purpose—some way to replace all the negativity with something good,” the detective told her. “I found that purpose with this job. And I wake up every day knowing that it could be my last—that an investigation could go sideways and I could end up on the wrong end of a gun. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take, because the reward is worth it. I know that the good I put out into the world is worth more than the risks I take in doing so.
“So if you feel that this is your purpose, Zed, you have to be willing to take the risks that come along with your visions. If you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
Jim’s encouragement lifted her mood somewhat, at least for the time being. She tried not to think about John’s opinions on the matter. He would accept her decision, eventually. And even if he didn’t, that wasn’t her problem. She didn’t bitch at him for his self-destructive habits—well, at least not too often.
“Do you think they’ll let me out of here tonight?” she asked Jim. “They can’t hold me here, right?”
“I don’t think so,” the detective said. “Hold on, I’ll find a doctor.”
Jim whisked out of the room, leaving Zed to her own devices. She noticed her phone on a small beside table, along with her purse, and grabbed the cellular device. After powering it on, she saw a new message from Chas.
CHAS: Just so you know, I’m taking John back to the mill house. Jim said he could drive you home whenever you’re discharged. If we don’t see you for a while, take care.
Zed stared at the text for a long moment, debating whether or not to reply. She entirely wasn’t surprised that John dipped when things got too emotionally charged, but it still stung, just a bit. He hadn’t even said a proper goodbye.
Thanks, she messaged back. You too. And keep an eye on John for me.
She set her phone down just as a doctor stepped into the room.
“Miss Martin, I see that you’re finally awake. We have a few things to discuss before I can discharge you…”
***
By the time John and Chas returned to the mill house, it was nearly dawn. Chas went straight for the spare bedroom he’d claimed as his own some time ago, and John went for the liquor cabinet. When he remembered that he’d yet to restock it, he dug into his coat pockets until he found a pack of cigarettes and his lighter.
After a few drags, John sighed and threw himself down on the couch. He let his eyes fall shut, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth, and tried to clear his thoughts. He hated times like this—when the rest of the world was sound asleep and he was wide awake. Insomnia was an old friend, perhaps his oldest. It seemed to be the only one he couldn’t push away, despite his best efforts.
He must’ve started to doze off at some point, because suddenly Chas was in front of his face and cussing at him.
“…gonna burn the whole fucking place down, dumbass. You’re lucky the rug didn’t catch on fire.”
John pried his eyes open enough to see Chas pick his cigarette up from the floor. “Luck has nothin’ to do with it, mate. Rug’s enchanted,” the exorcist said around a yawn.
“Excuse me?”
“Not the first time I’ve fallen asleep with a ciggy still in my mouth. Trust me, Chas, it’s a mistake you only make once.”
His friend grumbled something unkind under his breath. “I’m gonna throw those things away one of these days,” he said, this time loudly enough for John to hear. “Or make you smoke them outside. Maybe having to stand out in freezing winter temperatures’ll finally kick the habit.”
John laughed. “Doubt that, mate. The ciggy’ll keep me warm.”
“You’re impossible,” Chas huffed, stomping away to toss the cigarette.
The exorcist closed his eyes again and drifted off, still wearing his day clothes. Chas disappeared, probably back to bed, so John slept semi-soundly for the following few hours. He didn’t dream, but that was to be expected. He didn’t have any nightmares, either, which was a pleasant surprise.
Sometime mid-morning, he woke up. Drool had carved a path down his chin and toward his white button-down, so he quickly swiped the substance away. A glance at his watch showed that it was almost ten. After stretching a bit and chucking his coat off, he ambled into the kitchen to make tea.
On the dining table he found a note from Chas, explaining that he’d gone to the grocery store and would be back in a couple hours.
John allowed himself a slow start to the day. He drank his tea and munched on some cereal that he found in one of the cupboards while reading over the newspaper on Chas’s laptop. He wasn’t fond of the piece of technology, but he couldn’t exactly have the paper delivered to the mill house.
His eyes scanned blankly over what constituted as “news” in Jasper, Georgia. For better and worse, it was a quiet town, generally speaking. Opinion pieces and weather forecasts and local ads were boring enough to nearly lull him back to sleep. In skimming over the text, though, he almost missed a headline on the third page.
POSSIBLE HOMICIDE? THREE DEAD, NO WITNESSES.
John raised an eyebrow as he read the blurb underneath the headline: Late Friday night, three unidentified bodies were discovered just outside of Jasper by the garbage dump. Victims were found in various states of decay and mutilation. An animal attack is suspected, according to the local police department, but other sources claim that this tragedy was more than an unfortunate accident. If you know anything, please call the number below or contact the police department immediately.
Without seeing the bodies, it was impossible to confirm whether their deaths had been of the natural or unnatural variety. John could wait for the autopsy reports to be released, but that would likely take weeks or even months. Fortunately, he had a better plan.
After shutting the laptop and finishing off his cup of tea, John stepped back into the living room to retrieve his phone from his coat. He patted down each of the pockets but didn’t find it.
“Blimey…” he grumbled. “Must’ve left it in my bag.”
He scanned the main room of the mill house, but didn’t spot his gear bag anywhere. Had he left it in Chas’s cab? Oh well, he could wait until his friend got back from the store.
In the meantime, he had a few spells to brush up on.
***
After receiving permission from her doctor to be discharged, Zed collected her belongings, ran into the adjoining bathroom to change out of the papery hospital gown she’d been given back into her own clothes, and started toward the door, eager to leave the hospital room behind. On her way out, she noticed that John had left his duffel bag on a plastic chair next to the door.
“Idiot,” she muttered to herself, grabbing the bag. “He’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached.”
She pulled out her phone to text Chas—since, upon closer inspection of the bag, John’s own phone had been shoved inside—but then reconsidered. If John wanted his bag back, he could pick it up himself. He never even made an effort to visit Zed—she was always the one running back and forth from the mill house. It wouldn’t kill him to stop by and say hello for once.
And maybe she could take a look at the spell book he’d been reading earlier. It was his own fault for leaving it behind, after all.