Chapter Twenty

                                    

                                          

Tim flicked the ashes off of his cigarette, watching the snowflakes free fall from the sky. The sky was pitch black, stars out of view. The fallen ashes blew away into the night, disappearing into the snow that decorated the back porch of the cabin. He took another hit of his cigarette, recognizing the familiar crunch of boots approaching.
Tim knew it was Jack before he appeared out of the shadows, dragging himself through the wintry night. "You're up late. With all of the action from earlier I presumed you'd be asleep with your mate," Jack commented blandly. His voice was as dry as a saltine cracker. It didn't bother Tim that Jack had heard his earlier affairs with you and the others. They had been around each other for so long, there wasn't much he could hide from him. Tim could smell the metallic scent of blood, that stained the puffy white snow with each step Jack took. "Needed to talk to you," Tim huffed. Jack made it to the edge of the porch, his large hands shoved into his pockets. Tim concluded he had been out hunting, thin splatters of blood flickered across his blue mask. Jack stood in place motionlessly, signaling for Tim to continue. 
"I need to know how sure you are." 
Jack audibly scoffed, "How sure I am?" 
Affirmatively Tim nodded, "Yes. How sure are you that the corpse at her apartment wasn't Nova's?" 
If Jack had eyes he would've rolled them. "After all these years you doubt me?" He asked. Tim inhaled his cigarette, the action not as satisfying as normal. "It's different this time. My girls involved. Her well being hangs in the balance," He replied. He exhaled the smoke through his nose, the smoke disappearing into the night air. "If you must know, i've never been more sure about anything in my life time. I could never forget my mates smell," Jack said. A part of Tim wanted to ask further questions, but ultimately he decided against it. Jack had been nothing but tolerable of the proxies over the years and helpful in situations like this. "If it wasn't Nova, who was it? Looked like her to me," Tim huffed. 
Thick crimson droplets fell from Jacks hoodie, landing on the porch. Tim was slightly unsettled he hadn't noticed just how soaked Jack truly was. "I'm not sure. I didn't recognize her scent. All I can logically conclude is that Nova's alive, but The Operator doesn't want us to know that," Jack answered. Tim finished his cigarette, annoyedly flicking it into the snow. "Why the hell not? He knows we'd look for her no matter what," Tim replied. His anger was beginning to flare up, Masky on the edge of his seat to front. Jack blinked, sighing. "I'm a demon Tim, not god," He said. He walked over to the back door, blood stained shoe prints staining the wood below. "Oh and Tim? Don't be a dick, pick your cigarette up and dispose of it properly," Jack told him, not bothering to glance over his shoulder. He disappeared into the cabin, leaving an annoyed Tim grumbling to himself. 
He walked to the edge of the porch, spotting the abandoned cigarette bud in the snow. 
"Please help! Somebody help me!"
Tim's head snapped up towards the thick forest, Nova's voice ringing through out the trees. "Nova?" He mumbled. A group of birds flew up from the trees, their squawking making Tim jump. "Somebody please! Help me!" Nova's voice screamed again. Tim reached in his pocket, digging out his pistol before running towards the woods. The very moment he stepped past the tree line, everything went silent. The dim moonlight kept most of the forest hidden, forcing Tim to squint to see. "Hello? Nova?" He called out. The brunette expected to hear something, anything. The silence was unsettling, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He gripped his gun, his gloved finger twitching around the trigger. He looked in all directions, the snow crunching below his boots as he headed in further.
He had expected to hear something, anything. Whether it be static or Nova. It was then Tim was attacked from behind, the air knocking itself out of his lungs as he hit the ground. A fabric cloth was shoved over his mouth and nose, his vision turning black.