"I'm gonna melt your damn face off," he said with purpose.
Oh dear baby Jesus, Tiff had time to think before the heat engulfed her.
It was so much worse than the house.
Tiff felt like her body would burst from the heat, like she was personally combustible.
Then it slipped away like a bubble of heat popped.
Tiff fell backward, gasping, her body on the icy and refreshingly chilled snow pack. More of it fell on her face and instantly melted. Her eyes were open and watching the large flakes land. Some clung to her eyelashes and Tiff blinked them away, sitting up.
John was there, like an angel of retribution.
The streetlamp from the nearby alley cast an eerie glow behind him, his hair a low flame in the twilight that had given way to night.
Faded bruises marred every patch of his fair skin, but his eyes blazed healthy and alive out of his face.
His gaze locked with hers and she whispered, "John." It was horribly weak and female; Tiff hated how she sounded but was conversely relieved for his presence.
John turned his face away from hers, a deep flutter started in his jaw and he used that long reach of his and launched a strike at Carson's jaw that rocked his head back, new blood joining the old.
John jumped Hamilton like he was a six feet tall trampoline springboard.
Snow fell on John's fists as they lifted and fell.
Over and over.
Tiff watched as they rose with blood and the snow covered the red with white.
CHAPTER 19
Caleb
We ran, Jonesy in the lead and came upon John beating the snot out of... I couldn't tell but had a pretty damn good clue who.
Whoever was underneath Terran was a pulverized mess and as we stood there gaping, Tiff slowly walked to John as his flesh made resounding smacks against a body that limply took the punches.
Carson Hamilton was getting a primo beat-down.
"Fuck, Terran's lost it," Jonesy said and went to move forward.
I stopped him with a hand. "No," I said simply.
"He'll kill him," Jonesy stated quietly, the voice of reason for once.
Not. My. Problem. I thought, taking in a shaky and ill-looking Tiff.
"I like a lesson having an opportunity to come full circle," Clyde affirmed off-handedly. Bobbi moved forward, "I can't... I can't let this happen."
Clyde grabbed Gale, holding her against him. There was no struggling, he was a zombie. He would never hurt her, but in this moment, he was a vehicle of delayed justice.
I saw it. I knew it.
"He does not deserve to live," Clyde added softly against her temple. "Let the boy become the man he must by protecting Tiffany against that soulless excuse of humanity."
But it was Tiff that ended it.
"John!" she yelled, her hands going to his back, his fists slick with blood. She placed her palms on his hunched form and he turned instantly with his fists raised beside his chin in classic striking stance and I heard Clyde suck in a breath.
Tiff took a step back.
We all waited to see if John could dial it back, tame the beast of the most basic male precept of protection and notice the very thing he would protect... now stood before him.
He did. The raging violence that thrummed through his body on an invisible sting of tension loosened, his personality and self-awareness coming back into his expression like liquid filling a crystal glass.
We watched it happen, that metaphorical cup filling up to the brim.
Then spilling over.
Tiff took another step back from the six feet five Terran, sweat running down his center, the undershirt he must've thrown on from his hospital stint turned inside out and plastered against his core, the tag on the side sticking out. It waved as a breeze came up and we were close enough to see the gooseflesh rise on his skin, once hot, now running cold.
"Tiffany," John said, cupping his hand and motioning for her to come to him. And for the second time in four years, Tiff burst into tears, shaking and crying in the middle of the snow that fell.
John strode the two paces to her side, wrapping Tiff against him, his bloody prints making marks against her back, his large frame folding her neatly into the shadow of his body.
She wept and he held her, murmuring soothing words that sounded exactly like comfort to me.
*
after
We alerted the hospital staff about Hamilton. It was the last thing we wanted to do but even we couldn't leave him out there for hypothermia's embrace.
John could.
I saw it on his face, all sharp and hard angles. His knuckles, though clean, were free of skin. They were raw and shredded like a cheese grater had brutalized his flesh.
Jonesy, me, Tiff, Gale and Clyde were in the waiting area while Jade was getting the final touches. I took another deep breath thinking about Jade. She'd made me promise, I told myself. I took another. Let it out. Repeat.
Better.
Jezebel walked out and I stood. Jade wasn't with her. I looked around and she smiled at me, it looked a little strange.
"Caleb?" she said with that brittle smile in place.
My heart picked up its pace. "Yeah?"
"May I speak with you for a minute?"
I nodded, following her back to Jade's room.
Jade was in the hospital bed, her skin like coffee with cream, a faint blush edging her cheekbones.
God she looked good, only a shadow of the harm I'd put on her face remained.
I went to stand beside her and picked up her hand.
It was cool. My eyes snapped to hers and there were tears running out of that beautiful emerald gaze.
"What is it?" I asked, my stomach in my throat, my eyes looking from Jezebel's to Jade's.
Whatever it was, it had me back in knots again.
An easy task recently.
*
Tiff
John would never make Tiff feel small. As she snuggled against his side, she realized that he had saved her. Tiff had needed someone to save her.
Admitting she couldn't save herself was a bitter pill to swallow.
A level one Organic hovered at John's elbow. He was Class-one critical only and couldn't even be admitted. With a few passes and presses of flesh the worst of the damage to his knuckles closed. New skin washed over the damage in a bare whisper of flesh that was nothing more than a thin and raw covering, so new it was translucent.
The Organic stood, handing a package of antiseptic swabs to John. He scooped them with his left hand, the one that had needed less attention, and shoved them into his coat pocket.
"Thanks," John said in a rough voice, Tiff's eyes rolled up to meet his and she saw what was in them and dropped hers to their linked hands again, it was so much, too much raw emotion. His massive hands were torn up, covering her small and perfectly fine palms, the barest application of healing covering his wounds.
The Organic wasn't quite finished. "You did well, John."
John looked at the Organic and he gave a small smile back. "I can't work on that guy," he continued, throwing a thumb behind himself and Tiff clamped John a little tighter to herself.
John nodded like he understood, allowing Tiff to burrow against his side.
"They need a Null and an Organic; I've been outclassed," he said as John remained silent.
"And it wouldn't even matter if I wasn't," he added thoughtfully, staring off. "Some people don't deserve to be healed." His eyes met John's. "First... do no harm." The Organic grunted in the back of his throat and it sounded like a growl to Tiff. He'd been trying to convince himself on that last.
He walked off and Jonesy smirked. "Real professional."
Clyde nodded. "He spoke the truth." He met their eyes and added, "There is entirely too much skirting the important issues in this era." He looked momentarily thoughtful then snapped his fingers with sudden insight. "Is it that political correctness?" he asked with a lilt in his voice.
"I was never much of a believer," Caleb's grandpa said from behind them and smiled.
Bobbi stood and gave him a hug and he awkwardly hugged her back. "I'm glad you're okay," she said from the crook of his arm.
"Right as rain. Now where's that grandson of mine?"
Tiff searched the waiting area, noticing he was still gone.
"He's still in Jade's room. The Organic wanted to talk to them together."
Gramps' face crinkled in thought. "Humph."
Jonesy glanced at John, so quietly sitting beside Tiff. "So spill it, Terran."
John gave Jonesy a sharp look and Tiff felt the tension like a weight in the atmosphere.
"I saw you giving Hamilton the meat-tenderizer. Didn't know you had the skills, Terran."
John was quiet for so long Tiff opened her mouth to break the crushing silence.
"I didn't take just Medieval Speech Class last year." His piercing blue eyes met Jonesy's. "He was going to hurt, Tiffany..."
"He simply couldn't abide it," Clyde finished his thought.
John gave Clyde a level look and dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "That's right. I couldn't." He pressed a kiss to Tiff's temple and said softly, "You smell like smoke."
The silence swelled in the waiting room, everyone waited, breath held.
Finally she broke it. Tiff told them how Hamilton had gotten his grimy paws on her to begin with. There wasn't a male in the group that didn't want to go kick his ass again.
As it turned out, John had done a stand-up job all on his own.
Just as Tiff was finishing what had happened and how somehow, John had known she was in danger, a group of nurses burst past them in a flash of white, the code for death singing its mindless tune into the quiet of the hospital. It shattered the myth of peace forever.
Carson Hamilton died from a bleed on the brain that night.
John Terran was remanded to police custody with a wailing and hysterical Tiff begging them not to take him.
It was Garcia, of course. Bobbi watched silently as her former partner cuffed a boy that had grown five inches taller than him.
And was now a man.
Tiff watched them take John and she stood like a fragile and broken statue in the middle of the hospital corridor, hope taking flight, her soul raw, her composure... gone.
The almost-murderer of her family had been killed by a boy that had always loved her... and who she finally loved in return. However, he wasn't a boy anymore.
John Terran was a man.
She'd slipped quietly into love with him. Love had stolen her heart like a thief in the night.
Tiff wept as her other friends surrounded her in a protective circle when she needed them most.
*
Parker
Parker dragged his knuckles over Nevaeh's collarbone, his fingers gentle, undulating as they passed over the bones that were there.
"You don't eat much," he observed and she shrugged under his touch, then grabbed his fingers, slipping his pointer finger deeply into her wet mouth, sucking on it.
Parker gasped, she was sensuous without being purposeful about it.
Fuck, I'm just getting in deeper every minute, he thought.
He watched her mouth grin around his finger and groaned, touching his forehead to hers.
"How did this happen?" he asked.
"Well," she began, popping his finger out of her mouth, "you have a penis and then..."
He pressed his finger to those full lips, trying not to think about where they'd been. He swallowed. What they'd done. Parker closed his eyes.
Better get moving.
He pulled Nevaeh to her feet and she managed to get her shirt on with one hand.
Tricky girl, Parker paused, thinking, she's so perfect for me it's sick.
He stuffed all their loose items in his small pack and slung it over his arm.
Nevaeh laughed, the sound so foreign from her he turned and she blasted him in the face with a pile of snow that was not quite frozen, slushy.
He grinned at her as the taste of wet snow lay in his partially open mouth.
Parker watched her face fall to a point behind him.
He turned and felt the cloak of his training shroud him as the HC operatives bled out into the forest, their clothes very black against the white of the snow.
"Parker," one of the front line operatives said.
"Bledsoe," Parker said.
"Brenner," he corrected with the wrinkle of his forehead making his black glasses move, though it was night. Shit-damn-shit, Parker realized, they've got their night vision on.
And Parker was burdened by his unadorned eyesight, he and Nevaeh were so painfully visible.
"Whatever," Nevaeh said behind him and Brenner looked at her, then smiled, lifting his weapon.
Parker grabbed Nevaeh and called the creatures that had died in the forest.
The HCs thought they could take him.
Without a Null in sight.
With one of the two most powerful paranormals in the world.
Nevaeh was as generous with her undead power as she'd been with her body and Parker siphoned from her like they were two parts of the same whole. It was frighteningly automatic and natural, like drawing breath.