Chlark Fanfic: The Fallen Sky, Chapter 7
It's been waaaaaaay too long since I updated this. My sincere apologies, everyone.
Next chapter of The Fallen Sky, for your reading pleasure. Linking Stiletto to Beast, and then will hopefully be done with the flashbacks by the end of the next chapter.
Enjoy! :)
Title: The Fallen Sky
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlark
Rating: NC17 (this chapter PG13)
Warnings: Major angst. Spoiling Stilletto & Beast in this chapter.
Timeline: Season 8 (Hex-Doomsday & beyond; this chapter Stiletto/Beast)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Months after walking away from her in Doomsday, Clark returns to Chloe…but finds that she’s a changed woman from the one he left behind.
Feedback: …always welcome. :)
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 7
Haunting My Soul
Clark secured Chloe’s laptop under his arm as he ascended the steps to the Talon apartment. It was a glorious morning with bright sunshine, the kind that made the events of the previous night seem like just a bad dream.
He was glad to be seeing Chloe again. It had been a month since his last visit to the Talon, and he’d made several attempts to talk things over with her between then and now, all of which she’d effectively managed to stonewall.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew she was deliberately avoiding him, which he could partially understand, given that the last two times they’d been in this apartment they’d ended up in bed together. For the sake of propriety he’d stayed away whilst her annulment was finalised, and she seemed to have recovered from the trauma of having to pull the plug on Davis. It had been one horror after another, and at the time, he’d accepted that space was what she had needed, not someone who couldn’t seem to stop dragging her into the nearest bed as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
But yesterday, her car had been stolen, and with it her laptop containing detailed information of all the League members, among other things. Frantic, she’d called him and beseeched him to help her find retrieve it; ordinarily, a simple superspeed job, in-and-out in two seconds.
Or at least it would have been if Chloe’s stupid cousin hadn’t come up with a hare-brained scheme to smoke out the Blur, which had gotten him shot and almost killed. Chloe had sounded hysterical when he’d told her what had happened, and he’d promised to swing by and return her laptop and show her that he was okay.
So here he was, back on his way up to her apartment. The aroma of beef casserole wafted temptingly through the air, and Clark smiled. Chloe must have ordered some real food for a change. Hopefully it meant she’d fully recovered from her car-jacking ordeal.
So it was a bit of a shock to the system when he walked into the apartment and saw her lifting a large red casserole dish out of the oven.
Clark blinked in surprise. Chloe never cooked. Last time he was here she didn’t have a clue where the oven was, let alone possessed the skill to produce casseroles out of it.
She glanced up at him as he entered the room, and her eyes lit up with relief as she spied her green laptop under his arm.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to be reunited with silicon microchips,” she said dryly as he handed it over to her.
“I grabbed it before the police arrived,” he replied as she lifted the top and logged on. “Let’s hope that gangster didn’t grab any files off it first.”
“I don’t think Tony Soprano Junior was able to get into the hard drive, but I’ve definitely learned my lesson,” she answered as she scanned her data files. “That’s the last time I carry my secure files around in the back seat of a car. I shudder to think of how badly things could have turned out.”
“We were fortunate, so no need to worry,” he reassured her. She nodded and put the laptop down and returned to the kitchen worktop.
Clark stared in fascination as she started taking the foil off the casserole she’d just brought out. He glanced around, suddenly noticing that there were at least four other similar dishes on the worktop, along with a large bowl of fresh fruit and vegetables.
“Are you expecting company?” he asked curiously.
She instantly stiffened. “No.”
He frowned. “Then who are all the casseroles for?”
“No-one,” she said quickly - too quickly, he thought.
He raised a sardonic brow. “You’re cooking for no-one?”
She shrugged. “I just…I tend to cook when I get stressed, is all.”
“Really?” he drawled, his disbelief evident as he stared pointedly at the plenteous dishes of food. “After all the near-apocalypses we’ve been through, I’ve never seen more than a chocolate chip cookie come out of that oven.” He walked around the worktop and stared hard at her. “Are you okay?”
She stared back at him, and he could see tears gathering in her eyes. At the same time, he could sense her emotional defences going up, and knew she was going to go for an easy exit.
“It’s just…” her voice broke, and she sighed wearily. “I mean, you almost died yesterday, Clark. For my computer.”
He smiled. “You can stop worrying, okay? I’m fine. Look…” He hoisted his shirt up to show her the smoothly healed skin of his abdomen where the bullet had gone through. “Good as new.”
Chloe smiled and nodded, but that look of pain was still in her eyes. He wasn’t fooled for a second; she was hiding something.
“I know you better than that; this is not about a computer,” he said bluntly. “What’s wrong?”
This time he saw alarm as well as pain in those hazel eyes. “Nothing,” she said with a bright smile, which looked incongruously out of place with the unshed tears in her eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
She shook her head. “I’m not.”
“Chloe, why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked.
“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” she snapped, throwing her cooking spoon down on the table with a clatter. “It’s been a rough couple of months, Clark. You can’t expect me to be Little Miss Happy-Smiley all the time!”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly, taking her into his arms. “I’m sorry.” And he knew he shouldn’t touch her again so soon, not after what had happened the last couple of times he’d held her; but her tears pricked something inside him and he couldn’t help himself.
“I won’t badger you anymore,” he whispered, stroking her hair tenderly. “But my offer still stands; I’m here for you whenever you want or need to talk. Okay?”
One of the tears slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the edge of the scarf that was tied around her neck. “I know,” she sniffed. “I just…things have been really intense between us lately, and…”
She stopped and took a deep breath, and he could feel her heart thumping erratically as the other tear fell. Something was seriously troubling her, and if only she would let him help her…
But he didn’t think that was going to happen. She dashed the tear away with her hand and took a step back, leaving the comfort of his arms even as he still clung to her shoulders.
“What I need from you now is a little space, Clark,” she said resolutely. “Not a super-save.”
His heart plummeted at her gentle dismissal. So she’d made up her mind; he wasn’t what she wanted. She was breaking up with him just as she’d done after the Spring Formal, cutting her losses and running before her emotions had a chance to grow.
Clark sighed and stared at the floor. It broke his heart to leave her standing here in tears, looking so tormented; but if his very presence was distressing her, then maybe it was best if he gave her the space she said she needed.
Slowly he dropped his hands and nodded. Then he turned and wordlessly left, closing the door behind him.
***
It was with a heavy heart that Chloe got ready for bed that evening.
Clark had believed her. It was what she’d wanted - no, needed. Davis and Clark needed to be kept apart for both their sakes, because now Davis didn’t have to see Clark to know he was in the vicinity. Somehow the crazy connection between them worked like some sort of radar that went off every time Clark even came near the Talon apartment. And it was getting worse; more than once Davis had buzzed her cell within seconds of Clark’s arrival.
She sighed deeply and got into bed, settling beneath the covers. Saying she’d needed space from Clark would at least guarantee that he’d keep his distance from the Talon and, by default, from Davis.
The moment the thought crossed her mind, her cell buzzed. She didn’t need to see the caller ID to know who it was.
She sighed again, threw back the covers and picked up the phone.
“Davis, is everything okay?” she asked.
“Sorry if I woke you,” he said hesitantly. “I…I had another one.”
So she wasn’t the only one having nightmares. Most likely Clark’s visit today had set him off.
“It’s just a dream,” she reassured him. “You know you’re safe with me.”
There was an agitated silence. Then: “Could…could you come down anyway? I need to see you.”
Her heart sank, but she forced herself to sound bright and enthusiastic. “Of course. I’ll be down right away.”
She hung up the phone and shrugged her arms into a silken kimono, then made her way down to the basement.
As soon as she pushed open the door, she knew she’d been ambushed. Fragrant candles burned and filled the air with a spicy cinnamon aroma that reminded her of Martha Kent’s apple pies on a late summer afternoon. She glanced down at the floor where a trail of deep red rose petals led all the way down the stairs into the basement. Carefully she stood and walked down the stairs, stopping near the bottom when she saw him standing across the room with a wide smile on his face.
“You know, this isn’t exactly the typical response to a bad dream,” she said sagely. “Most people just get a nightlight.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he said warmly.
She nodded and smiled back at him. “It’s beautiful. But I don’t exactly remember seeing a box of candles down here. Or flowers.”
He dug his hands in his pockets and looked sheepish. “There weren’t any…?”
So he’d been out again, against her express wishes. “Davis, we talked about this,” she admonished wearily. “You can’t leave the basement.” You could run into Clark, and if that happened…
“I was careful,” he promised. “I know how much you’re risking by helping me, and I just wanted to say thank you.”
“I don’t need thanks, I need to be able to trust you,” she replied tersely. Her tone must have struck home because he immediately looked contrite.
“I won’t do it again,” he promised solemnly. “I’m sorry.”
He held out a rose to her, which she took and held to her nose. She inhaled deeply and then frowned.
Something was wrong with it. Unlike the apple scented candles which caressed her senses, the bloom she held between her fingers had no smell whatsoever. It was a beautiful vibrant rose, but that was where it began and ended. It was a fraud, unable to perform its basic function.
“Chloe, you’ve helped me when no-one else would,” Davis said quietly, bring her back to the present.
She lifted her head from the counterfeit rose and smiled. “Well, friends help each other, right?”
Davis made a disbelieving face. “Friends help you move, they take you to the airport,” he pointed out. “You can’t think that’s really all this is.”
Her hands shook slightly at his words, and his tone of voice. Exactly what was he implying, here?
“Okay, so maybe it’s a 9.9 on the Richter Scale of favours,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t change our relationship.”
He took a step towards her. “Chloe, we met in a flurry of smoking ash, burnt-out cars, people freaking out…but for a moment there, it felt like everything disappeared except us,” he said urgently. “Those feelings haven’t changed.”
She knew what incident he was referring to, but as soon as he said the words it was another one entirely that popped into her head…years before, memories of people screaming in the streets as buildings burned, her colleagues scurrying past her in agitation, her own fear as she found herself facing a head-on collision with a car that crashed through the Daily Planet basement without warning…
But Clark had saved her. And for a moment there, he’d held her in his arms, and the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.
She knew the truth. Whatever she felt for Davis, nothing could compare to what she felt for Clark.
Nothing.
She cleared her throat. “I do care about you, Davis,” she said honestly. “But-”
“Stay,” he begged, silencing her by placing his finger over her mouth. “Please.” His hand shifted to cup her cheek, and he moved in so that he was standing so close to her. “Without you, the man that I want to be doesn’t exist,” he whispered.
Again the words sounded strangely familiar, as if they’d been said almost verbatim by someone else in the past. She tried to remember who, but the hand that had been caressing her cheek moved to cup her chin and he gently tilted her mouth towards his.
He brushed her lips with his, and a tingle ran through her mouth. Tentatively she rose up on tip-toe and leaned in to him as if drawn by some unseen connection. Davis pressed his mouth hard against hers, his hand moving to her waist to hold her closer against him as he deepened the kiss.
Her hands pushed him back against one of the display boards and he tightened one arm around her waist, holding her against his rapidly hardening body. His other hand tangled in her hair and held her head steady as his lips sought entrance to her mouth.
Her pulse raced and her blood rushed through her veins at Davis’s kiss, which was getting more and more passionate by the second. He spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, his hands gripping her tightly as he rained ravishing kisses on her.
After long moments she lifted her head and stared at him through glazed eyes, breathing deeply. Her vision gradually adjusted to the dimly lit room, and once again she surveyed the romantic atmosphere he’d created with candles and petals which were scattered liberally over the floor in a sensual trail.
And then she saw it.
There, just beyond his shoulder, where the trail of red petals appeared to segue into something closely resembling smears of…
No. It couldn’t be.
Was it?
“Davis,” she said hollowly as the blood drained from her face. “Is…is that blood?”
“What did you think was gonna happen?” he whispered in a soft rasp close to her ear.
She stared at him in horror.
He didn’t. He couldn’t have.
With shaky hands she picked up one of the candles and following the bloody trail around the corner of the basement, terrified of what awaited her. If anything had happened to him…
She followed the grisly trail until it terminated in a ghastly puddle into which blood still dripped. Slowly she lifted her gaze… and there he was.
Clark. He was hanging there, lifeless, savagely ripped in two…
“NO!” she screamed, sitting up in bed so fast her head swam. It took several moments before she realised she was safe and alone in her own bed, and Davis was locked in the basement.
It was a dream, she thought, taking deep breaths. Just another dream. But it reminded her of why she was doing what she was doing.
She couldn’t lose Clark; not ever, she thought bleakly. And if she had to sacrifice herself to a monster to keep him safe, then so be it.
***
Chapter 8…
Next chapter of The Fallen Sky, for your reading pleasure. Linking Stiletto to Beast, and then will hopefully be done with the flashbacks by the end of the next chapter.
Enjoy! :)
Title: The Fallen Sky
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlark
Rating: NC17 (this chapter PG13)
Warnings: Major angst. Spoiling Stilletto & Beast in this chapter.
Timeline: Season 8 (Hex-Doomsday & beyond; this chapter Stiletto/Beast)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Months after walking away from her in Doomsday, Clark returns to Chloe…but finds that she’s a changed woman from the one he left behind.
Feedback: …always welcome. :)
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 7
Haunting My Soul
Clark secured Chloe’s laptop under his arm as he ascended the steps to the Talon apartment. It was a glorious morning with bright sunshine, the kind that made the events of the previous night seem like just a bad dream.
He was glad to be seeing Chloe again. It had been a month since his last visit to the Talon, and he’d made several attempts to talk things over with her between then and now, all of which she’d effectively managed to stonewall.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew she was deliberately avoiding him, which he could partially understand, given that the last two times they’d been in this apartment they’d ended up in bed together. For the sake of propriety he’d stayed away whilst her annulment was finalised, and she seemed to have recovered from the trauma of having to pull the plug on Davis. It had been one horror after another, and at the time, he’d accepted that space was what she had needed, not someone who couldn’t seem to stop dragging her into the nearest bed as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
But yesterday, her car had been stolen, and with it her laptop containing detailed information of all the League members, among other things. Frantic, she’d called him and beseeched him to help her find retrieve it; ordinarily, a simple superspeed job, in-and-out in two seconds.
Or at least it would have been if Chloe’s stupid cousin hadn’t come up with a hare-brained scheme to smoke out the Blur, which had gotten him shot and almost killed. Chloe had sounded hysterical when he’d told her what had happened, and he’d promised to swing by and return her laptop and show her that he was okay.
So here he was, back on his way up to her apartment. The aroma of beef casserole wafted temptingly through the air, and Clark smiled. Chloe must have ordered some real food for a change. Hopefully it meant she’d fully recovered from her car-jacking ordeal.
So it was a bit of a shock to the system when he walked into the apartment and saw her lifting a large red casserole dish out of the oven.
Clark blinked in surprise. Chloe never cooked. Last time he was here she didn’t have a clue where the oven was, let alone possessed the skill to produce casseroles out of it.
She glanced up at him as he entered the room, and her eyes lit up with relief as she spied her green laptop under his arm.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to be reunited with silicon microchips,” she said dryly as he handed it over to her.
“I grabbed it before the police arrived,” he replied as she lifted the top and logged on. “Let’s hope that gangster didn’t grab any files off it first.”
“I don’t think Tony Soprano Junior was able to get into the hard drive, but I’ve definitely learned my lesson,” she answered as she scanned her data files. “That’s the last time I carry my secure files around in the back seat of a car. I shudder to think of how badly things could have turned out.”
“We were fortunate, so no need to worry,” he reassured her. She nodded and put the laptop down and returned to the kitchen worktop.
Clark stared in fascination as she started taking the foil off the casserole she’d just brought out. He glanced around, suddenly noticing that there were at least four other similar dishes on the worktop, along with a large bowl of fresh fruit and vegetables.
“Are you expecting company?” he asked curiously.
She instantly stiffened. “No.”
He frowned. “Then who are all the casseroles for?”
“No-one,” she said quickly - too quickly, he thought.
He raised a sardonic brow. “You’re cooking for no-one?”
She shrugged. “I just…I tend to cook when I get stressed, is all.”
“Really?” he drawled, his disbelief evident as he stared pointedly at the plenteous dishes of food. “After all the near-apocalypses we’ve been through, I’ve never seen more than a chocolate chip cookie come out of that oven.” He walked around the worktop and stared hard at her. “Are you okay?”
She stared back at him, and he could see tears gathering in her eyes. At the same time, he could sense her emotional defences going up, and knew she was going to go for an easy exit.
“It’s just…” her voice broke, and she sighed wearily. “I mean, you almost died yesterday, Clark. For my computer.”
He smiled. “You can stop worrying, okay? I’m fine. Look…” He hoisted his shirt up to show her the smoothly healed skin of his abdomen where the bullet had gone through. “Good as new.”
Chloe smiled and nodded, but that look of pain was still in her eyes. He wasn’t fooled for a second; she was hiding something.
“I know you better than that; this is not about a computer,” he said bluntly. “What’s wrong?”
This time he saw alarm as well as pain in those hazel eyes. “Nothing,” she said with a bright smile, which looked incongruously out of place with the unshed tears in her eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
She shook her head. “I’m not.”
“Chloe, why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked.
“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” she snapped, throwing her cooking spoon down on the table with a clatter. “It’s been a rough couple of months, Clark. You can’t expect me to be Little Miss Happy-Smiley all the time!”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly, taking her into his arms. “I’m sorry.” And he knew he shouldn’t touch her again so soon, not after what had happened the last couple of times he’d held her; but her tears pricked something inside him and he couldn’t help himself.
“I won’t badger you anymore,” he whispered, stroking her hair tenderly. “But my offer still stands; I’m here for you whenever you want or need to talk. Okay?”
One of the tears slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the edge of the scarf that was tied around her neck. “I know,” she sniffed. “I just…things have been really intense between us lately, and…”
She stopped and took a deep breath, and he could feel her heart thumping erratically as the other tear fell. Something was seriously troubling her, and if only she would let him help her…
But he didn’t think that was going to happen. She dashed the tear away with her hand and took a step back, leaving the comfort of his arms even as he still clung to her shoulders.
“What I need from you now is a little space, Clark,” she said resolutely. “Not a super-save.”
His heart plummeted at her gentle dismissal. So she’d made up her mind; he wasn’t what she wanted. She was breaking up with him just as she’d done after the Spring Formal, cutting her losses and running before her emotions had a chance to grow.
Clark sighed and stared at the floor. It broke his heart to leave her standing here in tears, looking so tormented; but if his very presence was distressing her, then maybe it was best if he gave her the space she said she needed.
Slowly he dropped his hands and nodded. Then he turned and wordlessly left, closing the door behind him.
***
It was with a heavy heart that Chloe got ready for bed that evening.
Clark had believed her. It was what she’d wanted - no, needed. Davis and Clark needed to be kept apart for both their sakes, because now Davis didn’t have to see Clark to know he was in the vicinity. Somehow the crazy connection between them worked like some sort of radar that went off every time Clark even came near the Talon apartment. And it was getting worse; more than once Davis had buzzed her cell within seconds of Clark’s arrival.
She sighed deeply and got into bed, settling beneath the covers. Saying she’d needed space from Clark would at least guarantee that he’d keep his distance from the Talon and, by default, from Davis.
The moment the thought crossed her mind, her cell buzzed. She didn’t need to see the caller ID to know who it was.
She sighed again, threw back the covers and picked up the phone.
“Davis, is everything okay?” she asked.
“Sorry if I woke you,” he said hesitantly. “I…I had another one.”
So she wasn’t the only one having nightmares. Most likely Clark’s visit today had set him off.
“It’s just a dream,” she reassured him. “You know you’re safe with me.”
There was an agitated silence. Then: “Could…could you come down anyway? I need to see you.”
Her heart sank, but she forced herself to sound bright and enthusiastic. “Of course. I’ll be down right away.”
She hung up the phone and shrugged her arms into a silken kimono, then made her way down to the basement.
As soon as she pushed open the door, she knew she’d been ambushed. Fragrant candles burned and filled the air with a spicy cinnamon aroma that reminded her of Martha Kent’s apple pies on a late summer afternoon. She glanced down at the floor where a trail of deep red rose petals led all the way down the stairs into the basement. Carefully she stood and walked down the stairs, stopping near the bottom when she saw him standing across the room with a wide smile on his face.
“You know, this isn’t exactly the typical response to a bad dream,” she said sagely. “Most people just get a nightlight.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he said warmly.
She nodded and smiled back at him. “It’s beautiful. But I don’t exactly remember seeing a box of candles down here. Or flowers.”
He dug his hands in his pockets and looked sheepish. “There weren’t any…?”
So he’d been out again, against her express wishes. “Davis, we talked about this,” she admonished wearily. “You can’t leave the basement.” You could run into Clark, and if that happened…
“I was careful,” he promised. “I know how much you’re risking by helping me, and I just wanted to say thank you.”
“I don’t need thanks, I need to be able to trust you,” she replied tersely. Her tone must have struck home because he immediately looked contrite.
“I won’t do it again,” he promised solemnly. “I’m sorry.”
He held out a rose to her, which she took and held to her nose. She inhaled deeply and then frowned.
Something was wrong with it. Unlike the apple scented candles which caressed her senses, the bloom she held between her fingers had no smell whatsoever. It was a beautiful vibrant rose, but that was where it began and ended. It was a fraud, unable to perform its basic function.
“Chloe, you’ve helped me when no-one else would,” Davis said quietly, bring her back to the present.
She lifted her head from the counterfeit rose and smiled. “Well, friends help each other, right?”
Davis made a disbelieving face. “Friends help you move, they take you to the airport,” he pointed out. “You can’t think that’s really all this is.”
Her hands shook slightly at his words, and his tone of voice. Exactly what was he implying, here?
“Okay, so maybe it’s a 9.9 on the Richter Scale of favours,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t change our relationship.”
He took a step towards her. “Chloe, we met in a flurry of smoking ash, burnt-out cars, people freaking out…but for a moment there, it felt like everything disappeared except us,” he said urgently. “Those feelings haven’t changed.”
She knew what incident he was referring to, but as soon as he said the words it was another one entirely that popped into her head…years before, memories of people screaming in the streets as buildings burned, her colleagues scurrying past her in agitation, her own fear as she found herself facing a head-on collision with a car that crashed through the Daily Planet basement without warning…
But Clark had saved her. And for a moment there, he’d held her in his arms, and the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.
She knew the truth. Whatever she felt for Davis, nothing could compare to what she felt for Clark.
Nothing.
She cleared her throat. “I do care about you, Davis,” she said honestly. “But-”
“Stay,” he begged, silencing her by placing his finger over her mouth. “Please.” His hand shifted to cup her cheek, and he moved in so that he was standing so close to her. “Without you, the man that I want to be doesn’t exist,” he whispered.
Again the words sounded strangely familiar, as if they’d been said almost verbatim by someone else in the past. She tried to remember who, but the hand that had been caressing her cheek moved to cup her chin and he gently tilted her mouth towards his.
He brushed her lips with his, and a tingle ran through her mouth. Tentatively she rose up on tip-toe and leaned in to him as if drawn by some unseen connection. Davis pressed his mouth hard against hers, his hand moving to her waist to hold her closer against him as he deepened the kiss.
Her hands pushed him back against one of the display boards and he tightened one arm around her waist, holding her against his rapidly hardening body. His other hand tangled in her hair and held her head steady as his lips sought entrance to her mouth.
Her pulse raced and her blood rushed through her veins at Davis’s kiss, which was getting more and more passionate by the second. He spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, his hands gripping her tightly as he rained ravishing kisses on her.
After long moments she lifted her head and stared at him through glazed eyes, breathing deeply. Her vision gradually adjusted to the dimly lit room, and once again she surveyed the romantic atmosphere he’d created with candles and petals which were scattered liberally over the floor in a sensual trail.
And then she saw it.
There, just beyond his shoulder, where the trail of red petals appeared to segue into something closely resembling smears of…
No. It couldn’t be.
Was it?
“Davis,” she said hollowly as the blood drained from her face. “Is…is that blood?”
“What did you think was gonna happen?” he whispered in a soft rasp close to her ear.
She stared at him in horror.
He didn’t. He couldn’t have.
With shaky hands she picked up one of the candles and following the bloody trail around the corner of the basement, terrified of what awaited her. If anything had happened to him…
She followed the grisly trail until it terminated in a ghastly puddle into which blood still dripped. Slowly she lifted her gaze… and there he was.
Clark. He was hanging there, lifeless, savagely ripped in two…
“NO!” she screamed, sitting up in bed so fast her head swam. It took several moments before she realised she was safe and alone in her own bed, and Davis was locked in the basement.
It was a dream, she thought, taking deep breaths. Just another dream. But it reminded her of why she was doing what she was doing.
She couldn’t lose Clark; not ever, she thought bleakly. And if she had to sacrifice herself to a monster to keep him safe, then so be it.
***
Chapter 8…