Freak Camp, page 14
Jake nodded. He couldn’t seem to decide where to fix his gaze—on Tobias, on the guards watching them, or on Roger. “Yeah.” He straightened his shoulders and finally met Roger’s eyes. “He’s Tobias.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw the tension in the monster’s shoulders. He thought Jake could too. Roger sighed and turned to the kid.
The monster wouldn’t look him in the eye. Fuck—the boy wouldn’t look at him.
Roger raised a hand, beckoning him. “C’mere, kid.”
Tobias came forward immediately, his eyes locked on the ground. He didn’t look at Jake, while Jake didn’t take his eyes off of Tobias’s face for a second.
“Look at me,” Roger said.
Tobias looked up, but not in Roger’s eyes. His gaze settled somewhere in the area of Roger’s left ear and stayed there.
Roger moved to touch Tobias’s face, to try to make the kid look him in the eye, but lowered his hand even as Jake started between them, anger and guilt mixed on his face. Roger couldn’t touch the kid because of the way his eyes had changed from emptiness to—Roger couldn’t describe it. He’d seen a shifter’s eyes flash on video footage, he had watched more than one demon’s eyes change into depthless black or red, but what happened on Tobias’s face was worse than all of that because the response looked completely human. No longer empty and hopeless, but prepared. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t moved at all, but those eyes said, I know your type. Go on, hit me.
There were creatures that had been in Special Research for years that didn’t have eyes like that.
“Rog,” Jake said. “Don’t . . .” He bit his lip, then glared. Roger saw more than a little of his dad in him, which half made Roger proud and half made him want to smack the kid.
Roger wished that he could see Jake excited again. Since all the shit had gone down when Leon had pulled Jake out of jail using his hunter ID, Jake had been angry, subdued in a way that he couldn’t express except by running or setting up a homemade range for target practice or drifting around the house like a restless spirit. Even though his excitement had been about a monster, a kid that could grow up to be one of the dangerous things Roger put down without hesitation, it would have been good for Jake to be out of his funk for a little longer.
“I’m not gonna do anything to him.” Roger glanced at Tobias. “You. Stand back there for a second.”
Tobias retreated, though he didn’t turn his back. Roger got the feeling that he was watching their every move and trying not to be seen doing it.
Roger pulled Jake aside. “He looks all right, and he’s never tried to hurt you, right?”
Jake swelled in outrage. “Dammit, Roger, he’s never even come close. Why can’t you just understand—”
Roger held up a hand, cutting Jake off. If only that worked as well with Leon. “They’re monsters, kid. You know that every single freak in this camp did something or was a threat in some way. That’s why they’re here.”
“Tobias didn’t do anything!” Jake’s voice rose, but he caught it, glancing at the guards, and then glaring back at Roger. “He didn’t do anything,” he hissed. “He got dropped here before fucking kindergarten and he doesn’t remember anything. How can he be a monster?”
“He says he doesn’t remember anything,” Roger said. “That doesn’t mean nothing happened. Werewolves—”
“Tobias’s not a werewolf, not a vamp, not a psychic or a witch or any damn thing that they can pin a label on. He’s just Tobias, and sure, he’s here, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Jake.” Roger was surprised that just saying the kid’s name shut him up. Maybe he was channeling Leon. Chilling thought. “He’s here.”
Jake looked away. “That doesn’t mean everything. Papers get fucked up all the time, otherwise I wouldn’t have spent weeks as Jackie, getting detention for not showing up in Home Ec the whole time we were in Buffalo.”
Roger eyed the sullen teenager in front of him and the silent hopeless boy standing just out of earshot. He could almost believe that Jake knew what he was talking about. Then again, he was barely fourteen.
But hell, Leon had abandoned his son to CPS, and Roger had made his share of mistakes. They were well over Jake’s age. Roger just hoped that this wouldn’t be another one of his.
“Hell,” he said at last. “I’m going to Special Research. Do you want to come with me?” Not that Roger wanted Jake anywhere near that place. The longer Jake went without being exposed to that part of hunter life, the better. He felt relieved when Jake shook his head, even though Roger could feel the bitterness rolling off of him.
“Jake.” The boy looked up. Damn, that kid was as stubborn as his father, but Roger was pretty sure that his heart was in a healthier place. “I know that you’re going to hang around with that kid, probably give him the candy in your bag, right?”
Jake’s face closed down, stubborn and angry. “Maybe, sir.”
No maybe about it, Roger didn’t say out loud. The kid didn’t need to know that Roger could read him like a book, and he was no frickin’ medieval Japanese either. “Watch yourself, Jake. Be careful.”
Jake relaxed slightly. Roger wondered if that was something that Leon said before he left, before he showed Jake that he trusted him. “I always am, sir.” He sounded confident, but a touch resentful. Recent experience had taught him that being careful wasn’t always enough.
Roger wished he could explain to Jake that Leon wasn’t angry at him, but at himself, and that Hawthorne had never been good at channeling his personal self-loathing and rage onto the people and objects that deserved it, but he didn’t think that Jake could understand. Jake had never been responsible for anyone but himself—and maybe sometimes for his father. He’d never known the furious, deep-rooted love that Leon had for him even when Leon was doing a piss-poor job of showing it.
Instead Roger said, “You do good, kid.” With one more glance at Tobias, he walked away.
Jake breathed a sigh of relief when Roger moved away. He had felt the argument growing, had known that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from defending Toby, and Roger might’ve been forced to grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag his ass out of camp—which wouldn’t have helped Toby—and then they would have fought. Jake thought sometimes that it would be nice to fight with someone about Toby. He still hadn’t been able to get to that point with Dad. He couldn’t shake his certainty that his dad knew best, his dad knew how to keep him alive, and Jake should never question him.
Of course, there was the fact that Dad wasn’t talking to him, was so fucking ashamed of how Jake had behaved with the whole CPS thing that he had left and probably wouldn’t be back for a long time.
But now Roger was heading toward Special Research, and there was nothing to stop Jake from turning to Toby.
Tobias watched the hunter leaving, expression tense, his gaze darting to Jake and the guards around the yard.
The nervous energy between them reminded Jake of when he and Dad weren’t talking. Except at least he and Toby were in the conspiracy together.
They both waited until Roger had disappeared around a corner, and then they simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief. Tobias started, but Jake laughed. It was good, damn good, to be around someone else who wasn’t an adult, someone who also eased up when he was finally left alone.
“Hey, Toby.”
Tobias gave him a nervous smile, and Jake couldn’t hold back his own. He wished that Toby would look as happy as he did when he had first seen Jake, but he figured that was too much to hope for. He rarely got to see Toby excited. There was only so much emotion that someone could have in a prison, Jake knew that now. No surprise that Tobias had been there so long that he couldn’t manage anger anymore. Well, Jake might be able to stay angry for both of them.
“C’mere.” Jake jerked his head, and Toby followed him to the side of a building. Jake turned his back to block the guards’ view of Toby, and no one could even see their lips moving. He didn’t know if any of the guards were lip readers, but he would take no chances.
“I got something to tell you.”
Tobias blinked rapidly and ducked his head. “What—what is it? Your dad . . .”
Jake waved him off. “No, this isn’t about Dad. This is . . .” This is me realizing that you shouldn’t be here, that no one as good as you should ever get locked up like I was. “Something completely different.”
“Okay,” Tobias whispered. He wasn’t looking up. His hands were folded tightly together as though bracing himself for the blow.
Jake wanted Toby to look at him. He wanted Toby to believe him. No one else did, but of all the people in his life, Toby was the one that Jake most wanted to trust him.
He cupped Toby’s hands between his own like they were a fragile bird, stroking the back of his knuckles, until Toby looked up at him. “I’m gonna get you out of here. I’m gonna get you out of Freak Camp if it’s the last thing I do.”
Tobias stared. He blinked a couple of times, and then shook his head, hard, like he had water in his ears.
“J-J-Jake, don’t joke about . . .” Jake saw Toby’s chest rising and falling rapidly, and were those tears? “Please don’t say things—”
“I’m gonna get you out.” Toby had to believe him. Suddenly, in Jake’s fourteen years, this was the most important goal he’d ever had. He had let down a lot of people lately, but Toby had to believe that Jake would never let him down as long as there was one more breath in his body. “That’s not me fucking with you. That’s a promise.”
Tobias stared. “Jake . . . you can’t. I mean, I know you’ll try, but you can’t take a monster out. And I’m just . . .”
“I’m gonna do it, Toby. Just you watch. I gave you my word, didn’t I?” And you don’t deserve to be here.
“You did. I just don’t . . .” Tobias shook his head again, then took a deep breath. When he looked up, he had tears in his eyes, but Jake could see no trace of doubt or the panic that had been there before. “It’s hard to believe,” he whispered. “It’s hard . . .”
“You don’t have to believe,” Jake told him. “Because I’m gonna make it happen, and then it won’t be a fucking fairy tale, it’ll be real.”
Once Toby was out, Jake would make sure he was safe forever. He would make damn sure no one would ever be able to make Toby afraid again.
And everyone else could go to hell, as long as he had Toby.
Chapter Six
1995–1996
Occasionally, when Jake and Dad visited Freak Camp, they passed other hunters on their way in or out.
Sometimes they chatted, and sometimes Dad made it clear that he hated their guts.
This time the other hunter was Henry Miller, and he was sitting on one of the metal and plastic chairs in the Reception lobby. The sharp-faced, dark-haired receptionist (Deborah, Jake thought her name was) sat across from him, handing him paperwork. A shapeshifter—clearly a Freak Camp inmate by the gray clothes and the bright green tag through her arm—sat in the chair next to the hunter. She wore the shape of a young, bony blond woman and couldn’t seem to keep her head upright. Her eyes seemed unable to focus on anything, and it was so unnerving that Jake reached for his knife involuntarily.
“What excuse for a hunt dragged you up here, Miller?” Dad snapped. It had been a rough drive; he’d gotten his leg cut up a few weeks ago, and even though Jake had offered, he hadn’t wanted to let Jake drive.
If Miller gave a damn that Leon was in a bad mood, he didn’t show it. He grinned up at the Hawthornes, pausing over his paperwork. “Well, if it ain’t the father-and-son dream team. Rumor had it you were retired in Florida by now, drinking those martinis with little umbrellas.”
“Aw, Miller, we wouldn’t dream of a beach trip without you,” Jake said, mock hurt.
The shifter in the chair next to Miller moved weakly, twisting in her seat. Miller turned and hit her hard between the ribs, making her cringe and cough, pulling her knees to her chest. That was when Jake noticed the sturdy silver chain binding the monster’s collar both to the table and to Miller’s belt.
Dad’s eyes had narrowed on the same chain. “What the fuck is going on there?”
“Just checking out a monster,” Miller said. “I’m hunting a nest of Bray Road Beasts up near Elkhorn, and those things are like sharks: you throw a little blood on the ground, and they’ll come straight for you. Sure beats trudging up and down rural Wisconsin trying to dig up the little fuckers’ nest.”
Dad’s mouth twisted. “That’s sick, Miller.”
Miller slapped the shifter on the shoulder, more affectionately this time. “Not like I’m using a civvie, Hawthorne, so don’t get your panties in a twist. Shifter blood and human blood smells about the same to those little Roadies. And this shiftie will probably keep me warm and entertained up in those crap backwoods motels. Can you believe that they don’t have cable in some of those shitholes?”
Jake stared. This was a hunter, taking a monster out of FREACS. Granted, it didn’t look like the guy was getting the shifter out for anything close to the reasons that Jake wanted to get Tobias out—it made Jake a little sick to think that anyone would get a monster out just to screw and kill them. But seeing firsthand evidence that it really was possible, what he had promised Toby, untwisted something inside him, lifted his hopes, even as Dad got more pissed.
Dad’s face was stony. “And you think that’s gonna convince me you’re not a sick bastard?”
Miller shrugged. “We can’t all be hunting demigods, Hawthorne. Besides, Bray Roads bring in a decent bounty. I don’t need your approval when I’ve got Dixon cash.”
Dad jerked his chin at the drugged shifter. “You’re basically working with a monster, Miller.”
Miller laughed and pushed his stack of papers to Deborah. “Don’t worry, Hawthorne, the freak will end up dead eventually. Just might take a bit more time than you, or she, would like.”
The shapeshifter slid down in her chair and gave a low, pained moan. Miller scowled at her and looked over at the guard standing by the wall. “Can I get a little more tranquilizer in my freak here? I don’t want her putting up a fight when I pack her into my trunk.”
“Come on, Jake,” Dad said, moving toward the door. “I’m sure Miller and his freak will be very happy together.”
“Fuck yourself, Hawthorne,” the other hunter called.
Dad ignored him—if he got angry at all the people who told him to fuck himself, he wouldn’t have time to be angry at people who questioned his judgment or had different opinions—and Jake barely glanced back, though he really wanted to crane his head over the paperwork that Miller had signed.
Probably Jake would have to be a licensed hunter to get Tobias out, and his eighteenth birthday was still three years off. Maybe he could convince Dad to sign for some of the paperwork, if he asked the right way.
But as they walked through the Reception, Jake had to admit that convincing Dad to get Toby out wasn’t very likely—but a kid could dream, couldn’t he?
At least Dad was trusting him again, letting him help on hunts. Really help, not just leaving Jake in the Eldorado as a lookout and getaway driver. Dad had put his faith in Jake, had let him use his own shotgun and brought him along to watch his back. He didn’t leave him alone in crappy motel rooms as often either. Jake knew this was at least partly because of the CPS shitstorm, but it felt good, like he and Dad were partners. More than once, Jake had kept Dad from getting seriously injured, saving him while together they saved the civvies. They were a good team, and Jake tried not to mess that up by talking about Tobias too much.
At least as much as he could help.
“You seeing that monster?” Dad asked as they stepped out into the chilly fall air.
Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. He had brought apples today, the biggest ones he could find in the gas station. He’d been bringing Toby chocolate the last few times, and even though he couldn’t imagine getting tired of chocolate, Toby loved fruit. Jake also had a bag of chips that he’d found in the back seat when he was looking for the knife he always brought with him into FREACS.
“Yeah,” he said. “Probably.”
Dad scowled. “I don’t get the fascination. You like Miller back there?”
Jake gaped at him. “Dad, gross, no!” He wasn’t sure if Dad meant staking Tobias out as monster bait, or Miller’s other sick comments, but either way, hell no.
“Because at least I’d understand that.” Dad glanced at Jake out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t have to look down quite as far anymore. These last few months, Jake had shot up nearly as fast as a shifter trying to join a basketball team. “I told you I don’t have a problem with you swinging both ways, but at least make sure they’re human.”
“Dad!” Jake could not believe that they were having this talk, and in Freak Camp of all places. It had only been a couple of months since Dad had returned earlier than he was supposed to and caught Jake in the motel room with a half-naked visitor. Dylan had been the only redeeming part of that hick town with his soft sandy hair, sweet lips, and mind-blowingly talented hands. At least Dad had stepped aside as Dylan bolted down the street. It had been another twenty-four hours, and Dad bringing home a six-pack to split between them, before he and Jake managed to have as brief a conversation as seemed necessary. Until now.
Jake fidgeted, checking that none of the guards were nearby. Hell, Dad asking that was awkward enough without any of the sick fucks guarding the monsters listening. “That is not what bisexual means. We’ve been over this. And it wouldn’t mean—come on, Dad, you seriously think I’d do that?”
“Not unless something’s gotten into you that’d take an exorcism to get out. Hawthornes don’t fuck freaks.” He shook his head, brushing off the conversation. “I’m in Intensive Containment today. Won’t be long. Try not to get too distracted with . . . whatever you do.”
“You know I’m not possessed, we just crossed the goddamn pentagram!” Jake called after him, but Dad was already across the yard.
