James woke up with a start. Heart and head pounding. Tense. Senses on high alert. He could smell Shane and Eve before he saw them on the cold, dirt floor of a small circle opening in the hedge's path, lined with colorful mushrooms. Shane and Eve both looked unconscious, with their bodies limp on the ground, covered in dirt, faces against the earth.
There was a disgusting, pungent smell filling the air, along with flecks of bright yellow spores floating around them. James wanted to guess that it was mold, but from the way the spores were glowing and pulsing, it was more likely magical in nature. James wanted to assume they were harmless, but the sickly yellow light they cast on the otherwise dark room they found themselves in was suspect at the very least.
Some of them drifted towards his nose with his breath. It was putrid, like spoiled eggs. Sulfuric.
He wafted them away with his hand, accidentally "popping" one of them, which he regretted immediately, because it smelled like someone let out the worst possible eggy fart he'd ever smelled. Puffs of yellow pollen-like powder expoloded over his hand, and he sneezed as it caught in his nose.
Shaking away the distraction, he quickly took stock of his surroundings.
Eve to his left, Shane to his right. They were only a few feet from each other. They both looked to be breathing. Eve still had some of the shrimp splattered over the ground by her dress - now dampened from them - and the dolls they found in their first obstacle were clutched tightly in her hands. The platter was on the ground, by her feet, face-down.
Crawling over to Shane first, he could see that Shane looked relatively unharmed. Aside from being caked in dirt like the rest of them, he had a pulse, was breathing, and appeared to just be sleeping. Maybe drugged. Or they were under a spell.
He went over to Eve next, checking the same vitals, seeing no difference in her state in comparison aside from the fact that she seemed... more comfortably laid out on the ground as opposed to the rest of them. Shane was sleeping on his arm, which was bound to be numb when he came to.
If he came to. James hoped they both came to.
After being woken up by Cyrin, he could only hope that Cyrin had luck with the other two, and they were pulled out of whatever sleep they'd been lulled into.
Only a few seconds after he thought this, he heard Shane begin to stir. The Heir let out a wheezy breath, the dirt covering his nostrils dislodging as he did, and he spluttered for a moment. More dirt flew off, especially from his hair, as he sat up, rubbing his eyes clean before looking around in a daze.
"Hey," James said, to let Shane know that he was there, and also alright.
The last thing Shane saw was James getting swallowed underground, which was more than alarming.
"You ok?" he asked. "You're not hurt, are you?"
Shane's gaze refocused on James as he kept wiping his face clean, blinking as he readjusted to his surroundings.
"Was Cyrin in your head too?" he asked instead.
"Yes," James answered. "He's the reason I'm up. You too?"
Shane nodded, his head turning to Eve.
"Hopefully they're helping her out too," he said quietly.
James turned to look at Eve, his brows creased with concern. Considering it hadn't taken Shane more than thirty seconds to wake up after him, it hopefully wouldn't take too long for Eve to do the same. Time was different in dreams, so James expected it to go quickly. He took another moment to get his bearings, reaching down for the blanket that was twisted around his lower leg. He'd dropped it in the fleeing, but was glad he still had it. He lifted it up and started shaking off the dirt, watching Eve out of the corner of his eyes.
"Looks like the skeleton attack was just a way to get us unconscious," James noted aloud. "In probably the most horrifying way possible. I wonder if they set it up so that Cyrin had to use the dreamwalking. Seems they want us all to use our new magic in some way. Or... it seems encouraged, anyway."
"Well, of course it is," the voice chimed in unhelpfully. "What's the point of having such a tremendous gift if you don't even use it?"
"Not that I think it's a good idea," James muttered, rolling the blanket up in his arms. He glanced over at Shane. "Any idea what you have yet? Or still nothing?"
Shane shook his head, holding out his hands and looking at them. "No," he said, then added a little more quietly, "But if they want me to know, I'm sure they have a plan for me to find out."
James sighed at that. He hated that it was true, and that it likely was going to be the worst possible way of exposing what kind of magic Shane had. Since the trend seemed to be that things were only getting worse and worse with each obstable they ran into. At least this...respite, was merely a stinky mushroom circle and waking up from a dream.
Well. They were supposed to be waking up from their dreams.
It'd been over a minute, now, and Eve still hadn't budged an inch.
James was getting more concerned. He crawled over to her, tucking the blanket under his arm as he stopped to sit beside her, looking down with a frown. This was just a sleeping state, right? It wasn't something more?
"It didn't take too long for Cyrin to wake you... right?" James asked. "I woke up first. On my end, you woke up maybe thirty seconds after me."
"We talked for a few minutes," Shane said. "But time in dreams isn't linear..." That addition sounded hopeful.
Hm. So the time didn't translate both ways, just as James thought.
"Well... I guess we'll wait a little longer, then," James said quietly.
And in the meanttime, he busied himself with grabbing the platter at Eve's feet, and he started picking up the dirt-covered shrimp, putting them back on it.
He was self aware of how silly it looked, but it at least gave him something to do. He couldn't help, though, that with every touch of the raw seafood he caught another whiff of it, and the painful, gnawing hunger in his stomach seemed to surge with aching. He wondered if Shane could hear his stomach growl.
It seemed like he could, from the way Shane's gaze flicked back to James, a little tensely. James hoped that Shane knew he was above eating dirty, raw shrimp.
"I'm alright right now," James said quietly. "I promise, I'll warn you if it gets to be too much."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," the voice tutted.
To which James thought back firmly: I don't.
"Liar."
But Jampes spitefully ignored that.
"Got it," Shane said quietly.
After another pause, James sighed.
"I'm... sorry," he said after a beat. "I feel like things would be different. If..."
But he didn't feel like finishing that sentence. Not when he knew it could be recorded. Not when he knew that not only was the world listening, but so were the Trieus, and so was the voice in his head, now.
Shane shook his head. "You don't need to be sorry. Nothing's in our control right now."
James pressed his lips into a frown, wishing that wasn't true. He wished something could be in his control.
"Are you..." no, that was such a stupid question to ask. None of them were 'okay' right now. "...Hanging in there?"
Shane slowly took off his flannel layer, shaking the loose dirt off before brushing it off and putting it on again.
"I will live," he said half-heartedly.
Ah. So they were there, weren't they? Not too many blessings to count at the moment when everything quite honestly sucked. James still hadn't even begun to process what happened in the graveyard, nevermind what was happening now. Or what had been happening for the last week.
James set the shrimp-filled platter next to Eve, and tucked up his legs as he sat beside her.
It'd been almost four minutes now. How much longer were they going to have to wait? He was starting to worry.
"Maybe Cyrin couldn't..." Shane started.
James pressed his lips into a frown. If Eve didn't wake up soon, they were going to get stuck here, and he couldn't help but wonder if getting out of the maze would still be up to them even if the timer was up. He'd stopped underestimating how cruel or even inconveniencing the DMV could make things for them. Even with this ridiculous quest to find a golden pumpkin, it felt like it was less about gaining a prize and more about creating drama. James wished he could say it was all for television and entertainment value, but there was far more that happened behind the scenes than that.
Anger began to boil in his stomach, intermingling with the hunger already there.
"Maybe," James said after too long of a hesitation. "I don't know why he wouldn't be able to wake her up as well, but if she doesn't wake up in another five minutes, I think we should move on. I can carry her from here until she comes to. I can't imagine these unpleasant spores are helping. Not that I know what other purpose they serve other than to be disgusting."
Shane folded his knees up to his chest.
"Either something happened to Cyrin," he said, "or she isn't... willing to wake up."
"Somehow I find that hard to believe," James said softly. "I hope there's another alternative to those two options. Maybe Cyrin just wasn't able to... enter? Her dream, I mean. I don't know how that works."
"Could be they're not adjusted to Connie's powers yet," Shane agreed quietly, but he sounded worried.
"Could be," James agreed. But he couldn't help but wonder if maybe the DMV meant to keep Eve asleep.
Ever since she stormed off that one day, she'd seemed a little... different. Less worried than she used to be.
Did she pick a fight with someone she shouldn't have? Was this a consequence?
He wasn't inclined to be hopeful in this situation. So far, he'd been under the impression that Eve was "immune" to any harassment from the DMV because of her former relationship to Oliver, but if she was getting put through the same things he was in the maze, maybe that didn't matter anymore. Or maybe Oliver's influence was waning. He wasn't, after all, the director. That was Maeve, who from his understanding, was less restrained than Oliver, and had more of a taste for drama than anything meaningful. He supposed that had to have been what earned her the position she was in now, having influence over the one DMV challenge that was being broadcast worldwide, with its purported "twist" of being less "intense." Which was a lie, by the way, not that anyone cared.
Sure, it was non-traditional in its roundabout way of "testing" them all, but it was no less intentional or malicious.
He guessed it was naive to think that Eve would be excluded from that forever. Maybe he'd only been hoping so because he'd wished there was someone he could keep close without consequence to his or their well-being.
"Consider this," the voice spoke up once more, tone diplomatic.
James tensed.
"The sudden absence of your friend's immunity isn't a consequence of your actions," he said, "but rather hers."
It wasn't that the disembodied voice didn't have a point, but rather that it'd been listening in the whole time that made James prickle. It sunk in that moment that none of his thoughts had been private, had they? Did this person have a front row seat to everything going on in his head? Was there nothing barring him from listening?
"It has been quite a spectacular view," they confirmed with a touch of unabashed glee. "Unwilling participant that you are, I must thank you."
Anger bubbled in James's gut, burning hotter.
You don't happen to have a name, do you? James cut in fiercely.
"So, you figured out whose magic you've been blessed with, yes?" the voice asked instead.
Of course he didn't know how to answer a question without asking a question. James was already growing tired of this. The man could hear his thoughts, couldn't he? He already knew the answer.
"Every single one," he chirped in confirmation.
Invasive. Wonderful. No privacy even in his goddamned mind. James was done speaking with the disembodied voice.
"If it's any consolation," the voice went on sweetly, "I've found you're quite the master compartmentalizer. A lot of your subconscious is like a locked box, sitting at the very bottom of some ocean."
James turned to Shane beside him.
"Which begs the question: What are you trying to hide?" the voice sing-songed.
But James ignored it, and instead put together the only thing he could find comfort in, in that moment: if he didn't think about something, the person in his mind wouldn't know it. He said James's thoughts were 'locked away,' sure. But all that really meant was that James wasn't bringing them to the forefront for the man's viewership, which was something James now intended to keep doing for the remainder of this uncontrollable occupancy.
Don't you have something better to do? Someone else to annoy? James asked.
The foreign presence hummed. "None quite as delightful as you."
James let out a quiet, yet audible groan at that, rubbing his hands over his face.
No wonder Aaron was a recluse. This was miserable. James felt like he was beginning to understand the man more by getting stuck in his shoes.
How many people are your hosts, anyway? James asked. Do you monitor them all like this?
The voice chuckled. "Must I repeatedly reiterate how utterly fascinating I find your level of intellect? Not that I mind going heavy on the flattery."
Okay, well. He wasn't going to get anywhere with asking questions, then. Fine. Then this man inside his head was useless. Obnoxious, and clearly suffering from a case of over-inflated ego.
Shut up, he groaned internally.
"James," Shane said loudly.
James's head snapped up. He hadn't realized how hunched over he'd become beside Eve's body, but the moment he became self-aware he could only imagine how things looked from the outside.
"Ah. Sorry," he said quickly.
"It's fine," Shane said quietly. "I was just... wondering if we have a plan for what to do if Eve doesn't wake."
James sat up straighter, sighing as he looked down at Eve with a frown.
"Well, we can't leave her," he said. "And we can't stay here. I can carry her from here on out. Maybe there's something ahead that will help us wake her up. Could be part of the challenge."
Shane nodded. "We can take breaks when you need it, too."
James wanted to mention how utterly little Eve weighed in comparison to what he could handle, but he didn't feel it worth saying aloud.
"Sure," James said. "I'm really hoping it doesn't take us another four hours to find our way out of here, but I'm guessing they didn't plan it for us to just get out since we're 'hunting for a golden pumpkin.'"
He took the blanket out from under his arm, unfolding it and dusting it a bit more.
"Probably not," Shane said, with a bit of a sigh. "I hope someone else finds it fast."
James let out a weak laugh.
"Same," he said, throwing the blanket over Eve. It seemed she still had a death grip on the dolls, so he wasn't going to pry those away from her.
"Do you uh," James said, looking over at the platter. "Do you want to take that with us? Do you think it could still be useful? I don't know about our odds of running into the person with your magic, but, if we do, it could at least tell us what happened to Shrimp."
Shane was quiet for a few moments, in thought.
"You said he was with Alan, right?" he asked.
James paused, taking in another deep whiff. He let his senses search, parsing out the smells from one another through the maze.
Yes. Shrimp was still with Alan. Cyrin and Lyall too, it smelled like, now that James could hone in on it.
"Yes," James answered. "I think he's with Alan's group. Cyrin and Lyall too."
Shane nodded. "I trust them all," he said. "We don't need this, or my powers."
The voice scoffed lightly. "We all know he really just means Alan."
Okay.
That was enough. James was over this peanut gallery commentary. Not only was it completely unnecessary but also unwarranted.
James threw his hands up in the air.
"That's it," he said. "I've had it."
"Come again?" the voice hummed, confused.
James looked to Shane, putting on a tense smile.
"You know what this stupid power comes with?" James asked. "Apparently, when the parasitic person who makes wendigos infects someone, their victim also gets the misfortune of having their host live in their head. This whole time I've been hearing this pompous, narcissistic man's voice in my head, commenting on everything we're doing. It's driving me insane."
There was dead silence in the space where the voice took up residence.
"Yeah, of course that'd get him to shut up," James muttered, reaching down, tucking his arms under Eve's back and legs.
Shane held up a hand as if to stop him there, staring at him.
"A person?" he demanded, eyes wide. "In your head?"
"Yes," James answered. "Got a whole personality and everything."
A pause.
"A horrible personality, by the way," James added.
"Outrageous," the voice objected, deeply offended.
"Though it doesn't surprise me at all for someone willing to subject others to something like this kind of condition," James said.
Shane was rubbing his face with his hands, looking aghast.
"I'll concede," the voice tried reasoning with him, "I came on rather strong. But I'll have you know, this could be a mutually beneficial partnership."
"Ohhh my god," James groaned, lifting Eve up off the ground. "This (BLEEP BLEEP.)"
"Who is he?" Shane asked, now staring into James's eyes as if he were trying to see through to the person in his brain.
"He won't tell me his name," James said. "But... I know who the original host is."
"Well, hello to you too," the voice greeted pleasantly, likely in response to Shane's searching gaze. "Please ask the adorable young man if he and Alvaro have defined their situationship yet."
James was not doing that.
Shane's jaw tensed.
"I didn't know wendigos worked that way," he said quietly. "I thought they were... more like a possessive spirit. Not another person."
"Turns out the possessive spirit is a person," James said. "Fancy that."
"Brilliant," Shane muttered, still staring into James's head.
"You're not going to see him," James said slowly. "If... that's what you're trying to do."
Shane frowned, dropping his gaze. "I don't want to."
"Yeah, neither do I," James muttered.
James adjusted Eve in his arms, letting the blanket drape down and cover her legs. He tried to support her head so it wasn't hanging back, and let it rest against his arm so she wouldn't wake up with a headache. He hoped she didn't wake up like this, honestly. It would be so awkward.
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind," the voice said cheekily.
Ughhhhhhhh.
James closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, much to his chagrin. He inhaled a spore, and by god did it stink like hell's butthole. He coughed and sneezed in disgust, shaking his head.
"Okay. Let's get out of here," James said. "It's disgusting."
Shane was quick to stand up, brushing the last of the dirt off himself-- that was, the dirt that wouldn't have a hard time coming off-- wrinkling his nose against the smell as he did.
And so they departed out of the mushroom circle, back into the standard pathways guarded by basic hedges that stretched up into the sky.
The timer overhead started to feel like it was ticking by slowly as they walked, and walked, and walked. There were several times where they'd reach a fork in the road, pick a direction, reach a dead end, turn around, and find that the path they'd once taken had changed. It was impossible to navigate when the paths were always changing, and James had the sinking feeling that they weren't going to get out until the DMV wanted them to.
After an hour of wandering, Eve still hadn't woken up. The timer overhead, written in the clouds, read 3:01:23. One 'til 9. This maze was running until midnight, which meant they had at least three more hours to survive. Despite the last hour of aimlessness, James worried that their troubles would only multiply soon enough.
Eve wasn't getting heavy, but Shane and James were admittedly getting tired. James was more tired of the unending hunger than anything. It was bearable, but it was tiring to ignore it, and it really did feel exhausting to have a hollow stomach all of the time. He couldn't imagine how Aaron functioned. He probably ate all of the time. Suddenly, the image of Aaron inhaling food voraciously at the pool party made sense - as that was one of James's only vivid memories of him, anyway.
He wondered if food really was a viable way to appease the hunger, or if there was anything else that would satiate it for more than a mere moment. He felt like to explore that train of thought was pointless, though, since it wasn't like he was going to act on any of the urges anyway.
Though he did think, for a moment, that maybe he could eat some of the hedges.
It was a low thought, sure, but for some reason he was more willing to eat leaves than raw shrimp. Maybe it felt more dignified than eating something half-prepared than just eating something that wasn't food anyway - though he wasn't proud of that logic.
The wendigo hummed. "Not your best thought so far, no."
James only rolled his eyes.
With a sigh, James sat down, laying Eve on the ground carefully. He had no idea what the hell they drugged her with, but it had to be something like chloroform - probably a high dose. He couldn't imagine they managed to inject her with anything that would have this long-lasting of an effect.
Shane took a seat beside him, and James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. James rubbed his face tiredly, feeling like this was the longest five hours of his life.
"When they said pack a lunch," James said. "Do you think anyone actually did that?"
"Clarity," Shane said. "But who knows where she is now."
Right. James rested his chin on his arms with a sigh.
"...Are you hungry?" James asked. "Did you get to eat at all before we got here?"
"I did have lunch," Shane said. "Just pasta with pesto. But there's leftovers for when..."
James stopped listening when he caught a whiff of something strong. Iron.
Blood.
The hunger inside of him lurched as the scent like nothing ever before. James furrowed his brows tightly as he moved a hand over his stomach, clenching a fist to distract himself from the agonizing ache that pierced through to his chest, crawling up his throat. He felt like he was seeing red.
Closing his eyes for a moment, James hardened his resolve.
No. He wasn't going to give in to this. But if there was blood that meant someone was bleeding. Or injured. And for some ungodly reason it was like he could tell the difference. It wasn't an animal. It was human.
"Shane," he said, his voice feeling tense as he fought the animalistic urge in his body. "I think... someone's coming. Someone hurt."
He paused. "Two people."
"Who?" Shane asked immediately, sitting up and putting a hand on the ground, ready to stand.
All it took was another whiff to tell who it was.
"Jay and Aaron," James answered.
And he could smell their fear, too.
"They're scared," he said. "Best we don't spook them. Probably best if we stay put and let them find us. I think they're on our path."
"If there's anything we can do, we should help," Shane said. "We're not following competition."
"I agree," James said.
But if he was being honest, it would be better if he let Shane take the lead on this one.
"Can you... take it?" he asked a little more faintly. He could feel the sweat starting to form on his forehead from the strain.
"Take what?" Shane repeated.
"Talking to them," he said. "If they're wounded, I don't think I should... be close."
Or rather, he needed to reserve his mental fortitude for keeping the monster at bay, not managing someone else's crisis.
Shane held his gaze for a moment, his expression darkening slightly at the implication.
"If I can sit back and focus I should be okay," James said a little softer.
The smell was getting stronger. He could hear their footsteps. Slow. Limping along.
Shane nodded slowly after a few moments, getting to his feet. "I'll look--" he started, but then shot a glance ahead.
Coming around the corner, they could see the two men leaning on each other, walking at a slow pace. Aaron was standing up straighter, but Jay was curled down at his side, visibly in pain.
Good grief, what happened?
James could see the makeshift bandage around Aaron's bare stomach. It looked like Jay had a wound of similar placement, as he held his hands over the area tightly. Aaron was the first to notice their presence up ahead, meeting Shane's eyes.
Protectively stepping out in front of Jay, Aaron brought them to a stop, twenty paces away. Shane held up his arms non-threateningly, watching them with concern and a growing worry. James saw the crease in his brow deepen the further he scanned the two of them.
"Aaron," Shane said, with soft urgency. "Jay. What happened to you?"
Aaron's eyes flicked from Shane to James. James only looked back with what he hoped looked like empathy, but he was self aware enough to know his face was not friendly by default.
"Who's--" Jay said, his voice strained as he looked up, looking like he was only just noticing their presence. "Oh. The heir."
"And company," Aaron murmured, wary gaze next settling on Eve.
"What happened to her?" Jay asked, looking at the unconscious Eve on the ground.
Shane hesitated.
"We got... buried alive," he said. "And she hasn't woken up from it yet."
"Drugged asleep," James added quietly.
Jay shivered a bit as he turned away, looking from Eve to Shane again.
"(BLEEP)," was all Jay said.
"What about you both?" Shane asked quietly. "You're injured."
"We're managing," Aaron corrected with a mistrusting frown.
Shane's gaze went to Jay, who didn't appear to be... managing well.
"It looks serious," he insisted worriedly.
Aaron briefly followed Shane's concerned gaze, intense worry flashing across his face. He then turned back, unable to meet Shane's eyes again as he relented, "It was a giant spider."
Giant spiders. Those only existed on Nye. Did they ship one in just for this? If they got stung by one, the two of them needed to be in a hospital.
"Non-venomous strike," Aaron went on, as Shane's eyes widened, "but serious all the same."
Still. Hospital.
Aaron glanced back at Jay. "...I believe Jay has your friend's magic, heir. It was originally my wound."
So Aaron meant Cyrin, then. Jay had been given the ability to wound transfer. What James would give to have his original power right now. It would be so easy for Jay to transfer the wounds to him, and he'd heal in in an instant.
But James had a good pain tolerance as it was. Jay was a small man, and didn't seem to have much physical werewithal to put up with the stab wound even in the way Aaron was holding up.
"Keller lasted longer than I thought he would," the voice weighed in idly.
But James didn't care for the wendigo's commentary.
"He can give it to me," James volunteered.
Shane turned to him, frowning. "You don't have--" he started.
"I'll heal in seconds once this is all over," James defended. "It will be nothing."
Shane didn't object further, although the uncertainty in his eyes remained.
"Well," Jay groaned. "I won't... say no."
And it was a mere second before James felt the stabbing pain pierce through his back, curling up into his stomach. In a sick sense, James felt relieved.
The pain was distracting. Distracting from the hunger. He let out some of the tension in his hands, no longer in need of it. The stabbing pain shot through him, but it was far more bearable. He leaned forward heavily, letting out a sigh. In front of him, he heard Jay sigh his own relief, and caught a glimpse of him standing upright. Turning his full attention to Jay, Aaron seemed to silently fret over where the wound used to be.
Jay and Aaron began to murmur amongst themselves, but James didn't have the capacity to tune in to it.
"You know," the wendigo drawled, "you don't have to wait for the swap back to be able to heal."
He wasn't going to let the monster take over. No. Not for this. He could bear with the pain for a mere three hours of his life. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things. But a second in comparison.
You'd enjoy that, James muttered internally. But you won't get it.
The wendigo tsked with unconcealed disappointment. "Suit yourself, tough guy."
James hid his face in his hands.
Maybe they didn't need to go through the maze at all. They could just wait here, couldn't they? Good grief, he was so tired.
"Are you okay?" Shane asked quietly. He'd stepped closer, worry in his eyes.
James didn't know what happened, but apparently some time had passed already by the time he looked up.
His eyes felt glazed as they landed on Shane's hands. He was wringing them in front of him.
"I've been better," he said too passively, because there was not a good, real response to that question. But what Shane was really wanting to know was if James was going to make it.
He had just taken a stab wound. Of course Shane was worried. Naturally.
It only occured to James just now, though, that he was bleeding.
It was... a strange experience.
James looked down at his stomach, where the hole skewered through him just enough to send blood out him. Dribbling, like a wound half-healed.
Half healed. Half healed.
Jay had been half healed because he was half injured. That meant he had either shared half of the injury with Aaron, or he'd taken half of it from Aaron.
It also meant that James had taken a lesser blow, which was the only thing truly relevant at the moment.
James put a hand over the exit wound, feeling blood dribble down his back in turn. Out both ways. Lovely. He applied pressure.
Would it be strange to admit aloud that this would be the longest he'd ever bled before, without the process being actively stopped? Pain wasn't a stranger, but the persistence of it was. Like this, anyway. But it was best not to think on things he didn't want overheard by his eavesdropper.
"It helps," James said honestly. "Keep my mind off the hunger."
And honestly, he wished the wound was worse for that reason. Even still, the hunger was competing for his attention. And he loathed it.
Hand held over his own covered wound, Aaron slowly locked a wary gaze back on them. Alarm crept over his face as something seemed to just click into place for him.
Shane pulled his flannel off, passing it over to James. The front of the white T-shirt he was wearing underneath was smudged with dirt.
"You can use this as a bandage," he said, then added more quietly, "Feel free to tear it up, or anything you need. I won't be able to wear it again after this anyway."
James understood what Shane meant.
Once his powers were back, the shirt would hold too many memories. James took the flannel and turned it over the clean inner lining, tearing it into strips.
But he found himself not quite paying attention to the shirt as he did so.
He couldn't stop staring at Aaron.
Aaron knew. Aaron knew.
But he also realized Aaron couldn't leave just yet. James did something for them. Now James would demand something in return.
"You have the psychometry," James said, rolling the torn shirt in his hand.
He knew for certain, now, that Aaron had it. Since Jay had Cyrin's.
Aaron winced, but carefully conceded, "Yes."
James reached into his pocket, where he'd stowed away a singular piece of shrimp. The remains of the platter they left behind. Holding it up, he met Aaron's eyes sternly.
"Take this," he said. "And tell me what you see."
Perhaps he could have been more gentle. But he was admittedly losing patience.
Aaron simply stood there. Not out of stubbornness, but rather pure bewilderment. "I--" he sputtered, flinging an arm in James's direction. "But-- Shrimp? In your pocket?"
James's brows furrowed.
"The cat was replaced with it," James said. "And you will read it for anything useful."
"The cat?" Aaron echoed incredulously. He glanced back to Jay, then visibly deflated when he scanned over where the other half of the shared wound used to be.
With a loud, put-upon sigh, Aaron finally stepped forward. "This better yield something useful," he muttered as he took the shrimp.
Yeah, well. James was thinking the same thing. James waited expectantly as Aaron held it.
The smell of Aaron's blood, though, was difficult to block out amongst everything else. It was like the scent was screaming at him, with him being so close.
As the seconds ticked past, Aaron's indignance morphed into scorn, his lip curling into a grimace. He let the shrimp drop to the dirt as he finally said, "That was a waste."
"Tell me why," James demanded as he pulled out the torn flannel around his waist, cinching it around the wound.
"They're simply mocking you," Aaron mumbled.
James felt his skin prickle at that. It was like the hair on his back stood on end, and the anger that had been stirring inside him only burned hotter.
Whatever the DMV was trying to do, they were succeeding in pissing him off.
If the shrimp was useless, there had to be something. Because gods forbid they run into Aaron and Jay on accident. The DMV was controlling the maze and carving its paths. Theirs intersected for a reason, and James knew it had to be for more than bearing the pain of Jay's wound.
Stiffly, James turned to Eve, who remained unconscious beside him. With careful gentleness, he lifted the blanket over her and found her hands, which were still clutching the dolls like a lifeline. If they were, in any way, giving her some sense of support, then he was sorry for what he was about to do.
Slipping his fingers underneath hers, he gently pried the dolls free.
"One last request," James said. "And we will keep you here no longer."
Turning, he lifted up the dolls that imitated their party.
"Read these and communicate any useful information, if any," James said.
Aaron flicked an intent gaze between the dolls and those they were made to represent, quickly piecing together their context.
"Well that's creepy," Jay muttered from behind Aaron.
Aaron carefully took the dolls from James. "The three of you have painted rather large targets on your own backs, it seems," he mused under his breath.
Shane shifted uncomfortably, dropping his gaze.
"Is that all you got from it?" James asked.
"That's not the psychometry," Aaron answered, evenly meeting James's eyes.
James stared back with a flat glare. Quirking a brow, Aaron shrugged a shoulder indifferently before turning his attention back to the dolls.
"I suppose we were meant to find each other," he mumbled, head tilted as he focused. Then Aaron's attention snapped up to the hedge to James's right. "There's a hidden passage."
"Through the hedge?" James asked.
Aaron hummed. "It should reveal itself."
James paused.
"To us, but not to you," he clarified.
Aaron glanced questioningly back at James.
"Since it hasn't done so already," James added.
"Ah." Aaron nodded. He offered back the dolls. "Logical."
But as James took back the dolls in one hand, he reached up and gripped Aaron's forearm with the other. Intensely and meaningfully meeting Aaron's eyes for a moment, James whispered, barely audible: "It's yours, isn't it?"
And he didn't have to ask, because he already knew, but it was the smallest courtesy he could provide.
Aaron flinched under his touch, but didn't back away. After a second of fearful hesitance, he allowed a flash of thinly-veiled sadness show through as he then averted his gaze.
"Less than three hours left," Aaron said evenly. "...I'm sorry."
But Aaron misunderstood. James was not trying to ask for sympathy. He was trying to sympathize with Aaron. James already knew this condition would be temporary for him. But for Aaron, he had to live with this all of the time.
And who knew how long he'd been living with it either.
"I dooo," the wendigo sang quietly.
And James merely cussed him out for a second in his mind before he tensely released his grip from Aaron's arm.
"I'll be fine," James whispered faintly. "What I worry for is when this is all over."
But Jay loudly cleared his throat behind the two of them, ruining the moment.
Recoiling now, Aaron kept his eyes trained on the ground as he stepped away.
"Thanks, James," Jay said in a manner that was devoid of any warmth but like he was, perhaps, trying to imitate it.
James only nodded faintly.
"We'll get going now," Jay said, giving Aaron a pointed look and a nod of his head for them to move on. "Good luck."
"Good luck," Shane echoed quietly. "Stay safe."
James wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn't bring himself to.
"And you two stay away," Aaron shot back, holding an arm over his stomach as he slowly turned to follow after Jay. But the brief look he landed on James was meaningful.
Ah. So Aaron wanted James to stay out of this. It made sense, of course, not only because it was private information he never should've known, but also because... well, what could he possibly do to help the situation? He was not well versed in powers spread via a singular host, and all he may end up doing by sticking his nose in was make it harder for Aaron, who James could only imagine was constantly wearied from having to manage the monster inside him at all times.
James slumped forward a bit, holding the dolls loosely in his hands before letting them drop to the ground.
Eve had been right to grab them the first time, but they weren't going to need them any more. They'd served their purpose.
Shane let out a quiet, almost sad sigh as Jay and Aaron disappeared the way he and James had gone. He didn't look himself without a flannel. Not that that was very important right now.
Behind them, James could hear the hedge rustle and creak.
As he turned his head, he saw the bushes pull away from each other, revealing an opening.
Pumpkins. That was the first scent that hit him. The smell of freshly carved pumpkins.
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