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He saw the dog and tensed. But the beast, whose howls and barks had heralded its coming, stood still, looking at him with glowing red eyes.
“I need to go out.” he said, his voice calm. He had known this day would come, he had it circled in his calender and even deflected Katelyn's curious questions as well as Nicky's annoying guesses.
In a way he was lucky he told himself.
Chalk powder on his fingers as he traced the protective signs, and the smell of sage in his nose as he checked the tiny bags. Protection, carefully placed, hidden under beds and on hard to reach places. Katelyn had helped him, he still remembered it so very clearly. The sun shining, the smell of herbs in the air, the smooth leather and bone underneath his fingertips. How they both had stayed up late, pouring over the spell, and how she had left and returned hours later with bones. Small, a child's one. He never asked where she had gotten them.
Magic, just like medicine was messy. Both worked with the negative of the human body to turn it into something positive.
That was what Katelyn said all the time at least. He would love to believe her.
His knuckles knocked on the wooden door and for a few seconds he waited, breath held in anticipation.
Then it opened and his own face looked back at him. His first spell had been in front of a mirror.
“I am going out. Meeting with Katelyn.” he said, the lie coming so easy. Whenever he needed Andrew to back down, he simply dropped her name. It worked like a magic charm. But he wanted to say goodbye, at least in a small way. At least as a lie.
“Okay.” his brother's voice was flat and he turned around again. What else did he expect? He had been carefully to hide this secret.
So he just nodded. And that was all goodbye he would get. The air was cold when he took a deep breath, and he looked into the night sky. He wasn't afraid, even though he would die soon.
He moved to pet the dog and it stared at him with coal red eyes, fangs bared but not at him. His hand froze midair, only a short distance away from burning black fur.
“What are you hiding?” It wasn't Andrew's voice. Neil. He could have sworn that guy was some sort of creature, but as long as all that rage and darkness he hid didn't hurt his brother.... Slowly he turned around and stared into blue eyes.
“What are you?”
Neil stepped closer.
“Doesn't matter. You however, are close to death.” his eyes flicked to the hellhound.
And Aaron's eyes narrowed. Only people whose deal ran out could see them.
“What did you sell your soul for? For your little cheerleader? Your mother?”
He grit his teeth, leave it to fucking Josten to even ruin his mood as he was dying!
“Andrew of course!” he spat out.
Neil was silent, his posture somehow... sinking, reducing on itself. Not what he had accepted?
“You don't know him since ten years though.” was what he finally said and Aaron nodded, pulling out one of his papers, a sigil. Drawn in his own blood.
It warded off bloodsuckers.
“I am a magician.” he said plainly, it felt weird to say it like that, so normal, “I got one year, I had a few special wishes.”
“Hm.” Neil made, “And what did you ask? Andrew didn't die, we would know.”
Aaron smiled sadly and for a second he wondered if Andrew looked at Neil like that. Or if there were too many secrets between them.
“I asked for one other chance.” he began, slowly, “The demon send me back in time...”
“Thanksgiving.” Neil interrupted him, the word a shocked whisper, and Aaron nodded.
“He died. Before I came back.” he had to look away, “I prevented it. I managed to save him.”
Neil was silent and almost Aaron would have been proud of himself. Finally managed to get this idiot to shut up!
“What other special wishes?” Neil asked, like the silence never happened. Like the night wasn't slowly growing lighter, a bird started to sing. Time running out.
Aaron grinned. “I would kill Drake. And since I am going to hell anyway, and he is already there...”
Now Neil grinned as well.
“From one butcher to another, I wish I knew this earlier.” he sighed, brushing his hair back. For the first time did he hesitate and the pain in his eyes was not directed at Aaron. Or rather it was directed at the pain his death would cause Andrew.
“Don't tell him. Or Kate.”
Neil turned around. “Won't.”
Maybe he imagined the chocked word, the way it seemed to crawl through sadness. But the hellhound already had his sharp jaw around his neck.
And with the first sunlight his soul was dragged into hell.