not there, she could always come back and find herself in that room. It was no wonder that when she had tried to think of somewhere that she would feel safe, that house had been the first thing that came to mind. She never realized that she had missed it so much.
She threw her bag on the bed and hoped that there weren't any roaches on it as she followed it closely by herself. It was better that way. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. If she couldn't see what she was lying on, maybe she could actually sleep for a change. She would deal with everything else in the morning.
“Welcome to casa de la Kennedy, my window seat is your window seat.” She said when she heard Damien come in. She returned his phone and laid on her back with her arms behind her head.
She thought that maybe he would have night vision or something, but no such luck. The only actually out of the ordinary thing that she had ever seen him do – other than his super speech abilities – was disappear into thin air. Which was extremely cool by itself, but was nothing compared to all the things that she'd seen demons do in comics and films.
“Nice, very avant-garde. I like what you did with the leaves, it is likely that you will never have to clean again.” He said in a fake english accent that Kennedy didn't think was fake at all.
“I know, I was going for the more grimmy and natural down to earth approach.” She replied as if she were being interviewed.
“Trust me, you have achieved it successfully.” They both laughed.
Did she unknowingly suffer from a bipolar disorder or something? She had been on the verge of a breakdown a few minutes ago and now she was laughing and making jokes as if nothing was wrong. But, she guessed that if they were going to have to stay there, then the least that she could do was to try and make the best of it.
“I could stay outside if you preffered.” He said, a little more serious.
“Would you mind if I asked you not to? I kind of hate being alone.” She replied.
“I gathered as much.” He made his way to the cushioned windowseat and moved a few of the throw pillows around before taking his place on it. They were silent for a while before Damien's low chuckle echoed in the room.
“What's so funny, dummy?” She couldn't help but ask and then giggle at the little rhyme. He thought for a moment and then answered her.
“If I make it out of this alive, I swear that I am buying a house with windowsills that are not more than an inch wide.” She grunted in reply, the humor of the situation clearly lost on her.
Morning came and was greeted by a bleary eyed Kennedy. She had tried and tried restlessly, but she just couldn't find it in her to fall asleep with Damien lying only a couple of feet from where she was.
In the silence of the room, all that she could hear was his rythmic breathing. From her position, she could make out the alluring shape of his outline iluminated by the slivers of moonlight that sneaked in through the musty windowpane.
It made Kennedy overly self-aware. She could actually feel her body's response to his every move from those few feet away. Damien, on the other hand, didn't seem to be affected by her presence at all.
He had gotten up very early and announced that he was heading into the little town that they had passed on the way there for a food and supplies run.
She didn't even bother to ask if she could go too. His macho tone as he enunciated the word, “I”, when he said it left no room for argument. She was to stay there and enjoy her exile while it lasted.
That was totally peachy if you asked her, peachy f-ing keen.
Kennedy busied herself with picking up leaves and tidying up the bathroom and kitchen. She got some water from the old well that stood besides the house to do it while Damien was away.
It was only a couple of hours, but she was so ravenous by the time he'd made it back that she had even considered, if only for like ten seconds, sneaking into the neighboring farm and going all Hannibal Lecter on poor old Mrs. Pérez and maybe her husband too.
He found her giggling evily as she plotted her coupe while she sat on one of the kitchen stools.
Damien's edible bounty consisted of a few cans of pre-cooked pasta, some bottled water and two protein bars. He also brought a couple of flashlights and some batteries, but either way, she wanted to throtle him.
All day – okay, two hours – waiting for him to bring home the bacon and all that he showed up with were three cans of canned spaghetti that he expected her to eat cold?
Where was the soda, where was the beef jerky, where were the damned sweets?
Maybe she was wrong, maybe he had been trying to slowly kill her after all. She should have made him take her along. All the if's and maybe's didn't change the fact that Kennedy ended up eating her disgustingly cold meal.
“I don't run on batteries, Mister.” Kennedy planned on talking Damien's ear off about the necessity of elevated quantities of grease and refined sugars as a part of her nutritious daily diet after having to eat the same thing for dinner too.
“I'm a growing girl and canned pasta isn't a sufficient source of energy for me.”
“Here – he offered his fork – go stick this into that power outlet over there. Maybe there will be some remnant charge flowing through the wires that will provide all the energy that you need to shut up.”
“Someone's in a crappy mood.” She sang, balancing on the stool that she sat on. “You mean to electrocute me?”
“If only.” He muttered as he hid a smile.
He was playing with her!
Kennedy threw a balled napkin at him, it missed his head by nearly two feet. He looked at the small ball of paper that lay on the floor and back at her with a raised eyebrow.
It was time to face the facts, her aim sucked.
“See? I'm so weak that I can't even throw a napkin!”
“Look, if I promise to get you some chocolate the next time that I go out, would you stop talking about it?”
“Yes.”
“I will do it, but right now let us just go to bed, okay?” He placed his plate in the sink and walked to her windowseat.
“Fine.” Kennedy followed suit and actually managed to catch some Z's before she was startled out of sleep by an acute sense of uneasiness that she couldn't shake off.
She layed in bed for a while before she finally gave up and got up. Damien remained oblivious to the world.
“Some bodyguard.” She muttered to herself as she went by him. In reality, she was relieved that at least one of them could sleep.
She went out of the bedroom with a flashlight in hand and made her way down the hall to the backroom where she'd been a few times to watch her grandfather create the most beautiful things out of old pieces of wood to sell in his shop.
She'd been admiring the details carved into a forgotten table clock when a great thud followed by the sound of slpintering wood cracked loudly throughout the hall. It came from the direction of the living room. She nearly jumped out of her skin in reaction.
Kennedy's first instinct was to hightail it out of there. Then, she remembered that Damien was still asleep in the first room down the hall.
She made a move to go to him, then stopped to think that Damien could probably take care of himself. But, her conscience would never let her be if she left him like that. Besides, she would most likely be killed in the first thirty seconds that she was out there on her own.
Another thud resounded. It brought her out of her stupor.
She dropped her flashlight on the floor and ran towards her old room. Damien rushed out before she made it there. Their eyes met for a second in the darkness before he was intercepted by a huge shadowy form.
The big shadow threw Damien up against the wall and turned its sole attention onto the pretrified Kennedy. It moved in her direction, making wierd shirping noises as it went. She thought that she could recognize the shape. But, it was impossible, wasn't it?
The thing looked like an enormous bug, a praying mantis to be precise. The floor shook with ev
ery step that it took.
Kennedy stood with her feet glued to the floor. She fought against the need to go and see if Damien was okay as well as the urge to turn and escape through the back entrance of the house.
The creature took another step forward and she settled between a strange mixture of the two.
“Damien!” She called out to him as she ran in the opposite direction. As if on cue, the man in question jumped on the gigantic insect's back. Some kind of glowing knife materialized out of nowhere into his hand and he used it to he chop the thing's head off.
The body landed on the floor with a sickening sound and the head rolled to a stop right against Kennedy's feet. She had ceased her retreat and stared in awe at her rediscovered hero. She would never think poorly of his supernatural abilities again.
Kennedy heaved a big sigh of relief just as the recently decapitated head snapped at her bare feet. She let out a high-pitched scream as she jumped on the head in reaction and squashed the stinking ick out of it until its beady eyes popped off.
When she was sure that all of the remnants of the severed head were splattered beyond recognition, Kennedy surged forward, going by Damien who was busy cutting up the rest of the creature's still moving body into a million tiny pieces and headed outside at a dead run.
She stopped only when she had reached the old well. Her mission, to wash all of the sticky gore off her person. She didn't care if anyone else saw her or if her actions made Damien think that she was weak.