14 – Blood and Gasoline

Blood and Gasoline

The gas station glowed like a beacon in Raven Hollow's fog, its flickering neon sign—Hollow Fuel—buzzing over the pumps. Liam crouched behind a shelf of motor oil, bat slick with sweat and ichor, his leg a throbbing mess under the bandage. His mom sat in the center, pale and trembling, her arm bleeding onto Maya's rune circle scratched into the concrete. Maya knelt beside her, sketchbook open, tracing the reversal sigil with her own blood, her hand steady despite the sting. Sofia guarded the door, wrench raised, Luna growling low beside her. Ethan rigged a pump with a lighter and a rag, crowbar tucked in his belt, his shoulder leaking red. Noah chanted from the journal, voice hoarse, glasses cracked, the words—"Blood unbinds, thread snaps…"—a desperate prayer.

Headlights pierced the fog—three SUVs, black and sleek, skidding to a stop. Operatives spilled out, rifles up, radios crackling: "Targets acquired… neutralize…" The lullaby hummed beneath it, faint but rising, a shadow flickering at the woods' edge—the Watcher, wounded but watching.

"Faster, Noah!" Liam hissed, peeking through the shelf. His mom's blood pooled, the runes glowing faintly, but the circle wasn't complete. "They're here!"

"Almost," Noah rasped, flipping a torn page. "Her blood's the anchor—it's fighting back."

Sofia tensed, wrench up. "Door's locked, but they'll breach."

Ethan lit the rag, flame licking. "Pump's ready—blows when I say."

A battering ram slammed the door—wood splintering, Luna barking. Liam grabbed a tire iron from the rack, bat in his other hand, and nodded at Ethan. "Hold them—buy time."

The door buckled, operatives shouting: "Go, go!" Sofia swung her wrench as it burst, cracking a helmet, the man stumbling. Ethan hurled the flaming rag—pump exploding, fire roaring, glass shattering. Operatives dove, rifles firing, bullets shredding shelves. Liam ducked, oil cans bursting, slicking the floor, his mom screaming, "Liam!"

"Keep going!" he yelled, lunging with the tire iron, smashing a rifle barrel. The operative grunted, swinging a fist—Liam dodged, bat cracking his knee, dropping him. Sofia's wrench thudded another, Luna biting a leg, chaos erupting in flames and steel.

Maya pressed her mom's arm, blood flowing, the circle flaring brighter. "It's working—feel it?"

Noah nodded, chanting louder—"Break the vessel, sever the line…"—the air pulsing, electric. The lullaby roared, a shadow surging from the fog—the Watcher, eyeless, limbs twisting, claws gleaming. It didn't enter—just loomed, its scream cosmic, shaking the station.

"Outside!" Ethan shouted, crowbar bashing an operative's arm, rifle clattering. "It's back!"

Liam spun, tire iron flying, cracking a creature's skull—Carter's face, twisted—as it peeled from the shadow. Ichor sprayed, but more skittered—Sofia's abuela, Maya's aunt—claws slashing. He roared, bat swinging, protecting his mom as she whimpered, "Stop it… please…"

Sofia's wrench crushed a creature, Luna tearing at another, but the operatives regrouped—rifles blazing, bullets tearing through monsters and walls. "Focus fire!" one barked, aiming at Liam. He dove, bullet grazing his shoulder, blood hot, badge falling from his pocket.

Maya smeared the last rune, shouting, "Now!" The circle blazed—white-hot, searing—the Watcher shrieking, its form flickering. The creatures dissolved, ichor pooling, and Liam's mom convulsed, eyes glowing, then clearing. "It's… gone," she gasped, slumping.

The lullaby cut off, silence crashing, but the operatives didn't stop. "Targets alive!" one yelled, rifle up. Ethan tackled him, crowbar thudding, as Sofia's wrench flew, cracking another's jaw. Liam staggered up, shoulder bleeding, tire iron swinging, driving them back.

"Fall back!" an operative barked, smoke choking the air, fire spreading. They retreated, dragging their wounded, SUVs peeling out, headlights fading into fog. The station burned, pumps popping, heat licking their skin.

"Out!" Liam yelled, dragging his mom. They stumbled into the lot, coughing, Luna limping beside Sofia. The building groaned, collapsing, flames licking the sky, a pyre for their fight.

Maya clutched her sketchbook, runes dark now. "The vessel—it's cut. She's free."

"For now," Noah said, journal soaked, glasses dangling. "The ley line's still there—Watcher's not dead."

Ethan wiped blood from his face, grim. "And Protocol's pissed. They'll hit harder."

Liam helped his mom stand, her eyes clear but broken. "You okay?"

"No," she whispered, clutching him. "But it's not in me anymore."

Sofia knelt by Luna, fierce. "We did it—for them."

"Did we?" Ethan asked, crowbar slack. "Feels like a draw."

Liam picked up the badge, singed but intact, resolve hardening. "It's a start. They're scared—both of them."

The fog pressed, dawn gray, the lullaby gone—but a shadow flickered, distant, watching.

Later, they holed up in Noah's garage—doors locked, tools scattered, Luna patched tighter. Liam's shoulder was bandaged, his leg a mess, but he stood, badge in hand. His mom sat, quiet, guilt heavy. Maya redrew runes, Sofia sharpened her wrench, Ethan rigged a radio, Noah pored over scraps.

"They'll come," Liam said, voice low. "Protocol, Watcher—both want us dead."

"Then we hit first," Maya replied, pencil steady. "Lab's gone, but we've got this." She tapped her sketchbook.

Sofia nodded, fierce. "No more bait."

Ethan smirked, grim. "Round four, then."

Noah closed the journal, calm. "We've got the ritual. Next time, we finish it."

Outside, the fog thickened, a whisper threading through—a promise of war….