Losing Hope | {BOOK 4}

28| Jacob Styne

"Okay, I got a pretty good look at his tattoo. It's something like this."

Charlie handed Dean the rough sketch she'd drawn. He and I were working on unloading the boxes of files we'd brought from the Bunker.

"The douche clan. Got it," he nodded. "Well, this is everything the Men of Letters had on occult families, so there should be something in here."

"Sam, got anything?" Charlie looked over to where he was trying to translate the book.

"Maybe," he admitted. "Uh, yeah, it's all in an obscure Sumerian dialect. Actually I found a rough match for it in this book."

"Great."

"I thought so, too. But I've been translating, but none of the translated words make any sense. It's all just gibberish. I mean, maybe it's in a different dialect?"

Charlie walked over, taking the translated pages from him.

"No, no, no," she shook her head. "You're right, but I-I-I think... I think this is in code."

"An entire book of unreadable text that's also in code," Sam scoffed. "Great."

"And you call yourselves nerds," I smirked over at them. "Come on. You got this."

"She's right," Charlie looked at Sam. "Let's get our Alan Turing on. Decrypt this bitch."

Sam looked over, noticing how intently I was staring over at the Book.

"You know what, Charlie? Why, uh... Um, why don't we stick with my notes for a little bit? This Book is literally making my eyes hurt."

He put the Book back in the lockbox I'd found.

⁘

"Okay, even the Bletchley Circle couldn't crack this thing," Charlie sighed a few hours later. "I've tried ever cryptographic algorithm out there. Goose egg."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing," I admitted, looking up from the files Dean and I were studying. "Those people following you... Hmm? All kinds of wrong. Talking multi-generational, centuries old wrong. The Styne family. Men of Letters' files have them dated back to the early 1800s. They used spells to create disease, to destabilize markets. Hell, they even helped the Nazis before they came into power, and they profited from all of it."

"So, they're like the supernatural Du Ponts?"

"Basically," Dean nodded. "All the spells they used came from a book of 'unspeakable evil' which they lost nearly a hundred years ago."

"Okay, so they're bad," Sam said. "So what? We faced worse."

"Sam, read the file," I told him. "The way the Book works, is when you use it, there is a negative reaction. I'm talking biblical negative. Dark magic always comes with a price. We know that. We've been down that road before."

"Well, let's at least translate it, see what it says," Charlie suggested.

"You guys don't understand," I shook my head. "The Book's been calling out to me ever since I laid eyes on it, okay? Calling out to the Mark. I can hear it like it's alive. It wants me to use it, but not for good. Look, I wanted it to be the answer too, okay? I really did. But we have got to get rid of that. Burn it, bury it, I don't give a damn. We'll just have to find another way to fix the Mark."

"Like what?" Dean asked me.

"I don't know."

"So, you're giving up?" Charlie asked.

I rolled my eyes, sick of being asked that question.

"No, I'm not giving up. Charlie, I don't have a death wish. Okay, even if I did, I can't die, not with this thing on my arm. What I can do is I can fight it as long as I can until..."

"Until what?" Dean cut me off. "Tell me. Until what, Ellie? Until I watch you become a demon again? Until then? I can't do that. I won't do that."

"Well, then you'll just have to lock me up. Bind me to the Bunker like you did last time."

"That doesn't solve anything," Charlie pointed out.

"Look, just let us translate the Book, okay?" Sam added. "If there's a cure, we'll do it and deal with the consequences later. I can't lose you, either."

"Really?" I glared at him.

"Yeah, really," Sam nodded.

"You change your mind on that, 'cause that's not what you said last time."

"Oh, come on, Ellie. You know I didn't mean that."

"This is my cross to bear, guys! Mine! And that Book is not the answer! Now we got to destroy it before it falls into the wrong hands, and that includes me! I'm gonna go for a drive. Uh, Charlie, we forgot to pick up your snacks."

I started to move toward the door.

"Ellie, look..." Dean started.

"We'll figure out another way. And Dean, I'll get my vacation. But not today. Not like this."

Sighing, he nodded, tossing me the keys to the Impala. Heading out, I drove to a Gas n' Sip to pick up the requested snacks for Charlie.

"Afternoon, ma'am," the man behind the counter greeted me.

"Hi," I nodded, grabbing some snacks and putting them on the counter. "There we go."

"That'll be all for you?"

"Uh, yeah, that's it."

"Okay, then. That'll be $15.57."

As I pulled the money from my wallet, I noticed the tattoo on the man's wrist that matched the one Charlie had drawn.

"You heading home or just passing through?" he asked me.

"Just passing through," I replied, looking up and noticing the dead clerk in the mirror behind the counter. "Must get awful lonely out here all by yourself."

"Oh, I get by," he answered as I pulled out my gun, pointing it at him.

"Don't move. Hands where I can see them."

"Don't you want your change?"

He threw the change in my face and another man grabbed me from behind.

"Now who might you be?" the man from the counter pointed a knife at me.

He noticed the Mark of Cain on the arm the man who'd grabbed me had twisted up behind my head.

"Well, hello there," Counter Man smiled at it. "Where'd a back-road nothing like you get their hands on something like that?"

"What's it to you, Mr. Styne?" I spat.

"My friends call me Jacob," he informed me.

"Well, I ain't your friend."

"Those wouldn't be for another little red-headed girl, would they?" Jacob nodded at the snacks. "Y'all hid the Book, didn't you? Lead-lined little number, I'm betting."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"You don't? See that?" he pointed at the clerk's body. "That man back there, well, he said the same thing as all the other truck stops and gas stations up and down the way. Nobody had seen that other redheaded girl. And then a different redheaded girl bearing the Mark comes in here, to me."

He grinned, running his blade along my jaw.

"Well, there's coincidence, and then there's just providence. See, 'The Book of the Damned', it wants to be found. It wants to come home. Let me guess. You want to use it to get that gift off your arm, don't you? Power is wasted on the weak. Now the Book... can remove the Mark. But you mess around with that, you're gonna do far more harm than good. So, why don't you do the right thing here, girl, and tell me where that Book is."

"Yeah, sure, I'll tell you," I said, mumbling something incoherently.

"One more time. I didn't hear you," Jacob leaned in close to me.

"I said..." I headbutted him, knocking off the man holding me.

Diving to the ground, I grabbed my gun, rolling to my back. Pointing the gun up, I shot the man who'd been restraining me. It wasn't until I'd emptied the full clip that he finally went down. When I got to my feet, Jacob had vanished, and my cell phone was broken.