The Soul Collector

Ch. Twenty-Four

"It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood."

- William Shakespeare

                                                                             ***

Galloway curled into a ball on the couch, staring blankly at Sirius' closed door. Her heart thudded painfully in her hollow chest as her thoughts spun wildly out of control. She wanted to scream, but settled for a sigh and raking her hands through her disheveled hair, wincing when she managed to pull out a few strands.

She tried to still her thoughts, but her mind had other plans as it dredged up the more horrifying memories of the last two days, then moved beyond that to pull up any event she had ever regretted in her life. Galloway knew that would be a long slideshow and decided to just take Sirius' advice.

She needed some time with someone she could trust one hundred percent and that would certainly describe Logan. Besides, some distance would help bring everything into focus. She wanted a little perspective more than anything else right now.

Standing up, Galloway hissed as pain drove through her hip like a railroad spike. Gingerly peeling her shirt away from her body, she sighed when she saw the small trickle of blood sliding down her pale skin. The temporary bandaging was so soaked it looked black in the low light. She yanked her shirt back down with a grimace and knew Logan was going to be pissed when she showed up on his doorstep bleeding.

Again.

She limped to her bedroom and stared around blankly for a moment. Then, she dove into her closet, pulling out a duffel bag. She threw a few changes of clothes in and some toiletries, letting her motion dull her mind.

When she had finished packing, Galloway trudged to the front door before she turned and looked at Sirius' room. She bit her lip, hesitating before she decided that she was really tired of always being sneaky.

It didn't matter either way. If he needed to find her, he would.

She stalked across the living room as best she could with the way fire screamed down her leg with every step and threw his door open, ready to snap out what her plans were. She stopped dead when she found him curled up in the middle of the bed, breath soft and peaceful.

His ears twitched at the sound, but otherwise he didn't stir, his black coat blending in to the shadows. Galloway stood in the door, her mouth hanging open. She puzzled over why he was sleeping in his wolf form, until an extremely odd thought struck her.

She wondered if he didn't dream that way.

Once, when they had been driving through the endless stretches of trees in Idaho, Sirius had told her that being in his wolf form usually brought a little more clarity. It numbed the feelings present in his human side as the more animal part of his brain was allowed to take over and offered a sheltered harbor from unruly emotions. He had told her that, essentially, a Hellhound in his animal form was a perfect soldier. They possessed all the intelligence of a human with all the viciousness an animal is capable of.

Aside from a capacity to think and a penchant toward hyper-aggression, all other human traits were muted in that form.

She took a few tentative steps into the darkness, coming to the edge of the bed, but her movements faltered when he didn't move so much as a muscle, his breathing still steady and deep. He looked so peaceful that she couldn't bear to disrupt that. She envied him his dreamless sleep.

Moving with extreme care—not really understanding why she needed to do it—Galloway gently stroked the back of her knuckles along the silky fur of his face, then down his neck. She grew still when he shifted slightly, but all he did was roll into a tighter ball, his tail wrapping snugly around his nose. She blinked as his outline seemed to flicker and blur, blending seamlessly with the darkness around him.