The Soul Collector

Ch. Forty-Nine

"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

                                                                              ***

Galloway parked in a dismal, abandoned factory on the outskirts of Kansas City. She had been driving long enough that the blood from the poor people at the diner was dry and itchy on her skin. Her hands in her lap, she sat for a moment, shaking.

Then, she made the mistake of looking at Sirius.

Her stomach heaved and she scrambled out of the car. She made it about two steps away before her dinner made a second appearance. By the time she was done, she was sweaty and shaking. Turning, she found Sirius standing by the car, looking uncertainly in her general direction. 

"I can't remember the last time something made me sick like that," she croaked.

"It's the smell," he said, voice quiet.

As soon as he mentioned it, she wrinkled her nose against the combined scents of old copper and something that was disturbingly like barbeque.

She looked down at her hands, at the brownish-red splattered all over her arms, then looked at Sirius. The right side of his face had been turned into a charred, bleeding mess by the silver powder still burning and cutting into his flesh.

Galloway shuddered and walked over to him. "Come on," she said, sliding her arm around his waist. "Let's find someplace we can get cleaned up."

He didn't argue, draping an arm over her shoulders as she guided him through the factory and out into the night. The stars were old in the sky, but they still had a few hours to go before daylight.

She led them down the more abandoned side roads, not wanting to test her ability to make someone forget two people covered in blood. Sirius kept trying to touch his face, but she stopped him. "It'll only make it worse."

His fingers tightened around her shoulder. "It burns."

"Just a little longer," she said, heart aching.

He stumbled over a buckle in the concrete, showing he still hadn't recovered his sight. Tightening her hold on him, she resisted the urge to pick up her pace. It wasn't really necessary when they rounded a corner and she let out a long breath of relief.

"Can you tell me which one is vacant?" she asked, pitching her voice so low she nearly couldn't hear it.

Sirius tilted his head toward her and she grasped his chin, turning his face toward the row of motel rooms facing them. She looked across a slab of pavement to the darkened manager's office that was separate from the building where people actually stayed. Even if someone was in there, they wouldn't see her or Sirius on the far side of the building.

She led him to the farthest rooms, and Sirius let her move him past three doors before he came to a dead stop. He reached out tentatively until his fingers found the wood of the door and he listened for a moment. "This one."

Galloway stepped toward him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist before darkness snaked around them and he pulled them through the door. She shuddered and brushed at her face, trying to get rid of the unpleasant sticky sensation his little parlor trick always left her with.

Sirius was whining, his teeth clenched and the side of his face smoking slightly. Galloway's stomach lurched again, but she shoved the feeling to the side, helping him to the bed. Placing her hand on the side of his face that was less damaged, she said, "Hold on. Let me get a washcloth."