Bad Moon Rising

Well I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm Going Home-Daughtry

Emmett

The first sense to come back to me is an annoying throbbing behind me ear where Blunt had knocked me unconscious; it was pain enough that I didn't really want to open my eyes at first. The second sense was hearing—a man was talking close by me, maybe a few feet away, though the blood rushing in my ears keeps it all indistinguishable. The third sense was sight, everything blurry and distorted at first, like looking at the world through a warped window. The pain in my head settles to a dull throb instead of the prominent one it had been when I woke up, and my vision has cleared. The man talking was a tall man dressed in an expensive suit with long, blonde hair tied out of his face. He wasn't actually talking, he was mumbling to himself about some problem or another, I realize dimly.

"Damn that woman." I smile proudly, guessing that the woman he was frustrated with was my wife. She could be as stubborn as a mule sometimes and I love her for it. The man's hands clench into fists as he looks out the window, grinding his teeth so hard that I can hear it two feet away from him. Using his distraction, I mover my wrists a little, finding them cuffed securely behind my back. The man hears the soft sound of the cuffs moving and looks down at me with a frown. "You're awake sooner than I'd thought you would be." His voice has a faint accent, maybe French. "I suppose you are wondering why I've decided to pick on your little family."

"Do psychopaths have a reason for anything I do," I rasp with a glare. The man shrugs, looking out the window once more for several moments, letting the silence grow uncomfortable. I struggle openly now, knowing the man could see what I was attempting plainly and if he couldn't he was blind. "Where is my wife?" He gives a great sigh, like talking of Sarah was a terrible inconvenience. "Where the hell is my wife; what have you done to her?!"

"The whore is in her bed upstairs, sleeping soundly with a little help from the laudanum I put in her morning orange juice." He pauses for a beat as though considering something. "Did you know she was pregnant? She's only just beginning to show, but the way she vomited randomly throughout the day made it quite clear to me that she was." I swallow thickly around the lump in my throat. "I suppose it doesn't matter, I'll have her killed the moment she wakes up anyway, and you're going to watch the whole thing." He kneels on the floor next to me, studying me intently. "You look nothing like my brother described you; you're much better looking. That's why I picked your family, by the way. You murdered my insane brother and now I will murder your family in front of you."

"Ivan."

"That's right, Detective. We can't choose our family, but we do tend to be protective over them nonetheless." With a calm smile, the man draws his fist back and strikes hard—his fist connecting with my mouth, splitting my lip and cracking my front tooth. I struggle harder in the cuffs; the unforgiving metal cutting into my wrists and making them bleed as the man continues his attack.

Blake

I grin at the bloody mess that had once been Emmett Fields' face. "Your wife was such a bad hostage," I gasp, shaking my hand slightly, "I'm afraid I had to punish her." I laugh at Fields' angry expression, patting his shoulder harshly. "She enjoyed every second of it, begging for more. You're little daughter was taught respect as well, she learned that when she misbehaves it's the back of my hand she must answer to." Fields' eyes grow aflame with anger and the scent of blood fills the air both from the cuts on his face and what the cuffs were doing to his wrists.

"You bastard; I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

"Unchain him; I want to see what he is truly capable of in a fight that could mean his death and the death of his family." One of my men steps forward with the key, the only of my men allowed in the room with Fields and I. The rest are all in Baltimore taking short break before they had to get ready to work first thing in the morning. The moment he's released, Fields charges forward, hands outstretched and aiming for my neck—he meant to kill me and we would see if he could come morning.

Sarah

Staying awake was a conscious effort, the laudanum in my system fighting to take control, but Blake had overlooked one important aspect—my body is used to this dosage and it would take much more to completely knock me out like he had hoped. Blake had told me his plan in detail as I feigned sleep, one of his hands curling around my throat and turning my head so he could see my face as he bragged about how he would take great pleasure in drawing out Emmett's death before cutting his throat and leaving him in an alley behind the same tavern my delirious brother had been found. "Over my dead body," I grumble, leaning against the wall a moment until the room ceased its spinning before continuing to the door. "Blunt," I yell," Blunt, there's a snake!" I'd heard shouts of the same plea only two days before, the cold weather driving them towards the only warmth for miles.

Blunt slams the door open, looking around wildly for the reptile. "I don't—" I don't give him a chance to finish speaking, taking his moment of confusion to push him as hard as I could—his head hitting the edge of the vanity before he collapses, unmoving, to the floor. Not taking any chances, I run over to him and grab the pistol in his hand before sneaking out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs and the sounds of struggle. The sight that greats me is a horrifying one, Blake is standing over Emmett, who looks worse for wear, but no less determined despite his position. In Blake's hand in a knife, the same one I had used on his yesterday morning; in fact, his blood is still crusted on the silver blade.

I raise the pistol and take aim, sound making me wince and the gore making me queasy. Blake stands still for a moment, frozen, before he drops; the bullet in his skull doing its job. I collapse on the last stair, shaking and crying and Emmett limps over and pulls me close to him, whispering comforting words in my ear.