17 Moons- Hunt For The Stolen Child (1st Night)

--- Jon ---

“You holding up okay?”

“As well as can be expected.” He admitted, watching as they loaded an unconscious Ms. Valentine into the ambulance.

Even if he didn’t have to cover his and Pix’s magic by leaving a few superficial wounds, Pix’s magic wouldn’t have been able to do anything for Ms. Valentine’s blood loss given how her concept of ‘mending’ worked. It could ‘mend’ almost anything, but if something had been conceptually separated -such as spilt blood- then the concept could do nothing to repair it.

“I figured as much.” His ma sighed before watching him for a moment. “You know they think you saved her life.”

“Mm-hmm.” (I know I did.) “Any idea where Kenneth might be?” After dealing with Ms. Valentine, he hadn’t been able to find the toddler, and while his every instinct demanded he find the child, he was fully aware that if Kenneth had been taken, he’d be running in circles without a lead. (Doesn’t mean I’m not going to track him down the moment I have a lead.)

“No, but whoever attacked Sarah probably took him.” His ma confirmed. “In which case the most likely suspect would be her ex, Kenneth’s father. Not that that asshole deserves to be called one from what I’ve heard.”

“Do they have any idea where he is?” He asked, feeling something in the back of his mind beginning to ache.

“Not at the moment, but we’re looking.” His ma assured him as a silence fell over them, during which one of the EMS medics came over to talk to them.

“You were the one who treated Ms. Valentine’s injuries before we arrived, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, wondering why else he could be covered in blood without the police trying to haul him in.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that she seems to have mostly stabilized thanks to whatever that salve you used did.” The medic told him. “That said, policy demands that we have to ask where you obtained a medicinal salve of that potency. Normally we’d leave something like that to the detectives on site, but with an active patient things become a bit of a more immediate concern.”

He pretended not to notice the way his mother seemed to focus a bit more on him upon hearing that as he came up with a valid excuse.

“I’m a counselor at this summer camp out in Blackwell. It’s run by a magic user, and she makes all of these medicinal potions that she likes the counselor’s to carry in case anything happens at the camp. There were a few left over in the end, and she saw no reason to confiscate them.” He explained, pointedly not mentioning the part where he’d been the one to brew that particular concoction, “If you need, I can give you her number to ask about the salve.”

“That’d be appreciated.” The medic nodded, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed his ma lose some of the tension in her shoulders.

He knew his ma had an issue with most Deviants, but at the same time Miss Edna was something of an exception to this rule since she’d been a family friend for over a decade. And while his ma might not trust most Deviants to have common sense, she at least trusted Miss Edna enough to give the openly magical woman the benefit of the doubt on this kind of thing. (Which means it’s a good thing that Miss Edna would lie to cover for me on this kind of thing.)

“So, Edna’s still doing her whole magic thing?” His ma asked once the medic was done.

“Yep.” Was all he could really say as he watched the ambulance pull away, as the ache in his head grew stronger now that his main focus had left.

Sighing, his ma ran a hand down her face as another silence began to overtake him. “You know we’ll find them, right Jon?”

“I know we will.” He admitted, as the thing in the back of his mind began to pace.

“We will.” His ma repeated as she clasped a hand on his shoulder in what he vaguely recognized as her attempt to try and comfort him.

Despite his ma’s efforts another silence ended up falling over them, as felt a familiar tension beginning to run through his body, one he’d grown so used to living with in Blackwell.

Eventually his ma let out another sigh before patting his shoulder. “I need to get down to the station, see if I can’t get them to let me on this case. You’ve had a rough day, so why don’t you head upstairs and try to get some sleep, kid.”

“Right.” He nodded, before turning back to the apartment building feeling the thing begin to claw at the ground beneath it.

“Jon.” His ma stopped him. “You, know I’m willing to listen whenever you want to talk about it, right.”

“I know.” He promised, feeling the warmth in his chest pushing the thing back a step.

His ma watched him for another moment before nodding and making her way over to a nearby car where a pair of officers were milling about.

For a brief moment he considered letting his ma and the police find Kenneth, after all they were the professionals and he was the one who wanted to live a normal life. Something that hunting down a missing child was not exactly conducive to, and-

(Yeah, no.) He was not going to abandon a little one if he had the power to do something about it.

(But that doesn’t mean I can just rush ahead with no idea what I’m doing.) He reminded himself, the ache in the back of his mind doubling down to the tune of a growl he couldn’t place as real or in his head.

(Let’s see, since this guy just hospitalized Ms. Valentine he’ll probably try to lay low, assuming that he might’ve killed her. Meaning I’ll have to find wherever he’s hiding if I want to find Kenneth.) He began planning as he started up the stairs to his apartment.

(Alright, unlike the thing with Rosalind I didn’t witness the kidnapping, and I don’t have anything I can track, which when combined with the more densely populated city means I can’t pull the same trick I did with my tracking arrows back in Blackwell.) If he did the police or Sanctuary would be called to deal with the crazy randomly firing arrows into the sky, so they can fall towards the populated city streets.

Instead he was going to have to treat this like an actual investigation, rather than something he could settle in a single evening. (As much as I wish I could...)

He just knew everyday that Kenneth was missing was going to eat him up on the inside.

Pushing that thought away, he instead started thinking of ways he could try and learn Kenneth and his abductor’s location

(Alright, ma said Kenneth’s father is the most likely suspect, and since Ms. Valentine hated talking about her ex, I don’t have much to work beyond the fact that he was one of the Dealers’ lower dregs.) He considered that for a moment. (Then again as one of the main gangs of the district, they’ll probably have plenty of gang houses for their members to lie low at. Houses I’m sure I can convince them to tell me about if I’m persuasive enough.)

Unfortunately, while that was likely the most stable way of going about this, it was also the one most likely to draw attention, something his Ma had always warned him away from during their tactics exercises.

(I suppose I could also see if Wolf can track Kenneth’s scent, I doubt we’ll get too far, but at the very least she might be able to find him I can narrow down his possible location a bit.) He’d just have to see how good the magical canine’s tracking things down on that front.

(And if I’m already bringing magic into this, I should see if there’s anything I can use at the Witch’s Wares to help find Kenneth.) After all he had Hunter as his primary affinity, so he was sure he could find something that could help him, even if it was just instructions on how to make something for himself.

He was sure there were a couple of other options he was overlooking but what he had was enough to get him started.

Sadly, despite how much he wanted to get started all of his best options were currently invalidated, given how the police -some of whom actually knew him- were still wandering around the Valentines, the late hour almost ensuring that the Witch’s Wares was closed for the day, as well as the fact that even if he started hunting down gang members they wouldn’t know anything yet.

Stepping into his apartment and closing the door behind him, he banged his head against the painted door of the wood, as forced himself to remember that Kenneth’s father probably wouldn’t hurt him after going to such lengths to get a hold of the toddler.

(Not that that’s going to stop me from ripping his throat out with my teeth.)

The Beast howled in agreement.