A Broken Light

Jace's memory of the event that changed his life ran in slow motion, but in reality everything happened quickly, and in the blink of an eye his world turned upside down.


Experienced hunters of the supernatural, the Bennett brothers moved cautiously through the night. With the full moon hidden behind a thick bank of clouds, they were handicapped by the lack of light as they made their way through the tangled underbrush still wet from an earlier storm. Jace cursed when a branch Wade pushed out of the way sprang back, showering him with a fine spray of cold water. Frowning, Wade glanced over his shoulder, and motioned for Jace to be quiet.


In that split second of distraction, the creature they hunted stopped running and turned on them, surging out of the shadows; a thing born of the night howling with blind fury and anguish. Wade whirled around, but too late; the beast hit him low, taking the elder Bennett brother down with a growl of murderous intent. Rendered immobile by the unexpected appearance of the werewolf, Jace stared in shock, watching the pair tumble into the thick underbrush and out of sight.


He came back to his senses already in motion. "Wade! Goddammit." Jace tried to run in the direction they'd rolled under the plants, struggling through wet foliage that tangled around his legs and slapped his face. Cursing, he couldn't get free of the undergrowth. It clutched at him, holding him back, keeping him from reaching Wade.


The sounds of the fight became more intense just before a gunshot ricocheted through the night, followed by another. Heart pounding, Jace broke free of the underbrush and found Wade sitting spread-legged, a huge tree supporting his back, head slumped. At his feet, the werewolf, reverted to human form, lay dead on the ground. Fierce relief surged through Jace as he rushed to drag the naked body into the dense brush surrounding the tiny clearing. With the body hidden, Jace turned back to face his brother.


Wade didn't move, not even to lift his head. Pale moonlight broke through the cloud cover filtering through the tree branches. It played over Wade's white-blond hair but did little to illuminate his face. Jace couldn't make out Wade's expression, and a chill of premonition crawled along Jace's spine. Wade never sat around after a successful hunt. Pumped with adrenaline, he loved to relive the adventure, talking a mile a minute. He left it to Jace to remember the monster had once been human and somewhere a family had lost something irreplaceable. Father. Mother. Child. Jace felt killing someone, even when circumstances left no other choice, seemed little reason to celebrate. Jace understood Wade's need to distance himself from the human aspect of some of the nightmares they hunted, but this kill brought none of his usual post kill antics. Wade sat silent watching Jace from under the fall of silver bangs.


Jace's initial relief at finding the werewolf dead and Wade alive leeched away. "Wade?" He dropped to one knee at his brother's side, the damp of the leaves seeping through Jace's jeans chilled his skin. Wade didn't look up. In silence he turned over the arm lying on his lap to reveal torn leather and bloody shredded skin.


Bitten.


"Oh fuck, Wade. Oh fuck." Jace trembled, his heart racing in panic. "It's okay. It doesn't look bad. I'll get you back to the car and when we get home we can..." The feel of a gun being pressed into his hand quieted Jace's babbling. No. Jace's lips formed the word in silent protest. His frantic eyes met Wade's. The brothers locked gazes for a long moment.


"You know what to do." Wade's voice remained rock steady. His good hand gripped Jace's arm, hard. "I'd do it for you."


Blinded by tears that refused to retreat no matter how furiously he blinked, Jace nodded. The next cycle of the moon would transform Wade into a howling, murderous beast. Werewolf. Knowing there were things worse than death made pulling the trigger possible, but three months later the sound of the gunshot still echoed in Jace's mind. Shaken, Jace wiped a rough hand over his face, forcing himself back to the present. Three months later, the quagmire of memory still sucked him in for hours at a time, replaying those last moments as if reliving it could create a different outcome. Instead, inside the torture chamber of his own mind, Jace shot his brother.


Over and over again.


Jace stared at the bottle of liquor standing next to his empty glass. The contents had become his constant companion in the months since Wade's death. Now the alcohol glowed amber in the last rays of the sun, an unfilled promise of forgetfulness in the warm depths.


The headache came in a bright flash, sapping his strength. The signs of the onset of a vision were unmistakable. Jace slumped in the chair gripping his temples, attention focused on the bottle of whiskey. The color of the alcohol enveloped him, filling him with warmth and a sense of coming home unlike anything he'd ever experienced.


Jace's usual visions weren't so vague. He didn't always remember what he saw but they were visions, not sensory experiences. This time it felt more like he'd touched a pleasant person than a prediction of the future. Not that Jace touched many people. As a touch empath, avoiding skin to skin contact had become a way of life for him. For the most part people were miserable and no one felt all warm and glowy. Left shaken and uneasy, Jace grabbed the bottle and went to pour its contents down the sink. If the alcohol gave him hallucinations it had to go.


As the bottle emptied, Jace looked out the window over the sink; the full moon hung low in the night sky, reflecting round and bloated on the dark surface of the lake. He and Wade had grown up on the hundred acres clinging to the side of the mountain, the wilderness their training ground. Most hunters lived and worked alone. His family had been an anomaly.


Their parents loved each other and felt no hesitation about having children. Introduced from the crib to the ugly world of the supernatural, the five years between the brothers meant little to their parents in terms of training. Despite their parents' point of view, Wade had been consumed by a sense of responsibility from the first time he laid eyes on Jace and watched over him obsessively.


I'd do it for you.


Jace hadn't believed Wade. It would have been more like him to drag Jace home with plans to lock him in a cage every full moon despite their pact. Their nights had often been filled with discussions about what to do if the unthinkable happened. When the idea of a cage came up, they'd both rejected it as too risky and so the pact between them had been born.


They promised to "do what had to be done" if one of them got infected by a werewolf, vampire or any other 'turn you into them' type monster. The agreement had turned out easier said than done. Only knowing that if left alive Wade would have found a way to end his own life kept Jace sane.


Growing up had been a series of adventures, but they'd been isolated by necessity. Homeschooled, home trained. Jace's social skills beyond the bounds of family were practically non-existent, and he'd lost everyone in the last six months. First his parents to vampires and three months later, despite his promises to always stand between Jace and the world, Wade died too. Jace fought the feeling of despair whispering to his heart. The one telling him he had no reason to live. He focused on the one thing he had left. Killing monsters. He turned away from the window and went to get his gun.