Phantom Carver

You don’t have to stay in the hospital overnight, thank God. Hospitals creep you the hell out. When the nurses get your blood pressure back to where it’s supposed to be, they let you know that two FBI agents are waiting to speak with you. They don’t have to tell you they’re the same two men you saw standing outside your ambulance. You’re tired, but you’re pretty sure you can’t get out of this.

Besides, you’re hoping for the chance to see Sam again. He sure didn’t dress like an FBI Agent the day he saved your butt from a nasty fall down the library stairs.

“Do you want me to stay?” Jonah asks when the nurse says she’s going to let the agents in.

You nod.

When Sam walks into the room, your heart jumps a little. You can tell by the way he looks at you that he recognizes you, now. “Hey,” he says. He tilts his head. “How’re you holding up?”

The other one steps in behind him and looks at you like he doesn’t want to be there. That’s okay because you don’t want him there, either.

Sam gestures toward him and clears his throat. You catch his quick glance at Jonah. Both men pull badges from their inside pockets and flip them open just long enough for you to read “FBI” before they stash them away again. “I’m Agent Stark, and this is my - uh, partner, Agent Banner.”

“Hi,” you say. Something feels weird about this, and you’re not sure if you should bring up your last encounter. Agent Banner’s staring you down with his nose slightly upturned and eyebrows crooked. It’s not a good vibe. Last time Sam told you he was passing through with his brother, but these guys have different last names.

“She already told the police everything,” Jonah says, standing up beside your bed.

Sam - or Agent Stark - nods at Jonah but looks at you. His eyes are soft. Agent Banner straightens up, clears his throat with a hoarse cough, and looks at Jonah. “Do you mind if I speak with you for a minute out in the hall?”

Jonah looks at you. You look at Sam. Something about the way Sam’s eyes wait for your approval makes you nod at Jonah.

Sam clasps his hands in front of him as he lets Jonah pass. When the door closes and they’re gone, he moves to the side of your bed and sits in the chair.

“I didn’t know you were FBI,” you say, feeling a little foolish with your college-kid crush on this out-of-your-league government official.

Sam lowers his head. “Uh,” he clears his throat again. “I’m not. Not really. That’s my brother, Dean.”

The confusion on your face presses him to continue.

“We’re investigators, that part’s true. We hunt things. Bad things that most people don’t believe in.”

You’re still confused. What does this have to do with the professor?

“I need to know if you saw anything else, anything that may have left or disappeared from the crime scene.”

You shake your head. “Like what?” Thinking about that bathroom again speeds up your heart rate. Your skin starts to feel hot and cold at the same time.

Sam leans forward to take your hand but you pull away. He stops. “I know this is overwhelming. I know that you’ve been through hell today.” He pulls a handheld device out of his pocket to show you. He switches it on. “It’s an EMF detector. It picks up changes in the magnetic field. See it’s not really doing anything right now, so this room doesn’t have any ghosts. But back at your school building, the readings were off the charts.”

He places it in your hand and the moment it touches your skin, it squelches and lights up. You look at Sam as your heart hugs your throat. “What’s it doing?”

Sam gulps. “We think what happened to your professor was supernatural.” He nods at the glowing lights. “I don’t want to scare you, but... You’ve come in contact with something, [Y/N].”

It’s heavier than you expected, not that you know anything about EMF detectors. Your knuckles turn white as your body works against your will to drop the thing.

Sam gently takes it back and switches it off.

You search his face.

He tucks the EMF detector back in his jacket. “I need you to think. Anything you can remember will help us. We need to know what we’re dealing with so we can stop it from happening again.”

“Is this what... Is this what you were doing last time?”

Sam nods. “We had a case. It may have been related; we’re not sure.”

You shake your head. “I don’t... I don’t remember anything else.” The tears are pooling, now. You hate horror movies and you never watch them for a reason.

“It’s okay. Here,” he says, and reaches for his wallet.

The back of your hand starts to sting. You try to ignore it at first, but it doesn’t stop. You make a fist and press your hand into the blankets. “Ah,” you whimper, grimacing.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks. He’s pulled a business card from his wallet.

“I don’t know, ow!” It’s searing hot, now. You tuck your hand under your arm and try to apply enough pressure to stop the pain, but it doesn’t work.

“You’re bleeding,” he says. He pulls your hand from under your arm.

It feels like an invisible blade is slicing into your skin. Carving. Sam’s eyes harden and his temple pulses as he stares. When the cuts finally cease, you wrap your hand in the blankets. Screw the blood. That shit hurt!

“Have you seen those marks before?” Sam looks like he has just seen a ghost.

You don’t know what he’s talking about. You unwrap your hand and wipe some of the blood away. Your heart thuds against your chest.

D. W. S. W.

“Oh, shit,” you breathe.