Mercy

The building was dark. Abandoned. Decaying stones that were covered in moss still held faint engravings from the days when hymns were sung inside the church, but the statues had been torn down.

"What happened here?" Jacob whispered.

Credence flexed one shoulder, scuffling as close to the shadowed wall as possible. "Witches gathered here. The building was locked and the heathen's sins were purged."

Jacob stepped back hard against the archway. "They burned everyone inside?"

The brow of Credence's hat concealed his eyes. "That's what Mother said."

Exhaling shallowly, Jacob stared at the crumbling, blackened steeple. "Why would a wizard come here?"

Hunching, Credence kept walking. For an instant Jacob pictured him in a blue coat. The same skittishness was there, and the sense that he was holding back a confidence that could storm the Muggle world. Yet whereas Newt was obtrusive and irrational, Credence Barebone was …

Shaking his head, Jacob gave up. The kid was an enigma. He couldn't pin anything on him.

"Here," Credence whispered from ahead. He pulled aside a chunk of brittle wood and Jacob blinked as a faint, white glow illuminated the path before him.

There was no light in the windows.

Staggering closer, he peered over Credence's shoulder and squinted. The building was just large enough to hold fifty people without cramming. The benches, the hymnals, the organ, and anything representing a religious service was gone. Ash and bone had caked into the ground over time. The only modern anomalies in the room were so out of place that the scarred walls seemed to loom above them like a poised Obscurus.

Twin chairs rested back to back, lashed together at the legs. Iron chains entwined the occupants, looping around the throat of the dark-haired prisoner.

Credence's eyes flickered and his jaw worked soundlessly. Jacob himself looked between the chairs and the wizard encircling them, and blinked three times just to be sure.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

There were two Grindelwalds in the room.

Jacob instantly recognized the dark wizard. Poised, preying, pacing methodically with a silver-tipped wand balanced between his fingers. He paused behind his twin, in front of the bowed, tousled blond head that had to be Newt, and spoke in a low tone.

"Which one is the real Grindelwald?" Jacob hissed. He cringed in pity for the second prisoner. Flaking dry blood gave the man's face a ghoulish quality. He had no coat or shoes, or even a suit coat, and the recent rain had matted his hair to his skull. His clothing was as worn and cheerless as their wearer.

"Credence?" Jacob whispered, jolting the boy so thoroughly that he gave a full body flinch and melted against the shadowed wall. Jacob wondered if this would have been Newt had the kid been raised among Muggles for most of his life.

Probably not. Newt would never have survived.

"Who is he?" Jacob mouthed, pointing down at the bound wizard.

Credence's breath hitched. "I don't know," he said so softly that Jacob had to cup both ears. "I – I thought he was – but how – I don't know!"

Giving a short, frantic "Sh!" Jacob pressed himself harder against the wall, breathing in rapid, indistinguishable pants as Grindelwald glanced at the entrance. 'Don't breathe, don't think, don't you dare twitch!' he tried to say with his eyes.

The boy was jumpy, but he had smarts. Credence didn't even shiver as dark eyes raked their hiding place. The moment Grindelwald turned his back to them once more, Jacob slid into a crouch. His back throbbed in relief.

"You still haven't explained your intentions here, Mister Scamander," Grindelwald said faintly. Jacob leaned forward, straining to hear. "Let's start over."

The civility of the dark wizard's voice was better associated with a chat over coffee. Jacob wet his lips, remembering the peaceful intrusion into his apartment, and raised his fingers to his ears. He'd sooner deafen himself than fall for that trick again.

"You're going to tell me what you're doing in America," Grindelwald continued in the same even tone. He resumed the relaxed pacing of a mongoose cornering a garter snake. "What could Dumbledore possibly want with a few unmemorable creatures? Why did he really send you here? Don't tell me it was Theseus who put you up to this. We know all about your tricks, Mister Scamander."

An unintelligible mumble followed. Jacob closed his eyes. At least the kid was still talking.

Tilting his head, Grindelwald leaned his weight on his right foot and casually squeezed his captive's wrist.

Credence flung himself down outside the doorway, dragging Jacob with him, pinning down the larger man as a hoarse yelp rattled in the empty church.

"Leggo!" Jacob hissed, rolling to his hands and knees. If he had a gun – one bullet – one brick even to slam into that conniving, black-eyed skull –

"You can't!" Credence pleaded, his fingers digging into his hair as he crouched.

It wasn't the boy's fright that prevented Jacob from flinging himself back into the charred building. His knees locked of their own accord and he collapsed soundlessly, cursing his helplessness.

"He – He'll kill us," Credence whispered. "He's p-powerful. You can't go inside!"

If he'd been a general, Jacob would've have cuffed the boy for his cowardice and shoved him back into position. If he'd been a doctor, he'd have shaken him and challenged his manhood, 'cause men were butchered on every side and no one had time to fall apart.

But he wasn't a soldier. Not anymore. And some kids like Credence and Claude didn't deserve another beating.

Shooting air past his teeth, Jacob rolled to his knees and crawled to the shivering boy. "Hey. Hey, listen. C'mon, put your head up."

He'd said this before. To Stephen. Poor kid managed to lock eyes with him for thirty seconds, before the shards in his belly ruptured an artery and he bled out under Jacob's hands.

He'd been just as scared.

"Credence, it's okay," Jacob whispered. Words he wished he could've said long ago. "You don't have to do anything. I'll go get him. Just stay down."

A few more seconds hidden in the trench, and Stephen might have walked home.

Jacob never made the same mistake twice.

"K-kay," Credence stuttered with the obedience that was whipped into many unfortunate children. He lowered his eyes, relief off-balancing the shoulders that cringed under guilt, and Jacob felt like a fool.

He was injured, unbalanced and still grieving over Bill, and here he was hunting a wizard, trying to save two kids and yet another stranger, and tracking down a suitcase full of exotic pets. And they said the army prepared you for everything.

At least Jacob knew how to do one thing.

He soldiered on.

Back to the hole in the wall he crept. He crouched, straining to listen, as the dark wizard released his grip on Newt's curls and let the bruised head dip. Jacob's lungs burned and his teeth clamped into his tongue.

"I'll let you think about it," Grindelwald said.

"You don't need him," the lookalike wizard urged. "He's untrained. He can't even –"

"He means something to Albus Dumbledore, and that gives him credence," Grindehwaud stated. "If he's powerless, then he's still collateral. We'll see how MACUSA reacts when the Muggles find you tomorrow morning."

"Muggles?" the other wizard repeated.

"Ah, that's right," Grindelwald said, tapping a finger against his temple. "American expressions. Let me make this simple for you, Mister Graves. Three hours from now a magical novelty is going to split this town. I don't mean metaphorical. You think the Obscurial are extinct? I know how to unleash one. And when I'm through with the good citizens of New York – the No-Maj's, in your terms – who will they have to blame?"

He waved his arms grandly at the sootened husk of the church. "Wizards, Mister Graves. One Muggle steps through the front door and your chains will fall free. You'll probably make it out; it takes them a while to get organized. But your friend here? They'll need someone to blame for the destruction, and who better than the menace in the blue coat?"

"So it's my life or his," Graves ascertained.

"No," Grindelwald corrected with a flaring point of his right hand. "The real ending is where you run… or they hang you both." He shrugged in mock pity. "It's war, Mister Graves. You can't save everyone."

In the harsh silence, Jacob could hear the skitter of cockroaches on the walls. Dawn would soon drive them into the shadows.

He was running out of time.

"There is one alternative," Grindelwald contemplated, swiveling deliberately on one heel. Methodically he approached Newt and crouched in front of the Brit. Like the serpent's coaxing on the day Jacob nearly betrayed his friend, the dark wizard's voice was soothingly gentle. "Dumbledore was a friend to me once. He taught me something. Mercy."

"The only mercy you know is the killing curse," Graves said harshly.

"I know what it's like to lose a friend," Grindelwald continued in the same hushed tone. "The last thing I want is to give Albus what's left of his favorite student. I'm going to give you another chance, Newt. You can come with me now. You can leave this building and never be hurt by Muggles again. We'll talk with Dumbledore together. He'll listen."

Rasping breaths filled the silence, before Newt's shaken voice shredded the hypnosis left by the serpent's tongue. "I'll never be one of your fanatics."

Sighing, Grindelwald straightened, looking down piteously at the bound wizard. "Suit yourself, Mister Scamander. In three hours this sepulcher will be full of Muggles. The wizarding world will be exposed and you'll be the only one they have to blame. You can take my side or you can take my fall, but you'll help me either way."

He turned on his heel, raising his hand in passing, and Graves hissed as the chains clinked and shifted.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," Grindelwald called over his shoulder. He was a shadow's length from the charred double-doors. Jacob squeezed his eyes shut and crossed his fingers.

The scuff of boots crossed the threshold.

Gasping, Jacob raised his head. Twelve seconds he counted, one for each of the dark wizard's strides, before he threw himself inside the burnt hole in the wall.

Crawled was a more apt word, for it was a grueling combination of flailing, flopping, and toddling that brought him to the center of the room. Graves gawked, flabbergasted but wisely silent as Jacob dropped to his knees beside the wizards and seized the chains.

"Where's the lock? Ain't there a lock on these? Gotta be a lock."

"How did you get in here?" Graves whispered. "Why the devil didn't you use the front door?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome for the rescue," Jacob muttered. He gave up on the chain and crouched in front of Newt, brushing filthy curls out of the Brit's face. "Hey, wake up, kid. C'mon, don't lose it on me now."

The Brit sighed, but didn't open his eyes. He'd been smacked around again, by wand or fist Jacob didn't need to know. He'd punch Grindelwald's face in the next chance he got.

"Just go to the door and come inside properly!" Graves hissed, straining to look over his shoulder. 

Jacob grunted. Sure, expect compassion from the wizard whose identical twin had pulled Newt into this mess in the first place.

"At least me your name," Graves said, changing tactics. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Buddy, you with me?" Jacob urged, bracing Newt's drooping head in one hand while yanking on the chain with the other. "I didn't save you from Ol' Mary Lou for Grindehwaud to finish the job."

There was a terse sigh from Graves. "It's Grindelwald," he corrected. "How did you know where to find us? Who else knows we're here?"

Jacob didn't even hear him. He exhaled raggedly as hazel eyes cracked open and Newt lisped, "J'cob?"

"Yeah, it's me," Jacob said. If there'd been any chains of fear clinching around his heart, they slithered into the dark as he grinned.

"Fire'scape fell on you," Newt remembered uncertainly.

"Yeah, well it takes a lot more than that to kill me," Jacob said. "I work in a canning factory, remember?"

Apparently the Brit didn't get the joke. He wriggled slightly, frowned at the chains, and peered at Jacob expectantly.

Just like that the big brother feeling was back. Zealously Jacob followed the chain around the two wizards, seeking the padlock. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," he promised Claude – okay, Newt. "How bad are you hurt? Think you can walk?"

"M'fine," Newt mumbled, blinking sluggishly. "J'st a scratch."

"Boy, you sure know how to underplay everything," Jacob muttered. He searched the chain's length, frustrated to find it seamless. "How am I supposed to get this off?"

"Try walking through the front door," Graves intoned.

"Jacob, who else is with you?" Newt murmured.

Stunned, Jacob glanced over his shoulder. He hadn't even heard Credence shuffling inside. The teenager stopped, rubbing his arm, deliberately avoiding Graves' eyes as he glanced between the floor and Newt's left shoulder.

The Brit had drawn out a crippled starling after all. Somehow Jacob wasn't surprised. Beast or not, every hurting creature knew they could trust Newt.

"He's one of Bill's kids," Jacob said offhandedly. "Their mother's gone. He helped me find you."

"How many?" Newt asked. He yelped as one tug jostled his arm, and Jacob hastily released the chains.

"Uh… he's got two siblings," Jacob said quietly.

"The Barebone family?" Hazel locked onto Jacob, and he saw nothing of the fear he expected. Any rabbit should be scared of the lioness's cubs.

Jacob paused, head tilted in awe. "How'd you know?"

"Does it matter?" Graves interrupted. "A few hours and he'll be a target, the same as the rest of us. If either of you would listen for one moment, you'd take my word and reenter through the front doorway. Any No-Maj can trigger the wards."

"He's not a No-Maj," Newt whispered.

"Huh?" Baffled, Jacob leaned in closer.

"He's magic." Newt continued to look over his shoulder, neck tilted just enough that he could see Credence out of the corner of his eye. Jacob glanced rapidly between them.

"You mean I'm the only Non-Magical in the room?" That seemed unfair.

"The boy?" Graves said doubtfully. "What makes you think he's a wizard?"

"Because I've seen someone like him before." Newt turned his head further, the strain reflecting in his eyes, and Credence swallowed.

Jacob wasn't a good judge of people, but he knew what trust looked like. The same broken faith he'd seen in a blue-coated Brit shone despairingly in the coal-dark eyes of a boy who wavered alone.

Maybe it was that glimpse of trust that made him believe he wasn't going to be pummeled into tiny pieces as air whumped into his ears and the floor crunched under the force of a thousand charcoal whips. Tempest crackled in shades of red, and Jacob realized this was probably the last thing the martyrs of the church saw before fire consumed their sight.

And he realized Grindelwald wouldn't have to draw the No-Maj's to the church after all.

The monster had already found them.