Xandra: My God, another update. Yay, go me! *claps for self* Okay, now, in
all seriousness. I've changed the formatting of the story and gone back to
edit most of my mistakes out of the other chapters, so now here's the key
to help clarify what you see:
{{"Singing"}}
{"Unheard/outer-worldly voices"}
The two of those used to be the same thing, but it didn't make sense, so I divided them according to some of my newer stories. Okay? That's done. All of the formatting info is on my profile for those who don't recognize things. For anyone who's read the newly uploaded old chapters, complete with edits, and are thinking 'what is she talking about?' don't worry, this applies to my older readers. All right? Enjoy, because this one is good!
****
The Devil's Triangle: Trapped on the Obsidian Rosemary
By Xandra
Chapter Four: Madness
****
Trowa ignored the soft giggles that echoed through his ears as he carried the brunette victim down the hall, wrapped in a mottled blanket with the other four coverings stacked neatly on his stomach. He was pale and shaking, and every time that innocent giggle rang out, he chuckled to himself, weakly, and every time it sounded all the more unstable. //I shouldn't have listened, I shouldn't have listened!// his mind chanted, the terrible mantra making him want to shrivel up and die. If Duo was really hurt, that guilt would be on his conscience for the rest of his life.
//Calm down,// he thought, slowly. //Be rational. Ghosts cannot harm people...he's just unconscious...//
A cold wind struck his back and he shivered, but it didn't slow him down. The last thing he needed was to be confronted by the little beast that had done this. He kept on going.
He climbed the dark stairs and headed silently down the hallway, his candle glowing like a beacon in the thickness of the black evil he felt closing in around him. As he marched down the hall toward the ballroom, he was relieved to see the glows of other candles, and the faces around them, reflecting the light. It was reassuring to know that they were all still there, still safe.
He stepped into sight and they all turned to stare at him, but Heero was the first to react.
"DUO!" With amazing speed, the perfect soldier bolted to his side, a look unlike any other he had ever worn on his face. It was caught between terror and fury. He snatched the youth from his friend's arms.
Trowa sighed as Quatre bounded up, worry written all over his face. "Trowa?"
He didn't say anything. What COULD he say? 'Sorry, Duo was attacked by a ghost because I let him out of my sight'? Not a chance!
Heero carried his koi to the couch, where he knelt and laid him down, touching his cheek momentarily before standing upright and turning to Trowa. The look in his eyes made the green-eyed pilot start. "You let him get hurt," he growled, his hands curling into fists at his side, shaking violently. The flame of Trowa's candle seemed to reflect in his eyes, the effect transforming him into a mortal demon, fury radiating off of him in waves.
He thought one thing as the other took a step toward him. //I am going to die.//
"I trusted you to protect him!" Heero bellowed, his voice echoing and jarring dust from the columns holding the ceiling up.
"Heero, calm down!" Quatre cried, stepping between his lover and his friend with determination on his pale features. "What good is getting angry going to do?"
"It will make me feel better." With that, he knocked the blonde out of the way, sending him staggering to the side, only to overbalance and fall to the dusty floor. He grabbed Trowa by his throat, lifting him cleanly off the floor without any visible ounce of effort, then shook him hard enough to make his head snap back, painfully. "WHAT. HAPPENED. TO. DUO. Tell me now, or I swear, I will start breaking your bones one by one."
"I don't know," he choked. "I-I left him alone..."
"WHAT?!" Heero roared. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO *PROTECT* HIM FOR ME!"
Trowa couldn't think of anything to defend himself with. His mind was starting to blur--probably from lack of air--and he was beginning to panic, a rare reaction to anything. He couldn't breathe and he had a very dangerous man angry with him!
Suddenly, with a growl, Quatre tackled Heero from the side, knocking him to the floor. In reaction, he released his captive, sending him flying in another direction. The two rolled across the floor, the larger attempting to strangle the smaller other man.
Trowa landed hard on the wooden floor, his head ringing as he gasped for air and struggled to reclaim his senses. He was dizzy and all he could do was sit by and watch through hazy vision as his beloved fought for his life after making such a dumb move. "Heero, stop it!" he cried. "Don't hurt him, PLEASE!"
Suddenly, Quatre was pinned to the floor and the soldier ripped his handgun from his waistband and cocked it, pointing it right at the blonde's forehead. Cerulean eyes widened in terror.
And then, the dizzy, green-eyed man saw a dark figure loom over Heero. He knew it wasn't Wufei--he wore white--but who could...
"Stop."
Trowa came to his senses and blinked. "Duo," he sighed.
The dark-haired mercenary looked up at his boyfriend, who was as white as a ghost and wobbling on his own feet, eyes at half-mast. He had to grip Heero's broad shoulders to keep from falling down. "That's...enough...stop now."
"Duo..." Disregarding Quatre completely, he disarmed his gun and stood up, catching the braided baka before he could lose his balance. His voice unstable, commanding roar dropped to a worried whisper, he asked, "Are you all right? What happened?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but instead, he sneezed. "Eh-chew!" His head fell forward against Heero's chest. "Ohhh, that huuurt..."
The Winner heir got up and dusted himself off, then made his way to Trowa, who shook his head violently to regain his vision. He knelt and offered him a hand. "You all right?"
"Why did you do that?" he asked, instantly.
Quatre smiled and shook his head, as if he'd just been asked the dumbest question in the world. "Did you expect me to stand by and let him kill you?"
"Well..." He blinked. "I guess not..."
"See, there you are." The blonde offered him a hand up, which he accepted.
His koi pulled him to his feet and the two of them slowly approached the old couch, where Duo lay, sneezing up a storm with his hands clasped over his mouth, Heero kneeling at his side with worry all over his face.
It was as if he HADN'T almost killed his best friend moments ago. Trowa winced as he fingered the sore spots on his throat--ones, he knew, would become deep bruises. He was already having trouible swallowing from those alone. The thought of how Heero could have crushed his larynx unnerved him to no end. It had been a LONG time since he'd felt he couldn't trust the other ex-pilot, but the apprehensive suspicion had been reawakened, despite all else. Heero had almost killed him.
"Duo, just relax. You're not going anywhere."
"B-but I--eh-chew!--left the s-supplies in the hall! I--eh-CHEW!--oww. I g- gotta go get 'em!"
Heero shook his head, brushing his sweat-drenched bangs from his face with one hand while palming his chest with the other to keep him down. "I'll get them."
"Oh NO you will NOT!" Quatre shouted, suddenly. Everyone looked at him and he scowled, pointing accusingly at the soldier. "YOU need to stay RIGHT HERE. NO ONE ELSE is going down there, you hear me? Every time someone goes down there, something strange happens and NOW someone's been hurt! We can do without the damn blankets and we have enough candles to get us through to the morning."
Cobalt eyes narrowed, dangerously, and that eerily threatening air returned. "HE needs a blanket, if not several, and if I can get some from down there, I will go THROUGH you to make sure he's safe."
Trowa raised his hands. "Stop it!" he croaked. His throat hurt and his voice was weak as a result, but it still had a good commanding tone to it. "I brought the damn blankets he dropped with us." He pointed to where they'd fallen, and they remained there, unfolded and thrown about, but they were there.
The dark blue eyes softened and darted away from the blonde man, who huffed and rolled his eyes, bringing a tired hand to his forehead. "Duo," Heero said, softly, gently stroking his cheek affectionately with his thumb, "What happened to you?"
He sniffled, and, as Quatre lit another candle and set it on the floor nearby, the fact that he had no color to his face became apparent. Save his flushed cheeks, he was as white as a ghost.
A ghost. Trowa shuddered, silently.
Duo tried to speak, but something in his eyes seemed to be fading, and with every breath his eyes began to dart around in his head, as if he were afraid of being attacked. His mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out, and he began to squirm.
Heero pinned his best friend with the coldest stare possible, then turned soft eyes to his lover, gently holding him down as he began to shake and move around. "Shhh, it's all right. Just lay down." He accepted a blanket offered by the Winner heir and draped it over him.
The braided boy agreed with a soft whine and laid back.
"Now, Duo," he asked, slowly, "what happened?"
"It was dark and...th-there were sp...spiders...I moved and...scared...t- that m-man..."
Heero's eyes narrowed.
Quatre gulped.
Trowa frowned.
"...and he said I was...and...fire...he..."
"What? He WHAT, DUO?"
Kneeling, Quatre shoved Heero away from him before he could get angry again, kneeling down and taking the babbling brunette's hand, as if it were his key to safety from the dark wrath of the other. Heero backed down, but only slightly. "Don't rush him," he whispered. "He's in shock, and I think he might have caught a chill on the Jade Prince..."
"A chill!" Duo echoed, softly. "I-I-I...a ch-chilllll..." His eyes dimmed further--he looked ready and willing to close his eyes and never open them again.
Trowa blinked as he examined him again. That was right! He'd jumped overboard to save Quatre in the storm and stayed in his wet clothes! He was wearing them NOW, and it had been pretty cold all day. He could catch pneumonia that way! Why hadn't he told anyone?
With a soft pat to his cheek, the blonde boy whispered; "Duo."
"Quaaaatre?"
"Yes, Duo. Duo, wake up. Stay awake. Don't sleep."
"I'm tyyyyred."
"Shhh, quit that. Now, tell me about this guy. Did he hurt you, Duo?"
The green-eyed onlooker nodded his silent approval. Quatre was studying child psychology, so he knew a good deal about how to talk to the unresponsive and confused. Another useful trait in his angel to add to the huge list.
Duo blinked a few times. "N-no...he said...I was...was..."
"Was?"
"B-beautiful..."
Heero's eyes were ablaze, but the rest of him stayed completely listless, save the brief twitch at the corner of his mouth that nearly became a snarl. If one weren't observant, he would look unaffected. But he was far from. He was furious.
"He said that, huh?" Quatre looked at Trowa, who nodded, urging him on with a small shooing gesture. He nodded in return and patted his friend's hand. "Who was this?"
"M-Mich--ell."
"Mitchell?"
"Uh-huh...h-h-he was a...an-gel...a ice angel...he k-kissed me..."
The young millionaire, still clutching his hand, looked at Heero. NOW the anger was obvious, but so was the worry and annoyance. After all, how did one go about punishing the dead for such an act?
His voice steadied to a normal tone and pitch, as if everything was normal, but the words were morbid ones. "He kissed me, nice and soft, but it was so cold I died...I'm dead!" He grinned, frighteningly. "Shinigami is dead! The GOD of DEATH is DEAD! That's FUNNY!" And he laughed.
Heero gave Quatre a gentle but commanding nudge and he retreated, allowing the perfect soldier a shot at the raving boy. "Why did TROWA"--he spat the name as if it were poison and the Silencer withheld a hurt wince--"leave you alone, Duo?"
"I wanted to be ALL by myself so I could be a big boy!" he cried, suddenly, sitting up. He grinned and lowered his voice to a soft, childlike whisper. "I'm a big boy now, Mommy...I'm a big DEAD boy!" Suddenly, Duo began to cackle, and all three other pilots jumped a measure.
The little girl's giggle rang out.
Jerking his head up to look around, Trowa saw no trace of the shadowy poltergeist and heard no hint of her music. Just that one giggle, and then all was silent.
Heero lost it, immediate paranoia all over his expression as he leapt spryly to his feet. "What...the HELL...was THAT?"
"The little girl," Trowa said, surprised as he found his partner's voice echoing his in perfect sync. They exchanged a brief, startled glance between them.
"Little girl, little girl!" Duo cheered, suddenly, kicking his feet like a child and cackling insanely. Heero held him down on the couch, but it didn't stop his laughter.
"Duo! DUO! Get a HOLD of yourself, damn it!"
"Heero, DON'T!" Quatre cried. "She did something to him!"
"SHE? The little girl ghost you people have been raving about? Did SHE do this to him?" He got up and glared at the red corridor that lead to the residential area. "If she did ANYTHING to him--!"
"She did nothing but scare him," a nasal voice spat, suddenly. Wufei stepped from the opposite corridor and descended the steps to approach them. "It's a natural reaction to sensory overload--his nervous system is out of whack from the chill he's no doubt come down with, and the smallest scare could send him into delirium, and if he encountered another ghost, it was bound to be more than a small one. Between that and the fever I'm quite sure he's suffering from, he does seem pretty well insane."
Trowa raised an eyebrow as the others stood silent. "I thought you worked with corpses."
"I'm still a doctor, corpses or not."
"And exactly HOW long were you standing in there before you decided to come out?" he asked, dryly.
Wufei glanced down at Heero, arms folded, dark eyes silently berating him into the floor. "Before Duo saved Quatre's life from this weak-minded, weak- hearted foolishness."
He didn't react.
The Chinese forensic scientist shooed he and Quatre away from the couch and Duo, kneeling and taking his wrist in his hand. He tapped a place on the delirious man's hand and he immediately calmed down while Wufei took his pulse and put a cautious hand to his forehead.
The others looked on in concern and worry, remaining as still as death throughout the short examination.
Finally, he turned and looked at them. "A moderately high fever, and the lymph glands along his throat are swollen from fending a developing cold off. He caught a chill after jumping ship back on the sailboat, then disregarded it completely, as he's used to doing with such things. I would assume his body set to work fighting it off so he could function without a hitch, but the glands reached capacity with unnatural speed and he's suffering for it." He gestured Quatre to the blankets, which he brought quickly, then covered the patient with another one and tucked the edges under him to keep him somewhat still. "He'll sweat out the fever tonight if we can keep him warm enough, and by tomorrow morning, he'll be better-- he'll probably have the sniffles."
Trowa sighed, folding his arms across his chest as a cold breeze rustled across his back. "Better that than this, I suppose."
"Better indeed, an acute delusional fever is a dangerous thing. He's bound to be unstable until it breaks, so we have to keep right here and make sure he stays warm and still." He looked at Heero. "Are you getting any of this, Yuy?"
He nodded, solemnly.
Wufei's eyes seemed to reflect brief concern, but the annoyance was more prominent. "Good, because he's your responsibility and no one else's. And as for your fit at Trowa...you should be ashamed of yourself. A grown man, throwing a temper tantrum and attempting to kill others over something so trivial--honestly, I wonder how you can sleep at night."
Before it could escalate into yet another violent encounter, Quatre stepped between them, shaking his head. "No, stop. It's that dark force again, preying on our emotions and pitting us against each other. That's the last thing we need, trust me--we have to stick together or we'll never make it out alive." He looked at the dull-eyed Deathscythe pilot lying on the couch before him. "I think we've proven this already." He lifted his eyes. "So, we've established that there is at least one ghost, if not several. No one has been attacked while with another person, only alone, meaning that they'd prefer not to be seen by the mass, so if we stay together as much as possible, we should be all right for now. I think we ought to search around a bit tomorrow, though, and keep a good eye out for anything suspicious. NO ONE leaves this ballroom until morning, am I clear?"
Trowa and Wufei nodded, obediently, but Heero just sighed in defeat.
Quatre nodded. "Good," he sighed. "We should try to get some rest now-- tomorrow, we find a radio and start in on this ship. TOGETHER."
**** ~
In the dark of night, when all five intruders were asleep, a familiar specter watched them, poutingly.
{"Oh, they won't play my game!"} the soft voice whined. {"I want them to play my game!"}
Her music box in hand, she shuffled through the air to the couch in the ballroom, where she stood herself on the back to look around. Two lay on the floor in each other's arms, the taller one the man that had talked with (or yelled at) her in the hallway after the boy on the couch played with Mitchell. There was the boy that Toby talked to, the one who had Jake, and there was the one that was so mean he wouldn't play at all. Then, there was somebody new. He was laying with Mitchell's friend.
She grinned, impishly, and held up her music box as the lid lifted slowly back to reveal the rotating black gem. {"You can come play with us now."} With that, she floated away.
~
Heero's eyes snapped open as his acute hearing detected the faintest sound of metal vibrating, chimes sounding softly in the distance in an odd tune. At first, he thought he'd imagined it, but that didn't help him disregard the thought. He'd already been told of the music box the little girl carried with her, the eerie tune she played on it, and the evil 'games' she insisted on playing. The moment he heard the sound, it took everything he had to keep from moving to follow it. Instead, he peered at the form cuddled up to his, making out the soft, childlike features through the gloom, and sighed.
Wufei's scalding words flashed into his mind. /'...He's your responsibility and no one else's.'/
If he left, Duo would be open to an attack by that evil creature or her minions--by that MITCHELL he had raved about. He didn't want that.
And then, as his eyes passed over the serene faces of the others, he recalled what had been discovered. The ghosts didn't attack groups or pairs, and besides, all of them were close at hand, Wufei in one of the overstuffed chairs nearby and Quatre and Trowa intertwined on the floor. Duo was safe here--as safe as he could be, in fact.
But he would be safer if his protector had an idea of what to expect from this thing that had threatened him.
The song rang out from the forbidden corridor, the soft, childish chiming like that of a toy piano, and that eerie giggle rang out.
That did it. Carefully removing Duo's arms from around his barrel, he gripped the headrest above him and pulled his body into an upright position, then spun around and set his socked feet on the floor. The air was ice cold and bit into his skin uncomfortably like millions of little glass shards, but thankfully, he was wearing jeans, so it wasn't so bad. He tucked his sleeping beloved in again as he shifted into his abandoned spot, unconsciously taking advantage of the warmth of the indent, greedily. He rolled his eyes. //You can be so selfish at times,// he thought, wryly, brushing his bangs from his face. The baka nuzzled his hand as it came within range and he smiled, briefly, before reclaiming his sneakers and heading off to find the little beast that was behind all this.
~
It didn't even occur to him that his being alone might draw more attention than hers. She giggled. {"Now...now we can start the REAL game."}
~
The soldier marched silently through the dark hallway, refusing to bring a candle out of stubbornness and distaste at the thought of being discovered breaking the 'rules.' He didn't need Quatre to give him a speech or go insane and beat him into the floor with one of the articles of ancient furniture. That was a HIGHLY undesired outcome.
The music led him on through the dark corridors, and every time he heard that giggle, he fingered his handgun tensely, ready and willing to shoot a hole in the ship's hull if it would rid it of the creature hiding in the darkness. The further he traveled, blindly feeling along walls for doors and corners, the more he cursed himself for not bringing a candle, but the longer he walked, the more he noticed the glittering always simple feet away from him. He was being led somewhere, he knew that much. She was playing mind games, THAT was for certain.
Finally, he came to another hallway, this one lit slightly by the presence of an open door on the right wall with a porthole within. It looked like pale moonlight, but it was funny, the fact that he hadn't seen that light through any of the other portholes he'd passed on his journey. It screamed of a trap, but he was armed.
The glitter he had seen remained ahead of him, but now, it was a shine, the light reflecting off a small, golden box with a large black gem in the center. It was an oxymoron in itself, technically impossible--to have light refract through an opaque jewel with no color--but it happened, reflecting little glowing shadows on the walls and floor, and barely visible on the edges of the little box were pale little hands with cute little pink fingernails.
He had a brief flash of the girl whose death he'd caused, but he shook it off. This was a different spirit, a real one, not one conjured by his mind in a moment of weakness. "Enough games, little girl," he said, tonelessly. "Why are you doing this to us?"
She giggled and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck go rigid, but he didn't back down. Instead, he squared his shoulders, straightened his back and waited for the response--which never came.
Annoyed, he stepped toward the glitter, but it moved away and faded into the blackness, along with the music. Without that distraction, the bright light pouring through the open cabin door drew his eyes once more, but he fought the temptation to enter and moved to go back.
And a figure blocked the light from within, casting a monstrous shadow across the floor and onto the wall.
He froze and his eyes darted back, his hand moving cautiously toward his gun, but the figure was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Still, he was hooked now. No mere little girl, ghost or not, could cast a monstrous shadow like that. He recalled hearing Quatre rave about a man with a knife, then being told of 'Mitchell,' the male spirit that had robbed Duo of his health and sanity, if only for a short while. Somehow, he had a feeling they weren't isolated incidences. This bastard, who or whatever he was, was going to do some explaining, even if it meant the soldier shooting HIMSELF and kicking his ass on his OWN field.
Cautiously, Heero paced to the wall and followed it to the open door, drawing his weapon from the waistband of his pants, then whipped around, aiming it into the room with every intention of shooting at the first movement.
He was met with a child's cabin, empty with dust-covered toys strewn about here and there and a pair of unmade beds.
Sighing, he lowered the gun slightly with a quick glance around to make certain he was alone, then approached the little bed, carefully using the toe of his sneaker to lift the sheets away from the undercarriage. Nothing there, thankfully. He checked the second too, but it was the same case. With that done, he glanced around, then checked the open door's number. A tarnished number fifteen met him, and he noted it.
And then, he recognized the uncomfortable presence against his thigh. It had been ever-present, but he'd been so busy for the last few hours that he'd forgotten it completely. Quickly delving into his jeans pocket, he retrieved the unlabeled book he'd borrowed from the wheelhouse.
The Voyage Log! He skimmed through it quickly to the last trip, then located room number fifteen and checked it.
# 15--TOBIAS JAMES (aNb JaYK)
He frowned, thoughtfully, as he pocketed the book. A child had meddled with this book--the child who had resided in this room, no doubt. Tobias and...Jake? Why had he been lead here?
Something caught his sharp senses and set him on edge again, and he quickly reentered the room, immediately detecting the scent of blood in the air. He traced it to the little beds, and sure enough, in the one furthest from the door, there was a large spot of brown on the sheets. Wrinkling his nose in distaste for the sight and odor, he threw the sheets back further and took a seat on a clean space, running a cautious finger over the spot where the stain was deepest. It was roughly the size of an encyclopedia, having seeped right into the mattress itself, and sure enough, when he reached the focal point of the entire mess, he found a damaged section of sheets that went right into the bed, about four inches deep and two long. He found another not too far from the first, and another not far from that. There were at least five of them.
Heero scowled in disgust. Someone very small had been killed here, stabbed to death in this very bed. A child had died here. Quatre had spoken of seeing a child killed by a man with a knife when he'd come back from this area, and now that he was more alert and logical, he spotted a candle like the ones they had in the ballroom sitting on a small chest of drawers. Yes, this was the room, and now that little boy had a possible name. Tobias James. //Repulsive.//
A sudden loud creek jerked his attention elsewhere, to a door he hadn't noticed before, which suddenly sat ajar.
This screamed of trouble--but it wasn't the only thing that screamed. A blood-curdling shriek rang through the room without warning, sending the dark-haired man onto his feet, his gun cocked and held pointed toward the partially-open door. The sound of such a cry might have terrified others, but it hadn't scared him too much--because he knew it was a memory from what had passed, the scream of that child as he died in this room. It made him nauseous, but he had read enough about ghosts to know that violent ones, poltergeists, brought their pasts with them sometimes. This murderer ghost was close by.
Already, the air was growing cold, and goosebumps broke out across his skin, but he didn't waver for a minute. He kept the gun on the door, slowly pacing away from the beds toward it. The icy feel around him continued to grow stronger, until he reached out to touch the doorknob. It scalded his skin, it was so cold, but that meant one thing--there was a ghost nearby.
Before he could open it, however, another sound drew his attention. One inside the room with him. A chuckle pulled his attention away from the door and back to the bed, and lo and behold, there stood the hazy shadow of a man, towering over the bed, a sharp implement extending from his right hand.
Heero cocked his weapon, watching the form as it brought the knife up above its head, turned toward him as if staring at him.
The chuckling started out soft, but slowly elevated in strength and volume until the room was filled with bone-chilling, insane laughter. "Come play!" a strong voice growled, laughingly. "Come play with me."
Knowing he had little chance of fighting this thing and coming out unscathed, the youth stepped back and pulled the door open, stepping inside the next room with a quick glance around, then shut the door and backed away from it.
Even with the murderer in the next room, this one was colder. Why was that?
{{"Mmmmm ..."}}
He whipped around and froze, eyes wide, his gun aimed, as a soft, feminine voice began to echo around the room. It wasn't the little girl, he realized, as he listened. There was no music, no soft giggle--it was more mature. The voice of a woman, humming quietly to herself. He couldn't see her, but her voice was there, and it began to sing...
{{"Fare thee well my dear, I must be gone and leave you for a while/though I roam a~away I'll come back again/though I roam ten-thousand miles, my dear/though I roam ten-thousand miles..."}}
He blinked, slowly glancing around, the presence of the poltergeist in the next chamber completely slipping his mind. Where was that voice coming from?
{{"How fair though art, my bonny lad/so deep in love am I/and I never will prove false to the bonny lad I love/till the stars fall from the sky, my dear/till the stars fall from the sky..."}}
Curious, he knelt down on the king-sized four-poster next to the door he'd come through and crawled across its width to peer over the edge at the floor nearest the porthole window.
There he found the singer--a young woman, sitting with her knees pulled up into her chest, her grand gown spread out around her in a sea of white frills, long hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders like liquid copper, reflecting the dim light beautifully. She sat there all alone, singing softly, eyes closed, and her voice lulled him to no end, to the point that he nearly abandoned the gun still clutched in his hand in favor of listening to her.
{{"The sea will never run dry, my dear/nor the rocks ever melt with the sun/but I never will prove false to the bonny lad I love.../till the stars fall from the sky.../till the stars fall from the sky..."}} She began to hum her melody again for a moment, rocking gently from one side to the other.
"What a pretty song," he heard himself say, absently.
She paused and peered up at him, and he almost gasped at what he was faced with. What a pretty girl, too! She looked barely older than he was, twenty- one at the very most, with eyes so wide and filled with life that she couldn't have EVER been human. She smiled softly at his surprise. "I didn't know I had an audience, but I'm glad you enjoyed my singing." She giggled and reached her hand back over her head to him.
Dully curious, he accepted it, and he was dully surprised to find it was resilient, but soft and warm, not at all callused by hard work. This--this was a real lady. "Who are you?" he asked.
She smiled. "What a silly question!"
"Humor me," he insisted.
"I'm Sarah, of course!"
//Sarah...// "Hello, Sarah."
She giggled, softly. Everything about her seemed very delicate and lovely-- and yet, at the same time, she was fragile. Like a sculpture. One blow and she would cease to be. It would be so easy to do--he could destroyer her completely without even a tiny bit of effort.
And it would be fun.
He shook the sudden sadistic thought off and she blinked at him.
"Is something wrong?"
"N-no..." What was he doing here anyway? Why had he come? And why did he keep getting the feeling something was wrong here? "I-I should go."
"Why? Have I done something wrong?"
Before he could answer, however, the childlike shriek rang out and he jumped off the bed, leaving her behind to stare after him as if she hadn't heard it. He slammed the main door open and burst into the hallway, his handgun clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white from blood-loss and his fingers ached.
The little girl's giggle echoed around the residential corridor, but he wasn't going to run from her. She was causing all this, he just knew it. Somehow, she was behind it all.
"Come play with me!" she cried.
/'Come play with me.'/ The murderer had said those exact words to him.
His mind's intelligent thought-processes completely abandoned him, leaving a primal need for survival in its place, raw and dangerous. He spotted the glittering of the black jewel up ahead of him and took a shot at it without thinking, but it faded out. That didn't stop him, though. He fired into the darkness several more times before he could finally find the sanity to stop. Tired and flirting with the idea of losing his mind right there, Heero collapsed to his knees, the gun falling from his weak hands, which flew to his ears as two songs broke the eerie silence.
{{"Fare thee well my dear, I must be gone and leave you for a while..."}}
{{"Come with me to my special place/come to me, let me see your face..."}}
Voices around him were slowly seeping into his mind, and he felt all rational thoughts spinning out of control. It felt as if his head would implode if they didn't stop. "Shut up!" he shouted, fighting to keep a hold on himself. Every thought, every voice was painful. And it wouldn't go away. "STOP it!"
//'Where are you?'//
//'Come play with me!'//
//'What's happening?'//
//'Where are you, Richard?'//
//'What are you doing?'//
//'Let's play a game!'//
"Play!" the girl shrieked above them all. "You will PLAY with me! PLAY WITH ME!"
And then, a new voice came into his mind, and it brought a deadly calm to him as everything flooded away. It brought the ultimate answer, the one action that could stop this terrible pain.
//Kill them,// it said. //Kill them ALL.//
****
TBC
{{"Singing"}}
{"Unheard/outer-worldly voices"}
The two of those used to be the same thing, but it didn't make sense, so I divided them according to some of my newer stories. Okay? That's done. All of the formatting info is on my profile for those who don't recognize things. For anyone who's read the newly uploaded old chapters, complete with edits, and are thinking 'what is she talking about?' don't worry, this applies to my older readers. All right? Enjoy, because this one is good!
****
The Devil's Triangle: Trapped on the Obsidian Rosemary
By Xandra
Chapter Four: Madness
****
Trowa ignored the soft giggles that echoed through his ears as he carried the brunette victim down the hall, wrapped in a mottled blanket with the other four coverings stacked neatly on his stomach. He was pale and shaking, and every time that innocent giggle rang out, he chuckled to himself, weakly, and every time it sounded all the more unstable. //I shouldn't have listened, I shouldn't have listened!// his mind chanted, the terrible mantra making him want to shrivel up and die. If Duo was really hurt, that guilt would be on his conscience for the rest of his life.
//Calm down,// he thought, slowly. //Be rational. Ghosts cannot harm people...he's just unconscious...//
A cold wind struck his back and he shivered, but it didn't slow him down. The last thing he needed was to be confronted by the little beast that had done this. He kept on going.
He climbed the dark stairs and headed silently down the hallway, his candle glowing like a beacon in the thickness of the black evil he felt closing in around him. As he marched down the hall toward the ballroom, he was relieved to see the glows of other candles, and the faces around them, reflecting the light. It was reassuring to know that they were all still there, still safe.
He stepped into sight and they all turned to stare at him, but Heero was the first to react.
"DUO!" With amazing speed, the perfect soldier bolted to his side, a look unlike any other he had ever worn on his face. It was caught between terror and fury. He snatched the youth from his friend's arms.
Trowa sighed as Quatre bounded up, worry written all over his face. "Trowa?"
He didn't say anything. What COULD he say? 'Sorry, Duo was attacked by a ghost because I let him out of my sight'? Not a chance!
Heero carried his koi to the couch, where he knelt and laid him down, touching his cheek momentarily before standing upright and turning to Trowa. The look in his eyes made the green-eyed pilot start. "You let him get hurt," he growled, his hands curling into fists at his side, shaking violently. The flame of Trowa's candle seemed to reflect in his eyes, the effect transforming him into a mortal demon, fury radiating off of him in waves.
He thought one thing as the other took a step toward him. //I am going to die.//
"I trusted you to protect him!" Heero bellowed, his voice echoing and jarring dust from the columns holding the ceiling up.
"Heero, calm down!" Quatre cried, stepping between his lover and his friend with determination on his pale features. "What good is getting angry going to do?"
"It will make me feel better." With that, he knocked the blonde out of the way, sending him staggering to the side, only to overbalance and fall to the dusty floor. He grabbed Trowa by his throat, lifting him cleanly off the floor without any visible ounce of effort, then shook him hard enough to make his head snap back, painfully. "WHAT. HAPPENED. TO. DUO. Tell me now, or I swear, I will start breaking your bones one by one."
"I don't know," he choked. "I-I left him alone..."
"WHAT?!" Heero roared. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO *PROTECT* HIM FOR ME!"
Trowa couldn't think of anything to defend himself with. His mind was starting to blur--probably from lack of air--and he was beginning to panic, a rare reaction to anything. He couldn't breathe and he had a very dangerous man angry with him!
Suddenly, with a growl, Quatre tackled Heero from the side, knocking him to the floor. In reaction, he released his captive, sending him flying in another direction. The two rolled across the floor, the larger attempting to strangle the smaller other man.
Trowa landed hard on the wooden floor, his head ringing as he gasped for air and struggled to reclaim his senses. He was dizzy and all he could do was sit by and watch through hazy vision as his beloved fought for his life after making such a dumb move. "Heero, stop it!" he cried. "Don't hurt him, PLEASE!"
Suddenly, Quatre was pinned to the floor and the soldier ripped his handgun from his waistband and cocked it, pointing it right at the blonde's forehead. Cerulean eyes widened in terror.
And then, the dizzy, green-eyed man saw a dark figure loom over Heero. He knew it wasn't Wufei--he wore white--but who could...
"Stop."
Trowa came to his senses and blinked. "Duo," he sighed.
The dark-haired mercenary looked up at his boyfriend, who was as white as a ghost and wobbling on his own feet, eyes at half-mast. He had to grip Heero's broad shoulders to keep from falling down. "That's...enough...stop now."
"Duo..." Disregarding Quatre completely, he disarmed his gun and stood up, catching the braided baka before he could lose his balance. His voice unstable, commanding roar dropped to a worried whisper, he asked, "Are you all right? What happened?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but instead, he sneezed. "Eh-chew!" His head fell forward against Heero's chest. "Ohhh, that huuurt..."
The Winner heir got up and dusted himself off, then made his way to Trowa, who shook his head violently to regain his vision. He knelt and offered him a hand. "You all right?"
"Why did you do that?" he asked, instantly.
Quatre smiled and shook his head, as if he'd just been asked the dumbest question in the world. "Did you expect me to stand by and let him kill you?"
"Well..." He blinked. "I guess not..."
"See, there you are." The blonde offered him a hand up, which he accepted.
His koi pulled him to his feet and the two of them slowly approached the old couch, where Duo lay, sneezing up a storm with his hands clasped over his mouth, Heero kneeling at his side with worry all over his face.
It was as if he HADN'T almost killed his best friend moments ago. Trowa winced as he fingered the sore spots on his throat--ones, he knew, would become deep bruises. He was already having trouible swallowing from those alone. The thought of how Heero could have crushed his larynx unnerved him to no end. It had been a LONG time since he'd felt he couldn't trust the other ex-pilot, but the apprehensive suspicion had been reawakened, despite all else. Heero had almost killed him.
"Duo, just relax. You're not going anywhere."
"B-but I--eh-chew!--left the s-supplies in the hall! I--eh-CHEW!--oww. I g- gotta go get 'em!"
Heero shook his head, brushing his sweat-drenched bangs from his face with one hand while palming his chest with the other to keep him down. "I'll get them."
"Oh NO you will NOT!" Quatre shouted, suddenly. Everyone looked at him and he scowled, pointing accusingly at the soldier. "YOU need to stay RIGHT HERE. NO ONE ELSE is going down there, you hear me? Every time someone goes down there, something strange happens and NOW someone's been hurt! We can do without the damn blankets and we have enough candles to get us through to the morning."
Cobalt eyes narrowed, dangerously, and that eerily threatening air returned. "HE needs a blanket, if not several, and if I can get some from down there, I will go THROUGH you to make sure he's safe."
Trowa raised his hands. "Stop it!" he croaked. His throat hurt and his voice was weak as a result, but it still had a good commanding tone to it. "I brought the damn blankets he dropped with us." He pointed to where they'd fallen, and they remained there, unfolded and thrown about, but they were there.
The dark blue eyes softened and darted away from the blonde man, who huffed and rolled his eyes, bringing a tired hand to his forehead. "Duo," Heero said, softly, gently stroking his cheek affectionately with his thumb, "What happened to you?"
He sniffled, and, as Quatre lit another candle and set it on the floor nearby, the fact that he had no color to his face became apparent. Save his flushed cheeks, he was as white as a ghost.
A ghost. Trowa shuddered, silently.
Duo tried to speak, but something in his eyes seemed to be fading, and with every breath his eyes began to dart around in his head, as if he were afraid of being attacked. His mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out, and he began to squirm.
Heero pinned his best friend with the coldest stare possible, then turned soft eyes to his lover, gently holding him down as he began to shake and move around. "Shhh, it's all right. Just lay down." He accepted a blanket offered by the Winner heir and draped it over him.
The braided boy agreed with a soft whine and laid back.
"Now, Duo," he asked, slowly, "what happened?"
"It was dark and...th-there were sp...spiders...I moved and...scared...t- that m-man..."
Heero's eyes narrowed.
Quatre gulped.
Trowa frowned.
"...and he said I was...and...fire...he..."
"What? He WHAT, DUO?"
Kneeling, Quatre shoved Heero away from him before he could get angry again, kneeling down and taking the babbling brunette's hand, as if it were his key to safety from the dark wrath of the other. Heero backed down, but only slightly. "Don't rush him," he whispered. "He's in shock, and I think he might have caught a chill on the Jade Prince..."
"A chill!" Duo echoed, softly. "I-I-I...a ch-chilllll..." His eyes dimmed further--he looked ready and willing to close his eyes and never open them again.
Trowa blinked as he examined him again. That was right! He'd jumped overboard to save Quatre in the storm and stayed in his wet clothes! He was wearing them NOW, and it had been pretty cold all day. He could catch pneumonia that way! Why hadn't he told anyone?
With a soft pat to his cheek, the blonde boy whispered; "Duo."
"Quaaaatre?"
"Yes, Duo. Duo, wake up. Stay awake. Don't sleep."
"I'm tyyyyred."
"Shhh, quit that. Now, tell me about this guy. Did he hurt you, Duo?"
The green-eyed onlooker nodded his silent approval. Quatre was studying child psychology, so he knew a good deal about how to talk to the unresponsive and confused. Another useful trait in his angel to add to the huge list.
Duo blinked a few times. "N-no...he said...I was...was..."
"Was?"
"B-beautiful..."
Heero's eyes were ablaze, but the rest of him stayed completely listless, save the brief twitch at the corner of his mouth that nearly became a snarl. If one weren't observant, he would look unaffected. But he was far from. He was furious.
"He said that, huh?" Quatre looked at Trowa, who nodded, urging him on with a small shooing gesture. He nodded in return and patted his friend's hand. "Who was this?"
"M-Mich--ell."
"Mitchell?"
"Uh-huh...h-h-he was a...an-gel...a ice angel...he k-kissed me..."
The young millionaire, still clutching his hand, looked at Heero. NOW the anger was obvious, but so was the worry and annoyance. After all, how did one go about punishing the dead for such an act?
His voice steadied to a normal tone and pitch, as if everything was normal, but the words were morbid ones. "He kissed me, nice and soft, but it was so cold I died...I'm dead!" He grinned, frighteningly. "Shinigami is dead! The GOD of DEATH is DEAD! That's FUNNY!" And he laughed.
Heero gave Quatre a gentle but commanding nudge and he retreated, allowing the perfect soldier a shot at the raving boy. "Why did TROWA"--he spat the name as if it were poison and the Silencer withheld a hurt wince--"leave you alone, Duo?"
"I wanted to be ALL by myself so I could be a big boy!" he cried, suddenly, sitting up. He grinned and lowered his voice to a soft, childlike whisper. "I'm a big boy now, Mommy...I'm a big DEAD boy!" Suddenly, Duo began to cackle, and all three other pilots jumped a measure.
The little girl's giggle rang out.
Jerking his head up to look around, Trowa saw no trace of the shadowy poltergeist and heard no hint of her music. Just that one giggle, and then all was silent.
Heero lost it, immediate paranoia all over his expression as he leapt spryly to his feet. "What...the HELL...was THAT?"
"The little girl," Trowa said, surprised as he found his partner's voice echoing his in perfect sync. They exchanged a brief, startled glance between them.
"Little girl, little girl!" Duo cheered, suddenly, kicking his feet like a child and cackling insanely. Heero held him down on the couch, but it didn't stop his laughter.
"Duo! DUO! Get a HOLD of yourself, damn it!"
"Heero, DON'T!" Quatre cried. "She did something to him!"
"SHE? The little girl ghost you people have been raving about? Did SHE do this to him?" He got up and glared at the red corridor that lead to the residential area. "If she did ANYTHING to him--!"
"She did nothing but scare him," a nasal voice spat, suddenly. Wufei stepped from the opposite corridor and descended the steps to approach them. "It's a natural reaction to sensory overload--his nervous system is out of whack from the chill he's no doubt come down with, and the smallest scare could send him into delirium, and if he encountered another ghost, it was bound to be more than a small one. Between that and the fever I'm quite sure he's suffering from, he does seem pretty well insane."
Trowa raised an eyebrow as the others stood silent. "I thought you worked with corpses."
"I'm still a doctor, corpses or not."
"And exactly HOW long were you standing in there before you decided to come out?" he asked, dryly.
Wufei glanced down at Heero, arms folded, dark eyes silently berating him into the floor. "Before Duo saved Quatre's life from this weak-minded, weak- hearted foolishness."
He didn't react.
The Chinese forensic scientist shooed he and Quatre away from the couch and Duo, kneeling and taking his wrist in his hand. He tapped a place on the delirious man's hand and he immediately calmed down while Wufei took his pulse and put a cautious hand to his forehead.
The others looked on in concern and worry, remaining as still as death throughout the short examination.
Finally, he turned and looked at them. "A moderately high fever, and the lymph glands along his throat are swollen from fending a developing cold off. He caught a chill after jumping ship back on the sailboat, then disregarded it completely, as he's used to doing with such things. I would assume his body set to work fighting it off so he could function without a hitch, but the glands reached capacity with unnatural speed and he's suffering for it." He gestured Quatre to the blankets, which he brought quickly, then covered the patient with another one and tucked the edges under him to keep him somewhat still. "He'll sweat out the fever tonight if we can keep him warm enough, and by tomorrow morning, he'll be better-- he'll probably have the sniffles."
Trowa sighed, folding his arms across his chest as a cold breeze rustled across his back. "Better that than this, I suppose."
"Better indeed, an acute delusional fever is a dangerous thing. He's bound to be unstable until it breaks, so we have to keep right here and make sure he stays warm and still." He looked at Heero. "Are you getting any of this, Yuy?"
He nodded, solemnly.
Wufei's eyes seemed to reflect brief concern, but the annoyance was more prominent. "Good, because he's your responsibility and no one else's. And as for your fit at Trowa...you should be ashamed of yourself. A grown man, throwing a temper tantrum and attempting to kill others over something so trivial--honestly, I wonder how you can sleep at night."
Before it could escalate into yet another violent encounter, Quatre stepped between them, shaking his head. "No, stop. It's that dark force again, preying on our emotions and pitting us against each other. That's the last thing we need, trust me--we have to stick together or we'll never make it out alive." He looked at the dull-eyed Deathscythe pilot lying on the couch before him. "I think we've proven this already." He lifted his eyes. "So, we've established that there is at least one ghost, if not several. No one has been attacked while with another person, only alone, meaning that they'd prefer not to be seen by the mass, so if we stay together as much as possible, we should be all right for now. I think we ought to search around a bit tomorrow, though, and keep a good eye out for anything suspicious. NO ONE leaves this ballroom until morning, am I clear?"
Trowa and Wufei nodded, obediently, but Heero just sighed in defeat.
Quatre nodded. "Good," he sighed. "We should try to get some rest now-- tomorrow, we find a radio and start in on this ship. TOGETHER."
**** ~
In the dark of night, when all five intruders were asleep, a familiar specter watched them, poutingly.
{"Oh, they won't play my game!"} the soft voice whined. {"I want them to play my game!"}
Her music box in hand, she shuffled through the air to the couch in the ballroom, where she stood herself on the back to look around. Two lay on the floor in each other's arms, the taller one the man that had talked with (or yelled at) her in the hallway after the boy on the couch played with Mitchell. There was the boy that Toby talked to, the one who had Jake, and there was the one that was so mean he wouldn't play at all. Then, there was somebody new. He was laying with Mitchell's friend.
She grinned, impishly, and held up her music box as the lid lifted slowly back to reveal the rotating black gem. {"You can come play with us now."} With that, she floated away.
~
Heero's eyes snapped open as his acute hearing detected the faintest sound of metal vibrating, chimes sounding softly in the distance in an odd tune. At first, he thought he'd imagined it, but that didn't help him disregard the thought. He'd already been told of the music box the little girl carried with her, the eerie tune she played on it, and the evil 'games' she insisted on playing. The moment he heard the sound, it took everything he had to keep from moving to follow it. Instead, he peered at the form cuddled up to his, making out the soft, childlike features through the gloom, and sighed.
Wufei's scalding words flashed into his mind. /'...He's your responsibility and no one else's.'/
If he left, Duo would be open to an attack by that evil creature or her minions--by that MITCHELL he had raved about. He didn't want that.
And then, as his eyes passed over the serene faces of the others, he recalled what had been discovered. The ghosts didn't attack groups or pairs, and besides, all of them were close at hand, Wufei in one of the overstuffed chairs nearby and Quatre and Trowa intertwined on the floor. Duo was safe here--as safe as he could be, in fact.
But he would be safer if his protector had an idea of what to expect from this thing that had threatened him.
The song rang out from the forbidden corridor, the soft, childish chiming like that of a toy piano, and that eerie giggle rang out.
That did it. Carefully removing Duo's arms from around his barrel, he gripped the headrest above him and pulled his body into an upright position, then spun around and set his socked feet on the floor. The air was ice cold and bit into his skin uncomfortably like millions of little glass shards, but thankfully, he was wearing jeans, so it wasn't so bad. He tucked his sleeping beloved in again as he shifted into his abandoned spot, unconsciously taking advantage of the warmth of the indent, greedily. He rolled his eyes. //You can be so selfish at times,// he thought, wryly, brushing his bangs from his face. The baka nuzzled his hand as it came within range and he smiled, briefly, before reclaiming his sneakers and heading off to find the little beast that was behind all this.
~
It didn't even occur to him that his being alone might draw more attention than hers. She giggled. {"Now...now we can start the REAL game."}
~
The soldier marched silently through the dark hallway, refusing to bring a candle out of stubbornness and distaste at the thought of being discovered breaking the 'rules.' He didn't need Quatre to give him a speech or go insane and beat him into the floor with one of the articles of ancient furniture. That was a HIGHLY undesired outcome.
The music led him on through the dark corridors, and every time he heard that giggle, he fingered his handgun tensely, ready and willing to shoot a hole in the ship's hull if it would rid it of the creature hiding in the darkness. The further he traveled, blindly feeling along walls for doors and corners, the more he cursed himself for not bringing a candle, but the longer he walked, the more he noticed the glittering always simple feet away from him. He was being led somewhere, he knew that much. She was playing mind games, THAT was for certain.
Finally, he came to another hallway, this one lit slightly by the presence of an open door on the right wall with a porthole within. It looked like pale moonlight, but it was funny, the fact that he hadn't seen that light through any of the other portholes he'd passed on his journey. It screamed of a trap, but he was armed.
The glitter he had seen remained ahead of him, but now, it was a shine, the light reflecting off a small, golden box with a large black gem in the center. It was an oxymoron in itself, technically impossible--to have light refract through an opaque jewel with no color--but it happened, reflecting little glowing shadows on the walls and floor, and barely visible on the edges of the little box were pale little hands with cute little pink fingernails.
He had a brief flash of the girl whose death he'd caused, but he shook it off. This was a different spirit, a real one, not one conjured by his mind in a moment of weakness. "Enough games, little girl," he said, tonelessly. "Why are you doing this to us?"
She giggled and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck go rigid, but he didn't back down. Instead, he squared his shoulders, straightened his back and waited for the response--which never came.
Annoyed, he stepped toward the glitter, but it moved away and faded into the blackness, along with the music. Without that distraction, the bright light pouring through the open cabin door drew his eyes once more, but he fought the temptation to enter and moved to go back.
And a figure blocked the light from within, casting a monstrous shadow across the floor and onto the wall.
He froze and his eyes darted back, his hand moving cautiously toward his gun, but the figure was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Still, he was hooked now. No mere little girl, ghost or not, could cast a monstrous shadow like that. He recalled hearing Quatre rave about a man with a knife, then being told of 'Mitchell,' the male spirit that had robbed Duo of his health and sanity, if only for a short while. Somehow, he had a feeling they weren't isolated incidences. This bastard, who or whatever he was, was going to do some explaining, even if it meant the soldier shooting HIMSELF and kicking his ass on his OWN field.
Cautiously, Heero paced to the wall and followed it to the open door, drawing his weapon from the waistband of his pants, then whipped around, aiming it into the room with every intention of shooting at the first movement.
He was met with a child's cabin, empty with dust-covered toys strewn about here and there and a pair of unmade beds.
Sighing, he lowered the gun slightly with a quick glance around to make certain he was alone, then approached the little bed, carefully using the toe of his sneaker to lift the sheets away from the undercarriage. Nothing there, thankfully. He checked the second too, but it was the same case. With that done, he glanced around, then checked the open door's number. A tarnished number fifteen met him, and he noted it.
And then, he recognized the uncomfortable presence against his thigh. It had been ever-present, but he'd been so busy for the last few hours that he'd forgotten it completely. Quickly delving into his jeans pocket, he retrieved the unlabeled book he'd borrowed from the wheelhouse.
The Voyage Log! He skimmed through it quickly to the last trip, then located room number fifteen and checked it.
# 15--TOBIAS JAMES (aNb JaYK)
He frowned, thoughtfully, as he pocketed the book. A child had meddled with this book--the child who had resided in this room, no doubt. Tobias and...Jake? Why had he been lead here?
Something caught his sharp senses and set him on edge again, and he quickly reentered the room, immediately detecting the scent of blood in the air. He traced it to the little beds, and sure enough, in the one furthest from the door, there was a large spot of brown on the sheets. Wrinkling his nose in distaste for the sight and odor, he threw the sheets back further and took a seat on a clean space, running a cautious finger over the spot where the stain was deepest. It was roughly the size of an encyclopedia, having seeped right into the mattress itself, and sure enough, when he reached the focal point of the entire mess, he found a damaged section of sheets that went right into the bed, about four inches deep and two long. He found another not too far from the first, and another not far from that. There were at least five of them.
Heero scowled in disgust. Someone very small had been killed here, stabbed to death in this very bed. A child had died here. Quatre had spoken of seeing a child killed by a man with a knife when he'd come back from this area, and now that he was more alert and logical, he spotted a candle like the ones they had in the ballroom sitting on a small chest of drawers. Yes, this was the room, and now that little boy had a possible name. Tobias James. //Repulsive.//
A sudden loud creek jerked his attention elsewhere, to a door he hadn't noticed before, which suddenly sat ajar.
This screamed of trouble--but it wasn't the only thing that screamed. A blood-curdling shriek rang through the room without warning, sending the dark-haired man onto his feet, his gun cocked and held pointed toward the partially-open door. The sound of such a cry might have terrified others, but it hadn't scared him too much--because he knew it was a memory from what had passed, the scream of that child as he died in this room. It made him nauseous, but he had read enough about ghosts to know that violent ones, poltergeists, brought their pasts with them sometimes. This murderer ghost was close by.
Already, the air was growing cold, and goosebumps broke out across his skin, but he didn't waver for a minute. He kept the gun on the door, slowly pacing away from the beds toward it. The icy feel around him continued to grow stronger, until he reached out to touch the doorknob. It scalded his skin, it was so cold, but that meant one thing--there was a ghost nearby.
Before he could open it, however, another sound drew his attention. One inside the room with him. A chuckle pulled his attention away from the door and back to the bed, and lo and behold, there stood the hazy shadow of a man, towering over the bed, a sharp implement extending from his right hand.
Heero cocked his weapon, watching the form as it brought the knife up above its head, turned toward him as if staring at him.
The chuckling started out soft, but slowly elevated in strength and volume until the room was filled with bone-chilling, insane laughter. "Come play!" a strong voice growled, laughingly. "Come play with me."
Knowing he had little chance of fighting this thing and coming out unscathed, the youth stepped back and pulled the door open, stepping inside the next room with a quick glance around, then shut the door and backed away from it.
Even with the murderer in the next room, this one was colder. Why was that?
{{"Mmmmm ..."}}
He whipped around and froze, eyes wide, his gun aimed, as a soft, feminine voice began to echo around the room. It wasn't the little girl, he realized, as he listened. There was no music, no soft giggle--it was more mature. The voice of a woman, humming quietly to herself. He couldn't see her, but her voice was there, and it began to sing...
{{"Fare thee well my dear, I must be gone and leave you for a while/though I roam a~away I'll come back again/though I roam ten-thousand miles, my dear/though I roam ten-thousand miles..."}}
He blinked, slowly glancing around, the presence of the poltergeist in the next chamber completely slipping his mind. Where was that voice coming from?
{{"How fair though art, my bonny lad/so deep in love am I/and I never will prove false to the bonny lad I love/till the stars fall from the sky, my dear/till the stars fall from the sky..."}}
Curious, he knelt down on the king-sized four-poster next to the door he'd come through and crawled across its width to peer over the edge at the floor nearest the porthole window.
There he found the singer--a young woman, sitting with her knees pulled up into her chest, her grand gown spread out around her in a sea of white frills, long hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders like liquid copper, reflecting the dim light beautifully. She sat there all alone, singing softly, eyes closed, and her voice lulled him to no end, to the point that he nearly abandoned the gun still clutched in his hand in favor of listening to her.
{{"The sea will never run dry, my dear/nor the rocks ever melt with the sun/but I never will prove false to the bonny lad I love.../till the stars fall from the sky.../till the stars fall from the sky..."}} She began to hum her melody again for a moment, rocking gently from one side to the other.
"What a pretty song," he heard himself say, absently.
She paused and peered up at him, and he almost gasped at what he was faced with. What a pretty girl, too! She looked barely older than he was, twenty- one at the very most, with eyes so wide and filled with life that she couldn't have EVER been human. She smiled softly at his surprise. "I didn't know I had an audience, but I'm glad you enjoyed my singing." She giggled and reached her hand back over her head to him.
Dully curious, he accepted it, and he was dully surprised to find it was resilient, but soft and warm, not at all callused by hard work. This--this was a real lady. "Who are you?" he asked.
She smiled. "What a silly question!"
"Humor me," he insisted.
"I'm Sarah, of course!"
//Sarah...// "Hello, Sarah."
She giggled, softly. Everything about her seemed very delicate and lovely-- and yet, at the same time, she was fragile. Like a sculpture. One blow and she would cease to be. It would be so easy to do--he could destroyer her completely without even a tiny bit of effort.
And it would be fun.
He shook the sudden sadistic thought off and she blinked at him.
"Is something wrong?"
"N-no..." What was he doing here anyway? Why had he come? And why did he keep getting the feeling something was wrong here? "I-I should go."
"Why? Have I done something wrong?"
Before he could answer, however, the childlike shriek rang out and he jumped off the bed, leaving her behind to stare after him as if she hadn't heard it. He slammed the main door open and burst into the hallway, his handgun clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white from blood-loss and his fingers ached.
The little girl's giggle echoed around the residential corridor, but he wasn't going to run from her. She was causing all this, he just knew it. Somehow, she was behind it all.
"Come play with me!" she cried.
/'Come play with me.'/ The murderer had said those exact words to him.
His mind's intelligent thought-processes completely abandoned him, leaving a primal need for survival in its place, raw and dangerous. He spotted the glittering of the black jewel up ahead of him and took a shot at it without thinking, but it faded out. That didn't stop him, though. He fired into the darkness several more times before he could finally find the sanity to stop. Tired and flirting with the idea of losing his mind right there, Heero collapsed to his knees, the gun falling from his weak hands, which flew to his ears as two songs broke the eerie silence.
{{"Fare thee well my dear, I must be gone and leave you for a while..."}}
{{"Come with me to my special place/come to me, let me see your face..."}}
Voices around him were slowly seeping into his mind, and he felt all rational thoughts spinning out of control. It felt as if his head would implode if they didn't stop. "Shut up!" he shouted, fighting to keep a hold on himself. Every thought, every voice was painful. And it wouldn't go away. "STOP it!"
//'Where are you?'//
//'Come play with me!'//
//'What's happening?'//
//'Where are you, Richard?'//
//'What are you doing?'//
//'Let's play a game!'//
"Play!" the girl shrieked above them all. "You will PLAY with me! PLAY WITH ME!"
And then, a new voice came into his mind, and it brought a deadly calm to him as everything flooded away. It brought the ultimate answer, the one action that could stop this terrible pain.
//Kill them,// it said. //Kill them ALL.//
****
TBC