This Midnight
Disclaimer: I don't own the Abarat, sadly, so please don't sue me!
Summary: What if Candy hadn't escaped all those times and was brought to Lord Carrion?
Pairing: Candy/Carrion
Prologue
The Criss-Cross Man stood in the shadow of the Prince of Midnight. The lamp from the desk lighting only one side of his lord's face and throwing the rest into deep dark shade. His expression was one of intense concentration, and his eyes were half closed as he thought.
What sort of things the Lord of Midnight thought about, no one could imagine. Not even Otto Houlihan the Criss-Cross Man, who had also seen many horrid atrocities in his life. The Lord of Midnight inspired fear in all living creatures. Even Houlihan, who inspired dread in all he met, felt a cold chill when in the presence of his master. The sense of never knowing which way his Lord's mood would tend, the favourable wind never resting on one soul long enough to be confident.
There were many terrible punishments to be suffered in the hour of Midnight, things no sane person dared to imagine. He had no doubt however that Carrion imagined them, invented them, dreamed them. Houlihan could also guess that the girl Candy Quackenbush featured regularly in the Lord's dreams. He almost felt sorry for the girl, almost…
Otto Houlihan waited in silence, careful not to let Carrion see his impatience. He was not a man built for standing and waiting. He was not a man who was content to stay still, he was a man who liked to be constantly on the move, and standing in silence was testing him to his limits.
"Criss-Cross Man…" Carrion said quietly to himself, as if singing some sort of evil lullaby.
"My Lord?" Houlihan replied, bowing slightly. In his own little world he was the most important person, he surrounded himself with people that could nothing but say yes. But here, Houlihan was subservient. He was one of the yes men, and he hated it. But to Carrion, he was nothing.
Carrion did not look at him, but remained buried in his thoughts. Houlihan knew that it was a great honour to be looked in the eye by Christopher Carrion, to be regarded for a moment as worthy. As an equal in mind. It did not happen often.
"I need Candy Quackenbush, she must be brought to me alive," he paused as he considered his words. "That is most important," he stipulated clearly. "You will fetch her for me. She has eluded Shape too many times and I grow weary of waiting."
Otto Houlihan bowed down a little further.
"I will apprehend this girl for you My Lord," Houlihan said confidently.
Carrion looked at him suddenly as if he had only just realised he was speaking to someone. He had had so many conversations with the girl in his mind, that he didn't even recognise real company anymore. He was trapped inside one of his own nightmares.
"Yes," Carrion hissed softly. "Bring her to me. Bring me Candy Quackenbush, she must not be allowed to destroy me!"
Houlihan bowed again and excused himself from the room. He knew his master was slowly going insane. The obsession with the girl from the Hereafter was beyond reasoning. But Houlihan had not been summoned to give reasons for Carrion's whims, but because he was the best at finding people that didn't want to be found.
He hoped Carrion would kill the girl and get over this infatuation. He'd do it himself, had it not been for the clear proviso that she had to be brought to Midnight alive. The girl was nothing in Houlihan's eyes, yet something about her had attracted the attention of most powerful man in the Abarat. Not many people could say that, and most people where pretty happy about that too.
But no matter the whys or the reasoning, Candy Quackenbush's days were numbered. She would no longer elude Midnight. The Criss-Cross Man had never yet failed.
