It had been five wonderful years since Arthur Kirkland had moved from England to America. IT had been five years since he had met the Nashville, Tennessee Sherriff, Alfred F. Jones for the first time. Four and a half years since Alfred F. Jones and his Twin brother Matthew W. Jones had defeated the horrible monsters called 'Ice Breathers' and his brother, Allistor Kirkland had moved into his own home after the reconstruction of the said town.
All was well it seemed, or perhaps even brilliant. Nothing major had happened since and peace was a relative thing. Alfred and Matthew were great leaders to the town, and the town was thriving now on new members and people passing through in migration. The Nords, or the five brothers who ran the wood crafts store had never done better in their business and the Ironsmiths could all say the same. Many horses were being bred and sold left and right, providing money for the stable owners, Felix and Toris.
Arthur saw much business as well, for he was the best doctor within a hundred miles. People would travel from other towns to receive treatment from the well-trained doctor and he happily obliged to the requests.
As said before, all was well.
"Hey Ace!" A voice called as the said doctor was walking down the street. He turned to meet the cerulean eyes of Alfred Jones himself. "Where ya headed partner? I was just getting' ready for some lunch!"
"Just to the smithy to drop off some medicine for Allistor. He worked himself to illness again. Vladimir and I keep telling him to sleep, but he refuses!"
"Well that's unfortunate! He's the best we've got… oh heck. Don't tell anyone I said that." The man frowned. "But hey, he's a big bug around these parts, so who can blame him?"
"I most certainly can," Arthur huffed, reaching for the spare key he had to the smithy door before they were able to reach it. "That stubborn goat won't listen to a word I say."
"Haha, well he is yer brother."
"Shut it, you." Arthur sighed, shoving the key through the lock and twisting violently. But before he pushed the door open, Alfred grabbed his hand and stopped him. "Wh- bloody hell! Let me go!"
"Just a sec, Ace. I got sommat ta tell ya." Alfred said slowly. Arthur stared at him in awe.
"Well? Spit it out."
"Ah- well… yer… someone ta ride the river with Ace… and…"
"Just say it!"
"I…"
"What?"
"I mean… I…"
The Sherriff was blushing like a bride! What on earth was wrong with the stupid… was he shaking?
"You… what?" Arthur asked… looking up at the man with curiosity, and intrest. Was he trying to confess something? Was he ill?!
"I lo-"
Arthur sat up with a start. He looked around his room for a moment before leaping out of bed and splashing the spigot and coating his face with the cool substance. He shook his head and looked up at the cracked mirror on the wall.
"What was all that about?!" He demanded of himself.
He must be going mad.
Arthur hadn't slept for the rest of the night after that, he couldn't. His gut told him that something was wrong and he tried to convince himself that it was just because of that wretched dream- which he would NEVER speak of to ANYONE- and he didn't want to have another one.
He spent the early morning crushing up some herbs and then blending mixes. He wasted time reading some old book he had brought from London, and then wrote in his own little journal for a while. He was tired, but not enough to go back to sleep at this point. He decided, that despite the ungodly hour of it, he would go for a walk.
Pulling on his favorite coat, he tugged his loafers on and went outside. He talked with a few travelers who were passing through the town for food and water, giving them directions on occasion and making small conversation about weather and such. Unfortunately, not many people were out at this time and he quickly decided that he was too cold to stay out much longer. Turning, he went to walk back to his own home.
He waited until later in the afternoon to go and visit his stupid brother. After all, he was in high demand for his skill at smithing and most likely would be busy all morning. He was nearly working himself to illness and he found it best to deliver some herbs while he was at it.
"Hey Ace!" A voice called as the said doctor was walking down the street. He turned to meet the cerulean eyes of Alfred Jones himself. Arthur froze, recognizing the situation instantly. "Where ya headed partner? I was just getting' ready for some lunch!"
"J-Just to the smithy to drop off some medicine for Allistor. He worked himself to illness again. Vladimir and I keep telling him to sleep, but he refuses!" He answered truthfully, hopefully he would go away...
"Well that's unfortunate! He's the best we've got… oh heck. Don't tell anyone I said that." The man frowned. "But he's a big bug around these parts, so who can blame him?"
"I most certainly can," Arthur huffed, still panicking at the Deja-vu of the situation at hand. HE HAD JUST DREAMED ABOUT THIS THE NIGHT BEFORE- breathing, he reached for the spare key he had to the smithy door before they were able to reach it. "That stubborn goat won't listen to a word I say."
"Haha, well he is yer brother." Same line again…
"Shut it, you." Arthur sighed, shoving the key through the lock and twisting violently. But before he pushed the door open, Alfred grabbed his hand and stopped him.. He glanced at the Sherriff wearily, fearing for what was to come. "What are you doing?"
"Uh- Partner… there's a bee." The Sherriff said, pulling the doctor's hand away from the handle. Arthur's eyes snapped open wide and he looked at the door, sure enough, a large, buzzing yellow jacket was hovering right where he had just almost put his hand.
"Oh my- thank you." Arthur said, using the package he had to brush it away, dodging the swerving path of the insect as if flew away. He pulled the handle and stepped inside, having to duck under the doorway for its shortness. Poor Alfred hit his hat on the top and knocked it clean off his head.
"Aww… short doors…" He sighed, leaning to pick up his hat off of the ground. "There should be a rule about doors bein' at least six feet." The Sherriff Grumbled. Arthur just laughed in response and moved forward into the smithy.
"Allistor! Where are you, wanker?" Arthur called, looking around the small room. It was no bigger than ten by ten feet, but there was a bed, an oven and a spigot just in the corner. This, of course, was Allistor's living area just behind the actual area where he worked. "He must be in the shop." The blonde doctor sighed, pushing the Sherriff out of the small room and back outside. He locked the door adequately and started to circle the place to the front. He groaned, rubbing the back of his head so that he could wipe the sweat formed by the heat of the noon sun that had risen relentlessly above them. Once they reached the front door, which was up on a stone opening so that the place didn't catch fire, Arthur pushed the stubborn door opened and peeked around inside, checking to make sure he wouldn't burn himself upon entry. "Allistor? Are you in here?" He asked, looking around and stepping inside. The place was silent, no sign of any living creature anywhere. He was about to step forward, but Alfred stopped him by putting his arm in front of his chest.
"Sommat aint right." Alfred said lowly, glancing around. His glass spectacles caught the light streaming from the window to the side and made his eyes glint. "Do you feel that?"
"I can't sense anything, no." Arthur said with a frown. What did Alfred mean? Nothing seemed out of place here… except for the eerie silence. He glanced around, trying to pick up on whatever uneasiness Alfred had found. He sighed and looked around again, walking behind the large table that Allistor used for shaping the metal. He gasped instantly.
Allistor was lying on the ground, a large amount of blood pooled around his head. His eyes were closed and his limbs were sprawled about as if he had fallen.
"Alfred! Get some water!"
"Gotcha!" Alfred looked around, seeing a (probably freezing) bucket full of water and grasped it, giving it to the doctor. Arthur threw the water over his brother's head and watched in a mix of satisfaction and worry as his brother gasped awake, sitting up and almost hitting his head on the counter.
"Oi watch it- Artie! Alfred! Wha-?!"
"What happened? We came in to find you passed out on the floor!" Arthur demanded, helping his soaked brother stand. Allistor sputtered, trying to remember and gain his footing at the same time.
"Something or someone came in las' night and attacked! Ye wouldn't believe the fight if ye were there! Vlad was fightin' up a storm- oh gods, where's Vlad?! Vlad and I were just smithin' last night and some crazy person came through and attacked! Didn't see nothin' he just came through, beat Vlad half ta death and left! Where's Vlad! Artie, 'ave ye seen Vladimir?" Arthur took note of the repetition of the his brother's statements. He must have taken quite the hit to his head. A concussion probably.
"He fell asleep in the stables." Alfred said. "Mattie 'n I saw him this mornin' when we fed Ave and Lib. Covered him with a blanket again too."
"Did you make sure he was alive?"
"What? No, but he was breathin'. And he looked fit as a fiddle. He was layin' on his stomach in the hay again, just like he always does when he don't make it back ta one o' our places before sunrise." Alfred shrugged, ripping more rope off of the Scottish man.
"Well keep an eye on him, would ye mate? I be worried 'bout wha's goin' on round here. Vlad fought like a monster, he did! Hit me on the head that other fella!" The man said, brushing off the last of the binding on him. He tried to sit up on his own, but the concussion kept him from doing so. Arthur and Alfred looked at each other shortly before the Sherriff took hold of Allistor's arms. He gently wrapped them around his own neck and carried the Scot. They quickly left the shop and made way to Arthur's home.
"Did ya see anythin' of whoever attacked you?" Alfred asked seriously, watching Allistor intently as Arthur checked him over with a trained eye for any injury and wiping the blood from his hands and face. "How didja get that blood all over ya?"
"No, I didn't get even a peek. Vlad was fighting the thing before I could. Bashed my 'ead righ' in! Ye should 'ave seen it. As fer the blood, It's from gettin' hit in the nose. Bled like a fountain."
"Head wounds." Arthur muttered with a sigh. They always bled so much…
"So I guess we'll be waitin' ta see what happened when Vlad wakes up?" Alfred sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. It had been ages since anything had happened to require his attentions, and he would have preferred it stayed that way. Matthew was going to have a fit when he told him.
"ARTHURRRRR-!" a voice said from outside, knocking heavily on the door. Arthur looked up and sighed, recognizing the boy's voice immediately, or well… not so much a boy anymore…
"Peter." He said opening the door, and smiling at the fifteen year old that was standing in front of him. The child had grown to be almost as tall as he was already, and looked much older, having lost quite a bit of the baby fat. The perfect image of a boy between hay and grass. But Arthur's smile fell instantly as he saw the tears building up in the boy's blue eyes.
"What's wrong? Are you alright?" The poor boy looked as if he had just run about the entire town, and his breath was coming in heaving gasps.
"M-My Uncle! Uncle Matthias was attacked last night! We found him outside the gate!" Peter cried, tears streaming down his face. "Matthew and Pa's bringing him… but he wanted me to come and tell you!"
Arthur looked at Alfred and Allistor for a split second before turning to the child. "You did well Peter. Get Gilbert if you can. Tell him I need the strongest alcohol he has, alright? And let Ludwig know I'll pay them back in full when I see them."
"Yes sir! Please save my uncle!" Peter was holding back the tears that were fighting to fall as he turned on his heel and went to do as told. Just as he left, the good doctor and the Sherriff both saw the two mentioned men coming towards the clinic with another figure held between them.
Alfred rushed forward to help his brother and friend, while Allistor quickly jumped off the table so the injured man could be laid upon it. Arthur led the four back inside and rested the blonde head of Matthias Køhler on the end of the table, leaving his legs to hang off from the knees.
"Do you know what got him?" Arthur asked, immediately beginning to look over the man in question.
What looked like four parallel claw marks had been torn down the man's torso repeatedly, while something that looked like bite marks lined every bit of his collarbone and neck. He was breathing in gurgling gasps and his eyes were wide open, bright blue orbs rolling back in his head. But Arthur could tell he wasn't truly awake. He had lost too much blood to truly be lucid at this point, but he was awake enough to feel every prod and prick of pain that was being presented.
Berwald shook his head, ever silent. But Matthew answered. "Looks like we're dealin' with wolves. But… funny thing is that there aint no tracks."
HIIIIIIII! KANDALUVR IS A CRUEL MISTRESS! WELCOME TO PART TWO OF THE GHOST RIDER SERIES. I really appreciate you reading it! It should make a bit of sense if you haven't read part one, but I do suggest that you read it if you want to understand everything. NOT PUSHING IT! But it's your choice. :) Thanks for reading~!
