It was a rather stately old house. Two stories high, with small towers on either side- the original owners had modeled it after a castle. The lawn was well tended, not a single grey spot to be seen in the wave of green. A ceramic lawn gnome guarded the edge of the pathway. There weren't any leaves, despite the fact that the nearby lawns were covered in fall leaves. A paved pathway wound its way through empty flowerbeds to the houses' doorway.
The sun weakly beamed overhead, wane and not warming in the chill air.
A single man stood at the beginning of the pathway, fedora pulled down low over his ears. His eyes were narrow as he stared at the picturesque house. He lifted his hand to check his watch, and touch a hidden object beneath his thick black and white coat. He sighed silently as he realized what time it was- his partner Perry was late. They were here on request to take care of a pesky ghost wandering the hallways. Major Monogram had accepted, and then they realized this was a ghost powerful enough to not only move around objects, but be seen by normal people.
Leaves crunched as a dark-skinned man with teal-dyed hair came trotting up the main road. They both nodded to each other silently. Together, they walked up the path to the house, and let themselves in. Nobody was home- not tonight.
They moved together, checking each room of the house. The living room was covered in pictures of a happy family; a mother, father and son. Old items of protection were scattered across the house. A horseshoe hung above the front door, a bottle of consecrated water lay nearby a window, and a bowl of salt sat on the kitchen table.
This was not only a family that believed ghosts existed, but took great pains in warding off any monsters that might attack. They both glanced at each other, unease rising.
The second floor was filled with bedrooms- the master bedroom, where the first cracks of this happy family began to appear. Instead of one giant bed, it was two separate ones. The room was cleanly divided.
One of the rooms belonged to the dog. Trophies and awards lined the walls, as the best food and water sat in the corner. The dog had its own exit and entrance into the yard, even on the second floor.
The third bedroom belonged to the son, filled to the brim with awards of his own. There were thick textbooks lining the shelves, a soccer ball in the corner. Pictures of him by himself lined the walls, a giant smile plastered across his face. There was a thin layer of dust on the books, untouched.
Perry pulled one of the books off the shelf. It was a school book, a few levels beyond what he should actually be reading, perfect penmanship making notes in the margins. What was needed, what to forget, what would be tested, what wouldn't be.
Perry put the book back, and glanced at Peter. Peter was staring at one of the pictures intensely. Perry leaned over his shoulder- there was the boy, but in the corner, there was another child. The child was blurred out, mostly not there at all. Not a ghost picture, but close enough.
Now that they had seen the second kid, he began to appear in more pictures, on the edge or the distance. Never close enough to get a clear view of him.
Perry and Peter continued their search of the house. At either end of the second floor there were ladders leading up to the towers. The right one led to a stuffed full attic, full of items that had been long since been abandoned except for special occasions. The left one-
There was a dingy mattress, broken and springs poking out of it. Tattered blankets piled like a giant birds next on top. A box of books full of engineering and electrical welding was pushed off to the side. Cat hair was everywhere, and there was a pile of rat bones piled in a small, neat pile off to the side.
In the small, cramped space, a box moved. The two men moved closer, shoulders touching and scanning the room. A cockroach scurried past, heading for the moved box. They cautiously approached, eyes darting left and right for any more movement. The box rocked again, and a small kitten came spilling out. They both relaxed with a sigh.
The kitten turned towards them, and Perry frowned, noting the unusual spots. That was an ocelot, wasn't it? What was an ocelot doing here? Peter touched his elbow, lightly, telling him they needed to move on. The house plans stated there was a basement, and they needed to find it before it became too dark.
Perry glanced out the window, to where the sun was slowly beginning to set. He turned with Peter, and froze.
The box full of technical books was on its side now, the books neatly piled up in a stack. One of the books was opened, to a diagram of a metal arm. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Peter started tugging him towards the trapdoor.
Perry started down the rungs, as Peter sprinkled a circle around the ladder, hoping to keep it open. Perry echoed the circle at the bottom.
The ladder remained unmoving. Peter began to descend, as the ocelot paced to the books, and curled up to the side of the book, like it was cuddling up against some unseen person. Peter dropped the rest of the way down, and glanced at Perry.
The sun was hitting the horizon, but it wasn't quite witching hours yet. If a ghost could start moving objects this early- but, then again, that may just be a special place to the ghost. There was no sign of violence- just a few books being flipped open.
Perry gestured to Peter, pointing towards the staircase. If the ghost was out now, then they should set up a safe place to flee towards. The biggest question was where to set up. If it was a place full of dark memories, no matter what kind of ward they set up, it would be broken through almost immediately. It was better to find a place filled with happy memories, or at least neutral memories.
They moved towards the staircase, watching the doorways carefully. A cockroach, a little too big to be normal, scuttled past, heading for one of the extra bedrooms. It vanished under a door. They started down the stairs, laying a line of salt down after them.
It was beginning to warm up, the walls of the staircase began closing in. Perry came to a halt, and checked his watch. Peter glanced over his shoulder, their frowns growing. They had been on this staircase for over ten minutes. They weren't going to get to the first floor at this rate. Should they go back?
Peter shook his head at the question. They had to go on. If they went back, they would be willingly entering a zone where the ghost would be prepared, while they weren't. Better to attempt to break the illusion they were under. Peter drew out a small packet of salt, Perry echoing the gesture.
Lights flickered, and broke. Darkness fell. Peter and Perry stood back to back, silently waiting.
Thud.
Their heads turned to the 'bottom' of the staircase.
Thud.
The sound of something wet hitting highly polished wood, and dragging across it. Creak- the stairs creaked, like a person, a child, walking up them. They moved towards the middle of the staircase, peering into the gloom. The creaking stairs slowly made its way closer and closer to them. Plip.
A hiss filled the air- and a ocelot's meow chased it away.
The creaking stopped abruptly, and lights turned back on. Peter and Perry cautiously looked around. There was no sign of what had gone up the staircase. There was only a little kitten sitting at the top, pawing away the salt line they had laid.
The cat meowed again, bounding past them towards the bottom of the stairs. Perry breathed out, turning towards Peter. Peter nodded towards the bottom of the stairs. Together they eased down the wooden stairs, checking for any sign of the liquid they had heard. The stairs were completely clean and dry.
The sunset light poured in through the living room windows. They had pretty much run out of time. Night was here, and they weren't prepared. Not by a long shot. Perry gestured towards the kitchen. Kitchen's usually had-
A giant cockroach sat in the middle of the table, right next to the salt. It was bigger than the size of their hands, its giant antenna testing the air. It turned to face them when they froze at the doorway, and didn't run away.
Possession? Probably. They took a step back.
The sun dipped below the horizon.
Hoppe hoppe Reiter
Wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
Fällt er in den Teich,
Find't ihn keener glech.
It was an old song, a nursery song. It echoed down the stairs, and filled the living room. Peter and Perry backed away from the kitchen, into the middle of the living room. Pictures shook slightly, before stilling. Cat eyes glared at them from every angle.
Peter gestured to the front door, though he didn't look very hopeful. They had been caught wrong-footed, and if the ghost was this powerful, then it would be better to return tomorrow afternoon and set up a safe spot if they needed to retreat. However, that was only if the ghost would let them go.
Perry reached out for the door, Peter guarding his back.
Something black with far too many limbs that twisted the wrong way skittered past the windows. The door shook as the sound of rotten meat slammed against it. Peter grabbed Perry by the shoulders and dragged him back a few steps.
An eye the size of a window pane glared malevolently in through the front windows. It blinked, and scuttled away. Seeking some other entry. Sheer menace flowed through the walls, promising them an early grave if they allowed it in.
They were trapped. As powerful as the ghost was, it hadn't yet attempted to kill them. The monster prowling around the house, undaunted by the garden gnome, wouldn't be so kind. Where should they go?
Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Graben,
fressen ihn die Raben.
The song drifted on the wind, in-between low, groaning creaks and moans. The only chance they had at surviving now would be too lay the ghost to rest. Perry gestured to Peter, and slowly approached the kitchen.
The giant cockroach was still perched on the salt bowl. It turned to watch them as they edged around the kitchen. Smaller cockroaches scuttled and whispered just out of sight. The kitchen light flickered on, cold, wane light filling the room. The giant cockroach finally scuttled away.
The voice stopped as soon as the lights came on, like the child was holding their breath. Afraid of being caught. Perry reluctantly flicked them back off, aware that the scuttling cockroaches crept closer under the cover of darkness. The only light was from the living room, only partially lighting up the room. The voice started up again.
Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Sumpf,
dann macht der Reiter... Plumps!
The voice drifted to them behind a carefully hidden door. A giant picture of the dog was hung there, covering up the dark, stained wooden door. There was no door knob, and it seemed sealed. Perry pulled off the poster, and ran his fingers across the wood.
The child's voice fell silent. Perry's fingers stilled on the doorway. A cold, chilling air seeped out around the door, misting in the wane light. A putrid smell started to leak out from behind the door. The two waited motionlessly as the last word died off.
The mist curled around his fingers, telling him he should open the door. Perry took a deep breath, and slowly pushed the door open. A yawning void rushed up to meet him.
He's so cold. The fake beard scratches, and the cone hat doesn't help keep in the warmth. His hands are blue and tingle with frostbite. Dark monstrosities flickered in the corner of his eye. Don't move. Don't move. If you don't move, they won't realize you're fake. Don't move. A snowflake drifted past his eyes to gently land on his nose. The darkness leers.
Perry stifled a gasp as he reeled back a step. Disoriented, he shook his head, and Peter gently nudged his shoulder. A vision of the ghost's past, or someone's memory of this house. Peter waited until Perry was steady on his feet before gesturing to the open doorway. Perry peered in.
There wasn't so much a series of steps going down to the basement as it was a path of dirt and mud that slid downwards. The stone walls were covered in mildew and mold the further back from the door they got.
Es tanzt ein Bi-Ba-Butzemann
In unserm Haus herum, bidebum,
Es tanzt ein Bi-Ba-Butzemann
In unserm Haus herum.
The voice started up again, louder and clearer. Cockroaches erupted from the kitchen, and scurried like a black horde of death and decay down into the basement. The giant cockroach led them, leaving them in the darkened kitchen. The singing voice cut off abruptly, replaced by a quiet laugh.
Silence fell, choking and cloying in its simplicity. They both hesitated, not sure what to do next. Follow the cockroaches or-
A pale, ghostly green light flickered at the end of the hallway. They backed up a few steps, as the lights in the living room flickered and went out. The ghostly light flickered, and slowly started creeping closer.
Perry and Peter peered into the light, looking for any clue as to who it could be. It was hard to make out any details, the insubstantial form flickering in and out of existence. The ghost was a ten to twelve year old child, wearing old, ragged clothing.
Next to it's feet trotted the giant cockroach, wings humming softly in happiness. The ghost bent, ghostly hand patting the cockroach on the head like some tiny, faithful dog. Well, the cockroach was bigger than some dogs. It chirruped, and scuttled at the ghosts side, indicating that it could clearly see the child.
The other cockroaches swarmed around the ghost, leaving a small pathway for the ghost to walk. The child must've been only recently died. It drifted closer and closer to the door, before abruptly vanishing from sight. The giant cockroach stopped, antenna flickering to where the child had been.
"Hoarfrost!" The voice called softly from the direction of the second floor staircase. The cockroaches swarmed towards the stairs. Leaving the two living humans alone.
The living room flickered on.
Perry and Peter glanced at each other, wondering who the ghost was. It was too old to be the child in the pictures, but the house was old. It could've been some child of before. The clothes looked old enough, and if the ghost appeared often enough, the cockroaches would've learned to like the ghost.
It didn't seem quite right, but it wasn't impossible. Nobody had any records of cockroaches and ghosts getting along, and cats generally chased a lot of ghosts away. Most ghosts didn't have that kind of awareness to bond with animals- or insects in this case.
Peter gestured to the basement. With the ghost having moved on, it would be their chance to explore it. They stepped onto the dry, packed earth together. The smell of rot and decay hit them like a solid wall. Perry gagged, and Peter pinched his nose shut. They exchanged grim looks.
Rotten pork and garlic began to emerge from the general miasma. Perry reached out to touch the wall, and immediately pulled his hand back at the feeling of something soft and squirming. He took a step back, bumping into Peter. Peter jumped, nearly elbowing him. The two stopped for a few moments, taking a deep breath to recollect their cool and calm.
Peter glanced around. The only light was a thin glint of starlight and moonlight from a tiny window. Their breath misted in the bone chilling cold. Peter reached up to tug at a cord, filling the room with light.
It was almost scarier to see the large, sprawling complex in the light then in the dark. The sight of mold and blood became clear instantly. A mountain of dead rats rotted away next to the single barred window. The ocelots must've dropped the rats in through the bars. But why?
Peter approached the rat pile, and bent down to sift through the rotting, decaying corpses. The bodies tumbled and landed with wet, disgusting sounds that made Perry's hair stand on end. The rot gave way to bones gnawed clean. Several had been crack open, the marrow sucked out.
Peter held a bone up, pointing at teeth marks. Those weren't the teeth marks of cats. They were far too flat and regular for that. Perry glanced away, as Peter went back to rooting through the pile. His eyes fell on a thin blanket, carefully stored on a shelf. It was as tattered and worn as the blankets up in the attic, but covered in dried mud splotches. In the freezing cold it wouldn't offer much protection, but maybe just enough.
Perry crossed towards the blanket, and gently pulled it off the shelf. It was worn, in a loving sort of way that promised good memories. He tucked it beneath one arm, and returned to Peter, still attempting to root through and find anything of use in the rat pile.
There was nothing but dirt, eyeballs, worms, and rot. Abruptly Peter stopped rooting around, and stared instead. The bones were no longer randomized, but organized in nice, clean lines. Like it was making a picture or writing something. Perry crouched, carefully removing the dead rats with Peter, until
Bewege dich nicht
The word sprawled across the floor. Peter and Perry stared at it, puzzling out the foreign words silently.
The bones rocked, and rolled on their own. Perry grabbed Peter by the back of his coat, and dragged him out of the way as the bones bumped and rolled their way into a new configuration.
Ich habe keinen Sohn.
Keinen was no, and sohn was son in German, right? Perry and Peter exchanged confused glances. The bones shook in place, before spinning wildly.
OUT
GET
OUT
EYES
The lights stuttered and went out completely. Perry and Peter went back to back, Perry clutching the blanket under his arm tighter. A long, slimy tentacle slithered past the window, eyes blinking along it's length. The hundred eyes spun, looking every which way, before settling on the two humans.
Perry and Peter remained completely still, breaths caught as terror crept across their minds, dulling their senses. The bones rattled and rolled away, as if even the ghost had stilled.
Then, as abruptly as it had come, the monster vanished. The two breathed out at the same time, relief and the absence of ancient terror creating a giddy mix that brought an almost smile to their lips. The light flickered back on. The bones spun for a few seconds, before finally falling still completely.
An ocelot meowed from the top of the stairs. Its tail lashed back and forth slowly, as it regarded them coolly with bright blue eyes, before it glanced at empty space. It watched the empty space as if something was approaching, before pulling itself to its feet and trotting away.
Perry and Peter shot another glance at the basement window, and hurriedly left, turning the light off after them. The basement wasn't considered part of the house proper, and if the monster had truly noticed them, they would've been dead.
Perry slowed as they approached the kitchen, noting that the only handle was on the basement side. A smooth, rounded knob that would be hard to turn. If the knob was wet, it might be just about impossible to yank it open.
The worn blanket under his arm took on a bit more sinister connotation.
The kitchen and living room were dark and devoid of life. This time, the soft scuttling of cockroaches reassured them. An ocelot kitten sat on the back of the couch, eyes glowing in the darkness. The giant cockroach claimed a pillow, antenna waving in the still air.
All sounds paused as the two walked into the kitchen.
Then, as abruptly as the cockroaches could appear, they scattered for the small dark nooks and crannies that unwanted things vanished into. Out of sight, and hopefully out of mind. Perry and Peter cautiously stepped further into the kitchen. Perry turned to start shutting the basement door.
The ocelot kitten yowled in protest, and charged. Sharp claws unsheathed to bury deeply into Perry's hand. Perry yanked his hand back from the door, leaving it cracked open. The kitten hissed, and a older, bigger ocelot took up a guarding position in front of the door. The Ghost and cats were working together.
Perry fumbled and dropped the blanket. The two cats paused in their terrible hissing, leaning forward instead to sniff at the blanket. The adult ocelot purred softly, rubbing its head against the blanket. It abruptly trotted away, meowing loudly.
Peter gently took Perry's wrist, and inspected the scratches. The kitten settled onto the blanket, purring a low rumble that contrasted with the tense atmosphere. Perry shook his head to Peter's unasked question. It didn't need any bandages. It wasn't very deep, and there wasn't any blood for a monster, demon, ghost or any other creature to use against him.
The ocelot came trotting back, and the smell of decaying meat followed it. It paced up to them, dropping a long, dried out object onto the blanket. It nudged the kitten next to it, and trotted away. Perry squinted in the darkness, before crouching to get a close look.
It was a human arm.
Peter flinched minutely, the shudder of revulsion visible in the corner of his eye. Perry's mouth compressed into a thin, grim line. The arm was dried up and shriveled, but it was tiny- the arm of a child. Perry glanced around for the ghost.
Ghosts didn't form from peaceful deaths. The worse the death, the more powerful the ghost was. And this arm… Perry carefully turned it over- it had been hacked off messily. The bone was crushed into tiny slivers, like something gigantic had squashed it flat, and eventually the arm had to be hacked off.
Peter crouched next to him, a vial of water and a ball of dirt in his hands. There was a moment of hesitance, before he reluctantly tucked them away. They didn't have the full body to lay to rest. They weren't even certain what religion this ghost belonged too. Buddhists had two ceremonies before the ghost could move on, and a third after. Catholics had requiems, and holy water. Hindu had their ceremony. The ghost was probably catholic. It made sense with the demographics, but until they got a positive ID…
Perry glanced at the kitten, and the kitten meowed gently, lying next to the desiccated arm. It meowed, quietly, and didn't protest as Perry carefully tucked the blanket around it and the arm. Peter lightly pushed him away, hefted the bundle in his arms, Perry watching every second. They had found one part of the body- where would the rest be?
Perry swallowed hard, and the kitten purred softly.
It was a warm summers night. The full moon struggled to light the narrow gorge, as a young child with a basket full of berries soundlessly screamed as he sawed off his own arm. He couldn't make any noise any more, not after screaming himself silent begging for help that wasn't coming. A basket half-full of berries lay tumbled on the ground, the thick, prickly bush just a few feet away. The world wavered beneath each saw, a kaleidoscope of black and white.
Peter's breath hissed inwards, as Perry steadied him. Peter nodded his thanks, and adjusted his hat, to cover the haggard look in them. He hadn't wanted Perry to feel the memory, though he explained it readily enough. The child had cut off their own arm to avoid starving to death. The grudge borne of just that act alone had to of been gigantic. Perry nodded, and looked up.
Hundreds of cats eyes blinked at them in the darkness. Ocelot's of all sizes began to gather, staring at them as they nervously glanced around. They had one arm, they had a kitten, but where was the rest of the body, and why were the cats all looking at them so expectantly? What were they waiting for?
The windows rattled. Furniture shook. Peter and Perry backed up, the cats mockingly watching them from every angle. Something whispy white peeked from around the corner.
It was a ten year old child, with a long, straight nose. It stared at them, before blinking. His mouth opened- and cockroaches spilled out, hitting the floor among globs of flesh and blood. The ghost fell, and started crawling, guts trailing after him like a red knot of fate.
Peter took a step back as the windows shook. In every window there were red, slitted eyes, staring at the two humans in the living room.
The ghost began to scream, a deathly wail that made the walls squeeze in on them. Peter and Perry staggered, hands reaching up to cover ears- except Peter couldn't. The blanket in his arms with the kitten and arm prevented that. He slapped one hand against his ears, and felt blood trickle out of the other.
The monster giggled, the laugh like shattered glass tearing through flesh. Peter's eyes were growing hazy by the second, buffeted by the psychic forces at work. The cats started yowling, the chorus of screams that echoed in the suddenly tiny space. Perry closed his eyes reflexively- and all the noise stopped.
Perry kept his eyes closed. The silence stretched and spun, before something cold, clammy, wet and rotten grabbed his ankle. A hand. A rotten hand. It tightened, fingers leaving bruise marks imprinted on the bone. Perry hissed in pain, and yanked back as it attempted to tug him forward. He was not going to be dragged off- It yanked, nearly dragging him away.
Peter body slammed him, sending them both tumbling to the floor. The cats growled, menacingly. Bones chattered, and an ocelot hissed. The hiss was joined by other threatening noises, climbing in noise and volume. The ghost's howl joined with the cats, shriek rising until it felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull and roll and bump along the floor. Just as abruptly as it started, silence fell.
The kitten meowed, softly.
The hand let go. The kitten purred, and Perry slowly opened his eyes.
The cats had vanished with the cockroaches. The floor was covered in dingy red liquid, pooling on the carpet. And next to Perry's foot was a chewed, spat up human child's arm. The arm matched the one in the bundle, still clutched in Peter's arms. Perry glanced up, and his breath hissed inwards. Peters face was set in stone, and blood trickled from a burst eardrum. Perry quickly began the patch job, as Peter reached out to the hand.
Perry shook his head, and slapped away his hand.
Whatever vision they might see from the chewed upon arm might really kill them. More than one person had died from the vision itself, brain unable to keep the degree of detachment it took to realize it wasn't actually themselves that was dying. With Peter and Perry both injured as is, they couldn't afford it.
The kitten fought its way out from the blanket to approach the chewed on arm. It rubbed his head against it, not minding the streaks of blood that matted orange fur. Perry finished up the last of the bandaging, and looked him right in the eye.
It had maybe been a few hours since night began, and if it kept up with the same level of intensity, they weren't going to survive. The noise alone had threatened to kill them. The kitten purred softly, as it dragged the chewed up arm next to the dried up arm, and claimed a position between the two, like the arms were cuddling it close.
Perry sighed, as he wrapped the blanket around the kitten and its gruesome treasure, and Peter hefted the bundle into his arms. Perry climbed to his feet, and winced as his ankle nearly gave out. At Peter's glance, he shook his head. He could move, but not fast, and not far. They wouldn't be running from monsters tonight, not unless Peter abandoned him, and no matter how much they would fight at times, Peter wouldn't do that. Peter pointed upwards, towards the second floor.
Perry nodded grimly. Upstairs it was.
The climb up was long and laborious, Peter going first and checking for where the ghost might've gone. The stairs remained dark, but normal. No impossible staircase this time. The kitten was providing some measure of protection probably. Perry leaned against the wall as they reached the top, noting that every last grain of salt they had laid down to protect against ghosts had been borne away by the cockroaches.
Even if they had set up a safe spot, it would've been destroyed.
Peter ushered them into the dog's bedroom, and set up a line of salt on the doorframe and the windowstill. They both settled down to wait.
The moon slowly rose and fell. The house moaned and creaked. Distant laughter would catch their ears occasionally, but it was mostly sobbing. A low, wailing cry that set their teeth on edge and hair on end. It echoed, from the attic down to the basement, and back up again. The ghost drifted past the doorway, asking softly, "Where is it? Where is it?" Endlessly searching for what he couldn't find.
Ocelots prowled in the darkness, eyes gleaming. Cockroaches scurried past, seeking out trails that only they could scent. And outside of the walls, black things that had no name and no true form slithered and slunk. The kitten slept soundly, though the two humans traded off two-three hour shifts.
Tentacles and hands tapped at the window, begging to be let in. Voices that were almost recognizable whispered in their ears. Perry closed his eyes for a moment, and swore he heard Candace, tiny and frightened, "Perry? Perry, please, help me." He swallowed hard, and reminded himself that Candace would sooner punch out a thousand ghosts on her own then ever ask for help. The thought cheered him up until Phineas and Ferb began to scream somewhere in the darkness.
That had him shooting to his feet. Peter grabbed his elbow, and pulled him back down into a sitting position. Perry nearly punched him, before stopping at the last second. Illusions. Tricks. That was all it was. It was taking the voices he knew and loved, and attempted to use it against him.
The giant cockroach (Hoarfrost right?) scuttled past. The voices fell silent, and only the soft, serrated whisper of legs filled the air. Peter started, and started to stand up, and Perry pulled him down to the floor. Peter buried his head into his knees, and didn't look at him, as Perry glanced out the window.
As long as he didn't look down, to the garden where grotesque, inhuman shapes played on the lawn without care, then everything was fine. As long as he didn't look down to where Candace, Phineas and Ferb could be seen screaming as they were torn into pieces, it would be okay. They were home safe, far away from this house. Peter kept his eyes on the skyline when it came his turn, echoing his sentiments.
When the moon set, Perry tensed, eyes flickering towards Peter. Peter nodded, and pulled his hat low. One hand touched the dried bandages taped to the side of his head.
Now was the hard part. They had gotten through the biggest part of the night only because the moon was full, and still casting reflected sunlight to the ground. Now that the moon was gone, it would be completely dark. The monsters on the lawn wouldn't hold back- it was time for the hunt. At the very least they were partially safe in the house-
The ocelot kitten woke up and began to hiss. It arched, as threateningly as it could, eyes fixated on the window. Peter grabbed it and the arms, and began to back away. Perry followed his example, eyes fixated on the window. No monsters should be able to come through. The salt line alone wouldn't be able to hold it back, but with the protection of the house-
The window swung open, and teeth like scimitar blades glinted in the darkness.
The house had never been protected. Maybe it was, at one time. But not any longer. They had been relaxing in the middle of a monster's hunting ground as it let them think they were safe until it was ready to strike. Perry dove for cover as the creature lunged in through the window.
His ankle began to scream in protest, reminding him that he couldn't keep this up forever. That even if he dodged this first one, he might not be able to dodge the next one. Even if he were fully healed, a human was no match for a monster.
The child ghost began to scream and cry in the basement, catching the monster's attention for a brief second. It turned, drool dripping against the floorboards. The drool sizzled and spat acid. Peter tossed Perry a knife. Perry glanced at him, one eyebrow arching.
Peter shrugged, twirling the knife in his fingers, and taking a defense position. The entire house shuddered as the child screamed at the top of his lungs, a wail that threatened their eardrums. The kitten growled, and the monster flicked out a single tentacle.
The kitten went flying. Perry dived for it, hands outstretched. The kitten hit the floor, missing at least a little safety by mere centimeters. The monster laughed, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.
The house shook, and came alive.
Perry glanced up as every object, every piece and part of the house came alive, floating and hurling at the monster. Its eyes blinked, easily shrugging off the attack. Slitted blue eyes began to gather, facing down the thing that had just hurt one of their kittens.
Peter crouched next to him, fingers carefully touching the kittens fur. The kitten was dead. Peter sighed silently, and reached out for Perry instead. The house shook, walls spitting blood and ectoplasm. Perry wondered how much hate had been sunk into the very foundations of the building for the ghost to control it so completely. The wrath and anger was a palpable miasma that tore into every living thing, skirting around the cats and the cockroaches. For the demon and the two humans…
Peter tugged Perry to his feet and pointed out the window. Wandering further into the house would kill them outright. The walls were spitting out cockroaches, when Perry grabbed the bundle, and tucked the dead kitten in with it. Maybe the wrong thing to do, but the kitten had been interested in the owner of the arms, so if they ever found the rest of the body…
The world quite abruptly went upside down. Perry blinked, as Peter looked utterly shocked for a few brief seconds. Then, Peter began to reach out-
Perry hit the ground in a bone breaking crunch. He gasped, feeling ribs shift beneath skin. Teeth that spiraled and looped in impossible swirls aimed directly at his head. Perry rolled over, watched as earth smoothly broke under teeth. He was mere centimeters away from being killed. The monster laughed, and the world shifted between black unconsciousness, and graying consciousness.
Graying?
Perry looked at the horizon. Hope fluttered in his heart.
Dawn was coming.
The sky was lightening, almost imperceptibly. They just needed to survive the next half hour or so. Haha. How funny. Survive? When all the monsters of the forest were gathered around the house like it was a beacon of food just waiting to be eaten? Why were there so many monsters?
Perry squinted at the fuzzy garden gnome sitting on the corner of the lawn. Garden gnomes were supposed to guard against monsters. What was going on that monsters ignored it like it wasn't even there? The other lawns, as distant as they were, were free of monsters. Why was this garden gnome-
Peter appeared, hat pulled low and a silver dagger in hand. He slashed, driving the monster back just a single step. He glanced back, and Perry nodded towards the garden gnome. Peter gestured for him to go ahead, as he whirled dramatically. Perry ground his teeth together, and started crawling. Why wasn't he the one looking dramatically amazing-
Ribs ground together, nearly drowning him under a wave of pain. That was why. Perry reached out for the garden gnome, as Peter dashed past him, catching the attention of more black creatures of the night. They turned, slime and ooze slithering its way closer.
Perry dropped next to the garden gnome, and stared at it. The ceramic, at a distance, looked smooth and clean. This close, Perry could see there was something subtly off about it. It was broken along the bottom, a thin line creating a crack that wrapped around it too neatly to be natural. He touched the crack, noting the dried glue.
Peter slammed into the earth beside him, as thousands of eyes watched them cruelly and coldly. Peter struggled to get to his feet, before his legs gave out. Broken? Probably not, there weren't any awkward angles, but… Peter glanced at Perry, asking him if he needed any more time.
Perry gestured to the garden gnome, and Peter misinterpreted him.
He picked it up, and tossed it directly at one of the monster's head.
The gnome shattered, and a child's body came tumbling out. It was dried out, mummified. The marks of monsters using him as a chew toy were clear, huge holes. The child had no arms, only scabbed, torn up sockets where arms used to be. His mouth was frozen in a scream of terror and pain.
Perry blinked at the body, noting the signs of malnutrition and abuse. He sighed sadly- a child who died in horrid, squalid conditions while their brother and the family dog basked in comfort would be reason to hate enough. For all of that hate to be placed in the garden gnome, supposed protector of the house, it would be like opening a portal to the underworld and begging monsters to come in.
The monsters, the portal and sustainer of their energy broken now, were beginning to wither and disappear in the pre-dawn light. Perry glanced at the sad bundle that held three more precious things, and glanced at Peter.
They found the ghost, curled up in his little next of blankets in the attic. Peter leaned against the ladder at the bottom, watching silently as Perry approached.
The ghost was only ten or twelve years old, in ragged clothing. He sniffled, loudly, rocking back and forth in his little nest of a bed. Perry went down on one knee, feeling his ribs shift once more. "Why?" The ghost whispered, so sad and old at the same time, "Why won't she love me? I just want mom to love me."
Perry hesitated- no matter what the child had done, he couldn't make his mother love him. It was impossible. She was her own person, and earning someone's affection was hard enough, but it was clear she had no wish to even try. The child wailed, a sad sound that shook the house, "I tried so hard, I did everything she asked! Why doesn't anyone love me?"
Perry shook his head, and placed the thin blanket bundle on the floor. He unrolled it, unveiling the body and the two arms. The weight was practically negligent- the heaviest object was the kitten.
The ghost keened, low and soft. His hands reached out- not for his body, but for the kitten. "I didn't want her hurt. She was my little sister. She's family." Perry nodded- whatever else, he doubted the ghost wanted to hurt the cats that had been following him so closely.
An ocelot meowed, before trotting up to the two still bodies. There was a cut along its fur, blood matting down orange fur. It paused, blue eyes taking in the two dead and one living before it. "Hi Onnie. I'm sorry that I couldn't protect your daughter. I'm sorry." The child whispered.
She trotted up to the bodies, and pressed her head against the child's dead cheeks, a low purr in her throat. The child swallowed, and Perry noted with relief that the cold red glow surrounding him was beginning to soften to a lighter color. She stretched out, pressing her body against the child and the kitten.
No, she was saying goodbye to both of her children. The human child seemed to recognize that was well. She twined around their two bodies, pawed a little at them, and then looked at the ghost. Hoarfrost clicked softly, antenna waving in an almost goodbye pattern like a human would.
They had stayed until their child could be found, and now he was found.
Onnie watched the child, a rumbling purr/growl in her throat, and the child nodded, like he understood. "I'll take care of sis. Promise."
Onnie seemed satisfied, and turned away to leave. Hoarfrost remained where he was for a few more minutes, before churring softly, and following Onnie. Perry wondered what history a giant cockroach and an Ocelot had together, before looking at the kid.
The kid was watching them go with a mix of sadness, and happiness, and he whispered, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
He was beginning to disappear now, piece by piece. Just one nice word didn't erase the years of bitterness and anger, but it was easing the way. All he needed was one more push. Perry tucked the thin blanket around the two still bodies, and looked the kid right in the eye.
The child glanced around, voice dropping softly, "I gotta find my sister. I'm sure she's… I'm sure she's lonely."
He faded out, slowly, like a sepia photograph. For a brief moment, Perry could spy a small kitten calmly waiting for her brother to come and join her, before the brief vision faded, and he was left with the body of a ten-year-old child and a cat. Perry sighed, and wrapped the blanket around the child completely.
Peter glanced up from where he was sitting collapsed at the bottom of the stairs. Their part of the job was done- Carl and Monogram would have to take care of the rest. It was time for them to report back that the ghost was gone. Oh, the monsters wouldn't be gone- not for another twenty to fifty years. Even though the child had vanished, the anger and bitterness written in blood and sunk to the very foundations of the house hadn't. It would be like a beacon calling monsters and demons to come and enjoy the tasty meal.
Peter held up his phone as Perry painfully climbed down the ladder. Carl's voice could be heard chattering on the other end of the line. He was arranging for a doctor to come and check up on them, and for someone to keep an eye on their families.
Perry couldn't wait to go home. He couldn't wait to smile at Phineas and Ferb, hear Candace nag at him, watch Linda and Lawrence smile at each other- it was something he just couldn't wait to hear. The doctors gave him a quick check, taped his ribs together, and send him home. Peter was put into a splint- it was only a small fracture, not broken, but they wouldn't be put on a job anytime soon.
Perry was eventually released, and he wandered over to the cloth wrapped bundle sitting on the ground nearby the smashed garden gnome. Dawn's sweet light was kissing their cheeks, and he had an hour left before Phineas and Ferb would attempt to raid his room to wake him up and play with him. He could get home in under twenty minutes.
He went home.
Later, Perry read the after-mission briefing that Carl liked to write. Ms. and Mr. Doofenshmirtz were being charged with criminal negligence for the death of their eldest son. They would probably be sent back to their home country. Their other son Roger couldn't be pried from his mother's hands, nor could the dog, but neither showed any signs of neglect.
The house though, was completely unlivable. Ocelots and cockroaches had swarmed the place, making it a health hazard. There were numerous attempts to get rid of them all. Those attempts were completely useless.
And if in the dark of the night, when witching hour was strongest, lights flickered in the house and a child's laugh echoed as he chased his little sister around echoed in empty hallways, nobody had to know. Onnie figured it would take some time before her cubs were ready to leave her, and she wasn't going anywhere. Hoarfrost would sit beside her, as they guarded where their children played. And if Perry dreamed sometimes, of a tall man with a nasty glare that gave him the fights he always craved, it was quickly forgotten in the warmth of the bright sun.
And the monsters grinned in the darkness, looking for their next prey.
-end-