Rating: T, for some language and some violence.
Summary: The BPRD is called in to investigate attempted drownings in the lake under the Palais Garnier in Paris, and who better for a mission in a lake than Abe Sapien. But things are not entirely as they seem, and Abe is going to have to deal with something he never expected in the underground lake.
Disclaimer: All original Hellboy material belongs to Mike Mignola, though this particular version is Guillermo del Toro's as well. Gaston Leroux wrote The Phantom of the Opera, and so technically the Siren is his, though this version of her is respectfully borrowed from my friend Stef.
Author's Notes: All right, here's part two. The plot thickens! Enjoy!
It was tied to a tiny stone spit that extended into the lake, a bare excuse for a dock with just enough room for two or three people to stand at once. Just beyond, he could make out the shape of a door, set straight into the stone of the Opera house's foundations.
A chill danced a quick step up his spine. There was absolutely no logical reason for a door to be there, and so his mind immediately jumped to the illogical. The others should definitely know about this, he told himself, dropping back underwater. He didn't get very far. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, something coming at him from below and behind. Before he could even turn to get a good look he was struck, tackled around the midsection and driven into one of the columnar supports by his assailant.
Such complete contact opened her mind to him--and she was a 'her', a sentient female entity with a distinctly realized self-image. A flood of memories and thoughts swamped him, disorienting him so much that it took him a moment to realize that she was grinning exuberantly and with no malice at all at him.
"Hello!" she chirped, as soon as she knew she had his attention.
"Let go of me, please," he requested. She did, and the relief was exquisite. No longer in contact with her, he had the option to close his mind against the psychic onslaught.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped, looking honestly abashed. "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to you so hard!" She smiled self-consciously. "I was excited, see," she said, though whether she meant it in explanation or apology (or both) he didn't know.
"Yes, so I gathered," he said drily, pushing away from the stone column. Keeping one wary eye on her, he flexed his arms and shoulders experimentally. Nothing seemed badly injured, but he would be sore tomorrow, he suspected. He was silent for a moment, examining her just as surely as she was examining him, and had to admit that she was the last thing he had expected to find down here when he'd first been handed the mission dossier. In fact, she was something he'd never expected to see...ever.
Her skin was blue, bluer than his own, if not so richly patterned; her hair was green. She drifted in the lake, completely at ease under the water. He had no doubt that it was her natural element, just as it was his.
"You don't seem the type to...drown people," he remarked casually.
She tensed visibly at that comment and shot him a speculative, suspicious look. "It's my job," she informed him haughtily, lifting her chin a little. "Besides, I don't drown anybody. That would be cruel! I just...dunk 'em. Scares 'em away."
"From what?"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
"It's Erik's home, isn't it?" he asked her, being very careful to keep his query neutral. He had no qualms about drawing the conclusion. Wasn't he talking to a blue-skinned girl who'd just confessed to acting as a guardian, in a lake under an Opera house in France, not twenty feet away from a door in a wall that shouldn't have been there? A narrower mind would have convoluted reasoning any way possible to avoid the connection; he made it willingly.
The shocked expression on her face was all he needed to see. He'd guessed correctly, and she hadn't expected it. "Surely Erik's dead by now, though," he continued cautiously. (If she was still guarding the Opera Ghost's lair after all this time, there was a chance she'd react badly to the suggestion.)
Instead, she turned away from him, tiny movements of her legs and feet surreptitiously widening the gap between them. "He is," she acknowledged, but he noticed that her voice was soft and even, emotionless. "Many years dead, in fact." He saw her shoulders slump, and waited, hoping she would elaborate. She disappointed him, though; when she turned back to him with an abrupt movement that had water eddying away in little whirls, it was to ask, "So who are you? What brings you to my humble lake?"
"I'm just here to stop whoever's been trying to drown people," he said, spreading his hands in an innocent gesture.
"I told you, that's my job!" she exclaimed, punctuating it with a kick that propelled her backwards so far she nearly bumped into the curving wall that bounded the lake. She crossed her arms huffily over her chest and turned her face pointedly away, refusing to look at him.
"But if Erik's dead..." he started, "well. Why do you still have to do it?"
"I am the Siren," she told him firmly. "It's in my contract."
"You're contracted to protect an empty house?" he asked skeptically.
"No," she corrected. "I'm contracted to protect Erik and his home until he releases me from the duty. Since he hasn't..." She trailed off. The expression on her face dared him to press the issue farther. Wisely, he didn't. "You know, I still don't know who you are," she pointed out when she was convinced he wasn't going to pry farther, "but you do know who I am. That's not fair."
"I beg your pardon, Siren," he said with pointed cordiality. "My name's Abe, and...it has been my pleasure to meet you." He meant it, too.
She beamed at him, her friendly mood restored. He smiled in response, but was more reserved about it. Even if she wasn't a demon or malevolent spirit, they couldn't just leave her down here, especially since she'd made it clear that she felt the need to keep defending the lake and the house on it. People had died, even if she hadn't meant for them to, and it couldn't be allowed to continue.
The key to the whole issue seemed to be this contract. But how do you get a dead man to release his siren?
Abe glanced speculatively at her, and noticed that she wore an intense look of concentration on her face. It wasn't directed at him, though, and following the line of her sight he found that she was looking at the bottom of the rowboat. From down here, it was just a thin, dark oval against the surface of the lake, limned along one edge in silver by the reflection of his hand-light's beam. He shined the beam fully on it, and the Siren started.
"Yours?" she asked.
"Not mine. Why would I need a boat?"
"Good point." She looked at it again. "I think you may have to excuse me for just a moment," she told him cheerfully. "There are some trespassers I need to evict."
Before he could even respond, she'd kicked strongly for the surface. He followed, watched as she swung herself effortlessly up onto the dock. More awkwardly, he pulled himself up behind her, and she had a distracted smile for him when she saw he was joining her. She opened the front door and stepped inside, heedless of the lake water that she trailed in after her.
Just inside the doorway, the Siren stopped and stared.
Author's Notes: The next and final chapter should be up next week, like last time. Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter–I never would have expected four reviews, and I'm grateful for them all!
(And yes, epalladino, I have read the original comics, and some of the BPRD ones as well! I find the out-of-water gear awkward myself, but I wanted to try and keep close to movie canon (which is also why all my agents have stone-related names).)
Thank you for reading, and as last time, all feedback is welcomed!