Chapter Two: Stranded

Jarred opened his eyes and groaned when a stab of pain struck him sharply. His vision was blurred but he could make out the shape of the steps he had fallen down. Closing his eyes and hissing in pain, he touched a hand to the back of his head and flinched. How long had he been out? He remembered what had made him fall, and he bolted upright, ignoring the pain that followed the action. He had to get out. He found his torch and cursed when he saw that the battery had run out. Shoving it back into his case, he picked himself up and fumbled for the door handle. Finally finding it, he wrenched the door open and bolted down the stairs as fast as he could. He soon reached the bottom and was about to open the door to the living room when a small sound caused him to freeze.

It was a simple click, the kind you'd hear when locking a door, but due to the emptiness of the room, it bounced off the walls and sounded ten times louder. There was another sound, indescribable, and Jarred's blood ran cold when he realized it was coming from behind him.

"You're in a hurry." He spun around, case in the air ready to strike, but he froze when he caught the familiar sapphire gaze of Barda.

"Do you like sneaking up on people and scaring the shit out of them?" Jarred barked angrily. As his initial shock dulled, he realized that a small, orange glow came from the darkness around Barda's mouth. Barda lifted a hand and the glow went with it, before he exhaled. Smoke filtered around Jarred's face, and realization hit him. It was a cigarette. The click he'd heard had been the lighter. The sound that had followed had been Barda moving towards him.

"Sorry. I wasn't exactly expecting you to come bolting down the stairs like that, either." Barda replied coolly. He took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled slowly. "What's wrong? Something happen up there?" Jarred went to answer, when something came back to him.

"Wait a second… you said you'd never step foot in this house." His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Barda just smirked – or, at least, that's what Jarred thought he did. It was so dark it was hard to tell – when had it gotten this dark?

"I wouldn't. But you were up there so long I had to check if you were okay. What were you doing up there anyway?" Barda frowned, but still remained smirking. "Or am I not allowed to ask?"

"How long was I up there?" Jarred asked, nervous about how long he'd been in that room.

"Well, let's put it this way… the sun set about an hour ago." Barda stepped closer, and Jarred could feel the heat from the burning cigarette. Jarred's head was pounding now, and a wave of dizziness came over him. He swayed dangerously, and without thinking, reached out to grab the nearest solid object – which just so happened to be Barda. "Hey, whoa… are you okay?"

"Yeah… no… I don't know." Jarred murmured. "I fell… hit my head…"

"Right. That would explain a lot." Barda sighed. "Come on, you've gotta lie down somewhere and get yourself checked out for any damage." He slung Jarred's arm around his shoulder, and held the investigator up with an arm around his waist. He balanced the cigarette between his lips, aiming the tip away from him so the smoke didn't go into his eyes. "Just don't pass out on me, cause I ain't carrying you." With Barda's help, Jarred managed to walk out of the house and down the hill towards the small forest. Barda tossed the cigarette aside when it was finished, and shifted Jarred's weight slightly. "Christy, how much do you weigh?" He complained. Jarred rolled his eyes.

"It's not so much what I weigh. I'm almost a dead weight right now, alright? Now can we hurry up, I really don't wanna be in the dark forest for very long."

"Why? I'm right here with you."

"That's why I wanna get out of here quickly." Jarred shot back with a smirk. Barda laughed slightly.

"If I had a dollar for every time someone has said something like that to me, I'd be a very rich man." Nothing more was said for a while, as both men were focused on walking without falling over in the darkness. And with Jarred's added weight, it wasn't easy. "Are you sure you can't walk by yourself?" Barda said at last. Jarred stopped and allowed Barda to remove his arm from around his shoulders.

"I can bloody well try." Jarred was slightly thankful that Barda had spoken. The silence had been almost unbearable. "Listen… Mr Leordo… I have to leave."

"What? Why? You just got here." Barda frowned. Jarred was freakishly pale, and he looked spooked.

"When I was up in the tower… I think I witnessed how the owners died… and then, I looked up at the ceiling and there was… this writing…" He was shaking now. "It was written in some thick, dark-coloured substance and… it said… 'Leave, Jarred, leave'." Barda stared at him in surprise, and then quickly took Jarred by the hand and began pulling him out of the forest. "Mr Leordo?"

"Don't speak. Don't say a word. Just move." They were practically running by the time they reached the town. Before the entered it, Barda stopped and turned to face Jarred. "Do not tell anyone what you saw. It could have been your mind playing tricks on you, it could have been real, but whatever it was, I don't want the village spooked. The stories about that house are bad enough as it is, without some new horror turning up in that bloody room." Barda was speaking quickly, in a hushed voice.

"That's not it though." Jarred said quietly. "Before I blacked out, I heard something… it sounded like someone laughing." Barda sighed.

"We will speak more of it in the morning, until then-,"

"No! I must leave tonight." Jarred insisted. "I have to go home. Now." Barda sighed again.

"You can't, Jarred." He said quietly. "There isn't another bus for another two days. Surely you knew that?"

"What? I'm stuck here?" Jarred was panicking now. "Then I'll walk!"

"Walk? The nearest town is miles away. You should know for yourself, the bus stop is two miles from here, and it's almost an hour's ride to the town."

"I don't care! I have to leave!" Jarred was working up hysteria now.

"Calm yourself down." Barda snapped. "Christy, you're certainly spooked. Listen, I have a spare room in the tavern that you can use. Sleep on it, and we'll discuss it further in the morning, okay?" Defeated, Jarred nodded. Barda led him back into the village quickly, and Jarred noticed that the village seemed more populated than it had earlier. People stared as he was led back to the tavern. Jarred was thankful when Barda led him down to the back entrance of the tavern. "Now, be extra quiet when we go through here. As I said before, my brother isn't all that well at the moment and I try not to disturb him." Jarred nodded, still unsure about staying in the small village overnight. Still, if the bus didn't return for another two days, what choice did he have? He doubted that this place had any cars to hire.

He followed Barda through the back door, being extra careful to tread lightly. He was led up some old, wooden stairs that creaked quietly under their weight. It hit Jarred that although the manor looked to have been built around the same time as this tavern, the house didn't show any signs of its age – the stairs to the tower hadn't creaked once, for instance. Something was definitely amiss in that house, and if he was completely honest, he didn't want to stick around to find out what.

As he was led through the tavern, Jarred mused over the phone call he'd received. He had certainly been shocked when his secretary had buzzed through to tell him he had a possible client on the phone. He'd only just started work when the call had come through, and he received a bigger shock when he was informed that the client was in Australia. Being a British firm, it was very unusual for this to happen.

All the right details had been given to him over the phone, and the caller had promised to double the usual fee if he so chose to go and investigate, and would triple it if he found anything and solved the case. Jarred didn't work for money at all, only for his own interest, but when someone is that desperate, and willing to pay that much, he couldn't refuse. Besides, he needed a nice long holiday, and Australia was perfect in the autumn. And, of course, the case sounded interesting. It had taken him a while to locate the village on any map, and was pleasantly surprised to find it resided in the barren outback of Australia. It was quite a way from any major city, but he resolved that it would be a quaint little place, full of friendly villagers.

Jarred eyed Barda's back warily. He was the only villager he'd met so far, and although Barda hadn't exactly been hostile, could you call his personality 'friendly'? The tavern-keeper was a little strange, if anything, and Jarred felt an uneasy nervousness around him, despite his charming smile. The village was certainly quaint, however.

"Here we are." Barda murmured, opening an old wooden door and walking into the room beyond. Jarred followed, taking in the room as he did wherever he went. It was a pleasant room, painted a light shade of blue and white. The hardwood floor had also been painted white, as had any other woodwork. The single bed was small and low to the floor, with a mattress that looked like it had seen better days. A worn, wicker chair sat by the window. A faded blue rug was spread beside the bed, resting in front of a small bedside table, on which rested a very old-fashioned lamp. A single painting hung on the wall the bed was pushed against – a lovely little scene of two boys playing in a field whilst an older man looked on with pride. The signature at the bottom was hard to make out, but judging from the battered wooden frame, it wasn't anyone particularly famous. "Now, get a good night's sleep and try not to think too much about the house, alright?"

"Okay." Jarred said, simply because he hadn't spoken in a while and he felt the need to. Barda turned to leave. "Wait!"

"What is it?"

"Um… I, well…" Jarred felt his face flush. "Where will you be? You know, in case I need something?" He felt stupid to ask, but Barda was the only villager he knew.

"Oh, well I have to go take a shift in the tavern downstairs, but I'll be up sometime soon. My room is just next door." Barda eyed the lamp. "You want that lit?" Jarred paused, before nodding. "I'll send Dakota up when I go down to the tavern. She's my assistant, works here every night, bless her. Without her I'd be swamped." He smiled easily. "Well, goodnight."

"Yeah." But Jarred severely doubted his night would be good. He waited for Barda to leave the room before he set his case down on the bed. Sighing, he crossed to the small window on the far wall and looked out into the night. People wandered around on the street down below – mostly young adults or teenagers, talking happily in groups of three to five. He heard footsteps on the hall behind him and turned as a young woman knocked on the open bedroom door.

She looked to be about the same age as Barda, with long blonde hair that reached her waist, tied back in a ponytail that appeared to be more on the side than at the back. Her eyes were startling green, enhanced by the light green eye-shadow she wore. She was dressed in a white shirt that was tied in a knot above her navel, the two top buttons undone, and knee-length black shorts. Her legs were long, slim and tanned, and she wore black, heeled shoes on her feet. In one hand she carried a pitcher of water; in the other she carried a box of matches and a tall glass. He assumed this was Dakota.

"You must be Mr Hill." She grinned. Her voice sang of Australia, just like Barda's did. "Dakota Grange. Barda said you wanted a lamp lightin'."

"Um, yes, please." He watched as she put the pitcher of water down on the bedside table, placing the glass beside it. She lifted up the lamp and struck a match.

"Brought you some water, too, in case you want a drink in the night." She lit the lamp, which sent long shadows stretching out over the room. He smiled; she seemed thoughtful.

"Thank you." He replied. She regarded him curiously for a moment.

"Pardon me for asking, but where are you from?" She asked. "Barda didn't mention."

"He didn't ask." Jarred grinned. "I'm from merry old England." Dakota laughed lightly.

"I thought so, but I'm not one to make assumptions." She flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder. "Well, I'd best get back to the bar. Still gotta work my shift." She sent him another smile. "Enjoy your stay, Mr Hill." When he smiled and nodded once in reply, she turned and left the room. He listened to her footsteps as she walked down to the main tavern.

"Enjoy my stay?" He sighed, walking to the door and closing it. "I wish I could." He stalked back to the window and closed the thin curtains, shutting out the night. Deciding that sleep was the only thing good for him, he removed his shirt and tie and placed them on the wicker chair, his trousers following shortly. Going to the bed, he opened his case and pulled out a plain white t-shirt that he used to sleep in. Once he'd pulled it on, he set the case down at the end of the bed and climbed in.

It was more comfortable than he'd imagined, but he'd have preferred the comfort of his own double bed back at home. The sheets weren't that thick, and he felt cold air on his feet. But, he supposed, Australian nights were warmer than English ones, and no doubt he'd be glad of the thin sheets later that night. He stared at the ceiling for a while, before the memory of blood-written words came back to him, and he abruptly turned onto his side. The lamplight flickered gently, and as he gazed at it, he found himself slipping into a steady slumber.

Almost instantly, he was dreaming. He was back in that room in the manor tower, although this time he was standing in the center, facing a faceless woman. He realized he was touching something, and looked down, focusing on the smooth object beneath his hands. He tried to look down, but his eyes were focused on the blur of the woman's face – he knew it was a woman because of her figure. He was aware of a strange droning noise and he realized the woman was muttering under her breath. Suddenly, she let out a high-pitched scream and her head jerked backwards so that she was staring up at the sky. A second later, his head did the same thing, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of the tower room. At first, there was nothing there, and then it abruptly caught fire, pieces of it dropping down towards the floor.

"Come to us, Master!" The woman shrieked. Then the entire roof caved in and the fire fell with it, dropping onto him and the woman. His body began to burn, and searing pain filled his entire body. He let of whatever he was holding and fell to the floor, trying to put the fire out by rolling over the floorboards. But the fire wouldn't stop, and he lifted a hand, watching the fire burn away his flesh until he could see pure, white bone…

"Jarred!" Jarred's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, his breathing coming in short, harsh pants. His entire body was filmed over with a cold sweat. He instantly lifted his hand and ran his fingers over it, inspecting it closely. There were no burns, and it seemed to be in one piece. "Jarred, it's okay… you were dreaming." He became aware that someone was standing beside the bed and he turned to look. Barda stood there, looking concerned. He was dressed only in a black tank top and boxer shorts. A second lamp rested on the table, the first one having gone out during the time he was asleep. "What's wrong?" Jarred's eyes fell upon the water and he realized how parched his throat was. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Seeming to understand, Barda poured him a glass of water. Once he'd downed it all in one, he cleared his throat.

"It was… so real…" He murmured. "I felt the pain… saw it all burn…" Barda sat down beside him on the bed and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It was all in your head, Jarred. You're fine. It was just a dream." Having Barda beside him seemed to calm his nerves, and he smiled slightly.

"Yeah. I guess it was." He realized how stupid he must have looked right then, and blushed. "I feel stupid now."

"What? Why?" Barda asked, frowning slightly. "Because you had a nightmare? Don't think like that. Adults get nightmares too, you know. Nothing to feel stupid about." There was a gentle smile on Barda's face, and Jarred relaxed completely. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah. Yeah I am." He lay back with a sigh and put a hand to his head. "What time is it?" Barda smiled.

"Three in the morning." He stifled a yawn. "I was asleep. I woke up when you started screaming in pain. I thought you'd done yourself some serious harm." Jarred felt a pang of guilt at rousing Barda from what could have been a well-earned sleep.

"Sorry." He apologized sheepishly. Barda's smile faded and he leant in to Jarred's face.

"Don't be." He murmured. Jarred became very aware of the closeness between them and he blushed again. What was it with this man? He hadn't felt like this since middle school when he'd had that crush on Sophie Winters…

"Barda?" There was a battle raging inside of him – one half wanted to push Barda away and tell him to leave, but the other half wanted to tug him forward and stay with him all night. So far, neither side was winning. His heartbeat quickened as Barda lowered his head, his breathing hitched slightly as Barda's lips pressed against his neck, so lightly it didn't feel real. The heat was rising in the room. Jarred felt himself leaning into Barda's touch, one hand snaking around to his back. Barda's lips travelled higher, reaching his jaw…

SMASH!

Both men sprung apart when the glass in Jarred's hand exploded. They gazed down at the fragments before Jarred realized his hand was burning with pain. He looked at his hand as droplets of crimson liquid began to form in long, wicked cuts.

"Shit!" He swore loudly and shook his hand free of any loose glass. Barda yanked Jarred's arm forward and inspected his hand.

"Blimey, that's a fucker." He sighed. "Looks like there's some glass in that big 'un." He brought Jarred's hand closer and – to Jarred's shock – licked the biggest wound clean. Then he inspected it some more. "Alright. This is probably gonna hurt." He licked away the blood that had begun to ooze out again and suddenly latched his teeth onto the glass embedded within. Then, with a sharp tug, it came free.

"Fuck." Jarred hissed. Barda spat out the glass into his hand and wiped the back of his other hand over his mouth. Jarred glanced at him and he swallowed hard when he caught sight of the blood remaining on Barda's lips. "That did hurt." He muttered.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. Watch your step though, there's glass everywhere." As Barda picked up the lamp to light their way, Jarred climbed out of bed, examining each patch of floor carefully. What confused him, however, was how it had happened. What had made the glass shatter?

He intended to find out.

Author's Note: I know, I know, bit early on for intimacy, but it's all part of the plot, trust me. Things will be explained on the way!