Chapter 3: Piano Blues

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this.


Arthur started as someone coughed loudly, the sound drawing him out of his reverie. Bright green eyes blinked as they readjusted to the dim lighting of the room and pale fingers fumbled to adjust his glasses which had slid down his nose when he had jumped. In his lap rested a battered copy of the history of Boston, a gem that he had dug up from the dark recesses of the back of the library.

The book itself was far older than most of the works that he had seen, the pages were sewn together with a strange silken thread that occasionally could be seen in the more worn areas and the cover of the book was an exquisite art piece. Thick and sturdy, the deep blue of the cover was complimented by intricate silver detailing that ran along the face of the cover and the spine of the book as well. Arthur didn't know what precisely it was about a book that made his worries melt away.

Perhaps it was the reassuring weight of it in your hands, or the smell that an old book had that stirred up so many old memories. Perhaps it was the feeling of holding a piece of history in your hands, and being able to submit yourself entirely to someone else's thoughts as you let yourself drift away to another world. The library was a marvelous hideout as well, with its endless shelves of books and manuscripts; it offered comfy reading spaces for its patrons without desecrating the sanctity of the library itself. True, there were computers and a few board games to interest the younger generation, but Arthur had yet to see any hyper children chasing each other past the works of Shakespeare or hormonal teenagers indulging themselves in front of Mills and Boons. Even the view from the huge windows was magnificent and to top it all off, after you had finished in the library you could cross the road and buy yourself a cup of steaming tea and a plate of scones.

Turning slightly, he smiled warmly at Flutter who had curled up on the corner of the armchair and was snoring softly. Heavens knew the poor thing deserved a rest after last night. Arthur frowned, as his thoughts drifted back to unpleasant night he had, it seemed that as hard as he tried to forget it, the events were destined to remain a permanent fixture in his memory.

*Last night*

Arthur's bushy eyebrows furrowed, the Frenchman's accent had gotten thicker on account of his panic and he could barely make out what he was saying. But he could tell something was wrong. "Alright," he said, trying to remain calm, "Take a deep breath and tell me what room you're in. I'll be there in five minutes alright? And don't let anyone else inside. It's going to be alright love."

The British man winced at his accidental use of the endearment; Iain would have been tickled pink had he been there. Sighing, he placed his book down on the nightstand, carefully marking his place with a bookmark and tugged his dressing gown over his pajamas. As he locked the door, he sadly bid farewell to his night which had consisted of plans to read and sulk about his failed dinner.

Exactly four and a half minutes later, he was outside the correct door number, 804, as Francis had said. Quietly, he knocked on it, not wanting to wake up the other inhabitants. After knocking, he added hurriedly, "It's me you prat. Open the door, it's nippy outside." The next thing that Arthur knew, he was being embraced by a shirtless Frenchman. He squeaked and tried to push Francis away, noting absentmindedly that he smelled rather nice, like roses or some sort of flower. "Francis, you need to talk in English, or slow down or something. I'm afraid I can't understand a word that you're saying."

As Francis hurriedly explained what had happened, Arthur noted with no small amount of amazement that Alfred's blue eyes seemed to keep flitting back to Flutter who was perched on his shoulder. There was no doubt about it then, Alfred could see her and probably others like her, which was certainly interesting. At the very least, it explained the tension in the household. After ending the disturbing tale, Francis somehow managed to tuck the two boys back in, Matthew clutching onto his bear and Alfred next to him, before throwing himself onto the couch next to Arthur and raking a hand through his already messy hair."What do I do now?" Francis said, "If Alfred is right, and there is something…"

Arthur looked down, "Maybe you're overreacting just a tad. After all, there's a reasonable explanation for everything you told me. Maybe you didn't remember where you kept your hair tie; it's been known to happen. Perhaps the wine added to the effect. And as for the mystery of the door, whoever it was must have been playing a prank, you shouldn't worry. The children were possibly small so you couldn't see them in the dark. Either way, we'll see if someone at the reception can speak to their parents and prevent them from causing a nuisance again tomorrow night. So you see, my good man, there's really nothing to get so perturbed about."

"But it was you who said that I must open my mind!" Francis protested. "Why would you listen to me?" asked Arthur sharply, "I'm a menace to society, if I recall correctly. Why should my words bear any effect on your action?" He watched slightly guiltily as Francis flinched. "Oui, I was wrong to say such things. It was… foolish on my part, and I regret it. But you must understand, I wouldn't have called you unless I trusted you and for some reason I know I can. Alfred, he trusts you, I haven't seen him smile like that for so long and Matthieu is happier as well." Something clicked in Arthur's mind. "Alfred can see things can't he? Things that other people can't. Has something like this happened before?"

Francis wrung his hands, "Oui, it has. It seems trouble follows us where we go. I thought if I brought the boys here, things would be different. After the last time…cependant, I beg you, c'est quelque chose que maintenant je ne veux pas discuter."

"And Matthew?" asked Arthur, contemplatively, "Can he see things as well?" Francis buried his head in his hands, "Oui, he used to be able to see winged people when he was little. But then, it stopped and I thought that perhaps it would stop with Alfred too. But it hasn't." Winged people? He glanced at Flutter who had gone to check on the boys, well this certainly added to the intrigue. He was unsure of what to do; on the one hand he could offer Francis firsthand experience and explanations of what Alfred was going through, as well as guidance for the lad. But he knew that would end up in more fights, no that was a secret he'd keep for a bit more. However he wondered if holding his peace would endanger the family further, the events of today evening proved that there was something darker that was afoot.

Francis started as he felt something warm being draped across his shoulders. Arthur had caught the man shivering slightly, and had wordlessly draped his dressing gown over him. His cheeks warmed when the Frenchman aimed a genuine smile in his direction and tugged the coat on firmly. "Merci beaucoup, mon cher"" he said softly. Arthur's face flushed, "Don't mention it," he sputtered. "If you'd like, I could stay the night," his eyes widened as he realized how that sounded and his voice raised an octave as he tried to explain what he meant. "I mean, if you'd like someone to keep an eye on the boys or anything, and not any other way. I just thought that perhaps, well…yes." Francis' grin turned perverted, "Actually Arthur, I would love some company. Perhaps when we wake up in the morning, the night's horrible events would have been dispelled by the bright rays of the sun. Bonne nuit mon lapin."

"Good night git. And don't call me that!" Later as he lay sprawled out on the sofa, he struggled to go to sleep. Francis' words coupled with the general shock of finding other people who like him, could see had shot his brain into overdrive. All was silent though, and as far as he could tell, there was nothing else in the room with them. "What do you think?" he whispered to Flutter. "It sounds strange but I really think that there was something in here, I can't explain but I can feel something in here. Something really dark and evil-spirited. It's not one of us though Arthur, so you must be careful." Arthur opened his mouth to reply, when a sudden shuffling in the corner of his vision caught his attention. Alfred slowly inched forward, his blue Captain America pajamas visible in the faint light.

"What's wrong lad?" asked Arthur, "You should be in bed, it's far too late for you to be walking around." Alfred looked defiantly at Flutter, "You can see her too, I know it. I'm not crazy right Arthur?" Puzzled, he looked between the boy and Flutter, he didn't know what to say, because either way he was opening a box that just wasn't ready to be opened.

He decided to take the plunge, "Yes Alfred, that's right. You're not crazy and you musn't let anyone tell you otherwise. Now then, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, this is Flutter from the Green Oak Clan." Alfred flashed her a toothy grin, before bouncing onto the sofa next to Arthur. "Dad thinks I'm nuts, 'cause he can't see them. Matt used to be able to see them but now he can't. I think he's lying sometimes about it, I think he just wants dad to be happy." Arthur placed his hand on the downcast boy's shoulder. "Lad, you need to try and understand. Your father loves you a great deal, and he's just trying to protect you. I know it's hard sometimes because he doesn't believe you, but try and put your feet in his shoes." Alfred blinked at him, "I don't Arthur, his feet are way bigger than mine, why would I want to do that?"

Arthur mentally slapped himself, "What I meant was to try and reverse the situation. What if your father was the one who told you that such things existed and you couldn't see any of them? Would you believe what he told you?" Alfred puffed his chest out, "Of course I would! He's my dad, he wouldn't lie to me!" "But wouldn't you sometimes doubt him, at least a little?"

The boy seemed to deflate, "I guess so. I mean, if he came up with a story of a flying unicorn I'd laugh at him." Arthur smiled gently, "So you see why you need to at least try to be a little more patient with him. And the thing about adults is that we're awfully stubborn creatures. We don't like being proved wrong. But on a different note, when did you first realize you could see spirits?"

Alfred hugged his knees to his chest, "It was when I was in kindergarten I guess. There was this kid that had died a few years ago in a traffic accident, and I could see her spirit. We used to play together on the swings. She was really nice, she taught me how to climb trees and stuff. But no one else except Matthew could see her. All the other kids thought I was really weird and they used to stay away from us. They even tried to beat Matt up once, but then Alice got angry and she threw rocks at them and made the bullies go away. I guess they got angry and they told the teacher. One day, when I was on the swings with Alice, she asked me who I was talking to. She didn't believe when I said that I was talking to Alice and she called dad."

He didn't know why he did it, he just knew that the boy needed the comfort, so he leant down and hugged Alfred close. Alfred leaned in and didn't move; he was far too caught up in his memories. "What did your mother say?" "Mom thought it was dad's fault. She...she wasn't really home a lot back then. Dad and her started arguing, I think she wanted to send us away but Dad didn't. Then one day, mom took Matt and left. I remember dad was really sad." "I can imagine, your father loves you two a great deal. But then, Matthew came back didn't he?"

Alfred's brow furrowed. "Yeah, it's kinda weird. Dad doesn't talk about it, but one day he got a call and he just ran out. The next thing you know, Matt was back home. He didn't know what was happening either. All he remembered was Mom going out to buy groceries and then she didn't come back. She must have bailed or whatever. Who cares though, he's back with us. Hey Arthur, do you think the lady I saw in the church today, do you think she was a ghost?"

He tightened his grip on his shoulders. "I don't know my boy. It's very possible that she's a normal person like you or me and we just didn't look up in time to see her. But, there's one thing that you need to always remember no matter what. The dead are best left alone. Occasionally you'll meet a spirit that needs assistance crossing over, and that's a different matter all together, something that you'll deal with when you get older. But there are quite a few entities that are less than kind and they can sense who can see them and who can't. You must stay far away from them, because these spirits tend to want companions for their afterlife. Now then, enough of this. Off to bed with you, or else you'll be too tired to enjoy yourself tomorrow. Good night Alfred and I hope you have pleasant dreams."

Alfred beamed at Arthur, "Night Arthur! See you in the morning!" Needless to say, Arthur didn't get a wink of sleep that night.

*Present day*

Francis had ended up having to start working the next day, an unexpected turn of events that was caused by the sudden resignation of a chef who had worked there. Apparently the young man had experienced a nervous breakdown after seeing an apparition on a swing, or so said his wife. Both Alfred and Matthew were staying in the hotel, Francis didn't want to let them out of his sight, and Arthur couldn't say that he blamed him. He had wandered to the local library in hopes of finding some much needed inspiration for his next book. But after about an hour of futile searching, he'd ended up curled up with the book currently in his possession, a fascinating account of the history of the city, complete with anecdotes and various gory testimonies that were usually glossed over in modern historical works.

He was interested to note that the town itself got its name from the local church, which had been built over an old Norman building. He read on as the author described the various happenings of his time, from the adultery of the barber, to the gossiping of the baker across the street. Arthur had a feeling Toni would love this book. Although he had originally planned to meet the Spaniard, Antonio had called him and told him that his train had been delayed, so they had decided to meet up tomorrow. He hadn't seen him in a few months. They had dated briefly in college, but that had ended when Toni had laid eyes on the fiery Italian across the hallway, Lovino he thought his name was. Either way, the two had parted good friends, and still met up as often as their work allowed.

Checking his watch, he swore under his breath. It was already mid afternoon and he had promised Francis that he would be back in time for tea. That barely left him with an hour. Hastily, he dug around in his bag for a bookmark, when his eyes landed on the paragraph where he had stopped reading. His grip on the book tightened as he read that the hotel they were staying in once used to be a manor that eventually was rented out by the last living member of the family line, to a local hospital for the care of young children and abandoned orphans as well.

The author had less than pleasant things to say about the woman, whom he painted as 'a sorceress most evil, who tempted Satan on more than one occasion. That creature who hath dared to call itself a woman reveled in the suffering of others. There are no stories of happiness that come from that accursed building and I myself have once heard most unnatural screams from within the stone walls. I dare not venture onto the property for fear of mine soul being consumed, but my heart cries out for those young souls who suffer because of her."

Not once was there a mention of the woman's name and Arthur didn't have time to search the entire book now. He flipped through the pages in search of anything, foolishly hoping that some clue would pop out of the book. Then his eyes laid on one of the few images that the book offered. It was a sketch of a woman seated at the piano. Arthur didn't know what it was about the hurried picture, but it made his blood run cold. Underneath the image was a caption, but the words were smudged with age and he couldn't make them out.

But he was sure that Alfred had seen something in the church, now he just needed to figure out what.

Back in the hotel, Francis wiped the sweat off his forehead and placed his apron up on a hook behind the kitchen door. He waved goodbye to one of his coworkers and strode out of the kitchen. Day one had turned out quite well, in spite of the terrible start that he'd had. He wanted nothing more than to freshen up and then join Arthur for some coffee.

His face flushed at the memory of the man's gown draped over his shoulders, how it had smelled of lavender and tea, how it had smelled of Arthur. Passing the reception desk, he remembered his discussion with Arthur the previous night, and stopped at the desk to speak to the man sitting there. Well groomed and polite, the man blinked at him when he explained his problem. "I'm sorry sir, but I must have mistaken you. Did you say that you wished to report a disturbance created on account of noisy young children?" "Yes. That's right. I was wondering if you could ask their parents to perhaps keep them quiet after a certain time at night."

"Yes, but sir, you must be wrong. You see, this is the off season, you're the only person here with children below the age of thirteen."

Francis stumbled back to his room, wanting to gather Alfred and Matthew before meeting Arthur. The British man would have an explanation for this, of course he would. He was nearing his room when a haunting tune drifted into his ears, it was a strange lilting piece, familiar but foreign at the same time. His feet developed a mind of his own and soon he found himself outside door number 814.

The door was slightly open and the music was coming from inside. Curiosity got the better of him and he pushed the door open. At the middle of the room was a grand piano which was the only piece of furniture. A woman was playing, her head bowed as her pale hands moved across the keys. Black locks fell over her face covering it from view and Francis observed that she wore a frock of some sort, the kind that he absentmindedly thought belonged to the days of Queen Elizabeth the first. He wasn't aware of how long he stood there, transfixed by the melody, when abruptly the music stopped. Slowly, the woman lifted her head up and when her face was revealed, Francis fell to the ground in horror before scrambling back. He pushed against the wall for leverage before hurtling towards his room.

When the woman had lifted her hear, and the screen of ebony strands had drifted away, Francis's blue eyes were met with black sockets of emptiness. Where her eyes should have been, there was nothing but shadow.

The woman just sat there, a grin stretching itself like a lazy serpent across her pale face, staring fixedly at the open door.


Author's note: And here's the next chapter! For the record, yes, apparently the name Boston is believed to have originated from the name of the church 'St. Botolph's town'.

Translations:

Cependant, I beg you, c'est quelque chose que maintenant je ne veux pas discuter.- However, I beg you, that's something I don't want to talk about now.

As a final note, the next chapter will only be out sometime after July 23rd because I'll be having exams soon. But thanks for reading and review please!